they don't make em like they used to

Last week I sat down, overcome with gratitude for my mom, and jotted down a few thoughts about this woman. 

An amazing, courageous, beautiful, lovely, loving, rowdy, funny, sweet woman. My mom. My dad thought she hung the moon, and likewise.

Not everyone gets two parents. I know plenty of people out there with just one. And what if the one you’re left with isn’t strong? Isn’t selfless? What if the parent you have wants less than the best for you?

My brother & I are all set when it comes to parenting. Not that we need to be parented, but, let’s face it, we do. Just ask Sam Brasseau or a host of other friends.

She is a rock, our mom. She is not perfect & we push each other’s buttons plenty, but, I know so much of who I am comes from my mom, or seeing things that my dad loved about my mom & knowing those were qualities worth imitating.

My mom is one of the most selfless, warm hearted people I’ve ever met. Some people think she missed her calling as Paula Deen because she loves to feed others, wants them to be full & happy – and not just their stomachs. She wants for others to know the fullness of life – most of which was found living life with my dad.

Her new “fullness” might never be the same, but my mom has done anything but crumble. She has certainly been weak & tender hearted & only a few times a bit crazy since my dad’s death. Mostly, she has been sad but hopeful – clinging to the faith she & my dad built their lives on.

I’ve sat in church clasping her hands wondering how we’re going to get through this. I’ve sat in church mad and crying and unable to sing. But I’ve seen her lift her voice. I’ve seen her lift her eyes. I’ve seen her search for help, and not push it away. She has accepted friends and neighbors and family with such grace – I have learned so much about being a woman, and being a woman who puts her trust in God, from my mom. (and it should be noted she learned that from mighty women who have gone before her.)

I hate what my mom’s going through, and what Mary Chenoweth lives everyday, and I hate it for other women (and men) I do not even know. Losing a spouse is completely miserable, from what I’ve seen. A spouse who still had a lot of living to do, so much worse.

The best part about my mom, what I’ve learned most, is that we have to keep living. Though my dad was so much the center of her world, my mom has kept breathing in and out and trying to be fun and plan nights playing bingo and plan festive dinners out. She's helped me with fun wedding details and has thought of creative gifts for all of us this Christmas, she's said she feels so selfish lately, self absorbed in our grief, yet I see her caring for others right and left. 

And though I can see it in her eyes, because it’s a reflection of what I’m feeling in mine, she doesn’t always want to keep going. But she does. And that, I believe, is faith. That is the weeks upon weeks upon months upon years of church and Jim Jackson’s sermons and hymn lyrics and fellowship coming to life – hope in the everlasting, trust in the higher power, grace in the times of trial.

I could not ask for a stronger or better or more wonderful mother. And if there’s anything I’ve learned the past three months, it’s that love should not stay bottled inside. I should hug her everyday and tell her thank you and tell her how much she means to me and how much she’s pulled the rest of through.

She has always pulled us through, and I really, right this moment, could use a little extra pullin.

Thank you, Mom, for being the kind of mom no one deserves and very few get. 

down the aisle

In a world with a lot of unknowns, I am focusing on what I do know. 

My dad died in a plane crash on September 8, doing something he loved in his most beloved part of the country- the Texas Hill Country.

I cannot fathom why his engine stopped working, why his plane crashed to the ground, why his body never regained consciousness and why we’re forced to go on without him. Perhaps I’ll think about that more when there is more time, but it is likely we are not meant to understand, and the busyness of this time in life will keep us from wondering too much.

For now, as much as I can, I focus on what I do know. There is a God. God is love. My family is amazing. I am beyond blessed with an incredible fiance, who is a confidant, best friend, and partner in crime. My friends are some of the most loving, generous, funny people on this planet. My mom is stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for before September 8. My mom is weak and tenderhearted in the right moments. Our memories are incredible.

For now, I also know that there is a wedding on the calendar. My dad, along with my mom, gave his blessing for Drew Prochaska to ask me to be his wife. Drew asked. We planned – a venue, a date, a budget, worship songs, a plan – much of it was nailed down when my dad was still very much a part of our lives. I know that I am immensely thankful for the timing of all these wedding plans – we had signed contracts for a New Years Eve wedding and toured Union Station with my dad and my mom. We were ready to get this party started.

For now, I know this wedding is fast approaching, and that is just how my dad would want it. Though it is awful and often unfathomable that he will not be on earth for this wedding, it is what it is.

The calendar tells me that three weeks from today I will become a wife. My heart is conflicted. I could not be more ecstatic or more in love – literally, without a doubt, I am thankful for the peace that surrounds our relationship and the certainty with which both of us know the other is “it.” We make a great team and we’re ready to be officially married & make commitments to God and each other.

But my heart is sad. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that my dad died. We got an email today about my dad’s plane insurance claim- and in the midst of busyness at my office, I realized – it happened. His plane crashed. There was an ambulance and medical expenses and donated corneas and a cremation and a memorial service. There was a death. My heart hurts. My body physically feels pain. But, my heart knows something else – my heart knows that there is a God. God is love. One of my dad’s favorite verses is a promise, a mantra, a reality – Jesus said to a thief hanging on the cross next to him: “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:43)  

I believe that with everything I have. There’s a worship song by a band called “Addison Road” that says “Everything rides on faith now, everything rides on hope, somehow.”

And now, somehow, I’m a bride with too many blessings to count. How many brides have great-grandfathers in excellent physical and mental shape who will attend their wedding? My great-grandfather Earl, who we call Popa, is 96. He is a man of character and substance and humor and above all, love. He and his wife, Mary Ella, were married for seventy-four years and I have written about them a few times. you can click here 

(me & popa on my first birthday)

I am so excited and honored to have Popa, a man I have admired for decades, walk me down the aisle December 31.

I have always loved his stories, and have very fond memories of sitting in his lap or leaning against him and admiring his hands. His hands are always soft, but manly, and seem to tell a story of their own – as if his long fingers and their wrinkles have had their own adventures over time.

He certainly has had his own share of adventures, traveling the world with my great-grandmother. He worked his way up at the Southland company (founders of 7-11) first handling tasks like delivering ice and then later becoming a senior executive as the head of their accounting department.

Popa has an air of humility about him – always a great listener, and if you want him to talk about himself, you’ll likely have to draw the story out of him.

In many ways, my dad and Popa always reminded me of the other – daring. Fun loving. Adventurous. Charming. Hardworking. Dedicated to family. Extremely loving. Devoted husbands. They’re both far from perfect, yet they seem to be magnets for others around them, holding families together, developing long friendships, and setting high standards for the men that follow after them.

(Popa &Dear, 1930s)

I love my Dad and think of him countless times every day, and I am in no way going to replace the giant hole in my heart the day of my wedding. But I know that God has taught me time on earth with loved ones is a gift. On my wedding day, I will be so thankful. Thankful to know how proud my Dad is and was of me, and thankful that I have this wise, amazing great-grandfather to help me smile on my wedding day. He knows loss well, since his wife just passed away last January. We both have fresh wounds, we’ll both be missing my great-grandmother and my dad, two people who would have LOVED to attend my wedding.

On the phone recently with Popa, I said, "I think Dear & Dad will be VERY proud of us together." And his reply was perfect, and turned my sniffles back to a big smile: "Well, of course! I think they damn sure ought to be!" And his cheerful laugh filled the phone. 

In a few weeks, a wedding will happen. 

We will not pretend we’re fine. We will not forget our loved ones. But we will not dwell in our sorrow or grief. We will not let the unknowns overcome us. 

We will find peace in what we know: God is good. God is love. Grace is everywhere.