Sons of the Shepherd

  Writing Your Chapter Two When Kids Are in the Room        Math has never been a strong point in my life.  I started struggling with math when long division came onto the scene.  O' the dreaded remainders and having to carry numbers.  And then we started adding the alphabet to math.  Why do I need to know what x equals in a problem?  I yearn for the days when math was a simple one plus one equals two.  That's the kind of math that I can excel at.  A math that doesn't involve flash cards or rote memorization.  Dating after loss is complicated math though.  For most young widows and widowers the equation of two people falling in love isn't one plus one equals two, in my case it was one plus one equals seven.  That doesn't sound like it makes mathematical sense, but it does make dating sense in a post loss world.  Dating after loss is rarely just two people.  That is one of the most glaring differences be...

Three French Hens Faith, Hope, and Love's Endurance     “And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”  — 1 Corinthians 13:13       The third day of Christmas brings us three French hens—a strange little gift unless you understand old Christian symbolism. For centuries, believers connected these three hens to the three great virtues Paul wrote about in 1 Corinthians: faith, hope, and love.   These virtues are beautiful, but for someone who is grieving—especially during the Christmas season—they can also feel complicated and oftentimes feel in conflict with grief.  One of the misunderstandings that I had about grief is the ability for different emotions to co-exist with one another.  I previously thought that grief could cancel out hope, or that hope would over power grief, but instead they are able to perfectly live in the heart of the Christian.       Paul first writes about faith....

  The Day that Hope Shifted       A few short days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt said that the attack would be a day that lived in infamy.  Days of infamy are days that are burned into our minds.  Days that we will never forget during our earthly journey.  Those days aren't just historical, but they are personal too.  Some days mark you forever, almost like a brand.  The very thought of those days can cause such a turbulent mix of emotions.  For me, one year ago, this was one of those days of infamy.  Not infamy not just because of what happened, but because God carried me through.       For days doctors and nurses had been discussing Tiff's condition.  Heart doctors, lung doctors, floor doctors, etc all flooded her rooms.  The consensus was the same.  They were all being honest, none of them were dispensing much hope.  They were simply waiting for a final confirmation from ...

A Holy Conversation: Her Blessing to Love Again       There are certain moments in life so sacred that writing them down feels almost like stepping barefoot onto holy ground. One of those moments came during my wife’s final days—days filled with both heartbreaking tenderness and the unmistakable nearness of God.  Days that torment my soul but also that I treasure. Ones that felt painful but foreshadowed Gods sovereignty.  Days that didn't just change the present, but set the course for the future.  In those final five days Tiff gave me a heading to travel in, a heading that I am forever grateful for.       One year ago today I was sitting at my regular spot beside her bed, holding her hand, wishing I could somehow stop the clock. I hated the clock. Prior to her passing, I lived by a clock, but the clock reminded me that I was losing precious seconds with my love.  Her body was weak, but her spirit was steady and full of peace—“the pe...

  He Will Hold Me Fast       My family would often travel to speak at various churches when we served as missionaries.  We loved getting into the old ministry machine (aka, our Kia Sedona minivan with nearly 300,000 miles that smelled like McDonalds french fries) and barnstorming various churches.  One sweet church was about an hour and a half drive.  The church was Cumberland Bible Church.  Our family had the joy of speaking there for over two years.  We loved the scenic drive, the kind people, and the adventure.  I would often speak in the morning and the evening service.  The church would let us stay at their parsonage between services.  They provided us with yummy snacks, Tif was able to nap, I was able to study, and the kids would do homework or play boardgames.  We would stop at a McDonalds in a gas station on our way home.  Our kids would typically fall asleep on the ride.  We pulled into the driveway afte...

  What Really Matters “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”  Psalm 90:12        Twenty plus years ago my music of choice was rock and roll.  I know for many of you that might sound a little out of place for me.  But I loved bands like Metallica, NIN, Tool, etc.  The louder the music was, the better. One of my favorite bands in my high school years was Linkin Park. Their most iconic song was "In the End."  The song didn't ring with optimism, a matter of fact, looking back, it was a terribly depressing song.  It focuses on futility, an overarching dense of disappointment, and failed relationships.  It wasn't a song that you listened to when you felt good, it was a song that you listened to when you felt depressed.  The chorus went "I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn't even matter.  I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end, it doesn't even matter."  That melan...

  The Garden – When New Life Begins to Bloom       Grief often feels like scorched earth, like life has been burned to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes.  Those once fruitful fields, bearing joy and happiness are laid waste to nothing.  Ashes replace where joy once sprouted.  The smell of smoke and decay fills your nostrils, almost making you sick. Your path is now one laid in memories.  As a widower, I've walked through those charred places of my heart, wondering if anything beautiful could ever grow again. I felt this preemptively as I watched my precious wife fight cancer.  Imagine being a farmer, watching your crops die but knowing that there was nothing you could do to save them.  That is how I felt about Tif's cancer battle.  I could love her, fight for her, cheer for her, encourage her, pray with her, stay with her, but I couldn't save her.  Now I find that the soil of loss feels hard, barren, and unyielding at times...