One More Step

The following are lyrics to a song that was sent to me by my best friend my after I lost my daddy last November to Brain Cancer.  The song is called One More Step by Lindsay Mccaul:

I was maybe 12 months old Holdin’ on couches, letting go Waving my arms, trying to walk In that old video You were reaching out your hands Telling me to take a chance You never left my side and never let me go And then you said to me… (chorus) One more step one more try Any moment you will find You’re falling less and standing more Soon you’ll run on this kitchen floor It won’t be long just hold on and try your best One more step Time flies like my heart that day My whole world about to change I had my borrowed, had my blue And a boy had my heart You told me don’t forget the ring And try to soak in everything Standing by my side you whispered Look at where we are… (chorus) One more step down this aisle I will cry and you will smile The little girl that once was mine I’ll walk you now to your new life The future is as bright as your white dress One more step Always happens way too soon Doctor leaves a quiet room The first to find your voice You said, “I’m ready to go” You asked me what I thought it’s like Leaving this old world behind And sitting by your side I said You already know…. (chorus) It’s one more step blink your eyes You’ll be home on the other side Running down the golden streets You’ll hear a million angels sing So one more kiss on earth is all that’s left Before the breath of Heaven fills your chest And you finally see His face and find your rest One more step

I still miss you more than the words I don’t have.  I am stronger than I thought, but still feel weaker than you. You were always so strong, even until the end.  I will never forget October 21, 2014 – – when the Doctor told us the horrible news. I lost it. You, strong as steel, were the calm one. Reassuring me from the very beginning.  I stayed with you from that point on. We had conversations so close to heart that they will stay in my heart forever.  You told me you were not afraid to die.  The first night you told me that you were going to do like the song says and “Have a little talk with Jesus.”  You told me that even though you had made mistakes in your lifetime, you had been forgiven and new you would get to see your momma again when you got to Heaven. Over the next 2 weeks and 6 days, we talked about everything, sometimes in silence.  Only those with a strong connection to someone can understand what that means. During that time –  I kept my Faith. Even though my heart was tearing to shreds to the point that I physically could not breathe at times, I still had hope.  I still prayed that God would not make you suffer and just take you to Heaven. I still had Faith that I would see you again one day. I believed. I believed – until I lost him. I lost him. My Faith was now shattered.  What if Heaven was not real?  What if I don’t get to see him again?  What if all of this ‘Heaven talk’ was not true, but just something to ‘get us through’ the hardest time? About a week or so after Daddy died, I remember asking my husband and best friend those very questions.  Both of them did their best to try to comfort me, tried to say the right things, but it wasn’t enough. That night I went to sleep and I had a dream.  Daddy was sitting on a bench outside of Heaven.  The sky was as blue and white as you can imagine. He told me “I am here. I made it.  I hear everything you are saying and everything you are not saying. It is real Punk (he called me Punk, short for punkin’ all of my life).  Don’t you worry, everything is going to be alright. I am still here for you and you can talk to me anytime. I love you Punk’ WOW!  I still get chills thinking about that night.  I remember waking my husband up at 3 a.m. to tell him how incredible and how real it was.  He held me tight as I cried. I asked God to forgive me for doubting, for questioning Him. But He knew. He knows my heart.  I have no doubt that Heaven is real and that one day I will get to see my daddy again. I know where I want my last step to be…….

All dressed up for Church & nowhere to break down

While having dinner with friends from church last Friday night, we were discussing raising our children in church.  It brought back memories of when Levi was a toddler. To say it was a stressful time is an understatement.  Between him crawling under the benches, to pulling the lady’s hair in front of me, I often spent more time outside the church during services, crying my eyes out, because I could not figure out what I was doing wrong.  Why was everybody’s child but mine, sitting perfectly still? Everyone looked so happy, so ‘together’, so perfect… (or so I thought) and here I was, with a toddler who had on 2 different socks, pants that were too short and his poor basket case mother was standing outside the church – crying!

I remember one day being outside the church asking myself “What is the point of taking him to church if I can not even hear preaching?  It is not worth it!  Why spend 2 hours getting us dressed and driving 35 minutes to church to have us both melt down in the parking lot and going home more ’empty’ than fulfilled?’  At the time, my husband was not attending church with us. I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.   I started taking Levi to church because I thought it was “what I was supposed to do”.  At this point I was not even concerned with finding God’s love or having a relationship with Jesus. In my mind, I was going to church and that was enough.

This is where the first of many lessons was taught to me, by God, through my son. My son started teaching my about life, about God at the young of 2 1/2.  Just when I was at the point that I was going to stop going to church (or the church parking lot I should say), one day he grabbed his Bible, stood in front of the television and said “I am going to be a Brother Michael one day!” He started ‘reading’ (babbling) from his Bible, saying the word Jesus about every 10 seconds.

Several things happened after that.  First, I realized that I needed to be concerned with my salvation, as well as my sons.  Second, I learned that God can use ANYONE to show people his amazing grace…even little boys who read the church hymnal upside down.

Over the past few years, God has continued to work in Levi’s life as well as mine and my husbands.  I remember at one point driving down the road, stressed out about ______ (you name it) and Levi asked me which cloud I thought heaven was close too, ‘you know, up in the sky, where Dumbo is’.  Thus “The World According to Levi” was born. How can my world be crumbling down and all he wants to know is where Heaven is?

I can not recall all of his questions/statements about God, Heaven and Faith over the past 4 years, but some of them were:  “Why did Jesus have to die?”  ” How many nails did they use when they put him up on the tree?”  “What does it mean when that song says “Glorious Day?”  “How long until Jesus comes back?’  “Momma, I really want to go see Jesus soon”

With the inquisitive mind, came wonderful prayer.  He did not stick with the scripted prayer long, before he started saying his own prayers every night. He prays for his family, friends, school, church, people who are sick, etc.

I think as adults we really do complicate things.  I can look back in life and see that God had a plan for my life and for my son.  Levi’s child-like faith was exactly what I needed during and after my daddy’s sickness.  I remember one day, we were at my daddy’s house and I was crying.  Levi came up to me and in the most ‘matter-of-fact-tone’ he said “Momma, I really do not know why you are crying.   I know pawpaw is sick, but as soon as he gets to Heaven, Jesus is going to put his hand on pawpaw and all of that ‘cancered’ will be gone and he will be all better again. He will live with Jesus forever and ever. He will not come back to our world but if we love God and be good, we can go to Heaven one day and see him again”

WOW!  I was not sure how to respond to that, but my very first thought was what would have happened if I had stopped taking him to church when he was little? If I had stopped taking him to church, no doubt he would not be praying me through the hardest time in my life.  He would not be dropping those little hints of Faith like randomly asking me what I thought pawpaw and Jesus were doing in Heaven today. Has pawpaw met Noah yet? Did the whale get to go to Heaven with Jonah?

A little over a year ago our church was blessed with a new Sunday School class. (20 something to 40 something).  I was able to connect with other moms (and dads) that had went through the same thing I did.  I learned that people are real, not perfect.   I learned that I was not the only person that questioned was it worth it to drag our screaming toddlers to church.  I learned the answer was yes, it is absolutely worth every tear, melt down and break down.

Blogging: Cheaper than therapy

“You should write a book”

“You should write a blog”

^^^ Those words have been thrown my direction more than once, especially in the last few months.

Me, blog? Seriously.  About what? About who?  What if no one reads it?  What if no one likes what I write?

Well, my answer to that is quite simple.  I am my biggest critic, so who cares if someone does like what I write….but then again, what if someone does like what I write. What if, just maybe, someone was able to find something good, something encouraging out of this whole experiment.

So why should I blog?  My answer:  It’s cheaper than therapy and a lot more entertaining!