DO SOMETHING

This week, my heart has been so heavy. 

Saturday morning, I got a call that my sweet friend, Amy Lewis, suddenly and tragically lost her husband, Jim, on Friday evening. As my jaw dropped to the floor and I tried to process the implications of what that meant, I couldn't stop shaking. Amy lives right around the corner from me, so I headed over there as quickly as I could, on the verge of puking the whole time. 

It was too familiar. Only this time, I wasn't looking at the moment to moment but could envision every horrible moment I faced through this painstaking journey that I was certain Amy knew nothing about yet. You'd think having walked down this awful road, I would have some insight or some inkling of what to say or what to do. All I could come up with was I need to hug her. I need to be near here. I need her to know I am here.  Past that, I was helpless.

Amy was one of the faces that continued to show up after Jeremy died. She was my comic relief, my break from real life, and one of the women who continually served me and my family. I specifically remember seeing her one morning on my way out of the house while she was making her way in bright and early to clean for me. I remember feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for one less task I had to think about, one less worry to have. 

It was two months to the day of Jim's death that I last saw him. We met up with mutual friends to have lunch after church at Dickie's. I sat on the kid-end of the table, taking pictures of the kiddos and keeping them under control, so I didn't get to interact with Jim much. But I remember a lot of laughter.

Amy and I have known each other for quite a few years. She worked at the college when I attended, and worked there with Jeremy, and she and Jim were in a small group with us a few years ago. We've grown closer even since Jeremy's death, through her generosity and our occasional week day breakfasts. My heart has been with her almost every moment since I found out. She's only 34. Jim was 39. This isn't supposed to keep happening to people around me. My heart has also been with Mark Johnson, who is one of Jim's best friend - who also happened to be the friend that found my Jeremy dead beneath his tree stand and was with Amy the moment she found out. He has lost two of his closest friends in such a short amount of time and I know the weight he is carrying is so heavy. 

My heart aches with the need to DO SOMETHING. I know how hard it was for me to ask for help, so I'm not waiting around for her to ask. I'm doing something. Anything. One thing I know is that Amy discovered the terrible news that since the life insurance policy her and Jim took out 20 months ago did not meet the 24 month limit before cashing out, she will not be receiving life insurance money. Just one more heavy burden on an already devastated heart. 

So, with the little resources I have, I have decided that for the entire month of December, I will be raising money for Amy, in honor of Jim, to cover the cost of funeral expenses and generally ease the financial burden that Amy is facing. I don't make much from this blog on my own, but with the help of all of you, I am confident that we can make a dent. A significant dent. All you have to do is click on my blog as many times a day as you can for the month of December. Make sure the page loads - THAT'S IT. Each page impression creates revenue. 

In addition, I have added a Paypal donation button at the top left of my page for people to go above and beyond the call to help. What Amy needs is community, and in the season of giving, I pray that you would consider helping this incredible woman, and my sweet friend, breathe a little easier while she struggles to take the next step without her husband of almost 11 years.

Amy & Jim Lewis - married almost 11 years.

Jim and Amy, along with some of my nearest and dearest friends, supporting my children at the Jeremy King memorial dinner last November. 

Jim & Amy's engagement photos

Jim & Amy, along with their closest friends, Tamara & Mark, at our wedding in May.

A few of the women who were staples through my grief journey, who are now walking this horrible path along side another hurting friend.

I will continue to remind you as much as I can this month to keep visiting, as well as commit to actually posting more here (I have really been slacking in that area).

Thank you in advance for the love and support I already know is over flowing for Amy. Thank you for your generous hearts and for the prayers that will be so vital to her. Y'all are such a blessing to me, and I know you will be for Amy as well.

Do Something

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For a long time now, I've felt God calling me to do something with my story, and with Jeremy's legacy. To somehow help others through what I have been through. However, I had no idea where to start. And more importantly, and most selfishly, I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to let God use me because I was too angry that it had to be at the expense of such a great loss. I wasn't ok with me or my children suffering such heartache in order for other people to benefit or learn something.

I can honestly say that I still sometimes struggle with this battle. But the pull I've felt on my heart to help, to follow the calling I feel like I've been given, has been outweighing my selfishness. The stirring that I have felt has started to bubble over and I've finally felt ready to take a step forward.

Last week, a dear friend and her sister stop by our garage sale to see me. Her sister had just lost her husband weeks before. He died suddenly of a heart condition as well, leaving behind two children and a very distraught wife who wanted to come talk to me. As she hugged me and sobbed on my shoulder, my mind raced searching for something to say - just one thing that someone had told me when Jeremy died that helped in some way that I could offer back. I realized, though, that nothing I could say would make her feel any better. Death sucks, and grieving can never ease with words. Only time. I don't know that she was looking for words of wisdom (and if she was, she definitely wasn't gonna find any from me), but just to be in the presence of someone who 'got it'. Someone who survived. My heart ached for her as I recalled those first few weeks and months after Jeremy died. I still relive those moments every once in awhile like it's still happening. The confusion, the injustice, the anger, the desperation, the defeat...the heartache. I don't know if I helped her in any way, but she's been in my prayers and on my heart ever since.

I realized that even though I'm ill equipped to really move forward, God has really been using my story to help without my knowledge or even my consent for quite sometime now. He let me kick and scream and throw fits (and still does) while continuing to bring beauty from the ashes.

I want people to know that grieving is a dark and terrible part of life that never leaves.
I also want people to know that there is hope and healing.
I want to do more.
Steve and I have been praying that God work through our redemption and relationship to bring a unique perspective to others and somehow use that to help, and bring hope.

I am excited to announce that Steve and I have been asked to host a workshop in San Diego, CA for Camp Widow - a weekend long gathering of widowed people from across the country. Ironically, the workshop is titled "Mad at God: A conversation." Uh, yeah - I have some experience in that department, I'm not ashamed to admit it! I am anxious, excited, nervous, and overall humbled for the opportunity to help in some way.

I can't wait to meet some of the inspirational people that have been integral in my own grief journey. I'm thankful to have Steve by my side to share this passion with me. I hope this is just the beginning of many other opportunities to finally step forward and feel like I'm making Jeremy proud.