There is a time for everything, And a season for every activity under the heavens.
A time to weep and a time to laugh, A time to mourn and a time to dance. Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4 NIV
Such is the season our family is walking with the recent good-bye of a cherished loved one in our lives. For my sister longing the gentle embrace of the man who held her for forty-six glorious years, she weeps and though her…
Tears are just water and salt, But a thimble full can feel oceans wide.
An excerpt from song…
God Loves You By Chondra Pierce With an ocean of tears standing before us, especially for my sister, her children and grandchildren, a family struggles to remember life on dry land.
There are those waves of the unexpected which overtake and have one gasping, struggling to reach the surface for another breath, when only minutes ago you were just enjoying the view.
It’s difficult to make peace with our new season of weeping and mourning, when the heart longs to laugh and dance like it used to. You trust a loving God who already foretold from the beginning there’d be seasons and times for everything and every activity under the heavens.
While we wish our God handed out save-the-dates in matters of the heart; there must be an ongoing reminder in our calendar to prepare, to have oil in our lamp when the Lord shows up at our darkened-door of the unexpected.
Every now and then God puts a song in my heart to sing, albeit in metered rhyme.
I dedicate these words to anyone bearing the weight of grief on their heart, especially my sister, as she navigates this season along a detoured path in an unknown forest from the road, a path where two people once traveled together only a few weeks ago. A song to remind her she travels not alone…
A song to remind a travelling companion now holds the map for every step of the way in front of her… Words to hold close and hold onto the guide who already knows the way as He is the Way…
A God who is ever present and close beside in her tears…
A GOD WHO COLLECTS OUR TEARS By Lori A Alicea
Our hopes, our joys, and dreams we dare, Our memories will keep. Our heart, a home where love resides, Which measures oceans deep.
But at his home-going celebration, My brother ‘n law Andy wore a baseball hat, blue jeans and a flannel shirt, All befitting the simple man he embodied in life.
Remembering though…
There’s always another story. There’s more than meets the eye. W.H. Auden
Unbeknownst to me who didn’t get the memo, family members young and old, prepared in advance and arrived at Andy’s Celebration of Life to honor their father, papa, uncle and friend, each dressed as Andy was dressed, sporting a flannel shirt. A family honored the man behind the shirt. Their outward expression for an inward love they each had known in the individual ways Andy shared his life with them. Author and Speaker Dr. John A. Tetsola said it best from his book titled… The Power of Honor
Honor means to value. To value means to hold something or someone In high regard and esteem in your heart and in your sight. Family and flannel were mirrored reflections of the other through our tears, our smiles, our laughter and our joy in remembering Andy that day. Not wanting the day to end in our good-byes…
As this signaled the continuation of our journey minus Andy’s presence behind the shirt…
At least for now on this side of heaven. But as I stated earlier…
There’s always another story. There’s more than meets the eye. W.H. Auden
Because it is written…
For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all. Luke 8:17 NLT
Because in the days of going on and packing up of Andy’s office, the true man behind the flannel shirt was discovered and made known to all from the drawers and closet from which they were concealed; even to his wife.
While Andy was known as a God fearing man in the way he lived his life, the way he raised his children, loved his grandchildren, and submitted himself to the mandates of a Godly marriage.
A deeper version of the man behind the shirt was revealed through the binders and books of notes written from the pen of Andy’s hand, a student of the Word, searching and studying for more of Him, learning the ways and attributes of God.
It would have been so easy to take the outward appearance of Andy’s flannel shirt and honor the simple man which he was, yet overlooking the possibilities, the inner qualities one might be hiding in the secret place, as Andy did.
Yet, God’s love for us shines a bright light and sees our heart, our character, and who we truly are on the inside.
Nothing is overlooked.
…For the Lord sees not as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7 AMP
What was done in secret was brought out into the open, with Andy preaching his life’s message, his final sermon spoken and passed into the hands of the generations ready to receive the hand-off of his legacy, ready to run their race set before them…
Seeking, searching, earnestly looking for more of God,
Who promises to find us in this pursuit.
I love those who love me,
and those who seek me find me.
Proverbs 8:17 NIV
How interesting though,
To know the son, you’ve known the father, both students of the Word.
In the Bible it is written in Romans 13:7 ESV… Give honor to whom honor is due.
I find such a man in my brother Andy, whom honor is greatly due him.
This was an unexpected honor for me when my sister Debbie asked if I’d be willing to celebrate her husband’s life in words, because as far as I could remember, our brother Mark has always been the official family spokesperson at times like these.
Even as Mark and Andy are heavenly neighbors now, I somehow feel Mark’s presence still, prepared to take his rightful place at this podium.
But yet I’m here instead, privileged to deliver the words God wants to comfort us with while Celebrating Andy.
They say that the hearing is the last to go and if Andy could hear my name being called to the stage today, he’d be jolted and startled for a second with these words, “Copy that???”
Today is a bittersweet day to be together, locking arms and hearts together as we navigate this maiden voyage of uncharted waters without our Andy.
This small setting has all the “feels” of our family holiday dinners; the holiday being the celebration of our Handy Andy, our Hunny Bunny, our Papa, our Dad, our Brother ‘n law.
But as beautiful as this table set before us is, it’s hard not to notice the empty chair once occupied by Andy.
Rumor has it that Andy chose instead to attend a heavenly grand reunion in his honor…Greek translation…rude.
I wish I had a front row seat to the Houle section in the banquet room of heaven.
Surely, there is a senior table for our family pillars, Mom and Roger, Bill and Gloria and Bon Bon, with Dad and Joyce waving from their table nearby.
Surely, there’s a table where Andy has taken his rightful place seated next to Belinda, Mark and Mary. I can almost see Mark high fiving Andy – “Bro – you made it.” I have no doubt Belinda has a left a goody bag of jelly beans on Andy’s plate, and Mary, she sits and laughs as she takes it all in.
Mom is beaming with great joy to see her sidekick back at the card table and the entire family cheers for this grand reunion they’ve been waiting for.
Yes, it is an honor to Celebrate Andy’s life.
The book-ends of anyone’s life are their birth certificate and their obituary.
Held together by these book-ends are the volumes of details, the memories, the moments, the trials and victories of our beloved’s life.
Let’s begin by reading the final book-end of Andy’s life.
Andrew Hritz, age 66 of Valparaiso, IN passed away July 12, 2023.
He was born on Sept 15, 1956 to the late Michael and Pauline Hritz in Gary, IN.
On March 5, 1977, Andrew married the love of his life Deborah Houle in Valparaiso, IN. Andrew enjoyed reading, making homemade ice cream and eggnog, but most of all he loved spending time with his wife, children and grandchildren.
Andrew was talented with his hands; his nickname was Handy Andy and if he did the job well his wife called him Honey Bunny.
Andrew will be remembered as a loving husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend and he will be deeply missed.
Andrew is survived by his loving wife of 46 years, Deborah Hritz of Valparaiso, son, Phillip (Mandie Fusner) Hritz, Amanda (Jordan) Mayfield of Argos, IN,
Four grandchildren, Kollin and Zachary Hritz, Gracie and Luke Mayfield;
Four brothers Michael, Bill, John and Paul Hritz and many other loving family members. Andrew was proceed in death by his father, Michael Hritz and his mother Pauline.
When you open up the book between the book-ends of Andy’s life, the first page begins with a shortened stanza from an old song we used to sing sitting on the pews of our Southern Baptist church as kids…
GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS…
All I have needed thy hand hath provided… Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.
From beginning to end, Andy’s life reflected God’s faithfulness as he learned to trust and never let go of God’s hand for every need and provision for his wife, children, grandchildren, employment and extended family.
Andy had a life verse whether he realized it or not, and this verse was once prophesied over him proving to be a true word from our Creator…
God will bless the work of your hands… Deuteronomy 28:12
I looked up the meaning of this verse and it reads as follows: God has destined that our hands be empowered to accomplish great things and will be sufficient for you.
There’s a quote from the website of once evangelist Billy Grahamwhich speaks to and exemplifies the life of our dear Andy:
The Greatest legacy one can pass onto one’s children and grandchildren is not money or other material things accumulating in one’s life, but rather a legacy of character and faith.
Yes, character and faith through Andy’s hands would become his legacy…
HERE IS A SMALL TRIBUTE TO THAT LEGACY.
From his hand and heart, Andy waved the white flag of surrender in salvation to God.
Andy gave his hand in marriage to one woman for 46 glorious years, as he loved her, cherished her, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health all the days of his life. Handy Andy hung galleries of Debbie’s Board and Brush pictures with his hands, defying physics and logic and preventing a house implosion from the sum of its weight. Andy was always game for a hand of cards – albeit Rummy, UNO, Yahtzee, or Pinnacle against Denise, Brad, Jill and mom, showing no mercy to either of them.
Uncle Drew held out his hand and scooped up the small nieces and nephews whenever they reached for his lap.
Game shark Andy showed no hand of mercy either while playing Chutes and Ladder, Candy Land, and Mother Love with his daughter Amanda and niece Candace when they were just learning to play.
Uncle Drew’s hands walked my young daughter to elementary school when she was afraid of the neighborhood dogs.
Daddy Andy held his daughter’s hand while learning to walk on tippy toes as a toddler. He held her hand as they walked together to the altar during her Honor Star service, and most proudly, Amanda’s father held tight to his daughter’s hand as she walked her wedding isle as a beautiful bride.
With books in their hands, a father and his son Phillip treasured the words written about God, exchanging their discoveries and truth about prophecy, and End – Times. They also bonded as guys do in the garage around tools, cars and grease. Uncle Drew’s hands wrestled through the ages of my young to my grown-up son Jake on his lap, once conning his nephew to pull out a pair of skid marked whitey-tightys from his Christmas gift as a joke for the giver– a legendary memory of laughter for us all.
Son ’n law Andy with his hands helped our mother by fixing her car, hanging pictures on her walls, sharing coffee and a seat around the table, and whatever he possibly could do to harass her.
Andy’s hands were the official carver of the holiday turkey and ham; whose place at the stove rang the silent dinner bell for everyone to take their seats at the kid’s table, senior table, adult table or any place you could find on the floor as dinner was almost served.
You wouldn’t know about them unless Andy felt led to show you, but Andy kept a library of hand written notes and diagrams pertaining to his job description throughout those 30+ years on the clock, a trophy recognizing his pursuit of excellence unto his Almighty God at work.
His hands as an employee carried a cooler/lunch pail so big and jammed pack of food, someone taking a picture might think he was toting the refrigerator to his job.
Andy’s hands clapped the loudest from the heart of the most proud Papa for his sweet Gracie during her dance and piano recitals.
Andy’s hands held and shared a fleet of trucks and cars with his little Lukie who loved and treasured this one-on-one Papa time with him.
Papa’s hands shared the hearts of his grandchildren Gracie and Lukie with Carla, Deb and well, ok…Dave, their other grandparents equally in love with them.
Don’t get me started on the hilarious sight of Andy with giant Old Maid cards in his hand and a game against granddaughter Gracie, nieces Ayva and Aubrey and their giggles to give him the Old Maid for the win.
Chef Andy’s hands concocted and shared the most delicious homemade eggnog with his daughter Mandie Renee at Christmas. But truth be told, Andy shared a cup of her stash with David and I this past Christmas.
A father ‘n law’s hands stood and saluted on the inside with the utmost respect and pride for his military son, a man of honor who lives for God, Family, Country and Flag; and in that order.
Papa Andy’s hands shared a bucket of popcorn for years with his son Phillip, his grandsons Kollin and Zachary and nephew Ethan tagging along to watch those action-packed movies at the theater. A wrestling match against old and young took place most nights during their time together.
It was a given for Andy’s hands to serve and share a cup of coffee with David and me whenever we visited, ensuring a carton of our favorite cream was bought in advance.
Andy might have been a man few of words, even though this Queen of Questions standing here tried to pry a few sentence over the years, but his servant’s hands spoke volumes for themselves. Andy and Debbie weren’t travelers and the farthest they’d ever drive was to the nearest Walmart. But when the car doors opened from our military family, and from our southern drawl families from Tennessee and Texas, rest assured Uncle Drew welcomed you with those Andy-hugs he was famous for. Rest assured Andy made the draft cut into the Special Forces which thrived to bother, aggravate and stir up trouble as guys love to do. Rest assured his nieces and nephews found a seat at the table near their Uncle Drew, making up for lost time of love and laughter with him. Andy had a hand in being present for those long distant relationship reunions.
Andy also had a hand in being present in his quiet relationships at church, and through our special events when extended families join together in celebration.
Our sister Denise’s best friend Jill had two small children in need of a babysitter so Debbie and Andy opened their home for babysitting, while also watching my two. They became Aunt and Uncle to Julie and JT who loved them as their own. Our family adopted these two as well into their hearts. Julie and JT’s pictures filled up Aunt Debbie’s library of scrapbooks, they each had a seat along with their extended family at our gatherings, their names found themselves on every guest list of ours, became part of the cousin generation, their branches grew and became off-shoots from our family tree, and we can’t imagine life without them, all because Debbie and Andy opened their hearts and home to them.
Brother ‘n law Andy extended a hand of hope to me as a single woman, receiving my small children during the middle of the night and putting them to bed as I went off to work. Rules were meant to be broken when Debbie wasn’t around, and Uncle Drew became Mr. Fun, pulling out all the stops of entertainment while I worked the other shifts. Loving my kids to life during this most difficult season for them, Debbie and Andy bonded with my little boy and girl as second parents. Andy’s hands touched others beyond his knowledge.
We each have a ripple effect, touching others beyond our reach, beyond our life’s stone cast across the water into ripples on a pond.
Through his wife’s pictures on social media, Andy was known at the city gates as a family man, a papa on adventure with his grand-kids, a father whose hands held the hearts of his children close, a husband who understood covenant in marriage; a rare find of gold mined from a man’s life these days.
Though a man of few words, Andy had a message and it was preached through the ripple effect of his life’s stone cast across the water into ripples on a pond.
From his hands he gave back to God what was due him in tithes and offerings, in prayer, in time and talent and Sunday mornings with Him.
Hand and in hand along the Riverwalk of their life together, Andy enjoyed the most wonderful year of retirement with his bride. A year of bike rides, pancake breakfasts, Dairy Queen trips and Walmart shopping sprees to name a few.
Their final night together, husband Andy held the hand from the wife of his youth while sharing his devotion and love to her; they both fell asleep this way. A framed moment his wife of 46 years will forever hang from her heart.
Yes, God truly blessed the love and life of Andy’s hands.
Andy and Debbie’s faithfulness to God, their children and grandchildren will be a legacy passed on through the generations. The fruit of their faithfulness is evident and measured in the bushel basket-fulls of their family.
Amanda, the God-fearing woman she’s been throughout her life of forty years without waver is now mirrored in the worshiper we see in her daughter Gracie. Her son Lukie stands on a stage all his own, enjoying life and passionate around a race track of cars and trucks, making room one day for his calling in life.
Phillip, though man of few words as his father, has a hunger in his pursuit for Jesus which has been evident in him wanting his grandmother’s books centered around Christian living from her library as his inheritance. Phillip’s son Kollin is equally as quiet and has a presence about him in his respect and kindness for others. Phillip’s other son Zachary has this zest for life and humor like his Papa, causing hilarious trouble while drawing others unto himself.
Debbie and Andy have lived out the scriptures charged to them as parents…
We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord. Psalm 78:4 NIV
To pass the baton of faith, you must first possess it in your hand. For a smooth hand-off in the relay of life, you need a firm grip on the baton of faith and an intentional effort to place it in the hand of the next generation; as Andy and Debbie have.
Surely Andy has already heard these words of affirmation from the Heavenly Father,
Well done, good and faithful servant… Matthew 25:21
Andy’s address has changed.
He now lives and breathes in a perfect place with God while we attempt to process his absence here on earth; a momentary separation until our name is called and we are reunited with him once again.
BUT HERE WE ARE; WE GRIEVE. Everybody grieves.
Yes, everybody grieves.
But everybody grieves differently, and in their own way. Some grieve outwardly, visible through the rainfall of their tears.
Some grieve inwardly, as if a dam holds back the streams of their pain, yet breaks through in the flow of their written words or song.
There is no measuring stick to gauge one’s grief,
But you grieve nevertheless.
Grief is a painting of a thousand words. We find ourselves consoled in the brushstrokes from those who understand.
We take comfort in the sunsets that calm our weariness.
Jesus himself wept in grief over a dear friend who died.
Jesus wept. John 11:35 NIV
This portrait of grief is an open book of our heart where its pages are stained from runaway tears, yet caught by the hands of a loving God who notices and stores them in a bottle, recording these raindrops of pain in His Book of Remembrance.
…You’ve stored my many tears in your bottle – not one will be lost. For they are all recorded In your book of remembrance. Psalms 56:8 (TPT)
This portrait of a thousand words hangs in our personal gallery titled, “A Family says Good-bye.” This season of showers of our tears,
Whether flowing from the windows of our heart or soul,
Our tears water a great hope of a family reunion one day, in heaven.
From each shower,
A “rainbow in full view” of the open sky reminds us of the nearness of God. These April showers bring forth May flowers of joy, because in God:
Weeping may endure for a night, But joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5 (KJV)
The season of grief most difficult,
The season which wrestles and fights to hold onto your heartstrings,
Yet a season you must find His perfect peace,
The season of letting go.
In our letting go,
We are letting God…
Sit with us beside the empty chair.
Be that telephone call when we long for theirs.
Be a song when we miss their voice.
Be an arm of comfort in the middle of the night.
Give us eyes to see our family portrait still complete.
Going forward, that first birthday, first holiday, first wedding anniversary and first Father’s Day without Andy will be honored and grieved differently by each who loved him, though grieved nevertheless.
God wipes our tears when they fall outwardly.
God will be those words or song when we weep from the inside.
God will be a faithful post to lean on when the weight of our heartache is far too great a burden to shoulder and stand alone.
In our letting go,
We are letting God.
We’ll get there when we get there.
In time…in time
AND NOW WE SAY GOOD-BYE
Saying good-by to Andy is most difficult; the pain unbearable at times.
The “changing of the guard” is simultaneously taking place in multiple homes of our family, causing hearts to short-circuit from the emotional overload of sadness, yet rejoicing as our Andy has just seen Jesus.
As the season of summer is about to place the baton in the hand of its neighbor called fall, closing up swimming pools and beaches in exchange for cozy sweaters and campfires, our family is in their lane and in position for the hand-off and good-bye to a husband, father, papa and friend in Andy.
Good-bye is our book-end to hello.
A shelf of memories stacked between each book-end, keeping each scrapbook firmly placed between so many years of good-byes and hello.
While our good-byes can stir up a whirlwind of joy as does its partner of hello, it’s just embracing the vision of the hello when “letting go” in our good-bye causes so much emotion.
While the shades of good-bye vary as the colors in the rainbow, good-bye nevertheless requires an exchange of the baton in our heart.
Before an unexpected good-by, Andy looked at the “love of his life” for the very last time; yet didn’t realize it.
You never saw one without the other.
Still high school sweethearts into their golden years, the glow of their faces while looking into each other’s eyes alone could fill up the pages of a romance novel. For the first day in their marriage lifetime just a few days ago, Andy’s wife woke up to the sunrise of sadness, sensing the vacancy on his side of the bed, sitting at the breakfast table with his empty coffee cup and empty seat in front of her, void of his bright smile that didn’t greet her good-morning.
Yet, in the pain of their good-bye on this earth, Debbie’s Honey Bunny said hello to the other love of his life, the one he gave his heart to and waited a lifetime to spend eternity with, his Lord and Savior.
Debbie’s Hunny Bunny still retains his bright smile he was known for, yet he brightens up our hearts now, while leaving the world a bit dimmer. Good-bye is our book-end to hello.
One sad good-bye is a glorious hello to someone else.
We were never meant to hold on to anything; the moments, life as we know it, each other.
Life is a daily letting go so that in our letting go, we can “Let God” have His way in us.
Good-bye might not be the hello we want to embrace,
But be willing to stay in your lane,
Get in position for the handoff of the baton,
And continue to run the race set before you.
As Good-bye is always our hello to the next step, the new beginning,
Of something wonderful God wants to do thru us.
We love you Andy. We love you Uncle Drew. We love you dad.
We love you Papa. She loves you Hunny Bunny. Until that grand reunion in heaven, we will all miss you like crazy.
A piece of truth I didn’t give much thought to as a younger person only caught up in the moments before her, with no regard for the brevity of days, years and decades already determined before my life ever began.
Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered – how fleeting my life is. Psalms 39:4 NLT
Much older now and looking over my shoulder to the family and friends I have already said my heartfelt good-byes to; those ships of my loved ones who have left life’s harbors for the beautiful shores of heaven.
I now keep a closer watch and vigil of the sands of time that gather up my days, as our boarding passes they wait to be printed, with us continuing to live each day before God until our name is finally called.
You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand. My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath. Psalms 39:5 NLT
From cover to cover, the Bible records the generations passing through leading up to the life of Christ, mere ordinary people with human frailties, failures and victories God chose to use and accomplish His will.
A Hall of Faith records for our encouragement those who exemplified great faith with their ordinary lives…believing God when natural eyes failed to see.
Now faith is being sure of what we hoped for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1 NIV
By faith and under God’s command…
Noah built an ark for a flood nobody believed would come.
Abraham left his home not knowing where he was going.
Abraham was willing to sacrifice his only son.
Moses left his life of privilege to lead the Israelite’s out of Egypt.
Rahab, a prostitute and in the lineage of Christ, helped the spies to conquer Jericho.
And many more were recorded to inspire our faith.
They were all just passing through.
And so are we… just passing through.
With God wanting to use our frailties, failures and victories to accomplish His will.
Standing here today, there are two generations already looking over their shoulder at me; maybe for wisdom, guidance, instruction, or history…or maybe not, at least for today.
But there will come a day when our family Bible is searched for the names passing through the generations before I was ever born and after, following the paths we’ve dug and paved for the generations we’d never meet, leading them to the life of Christ from the lives we each had lived.
Hence, is the reason I write.
It is for legacy and the generations I will never meet, that I write.
LEGACY; It is for Them That I Write. By Lori A Alicea (An excerpt)
The weight of passing on to our grandchildren (and beyond) a lasting heritage weighed heavy on our heart.
We risked the next generation growing up without God if our lives didn’t reflect His image; if we failed to tell the generation in front of us the marvelous works and heavenly truths about their Creator.
One generation commends your works to another, they tell of your mighty acts. Psalm 145:4 NIV
Children and grandchildren are our arrows; arrows that leave the bow of a praying (parent / grandparent) and launched for a Kingdom pursuit that they might pierce the hearts of others for Jesus.
Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior, are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. Psalm 127:3-5 NIV
Hence, we grandparents are intent to do our part in living and leaving a life of legacy before them.
Part of their legacy are stories, their stories, memorializing the past; their history of a faithful God. That they not forget and lean on these truths when facing familiar mountains of hard times again.
It is for them that I write.
LEGACY; It is for Them That I Write. By Lori A Alicea (An excerpt ends)
We’re all just passing through.
A mist, a vapor, a moment; a mere breath we are…
Whose only hope is in you.
We are merely moving shadows, And all our busy rushing ends in nothing. We heap up wealth, Not knowing who will spend it. And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you. Psalms 39:6-7 NLT
May the reasons I write record a good and faithful God from the stories and history I re-tell of my life and our family’s life alike.
May the generations I will never meet follow the path I dug and paved in hopes to lead them to the life of Christ.
My next door-neighbor of many years and twenty years my senior, and yet our relationship celebrated differing views and perspectives; not competing generations.
Across the street where whistle blowing trains rattled our windows all hours of the day, was an old country street of five houses nestled under the acreage of trees they were built on, where barns, horses, gardens and chickens running loose added to the old fashion charm of a picturesque postcard.
Betty and I began borrowing cups of sugar from each other when she was a young grandmother and I a young mother myself.
As neighbors, we smiled and witnessed from our porches and swing sets the passing of time in the growing faces of Betty’s grandchildren and my children between the two houses.
Betty’s twin granddaughters and two grandsons always seemed to sport a glove and bat for a family baseball game of endless innings in their backyard where parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, each took their position on the field.
My two year old son watched these games from the dugout of his sandbox, waiting his turn to be big enough for the team; my baby girl and I rooted Betty’s grand-kids from the window or lawn chair nearby.
Betty and I loved being home with our children and grandchildren, both sharing the arts of sewing, canning and crafts.
More than anything, we neighbors shared the same pew at heart when our love for God overflowed those morning cups of conversation.
As time passed by, my young children and I would leave the neighborhood in tears and brokenhearted due to an unwanted divorce, but would return years later as Betty’s next-door neighbor, newly married to the man of my dreams.
Sadly, moving back to this old country neighborhood of five houses where whistle blowing trains from across the street would fascinate my future grandchildren, Betty has said good-by in sickness to the love of her life; a marriage of thirty-five glorious years.
In her husband’s honor, Betty planted a backyard tree to celebrate his life and life going on thru nature in its magnificence towards the skies and God; a widow’s place of remembrance for someone she deeply loved.
Albeit divorce, sickness or death, Betty and I continued to share sugar and heartache over tears, conversations, hugs and sometimes sitting in silence as true friends and neighbors feel comfortable to do.
For years I felt guilty for all the celebrations of open houses, baby showers and parties that took place on the front acreage of our property, where life and laughter…
Could be heard and seen from Betty’s house and open windows a few steps away.
Through our intentional friendship though, Betty continued to be encouraged and lifted up, reminding her through scriptures that God promised to be a husband to the widow, a father to the orphan, a redeemer for another day.
Fifteen years later God redeems Betty’s vacant heart at a high school reunion with the re-introduction of an old friend. Betty’s eyes illuminated with joy and happiness unspeakable once again as a little girl, and the two were married in the fall of that year; eventually moving out of the neighborhood to begin their newly married life in another state.
Distance didn’t change our friendship as the miles were bridged with Betty’s cards sent in the mail and my telephone calls to her.
Betty and her new husband would come into town every so often to visit family or attend their favorite quartet concerts, for which they stopped into the old neighborhood for a visit with us.
Not making excuses, but life started happening in those one by one good-byes to parents, grandparents and loved ones and moving two more times for us, somehow losing touch with Betty.
Interestingly, Betty’s cards stopped coming although I didn’t question it, assuming life was happening for her.
Sadly and heartbreaking enough, it was.
I decided to look Betty up on social media after three and a half years from our last conversation, when an arrow plunged my heart in despair after realizing Betty’s account had been moved to legacy status.
Not wanting to assume the worse, I searched the internet for an obituary, yet never finding one in my quest.
Remembering in former conversations of Betty’s wishes to be buried by her husband of thirty-five years, David and I drove to the old country cemetery a short distance from where Betty and I used to be neighbors, only to find that indeed, Betty had passed away mere months after our last conversation.
With only one dirt road winding through this final resting place of a few hundred loved ones, it didn’t take us long to find the headstone of Betty’s last name she once shared with the love of her life.
To my surprise, Betty left behind a love story of a different kind, choosing to be remembered beside both men who stole this woman’s heart in life.
Not knowing for sure, I imagine Betty’s thoughts…
God didn’t forget Betty and she wanted to thank Him by telling the world her beautiful story beyond her absence.
I’m so sorry for the conversations we didn’t have those final months of Betty’s life. I regret not bidding good-by to my intentional friend.
I didn’t attend Betty’s celebration of life and convey to her family how much their mother and grandmother meant to a next door neighbor; only because I didn’t know.
But may these words be the flowers I send to Betty on her life’s Graduation day to heaven, albeit three and a half years after she received her diploma.
Thank you Betty for decades of friendship, for cards, for sharing cups of sugar as next door neighbors do.
I will never forget you.
Remembering…
One day we will once again share a front row pew with God who will tip His heart’s tea-pot and overflow our morning cups of conversation.
Maybe it’s just me, but once those July 4th finale of fireworks burst thru the air and the remaining sparklers illuminate its own show from our children’s hands, do you slightly sense the season’s changing of the guard.
While the hot days of summer remain as house guests thru August, fall is sneaking up the back steps though most are unaware, preparing to welcome itself to the neighborhood.
Principals everywhere are ringing the school bell for students to begin filling their backpacks full of paper, pencils and crayons, while bells of another kind are ringing down the Christmas isles of my favorite craft store; all in the summer month of July.
Ready or not, the season’s here; the changing of the guard for weather, time and calendar events.
In life, we’re also facing seasons unique to our address.
The weaving of seasons from one into the other, with winter, spring, summer or fall choreographing the dance of personal seasons we’re about to enter, experience, or exit, then weave and dance into another season before us.
While we’d all like to predict a forecast of blue skies and sunny days, the weather might report an overcast of clouds or showers for a season.
Regardless of the season, we’re encouraged to take our seat, stay awhile, and welcome the purpose and meaning for the season we’re in.
On first impression when entering our doors, is a wooden sign with hooks for coats, sweaters or even purses for guests to hang their belongings and receive a heartfelt welcome into our home.
The same is true for entering a new season where we are encouraged to cast and hang our cares on Jesus, a place to feel safe, a place to call home, where the couch is comfy and ambiance speaks welcome.
The front door is a traffic jam of little boys and little girls taking off their shoes and placing them beneath the welcome sign of hanging cares and coats, where side by side their crocs, flips, sandals and gym shoes for little feet remain until they leave; a reminder that seasons are meant to be shared with others.
For twelve anguishing months beginning two years ago, our family experienced an unexpected and overwhelming winter season of ten, tearful good-byes.
At morning’s dawn, the waters slept and rested peacefully near the shores of our family’s heart.
Then, without notice or alarm, a family reaches once again for life vests as the waters wake and rise in swells and attempts to drown our hearts upon receiving another call.
We gasped and couldn’t catch our breath for long periods of time during this winter season of so many good-byes.
But God was good to us, near to us, sensing His presence, never leaving our side for a moment.
The summer season thankfully returned as promised and wafted in the air a fragrance of peace and joy and remained a bit longer than the calendar noted its departure, hovering over as a healing balm for our family.
Running along the shores of our hearts this refreshing summer season were little feet and laughter of our ten grandchildren, who somehow without us looking, outgrew the shoes of our memory.
We grandparents celebrate the many seasons we’ve shared with these ten beautiful heirs of our legacy.
Their growing continues into the seasons and choreographed dances of their individual lives.
When fishing began and there were only six of them.
So many years ago…
Our ten grand-babies today.
The seasons are changing guard once again, handing off the summer baton to the season of fall.
It’s time to pack up the sand toys and sandals these children will sadly outgrow and walk into a new season of their own before summer next year.
Seasons are changing.
While we’d all like to predict a forecast of blue skies and sunny days, the weather might report an overcast of clouds or showers for a season.
Regardless of the season, we’re encouraged to take our seat, stay awhile, and welcome the purpose and meaning for the season we’re in.
Preoccupied while frying bacon and measuring flour for a batch of homemade breakfast biscuits for three of my grandchildren who spent the night previous, my curious granddaughter asks the question again,
“Gaga, do you have a picture of grandma?”
A quick glance at the clock whose hands stretched out to wake and announce the sleepy hour of 5:30 in the morning, quite early for a little girl to be thinking about grandma still tightly wrapped in herblankie.
But, from the innocent mouths of babes, a child was asking.
Looking up at Aubrey with my full attention now, though still kneading biscuit dough from memory, this Gaga handled a granddaughter’s heart with delicate hands,
“Are you missing grandma?”
Secretly, I had also been missing my mother terribly these early weeks of summer; longing to share a glass of lemonade and the day’s nothings under the shade tree of our back yard together.
Now, here is a five year old, whose birthday was recently shared and celebrated with her sister Ayva turning seven, who also is missing her grandma.
Not having too many pictures framed and displayed in the house, I did remember a 5 x 7 keepsake hidden between the pages of my Bible for this sweet child to reminisce over; a moment taken at our 25th Wedding Anniversary three years ago.
I wanted my mother close whenever the waves of emotions for her rushed and reached the shore of my heart, usually during the quiet hours of my morning devotions with God.
In just a few short months this September, an ocean of memories will flood the vacancy our mother left behind when she waved good-by for heaven only two years ago.
With Aubrey recently blowing out the candles of her fifth birthday cake,
Only highlights the impact her grandmother had made during the three short years these two shared together.
My mother’s hand-print remains on Aubrey’s life and an entire legacy of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren as well.
(Aubrey with her grandmother on the left and attending grandma’s funeral on the right; just three short years and yet a little girl still asks for a picture.)
Aubrey isn’t alone in her longing for pictures of grandma, as six months ago at Christmas, her cousin Gracie was yearning the same.
In the spirit of Christmas and found beneath the tree, an album filled and full of grandma’s pictures for Gracie, a gift to comfort a little girl who also missed her grandmother.
My mother would have been eighty-two years young this July 21st, yet our family is forever thankful for the final picture we gathered together outside her window for…
An 80th Princess Gala Event in mother’s honor…
A perfect afternoon for the remaining birthday we’d ever celebrate with our mother, grandmother and great-grandmother this side of heaven.
Recently, Aubrey was watering the flowers of my tiny garden, not realizing many of the decorations of angels, wind chimes, birds and flower pots were once placed outside her grandmother’s window of her own garden;
A summer’s delight to lift a mother’s spirit during those lonely afternoons when family wasn’t visiting.
Mother’s love for the Lord is a families great inheritance she passed on down thru her legacy.
Recently, during a day I ached for my mother, God unearthed a treasure written in my mother’s handwriting, a gift of encouragement I have no idea how it was buried and hidden on my computer after all these years.
Your family loves and misses you mother.
Two years is but a blink of the eye for us, yet once you stepped into eternity with God, there was no looking back for you.
In your absence, I’ve had to take your place at the card table.
You’d be disappointed in the whiners and poor sports you used to play with, but actually be proud of the daughter who holds her own and plays in your honor for a game of Phase 10.
From the innocent mouths of babes, her heart was asking.
“Gaga, do you have a picture of grandma?”
Aubrey held her grandmother’s hand for only three short years, a matriarch who left her hand-print on the heart of a grandchild for a lifetime.
Aubrey Ann, your picture of grandma remains between the family bible pages where she loved her Lord from, the great inheritance your grandmother passed on down to you and her legacy of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Today was an ordinary day, no different than most yesterdays of my life.
While walking thru the parking lot of my favorite store, I always pray these same words as I do before entering any other shopping center;
“Lord, if there’s a person I need to see in this store, let our paths cross.”
Most days while shopping, it’s just me, myself and I in the store.
Yet occasionally, God orchestrates those chance meetings and encounters down the aisles as we shop, a God who loves an available heart, and willingness to be used…
Ministering to…
An old friend I hadn’t seen in years, sharing her intimate details of a journey with cancer.
Lending an arm of comfort…
To a woman I recognized from high school, who sadly shared her husband had recently passed away.
Bringing joy to myself…
While hearing my granddaughters laughing one isle over, as my daughter shops for Christmas.
The people are there, pushing grocery carts of burdens or cares of this life down the aisles of Walmart or Hobby Lobby, all needing a touch from God’s heart if we are willing to notice them.
Sometimes though, we are meant to see others for our good…
That’s why I remember in all things to pray before taking one step into the store or especially when caught in a time crunch to get in and get out…
“Lord, if there’s a person I need to see in this store, let our paths cross.”
She didn’t see me as I passed her browsing the seasonal isle that morning.
I could have continued to shop, unsure if this woman remembered me from thirty-nine years ago, recalling I’ve embarrassed myself (and my husband) in many instances when others couldn’t recollect.
But I remembered Marilyn and the memories we shared, both brand new mothers in the hospital after giving birth to our newborn sons.
Over the years, our lives had intersected thru church, in the fabric and canning departments, as she loved God and life the old fashioned way thru sewing and preparing food from scratch as I did.
We made a connection thirty-nine years ago; so I made a U-Turn in the seasonal aisle of Hobby Lobby to greet a familiar face.
Taking a chance, I said hello to Marilyn as dear friends do, whose bright smile remembered and took us back to those hospital rooms where we embraced motherhood for the very first time.
After almost four decades ago and both of us now in our sixties, we questioned in Hobby Lobby the years gone by since our sons entered our world.
Where did the time go?
Her John and my Jake; now grown men with families of their own.
Going backwards as two first time mothers, both now grandmothers, capturing and sharing snapshots of each other’s lives these last thirty-nine years; the secret passage of time while unaware; behind your back.
You don’t notice quite frankly, at least I didn’t; how time passes by so quickly when half asleep with young children and their midnight feedings, diapers, teething and caring for the demands of the others in the house.
Even when the children are growing out of their pull-ups and coming into their personalities, giving us hints of who God made them to be, time is sneaking out behind our backs and into the history books of our family.
Welcoming new days and bright beginnings, we seldom look behind our backs at the distance those paths have taken us from the maiden steps where our journey began.
You kiss each day with thankfulness for what God has entrusted into your care.
You lead those into their destinies with God as your tour guide.
When you inventory what God has given and sense the rustling of the family nest…
You look behind your back and wonder…
“Where has all the time gone?”
You pray the family ties of love are strong and tight enough to weather the fiercest storms when they come…and they will.
Yet are confident as you determine…
Family is a circle of strength… Founded on faith…
Joined in love…
Kept forever by God… Together forever.
Yes, time is a ship whose itinerary stops for no one and quickly passes in the night.
Grandchildren are sprouting taller than a field of corn at harvest. Hardworking family members retire and enjoy the fruits of their labors while some are too busy to notice.
Chairs around the table which seat your favorite faces today, will find themselves empty before you had a chance to really enjoy who they were in your life.
Funerals of good-byes have been overwhelming this past year. Tomorrow is not promised to any of us.
Do not boast about tomorrow, For you do not know what a day many bring. Proverbs 27:1 NIV
Today is all we have to celebrate; to enjoy; embracing and taking nothing for granted.
Oh, that the well-spring of your heart overflow with praise and thanksgiving.
May our cups brim and cascade onto its companion saucer with great contentment for the bounty of God’s generosity, filling our laps.
May we live this day as if the second hand of our clock is winding down the hours and minutes of our life’s conclusion.
The wisdom of God reminds us to number our days for this very reason, as He alone holds our personal itinerary, which was written in His book from the very beginning.
For this reason…
As an event decorator, I thought it most loving to somewhat prepare for the last remaining event of our lives.
While most would rather change the subject and save the inevitable conversation for when it’s demanded,
I followed the first few steps of our mother and father who gave us children their final gift of selfless love, by pre-arranging those final needs so come their Celebration Day, all we as a family had to do was take our seat.
Through this gift our parent’s taught their final lesson in life;
To remember how God has numbered our days so count them… To remember how fleeting our time on earth really is …a vapor… To remember and live life to the full as today could be our last;
So prepare for it…and they did.
“Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; Let me know how fleeting my life is.” Psalm 39:4 (NIV)
“You have made my days a mere hand-breadth; The span of my years is as nothing before you. Everyone is but a breath, Even those who seem secure. Psalm 39:5 (NIV)
The well-spring of our hearts has spilled over into the words we leave behind as a lasting testament for our grandchildren etched onto our memorial…
Children are the crowning glory of the aged. Parents are the pride of their children. Proverbs 17:6
It is because of an overflowing love for our ten beautiful grandchildren:
We leave you a legacy rich and full of Godly principles.
That you might know and experience for yourself the marvelous works and heavenly truths of your Creator, That as arrows, you desire to be launched for a Kingdom pursuit, To pierce the hearts of others for Jesus.
The second generation of our life is before us.
David and I hold tightly the “baton of God’s truths” and run our race so the exchange of these truths, are successfully passed into the hands of those ten runners forging onward in their race.
This memorial is our legacy framed in the reasons I write…
A former blog which tells the story of our heart. LEGACY; It is for Them That I Write. By Lori A Alicea
The benevolent man leaves an inheritance That endures to his children’s children… Proverbs 13:22 TPT
What parent doesn’t want to leave an inheritance to his children and children’s children?
I imagine most do.
My husband and I have considered for years the inheritance of our heirs.
At the end of life this side of heaven, two hearts long to bless their family with monetary gifts.
But money pales in significance to the true inheritance of legacy David and I endeavor to leave behind in generous portions for our children and children’s children.
Unless money is sowed into fields of eternal value, once it’s spent, it’s gone.
But a legacy rich and full of Godly principles can remain alive for future generations.
Regarding legacy, David Green, founder of Hobby Lobby wrote in his book A Generous Life 10 Steps to Living a Life Money Can’t Buy:
A legacy of true value is a legacy made of more than money.
….
To invest in eternal things is the most important thing we can do with our lives, our energies, and our resources.
Becoming a grandparent changed everything for us.
When our second generation came forth, we took notice the hour glass and its sands of seconds gathering into the mounds of hours, months and years more quickly than before in our youth.
Time revealed its true identity as mere moments of breaths.
The weight of passing on to our grandchildren a lasting heritage weighed heavy on our heart.
We risked the next generation growing up without God if our lives didn’t reflect His image; if we failed to tell the generation in front of us the marvelous works and heavenly truths about their Creator.
One generation commends your works to another, they tell of your mighty acts.. Psalm 145:4 NIV
After that whole generation had been gathered to their ancestors, another generation grew up, who knew neither the Lord nor what he had done…. Judges 2:10 NIV
Ten beautiful children created in the image of God.
Those kissed and smothered with love inside the womb and out.
Hands already gifted. Feet with steps already ordained. Their life already planned and prepared to serve Him.
To know the way they must be shown the way, but who will tell them?
Along with their parents, we grandparents want to do our part in living and leaving a life of legacy before them.
Their legacy began when we were once children ourselves.
As a child with five other siblings, our mother introduced us to Jesus; she faithfully took us to church. Her prayers to keep Jesus alive at home found six children growing up to serve Him the same.
My husband and four other brothers are also God fearing men because of a praying mother.
Parents recognize that children, the “fruit of their womb”, are a gift from God.
Children that are dedicated back to Him, to be raised, loved, nurtured in the way that they should go.
“I prayed for this child, and God gave me what I asked for. And now I have dedicated him to God. He’s dedicated to God for life.” 1 Samuel 1:26
BABY DEDICATIONS OF OUR CHILDREN – GENERATION ONE
BABY DEDICATIONS OF OUR CHILDREN’S CHILDREN – GENERATION TWO
Children and grandchildren are our arrows; arrows that leave the bow of a praying parent and launched for a Kingdom pursuit that they might pierce the hearts of others for Jesus.
Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior, are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. Psalm 127:3-5 NIV
Hence, we grandparents are intent to do our part in living and leaving a life of legacy before them.
It is for inheritance; It is for legacy. It is for them that I write.
Part of their legacy are stories, their stories, memorializing the past; their history of a faithful God. That they not forget and lean on these truths when facing familiar mountains of hard times again.
It is for them that I write.
The other day I had a long distance Face-time conversation with my six year old grandson who asks about my blogs most times when we talk; blessing this grandmother with his inquiries. Such big questions for a little boy who has no idea he is mining his own inheritance, his legacy.
It is for him that I write.
On October of 2019, David and I invited our ten grandchildren to be our witnesses at our 25th Wedding Anniversary. Their young minds thought we were getting married, which delighted us both.
Written as a true love story that it was, I documented the faithfulness and goodness of God in our twenty-five years together, words shouted and celebrated from every detail of our special day.
So that in years and decades to come, our children’s children will be reminded of God’s reflection of marriage as an encouragement for their own.
Yes, David Green, founder of Hobby Lobby, you said it perfectly regarding legacy:
A legacy of true value is a legacy made of more than money.
….
To invest in eternal things is the most important thing we can do with our lives, our energies, and our resources.
It is because of an overflowing love for our ten beautiful grandchildren:
Brooke, Brodie, Ethan, Bristol, Cova, Hollis, Ayva, Rosalee, Aubrey and Kizzy Mae
We leave you a legacy, rich and full of Godly principles, that you might know and experience for yourself the marvelous works and heavenly truths of your Creator; that as arrows, you desire to be launched for a Kingdom pursuit, to pierce the hearts of others for Jesus.
All because of Inheritance; All because of LEGACY; All because of you I write.
The mat in front of the door of our life reminds us to welcome this day.
No more reliving what we couldn’t control.
No more turning back to the trail of debris left behind from the eye of the storm.
We must move on.
Like giving birth, the pain will cease and be remembered no more over time.
Yes, the struggle was real but God promises to turn around for good, what the enemy meant for evil.
(Genesis 50:20 NIV)
So embrace this day.
Welcome this day beyond the unexpected.
Might we gather God’s love and compassion He makes new each morning from his garden of faithfulness.
…because His tender compassion’s never fail. They are new every morning. Great and beyond measure is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23 AMP
This day came two months and two weeks for my husband David when he finally returned to work, taking those first few steps beyond the unexpected.
Moving on is a cup of God’s cool water which refreshes the dry and thirsty soul from the bitter cup of worry and unanswered questions in the unexpected.
Moving beyond the unexpected is a hand of hope for someone else to reach out to; God’s promise for them that this too shall pass.
(2 Corinthians 4:17-18 NIV)
There’s no denying though the pain of rebuilding your inner strength the unexpected attempted to steal.
But you must fight back for what is rightfully yours.
Resist the temptation to escape or delay the going forward.
Allow God to do your heavy lifting as you do your lifting in praise while moving forward.
Moving forward is an uphill climb of small steps of faith, pushing back and resisting the lies of the enemy while God cheers you from on high at the summit.
Four heartbreaking weeks which separated us over the Christmas holidays, then six grueling weeks to find his way back to the front door beyond the unexpected, yet here he is, ready to begin walking into the good God has prepared for my husband and I.
God continues to write our story beyond the unexpected.
Every twist and turn of the plot is unique to the love story God is writing for our personal life with Him.
There’s a happily ever after for every book on the shelf in heaven’s library.
Each may read differently, feel differently and always end differently, as God’s plan for his children are as unique as their fingerprints.
But don’t stop reading.
Don’t stop living and walking out the chapters He has written for your life; a secret best seller if we are willing to trust Him as we turn the page beyond the unexpected.
What is the unexpected you need to move beyond?
Health crisis… Natural disaster… Loss of a job… Loss of finances…
Loss of a loved one…
Lost your way…
Be of good cheer.
Find comfort in your traveling companion who has detailed maps for every valley and mountain climb to follow.
He knows the way as He is the Way.
You’ll never lose direction when you carry the compass of God’s Word which leads you back to the doorstep of His heart.
Beyond the unexpected is a brand new day, a fresh start mapped out already from the beginning of time.
We can trust our good Father in moving forward beyond the unexpected.
Our good Father has amazing plans for us beyond the pages we have yet to turn in our life.
So embrace this day.
Welcome this day beyond the unexpected.
We thank you God for the love and compassion you make new each morning for us to gather from your garden of faithfulness.