As my family and I go through the holidays this year with an obvious hole in our home, our celebrations, and our hearts, we'd like to thank all of your for your prayers of comfort, peace and for your continued support of us in various ways.
Admittedly, I have been walking cautiously through Thanksgiving and in preparing for Christmas under the name of "good self-care"; protecting my heart, attempting to stay in a "safe" place for me, and frankly, dreading the holidays to some degree. There is a part of me that has wanted to just close my eyes and not open them again until after it is all over just to avoid going through it. The thought of Mario not being with us this year, and in the years to come, brings with it a great deal of heartache - and it is in that spirit that I have been preparing my heart and my emotions. Read that, I have been solely focused on me.
That brings me to the sermon from this morning given by our Pastor Jason Braaten. (A link to read or listen to the whole sermon is provided below if you are interested - it is well worth your time.) The focus of the message this morning was around Philippians 4:4 - 7.
"4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
As the message was unfolding, my mind began to justify my more negative mindset: "I am thankful. That is enough." It is true that somehow God has allowed me to continually be thankful for the people around me, the relationships, the provisions, the blessings, and the list goes on... But what these verses were saying was something well beyond just being thankful. They are calling me (and you) to rejoice in the Lord. Not just when the times are good. Not just when it is convenient. But always. There simply is no way to wiggle around, or misinterpret the word "always". It is an absolute. It is measurable. And it is much more than just being thankful.
Rejoice: to feel joyful, be delighted. (dictionary.search.com)
Today has been a good reminder of how often we get so focused on ourselves, and while it may seem justified to be that way circumstances-dependent, it is also a good reminder that when we drop our gaze from the One who saves, we will forget to rejoice.
I'd like to encourage you to join me in not focusing so much on the gifts, the food, the events, and all the other things we tend to stress over, including our losses. Instead, focus on rejoicing in the Lord; being joyful and delighting in Him. He clearly promises a peace that you can't get anywhere else. Join me in resting in that peace today, throughout the holidays, and moving forward through life.
Below is an excerpt from this morning's message that is meaningful. When you read through this, know that it isn't just a message for those that have lost someone. It is a message for all of us. Regardless of what the stressors are.
Thanks again for your prayers. My prayer for each of you is that you will be able to relax in the true meaning of this season. That together we will realize that it isn't about us at all, but it is all about Him. That we are able to keep our eyes on God and joy in our hearts. That we will never cease to Rejoice!
Merry Christmas to you all of you, with love.
"So rejoice, dear Christians; again I will say, Rejoice. The Lord is at
hand. And despite your present suffering, despite the sorrow you have
for those loved and lost, despite the fact this time, this season, this
Christmas is not the same as you always remembered, or even as you
always imagined it to be, there is a fitting and reasonable joy in your
midst nevertheless. Because the Lord is at hand." ~ Rev. Jason Braaten
http://immanueltuscola.org/sermons/the-fourth-sunday-in-advent/
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Thursday, October 2, 2014
What are your stop signs?
There are some things in life that are just so profound that we just don't forget them. Sometimes this is in the form of something big, but sometimes it could be a very small detail. One of those profound times for me is when I received the phone call on March 6th letting me know about Mario's accident. After a very hesitant and compassionate deputy coroner shared the news that Mario did not survive, she very methodically began to share the details of the accident as she knew them.
It is a very distinct moment for me when she told me of the location of the accident, describing the quick jog in road where Mario lost control of the car. Even as the fog of reality began to surround me, it is with clarity that I remember knowing the exact location she was talking about - the picture of the jog in the road easily came to mind. It was a familiar part of the country road I had traveled on many times. Even in the light of day that part of the long road could be precarious, so it was pretty easy to understand how there could be a problem when it was dark outside with no lights on the road, especially for a pretty new driver, as he was.
My mind has wondered more than once: if only there had been a stop sign there when Mario was taking that road, would he still be here with us? I cannot allow myself to dwell there. I know that Mario's destiny was written long before I ever knew it. But what if putting stop signs on that corner could prevent someone else's death? For six months, that has been a question that has rattled around in my brain.
Although unsure what it would take to get the stop signs put into place, my imagination went to work: would it be a city issue or county? Would I have to fill out a bunch of paperwork to request it? Would I have to stand in front of a panel of unknown people to petition for it? How much would it cost? Where do I even start? Am I strong enough to begin this unknown process? With no answers to any other questions, I did know for sure the answer to the last question was "no".
Until now.
Earlier this week I reached out to a friend of our family who I thought might be able to provide some direction. He agreed that something needed to be done and committed to looking into how to go about it.
Fast forward to last night when there were a series of events that happened, one right after another. I happened to run into Mario's pediatrics physician assistant whom he adored...and she adored him. I had not seen her since his death so it was an emotional time of greeting each other and catching up. Trying to keep it together while driving away from that chance meeting, the song Amazing Grace came on the radio. This is the song that I used to sing to the kids as they were growing up and one of the songs that was sung at his funeral. Of course, that brought the emotions to a new level. Towards the end of the song, my phone rang. It was the friend I had reached out to earlier in the week about the stop signs.
This is the good news I get to share....
After speaking to a few people, he was able to get into the right person in the city works area. The person he was talking to was aware of the accident and the outcome of it. Since then that area had been on their radar screen and field testing had been conducted, a federal grant had been written, and they were waiting for final approval. I instantly thought to myself, "how much could two stop signs be? Why the federal grant?" I wanted to interrupt and offer just to pay for the stop signs but instead just continued to listen. The grant, he said, was for a million dollars. Imagine my surprise! I know the government has been known in the past for charging an enormous amount of money for things, but that is ridiculous, I thought.
My friend went on to explain that the grant wasn't for stop signs, it was to redo the road. (((Pausing for effect))) It took a second for that to sink it. He continued to gently tell me that the road had been on the radar screen for some time. They knew it was an issue because there had been accidents there before, however, sometimes with things like this it isn't until there is a death that it becomes serious. A priority. And they have enough cause to push the request through. With the loss of Mario, they now had enough to push it through. And, if things go as they expect for them to, the grant will be approved, the project funded, and the road work will begin in the spring.
Anyone else feeling overwhelmed in a good way?
The first thing that came to mind is how I was just looking for some simpleton stop signs. That was my solution. But God pushed me out of the way, before I even got in the way, and went well beyond that. I am ashamed at how small I made God and the box I tried to put Him in. And I'm incredibly thankful that my God is a BIG God with whom nothing is too big or too small for.
While it is sad that someone had to die for this issue to get fixed...and not just any someone - it was our Mario. But I'm not mad. It is sad to me, but I'm not mad. Nor do I want anyone else to be. I wouldn't wish this on anyone and once the road is done, of which they say you won't hardly be able to tell there was a jog in the road, I will have the peace that no one else will die because of that jog.
And this is reason # 542 that proves Mario's death is not in vain. ("542" is a completely made up number - it's probably actually something like #999.) I still believe with all my heart that this was Mario's destiny and it was all part of the plan. I know I've said that multiple times and you may be tired of hearing it, but it is the truth that I continue to hang onto. He fulfilled his God-given purpose both in life AND in death.
I am in awe.
Lord, thank you for being in the details. Thank you for caring so much about the small and the big details of life. Forgive me for making You so small with my simple requests and for thinking I have the answers. Thank You for going so far over-the-top to show me that you love me - and many others.
More than anything, thank You for choosing me to be Mario's mom and allowing me 17 years with him. Thank You for continuing to show me how full of life he was, and continues to be. Give my boy a hug and kiss for me (be careful, he might slobber on you on purpose) and get one back from him - he's good at that, as you must know by now.
It is a very distinct moment for me when she told me of the location of the accident, describing the quick jog in road where Mario lost control of the car. Even as the fog of reality began to surround me, it is with clarity that I remember knowing the exact location she was talking about - the picture of the jog in the road easily came to mind. It was a familiar part of the country road I had traveled on many times. Even in the light of day that part of the long road could be precarious, so it was pretty easy to understand how there could be a problem when it was dark outside with no lights on the road, especially for a pretty new driver, as he was.
My mind has wondered more than once: if only there had been a stop sign there when Mario was taking that road, would he still be here with us? I cannot allow myself to dwell there. I know that Mario's destiny was written long before I ever knew it. But what if putting stop signs on that corner could prevent someone else's death? For six months, that has been a question that has rattled around in my brain.
Although unsure what it would take to get the stop signs put into place, my imagination went to work: would it be a city issue or county? Would I have to fill out a bunch of paperwork to request it? Would I have to stand in front of a panel of unknown people to petition for it? How much would it cost? Where do I even start? Am I strong enough to begin this unknown process? With no answers to any other questions, I did know for sure the answer to the last question was "no".
Until now.
Earlier this week I reached out to a friend of our family who I thought might be able to provide some direction. He agreed that something needed to be done and committed to looking into how to go about it.
Fast forward to last night when there were a series of events that happened, one right after another. I happened to run into Mario's pediatrics physician assistant whom he adored...and she adored him. I had not seen her since his death so it was an emotional time of greeting each other and catching up. Trying to keep it together while driving away from that chance meeting, the song Amazing Grace came on the radio. This is the song that I used to sing to the kids as they were growing up and one of the songs that was sung at his funeral. Of course, that brought the emotions to a new level. Towards the end of the song, my phone rang. It was the friend I had reached out to earlier in the week about the stop signs.
This is the good news I get to share....
After speaking to a few people, he was able to get into the right person in the city works area. The person he was talking to was aware of the accident and the outcome of it. Since then that area had been on their radar screen and field testing had been conducted, a federal grant had been written, and they were waiting for final approval. I instantly thought to myself, "how much could two stop signs be? Why the federal grant?" I wanted to interrupt and offer just to pay for the stop signs but instead just continued to listen. The grant, he said, was for a million dollars. Imagine my surprise! I know the government has been known in the past for charging an enormous amount of money for things, but that is ridiculous, I thought.
My friend went on to explain that the grant wasn't for stop signs, it was to redo the road. (((Pausing for effect))) It took a second for that to sink it. He continued to gently tell me that the road had been on the radar screen for some time. They knew it was an issue because there had been accidents there before, however, sometimes with things like this it isn't until there is a death that it becomes serious. A priority. And they have enough cause to push the request through. With the loss of Mario, they now had enough to push it through. And, if things go as they expect for them to, the grant will be approved, the project funded, and the road work will begin in the spring.
Anyone else feeling overwhelmed in a good way?
The first thing that came to mind is how I was just looking for some simpleton stop signs. That was my solution. But God pushed me out of the way, before I even got in the way, and went well beyond that. I am ashamed at how small I made God and the box I tried to put Him in. And I'm incredibly thankful that my God is a BIG God with whom nothing is too big or too small for.
While it is sad that someone had to die for this issue to get fixed...and not just any someone - it was our Mario. But I'm not mad. It is sad to me, but I'm not mad. Nor do I want anyone else to be. I wouldn't wish this on anyone and once the road is done, of which they say you won't hardly be able to tell there was a jog in the road, I will have the peace that no one else will die because of that jog.
And this is reason # 542 that proves Mario's death is not in vain. ("542" is a completely made up number - it's probably actually something like #999.) I still believe with all my heart that this was Mario's destiny and it was all part of the plan. I know I've said that multiple times and you may be tired of hearing it, but it is the truth that I continue to hang onto. He fulfilled his God-given purpose both in life AND in death.
I am in awe.
Lord, thank you for being in the details. Thank you for caring so much about the small and the big details of life. Forgive me for making You so small with my simple requests and for thinking I have the answers. Thank You for going so far over-the-top to show me that you love me - and many others.
More than anything, thank You for choosing me to be Mario's mom and allowing me 17 years with him. Thank You for continuing to show me how full of life he was, and continues to be. Give my boy a hug and kiss for me (be careful, he might slobber on you on purpose) and get one back from him - he's good at that, as you must know by now.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
With Abandonment I Write
Sometimes it seems impossible that it has been over six months since Mario left us. The strange thing is that the further away from that day I get, and as life continues to go on for me and my family, the harder it seems to get. The old adage of "time heals all wounds" simply is not true.
By far, the hardest part of my grieving process has been not being able to touch Mario. I miss the moments of him hanging on me so much that I had to tell him to "get off!" or to stop putting all of his 150 lbs of weight on me. I miss all the hugs that I would get from him...ALL the time. I miss the crazy amount of kisses that he would plant on my cheek and forehead. Sometimes when he would plant that kiss, he would hold it there as long as he could until he was laughing so hard he was drooling on me and I was laughing so hard I had tears coming down my face. And I miss hearing his voice calling for me because he needed something, or wanted to tell me something...or just telling me he loves me.
I'm not trying to be all sappy here. This is my new reality. Everyone's grieving process is different. I've come to terms with that and have accepted the fact that this feeling will not go away. Ever. Something that I'm okay with too. The way I see it, as long as I can feel the loss of Mario, I still feel Mario. Or perhaps it is the other way around: as I still feel Mario in my life, it makes the loss of him real.
So that brings me to this morning. On my 35 minute commute to work today I was having what I now affectionately call "a moment". A moment = when I feel Mario and emotionally feel the loss of him in a very real way. I was struggling to keep it together but knew I would soon arrive to work and go straight into a meeting that I needed to be focused on. After the meeting I was still struggling a bit emotionally with no known trigger for the emotion.
Back at my desk I found an email from a coworker in my inbox. The explanation in it was that his daughter had to write an essay for her National Honor Society application. The topic was on a person that has influenced her life and he thought I might like to see it. As I opened the essay and started to read it, I had to shut my door. With their permission, I am sharing that essay with you:
The majority of the time everything still seems so unbelievable. I literally sit and wonder, "did this really happen?", "is he really gone?", "is this for real?" Even after six months those questions stay with me.
Some of you have said that you think I'm "strong". Please know that I am not. It is truly God Himself who sustains me. Me, by myself? I am nothing. But it is Him who is holding me up. And I say that knowing that I do not deserve it, yet He still does it. All I can do is hang on because there is simply no way I can stand on my own. Nor do I want to. I'd rather be right here in this space and time hanging onto Him than failing by myself.
This essay that was sent today? It isn't only a reminder that Mario's life had purpose and that he lived his life with pure abandonment for Christ and for others in his own courageous and outgoing way, but it is a loud reminder to me that this is also the way that I should be living my life.
By the way, the young lady who wrote the essay? She was inducted into the National Honor Society this evening. An honor well deserved. A huge congratulations and an even bigger "Thank You" from a heartbroken mom who needed some encouragement and a solid reminder of where my focus needs to be.
We just never know how our lives are impacting others...live your life with healthy abandonment and courage.
"You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." Genesis 50:20
By far, the hardest part of my grieving process has been not being able to touch Mario. I miss the moments of him hanging on me so much that I had to tell him to "get off!" or to stop putting all of his 150 lbs of weight on me. I miss all the hugs that I would get from him...ALL the time. I miss the crazy amount of kisses that he would plant on my cheek and forehead. Sometimes when he would plant that kiss, he would hold it there as long as he could until he was laughing so hard he was drooling on me and I was laughing so hard I had tears coming down my face. And I miss hearing his voice calling for me because he needed something, or wanted to tell me something...or just telling me he loves me.
I'm not trying to be all sappy here. This is my new reality. Everyone's grieving process is different. I've come to terms with that and have accepted the fact that this feeling will not go away. Ever. Something that I'm okay with too. The way I see it, as long as I can feel the loss of Mario, I still feel Mario. Or perhaps it is the other way around: as I still feel Mario in my life, it makes the loss of him real.
So that brings me to this morning. On my 35 minute commute to work today I was having what I now affectionately call "a moment". A moment = when I feel Mario and emotionally feel the loss of him in a very real way. I was struggling to keep it together but knew I would soon arrive to work and go straight into a meeting that I needed to be focused on. After the meeting I was still struggling a bit emotionally with no known trigger for the emotion.
Back at my desk I found an email from a coworker in my inbox. The explanation in it was that his daughter had to write an essay for her National Honor Society application. The topic was on a person that has influenced her life and he thought I might like to see it. As I opened the essay and started to read it, I had to shut my door. With their permission, I am sharing that essay with you:
****
I will never
forget one specific day of my sophomore year in high school. March 7th, 2014, my world came to
a standstill when I woke up to a text that my close friend Mario McNeill had
died the night before in a car crash near my house. I immediately could not breathe and began to
cry. Mario had a huge impact on my life
before and after he died. Even now he is
still a huge influence on my day to day life as well. We had met several years earlier, we took the
same bus route together on our way home from middle school. The first time I met him was on a yellow
school bus, in the very back seat, I needed a seat and he wouldn’t let me sit
by him. After a few awkward starring
moments, he finally slid over and let me get the remaining 12 inches of the
bench. The way he smiled just made you
fall in love with him and his personality, regardless of his sarcastic actions. We became good friends after that awkward bus
seat encounter. I would ride my bike to
his house weekly and he would come out, smile, and we would talk just about
anything. From random bike rides to
lovely “Mario style” good morning texts, there wasn’t one single thing you
could dislike about him. Not really
knowing many people walking into high school was tough, but when I sat down at
the cafeteria table on an early August morning my freshman year, Mario was
right beside me either laughing or sending me funny snapchat pictures of myself. Mario was the definition of a perfect friend,
never making you feel sad or worthless, just all smiles and hugs. He loved hugs. My day of March 7th was mostly
spent in the councilor’s office running though millions of Kleenex’s trying to
dry my eyes. One thing that made Mario a
person of influence in my life was his connection to God. Passing him in the hallways hearing him
trying to convert atheists to Christianity was so heart touching. His love for God and sharing his message was
his passion. I already know Mario would
have most likely been a pastor or some kind of people person sharing his
infatuation for the one he lived for. His
impact in my life has been nothing but positive. Through him, I have made friends that will
last a lifetime, a stronger relationship with God, and a friend I look forward
to seeing again when it’s my turn to go.
Overall, he taught me that life is short and we need to spend every
second living like it’s our last, serving the one who allows us to be on this
earth. Mario’s death was a life lesson
for everyone. He impacted my driving
habits and customs as well as whom I’m friends with. He showed me to love everyone like they are
your own family. He taught me to love
life, never take anything for granted, and be so outgoing. I try to live my life like Mario did, the
same way he impacted everyone else’s lives, the same way he STILL impacts
everyone’s life. My life has been
changed in such a great way due to Mario and his impact on my childhood all the
way to this current day. Mario makes the
grass greener and the skies bluer, there will always be special place in my
heart for Kenneth “Mario” McNeill.
****
Beautiful, right? Yep. I think so too. Here is the deal: it's things like this that help me to remember the assurance that Mario's life had meaning, that he lived his life in such a way that he fulfilled his purpose. I know that just as his life was planned, so was his death - and the timing of his death had it's own purpose. I wish there was a way that I could even remotely express to you how humbling it is to read things like this...to realize this is about my son.The majority of the time everything still seems so unbelievable. I literally sit and wonder, "did this really happen?", "is he really gone?", "is this for real?" Even after six months those questions stay with me.
Some of you have said that you think I'm "strong". Please know that I am not. It is truly God Himself who sustains me. Me, by myself? I am nothing. But it is Him who is holding me up. And I say that knowing that I do not deserve it, yet He still does it. All I can do is hang on because there is simply no way I can stand on my own. Nor do I want to. I'd rather be right here in this space and time hanging onto Him than failing by myself.
This essay that was sent today? It isn't only a reminder that Mario's life had purpose and that he lived his life with pure abandonment for Christ and for others in his own courageous and outgoing way, but it is a loud reminder to me that this is also the way that I should be living my life.
By the way, the young lady who wrote the essay? She was inducted into the National Honor Society this evening. An honor well deserved. A huge congratulations and an even bigger "Thank You" from a heartbroken mom who needed some encouragement and a solid reminder of where my focus needs to be.
We just never know how our lives are impacting others...live your life with healthy abandonment and courage.
"You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." Genesis 50:20
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
"Mom, would you sacrifice me if God asked you to?" ~ Mario
That is the question that Mario asked the night before his death. To be frank, I was appalled and didn't want to answer.
We had spent most of the evening at home, just the two of us, while everyone else was out for one reason or another. The majority of our time together was in the kitchen while I was cooking and Mario was bouncing around me talking non-stop, making me pose to take the typical selfies together to send to his friends, and telling me about who was doing what, who said what, and how things were going in his life. Always a jokester, this night was no exception. We were laughing and carrying on together like normal. Business as usual, perhaps.
With my back to him at the stove, the question was dropped. I have been known to call Mario my "shock and awe kid". Usually for dropping what would be considered a "forbidden question", a radical statement, or making some crazy movement, all in the name of shocking someone. He loved those types of reactions. Because he did that so often, there wasn't much that really truly shocked me anymore from him. I was able to recognize what he was doing and knew that it was really just his way of trying to get a reaction from me...or others. But in this one moment, the question stopped me in my tracks.
"Mom, if God asked you to sacrifice me for Him, would you do it?" I noted a hint of seriousness in his tone. The mere thought of what he was asking was absolutely unfathomable and my reaction matched that feeling, "Mario! That is terrible! Don't ask that!"
But he pressed on, "Seriously Mom, if God asked you to kill me, would you do it?" I tried to be insistent and as dismissive as possible in my response, "Mario! I'm not kidding. That is an awful thing to ask me. Stop."
Diving into the waters of an unthinkable question once again, Mario took it a step farther, "Mom, this is Biblical. This happened! God has asked someone to kill their son for Him before. It's in the Bible! What would you do if God asked you to do that? Would you sacrifice me?"
Mario was referring to a story in the Bible, Genesis 22:1 - 19, where God tests Abraham and asks him to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, as a burnt offering to the Lord. Just as Abraham is about to kill his only son for God, he is stopped by the angel of the Lord who tells him that since he has shown his fear of the Lord, he is not to harm his son and does not have to kill him.
Have you ever seen a mom go from being horrified to suddenly as sanctified as she can get? (I am laughing at the irony of that last statement as I write it.) I realized this question was not going to go away easy but I also knew that with a real sense of desperation that I did not want to answer it. Shoving the emotions to the side I tried my best to use that moment as a teaching moment. As calmly as I could muster, I explained to Mario that the story he was referring to was in the Old Testament of the Bible and that we are released from the necessity of offering sacrifices like that in the New Testament once Jesus died for us, for our sins.
To my great relief, that seemed to quell the waters of such a turbulent question. But why was I so effected by that question? Why didn't I want to answer? The answer is simple. Because I couldn't. I was completely torn between knowing what my answer SHOULD have been and knowing what my answer was likely to be...and it wasn't what it should have been.
As a Christian I know that God sent His Son to earth to be like us, to experience life like us, but to die not like us, but FOR us. I consider myself a Christ follower and I have a relationship with Jesus. Here, in the face of a question that essentially challenged the level of my loyalty, purity and genuine love for Christ, I was choking. I was choking because my 5' 8" tall, 156 pound son that was standing in front of me was asking if I was willing to give him up in the name of my relationship with Christ.
In all honesty, if that were a test for me, Ilikely would have failed. And I am deeply convicted by the thought of that certain failure. As a person who feels rooted and secure in my faith, I am also deeply disturbed with the reality of that failure. Had I been forced to answer that question, my answer would have been "no." But isn't that the level of trust and love that I have for my God? That I would lay my own son's life down if asked to? The word "excruciating" comes to mind. Now if you ask me if I would give up my own life for God, my answer would be a hands-down, with no hesitation, yes! But my own son? Uhhh....
So here is the thing to all of this; the reality is that the very thing Mario was asking me if I would do - sacrifice my son for God - God already did that.
Did you catch what I just said?
Slow down and really take this point in.
God...you know, the God of the universe...the God who chose you to be here right now in this moment...sacrificed His only son for you and me. (I'm not trying to preach here...I'm just making the connection.) He did exactly what Mario was asking if I would do - except He, with the deepest, most compassionate amount of love, went through with it. He freely GAVE His only Son for you and for me.
And it is through that sacrifice, and Mario's belief in that same sacrifice, that Mario is now in Heaven. So the very thing that Mario asked if I would be able to do - sacrifice him if God asked me to - is the very thing that saved him and allowed him in the gates of Heaven because God did it for us.
Epic.
Lord, I am thankful that I live in a time that I do not have to make the choice of sacrificing my own son. I see now that I often take my own level of faith and belief system for granted. That is not what I want for me, but especially not what I want for You from me. Increase my faith in You and allow me to hear Your voice clearly. Thank You so much for choosing me to be Mario's mom. My life has been beyond blessed by my children. Give Mario a kiss and a big hug from me.......
We had spent most of the evening at home, just the two of us, while everyone else was out for one reason or another. The majority of our time together was in the kitchen while I was cooking and Mario was bouncing around me talking non-stop, making me pose to take the typical selfies together to send to his friends, and telling me about who was doing what, who said what, and how things were going in his life. Always a jokester, this night was no exception. We were laughing and carrying on together like normal. Business as usual, perhaps.
With my back to him at the stove, the question was dropped. I have been known to call Mario my "shock and awe kid". Usually for dropping what would be considered a "forbidden question", a radical statement, or making some crazy movement, all in the name of shocking someone. He loved those types of reactions. Because he did that so often, there wasn't much that really truly shocked me anymore from him. I was able to recognize what he was doing and knew that it was really just his way of trying to get a reaction from me...or others. But in this one moment, the question stopped me in my tracks.
"Mom, if God asked you to sacrifice me for Him, would you do it?" I noted a hint of seriousness in his tone. The mere thought of what he was asking was absolutely unfathomable and my reaction matched that feeling, "Mario! That is terrible! Don't ask that!"
But he pressed on, "Seriously Mom, if God asked you to kill me, would you do it?" I tried to be insistent and as dismissive as possible in my response, "Mario! I'm not kidding. That is an awful thing to ask me. Stop."
Diving into the waters of an unthinkable question once again, Mario took it a step farther, "Mom, this is Biblical. This happened! God has asked someone to kill their son for Him before. It's in the Bible! What would you do if God asked you to do that? Would you sacrifice me?"
Mario was referring to a story in the Bible, Genesis 22:1 - 19, where God tests Abraham and asks him to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, as a burnt offering to the Lord. Just as Abraham is about to kill his only son for God, he is stopped by the angel of the Lord who tells him that since he has shown his fear of the Lord, he is not to harm his son and does not have to kill him.
Have you ever seen a mom go from being horrified to suddenly as sanctified as she can get? (I am laughing at the irony of that last statement as I write it.) I realized this question was not going to go away easy but I also knew that with a real sense of desperation that I did not want to answer it. Shoving the emotions to the side I tried my best to use that moment as a teaching moment. As calmly as I could muster, I explained to Mario that the story he was referring to was in the Old Testament of the Bible and that we are released from the necessity of offering sacrifices like that in the New Testament once Jesus died for us, for our sins.
To my great relief, that seemed to quell the waters of such a turbulent question. But why was I so effected by that question? Why didn't I want to answer? The answer is simple. Because I couldn't. I was completely torn between knowing what my answer SHOULD have been and knowing what my answer was likely to be...and it wasn't what it should have been.
As a Christian I know that God sent His Son to earth to be like us, to experience life like us, but to die not like us, but FOR us. I consider myself a Christ follower and I have a relationship with Jesus. Here, in the face of a question that essentially challenged the level of my loyalty, purity and genuine love for Christ, I was choking. I was choking because my 5' 8" tall, 156 pound son that was standing in front of me was asking if I was willing to give him up in the name of my relationship with Christ.
In all honesty, if that were a test for me, I
So here is the thing to all of this; the reality is that the very thing Mario was asking me if I would do - sacrifice my son for God - God already did that.
Did you catch what I just said?
Slow down and really take this point in.
God...you know, the God of the universe...the God who chose you to be here right now in this moment...sacrificed His only son for you and me. (I'm not trying to preach here...I'm just making the connection.) He did exactly what Mario was asking if I would do - except He, with the deepest, most compassionate amount of love, went through with it. He freely GAVE His only Son for you and for me.
And it is through that sacrifice, and Mario's belief in that same sacrifice, that Mario is now in Heaven. So the very thing that Mario asked if I would be able to do - sacrifice him if God asked me to - is the very thing that saved him and allowed him in the gates of Heaven because God did it for us.
Epic.
Lord, I am thankful that I live in a time that I do not have to make the choice of sacrificing my own son. I see now that I often take my own level of faith and belief system for granted. That is not what I want for me, but especially not what I want for You from me. Increase my faith in You and allow me to hear Your voice clearly. Thank You so much for choosing me to be Mario's mom. My life has been beyond blessed by my children. Give Mario a kiss and a big hug from me.......
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
With New Eyes I see
This morning I realized that it is with Mario's death that I have been given new eyes to read scripture with a new and very different perspective. I am finding that there is a longing to understand scripture in a much different way. As I read through my devotions, the lessons seem to resonate at a deeper level and are applied to my life with more meaning. It has become personal.
I'm finding that I want to understand what Mario may be experiencing right now in Heaven, what he experienced in his death as he entered Heaven, how God sees each of us and how he saw Mario during his 17 years of life here on earth. It has been humbling to learn at a much more real and personal way that God provides for us by means that we often don't even recognize. A recent discovery that struck my core: Jesus intercedes on our behalf and the Holy Spirit does the same.
((Side note: Who better to pray for us than Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I could stop right there and just let that simmer...and I am in awe of it...Jesus, the one that was mocked, savagely beaten and hung on a cross to die for me and you - he intercedes on my behalf to the God of the universe - the same God that made you and me. Seriously, that is huge...and it is humbling!))
Since Mario's death, the actual inner workings of the Spiritual realm have become clearer and more prominent in the things read and heard. This is becoming so much so that it motivates an earlier than usual rise in the morning, a thirst for greater understanding of all things spiritual, and is producing in me a very different perspective around what is truly important in life.
I am by no means perfect in these things but rather have become more sensitive to the promptings and lessons of the Spirit...something I don't think would have happened had it not been for Mario's death. As such, I stand firm in the belief that Mario's death was not in vain.
It can easily be said that in Mario's death, he not only still lives, but he is quite possibly more alive than ever before.
God is brilliant.
"The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, He will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you." Romans 8:11
"Because Jesus lives forever, His priesthood lasts forever. Therefore He is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through Him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf." Hebrews 7:24-25
"And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39
I'm finding that I want to understand what Mario may be experiencing right now in Heaven, what he experienced in his death as he entered Heaven, how God sees each of us and how he saw Mario during his 17 years of life here on earth. It has been humbling to learn at a much more real and personal way that God provides for us by means that we often don't even recognize. A recent discovery that struck my core: Jesus intercedes on our behalf and the Holy Spirit does the same.
((Side note: Who better to pray for us than Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I could stop right there and just let that simmer...and I am in awe of it...Jesus, the one that was mocked, savagely beaten and hung on a cross to die for me and you - he intercedes on my behalf to the God of the universe - the same God that made you and me. Seriously, that is huge...and it is humbling!))
Since Mario's death, the actual inner workings of the Spiritual realm have become clearer and more prominent in the things read and heard. This is becoming so much so that it motivates an earlier than usual rise in the morning, a thirst for greater understanding of all things spiritual, and is producing in me a very different perspective around what is truly important in life.
I am by no means perfect in these things but rather have become more sensitive to the promptings and lessons of the Spirit...something I don't think would have happened had it not been for Mario's death. As such, I stand firm in the belief that Mario's death was not in vain.
It can easily be said that in Mario's death, he not only still lives, but he is quite possibly more alive than ever before.
God is brilliant.
"The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, He will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you." Romans 8:11
"Because Jesus lives forever, His priesthood lasts forever. Therefore He is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through Him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf." Hebrews 7:24-25
"And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39
Friday, April 18, 2014
Grieving is Twisted (Part II)
In my mind it is expected that as time goes on, things would be better. The pain of grieving would decrease. After all, isn't there a saying that time heals all wounds? Oh what a fool I was to think that.
Many of you have expressed how strong I have been through all of this. With desperation I want you to know that the strength you see is not me. Never would I want someone to see my life and my grieving process and think that there is something wrong with them for not grieving in the same way. You need to know that everyone grieves differently, at different paces even.
What you need to know is that I still cry...daily...without fail. Even in the firm belief that Mario is in Heaven, is safe, is happy, and is way better off than I can imagine - I miss him. In the midst of an emotional moment this week I tweeted exactly what I felt as if it were a new discovery for me: "It is not in his death that I am sad. It's the inability to touch him, hold him, talk to him & laugh w/ him that is torturous." Truth.
And there it is. My new reality. A new reality that is hard to grasp, hard to make sense of. Sometimes reality hits at the strangest times. And sometimes as I stare reality in its face, it oddly feels like it is not reality at all. Things are still surreal.
Over the past six weeks I have tried to set the table for 5, instead of 4. I have had confusion when signing a birthday card to someone from our family and getting stuck when it would have been the place to write Mario's name - I simply didn't know what to do. I have tried to make arrangements for him to get a ride home as that would normally be the case in the scenario at the time. His supper was mentally planned multiple times because what we were having wouldn't be something he would want. My parents, Greg and I sat in silence, head bowed, holding hands, all waiting for Mario to say the prayer before supper like he always did - before realizing someone else was going to have to say it. I've headed to his bedroom to say hello to him when I got home from work, to say goodnight before going to bed, and to wake him up in the morning. I have put some of his favorite "standard" grocery items in the cart before realizing it - and put it back because no one else will eat it. The moments like these seem never-ending.
How twisted is the grieving process? Very.
Many of you have expressed how strong I have been through all of this. With desperation I want you to know that the strength you see is not me. Never would I want someone to see my life and my grieving process and think that there is something wrong with them for not grieving in the same way. You need to know that everyone grieves differently, at different paces even.
What you need to know is that I still cry...daily...without fail. Even in the firm belief that Mario is in Heaven, is safe, is happy, and is way better off than I can imagine - I miss him. In the midst of an emotional moment this week I tweeted exactly what I felt as if it were a new discovery for me: "It is not in his death that I am sad. It's the inability to touch him, hold him, talk to him & laugh w/ him that is torturous." Truth.
And there it is. My new reality. A new reality that is hard to grasp, hard to make sense of. Sometimes reality hits at the strangest times. And sometimes as I stare reality in its face, it oddly feels like it is not reality at all. Things are still surreal.
Over the past six weeks I have tried to set the table for 5, instead of 4. I have had confusion when signing a birthday card to someone from our family and getting stuck when it would have been the place to write Mario's name - I simply didn't know what to do. I have tried to make arrangements for him to get a ride home as that would normally be the case in the scenario at the time. His supper was mentally planned multiple times because what we were having wouldn't be something he would want. My parents, Greg and I sat in silence, head bowed, holding hands, all waiting for Mario to say the prayer before supper like he always did - before realizing someone else was going to have to say it. I've headed to his bedroom to say hello to him when I got home from work, to say goodnight before going to bed, and to wake him up in the morning. I have put some of his favorite "standard" grocery items in the cart before realizing it - and put it back because no one else will eat it. The moments like these seem never-ending.
How twisted is the grieving process? Very.
- I feel as though I somehow need to be strong for everyone else.
- I feel weak for crying...and even more so when the tears begin to flow without my permission or control.
- I don't want to talk about Mario's death because I don't want people to get tired of hearing about it and get irritated with me talking about it. But I think about it non-stop.
- I want to hang pictures up of him that we received already framed...but don't want people to think I'm setting up some sort of a shrine or something.
- I want to share stories about Mario often - and always have done that - but now find myself hesitating because again, I don't want people to think I'm completely obsessed and unable to move on.
- I want to wear the shirts that his friends at the high schools made to honor him - but don't want people to think I'm out for attention.
- I don't want people to think they need to be careful around me - but at the same time, I feel unbelievably fragile.
- I want to do his laundry but somehow feel like I'm being disrespectful to him for even considering moving it.
- We used his room for a staging area for the big furniture that was moved from the Champaign house but I couldn't help feeling guilty for using "his space" for that.
- Everyone talks about the guilt and/or regret that so many people have who are in this type of situation. Thankfully, so far, I haven't experienced that at all - but I feel guilty for not feeling it. (I told you this was twisted...)
- And there's more, but I'll spare you.
I used to say that I was living day by day. My new life requires me to live moment by moment. I have been learning that I have to give myself grace, even if others don't at some point. I have to be okay with not being okay - and mean it. My life is different now. I am searching for the new normal because the old normal will never be normal again.
All of this and I have Christ in my life. Don't even think about what my life would be like without Him! When I said earlier that the strength you see is not me, I meant it. That is the truth. As for me? I'm a mess. But what God does with that mess has been nothing short of a miracle. What you see is Him, not me. Please hear that...read it again...let it sink in. When speaking at Mario's Celebration of Life, at some point, I went completely off what I had prepared. I had no idea what I said. Literally I had to watch the video to see what came out of my mouth. That was not me.
So many people say it is my faith that has gotten me through and I thought that was true. But it is not. Craig Grochele said the other day, "Don't put your faith in your faith. Put your faith in God." Whoa. It puts a different spin on things doesn't it? So, that means that instead of "hanging on to our faith", we should be hanging on to God. It is in that belief of God that our faith is made real.
(Inserting a little extra commentary here - 2/23/2016 - the other thing I have heard multiple times is about how I must be mad at God for taking Mario. I'd like to debunk that by saying I am not mad at God, nor have I ever been. It may sound crazy but I am incredibly thankful that God was merciful. Merciful? Yes. He was merciful in that He took Mario on impact. All evidence points to an instant death, on impact from the blunt force trauma. How is that merciful? That means he didn't suffer. He wasn't laying there in pain like some thought happened...all alone...out in the middle of a cornfield (by the time the car stopped). The first responders that I had the honor of meeting shared with me that when they got there, Mario looked as if he was asleep. No fear on his face. No pain. Just peacefully asleep. In my mind, there are a thousand or more ways that this could have ended. If it must happen, I'd much rather it be quick and painless. That, to me, is a merciful God at work. I'm not mad. I'm thankful for His grace and mercy.)
(Inserting a little extra commentary here - 2/23/2016 - the other thing I have heard multiple times is about how I must be mad at God for taking Mario. I'd like to debunk that by saying I am not mad at God, nor have I ever been. It may sound crazy but I am incredibly thankful that God was merciful. Merciful? Yes. He was merciful in that He took Mario on impact. All evidence points to an instant death, on impact from the blunt force trauma. How is that merciful? That means he didn't suffer. He wasn't laying there in pain like some thought happened...all alone...out in the middle of a cornfield (by the time the car stopped). The first responders that I had the honor of meeting shared with me that when they got there, Mario looked as if he was asleep. No fear on his face. No pain. Just peacefully asleep. In my mind, there are a thousand or more ways that this could have ended. If it must happen, I'd much rather it be quick and painless. That, to me, is a merciful God at work. I'm not mad. I'm thankful for His grace and mercy.)
As the grieving process continues - as I suspect it will for a long time, know that your continued prayers, love, and support in various ways has made a difference. Thank you for your friendships, patience and kind words, your hugs and your smiles, for checking in on us and for loving us right where we are...even in the midst of the twisted mangle called the grieving process...
#aintstressin
#missingyou
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Grieving is Twisted (Part I)
Getting close to the two year anniversary of Mario's death, I have noticed my mind and heart getting caught up in all of the feelings. Deciding to blog to "get it out of my head and onto a screen" (as I like to say) I noticed the blog post below that never was posted - on purpose. In fact, my feelings were running at such a high rate that there is a part 2. After reading through it all, my thought is that I could just say "ditto" and leave it at that. It's all relevant and it is as if I am starting to relive some of it again.
Please know that there is never a day or waking hour that Mario doesn't cross my mind for something. But this time of year brings a hypersensitivity with it apparently. I was hopeful it would just be the first year...I can confirm it is the second as well.
Although for whatever reason I was too afraid to post this six weeks after Mario's death, it's getting posted now. For anyone who is going through the grieving process anew, I hope it is helpful. A glimpse into my reality in April of 2014...(part 2 tomorrow)
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Grieving is twisted.
Please know that there is never a day or waking hour that Mario doesn't cross my mind for something. But this time of year brings a hypersensitivity with it apparently. I was hopeful it would just be the first year...I can confirm it is the second as well.
Although for whatever reason I was too afraid to post this six weeks after Mario's death, it's getting posted now. For anyone who is going through the grieving process anew, I hope it is helpful. A glimpse into my reality in April of 2014...(part 2 tomorrow)
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Grieving is twisted.
This blog post could close right there with that one sentence, those three little words, but I'll explain - if I can.
Today marks the six week anniversary of that dreaded call from the Deputy Coroner who had been sitting outside the house in Champaign for well over an hour waiting for me to come "home", not realizing we had moved just three weeks earlier to Tuscola. She didn't want to deliver the news over the phone and hesitated many times before she shared that Mario was in an accident. It wasn't until I assured her that my husband was next to me that she finally said those words: "I'm so sorry. He did not survive."
What the very kind Deputy Coroner didn't realize is that I already knew. I didn't know it for a fact, but I knew something wasn't right. Something inside me stirred and my heart dropped when I received a twitter notification from the local paper at 7:27 p.m. saying, "Police report an accident at Cardinal and Rising." I tried to reason with myself that Mario wouldn't go that way. He would take the interstate all the way to lacrosse practice. Then the internal wrestling began: "no, he wouldn't have known to do that. He would have taken familiar routes. Why would he do that? Why Rising? No, he would have just taken Staley. No, he could have taken Rising thinking it was a shortcut. I remember when he told me he thought it was a shortcut. What am I thinking? This is crazy. That isn't him. He would call if he was in an accident."
A few minutes before 8 I gave in and sent him a text to ask if he made it; something I never do. No response. Again with the reasoning: practice started at 8. He isn't around his phone and that explains the unresponsiveness. More wrestling. When 9:30 rolled past on the clock and still no response even after practice should have been over, I reasoned he was a chatter box and loved to hang out after practice to talk and throw the ball around with his friends. But looking back, deep down, I knew.
10:18 - Casting out the "bait" text telling him to invite his friend to supper to celebrate his birthday with us the next night, including in it a cautionary, "Get home safely" and seeing it turn green (meaning it is not connected to wireless or the phone is off - for iPhones), I knew. I knew but I tried to call anyway - it went straight to voice mail. I knew. Right after I told Greg we were going to wait this out, the phone rang. "NO ID". I knew. I'm pretty sure Greg knew too. And it was in that moment that life changed and the race was on to get in touch with our immediate family before the coroner's office had to release his name to the press who had already been out at the scene and showed footage of it on the 10 p.m. news. (So thankful we don't watch the news!)
In the middle of the night, and into the wee hours of the morning, our house was flooded with the love and presence of Pastor Jerris and some of our closest friends. Even in the extreme emotional exhaustion, sleep did not come easy and when there was a momentary drift into sleep, my body would not allow it to continue and woke itself up with the groaning of the heart that escaped through my voice involuntarily. I cannot explain it - it was as if sound just overflowed from the breaking of my heart.
For the next two weeks everything was on a foggy autopilot. There were momentary tears as the pain welled up but most of my waking hours were steeped in the details of getting his sister home from Spain, cemetery plots, obituaries, caskets, flowers, service information, clothes for him, clothes for us, and the list goes on...and continues to go on even to this day.
And the grieving doesn't end there...
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Taken Too Soon?
Over the last several days as many of you have joined together with my family and I to mourn the loss of my son Mario, we have taken comfort and gained a sense of peace in reading your notes to us, to Mario, and to others through various means, including social media. One of the things that has struck me that has been somewhat of a common theme is the expression that Mario was taken too soon; too young. If that is your line of thinking, I'd like to challenge you to see things a bit differently.
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." Jeremiah 1:5. This verse is one that I have hung onto for many years and it seems even more applicable now than ever before. It has encouraged me that God knew me before I was ever created in my mother's body. He knew me and yet chose me despite the mistakes I would make, irregardless of my shortcomings, failures, and bad decisions. This scripture not only applies to me of course, but it applies to everyone. God knew who you were, the choices you would make, the good and the bad, and He chose you anyway. Think about it like this...we are talking about God here. Don't you think he had a choice? He literally made you. He could have picked any other mixture of personality traits, looks, etc., but He didn't...He chose you and I. Mario is no different. God chose him.
The second part of that verse should not go unnoticed. "...before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." That sounds huge, right? Daunting even. Perhaps you are getting stuck on the part about being a "prophet to the nations." The definition of a prophet is someone who "speaks for a God or a deity, or by divine inspiration". Another definition is "a person regarded as, or claiming to be, an inspired teacher or leader." (dictionary.com) When you think of the word "nation" maybe you think of something on the scale of the United Nations but really a nation can be a body of people in your life. Those that are in your sphere of influence.
When I was in the day-to-day life with Mario, there were glimpses of Mario being a prophet to nations as he taught friends about the love of Jesus, but on the back end of all of that, I can now see plainly that Mario was a prophet to his nations (read that: his peeps) through not only direct teaching, but also through his smile, his laugh, the way he accepted and befriended others. For me, Mario is a living, breathing example of Jeremiah 1:5.
I'd like to challenge you with a few additional thoughts about Mario's life. His life had a purpose. There is no doubt in my mind about that. As his mother I am naturally inclined to think that his life was cut short and he was taken too soon. There are no words that sufficiently describe the absolute heartbreak I have felt since receiving the call on March 6th telling me my baby boy was in an accident and did not survive. Never before have I felt like my heart was literally breaking in my own body. Never before have I known the meaning of the term "gut wrenching" - where the pain is so tremendous that it literally takes you to your knees. There has been a very real and torturous physical pain that has occurred with the loss of my son. But through it all I have known with everything in me that Mario's life had a purpose and he served that purpose to the fullest extent.
And I believe that this was all part of the plan: the timing of Mario's death, the people in his sphere of influence at this point in his life - and in the past, even the way that he died and where he died. Mario's death is not in vain. You want to know what the purpose of his life was? I wish I could show you the magnitude of the impact of his life as it is unfolding to us as his family after the fact. I wish I could share with you every letter, card, sign, email, phone call, post, text message, tweet, and conversation that I have had the privilege of experiencing that go well beyond the courtesy of a condolence and venture into the depths of Mario's impact in other's lives. We have been humbled and stunned by the love we have seen expressed through various means and floored by the over 700 people who took time to show their support and share their stories at Mario's visitation and service. I have always been proud of Mario but I have never been prouder of him than I am right now. And I am honored to have been chosen to be his "mamma".
In my opinion, Mario wasn't taken too soon or too young. This was the way it was supposed to be. It was all in the plan - we just didn't know the plan. But here we are, in the midst of the bigger plan. God is in control. Let me say that again...God is in control. Believe that.
"From birth I was cast on you; from my mother's womb you have been my God." Psalms 22:10
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." Jeremiah 1:5. This verse is one that I have hung onto for many years and it seems even more applicable now than ever before. It has encouraged me that God knew me before I was ever created in my mother's body. He knew me and yet chose me despite the mistakes I would make, irregardless of my shortcomings, failures, and bad decisions. This scripture not only applies to me of course, but it applies to everyone. God knew who you were, the choices you would make, the good and the bad, and He chose you anyway. Think about it like this...we are talking about God here. Don't you think he had a choice? He literally made you. He could have picked any other mixture of personality traits, looks, etc., but He didn't...He chose you and I. Mario is no different. God chose him.
The second part of that verse should not go unnoticed. "...before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." That sounds huge, right? Daunting even. Perhaps you are getting stuck on the part about being a "prophet to the nations." The definition of a prophet is someone who "speaks for a God or a deity, or by divine inspiration". Another definition is "a person regarded as, or claiming to be, an inspired teacher or leader." (dictionary.com) When you think of the word "nation" maybe you think of something on the scale of the United Nations but really a nation can be a body of people in your life. Those that are in your sphere of influence.
When I was in the day-to-day life with Mario, there were glimpses of Mario being a prophet to nations as he taught friends about the love of Jesus, but on the back end of all of that, I can now see plainly that Mario was a prophet to his nations (read that: his peeps) through not only direct teaching, but also through his smile, his laugh, the way he accepted and befriended others. For me, Mario is a living, breathing example of Jeremiah 1:5.
I'd like to challenge you with a few additional thoughts about Mario's life. His life had a purpose. There is no doubt in my mind about that. As his mother I am naturally inclined to think that his life was cut short and he was taken too soon. There are no words that sufficiently describe the absolute heartbreak I have felt since receiving the call on March 6th telling me my baby boy was in an accident and did not survive. Never before have I felt like my heart was literally breaking in my own body. Never before have I known the meaning of the term "gut wrenching" - where the pain is so tremendous that it literally takes you to your knees. There has been a very real and torturous physical pain that has occurred with the loss of my son. But through it all I have known with everything in me that Mario's life had a purpose and he served that purpose to the fullest extent.
And I believe that this was all part of the plan: the timing of Mario's death, the people in his sphere of influence at this point in his life - and in the past, even the way that he died and where he died. Mario's death is not in vain. You want to know what the purpose of his life was? I wish I could show you the magnitude of the impact of his life as it is unfolding to us as his family after the fact. I wish I could share with you every letter, card, sign, email, phone call, post, text message, tweet, and conversation that I have had the privilege of experiencing that go well beyond the courtesy of a condolence and venture into the depths of Mario's impact in other's lives. We have been humbled and stunned by the love we have seen expressed through various means and floored by the over 700 people who took time to show their support and share their stories at Mario's visitation and service. I have always been proud of Mario but I have never been prouder of him than I am right now. And I am honored to have been chosen to be his "mamma".
In my opinion, Mario wasn't taken too soon or too young. This was the way it was supposed to be. It was all in the plan - we just didn't know the plan. But here we are, in the midst of the bigger plan. God is in control. Let me say that again...God is in control. Believe that.
"From birth I was cast on you; from my mother's womb you have been my God." Psalms 22:10
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