Updates on Carrie Oliver - Journal of Hope

July 1, 2008

EARLIER ENTRIES

There is something very special

About our prayer time with the Lord.

We have His full attention and He has ours.

He listens with the heart of a father,

Understands with the compassion of a friend,

And fills the conversation with peace, wisdom and hope.

When we lift up the lives of others

And ask Him to meet their needs,

He gently reminds us—

I care for them even more than you do.

EVERYTHING the Lord has

In His heart for you is good—

He loves you so much.

(Dayspring Card)

Andrew and I worked in the yard this afternoon and early this evening I ran the sprinklers and when I went
outside to check on something I inhaled the wonderful aroma of water on newly cut grass and I was
reminded that every day there are little reminders that God does love us so very much though family and
friends and nature and through all of the little things that are so easy for us to take for granted . . . like sight,
sound, touch and smell and that’s just for starters.

In some ways this month in between the anniversary of Matt and Carrie's home-going (May 5th and July
2nd) has been a difficult one but in other ways it has held a lot of joy and blessings. Alivia of course
continues to be an unbelievable joy, making new sounds, trying to hold her neck up, chugging (I do mean
chugging) her bottle, getting fun new expressions on her face and waving her arms around. I just don’t get
tired of looking at her. For many more pictures and updates on Alivia you can go to www.
nathanandamyoliver.blogspot.com. Amy and Nathan are such a great mom and dad and Alivia couldn’t
have a better uncle than Andrew. He loves to hold her and care for her and does a great job. He is very
gentle with her. I’m so proud of my family.

Speaking of Andrew, we are already starting to get him ready for our trip out to Biola in August. He is
thrilled to be out of high school and on his way to the same school his dad, aunt and older brother
attended. We have some dear friends out in California who have invited Andrew for visits so if he gets
bored he will have somewhere to go. It means a lot to have friends that open up their hearts and their
homes for your kids. One of his graduation gifts was a Long Board (a big skate board) and Andrew’s been
having a lot of fun with it. He is proud of some of the scars he has earned as he learns to manage this
new mode of transportation.

We had a wonderful Father’s Day and this was the first time that one of my sons and I were able to
celebrate it together. That is one of the fun “firsts” unlike most of the “firsts” we’ve had this year. Nathan
and I enjoyed a great meal out on our deck with Amy, Alivia, Andrew and my dear sister Marsha. We are
always aware that our Carrie and Matt aren’t there to celebrate with us. Even when we aren’t talking about
it we are aware. But that doesn’t keep us from laughing and playing and sharing and talking about the
future.

At the first of this month I went out to Southern California to speak at a men’s conference with my dear
friend Norm Wright. We hadn’t seen each other since I went to visit him in Bakersfield after the death of his
precious wife Joyce. In the months following the deaths of Carrie and Joyce we talked on the phone 5-6
times a week. Sometimes the calls included long stretches of silence because one or both of us were so
choked up we couldn’t speak or because by of the sound of sobbing on the other end we knew that silence
best said what needed to be said. We had many long chats and, as always, some great times of prayer
together. It’s impossible to overstate the value of good, godly, faithful and loyal friends especially when
they also have a somewhat warped sense of humor. On one afternoon I talked Norm into going on an
Alpine Slide with me. He had never been on one before and we had a ball. Actually, I had as much fun
watching him as I did riding the slide. The picture of Norm and I are as we’re riding up the top of the
mountain on a ski lift for our second ride down.

The Healing Journey
Early in the month we finally sold Carrie’s Xterra. I know, it’s just a car, but it’s a car that had a ton of
memories. Carrie loved her Xterra. She took great care of it and enjoyed driving it. I knew it would be hard
for me to let go of it but I didn’t know just how hard until I saw the new owners drive it out of our driveway. I
walked out to the street to get the last glimpse of it as it rounded the corner, sensing that it was another
letting go, another saying goodbye. I know, it’s just a car but it symbolized and was a point of connection
with so much more. Sometimes when the kids weren’t watching I just go sit out in the car and play some
of the Christian CD’s that Carrie so enjoyed. Some of the best memories of my life were trips we took in
that car and just seeing my blond babe waving at me with her amazing green eyes and huge smile on her
face. After I caught the last glimpse of the car I went back and sat in a little swing we have in our front yard
for about 45 minutes and laughed and wept and remembered and thanked God for his goodness, mercy
and grace and that as I look back on my 27 years with Carrie I have few regrets.

It’s amazing how much difference it makes what we choose to focus on. In life we can have a fear focus or
a faith focus. We can have a problem focus or a promise focus. What we choose to focus on makes all
the difference in the world as to how we experience life. Professor Vicki Medvec studied Olympic medalists
and discovered that bronze medalists were quantifiably happier than silver medalists. Can you guess
why? Silver medalists were more likely to focus on how close they came to winning the gold so they
weren't that excited about getting the silver. The bronze medalists were more likely to focus on how close
then came to not winning a medal at all, so they were just thrilled to be on the medal stand. The power of
perspective. What we choose to focus on makes all the difference in the world as to how we experience
life.

During times of despair, discouragement, disappointment and even a bit of depression it’s much easier to
allow that rascal “fear” to slip in the back door. Fear that you’ll never heal, that things will never be normal
again, that you’ll never have the happiness and joy that you so loved, fear of being alone . . . and the list
goes on. In one of Henri Nouwen’s books he quoted a prayer from a woman who had been in a
concentration camp in World War II. Here is the prayer of Etty Hillesum:

There are those who want to put their bodies in safe keeping but who are nothing more now

than a shelter for a thousand fears and bitter feelings

Don’t let me waste even one atom of my strength on petty material cares. Let me use and

spend every minute and turn this into a fruitful day, one stone more in the foundations on

which to build our so uncertain future.

Even if I should be locked up in a narrow cell and a cloud should drift past my small barred

window, then I shall bring you that cloud, oh God, while there is still the strength in me to do

so.

Yes, I’m still heartbroken and a day doesn’t go by when there isn’t an ache and a sense of being partial,
incomplete, missing something. I’m heartbroken that I don’t have my best friend to talk to, to bounce things
off of, to plan with, to pray with, to care for. I’m heartbroken that Alivia will only have one grandmother (albeit
a great one) to love on her. I’m heartbroken that Nathan and Amy don’t have the opportunity to draw on
Carrie’s love and wisdom and share this new chapter of their lives with them. I’m heartbroken for Andrew
that he didn’t have Carrie there to see him graduate from high school, to see the look of pride in her loving
eyes, to feel her hug, to hear her voice and know of her love. I’m heartbroken for Andrew that he doesn’t
have his mom here to help him get ready for Biola and that Carrie won’t be able to be there to hug and kiss
him as we drop him off at college and some day to attend his wedding and the list goes on.

Ambushed is a great word to express what happens from time-to-time. From my experience as a
counselor I know that it’s easy to dwell on and allow the pain the loss to obscure the many good and
wonderful things about a loved-one that makes the loss so very real and painful. I decided early on to ask
God to help me feel the pain, have the freedom to shed the tears, acknowledge the loss but put it all in the
context of what was, what God did, the myriad of ways he showed up in 27 years of marriage and what he
is continuing to do not just in spite of but truly in the midst of the “adventure” that he in his sovereignty is
allowing me and my family to experience. I do have a good time remembering and thanking God for the
many precious memories and blessings and that God answered the prayers of many in allowing Carrie to
live for over two years rather than the initial prognosis of 3-6 months. That extra year and a half that God
gave us was a miracle and one of many answered prayers.

I find myself continuing to enjoy reading the Bible and books related to spiritual growth. I want to learn new
and more effective ways to deep water my spiritual root system. That takes intentionality, commitment and
time. One ongoing challenge for me is to remember that “recognition of a need does not constitute a call”
and to be discerning in how busy I allow myself to be. I’m trying to err on the side of “being still” but that is
not how I’m wired so some of the books including some of my readings in Celtic spirituality are a precious
reminder of what first-things-first looks like.

Prayer continues to be a lifeline and at times I feel like I’m still in the introductory course of prayer. Here’s a
little poem I came across that you might enjoy.

How shall I pray?

Are tears prayers, Lord?

Are screams prayers,

or groans

or sighs

or curses?

Can trembling hands be lifted to you,

or clenched fists

or the cold sweat that trickles down my back

or the cramps that know my stomach?

Will you accept my prayers, Lord,

my real prayers,