Author: Brad Luczywo

And now we come to it

I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for 365 years rather than days, anticipating what it will be. The worst anniversary I could ever imagine is now upon me as October begins. 1. 3. 13. Though strangely related and all prime, what would otherwise be arbitrary numbers in any other scenario weigh infinitely heavy when they follow the seven letters representing the tenth month.

October 1, 2010 was Stephanie’s last birthday. God’s grace, once again, was in full force, as He put it in my mind to take that Friday off of work to spend the day with her – something I don’t think I did any year previously. It is a sobering thought to realize that at the time, I could never have imagined what would enter our lives just two days later.

Speaking of, that day is fast approaching when I can no longer say “a year ago, Stephanie and I…” And it will feel even sooner after that when I will be saying “two years ago” or “five years ago.” I fear the steady train into the future that will leave her standing at the station so far back on the horizon. I fear my memories will fade just as the miles fade our visibility.

On October 3, I’ll resort to thinking how that date in 2010 was the last day I was with her, talking to her. And I’m remembering that in the best way I can figure how, by having a bake sale in her honor. My coworkers especially knew Stephanie because of the treats she sent to work with me. I’m convinced she somehow found a way to bake into everything she made the pure joy she had from being in her kitchen, creating. And joy tastes absolutely wonderful! Dear friends of mine have also taken that idea and put together a cookbook of her/our favorite recipes, some created by her and others simply tweaked by her. Knowing that other people can have those recipes and continue to share some of her magic will make every morsel even sweeter.

I’ve also made the decision, once again, to experience the emotions as deeply as humanly possible. It might sound crazy to some, but it’s the only conclusion I can make. And to accomplish it, I plan to read each of my posts from a year ago as related to when those events happened. I want to remember what I was experiencing. I want to remember how God was at work. Remembering how my spirit broke is to remember how much He loves me and how deeply He sees me.

To put it concisely, I want to remember what God has done for me in 365 days.

Pages make chapters make books

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about God’s story. I have not held back when talking about how important I think it is for people to share their stories. And I have obviously shared my story as openly as I can. My deep underlying reason for that is because of my conviction that it is all part of God’s story.

In the time I have spent thinking about moving on and my future and marrying again, I feel like God has really helped me zoom out to see these events as part of the larger collection of pages and chapters, rather than just as individual paragraphs. This isn’t “my story” or “Stephanie’s story” or “our story.” All of the events of my life and her life and my kids’ lives — and your life — are simply little bits and pieces of this grand novel that God is writing. And while you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can certainly read the title. This one isn’t called “So-and-So’s Life”; it’s called “God’s Story.”

We can’t read ahead and we don’t know what’s on the next page but we do know how the story ends. And the theme throughout it all is God’s love, despite whether or not page 357 has a catastrophe or page 792 tells of some great accomplishment. You wouldn’t explain the story of Moby Dick by talking about the relationships among the sailors and forget to mention the great white whale for which the story is named. Similarly, why should our lives be about us rather than how God can show himself through our events?

I want to live each day with the explicit intent that each moment points back to Him and not to me. When I have done that even semi-successfully, I have been stunned at how much the stress and worries of life begin to fade away, and it makes me even more determined to remember Who this is really about.

What’s the Jewish word for “God the Nagger”?

It has been too long since I blogged here. Many of you have asked me if I am still blogging, or if the Internet is broken, or if I’ve suddenly become a very uninteresting person. Well, the answers are “haven’t been”, “no”, and “I hope not – you tell me.” The truth is, I’ve been a slacker. I’ve had many ideas come through my head that I should blog about, but I’ve let tiredness (i.e. laziness) get in the way.

God keeps calling me out, reminding me that I said I wanted to do this and that He wants me to do this. He certainly won’t just let it go. (Goodness, He sure can be persistent!) Believe it or not, He’s using many of you to remind me of that. And once again, I offer my thanks. You’re very kind and polite in the ways you all have asked. I hear you asking me with gentleness and kindness in your words.

But I also hear God in your questions nagging me: “Hey, remember that thing you thought that you wanted to share that you didn’t and you should’ve and I wanted you to? Well, you should still share that.”

So, here I am, hoping that I can maintain my discipline a little better and continue blogging before everyone gives up hope and stops checking for my words. I had one of those moments earlier today when I think yet again that nobody cares what I think or wants to hear what I have to say. But God turns the moment on its head, nearly scolding me for thinking it has anything to do with me. It’s all about Him and completely not about me. And as long as I’m tuning my fingers to Him, He’ll ensure that I’m only saying what He wants me to say, and He’ll make sure that people care what He has to say through me. And He’ll do it even if I don’t understand why He thinks it’s a good idea to use me for sharing His truth. I’m very human and very imperfect. But thankfully, that means it has to be all about Him since I’m a broken vessel.

Assuredly, He’ll keep nagging me. And I’ll thank Him for that, because this is what I want to do even though I’ve been a slacker about doing it for two months. I hope you’re all still willing to read. I hope that it blesses you all as much as it blesses me to share. And I hope that I do a better job writing more often. Thank you for the encouragement you’ve given me wishing for more blog posts.

Chicago

Fairly miserable weather withstanding, my trip to Chicago was fantastic. In some ways, it wasn’t what I expected it to be, but it was everything I could have hoped it would be. Much of what made it so worthwhile were the stories and revelations I came home with.

I rode the Megabus to and from Chicago through the night, so I slept for most of my traveling hours. About one hour prior to arriving, however, I woke up and knew I wouldn’t fall back asleep so I pulled out a book to read. This book was the very same as I started reading when Stephanie died — a book my mother had given her to read. Anyway, the gentleman next to me commented on how good the author is and asked me how long I’ve been a Christian. We then, as brothers in Christ, shared each of our stories (I stole more of the time, for which I hope he doesn’t mind). After exiting the bus, we prayed for each other and got in touch in order to stay in touch. What really amazed me through this event and the entire weekend is the providence of God. He most definitely got me to start reading that book in a way only God knows how. And, guilty though I felt about it, I have put off reading it for the past 6+ months only to end up pulling it out of my book bag at this very moment. My seat partner knew the author and struck up a conversation. He also chuckled because he had been praying to God that he would sit next to another Christian. God really does have a plan for everything, and it’s so exciting to watch.

Friday morning was a gorgeous day, and it gave me a chance to have a slow breakfast outside while reading some more. It was such a meaningful time between me and God, as He reassured me in so many ways through the words of this book. I feel compelled to share so much of it, but will save that for later. Suffice it to say, that I would highly recommend everyone read “When Life is Hard” by James MacDonald regardless of whether or not you’re going through something you would categorize as hard. The rest of Friday was just a day out in the city, enjoying the weather and beautiful flowers along Michigan Avenue. God even blessed me with some opportunities to talk to friends on the phone and be encouraged by them and be an encouragement to them. I can’t explain to you the joy I feel when people can come to me for advice and I can feel God speaking through me to them.

Sadly, the weather went downhill from 11am Friday until I left, but I ignored that as best I could. I basically got to enjoy my time alone and also time with family and friends who live there. As is becoming more commonplace, I go into these situations expecting my heart to be wrenched into a mess, and yet I come away surprised at how little or how not at all I cried. And it’s all thanks to God.

I also chatted with the maître d’hôtel, who was there last year as well. I recognized him immediately and he vaguely remembered me and Stephanie. (It’s nothing short of amazing that a year can go by and he remembers me.) That is just the kind of reason why we hoped to frequent the same hotel, and I am so thankful to God to have had a familiar face. We talked quite a bit before I left the hotel for the weekend, and it was so wonderful to be able to share with him what had happened and thank him genuinely for being there and being so kind and welcoming. I told him how much we both enjoyed him last year and how great it was to see him again.

One thing that has been on my mind for some time now is what to do with this blog. I often think no one is still reading, but the response to my posts from that week say otherwise. I obviously can’t spend the rest of my life just blogging about the death of my wife, nor do I want to. (Plus, I’m sure that wouldn’t do a whole lot of good for attracting a potential wife.) Anyway, God has reminded me of my spiritual gifts: exhortation, teaching, and shepherding. I’m certain I need to be using these gifts, and also certain that God has given me a place to do it. (Note to self: write more about how God has used a Computer Science major, a Bible minor, and a desire to disciple others all via one outlet.) So, as long as God continues to bless it and people are still willing to read, I hope to share my thoughts on God and life and how I think we should live. And with that, I hope there’s also some sort of discussion. I very much appreciate the comments of support for me, but would be infinitely more blessed by God teaching us all more about Him through each other.

Thanks again for being a part of this.

Congratulations

I’ve been playing out this scene in my mind. Many of you might know it. You walk into your favorite restaurant — or maybe an all-too-expensive restaurant with strange menu items you’ve never heard of — and your hand is intertwined with that of the one you love. Your hearts are even more intertwined and your faces beam. You barely make it to the maître d’ before you blurt out, “It’s our anniversary!” just as if the entire world should care. The response is polite, though usually lacking the same enthusiasm, but it’s enough. There’s enough thrill in your present company that just saying it out loud is all the excitement you need. This person married me, you think in bewilderment and utter ecstasy.

It doesn’t matter what happens from there. They might give you free dessert or a goofy song. But the person across the table is all that matters. The time goes too quickly, and the conversation is perfect, even though it’s about laundry day and the big project and the kids who you rightfully ran away from for the night. It ends too quickly, just the way everything does. But it’s wonderful.

I have two questions after that – one for me and one for you.

What happens tomorrow when I say “It’s my anniversary” and there’s no wife by my side?

“Congratulations? Sir?”

Sure! Why not, right? I still got married. And marriage is a beautiful thing God designed. Regardless of the fact that it’s in my past, I can celebrate it and the growth it has brought me.

Your turn. How do you celebrate your anniversary? Are you making your marriage something to cherish? And, married or not, are you making your relationship with God something to cherish? How do you celebrate that? (I ask that of myself, as well.)

Anniversary

Six years ago. May 14, 2005.

What do I even say here? Five and a half years is such a short, short time, especially when we both dreamed of celebrating 50 or more. And yet, there was an entire lifetime wrapped up in those years, almost as if it had been 50. I can only imagine how 45 more years would have felt.

What do you do for an anniversary that isn’t actually happening anymore? My heart breaks for so many people that deal with this, possibly on an even more difficult level, because of divorce. And I weep. I don’t know how they do it. I do know how I plan to do it, though. I plan to celebrate.

God gave us 5 1/2 years of a beautiful marriage, and I feel blessed beyond belief for what He gave us. Last year, for our five year anniversary, we went to Chicago. It was our first time leaving the kids for more than one night. And it came at a perfect time in our marriage. It was such a wonderful weekend, we planned to go back often, even as early again as Stephanie’s birthday in October. That didn’t happen, but going back this year was a definite in our minds. We wanted to be regulars at the hotel. We enjoyed being “loyalistas” (a made up word, I realize) like that.

Well, you know the story, and here I am today. I don’t remember when I first thought I would go back to Chicago in spite of everything, but it was likely way back in October. I couldn’t think of a better thing to do for God, for myself, and for Stephanie. As I’ve done all along, I won’t avoid the memories or any pain they might cause. I’m not going to hide from life as I knew it or know it now. And I’m going full in and full on.

I’m excited. I’m going to have a full weekend to spend contemplating (there’s that word again), praying, reading and introspecting. I plan to celebrate the marriage I had, praise God for it and accept in every way possible that it’s over — though I’ve tried to do that all along. Maybe even more importantly, I’m going to talk to God a lot about my future.

I appreciate how many of you have expressed that you believe a new marriage is in my future. I agree. One thing I haven’t broadcast is my conviction that I’m “ready” for that, even now. To be honest, I’ve felt ready since February, and those closest in my life have seen that. I talked with my counselor about it a lot, and he said the same. I only didn’t broadcast it because I wasn’t sure if others were ready for me to be ready.

I loved Stephanie dearly, of course, and I feel that I’m honoring her to move on. She and I talked long before the seizures started about remarriage if the worst were to happen. We were both very happy for the other to find someone else if it came to that. That’s yet another way God has shown me that He has a plan — that we even talked about such things. I know in my heart that I have no greater cheerleader regarding this than Stephanie. I can just picture her nudging God that He should bring someone into my life. I know she would never want me to be alone, and I know she wants a mother for her children.

My passion, dream and goal for my life has always been Ephesians 5:21-33, that I would have a wife and be able to sacrifice myself for her. (More on that in a later post.) I’m excited for this weekend, and for the chance to really talk to God about that and even pray that I don’t have to wait long to have that again.

Aside from October, this is the last big date that I expect might be hard. This weekend is an opportunity for me to place a pile of stones (Joshua 4) as a remembrance of God’s faithfulness and goodness and what He has brought me through.

Mothers

I expected this past weekend to be incredibly difficult. I’m sure I’ve said it a hundred times, but I ache so much more for my children not having their mother than I do for me not having my wife. I fully expected the celebration of mothers yesterday to be a practice in misery for me. Many prayers must have gone up to God for me, as that was not the case at all.

I often find myself trying to imagine what my kids feel or think regarding all of this. That’s no easy task, as I have not lost my mother, nor am I a toddler. But, I want to be able to sustain them in whatever way possible, so I try. What usually ends up happening is that I assume all of these emotions that my kids simply don’t end up having and my worry is all for naught. Yesterday was such an instance.

One thing I was sure to do yesterday was to buy flowers to place at the grave. It only made sense to have the kids with me for Mother’s Day. This was their first time going to the cemetery, and I just wasn’t sure how it would go. I explained it to Brady a few times and he seemed to understand — God has definitely blessed he and I with his ability to comprehend so much of this. He asked to carry the flowers and to put them down.

I asked Brady what his favorite memory of Mommy is, and you can never be sure what type of answer you’ll get from a four-year-old with that question. Brady always has a different answer to it. His was perfect in light of my upcoming anniversary on May 14.

“I just love her so much because I love you so much because I love you and Mommy getting married before.”

Even at four years of age, Brady appreciates what it is for his parents to have been together. He always amazes me. I just told him that I loved that about us, too. Halle chimed in to say “Mommy come back,” as if she was requesting that she come home with us. I wish I could know what was going on in her little mind, to know what she thinks of this. I can tell that she misses Stephanie, especially at times, but she’s a very happy child and is doing perfectly fine.

I would be remiss not to mention my own mother here. It’s hard to express in words the appreciation I have for her. I know, because Stephanie was very similar, what it means to her to be a mother when that was her lifelong dream. And I know what a sacrifice it is. And now, even after all the years she put into my own life, she’s putting all the more into my children’s lives as she takes care of them nearly every day. There is no end to her grace to me and my kids. She somehow finds a way to balance being my mother — as a friend and supporting me through all this — and basically being my children’s mother — taking care of them so much — and all the while still being a grandmother to them and her other grandchildren. I can’t spend enough time expressing thanks for all she has done and does.

I want to thank my mother-in-law, who has also taken good care of me and the kids through all of this. She has been able to watch the kids as I do some of the things I really love, like playing handbells, etc. I never worried that she only loved me because of Stephanie, and now there is proof that I was right not to worry. I know other widows have experienced friends and family avoiding them because of the reminder they are of the person who is gone. I’m thrilled to say that no one in Stephanie’s family has ever done that to me — least of all Stephanie’s mom.

As a special thanks, there is a long list of other women in my life who have really been there for me and for my kids. Since my kids can’t have their own mother, they need other women who love them and guide them, and I am so thankful to all of you who have been “mothers” to my kids. I pray that you all know who you are, as I don’t want to risk leaving anyone out by trying to list you all. If you’ve spent time with my kids, please know that you’ve been a blessing to me and to them.

Ambulance

I live on a street and in a city that doesn’t exactly tend toward the younger demographic, so I can’t say that I was surprised to see an ambulance just across the street this evening. What did surprise me was the response I had and also what my kids ended up saying.

I was immediately contemplative. That’s my new favorite word because it’s not accurate to say I’m sad, but I’m certainly thinking — deeply. I’ve seen ambulances on the road since October (and pray for the person and their family every time I do), but this is the first I’ve seen one parked on my street. It really hit close to home (pun intended). In less than a year, three times I had seen those lights flashing in my driveway as I struggled to make sense of what was happening at the time. I couldn’t help but anguish to see them again, even though it wasn’t for us this time.

Was it the same men across the street who so feverishly tried to help my wife? Would they remember me or my wife or my house if they looked over and saw me standing in the doorway tonight? I certainly wouldn’t know any of those faces in a crowd. I can’t imagine what it must be for them to have those possible reminders of what they witness in their line of work. “This is the street/That’s the house where such-and-such happened.”

Brady was awake and aware of the first two visits we had, so he also knows the ambulance in the driveway, and he thought about Mommy tonight, too. I’m not sure what he or I said that inspired Halle, but she somehow got excited thinking “Mommy come home!” No, Dear, she’s not coming home. She went “Home,” but she’s never returning home to us. And once again, I was reminded that it’s harder for me on their behalf that their mom is dead than it is for them that their mom is dead. And it crushed me that Halle was thinking about her coming home, even if she doesn’t really understand what she’s saying.

Thank God for the ambulance and the paramedics who help so many people.

Handbells

Call me a dork, but I love playing handbells. I played for about 7 years through middle and high school until I went to college, after which point I had no outlet for swinging the brass. Fast-forward to 3 1/2 years ago when I found out my church (different from where I grew up) has a handbell choir.

I’ve been so thrilled to play again every year since then and I get embarrassingly excited to put on white gloves and play. But, I can’t deny who I am. I just love it that much. As it turns out, we’ll be playing again in all the church services this coming weekend (April 9 and 10) at Cuyahoga Valley Church. Even more exciting for me is that I get to play a solo, which is so much fun to do.

Of course, I can’t help but think of how proud Stephanie always was of me and how excited she got to watch me play. And I know how crushed she was for me last year when I completely screwed up my solo. The last time I played, unfortunately, started a week of utter badness. I mentioned the failed solo, but it was also that week that Stephanie had her first seizure, which terrified me more than I can tell you. That’s not all that happened, but it is all that’s relevant. I certainly hope to not repeat a week like that. Anyway, keeping in mind the joy she had for my ringing, my solo is very much in honor of her, and the song (which I’m not divulging) is very fitting.

I’ve done my best not to shy away from doing those things which are meaningful to her or to me or to us, despite her not being here any more. I’m still the person I was, and still love the things that I love. There’s no benefit in denying who I am simply because Stephanie died. I feel like I’m working my way through all of those things as this year continues on. It’s very therapeutic and freeing.

I’m so thankful to the bell choir for postponing our “season” until this spring, since the fall was obviously not going to work. I’m so thankful to the church for even having handbells and for our director, Jo, for leading us. Anyone who knows me, knows I can’t sing, so I thank God for the chance to worship Him through music in such a way.

In short: I can’t wait!

Six Months

Six months never felt so long.
Or so short.
As of Sunday, April 3 at 10:08pm, six months prior was the last time I talked to my wife.
The kids and I were all a year younger then. We’ve all started that next year of life sans Stephanie.

It’s essentially 180 days. And trust me when I say that it’s more about the number of days than the number of months. Actually, it’s even more accurately about the number of moments rather than the number of days, because that is what I’ve had to get through. I can’t think about a month. That’s much too large a time frame. I’m fortunate if I can figure out next week.

But, it’s amazing how much God can heal a heart in such a short amount of time. I don’t know how to explain it. But I do know that a few weeks ago, I very noticeably turned a corner with regard to my grief. Almost suddenly, I was more okay with things than I had ever been, though I had certainly been working up to that point. God has been so gracious and merciful to me in my struggling through this, allowing me the time and crazy emotions. And all of my family and friends and acquaintances and people reading this blog have been incredible support to me. It is thanks to the incredible love from everyone (God, especially) that I’ve come this far.

I spend a lot of my time thinking about my future. How does God want to continue to use this loss? In which direction does He want to point me? He continues to encourage me with stories from people of how He is using this for His good. I still stand by the fact that even though my life might not go the way I want, He is using this – and my life – for His glory. And that gives me more peace than anything this world could ever offer.

I absolutely hope to get married again. I want it for me and I want it for my kids. I’m not sure what that will look like or when that might happen. I’m doing my best to look to God for every step I make and every choice I have. I hope and pray He doesn’t make me wait too long, but waiting on Him is certainly better than going my own way with things. Plus, He’s gotten me this far and will get me as far as I need to go.

The kids are doing great. They’re both playing more and more with each other as Halle is getting older and able to communicate better. They are both so sweet and loving. We have many random cuddle moments throughout the day. And they both love life and love each other.

Me being the way I am, I like that April 3 was the first Sunday to be a “3rd” since Sunday, October 3. I know it’s probably strange, but I like being able to honor these dates at six months on the same days of the week as they originally happened. A weekday just has a different tone to it than a Sunday, so I’m thankful for the similar tone.

Before I know it, I’ll be talking about six years and exponentially more amazed at what has happened since. But, it will be one moment at a time that I get there. And, I think God delights in us taking one moment at a time. And boy, what I would give to be a delight to God.