Family From Here On Out

When my dad graduated to Heaven three years ago, each member of the Randy Kuenzle family had to decode what it meant to be family without him. Our core foundation unit was gone and we felt the gaping absence. Birthdays were painful; vacations felt lopsided, and Christmas was downright weird. Even so, we acclimated to a new "normal." Christmas and birthdays and Father's Day still reverberate with bittersweet memories, and on occasion, I will have an especially painful day where I just need to cry because I miss him so.  

Victor Hugo said that "even the darkest night will end with a sunrise." We keep living life and making new memories with family because we are still here and we value the precious bond of relationship. I don't hang out with my brothers because I have to; I do it because I genuinely want to do so. After my husband, my mom remains my best friend (I realize that not everyone can say that about their family, but what I have I am thankful for and I don't want to take it for granted).

This past weekend, we got to visit Aaron's extended family in Oklahoma. Having only one grandparent left on this earth, I am exceedingly grateful for Poppa and Gram. Thirteen years ago, when I was still just dating Aaron, they welcomed me in and made me their own, and they haven't turned back.

Even after two years of not seeing their great-grandparents, my cautious kids ran right to and hugged them with fervor. If you are in the Hanley home, you are hugged, given a plate of food, and encouraged to sit and listen to the Hanley stories. It's a lively experience for sure.

And more than any other word, you will hear "blessed." Not as in, "Oh, bless his heart." But more like, "We are so blessed." "My family is such a blessing." "Ya'll blessed us by being here."

God created it. We get to find it and enjoy it. And if it's done well, it's a blessing to others too. ~Family~

"How good and pleasant it is when God's people live together in unity." Psalm 133:1

"Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people." Acts 2:46-47

When Life Goes On

Tomorrow my dad would have been 60 years old. Since he's not here to celebrate with us anymore, my family joins together to honor him by feasting and memorializing our relationship with Dad. We do what he would have loved to have done: we make donuts and spend the evening together, talking and eating. We share the memories that anchor us together. 

 Wonderful times on the beach...Dad's favorite place to be.

Dad loved to just chill when he went on vacation, but he worked harder than anyone else I know. Nothing was left unattended because Dad made sure it was taken care of immediately. Despite his driven, type-A personality, he was an example of patience and graciousness and selflessness. 

Our firstborn came 10 days earlier than anticipated, and Dad being Dad came over to our house and did laundry, vacuumed, and cleaned up the kitchen before Aaron and I got home. He was not only present at Madeline's birth, he ministered in a way that would help me out. 

Because of her age, Maddie was the one that was able to connect with Dad the most. They'd gather eggs from the chickens and pick peaches off the trees at my parents' house. We'd take walks together around the subdivision and she'd always get excited when she saw Granddad's red truck, which meant he was close. She still talks about her granddad, eagerly awaiting the day she'll see him again.

 Dad holding Maddie...

 Holding Landon...

 Holding Corbin...

 Some of my best memories with Dad were all the camping trips we took as a family (with the Scotts and McAllisters). Dad was in his element, laughing and attending a campfire, and enjoying the outdoors.  We were able to take a "camping" cabin trip with the kids once before he departed. It was a special memory for all of us.

 For my 30th birthday, my parents surprised us all with an overnight stay at Elfindale Manor. My parents continually blessed us with their generosity. As an extravagant wedding gift, my dad built us our first home--all his labor and time a gift to us.

As nearly three years has passed since Dad has departed this world for the Eternal One, it's getting harder to remember certain things. I can't readily hear his laugh like I used to or feel his hug. But, I recall the way He made me feel (accepted, important, valuable). 

I remember how he used to say "Well...I think I'll hit it." (usually going to bed at 8:00 in the evening).

I remember how he'd slap his knee with laughter over a particular episode of Monk or a scene in Good Neighbor Sam.

I remember sitting in my parents' hottub with my siblings, watching Dad sneak chocolate chip cookies through the kitchen windows (he wasn't supposed to eat chocolate b/c it gave him a headache).

I remember taking walks with him at the track, Mom and I trying to keep up with him.

I remember how he'd check on me while I was in college, making sure my car ran properly and helping me if I was having trouble.

I remember the notes he'd write me from childhood all the way through college. 

I remember Dad reading Bible stories to us as kids. I remember Dad praying with me to receive Jesus when I was 7. I remember being baptized by my dad at Manchester Heights Baptist Church. I remember sitting on the front pew, taking "sermon notes" while my dad preached. 

I remember him walking me down the aisle and officiating my wedding, reminding me through all the chaos that I was in charge, "It's your wedding." When I started to feel nervous about details, he'd remind me that all that mattered was that Aaron and I were there. "As long as you two are there, I will make sure you get married." 

I remember how he'd love on Mom while she was cooking dinner, kissing her and dipping her at times. How he'd help with chores around the house--nothing was too "low" for him to do.

Dad never lorded over us, never demanded, never tried to control us or our lives. 

Unconsciously, he challenged me to be disciplined, to live a life with purpose and meaning. To serve, rather than be served, to find a mate who could be your best friend, to love the Lord without ceasing, to study His Word, to be there when you're needed. 

He may not celebrate birthdays anymore, but most definitely, Dad's life goes on. He is celebrating in Heaven, joyfully whole and complete in Him who redeems us from this broken world. And one day, we're going to have an incredible reunion! 

I Thessalonians 4

13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. 14 For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. 15 For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord,[d] that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.

Random Thoughts for Monday: 5 Things

Summer is wrapping up and our reading lists and outdoor activity lists  and keep-the-kids-from-boredom lists have been replaced with school-supply lists and back-to-it lists.

In a couple weeks, I will be back in high gear, mentally racing between homeschooling, teaching creative writing courses, Awanas, Bible study, etc.  By God's leading, I've decided to back off from all extra-curricular items (no dance, co-ops, sports, what-have-you). Some moms would judge me for this decision: "you aren't giving your children enough opportunity." But honestly, my children are still young and at this critical phase (who am I kidding--all phases are critical) of absorbing and learning. Creativity, inquiring, and security come from necessary down time and family time, not schedules and opportunities.

I like to stay busy, but I want everything I do to have purpose. I love homeschooling for the flexibility it affords our family.


5 Reasons to Love Homeschooling:

  *You don't have to buy clothes for "back to school." My kids' growth spurts never line up before      September anyway. Waiting works perfectly with their fall birthdays. 

         *You get excited about new books, crayons, pencils, and notebooks too!

           *You get to relearn everything you forgot.

               *You have the privilege of integrating any extra-curricular activity you want (painting,   cooking, wood-working, Swahili).  

                   *No school lines, school lunches, school uniforms, parent/teacher conferences (that   would be weird),fundraisers, or bullies(okay, yeah, we have plenty of sibling rivalry to make up for it).

But the best thing about homeschooling is that I get to be here to really know my kids and go through the big struggles and highlights. I am the one that teaches them to read and tie their shoes and write in cursive (yes, we do that). When they ask the hard questions, I'm around to answer them.

Recently a dear lady, and my daughter's co-op tutor from last year, went Home to be with Jesus. She fought cancer for three short months and left behind a husband and teenage daughter. My heart just aches for all that loss entails. I don't pretend to know what they are experiencing; every person's loss is personally their own, but I do know that grief isn't as clean and linear as we'd like it to be. And people, bless their well-intending hearts, can say some truly stupid and painful things.

5 Things to Avoid Saying to a Grieving Person:
   *I know how you feel. (That just makes people want to scream; you don't, so don't say it).
            *God needed another angel. (Sorry, your loved one will never become an angel.)
                  *Offer advice or ask painful questions. (Not helpful).
                      *When are you going to come back to work, church, school, etc.?
                            *Sentences starting with "At least..." (minimizing the pain offers little sympathy)

After reading these lists, a person may think, "well, I guess I shouldn't say anything." But no grieving person wants to feel like a leper. If you don't know what to say, hug them, bring them a meal, and be sure to write a note, send an email, or call a person a few months from their loss. The shock will have started to wear off and the deep pain will settle in with acute rawness.

Life ebbs and flows, and remarkably, it keeps going...even when it feels like it shouldn't it. When my dad left this earth, it seemed like a complete betrayal to "keep going." I wanted to scream at people at the store, "Do you realize what just happened to me?" My spirit felt like it had been run over and my body wanted to sleep for several days on end, but I had three small kids to tend to and a job to keep. It all felt so wrong. So upside down.
But the seasons kept going, and this spring will mark three years since Dad left.

5 Things to Remember as Fall Approaches:
    *Don't forget why you are here (purpose). It's so basic, but this simple truth often eludes people.
    *Remember to rest: doing so exudes a level of trust that God will cover us and provide for us.
    *Take time to give. If you are too busy to pour into people, you are too busy.
    *Read His words to us. The world bombards with lies and temptations. Know your truth.
    *Keep a short list: ask God, "who do I need to forgive today?" And then forgive them.


Philippians 3:14 "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

A Grief Unwrapped

Grief is kind of like the lens of a camera.  Sometimes the zoom spans out, giving the viewer a bigger picture (perspective, hope, breathing room). But during times of raw emotion and aching memories, the lens transforms into a microscope, keeping the griever from seeing things with enough scope to cope.  The image is too close for anything else to enter the picture. It overwhelms.

The last few weeks, with Christmas on the horizon, the dulled pain of loss becomes more acute again. The lens zoom narrows and focuses on those little memories, those times when life was different, more complete and not void of someone so core to your family.  For you, in may be a grandparent, a spouse, a sibling. For me, it's my dad.

This is our second Christmas without him, but the distance has made the holidays no less painful. In fact, if I allow myself to analyze, I think this Christmas is harder than last because I haven't adequately prepared myself for it--ignorantly, I didn't think I needed to. So, in a way, the grief sideswiped my blindside and leaves me slightly stunned.

My daughter and I just finished watching Little Women--her first, my uncounted. The film always makes me cry at least twice. But a death scene hits me strange now, pinging something deeper in my soul than it used to. Before Dad left, I would cry because I had fully entered the lives of those in the story, but now I cry because so much of what they feel, think, say, and experience pulls back the pain of March 23rd.

I try to hold onto the good, but sometimes I just want to scream. Want to hear his voice, the voice I seem to be forgetting.  I want to feel his arms around me, hugging me and patting my back. I want to watch him laugh over a Monk episode or play a game of Rummy, and sit on the beach with Dad. I want to feel the calm of his presence, take a walk around the neighborhood with him, see him color with my kids again. I want to bake him his favorite cherry pie and surprise him with it. I want to ask him questions about God and personality weaknesses we both dealt with. I want to quit feeling this void when I go to their house, the house he built.

I appreciate all the times Dad was there for me, driving to my college to tune-up my car or shovel snow out from behind the tires, leaving me notes on the dash. The times he reminded me to check the oil and keep at least a half a tank of gas in the tank during winter.  I appreciate all the times he ran up to our house to do fix-it jobs or install a shelf or repair a faucet, just because he knew it needed to happen. I appreciate the house standing warm and sturdy around me, a gift of countless unpaid hours of service--a 9-year-old wedding gift. I appreciate all the times Dad offered his service and love.

Dad taught the value of hard work, saving, being responsible for myself and family, giving abundantly, and desiring to study God's Word.

Because of Dad, I appreciate John Wayne, The Andy Griffith Show, Glenn Miller, donuts, well-crafted crown-molding, farm-fresh eggs, gardening, and the value of a good stretch. Because of Dad, I crave vacations on the beach, road trips to surprise places, and a simpler existence at home.

If you are unwrapping grief this Christmas season, remember a few things:
         1.) This life does have a purpose, but we were made for eternity. 
             Be prepared for life and death. Apart from Jesus, neither make sense and both will be filled
             with confusion, separation, pain and despair.

        2.) Trust that God's lens is much bigger than ours--not just "bigger" for that word doesn't
              begin to capture the magnitude of God's scope. He sees all, understands all, and has our very
              best in His hands.

         3.) Don't ignore your pain, but reach outside of it. I was talking with a sweet prayer partner
              at our church who is widowed and also recently lost her mother. She has no children or
              and other family members are distant or elusive. She is spending part of Christmas with a
              friend and their family.  But what if said friend hadn't considered her position and made that
              invitation?  There are always lonely people around us, those who are widowed, orphaned or
              rejected. God wouldn't have mentioned these people so often in His Words if they weren't
              imperative to remember.

13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. 14 For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. 15 For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord,[a] that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.18 Therefore encourage one another with these words. I Thess. 4:13-18