Heaven Archives - Leah Stirewalt

Another closing. Better yet, another new beginning. Year two of this new grief season of widowhood has come to an end. My beloved Joel departed this life for his eternal life two years ago today. On the one hand, it doesn’t seem possible it’s been that long. But, then there are the long days. The ones that make me want to pull my hair out, because they feel never ending. Oh…those days are long.

Even on those dreadful days, I find peace in the fact our time on this shattered earth is all too brief. Nothing in comparison to the beautiful infinity of Heaven which awaits my anxious soul. I long for those days of no more pain and no more tears. I long to reunite with both of my husbands and other loved ones who have gone before me. I long to see my Savior and worship my Heavenly Father with the saints who are already cheering me on from a vantage point I have yet to even understand. My finite mind can’t even begin to conceive of the joy that awaits me there. But until then…

I seek to live out joy on this earth. While many days, it’s hard to see how that’s even possible, I know it’s still there for the taking. And yet…it’s a choice. Joy is a choice. I can choose to be buried under the circumstances of this life and allow my weary soul to waste away to the point I am useless to the Kingdom while even still here on this earth. Or…I can choose joy in spite of my circumstances, knowing the life I have been given is still good. I. Choose. Joy.

Joel would want that for me. Chris would want that for me. My children need me to do that. My extended family and network of friends expect me to do that. And…my sweet Savior knows I can choose joy through Him. Only through Him. Outside of Him, I can’t imagine walking this Grief Road with unexplicable joy. The Author and Finisher of my life still has amazing plans for me, and I intend to walk out those plans with Him by my side, holding my hand, and even carrying me on the most difficult days.

I would be remiss to say those difficult days don’t weigh me down. They are so hard friends. So, so hard. They cause me to make rash decisions, poor choices, often leaving me feeling worse than I did before enduring those days. They cause me to question my purpose or God’s intention in allowing me to walk through this journey. But, He can take those questions. He can take my “why me?” moments. He can take my grief and bottles up every tear. He loves me that much!

He loved me that much even as I laid my head on my newly deceased husband’s chest praying for another breath, knowing it wasn’t to come.
He loved me that much as I drove home in the wee hours of the morning from the hospital, knowing I would have to share with my youngest kiddos that daddy had moved to Heaven.
He loved me that much as He inundated me with a support system of heroes in my new town who loved on my family deeply during those first days, weeks, and months of walking this new Grief Road.
And…He still loves me that much now, as I embark on another year of this journey.

And, so I press on! Year three is on the horizon, and I truly believe it will be a year of positive change with joy unspeakable. Will there be hard days? Absolutely! But, I know the joy I choose to find will be found, as I continue to seek His will. Goodbye year two. It was not wasted, even though it was hard. I am ready for the next steps of this journey!

Parenting. Ahhhh…the joys, the pains, the mistakes, and everything in between.

It’s hard to believe my Bulgarian children have been home just a few months shy of two years. I vividly remember those first few days with them in our apartment in Sofia (Bulgaria’s capital). I was in tears virtually every single night. I thought, “What have we done?” Those early days (especially those in-country) were hard.

I remember communicating with friends back home who had walked similar paths, and they assured me it would get better. At the time, I thought we would never climb out of the pit we were in. But, they were right…it did get easier. Not easy…but easier.

Initially, Joel and I discovered many bad habits that had to be “un-done”. Now try to imagine doing that when speaking two different languages. Even so, we had to be consistent from the start. It’s hard for me to conceive now, but I had a very difficult time with Josiah (my now 9-year-old) initially. He would do anything Joel asked him to do, but basically laughed in my face whenever I said anything to him. For those of you who have had the privilege of meeting my son, you know that’s nothing like the young man you’ve met. But, I’m telling you…he was a different little boy back then.

Joel could tell Josiah to listen to me or to do something I was trying to get him to do, and he would obey Joel. But me…I got nothing out of him but more arrows flying to my already broken heart. I couldn’t understand why he hated me so much.

It wasn’t long before our translator, a native Bulgarian, explained that in the Roma culture, women aren’t respected, and the Roma boys are taught they don’t have to respect them. Even so…that was unacceptable, and that paradigm had to shift.

Joel immediately started teaching Josiah to respect me. It got better when we were back in the United States, but we still had a long road ahead of us. When Josiah’s understanding of the English language improved, his behavior towards me (and his younger sister) improved greatly. I remember one day Josiah and Katerina got into argument about something silly. The argument quickly grew a little more heated, and Joel and I witnessed him hit his sister. That did it. We’re not raising a bully!

I immediately went to a sobbing Katerina to try and comfort her, and Joel took Josiah outside for a “man-to-boy” chat. By the time they were finished talking, Josiah walked into the house and went over to Katerina to apologize and ask her forgiveness. Then, Joel asked Josiah to share with me the things we learned.

“I never hit girls.”

“Mommy is just as important as Daddy.”

“I treat girls with love.”

“I love my sister and need to protect her.”

There were other items mentioned, but those were the big ones. And, honestly, after that conversation…to my knowledge, Josiah has never hit another girl. He’s certainly not perfect and has a lot of learning left to do when it comes to relationships with people, but I know that lesson was drilled into him.

Fast forward to last week. I was in the hospital, and my long-time friend, Kandi, was at the house taking care of the children for me. She called me after the kids had gone to bed and said she just had to share something with me. She relayed a conversation between Josiah and Austyn that occurred at the dinner table earlier that evening…

A: “I got in trouble today.”

J: “What did you do Austyn?”

A: “I had to go to timeout, because I hit ________.” (I don’t remember her name, but it was a little girl in his preschool class.)

J: “Austyn! You know we never, ever hit girls. Never! Okay?”

Austyn nodded.

J: “Now, I want you to back to school tomorrow and tell her you’re sorry and won’t do it again.”

Austyn agreed, and the scolding by his big brother ended. After Kandi finished relaying the story to me, I smiled through tears up in my hospital room, and I shared, “That was from Joel. He made sure Josiah and Benjamin understood that boys don’t hit girls, and men don’t hit women.” Now…Josiah was reminded of that teaching and passed it along to his littlest brother.

Even from Heaven, Joel’s legacy lives on strong, and his parenting continues to shine boldly through our home.

#WeAreNotForgotten

Year Two of Grief Comes to a Close

Parenting from Heaven