It is Not Death to Die

An Easter Testimony

I'm up early this morning. Tim had a 6 AM brief, which meant getting up before 5:00. Actually, we weren't UP up because we wanted to snuggle and feel Baby-Girl kicking. So, a half hour later I made a lunch for him and said goodbye.

Sometimes I really hate to say goodbye, especially when it's my husband. It's a fight to trust that God will do what is good in both of our lives today, even if that good involves something really painful, like death.

On this morning eight years ago, I went on a walk with my mom. Spring definitely hadn't come to New York yet, and the sky was overcast. I had been working with Dad on a paint job that week and had something on my mind.

On our way home from work two days before we had stopped at a gas station for something. I always refused to be seen in public in my "paint clothes," so I sat in Dad's work truck and watched the people outside the gas station. I saw a girl pushing a stroller. She reminded me of Stephanie, a girl I had known from our old church. She looked really young to be pushing a stroller. Later Dad told me, "I saw Stephanie at the gas station. That was her second child." It was her.

According to Dad, Stephanie's father had been livid when he had found out that she was pregnant. What a foolish thing - to sleep with a guy in high school, get pregnant, not finish school, live on welfare...

I remembered something that Stephanie had told me a few years ago, when we were only ten or eleven. We were filling out name cards for our new Girl's Club. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Why don't you want your sister to write her last name on her name card?
Stephanie: It's not her last name.
Me: What is her last name?
Stephanie: I don't know, but she's only my half sister. Our mom...kind've "did that" with a lot of guys.

I told Mom about it that morning in March. I told her that I could understand how her dad would be upset. But I also pointed out that Stephanie didn't exactly have a good example for a mom. Mom didn't really say anything - she just made one of those "Mom" noises that meant that she was probably praying for herself (as a mom), me (as a daughter), and Stephanie.

A few weeks later I brought my sweet younger sister to the doctor's office. She had a rash on her arms - maybe from a plant that she had dug up in our flower bed. I had to fill out her paperwork and got to the question that asked about deceased family members. Mom had died several hours after our conversation on the morning of March 18th, but how could I fill out the question that asked "Cause of death?"

She didn't die from sickness, but it hurt to write "accident."

Accident implies, "out of control." It was out of my control. If the six of us could have stopped it, we would have. But even with the five of us kids spotting for my mom as dad cut down a tree on our property, we couldn't stop it. She dropped the rope that she had been using to guide the tree, and ran as the tree fell in the wrong direction. A small branch hit her neck. The doctor told Dad later that she had died instantly and suffered no trauma.

I am out of control. I couldn't stop my mother's death. I can't be a mother to my siblings. I can't keep my husband safe when he flies or even drives to work. I sometimes feel that I can protect our baby as long as she is inside of me, but even now, I ultimately have no control over her life.

Can I believe that Jesus is in control?

"He left nothing outside his control." I read this in Hebrews 2:8 this morning. Can I believe that Jesus is in control?

"At present, we do not yet see." (2:8) This is true. I don't understand death. It hurts.

"But we see him...Jesus." (2:9)

Easter was just two Sundays after Mom's death. Mr. Davis preached, and I remember that he talked about seeds and planting.

Jesus talked about seeds.  He said that they have to go in the ground and "die" before they can grow and bear fruit. Jesus was trying to prepare His friends for His death, but they didn't understand (John 12:24).

My mom came from a family who loves to plant things, and Mom passed this on to me and my sister. When it is spring time, we just HAVE to dig in the dirt. Even with our upcoming move, I had to buy some spring flowers to plant on my porch here!

Jesus experienced the same pain that I do when He lived here, "that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil." (Hebrews 2:14)

I often feel the power of death when I feel out of control. Even before I saw my mom die, I felt the fear of death whenever I wondered "what if." But if Jesus destroyed the one who has the power of death, who really has the power? Now Jesus can "deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery."(Hebrews 2:15)

"He himself has suffered...he is able to help." (2:18)

Right now, my hope is not based on anything that I can see. But I see Jesus. He rose.

"I will put my trust in Him." (Hebrews 2:13)

The good part of life comes after I die. Jesus was The Seed, and His resurrection proves that to "die" and be "planted" is going to be wonderfully amazing. He didn't stay dead, and neither will I! His resurrection proves that it is not death to die.

It Is Not Death to Die

It is not death to die, to leave this weary road and join the saints who dwell on high, who’ve found their home with God.

It is not death to close the eyes long dimmed by tears, and wake in joy before Your throne, delivered from our fears.

It is not death to fling aside this earthly dust and rise with strong and noble wing to live among the just.

It is not death to hear the key unlock the door that sets us free from mortal years to praise You evermore.

O Jesus, conquering the grave, Your precious blood has pow’r to save. Those who trust in You will in Your mercy find that it is not death to die.

(© 2008 Integrity’s Praise! Music/Sovereign Grace Praise (BMI) )

March 2013

Tim's was something between 6 and 7

On Friday morning I kissed Tim goodbye and told him not to come back until he’d gotten rid of his mustache! It has been five painful weeks of bristly kisses, all for a Navy tradition (Naval and Marine aviators grow mustaches when they go to the boat to do carrier qualifications).

We are finally nearing the end of flight school, and I just can’t believe we’re almost there! When we started dating, Tim had told me that it’s usually a good idea to wait until flight school was finished to get married - a three year wait after college graduation.

I don’t think we would have survived if we had waited until now to get married. We would have missed out on so much together! Leaving our family and friends to go to a new place every 6 to 12 months was fun, frightening, and faith-building. We saw God provide for us each time – an apartment here, a beach house there, a farm here, a lake there… and we don’t even know where the next “there” is.

Wherever “there” is, it won’t be just us anymore. Tim’s graduation date is April 12^th, and my due date is May 6^th. Both, of course, are subject to change. And speaking of changing…

I got my “cloth” diapers in the mail yesterday! Go ahead…laugh, ridicule… I am determined to use these on our child, especially since I did the math. If I can stick it through with these, we will save a thousand dollars (in just one year of diapering). Our savings will multiply if we have more children!

That being said, these are not yo-mama’s cloth diapers. They are super cute. They are re-sizable (for newborns through toddlers). They look like a normal diaper, except they’re made of PUL fabric and have snaps. The inside of the diaper has a pocket where you insert an absorbent cloth liner. To re-use them, you pull out the liner, then put both in the wash for a rinse cycle, and then add soap and wash. I got enough diapers so that I would only have to do a batch every 2-3 days (because I’m NOT washing them with our other laundry).

Diapers!

The Northpointe PCA girls did a baby shower for me in February. They thoughtfully donated towards two gift cards that I would be able to use after we moved (we had planned on moving this month). One gift card went toward the re-usable diapers, and the other gift card was for JoAnn’s, so that I could do some baby sewing. 

So, I have been enjoying the adventure of housekeeping (cleaning, sewing, and cooking) while Tim has been out saving the world, learning to fly jets and do cool tricks in the air and land on boats and stuff. However, Tim is excited about Baby, too. He already has a list of things that he wants to teach his sons and a list of things that he wants to teach his daughters. I have a little list, too, but mine looks a little less like the Westminster catechism than his does and a little more like a grocery list.

In addition to the sheer terrors of flying at high speeds, Tim has been enjoying fixing up our ’92 Toyota Camry. Two weeks ago the radiator started to leak, so Tim replaced the radiator. Two days later the engine started to chug, and Tim found oil in the spark plug…uh…place, so he fixed that and replaced the spark plugs. Then he decided to replace the struts on the hood (we’ve been holding it up by hand for a few years now). I’m so thankful that he is willing to take the time to do that.

One thing that concerned me during flight school was Tim’s call sign. Students are assigned a call sign by their peers in Advanced Flight School, and usually it’s based on something stupid that they’ve done. 

Not only are call signs usually based on something dumb that you did, they often tend to be bad words, euphemisms, inappropriate… Needless to say, I was so relieved when Tim brought home his new name patches two days ago! SLATOR!

Last Traps Before They Sell the Boat

One of the interpretations is: Sounds Like A Terror On Radio. Considering the other options, I was pleased with this one. It has a floral design to match his class patch (not shown here): an unemployed jet pilot wearing a Hawaiian shirt and looking for work (thanks to sequestration). 

His class patch (again, not shown here) matches the patch for their boat detachment: A picture of the carrier with a FOR SALE sign. The carrier that Tim landed on this week was originally meant to deploy. It was held back because of sequestration, and is the carrier that the Navy may have to lose.

"Traps" are arrested landings (tailhook landings). When Tim caught the wire and landed, he went from about 120 knots to 0 in two seconds. He says it was the most exciting part of flight school so far.

Now my man is home and clean shaven again. I'm thankful for his success, safety, and most of all, his testimony. Flying jets is a demanding, high-skill, and dangerous job with a selective and rigorous training process. Not many people can claim this job distinction, but it still falls under the category of "humanly attainable." Living a consistent Christian life requires wisdom and strength beyond the humanly attainable: only God can give it.

An Accident and a Doctor's Visit

Two or Three Somewhat Unconnected Circumstances in the Life of Tim and Julie Ann
September 11th was a surprising day for me. It started out with Ladies' Bible Study in the morning - we are going through a book on Romans 8 and discussing verse 28.

Sometimes I have those moments where I tell myself, "Okay, this is what the Bible says. If I took this for the truth that it is, what would my life look like?"

I chose to be thinking this thought as I drove home on Minnow Bucket, a winding Mississippi road. I was also incredibly hungry and thinking, "Wow, I just need to get home and eat." At that moment, I saw a truck coming towards me - with his left wheels over the double yellow line in my already narrow lane.

Celebrating 20 Years - our '92 Camry

Thinking that I was perfectly in control of the car, I eased onto the shoulder and stepped on my brakes. The truck passed and I eased back into my lane. What I didn't realize is that a soft shoulder in Mississippi can act just like black ice in New York. As I eased back onto the road, my brakes locked and I slid into the oncoming lane. Suddenly the car was doing it's own thing and all that I could do was hold on. The car veered back across the road and I saw a lot of green as I bush-whacked through the Mississippi jungle.

By God's grace, I was perfectly safe. No oncoming traffic, no big trees, and I was wearing my seat belt. I called our insurance, our roadside assistance, and our dear landlady who came to help me.

September 17th - The day we found out!

All this to explain why I wasn't too worried when I started to feel weird the next day - probably just a result of the stress of the day before. When the icky feeling persisted for the next five days (along with a small fever and cramps), I started getting a little concerned about other possibilities - my first thought was a miscarriage. So I looked up miscarriage symptoms and discovered that I actually had PREGNANCY symptoms! (Call me dumb and inexperienced).

So then we had to decide who, how, and when to tell. I thought we could just wait until it was obvious - maybe four or five months. Tim wanted to tell the whole world immediately.

We started by telling our family. Dad Mayfield in particular seemed to be suffering from Jealous Grandpa Syndrome (what happens when all your other friends show off pictures of their grand kids and you don't have any). We had told him months ago that a lot of military couples wait until they make Captain to have babies. So he would always ask us, "So, when did you say that Tim makes Captain?"

Eleven Weeks

I wonder what he would have done if we'd told him that some military couples wait until they make Colonel to have kids.

This morning we had our second ultrasound and heard Jr.'s heartbeat. He had settled down for a nap so we didn't see much action (unlike last time!). Apparently my doctor doesn't check the gender until week 28, which leaves me just twelve weeks to sew pink or blue before Jr. comes. (My guess is boy).

Incidentally, ever since I ran our Toyota into the bushes it has been getting better gas mileage, and the hood now closes (it had been dummy-rigged since our fender-bender in Pensacola).

And I really need to find something to eat now.

Thirteen Weeks - Today!

Snakes, Spiders and Lizards

The last of my zinnias

Ten days ago we were getting ready for church when our toilets and showers suddenly decided to back up. We gave our sweet landlady Virginia a "holler" and she told us that she would send "Joe" to fix the problem.

Joe knocked on our kitchen door Tuesday evening.

“So what’s it doing?” were the first words out of his mouth. Tim told him he thought the system was clogged.

“Yeah that happens every now and then I have a snake but someone is borrowing it and I need to get it back from him they designed the sewer system badly when they were building the place as soon as I get the snake back I’ll take a look at it I don’t even need to come inside since I can access it from the roof.”

Joe's Snake - now wound and still waiting for him

Then Joe drove off.

On Thursday morning Joe finally came with his snake. He made some terrible noises on our roof and then left. I called Virginia to let her know that Joe had come.

On Thursday evening the system backed up again. We looked out the back window and saw that Joe’s ladder was still propped up on our roof and his snake was on the ground in our backyard.

We were still pondering this mystery on Friday morning, when it occurred to us that something dark and sinister could have happened to Joe. It could have been THE BLOB! He got sucked into our sewer and all that was left was his ladder and snake!

Although Tim was ready to call Roto-Rooter at this point, we called Virginia on Monday to see if she knew what had happened to Joe. She didn’t, but she called him again.

After being out of town for a little holiday we arrived home Tuesday to find Joe’s ladder still propped up on the roof, but the snake had disappeared. Aha! Perhaps progress has been made!

Wednesday I looked out our living room window to see a hole dug in the yard right in front of my flower bed. This is not unusual because we have many rodents digging holes all around and in my flower beds. In fact, we have sixteen rodent skeletons in our woods to prove that we don’t like rodents doing nasty things to my flowers (although I don’t mind what they do to my flowers nearly as much as I mind what they did to my last three bird feeders).

Anyhow, we have a hole the size of a beach ball in front of my flower bed, which was either dug by some beastly rodent or…Joe, who left his snake in our front yard this time. We’re still not sure what happened to Joe.

Copperhead found on road

Weather has been just gorgeous this month. Tim got me a bike and we've enjoy a couple of rides together. I've been keeping my eyes peeled for kingfishers, turtles, and mink. I haven't seen the mink since this summer, and it ran in front of us so quickly that I hardly had time to get a good look at it. We've also seen a vole and some snakes.

Here are some summer and fall photos from around our house.

Our across-the-way neighbors let us use their porch!

Our Red Headed Woodpecker

Swallowtail in my flowerbed

Here are some photos from our weekend excursions to Chattanooga, TN and Jackson, MS:

At the Aquarium - my husband is fascinated by carnivorous plants

Can you spot the critter?

These wire fish remind me of Pop's wire bikes

The view from Lookout Mountain

Our first stop in Jackson was the Mississippi Petrified Forest. We were absolutely amazed to consider what we were looking at. We believe in a literal Genesis account of the creation of the world; that account gives a reasonable explanation of the evidence we see everywhere of drastic flood conditions, and it also suggests a "young earth" - one less than 10,000 years old.

This tree slice here was about three feet wide. We saw petrified trees that were originally eight feet wide. When we considered that 1) Petrification happened as a result of a worldwide flood and 2) These trees were about two thousand years old at the time of the flood, then we realized that we very well could have been looking at trees that were a direct result of God's command, "Let the earth sprout vegetation" (Genesis 1:11). Amazingly overwhelming.

Tim has a knack for finding these little guys

This thing has a leg span as wide as my hand

Continuing Impressions of Mississippi

Tim at Centrifuge

In April Tim did centrifuge training in California. He got to go in a machine that simulated going very high g’s. He got g loc during the fourth event and had to make it to 7.5 g's for 30 seconds in order to pass the event.

When the guys g loc, often they will fall into a dream state. Tim, sure enough, dreamed that he was sitting on the couch at home having a nice relaxing conversation on the phone. It only lasted a few seconds, but in Tim’s dream it seemed to be much longer. Of course, some guys have not so nice dreams. One guy, whose experience has now been immortalized, woke with his hands in the air. When asked what he had been dreaming, he answered, “I dreamed that my wife was pulling a gun on me.”

Due to the pressure inside the machine, capillaries in Tim’s arm burst and he had funny red dots and bruises all over his arm. Thankfully, he made it to the required amount of g’s and passed on his next attempt. He even got a nice little DVD with a video of him in the machine, so I got to watch him g loc on camera. Random fact: shorter, stouter guys are able to handle the g forces more easily than taller, thinner guys.

Tim at work

I enjoy being married to a guy that loves his job. Fast machines will bring out the little boy in most guys, but most guys don’t actually get the chance to fly a military jet. When I ask Tim how his flight was, most days I'll get a big grin and hear about some new procedure, pattern, or maneuver. 

In July Tim got to enjoy race cars and jets in a flyover at the New Hampshire Motor Speedway. On Saturday he got to hang out at the race track with two buddies and their instructors. They had fun being VIPs for the day and got to hang out by the pit crews and sit in the grandstand for the preliminary events. On Sunday he got to ride with his instructor in the flyover during the national anthem (with a police escort back to the track!). I texted him right after the flyover and asked him if he had fun. He said, “Yeah!”

Hearing a jet fly over your head does give one a lot of awe for the power of the machine. As they say, “That’s the sound of freedom.”

This world is not my home

We get asked a lot how long we’ll be here in Mississippi and where we’ll go next. My best answer is that Tim is hoping to get winged next March, and he is hoping to train for F-18 Hornets next. That could put us in California next year (or South Carolina).

Of course, “The mind of man plans his way but the Lord directs His steps.” Training can be slowed or halted, so I try not to set my heart on any one option. “This world is not my home,” and I’m reminded of that every time friends ask, “So how’s life there in Louisiana? Alabama? Oh… Mississippi?”

On the home front

On the other side of the coin, we have our normal everyday lives to live. When Tim is home, he shares my more mundane concerns, such as THE RODENT POPULATION of central Mississippi. When we first moved here, we quickly learned not to attach our bird feeder to our roof if we wanted to avoid having little squirrel footsies scampering across the roof all day.

There are always three more

Three bird feeders later (squirrels destroyed the first two) we are much smarter. Our feeder is on a metal pole that has been lubricated with WD-40 and PAM. Tim has now trapped (and yes, killed) thirteen squirrels and three chipmunks. However, my Pop’s wisdom on squirrel matters has proved correct. No matter how many you kill, there are always three more.

Note since the first draft: We are now on bird feeder number four. Apparently, PAM wears off the pole more quickly than WD-40. 

At Rosalie House in Natchez - July 4th Week

Our neighborhood is really quite pleasant. When we go walking or running around the lake, the neighbors’ dogs will often join us. Tim loves this and often stops to talk to the dogs (which they love, too). When our neighbors arrive at their summer home after their week in New Orleans, their dogs will run up our driveway first thing, looking for my husband. When he’s not here, they figure I’ll do. I got a wet nose in my face during my walk on Friday.

Our church

Tim and I appreciate the family that we found at Northpoint Presbyterian Church (PCA). Although we are not from a Reformed Presbyterian background we have found the preaching here to be more accurate and understandable than the preaching at many other churches we've visited.

It’s an odd experience to come from your own little world and find that “we’re not the only deer in the forest.” In our part of the forest, the deer talk about BJU, the WILDS, and Billy Sunday. When we ventured across the valley, we found that some deer had never heard of these things. These deer talk about the General Assembly, RTS, and the Westminster Catechism. Thankfully, none of these differences concern Bible doctrine (well, the Westminster catechism pertains to Bible doctrine, but it is the same core doctrine that one would find taught at a Baptist or Bible church). 

We've appreciated the welcome our church gives to military couples and families. We really enjoy being involved with our Sunday School class and our choir. In May Tim even got to attend a church work day that finished up with a craw fish boil (a first!).

 How to get the local girls

During the check-in process Tim and his class were given pubs, gear, and general info about base and the surrounding area. In a general spirit of helpfulness, one instructor gave some advice about how to get a girl. (At this point in training many of the guys are still unmarried, and keep in mind that for a Marine, “getting a girl” does not mean finding a girlfriend with the intention of pursuing a committed, pure relationship with her).

His advice: you don’t want to get a girl at the local bar. These girls have all been around too much. Instead, find one at a local church. They’re good southern girls but they know more than you’d think.

A different instructor took it a step further. He said to find a girl at church, but not just any church. You have to visit a bigger one where you’ll blend in a bit.

 A random thought

This week I started putting together some photo albums. My second photo album started with pictures from the mission trip that I took to Africa the summer before my junior year of college. I remember how I spent that summer wondering what on earth God wanted me to do with my life. I didn't have a boyfriend and hadn't picked a major with the intention of getting a job.

Enjoying the adventure

The album ends with pictures of our wedding rehearsal and reception. In one short album, I could see pictures of God's provision and direction in my life over the course of two years. 

The Gospel has changed the way that Tim and I view life. It's not about us and what we accomplish. As exciting as we find military life, that is not what we live for. We're just trying to be faithful where God has put us, and for now, we're enjoying the adventure!