Dear Brother and Sister,

Today marks the ten-year anniversary of the most horrible day of my life. It’s the day I signed divorce papers, bringing an end to my 30-year marriage. And it’s the day you both left earth for heaven, in a horrific car accident driving up to South Dakota. Two totally separate incidents, but both dealing a huge blow to my world.

I don’t claim to know how heaven works, but I would like to think that you have a window to your loved ones, and are cheering us on, and interceding before the throne of Jesus for us. But I wanted to commemorate this anniversary by writing you a letter of all the things I would want you to know about the last ten years.

• Your four children are incredible in SO many ways. They were dealt the unimaginable pain of losing you both on the same day. And they each could have made bad choices amid their pain, and we would have understood why. But they didn’t. Each of them made individual choices to pursue LIVING WELL, despite their pain. It’s a testament to how you made your family a priority. They had such a strong foundation to help them rebuild life without you. In these past ten years, they have made each other a priority, and supported and encouraged each other. You would love that they all live in the same city and see each other often. They carry your legacy on in so many beautiful ways. I can’t help but see each of you in them with the choices they make, and the intentional way they live their lives. I mention often to them, “Your parents are SO proud of you!”

• Your family tree is rich with fruit! Your 3^rd grand-baby was in the womb when you were taken from us, and this year your 11^th and 12^th grand-babies were born! You have one dozen beautiful grandchildren! I laugh because so far, I only have two grandchildren. Ty, I can just hear you saying to me, “I’m lapping you in the grandkid department!” And you are! It is my joy to spend time with your grandchildren, but it is so bittersweet. I always think of you in those moments when I’m with them. I am so sad they will not know their amazing TyTy and Noni this side of heaven. But I share stories of you with them and let them know how much you would have loved being a part of their lives. Your children and their spouses are incredible parents, a blend of patience, firmness, and fun. It reminds me of the home life they had growing up.

• We are down to one parent between all of us. Terri, you parents lived well into their 90’s and died six months apart last year. No surprise that they didn’t want to live life without the other after over 70 years of marriage! Gpa Schenzel is 93 and our stepmom Gunn is 95. They are going strong, though at a bit slower pace. The two of them have made it to every grandchild’s wedding celebration, and most of the annual Hope Galas. Dad doesn’t speak often of losing you, but when he goes to the cemetery his silence represents the gigantic hole left in his heart. It will be a glorious day for him when he joins you in heaven.

• I survived my divorce and was single for over five years. Initially I stayed in Florida and worked on healing my heart. Wonderful friends still included me as a “single woman”, and I went to a home church that allowed me to feel safe and learn to adjust to a new normal. I felt the nudge to move back to Omaha at the beginning of 2020. The pull of my daughter and all four of your children living in Omaha was strong. God provided the perfect job, and I found a great little house to rent! (In fact, for close to a year I lived right across the street from your firstborn and her family of six. It was glorious!) Then out of the blue, my friend introduced me to a widower, and we fell in love! This guy even went to Asbury College with you Ty, and he knew you from Trinity youth group. We married six months after we met, and he treats me like gold, the way you would want a husband to treat me! Bill is an incredible step-dad and step-uncle, such a beautiful addition to our family. I can’t help but think you two may have helped orchestrate this union, “Jesus, send my sister someone to love her well.”

• The Hope Center is going strong. This vision that you birthed and nurtured is still serving the children of North Omaha. They took Hope Skate and renamed it, “The Schenzel Community Center” in your honor. It has become a place for gathering, including senior groups, concerts and celebrations. In fact, your niece had her New Year’s Eve wedding reception there this year, and I taped party hats on your framed photo in the entrance! I ended up being the last person there on the day we returned to do the wedding tear down and did a final dry mop run over the basketball court. It was a quiet, special moment, reflecting on this haven that you both built with so much prayer and dedication.

• And finally, you are remembered, and you are missed in this city. Now that I live in Omaha again, there are many times where I ask someone I meet, “Did you know my brother Ty Schenzel?” After they get over the shock that I’m your favorite (and only) sibling, they always share a story of how you impacted their life. I love living back here, feeling more connected to your legacy. I am SO PROUD to be your sister. I can testify that the ripple effect of the lives you impacted is very strong. This city will forever be a better place because of Ty and Terri Schenzel.

I would give anything to be sitting down tonight at a dinner table with our big family, and heaping piles of Terri’s spaghetti and meatballs. That is my version of what “heaven on earth” would be. But I know you are experiencing the real heaven, and as cousin Steve said at your funeral, “They are more alive today than they’ve ever been!” I take great comfort in that. And I take comfort that I will see you again someday.

Love,

Your Sister Julie

Losing a spouse, whether through divorce or death, is never an easy road, and Hallmark holidays can be a painful reminder. As Bill and I celebrate our first Valentine’s Day as husband and wife, I asked if he would share his thoughts on losing his wife and opening his heart to love again. As a woman whose marriage ended in divorce, I am learning what it means to have married a widower. I love Bill’s heart and pray that his words will bring encouragement to whoever may need it.

Fog, disbelief, confusion, loss.

Those four words summarize my being in the immediate aftermath of suddenly losing my wife of 37 years. We were planning on growing old together, enjoying our grandchildren, taking road trips. All that ended on March 19, 2020.

In the midst of the fog, I realized that my joy was gone. My best friend was no longer with me. I didn’t know if I would ever again experience joy in my life.

We were kids when we met – I was 23 and Debbie was 19. We fell in love and were married seven months later. We had no idea what we were doing, but we had each other, and it worked – very well. We raised three kids and had a great marriage. The kids grew and before we knew it, they were getting married and having kids of their own. We had newfound freedom being empty nesters. We did some traveling for my sports and spent great quality time with her parents. Life was good and we expected so many more years together. I was even looking forward to our 50^th wedding anniversary. There was no thinking that we wouldn’t reach that great milestone.

Then, in a moment, Debbie was gone. Although she was no longer here, I continued to love her – and be in love with her. That would never change.

Grieving is work. It is wave after wave of emotions. Sadness, pain, hurt, sorrow, loneliness, loss, anger, questioning, pleading, lamenting. There was no room for joy. I’ve learned that as one grieves and does not hide from the emotions it brings, healing begins. Slowly, I noticed that the weight wasn’t quite as heavy. Early on in my grieving, I looked as grieving as a process – having a beginning and an end. I was so wrong. Grieving never ends. It hurts less, but there’s some element of sadness and loss that is always present. Even now, just about two years later, I’m still grieving, but am much better.

I had received a sympathy card about three weeks after Debbie passed away. It was from a friend who had lost her husband at a young age. In the card she wrote, “The joy will return.” I didn’t believe it, but it did offer a glimmer of hope.

Joy is a deep satisfaction, more substantial than happiness, far more than just a feeling. It is a secure knowledge of something good. Could I have joy again?

On December 13, 2020, I was introduced to Julie. While I was not ready to entertain the thought of spending time with another woman, I had agreed to the introduction. If I had not grieved so intentionally, I would not have been prepared for what was to come.

We went to lunch on the Saturday before Christmas. That four-and-a-half-hour lunch led to a Christmas Eve visit and another lunch on the day after Christmas. Unexpectedly, I felt joy returning to my heart. It wasn’t long before Julie and I were in love. We were engaged in a month and married five months later. We have a lifetime of experiences to share with each other and appreciate our time together so very much.

One of the most special moments in my story was when I was visiting with Debbie’s parents, Larry and Shirley, after my first date with Julie. I am very close to Larry and Shirley. As I was visiting with them, telling them about my first date with Julie and what I was thinking and feeling, Larry said, “We know you loved Debbie with all your heart, and you gave her a very good life. We also know that you are able to love someone else.” This from a man who had lost his oldest daughter and loving me as his son, freed me to pursue Julie.

I’ve learned through and in all of this that I can experience sorrow and joy at the same time. I am sad that I lost Debbie but am filled with joy in having Julie in my life. I found that I can love Debbie and love Julie. I’m not sure that I can explain how that can be possible, but I know that it is.

Julie is a special woman. She understands the impact that Debbie had on my life for our 37 years together. That time made me who I am and since Julie loves who I am, she honors my life with Debbie. I love Julie with all I am and all I have. My love for her is not diminished in any way by my love for Debbie.

Julie’s wise cousin, Steve Peterson, often shared in his counseling ministry that more than one thing can be true at the same time. I have learned that I can hold my memories of Debbie and love Julie well in the present, both at the same time. I rest in the knowledge that Debbie is rejoicing with her savior in heaven, and that God brought Julie and I together to restore our broken hearts and love each other well on earth.

Five years ago, I wrote my very first blog entitled “Six Months.” It was written as a way to heal and perhaps help others. It had been six months since the double tragedy of my divorce after thirty years of marriage, and a car accident that took the lives of my only sibling and his wife. I ended the blog with this…

“And I’ve concluded: love is all that matters. When we love well, we will not have regret. Six months later, John 3:16 has deeper meaning to me… “God so loved the world that he gave his only son. That whosoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life.” I thank God for His son Jesus, and the strength He gives me to carry on and risk loving more.”

These five years have been filled with so many expressions of love, including the pull of love that drew me to move back to Nebraska last year, after 20 years in Florida. The stirring in my heart began at the beginning of 2020, before the word COVID was a household name. God orchestrated every detail of the move. He led me to a new job that fits my passion, experience and skills. He provided temporary housing both in Orlando and Omaha, until I found the coziest house to rent right across the street from my niece and her sweet family of six. He surrounded me with my Nebraska family and long-time friends that made the transition so natural. And then… He exceeded my wildest dreams and has given me a new love to share the rest of my life with.

The Lord knew my heart about dating after divorce. I told anyone that asked, that I believed my God was big enough to put the right man in front of me if He so desired me to be in a relationship again. (Whenever I dipped my toes into online dating, there was nothing about it that felt right to me. This is a personal conviction — I know many great people have found a partner this way.)  During these five years I grew to be very comfortable with my single life. I’ve been content. I’ve worked on healing from the tragedies of 2015. I’ve invested in helping others through similar trials. My life has been full and rewarding.

But God had a new chapter for my life that began with a funeral. My dear pastor, Elmer Murdoch, passed away in November. I learned what it meant to “give my life to the Lord” from this man during my twenties. My brother and parents had done just that while I was away at Kearney State College. When I moved back to Omaha to start my career at Arthur Andersen, I began attending Trinity Church with them, where Pastor Murdoch would challenge me weekly to consider letting Jesus “sit on the throne of my life” and call the shots. I did surrender my life to Jesus at 26 and know that it forever changed the trajectory of my life. After Pastor’s November funeral, several of my friends went out to dinner. I did not attend, due to a babysitting commitment, but my dear friend Ann was there and sat next to a friend who had been suddenly widowed in March after 37 years of marriage. Eight months later, he told her he was open to being introduced to someone if that was in God’s plan. Ann tucked this away in her heart, reached out to his sister Beth later that week, and said, “Bill needs to meet Julie.” Beth agreed, and a plan was made for Bill and me to meet on a Sunday, where we would be attending the same church service. The introduction was comfortable, we chatted for several minutes and he asked for my number before we both left the building. He finally called me on Thursday night, and we made plans for a first lunch date on Saturday. We both were going into this with zero expectations as to what would happen, but I was cautiously optimistic given Bill’s reputation as a Godly man with a great reputation. (We have many friends in common that I quickly “vetted” him before our first date. Plus, he’s been a fire chief for 15 years, so I figured he had to be of solid character.) He showed up at my door with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, followed by a lunch that stretched into almost five hours as we took turns sharing stories. We discovered we are exactly the same age (Class of 1976 – represent) and that our parents got married the same year. He grew up Catholic and I grew up Episcopal, and both our families were led to Jesus in the same season of life, and then attended the same church.

Fast forward to today, and I am now engaged to be married to Bill in June of this year. Our family will grow into one that blends the relationships of 7 adult children, 9 grandchildren, his 3 siblings, my brother’s 4 children, his deceased wife’s dear parents and her 3 sisters. We will celebrate with these precious souls, along with countless friends that have walked with us through the valley. We are amazed at our story thus far. Bill and I are well acquainted with grief. Though he lost his beautiful wife to death, and I lost my unfaithful husband to divorce, we know the mutual pain of life not going as we planned. We never expected or wanted to have a second spouse. We have separately cried buckets of tears and cried out to a loving God for comfort alone in the dark. We have spent the past month introducing each other to the important people in our lives, and it often is followed by more tears, because I realize the great loss his family and friends have experienced with the sudden loss of their daughter, mother or best friend. I have admired Bill’s heart for my children, being intentional with getting to know them. I know that he will be such a blessing in their lives.

Our relationship has moved at “warp speed” but we truly know that God has brought us together for His purposes at such a time as this. I even received a prophetic word from a trusted friend before I met Bill about this very thing happening. We are so excited to see what plans God will unfold for our marriage, and how He will use us to bring Him glory. We are blown away by His goodness to us, and the fact that we share so many common friends along with a spiritual heritage. (Bill was in Trinity youth group with my brother Ty, and they had a year together at Asbury College. It means so much to me that he knew him.) We have already experienced the challenge of navigating the hearts of those we love, and we will give them the space they need to process. We aren’t perfect at walking this new road, but we are trying our best to do it with grace and integrity.

We look forward to our wedding day in June, where we will stand before God, family and friends, and praise Him for a miraculous “Plan B” love story. One that only He could have written. I am so very grateful God gave me the strength these past five years to “risk loving more.”

One of the lies that can infiltrate your brain as a divorced woman, is that you are “less than” qualified for certain tasks. So when I received a phone call from Tribe Church in Omaha to be the guest speaker at their Fall Women’s Brunch, I was honestly taken by surprise. They explained their theme was “Seasons of Life” and thought I would be the perfect person to share.

After much preparation and practice, I delivered my message to a room full of women that spanned more than sixty years in age. Grandmothers, mothers and daughters listened to my stories of the three spiritual seasons I explained as “Thriving, Surviving and Reviving.” Special credit goes to David and Carol Loveless (@davidandcaron), my pastors that taught me about this three season cycle of life in our little “home church” back when my world was very fragile.

My message at the brunch wasn’t recorded, so a friend recommended that I simply re-record it for those who didn’t hear it firsthand. So here it is, 40 minutes of me sharing my stories and heart, this time from my home office. I pray it encourages you in whatever season you are presently in. If you or someone you love could benefit from speaking with me firsthand, please be sure to reach out to me.

The Three Spiritual Seasons of Life

Maybe it’s because we liked Lucky Charms cereal as children, or that the Broadway musical “Once” set in Dublin left us in tears, or perhaps it’s our love of the movie, “P.S. I Love You”.  Whatever the reasons, my daughter and I found ourselves on a one week Ireland adventure recently and it truly was magical.

So here are my tips for doing Ireland in one week.  (If you have longer, I definitely recommend slowing down the pace that we kept, but we were limited to one week.) The tips are a combination of many friends who preceded me to the Emerald Isle, along with our firsthand experiences!

Tip One—Plan your route carefully, with the two most important tools:  Rick Steves Best of Ireland book and the National Geographic Map of Ireland. Ask your friends for their “must see” spots and compile your list from there. We found super cheap flights to London on Norwegian Airlines so we decided to spend one day and night in London, and then caught a $35 flight to Shannon Airport on Ryan Air.  We picked up our rental car and then proceeded to spend five different destination from the west side of the Island down and up to the east side of Ireland, ending up in Dublin for our final day, and flying home from there. (Picture our route forming a giant smile on the map, left to right!)

Tip Two—Weigh carefully the decision to rent a car. Here are some of the wisest decisions we made, along with some of our mistakes:

• Pay a little extra for an automatic. You do not want to be shifting with a new hand (left) while navigating the narrow and winding roads. Make sure you reserve your car this way in advance.
• The smaller the car the better! I’m so glad I didn’t take the hunky Irish car rental agent up on the upgrade to a larger car. Our little red Kia was just fine for two, and I would have been even more nervous with a wider car!
  

  Our Trusty “Little Red”

• Make sure you have a good navigator in the passenger seat, along with GPS. I cannot imagine both driving and navigating at the same time.  Not to mention the importance of your navigator’s warnings that you are too close to the left side of the road. (Hey, I only side-swiped the side-view mirror once, and Ali was so kind to run down the street and retrieve the piece that had flown off.)
• Be careful because sometimes the same named hotel exists in multiple cities! We learned the hard way that we were on our way to the wrong Barr na Straide B&B which added an extra hour plus to our trip. (In my defense I thought that sounded like a very unique name for a B&B. Turns out Barr na Straide means “Top of the Hill”, a somewhat common term in small Irish towns!)
• Try to arrive at your destination before the sun goes down. Only about 20% of our drive time was on the equivalent of a multi-lane interstate. So that means the other 80% was on narrow Irish roads, which sometimes are not really two lane, but rather “take your turn” one lane roads. Literally this means you must be on the look-out for cars coming from the other direction and pull off to the occasionally provided side road area until they pass.  Add total pitch darkness to this game of chicken and you have a very frightening experience.  The most terrifying was on the road to Dingle on the side of a mountain. When we drove that same road the next day in bright daylight I was thanking Jesus again for his angels that watched over us the night before!
• Don’t let your gas tank get below a quarter full. Gas stations are not nearly as plentiful on the country roads, and even off their interstates they take longer to find. We discovered this the hard way during a stressful search for a gas station while our “low fuel” blinked brightly!

Tip Three—Consider skipping some of the more touristy traps. One of my favorite things about Rick Steves is he gives you great advice about places that are over-rated and wonderful alternative ideas.  Here are a few suggestions that I followed his advice on, as well as the advice of locals:

• The Ring of Kerry drive is a gorgeous all day drive, but the Dingle Road Peninsula has extremely similar scenery and only takes a couple of hours. I heard horror stories of the number of tour buses consuming the roads on the Ring of Kerry, so we chose the road less traveled and were not disappointed. Rick’s book has a mile by mile guide as to where you can stop on this road to experience everything from petting lambs, to climbing on the rocks where they filmed Star Wars the Last Jedi. Absolutely breathtaking scenery, for a fraction of the stress!
  

  The breathtaking Dingle Peninsula drive

• The Blanary Castle is overrated, overpriced and you stand in line to kiss a stone that rumor has men like to urinate on when no one is looking. So we took a hard pass and instead traveled to the Rock of Cashel for amazing ruins and a view that was magnificent.
• Our cab driver that picked us up after our Guinness tour told us when we asked to be dropped off at the Temple Bar area that we should take a quick look and get the heck out of there. He was right as it was just one noisy, crowded pub after another, with sort of a “New Orleans French Quarter at night” vibe. Not our scene. We also took his advice on a restaurant for dinner, and dined at “The Bank” with beautiful original architecture and a live piano. Never undervalue the recommendation of a local.
• A few more thoughts on Dublin—
  • Seeing the famous Book of Kells was a bit underwhelming for us, but the magnificent Trinity College Library redeemed the price of admission. This is a one hour adventure tops.
  • The famous Guinness tour is more like a combination of a history and science museum. You don’t see any of the actual factory during the tour, but you do learn much about this robust brew. My favorite part was getting to learn how to “pour a draw” which turns out is multi step process. Also the view from the skyline bar at the top is definitely a neat way to get a birds-eye view of Dublin.

Tip Four—Be sure to plan some experiential adventures, and also allow for spontaneity!  Here are a few of our favorites:

• A Facebook friend recommended going horseback riding in the Dingle Peninsula. Yes please! I booked in advance our 90 minute beach and mountain adventure at Long’s Horseback Riding Centre. Don’t worry if you’ve never ridden a house.  These gentle giants aren’t anxious to go anywhere and the guides have things under control at all times. Being up close to the sheep grazing in the countryside and walking on the sandy shores of Ventry beach were even better on the backs of our new friends.
  

  Horseback Riding on Ventry Beach!

• We channeled our inner Katniss and took a private archery lessons out front of our castle in Kinnity with Noel, owner of Birr Equestrian Centre. Turns out both of Ali and I were naturals, and her topscore of 46 only beat me by one point! (In case you don’t know, 50 is the top score with five arrows.)
  

  Archery at the Castle!

• While walking the streets of Galway on a quiet Monday evening we were invited to a stand-up comedy night at a local pub. So my comedic daughter thought that sounded fun and off we went. Chatting with the amateur Irish comedians before the show was a blast.
• Leave time to stop and listen to the street musicians. “Busking” was our favorite way to listen to music during the trip, and of course you want to have some euro coin on hand to throw in the guitar case.

Tip Five—Consider going in the “shoulder season” of Fall to this beautiful country. Turns out that mid-October was a perfect time as the crowds were nowhere in sight, and the prices more reasonable on airfare and lodging. If you go during this season be sure to bring plenty of layers, including your “woolies” as the British like to say (long underwear). The few times we encountered downpours we would adjust our plans a bit, go grab a bite to eat, and the storm would pass. We had lots of sunshine, and when we didn’t, our wool hats and scarves kept us cozy. Honestly for this Florida gal, it was a refreshing change to layer up!

So from Galway to Dingle, to Kinsale, to Kinnity, to Dublin, we experienced a beautiful week in Ireland. If you have the pleasure of journeying there in your future, may those beautiful Irish roads rise up to greet you!

I have dubbed 2019 as my #yearofintention. I set out in January with intention in five areas of my life; Spiritual, Emotional, Relational, Physical and Financial.  I count one of my biggest wins this year to be in the PHYSICAL category. I started the year with the extra pounds and inches that are so easy to put on at my age, and set out to shape up. I knew I didn’t want to do any sort of plan that required buying packaged food, supplements, or shakes… (#nojudgement for people who use those plans with success, but it wasn’t what I was looking for.) I just wanted a plan that would teach me how to use real food, hold me accountable to make wiser choices, and one that was sustainable for the long haul. I found the perfect program that checked all these boxes, and for those who are seeking to change their relationship with food and exercise, read on…

First of all, I waited to share this program until I had some results that stood the test of time.  I started this program in February, and seven months later have trimmed over 20 inches, gone down three dress sizes, and maintained it for several months. Secondly, this program is not about deprivation.  I don’t even consider it a diet. It’s not Keto, not Atkins, not no-carb. It teaches you how to eat REAL food wisely, and a huge variety of it! Thirdly, it’s a very reasonable investment. For $199 you get 8 weeks of coaching, accountability, meal plans, workout options, and you LEARN how to do this method long term. After the 8 weeks, you can continue with a monthly membership, but I haven’t chosen to do that and continue to do well.  And before you balk at spending $199 on your health, please break that down to a mere $25/week for 8 weeks, $3.57/per day for 8 weeks. (Trust me, you’ll recoup the $199 and then some with meal planning and less impulse eating!)

The program is called The Faster Way to Fat Loss and my coach is the wonderful Amberly Deavours from Georgia.  She’s feisty and hilarious and loves Jesus.  She also happens to be one of the best coaches in the entire program, currently ranked number three in the company.  If you use my referral link, you will also be coached by Amberly and her great support team. You must register before the beginning of the 8 week round, and her next one starts August 19^th. Here’s the link if you’re ready to take a closer look, or jump in and register:

https://www.fasterwaycoach.com/register#juliedarr 

(*If the link doesn’t work by clicking on it, cut and paste it into your web browser and it will work!)

The program is founded on three main principles:

1. Intermittent Fasting—don’t let the word FASTING scare you. It’s simply the principle of shrinking your eating “window” to 8 hours per day, giving your digestive system 16 hours to process what you’ve eaten.  I “break my fast” at noon every day and then stop eating by 8:00  p.m.  I’m not starving by noon, but I am definitely ready to eat!  Also you can have liquids during your fasting time, as long as it’s a total of 50 calories or less.  I drink lots of water and black coffee during the fasting hours.  You pick the eight hour eating window that works best with your lifestyle.
2. Counting Macros—you’ll use the smartphone app MyFitnessPal to track three macros daily; carbs, proteins and fats. (Note you’re not tracking calories!)  With a simple scan of food bar codes, or entering the fresh product description, MyFitnessPal calculates these three macros for you.  You have your macro goals for the day and can plan your food accordingly.  Yes this takes some work in the beginning, but once you get the hang of it, it truly becomes second nature.  During the 8 weeks you post your daily macro summary on the Facebook group page and then your coaching team will counsel you and give you tips for improving (or accolades for hitting the mark)!  *Update!–the Faster Way now comes with 4 weeks of recommended meal plans, with the macros already calculated—WIN!
3. Carb Cycling—you’ll mix up the combination of your three macros (carbs, proteins, fats) depending on the day. Also the recommended workout will be specific to the type of macro day you are doing.  On the two low-carb days, the exercise is cardio intensive.  On the regular macro days, the exercise is strength intensive. There is a science behind it that I don’t understand, but all I know is it works. AND the recommended workouts come in three levels;  Beginner, Intermediate or Advanced. AND there is a home workout version and a gym workout version.  For those of you adverse to exercise, you don’t have to do that part, or you can do fewer days of it.  Also huge bonus—the exercise regimen is only about 30 to 40 minutes TOTAL, not hours and hours in the gym.  The “less is more” principle applies here!

The last thing I will say about the program, is it is balanced and realistic.  Some of their best mantras  include:

“Progress over Perfection” aka don’t sweat it if you blow it one meal, one day, one weekend! You can get back into the swing of it without looking back!

“Memories over Macros” aka if you need to digress from your normal plan to make a special memory with people you love—DO IT!

In summary, I’ve always aimed for my blog to be life-giving. This one may sound more like a commercial, but I’m passionate about helping women find joy in life.  My mother had huge weight struggles when she was my age, and I saw how it affected her happiness and self-worth, not to mention her health. I also think as women we so often put caring for everyone else we love, ahead of ourselves. I’m learning the art of “self-care”, which includes prioritizing my food and exercise. God gives us one temple for this lifetime.  We can’t control everything that happens to it, but there is much that we can control. I’m grateful God led me to this program, to Amberly as my coach, and that He has given me my voice so that I can share it with you!

Podcasts have become my favorite way to pass the time when I fight the tourist traffic to get home at the end of my work day.  Today I listed to Amy Grant being interviewed on Jen Hatmaker’s podcast called, “For the Love of…”  There was this moment in the podcast where Amy made a statement that deeply resonated with my spirit. In fact it was basically quoting what the Lord had spoken to me just a few weeks ago. I sometimes struggle with fear for my children in the aftermath of my divorce. I wept that I indeed had heard from God, as her words confirmed exactly what I sensed Him telling me. It was also in that moment that I realized I have “grown up” as a Christian with Amy Grant by my side, and how special she is to me, even though we have never met in person.  She shows up and intersects my life, and is like a well-worn blanket to my soul.

My first in person encounter with Amy was in 1984. I was a single young woman, searching for real love. I was in a long distance relationship with my boyfriend, had a great career, drove a fast silver RX7, but inside knew something was missing in my life. My good friend from work asked me to go to Amy’s Straight Ahead tour at the Omaha Orpheum theatre. Michael W. Smith was the opening act, another great Christian singer that would impact my life. “Angels” was the toe-tapping hit from that night and certainly described what God was doing in my life at the time without me knowing it, protecting me, keeping me from harm, in the midst of living without Him…

Angels watching over me, every step I take, angels watching over me

Though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home.

But I know they’re all around me all day and through the night.

Angels watching over me, every move I make, angels watching over me…

Fast forward a few years and I’m traveling with my husband Mike for our first married Christmas to spend it with his parents in Tennessee. My parents drove up and joined us for that Christmas, and my brother Ty and his girlfriend Terri stopped in for a few days so we could meet her. The joy of being all together was represented in Amy’s most famous Christmas song of that era, “Tender Tennessee Christmas.”

Another tender Tennessee Christmas, is the only Christmas for me.

While the love gathers around us, like the gifts beneath the tree.

Well I know there’s more snow, up in Colorado, than my roof will ever see,

But a tender Tennessee Christmas, is the only Christmas for me.

The memories from that Christmas fill my heart with an abundance of warmth; homemade biscuits and gravy for breakfast around the Darr’s country kitchen table, singing songs with brother-in-law Tim on his organ at the local pizza joint, so much laughter at my brother-in-law Dick’s house in Nashville. Ty and Terri left us to travel up to West Virginia to her parents, where he asked for her hand in marriage. Five months later they were married, and the next year our first babies were born six weeks apart. I smile thinking of how beautiful life was back then with our parents all healthy and our families growing. Indeed that tender Tennessee Christmas stands out as such a special one, just like Amy said.

The early 90’s brought Amy’s move into mainstream pop, causing such a stir in Christian circles. How could she stray from her roots of God-centered lyrics? But Mike and I kept following her music, realizing that this did not define her walk with God, and actually served as a way to draw more “unbelievers” to her Christian music. I remember her adorable music video to “Baby, Baby,” with her hip black hat and fun dance moves. We went to her Heart in Motion concert in a huge packed out auditorium. I remember that night being a mix of her Christian and “secular” music, and I left knowing that Amy Grant definitely still loved Jesus.  Amy actually wrote these lyrics inspired by the love she had for her new baby daughter Millie. As a young mom at the time myself, my mother’s heart resonated with hers…

Baby, baby I’m taken with the notion

To love you with the sweetest of devotion

Baby, baby my tender love will flow from

The bluest sky to the deepest ocean

Stop for a minute, baby I’m so glad you’re mine!

The mid 90’s found us living in Dallas for a short five months that included December.  We went through some extremely painful disappointments in ministry that year. To help put us in the Christmas spirit, we went to Amy Grant’s concert with our dear friends Mike and Marilyn. By this time Amy had released her second Christmas album which included the new song “Breath of Heaven.”  I remember listening to the words while Amy sang the haunting lyrics from Mary’s perspective.  Mary didn’t understand her life fully, but she was calling out to her God for comfort and direction, as I knew I needed to do in my time of great confusion with the church.

I am waiting in a silent prayer, I am frightened by the load I bear

In a world as cold as stone, Must I walk this path alone?

Be with me now, be with me now…

Breath of heaven, hold me together, be forever near me, breath of heaven

Breath of heaven, lighten my darkness, pour over me your holiness, for you are holy, breath of heaven…

Over ten years would pass before I would see Amy again. By this time she had endured a very public divorce, a controversial second marriage to Vince Gill, and pretty much had disappeared from the public eye. A group of us went to Carpenter’s Church in Lakeland, Florida for the live recording of Michael W. Smith’s new album, simply called Worship. It was the night of my 43^rd birthday and I remember thinking it was the most incredible gift to spend it worshiping with Michael W. Smith leading from the piano.  But the most powerful moment came when the music stopped, and he introduced members of his “back up choir” who had been invited to join him that night for the recording. He said  that one of his longest and closest friends was there that night and would we please welcome her, Amy Grant. My eyes filled with tears as the loud applause welcomed her. I remember thinking, “This is the way we are supposed to respond to people who have gone through brokenness.”

A few years later, my husband and I would go to a church in Orlando and watch Amy on acoustic guitar play to our audience of 100’s, not 1,000’s. I thought it must be humbling to now be in such a small venue, having filled stadiums earlier in her career. But the night was a gift of intimate moments with Amy, without the bright lights and the back-up singers.  She took us full circle to that song that started it all…

When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,

She’s got her Father’s eyes, her Father’s eyes

Eyes that find the good in things, when good is not around

Eyes that find the source of help, when help just can’t be found

Eyes full of compassion, seeing every pain

Knowing what you’re going through, and feeling it the same

Just like my Father’s eyes, my Father’s eyes, my Father’s eyes, Just like my Father’s eyes.

It was on a solo road trip in 2015 from Orlando to Myrtle Beach that Amy spoke into my life again. I was driving up to spend a few days alone at my friend Debie’s condo on the ocean. It had been a long day of driving and it was now dark. I put on Amy’s Simple Things album and listened intently to these words…

After the fire is over, after the ashes cool,

After the smoke is blown away, I will be here for you.

After the stillness find you, after the winds of change,

All that is good and true between us; this will remain the same.

As tears streamed down my face I told God I wanted to believe this for my marriage. I knew things were derailing, I knew there were things I probably didn’t even know were happening, but I wanted to believe we would survive this fire we were in. It was just me, God, and Amy’s lyrics. I felt that God led me to this song at this specific moment in my imploding life.

Sadly the fire did destroy the marriage. I’ve now been single for over three years. I’m doing well, really well the great majority of the time. My concerns are rarely for me, but as I mentioned earlier, usually for my children. You worry about all the angry words they heard, the damage divorce brings, the lack of a good marriage model for them to follow.

Which brings me to yesterday and this single sentence that Amy spoke on the podcast, based on something a good friend had told her when she was struggling with these same thoughts for her children…

Why don’t you trust that every hard lesson coming to your children, why don’t you trust that all of these hard things are bringing about a very unique toolkit that will be essential for each one of your children for the adventure of their life.

Profound. Comforting. Hopeful. Flipping the perspective.

Once again Amy, thank you.

It has descended upon us, as it does every year, this time of the year we lovingly refer to as “the holidays.”  I sent my annual card and letter out early this year.  Mostly so that my friends and family have my new address if they decide to return the holiday cheer with their annual greeting via the mail. My dad informed me recently that he doesn’t particularly enjoy annual Christmas letters, except for my cousin’s wife—who is extremely witty, so much so that she writes a TWO page letter that he reads in full. Apparently he judges a letter by the humor, which I typically don’t have a great deal of in my annual letter!  Mine is more of the “state of the union” kind of letter, including the highs and the sometimes lows.  I started the tradition of sending a letter at the holidays the first year we were married in 1985, and I haven’t missed a year since.  Some day when I’m gone my grandchildren can get out my Christmas scrapbooks and piece together my entire adult story from my annual letters. I like that I’m leaving them this little historical timeline.

At the moment I’m sitting in the Kansas City airport, having celebrated Thanksgiving and an early Christmas with my children and grandchildren.  We gathered at my oldest son’s house because he is the only one with children, and it’s much easier for us to travel to them, than for them to travel to us. It was a wonderful visit for all of us, and so much fun to be with my two year old and newborn grandsons. I love watching their aunt and uncles interact with them. My son’s wife was so gracious to host us all, because we can be quite the handful! I’m grateful for my grown children that are now each other’s closest friends. I’m grateful that we are still making new memories together.

But in the midst of continuing some traditions and making adaptions to others, I am very cognizant of the fact that I have friends facing that first hard holiday season without someone they have loved. I have multiple friends who have a spouse that has “peaced-out” on their marriage. I have friends that have buried a loved one this past year, some very suddenly. I have friends with grown children that chose not to spend any of the holidays with them this year.  To these friends I want to say I am sorry you are having to face this Christmas without these people that have been such a big part of your life. I remember the first Christmas without my mother, the woman whose love language was “gift giving.” Christmas was her favorite holiday, and that first one without her I just wanted to sleep through it and wake up on December 26^th.  I remember the first Christmas as a newly divorced woman. The kids and I traveled to Nebraska that Christmas to be with my nieces and nephews who had lost both their parents that summer. I felt like it was all a very bad dream that Christmas, but sadly it wasn’t. We muddled through it and even had some therapeutic laughs about how insanely horrible 2015 had been. I don’t have any magic words on how to get through the holidays.  But it reminds me of the children’s book “Bear Hunt” that I was reading with my grandson yesterday.  The book keeps repeating this phrase when the family comes up against an obstacle, “You can’t go under it, you can’t go over it…”  So you just have to go through it.

I have been away from my home the past four Christmases with the goal of spending them with as many of my family members as possible. I’ve woken up in some nice hotels, and a not-so-nice Air BnB. Oh that sad little Air BnB near downtown Omaha… The kids and I rented it so that we could all be together in Omaha that horrible Christmas of 2015. I remember the first night we settled into the house, sending the boys out to get groceries, and sitting on the couch with my daughters having ourselves a good pity cry in the sterile and chilly living room. This wasn’t what Christmas was supposed to look like. But the next morning we were blessed with a beautiful snowfall that took us outside to make snow angels and a snowman. It was a gift from God that brought beauty and joy into our sadness.

Christmas morning I went outside and found a “Charlie Brown” branch and erected a makeshift Christmas tree for our little gift exchange. Amidst some big lows and nice highs, we traversed through the most difficult of Christmases.

This Christmas I am looking forward to waking up in my own place. Even though I won’t have all of my family with me, I’m hoping it will be a bit more comforting to start the holiday this way. I will forever miss those great Christmases where the four kids came bursting into our room before daylight, shouting about it being time to open presents. How does this most wonderful time of the year, also cause so much pain, as we long for holidays past?

So as we turn the calendar to December, may I encourage you to be mindful of those who are hurting this year. Offer to help them decorate their place so they don’t have to do it alone. Invite them to a special Christmas event, just to be out with people enjoying some holiday spirit. Perhaps set an extra place at the table for them. Even a text or phone call letting them know you are thinking of them during this first difficult holiday can be so comforting. And if you are one that is hurting, please know that you are not alone. That child in a manger was God’s beautiful gift to us, the most important Christmas gift of all. Jesus, Immanuel, “God with us,” even in the hardest of times.

My dad and his wife just returned from a three plus week Viking Cruise down the Seine River.  (Yes, I want to be them when I grow up.)  We met for dinner once they returned and as often happens when we are catching up, he told me of someone that has passed away recently.  This time it was a dear family friend, the wife of my dad’s best friend from high school.  They were in each other’s weddings, and they were a big part of my brother’s and my childhood.  So I sat down and wrote dear Fred a letter, sharing all that their family means to me. I think sometimes the best gift we can give someone who is grieving is the gift of reminiscing of the memories we have of them. I always love it when someone mentions my loved ones in conversation that are no longer here with me on this earth. I hope my letter caught Fred on a day when he needed something to boost his spirits. He and Anita endured a great deal of pain in their life, but they stayed true to each other until the end.

Dear Fred,

My dad told me the other night that your precious wife Anita had passed away earlier this month.  I’m so sorry to hear that and I know you will miss her greatly. When he told me the news, my mind started filling with all my memories of your family, so I thought I would share them in hopes that it might put a little smile on your face.

For as long as I can remember, I equated the road trip from Fremont, Nebraska to the mountains of Colorado, with a stop at the Fiedler’s on Dixie Street in North Platte.  Exactly one half of the way in between those two destinations was the home of my dad’s best friend.

Arriving at your house was like “home away from home”. Your three sons, Mike, Mark and Mitch (always said in order to remember who was who), would be there to greet Ty and I, and grand adventures would commence.  At night we would pile into the bunk beds and take a while to fall asleep because of all the chatter. Even though I was the only girl among all the boys, I never minded.  I always picture Anita in the kitchen, and I can hear the sound of her thick German accent.  I love that her accent never diminished the entire time she lived in America. Your house in fact was like a little piece of Germany.  The cozy kitchen always felt like a little chalet with all the trim work and knick-knacks.  I was so impressed when you built your big two-story barn next door to your house, and we made the trip out for the “barn warming” party. If I recall there was a lot of beer and Hormel sausage served!  One of my fondest memories was the time your backyard flooded. I’m not sure what caused the flood, but it sure made for a great time. You happened to have a row boat ready to go, and we paddled around the backyard for hours!

We also had the tradition of seeing you every Christmas Eve at your parent’s home in Fremont.  Their little green house on the other side of the viaduct was picture perfect year round. We would stop in before Midnight Mass for a visit and your mother would always serve us Christmas cookies. I just remember feeling so cozy and warm inside their home, and I love that we included that in our Christmas Eve every year.

Sadly, some of my memories are hard ones. When my father told me that your son Mike had been killed in a car accident during his time in the Navy, it rocked me to the core because we were the same age.  I was in college at the time, and our family of four traveled to the funeral.  It was my first military funeral and the sound of the seven gun salute literally shook my bones. It was also the very first time I saw my father cry. I honestly felt like the light went out in Anita’s eyes after that.  I always felt a little guilty every time we were with you after that. I was sure my presence reminded her of Mike, and what he would be doing in life if he was still here.

As I grew older, the times I got to see you became less frequent, but every time I did, it was always such a comfort to see you both.  You give the best hugs, and Anita was always so kind to me. You came to my wedding and gave us the gift of a beautiful handmade cradle, because I had told you I always wanted one. You were there for my mother’s funeral, and I know it comforted my dad greatly to have his lifelong friends there for him.

So as you adjust to life without your beloved Anita, I just want to say your life matters greatly to me and my family. Now that it’s just dad and me, I cherish even more the memories our families made together. Thank you for being such a consistent source of friendship to us.

Love Always, Julie

 

                                                                                                                                                            

I’m on my way to my son’s house in Missouri, to watch my two year old grandson tomorrow, while my daughter-in-law is induced to bring their second child into the world.  It’s definitely one of those “history repeats itself” moments.  And one of the more adventurous moments of my life as a pregnant woman.

There is that moment when you are about to have your second child, where one or both parents have this sadness that it will never be the same for their firstborn.  They have had your full attention for the current balance of their life on earth, and that is about to change in a drastic way.  I was not that parent in my marriage.  The way I looked at it was practical. The first born gets those initial years ALL to themselves with their parents.  No subsequent child is going to get that, unless perhaps there is a very large gap before your last child comes along.  My husband was the one who felt bad for our firstborn.  Poor Drew’s little two year old world was about to change, for what he thought was for the worse.  So he took it upon himself to make sure Drew had a very special final memory as the only child.  (Do two year olds remember these things?  I seriously doubt it.)

We went in for one final doctor visit the day before our scheduled inducement.  They applied a chemical to my birthing canal that they said would help “soften things up”. Then they sent us home with instructions to return in the morning.  I remember the doctor saying, “You may have some preparatory contractions, but you can ignore them.”

My amazing mom was in town for the birth (the grandmother that all my friends wanted to be grandmother to their children). So my husband felt fine leaving me with her and whisking Drew off to his first Minnesota Twin’s baseball game. Picture said two year old in umbrella stroller with baseball cap.  We lived in the Twin City suburbs, and the Metrodome was a good hour away in downtown Minneapolis.  Also remember, no one except successful realtors, had cell phones in the year 1987.

I remember relaxing on the couch watching movies with my mom when the pain began.  I recalled the words of the doctor about ignoring the contractions.  I eventually called the hospital and described them to the nurse on call.  She repeated the phrase, “It’s nothing, just preparatory contractions.”  So as not to alarm my mother, I went and took a bath hoping the warm water would be soothing.  When husband and son finally walked through the apartment door after 10:00 p.m., I was this combination of, “I am so happy to see you!” and “I can’t believe you left me for the night!”

Another phone call was placed to the nurse to see if we should head over, and again the answer was, “Try to rest and we will see you in the morning.” Eventually the pain got so bad that my husband said, “I’m taking you to the hospital no matter what the nurses tell you.” I had to stop periodically as we walked down the long hallway to do my breathing exercises.  Thank the Lord the hospital was literally across the street.  We arrived at 4:05 a.m., Spencer Glen Darr entered the world at 4:17 a.m.  The nurse barely got the doctor into the room in time to deliver. The doctor was confronting me while she was stitching me up about not coming sooner to the hospital.  When I told her I had been in touch with the nursing staff she asked the nurse why she hadn’t told us to head to the hospital.  Her answer was that I had sounded so calm and polite on the phone that she was sure I wasn’t in real labor.  (Note to all pregnant woman—do not try to be calm and polite in these situations.)  This “on-call” doctor was eight months pregnant herself, so I extended some grace for her grumpy disposition since she was no doubt sleeping when the urgent call came.  I laughed when I saw her name on the birth certificate, Dr. Buttweiler.  It described her disposition that night to a “T”!

Later that morning we called my mom to tell her the happy news.  Her fourth grandchild was already here and it was another boy!  She dressed Drew up in his little navy and white romper and brought him over to meet his first brother.  We have precious video footage of him giving Spencer a kiss and placing a little brown bear in his bassinet.  Twenty-nine years later they are still best of friends.

So as I look forward to history repeating itself this weekend when I get to go introduce Parker to his baby brother, I can’t help but miss my mom. I miss my boys being little, and I miss their dad who was such a good father during that time.  And as for my grandson Parker, I don’t feel one bit of sadness for your little world changing, because honestly there is nothing in the world like a brother to go on adventures with. I can’t wait to watch! (And don’t worry, you will always hold a special place in my heart–you made me a Nini!)