Has anyone else been thinking about their loved ones in heaven during this unprecedented pandemic? I sure have, and especially my brother and sister-in-law, Ty and Terri. This has come in the form of two different thoughts… First, I admit that at times being in heaven with them seems enviable during this trying season.  And second, if Ty & Terri were still here, they would definitely be the ones I would want to be quarantined with! So on what would have been Terri’s 64th birthday, I’m re-posting the blog I wrote for her 60th.  Lots of great memories shared, that just warm my heart, and I hope yours.

Reposted from 4/16/2020:

As I begin writing my April blog, it is “National Sibling Day”! Not sure who came up with this one—probably Facebook, but I like it. It’s good to take time to express our love and appreciation for those we grew up with. This day stings a bit—my first “National Sibling Day” since the car accident that took my brother and sister in law’s lives. I heard a quote recently that resonated with me. It was something like, “When you lose a sibling, you lose the person you can reminisce with about your childhood.” I’m so blessed to have my only sibling’s book that he wrote about the journey of founding The Hope Center (A Thousand Screaming Mules) because in that book he shared many of the details about our childhood. And then there are Ty’s sermons where he would often share snapshots from our youth. They always make me smile and I’m so grateful for the access I have to them.

But this is the month I want to write about one special lady that would have been turning the big 6-0 this Saturday, April 16th, my beloved sister-in-law Terri Alexander Schenzel. It honestly stinks that she won’t be here to celebrate with on this momentous milestone. I’m sure Ty, her children, and her many, many friends would have made sure it was celebrated in a big way. Last year Ty surprised her by flying their daughter Annie in from New York for her birthday. I loved watching the video and hearing her crying-laughter when the big “reveal” of her gift took place!

So in honor of her life, I want to share some great memories that come to my mind when it comes to my relationship with this feisty little dark haired, brown eyed woman that stole my brother’s heart.

My earliest memories of Terri are through letters and phone calls from California. That is where her friendship with my brother started during their time as graduate students at International School of Theology in San Bernardino. I was planning my wedding and she was invited to come and meet the family, until Ty “un-invited” her! Can you believe it? He was going through the whole, “Is this relationship with Terri in God’s will?” thing, which now just cracks me up, because they were such an incredible couple together. Terri and I never let him live that one down! But then ten short months after our wedding, there we were in Morgantown, West Virginia at THEIR wedding. And what a wedding it was. Think, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”, only replace the Greeks with Catholic Italian and Lebanese aunts, uncles and cousins coming out of the woodwork! Whenever you walked into Terri’s parents’ home there were always people coming and going, but they could never leave without first being fed something by Virginia. I know Terri inherited her love for cooking and her gift of hospitality from her mother. Their wedding reception was at the Morgantown Hotel, owned by her Aunt, and it was seriously like walking into the midnight buffet on a Princess cruise! The food was overflowing everywhere you looked! My husband and I had the pleasure of driving them to Pittsburgh to their honeymoon hotel before they flew off to Captiva the next morning. I remember them heading up the elevator and thinking, “This is the start of something really great!” How right I was…

Fast forward a bit and the late 80’s and early 90’s were full of babies, babies and more babies! Terri and I were blessed to bring four beautiful children each into the world. Our first babies, Drew and Emily, were born less that two months apart. We took Drew on his first airplane out to California to meet his new cousin. It was always never ending laughter when Ty, Terri, Mike and I would get together. We filmed the classic “Ty and Terri Earthquake Prevention” video on our gigantic Toshiba video camera (link posted below). We grabbed a trusted babysitter that trip and the four of us ventured off to Disneyland for the day to make some more memories. Then as God would see fit, we soon were both led back to Omaha church positions with babies in tow! It was so great being in the same town while all our babies were young. Once in awhile we would sneak in a double date. The one that sticks out in my mind was going to see the movie, Not Without My Daughter where Sally Fields plays the desparate mother trying to escape Iran. Picture two pregnant women, sobbing loudly in the theatre, to the point where our husbands were a bit embarrassed (and trust me these were husbands that were hard to embarrass).

Ty and Terri Earthquake Prevention

The early parenting years were an amazing time to bond as sisters. Though being in ministry is somewhat of a “package deal”, we were technically stay-at-home moms. Terri and I, along with a few other close friends, formed our “Care/Share Group”.  We would get a couple of homeschooled babysitters and put them with all our kids in the basement, and then relish a few hours of uninterrupted girlfriend time to share trials, victories and prayers with each other. This is where my friendship grew deeper with the sister I never had growing up. Terri went on to be a favorite guest speaker at MOPS (Mother of Pre-Schoolers) meetings, and I wasn’t surprised. She had the heart of an encourager and a counselor. She above all had the heart of a wife that was devoted to supporting her husband, and she loved encouraging other young mothers to do the same.

When a Texas job ended our beautiful “living in the same town” dream, it was a very sad day for us. Think of the scene in Color Purple when Celie and Nettie are ripped from one another. Terri’s and my tears were flowing as we drove away from their house, vowing that we would someday be together again! Well sure enough, God brought us back to Omaha six short months later! You can guess who was there waiting for me with open arms. We enjoyed a few more years of raising our children together, before Florida called our name and we had to say goodbye again.

Perhaps my greatest debt I owe to Terri is the love and care she showed my mom during her battle with cancer. Terri was so faithful to be there for my mom in Omaha when I was stuck in Florida, taking her to doctor appointments and chemo treatments. I know she held the hand of many a friend that walked through battles of their own. Terri is one of those people that many I’m sure thought was their “best friend”. And you know what? I’m sure she was, because she had the capacity to do that—her heart was much, much bigger than most.

 

These last few years were precious ones, as Terri and I shared the joy of watching our children blossom into young adults. I think we both truly loved every season of parenting. Whenever we had the chance to catch up with each other, we would always focus on how our children were doing in life. Our goal was to be at all eight of the “Schenzel cousin” weddings. Oh the laughs we shared at Drew and Mary’s wedding in Atlanta. Terri was given a very special job at the end of their rehearsal. The wedding coordinator handed her the communion plate and goblet with strict orders to take very good care of it until the next day, as it was a hand-made, “one of a kind” set, given to her by a friend from Europe. Well somehow when Terri got out of their minivan, the plate slid right past her onto the ground and cracked in half. She was mortified! We couldn’t let her live it down—“Terri—it was your ONLY JOB, and you blew it!” But oh how we laughed that night! The next cousin’s wedding is my final memory on earth with Terri. I was out front of Sokol Hall with her and Ty as they hugged and waved good-bye to their son Turner and his bride Jade as they took off for their honeymoon. What a crazy circle of life, almost 30 years earlier I had been there to send them off on their honeymoon.

Cousin Wedding # 3, so blessed to be all together!

So what can I do to honor this amazing woman who filled my life and so many other lives with her love and devotion? The best I can offer is simply to love her children and grandchildren well, and to encourage them in any way I can in their journey of life. I know Terri invested great love, care, prayer and wisdom into their lives which will carry each of them far.

Happy 60th Terri! I’m sure there is sufficient celebration in heaven, but today I raise a glass and toast to you, my beautiful sister!

I’ve really been reflecting on Easter this week, and how this holiday has evolved for me over the past fifty-plus years. I’m sure my nostalgic reflections are due to all the changes in my life this past year. I find comfort in looking back and celebrating my growth, and finding joy in knowing that the resurrection of Christ continues to take on deeper meaning the older I get. If you’re in the mood, join me on my trip down this bunny trail…

My earliest memories of Easter are probably more from the black and white photographs of my childhood, more so than the actual memory itself! I love the photo of my parent’s in their “Sunday best”, my dad with his slender tie, my mom with her gorgeous legs and thin waist—despite having given birth to my brother a few months prior. And there is that new brother of mine—unrecognizable because of the gigantic swaddling blanket encompassing his whole being! I guess Easter was chilly in Great Falls, Montana. And there I am in my adorable 2½ year-old standard new Easter attire; white gloves, bonnet with the elastic string for under the chin, white tights with black patent leather shoes, and of course the new dress with plenty of ruffles and bows. I’m not sure if we went to church all the time in my early years, or just on those special holidays. But it’s obvious that’s where we were headed on this fine day.

 

My elementary years back in our little St. James Episcopal Church in Fremont, Nebraska, are vivid in my mind. This is the church I immediately picture when I think of Easter as a child. On this most special of Sunday’s my father would present my mother and I with our Easter corsage to wear to church. The service would begin with Mrs. Semrod at the organ with the choir processing in to “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”, Father Mueller reading from the Gospels, and then of course the procession up to receive communion. My favorite part of Easter service was watching and evaluating the parade of mothers and daughters in their new Easter attire and picking out my favorites as they returned from communion. (Most years my dear Aunt Marge would win for best new hat.) We would shake Father’s hand in the back at the end of the service and then be issued our little marigold plant to take home. I will forever associate corsages and marigolds with Easter Sunday!

Following college, my career began in Omaha high up in the Woodmen Tower. Back in the early 80’s it was the tallest building in downtown Omaha—all 24 floors. I honored my parents and my church upbringing by joining them for Easter service out west at this new “Interdenominational Church” my entire family was now attending. Over the course of my four years earning a partying and business degree at Kearney State College, my brother and parents had realized the Truth of the Gospel—and given their lives to the Lordship of Jesus, the one we heard about in that Episcopal Church, but quite honestly never knew what to do with. I found this new kind of church so intriguing, and Pastor built a solid case for joining them in their new lives of devotion to Christ. I just wasn’t sure I should I should hand over control of my life to Jesus quite yet—but thankfully I didn’t wait too many more years before I did at 26 years of age.

 

As young parents, my husband and I were blessed to have our children at the same time as my brother and his wife. My mom went from longing to be a grandmother, to having eight grandchildren in the course of nine years. My dad got her a prestige license plate that read “8ISENUF” because of all the spoiling she did. Now the matching Easter outfits for the grandchildren came compliments of Grandma. Terri and I literally NEVER had to purchase clothes for our children while my mom Alice was alive. My favorite memories with our children on Easter are out at Aunt Marge’s lake home. The kids couldn’t wait to finish our ham dinner and set out on the big egg hunt. My mom was always concerned about “keeping it fair” for all the kids, and would make sure to watch out for the underdog, helping them add to their haul! So many great snapshots in my mind, the kids lined up on the steps for photos, all the moms in their new Easter dresses, the dad’s in their suits. Bunnies had nothing on us in terms of multiplying (and the subsequent generation is picking up well where we left off)!

 

Being married to a music pastor meant Easter would often entail a giant service held in a public venue. King of Kings in Omaha would rent out Aksarben, (Nebraska spelled backwards for those of you wondering), Suntree Church in Melbourne would rent out the King Center (a very fittingly named venue for an Easter service), and my husband would orchestrate an amazing worship band and singers to create a joyous celebration! How proud I was of his efforts and incredible talent. As our children grew, he would pull them in to use their gifts in these large services… Drew in a skit, Spencer on the drums. Though it was an exhausting week for my husband, it was always worth it to have the Gospel go forth.

 

Sadly last Easter was by far my hardest one to date. Easter in our Florida home had become one of the holidays where we invited friends without local family, enjoying dinner together after church. Last year probably looked the same to our guests, but I knew it would be the final Easter in my home on Persimmon Street, and quite possibly the final Easter married to my husband. I struggled through the meal and the obligatory egg hunt, but then ended up retreating upstairs in tears about the condition of my marriage. If there was ever an Easter I needed to embrace the reality of the resurrection this was it. I needed Christ to resurrect the love that once filled our relationship. I wasn’t sure what I was even dealing with in my marriage, but my gut told me I would soon know the truth, even if it wasn’t the truth I wanted to hear. Just like Jesus descended to hell for three days before rising again, I felt I was in that same dark place.

Which brings me to Easter 2016—one that I will choose to celebrate, despite the losses in my life since last Easter. Yes I lost my husband to divorce, yes I now live in a rented townhome while I wait for our house to sell, yes my beloved brother and sister are spending their first Easter in heaven (I’m thinking heaven is probably like Easter everyday—don’t you?), and yes for the first time as a mom I won’t be with any of my four children this Easter. But I’m celebrating in a much, much deeper way the importance of what Jesus did on the cross, and the fact that he WAS raised from the dead on the third day. I feel my life is being resurrected into a new depth of dependency on the power of Christ, and this year I have experienced the fellowship of his suffering like never before. So much of what has transpired this year has seemed out of my control, divorce, death, and delays in my plans. But I’m learning to lean into the pain, to embrace my “new normal” as a single woman, and to pursue after God’s desires for my future.

So this Easter I’ll be wearing shorts, tennis shoes, and a volunteer t-shirt as I join with fellow Christians to provide an Easter service and dinner at the Orlando Citrus Bowl to thousands of our under-resourced residents! It seemed right and good to totally forsake my traditional Easter attire and switch my focus to the hurting that are right here in our community. I look forward to greeting them with a smile, looking them in the eyes, and blessing them with words of HOPE. Matthew 25:40 will be my theme verse for this Easter of new beginnings, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Thank you Jesus, for evolving my Easter into what YOU desire me to focus on. And thank you for enduring the cross for my sins, and for the assurance of a resurrected life in You.

Six months, half a year, the marking of time… What is it about anniversaries of both happy and sad things that make us stop, pause, and reflect?

Six months ago I drove with quiet desperation to our attorney’s office to sign divorce papers. What I thought was my worst nightmare was becoming an actuality: the ending of a 30-year commitment and the destruction of a family unit. My husband visited the attorney’s office before me to sign so that it wouldn’t be awkward being there at the same time. I was doing OK signing page after page until I came to the page with his signature already there. My heart sank deeper… That oh-so-familiar script… the one that signed our marriage license, the one that signed each of our four children’s birth certificates. The same signature that represented “new life” was now being used to bring “death,” death to our marriage union. Death to something that I thought was sacred and forever and until one of us left the earth. As I returned to my car, I cried and composed a text to our children- an apology for our failed marriage. They assured me I had done all that I could and that I was now released to move on. I thought this would be the beginning of the uphill climb out of the depths of despair I’d been living in. Little did I know, I was not yet at the bottom of the valley.

From what I can surmise, at the exact same time I was driving to the attorney’s office, my brother and sister-in-law were driving up to Mount Rushmore with their dear friends. Out of nowhere they were hit head-on by a 75-year-old man driving the wrong way down the interstate in broad daylight. Apparently they didn’t see the car approaching until it was too late. My only sibling, my little brother, was gone instantly from this earth. My precious sister of 30 years lived a few more hours but her injuries were too severe. She joined my brother in eternity later that day. The phone call the next morning from my niece seemed strange; I was trying to get out the door to work so I didn’t answer. I thought it was strange that my cousin in Nebraska called a few minutes later; again I was too rushed to answer. I decided to return my niece’s call en route to the office. The horrible news was beyond comprehension. I screamed, and screamed, and she started crying, and I had to hang up. I pulled into Panera Bread’s parking lot and starting sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t know what to do next. I called my husband who was working across the street. He immediately came and we drove our cars home. I called my boss and choked out the horrible news. She understood…she had lost her sister suddenly years before. My dear friend came over and held me while I sobbed. I called my dad and stepmom who were on a road trip and realized they didn’t know. I had to tell my dad about the accident as he sat in a hotel room in Salt Lake City. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, harder than telling my mom she had cancer.

DEATH… death of a marriage, and now the physical death of my only sibling and his wife. Their four precious children orphaned in their 20’s. To lose both their parents at once was a grief deeper than I could imagine. And my children, still devastated by the news of our impending divorce, were now facing the loss of their beloved aunt and uncle who had always been there for them. And my own loss… facing singleness and now losing the support and love of Ty and Terri. It seemed too cruel. How could God think I could handle this much sadness at once?

So I sit here at the six-month mark and I marvel quite honestly that I’m still standing. I’m not only standing but actually doing remarkably well. I want God to give me a grand revelation of His purposes in having these two tragedies happen simultaneously. The only connection in the timing I’ve been able to reason in my mind is I made it to the “decision line” of ending my marriage before Ty and Terri were taken from me. They were some of my closest confidants in the last year of my trials, and they were confident I had no choice but to move on. My brother texted me the day before the accident, “Just checking in to see how you’re doing… Love you!” Though we hadn’t lived in the same state for 15 years, I always knew he was there for me. I refuse to believe that God “caused” the horrible accident that took their lives. I do however trust that He knows how to help us pick up the pieces of this broken family.

I’m sad tonight that six months have already gone by. But at the same time, I’m amazed that God gives us such beauty in the midst of the ashes. Already we’ve had beautiful happiness in our family… the news of my first grandchild on the way, the birth of my niece Emily’s third child on her father’s birthday, my niece Annie graduating college in December, the engagement and upcoming wedding of my nephew Tyler and his bride, my nephew Turner being named the youth director at Waypoint Church—following in his father’s footsteps. I cheer them on as their aunt, knowing if the roles were reversed my brother would be doing the same. And the spiritual and emotional growth has been amazing in my children’s lives. My daughter has walked through great despair and disappointment and has persevered with God’s help. Ali has learned to lean on her friends and to reach out for wise counsel, and she has deepened her dependence on God. My youngest son has also gone to new depths with Christ. Cameron has shaken off his complacency and is pursuing God with new vigor. His care and concern for our family and me is precious, and I know God is preparing him to be the spiritual leader in his home. Spencer’s heart for his family has grown deeper and he is so intentional with his love for all of us. Always our relational child, he reaches out regularly to his grandfather and cousins in their time of healing. Our strong firstborn Drew has risen to be a leader in our family, checking in with how everyone is doing, and is a pillar of strength for us. And his wife Mary has been able to comfort Ali as a big sister who has sadly walked a similar road in her family. God’s redemptive nature has never been more evident in my family.

I trust God will continue to reveal truth and purpose in all of this as the pain subsides and the wounds heal. I am scarred for life from these two battles. But I like having the scars because it means I loved. I loved my husband in the way I thought best for 30 years. I loved my brother and sister well, and we had shared some amazing times in the last year including our family vacation in Chesapeake Bay, surprising my dad for his birthday, and Turner’s wedding 12 days before their death.

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.