"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)

Love Jennifer Sosik

20 Years Ago Today, I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior while walking through Prague, Czech Republic, on a backpacking journey to find myself after college. Instead He found me, and hasn't let me go. Prague will always be beautiful to me.

Lit Up Bridge at Dusk, Charles Bridge... Panoramic Images

God is so faithful to lead and guide us down all of the right paths...even though sometimes it may only seem like we are lost (sometimes He takes us on the scenic route ;)). I reflect back on 20 years and it seems like forever ago...and yet it seems like only yesterday.

20 years is a long time...but then again, it really isn't.

I've crossed a mark...I've now spent more of my life as His child than not. Sola deo gloria.

Funeral March

A few weeks ago, I learned of three losses of people in my life, all of whom I admire in the Lord, and who have at one time or another been an encouragement and blessing to me in some small or large way. This was part of what threw me off my balance for a season.

I always feel awkward about dealing with loss. I don't do well with funerals. I am not sure why. For me, funerals feel like salt in an open wound. I went to my mother in law's funeral only because I  had no other options. I've not been to any funeral in years, until my mother in law's. Her funeral was very simple and no one was invited as we didn't want to upset my father in law further, as he has Alzheimer's and doesn't do well when there are lots of people around him that he doesn't remember, but who remember him. Her funeral was very plain; it was just a casket and a hole, and a few people standing around watching them bury the casket, no meaningless words, no false hope, no endless stream of people shaking our hands telling us how sorry they were while I wonder who on earth half of these people are. My husband said a few words. We had dinner at National Coney Island afterwards, and my husband said it doubled as our anniversary meal, as my mother in law died on our anniversary, so we didn't really get to celebrate it.

I confessed one day to a pastor that I hate funerals. "Well, I don't think anyone likes funerals" he said, "Put yourself in the shoes of the grieving, and do what you'd want them to do for you."

I was five with my grandma died and 22 when my grandfather died, and I still remember screaming inside of my head for everyone to just go away (both times, at both ages) because I was sick with condolences. But "go away" is hardly the socially acceptable response is it?

"That's the problem ," I answered, "When I was grieving I wanted the world to just go away, leave me alone, end the cliches and condolences already, and the last place on the planet I wanted to be in a room for hours with the dead body of someone I cared about with people I barely knew giving me flowers and saying how sorry they were, or at a funeral listening to eulogies, sermons, the awkward small talk, and culminating in blocking traffic on our way to the grave to bury the casket. Sometimes, when I go to funerals and wonder if we are just annoying the family more by being there."

Apparently from his answer, this isn't common, and most people find closure in this activity. I'm not sure why I don't.

How do I grieve, he asked? I look through pictures alone in a room, listen to music, have a good cry, and I'm good. I usually finish up by watching a funny movie, usually something that we shared together or something that reminds me of the deceased. In the case of one of my recently departed friends, I re-read a book she gave me (A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle), because it always reminds me of her, and I cooked something special in memory of another recently departed friend who helped me learn to cook. Having people around me seems to interrupt that process.

I've spent a few weeks remembering some special friends, re-reading letters and emails from them, listening to songs that made me think of them, celebrating their influence in my life, and grieving in my own unique way.