The past six months have been hard, and it’s not a hard I’ve been able to really talk about. I’ve mentioned this before. How I’ve come to the realization that this blog is like therapy for me. Maybe it is for you as well. I bring my hurts, you relate because you hurt too, and we seek comfort and healing from the Lord together.

Life can be so hard.

Stars do not shine without darkness. One of Scott’s students painted this picture. It hung in his classroom for months hardly noticed by me. I saw it every time I walked through the door, but it didn’t hit me with real meaning until the day we cleaned out Scott’s classroom, removing all his personal items so no trace of Mr. Bicknell lingered there. I took down this sign from a wall of other student-made signs and hung it right over the teacher’s desk. My throat was tight with tears, but I didn’t let them fall. I was trying my best to be strong for Scott. I have never seen my husband so hurt. He resigned for personal reasons.

I know you’re all wondering the reason he resigned. Some of you know. Some of you have prayed with us. Talked with us. Hugged us. It still hurts. Scott didn’t want to leave his teaching job. He loved his students, but he needed to leave.

For personal reasons.

I know.

You want to know.

And maybe in time I will tell all. But for right now I can’t really talk much about it. It had nothing to do with sexual harassment. Or lying. Or stealing. Or cheating. Or any other bad thing. It had to do with trying to help a troubled student, and the student didn’t see Scott’s help as help, and then things just snowballed.

Teachers have to be so careful today.

I hope I’ve told you enough to satisfy your desire to know. We all want to know. Most of the time because we sincerely want to help. At least I know you do. I know my tribe and I love you guys. Thanks for praying for us. I know you will.

This is only one hard thing in my life right now. There is plenty. Some days more pain than I want to bear. This Friday, I will attend my fourth funeral since the new year. I’ve missed four other funerals in the past two months because several fell on the same day. A couple of these funerals I just couldn’t bring myself to attend, too worn-out by grief from the other celebrations of life.

How do we celebrate life when life is hard?

At one of these passings, a young, pregnant wife stood before a packed church and bravely honored her thirty-year-old husband who died of the flu. I know. The flu. She wore a blue gown that looked like a prom dress and talked about how much their toddler daughter missed her daddy. This young woman’s father held her hand. The father was about my age, and our daughter had once had a terrible crush on this beautiful boy now a man just buried. A soul safe in heaven.

That could be Scott standing there holding our daughter’s hand... Our daughter is married, pregnant, and has a little girl the same age as this young widow’s daughter. My chest ached with sobs I restrained. This wasn’t our tragedy. Or maybe it was. Maybe the loss of this wonderful young man was meant to sober us all.

Just gut-wrenching stuff lately. Eight funerals, mostly older men our family knows and loves, but fathers all of them. And this wasn’t the only young daddy to die in the mix just three months into 2019.

At another celebration of life we attended two weeks ago, a seventh-grade boy sat in the front row mourning his dad who loved Star Wars. His sister, barely out of high school, held her boyfriend’s hand, while mom sat there crying. Another young widow left to raise her children alone.

I remind myself these women aren’t alone. They are believers. God will be a father to the fatherless, a husband to the husbandless. This promise is in the Bible. Do I believe it?

Do you believe it?

Even in the hard, will we receive his grace? Even in the trials, will we stand on scripture’s truth? Even in the pain, will we praise his name? Because this will determine if we shine.

Jesus calls us to light the darkness. We are stars not because we are worthy to hold light but because we are held by the light. We are paper lanterns illuminating the way. We are not the source of light, we are only fragile paper stars, some of us shooting stars, like these young daddies at their spectacutlar celebrations of life, reflecting the Son’s light.

So, when life is hard, shine on.