TomNorvell – Page 16 – A Norvell Note

Now the Hard Part. Another Hard Part

A Norvell Note for September 19, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 37

Now the Hard Part. Another Hard Part

I’m (we are) just worn out. It’s all been challenging. Agonizing. Almost unbearable. There have been days when I’ve wondered if the emotions could be more intense, can the pain be any more stifling? But then, it got worse.

God’s constant presence, revealed through prayers, encouraging words, notes, cards, text messages, comments on social media, personal visits, and physical acts of kindness, has sustained us. Otherwise, we would have crumbled under the weight of pain and grief. (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)

Now comes the hard part. Another hard part.

Although nobody has said it, I hope you are not standing within arm’s reach if you feel the need to say it. But in my head and heart, I know the time is approaching to move forward without Norah. Just typing that sentence causes a collision within my heart and mind of four of what typically identify the five stages of grief: denial, depression, anger, and acceptance.

So, how? How do we move forward when we can hardly move?

My mind denies the reality that she is gone.

Waves of sadness and depression come as expected and sometimes entirely by surprise.

Anger wells up within me because our family must move forward without her.

Intellectually I have accepted that she is gone, but emotionally, that is something entirely different.

How do I move forward when there are days when I can hardly move?

Are we moving forward? It will happen. It is the hard part. Another hard part.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

Dear Norah

A Norvell Note for September 13, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 36

Dear Norah

Dear Norah,

You changed my life forever when you were born. The first time I held you in my arms, I said: “Hi Norah. I’m so glad you are here. I love you.” I never wanted you to doubt that I loved you.

Of course, God’s love for you and your love for Him was most important. But somehow, I think you knew that before you took your first breath. Then, you came into the world surrounded by love and filled with the love that can only come from God. We saw it, and we felt it.

For me, the most painful of all emotions is being unable to express my love to those God has entrusted me to love. When, for whatever reason, I can’t, my heart feels like it is going to explode. So, Norah, I’m writing this now to tell you again, “I love you.”

I said it hundreds, probably thousands of times, in your short seven years and seven months of life. “I love you, Norah.” And, you always responded with, “I love you, Papa.” Sometimes you’d say it first. We said it, and we knew it.

We said those words when I would be leaving your house, and when you were in the car strapped into your car seat and your parents were ready to leave our house, but you would want to say it one more time. We whispered those words as you went to sleep, or we were taking a walk, and while sitting in the shade of our backyard. Sometimes just out of the blue, you’d say: “I love you, Papa.” And I’d say, “I love you too, Norah.”

Over the last four months, the words “I love you” have been spoken to you by more people than we can count. The words were whispered in your ear. They were shared over a FaceTime screen. Love for you was expressed in gifts, notes, cards, and pieces of artwork. The words came to assure you of our love for you and as a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift God gave us in You. If you were able, you answered with, “I love you, too.” You seemed to want to assure us that we, too, were loved.

Norah, I will miss your many questions and wanting to know how things worked and why. I will miss your “Highs and Lows” at the dinner table. I will miss your hugs. I will miss the intensity with which you approached everything you did. I will miss watching you play and dance and run, ride horses and swim. I will miss hearing you sing “How Great Thou Art.” I will miss taking walks with you. I will miss hearing you say, “I love you, Papa.”

But, more than anything else, I will miss saying, “I love you, Norah.”

Papa

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

The Brevity of Life

A Norvell Note for September 6, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 35

The Brevity of Life

I’m praying for wisdom.

Teach us to number our days,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12, NIV)

Teach us to realize the brevity of life,
so that we may grow in wisdom. (Psalm 90:12, NLT)

In previous days when I’ve read these words, I usually have paused to reflect on my life, how I have lived, how I am living, and how I need and want to live.

As I read them now, I go through a similar reflective process, but I also ask: when will we get it?

If going through a pandemic, and now a second phase of what may be even worse than the first, does not make us number our days and gain wisdom, what will?

If seeing the suffering people are experiencing due to hurricanes and floods does not cause us to realize how brief life is and gain wisdom, what will?

If seeing the stories of families struggling to escape the dangers from terrorist attacks on their homeland does not cause us to seek wisdom by number our days, what will?

If seeing out-of-control forest fires consume thousands of acres of forest, homes, towns, and everything in their path does not cause us to number our days and gain wisdom, what will?

If living through the horror of watching a loved one’s body ravaged by an incurable disease does not cause us to wake up to the brevity of life and gain a heart of wisdom, what will?

What is it going to take?

When will we understand how important it is to number our days, consider how we live so that we can gain the wisdom to live?

Lord, I long for a heart of wisdom to live with gentleness and courage during these short days on this earth and help others live with wisdom during these troubling times.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

What Good Will Come

A Norvell Note for August 30, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 34

What Good Will Come

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

Lord, I know You are good, I know you are kind, I know You are loving, and I know that somehow You use everything that happens, good or bad, for good as You shape me into the image of Your Son Jesus.

I know this is true. I’ve preached it, I’ve taught it, I’ve written about it. I believe it.

I’ve experienced it.

I have watched You use unbelievably confusing situations as opportunities for growth and more profound clarity.

I have been surprised by unimaginable blessings and watched You use them to create a greater appreciation for Your kindness and mercy.

And, I have seen You use the worst and most tragic events to change lives and inspire people to use their resources to improve the world.

I have seen You (as a dear family friend loves to say) turn messes into messages.

I have long loved the statement I first heard from Charles Swindoll, “We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.”

Because of what I have seen, heard, and experienced, my faith in You is strong, Lord, but I am baffled by how You will use what we are going through right now for good. My vision is too limited to see beyond these difficult times. My spirit is too low to conceive what good will come from our broken hearts.

I don’t see how. I don’t understand why. But, Lord, I know You are good, I know You are kind, I know You are loving, and I long to what you are doing in this.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

Always With Me

A Norvell Note for August 23, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 33

Always With Me

The longer I live, the more confident I am that the Lord meant it when God said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

He was with me when I was young and suffered losses in my family that did not make sense.

He was with me as a young man when I made decisions about marriage and ministry.

When I became a dad and wondered if I was up for the task, He was with me.

Through my successes and all my failures, He has been with me and has never forsaken me.

He has always been with me. He has never forsaken me.

I do not recall when I did not sense His presence or doubted His active involvement in my life. But, oh, there are times when I do not understand His ways. There were, and still are, times when I question the path and where it might lead. There are days when I wonder how much more I can handle, but then He does something, I read something, or some unexpected blessing appears seemingly out of nowhere, and I see that He is with me.

Now, as I walk through this darkest of valleys with my family, I know He is with me. He is with us. He will help us. He will give us strength to endure the days and make it through the long, difficult nights. He is with us, He has always been with us, and He will always be with us.

I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but I know He is with us and will make His presence known. Of this, I am convinced.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

No Words

A Norvell Note for August 16, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 32

No Words

I have no words.

I have more thoughts than I can arrange, more feelings than I can contain, and more emotions than I express.

But I have no words.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

Being Still Is Hard

A Norvell Note for August 9, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 31

Being Still Is Hard

“He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10, NIV)

Listen

Lord, I hear You. I know You are God. I know that during the political and worldly chaos that existed when You spoke those words, and amid the political and temporal chaos in our time, You are with us, and You are God. I’ve read these words thousands of times, and I look at the framed version of this verse that hangs on my wall almost daily. I know You are God. I know You are in control.

Lord, I hear You, and I trust You, but being still is the last thing I want to do right now.

Lord, I want to do something. I want to say something. I want to fix things. I want to take away the pain and suffering. I want to make things better. I hear You, but being still is hard right now. I suppose that’s why You want me to be still.

“Step out of the traffic! Take a long,
loving look at me, your High God,
above politics, above everything.” (Psalm 46:10, The Message)

If I’m saying and doing and fixing, then I have not stepped out of the traffic and not taking a long, loving look at You. But it feels like this: “Oh, imagine yourself in a building, up in flames being told to stand still.” (Sara Bareilles and John Legend)

I know that my power and strength come when I am still and present now. I know that when You tell me to be still, it is for my good, so I am trying to be still and keep my eyes, mind, and heart focused on You.

I’m trying, Lord, but right now, being still is hard.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

Now You Wait

A Norvell Note for August 2, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 30

Now You Wait

Now you wait.

These may be some of the least favorite words we ever say or hear.

You rush to get to your appointment; you feverishly make it just in time, only to learn that they are running behind. So, now you wait.

You have been driving all day and ready to get to your hotel when you see brake lights up ahead, and the GPS says, “There is a 25-minute delay up ahead.” Now you wait.

Your meeting begins at 10:00 AM. You shuffle your appointments to make the meeting. You and the rest of the team arrive when you learn that the person in charge is on a phone call. Now you wait.

You are in your car and headed to the airport a little to pick up your friends when you learn the flight will is late. Now you wait.

You are tired, your kids are tired and cranky, and you are all hungry. So you order your food now you wait.

Your team is winning the game, and you are ready to celebrate when there is a long delay to review a play. Now you wait.

You endure another series of grueling tests, the results go to the lab, and now you wait.

Waiting is an inevitable part of life. We wait to be seated at restaurants. We wait for calls. We wait for responses. We wait for news. We wait for the waiting to end.

Waiting is almost always a challenge. We have plans, we have hopes, and we have dreams we wait to come true. We wait for questions to be answered. We wait for answers to our prayers. Waiting can crush us if we allow it. “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Proverbs 13:12)

Waiting can also remind us of our hope for seeing the goodness of the Lord.

I remain confident of this:
    I will see the goodness of the Lord
    in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
    be strong and take heart
    and wait for the Lord. (Psalm 27:13-14)

Waiting can assure that our hope is in the Lord, and He will renew our strength. We will eventually run and not go weary, and we will walk and not be faint.

Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom.
²⁹He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
³⁰Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
³¹but those who hope (wait) in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31)

Now we wait and our hope in the Lord.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

I Don’t Know How to Do This

A Norvell Note for July 26, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 29

I Don’t Know How to Do This

Lord, I don’t know how to do this.

I am confident and self-assured when facing most of life’s events, but I don’t know how to do this. I trust You, and I know that You are aware of the pain, the confusion and that I don’t know how to do this.

I know how to take deep breaths to calm my mind and soul to help prepare me for whatever might come at me during the day. I know how to spend time in the Word to help keep me focused on how I should live.

I know how to work hard, and I know when to take a break. I know how to take care of myself and, to some degree, take care of others. But, Lord, I don’t know how to do this.

I am blessed richly and humbled by the opportunities and the abilities to serve people in the name of Jesus in ways I never imagined. But this is different, and I don’t know how to do it.

I trust you when you say, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” (James 1:5)

I’m asking for wisdom, Lord, to do what I don’t know how to do.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

I Didn’t Expect This

A Norvell Note for July 19, 2021

Vol. 24 No. 28

I Didn’t Expect This

From blessings to trials, we may evaluate our lives by how we deal with the unexpected.

I didn’t expect to enjoy college so much.

I didn’t expect to fall in love.

I didn’t expect to get a call from seeing my friend at the game.

I didn’t expect to win the award.

I didn’t expect to love my children so much.

I didn’t expect this to hurt so much.

I didn’t expect the job offer.

I didn’t expect to miss my friends so much.

I didn’t expect to enjoy that movie so much.

I didn’t expect to be in so much pain after my surgery.

I didn’t expect the recovery to be so complicated and take so long.

I didn’t expect anything like this to happen to our family.

I didn’t expect people to respond with such an outpouring of love and kindness.

We must be careful when we receive an unexpected blessing that we do not believe we deserve the gift. Also, when we experience a shocking trial, we must not entertain the idea that we deserve it.

The key to dealing with the unexpected events in our lives, whether blessings or trials, is the same: with graciousness and humility.

When the unexpected is a trial of unparalleled proportions, accept them with humility and graciousness. “Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.” (James 4:10)

When the unexpected is a blessing of unimaginable magnitude, “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22-23)

We have no control over the unexpected events that come our way, but we choose how we respond to them. Remain humble. Live graciously.

[Keep up with Norah’s updates at Tom on Facebook]

You may read past articles at A Norvell Note.

Author: TomNorvell

Now the Hard Part. Another Hard Part

Dear Norah

The Brevity of Life

What Good Will Come

Always With Me

No Words

Being Still Is Hard

Now You Wait

I Don’t Know How to Do This

I Didn’t Expect This

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