December 29, 2011 -- Who Am I?

Grief  is a strange companion.

You never know when he will show up or what will be his weapon of choice at any given moment.
The other day, I was working on cataloging the video that we were able to shoot while in Brazil in Algodao de Jandaira.
It was an amazing privilege to be there and to speak at the dedication of a memorial to the Bible, to commemorate what God has done in this desert community. The transformation of this community is the theme of the book I wrote about Algodao de Jandaira, called When God Transforms the Desert.

If you would like a copy, email me at steveloopstra@gmail.com with the number you want and a shipping address.

Well, part of the footage I reviewed was of my visit to the mountain top at Algodao where I put a picture of Marilou and myself in the crevice of the rocks there and spread her ashes across the top of the mountain. As I watched the footage, I looked at the person on the screen in front of me, and thought.... "who is that?"
 that old man...

"Who am I?"  I'm not sure I even know myself anymore. There are those times (it's been a while) when on the inside I feel young and full of enthusiasm, but then I see a picture of myself and it almost hurts. And now that I am alone, it is even more of a question... "Who am I?"

I know all the "spiritual" and "psychological" answers, but the reality is, I have begun a quest to figure out who I am now. Who am I to be? I don't think I realized, and I don't think even Marilou ever realized how much of my identity was wrapped up in who we were together. It's the kind of thing where you don't realize what it is like until it's gone.

This is a question that is not answered by zippy little phrases. This is a question that comes from the very core of the being... it challenges trite and simple answers. It's the kind of question you ask when you look yourself in the mirror and you're not sure you recognize that person anymore. It's the kind of question you ask when you don't remember how you got to where you are. And you are not sure where you are going. I have a whole list of things from the Bible that I have studied in these last months about who I want to be. But this question of "Who Am I?" is deep, it searches past the trivial and surface existence in which we live most of our lives. "Who the heck am I, anyway?"

I guess that is part of the adventure that I am on with my "Daddy" now. Maybe a combination of finding out who He made me to be in this chapter of my life, and "reinventing" myself... into what, I'm not sure right now.
 I have a cold now, with cough and aches, so I suppose that adds to my vulnerability  to these kinds of questions. And it's always weird watching yourself on video. But it is still a challenging question, after 63 years, trying to figure out who I am!!!  What does it mean to me now, to live alone? Should I, do I want to, stay that way?

I guess that's part of the "adventure," right? Otherwise if would be called something other than an "adventure."  I wonder who I will turn out to be? Today, I feel pretty vulnerable. It just seems to weird talking about this at my age. But no matter what, I do want to finish strong. I want to point people to our Great God. I want to be faithful. I want to be like Caleb who conquered his mountain in the last season of his life.

As I enter into a New Year, maybe as never before, the question looms before me..."Who Am I?"  The answer will follow...

...till later...

December 22, 2011 -- "Turning a Page"

I made it back from Brazil on the 20th of December... still recovering from the travels, but this was a hugely significant trip. I think we all knew it would be, but I find it was very cathartic for me...

The first part of the trip was busy with speaking and traveling...plane flights and six hour bus rides.

It was a great honor  ... it always is... to speak at some of these events... a citywide rally for "The Day of the Bible," That morning they had over 200 cars in a parade through town.








The dedication of a monument at the entrance to the city of Algodao de Jandaira. I was so glad to have the book, "When God Transforms the Desert" to be able to present to them. That was one of the reasons for the trip. As soon as I heard they were doing this, it was on my calendar and the book process (with a few interruptions) was finally completed.

But the other main reason for my trip was to visit the sites on the prayer mountains where Marilou and I were in July of 2010. What God did in her life in those days, I would only discover when she was in the depths of her last days on this earth, and she would tell me how much she wanted more of His presence. I knew that trip had been of eternal significance. So returning was vital. We had agreed on it before she passed away.

The first stop was in Belo Horizonte. Pastor Ronaldo Cota and his wife Elaine picked me up from the airport and we went directly there... to the prayer mountain. It could not have been more perfect. The picture I brought was of Marilou and I there at sunset after spending most of the day. Now, a year and a  half later, we arrived in late afternoon, moving toward sunset. The hill itself is a lot of bare rock and dirt, and not many places to bury the picture, but at the edge of some grass I found a spot. I dug with a rock, buried the picture and covered it with ashes, and sobbed... the memories flooding my mind of our time there together with Him. Now to make her a permanent part of that place of 24/7 prayer was profound.

As I packed the soil down, the clouds overhead and rain in the distance. I asked the Lord if He might send the rain to settle the ground. As we headed down the mountain, the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled and it began to rain. I sent  up a short, "Thank you, Father," and we headed to their home in Sabara where we had stayed. I gave them a magnet Esther had made and a copy of the memorial service bulletin.

The next day we drove up to the mountain there in Sabara. This is where we had pitched the tent, and I had a picture of her sitting in the door of the tent singing to the Lord. I dug a hole about where the tent was, and added a small purple flower I had picked on the way up. Again, the tears flowed as I thought back to those days we spent there, and her diary entry about the birds and her desire to fly free.

Elaine remembered that Marilou told her that she like butterflies. And as the Lord knows all these things... as we were getting ready to leave.... a lone butterfly flittered right in front of me as if to make sure I saw it. And the birds that had been absent the whole time we were there, now appeared and glided on the updrafts coming up the sides of the hill. Another little personal touch from a loving Heavenly Father. Thank you, Lord.

That same afternoon I caught a flight to Joao Pessoa, a three and a half hour plane ride North East of Belo Horizonte. My good friends there, Marcio and Claudia Chaves and their daughter Carol accompanied me to the beach where Marilou and I stayed that July in 2010. It was the place where I took a picture of our feet together in the surf and then got bowled over by a wave and my phone got drowned... Marilou was screaming... it was quite a funny experience. Now, I took a picture of just my feet there. I dug a hole in the wet sand, and as I mixed the ashes in the hole,

Claudia and Carol prayed for me in the distance. I later went back to look at that place, and the surf had washed her picture out to sea... so fitting since she loved the ocean... now that laminated picture is floating somewhere off the coast of Brazil.



The last stop was the mountain top in Algodao de Jandaira. The place really that started all of this. A group from Algodao accompanied me to the top of the mountain, and there I found a deep crevice in the rock and pour and scattered her ashes from the top of the mountain. They sang and prayed. A fitting end to my mission.

It was such a joy to be able to present to them the copy of my book, "When God Transforms the Desert." It was after all, their story, and the memorial at the entrance to town is now there to give testimony to the fact. And there, in those days I had a very strong inner conviction that a page had been turned. A new chapter was now beginning in my life. It is not that I do not still weep and miss her. I cried just this morning and told her that I missed her. It is that now, this is a new chapter, a new adventure. Sunday night after preaching twice in the First Baptist Church of Valentina, I lay on the bed in Marcio and Claudia's home. As I closed my eyes, a very clear picture appeared. Not like a photo, but like a line drawing in blue pencil. It was of a motorcycle and side car. An adult male with a helmet on was sitting on the motorcycle, and a young boy, also with his helmet on, was sitting in the side car. Both had big grins on their faces as if they were really enjoying the ride. I knew immediately this was a picture for me of my "Daddy" and me as we set out on this new adventure together. Since then, whenever something new or challenging comes along, I see that little boy grinning from ear to ear, and I know whatever comes my way, it's part of my "Daddy's" adventure He has for me.

Turning a page can be such a simple thing, but it can take you from one chapter to the next, and as you begin the new chapter, you wonder what you will find as you move ahead. What will be part of my new adventure? I have not a clue, but I know my "Daddy" is driving, so I can enjoy the ride... Turning a page, can be quite an adventure itself.

...more next time

November 27, 2011 - Unbidden at 36.000 Feet

Unbidden at 36,000 Feet

The interesting fact about grief is that it is always with you and often can come bubbling to the surface unbidden at the most inconvenient times. It’s not always predictable as to how and when the tears might come, forcing you to deal as best you can, and for some reason, sometimes in public arenas.

I am actually writing this segment sitting in a Delta flight from Detroit to Seattle. It might seem a bit strange, but such is the “beast” with which I have to deal. OK, so a little background would help.

I flew out to Ohio to be with family for the Thanksgiving holiday. It was a combination of visiting with “our” son, Jonathan and his wife, Carol in Cleveland. For the past two years they have been oversees, so this was the first opportunity to visit them on their turf. It was good to see their home, and Jonathan’s office at Capitol University. I wrote a little of that in the last entry about the movie, The Way. The other part of the visit was to go to Cleveland and meet Esther’s husband, Tony’s family. They put on a big “Italian” get together to celebrate Esther and Tony’s marriage. He has a wonderful family and it was a fun time, although, right in the middle of all the festivities, I was spending some time out on the porch to quietly bawl a little, just thinking how much I missed Marilou being able to be a part of the festivities, thinking how much she would enjoy it. Even had a few tears gushing as I talked with Esther, which really made me upset with myself. I so didn’t want to spoil things for her.

The whole thing was wonderful, and we had a good time. All of it was interspersed with those times of unbidden tears. Never knowing what things might be the trigger, but trying to be watchful so that when it happens I could turn and look away, or walk a distance long enough to compose myself, and re-join the group.

But here I was in the plane in seat 22F, looking out the window and thinking about the fact that a few days from now I will again be on a plane heading to Brazil. Thinking at the same time of the trip in July of 2010 when Marilou and I were on a plane headed to Brazil.  While the music is playing in my headphones, my thoughts wandered their way to the times not too long from now when I will again visit those places where Marilou and I prayed together. 

The beach in Joao Pessoa where I took a picture of the surf washing over our two sets of feet. That was just before I fell, a wave swept over me, Marilou was screaming and the camera drowned. I laughed as in my headphones played the 60’s song, “wipeout.” Then I cried, with my face turned to look out the window as I thought of scattering her ashes on that beach, maybe putting a picture of our feet in the sand there.

Just before that fateful fall!!!

My thoughts went to when I will again visit Sabara and the dear family of Pastor Rolaldo Cota who hosted Marilou and I last July as we pitched a tent and prayed on top of the mountain. I cried again when I thought of putting a picture of her on that mountain top, and spreading her ashes where we had prayed. 

It was hard to keep my face glued toward the window,, because the tears were streaming down my cheeks by now. I thought about being on the mountain top in Algodao de Jandaira where again, we prayed together. By now my cheeks are wet with  tears, I’m trying to wipe my eyes without being too obvious.  Tears streaming unbidden from my eyes as music plays in my ears. Songs like, All I need I Already Have. And then, Somewhere over Eastern South Dakota, flying at 36,000 feet, with tears and running nose, comes the song into my headphones, “Oh the wonderful cross.” And at that very moment, down below… some unknown little town with the street lights lit up, and two lines of amber colored lights, you guessed it, in the form of a cross.

Oh man! Sometimes it’s more than I can handle already, Lord, and then you zap me with one of those little, “Yes, I know, I’m holding you.” Type reminders.  So here I am, typing this into my computer with tear-brimmed eyes, hoping that the guy in the other seat keeps his attention on the movie he  is watching and doesn’t notice the watery glint in my eyes.

Yep, the tears come at the craziest times. But again, I have to say that there are many times when the tears are ones of just overwhelming love and thankfulness to the Lord. I know He is holding me. I know He has a plan for me in all of this. And even that in itself is enough to bring more of the unbidden flood of tears.  It is my custom now, each morning as I rise and each evening before I get into bed, to kneel beside the bed in prayer. Many of those times, the tears flow as I simply say, “Abba, I love you! Jesus, I love you!” Holy Spirit, I love you!”  In some ways, that’s the part of this that I wouldn’t mind if it never lessens. That deep, deep, overwhelming love and gratefulness to the Lord for His love for His mercy. For the gift of having Marilou a part of my life. Yes, pappa, I love you, so much.

…till next time.

November 23, 2011Nitty Gritty Reminders

I'm here in Columbus, Ohio with my son, Jonathan, his dear wife Carol, and my mother who flew in from St. Louis. Enjoying having time together... It's a special treat to spend this holiday together.

This is one of those firsts. The first Thanksgiving holiday in Forty Years where Marilou and I are not together. The first Thanksgiving of being a "widower." The first Thanksgiving where I don't have this all to share with her.

And then there were those nitty gritty reminders, like the movie we saw today. It is a good movie. It is "THE WAY by Emilio Estevez. It's about a successful Ophthalmologist whose son dies in a terrible accident in the mountains of France as he was just beginning a pilgrimage on a route from France to Northern Spain. Martin Sheen, as the father, has his sons remains cremated, and decides to finish the pilgrimage his son had started. All along the trek, he has the ashes of his son, and stops at certain points and spreads the ashes, finally ending at the sea, where he empties the plastic bag of ashes into the sea.
There were a couple times I thought of almost walking out.... it was a good movie, I would recommend it, but every time Martin Sheen, as the father, placed or flung those ashes of his son, my mind went to my task now just two weeks away. And imagining how I will feel as I travel to Brazil where Marilou and I spend July of 2010, on prayer mountains in Brazil seeking the presence and face of God. I pictured and wondered how I will feel when I stand on that hill in Sabara, where we pitched that prayer tent and spent two different days on the hill in prayer and worship. How will I feel? How will I do it? I don't have a plan, I'm just going to do it...somehow.  How will it be when I stand on top of that mountain in Algodao de Jandaira, and throw her ashes to the wind in the spot where we stood. The place where in 2008, I was on my knees being prayed for by these dear Brazilian brothers and sisters.
How will I feel when I go to the beach in Joao Pessao and walk on the beach where my camera was drowned and I scatter her ashes to the sea... how will it be?



The nitty gritty reminders are those sand in your teeth kind of real elements of life that remind you that something is different about you now. YOU ARE ALONE.

Yea, I know... I'm not really alone, I have God, I have family. Absolutely, Absolutely!!!! Amen and Amen, ...  BUT.... there is a sense that I am still alone. No one else in that theater knew the stinging pain that was coursing through my body as I watch him scatter his sons ashes into the sea and empty that plastic bag. Only those who even know what that bad of ashes is really like, can relate, or know.

An yes, absolutely, I know that the Lord is with me. As I have written previously, He is so much closer now than ever, very before. Abba and I relate on a whole different level now. It's hard to explain. Even today as I was reading about the Father giving up His Son to bear the crushing weight of our (my) sin, I related to that in a whole new way. Abba, "Daddy" is a lot closer to me, and I to Him. But there are still those little nitty gritty reminders that...with all of this I have.... I still don't have...her...

...Till next time

Tuesday, November 15, 2011 - Tender Mercies

It was unexpected
It was overwhelming

I had put in a full day at the office, and had spent hours that evening finishing the second to the last chapter for the book I am writing on the transformation of Algodao de Jandaira, Brazil.

PJ's on, ready for bed... later than I had hoped, but I was relieved to have finished another chapter. The crunch is on to finish this before I go to Brazil in December. I want to take copies with me... this is their story, God's story, and they have been asking about it. I have faced unnumbered obstacles.

I had washed my face, the warm water felt good. I was drying my face with a towel when the words came at me out of the blue, "Look in the mirror. What do you see?"

The Lord surely knew that if He had given me time, I probably would have answered with some less than kind remarks about the man I would see in the mirror. I'm actually pretty good at not thinking much of myself. That's one of the things that used to irritate Marilou so much. She used to say she could never figure out how I could not see the good in myself. She was my biggest supporter... well, here on earth anyway.

I am sure the Lord knew what He could expect to hear if He gave me the chance, but before I could even lower the towel from my face, He gave the answer to His own question.
Again, the words came strong and clear, "I see a faithful man."

It broke me.

The love and the mercy in His voice, those simple words were more than I could have imagined.
I walked over and flopped onto the bed, and just began to bawl. "I want to be, I want to be." was the only response I could utter as I took a breath between sobs. It has always been the cry of my heart to be found faithful to my precious Lord, and now for Him to say this, so unexpectedly, was mercy that was overwhelming to me. I could not stop sobbing and saying, "I want to be."

He is now more than ever before my all in all. My companion of nearly forty years is gone, and now, essentially, it is He and I. So for Him to speak to me those five grace filled words was more than I could ever have imagined.

It was a special gift to me out of His tender mercies, at a time when I needed to hear them. They were  more than I deserved, but they were healing for me to hear.


Thank you, Abba, for this unexpected, and overwhelming gift of your favor that you have poured out upon me by your tender mercies. I pray it might be a continuing motivation to always walk close to you, and be faithful to your call upon my life. I will, by your grace and mercy, seek to be a faithful man.

... till next time

November 9, 2011 - "Daddy and me"

How should I start this? 

The past week has been a whirlwind -- I left last Wednesday for Santa Fe, New Mexico to teach our Journey to Transformation, "Beginner's Course." It was a wonderful time, the Lord touched each heart in special ways. The all day Saturday teaching took a toll on my voice and I caught a cold in that process. Got home on Sunday night and then began this three day marathon with the VA. Monday was my VA intake exam and from that the Dr. was so concerned about my left eye that he sent me to the emergency room where I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening. Tuesday it was another hours drive to an eye specialist, and then today I spent all day at the VA in Seattle. Outcome, I have cataracts, but also something the Dr. called "afferent pupillary defect." I go back next week to see a optical neurologist. That consult before I can have my cataract surgery. Which because of my travels will probably not happen till next year.

That all might paint a bleak picture, but you know something? There is something that is even far greater that puts it all in perspective. I can't tell you when it started, but somehow in the midst of all of this, within the loss of my dear, precious Marilou...I am experiencing the deepest and richest love relationship with my Abba, Father God that is beyond description. Somehow, I can't say exactly when, but somehow I began to just cry out to "Daddy." And as I did, the floodgates of love burst open from me, and from HIM, and it's like He is closer to me than ever, ever before. And when I get on my knees and cry, "Daddy," it's like I melt in His presence. Even today, driving in to Seattle, and driving home from the VA clinic with all the traffic (you may not know how much I hate traffic), it was a wonderful time of sharing our love, one for another. He is my close companion, more than ever. My sense of His presence is keen, and I am so wonderfully open in my conversation with Him. I am flooded even as I write this with the waves of His overwhelming love and grace for me. The other day I asked Him what He wanted to say to me, and I heard, "Isaiah 43." Which says, But now, this is what the Lord says - he who created you, o Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel; 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

Daddy and  me. It's more precious and tender and deep and overwhelming than I could possibly describe. Into that place of emptyness, my Daddy stepped, and He is kind and tender, and we love each other more and more each day. I still miss her. But now, I just ask Daddy to tell her for me, then I cry, and then we walk some more together. I still cry, I still grieve, I still get my pillow and my sheets all wet with tears and snot, but I don't do that alone. Yea, I know, I never was alone. But it's just closer now, with Him.

A few years ago, I asked the Lord to teach me how to walk with Him in the way that Jesus did, always aware, always listening, in the Father's presence at all times in an intimate way. Somehow, now... that is taking on a new dimension. Thank you, Daddy, Abba... I love you too.

... till next time

Thursday, November 3, 2011 - "Traveling Alone"

Today was two months since Marilou passed away. There are so many terms you can you for that. "Passed Away" is one. Left, Died (but in the Lord she only started living!!). But two months, it does not seem possible that it has been that long... it does not seem possible that it is only two months. Either one is right...because I feel both at the same time. It seems like a long time in a way. Life has moved forward...kind of... and yet it seems like I remember those last moments like they were yesterday. That moment when my index finger felt the last beat of her heart, and I said to everyone around the bed, "that's it, she's gone." or whatever I said....gets all blurry.

This is also a "First." It is the first trip I have taken since she left.  I think I actually felt that more yesterday, my day of travel. It's the first trip I have taken where I didn't have her to call, and let her know how things are going, let her know that I got here OK. As I was walking through the airport, I had no one to call, and say, I made it. And perhaps the biggest thing that hit me yesterday as I flew into Albuquerque, was that I didn't have her back home praying for me.   I knew I could always know she was praying.  It was one of those security things that I just kind of, sad to say, took for granted. I mean, I could always rely on the fact that I knew she was praying, and she knew how to pray for me. I missed that a whole lot yesterday as I was traveling.

 Today was the two month anniversary - two months! The kids were so wonderful. Esther texted me, saying she was thinking of me, and Carol emailed saying that she was wearing one of Marilou's neckaces. And told me that Jonathan prays often for me. That meant a whole lot to me. (oops, it's the teary eyes again)

It wasn't as bad as I thought today. I am here in Santa Fe to teach our Journey to Transformation Beginner's Course, so I had a nice tour of Santa Fe today and then the afternoon of writing, and three hours of teaching tonight. So my day was filled. Esther and Tony and I decided that it was probably better for me than being home in that empty house today. I did have a crying time last night, in the apartment where I am staying, I just knelt down at the couch, and as I began to pray, I just told Abba, Father how much I missed her, and asked Him to tell her that I really, really miss her. That's enough to get me going every time. The tears continue to flow in rivers, I get everything wet with tears and snot. Right now, even just calling out as I pray, and say "Abba, Daddy..." That's enough to get me bawling.

Two months, on the road now traveling alone. Another paving stone on this new pathway I am walking. Traveling is a part of the ministry, I like it ok, but it will never quite be the same anymore.  Next month at the three months anniversary, I will be arriving in Brasil, and will honor her desire to scatter her ashes in those places where we prayed and met the Lord. But it will not be the same. I'll be traveling without my  partner, my soul mate, my wife. It will never be quite the same. But, life goes on, I must go on. Adjust as I must, and seeking how to walk through this Land of Firsts.

... till next time