A Journey Into Thankfulness

As I sit here, tears betraying my mask of resilience with my heart a touch too sore to bear, I know I have to choose thankfulness. No matter the season, the storm, the sheer overwhelming everydayness of what I should do, what I could do, what I should be, what I could be, I know that He sees, He knows, He is faithful, He is for me.

Yet, let’s not sugar coat the rawness of the facts. Life has been one huge storm for me in the last few years. Every time I think that nothing more can possibly happen – I get surprised with yet more to journey through. Really – I can cope a little while without an existential crisis! I eagerly try to glance past what is my “now” in the hope of a preview of something new, something life giving and something that brings an abundance of joy.

Recently, the storm has raged, and I’ve felt a little lost at sea. It has been a really difficult time for us as a family. We have spent the last 2.5 years surrounded by illness, death or preparing for death, with it claiming 5 of our family in that short time. We had the curse of watching 4 succumb to the grip of cancer. Watching the familiar routines happen around us with no ability to change the outcome. Watching as my mum fought so hard and lose her battle in this world but yet enter the freedom of Heaven and being with Jesus. It feels like the grim reaper is chasing us down one by one and in October we stood in the corridor of death waiting for the door of death to open once again – this time my dad. He too fought hard but chose the greater option of being completely free and with my mum.

It's a very different dynamic when both parents are gone. I had to reassess where I am anchored, who I am, what defines me. You realise how much they anchored you to the wider family and how they influenced most of what you do or don't do.

It's a very strange time! One with many complicated decisions to make.

One of the things I had to consider recently was a possible relocation to Co. Armagh where all my sisters live. This would've meant leaving my church in Belfast as it wouldn't be possible to be a fully committed part of the church as I would like. I'm an "all or nothing" kind of girl and it would mean things like lifegroup, being part of worship, attending social and church events so much more difficult with a 100 mile round trip up to several times a week. I didn't think this would be wise to try and keep a foot in both camps, living life in two locations.

Even though I doubted I could move back to a place I no longer had roots or community (other than my direct family), I did have to give it serious consideration, which gave me an opportunity to reflect.

I suddenly realised how anchored I was. This was a realisation that surprised even me, having spent a long season feeling "like an outsider", like I didn't belong, feeling unanchored completely. Yet, when I thought about it. When I considered relocating, I start to count the cost of making this decision. What that would mean? What I would lose? What I would miss out on? (FOMO), the people I wouldn't see so often, or get to be a bigger part of their lives. I realised the cost was too high to uproot myself. It was too much to miss and it made me feel really humbled and grateful for those people that have journey this season with me.

Thankful is not something I am particularly good at most of the time to be honest. I am a typical sceptic at heart and I am always wondering "what's the catch?". An immediate springboard thought that has been learned over many painful experiences. So, I rarely have an expectation of good. That’s what makes it so interesting that it’s in a season of darkness where it has suddenly dawned on me I have such a lot to be thankful for.

So…..

Thank you to those of you who have journeyed this with me and who are willing to continue journeying with me. Thank you for your intentionality, your kindness, your practical help, your willingness to let me cry and just sit with it. Your willingness to pray for me, pray with me, meet up with me, have coffee / lunch, the list is endless. You were few but you were mighty!

You just came alongside, were willing to stand in that awkward gap or not knowing what to say or not knowing what to do, or me not knowing how to respond. Willingness goes a long way and you had the willingness to push past that awkwardness. There are no great profound words, or christianese but the really, really comforting thing is that you cried with me, were compassionate towards me, embraced me (so important to me with touch being my primary love language). Often asking what you could do even though I couldn't respond at times. I didn't really know what I needed or what I wanted but just being around people, just being part of something, just being included was comforting. I'm so grateful for that. I'm so grateful for people not assuming that I was too upset, or too worried, or had enough going on to communicate with me but were invitational and willing to allow me to make decisions for myself. Thank you for those who point me to Jesus and help me get there instead of trying to be Him for me.

On a side note, for those of us that are tactile, like myself, hugs are the best medicine ever, especially those hugs that are from the heart that gather you really close tight in and really say "I don't have the words, but I'm here, I'm showing you that I love you, I'm showing you that I'm here for you, I'm showing you that I'm walking with you”

It hasn't gone unnoticed and has been very much appreciated especially because I've really struggled to ask, and even when I have asked, it hasn't been very coherent. Thank you that you were able to see between the lines and weren't afraid to be in a hard, awkward place with me that had no rules or structure, on a path that wasn't easy to follow.

I just really feel so grateful and really in the midst of something so difficult and so much loss, yet there is so much discovery, so much revelation, and so much realisation of the fact that it is not an end but it's the start of something new. It's the start of something containing absence but one that that contains hope that much more is to come.

Hopefully, sowing seed and taking all of the goodness of what mum and dad gave to me and go forward with that. Taking responsibility, being accountable and on a journey of becoming the best I can be, the best version of me. Not because I need to perform, not because I need to earn, but because it’s an opportunity to grow, to stretch myself, become more, cultivating intimacy with Jesus that will release me into freedom that I've never known.

It reminds me of Psalm 23 where it says "He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul”

I feel this new season is one of Jesus making me (or inviting me to) lie down in green pastures, saying "don’t run away". Teaching me to lay down the cycles of avoidance and stop running away. To stop being fearful of being close to people. The green pastures to me are a symbol of health, vitality and life that only come through a life of connection. Sometimes (a lot of times) it hurts. Sometimes people hurt you and sometimes you hurt people but navigating this arena and loving people well is where the freedom is found and is the reward for being willing to do the hard work.

Thank you – I’m so grateful.

See you later

These last few weeks have taught me I am so much more like you dad than I ever realised.

The same logical, methodical approach, the same twisted sense of humour, the same taste in programmes (mostly) and the same twinkle in my eye that makes others think “what are they up to?”

Being more of a tomboy growing up, I was my dad’s honorary boy. Chopping firewood, helping build the garden shed, loving to construct stuff and plan. I only wish we could plan some things now.

As I get ready to say “Goodbye for now” I think of all the things you’ll never get to be part of, the milestones I’ll reach without your presence and theological debates that used to get both our blood pressures raised. What a blessed time to share these last few weeks just sitting with you, journeying and even watching the flipping boring darts!

But there was an ease between us than never before, just happy to ‘Be’ and happy to share space and time. I be forever grateful for that gift. I sensed it was a gift at the time and was glad to have it.

This is not goodbye Dad, just “I’ll see you later”

Knowing You - A Eulogy

Below is the eulogy I gave at my dad's funeral celebration. I wanted people to know all of who he was and the person he was to all of us.

JAMES HENRY MCNEILL
Born 29 June 1948

Affectionately known as “Wee Harry” or “Mac”
Described as a “funny wee man, with a cheeky smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye”.

Unfortunately, he thought he was funny often more than WE did.
He was such a story teller and joker and he even had Shirley (his Pastor) convinced that his new grandson was called wee “Arthur” when his name was actually Jaxon James after his granda. She found this out much to her embarrassment the first time she met Jaxon and said “hello wee Arthur!!” and Pam (Jaxon's mum, my sister) started to laugh.

My dad just didn’t know what to be at.

He found a home in Annaghanoon, I just really want to honour the people of Annaghannon (Highways and Byways) and Donald and Shirley his Pastors. You know, He loved coming here, He loved your preaches, and if anyone knew my dad, knew he was a man of faith and that was not only part of who he was, that was ALL of who he was.

The ROMANTIC
In his early years my dad was quite the romantic.
The very first time he laid eyes on my mum, he asked the friend he was with “who’s that girl over there?”. When his friend told him her name, my dad replied “well I’m going to marry that girl” ……….and he did.

My mum was actually in School uniform at the time – that sort of thing could get you a lengthy prison sentence these days! However, luckily for him she was just about to leave school and he was only 3 years older.

My mum also often told the story of their romance very differently…..

SHE said that she really wasn’t that bothered but he just wouldn’t leave her alone and eventually after all his asking, he worn her down and she finally agreed just to shut him up.

At this point, my dad would chirp in “Aye! I wish I hadn’t bothered!!” but he always saved his skin with a cheeky smile.

As DAD
My dad, as a dad, was ever one to give an opinion and would’ve said as a parent: in the first few years you teach your children to walk and talk and the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up. However, unfortunately for him he had 4 feisty girls and there was no chance of that happening. I think he secretly loved the fact that we wouldn’t back down and had our own opinions.

I also remember his playfulness, on his hands and knees down the hall at Orchard Park with Chelsea on his back playing horsey as a small child and as a teenager she often had him building her projects late into the night when she was tucked safely up in her bed because she had left them to the last minute. Of all of us I think Chelsea knew how to twist him around her little finger the most.

As GRANDAD
To the grandchildren….
I know that you sometimes saw a grumpy grandda.
I mean… you had the audacity to open the BROWN lemonade when the WHITE lemonade was already opened…. Don’t they taste the same….surely???
AND eat all his ice cream…. Like, really……How dare you?

But even when he was grumpy, he REALLY missed you when you weren’t there, and grinned when he saw you coming.  He worried about you when you went out, worried about what you would do in your future, what that would hold, what job you would do, but above all else, all he wanted you to be as happy in everything you did. That was the most important thing. There is no mistake – There was NOTHING in this world that brought a twinkle to his eye more than YOU did.

To his GIRLS
I feel dad would remind his girls that no matter how hard this feels right now, it will not BREAK us, it will not DEFINE us. What will define us is using all that mum and dad both gave us as parents and the strength and courage to leave our own legacy that honours that.

On Friday morning dad stepped FAR from suffering and struggle into freedom. This is NOT the end, but the BEGINNING of the journey of freedom and into the presence of Jesus. I believe dad would say to you……If you must mourn, mourn BUT a little and celebrate a lot.

Dad, you are loved beyond measure and missed without exception.

In the words of Mia…… Grandas in Heaven but he can watch over us forever.
You shouldn’t be sad when people go to Heaven, they go to get better, you should be happy.