Welcome to a place of grace where old stories are honored and new ones encouraged. Here is mine.
Bright-eyed and lovely, my mother walked through the cemetery, wondering about the lives of the names she read on the stones. Then she stopped and saw it– Melissa.
Three sons and eleven years later, she was finally able to use it.
Origin: Greek. Meaning: honeybee.
To me, it represents perseverance (on my mother’s part and the insect’s) and something sweet. In subtle and not so subtle ways, it influences the roles I fill. Daughter, sister, mother, gramma, Believer, neighbor, church member, teacher, counselor, aspiring-healthy person, musician, friend – you get the idea.
I’m an avid fan of all things sweet, specifically dark chocolate, peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes, any cookie, and hot fudge sundaes. But I also love books, music, the paradox of travel and home, and all things having to do with my family.
My heart leans to Bible studies built on wisdom drawn from in-depth study, rather than my feelings, and I appreciate truth – even when it hurts.
Because, while my feelings run deep and torrential, it is the truth that sets me free.
A bit of a mutt in earthly heritage, I am proud to be a citizen of Canada and the United States of America. I used to say that I was a MOP. That is – a Michigander, an Ontarian, and a Pennsylvanian, but ever since I moved to North Carolina smack dab in the middle of the pandemic, the MOP has ceased to work. For now, I am simply a transplanted Northerner.
The old song says, “this world is not my home, I’m just a passin’ through.” And this girl is looking forward to one day making that final move to her Father’s kingdom.
In heavenly heritage, I am of royal blood. Saved by grace, adopted, chosen, rescued, and redeemed by the King of kings. This, you must remember, is the most crucial part.
You see, once upon a time, my life was sailing along quite nicely, thank you, and then – it wasn’t. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Raised in a godly pastor’s home, I was the quintessential trying-so-hard-to-be-good girl. I was not perfect, and my life was not perfect, but something inside quietly led me to believe that if I worked hard, kept all the rules, and followed the Book, all would be well.
Bumps in the road were just that – temporary jolts until one could get back on track.
Going to a Christian school, having “high” standards (yes, we called our standards “high”), attending Bible college, being married to a surrendered man of God, and entering full-time Christian service—these were all part of my well-ordered plan. And here, right before my eyes, everything was taking place.
I was blessed, and I knew it.
Then, in 1980, God called us to Canada. We were the generation inspired to bring revival to America. But how would we do that from Canada? God has a way of reworking our plans.
My heart felt severed saying goodbye to family, so with 22-year-old fervor, I vowed I would never get that close to people again. But, I did.
Canada became home. My husband led the youth group and eventually became the pastor. Our daughters enjoyed the stability of being loved and raised in one church—a rare thing, indeed, in the ministry.
We learned to live on a shoe-string budget and trust the Lord with our needs. We lived a full and busy life. One decade turned into another and then another. We were a team. A good team.
All along, I endeavored to give my best. I am not saying that I was the best or that I always did the best. But, if effort counted for anything, I would have gotten an A+.
Fairly convinced that Canada would be our forever home, we became Canadian citizens.
Then, one day, we found ourselves entering the empty nest years. Even my mother, who had lived with us for 13 years, remarried and moved back to the States. But there were positives. I would be able to travel more with my husband as well as have extra time with my grandchildren.
The school year ended, I welcomed the break from teaching. My sister and I made plans to go help our mother get settled into her new home. Less than 24 hours after arriving at her place, we received a call with the news.
I struggle to find the words to adequately convey the effect of that phone call.
Stunned? Shocked? It was literally like I stopped breathing—for months. The news was completely unexpected. Out-of-character. Gut-wrenching. Life-altering. Incapacitating.
My responsible, so well-put-together husband had taken his own life.
The trip home was surreal. I walked on numb legs and shook with cold. Details and questions spilled over each other in wave upon wave of shock and disbelief. In one fell swoop, my life’s plans disintegrated, and all my kingdoms fell.
In less than a year’s time, I would know the loss of my husband, my marriage, my church, my job, my home, and my country.
But those aren’t the kingdoms I mean.
I fell on my face begging God to take this cup from me, then choking out, “not my will but Your will, Lord.”
For years.
No matter what age one comes to know the Lord, there is a point where the false notion of guaranteed outcomes begins to take root.
Lulled by life’s blessings, I had forgotten how real and how hateful our enemy is. As grief ebbed and flowed, the idols of my heart were exposed one by one.
“Be sober, be vigilant,” I had read, “because your adversary the devil, walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour” (1 Peter 5:8).
The enemy roared, and I ran to the only refuge I knew.
Sometimes people ask when it was that I regained my faith. I never lost my faith. Like Peter, I knew there was no other place to go (John 6:67-69). But, in my overwhelming grief, I did lose hope and joy.
And I struggled – with direction, purpose, God’s sovereignty, His love, my identity, and trust. I grappled with my addiction to people-pleasing and the vice of living a performance-driven life.
Lots of kingdoms there.
This time God didn’t just rework my plans – this time, He allowed them to be demolished.
And I’m so glad that He did.
Now, hear me out. If I could, I would change what happened and bring my husband back in a minute. But I would never change what has happened in my heart.
And so, I am here. A mess wrapped in grace. I don’t have all the answers, but I know the One who does.
The older I get, the more I realize how little age matters when it comes to issues of the heart.
I have been strengthened and inspired by writers of all ages and many walks of life. Maybe I can encourage you.
I pray that, on these pages, you will always find an honest Christian who gives place to all – the bruised, the blessed, and the broken,
who ponders God’s grace in both everyday and life-altering moments,
and who points to a heavenly Father who not only will carry us through whatever comes in this life, but will bring beauty from our ashes!
We can rest in the promise that He will fulfill His purpose in our lives. He doesn’t need our plans.
I am here to tell you that yes, sometimes life is so painful that it hurts to breathe…But God.
He is faithful, He is good, and He is sovereign.
Once upon a time, my kingdoms fell.
But now my cup is full.
And it’s all grace, my friend.
It’s all grace.
Melissa, thank you for including me. I really needed this right now. I pray God will continue to bless you as you continue to find new avenues of service for Him. You are in my prayers.
Thank you for your prayers, Esther, they mean the world. Praying for you as well!
Incredibly encouraged…there is always HOPE with Christ! Thank you for your raw honestly. We need more of that so we can all hold each other up in prayer and encourage each other in this wonderful walk of life that God has given. Looking forward to following your blog.
You are so right – there is always hope in Christ but, yes, we need to hold each other tangibly and in prayer sometimes for a long time before it can be seen. Praise the Lord for those who pray and love the hurting, without judgment. Love you!
This single post brings back a lot of memories, many good, some tearful, but through it all I’m so thankful for our great God. I still remember the exact place I was when I heard the news, for me it was very similar to 9/11. Becca and I had flown out to NS and I was up on a roof. He got the call and told me. I didn’t know the cause for a number of months and I never would have guessed or believed the facts until I heard it from my own father. I knew things would be much different when I came back to FaithWay, and the worst change was you leaving. For years I felt bad for trying to reach out to you as I thought I might bring back the pain of that terrible day but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. You were a great maternal figure in my life who pushed me to be more than I thought I could be. When Susan and Phil came last year I was so glad to hear how you were doing. I thank God for you Mrs. Baker, thanks for never losing sight of God through it all
Thank you for your comments, Garrett. I am so glad you took time to write. We have always been and will always be connected by all of those great memories and, most importantly, by the grace of God. Thank you (and Becca) for being faithful! One day, in heaven…
You have learned how to minister out of your pain. Unfortunately (for us) true ministry only comes out of pain. Thanks for your blogposts!
He does bring beauty from ashes, doesn’t He, Mike? He keeps His promises.
Melissa, we met recently at the Ladies of Logos conference. Before I knew your “story”, I was struck with how joyful you are! And so warm and friendly! Hope in Christ through your pain has given you this hope. You are such an inspiration to me, and I look forward to reading your “heart” through your blog. Next time you’re in Greenville, let me know, and I’ll treat you to lunch at one of our fine restaurants. 😍
It was such a blessing to meet you, Marilyn! Thank you for sharing your delightful, trusting-God story with me – I would love to have lunch with you one day :). May we both continue to keep our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, trusting Him to continue writing our stories.
Melissa, let me say that as soon as I logged onto your site I felt the peace and love of Christ. When I came to your story I could not stop reading. Your story is a living testament to Ps 34:18. So glad that he carried you through that storm and has brought you to a place where you can now minister healing to others who are hurting. God is so faithful and purposeful!!! There is nothing wasted in him, not even our pain!!!
Looking forward to speaking with you directly. God bless.
Thank you for sharing this heart wrenching story.
I will never cease to be amazed at God’s ways. I know His way is perfect though we often do not understand His wise and loving plan.
I so look forward to meeting you.
Dear Janet, the song says, “Were it not for grace,” and I truly know this is the story of my life. His grace is amazing–and, I am so glad that He has brought us together!
Thank you for opening the window to your heart. It takes a brave soul to put it all out there like that but since we are all flawed sinners I we can all identify with that incredible need for grace in some way! The work load that you folks carried was simply incredible only eternity will reveal all that was accomplished.
Dear Greg, Your words are such an encouragement. Yes, we are all flawed sinners and, if there is actually any way that someone can literally fall from grace, then, would it really be grace?
Melissa, it is encouraging to know that you have been and are being sustained by grace. The Lord put you on my heart this evening and as I prayed, I googled, and was pleased to find your writings. Thank you for your candor and your firm position in Christ. Praying for you and with you. God bless!
Hello Greg, it is nice to hear from you and I appreciate your encouraging words! “Were it not for grace,” is truly the song of my heart. Or to sing it another way, “Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home.” God bless you!
Melissa, what an incredible testimony to God’s grace! Thanks for emailing me and providing the link. I look forward to poking around on your site. 🙂
It was a joy to also look on your site and I count it an honor to team with you to help others for God’s glory!
What God is doing through you and this post… the English language fails me. Thank you for this poignantly honest love letter.
That God could use my story for His glory, is my greatest prayer. Thank you for your encouragement, Francie.