Support Admin – Welcome: Cheri Keaggy

NEW ALBUM Progress report (or process report)!

March 28, 2022 by Support Admin

“Sometimes it’s hard to be a processor, because you spend a lot of your time processing. I guess it’s all part of the process.”

I laugh now at my recent post on Facebook and decide to expound a bit here…

Yes!!! There is new music coming! Hallelujah, He is worthy! By God’s grace and tender mercies, working together with Uncle Phil Keaggy and many others, we have successfully finished the new album. Much love and gratitude to all who have believed in this project through your prayers and financial support.

By way of an update, I’m currently seeking guidance for various aspects of releasing WHAT I KNOW TO BE TRUE. While I’m determined to furnish physical CDs to supporters before Christmas, the general consensus may be to officially release in January 2022. If you’d like to be in that “pre-release” number, there’s still time. A gift of any amount to the GoFundMe will put a signed CD in your mailbox, and great joy in my heart.

By way of confession, I’ve been overwhelmed at tackling the nuts and bolts of getting the album “out there” now that it’s finished. I’ve been processing and questioning the whens and hows, and asking the Lord to provide connections and help with things in that regard. This is hard for recovering perfectionists and deep feelers like me. Not to mention the typical Resistance that often accompanies creatives, and the challenges of being an independent artist without in-house promoters and marketeers.

And, yet, there is a calling and the Lord keeps nudging me forward.

Reading a seemingly unrelated passage from 2 Timothy the other day, I felt first burdened for others, and then personally convicted. “For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.” (italics mine – 2 Tim. 4:3-5)

And there it is. I may not know all the whens and hows in this moment. But, by golly, I do believe God is going to make a way for me, and whomever may come alongside, to “discharge all the duties” of getting this music out into the world where God can use it for His glory.

So, I took a coffee with someone who might be able to connect me to someone else, who might be able to help execute a plan. And I called the manufacturer to get a

few questions answered. And I cried and complained and prayed, as is often part of all the processing, and I asked the Lord to provide and empower in spite of all my deficits. And I told Him how I long for His return. And that’s really the main thing, isn’t it? And then, I sat down to process a little more with you, by writing this here. And I got a little further down the road.

Thank you for your patience waiting on this music. As I typed in the liner notes forthcoming (after I figure out if we squeeze fifteen song lyrics into an eight panel booklet insert, or if we’ll need the twelve panel one, or if we should just make them all available online), I typed…

We believe in the weight of these songs and the power of God to minister through them.

I believe, Lord, help me in my unbelief, and in spite of all my shortcomings. You are God. You are able. It will happen.

Let it be, for Your glory…

Cheri

GO FUND CHERI!

March 28, 2022 by Support Admin

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Surprised by Grief

February 17, 2019 by Support Admin

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**This has been a lot harder than I thought.** It’s been nearly four months since my last blog. Five since Dad passed. I told my husband recently that normally I function as three people. I thrive on productivity. But, that in this season anyway, I feel as though I’m functioning as half of one person. Half my normal self. I’m more easily overwhelmed, more tired, a little foggy at times, and frustrated with myself at how long this grief journey is taking.

*Shouldn’t I be further along by now? Why isn’t my faith working like I think it should? How long before I can get back to business as usual?* I’m told all of these are common responses to the death of a loved one. That **time is not the healer of wounds. God is.**

The reality is: this isn’t life as usual, nor will it ever be. Dad is no longer here and I must learn a new normal. And be more gracious with myself. As gracious and understanding as I would be with anyone else.

Dad’s yellow bowl

Someone asked what happened to the yellow bowl (see previous blog, “Losing Dad”). I now use it in the frig for hard-boiled eggs. It’s a happy pop of color in the morning and, yes, a nice reminder of Dad. There are other reminders, too. As Carpenter Husband is the only one who really fit Dad’s clothes, and they both love the outdoors, he now wears them. Often. A blessing to both of us. Likewise, my son-in-law was the lucky one who fit Dad’s shoes and returned from California with several pairs. Merrell boots and sneakers, an expensive pair of brown leather dress shoes, and some black leather loafers. A sweet provision as they had to get rid of a lot of their shoes in the fire (see blog entitled, “When Mom Becomes Grandma”).

We all divvied up several of Dad’s vast CD collection. Vintage vinyl, too. Oliver may not get to know his Great Grandpa, but he will surely know his music, already bobbing his head and clapping his hands to the beat.

**Some days I can listen. Other days not.**

I watched one of Susie Larson’s teachings on Facebook as she quoted Steve Arterburn…**“The great epidemic of the church today is unresolved grief.”** My GriefShare group facilitator is a counseling pastor. Applauding the courage it takes just to show up, he described the difference between bison and cows…

My GriefShare workbook

“When they sense a storm is coming”, he explained, “bison run toward it, while cows run away from it.” In so doing, bison shorten the duration of their exposure to the storm. They experience less intensity for less time as the storm rolls by more quickly. Cows, on the other hand, by running away from the storm, actually lengthen their exposure to it. They feel the harsh affects of the storm for a longer period of time.

And so I make like the bison running toward the storm…sitting with the Lord, feeling through the fog, and contending with my grief the best way I know how along with others in a similar season. I hope my periodic posts on Facebook have proved useful to those also acquainted with grief. This grief and the impact it has had, has surprised me like no other.

Cheri’s coffee mug

As always, the scriptures are a comfort. John 11:33 especially. Upon speaking with Lazarus’ sisters following their brother’s death, *Jesus wept.* And He weeps with us still, shares in our sorrows, and gently brings healing, even new life, in His time.

A little excerpt from my Streams in the Desert devotional states, **“Sorrows come to stretch out spaces in the heart for joy.”** I am believing this by faith. In the meantime, I’ve become a coffee drinker. It only took fifty years (you can read that blog, too, “Turning Fifty”). I haven’t included blog links because I forget how to do it and the notion of re-learning is, you guessed it, simply overwhelming for me at the moment.

But, the coffee? Yes, I find it quite comforting. Surprisingly so, in fact. One of the unexpected perks of marriage: Carpenter Husband came with a Keurig. And I have no problem adding the hazelnut cream. You might call it good self-care.

In closing, as some of you may have seen, I’ve recently returned from a writer’s retreat that proved fruitful. I had feared I’d do nothing but cry the whole time and leave disappointed. But, before I even began, I consecrated the time to the Lord for whatever He would purpose, and He allowed a healthy combination of both crying and writing. Sometimes at the same time.

I promise there’s new music coming. I hope it will be worth the wait. **Please be patient with me while I sort all of this out.** Looking forward to all God has in store. He’s full of surprises.

Love to each of you. I treasure your friendship.

Grace and more grace…

Cheri

Losing Dad

October 5, 2018 by Support Admin

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On a Sunday evening early this September my sister called from California. When she asked me where I was, I knew it was serious. I was home with Carpenter Husband just settling in for the night. Yes, Dad had been sick. In and out of the hospital. Still, the news of his sudden passing came as a shock. For the next several hours, I cried and rocked and rocked and cried, repeating this guttural prayer…Please take care of my Daddy tonight, Lord. Please take care of my Daddy tonight. I finally climbed out of bed around 4am scribbling out words and thoughts in an effort to take the edge off.

The mystery of Psalm 116:15 cut through my desperation…Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. I kept repeating those words. Could it be that Dad’s departure is actually a blessing to God? The thought comforted me.

Posthaste, I was on a plane to Mom. First time flying to California where Dad wouldn’t be there on the other end. No point in wearing make up. Too many tears. I turn toward the plane window to try not to disturb the person sitting next to me and journal a note to Dad in Heaven. I tell him it’s O.K. He can be at peace now and relish this time with Jesus. I pinch the silver anchor charm around my neck. A symbol of Hope. Something one would share later that Dad no longer has need of.

Perhaps as a coping mechanism, I begin to brainstorm ideas for a memorial service. It’s a long list. Not sure I want to play at my own Dad’s funeral. I wonder if Cameron would play his accordion? Dad would be so pleased and proud.

My sister and I begin going through some of Dad’s things in the garage. He was very organized. Almost OCD organized, though never officially diagnosed. We set out to purge and rearrange things, just enough so Mom can pull her car in for safety.

Dad was an accomplished rock climber having climbed both Half Dome and El Capitan as well as forging some first ascents in Joshua Tree, a popular climbing destination in Yucca Valley. Dad was known to have frequently climbed with guys half his age. He was such a rock star.

In addition to years of belaying, repelling, gnarly overhangs, and scabbed up hands, Dad was an avid backpacker. From his first hike at age thirty-nine spanning easily thirty years, he logged more than 14,000 miles. Among his gear were some old plastic bottles and such we decided to set aside for recycling. A yellow bowl caught my eye. Scratched and well worn, it clearly had seen a lot of miles. I placed it in the recycle pile but immediately felt a deep sense of sadness. I told my sister and we agreed we could hold that one back for the time being.

Later, as we began going through Dad’s photo albums I saw why that bowl had tugged at my heart. Photo after photo of Dad’s camp sites showed that little, yellow bowl propped up on a log or a makeshift bench. We even found a shot of him eating from it. You can see where I got my long legs. Such a handsome fellow.

It might sound silly, but I thanked God for the nourishment that yellow bowl provided for Dad all those years. He loved the outdoors. Absorbing the beauty of creation, I think he always felt closest to God on a lonely trail somewhere. On longer trips that required shipping food ahead, we’d send postcards with the words “Hold for thru hiker Mike Anderson” etched along the bottom.

Preparing for a conference this past weekend I sat at the piano to run through some songs. “It Is Well” proved especially difficult. The floodgates burst wide open. Attempting to sing through heavy sobs I refuted, it’s not at all well with my soul, God. Confessing my fragile state to the audience, I explained my reason for choosing “‘Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus”…at times when things aren’t so well and our feelings get tossed about by life’s most crashing waves, one must take Him at His word. Just to rest upon His promise, just to know thus saith the Lord.

Mom used to tell a story of when Dad was a young boy. Things weren’t always great at home, but there was a Norman Rockwell sort of family down the street. Dad would sometimes escape his own household turmoil to peer through the window during this family’s dinner hour. Sometimes they would invite him in. He wondered what it would be like to be a part of a family like that.

I believe our family helped him realize that dream. While far from perfect, we were blessed indeed with a level of stability, love, respect, and mutual support for one another. As I wrote in my journal to Dad in Heaven (partial excerpt)…You have it all. He has not abandoned you or left you on the outside looking in. You can feast at the table. It’s all yours. And you will get to fully enjoy it, because He will enable you to. You have total fullness. Total joy. In His presence is fullness of joy. When we get time alone with God we will know His nearness, and in so doing, we will be close to you, too. Sweet communion just got sweeter. We all come to the table. We all feast with Jesus. We all take the bread and the cup. This is living. This is everything. Jesus is everything. He is ours and He is yours. We are family. And we are really O.K. Rest in peace, Daddy. It’s finally O.K.

One of the greatest sorrows in all this is Dad never got to hold his great grandson. A pencil doodle of Ollie discovered in his pocket calendar celebrated his birth – “Day 1”. He was so looking forward to finally holding Ollie in person this Thanksgiving. And now we will be holding his memorial service instead. Still, God in His kindness gave us a merciful gift, before we even knew we would need it…

Just five days before Dad passed, at the surprise party for my fiftieth, a friend suggested we FaceTime my parents in California. There I was surrounded by people who love me, holding Ollie close to the screen so Mom and Dad could get a good look at him. After a brief hello to Mom, Dad got most of the camera time – – great grandson and great Grandpa, eye to eye, taking one another in. I’ll never forget Dad’s smile. As bright and wide as this characterization of him my daughter created in tribute. With a sweet, double meaning, she calls it – A Great Grandpa.

And he was.

They say the depth of one’s grief speaks to the significance of the relationship. I won’t ever need to guess at how much I loved Dad, for this is a significant grief. But, it is a grief held safely in the loving arms of Jesus…the Hope that embraces, the Hope that does not disappoint, the Hope that we know in part, but Dad now knows completely and in full.

Another journal entry from my Springs in the Valley devotional states, “There is no safer place in all the universe in which to leave our loved ones than in the hands of God.” So be it. Like it or not, I must accept this hard thing and cling to Jesus in trust. It helps to know that not only was Dad in Christ, but now he is right there with Him in glory.

And he has finally traded those dusty trails for streets of gold.

Thanks for all the love, Daddy. Happy trails to you…until we meet again.

Your baby girl,

Cheri

Turning Fifty

July 30, 2018 by Support Admin

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Stunned awake this morning by a dream that’s been hard to shake. I was swimming with my sister in our parent’s backyard pool, only our parents don’t actually have a pool in their backyard. Nonetheless, there we were enjoying ourselves and, apparently, completely unaware of the time. Once inside the house, like a punch in the gut, it dawned on me that I was now extremely late for a performance. Like it was 7:44pm and I was supposed to be singing from 7-9pm that night. Yikes!

I’ve had other dreams like that through the years. Maybe it’s that deep down panic that I won’t be prepared for an engagement. Or worse yet, I’ll miss it altogether letting everyone down. I can recall several dreams where they’ve already introduced me onto the stage and I’m nowhere near where I need to be to get to the platform on time. Psychoanalyze that.

Anyway, in the dream, I’m frantically checking my phone to see if anyone has tried to contact me, all while calling out for my Mom who was slated to take me to the event, about a forty-five minute drive away. I’m thinking there’s no way I’ll be able to get myself dressed and ready, hair and make-up, and set list. Still, I’m scrambling. Where’s the blow dryer?! I’ll have to do my make up in the car. Where’s my red blouse?! In the dream, it’s a post-Thanksgiving, Christmas event. Why we’re swimming late November, I don’t know. Dreams are weird that way.

Still calling out for Mom, there’s no response. I begin searching throughout the house, but she’s nowhere to be found. Finally, I enter her bedroom and find her near comatose in the bathroom. Eyes closed, white as a ghost, and seemingly incoherent, I thought she was dead. But, as she began to fall sideways I lunged to catch her and her eyes suddenly opened.

And just as a feeling of great relief washed over me I woke up.

Understandably, I was physically shaken by such a nightmarish dream. And try as I might to drift back to sleep, my thoughts were all over the place. Just earlier that day I had told my hubby over lunch that I hoped to have many more years with my parents and how I wished we lived closer. And, strangely, just that morning in church I had pressed down the corner of the bulletin where the fourth verse of “Crown Him With Many Crowns” struck me afresh. Particularly these words…

Crown Him the Lord of years, the Potentate of time…

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. I’m literally just days away from the big 5-0 (got my first piece of mail from the AARP to prove it!). Maybe it’s because I’ve been praying for a grieving family and their son whose years were cut short. Maybe it’s because Dad, not Mom, recently had a week long hospital stay, a bad bout with pneumonia, and subsequent visits to correct his atrial fibrillation (and I made the mistake of googling the life threatening risks of cardiac ablations). Maybe it’s because another friend is now caring for her aging parents; a mother who broke several ribs during a recent fall and a father whose tumble left him battered and bruised simply trying to fetch the mail. Or maybe it’s transitioning into a new role as Grandma (read my previous blog!) and focusing my energies a little closer to home. Perhaps all of these things culminated into a dream that got me thinking about life, the sovereignty of God, and how we spend the brief time we’re given.

For a thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night (about 3 hrs., Psalm 90:4). Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom (verse 12). My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years…(Proverbs 3:1).

And this one, a new favorite…Consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants…the fiftieth year shall be a jubilee for you…(Leviticus 25:10 & 11).

Carpenter Husband keeps asking me what I want to do for my fiftieth. I tell him nothing elaborate or expensive. Maybe an intimate gathering with friends and family? A special dinner date, just the two of us? Oh, and I need to remember to ask for chocolate cake. Because chocolate.

All kidding aside, today I’m asking a more important question. How will I spend this fiftieth year of jubilee? O Heavenly Father, Lord of my years, let the lighting of all those candles be a symbol of consecration to You.

And with that, I’ll leave you with your own thoughts and the last part of verse four…

All hail, Redeemer, hail! For Thou has died for me;
Thy praise and glory shall not fail throughout eternity.

Thankful to be born…and born again to live in Christ forevermore. And you can bet I’ll be giving my folks a call.

Ever resting in His Sovereign Care…

Cheri