Category: Life

Year in Review: A Look Back at 2025

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Normally, I savor the opportunity to recap a year, to recount 12 months’ worth of Fry-lights; however, so much has been hitting differently these days. Since I still believe in the practice, I’ll forge ahead, but for the record, this will likely be a prequel to a more upbeat sequel next December. Consider that a life forecast of sorts.

On paper, there’s not much to highlight, at least personally. While last year starred as a bounce-back with arrows pointing up, this year saw more of the opposite. Support systems faded, turnstiles were active, and former friends and colleagues fell off the map. Like any annual review, there’s much I could say about what went right and what went wrong. For now, less is more. I’m still standing, encouraged in how I’m postured heading into 2026 and by faith, declare it to be a banner year during which three and a half years of net spiraling will cease. A new Refuge Center odyssey awaits; heavenly Father, open up the floodgates!

For Lys and the kids, 2025 was a step-in-the-right-direction kind of year, especially on the education front. After completing a strong three-semester run at Arrows Academy Tutorial in May, we applied for scholarships to return Caeden and Everly to Greater Things Christian School. By God’s grace, we not only enrolled Caeden and Everly at Greater Things but also found the right school and accommodations for Milo to begin at Kingston Springs Elementary. A huge set of wins for our family at large!

With the older three in a Monday-Friday routine, Lys has been able to find new rhythms of her own. Despite an unexpected pregnancy, she stayed on board as a teacher at Arrows Academy while starting a TikTok affiliate marketing business in August and assisting me with the communications at our local church. As a mom, she continues to amaze me with how she enhances family morale. Like me, the bereavement grief is still active and at times, intense; however, her progression in recent years has benefited many who have engaged her story.  No question, her life continues to touch and inspire many.

Among the year’s milestones, two stand out: 

  1. On April 27, we dedicated Everly, Milo, and Aili at The Gate Church after years of delay thanks to COVID-19 and our year at the NICU. We are grateful to see how our kids have responded spiritually, despite the trauma they’ve faced. Much appreciation to Greater Things and The Gate’s Children Ministry for investing so much life and truth into them.
  2. On December 17, we welcomed the arrival of Jori Grace who now completes our family circle. As our second rainbow baby, we’re eager to nurture this life while watching God move through her as she grows and develops. 

Concerning passion projects, there are several big news items on the board, though currently on hold. Currently, Lys and I anticipate the launch of Jubilee’s Hope as an incorporated non-profit by this time next year. With three NICU outreaches under our belt, raising a total of almost $8,000 combined, we plan to ‘umbrella’ future endeavors by providing NICU families with resources, spiritual support, and even household support during their respective journeys. As for Jubilee’s book, I’m happy to report that after months of searching, I’ve found an editor who will help take my manuscript to the next level. A promising development to complement the nonprofit dream!

Regarding ministerial assignments, Lys and I paused our virtual While We’re Waiting support group in November to pursue greater healing. With a new lead, we hope to transition and tag-team this into an on-site group during the second half of next year. As for His Girl Fryday, we shattered our prior hit mark with ~12,750 views in 2025 and hope to build upon that momentum. With more podcasts on tap in 2026, we’re hopeful our voice will find root in other outlets from our home base in Messenger Fellowship to new arenas.

As always, to you and yours, we wish you a very Merry Christmas a Happy New Year!

~ Cameron, Lyssah, Caeden, Everly, Milo, Jubilee, Aili, and Jori Fry

Cover graphic creds: Advent Transportation

Road to Closure: A Fond Farewell to Centennial

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I’m strolling this corridor at Tristar Centennial, a place I never thought I’d see or walk again. Yesterday’s arrival of Jori Grace, our Little Bag Fry, our second rainbow, reminding us that the surprises of God, regardless of how we initially interpret them, are nevertheless extensions of His faithfulness. 

Unbeknownst to Lys and I coming into Jori’s birthday was the fact she would arrive the exact place in the same room where Jubilee debuted.

December 17, 2025

August 21, 2021

As you might suspect, this entrance was deeply and multi-emotional. Practically impossible to not think where things were four years ago. So much has changed, so much has progressed, so much new, so much next. 

As I’ve considered the time warp, I’ve latched onto a single word that has a precedence of peace. That word is ‘closure’. 

What does the Bible say about closure, closed loops, closing the gap, etc.? 

When we talk about closure, we’re often discussing what it means to find God’s grace and strength to endure, to discover His power in the context of forgiveness, perseverance, receiving help, ultimately turning and realigning to Jesus. 

It’s a word that merits a Christian worldview, since the world frames peace and good tidings primarily as functions of comfort, self-preservation, even open doors to better opportunities. However, in Scripture, we find similar evidence in God guiding us not only through new doors but closed doors

For example, I know it’s highly likely I will never be a guest patient at Centennial again. A somber thought since Lys and I have experienced so much life here. ‘Tis been a place where we’ve always felt vertically anchored, even if we were compelled into the posture.  Understandably, there’s a bit of melancholia in this birthing episode as redemption arches, past and present, meet a local farewell. 

Still, I’m encouraging by a certain notion. Anytime new life is given, we’re not just obliged into exuberant gratitude but to commit/recommit ourselves to the call we have to nurture that life in the ways of God, in the likeness of Christ. We may not feel like we have what need to navigate the struggle we encounter, as this season reminds us, we still have Jesus, with us and for us. 

So, whether I reference scars with onsite origin or those fresh within Lys who fielded her third c-section in four years, we recognize this renewed race as part of God’s work of restoration. And as this special time of year reminds us, where there’s restoration, there can be anticipation for what is good, given the source and omni-nature of Immanuel, in loss and pain, to life as fresh gain. 

To Centennial, it’s been real to the sweetest effect. I bid you all the fondest adieu and to the rest of you…

Cover photo creds: The Business Journals

Fall Forward: A Posture for This Season

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It’s been a weird month. One of those in which much could be said but…

For Lys and I, we’re exiting a pronounced stretch of remembrance. By now, each year feels more like clockwork with a grief uptick during the dog days only to lift by the fall equinox. Even now, I sense the heaviness dissipating. Lord knows He’s given me and my family plenty of reason to keep going.

Yet, taking a corporate temperature, I can’t help but wonder if our present peace is set to stun mode. Restless nights have picked up for some, for others, the fatigue of the unknown (i.e. what to do next, how to respond now, etc.). Of course, there are those, who may be weary with their former toil. Probably a combination of ‘all of the above’, if we’re perfectly honest.

I know for me, there’s been much I’ve needed to release of late – the weight of carrying past positives into the present, the hope of connection and reconciliation in certain situations, the right for my right calls to be seen. Sometimes, it’s hard to make sense of the burdens we desperately want to flush out. Thankfully, as complex as our knots may be, the opportunity to surrender them is anything but.

Take last Tuesday for instance. Sitting on my front step, I started to go down a familiar rabbit hole, the one in which I try to make sense of where I’ve been and where I’m going. But unlike other episodes, I hit a point of exhale earlier in the process. Maybe it was the lower humidity and refreshing air mass. Perhaps I was giddy from just setting up some fall decor. Either way, I looked down the street from my porch on a hill and with what seemed like misplaced contentment, started to empty myself in the moment.

Then, after a few minutes, something bizarre happened: I began to shiver…in 75 degrees, calm winds, and a setting sun to my right. Suddenly, I needed a second layer and a flip to 1 Corinthians 2. With disrupted thermodynamics, I dug in.

In his letter, Paul confirms his posture in v. 2-3 (AMP):

“I made the decision to know nothing [to forego philosophical or theological discussions regarding inconsequential things and opinions while] among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified [and the meaning of His redemptive, substitutionary death and His resurrection]. I came to you in weakness, fear, and great trembling. And my message…[was] not in persuasive words of clever rhetoric but delivered in demonstration of the Spirit operating through me and of His power stirring the minds…so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.”

Relating and resonating, I kept on.

“For what person knows the thoughts and motives of a man except the man’s spirit within him? So also no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know and understand the wonderful things freely given to us by God. We also speak of these things, not in words taught or supplied by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining and interpreting spiritual thoughts with spiritual words for those being guided by the Holy Spirit” (v. 11-13, AMP).

Now, I’m not the savviest theologian; however, I’m confident when in doubt, in trouble, and/or in pain, the best response is to invite God in by making room for the Cross. In doing this, we position ourselves to be overwhelmed by the power of the Spirit, a move we cannot conjure or manufacture. Far too often, we’re consumed by our own capacities when we must remember there’s no capacity for what matters without the Spirit. We may crave daily bread, but we cannot receive it without pure vertical reliance in which we declare our substitutions, replacing worldly guesses and opinions with God’s Word. Every day, we must be mindful of the exchanges we’re called to make, especially if we long to process through clear channels; hence, why this chapter is so enriching. By God’s Spirit, the depth we were designed with has access, not just a channel but an invitation to know what He’s thinking, at least bits and pieces.

My encouragement to you, friends: Let the Spirit bridge the Cross’ wake to your present circumstances and fall forward. As challenging as your immediate may be, simplicity can still be found in moments of surrender. For in the power of God’s Spirit, we can know Christ and Christ crucified more intimately as we breathe, live, move, and have our being (Acts 17:28). The more we mature in this mindset, the more we will experience this as a sweet reality from our personal walks to corporate communions.

As for what keeps us from standing together, praying with/for one another, and sharing with one another, may we be willing to put them all on the altar as we lay down our dreams, agendas, weapons, all the way down to our revisionist fantasies. In all that we do, may we embrace and rediscover the joy of holy dependency.

After all, a new season dawns. May it be one in which we let go and let God all the more.

Graphic creds: Shutterstock

Road to Healing: Why Even in Pain, There’s Still Jubilee

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It’s been three years to the day since Juju’s death.

For better and worse, Lys and I haven’t been the same since that fateful day. While grief intensity has lessened, life still feels like a tightrope. One false step and we’re praying for a safety net, just trying to survive – like when Juju was alive only without the hope of tomorrow. If only I were better at patience, maybe this whole waiting thing would be easier.

As Juju proved during her NICU tenure, progression and regression aren’t always mutually exclusive. At times within her fragile body, one element was improving while another was degrading. Her recovery and, at times, lack thereof, was anything but a linear wave. Like life itself, her journey was a winding roller coaster with unexpected turns and unprecedented breakthroughs. Her butterfly tattoo on my heart, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her and consider the glory of what she constantly experiences.

Yet, though the tears have remained mostly at bay the past year, there’s still a temptation to anger. God, why didn’t you somehow, someway cap her suffering? If you knew she was going to barely make it past a year, why defer the inevitable?

In most cases, I can convert those ‘whys’ into ‘look what God did’ and carry on. Where I stumble is the next level down: God, why aren’t people more naturally geared towards the broken-hearted? Why does the silence sometimes increase when it needs to decrease? In the shadows, you were there after Juju’s death. What about those who may not even be able to find you at all? What about them?

These questions have been raised before, and they’ll be raised again. Until the answers come, I, along with the rest of us, must settle in Christ (1 Peter 5:10; Colossians 2:6-7). For those who have lost a child, we don’t have any other option. At day’s end, everyone has a call to embrace their suffering and ditch their baggage. No exceptions. I know for me, sometimes I get into trouble tolerating the baggage while trying to ditch the suffering in a quest to find meaning in pain; however, in times of reset, I catch myself in the striving and commit my ways to God whether I feel like it. It’s hard as heck, don’t get me wrong. I just know as low as I feel sometimes, I’m only hindering my perspective when I punt prayer and vertical reliance.

I love how Paul opens Colossians 3:1: “Therefore if you have been raised with Christ, keep seeking the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.”

For starters, the chapter unpacks our ‘new self’ identity as a garment we can wear regardless of the day. But even more promising, we’re reminded in the intro how we’ve been raised with Christ to a new life, sharing in His resurrection from the dead. In a weird way, this hits home even more so these days. Even when I feel dead on the inside, somehow, I know I’m that much closer to the type of life I crave. Among all the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God is also my daughter. Your son. His grandson. Her granddaughter. Their mother, their father, our friend, etc.

The way God’s lap is designed, there is always a comfort and rest to draw from, even if it’s simply His presence and nothing more.

The problem is we’re not often content with the safety of God’s nearness because we’re dissatisfied with the security of it. Our kid passed away, so we doubt if God is who says He is. If God is a God of love, then why didn’t His sovereignty meet my faith in the middle? If God has the capability, why didn’t His power take pity on a soul that could have done wonders for Him if given the opportunity?

While I’m not condoning this as the correct posture to take, admittingly, this is a popular contention bereaved parents wrestle through. We desire the improbable; we believe in the impossible. We just wish it could have looked a certain way. And that’s okay…assuming we regularly surrender our grief, anxiety, fear, and anger. As Juju reminds us, there’s beauty to be found in the ashes of our sorrow, especially when we reframe our perspective to see a life well fought as an altar pointing people to Jesus. Our lives may always sound like a sad song, but that doesn’t mean what other people hear is the same tenor.

Trust me, life has been brutal, dare I say, savage, this decade. Despite the positive turn in recent years, my debates with God are still on the regular.

Dear Lord, thank you for what you did during Juju’s life and gifting my family with this incredible light, this testimony unfolding, but surely you know what it’s like to grieve. You know what it’s like to be separated from your only begotten Son. If you’re stripping me of anything my life could cling to other than you, so be it. I don’t have to know how you’re exalted in those moments as long you’re exalted at all. And with a daughter dancing in your courts, I dare not lose sight of the new life I have in Christ, knowing that’s exactly what she has.

For all you readers and co-sufferers out there, ask yourself: Will I be too stubborn in my grief to don new garments of praise? To serve and think within new wineskins? Or am I too scared to endure because I don’t want God to let me down again? I know for me, I don’t have the margin, nor do I want to give that question room to manifest. Thus, I will keep looking up and pressing on one step at a time, with Juju’s rays forever on the horizon. The victory’s been won. Let’s choose to walk it in. God, show us the way…

Selah.

Dust in the Wind: The Beauty in Being ‘Dirty’

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Recently, Kansas’ ‘Dust in the Wind’ came on my local oldies FM.

I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes with curiosity
Dust in the win
All they are is dust in the wind

Sounds depressing, right? Like a poor man’s romantic anthem to Ecclesiastes…

“‘Meaningless! Meaningless!’
says the Teacher.
‘Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless’” (Ecclesiastes 1:2).

Applied to our hopes and ambitions, these lyrics can seem maddening. What about my God given purpose? Is it void, useless, just a vain rat race underneath the cosmos?

Hardly! If anything, within these lyrics lies an affirming contrast, one that marks not only our earthly identity but vocational calling. To illustrate, let’s consider the difference between chaff and dust.

When exploring the reasons why we live, chances are we’re not considering the byproducts of grain processing. Still, the Word is clear our physical bodies were created from dust and will return as such (Genesis 3:19). With eternity in mind, we must accept the metaphor as core to our finiteness. While dust may seem unpleasant, by definition, it is a pure particle occasionally suspended in air but designed to settle whereas chaff is a scaly covering intended to be separated or burned. No wonder the Word often references chaff in the context of iniquity. For chaff to be purified, it must become a new creation. But with dust, it is already fine and capable of influencing everything from cloud formation to nutrient cycling.

Tying this to the surface, we find personal meaning. Although our bodies are fragile pillars, albeit with mind, heart, soul, and spirit, it’s still a sacred vessel created for finding rest and inspiring growth, even in times of displacement and turbulence. Kind of like, oh, I don’t know…dust!

Some of you reading this may be caught in chaotic currents or stuck in a false sense of worthlessness. You may feel as low as dust, easily swept away in the wind, not strong enough to stand in your own strength. But I challenge you, friends, to see the beauty in that. If all else, stand firm (Ephesians 6:13) and if you can’t stand, then settle in Jesus with every intention to rely on Him to carry you. You may feel like you’re passing away; however, rather than wade in insecurity, dare to consider where you’re passing away to.

‘Cause truth is: God can use you even if you feel like dust in the wind. He can use you to inspire vertical growth as you wisp for His glory. He can sustain you as you ignite precipitation to fall and become rivers of living water. He can strengthen you as you sow and position seeds in tough terrain to receive what they need to flourish. I could go on.

Just remember none of this is possible without the Creator and Sustainer of dust; hence, why Qoheleth prologues his book with ‘meaningless’, as life is without the answer and the reason of life. How sweet it is to know with His breath, He purified us from the ground so the ground would have no ultimate authority over our final destination. Yet, even as we come back to it in this life, we can fulfill God’s original design for our lives.

Cheers to being dust in the wind alongside you…

Selah…and remember, friends, be excellent to each other...

Cover graphic creds: iStock