Tag: Fry Family

Year in Review: A Look Back at 2024

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Remember Charles Dicken’s epic opening in “A Tale of Two Cities”?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity…it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

Back in the day, I used to read these clauses as ‘either/or’, as if you could only be on one side of the ledger.

But lately, my interpretation has evolved to something more in line with Shannon Alder:

“Sometimes the best and worst times of your life can coincide. It is a talent of the soul to discover the joy in pain—-thinking of moments you long for, and knowing you’ll never have them again. The beautiful ghosts of our past haunt us, and yet we still can’t decide if the pain they caused us outweighs the tender moments when they touched our soul. This is the irony of love.”

Indeed, 2024, like any year, has featured its share of ups and downs, the rollercoaster largely attributable to family dynamics and the neurodivergences we daily troubleshoot. 

Yet, unlike last year, I’ve rediscovered my smile again, and as a vintage Mastercard commercial will tell you, you can’t put a price tag on that. As my prior Year in Review update attests, 2023 was one of the worst years I experienced, not only for me but for Lys and the rest of the family. Stuck in post-Juju grief, financial hardship, desperate for new work, there were many discouraging narratives outside our control. But twelve months later, I’m happy to say the landscape has changed dramatically, and with it, our perspective and outlook.

Of note, my first year at Mercy Multiplied was a major highlight. Heading into the year, I didn’t know how I would adjust to an Accounting Manager role after a four-year stint as a Client Support Manager; however, as I would soon find, the environment, training, and teaming would provide plenty of stability and balance. While much more could be said, the skinny is the faithfulness of God. By His grace, He has not only fused the best from past pitstops, but has also networked a foundation from which I’ve been able to apply lessons learned from those eras. Even in a high transition/turnover year, I’ve felt more anchored during the 9-5 as new skills, connections, and opportunities have accrued. Consequently, I head into 2025 with more occupational momentum and excitement than anticipated. 

On the home front, the most notable occurrence took place on February 13, 2024, on which my son, Milo, survived a brutal attack from our neighbor’s dog. Emotionally and physically shredded, Milo recovered quickly during the spring, though we continue to devote many hours to his healing. In light of Milo’s autistic diagnosis following the incident, his progress has included weekly occupational, feeding, and trauma therapies. As we navigate legal hurdles, we’ve also been investing in life wellness activities for Caeden and Everly as they advance in their own grief journeys. Needless to say, much of life this year has centered on restoration, though we rejoice in God’s sovereignty and knowing Satan’s intent to destroy our family has backfired tremendously.

In terms of memorable moments, our family trip to California in mid-May proved to be a horizon-broadening experience for the kids. Honoring the late Reverend Dennis Shuey in our travels, we soaked up the sun from Monterey to San Jose during our 8-day voyage. While the inspiration behind the trek was dampening, our time in the Golden State allowed for some much-needed family bonding and quality time. 

Weather-wise, there were two instances worthy of mention:

  1. Winter Storm Heather (January 14-15, 2024) – This event not only shattered expectations but was verified as a top three snow event dating back to the 1995-96 winter. Stuck at home for over a week, the eight consecutive 1+” snow depth streak at BNA was the longest since January 1978. The refreezing of melted snow kept sledding conditions ideal during much of this time. I’ll let the time lapses and highlights below take it from there…

2. Columbia Tornado (May 8, 2024) – While snow has a special place in my heart, the top meteorological moment of the year was my Columbia storm chase on May 8, during which I confronted the mesocyclone that produced a killer tornado just a mile from my location. Tracking on a whim, the tornado was the second I successfully intercepted. Unfortunately, 67 year-old, Cheryl Lovett lost her life when the tornado struck her home on Bear Creek Pike.

Spiritually speaking, 2024 came full circle for Caeden, who expressed a desire to be baptized in January before taking the plunge on September 29, 2024.

Church-wise, we continue to attend and serve at The Gate Church. As Communication Directors, Lys and I are eager to see what the new year brings with new pastoral care initiatives in motion.

Regarding our While We’re Waiting small group, Lys and I continue to ‘grassroot’ a local cohort. Since June, we’ve partnered with two on-air ministries, Christian Missionary Radio and 104.9 The Gospel, in sharing our heart behind the community. With a rejuvenated passion to reach bereaved parents, we hope to facilitate greater healing within our group so onsite and virtual ministry can coincide. No question, planting this tribe of God’s presence has been a breath of fresh air. 

In other news, Fry Freelance has expanded its wings again with new podcasting projects and two new books under construction. Even as AI invades more digital and entrepreneurial space, we hope to keep up with the times while staying true to our brand. Don’t be surprised if the His Girl Fryday website and name go under construction in 2025 after a 10,000 hit-year. As these endeavors fill in the lines, Lys and I are also hoping to mature our homeschooling rhythm in tandem with the wonderful people and curriculum of Arrows Academy. Since our January enrollment, they have provided a safe learning space for Caeden, Everly, and Milo. The three even got to be in their first school production when they were cast as spiders in Charlotte’s Web!

As for smiley Aili, well, she continues to amaze us with her growth and cunning. The epitome of rainbow baby, she’s been a mellow glue binding the family since her arrival last July. We celebrate not only her health and development but also her upbeat and centralizing energy.

Overall, while there were setbacks in 2024, they pale compared to the rebounding narratives we find ourselves in. After the third worst year of the century last year, 2024 wraps up as the best since 2016 and one of the best start-to-finish years since graduating college. Whether next year features another two steps forward, we know having been through the wringer in recent years how God works out all things for His glory and good. So it is with our prayers for you and your family that you endure and press forward in His name with hope and expectancy fully attached.

To you and yours, we wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

~ Cameron, Lyssah, Caeden, Every, Milo, Jubilee, and Aili Fry

Cover photo creds: NWS-Nashville

Right Up My Aili: The Final Small Fry (Part 1)

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It’s another sultry evening in west Nash as I type this. I don’t speak on my behalf when I say I’m glad recent storms have finally subsided.

For most of you reading this, you know how much I love storms. When I’m in one, I’m one step closer to awe – one step closer to life making more sense. After all, the winds within are never far away.

Of course, you wouldn’t know it given the script of 2023’s first half, a stretch in which the theme of forced rest amidst evolving pursuits have re-emerged. While the in-house volume has emphatically increased, in several areas of life, Lys and I have been forced to mute the noise to maintain heading.

And so it is, I pen this post during the last normal weekend for the foreseeable future. Houston, start down the countdown. We’re less than six days away from the final small Fry making her arrival.

While much attention this year has been given to the Juby Journey book, occasionally, it helps to zoom out to 20,000 feet and refresh a different page. Personally, I find the practice not just helpful but vital – a necessity during such disorienting days.

This dichotomy, man. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt and likely will ever feel again.

On one hand, the grief of losing Juby last September has finally started to subside. Slowly but surely, Lys and I are getting there though as I’ve said before: You can’t ever quantity a journey through grief and its cycles. You can only paint a picture through watercolor language. Even then, you’re talking about a mere speck on a 10′ x 10′ canvas of emotions. We’re moving in the right direction – an oasis there, a ray of sun there. Maybe someday, we’ll be out of the woods for good.

On the other, you have the anticipation of Aili, a golden surprise in what has been the smoothest pregnancy by a wide margin. Such a sweet kiss from the Lord as part of a redemptive narrative unfolding. Who would have guessed it based on what happened two years ago around this time?

Still, when you lose a child, you’re never the same again. And you certainly feel the rift when joyous occasions are on the horizon. As Lys and I shared in our Vandy grief support group in April, when you go through something like what we did last year, an organic strengthening occurs when perseverance is compelled to a life on the lines, when hope is forced to the end of its rope. Eventually, there are moments when the despondency softens and you realize you’ve made strides in becoming the person you’ve always wanted to be.

But there is a cost, one tracing back to that same hope ironically enough. While endurance may have fortified your faith, your capacity to positively anticipate is broken, at least bent. And it’s here where the bizarre paradox starts to unveil. Yes, you’re grateful for the forging through fire. Still, you can’t help but wonder why so many shades of happiness are gone. Perhaps they’ve melded into scars and the only possible way to sense them is through the prelude of thanksgiving?

Whatever the case, while eager enthusiasm is much harder to come by, our desire to look up and receive fresh perspective remains at ease. Take it from the battle-tested: All those sermons about intentionality in referencing God, I’m telling you…they aren’t Sunday morning fluff. At some point, you grow up and realize there is no other way to find those morsels of encouragement. Sometimes, all you can do is pray. And that’s okay.

As for Lys and I, we’re doing what we’ve been doing for so long now – one day at a time, one hour at a time, keeping hearts transparent and lifelines secure. To be honest, I feel a tad guilty – I probably should be more excited about Aili’s arrival on Friday. The last time one of our own came into the world, there was so much chaos and hostility. Forgive me, Lord, I’m just a weak man walking on the sea. I believe in You and yet reserve my joy to seeing the evidence of health without compromise, your breath in her lungs as we pour out our praise. At this point, I don’t contend for normality but vibrancy in abundance. Hence, why Aili is the name we’re going with. In dark depths, when shadows are at their most opaque, there’s a bright, shining light in our midst reminding us He’s there looking out for us.

As for life itself, the internal knots will eventually unwind and streams once abandoned will be returned to. God knows what we’ve had to release in the short term and why. Certainly, where the help has and hasn’t occurred this year has been telling. Like a weather vane turning in slow motion, the signs aren’t lost on me. Glory to God, He speaks through and to voids, even ones unauthorized, to reach us with what only He can provide.

Yet, despite the mysteries and unknowns, what I can say is this: While the heart is weak and willing, as far as it be with us, we will relish the ride. Even as we pass through the turnstile of significant dates, August 21 and September 18, most notably, you can bet the joy set before Him, along with the cost, will be counted. Even though we feel trapped in a parallel universe, far removed from our intended plotline, our trust will remain anchored, our times in His hands.

We got this ’cause He had it first. May it be.

Until then, selah and know…

Graphic creds: Tenor; HD Wallpaper

Miracle in the Making: The Jubilee Journey (Finale)

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Jubilee’s goodbye letter as shared during 1:10:00-1:17:23 of today’s Celebration of Life live stream: https://youtu.be/xUD-NkRrzvk

Dear Jubilee,

For almost two weeks, I’ve been trying to find the words. There’s so much I want to say but don’t know how. So, I’ll start with the obvious.

I love you. Not more than you know, but as you now know.

Indeed, in this moment, I write to you within the ultimate paradox. Having fought with you for 13 months along with your mom and two of the world’s best NICU medical teams, I was desperate to see you experience fullness, not just of health but of life, love, and whatever joy you could possibly know within your fragile state. Now, look at you, all smitten and sassy, safe in the Father’s arms aware of that fullness in ways I can’t possibly understand. The world’s greatest former micro preemie fighter…at peace with her Creator. His breath is in your lungs as you pour out your praise.

No question, you challenged and changed many hearts from the ones entrusted to your care to ones who barely knew you. From your primaries to prayer partners across the globe, you reminded us how special each day truly is, and how much the present is a gift you can never take for granted. Packed within a year of forced rest, you compelled us to take baby steps into unchartered belief, to ride the waves far out of our depth.

Yet, through it all, we fell in love with His might and light in your fight. Christ in you, Christ in us, we learned how to be content at the end of our rope. how to fall and press into Jesus at the same time, not to mention the technical terms, the bells, and whistles of a brave, new world.

Often, there was much to take in, much beyond our ability to process. And so, we prayed. Every day. Without ceasing…that the same Spirit behind your smile, that fueled your tenacity would be known across the hall, down the aisle, from the parking lot and front desk to each emergency, operating, and visitation room. Every day. A chance to stiff-arm the ‘why’ and embrace the strive-less rhythms of grace. Every day. An opportunity.to gaze into your eyes to find God looking back at us through them.

In a way, you inspired joy in persevering through chaos and crisis. You taught us how being still in weakness is, in fact, strength. And you reminded us how surrender must also rise with hope, how to embrace those mini-Gethsemane moments throughout each day: Not my will but yours be done.

To your mother and I, your sister and brothers, we marvel at the vessel God designed you to be, the way you took in unity, prayer, and love and churned out life upon life on the other side. Granted, your days were numbered less than what we would have hoped. Still, we know in this grand mystery, there is purpose, hope, and freedom within the appointed number of days God called to your earthly tenure.

And so, I stand here with a new appreciation of the question I must ask. For it is not, ‘Why did God let you die’, but rather ‘Why did God let you live?’

Past day 1 when you had no business surviving traumatic labor at 25 weeks. Past day 80, when both your lungs collapsed. Past days 290-340 during which you coded over 15 times.

Why did God let you live?

While your family and I will have many years to discern the answers, for now, I want you to know it is well in my soul God called you to reflect childlike faith, wonder, and helplessness for 393 precious days and it is well in my heart God anointed you to inspire NICU personnel and families towards the loving arms of Jesus, to help them consider what is it that kept you going, kept fighting, and kept defying the darkest of diagnoses.

As for ending this letter, having embarked on this joyful journey like no other, I ask one more question, one I’ll be sharing with many who know and will know your story. And that is, based on the legacy of your life, ‘How is it we must never be the same again?’ To quote your great grandmother whose husband you now know, “you were a diamond loaned to us from God’s ‘stash’, a pure, bright, beautiful solitaire to show us how beautiful heaven must be.” Of course, with your former limitations and restrictions on earth, a celestial, prismatic perspective may seem farfetched. But to me and your family and friends sitting in this room today, the metaphor hits home. Like a unified tribe, we’re all witnesses to how you reflected eternity through epic resilience. From a micro-preemie plagued by chronic lung disease and pulmonary hypertension to one born again into paradise, we celebrate not only your victory and triumph over sickness and death but relish the truth that for thousands of people, your face is now a thumbnail capturing the kind of Romans 5 endurance they want to run the rest of their life with.

Creds to the Master. Tell Him we’re forever grateful for the Year of Jubilee, for having the chance to love and support you as your immediate and extended family. True, there was a lot of pain amidst the patience and perseverance during your short life. But as C.S. Lewis once said, while God whispers to us in our pleasures and speaks in our consciences, He shouts in our pain. For it is pain that insists on being attended to as His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. So, as we say goodbye in this setting, as a community who loves you, we declare the voice you now have via the Almighty as one that will heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, and announce favor and grace to those who mourn. The joy of the Lord as your strength, help prepare the way for the risen Lord.

After all, the season’s changing and God is rebuilding everything. So, we will listen with humble hearts, with gladness and gratitude, to the people shouting, ‘This is Jubilee’.

With sincerest affection and adoration,

Dad

Cover photo by Cameron J. Fry

Miracle in the Making: The Jubilee Journey (Part 9)

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One week into August…and we’re starting to hit those milestone anniversaries. Crazy how we’re already at the one-year mark from when the Juby Journey started, at least as we know it.

For those following our page updates, Juby has been oscillating on her paralytic the past 48 hours netting in a positive direction. Honestly, given the dire position she was in a few weeks ago, I’ll take baby step progress any way we can get it. Yet, while the arrow is a mild point up at the moment, I can’t help but feel I’m riding a similar line spiritually speaking.

In a sense, I feel so hollow, so numb…it’s like I’m threading the needle between supernatural protection and self-preservation. On one hand, it’s not hard for me to routinely release Juby into God’s hands and anchor surrender in yielded trust; on the other, the depressive thoughts continue to mount, the slope ever more slippery as the need for thought captivation increases.

From the ‘God, am I somehow the hold up to Juby being fully healed’ to ‘I wish I could go back to student pastoring again…somewhere far away from here’…the thought captivity meter is basically in whack a mole’ mode. And I wish there was an off button.

Still, every hour is one at a time laced with opportunities to say ‘no’ to fear and ‘yes’ to higher alternatives. From upticking K-LOVE radio play to binge watching posthumous footage of Joy Dawson, there are many ways to punch Satan in the face these days.

But then there’s last Sunday when Lys had the opportunity to share the Word at The Gate Church in Franklin.

Listening to her speak, I couldn’t quench the goosebumps as she delivered a message similar to one I shared with LEGACYouth six years ago during an ‘Intentionality of Jesus’ series.

Past and present infused, there I was in Matthew 14:22-33, storybooked next to Jesus ahead of his second Sea of Galilee cameo.

Six chapters earlier (Matthew 8:23-27), Jesus had demonstrated His power over the water in the boat; now He was about to manifest His power, patience, and Immanuel presence on the water outside the boat. You talk about poetic symmetry in motion. Here was the Son of God who used His voice to quiet the waves, who proceeded to miraculously feed the 5,000, who had already previewed His identity to the disciples…yet hadn’t employed His move strategic maneuver. At least until v. 23 in which Jesus retreats to pray following a massive ministerial stretch and learning his cousin, John the Baptist, had been killed. Aware of the weather conditions, Jesus then calls notable audible in v. 25:

“…He came to them.”

Now, for most reading this, these four words are perhaps anecdotal to the passage’s climax in v. 33 when the disciples acknowledge Jesus’ identity. But to this guy, these words hit close to home in a way I couldn’t possibly understand outside this current season.

‘Cause truth is: The disciples didn’t call out to Jesus to come to them; rather Jesus made the first move, calling out to them so they could call back and respond accordingly. Almost a complete reversal of Matthew 8, Jesus isn’t arbitrarily prayer-walking around waiting for something to happen. Conversely, He is resetting into the Father and planting himself, albeit in distance, to make His presence known. How many times have we sensed the faint fragrance of Christ and like Peter couldn’t resist the urge to confirm its realness?

Granted, we should respect Peter in this story for breaking physics through child-like faith alone. For he knew He couldn’t control the elements yet understood His calling in the moment…get out of the boat and draw near to Jesus…cyclone be darned. Through hell or high water, Peter knew what mattered most was where he was going and who he was going to; hence, why he had no problem doing what he deemed most sensible when he lost visual: He cried out to Jesus for a supernatural, warp-speed extension of the hand ever reaching into the chaos…

…met with the grasp of saving grace.

‘Oh, you of little faith. Why did you doubt?’ (v. 32).

Not a reprimand, mind you, but a reminder: I’m with you always and was there from the beginning. Don’t ever think my hand is too short to save.

Back in the NICU, I continue to marvel at this little life. As one who feels small often, I can resonate to a certain extent. But strangely, I couldn’t care less…because like Peter, if Jesus confesses His proximity and in response, I ask Him to ask me to believe the impossible…heck, yes, sign me up for that as long as I have breath. No matter how long Juby lives, I don’t want to ask Jesus to save her, to save me, to save my family…if I’m not willing to walk on water amidst the neighboring halls praying without ceasing. I don’t want to ask Jesus to help me if I’m not willing to press into the Father…if I don’t make vertical reliance a priority over a given moment or assignment.

After all, the Son of God is with me…and comes to me. May our faith, like Peter, understand what’s most important and progress correspondingly…

Selah.

Cover photo creds: ImageVine

Miracle in the Making: The Jubilee Journey (Part 3)

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Lately, I’ve been marveling at how the past seven weeks have mirrored the past eighteen months.

On one hand, it’s been the worst of times; on the other, it’s been the “first” of times…

…with every day an exhausting, sometimes unprecedented mix of trial and turbulence.

However, as I’ve continued to study 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, I’ve been captivated by a certain truth, a keen illumination as once eloquently captured by Joe Novenson:

“The feel of faith is not strength, but dependent weakness.”

Mmm…just let that sink in a little.

The feel of faith…a dependent weakness. What a remarkable association. And apologies in case you heard that noise in the background.

That was just a mic drop echoing deep within the bowels of my soul.

For as many of you know, this Jubilee journey has been the epitome of humbling. In all sincerity, words can only go so far as the joyride (Jubilee’s name compels me to call it as such) has left me mesmerized wrestling with the scale of God’s sovereign strength amidst the chaos.

Still, the more Lys and I have endured and persevered, the more we’ve been able to taste God’s providence and assurance. To the extent we’ve anchored our trust, to that extent we’ve been able to mutually rely on God in unison, even harmony.

Again, it’s a unique paradox but one I’m discovering and profoundly grateful for.

‘Cause the way I see it: The specific season we’re in, from Jubilee to Covid caution, is more than one we’re supposed to ‘get through’…but one we’re meant to bear through.

The question is: In our various conflict resolutions and troubleshootings, what are we bearing (or forbearing) along the way?

While I’m still seeking God for solutions, what I can say is sometimes all we can do is stay the course and know God will set our paths straight. Especially in a time when many are forcing restarts, from marriage and relationships to work and church life, we can be prone to manufacture tranquility. Why we’d rather rush to refresh and blank our slates as opposed to conquering with confidence? Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.

Yet, as I continue to struggle amidst the unrest, I will gladly embrace a holy dependence that isn’t withdrawn like the trends around me. What I’m learning in my walk with God, with Lys, even at Foundation Group, is the sweet reminder the greatest victories are shared and beared. As much as we want to thrive, as much as we crave a new chapter, we can’t possibly ‘get there’ without partnering in weakness with what and whom God has already established.

My charge to you, dear ones, is two-fold:

  1. Keep heart, take heart…but don’t lose heart!
  2. You can struggle and live abundantly at the same time.

Don’t disengage what your challenges are tied to; rather engage the reason you’ve been entrusted to overcome them. Sure, it may take some time. Perhaps a year or two or ten. But together, we will ‘get there’.

‘Til then, don’t sign off yet. At least until God says it’s time.

Selah.