Tragedy, Tears and Truth

Today I cried again. I think I've cried every day for about a week now. My heart is hurting and I feel shaken and wobbly. And all of this has nothing to do with me or even my family.

Last week my friends' toddler fell into a backyard pool and nearly drowned. To someone on the outside this is cause for saying, "You poor thing", "Bless your heart", "Oh, that's so sad", or "So tragic, I will be praying". And as well and good as all this is - it is not what I said. In fact, I didn't say anything at first. Granted, I didn't actually hear of this tragedy first hand. I got the news through an email. (I should note here: these are past friends that time and life situations have distanced from our close-knit friendship yet they still hold a comfortable and welcome place in our hearts). Even still my first thoughts weren't hardly even thoughts. It was more of an all encompassing sinking,falling, getting the wind knocked out of me, nauseated sort of feeling. Accompanied quickly by the mad scramble of my brain working to figure out- "what do I do with this?".

The tears flowed freely and in waves, spurred by my mother-heart empathy. My first inclination, besides utter despair, was to figure out if I could actually, physically, do anything for them. In all reality the answer was and still is an echoing "no".

So, sitting with empty hands and a cracked and bleeding heart all I could do was pray (and cry) and pray. That's exactly what I did - constantly. Just under my breath, while I went about my day, in worship, in song, in words, in thoughts, with my eyes open, with my eyes shut, with my hands lifted, with my hands clenched, with my hands in dishwater. I prayed.

Of course, the prayers started out with questions, "Why?", "How?", "Where were the angels?", "Why didn't God do something?", "Why them?". There were no answers. So, my heart followed the silence with cries for mercy. "If not then- please NOW! Save him now! Make it right!" In the immediacy it all seemed hopeless. This precious, innocent life was hanging in the balance. A ventilator his link to life.

I didn't know it then but this tragedy was entering my life at a ripe time for my heart to grow. Would I let it?

Hours that seemed like days passed slowly. My head and heart felt as though a thick and somewhat debilitating fog had settled over them. I began to feel like the weight of this situation was encompassing me, pulling me down, consuming my thoughts and hindering me from my basic and God-given priorities. It didn't make sense. I couldn't reconcile the fact that this was something so deeply impacting but yet it wasn't my trial. I couldn't get it out of my head or my heart as I carried the empathy laden heartache.

I found myself checking emails, facebook, text messages hourly, sometimes more, just searching for information, hope, some glimpse of what was happening so I could feel connected to this trauma that had already broken my heart. It didn't make sense that something so far removed from me was already embedding so deeply into my life. It was becoming a focus, a driving force. This deep force was pushing me headlong into very powerful prayer. Prayer like I haven't experienced in a very long time. Prayer that caused me to believe I was approaching the very feet of Jesus. Prayers that I actually felt God might hear and answer. Prayers that came from a deep and rarely tapped place in my soul.

This time of soul wrenching not only produced an invigorated prayer life but also questions. Of course, the questions I spoke of earlier but also questions of my own human limitations. Questions like, "What about my children", "How can I protect my family?" and questions about my spiritual condition like, "How do I carry this burden?", "How do I pray?", "What do I believe?".

Wrestling with these questions and the intense burden caused me to remain down, despairing and mostly inaccessible to those closest to me, namely my children and husband. Somehow I knew this wasn't right or good but I also knew praying and caring was. So, I had to momentarily change my prayers to, "God, how can I carry this and be pleasing to you and be the wife and mom you want me to be?"

You know that deep abiding peace and warmth that begins in your inner most soul and spreads so slowly yet instantly into your physical mind and body? Well, if you don't, just imagine what it's like to come inside from a winter blizzard and sit with your hands and feet facing a warm and sizzling fire. You feel it thawing you slowly, but instantly you feel the warmth and comfort. That is exactly how my answer came - "This is not YOUR valley". God was showing me that this wasn't my valley of despair. These weren't my questions to have answers to and they weren't even my questions to ask. I had to trust that God was walking with my friends through their valley and He would one day bring them back up the mountainside to the top! It wasn't fair but that didn't matter. God doesn't work in ways that are fair. He gives us the amount of strength and grace we need for the valley we are in - not enough to walk through someone else's valley. Ahhhhh, my eyes were open, my soul was lighter, I could see clearly the path before me.

I continued to pray and even feel the burden for this precious family but I no longer carried the despair. I ached for their experiences. I ached that they had to walk this valley. But I rejoiced that God was with them. I rejoiced that He promised to never leave them. I rested in the fact that I wasn't in that valley right now. I rested in the knowledge that God was with me where I was. My prayers did not cease. They did not decrease in fervency or frequency. They continued strong and steadfast in belief but I no longer carried the burden as if it were mine; I no longer allowed to it to consume me heart and soul. I began to realize that I did believe in miracles! I did believe in a loving, involved God!

Which brings me to explain my earlier statement. My heart was ripe for growth. This was a test of sorts. A test of my faith, my belief system and how deep my relationship with God was. You see, in the recent past most of these ideas had started to become vague to me. I wasn't sure I believed much anymore. I had come to the edge of my faith walk and was contemplating taking the plunge right off - not into faithlessness but into that place that believed there was a God but He wasn't involved, didn't care and had removed His hand from the lives of His creation. It was a very precarious time. I wandered, teetered, and slipped from time to time as I searched for the path that I could believe was true. Deep down inside me I knew that truth was truth but I wasn't sure exactly what that looked like. Eventually, through some Godly friends and a lot of prayer and searching and some just basic decision making I came to the end of my journey. I had decided that if I don't believe in the faith I have always had, then it's not faith at all. So, I had decided that I would continue to search for the God I once knew. The God that brought joy to His creation. The God that healed, answered prayers, prepared plans for His children and lead them in the way of righteousness.

Sure, I decided this but now I had to live it. That is a completely different story. I sure didn't feel like things had changed. I had made a decision but my heart was stalling in completely accepting the journey to pursue a deep and meaningful relationship with Jesus. Over time the relationship did grow and and the faith issue I had settled seemed to begin to take root. I have since felt much growth, continued to pursue that relationship rooted belief in a God that is involved. My heart has felt God's hand from time to time and in the tiniest of ways.

All this is to say that the tragic events in my friend's life and the forceful plunge into prayer that it created in my life, has renewed my weak and growing faith. I have seen their strength and been encouraged. I have prayed and prayed, which has brought me into the throne room of the Most High God. I have cried and cried which has purged the unbelief from my heart. I have begun to expect, yes, expect a miracle and believe that God sees. That He is near and that He cares.

I think if it had not been for this tragic turn of events, albeit in someone else's life, my faith may have stayed a bit stagnant and untapped. I think I may have decided to become comfortable with mediocre. To just stay in the comfortable place of saved but not invested.

Don't get me wrong. I surely do not believe God caused this event for my personal growth - that's just not how it works. However, because this bad thing happened I had a choice. I had a choice to either let it mame my faith or bolster it. I chose and choose to let it bolster my faith. What satan means for bad, God can use for good!

Today this precious baby has shown many signs of miraculous healing. He is off the ventilator, he is starting to respond with smiles and laughs. He is starting to eat a bit of solid food. These are awesome and true miracles! However, he is still struggling to overcome the limitations of some brain damage. This family is still dealing with issues that come of such a tragedy. They are still in the throws of complete physical, emotional, mental and spiritual investment in the situation. Their family is still in the valley. And, because of the revelation and growth that God my Father has begun in me, I still choose to remember them in my prayers, daily, hourly even! I choose to bolster my faith, to energize my prayer life, to carry a burden that isn't mine to the feet of Jesus, because He cares, He sees, He is near, He does miracles and because I believe!

Today I cried. I cried tears of pain and sadness out of empathy for my friend. Today I cried tears of joy for a Heavenly Father that is carrying their family through the valley. And today I don't feel shaken, I feel strong and encouraged and ready to walk along side them in prayer. Today I believe!

The Ugly Moments

Yesterday was one of those. An "ugly moment". More like an ugly day. I succumbed to it. It started out to be a great day! We slept in and had a fun family cuddle time before we all got out of bed. It was so nice. The morning was slow and boring. (Side note: boring is bad- a person is more likely to give in to sin when they are bored). So, because I was bored I thought I'd play a little Wii. I started to play table tennis and my husband wanted to join me. I had it set in practice mode so I could earn some extra points. I don't play that often and am not that good. However, my hubby is good at it. We sat down to play and I hit a few balls and then missed and was out. It was his turn. He hit over 100 balls while I waited and waited and waited for my next turn. Finally, he missed and was out. My turn. I hit 11 balls, missed and was out. His turn. He hit over 100 balls. I waited and waited.... Well, you get the idea. This was no fun. Unfortunately, this experience triggered a whole spiral down into the depths of self deprivation. I began to feel stupid and inadequate.

I left the room and went about my household tasks of ironing and laundry. The house was quiet and I was alone upstairs so my mind just kept slipping down that slippery slope. I began to feel that my family didn't want to be around me, they didn't care where I was. I started thinking I was dumb and talentless. I started to throw myself a big pity party with all my feelings as my friends. I invited Tears, Sadness, Loneliness, Lies, Depression, and all of their colleagues to this pity party.

Later, I took a walk, alone. It was a warm, sunny day. I began to feel a little better as the sun warmed my face and the brisk walk got my blood pumping through my body. I realized that I was highly emotional today and it was obviously a response to hormone changes in my body. (There is a pattern here- every month I have a day like this). I spent a little time praying, although I admit, it was hard to pray when I felt so awful so it wasn't much of a prayer. It looked more like an invitation for God to join my pity party. I asked why I haven't been getting what I want, why I've had to wait so long for things in my life. I told him what I wanted and asked him to hurry up and help. I guess talking to God is never a bad thing and I think it might have been helpful but it was not healing.

I laid in the sunshine and I think that helped too. By the time I finished my walk around the block and got home I felt a lot better but I was fighting. I was truly fighting to feel better. After the kids were down for their naps I sat and had a little chat with my hubby. I told him how I felt and although he lovingly said I shouldn't feel that way because it wasn't true and that he loved me very much, it didn't just magically take my feelings away.

We spent some time outside with the kids before time to go to church and one of my neighbor friends was out there too. I invited her to go to church with us. She accepted. So, off we went. I started wondering if that was such a good idea since I was not really in a "churchy" mood. But, once we got to church and I started to worship I started to feel the peace of God. I still had the feelings inside of me but I enjoyed the presence of God. The pastor encouraged us to let God into every part of our heart and life, into the places we may not have invited Him before. Now, I've been a Christian for a long time and I have heard that statement 100 times a more. And I have said those words 100 times or more but this time I was thinking about the place in my life that caused me to feel the way I was feeling. I invited Him to take over my hormones and my feelings. Again, no magical cure but every little step upward was helping.

I don't remember if it was a song or something the pastor said but I started to realize that my feelings were telling me what to believe. My feelings were telling me to believe that I was stupid, less than, talentless, ugly and more. It was time for my beliefs to tell my feelings what to feel! That is faith! That is the truth of God!

During communion I repented for letting my feelings tell me to believe lies. I asked God and my husband to forgive me for giving in to the lies and behaving as though I was not God's creation. As I accepted their forgiveness I felt light again. I felt life returning to me. I felt joy returning to my heart.

I realize that feelings are real. They are there for a reason. Usually, they are circumstantial. But, feelings are not wrong or right. What I do with those feelings is what becomes wrong or right. How I respond to what I feel is where I have the opportunity to be a woman of excellence or just plain mediocrity. I know that more "ugly moments" will come but this time I will not be caught unaware. I am armed with faith and truth and hopefully the next time the ugly moment visits it won't take all day for me to defeat it. I chose yesterday to accept my feelings for what they are- fleeting feelings. I chose yesterday to strive to live what I believe and not what I feel.

Fear of Man or Trust in God

The other day I was reading in Exodus about Moses. Most of us have grown up hearing the story of bravery, heroism, and righteousness. Truly Moses was a great patriarch in our faith. He was a man of God and was a vessel used in many miraculous ways. However, I was a little stunned at the revelation I saw in the scriptures when I read these passages again. Exodus 3:2-4... "Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So, Moses thought, 'I will go over and see this strange sight- why the bush does not burn up.' When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, 'Moses! Moses!' And Moses said, 'Here I am.'" Moses was obviously brave. He didn't turn and run when the voice from the bush spoke. He didn't douse it with water when it was on fire. He simply said, "Here I am". I think Moses had enough of a history and relationship with God to know whom he was speaking to. In the continuing verses God and Moses continue a dialog. It seems Moses wasn't ready to just say, "Yes God, I will go" but His trust in God was also very great so he didn't say, "No" either. Further on in the chapter Moses asks God, "What if they don't believe me?" So God proceeds to show Moses several signs.

The first sign is in Chapter 4 beginning in verse 2. "God said, 'What is in your hand?', 'A staff' [Moses] replied. The Lord said, 'Throw it on the ground.' Moses threw it on the ground and it became a snake and he ran from it. Then the Lord said to him, 'Reach out and take it by the tail.' So Moses reached out and took hold of the snake and it turned back into a staff in his hand." Obviously Moses trusted God enough to reach out and grab a snake by the tail, one that he had just run away in fear from. That's a lot of trust!

God then told Moses to put his hand inside his cloak. Moses did and when he pulled it out it was covered with leprosy, one of the most devastating and worst diseases in that day. God told him to put his hand back into his cloak. Moses did and his hand was healed. Obviously Moses trusted God to heal him of the greatest incurable disease of his time.

But as we read on Moses starts to get nervous. Even after God showed him signs and wonders. Even after God told him the complete plan. Even after God said, "I Am the I Am". Even after God said, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the Lord?" (Exodus 4:11). Moses' response is, "...please send someone else to do it." This is where we see Moses' weakness. His fear of man.

Moses' fear of man outweighed his trust in God. When it was just Moses and God, Moses seemed to have limitless faith to obey and trust. But as soon as God mentioned speaking in front of a powerful man, Moses became weak and scared. This made me think about my own faith. When it's just God and me in the quiet, safe places, my faith seems to grow and I feel strong and confident but as soon I leave that place and go out into the world I see myself growing fearful. "What will they think?", "How will they respond?". "What if they reject me?", "Do I really have the answers to their questions?", "What if I don't know what to say?", "What if they say something that hurts me?". All of these questions represent a fear of man.

Proverbs 29:25 says, "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe." The fear of man seeps into our lives in every area, in every facet of our lives. It doesn't just apply to witnessing or talking to others. It is in our behavior, our thoughts, our relationships. All of us have a line where our trust in God diminishes and our fear of man takes over. Where is the line in your life?

God in the Heart of a Father

I was inspired by a friend's statement. She said, "Maybe it was your father's behavior that helped you not respond in the 'normal' ways." Out of context that doesn't really make sense. Read on.

Sparing many details that span many years I will begin by telling you that some very sad, even abusive things happened to me when I was a child. Things that should never happen to a young girl. Suffice it to say, inappropriate touching happened. A person within the family took advantage of my childhood innocence. I was so young I really didn't understand. As it continued over many years I learned it was not right. So, eventually I stood up for myself and put a stop to the inappropriate behavior. Thankfully, it worked and those events stopped.

Now, truthfully, I should be scarred, wounded, angry, bitter, hateful, suffer from low self-esteem and possibly depression etc. But I don't. For many years I held the secret inside, I told no one, but instead of letting it eat at me and keep my wounds open I decided to choose the path of forgiveness. To make a long story short, I forgave. Forgetting is impossible. Strong boundaries are in place but my heart is free.

Over the years I have shared some of my story with a few people. Sometimes I believe it has been helpful. A lot of times I get the look that says, "You're lying. You must be in denial. There's no way you can be okay." Truth is, many people who experience what I did end up that way; bitter, angry and not okay. I was sharing with one of my closest friends the other day. I had previously told her the whole story of those events in my childhood. This time I was telling her about the responses I was getting to my story. I remembered the first time I told her. She gave me that look. I asked her about it. "So, why did you look at me like I was lying when I told you that I was healed and okay? That I had forgiven and was walking in freedom?" She said, "I really didn't believe that was possible after such horrific experiences. But, as I've gotten to know you over the years and I've watched how you live your life. I believe you now."

As our conversation continued we explored the importance of a daddy's relationship with his daughter. I grew up with an absolutely loving, wonderful daddy. Even though he didn't know what had happened in secret, he offered healing words. I remember hearing him telling me I was a beautiful young lady, that he was proud of me. He protected me, he loved me, he accepted me. He forgave me. He was an example of Jesus to me.

My friend said that maybe it was his behavior as a loving, caring father that helped my heart to heal and protected me from the normal pitfalls of abuse. I believe she is right. I would go one step further. I believe is was partly his example of a loving, caring, forgiving father that led me to feet my Heavenly Father. That is where I found and still find the ultimate healing and forgiveness.

I see the big picture now. I see the potential for so many pitfalls and pain in my life. But, I see that in responding to the leading of the Holy Spirit, my dad led me toward the path of life. God in the heart of a father is a powerful thing!

Faith, Hope and Love

Faith, hope and love. These three are the staples of everything from fairytales, to the Bible. They are quoted and drawn upon in all areas of life. People not only wrap their lives and spirituality around these three pillars but also try to incorporate them into their politics. These three words are concrete and abstract at the same time. They are reached for by those who are living a joy filled life and by those who are aching for such. But, one connection between them all is that they are often times vastly misunderstood and even misused.

Of course one of the most well known and quoted dissertation on these is 1 Corinthians 13 where in verse 13 it says, "And now, these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." Truly, love, above all, has indescribable power. Power to change, to forgive, to lead, to heal, to cure, to open a heart, and so much more. Love can not be summed up or fully described in few words (although the 1 Corinthians 13 does a very good job).

Many people from poets to authors from ministers to laymen from neighbors to family have tried to recount the effects and depth of love. I am certainly not claiming that I understand completely, in fact, I am the first to admit that I barely grasp even the smallest implications of the word. However, you and I both know that when it is represented in sincerity, and truth it is impossible to miss it.

There are many things that love IS and many that it is NOT. We have quite the list in 1 Corinthians. We have heard many times, "If you really love someone you will..." or "...you will not...". But there is one that I imagine you don't hear that often. It is counter- cultural, it is many times opposite of what we feel, it is difficult and it is rarely seen. It is the act of taking personal responsibility for wrong doings we have committed. Yes, I do believe that is one of the many ways to express true love to someone.

Someone once told me that if you want to have a happy marriage always try to be the first to apologize. I'm not saying be a doormat or grovel. I am simply saying that if you do a wrong or make a mistake own up to it. Our society is no longer condoning this righteous behavior. You see it all the time - "it's their fault that I am..." or "it's not my fault I..." or "it's their responsibility to... for me" or "it's not my responsibility to...". Right? Ring a bell? Well, as I recall I don't remember Jesus, the embodiment of love, ever saying, "It's not my fault they are all sinners." And, although he did not sin and have to take responsibility for mistakes, he went a step further and took on the responsibility for the entire world. If we can't take personal responsibility for the small things we do how can we expect to receive the grace that has come from such a great act of love?

When we step up and take responsibility for the things we have done or left undone we free up those around us to forgive. We allow time and resources that otherwise would be wasted on covering our mess to be freed for better use. When we take responsibility, we are admitting to our own humanity and our own need for love. We are stripping away at the pride in our life and admitting that we are no better than those around us. When we admit we were wrong and try to fix the problem we are showing that we are humbled and teachable and that we would accept the same from them without judgement. There are so many ways that love is shown when we take the time to own up to our mistakes and make the necessary changes in our lives.

If we all would take personal responsibility for the things we've messed up in our own lives we would be paying less in our own time and money and resources to fix the problems caused by others. I encourage us all to take a step back and think about taking the more righteous approach to love. Let us lay down ourselves, take up our responsibility and truly make a change in our lives. Let's teach our children that mistakes are made but owning up to it is what makes you a better person. Let's show the world that love is not arrogant. Let's do it, one family and one day at a time.

A Blue Satin Box

Recently I said good by to a friend. I attended her memorial service. She wasn't someone I had known long or well but I was enjoying the growing friendship we were cultivating. She was tragically taken from this Earth in a sudden car accident. She is survived by her family which includes two young children. That is what breaks my heart the most. The memories that will fade and more so the ones that will never be made. She loved her children, she treasured them, she sought their joy. She was a person with a bright smile, a curiosity about life and an appreciation for the human being in everyone.

I sat there alone near the front with plenty of tissues in hand. The lights were dim and people filed in slowly talking in low, solemn voices. I listened to the calm music of the pianist. Soon a collage of photos representing her life began to slide across the screen. As I sat there listening and watching, experiencing her life through the eyes of other friends and family I allowed my tears to flow freely. I became a bit introspective. At one moment I looked up at the pictures of her face full of life and the next instant my eyes came to rest on the little box covered in blue satin that held all that remained of Sasha.

Her death touched places in my heart that are deep and still tender. It made me want to gather my family in my home and lock the doors and never venture into the dangerous world of horrors around us. It made me want to cry and cry for her lost memories and for the lost memories of her children but also for the memories that I have not given my family. It made me wonder, if the same fate befell me, would my family know how much I love and adore them. Would they know that I treasure their lives much more than even my own? Would they remember the happy times and the fun times or the sad and harsh times? Would there be enough memories to last a lifetime?

I determined that moment that my life would not fit into a small satin box. I realized that I need to enjoy life's moments more. I need to smile and laugh more. I need to be less selfish and more available. I need to love my children, hold them, hug them, play with them and build memories with them. I need to respect, adore, follow and encourage my husband more. I need to appreciate him and build memories with him. I need to live my faith out loud! I need to share the love that Jesus gives with others. I need to appreciate the world, the creation, people and places more. Because when my life comes to an end I don't want someone to look at the tiny box holding all that remains of my earthly self and believe that my life would fit inside. No! I want that tiny box to defy the onlooker to believe that it would be able to hold even a glimmer of me. That the ashes inside are but a sad and minuscule reminder of the being that lived a full and vibrant life no matter how long or short it may be.

That box can not hold me- the true me- the complete me. That tiny box can not be a representation of my life. I must break out of this smallness. I must live large. I must build big memories to leave behind.

All of this was decided in an instant. The instant I saw that blue satin box placed quietly on the table at the front of the small chapel. In that instant I both wondered at the life that was now gone and my life that would continue on. Both of which can not ever be defined or encapsulated in one tiny blue satin box.

Will your life fit into a tiny satin box?