death – Page 20 – thelifeididntchoose

Homesick

desire-for-another-world-c-s-lewis

Forty years!

Forty years Israel wandered in the desert, unable to claim the promise given them through Moses.

Forty years forbidden to set foot across the Jordan and partake of the bounty that lay on the other side.

Forty years of death as the rebellious ones were laid to rest because of their rebellion.

I bet they got tired of traveling. I bet they were weary of moving on. I bet they wondered (even though they had sure knowledge) just when this would be over.

And all that time, even in the midst of their heartsick longing to go back, have a do-over, make it right and the heavy weight of knowing, knowing, knowing there would be no going back, the LORD was in their midst-a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night-He was there.

I understand completely.

Sundown yesterday began the Feast of Tabernacles for Jews around the world. It’s a seven day period to celebrate God’s faithfulness in the wilderness and to remember that this world is not our home.

Feast of Tabernacles Transp.png

I think it is a beautiful tradition and a wonderful way to speak truth to our hearts.

Because it’s easy to forget.

Unless something happens that sharpens the homesick longing that lies latent in all our hearts, it’s easy to get comfortable here. Life seems pretty good-we gather our people and our stuff around us and think, “I could stay here forever.”

But no one stays here forever.

This world is not my home.

It never has been.

And I am tired of traveling. I am tired of moving on. I wonder just when this is going to be over.

But even here, God is in the midst of it.

Emmanuel-God With Us-is near.

Jehovah-Shalom-The LORD My Peace-is speaking peace that passes understanding to my weary spirit.

I was created for a place where love and light reign and sickness and death cannot enter.

I feel it every day.

“I began to try to define the pain I felt. Yes, it was sorrow, but it was something more, something infinitely deeper. I felt it all the time, even when I was happy. It wasn’t just sorrow. It was a longing; a pining for a better place and time … no, not just a better place and time, a perfect place and time; a different reality. It felt like longing for home, but not for a home I had ever been to. I began to see that it was something like homesickness …. Perhaps Christians are the most consistently homesick people in the world because they know this world (as it is) isn’t their true home. Yes, I was home, but I was still homesick.”
~Elyse Fitzpatrick, Home

Falling Leaves

We think leaves fall when we turn the calendar page to Autumn months.

Piles of red, gold and orange land beneath trees that grow increasingly barren until one day they are truly naked.

But leaves begin to fall as early as July-hardly noticed because they drift down lonely, one by one.

No one is looking for them then.

And green grass grows tall to hide them.

We think people live to the fullness of years. They begin in spring and pass through all the seasons before the cold winter claims them.

But some survive only one season, or two–never enjoying the fruitful harvest of the latter years the younger years of hard work are meant to produce.

Unlike early falling leaves, early deaths are perceived and acknowledged.

Shocking and unexpected, people gather round to discuss the tragedy, the sorrow and the lost future of one who dies young.

But then they go away-caught up in the seasons of their own lives.

And the green grass grows tall to hide the ones who left too soon.

No one is looking for them anymore.

It Takes a Lifetime

I was reminded once again this week how the events surrounding death and burial are inadequate indicators of the profound change that has taken place in the lives of those left behind.

Standing at the graveside of a precious friend’s father, I remembered watching Dominic’s earthly shell lowered beneath the ground.

I was wholly unprepared for the days and weeks and months that followed.

No one had told me it was only a beginning…Loving Well: Transitioning From “Good-bye” to Grief

Thanks for Listening!

One year ago today I began sharing my grief journey publicly on this blog.

You can read that first post here.

It was (and still is) scary to expose my thoughts and feelings to a wider audience than just the pages of my personal journal.

I’m never certain that what is helpful for me is necessarily helpful for anyone else. But in writing it down I find that I am able to sort through things better than when I leave it bouncing around in my own head space.

I decided upfront that I would be as honest as possible about what I felt and how I was coping. I wasn’t sure if I would post only a few times or a lot, if it would turn into a day-by-day diary or a more sweeping revelation of deeper things.

I think it’s kind of been both at times.

And here we are, 366 days (it was a leap year) and 355 posts later and I’m still here and you’re still listening.

I don’t claim to have any special gifting or knowledge or ability. I am simply one mama whose love for both her child in heaven and her children still here demands that I speak out.

My heart is full of love and pain.

And my heart has been blessed beyond measure by those who read and share what I have written. I’ve met-in person and virtually-many bereaved parents who are helping me as I continue down this road.

I am so very thankful for each one.

I pray that for those who read these words and know the pain of burying a child, I am speaking things you may think or feel but are not willing or able to express.

And I pray that in hearing them spoken aloud, you are affirmed and encouraged that you. are. not. alone.

Dominic matters.

Your child matters.

It’s not only OK but absolutely necessary to admit that life after child loss is a struggle. It is also just fine to take your time working through the pain and sorrow and overwhelming changes child loss brings.

For those who read my posts and do not share this pain, I pray you gain insight into what bereaved parents feel and how burying a child changes EVERYTHING.

I hope you are better equipped to offer the ongoing support we need and crave. I hope you learn that this is not something we have chosen, it is something that happened to us.

And I pray that all of us will be more willing to extend grace, mercy and love to one another.

Words are not neutral.

They bring life or death.

They wound or heal.

May each of us be an instrument of healing for someone’s hurting heart.

Worship as Warfare

After [Jehoshaphat] had advised the people, he appointed people to sing to the LORD and praise him for the beauty of his holiness. As they went in front of the troops, they sang, “Thank the LORD because his mercy endures forever!”

2 Chronicles 20:21 GWT

I love worship music.

My heart is transported from here to there in a single note.

In a moment, I am before the Throne, inside the Holy of Holies, crying out for more, more, more of Jesus.

Worship makes me vulnerable to the Spirit’s deep work in my heart-I hear truth, I see beyond the pain and I feel God’s love.

But it also makes me a target for the enemy of my soul.

Yesterday I plugged in Pandora to my stereo and was lifted higher, higher until… in a breath I was brought low.

Leaning over to raise the volume of a favorite song I came eye-to-eye with my missing son.

The photo we chose for his memorial folder is hanging with his siblings’ on my living room wall.

And I was transported from here to there in a heartbeat-

from almost two and a half years past that awful day to the moment I first breathed in the truth that he was gone.

I covered my eyes with both hands and refused the whispers of darkness.

The tears fell and my heart hurt, but I hissed back, “He’s not dead. He’s just not here!”

And I cranked the Truth up higher and dared the devil to come back.

I raised my hands and chose to worship the One Who is loving my son until I get there, Who loves me even in my brokenness and Who will redeem this pain and restore what the enemy has stolen.

I took out my sword and declared “He is a Good, Good Father.”

Can’t Have it Both Ways…

At this stage in my grief journey I have learned to exercise the “just ignore it” muscle that allows me to scroll through Facebook without taking comments personally.

Most of the time.

But yesterday a grieving mama posted a tribute to her missing daughter complete with a beautiful photo collage and a sweet message that included sharing her feelings.

This mama revealed that her heart was broken, that she missed her daughter and that she was oh, so proud of her and thankful for the years they had together.

Many comments were simply, “Praying for you” or “Love you”.

But one comment stuck out. This person said, “She wouldn’t want you to be sad. She’s at peace in heaven with Jesus.”

Really??!!

How is that helpful?

In a single line you have dismissed this mama’s honest and appropriate feelings and implied you know her daughter better than she does.

Of course she’s in heaven with Jesus. As believers in Christ we know that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.

But knowing that, trusting that truth makes grief easier to bear, it does not erase it.

Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, “We do not grieve as those without hope.” (I Thess. 4:13)

NOT “We do not grieve.”

Here’s something you need to know: hurting with hope still hurts. The sting of death might have been removed, but it still stings. No, we might not sorrow as those who have no hope, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be sad.

Levi Lusko, Through the Eyes of a Lion

Grief is the price we pay for love.

Grief is an appropriate and proportionate response to the death (the end of earthly companionship) of someone we love.

If grief is small, what does that say about love?

It can’t be both ways.

We cannot celebrate a mother’s love and then dismiss her grief.

So my answer to that comment was this:

It’s perfectly OK to be sad. Death is awful. And missing is hard. Praying that the Lord will bring a special memory-one that has been tucked away in your hearts but mostly forgotten-to mind today and that it will bring a smile to your lips. May you feel the Lord’s Presence today and may He sing a song of love, grace and mercy over your shattered heart

God’s grief over a world of people doomed to eternal separation from Himself was to send His only Son as a sacrifice.

Why was the grief so great? Why was He willing to pay that price?

Because His love is infinitely greater.

Death Matters

This talk that death doesn’t matter, that the grave isn’t awful and that separation from the ones we love for the duration of our earthly sojourn is not all that bad in light of eternity upsets me.

Revisit the first three chapters of Genesis and you understand.

God’s original creation did not include death.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was good.

Sin brought death. Blood was spilt because only blood can cover sin.

Every time a living thing dies, it’s a reminder of the high cost of sin.

It’s a reminder that the world is not as God intended.

It’s a reminder that there is something better, something more real and perfect than this place we live in now.

It is an undeniable reminder of God’s great love for us and the price He was willing to pay to lavish that love on us.

A friend wrote this to me and my heart cried, “Yes!”

“I do not think it belittles life or the present to say “I am left inconsolable by love”. I think God made us to love like this. I think our grief is what it means to Love. And how He feels about us. Inconsolable longing and agony.”

We should not dismiss death.

We cannot make it small.

Can’t Hide the Ugly

Yesterday I was impatient and ugly with someone I love.

When you are hurting, physically or emotionally or physically AND emotionally, you just don’t have the energy to hide the ugly.

But the pain didn’t create the ugly-it just revealed it.

And I am sorry to say that even burying a child did not cleanse me of some ugliness I wish I didn’t have in my heart.

I keep asking God to fill me with His love, mercy and grace. And I am more full of those things than before.

But there is still plenty of (if not hate then) less-than-love, judgement and impatience. Trials don’t automatically lead to refinement or stronger faith.

Tribulation can drive someone away from God as easily as it can drive them to their knees.

If I’m not careful-if I’m not very careful-I can use my pain as an excuse for all kinds of bad behavior.

So I’m here to confess: I am so, so sorry.

I’m sorry that when my glass gets tipped, anger and bitterness spills out. I’m sorry that I’m not more faithful to extend grace when I hope grace will be extended to me. I’m sorry that speaking truth so that I prove my point and wound a heart is sometimes more satisfying than speaking truth in love.

I wish every deed I did and every word I spoke was full of life and never full of death.

I hate death. I. HATE. death.

It has taken enough from me. And I want no part of it.

Father, I want to be a beacon of light and life. Lord, make me so. Fill me to overflowing with YOUR love, YOUR life, YOUR grace, YOUR mercy. Left to myself I have no hope. But by Your Spirit, it can be so.

When all kinds of trials and temptations crowd into your lives my brothers, don’t resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends! Realise that they come to test your faith and to produce in you the quality of endurance. But let the process go on until that endurance is fully developed, and you will find you have become men of mature character with the right sort of independence. And if, in the process, any of you does not know how to meet any particular problem he has only to ask God—who gives generously to all men without making them feel foolish or guilty—and he may be quite sure that the necessary wisdom will be given him.

James 1:2-5 PHILLIPS

Another Day

I wake and you are still gone.

The cats tap-tap-tapping on my arms and face declare the day has begun despite the dark and I need to climb out of bed.

Why?

What difference does it make?

I trudge downstairs, put the coffee on, feed the cats and settle into my chair to read and write.

Habits.

Routine carries me through the day. There are things that need to be done.

The sun still rises-must be soon now because I hear the rooster’s escalating declaration that he, at least, can see the light.

One cat settles into my lap adding weight and warmth to the morning. I remember when I held you and your brothers and sister. I never tired of that sweet bundle bearing down on my heart.

I would do anything to feel it again.

But that can’t be. And I won’t hold your children either.

All of you was taken away.

Every last molecule, every last gene.

Nothing left but flat photos and memories that are increasingly difficult to piece together in rich detail.

The vital essence that sent shock waves through a room, the loud laugh, the snarky comments, the deep, deep voice that made you sound so serious-all gone.

Heaven is a real place and I know you are there.

But I want you here.

I can’t help it.

All the theological arguments don’t fill the hole in my heart where you are supposed to be.

Shake it off.

Here’s the sun.

Get to it.

Another day.

The Shadowlands

Isn’t God supposed to be good? Isn’t He supposed to love us? Does God want us to suffer? What if the answer to that question is, ‘Yes'”? I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that He makes us the gift of suffering.

I’m not sure that God wants us to be happy. I think He wants us to be able to love and be loved. He wants us to grow-up. We think our childish toys bring us all the happiness there is and our nursery is the whole wide world. But something must drive us out of the nursery to the world of others and that something is suffering.

You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which the sculptor carves forms of men. The blows of His chisel, which hurt so much, are what makes us perfect.

C.S. Lewis

Lewis referred to this life as “The Shadowlands”. The place where we see the shape of the promise but not its substance.

I am caught between the world I live in and the world to come. There is beauty in both, but only in Eternity will my heart be at home.

Right now, I am Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

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