Just Tears

No great wisdom today.  No wonderful insight.

Just tears.

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A day that was going pretty well ended in a conversation with someone who should have known better stomping all over my heart.

Someone who is very much aware of my loss acted like it hadn’t happened.

It really hurt.  

After all this time I was surprised by how very much it hurt.

So I cried.

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I cried because I miss Dominic.

I cried because a day that had felt victorious ended in defeat.  I cried because it feels selfish to hold people to the standard of caring about my broken heart when they are so busy with their own lives.

I cried because it feels like even those who shouldn’t forget ARE forgetting–the son that walked beside me for almost 24 years has been set aside in less than three.

My heart hurts and I don’t think I can just suck this up.  I’m not even sure that I should.

Where do I draw the line between extending grace and asking for it?

I just don’t know.

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Christmas Decorating: Take Two

 

 

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Last week I wrote how my well-laid plans for setting up the Christmas tree and decorating had gone awry.

I thought I was ready to pull out the old ornaments with the old feelings and forge ahead.

I was wrong.

But yesterday, after gazing at the “lights only” tree for all these days, I decided to make another go at it.

I packed up the tear-inducing decorations and stored them safely away.  I pulled out the box of ornaments I used last year-mostly new things I bought or made since Dominic left for Heaven.

Each group of ornaments was chosen because it helps me hold on to hope.

I have hearts-stuffed, handsewn hearts, papier mache hearts, corrugated cardboard hearts.

Lots of hearts.  

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Hearts to remind MY heart that it was Love that brought Jesus to earth.  It was Love that kept Him here.  It was Love that took Him to the cross even after He had begged His Father in the garden for another way.  And it was Love that broke the chains of death and raised Him from the grave.

 

That same Love is keeping Dominic safe until we are together again.

Stars to help me remember that Jesus brought Light into darkness.  They help me hold onto the FACT that His light will not be extinguished.  They speak truth to my spirit that even though this Valley is dark, it will not last forever.

star-ornamentI made some balls from little scrappy bits of fabric wrapped and glued in place. The pieces are useless alone-not big enough to do a thing.  But together they are beautiful and strong and have purpose.  

My life feels like it’s been ripped to shreds.  But even shreds are useful in God’s hands. I’m waiting to see what He plans to do with them.

In the meantime, I hold on.

Old Christmas cards turned decorations are strung together and hung as visual prayers. I save my cards from year to year and cut out the lovely and meaningful pictures and scriptures.

I made my own paper copies of the Names of Jesus and burned the edges.

I cling to the promises in each Name.  I may reach heaven through the fire of tribulation and trial but no power on earth, above the earth or under the earth can stand against His Name.  

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I will be preserved.

Little drums hang as silent witness to Dominic.  His heartbeat lives on in mine. His rhythm that thrummed through our lives and is missing now still matters.  He is making a joyful noise in Heaven.

He is not silent.  

One day I will hear him again.

So tonight I sat in the soft glow of the lights AND the ornaments remembering…

Remembering years past when life was very different-untouched by tragedy and gut-wrenching loss and also remembering the promise that this is not the way it will always be.

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Repost: Costly Worship

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Years ago this verse made me cry-God’s Word pierced my heart and His Spirit spoke, “Genuine offerings COST something.”

David: No, I will buy these things from you. Name your price. I will not make an offering to the Eternal One, my True God, that has cost me nothing.

2 Samuel 24:24 VOICE

I. Had. No. Idea.

But now I do.  

Worship is no longer just singing along to a hymn or praise song, getting in the groove or swaying to the beat.

Worship is a sacrifice.

It. Is. A. Sacrifice.  

It costs me more than I ever thought it would…

And it cost the wise men something too:  Costly Worship

Hardest Prayer I Have Ever Prayed

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It is portrayed so sweetly in Christmas plays and Christmas movies:

Mary bowing her head in response to the angel Gabriel’s announcement that she has been chosen to bear the Saviour.

I don’t know what went through her mind before she answered.  I’m not sure she had a clue what submission to God’s will would look like as it played out across the months and years.

I only know that she was willing.

And God honored her willingness to bend her knee and her heart regardless of the unknown cost.

I’m not as noble as Mary.  I didn’t answer quickly when God allowed my life to be turned upside down.

I kicked and screamed and resisted as long as I could.

But who can fight Almighty God?

How can I carry on if I resist the Only One Who can carry me?

My heart still balks.

It. Is. Still. So. Very. Hard.

But I bow my head and heart each morning and ask for the grace to make it true:

“Behold, I am the servant of the LORD; let it be to me according to your word.” ~Luke 1:38

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What Does Healing Look Like?

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As I continue to walk this Valley, my heart asks the question, “What does healing look like?”

Fewer tears?  Check.

More laughter? Check.

Better able to function? Check.

I’m definitely not as fragile as I was in the days and weeks and first months after Dominic left us.

I can do what life requires without falling apart (most of the time).

If you run into me out and about, I make small talk and answer questions about my family without breaking down.

So, from the outside looking in it seems the gaping wound of loss has healed pretty well.

But if I lift the lid of my heart ever so slightly, I’m amazed at how much it still hurts.  I’m astonished by the depth of pain and sorrow just under the facade of OK.

I cannot claim to have reached some higher plane of healing or restoration yet. I’m not sure I will this side of heaven.

And the pain of loss has tainted the joy I feel in what remains.

Instead of brilliant technicolor, my life is now lived in sepia tones that warn what joy I have could be stolen at any moment.

The lesson I’ve had stamped with fire on my heart is this:  Love is the only thing that matters in the end.

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Love God.

Love people.

So the path to healing means I lean in and love Him and love the people He has given me with everything I’ve got.

Because love endures forever.

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Morning Is Coming

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I wake before the morning light.  Every. single. morning.

I get my coffee, sit in my chair and wait for sunrise.

I never worry that today it might not happen.

I’m never concerned that after all these years of faithfulness, this day may be the one where daylight fails to make an appearance.

There is no fear in this darkness because I know it will not last forever.

Morning is coming.

Morning. Is. Coming.

And that’s the hope I cling to in this longer darkness of the Valley of the Shadow of Death-no matter how many years it may be, the Valley has an end.

The same God Who keeps the earth in orbit around the sun has ordained that death will not have the last word.

Light will triumph.

Darkness will have to flee.

I look forward to heaven, where everything that the enemy has stolen will be redeemed and restored. 

I’ve been reading The Jesus Storybook Bible-it is a remarkable way to re-imagine and re-engage with God’s Story.

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My very favorite part is a paraphrase of Revelation 21:4:

“And the King says, ‘Look! God and his children are together again.  No more running away.  Or hiding. No more crying or being lonely or afraid.  No more being sick or dying.  Because all those things are gone.  Yes, they are gone forever.  Everything sad has come untrue.  And see-I have wiped every tear from every eye!’”

An eternal morning is coming.

Morning. Is. Coming.

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Desperate for Peace: His Name is Peace

Jehovah shalom

Are you as desperate as I am for peace?

Do you long for even ten minutes where you don’t feel anxious, or out of control, or incompetent or “less-than”?

There was a time in my life when I thought that I could handle anything tossed my way.  

I had no reason to suspect my energy, my strength or my mental capacity to handle change would be exhausted.  So far, I’d managed to do all that was required of me, had managed to cope with every challenging situation, had overcome the hurdles, continued the race and not given up.

That’s not me anymore.

I’m not defeated–yet-but I recognize defeat is a possibility.

I cannot bring peace to my own heart in my own strength. 

But I know Who can:  His Name is Peace

 

 

 

 

Trying To Navigate at 90 Miles an Hour

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I will never forget it.

Our family was driving through Washington, D.C. at rush hour (poor planning, I know!) and got lost.

Not utterly, hopelessly lost-but definitely turned around.

Multiple lanes of traffic, unfamiliar signs, lots and lots of cars traveling way. too. fast.

My husband was driving and I was trying to read the map-trying to make sense of where we were and where we needed to be but I couldn’t do it fast enough to make a difference.

As soon as I determined which lane we should be in, which exit we should take, we had passed it.

In frustration, my husband finally just stopped–in the middle of the road on a small patch of no-man’s-land between two diverging lanes.  I was scared to death.

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And then a police car pulled up behind us.

The officer got out and asked what was going on.  We explained our dilemma and he led us out of the maze of confusing options to the right road and we were on our way.

So many days I feel just like I did those years ago-confused, frightened, trying desperately to figure out which way to go but never able to slow down enough to really get a good look at the map.

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I feel like I’m trying to navigate strange streets going 90 MPH.

Hurry up!

Should I turn right or left?

Did I just miss my exit?

I have no idea.

The destination is sure:  I will leave this place and join my son in Heaven.  But the path is winding and challenging and hard to figure out.

I can’t get out of the car called “Life” and wait until I have a clear route marked before me.

Sometimes I manage to get where I want to go.  Sometimes I don’t.

Some days and some events turn out resembling how I thought they should. Many don’t.

So I keep on keeping on.  

I’m navigating with the tools at hand and hoping for the best.

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A Broken World Meets an Advent Season — communicating across the boundaries of faith & culture

An important insight into Advent-it is truly the intersection of a broken world and a beautiful Saviour.

 

A Pakistan International Airlines flight headed to Islamabad from a remote mountain area crashed on a mountain slope today. Before the plane hit the ground it burst into flames. There are no survivors. A 6.5 magnitude earthquake off the coast of Indonesia has caused damage and killed over one hundred people. Rescue efforts […]

via A Broken World Meets an Advent Season — communicating across the boundaries of faith & culture

Hope is My Lifeline

 

 

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A grainy picture is all I have left of that last Christmas together.

I first wrote this in 2013 before our circle was broken:

Eighteen days to ponder the coming of God’s great Gift.

We know the end of the story which can make us jaded and impatient.

If for a moment we can recapture the desperate hope that was in the heart of Israel longing for Messiah and then in the next remember that He has come, we will be forever changed.

I can’t characterize many things in this grief journey as “gifts”.

But there is ONE thing:  I am desperately longing for the coming again of Jesus the Christ.

The longing hope Israel felt is so much stronger in my own heart.

I understand in a very real way how much Israel hoped for His first coming.  I feel it in my bones.  

I wake every morning thinking, “Is THIS the day?”

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Hope is what I hold on to.

It’s my lifeline.