Remnants of Hope

As Easter approaches, I’ve brought out the appropriate holiday bin in order to decorate for our family celebration on Sunday. The basketful of treasures pictured here is probably my favorite item in the box, each one crocheted or knitted by my Gramma B (except for the eggs which were made by my friend’s mom). When I look at these heirlooms, I think about my grandma’s daily life. She consistently invested her time and used her hands to express her love and consideration for other people, and her actions were often accompanied by words of her faith in God. When I remember my grandma, I find myself hoping that the legacy of faith that she gifted me with never becomes just another heirloom. I hope that I am teaching my own kids that faith is not just a tradition to be pulled out of a box and ritually repeated on holy days and holidays. I hope their nostalgia for the past never transcends the opportunities of their present to experience the faithfulness of God firsthand - opportunities to be stretched and depend on Him, opportunities to show compassion to others in today’s crises, opportunities to worship and serve from hearts of gratefulness rather than simply out of habit and discipline. I hope that the legacy of faith that my grandma gave to me is one my children are personally and powerfully experiencing in their own lives, just as I am in mine. I believe if they saturate their hearts and their motivations with the love of God, their faith will be active and growing. That belief  is the reason I constantly pray that the legacy of faith I am sharing with them will continue to be a living thing, even more precious than a remnant of the past.

“So if you faithfully obey the commands I am giving you today—to love the Lord your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul— then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and olive oil… Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates, so that your days and the days of your children may be many in the land the Lord swore to give your ancestors, as many as the days that the heavens are above the earth. 

- Deuteronomy‬ ‭11‬:‭13‬-‭14‬, ‭18‬-‭21 NIV‬‬

The Waiting

“There is a life and there is a death, and there are beauty and melancholy between.” ~Albert Camus

Last year was filled with uneasiness for me... a sense that the world was always tilting, and no matter how I attempted to adjust my stance, I never could find a balanced position that allowed me to relax. When the life you are living is filled with uncertainty and hyper-vigilance, you become tired... I became tired - chronically, heavily, depressingly tired. I’d look around and feel overwhelmed by the veil that lay over my world. I’d look within and feel defeated by the circumstances that had been heaped there without my permission. I’d look up to God and feel like he was pre-occupied with whatever was happening just over my shoulder. And maybe he was... maybe God knew that I sensed what was behind me around the curve of the road, just out of sight, but close enough for me to feel the chill of its shadow reaching out ever longer and leaving me uneasy with the darkness it cast around itself.

In last few days of 2019, I finally ran out of road. As I turned and looked back at where I had been walking, I saw the shape of the shadow that had been behind me become sharpened in the light of the glaring truth. Finally, I saw clearly what I had been sensing all along. It was a shifting figure painted with someone else’s shame and deceit. It was hard to look at... even harder as I began to comprehend exactly what it was - unfortunately familiar, something which could never be unseen.

Everybody in this world experiences undeserved pain. It rips at your heart, pounds on your head, leaves your soul shaken. In a detached yet spiritual moment, the horror reminded me that Jesus had died from such an undeserved experience. And not surprisingly, the thought was not comforting. It was more of a disruptive awareness - like a train clattering down the tracks through the night with its horn blaring, and its dirty graffiti covered cars hanging onto each other by a mere coupling.

I know other people - friends, family - who have experienced deep pain this last year, too. A husband who shockingly died in a matter of unexpected moments at work. A violent seizure disrupting a peaceful night and announcing the previously unknown presence of a brain tumor. An estranged child becoming more deeply lost to her loving mother by her own hard-hearted intention. Such pain feels like a betrayal. It is trauma at its worst, wreaking havoc with our faith and with our families. Sometimes, all we can do in those moments where life betrays us is to suffer, exposed. We want to run away from the pain, yet somehow hold on to the precious thing shrouded inside of it that’s being ripped away. Our minds are at war with our hearts. Our faith is at war with our fear.

I could probably write in a bunch of right responses here - to pain, to fear, to traumatic upheavals. But sometimes, the right response is not the one that you would think. Sometimes, you have to be wild and scream and cry and pound your fists. Sometimes, you feel so fragile, that you need to lock yourself in a room for awhile and leave everyone else outside. Sometimes, you are so confused that next right thing to do waivers and swerves like a car out of control from one side of the road to the other. Sometimes, you feel like time is standing still, but then you realize that it’s actually you who is standing still. When you look around you’re shocked to realize all around that life goes on regardless, and the reality is, you’re forced to a point to go along with it.

I think that our inability to stop time from moving is the way that healing begins. It is a both a maddening and miraculous awareness. Before the horror and pain have even ended their barrage of mayhem in your life, the details of recovery are roused and engaged. The relationships in your circle begin to shift, and those with deepest significance, with the most soulful connections, begin to rise to the surface of your life, like cream in a jar of ice cold milk that has been left undisturbed overnight in the farmer’s kitchen. Suddenly, you realize that what you viewed as God’s pre-occupation while circumstances lined up to destroy your life, was not an abandonment at all. It was a patient waiting, a carefully orchestrated plan to ensure that what was meant to harm you, would in the end be used to help you. As your messed up life became separated into the before and after of the moment you became painfully aware of the circumstances that would change things forever, God had never taken his eyes off of you. Instead, he had allowed the cream to gather and rise, and even as you staggered under the suddenly too heavy weight of your crisis, he began to redistribute the burden of it. He ladled the cream from the top of the milk and began the process of turning it into beautiful new details whose possibilities had always existed in his plan, but could only arise through the process of separation.

As God has already begun to spread out the burden of my pain onto family and friends, I have felt a shift. While the ache is still there, so there is also a relief. I think that this past year of carrying this burden alone has both strengthened and weakened me. But I think there was purpose in the waiting. As the cream gathers to the top, so God had begun to gather my relationships and my life circumstances to a place where they would be ready for this time. As I became more and more weary of my burden, I became more and more ready to share it - not an easy task for an introverted independent woman like myself. And even as I am horrified and aching from pain, I am encouraged. Because when cream is whipped  and shaken and blended with other good ingredients, it becomes part of a number of delightful new creations - new and good gifts. Creations that are served to satisfy all on their own, as well as creations that enhance the flavor of other good gifts.

So, as I contemplate the pain that has risen in me, I also am shedding the veil that had covered my world. The future is becoming a bit brighter, although my vision of it is still cloudy. I’m okay with the uncertainty of it, however. Just before the moment of horror I have recently experienced, God caught my attention with this quote... “Honor the waiting. It teaches you the beauty and ache of hope in equal measure.” The beauty and the ache are both necessary in order to experience the miracle of hope. God has shown us that truth over and over from the beginning of time. Who am I to not be willing to sit down and rest with him after the grueling process, and enjoy the sweetness that comes in a dish of ice cream? There is nothing that can take away the precious hope that remains in me because of my strong faith in the good, good love of my Father God.

“But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭40:31‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”
‭‭Galatians‬ ‭6:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“They brought sleeping mats, cooking pots, serving bowls, wheat and barley, flour and roasted grain, beans, lentils, honey, butter, sheep, goats, and cheese for David and those who were with him. For they said, ‘You must all be very hungry and tired and thirsty after your long march through the wilderness.’”
‭‭2 Samuel‬ ‭17:28-29‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭27:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:28‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“For the Lord is good. His unfailing love continues forever, and his faithfulness continues to each generation.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭100:5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love. God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.”
‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Purpose, Perspective, Politics, and Papa

My son told me he is going to vote tomorrow because his Papa (my dad) told him he should. I smiled because when I was young, I too voted because I knew my dad would call me up and ask, “Did you vote?” And, just like my son (kindred middle child spirit), I had this internal over-fondness of approval... especially from my dad - so when he called and asked me if I had voted, I wanted to be able to answer “yes” in order to hear that coveted “Good job!” from the other end of the phone. Almost 20 years later, I still make a habit of voting because I realize it pleases not only my earthly father, but my Heavenly Father as well. I vote because my perspective of the world is that of a woman who is a mom and a community member, and I believe that choosing a leader who reflects my perspective in those roles is important. A few years ago, I heard someone say, “The authenticity of your faith is connected to every aspect of your life.” The statement has stayed with me as I have faced situations every day that require difficult choices. I realize that each of those situations is an opportunity for me to be authentic and sincere in who I am and what I believe. I know that there are times when I fail to choose the right thing. I know that those times are most often when I choose to do the selfish thing. But, I also know that there are many times that I choose with integrity. Those are the moments that I want to stretch over into all areas of my life. I know that those moments of integrity have been modeled for me by my dad for a lifetime. I pray that God influences my own children through me in the same way He has influenced my life through my parents. In the meantime, I’m happy my son is choosing to vote tomorrow. And even if his motives are more self-centered than right-minded at this point, I am proud of him. I have confident hope that as he continues to experience life, and as he encounters more and more opportunity to make hard choices, he will also continue to grow in his ability to choose with a bigger perspective... to choose with insight and integrity. How fortunate we all are to have the opportunity to do better every day... Happy Election Day!

“But you, O Lord, will sit on your throne forever. Your fame will endure to every generation... Long ago you laid the foundation of the earth and made the heavens with your hands. They will perish, but you remain forever; they will wear out like old clothing. You will change them like a garment and discard them. But you are always the same; you will live forever. The children of your people will live in security. Their children’s children will thrive in your presence.”

‭‭- Psalms‬ ‭102:12, 25-28‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Lost

Yesterday was the birthday of our oldest adopted son. I didn’t celebrate out loud. I didn’t celebrate with joy. I didn’t celebrate with him. In my heart, I remembered the impish smile that was often on his face from the day we first met. In my heart, I also remembered how that playful expression would at times become anxious as he fixated on imaginary other-worlds. I think his fantasies were born out of loss... loss of people and places that in reality, no one should have to mourn. His loss has been magnified by the schizophrenic legacy of his birth family. Bit by bit through his young adulthood, our son has become lost in his loss. He has become lost to us, who are his adoptive family. He has become lost to his birth brother, who lived at his side for a lifetime. He has become lost to his friends, who he once reveled in the presence of. He has become lost, and as a result, we are now a reflection of his loss. It is not a reflection made up of regret. I don’t regret loving him. I don’t regret the space we invited him to fill in our family more than 21 years ago. Even now, when he has chosen to leave that space he once filled... I don’t regret the impression of him left behind. What we reflect are the reminders that he was once here. Our loss reminds us that he was actively loved. Our loss reminds us that even though he has turned away now - he has turned away as a stronger person for having been loved through his own greatest loss. Our loss reminds us of the loss our own Father God experiences when one of His children turns their back to Him. So, on our son’s birthday as I contemplated his life, I purposed to celebrate with gratitude... to be grateful that he is in a safe place, to be grateful for the many memories of our time with him that bring smiles to all of our faces, to be grateful for the opportunity to learn to love someone through difficult circumstances and even through loss, and for the strength that lesson has grown in us as a family. CS Lewis wrote, “Love is never wasted, for its value does not rest on reciprocity.” I know these words are true.

Yesterday was the birthday of our son. I am grateful for him, and I celebrate his life in my heart. 

More of this story:

http://ofwildernessandrockyplaces.blogspot.com/2016/?m=0

“Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight...”

‭‭James‬ ‭1:27‬a ‭MSG‬‬