Trusting in God's Goodness -- One Year Later

Standing on this mountaintop 

Looking just how far we've come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

Kneeling on this battleground

Seeing just how much You've done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone

Carried by Your constant grace

Held within Your perfect peace

Never once, no, we never walked alone

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Tomorrow, April 23rd, marks one year since Mom went into the hospital. I just can't believe it. In many senses, I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. It feels as though the events surrounding her death have just occurred. But in many other senses, I feel as though I can't remember a time before I felt the pain of her absence.

I remember everything about April 23rd, 2013. I remember what kind of day I had at work. I remember group texting with my mom and siblings. I remember when she asked me if I wanted to have dinner with her at Logan's. I remember what I ordered and what we talked about. I remember every feeling I had as the events of the rest of the evening unfolded - every fear, every annoyance, every joke we told as we waited for her to be transferred from the ER to the hospital.

But no matter how hard I try, I have no memory of the day before. No memory of work. No memory of any exchanges with her. No memory of the blissful ignorance of what was to come.

I look back and I wonder if God was somehow preparing me for what was about to happen, and that I missed it. I don't know. I don't think I ever could have imagined that two and a half weeks later I'd be sitting in a funeral home with my siblings discussing caskets and service arrangements. I wonder in what ways God may have been preparing Mom for what she was about to go through. She never discussed it. I truly don't think she knew. 

But there is one thing of which I am sure: that neither she, nor I, nor any of my family ever walked this journey alone. As we approach the upcoming anniversaries, I know memories and feelings will come back in a flood. Memories of the time I spent with Mom in the hospital. Memories of waiting through her surgery. Memories of the heartache of learning she'd gone to heaven, and the frustration in knowing no one here could tell us why. Memories of calling family members with the news, and making plans we never thought we'd have to make. Memories of dragging myself out of bed after restless nights, hoping what we'd just been through was some kind of terrible nightmare.
But those are not the only memories that will surface. I'll remember the peace that Mom had the morning of her surgery. I'll remember the rest that finally came when friends prayed for it on my behalf. I'll remember crawling into bed at the end of some days, knowing that the only way I survived my heartbreak is because God didn't let go of me.
Above, I've included lyrics to a Matt Redman song, "Never Once." I remember the first time I heard it, shortly after Mom's death. I hated it. I never thought I would look back with thankfulness for the ways I now see that God was with me.
I've grown to love the words to this song. Yes, many days of the last year have been harder than I can put into words. And there are many things I wish I could change about them. But I would never change the way I've come to know God's presence through the darkest of times. I would never change the way I've come to see how fare God's grace has carried my family. I would never change the way that now, I can truly say with joy, that I've never walked alone.

The Call to Empathy

Pain is inevitable. At some point in this life, everyone will experience pain. Some may experience it more often than others; some may experience it more deeply than others. But absolutely no one escapes it.
It is easy to feel alone in pain, as if no one else could possibly understand the level of hurt that another is dealing with. But as a Christian, it doesn't need to be this way. The beauty of the body of Christ is that it provides a family of other believers who feel for one another. We celebrate each others' triumphs. We mourn each others' losses. Or at least we ought to.
Sometimes we forget that this is our duty to one another, but Galatians 6:2 specifically commands us as followers of Christ to "bear each other's burdens." This is more than a command to feel bad for what another person is experiencing, but is a call to actually feel pain on behalf of what the other is experiencing. This is always an inconvenient, and at times even a seemingly impossible task. Even when a friend desires me to share in joy, I find it difficult to take my focus off of myself long enough to actually feel joy with them. I may easily fake brief happiness for another's sake, but to take the time to genuinely rejoice alongside someone else requires an amount of energy I rarely feel comfortable giving.
And if that is what it takes to relate to the joy of another, then feeling pain on someone else's behalf must be drastically more difficult. It is one thing to inconvenience myself enough to feel joy, but how much more burdensome it is to take my focus off of myself for the purpose of feeling pain. Let alone pain that is not mine. To many, it would seem unnecessary to put themselves through that.
But as brothers and sisters in the family of believers living in a world in which we do not belong, I would argue that it is absolutely necessary for you to feel my pain, and for me to feel yours. Because that is what Jesus did for each of us.
As Christians look to Christ's death for salvation, we ought to look to His life for sanctification. One of the most powerful chapters in the Bible is John 11, which describes the scene shortly after the death of Jesus' dear friend, Lazarus. It is here that we see our savior at His most human. He cries out in His own pain at the loss of His friend. He is "deeply moved" with grief on behalf of Mary and Martha who lost a brother. He hurts with them and for them. In this we see that God came to us to weep with us. We cannot seek to be like Christ and miss this critical aspect of His humanity.
It is also through Christ's example that we see that empathy is much more than an emotion; we find that the call to "bear each other's burdens" is a call to action. We cannot do for the hurting what Jesus did for Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. We cannot heal wounds or restore loss. But we can lead them to the One who does.
In Jesus' first encounter with Martha after her brother's death, we see an exchange of truth. She states her knowledge of His power. He confirms it. She remembers that He is the Messiah.
Faith doesn't come easily in pain. Sometimes, even when one knows the truth deep down, it is difficult to believe it. When a friend is hurting, one of the most powerful things that can be done is to speak truth to one another. To say it out loud over and over until it is believed again. And to not grow impatient with the one struggling in pain for belief.
Next, as Jesus asks for Martha's sister, Mary, we see a crucial aspect of Christlike empathy. The passage says that Jesus was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled" when He saw Mary's pain. After He asks her to take Him to the grave, He offers her no words. The Bible simply states that "Jesus wept."
I will never forget a time shortly after my mom's death, I was sitting in the car with a friend telling her what I was feeling, telling her about my pain and my fears. She hadn't said anything in a while, so I looked over at her. She was crying. Strange as it may seem, I was comforted to see her tears. She wasn't crying out of her own sadness. She knew she hadn't experienced the loss. She was crying for me - on behalf of my pain. There was nothing she could say to make it better, she offered no vague promise that "it will be OK," she just cried. We should never overestimate the power of empty words, or underestimate the power of compassionate tears.
The last thing Jesus does before returning life to Lazarus, is pray. He prays to express His own praise to God, but He also does this for the benefit of those around Him. He does something for them that they could not do on their own. This is huge.
Many people tell hurting friends that they are praying for them, but how many actually get down on their knees and cry out to God for the sake of those hurting? Sometimes pain is so deep that words can't be found for it. That all one can bring to God for himself is tears. This is why God gave us each other. So that you can pray for me when I cannot pray for myself, and so that I can do the same for you.
Finally, Jesus does the impossible: He raises Lazarus from the dead. And with this restoration of life comes restoration of hope, joy, and faith to the mourning. It is crucial to remember that healing will come, whether in this life or the next. We are promised that this world is not all there is; Jesus has more for us than the pain we experience here. And though it may not seem possible, He will return the hurting to the joy of their salvation, to the joy of the truth of who He is - the Christ who performs miracles. 

Why It's Hard to Write These Days...

One of my goals for the year was to be more disciplined in my writing. My purpose in making this goal was to write more frequently and on a wider variety of topics. Well, we're two months into 2014 and this is my first post this year. And guess what I'm going to write about...

I would have thought that by this time. things would be different. I would have thought that in the nine months since Mom's death my feelings would be different, and maybe I'd have a hard time writing because those feelings would be hard to put into words; but in actuality, the opposite is true. In actuality, I have a hard time writing because my feelings are the same, and it's hard to find new words with which to describe them. In actuality, I dread writing another blog concerning my grieving process, but what else is there to write about? I realize that life around me is going on - seasons are changing, friends are getting married, new lives are being born. Yet I also realize that life is going on without her, and with that realization comes a flood of grief that is just as fresh as the day that she left this life. 

Soon after Mom's passing, someone told me, "You never really stop grieving, you just change the way you do it over time." I know that this is true, as I have experienced it in the past. But everything I know about grief has been different with this experience. No other event in my lifetime has been so crippling, so heart-wrenching, so life-changingly painful as the loss of my mother. No other event has affected my every single day life the way that her death has. No other event has taken so much time to change the way I grieve. With each new day comes new experiences I wish I could share with my mom, and that never feels any less painful.

This is why it's hard to write. I hate to be redundant. I hate to draw attention to an event that happened so many months ago. But I guess that's my point - it didn't just happen so many months ago, it's still happening for me. So for now, I will keep saying what I've been saying all along: life is hard, but God is good. 

Christmas - His Birth was Just the Beginning...

From Matthew 1:18-23; Colossians 1:15-17, 19-22; 1 Peter 2:24; Matthew 28:19-20; Hebrews 9:28; Revelation 21:1, 3-5; 22:20

Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When His mother, Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: "Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel" (which means God with us).
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created... all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things.. Making peace by the blood of His cross.
And you, who were once alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, He has now reconciled in His body of flesh by His death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before Him.
He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you have been healed.
Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age... And He will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for Him.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth... Behold the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away... "Behold, I am making all things new... These words are trustworthy and true."
He who testifies to these things says, "Surely, I am coming soon."
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

Trusting in God's Goodness -- Getting through the Everyday

I don't know what has been different about the last several days, but I have been missing my mom seemingly with every breath I take. I've wanted to talk to her more recently than I had since the first few months after her passing. I miss her every day, but lately it's more than just missing her; it's the fact that she is noticeably missing from my life that is causing me pain these days.
You would think that the holidays would be the worst, and in a sense, you'd be right. Thanksgiving seemed impossible to do without her, even as we were doing it. And now that the Christmas season is upon us, tasks that should be enjoyable, such as decorating the house and going shopping for gifts, become dreadful. But even at this time of year, it's the everydayness of everyday that's still the hardest for me. It's going through the morning without a, "I hope you have a good day" text from her. It's missing the way she would laugh when she'd get really tickled about something, or even the way she would refuse to laugh, even when something really was actually funny, just to prove a point. It's not having her around to watch movies with on the weekends. It's every moment of every day that I still remember she's gone.
Sometimes I look back on the year and wonder how I survived, how my siblings survived. And I remember waking up some days thinking that we wouldn't. Yet through her absence over these last seven months, and even through the holidays, God has shown me much about who He really is.
I had a conversation about Heaven with my older brother about four and a half weeks before Mom died. David, who is the wisest Bible scholar I know, was telling me some of his views on what will take place when all is said and done and we stand before King Jesus, and I just remember crying. When he asked what was wrong with me, I simply said, "It's just too good. He is too good." I had no idea what could come in the following months, or how fully I would come to question that statement.
Though the journey has often felt unbearable, God has shown me his great faithfulness. He's shown me that even through days of doubt, He is still the same God that caused me to cry out of His goodness. He's shown me how to survive with Him, when I felt like I had nothing else. He's shown me that He still holds firmly onto me, even when I let go of Him. He's shown me that He's still too good, because He's still the God who's saved me. He's still the God who will come back for me, and rescue me from the sorrows of this earth. He's still the God who will declare me justified when I stand before Him. And He's still the God that will bring my family together again to reign with Him in the end when He's the king of this earth. He is still too good.
I don't know what happens next. I don't now how to get through Christmas, New Years, and every other day. I don't know how to look ahead to 2014 and not wonder what I might lose. I don't know if I'll ever go through a full day where there isn't an actual, physical aching in my chest because I miss my mom that much.
But I do know that in whatever lies ahead, God will show Himself faithful and powerful, just as He has done these last months. I do know that when some days seem so much harder than others, He will carry me through each moment that I can't get through myself. I do know that when the story ends and my God proves victorious over the pain and sorrows of this life, I will stand before Him and say, "You are still too good."

Let Me Try Again...

As soon as I published my post last night, I could feel my heart drop. I knew it wasn't what I wanted it to be, and I just wanted to delete it. Not because there was really anything wrong with it, I didn't say anything I didn't want to say. It was more that I left so much unsaid. It's not enough to communicate that today will be hard and that I will miss my mom. I believe it is important to communicate the depth with which she will be missed.
But how can I do that? What words could I use that would ever be enough? It's not simply that I miss her and that it makes me sad; it's the fact that even moments that should be filled with nothing but joy are reminders of the fact that she's not here, and she never will be again. It's the fact that as much as I will miss her today, it's not my day, and I will have to watch my sister long for her presence even more. It's the fact that it's not just today that will be hard, but every day that lies ahead of us will be tinged with her absence. The fact that she will miss the birth of two new grandchildren, and that my sister and sister-in-law won't simply get to focus on the joy of bringing new life into the world, because they will have to miss her, too.
It's the fact that in the coming days, our family will have to endure the loss of another loved one - the fourth death in the family for my siblings and me this year alone. And it's also the fact that we won't simply be allowed to grieve that loss, because we will still be grieving the loss of Mom. That we will have to see my grandma lose her husband and know that, though she will still be well taken care of, she will miss out on letting my mom take care of her. That we will look in the kitchen knowing that she should be in there, cooking or cleaning up or talking to and encouraging her sisters and mother-in-law, but she won't be there. It won't be just one loss; it will be the loss of her all over again.
Everyday seems to bring reminders that cause us to come to terms, again, with the fact that she's no longer here. Those are hard enough, But it's the big days, like today, that the loss can seem unbearable. But these are also the days that God steps in and reminds that, though Mom is not here, He is. He has not left us alone. He has carried us through days that we didn't think we could survive, and He will continue to do so.
After I wrote my post last night, my grandma Prairie sent me this reminder: "Loss of a loved one is so dreadfully painful, it is no wonder that some people literally die with a broken heart. No, life is not fair here on earth, but it IS in heaven and He will make it up to us then for eternity." It's just like her to encourage others when she is going through so much herself. But she's right; this isn't all there is. This pain isn't forever. And I trust that God will show Himself more glorious in these pain-seared days until He can show us His full glory, for all eternity.

Dear Mom (3)

Dear Mom,
Tomorrow is a big day. At 9:15 tomorrow morning, I'm going with Sarah to an ultrasound to find out what her baby is, and I'll be missing you more than ever. If anyone should be able to go with her, it should be you. I've never known anyone to love as deeply as you loved your grandchildren. You should get to be one of the first to know the sex of the baby. You should get to be a part of the baby's birth. You should get to be a part of the baby's life. And the baby should get to have you in its life.
This is such a joyous time - our family is anticipating two new lives entering our world next spring. But the joy is not without pain. As we realize that life goes on in the birth of these babies, we can't help but remember how your life was seemingly ripped from us, how much we miss you, and how much we still need you.
We need you to love our babies. We need you to take care of them. We need you to take care of us.
We found out last week that Grandpa Prairie is nearing his last days. This would have been a great loss no matter when it happened, but now, as we draw closer to the end of his days on this earth, it feels impossible to have to endure another loss - especially without you. You were always the glue that held us all together. You were always there to take care of everyone, however they needed you. And I just don't know how we're going to do this without you.
But I have to trust that we will. That God is not going to leave us alone in any of this. That He will provide your grandchildren with someone to love them as you would. That He will show us how to take care of each other, in times of blessing and in times of loss.
I've got to stop thinking that you should be here, as if you're missing out on something. You're not. Your death was our loss, but it was your gain. You're not missing anything.
We will miss you tomorrow. We will miss you as we say goodbye to Grandpa, and as we say hello to Sarah and Brandi's babies. And we will miss you everyday in between. But God will give us what we need, just as he has thus far.