Taste and See

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.  Taste it. See it.  Feel it.  Bite it. Take a HUGE bite!  For He is good, forever good, infinitely good and wonderful.  He gives us this life as a gift, a gift with a purpose, to glorify Him in all we do.  To taste His goodness, and then to revel in the sensation, to feel every burst of flavor.  The sweetness of love, the bitterness of loss, the sharpness of pain, the mellowness of contentment.  All the myriad flavors, swirled together in a wonderful concoction of conflicting, yet somehow complementary, emotions.  These are my thoughts and my feelings as I struggle with yet another loss, the death of someone dear, and I find myself being sucked into the quicksand of self-pity and sorrow.  

First my father-in-law, then his wife, and two months later, my dad, and now, my stepmom, Sheila--my husband and I have lost all four parents in the space of 30 months, three of them within the past 8 months.  And during that same period, some dear friends of ours left this life, and suddenly I am feeling my mortality, and pondering the reason for my existence.  I try to immerse myself into tasks and checklists and the numbing comfort of busy-ness, stuffing the sadness back down every time it starts to bubble up.  I comfort others, and explain what happened, and try to make sense out of it for them.  Then, yesterday, there was this overwhelming pallor of hopelessness and sorrow hanging over me, smothering me, until I just had to get away.  I got in the car and drove and drove and drove, with no real destination, no purpose, trying to grasp my feelings and shake them until something would pop, so I would be able to see everything clearly.  Suddenly, I am driving down a dark road, and tears are streaming down my face, onto my shirt and my lap, and I am screaming "WHY?" at the top of my lungs.  The words come tumbling out, and all the feelings jumble together: confusion and anger and disbelief and guilt and sadness.  

And I realize there is no answer to my questions, none that can make the sadness go away, or make sense of it all.  Nor should there be.  As I sit on the front porch the next day and listen to the wind in the trees and the birds and the insects, and later as we drive down the road and I look up and see the sun shining through the tall trees and the mountains in the distance...that is when it becomes clear.  We are in this life to leave a legacy of actions that point to our creator, an inheritance of memories that evoke smiles and tears.  There is no shame in the tears, just as there is no shame in the laughter, for both are merely two sides of the same coin.  God created us in His image, to glorify Him, and we do that regardless of our emotional state at the time...or at least we should.  I don't always do a great job of that, because I get mired in my sufferings, and I fail to see the beauty of an experience just because that experience brings sadness or pain.  I get so damn stuck on the "why me?" and "why not me?" that I forget to thank Him for another day, another moment, another second.  I take shit for granted, and even worse, I waste more time afterwards bemoaning how I take things for granted.  Totally unproductive.  Because beating myself up (or anyone else) over what I didn't do or should have done does not get anything done, does it?  And fussing and cussing about how hard life is, how unfair it all is, also totally a waste of time.  Because none of that makes it any easier to swallow this bitter pill of loss.  

And yeah, I know a lot of this waxes really poetic and perhaps a bit high-brow, but I am feeling a bit poetic right now, as I listen to folk acoustic on Spotify and my husband of 28 years snore from across the room.  See, today was our anniversary, and it amazes me that 28 years have gone by so quickly, and I taste and see again how fortunate I am to still be in this life, to still be able to savor everything life has to offer:  the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, the joys with the sorrows, and the births with the deaths.  Because if it did not hurt so much to lose someone, wouldn't that be even worse?  Because hurting and yearning to see them again means we loved them, that they were something special to us, and that they added meaning to our lives.  Memories are always there for us to reach back into and taste that sweetness of their presence again.  And if we are sad when we taste that memory yet again, well, then we can count ourselves blessed for having known them.  

Like I said, today was our 28th anniversary, and I tried to taste and see it all, to taste and SEE the goodness that God has given me.  Sophie jumping on my bed this morning, the low pressure system that hangs over us all day, generating a  huge migraine, then the sudden thunderstorm that equalizes the pressure and blessedly releases me from the migraine, the delicious and delicate flavors of a homemade pad Thai prepared by my daughter as an anniversary gift, the evening air as we drive down the road, and the rich, creamy taste of Dolly's ice cream.  All of these tastes--tastes of the eyes, the ears, the tongue, the skin, the mind--reminding me that God is good, He is in charge, He is wonderful, and He does have a purpose.  To everything turn turn turn.  There is a season turn turn turn. And a time for every purpose, under heaven.

Thank you, Daddy, Connie, Dad, Sheila, Steve, Ronshella, Tim, Patrick, Karen, Bill, and everyone else who has gone on to that great beyond. Thank you for adding to my life, for flavoring my existence, for leaving me with so many precious, wonderful, crazy, bittersweet memories.  

I will try to taste and see God's goodness in every moment.

Dying with Grace

Dear God:

Me again.  How do I do this?   This is not what I meant when I asked you to cut me some slack. It’s gone from bad to worse, and I’m going to have to make a very difficult decision soon.  People are offering suggestions and wanting me to give them some hope to cling to, some reassurance that we still have some time.  Others don’t trust me and I’m worried they will hate me for telling them the truth and for doing what Sheila wants.  Why is it so hard to do what someone else wants?  I want her to live!  I want to shirk this onerous duty.  But I also am glad to serve her and to be the one trusted to do what she wished, to let her pass into the next world with dignity and grace.  

How do you watch someone you love die?  What do you say to everyone?   What do you say to the person dying?   She’s not in pain. She’s at peace.  I feel such conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to hold onto her and keep her with us in this world.   And go on believing the doctors can fix her and that she’ll be with us for years to come, at holiday tables and great grandkids birthdays, reminiscing about past holidays with loved ones who’ve already gone on.  And then I won’t need to tell anyone she’s gone or break anyone’s heart.  And I won’t have to face her house or make phone  calls  or do all the planning that goes hand in hand with leaving this world.  

But part of me, most of me actually, knows the truth.  That I cannot keep her here with me because she’s already reaching for Christ’s loving arms, that she’s eager to go home, to be with her mom and her husband and her grandson and everyone else who has gone before her.  I see the peace in her face as she lies sleeping, the lines that only two days ago were creased into her face from the pain, now completely smooth, her breathing deep and slow and quiet, such a stark contrast to the rapid, loud gasps from last night.  I watch her bring her hands to her face and then gently down onto mine, and I look into her eyes, eyes that look right past me.  And when she speaks I strain to hear and understand what she says, to no avail.  She gets an exasperated look on her face,  shakes her head, and says never mind, dismissing me with a roll of her eyes, a slight smile, and a weak wave of her hand.  I hear her carry on conversations with people unseen, and she tells me in a brief, lucid moment she’s been thinking about Patrick.  And my heart breaks for her when, she asks about Dad, and then she suddenly realizes he is gone, and suffers the agonizing heartache of loss all over again; her face crumples and tears slide down her face as she remembers he’s no longer here.  

Watching someone you love begin to die is hard, inordinately hard, but also so very precious. To be here during this time, as all pretenses of being okay just fall away, is so humbling, so special.  To watch this woman, who has been more of a mother to me than my own mom, transition from fighting the cancer that is destroying her to accepting the inevitable, no, welcoming it, is something I will never forget and will always cherish.     

Sincerely and as always, with great thankfulness

Your child

The Reluctant Servant

Dear God,

We need to talk; things are not going too well down here right now.  In fact, things have not been going well at all for quite some time, and frankly, I am exhausted, worn out, and well, discombobulated.  I mean, don't get me wrong here, I know you are the Creator of the Universe, and that whatever you say, goes, that your plan is the ultimate plan, and that nothing, absolutely nothing, happens without your say so.  But seriously...can you cut me some slack here?  First, that debacle with my mom and sisters, then You take my father-in-law, mother-in-law, and my dad to be with You, all in the space of 18 months, AND ipso de facto, I become the caregiver for my special needs brother?  And just when we were getting used to that crazy turn of events, this?  Come ON already!

All that stuff about turn the other cheek, and not being anxious about anything, and all of those admonitions against being fearful or afraid or discouraged--it all sounds good when I'm in church, or sitting on the porch reading quietly, or listening to my music, but when I am being bombarded from all sides, and someone I love needs me to help her stop hurting, how do I manage to do this?  When everything else in my life comes to a screeching halt so I can subjugate my needs, and my family's needs, to take care of one of Your children, how do I know I am doing Your will?  It's not like I can open the Bible and have passages jump out at me, or magically turn to the exact right page with the chapter and verse I need at that very moment.  And the enemy is so darn good at making me doubt myself, and whispering (or even shouting) in my ear, that in almost no time at all, I wonder if I have made a mistake.  I begin to think that maybe those others are right, that maybe I only think I am doing the right thing, that really I should just back off and trust You to magically take care of it all through someone else.

And I know there will always be pain and suffering and sin and sickness, and that all of that will only end for us when we are taken up into heaven with you.  But where is this "peace that surpasses all understanding" when I really need it?    How do I pray without ceasing and not despair when I do not get the answer I want?  And if Your grace is so sufficient for me, why do I feel so sad and alone? I want to serve You, and I want to serve You through serving others, but I am weak and selfish and tired and I need Your help.  So I can "serve the Lord with gladness" like King David sang in Psalm 100, and so it can be said of me,  

"Whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies--in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ.  To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever.  Amen" (1 Peter 4:11)

That's not too much to ask, is it?  

Sincerely and with great love and humility and appreciation,

Your daughter



P.S.  Cancer sucks.  

More is Less

Our lives just became infinitely more complicated yet glaringly more simple. 

More complicated because there are suddenly four generations in our house, ages 3-78. Plus four dogs and a cat.   

Simpler because now we know where everyone is and all the rooms are full.  

More complicated because my brother is mentally handicapped,  my stepmom has advanced bladder cancer, my daughter and her little girl are in limbo waiting for hubby/daddy to return from deployment, and me and Alex?  Well, we are just trying to catch our breath. 

Simpler because we are family and together and we love each other.   

God has orchestrated it all and will continue to do so.  I have been praying for guidance and discernment and wisdom and relief from a need to be in control.   He has thankfully answered all these prayers as only He knows how.  Not the way I thought He would.  Not even the way I would have chosen.   But of course, the only perfect way.  His way.  

Complicated.

Simple.

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

2 

The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. (Psalm 18:1-2)

Too early for the tooth fairy

A couple of days after Easter, I went back to school--nothing new or different--until later that day when Mommy came to Miss Lisa's to pick me up.  We were all outside, me and all my friends, playing and having fun, and then I saw Mommy and I ran to her and started to cry.  My teacher told her "I think she fell and hurt her lip earlier" and I just held on to Mommy.  We got home and I was just tired and did not feel very good, so we watched a lot of Nature Cat and Baby Shark, and I tried to eat something but my mouth hurt.  So I went to bed, but couldn't sleep.  Grandma came down and laid with me for a while, and then she felt my back and said I was very hot.  I did not feel hot...I felt very cold.  Mommy came down and they took my tempachure and gave me medicine and looked at my lip, and Grandma said something about an infection, like bugs or something were living in my face, and I started to cry.  Mommy and Grandma took me to the hospital to see why my face was puffy and hot.  

I really like the hospital.  There are cool doors that open like magic, and I get a bracelet with my name on it, and they give me a mask with cool dinosaurs on it.  Everyone is super nice and they make Mommy not be so scared, so that makes me very glad.  This time a doctor came in with the nurse and he looked at my mouth and said I had to go home and take medicine, and then tomorrow I should go to a dentist.  We had a dentist come to Miss Lisa's Kiddiegarten last week, so I was excited about going to see a dentist!  The dentist gives you stickers and a cool new toothbrush.  Anyway, I thought I would get stickers.  I didn't.  I just got more medicine, had to go to another dentist, who then sent us home because he said my face was too puffy for them to fix.  But, I got a bracelet and a moose.  And Sweet Frog with sprinkles on it.  

A week later we went back to the dentist and they put a funny mask on my nose  and let me spin in a big chair and made me laugh.  Then they poked me with really really REALLY sharp needles.  I cried and screamed really loud and Mommy kept saying I was such a big girl.  I did not feel like a big girl at all.  It hurt very bad.  Then the dentist took out my tooth and he had to pull and pull until it popped out.  It was huge.  I got lots of toys and stickers after that, and more Sweet Frog.  Then we went home and I had to eat soft mushy food until my tooth hole didn't hurt.  I talked to Daddy on the phone and he told me he was so proud of me and how he loved me so very much.  

Now it is all healed, and there is still a hole there, but I like to show everyone how big it is.  Mommy thinks my new tooth is coming in early because I keep chewing on things, but I just like how it feels.  Especially my new squishy toys like my cousin Hadley's.  Oh, and I can fit a straw through the hole with my mouth closed!  It is so cool! And I got a Nature Cat stuffed animal (Squeakers) from the tooth fairy!!

I think Mommy is going to have a nervous breakdown.  At least that is what Grandma says.

Letting Go

In dealing with an ingrained bitterness over past events, I found myself at the crossroads of “now what?”  Because I have been nursing hurts and betrayals for so long they have become a part of me.  I am a victim.  I tell the story over and over again, repeating the litany of the wrongs done to me to whomever will listen—especially to myself.  And each time I repeat them, I can feel the acid churning in my stomach.  When the persons who wronged me are mentioned, when I hear their names, their voices, or worse yet, see them, I wince and cringe and all the old hatred and hurt and pain bubbles back up.  Bitterness is sucking the life out of me.  And I have prayed, LORD how I have PRAYED, to stop this bitterness, to rip it out of my heart, to let me just wake up renewed and whole and not bitter. Counseling, prayer, reading, talking--nothing worked.  I would never be free of it.  Or so I thought.  

Three things happened.  

1.  My friend and neighbor confided in me how she was so bitter about something, so bitter that she cried and prayed every night for God to take it all away, to release her.  Years went by, then suddenly, it was gone.  She awoke with a clean heart.  And I thought, great, if only....

2.  My daughter and I were having a heated discussion (okay, an argument) about how I should just let go of the past, but I wanted to rationalize it, to make her see my point, that I had been WRONGED, that it was not FAIR, that I had been HURT.  You know what she said?  She said "yeah, it sucks, yeah, it was horrible, but get over it!"

3.  I googled "anger and bitterness;" I was surprised by what came up, in all of 0.53 seconds: 107,000,000 answers.  And while I did not peruse more than 10 or 20 of those millions of hits, I noticed something odd--the same advice and warnings were being touted by Psychology Today, The Gospel Coalition, new age philosophy, Wikipedia, and even the Mayo Clinic. Normally, secular and spiritual resources are diametrically opposed when seeking answers to problems, but this time, Biblical wisdom won hands down, across the board.  

Suddenly it all became clear--I had allowed anger to set in, to lay seeds of bitterness in my heart, and that bitterness had grown and taken root, and it was not going to be easy to pull it out.  The roots were deep, because the hurts were deep, and I thought that justified the depth of my bitterness.  It did not.  Because in allowing that bitter root to grow, to take hold, I was, in essence, telling God I did not trust Him to make it all right, to be the perfect Judge, and I definitely was not feeling forgiven or forgiving.  I had to let it go, give it to God, and let bygones be bygones.  For the sake of my soul.  

Because even though I had been hurt, even though I had been wronged, it was not my place to judge anyone, even those who hurt me.  That is for God to do. He will judge all sins, and when that time comes, if they are in hell, then nothing I do or say can make it worse for them. But, and here's the real kicker, if they have repented, then their sins have been carried to the cross along with mine.  And they have been forgiven.

And that is where I see the wonder and the beauty and the miracle of God's grace--for I have sinned horribly against God, yet He has given me new life, not because I deserve it, but because He loves me.  How can I look at anything the same anymore?  How can I be so selfish as to pound my chest and pull out my hair and say "woe is me!" when I surely have caused hurt to someone else, betrayed someone else, yet I stand forgiven?

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, iforgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. (Ephesians 4:31-32)