When I Thought My Only Companions Were Grief and Sorrow...Then Came Joy

I was raised being told that it was not good to wallow in your grief and sorrow. Now, I do believe that slipping into self pity is non productive and can lead to despair. However, I have learned that grief and sorrow are best listened to, experienced fully, and can not only deepen our capacity for empathy, but our capacity for joy as well.

I experienced an almost suffocating layering of losses and sorrow in 2010. My mother’s slow death process, a loved one's second separation in their short marriage (which God eventually redeemed and it is thriving!), the undeniable reality of the dysfunctional relationship between a first family member, their family, and the rest of our family all left me feeling numb and flat and yet with an ache somewhere deep inside.

No amount of distraction or discussion eased any of it.

My counselor had encouraged me to start a gratitude journal when my mom first started her downward spiral. So, I already had the daily practice in place, but  during this season of even more pressing in I often had to truly meditate on and dig for what I was thankful for. Then at other times I just had to look out the window and see the skies, the breeze blowing the grasses and flowers and leaves on the trees.

There was the laughter and questions and snuggles from our two grandchildren at that time. Holding a child is so soothing and reminds us of how holistic life truly is. Listening to a beautiful song or piece of music. Air conditioning in a stifling, heat-soaked summer filled with constant time at the nursing home and yet the inverse: Stepping out of the air conditioned building into the scorching heat and feeling the warm sun soak into my chilled, exhausted soul and body and reveling in the sounds of life outdoors. Laughter with my familial sister, and laughter and tears with my sister of the heart who was in the same exact place in her journey with her mom...that's true companionship. Crawling into bed at night with a husband who went with the flow during this season of long days, interruptions to our own activities, the uncertainty that was a constancy around meals and short getaways. His arms were always waiting, his ears and heart always attentive, and his honesty at times was just what I needed to hear.

So, when I have chosen to reflect back on those last three and a half years of my mom’s life and especially the last eight months it can be overwhelming, but then I take out my gratitude writings and am undone by how closely I was tracking with God, seeing him with me every moment as I read the words of gratefulness I penned in some of the harshest, hardest moments I had experienced up to that time.

Joy was finding its way into deep, dark recesses in my core. The realization as I look back and see Immanuel with me in every moment, those good ones and those hard ones, opens up something inside of me. It’s akin to what it feels like when your muscles and body are sore and aching and someone gives you a back rub, or you get a good massage….you realize there are places that are tender that you had no idea about and the immediate discomfort of the pressure on them slowly releases a warmth and a feeling almost of euphoric relief. Because the purpose of the pressure is not to cause more pain and tension, but to identify it and relieve it, dispersing toxins and soothing and calming our minds and bodies. This is what knowing, looking for and seeing Jesus in those hard places and seasons can do for us. We realize we are not alone, we are never alone..and sometimes the comfort and the peace come flooding in and at other times those holy salves seep into our hearts and take up residence in a previously shut off portion of those numbed heart pockets.

I am not talking about jovial happiness. What I am sharing about is a strong, unyielding undercurrent of peace-filled joy. Joy wrapped in a blanket of shalom. It is what allows those we read about historically, and even present day people we look up to, to suffer well. Jesus does not always remove the suffering, no, that is true, but he comes and stands by us, sits with us, puts his arms around us, and even invites us to crawl into his lap, letting us know we will never, ever have to suffer alone...like he did...because that was already taken care of, the lonesomeness, when he spoke the words, “It is finished” from the cross.

I weep thinking of him losing his earthly father here, then hearing of his cousin John’s long imprisonment and eventual horrible death, his friends and followers abandoning him during his darkest hours. It breaks my heart, but then I realize the complete empathy and perfect love and never ending, never tiring desire to always be with me was partially borne out of his own losses, struggles, and grief and I exhale and crawl into his lap. Therein lies my joy.  

Love Letter to My Tribe

A shout out prayer and hope to my tribe. We are stronger than we look, yet our relational hearts are tender and love fiercely. May we wake up every day ready to adventure on and journey on. May we spark hope, creativity, and a little non status quo into the generations following us. Yes, may we be willing and brave enough to step outside the box when the box is irrelevant, a form of bondage, or downright shameful... May we recreate the box. May we stop comparing ourselves to one another, rating our worth by what others say or think, and may we see our worth as God sees it... His very image in us! We are his beloved and precious in his sight. He designed us for a glorious purpose and empowers us to live that out in small ways and sometimes big ways. He also offers and invites us to rest. Rest in him and rest from our work, in order to re-enter into it re-energized and refreshed and refocused. Yes, we may wear many hats, but those are what we do, not who we are. May we never confuse the two in our lives nor in our sisters' lives. Hold one another's hands, look each other in the eye, hold one another up when any of us are too weary to stand, and be willing, always willing to be a part of rewriting the true story. The story many of us have found ourselves in was fictionalized by those that saw women as a problem or a threat. We are not a threat, not to other women or those who value us as whole people, but may we be a force to be reckoned with, tearing down the strongholds that hold us back and hold us down and rebuild a world for the next generations of women that fully utilizes ALL humankind's strengths and gifts. Love you all... You are valuable!

Cartwheeling Through the Subtle Shades and Colors of Life

 Something I'm realizing as I get older is that I no longer see things so black and white, so set in stone as far as my opinions, my beliefs, and my worldviews. It's actually very comforting and a relief to not have to feel the need to defend a position, or a viewpoint. It's truly a joy to listen more than speak. For the years have taught me that in this life I am entitled to nothing, everything is a gift, and when things don't go my way I will not only survive, but most likely grow in some area.
I don't think this perspective is possible to gain only by those who have actually lived for decades though, for I have seen such an awareness come to younger persons that have endured true hardships and near death experiences.
Think cancer survivors, even children, survivors of traumatic events such as war, accidents, and horrific mistreatment. So often we call them "old souls", and rightly so, and it is appropriate to feel sympathy or compassion towards them. Many need assistance in help and recovery from such terrible things as PTSD. However, I have also found that many of them actually gain a "soul wisdom" beyond their years that can allow them to live life more fully with more awareness that life is truly a gift.
I am amused and at times I am embarrassed by my younger self when I remember how much I knew and knew what I knew was right and best. Not just for me, but for others too, especially those older than me. I was so progressive and revolutionary in my approach to life and life philosophies. When I "came to faith" , I had the right answer and I was in the right camp of believers. It was my business to convince my friends and relatives that what they believed was not quite right if it didn't fit my paradigm.
Somewhere in my thirties I began to realize the self confidence I portrayed was actually pretty thin and there were questions lurking beneath the surface. I kept those at bay, but they would break through every so often, especially as my own children entered their teen years and young adulthood.
We loved being with our kids and their friends as they all grew into their adult selves. That's when I began to let some of the musings and questions surface. That's when I became less certain that everything was contained in a neat tidy package of philosophies and beliefs and viewpoints.
At first it was scary, I admit. Then, however, something beautiful began to emerge. An awareness was growing within my mind and heart, my soul, that the God I believed in not only could handle my questions, but welcomes them!
The more I opened myself up to the thoughts and questions and fears I had stuffed for so long, the deeper my connection became with my God and with other people!
Probably one of the most influential persons in my life at that point and still today is a woman thirty three years my senior. She has the most amazing stories and a mind that is not only sharp, but always learning and expanding her horizons. As I write this she is almost six months past her ninety ninth birthday! My girlfriend and I worked with her for a while and still get together and talk and laugh and share our hearts on life and faith and relationships and even politics. Just last year we three spent an afternoon having lunch at a beautiful winery and it was every bit as much fun as my times with my peers and younger friends are.
One of my favorite sayings is, "When I grow up I want to be just like [my friend], only taller." You see this sweet woman is almost half as tall as I am!
Anyway, she has an insatiable curiosity, a solid faith and love for her God, yet allows everyone the freedom to pursue their own journey and grow to know God in the way he's designed them.
Yep, I'm pretty darned sure that "gaining wisdom" as one ages means realizing how little we really know, seeing the beauty and the value in the kaleidoscopic of people, life approaches, and more and more dropping labels and evaluations based on preconceived ideas (can we say... prejudice?).
Its wonderfully freeing and I honestly feel younger than I have in years, except for the way my body sometimes reminds me of the miles it has accumulated... But even that no longer dampens my joy that God's not done with me because he keeps expanding my horizons and its exciting to walk towards those horizons , even if I can't do cartwheels towards them anymore...In my mind I still am able to do them.

The Beauty of Our Scars

So often we try to hide them. Scars... They are not attractive.

I had one lobe of my thyroid removed when I was 22 and married barely a year.

I have had a melanoma on my thigh removed and they did and nice job and the scarring was minimal, but the surgery saved my life.

I have a scar on my left arm from a nasty tear in the flesh when I was 18 years old and climbing over an 8 ft cyclone fence...LEAVING...a concert.

At times my scars have throbbed, at times I forget about them. Sometimes I notice them and they remind me:

That was NOT cancer; That WAS cancer, but they got it all! That was a bad choice, but you just missed severing a vein in your arm and it could have been worse.

Just like these physical scars, I carry emotional scars, as so many do. However, they too remind me of God's grace, the gift of good counselors and recovery programs, and the love and support of many over time.

Sometimes the pain resurfaces. I have done the work of forgiving those that inflicted the wounds, but the pain still throbs at times. The scars are a beautiful reminder that there is joy to be found through suffering, not because of it, but joy can be found within the layers and folds of the suffering.

I am understanding more and more that is because I have never suffered alone. One has always been with me, and because of that I can find peace and joy even when I am hurt. Even when the scars remain. His eyes are upon me. His hand reaches out and takes mine. His love soothes me.

Those scars? They are beautiful to God and precious in his sight, so they have become beautiful to me the more I see things through his eyes.

After all, he still carries the scars of his crucifixion, and they are powerful reminders that in the midst of such hatred and jealousy and evil, love won...it always does.

Unison yet with Harmony

The Strength and Beauty of Harmony

When a song is sung in unison it is nice, even pretty.

When a song is sung in three part harmony (or more)

It is still one song, one melody, yet... 

so much more powerful and moving.

Each instrument in a band or an orchestra

Lends its own tones and hues

Yet when they are all focused on one outcome

It is breathtaking

When we as people grow in our awareness that 

Although we all have different backgrounds

We can still each contribute to this song of life

And the richness and depth of our lives and others'...

Will be magnified, deepened and better because of it.

In unison of heart, we are stronger and more beautiful

When each unique voice lends itself to the whole

And God writes his masterpiece through that unity and harmony

Waiting...

 I had a bad night. My almost forgotten GI symptoms came on like a vengeance around 2 am.

I went back to sleep for a few hours. Then my nerve pain decided that it was time to also make a dramatic reappearance. I got up, did my extension exercises on our newly gifted PT table, (Thank you Bob and Marti!) and stumbled into the predawn living room. I opened a "real" cola...only thing my tummy could handle and sat in the stillness.

Then you said, "I am here. In the stillness, in the alone quiet, in the pain, and the "retched" nausea. I am with you Marsha. I am Immanuel." 

It is Christmas Eve! Always my most favorite day of the year and of this season since I can remember.

The quiet anticipation. 

The sweet imagery of a baby born in a stable to a teenage mother and her scared, yet protective betrothed.

Then I hear you...and this is what I write:

He came in helpless form to be the ultimate helper.

His power was reined in as he took on a frail human body as his own.

So, there was that , restrained power... for a purpose.

His love, however, was of unrestrained power and passion.

His willingness to go, engage in relationship, and know, all those thirty-three years...

His purpose.

Thank you for your invasion into our world and lives. 

Thank you for touching my heart as a girl with the beauty and mystery of Christmas Eve.

Never ending...Regeneration!

REGENERATION!

I was writing in my thanksgiving journal this morning and thanking God for the ongoing resurrection gift of life through the seasons, generations, sunsets, sunrises, and all of creation's continual growth and expansion.

I am becoming more and more aware of how nothing ends except something new begins.

I was encouraged by the thought that every winter, life is busy preparing to burst forth again in the spring, no matter how bitter and dark the winter. Especially as I  looked out on my early spring flowers covered in a late dump of snow last week standing strong and tall after the melt!

I am ecstatic that when we leave this earth our offspring will be continuing our legacy and if not our offspring our art, or relationships, or whatever we have contributed to this side of eternity. All of it is a memory imprint, of us, on this world.

I have a hard time...okay, I'm obsessive about not missing sunsets and sunrises! I feel a melancholy settling in my spirit as twilight glows and then fades. It's hard not to sigh. I feel a peaceful energy if I see the first whispers of a morning glow and watch the sun's promise erupt across the skies for quite a while before it actually rises. Daylight is returning again.

Are we so vain as to think that we can end this world by our interference and neglect?

We can damage it and tilt things horribly.

We have a responsibility to treat all of creation with respect and honor life.

However, we are no more capable of sustaining the life flow than we are of creating it.

The very ongoing adapting, evolving process of this world and the universe attests to God's creative, redemptive power.

I love that God left his memory imprint on this world. 

I am reminded of his promise to always exist and to always be present every time I witness these events and realize that death is not the end. Life originally spoken into existence by him regenerates. 

The end is the beginning!

His death on the cross was not the end.

His burial in someone else's tomb was not the end.

The empty tomb always reminds us that it was the beginning.