Goodbye 2019...Goodbye Decade

Hello 2020

In these closing hours, I’m ready for a new chapter. I’ve been too busy to both look back at this past year and embrace the possibilities of the next ten years, but I’m ready for something new. What; I don’t know...yet, I’ll take the next weeks to quiet myself so I can listen to God. 

But this I do know will guide me into the new decade.

Consider Jesus. 

Know Jesus. 

Learn what kind of Person it is I say I trust, love and worship. 

Soak in the shadow of Jesus. 

Saturate my soul with the ways of Jesus. 

Watch Him. 

Listen to Him. 

Stand in awe of Him. 

Let Him overwhelm me with the way He is. 

John Piper

Perhaps that’s the only launch I need. 

Am I fading into the woodwork? I’m beginning to feel invisible. My voice evaporates in the conversation; I’m not sure I’m invited to the table any longer.   
I remember sitting with my own gray-haired relatives, soaking in their wisdom, their rich history. Will mine ever be received or has the lure of the screen finally buried my generation’s treasury?
My soul is lonely this holiday season, but this I’ve rediscovered: without a voice, I will wither.
 “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Maya Angelou 

I keep pinching myself; life has taken a really good turn and this year our family has come home for Christmas. Yet, grief covers me like a weighted blanket. You are not here to enjoy it; that makes me deeply sad. How can this void suck me in when I’m surrounded by such joy?  You should be carving our meat, holding babies, filling the trash bag with the aftermath of bows and wrappings. Your absence is ever present. 

"May you see God’s light on the path ahead
when the road you walk is dark.
May you always hear even in your hour of sorrow
the gentle singing of the lark.
When times are hard
may hardness never turn your heart to stone.
May you always remember when the shadows fall
You do not walk alone."

Yesterday, the six of us enjoyed an early celebration of Matthew’s sixth birthday. We ate all of his favorite foods and took turns telling our favorite thing about him and predicting what he would be when he grew up. I think he felt very special. Looking back over my photos of our busy day, I realized I had inserted an SD card of Rob’s last two weeks. Six years to the very day,  I had scrambled to get a cake for an early and only celebration of his upcoming birthday and captured this photo of a cancer-ravished man still trying to live to his fullest. He had only one wish: to see his grandson.

I try to read from CS Lewis each day. This morning’s thoughts from one of his letters might steer us away from a slippery slope and better yet, guide us closer to God. 

“The corruption of the first sinner consists not in choosing some evil thing (there are no evil things for him to choose) but in preferring a lesser good (himself) before a greater (God.)”

“Every choice reduces a little one’s freedom to choose the next time.”

Some choices are simply bad, harmful, but then there are those which prevent us from receiving God’s best.  It’s that second quote that really grabs my attention: every choice reduces our freedom to choose what is best the next time and the next...the slippery slope, the sneaky prison and before we know it, we are far removed from what God really wants for us. 

So we get to choose: the lesser good or the greater God. 

Blessings 

Yes...I disappeared over the summer. I was busy helping a friend publish a series of books on suicide and grief, moving my Sunday preschool class (many obstacles,) and preparing for this little of sweetness.  

Welcome to the World

Lucas Robert 

September 14, 2019

7lb. 7ou.    20 inches 

You are a joy! Your grandfather, your “Baba” and namesake, must be smiling from one side of Heaven to the other.

June’s almost over and I’ve glanced at this encouragement  in my hallway way too many times this month. And buried my head in the Truth pages, repeatedly  reminding myself I’m not alone; He lifts my head, my wings. 
But LORD, this is hard stuff to navigate. I’ve searched healthcare plans, home improvements, technology, finances. Sometimes, I just want to hand it off, glance over for a reassuring nod, make a decision together. I want another breathing human being to read the instructions alongside me or simply huff in unison when there are no clearcut steps. Learning curves bend easier when traveling in pairs. 
Yet, lessons have been learned: it’s okay for me to say no to more responsibility because solo decision-making takes energy and time, I don’t need to beat myself for not helping others every time I see a need (survival is my full-time mission) and sometimes, I just have to climb out on the shaky, scary limb. I think that’s called, Trust. 

I awake, knowing 6 years ago to this very day our family's lives changed forever. The surgeon summons me to the post-op conference room to deliver a death sentence. Cancer is everywhere and this seasoned veteran is sure it's pancreatic. The next few minutes spin out of control. Calls to our boys... "I need you here immediately." And then I must tell my anesthesia-fogged husband the news. No doctor will tell my beloved that he must get his affairs in order; I can't take away hope just yet. Of course, I know that will come soon enough.
 I shall never forget the tear forming in the corner of his eye and my frozen sons. "Oh, God, give me your strength to make those final calls?  My daughter has a two-week old. " How, God? Why, God? "  I call my son-in-law; I think I might vomit.  
 What does one do on an anniversary day like this? I clean the garage while there is a short respite from the heat; I scrub until my hands hurt almost as much as my remembering heart. I look up a lot, not asking why anymore, but with a tear forming in the corner of my eye.

 Recently, I’ve had to talk back to myself... a lot!
I think the anticipation of turning 65, retirement age, without my partner has crushed me. All of our dreams, our plans sit in a pile, threatening to steal the joy that I’ve so pleaded for during my bouts of loneliness and depression.
 Today, I remind myself: my most expensive real estate is my mind. I can’t let anything or anyone stay there for free and I must capture destructive thoughts the moment they check-in and leave them with Christ. 
Presently, I’m wrestling with the idea of not holding on to those who let go of me a long time ago...that includes my late husband. Releasing him proves the hardest as there was no obvious toxicity in our relationship. However, the truth remains: he did let me go as he prepared to depart from this life and begin beyond. 
My retirement plans (emphasis on mine) included total immersion into the world of grandkids! Close proximity, much spoiling and teaching, relief for tired parents...that was not anyone else’s plan. I can’t find fault for we, too, chose the same with our own parents. It’s just harder on this end, isn’t it? And eternity together seems a long way off. What looms heaviest is they might forget my love for them. How will I leave a legacy they can touch?  
So much for rambling in the dark...in a strange manner, I welcome this painful season; I’m confident  this constant renewal of my mind is vital to an ongoing, growing walk with my Lord. 

 

Forgiveness and Grace

Funny, how when you open yourself to your social circle, spilling your random thoughts, God goes right to work on you.
 During the last post,  I shared that I wondered if forgiveness might free another to see themself as God does: loved by grace. I’ve been struggling with forgiveness for someone for a good while. This broken (aren’t we all) person continues to make choices that cause a growing ripple of hurt and destruction; it’s  hard to hold on to hope. When I asked God how I should pray, He whispered, just ask me this: God, shed your grace on my broken person.
So, in obedience, I’ve been doing just that.  It’s a powerful prayer, just as it has been through the decades as we have prayerfully sung America, America, God shed your grace on thee. 
And then comes the waiting and trusting...
Today just happens to be the National Day of Prayer for our country; let’s offer that same prayer for her...and then trust. 

Forgiveness

For some time, a lifelong friend has asked me to pray for a situation that requires forgiveness. Because one party has not been able to forgive another‘s painful choice, the whole has suffered.  I suppose any one of us could make that same request. 
This thought continues to surface as I faithfully pray:
Could the very act of forgiving someone free that person to see himself as God sees him?
Could forgiveness provide a freedom that might have eternal consequence? 
Just a thought.
Enough for me to take inventory of the people in my life who might need my forgiveness to rise above their past. Might my act of grace help them to see God’s incalculable grace?
Just a thought...

Solitude

“In solitude we are so bathed in God’s greatness and goodness that we come to see the immense value of our own soul. The result is that we become increasingly freed from our frantic human strivings.”

“In times of solitude, we become enveloped in God’s very presence.”

There is an intimate connection between solitude and silence. Silence, you see, creates in us an open, empty space where we are enabled to become attentive to God. And oh, how we need such open spaces in our modern techno-world with its relentless barrage of “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Indeed, many people today have become little more than walking “towers of babble.” Richard Foster

My view this week 

I’m pretty protective of my Holy Week...very intentional about preparing my heart for Easter Sunday. I am blessed with solitude on this Maundy Thursday. The chirping of birds, the rumble of an occasional tractor, the sweet aroma of orange blossoms and the Word. Ironically, I feel far from a Gethsemane experience...freedom not pressing-joy not sorrow. But I remember...it is a day for pondering  the significance of the garden, the “shoot that will come forth out of an [olive] stump,” Messiah, our Anointed One, my sin that crushed Him so violently, He sweated blood. 

His pressing in exchange for my peace. 

I usually paint with words, but sometimes you just have to snap a holy moment. This is the picture of contentment. No fancy filters...not interested in covering up my wrinkled life. 

 Overwhelmed with blessing, surrounded by the most wonderful friends, and trusting the One and Only. 

#capturethemoment

Even there Your hand will lead me. 

Psalm 139:10

And I removed my wedding rings...
Five and a half years, post goodbye, they have remained in place. They’ve been second skin for over four decades. 
I can’t honestly say they won’t find their way back to my left hand, but today I felt removal was the next step. A big scary leap of faith!
 At the beginning of 2019, I committed to cast off that which hinders me from knowing God in the deepest way. Shortly after, He began to challenge me about my identity. Was it found in career, service, parenting, grandparenting...was it found in my marital status? Was I hiding behind a set of rings?  Would allowing Him to strip away all other identity to be solely rooted in Christ be the very place for God to send me out?   
My rings...
My beautiful white gold security blanket...does this really need to be removed? 
My heart whispers, I think so...

Lent and lament collide. After almost six years of striving to survive storm after storm, I have entered into a season of relative calm; my footing does not shift. I’m limp...I’m depleted... I’m grieving on a whole new level. The end of fight or flight creates space to feel again...and it hurts...really, really hurts!
I’m deeply aware I will grieve for the rest of my life and most of that journey will feel lonely. I will not get over deep love, even as its resulting grief will transform me. If I’m most fortunate, others, not offended by the awkwardness of it all, will remain traveling companions when time allows. But my bones know this is mostly solo. 
I don’t formula write on this Monday morning, no hopeful application. 
Just lament. 

Lent 2019

Some years I subtract, some, I add. 
This Lenten season I stay true to my guiding word, cast. 

VITRIOL 

I cast off vitriolic voices, the poison that makes me soul sick. 

That will require a lot of screen silence, now won’t it?

Less poison; more kindness 

I’m not particularly good at lament, but I’m learning that it is a helpful spiritual discipline. Aubrey Sampson suggests all laments lead to the truest form of worship-the worship of God alone. “Not God and blessings, not God and benefits, but God for God’s sake. “ The Louder Song
On this cold March morning, my bones lament.  I can’t tell if it’s the fibromyalgia or sadness again settling in. Perhaps a cocktail of both. 
I wish my heart was frozen, unable to feel absence. I long to be held; my bones cry out for touch. 
How long, oh Lord?
Yesterday, I reached my hand out into the empty space next to me in the pew. I used to do so in the early months of grief and I almost felt the warmth of my mate’s grasp. Not yesterday...just air. 
How long, oh Lord?
I know You carry me until the hairs of my head turn white with age. I just can’t feel your Presence, only ache...deep ache. 
Yet, I trust.

It’s a tricky one, this Valentine’s Day. It’s “couples day” and in reality, there’s just as many of us that can’t crawl into that description. 
And for us who grieve, this day can sting...a lot!
But, I don’t avoid this Hallmark day anymore; I’m totally sold on love. 
As I choose joy today, I choose to add love. Of course, they go hand in hand.  I’m putting my heart out there and joining my friend, Alexa, in choosing love that “is both the catalyst and the fruit of all the little choices we make during the day.“
I’ll patch my bruised heart with the sweetest of memories, slip into my big girl shoes and get busy spreading some grace and kindness. It’s a perfect day to sprinkle a landscape that’s been colored lately with just too much hate and anger. Join me? Let’s make it a beautiful day. 

“When lesser goals capture your attention, I fade into the background of your life.” Sarah Young
True, but when I read it the early hour, I thought it read gods, not goals. It got me to thinking, goals stem from desires and priorities; can’t both morph into understudies waiting in the wings, poised to take center stage? Anything that fills the space reserved for God is suspect. 
So as I look to this year, focused on casting the things that hinder my walk with my Father, let me be quite intentional about slaying those lesser gods.  The biggest are always easiest to name: worry, gluttony, unbelief, but what about those of reasonable desire that somehow grow into giants, stealing time and focus from our relationship?
What are the guidelines? Surely, He’s okay with desires; He desires us!
I settle on Isaiah 26:8 as my wisdom: for Your Name and Your renown are the desire of our souls. Make God famous! Does my desire make God or instead,me known?
That’s it! Cast off all that returns the attention to me. 
Example-I’ve always been drawn to watercolor and recently I found some online tutorials. So I’ve purchased the recommended materials to give the medium a whirl. I may fail, I may stink! But will the journey help me to appreciate God’s creation in a sweeter way, settle my thoughts on Him as I paint, or even provide encouragement for others? If it becomes “look how good I am” it has morphed into one of those dangerous idols. Then, it’s time to cast; the attention shines on me. 
God is a gentleman. He will let me think I have the starring role and wait until I limp off the stage in defeat. Please, Lord, not this year? I want your Name  to receive first billing. Help me to cast these lesser gods in the weeks to come. 

2019

It’s here!

After five years of chaos, change, rebuild of not only my house, but my entire life, I’m ready for some REST. And rest can’t fully come unless I cast off the things that hinder me. To be quite honest, I’ve lived most of my life in the land of “should, should, and more should.”

“I should exercise more, save more money, work harder.” And don’t get me started on the spiritual; the list of should’s rival the 600+ laws in the Old Testament! Prayer, study, quiet time, service, TRUST...should do better. My mind is always on “should.” 

Not this year! I’m cleaning house: casting off the unnecessary, the guilt, the self-imposed pressure of being the best me. 

And the best thought of all, I know exactly on Whom I can throw off all that frees me from a year of worry, chaos, unrest!

Psalm 55:22

Cast your cares on the LORD and He will sustain you; He will not let the righteous be shaken.  

Hebrews 12:1

Let us throw off [cast] all that hinders us...from running a good race. 

2019 

Here I come running! 

January  2019
After riding the long wave of December, attempting to conquer unwanted  anniversaries created by cancer,  staring down the empty places at family celebrations, and trying too hard to convince the world-or just me-that life solo is not so bad, I’ve entered the new year depleted. Weeks filled with couple events, watching love unfold like a Hallmark card, takes its toll.  It’s the same every January, since Rob’s death. The first days ring extremely difficult; I’m emotionally exhausted and my glass threatens half-empty. The thought of living through  another year without Rob once again looms large and heavy. It’s a complicated train track...I feel myself gracefully moving forward in this new locomotion, yet fully aware that I still long for life on the opposite track, life as a wife, lover, constant companion. And I can’t jump track.
It’s another year living apart from family. Oh, I explore the options of relocating once again, but practicality and fiscal responsibility win the battle.
Again, this isn’t the life I planned, so January brings again the arduous task of realigning my desires and expectations with present reality...and it’s hard and lonely and messy.
I look ahead, set goals, surrender to the things I cannot change, but I’m keenly aware that life is forever different and the future...well, it’s still out there somewhere in the fog.
January is a messy, mysterious  co-existence of joy and grief -yes, the two can travel  together.
And February always comes...