4 years, and I am held.

Four years ago today my 16yo. son died. There was no warning. There was no answered prayer, no miracle. There was no goodbye. Instead, there was a knock on the door and two State Patrol cars in the driveway. There was a long ride to the hospital. There was the sound of my husband screaming, screaming what they call the "death cry." We were hit unexpectedly by a storm, an F5 tornado, a tsunami, a hurricane. Whatever you want to call it, it was a storm of massive proportion.

Four years later, we have sifted through the rubble and risen from the ashes. We have rebuilt from the ground up. And we still grieve. We still ache for our son. We still cry. But never have we ever walked alone. Never once has God left us. He was in the midst of the storm, and He is in this new life we were forced to build. He has been patient with me in this grief journey as I've struggled to sort through trust, anger, despair, fear, doubt, jealousy, joy, and faith. Grief seems like such an encapsulated experience, but peel away the lid and it's a hornets nest of emotions.

How I wish, still, that I could just erase July 29th from the calendar. How I wish this life didn't include it's "Job" moments. I wish God had a different plan. Oh, God, forgive me. I don't mean to sound like I know better than you because I don't. I just hurt. I miss my son. I don't understand this plan of yours. These "anniversary" dates are tough. They are painful. But pain serves a purpose. That I know. Pain compels us to cry out, to seek relief. And it's to whom we cry out that makes all the difference in our healing. It's where we turn for relief that determines how well we recover from the devastating storms in our lives. I cry out to You, Lord.

I thank you for the pain because without it I would not seek You. I would go about my life and believe I had no need of You. I thank You that You are in the midst of this. I thank you for who You are, Jehovah Jireh, the Lord who provides. You have given me much: strength when I had no strength, friends and family to walk beside us, and words of encouragement and wisdom when I need it most. I silently begged You for help today, and I wept when I read this morning's devotional from James MacDonald titled, "Even Though."

You keep reminding me, Lord, that the only way out is through. And yet not only that, You go with me. You carry me. You hold me. You also provide helpers for the journey, as my friend Jennifer writes about: When You're Going Through a Storm
You tell me, too, Father that joy is possible. Again, as I struggled today, desperately wanting to hear from You, I "stumbled" across this post: http://www.thebettermom.com/blog/2014/11/16/verse-need-taped-refrigerator  I had to smile, for You know that those two verses (..."for the joy set before Him" and 2 Cor. 4:17) have been my lifelines on these difficult days. I wanted a different "God-nod," but You gave me what I needed. You gave me truth. Thankful that I am held. By His hands. By His word.

Natalie Grant - Held

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
Were asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

Hope in God

So, this battle's been going on in my head for several weeks (months?) now. My faith in God is sure and certain, but my confidence is not. I know, and firmly believe without a doubt, that God can and does heal. But. But sometimes He chooses not to. Like the man who sought out Jesus for healing of his demon-possessed son, I have said, "...But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”(Mark 9:22b) And therein lies my problem. But.

Because of that but, my prayers have been weak, a jumbled mess of supplication. I know God can heal, but I doubt He will. The result is prayers that are ineffective and confused, overshadowed by a fatalistic attitude. I didn't use to be this way, but after reading a book I picked up last week titled, A Grace Disguised, I was convicted. For several weeks, I knew God was speaking to me. He knew the battle raging in my head, the torrent of thoughts swirling constantly the past few months.

You see, He heals some people. He does. But not everyone. Some of us, instead, plan a funeral, pick out a casket, and design a headstone. People do die. Cemeteries are full of deceased bodies. All the faith in the world can't save a loved one if God decides otherwise. It's a battle of "God can" vs. "But will He?" This struggle lately made my hope scatter like dandelion fluff. But reading A Grace Disguised challenged me. Mr. Sittser reminded me that, though tragedy is not always one's choice, one's response to it is. We each have a choice about what we're going to do with our grief when faced with it. I have a choice about how I will live out my life as a bereaved mother. Will I allow my son's death to change me for the better or will I allow bitterness, despair, and cynicism to dominate the rest of my life?

What I realized through reading A Grace Disguised was that my problem wasn't a lack of faith. It was refusing to submit to God's sovereignty. I wasn't happy with God's decision, that Matt's life ended far, far too early than I (We) would have liked. I was caught up in the "now" of earth (and it's temporary losses) and had lost my hope of eternity.

Yet, the God of hope (Rom.15:13) is tenacious. He is faithful, never leaving us nor forsaking us. God has surely witnessed my struggle, heard my doubts, and patiently waited for me to come to Him with it all. His response was overwhelming to me. Every email devotion I opened, every web page I stumbled across, and every blog I read had the same message: Trust Me. Wait. Hope.

What to do when you wanted your story to be different.

Hold tight

Encouragement for the hurting

The simplest way to remember hope

How to remember God

Heaven is for real. So why don't we talk about it more?

I have grief and most likely always will. But. But I also have hope.

Grief will mess with your head

There's been a "theme" of sorts in my life lately. Every devotion, article, and website link I read speaks the same message. Courage. It's almost gotten to the point of ridiculous, really. The Global Leadership Summit I attended last week started out with the very statement that leadership takes enormous courage. Of course, the statement was in context to the summit, but I have no doubt that God was using the GLS conference to reinforce the message to take courage.

One of the speakers from the GLS, Brené Brown, has this definition of courage: "The root of the word courage is cor—the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage literally had a very different definition than it does today. Courage originally meant “To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.”"

I've recently (as in last week!) realized that I am courageous. The sharing of my blog, the sharing of my feelings is, indeed, courageous. I've never thought of myself as courageous. Seriously. In fact, I thought quite the opposite. I am was full of fear. I let fear rule for too long in my life over too many things. But when your greatest fear comes true and you live through it, you realize fear was just a myth. You realize that, with God's help, you are braver and stronger than you think. You realize the handcuffs that fear throws on you are from the Dollar Store and are made out of plastic. You realize you have the capacity to break out of the cuffs.

But fear is persistent. He thrives on silence and counts on the fact that those fears will be kept private. He knows he can keep you prisoner if you believe certain lies. His MO is to walk beside you whispering lies. It's all too easy for him, really, because when you fall for his lies, you turn to him with your arms out, and then he slaps on the cuffs quicker than you can blink.

Fear is just one of many companions along the journey of grief. And if fear can't take you into custody, then despair will give it a shot. He has a way of messing with your head, making you wonder and doubt. It's not just one's faith that gets pounded when one loses a child. Despair takes advantage of the sleepless nights, the jumbled thoughts, and the physical exhaustion of grief. He lunges at you in the dark.

It takes courage and truth to escape the lies of fear and despair. I'm so thankful for the truth of God's word. There is nothing more powerful than His word, especially when battling grief. I've been attacked by despair and handcuffed by fear, but the LORD sent the way of escape through His word. This email devotion on Monday was my way out: Antidote for despair. The key to freedom for me was this line about David: "Despair wasn’t avoided by seeing the goodness of the Lord but by believing he would again see God’s goodness."

I need to keep believing the truth and stay courageous despite what the companions on this grief journey say.

Living limbless - 22 months

We went to the farm for the Memorial Weekend. There's no internet or t.v. there, but there is plenty of wood ticks and wind. We have 20 years of memories at the farm.  It's a bit different now that Grandma has moved off the farm and Grandpa is gone. Being there is bittersweet. For the kids, it remains great fun. For me and Tim, it's a chance to get away, to rest, and to disconnect from the "everyday."

Seeing the kids do so much of the same stuff their brother used to do is hard to watch because it makes me miss Matt all the more, yet it also brings joy in seeing his siblings enjoy what he did. Memories are now so very bittersweet. How is it possible to be both happy and sad at the same time? It is an enigma to me. I cherish the rest of our children and the memories-in-the-making with them all the more.

One of the bittersweet memories from this last weekend was watching Tim teach Abby how to drive the Bronco. The Bronco is a staple of our farm memories. The kids think it's SO cool to ride in it. I have no idea what makes it so amazing, but it's one of their highlights when we're there. Seeing Abby driving, of course, brought back memories of when Matt drove the Bronco with his dad.

As momentous events like graduation, driver's ed., and birthdays draw nearer and nearer with Abby (and David), I am finding it harder and harder to fight withdrawing. Today marks 22 months since losing our son. This, too, is the year Matt would have graduated. Just over a week remains until graduation. I wrestle with a multitude of conflicting emotions because David is here and will participate in the graduation ceremonies. While I want to be here for him and celebrate with him, I honestly don't know if I have the strength to get through it. Yet, I want to attend for David's mother because, at the same time, in a somewhat similar way, I know what it's like to be a mother who can't be there for her child's graduation. If I can be there for her, then I want to honor her in this way.

I feel as if I've been trying to claw my way out of a deep hole the last several days. I don't see the light at the top. I only feel weak and panicked. Yet I am frantically trying to repeat God's truth to myself. One such truth is this:

^"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

1 Cor. 13:13 

What strikes me most in this verse is actually the faith part. I've read this verse so many times before, but really only glossed over the word faith. I think I had seriously underestimated how important having and keeping faith was. Only in experiencing the loss of my child have I realized how great a role faith plays. These days where the pain of separation, loss, and grief are deepest are the hardest to hold on to my faith.

But GOD is faithful. HE will never let go. In order to have hope, one must have faith. And if faith and hope are to mean anything, then one has to realize what love is. God is love. (1John 4:7-9) The sorrows and trials of this life are not intended to destroy us. They are intended to refine us. As James MacDonald says, "God's love is not a pampering love. God's love is a perfecting love." Yes, the loss of a child feels like decimation, but the truth is, "your loved one is precious, but not essential to you living." (From my GriefShare workbook notes.)

These are hard, hard truths to swallow, aren't they? Who wants to believe that their child, spouse, or loved one isn't essential to their life? It sounds too harsh, too unbelievable. Yet if we refuse to believe the truth, then we are really saying that our loved one is/was more important than God. You see, everything and everyone can be taken from you. If that should happen, God is all you would have left. And GOD is all you need. There is no one greater, no one who loves you more.

It is because of His great love that we can hold on to our faith. Remembering that God gave up His one and only Son for me is a sustaining comfort when I am overwhelmed by grief. (Romans 5:8) Without understanding God's love, faith would be fickle. And "without faith, it is impossible to please Him." (Heb. 11:6) The good news is also this: My faith is not of my own works or strength. It is from Jesus, "the author and perfecter of faith..."(Heb. 12:2)

Romans 10:17 says, " So faith comes from hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ." For me, listening to hymns is one such way to hear the truth. Grief is a dark liar and will pounce at every opportunity to strike when one is alone and hurt. But darkness cannot hide the light and lies are revealed by the truth. I am meditating on this:

Be Gone Unbelief
Begone unbelief, my Savior is near,
And for my relief will surely appear:
By prayer let me wrestle, and He wilt perform,
With Christ in the vessel, I smile at the storm.

Though dark be my way, since He is my Guide,
’Tis mine to obey, ’tis His to provide;
Though cisterns be broken, and creatures all fail,
The Word He has spoken shall surely prevail.

His love in time past forbids me to think
He’ll leave me at last in trouble to sink;
Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review,
Confirms His good pleasure to help me quite through.

Determined to save, He watched o’er my path,
When Satan’s blind slave, I sported with death;
And can He have taught me to trust in His Name,
And thus far have brought me, to put me to shame?

Why should I complain of want or distress,
Temptation or pain? He told me no less:
The heirs of salvation, I know from His Word,
Through much tribulation must follow their Lord.

How bitter that cup, no heart can conceive,
Which He drank quite up, that sinners might live!
His way was much rougher, and darker than mine;
Did Jesus thus suffer, and shall I repine?

Since all that I meet shall work for my good,
The bitter is sweet, the medicine is food;
Though painful at present, wilt cease before long,
And then, O! how pleasant, the conqueror’s song!

Faith is not always easy. It's sometimes easier said than done. But always possible. Because God's grace is sufficient...for anything. (2 Cor. 12:9)

Seeing the tide come in

The closer it gets to Matt's birthday, the higher the grief waters rise. Grief has two M.O.'s, ambush or rising tide. Both devastate. Both suck. Both leave one gasping for air.

I am struggling to keep my footing amid the rising waters. Thankfully, I've learned what works for me, and that's worship and praise music. The truthful lyrics are my life jacket to the swirling, rising waters around me. I must put the music on. Absolutely must. If I don't, my mind immediately goes to where it shouldn't; the accident, the what-ifs, the if-onlys. It ends up becoming all about me, all about my loss. Yet Christ calls us to be mindful of Him. We are, as His children, called to remember what He has done for us. When I turn my thoughts instead to what He has done for me and to who He is, then the tide waters recede and are kept in check.

I will not get through this valley of grief by myself. Neither does anyone else. They are lying to themselves if they think otherwise. There is a helper. It is the LORD GOD Himself, through the person of Jesus Christ who is "the way, the truth, and the life." Do you have the Truth?


Are You Talking to Yourself
 Thursday, April 25

Our Journey - James MacDonald

Are You Talking To Yourself

Hayden Norris

⁵Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation ⁶and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and Hermon, from Mount Mizar. —Psalm 42:5-6

D. Martyn Lloyd Jones said:

“The main trouble in this whole matter of spiritual depression in a sense is this, that we allow our self to talk to us instead of talking to our self. Am I just trying to be deliberately paradoxical? Far from it. This is the very essence of wisdom in this matter.

Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself?”

He is correct. Talking to yourself and not the other way around is what the psalmist is advocating. When we start listening to what our heart says, we will find ourselves cast down and in turmoil. That thinking leads to dismay, discouragement, and doubt.

We must tell ourselves to place our hope in God and not in the things of this world, or in the circumstances of life. Often, we use the word hope but the type of hope we are accustomed to is not biblical hope. Biblical hope is not a fleeting hope (I hope the Cubs win the World Series), or a wishing hope (I hope I get the new job), but a fixed hope, a certain hope. When we hope in God, our hope is certain because of who God is. He cannot lie. He does not abandon His children. He always does what is best. We don’t hope in financial success, family success, anyone or anything but God because He alone is our salvation and God.

Here are some practical ways to talk to ourselves throughout the week:

1.)   Re-read sermon notes from church, and work on one point of application.

2.)   Make sticky notes with Psalm 42:5–6 and post them everywhere as a way of remembering this truth.

3.)   Spend time in the Word every day. How can we tell ourselves who God is if we don’t know how He describes Himself?

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, (because I am listening to myself), and why are you in turmoil within me? (because I am believing lies), Hope in God; (that is what I am supposed to do, why?), for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.” Because He is the only One who is always faithful and the One who is worthy of my steadfast hope.

Journal

• What are the situations/sin issues plaguing me right now?


• What is the truth I should tell myself about these issues? 

Pray

Father, I thank You for Your patience with me. I so easily close my ears to Your voice and listen to the voice of my circumstances, others who are not your children, and the voice of the Accuser. When I do this I put my soul in turmoil. Help me to speak truth to myself daily. From the moment I wake to the moment I lay my head down to rest, may I place all of my hope in You alone.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen