Memorial Weekend

We went to one of our favorite places for Memorial weekend, Trout Lake Camps. Trout was one of Matt's favorite places, as well. We went for family camp, and it was great. I think, for once, the joy and the grief were equal partners. Grief no longer takes precedence, though it remains a constant. We had wonderful weather right up until the morning of our departure. However, even that wasn't so bad because, well, who doesn't love shooting off rockets in the rain?!

For the most part, it was a weekend of relaxation and fun with my family. It was a much needed time away, though it wasn't without its moments of testing. See, when grief shows up, it doesn't come alone. He brings a few friends along. Friends like Fear and Doubt, for instance. Fear, like grief, is good at the art of ambushing. It showed up strongly at one point during our weekend and then once again after we got back from vacation. I wrote the following on my Facebook wall last week after fear had attacked:

Me and Fear? We didn’t use to be friends. Not really. More like occasional acquaintances that would run into each other on rare instances. But after losing my son, fear likes to pretend to be my best friend. Fear stalks me, constantly trying the door handle of my faith to see if I’ve left a way in for him. Fear shows up at the most opportune moments. Like today. Today I saw this headline: "More than 500 people killed as heat wave bakes parts of India."

Oh, nice try, Fear. Nice try. You know that tomorrow my husband leaves for India for two weeks. You know that I trust God, but you take advantage anyway, always trying to shake my footing and make me fall. You sure did a good job at that last weekend, too, by the way, when my daughter went missing. Though she really wasn’t missing, I just hadn’t gotten an account of where her camp group had gone and then freaked out when they didn’t return at the stated time. Nicely done, Fear. I’ll give you ten points for that one.

I won’t lie. You scare me, Fear. You do, because I know the reality of actually having a parent’s worst nightmare come true. It happened, and I lost a child. And there are no guarantees that I won’t lose another child or my spouse. And now I’m left, like Eve in the garden, to choose. Unfortunately, Eve made the wrong choice. I don’t want to make the same mistake. I want to trust God. I want to live in faith.

You terrify me, Fear. But God? God laughs at you. He knows that you are finite. He knows that you hold nothing on Him. He knows that the ropes you throw around me and others are dissolvable. He knows we speak, Fear. He is aware of our conversations, and He knows that I am weak. He is patient and stands waiting for me, waiting for me to take my eyes off of you and turn to Him, to look at Him. Him, whose motives are pure, who does everything out of love. You wouldn’t know about that, though, would you, Fear? Because you are not from Him. He is love and you are not. He is love, and perfect love casts out all fear. I will choose to ignore your scare tactics and lean on God, the Only One who has the power to render you powerless. He is mighty to save. Goodbye, Fear. Rattle the door if you must, but I’m not answering it this time.

I struggled Memorial weekend with fear, and I felt like a failure. Instead of trusting God, I freaked out. I listened to the voice of fear whispering in my ear. When my daughter didn't return at the time and place specified, all I could think was, "I don't ever want to experience that kind of pain again. Ever. Please, God, No." The pain of losing Matt was horrific. I don't wish that kind of pain on anyone. To this day, I still have moments where I am struck by the horror of it all over again. It takes an inordinate amount of strength not to "go there" with my thoughts. But I did go there at camp, and I'm not proud of it.

However, it did reveal something to me. It revealed there's still work to do, still some growing to do. But I realized something else, too. I realized that it's ok. My Father knows the pain I've endured. He knows my fears. He knows my anxiety and doubts. And He loves me through it all. He has been my God, and He will never leave me. My "God-nod" for the week has been this song:

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.