Citizens of Heaven

"But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. 

And we are eagerly waiting for Him to return as our Savior."

- Philippians 3:20

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My Mom went to be with Jesus 7 weeks ago. In the time since her death, I've done a lot of faith work. I've had to reexamine all the things I know of Jesus: Who He is, Who He was, Who He promises to be. I've had to ask Him questions I never asked before. Had to have Him carry me through the darkest valley I've ever been in. Had to crawl back to Him in a weakened state that I've never felt, and have had to rely on His strength in new ways. 

Grief looks so very different for the Christian, because not only am I missing my Mom and her Earthly presence in my life, but I'm also coming to terms with Who God is, who we are in Him, and the greater purpose that He has for all of us. I've had to reevaluate what I know not only about life, but what I know about death, and what has been revealed to us through scripture. 

So many people say that death is natural, that it's part of life, something that we all must go through. But looking at death through spiritual eyes, we realize that death itself is not natural at all. 

God created humans higher than the animals (Genesis 12:26) with souls and minds and the ability to think and reason. Our souls were intended to live forever in complete and perfect union with our Father God. Our souls were created for eternity, and it wasn't until Adam and Eve first sinned, that death became natural for man (Gen. 3:19). Our sin, is what first broke our communion with God, and it's why our bodies now age, shrivel, and die. 

So though we now live in a fallen world, and our earthly bodies all suffer and eventually die, death for the soul, is still unnatural, because our souls live on forever. 

It was in light of this truth that God in His divine love and mercy sent His Son, Jesus, to die for our sins, to suffer our death, so that we would have a way to be reconciled to our Father, and have a way for our souls to be saved from eternal damnation in Hell. Jesus came, to bridge our gap to Heaven, and once we have accepted Jesus as our Savior, our souls are guaranteed eternal life in Glory with our Father God. 

For the Christian, our eyes must be on Heaven at all times, because that is what we are now intended for. This time we spend on Earth is only temporary, was made temporary after our sin, and now we look ahead to Heaven, when we will be at perfect peace in our Father, and the eternal security we have in Him. We are no longer citizens of Earth, intended for Earth. But rather, we are now citizens of Heaven, intended for Heaven, and we eagerly await for our arrival there (Philippians 3:20).

Because of these truths, I have to think differently about my Mom's death. My Mom's body failed, her heart stopped beating, and she died on Earth. But because my Mom gave her life to Jesus on Earth, her soul was purposed for Heaven, and that is where she now is. She is finally where her soul has always longed to be: Fully alive, walking in complete fellowship with her Savior, fulfilling the ultimate plan that God has for each of us. My Mom is where she was always supposed to be, but it still hurts. 

It hurts because we are left behind. It hurts because our souls are separated from where we are supposed to be. We are longing for Heaven, anticipating Heaven. We want to be there with everything we are, because our souls long for God, and long to be with the ones we love. This soul separation is not natural for a Christian, because we are citizens of Heaven, no longer citizens of Earth. 

Through the pain, though, our eyes look upward with hope. The Biblical hope that is secure of things unseen, the anticipation of Heaven, and the day when God will make all things well. One day, God will call my soul home, and I'll be reunited with my Mom, and come face to face with my Savior Jesus, and all will be well. My soul will be where it has always been meant to be, and my heart will be at peace. 

I have to look ahead with hope, with anticipation and gladness in my heart, because I know this separation will not be forever. My soul is in turmoil now, but I know the truth about life and death, and I know God will one day call me Home, and heal my pain. 

My soul is set on eternity, and my eyes must be as well. I have to focus on what is ahead, what is waiting for me, and anticipate the return of my Savior, and eternity spent with Him.  I am a citizen of Heaven, my soul is intended for Glory, and one day I will close my eyes in this life, and open them to behold my Savior. One day I'll walk the same streets of gold that my Mom is walking now, and my soul will only know peace. 

LORD, I am longing for the day! 

May You keep my eyes focused on You, focused on Heaven, and the eternal purpose that You have for me. May I live my life on Earth in such a way that demonstrates my hope in You, and may my life here bring glory to Your name, until the day You bring me Home. Thank You, Jesus, for saving our souls, and securing eternity for us. Thank You for Heaven, and the home I have waiting for me there. I look ahead with hope, and wait for the day when You make all things well. 

Letting God Carry my Grief

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  

- Matthew 11:28-30

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Sometimes God speaks to us through people, and this past Sunday someone told me something that literally stopped me in my tracks. We were talking about the loss of his Mother, and he told me that he had chosen to let God carry His grief. It sounded so simple and obvious, but it hit me because I realized that I haven't learned how to let God carry my grief. 

I've had moments where I've prayed and asked God to relieve my burden, to help me, to give me rest. But I haven't learned what it feels like to walk in that rest everyday, knowing that God's yoke is easy, and that He is carrying the weight of my sadness. 

I've been trying to carry the weight myself, and not only mine, but the weight of my family's grief as well. I've been trying to hold it all together, to fix what's broken, to implement practical solutions, and get through another day. I've been carrying my grief on my own shoulders, instead of allowing Jesus to share my yoke, and ease my burden. I was struck by the truth that I needed to choose to let God carry my grief, and learn how to lay my burden down. 

I went to this passage in Matthew where Jesus welcomes us to come to Him, lay our burden on Him, and find His rest. The Jesus presented here is gentle and kind, promising us open arms, and strong shoulders. Jesus says "learn from me", because He wants to help us, to rescue us, to teach us how to walk in His freedom. Our image of Jesus is peaceful, unburdened, and gentle. 

Why wouldn't I want to run to Him, have Him hold me, and let Him take away my pain? Why wouldn't I instinctively rush to Him, pour out my heart, and let Him heal me? 

The answer to that is simple, and painful: I'm a sinner. 

I like to fix things on my own. 
I like to have the answers. 
I like to be the hero. 

And more than that, the painful part to admit…is that, perhaps I've been a bit angry with God. I've been angry with Him for taking away my Mom, for not answering our prayers, for wounding my Dad, for taking away our children's Grandma, for ruining our life, for causing this hurt, for leaving us here in our pain, for ripping our hearts in two, for allowing such a routine procedure to turn into tragedy, for letting my precious Mom die... 

And because He allowed this pain, it's been hard to trust Him. It's been hard to run to Him and open my heart, because I feel like He wounded me. I feel like He betrayed me, hurt me, and required something of me that I wasn't ready to give…

My heart is broken and sad, hurt, and rebelling against The Good God I've known my whole life. 

Though I've tried to keep hold of my faith through this sorrow, the broken places in my heart have literally kept me from the correct fellowship with my Father God that I need to have. And the truth and weight of that all came rushing over me when someone told me I needed to choose. 

Am I going to let God carry my grief, or am I going to keep limping my way through life? 

Am I going to let God be the Savior of my Grief, or am I going to keep trying to fix it on my own? 

I have to choose. 

God gives us free will. He doesn't push Himself on us. He offers Himself to us, tells us to come to Him, all who are weary, and find our rest, but we have choose to come. He won't take our burden until we ask Him, He won't save us until we surrender. He is loving and kind and generous, but He won't beg us to obey. 

I can't keep trying to fix things on my own in one breath, and begging Him to save me in the next. I have to trust Him with my entire heart. I can't hold something back, and expect Him to make me whole. I have to trust Him with my brokenness, with my anger, with my questions, with my doubt. I have to trust Him with my pain, with my lost dreams, with my confusion. I have to keep trusting Him, through the great loss of my Mom, and let Him carry my grief. 

This sort of thing may take time. I don't think it's something I can surrender all at once, because the grief is different day to day. But today I choose to let Him help me. I choose to confess my sinful heart, and let Him be The Savior of my life, and also The Savior of my grief. 

Today I will choose to find my rest in Jesus, and let Him teach me how to surrender… 

Facing the Pain

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, 

bearing with one another in love."

- Ephesians 4:2

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Sitting through Sunday School was hard. Mom wasn't there to lead, and all I could do was picture her there, see her Bible, her pen in hand, hear her laugh, and see her smile. She was everywhere in that room, but painfully absent, never returning. It was hard reading scripture that spoke of the joy God would bring, because at that moment, my heart was not feeling much joy. It hurt to sit there, but I knew I had to stay and work through the pain, or I'd stay crippled forever.

Walking through the sanctuary was equally painful and terrifying. Nothing felt normal, nothing felt comforting, nothing felt right. Dad's office was empty, pictures of my smiling family staring back at me, and I wondered if we'd ever smile like that again. The singing felt empty, the readings felt empty, my heart in my chest felt empty, and I just wanted to leave. I didn't want to sit through such misery, didn't want to answer questions, and didn't want to talk. I just wanted to run away, and never feel that kind of pain again.

Thankfully, though, God breaks through our pain, and has mercy on His children. He doesn't require us to walk through pain, without giving us help, and He provided me with friends to help me take my first broken steps back into the family of God. He sent friends with words of comfort, and warm hugs. He revealed His love to me in the form of my church family, who embraced me in my pain, and accepted my tears. I was shown mercy in my very dark hour, and it strengthened my heart, and made me feel like I wasn't alone. I left feeling strengthened, and renewed, something I very much needed.

It's not always easy letting people in to your pain. It's easy to be scared because you don't know how people will react, what they'll say, or how you'll feel. It's easier to build walls, stay away, and create a fake comfort that tells you you're OK. It's easier to skirt your pain, and do everything you can to avoid it. But avoiding hardship never brings growth, and I don't want to stay stagnate.

If I truly believe that God is Who He says He is, and if I truly believe His Word and promises, than I need to also trust that He is bringing purpose to my pain. I need to trust that His ways are higher, and that His ways are good. I have to believe that He is walking us through this valley of death to be shown His love in a greater way, His mercy in a greater way, His joy in a greater way, and His healing in a greater way. At the end on my grief, God's glory will be revealed in a new way, and His work in my life will be revealed in a new way too. There is a reason God called my Mom home when He did, and I have to believe that that reason is good.

And as I'm walking through this valley, I've learned my need for my church family in a new way. I've learned that I need to not only ask for help, but I need to accept it when it's offered. I don't have to shoulder this burden on my own, and I don't have to be afraid. God will provide the strength I need, and sometimes that will be revealed in the form of precious friends who come along side me, and help me carry the weight of my grief. I'm thankful that through this time of sorrow, God's love is still being revealed, and His hand of mercy is still holding me. We do serve a good God, who loves us so very much, and we can never lose sight of that, even in the darkness.

I am moving forward through my grief, taking it step by step, and I'm thankful for the things God is revealing along the way, and the peace He's bringing to my heart. Our joy will one day be restored, and until then, we will just keep going, facing our pain, and working through it. I know I'm not alone, and I thank those who are lovingly walking beside me.

Living with the Sting

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” 

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 

But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

-1 Corinthians 15:55-57

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It's funny how when grief hits you, old beloved verses of scripture seem to change. They take on new meaning, are revealed in a new way, a different way, than before the grief came. I've been reading verses that never "spoke" to me before, that I now hold dear, and in the same way, I've met some of my favorite verses with questioning and doubt, unable to feel the victory in them that I once did. 

I must admit, I've had some trouble with this verse in 1 Corinthians since my Mom died. 

As Christians, the finality of death is supposed to hurt less, because Christ gave us victory over the grave. And I suppose, in some ways it does hurt less, because of the hope we have. But in other ways, the pain is enough to steal away my air and drop me to my knees. Why does no one in the church ever talk about that kind of pain? 

So often when tragedy comes, we recite these "victory verses" to those who are hurting. We think they will bandage the wound, fix the pain, heal the heart. But is it ever ok to KNOW these verses inside and out, and still suffer the sadness of death? I think it is. I think I'm in it now…

Because though I know the true meaning of this verse, though I know the eternal hope it offers, my heart is still broken and longing to be with my Mom. I am experiencing grief, walking through it, in hopes of reaching healing, but for now, I'm sad. The sting in my heart is not because I don't know where my Mom is, but because in fact I DO know where she is, and I know I can't go there yet…

The veil between Heaven and Earth has never felt so wide, and the sting in my heart has never been more raw…

Though we will never know the anguish of eternal damnation and separation from our Father God, we will know the sting of death in the form of separation from our loved ones on Earth. We have to feel that, because Adam & Eve sinned, and we now live in a fallen world, and this is our consequence: we die, and we suffer because of it. 

The hope offered here for Christians, is that the suffering is not the end. That's the key that you can't miss, that I can't miss while I grieve. 

"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning!" - Psalm 30:5

I am currently walking through my night, but because of the hope I have in Jesus, I know that morning will eventually come. My suffering will not last forever, and the sting of death will not last forever, though I may feel that way now... 

I have to understand that this feeling is temporary, in light of what Jesus did for me, and I have to believe that we will have victory over the grave, and victory over the pain we currently feel. Today's verse is still true, even if my heart doesn't currently feel victorious. 

I suppose this is all part of the refining, the work God is doing on my heart to better prepare me for His work. This is a chapter in my life of "working out my faith", working out my relationship with my Father God, and getting to know Him in a way I never knew before. He has been LORD of my life, and now He is LORD of my grief, but He is the same God. He has not changed, and He won't change. 

This chapter of sadness will not last forever, and one day, He will bring the victory for me, when He calls me home, and wipes away every tear from my eyes. I have that hope, and I'm longing for the day. 

The Hope of Heaven

"But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive."

- 1 Corinthians 15:20-22 

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This verse out of Corinthians is today's "verse of the day" on Bible Gateway. It's funny how many times I open that website, to find a verse that I need exactly at that moment. I know that God doesn't do things by chance or coincidence, and that His Word is active and alive, and that He gives us the Words we need when we need them. He is a good God, even when our world looks so very dark. 

I've had a rough couple of days, feeling very hormonal and emotional, weepy and sad. I know being in my third trimester of my pregnancy is not helping my grief, in fact, I'm quite sure it's amplified every emotion I've felt. 

Yesterday I had moments of great despair, thinking about how life will never be the same, how we will always carry this sadness around with us, and how even the hope of Heaven doesn't quite feel like enough sometimes. 

I was feeling upset because, in Heaven, we won't care about our life here on earth, we won't be married to our spouses, or have the same relationship with our family members as we did on Earth. I was upset because I WANT my Mom, I want the relationship I had with her to be the same in Heaven, I want to run to her and hold her and tell her all the things I've had on my heart since she died. But I know Heaven won't be like that, because at that point, God would have healed everything, made everything well, revealed His complete glory and majesty, and once I'm there, I won't NEED my Mom in the same way I need her so desperately on Earth. In my emotional state, that just wasn't good enough, and I told my Dad: "Then what is our hope at all, if I can't have her back?!" 

In my human state, I just can't understand it all, or make sense of the emotions in my heart. I only know how to reason like a human, think like a human, feel like a human, and fix like a human. I can't imagine what Heaven will feel like, how it will heal me in every way, because I'm not God, and I can't see the beginning and the end. I haven't experienced the glory of Heaven, I've only experienced the pain of Earth…

But God wouldn't have sent His only Son to Earth, to endure human life, to suffer, to bleed, to be nailed to a cross, to take all of our sins, to be separated from His Father, to die the death I deserved, and to RISE again, conquering death, if it wasn't good enough…

God, in His infinite wisdom, would not have designed the plan this way, if it wouldn't bring complete healing and complete peace. Jesus had to die and rise from the dead, so that our death would not end in the grave. Jesus had to overcome death, to close the gates of Hell, so that we too could overcome death, and live forever in Heaven. 

That plan IS good enough, does hold our complete hope as Christians…even on the days when I'm missing my Mom so much, and needing her…

I don't understand how all will be made well in the twinkling of an eye…but it has to be enough for me because God says that it will! I have to trust in my Father God, who loves me, who sees me grieving, and who made a way for me to spend eternity with Him and my Mom. I have to keep walking by faith, even when my eyes cannot possibly make sense of what's ahead of me. Heaven has to be enough, it's the only hope I have. 

And because I have that hope, I can keep going another day. I can keep clinging to it with everything I have, until God reveals more of His plan. Right now, everything seems dark, but I have the promise of light, and I'll keep walking forward, keeping my eyes on Heaven. 

Why I Haven't Been Back to Church

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn."

- Romans 12:15
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One of the things about grief, is it encompasses your entire life. When Mom died, nothing in my life went untouched. My Mom was not only missing, but so was my best friend, my counselor, my comforter, my encourager, my nurse, my keeper of answers, my Dad's helpmate, my family's joy, security, and strength. 

Everything changed. Every relationship changed. Every purpose and plan, changed. 

And it's hard moving forward, walking into new situations where I know Mom won't be. It's hard enough facing the immediate loss in my own direct life, without having to face the loss outside of my home, among her friends, among our church family. 

Church is one of those places where my Mom would be prominent. She'd be leading the Ladies Sunday School, helping in the sound booth, sitting up front, singing out in a clear, beautiful soprano through the choruses and hymns. She'd be greeting people, laughing, smiling, and giving hugs. She'd be listening, counseling, loving, and encouraging those in the congregation. She'd be standing next to my Dad, supporting him, and gazing at him with pride while he preached. 

But now there is an enormous hole where she used to be, and facing that is something I haven't felt I'm ready to do yet. 

Not only that, but my Dad is also missing. For the last 25+ years of my life, my Dad has been my pastor. He's been strong and sure, unwavering, and passionate. He'd lead his flock with love, gentleness, and wisdom. He's preached with power, conviction, and truth. He's been my strength, my guide, and my spiritual educator. He's the one who lead me to Jesus, but right now, he's too weak and broken to lead a flock, and so, he's missing too…

I just can't imagine walking through those doors and facing such a loss, in such a public way…

Romans 12:15 tells us to mourn with those who mourn…to open ourselves up, and be willing to be vulnerable with one another, to join with one another, so share each other's burden…but truth be told, people don't know how to share this burden, and there's no way I can imagine myself opening up the pain in my heart in front of our entire church…

I know people would do their best, say the things they feel led to say, maybe even cry with me, but none of those things will help ease our burden, or lessen the pain in our hearts. What I imagine more, is that, instead, the well-intended words will hurt more, the pressure will close in, and I won't be able to handle the emotional burden of carrying not only myself, but also the emotions and feelings of those at church…

I wish that I could simply go in, sit among my friends, and just be…but I know that won't happen. I know going back will be overwhelming in every way, and I'm not ready for that, not in the state I'm in. 

I have been worshipping on my own, singing, writing, reading. I have been crawling my way to Jesus, carrying my broken heart to Him, pouring out my burden, and the burden of those I love. I've been trying to praise Him through the pain, crying out my honest feelings, and letting Him hold me. 

My relationship with God has been hard work these last weeks, sifting through truth and lies, grasping for understanding and peace, acknowledging anger, pain, and confusion. I am working out my faith before my God, but I don't feel the need to work this out in public. 

I wanted to explain this, because I've been getting pressure to come back, and I'm hoping this will help people understand. The best thing you can do for me and my family, is pray. Pray for healing, strength, and comfort. Pray for peace, and a fresh calling. Pray for our purpose, our joy, our vision, to be restored. Visit with us one on one. Ask us how we're doing. Drop off a meal, mail a card, or send an email to let us know we aren't forgotten. 

Our grief is still very real, and though it's been over a month since Mom died, we are still very much in pain. We haven't moved on, we haven't forgotten, and everyday we sit here in our sorrow, watching the world pass us by. If you want to help, join me where I am, where I need it most. Don't pressure me to do things your way, don't expect things that I can't give. 

This is hard work…an emotional, physical, and spiritual battle, and it's one I have to fight. I have to go through it, but I have to go through it my own way. Thankfully, I still have hope, thin as it may be. I am still holding on to the promise that God will see me through, and make something beautiful from this pain. I am still choosing to believe, though I am so very weak. 

I am still breathing, as I write this, so I know God's not done. I know His work will still go forward, and His plans will still be worked out. I know He's still here with me, and is walking me through this dark valley. And I know, too, that someday, we will reach the other side together, and He will make everything well again. It's just getting there that hurts so very much…

Louder than my Grief

"Send out Your light and Your truth; 

let them lead me; 

let them bring me to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling!"

- Psalm 43:3

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Grief has a way of clouding truth, emotions tend to take over, and feelings outweigh what our minds are telling us. 

I truly believe that part of the healing process of grief is feeling the feelings, acknowledging them, working through them, and overcoming them. But for me, I've had to ask Jesus to be louder than my feelings. I've had to ask Him to let His truth reign in my heart, in order to overcome how I feel. 

If I went by what I feel, I'd never get out of bed. I wouldn't get dressed, I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't care about my kids, or what's going on around me. I'd wallow in self-pity, dwell on the sadness, and let myself sink into a pit of despair. 

If I went by my feelings, I'd be angry, bitter, and resentful. If I went by my feelings, I'd be questioning God's goodness, questioning His plan, questioning His divine wisdom, and wondering why we live this miserable life at all. 

I know this, because I've had moments where I've felt all of these things, and it scared me. It scared me how quickly I can turn away from everything I've always known because my circumstance changed, because I'm in pain, because I miss my Mom, because I'm sad... 

I came to the understanding last night, that I need to let God be my God, even in my grief. If Jesus is truly LORD of my life, He needs to be LORD of my grief too. His voice needs to be louder than my grief, His truth needs to mean more than my feelings, His goodness needs to sink into every ounce of my being, wrapping around the grief, and covering the spots in my heart that are broken. 

His Word has to be enough, His truths laid out in scripture. God has promised us every good thing. He's promised to be our Healer, our Refuge, our Strength. He's promised to turn our weeping into dancing, our darkness into light, our ashes into beauty. He's promised to be there with me, bottling my tears, bringing purpose out of my pain, ordaining my days. He's promised to be in control, no matter what situation comes, and He's promised to be trustworthy…even when things look bad. 

I've had to acknowledge and accept that God was still in control on March 13th. He was in control of Mom's heart attack. He was in control of her Cardiac Catheterization, and the procedure to put in a stent. God was in control of her recovery in the ICU,  He was in control when she began to bleed, and He was in control in to OR when doctors did everything they could to save her. He was in control when He answered "No" to our loudest prayers, our screams, our cries for help. He was in control when Mom took her last breath on this earth, and He was in control when Dad & I stood over her body, saying goodbye. He was in control when He took her to Heaven, her hour of completion, and our same hour of compete darkness. He was in control of it all, and somehow…in His divine understanding, He called it good. 

What is impossible for us to understand, what is heartache, separation, pain, and death to us...was somehow good to God, because His plan was worked out in Mom's life, and worked out in ours too. 

God doesn't do bad things, life is not a surprise to Him. And so, yes, on March 13th, God was in control, and the things that happened that day were good, even though they look so very bad to us. 

Part of being a Christian, giving our lives to Jesus Christ, allowing God to be LORD over all parts of our lives, is acknowledging that He knows better than us. Acknowledging that He is in control, and that He works all things together for good. He sees the beginning and the end, He sees all that will ever be, and we have to pray for His will to be done in our lives, and submit to His authority. 

Grief tells me to run, but faith tells me to believe. 

To keep holding on to Jesus, to submit to Him, and the plan He has for me life. 

Feelings cannot outweigh truth. 

Not in life. Not in death. Not in grief. 

Truth has to win out every time, or we are not truly submitting to God, and His authority over us. 

My God has not changed, even in my grief, and acknowledging that is the beginning of healing, because true healing can only come when we are in the will of God, living our lives the way He intended, bending our knee to Him, and giving over control. My feelings, though real, cannot overshadow the truth that God has spoken, cannot overshadow the Truth that I have always believed: 

God is good. 

He doesn't do bad things. 

God is in control.

His plans are perfect. 

God loves me.

And His love never fails. 

My heart is free to grieve and heal, when I align myself with these truths, and hold tight to The hand of my Savior. And I can breathe and rest in Him, knowing He won't let go, knowing that He'll see my life through to completion, just like He did for my beautiful Mom. 

His plan will win out, we will have victory, and joy will once again come, because my God is trustworthy and true, and because His voice is louder than my grief. 

One Day at a Time

I had a beautiful dream about my Mom last night. We somehow knew in the dream that Mom was dying, and we were saying goodbye to each other, saying all the things we never got the chance to say, and I asked her to write a letter for Maggie to have. I was able to hug her, and cry with her, and tell her how much I loved her. I could almost feel her in my dream…

And then I woke up.

I'm so weary every day, walking around in this grief...

There are moments I forget she's gone, and go to pick up the phone to call her. And there are moments when I say "Mom would have known the answer to this", moments when my breath is stollen from me, and I'm overcome with anxiety and fear, and moments of peace when I can almost see the light again. There are moments of happy memories, and moments when normal life routines take over, until I remember again, and get angry. But most of the time, I feel like I'm on autopilot, just trying to get through the day. My mind never shuts off, and even though I'm so emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted, I never seem to be able to rest.

In my heart, I know that God is here. I know He's holding me, and sustaining me, even when I can't feel Him. But sometimes I get mad at even Him, asking Him why this had to happen. For someone with no prior medical conditions to die from a routine procedure. Why? Why her? Why now? And I'm always answered with the truth that it just doesn't matter why, dead is dead, and she can't come back.

These are times in our life when we have to just accept that we won't get an answer, and make the choice to keep believing anyway. That's the definition of Biblical hope, being confident of something, even though you haven't seen it. That's faith, and in times like this, I'd rather choose to hold onto my faith than run away from everything I've always known. I have to keep believing, knowing that Jesus is The One who supplies my next breath, and my life is and always has been in His hands, I have no control of my own.

I honestly don't know how people get through this kind of pain without Jesus. Where do they find comfort, where do they find the strength to keep going? Because even in my darkest moments, I still know God is there, and that He'll somehow get me through it. And I'm learning that when I need it the most, God gives me slivers of peace so that I can do what needs to be done. I haven't received complete peace, just moments…and I guess that's how it will be for a while.

Grief is a journey, and ours has only just begun. I know this is something God has required of us. He is walking with us on this path, and at the end, more will be revealed. There's a purpose in all of this pain,  there has to be, because God is still good, and doesn't do bad things. That simple truth is getting me through.

One day at a time...

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

  “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  
-Matthew 5:4
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Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since my Mom's home going, and as I've been working through my grief, I've been posting my reactions publicly online, understanding that this path of suffering I'm on is private and unique, but that the lessons I'm learning may help someone else who is on their own path of grief as well. 

I've often weighed the positive and negative outcomes that happen from sharing such personal thoughts online, but as always, I still find that the positive outweighs the negative, so I keep writing, I keep sharing, with the hope that somehow purpose will come out of my pain, and that the things I'm learning will be able to help someone else. As a writer, and as a follower of Jesus Christ, I understand what this transparency may mean for me, but I feel it's important for me to be honest to myself, and honest to those around me. And I have always believed in living a vulnerable life, because I truly believe that vulnerability builds community and true fellowship among believers. 

Too often I hear people say that they are afraid to express their pain and emotions, as if it will somehow make them a weak Christian, or a flawed Christian. I don't know where this theology and teaching comes from, but if you come from a church that teaches that, get out! 

God is not afraid of our grief, and He does not condemn it. Our Creator God hand crafted us into the people we are in His image. We reflect Him, and all of His characteristics and traits. We have our emotions, because God put them there, so how could it be wrong for us to feel them? 

The Bible is clear that we are not to sin in our anger, sin in our doubt, sin in our pain…but the very act of feeling these things is not a sin. As Christians, we do not need to hide our emotions, we do not need to pretend to have it all together, and we do not need to be fake. 

Life hurts, and some days are hard to live through. God knows that. He's not afraid of our hurts, and He's never told us to keep them to ourselves. God is there in our grief, He is feeling our pain too, and we are free to go to Him with these things, pour our hearts out to Him, and wait for His healing to come. 

The Bible tells us in Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted!" Our grief is part of life, living in a fallen world, and God expects us to express it. He tells us, blessed are you! And promises to come to us, save us, and comfort us in our darkest hours. 

I've gotten some hurtful reactions through my grief, people telling me that I shouldn't be sad, that I should be rejoicing more, that my focus has turned from Christ onto myself…and I just have to say, those thoughts are crazy! 

Yes, I should sad…my Mother died! She was a treasure, and she is worth mourning! I have lost the most important woman in my life, and that's worth being sad about. Being sad is not wrong, and I won't let anyone tell me that it is. 

Grief clouds us, and our rejoicing may come out differently than yours does. But my prayers, and my songs, and my desperate cries to Heaven are still being received as worship. The cries may be broken, they may be weak, but the heart behind them is still the same, and Jesus accepts my sorrowful worship just as He accepts your joyful worship. 

My focus has not turned from Christ, this assessment could not be farther from the truth, actually. Grief has a way of breaking us, drawing us to the throne of God, because we realize how desperate we really are. I am sitting at Jesus' feet through all of this, I am not in a faith crisis. 

Christians cannot be afraid of grief, and we should not be made to feel guilty for expressing it. If you are feeling this way, than I would strongly suggest you reexamine your heart, and examine WHO Jesus is. Jesus Himself wept over the loss of His friend, EVEN THOUGH He  knew He would raise him from the dead! If Jesus knew the outcome and still grieved, shouldn't we? He is our model, after all, and the Jesus I know would never turn away someone in pain. 

Grief is a very personal and unique journey, and we all feel it differently, and heal from it in different ways. But I would encourage you to feel it, and allow the healing to come when it will. God has promised to be near in these times, and He will bring the victory for us. We don't need to be afraid, and we don't need to hide away. Grief is a very important journey for the Christian, as it draws us closer to our good God, and closer to the ultimate plan He has for our life. 

Let His love wash over you, and hold you now, even through the tears. We do serve a good God, this truth has not changed. He will lift our head, He will cradle us, He will turn our mourning into dancing…all in His time. 

Faithful God

"For I know the plans I have for you" declares The LORD, 

"Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, 

plans to give you hope and a future." 

- Jeremiah 29:11

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After 20 years with Jesus, it should no longer surprise me that He's always working things out in my life. He's always been faithful, always been good, always been patient with me, and has always rescued me, no matter what situation I found myself in. It should come as no surprise that He's thinking of me, orchestrating my days, preparing me, and guiding me. But, in my human weakness, sometimes I forget. 

Sometimes life knocks you off your feet, punches you in the stomach, and steals your breath away. Sometimes, while going about your merry way, life happens, and everything you once knew changes. 

That happened to me on March 13th, when I got a call from my Dad saying my Mom had had a heart attack. She had surgery, was given a positive prognosis, and signed up for cardiac rehab. Her doctors left the hospital confident that all would be well. Only it wasn't. A simple, routine procedure, was not so simple for my sweet Momma, and she died. Talking, laughing, reassuring me one minute, and then gone the next. There was a bleed somewhere, and the doctors just couldn't save her. It was her day, her day to go home to Jesus. 

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After the trauma from being at the hospital settled over me, and I began to accept what happened, I laid down in bed to rest, and suddenly remembered something that God had placed on my heart almost 3 years prior, and had been slowly bringing to light up to that exact moment. 

About 3 years ago when Andrew accepted the position as Pastor at West Eaton, I knew in my heart then that God was moving us close to Mom & Dad because He was going to require something of us. Andrew had applied to churches across all of New England, but the only church that asked him to come aboard was 30 minutes from my parents. I knew then that something "bad" was going to happen, and that we were going to be needed. I talked with Andrew about it at the time, with a heavy heart, and he reassured me saying that we needed to see this move as a blessing and not think about negative things. And though I tried to take his advice, in my heart I always had a deep nagging, knowing God was preparing me for something. 

Then, about a year later, it became obvious that our time at West Eaton had to come to an end. Our ministry there had hit a wall, and there was no way for us to go around it in order to keep going. And after announcing the decision to leave, we were approached by the deacons at my Dad's church. They wanted to know if Andrew would be willing to come aboard as their Youth Director, overseeing the Kid's Club and Youth Group and working to build the youth program at Cassville. We were overjoyed with this answer to prayer and blessing, being able to worship with our family, sit under Dad's preaching, and reunite with friends. But again, the nagging in my heart returned, and I knew even more that something big was coming. I assumed that Andrew was being groomed, sitting under Dad's leadership, soaking in the love and leadership from a strong body of Christ. I assumed because my Dad already had a heart condition, that the problem would be his, I never even thought of my Mom. 

Through Katelyn's early months, I was almost frantic. Trying to take photos of every little thing, mostly with my Dad, but also some treasures of my Mom, because I knew how special those photos were going to be. I knew I needed to take them, and capture our time together. We purposely planned vacations together, birthdays together, weekends together, to soak up as much time with my parents as possible. And this October I made my parents come over for a family photo session, making them stand for photos with Andrew & I, and their grandchildren, and photos of just Mom & Dad together, laughing, loving, making fun of my photo taking antics. Somehow I knew in my spirit that those were special photos, and I treasured them, framing them for the family at Christmas. 

And then at Christmas, I made our entire family pose for our annual group photo. Among babies crying, kids running around, and unwilling adults, we managed to get a few good shots of all of us together, Mom standing right in the middle, surrounded by her loves. I've always insisted on these annual photos, and I'm so thankful now that I did. 

By early winter, I was having visions during the day of giving a eulogy. I saw myself standing in a church, talking about my parents, but never knew who the eulogy was for. I remember being angry with these visions, shaking my head to try to clear my thoughts, and telling myself to stop thinking about such things. But they returned, during the oddest times: shopping, cleaning the house, driving the car. I just had this nagging in my heart I couldn't shake. 

And then, about a month before Mom died, I had a dream. I dreamt in vivid display, like a movie playing out before me. My Mom had died of a heart attack, and I stood with my Dad at the hospital, holding him up, and saying goodbye to my Mom. I woke screaming and sobbing, waking Andrew, so upset by the dream and how real everything felt. The next morning I called my Mom crying, pleading with her to tell me she was OK. Of course, my Mom shrugged this off, and told me she was fine and not to worry. She had just had her annual physical and had been cleared, scoring 99/100 on her heart test. 

Meanwhile, other family members were facing their own grief, and I began to pour over scripture, writing blog posts about suffering, death, and the hope and peace we have in Jesus. I thought at the time that I was writing for someone else, but now I know God was preparing me, covering me with His word, whispering to my heart. 

All the while, I begged Jesus not to take my parents. Pleading with Him, telling Him there was no way I'd be able to survive, that they had too much work still to do, grandbabies to love, and years of retirement ahead. I screamed and cried and asked God for another outcome, but on March 13th, He answered. 

He required the most of us.

He revealed the nagging in my heart, the visions, the dream:

He answered "No"

He called my Mom home. 

And as much of a shock that Mom's death was to us, for me, it was almost a confirmation, fulfilling something I already knew. This was why God moved us here, this was why my heart had been in turmoil, this was the requirement. 

Part of me wanted to be mad about all of this. Why would God give me those naggings, those visions, that dream? Why would He torment me like that?

And then my heart realized: Because He loves me. 

God knew how close I was with Mom. He knew I depended on her, going to her for all of life's questions, struggles, and joys. He knew how much it would break me to be separated from her, and so, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, He prepared me. He gave me warning. He gave me time to cherish her, and He brought me close to her so that I could soak up as much time with her as possible. He gave me the greatest gift: the understanding that time was short. 

And because of that preparation, and through His strength, I was able to plan Mom's funeral, give the eulogy I had envisioned, and able to honor her through the grief. My inner heart of hearts had been prepared, and God's peace had settled in, without me even knowing it. 

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It should come as no surprise just how much Jesus loves me, but it did. 

I praise Him now, through the tears, for the mercy He showed me, and the gift He gave. I have no regrets with my Mom, we lived and loved fully, and I know in my heart that she know's how much I love her, and I know how much she loves me too. 

I know she is safe in her Savior, waiting for us in Glory, and standing in my cloud of witnesses, watching me run my race. My heart misses her so much, but I have God's peace, knowing this was His plan for us, knowing He saw her life through to completion, and knowing He'll do the same for me. 

I can face tomorrow knowing that The God of Heaven is in control. And He's the same God who goes before me, preparing me, guiding me, and laying my path. He has been faithful before, and so He remains.