Mourn - Grieve - and Let Go

 

(picsart .com)

We can all mourn the past we didn't have. 

 

Wishing our lives had been different won't change a thing. Go ahead and grieve for it. You won’t move forward without letting go.

 

To the one whose childhood was too difficult to navigate...

To the child who's felt unloved everyday...

To the one who's never felt they fit in...

To the one who's been neglected and abused...

To the one who's confused and challenging why things have been so hard...

And to everyone else reading:

 

You are seen and you are loved. 

 

"But not the way I've wanted to be", your heart cries. 

 You've been ignored, or worse, scorned. 

 

You've been criticized or cursed. 

 

You've felt completely alone, even when everyone around you seemed to be laughing. 

 

You've been lost and scared, not knowing where to turn or who to run to. 

 

You've knocked on doors that wouldn't open. 

 

You've cried prayers of fear and desperation. 

 

You've seen and felt the emptiness of your heart. 

 

And all you've wanted is to be seen and heard and loved. 

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Don't believe the lie that you are at fault or that you are unlovable. 

 

Don't believe the lie that no one truly cares about you. 

 

Don't believe the lie that you're the only one who's faced these thoughts and feelings. 

 

Don't believe the lie that no one will ever accept you as you are. 

 

 

The very One Who created you has been there every step of the way. 

 

He's been watching you and crying with you and reaching out to you.

 

He's been listening when your heart was breaking, and He heard the sound of every piece crack and fall away. 

 

He's seen every tear fall - and He's caught them all. 

 

He's felt your heartbeat race through all your fear and anxiety. 

 

He's called your name in whispers and shouts throughout every day you've drawn breath. 

 

He's tucked blessings in along the way. Sometimes hidden away for you, sometimes in glaringly obvious places. 

 

He's painted sunsets for your eyes only. 

 

He's showered down rain and sat with you in the puddles. 

 

He's guided you and even led you by the hand for as long as you'd hold on. 

 

He's dropped sunbeams to shimmer on your hair. 

 

He's brought sweet fragrances to tantalize your senses. 

 

He's sung love songs into your ears and wrapped them around your heart. 

 

He's breathed life into your lungs, even when you didn't want to go in living. 

 

He knew you before you were conceived. 

 

He waited with you on endless nights of loneliness and sorrow. 

 

He's pulled back the veil when you wrestled with confusion. 

 

He's held you while you slept, cradling you in His arms, tucking you closely into His heart. 

 

He was the parent your natural parents couldn't be. 

 

 

You can mourn the past you didn't have. 

 

You should. 

 

 

Then release the past to the past and look for the blessings of today. 

 

They're there. 

 

Everywhere. 

 

You'll miss most of them, even when you're intentionally looking. 

 

They're there. 

 

You'll catch a glimpse of one now and then. 

 

As you watch for them, you'll see more of them. 

 

You'll begin to appreciate them and even rejoice in them. 

 

And blessing by blessing you'll let go of yesterday and make something new out of today. 

 

As you listen for His voice, you'll begin to hear His love songs. 

 

As you begin to recognize the presence of the One Who loves you best you'll begin to celebrate moments you use to miss. 

 

Second by second, minute by minute you'll see your life for what it's meant to be, not just as the sum of the hurts that brought you into today. 

 

 

You are more. 

You are loved. You've always been loved. 

You are not alone. You were never really alone. 

You're alive, truly alive. 

 

Your next breath ushers in purpose and meaning that's been there all along. 

 

The only One Who can save us is the One Who loved us enough to create us and give us the chance to fulfill our destiny. 

 

All our mistakes and failures are back there, too - in the past. 

 

 

Today is new. 

 

Today we can choose to listen for His voice.

 

Today we can open our hearts up to His tangible presence. 

 

Today we can sing with Him as He rejoices over us. 

 

And tomorrow, there’s even more.

Write Anyway

(photo from indeanexpress.com)

Writing, whether in blog format, or journaling or for a project, taps into my soul and my spirit, even when I’m not aware of it.

I suppose that’s why I neglect writing when I’m hurting or sad or fearful.

God wants me to turn to Him, of course, in those times of need, just as He wants me to share with Him in my joyous times and celebrations.

But, the heaviness of the hard times can weigh us down and tempt us to curl up in a ball inside of ourselves. We can convince ourselves not to reach outward and upward, but to reach inward and wallow in the grief and anguish.

Without God, I am undone, in good times or in bad. I just recognize it more clearly in the bad times.

Celebrations can cover over feelings of emptiness or lacking, because there are so many distractions while celebrating.

But, sometimes, a person can sink so low, that even amidst celebrations, they’re pretending; forcing the image of sharing in the revelry. That can magnify sorrows even more intensely.

I suppose most of us who put our blogs out there in cyberspace are really writing to and for ourselves. Those who have a larger following may cater more to what their readers want or even ask for. But, those of us with smaller audiences basically pour out our hearts, in hopes that perhaps something we say can bless someone in some small way.

(picture from pinterest.com)

It frustrates me that my posts have become so infrequent and sporadic. It frustrates me that I feel I have less and less to share. But, it frustrates me most, that from the wealth God has given me, I feel as though my bucket is running dry.

Feelings can betray us. If I feel as though you’re judging me and you’re not, I’m feeling something that isn’t even true. Thus, I know that I know that I know that God’s eternal life springs up within me, even when I feel my proverbial bucket has run dry.

I've got a river of life flowing out of me

makes the lame to walk and the blind to see

opens prison doors, sets the captives free

I've got a river of life flowing out of me.

Spring up, O well, within my soul

Spring up, O well, and make me whole

Spring up, O well, and give to me

that life abundantly

Click here for: River of Life Song

(photo from iamhealed.net)

Should I just stick to praying for you, instead of writing to you? Or will the enemy of my soul then seek to steal that from me, also? He’s already stolen most of my songs….not this, too!

No. I’ll write. I may continue to be sporadic and sparse, but, I’ll continue to write.

I’ll write when no one reads. I’ll write when I write through tears. I’ll write – even when I don’t share it in a blog post.

But, I’ll write.

To God be the glory. He who began a good work in me, shall be faithful to complete it.  (Philippians 1:6 paraphrased, I sometimes memorize scripture via song choruses.)

“Jesus answered and said to her, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.”” – John 4:13-14 (KJV)

Click here for: God Will Make a Way Song

(picture from crossmap.com)

When I Don't Know How to Pray

(meveda.com)

As my friends sometimes do, one sent me a scripture this morning. Two verses that made me take note – and ponder.

When someone asks how they can pray for me, I often stumble for a response. 

Of course, my loved ones are first on my mind.

They’re suffering.

Yet, God is in control; nothing is happening that He hasn’t already seen, none of this has taken Him by surprise. To pray for their deliverance seems trite, because He’s already working on that. To pray for their salvation; He’s got that covered, too. To pray their eyes be opened and that He reveals Himself to them in ways they will understand and receive – yes, He’s already doing it.

(1ms.net)

 To pray that I trust Him with them, yes, I trust Him completely.

There’s no thought of my loved ones He hasn’t already heard, no cry He hasn’t already considered. How do I identify how to pray over what God is already seeing through to glory? Tearfully and sometimes feeling ill-equipped, I pray in faith and through a yielded heart; rejoicing that God prays through me. His Spirit is in me, and He knows exactly how to pray. Always.

Pray that I not get in His way? Ah, that might be even better, as one who loves deeply, my heart wants to jump right to every situation that arises; it can be hard to close my mouth and sit on my hands and watch pain and anguish and fear twist those I love. Especially when pride tells me that appearing to do nothing might convey that I don’t care or understand.

(mnn.com)

Yet, sometimes my own spiritual growth and understanding comes most brilliantly and powerfully through the painful breaths in my own life. Anguish can be a tool. Fear can paralyze or catapult me. Struggles can teach. Nothing we experience is wasted.

And we can’t experience for someone else.

Freedom is treasured more intimately when we’ve fought for it; when we’ve discovered for ourselves how that liberation exhilarates us.

In “wishing” for less turmoil, I dare not hope to remove God’s hand from the lives of the very ones I love more than life itself, or slow His plan, even if I could......

(theguardian.com)

With every request I bring to my Lord, He assures me: “I Am.........” 

My friend sent me a verse from Isaiah.

“Remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is none else; I am God and there is none like me. Declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not yet done, saying, My counsel shall stand and I will do all my pleasure.” – Isaiah 46:9-10 (KJV)

The Assault of Anguish

(photo from pixshark.com)

Processing. Processing. Just what is it I’m supposed to be processing? Life? Death? Gracefully transitioning through one and then the other? Or simply the idea of watching it unfold before me?

My brain seems to be in shut down mode more than processing mode tonight. Is this denial, not wanting to see the reality that’s before my eyes? Fear? Some version of panic? All of the above?

Blood. I’m not good with blood; not good with it at all! I’m not good with the smells that come with death, the stench of what the body is doing as it shuts down, the odors that permeate the air around those preparing to leave this world. My thanks and praise and honor go out to all of you called to careers that wholeheartedly embrace this part of reality, knowing that you’ve got gifts of mercy and endurance far beyond what my puny brain can fathom. To you, the doctors, the nurses, and mostly to the aides that get the bulk of the stinky work and the children taking care of their parents and the parents taking care of their children, I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

My blood is quivering in my veins. My throat is closing. The air is thin and hard to breathe in. My heartbeat is either pounding so loud I can’t stand it, or it’s so quiet I question if I’m awake. Burning tears bulge the skin around my eyes, but don’t fall. My eyelids bat at them, urging them to cut loose. A few make their way down my cheeks. My head can’t decide if it wants to burst from this profound pressure or just accept a headache. I sniffle. I feel a whisper of nausea washing over my body and the heat of fear flooding my face and neck.

My thoughts are so very unclear. How can I process what’s happening? Should I even be trying to make sense of this? Or is that better left to those of you in the healthcare fields? How do you make sense of this?

It’s one thing to get a phone call in the middle of the night, even when you’ve been waiting for it. But, it’s quite another to sit with and care for one I’m about to lose to the other side of eternity. She’ll see Jesus face-to-Face before I will. Probably.

(photo from elephantjournal.com)

Why can’t it always be a quiet slipping away while wrapped in slumber, dreams and conversations with our Creator?

No, sometimes great pain, discomfort and ugliness, swallowed up in blood and odors and weakness engulf both the one passing and those who love them.

Sleep. No wonder she wants to sleep. Her sleep consumes most of her day and all of her night. Perhaps there she’s able to forget the frustrations and sorrows and fears of her waking moments. When she’s sleeping, no one is trying to coax her to take a sip of water, or nibble on a snack; no one is trying to change her clothes or clean her body; no one is disturbing her peace. In her slumber she’s not forced to see what’s happening to her; she can drift off to another time and place if she chooses. Yes. I think I would sleep, too.

When she’s awake, it’s an effort to smile. I don’t dare ask what she’s thinking. Is she upset because she thinks others have given up on her? Or is she upset because she’s giving up on herself? Is she just annoyed because her body insists she’s tired and needs to be sleeping even more? Is she frustrated with those of us trying to help? Is she angry that this is how her life is ending? Does she wish it would end quickly, or does she grasp for each sunrise, even though she doesn’t seem happy to see it? Is she looking forward to “the other side”? If she is, she doesn’t show it.

(photo from petfinder.com)

She does smile, on occasion; at the sight of her puppy shaking his tail off because he’s so happy to see her – then, even though it’s out of love, he’s in her way. She smiled at the package of cookies a held before her, and then sighed at the chore it became to eat one.

She’s glad to be in her own bed. I ponder over what great solace this brings her, and squirm over the idea that she may not sleep there long. She needs more care than her home environment will allow. Unless, in His mercy, God takes her soon, she may find herself sleeping in a hospital bed or in a care facility of some sort. That, too, will steal any fleeting smile from her lips.

I wrestle with “how would I feel” – but, the truth is, I can’t know how I will feel until I get there. And right now, it doesn’t matter at all how I would feel, what matters is how to comfort her through what she’s feeling. Honestly, I can only imagine what she’s thinking or feeling; I actually have no clue what’s going through her pretty little head.

(Meme from thecaregiverspace.org)

Wait. The pressure in my face is increasing, for some reason the tears that are building up inside there somewhere are being held prisoner. The occasional loss of one tear or two doesn’t help.

Wait. Rest isn’t coming. I need to go home, to my own house, my own bed, the arms of my own husband.

Wait. My own sniffling is driving me crazy. But, I don’t want to disturb her sleep with one of my notorious nose-blowing escapades.

Wait. The flowers around the room don’t bring any cheer to my heart.

Wait. My body can’t decide if it’s hot or cold. The water from my bottle doesn’t satisfy my thirst.

Wait. Listen. Breathe…..Pray.

As I invite the Holy Spirit into the room, into my head, my lungs, and my body – a peace begins to wash over me. Now, yes, now – my tears fall. Something is releasing; something is being freed.

“Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah.” Psalm 32:7 (KJV)

Wait. I will wait on God, whether understanding comes with His peace or not. Selah.