Cloudy Skies

Two months ago today, we buried Branson under a cloud-filled rainy sky.  As the air became filled with praise, the clouds broke.  There was sunlight.  Today, it rains....memories, blessings, release.


There is a discrepancy between what I feel and what I feel allowed to feel.  A brick wall separating reality and perception.  We went for a hike last weekend.  It was strenuous- a quick, elevated ascent to a beautiful tip-top experience. I was absolutely dying.  My lungs screamed for mercy and my heart seemed to beat out of my chest.  I had never felt more physically unable in all my life.  As I struggled, a thought arose in my mind: 


You delivered a baby 7 weeks ago........


The thought physically choked me.  The tears begged to flow.....But, instead, I swallowed hard.  I felt I couldn't allow such a thought. Unlike a mother who nurses a 7 week old, I was here without her. 
My body was not the body of a mother who had just given birth...for I have no 7 week old.


My heart and soul and body don't align.  Nothing aligns....I am left feeling like the chasm between what I do feel and what I am allowed to feel will forever be bridge-less.


Just as I stood at her grave wondering how God was going to use this, I stand today wondering how God is going to use my weakness. 
 I cling to Him.....for He makes sense from senselessness.
He makes strength from brokenness.
He makes beauty from ashes.
He makes purpose from wandering.


He makes sunlight break free from cloudy skies.

An Easter Story

I was lost.
He found me.


I was aching.
He held me.


I was immobilized and numb.
He stirred me.


I was confused.
He showed me.


I was worried.
He comforted me.


I was dirty.
He washed me.


I was without purpose.
He guided me.


I was condemned.
He rescued me.


This was not a specific moment of my life, but a continuous process that I walk.  He does it day after day after day because I fall, retreat, hide and forget. 
 He reminds me with His love that He paid the price once and for all, yet He continually comes to my side and pursues me.......
My Easter Story is just beginning....the sun is rising in my life....

Good Friday

A drifting cool fog 
hanging in the air
Landing in dew drops
on a worn, soiled pair 
of sandaled footsteps behind soldiers trudge
Willingly
Forcefully...
prodded on by love.


Moon and small horizon light 
to mark the path of pain
Crowd of angry passersby
Shouting curses at his name....


Hiding friends and family
teary....broken......shamed.
Peeking out and hoping 
He would 
Rally,
Conquer,
Reign.


His feet bloody, broken,
His arms heavy, bent-
Back groans to carry hard lumber in his skin.
Teary eyes follow from a mother full of fear-
Wondering, waiting, watching while he falls 
again
and again.


A day full of darkness as he struggles with every breath
Hanging in front of mockers...fearing separation, but not death.
A perfect, holy sacrifice-
A man with blood to spill, 
who thirsts-
who aches-
who is innocent
who touches, sees and feels...


An earthquake and it is finished.
His body sighs and sags.
The Savior, My Jesus,
held by nails and dressed in rags.
The curtain torn, the veil removed, the battle up above 
is raging, is violent,
and is conquered with His love.

By His Wounds.....

But He was pierced for our transgressions, 
He was crushed for our iniquities; 
The punishment that brought us peace was upon Him.......
and by HIS WOUNDS we are healed. Isaiah 53:5

by His wounds......

God just spells it out......by His wounds we are healed.....

I had been searching all over...saying that this was an "unanswerable"question.  It may still be a great mystery how He walks us through it..but no doubt that the reason he CAN do it, is because of His suffering....because He knows...because He took it all.

As I am walking through this week of Easter....the weight of all He endured is almost too much.  I think of the torment His mind experienced as He bore the weight of all the evil in the world, while feeling for the first time ever the separation from His Father.....

I see it like this.  I do not want directions from a person that is not from the city I am in.  I do not want a meal cooked by someone who admits they don't know how.  I don't want to be operated on by someone who cannot perform surgery. ...You get the picture....

I am going to be healed through and through...why? Because my God knows how to restore, heal, renew....because He did that for all mankind on the cross.  

He walked the road to Golgotha bleeding, beaten, humiliated, scorned, abandoned....He walked it knowing it would only get worse.  He walked it with His heart bent towards the Father in submission.  He walked it knowing He would soon be separated from His will, and be united with the will of the Father.  

How much more does He understand my road...I walked the road with Branson bleeding, disappointed...I walked in reluctant submission to His Will...knowing that I may be separated from her on this earth....but that she and I both, and our family, would be united with the will of the Father.  He knows my road, and understands that, to me, my road feels consuming.... He walked a road far more dangerous than mine and was resurrected, restored.....

He knows how to heal me because He is Healer...

Let the graphic nature of Jesus' death blow through you. 

Do not stop with the Sunday School image of a clean Christ silently and neatly hanging on the cross...for, if you do, you will wonder how He can understand and allow such hurt and disappointment in your life.  Without allowing the brutality of His death to settle nauseously in your stomach, you will question the very nature of His will.....

but- when you realize the physical pain and emotional suffering that our Jesus endured, then the Glory of His restoration and resurrection is all the more powerful....THAT is why He knows and understands and heals......because he endured, suffered, was separated...he knows.

We often are aware "why" he died....and for "whom" He died, and even "how" and "where" He died.

But "what" He did, was take it all......endure it so that we may know and believe......that by HIS WOUNDS we are healed.

 

Really good and really bad....

Her headstone came in....they called to tell us.  The headstone that an anonymous friend paid for- selflessly loving us.....loving Branson.....loving Jesus.
I stood by it Friday and felt relief at seeing such a beautiful and permanent marker for her....I felt distance...and that felt both really bad and really good.


Jaden's beads are still there, and eason left a soldier there....more for his memory and association with the visits than for her....it really helps for him to have something he can remember, touch, leave....


I don't even have a word for the place that I am in.  I just simply need prayer....and for the Holy Spirit to just interpret my heart and step in.  I know He does. Somewhere between the pit of my stomach and my lips, I lose grasp of what the feeling is.  Like trying to recall an unfamiliar face...one you saw for a split second in the dark.  That is what it feels like to explain how I "am."


I am doing better at answering honestly. I find myself answering more honestly, actually, than people expect.  They say sincerely "How are you?" and I answer appropriately.  Most of the time it is "alright" or "better today than yesterday" and sometimes "ugh...it is a hard day."  But occasionally someone will ask on a bad day, I will answer, and then there is a long, silent pause- and we both stand and wonder what we are supposed to say.  


I am frustrated when the words don't come.  They seem to be all I have to reach outside of the "stomach pit" feeling...and without them, I have to sit with the feeling- and I simply don't wanna.


So, I am here standing in front of the Lord, as Zachariah did....wordless, silenced.....unable to relate my feelings, thoughts or revelations. I know that it is purposeful...and so, like all other things, I will wait for my tongue to return and wait for the purposes to be revealed...


Please continue to pray for me....I covet your prayers.

And, so, I paint....

I have been on a rampage in this house.  I am afraid that if the kids stand too close to the wall, that I may just paint them as well.

It is how I deal.  I didn't know this until I lost my Papa.  We had a set of bookshelves planned out for Jaden Lily.  When he died unexpectedly, the bookshelves remained unaccomplished.  I had all of his tools.  I had the plans.  I knew, without a doubt, that I had to build these bookshelves.  I had never taken on such a project....not without him.  But I did it. I built them....sweating in the hot summer garage, wearing his tool belt, feeling the leather rub my back...using his saw, painting, talking to him...the whole bit.

It was the best therapy I could have ever had.

I have so much trouble being in the moment.  I know that is where He wants me.  Who wants to go on a coffee date with someone looking at their watch, ready to leave, looking for the next event? That is no way to invest in a relationship. No.  He wants me to rest.  To sit with Him.  For me, this happens when I am painting.  Whether it is a canvas or a wall, the rhythm and focus allow me to respond to Him in a different way.
I can listen.
He reminds me over and over that He loves me.

So, I paint...investing in this home and this family that I love...knowing that running will not heal me, but running to Him will.

I'm so forgetful, but you always remind me.  
You're the only one that brings me peace.
So, I come, Lord I come.
To tell you I love you.
To tell you I need you.
To tell you there's no better place for me than in Your arms.
To tell you I'm sorry for running in circles,
For placing my focus on the waves, not on Your face.
You're the only one that brings me peace in the storm.
- United Pursuit

Praying for Jaden

So much pain and questions in such a young heart.  Jaden has mucked through this with us bravely, but not without many tears and frustrations. 
I share her thoughts with you for two reasons. 1) that you may wholeheartedly pray for her- continuously throughout the next few months. and 2) that you may know what may be on the hearts of your own children as they learn the cruelties and sinfulness of this world, and the just, merciful, mysterious nature of our God.


from her lips:
"I am angry that we had to have only footprints instead of her real feet"
"I remember her most when I am quiet and still"
"I am afraid that we won't have any more people in our family"
"I am sad that it had to be her that God showed Himself through, instead of someone else"
"I am jealous that other people have their babies alright"
"I am worried that the sadness won't go away"
"I want to pray for healing for our hearts...especially eason"
"I keep telling God that I will still love Him."


These are her words.  Her thoughts among many.

The other day, Jaden was playing dolls in the living room while I sat punching out a geography quiz on the computer. Will was around and we played along as she brought us her baby "Mary".  She talked about visiting her husband in New York(he was a famous actor) and I ooed and awwed over my "grandbaby" and volunteered to keep her.  Moments later Jaden returned to pick up "Mary" and came also bearing news that she was going to have another baby. I responded with an appopriate "yay!" right on cue, and Jaden went off to the Dr.'s appointment.  She returned to tell us that it was twins! This continued until the twins were born and another baby boy after that.  I continued to play along, as did Will with an occasional grandfatherly "oh, she is so beautiful" or "come to Papa!".  There was one more on the way, but this time, as she "returned from the Dr." she had tears in her eyes. With sobs, she told me that this baby had not made it.  


So there we sat, Jaden and I, embraced in a make-believe loss- An acting out of all the emotions she had felt, and yet embarking on an entirely longer journey.  With tears, I enveloped her, crying for her, for Branson, all the while knowing that I could possibly be experiencing this with her one day... 

We ate out as a family tonight.  The four of us.  I think that when we are together as four, she senses the loss the most.  On the car ride home she was in tears...aware that this was not how she had planned it.  She had given great thought to the car seat situation - Where Branson would sit, what would be easiest, how she could help etc.  She is aware that she has lost her, lost the sister she believed would walk into old age with her.  Like I said, it comes in waves.


Lord, You are mysterious, yet You ask me to seek You. You are merciful always, yet one hundred percent Just.  You are jealous for me, yet You lead me through fire that burns, that chars the ugliest parts of me- refining my heart, restoring my soul.  I do not pretend to know of Your ways, but I do know You- and I do love You.

the seven stages of grief...

1. SHOCK & DENIAL
2. PAIN & GUILT

3. ANGER & BARGAINING

4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS

5. THE UPWARD TURN
6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH
7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE


I am nervous when anyone gives me 7 "steps" to anything.....The mention of a generalized process worries me.  I am not like any other person, and my experiences, even with grief have all been different unto themselves. 


Does mere experience of each step mean I am healed? 
Do I have to go in order? 
What if I don't experience one? 
Will there ever be hope for me? 


I realize psychology is allowed to make generalizations, and I know the list is meant to be helpful, so I thought I would look back through the list...you know, to make sure I was "doing it right". 


1. Shock and Denial.....Finding out about her diagnosis was surely a shock. Having had two, normal, uneventful pregnancies and deliveries and this one being as uneventful for 30 weeks made the devastating news more jarring to my mind and especially my heart.  
I was not in denial, just hopeful that the Lord would heal her...aware there were things that only the Lord knew- the unseen.  No, the shock came when He did not heal her here and now.  The shock came at the glimpse of the far bigger picture.  The one that, like a gigantic painting, I cannot seem to get far enough away from for it to come all the way into focus.  The shock that there is so much I do not know or understand.  The shock that my faith and desires are pieces to His ultimate puzzle, not the puzzle themselves.


2. Pain and Guilt....Pain, yes...I seem to have quite a bucketful of that. It ebbs and flows like the shore of the lake- calm and serene at times, murky at others. Like the lake it also rushes violently- the memories and hurts rushing towards me with a memory or comment like the heavy wake of a passing speedboat.  The only guilt I have is the lack of time I spent cherishing the pregnancy- the comments about how sore I was, the heartburn...the comment I made about her not moving as much-"I would be just fine if she was a calm quiet baby!"...I had said it so flippantly...


3. Anger and Bargaining....I have not done this since Branson's death.  I was angry for brief moments during the 4-5 weeks that we begged and prayed for her...I worked hard to steer away from bargaining with God....very hard.  I had my heart set against any promises to Him or bargaining with Him... It felt so demeaning to who HE was...a cheap attempt.  So, no.  Since her death I have not been angry...and I will not bargain with Him. I will not.


4. Depression, Reflection, Loneliness...  I am not depressed.  Although, I am not sure I would be able to say that if it had stayed cold and wet for much longer.  Thankfully, there are too many people in my life, in my business for me to go long without smiling and laughing.  I am not against medicines for depression, but in my case, I am aware of my tendencies, my weaknesses.  I know that I would come to rely on such medicine quickly and possibly addictively.  So, I waited it out to see if my hormones and feelings would balance out with time, friends, conversation etc.  And, so far, they have.  My body is getting stronger, and mentally "thinner" :)  
I have done much reflection(am doing it now)...and will continue reflecting on this until the day I die...not obsessing, just reflecting.  I am lonely for her, but I am not lonely.


5. The Upward Turn....hilarious.  What a concept...are you supposed to know when you have hit this!? On January 8, 2013 I had an "upward turn."  Is this a year, a month, an event?? I am skipping this one....


6. Reconstruction and Working Through...This part is about looking for solutions to the problems posed by the loss, so right away, I am aware that I fall short in this category.  There is no solution...Nothing can solve the problem of losing her- of not having her in our family. I am aware that having another baby is part of some people's reconstruction phase, and I can see the purpose or rationale in that.  However, ours has been more explanation and clarity than reconstruction.  We are walking in the questions of our children....answering them the best we can, hugging them and holding them when the tears come.  We watched as Jaden acted the process out the other day, as she and eason spoke briefly of Branson and missing her.  We are seeking clarity so that we can show clarity to them...so that we can see clearly what God wants us to see and trust in Him for the rest.


7.  Acceptance and Hope... We are here.  We accept her death.  We know there is hope. Hope for full healing. Hope to carry scars that remind us of her existence, His love, our marriage, His restoration.


Then, do we win!? 
Is our score an A+? 100 %? Can it be, since we skipped certain other steps?


We win, because He has won...because He took our suffering and pain on the cross, bearing everything and more than we would ever experience.  He knows pain...and He wins....

Another Chapter....

Have you ever been reading a book and look up to notice there are only 1-2 chapters left and you realize:


This story can't possibly resolve itself in the next two chapters....


Your heart knows that the book is going to leave you waiting.....and no matter how good it was, no matter how captivating it was, you feel the nature of expectancy in waiting for the next.


I remember seeing Lord of the Rings the "Two Towers" in the theatre. I had waited to see the "Fellowship of the Ring' right before the second one came out so that I wouldn't have to wait.  Even though I knew the story line, and even the spiritual allegory of the triumph of good, I still left the theatre busting at the seams for the "Return of the King"...... 


Over a year later, as I sat and watched the end of the trilogy, I wept...feeling chains and burdens lifting off of me. I had carried the ring with Frodo all this time. I had been walking through every day life worried about the ending, worried about him clinging to the icy rock, climbing, all alone......It wasn't until I left the theatre that I felt the relief of the finished story....


The ending of a story can be felt....you know when a story is ended...when the loose ends are tied up...when your heart can settle into the experience.


This is where I am, left at the end of a book- a book that I thought was the end of our "trilogy".  I was planning on allowing my heart to settle after years of feeling "unfinished"...after feeling the deep desire to watch God write the ending to this chapter in our lives.  


As I came near to that ending...a twist, a deep plot thickening twist....one that would change the depths of the characters forever...a conflict rising out of the last few chapters...


I thought...This can't be happening. So,  I asked the Lord to work a miracle...to do what most authors can't.  Rescue..... Fix......


Instead, He ended that book..abruptly. Without even hinting at what would follow.


So, here I am...left with the same feeling.  Sitting with the weight and burden of what will follow.  


Trying my best to release and surrender to the Author's plans.....but anticipating His creative masterpiece.