The healing journey.......

"I'm healing."  What does that mean anyway?   The whole idea of being "healed" is so ambiguous.  We pray for healing but what are we really asking for? 
 
The definition of healing is: to make healthy, whole, or sound; restore to health;
 
When a person has a physical affliction like disease, or sickness or damage to the body, the idea of being "physically healed" is comforting and longed for. We want our bodies restored to original health.  When one has emotional damage the desire to be healed is to be able to be restored and to forget.  When emotional damage happens because of loss, the healing is much more complicated. 
 
I don't ever want the stabbing pains of missing Ryan to go away.  I have this sense that if it goes away that means I will have forgotten him; I don't ever want to forget him.  The pain reminds me of who he was and the joy he brought to our lives. So, what kind of healing am I looking for?
 
I want to continue to be able to feel the pain of loss and let it settle in and, remember.  The remembering makes me feel closer to him.  But then, the healing piece is me CHOOSING Jesus in that pain and him meeting me on the other side.  This, to me is healing.  It is finding Jesus in the pain and allowing him to strengthen and change me in the process.  I don't want the pain to be what defines me, but the strength that comes out of it.
 
An example of this type of healing happened yesterday.  I woke up with a pit in my stomach and tears brimming in my eyes.  As I sat and read FaceBook posts of perfect, lovely lives of others I got more and more irritated.  I have no idea why this was happening other than the night before I was "doing life" attending high school volleyball and football games and was smacked in the face with many memories of our life with Ryan.  I guess that is a good enough reason to have the rush of pain flow in.  So, I'm sitting there, with a beautiful fall day ahead of me and I was getting sadder and more irritated with each passing minute.  I let a few tears fall, looked up at my son's beautiful portrait and let it all just sink in. Looking at his portrait always makes me shape up because I can hear him telling me he loves me but get off my butt and don't waste the day.  I had a conversation with God about it.  I scolded him, thanked him and then asked him to help me with my day, and then made my move.
 
I took a deep breath and exhaled out the sadness and then hopped out of my chair, washed my face and took my dog for a walk in the beautiful Fall morning...and the trajectory of my day changed.  It ended up being a beautiful Fall day with my family and the spring in my step returned.  I got to spend a little time with Ry in the morning and then spent the rest of the day with the living.  God met me on the other side of my pain and gave me the strength to move forward. 
 
Healing from ANY pain, physical or emotional, can be found by CHOOSING to live in joy with our wounds. That joy comes by turning the pain over to Jesus and allowing him to move us forward.  There is no other way.  Jesus really is the only answer.

O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. 

Psalm 30:2

 

You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. 

Psalm 16:11

Love Fiercely, Hold Loosely......

I sit in the airline seat with my eyes closed and tears slowly escaping.  I wonder if anyone notices the drops of sorrow that come so unexpectedly.  When I closed my eyes I had planned on catching up on lost sleep over the busy week, but instead my ears become heightened to the noise of the chatter around me; two little kids sitting next to their mother.  Her soothing tone and their sweet giggles instantly flash me back to another time, another mom and her two sweet boys. Without warning my mind flashes back to the many flights I flew with my two little ones all those years ago.  I sit wondering if the mother next to me recognizes how precious these memory making moments are and how fast time slips through your hands.  I wonder if she realizes how unimportant it is to control and how important it is to love.

My mind wanders through its’ bank of memories of the times I was given the opportunity to fly alone with my two little boys to visit relatives every summer.  I smile at the memories of layovers, bloody noses, items left on planes, screaming babies, crabby stewardesses, rambunctious boys, no cell phones,  enlisting strangers for help, stress, and of course, the fun of telling the stories afterwards.    I see it all now, opportunities for memories.  I have this keen sense of how the whole of life is just that; opportunities to create memories.

My memory bank of my children is filled with good and bad; way more good than bad, but because I am a flawed human being there are some bad mixed in with the good.   It is interesting to me how most of the bad that comes to mind is when I needed to be in control of the moment and let my anger be the controlling agent.  Oh, how I wish I could redo some of those moments, but I can’t; the past is the past.  I can only correct things for the future.    And, I will always be grateful that I began learning these lessons before it was too late. 

Seven years ago when Ryan was a freshman,  God began to show me how to enjoy Ryan’s uniqueness and see it as a gift and stop trying to change what God had created.  It didn’t happen overnight, but rather, it was a slow progression of enjoyment versus frustration.  Raising Ryan taught me such an invaluable lesson; love fiercely, but hold loosely.  His death was the ultimate lesson in holding loosely.

I sit on this plane with tears seeping through my closed lids and I have a sense of all the strangers surrounding me and wonder how they were loved?  How are they being loved?  Since Ryan left this world I have this intense desire to look into people’s eyes to try and discern what is really there.  My care for them is so much more heightened.

This last week I was in Florida at a conference on Independent Living for youth in foster care.  There were probably 400 or so youth who attended that were either in foster care or had aged out.  I found myself looking into many of their eyes and wondering; what brought you here?  Have you ever felt loved?  Unfortunately, I saw the same haunted look in many of their eyes; the look of pain, hurt, anger and an utter sense of loneliness.  There were those that tried to cover that pain by being loud, or being noticed through their dress or their voice.  There were those that appeared to want to hide through their slumped shoulders and diverted eyes.  But the pain was evident, regardless of their mask of choice.  My heart broke for them and prayed for them as I continued to see them throughout the conference.  Conversely, there were a few youth that stood out and I had to wonder, what made the difference?  Why have they risen above their peers and appear to have made their way above the pain?  I was able to sit on a couple sessions where some of these youth spoke.  Each story was the same.  Each one of these youth that were catapulted into foster care eventually had someone come along side of them that loved them fiercely but held them loosely.  I marvel at the power of love and the power of relationship.  I guess this is why I take my love for the Lord and His love for me and that personal relationship I have with him so seriously; it can move mountains and seriously change the world if we let it.

I am forever a work in progress of learning how to love fiercely, but hold loosely. I want to grasp every opportunity God gives me to love those around me and allow God to shape the memory by being an active, obedient participant.   My tears have dried.  I’m feeling grateful for the family God has given me; Tom, Luke

and Amanda and will continue to love them fiercely and allow God to show me how to hold them loosely so that He can do His beautiful work in them.  I am also grateful for the gift of my job to love on youth that find themselves in foster care and then have no place to go from there.  I find it amazing how the birth of my son Ryan all those years ago and now his death, have been part of God’s preparation for me to understand deeply how I can trust Him enough to love others fiercely, yet hold them loosely into His care.  Only God.

Lead us to the good stuff......

I was in church this morning and I had this overwhelming sense that like my own family, our church family was making its' way out of the tunnel of crisis and pain that they too have been in over the last couple years.  Colorado Springs has had two major fires with lives and homes lost. We have had a number of deaths due to illness, suicide, accidents and even murder. Our church body has been there to help our community navigate through it all.  And yet, during that time there have been a number of changes in staff, some church members have left and there has seemed to be a spirit of restlessness.  Pain and crisis often brings restlessness, impatience and sometimes unforgiveness and blame.  I am grateful to be part of a church whose leadership has stayed the course, done the work, sought the Lord and brought us to a sweeter depth than before.  As I sat in the pews this morning my spirit was filled with a sense of excitement for what is ahead.

My experience in church this morning reminded me that the outcome of pain is worth the work it requires.  God continues to teach me this lesson.  As I live with pain I am continually given the opportunity to choose what I will do with it.  There are days when those around me might be out of sorts, I might feel out of sorts and it seems so much easier to just lash out, walk away, ignore what I am feeling, or not have that difficult conversation.  Yet that momentary "easier choice" really just delays the hard work that is necessary; it prolongs the pain and can cause more pain. 

I cannot really run from the pain, it will  just follow me.  I'm reminded of Jonah who tried to run from where God told him to go.  Remember where he ended up?  In a big slimy whale.  God gathered him up in a slimy whale to get him to STOP his running and LISTEN UP. I don't want to be caught up in a whale because of fear of doing the hard things.  I want to be where He wants me to be even if it is  hard. My experience tells me that this choice brings a sweet depth to my life and depth is what I'm after.

My pain has altered my life.  It will never look the same.  Colorado Springs will never look the same.  But we can still look ahead with excitement to what is ahead.  I trust my God to lead me and my city through the hard stuff and lead us to the good stuff. 

Faith....is it for everyone?

Every day I am confronted with the reality of my Faith.  From day one of my grief journey I have known that my Faith would be the thing that would get me through.  But what is faith and why do I feel my Faith has been so pivotal to my healing?

Faith is a firm belief in something for which there is no proof. Hebrews 11:1 says "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."  Faith is present tense. It is believing right now in something in which we have no proof of or have not yet seen.   On day one of my grief journey, I had never been in that particular position before.  I had never seen God heal my broken heart to the extent it would need healing.  I had never seen God restore my joy to the level it would need restoring.  I had never needed God so desperately to show me why my pain was worth it.  But on that day, on the morning of April 8, the day after Ryan died,  I stepped into a level of faith in which I had never been before.  I didn't just believe or hope that God was going to do something, choosing faith verses crumbling was saying, "It is done!" He wasn't going to be, my faith was saying he already was my rescuer, healer, companion and strength.

What gave me the confidence to do that?  Why did I choose to take that step?

I believe that is where hope comes in.   Hope drives us to faith. Hope is a desire with expectation.  Hope is future tense.  The Hebrew word translated as hope is yachal.  Yachal means to wait expectantly. Don't be impressed with my Hebrew, I looked it up.  I have said before that years ago I shared with one of my sisters that I thought one day I was going to be put into a position to really show the faith and hope that lied within me.  I always hoped (waited expectantly) that when I was tested, my faith would hold its' ground.  I always had the hope that it would.

Since I was young, age 7, my hope has been in the Lord.  Psalm 31:24  "Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD."  It has grown with my age.  I have spent the last 42 years allowing the Lord to shape my hope, a hope in Him.  I look back over the years and see a steady increase of "Moments of Faith" (this is what I fondly call them now), preparing me for the next moment and culminating with this most recent event in my life, Ryan's death. It has been a life of practicing those moments of faith and watching the depth of my faith increase as I made those choices.  These moments have been big and small, but they all led me to the point of decision, will I trust Him?

When Ryan died I was faced with the reality, was Ryan my hope?  Without him, would I be able to continue?  Oh, I adored that boy and absolutely loved being his mom.  I still love being his mom and am grateful I was chosen to walk this road because I had that title "Ryan's mom".  I wouldn't trade this job with anyone, even if I had to do it all over again.  The title comes with much pain but I have learned that my hope was not in Ryan.  My hope was and is in the Lord.  And this is why I think perhaps there are variances in faith.  We exhibit faith based on where our hope is.

It is so easy to put our hope in what we can see; our spouses, our children, our homes, our jobs, our finances, our church, our friends, our health, our safety, our self sufficiency. We cannot say with confidence that any of these options will be found faithful. They all have and will fail us at some point; none will last forever and none will provide that unfailing love for us to rest upon.  "May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you."  Psalm 33:22 

In my 49 years God has never once failed me.  Have I seen pain and suffering?  Yes.  But does that mean He failed?  No.  He has walked me through each moment and I have come out on the other side with a renewed love for Him and for others. He continues to heal my brokenness and show me an unfailing love. So, as much as I love all of the things I've mentioned above and would grieve if many of them left my life, my hope is not in any of them.  My hope is in the Lord and He is the only one that will be found faithful no matter what moment I find myself in. 

I am just like anyone else.  I have no special powers, I have no special gifts.  I am just a woman who has chosen to cultivate a hope in the Lord and because of that my faith has stayed the course and grown deeper with each moment of testing.  Faith is for everyone and we all have access to the same measures of faith, but faith requires choosing it in the moment and not just hoping for it  At some point we have to reach for it and claim it; calling it out, "It is done!"  

I will continue to cultivate my hope by growing in God's Word and feeding my mind and soul with the things of the Lord which will allow me to trust Him in each moment.  If I do not know Him, I cannot trust Him.  I wonder sometimes if Ryan's death was the ultimate defining moment for me or if there will be more? I have no insight into that but I do know that I will continue to wait expectantly for more opportunities for my faith to call out, "It is done!"

 


 

I lift my eyes up to the hills

“Lift up your eyes to the hills” Psalm 121:1 and go forward.  There is no other way.

Walking through grief with the Lord is an amazing journey.  It is complex, yet simple.  The complexity comes as I walk around daily with emotions that conflict each other and move me from joy to sorrow in an instance.  Sometimes I wonder that I am not immobilized.  The simplicity comes in what I do with that sorrow.  In those moments I choose to lift my eyes to the hills from where my help comes from because I have chosen to keep God at the very center of that joy and sorrow.  This choice enables me to continue to go forward.  There is no other way for me.

This choice I have made does not mean there is no more pain and that I don’t experience a heavy weight on my heart. Summer seems particularly hard as this is when Ryan would come alive and our home would be the hub of excitement, laughter and activity.  Our home is STILL alive and filled with those things, yet there is always this little anchor of pain that co-exists with me as I acknowledge that there is something missing.  Even when I’m truly laughing and my heart feels filled with joy, my mind is saying, “Ryan would love this” and an arrow of pain sears through. Yesterday was filled with those moments and I guess that is why I find myself needing to work through this today.

It isn’t hard to imagine where Ryan would be right now and what he would be doing with his life.  His friends, cousins and siblings have moved on to places that I know, if Ryan were here, he would be right there with them, experiencing it with them or cheering them on.  But then I think, “Would they be there if Ryan hadn’t died?”  Life is filled with cause and effect and we don’t know how circumstances would be different if our circumstances hadn’t changed; if our lives hadn’t been altered with pain.  I am grateful that many, many of these kiddos have moved forward with strength and purpose; each searching their own walks with the Lord.  I delight in watching where the Lord is taking each of them and appreciate when they allow us glimpses into those walks.  When we see strength and beauty in those walks it makes us know that Ryan’s death was not in vain.  Their pain has caused them to search God deeper and choose beauty over ashes.  That sentence right there brings healing to my heart.

I have learned to trust God with each moment of my life, understanding that He has the eternal perspective.  He knows what “cause” will bring about the right “affect”.  He has my best interest and has the best interest of all who love Ryan. And, if I really mean that, don’t I have to trust that Ryan’s death is part of God’s bigger plan?  That takes real trust.  But God has never failed me, so in those moments of searing pain when my joy and sorrow meet, when his absence is felt so deeply, I must lift up my eyes to the hills and say, “O.K. God, I trust you for the bigger picture.  Turn my ashes into beauty.”   And then, I have to let him do that by not clinging to my ashes.

Healing is coming.  The pain is not so constant.  But I think the pain will always be with me because God uses it to keep me close to Him.  It keeps me in that place of needing to lift up my eyes to the hills in order to move forward.  It puts me in a place of trusting God for wherever I am, and know that however it is wrapped, in joy or sorrow, pain or laughter, His plan is to prosper us and not harm us, to give us hope for the future. (Jeremiah 29:11). 

Our hope is in our future.  Luke just returned from Guatemala last night and today Amanda returns from Costa Rica and Cassie from Utah.  My two nieces, Libby and Elle and an extra friend, will be joining us on Tuesday for a few days.  Our home is going to be alive and filled with joy and laughter as we all move forward experiencing that “bigger picture” that God has designed for us. 

I continue to move forward.

 

Mother's Day......GOD KNOWS

 

Mother’s Day is approaching again.  I find myself asking, “Why do we have to celebrate this Hallmark holiday?  Why do we have to highlight a day to celebrate moms when each day should be that kind of day?”   Highlighting this day only makes it more painful for those who could not bear children, for those whose children have turned their backs and for those that have lost children.  I am one of them now.  I am one whose joy and sorrow is painfully highlighted.  

 
I have always enjoyed celebrating my motherhood and looked forward to Mother’s Day with delight, seeing it as a celebration of God’s gifts to me.  In my joy I had no real vision for those who might find this day painful.  I see you now, I understand your pain.  Like you, I step into it feeling my own desire for something different, the thing that I think would make me complete.  I am torn between looking forward to celebrating the opportunity I have had to mother the gifts right in front of me and the anguish of missing the one who can no longer celebrate with me; the one who started me on my journey of motherhood.    I foresee this as being a day that will forever hold mixed emotions, the joy of what is and the sorrow for what cannot be.

 

 

I can already see the gleaming mothers walking into church with their passel of children surrounding them in the pews, faces beaming, offering each other special touches throughout the service.  It is a beautiful picture; giver of life, gift of life.  I know what this looks like because I have been that mom for 20 years.  But now I see other faces, those who look on longingly and those that look on with pain.  My picture and my view have changed.  The strokes of my picture are textured with sorrow and joy and I continue to ask God to show me the beauty in my new picture.  For He promises “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy”. Psalm 126:5

I believe in His promises, but I still wonder if I can fully celebrate the gift of motherhood on Mother’s Day with the searing pain of my reality.  I wonder if my children will always feel robbed, as I do, of the pure joy of Mother’s Day? I hope not, but I cannot be sure.  Regardless of what I feel, I look to His Word for His promises and for how the faithful have responded.  I can’t ignore what Job said, "The LORD gave me what I had, and the LORD has taken it away.  Praise the name of the LORD!"  Job 1:21 Others have gone before me for thousands of years and walked this road.  I am not the first one.  Others have gone before me and have chosen to praise the Lord. 

So here is what I do know, God knows.  He knows of my sorrow, He knows my uncertainty, He knows of my conflict between celebrating my present and mourning my past.  He knows how my children step into Mother’s Day with trepidation, knowing their mother’s heart is celebrating and broken at the same time.  God knows.  And because God knows and holds my yesterdays and my tomorrows, I can step forward in my uncertainty for what will be.  I can trust Him to hold me, to comfort me and to fill my heart with joy when the rubble of the day has emptied it.  I don’t have to have all the answers; I just need the Faith to step forward, trust and rest in His promises.  God knows, and that is really all this mom needs to know as I step into this Mother’s Day.

 

 

“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

Mission Impossible.............................

Recently we watched the latest version of “Mission Impossible”.  As corny as it was, the line, “Your mission, should you choose to accept it is……………….”, keeps running through my head.  This is a line that I believe God has spoken to me many times in life. 
 

One year ago, on April 7 when Ryan fell, the Lord said, “Gail, your latest mission, should you choose to accept it, is to live faithfully and trust me even though I have taken Ryan to live with me.” 

 

Two years ago God said, “Gail your latest mission, should you choose to accept it, is to live faithfully and trust me even though I’m asking you to bring in a teenage girl who comes from a completely different background and include her in your family of boys.” 

Three years ago God said, “Gail, your latest mission, should you choose to accept it, is to live faithfully and trust me even though your husband just had a stroke and might be paralyzed for the rest of his life.” 

I can see these moments so clearly now.  Each of these missions prepared me for the next mission; never a step that was not ordered by the Lord. “The LORD makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him.” (Psalm 37:23) With each step I learned to trust the Lord more confidently.  My motto has become, “You think I can do this, I can do this, let’s do this.”  Sometimes that motto has been spoken in a whisper of pain and tears, but I still made the choice to speak it. 

I have to ask myself, is there a mission that is really impossible when God is at the helm?  I would think that I’ve experienced some pretty “impossible” missions from man’s perspective.  But from God’s perspective He tells me that “I can do ALL things through Christ who is MY STRENGTH” (Philippians 4:13) Have the missions been difficult and painful, absolutely!  But impossible, I will say no.    

We are heading into year two without Ryan.  How can that be? My mind wonders what will come next.  Whatever it is, because He has shown Himself faithful and true to His word, I will maintain the posture of one who stands, ready for action, awaiting His voice.  For in the waiting my strength is being renewed and I will mount up with wings like eagles and run and not be weary; I will walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31)

Missions can be hard and filled with pain, but impossible?  Only if I choose to let them be.