How Precious to God

There continue to be many painful losses in our community in a very short amount of time.  Most folks around here are in ”coping” mode, ”helping” mode, ”supportive” mode, “grieving” mode, or “recovery” mode.   Everyone smiles and has grace for everyone else.  And we are all amazed at the grace being poured out.  There are smiles, laughing, and deep emotion.  It is exhausting to feel the extremes of emotion, but we are thankful for it all the same.

The many needs are so vast and pressing.  I encourage staying strong and stay rested.  Try not to serve outside the grace God has given you, even when you feel obligated.  God will always provide a fill for you when it’s needed if you are needing rest.  Always.  Let him let grace flow.  It does…trust me.  With a heart condition, I’ve always had to limit myself to keep from trying to do too much.  And the need is always met, and grace is always there for the needs, and God gives me rest and joy for the next thing he has for ME to do.  I’m much better at it if I only move according to the grace he has given me.  Keep serving, keep blessing, but don’t go beyond the grace you are given.  It pulls us all down.  Let God call others out.  Organize.  Teach the young to serve.  Teach the young to rest.

God puts us in this season  — and I don’t know much about it, but I do know this one thing:  even with it all seems to hit at the same time, and it just seems to keep on coming… it is His most merciful path.  We serve a merciful God.

I was thinking of this yesterday, comparing it in my own mind to getting all my kids immunizations when they were babies.  Oh!  I hated it!  Four to six immunizations combined in up to four syringes, maybe more.  Little, tender, chubby, baby legs, two nurses (if I was lucky), one Mommy.  All at the same time.  Yes, you know why we combine it all, those of you have have young.  It is more humane, though painful and terrible and nothing we’d want to wish on any baby or desire to repeat.   

He is nothing if not a merciful God.  

Here are a few scriptures that have calmed my mind lately.  There are hard to find when you need them, so I hope to write the references in the front of my Bible this time, though I keep them close at heart.  I’ve star-ed them in my Bible over time.  I hope they minister to you as much as they do me in seasons of grief.  I’ve stumbled back over most of them in the last couple weeks and they soothe somehow, though they are direct.

Ecclesiastes 7

Wisdom

 1 A good name is better than fine perfume,
       and the day of death better than the day of birth.

 2 It is better to go to a house of mourning
       than to go to a house of feasting,
       for death is the destiny of every man;
       the living should take this to heart.

 3 Sorrow is better than laughter,
       because a sad face is good for the heart.

 4 The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning,
       but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure.

Isn’t it a beautiful thing to read how God values times of mourning even more highly than times of celebration?  He knowsthe depth and love and learning that is there.  He knows we learn more in times of heartache than in times of celebration, though he cherishes both.  He included in his law to Moses seasons of feasting and celebration!  He loves a good party, as it is often said of Jesus (God in the flesh) as well. 

For the believer, death is better than life!   But, some believers have a hard time with mourning, feeling they are disrespecting the happiness God has given their loved one.  No, God encourages us to do our mourning, whatever it takes.  He treasures that time.  He recognizes there is much to be accomplished and learned there.  He only reminds us to remember hope–to not let despair or fear or anger take up permanent residence in us.  He wants us to deal with it well.  He says this gently: ”Do not grieve like the rest of men who have no hope.” (I Thess. 4:13)  We encourages us to grieve well.

This verse is a special one to me, one I quote often, every time I’m at the funeral of a Christian.  I can never seem to remember the reference when I quote it, and people always ask me for it.  Here it is:    Psalm 116:15 —

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints (or ’loved ones’).”

This also speaks to the verse in Ecclesiastes.  I look it up often, and it’s hard to find, as it’s in the Amplified version only worded this way, but it says God will “harden you to difficulties”.  I think the trick here is to be hardened to difficulties, while keeping a SOFT HEART.  To do this, one thing will will all have to eventually learn, I suspect…how to grieve well.  

Fear not [there is nothing to fear], for I am with you; do not look around you in terror and be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen and harden you to difficulties, yes, I will help you; yes, I will hold you up and {yes, I will} retain you with My [victorious] right hand of rightness and justice.  (Isaiah 41:10, Amp, emph added)

You have to love how God goes ahead and answers every question we could possibly have:  “Yes, I will!”  Yes, He will strengthen you, “harden you” (I think of a hardened oak tree with deep roots, able to handle any weather).  Yes, he will help you.  Yes, He will hold you up!!!  Yes, he will keep us with victory!  Yes, he will work justice. 

Yes…He will!  Mourn.  “It is better that you mourn”.  Mourn well, “as those who have hope”.

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If you think these verses might help someone you know, right click on the title of this post “How Precious to God”, select “copy shortcut” and “paste” the link into an email document.  

Make a list of these scriptures; put them in the front of your Bible for ready reference– I plan to.

 

 

Photo:  Maggie

“Paradise Park”

11.13.07

On to Mashed Potatoes

From one night to the next morning a hurricane hits my house every night.  I don’t know how that happens.   If you walked into my home right now, it would look like I’ve done absolutely not a thing this week…that’s the very sad thing.  But, here we go again, trying to recover.  I’m supposed to go to my Dad’s tonight for a sleepover, so I need to try to get ahead.

My kids want to go to the funeral today.  After they stood in line for visitation for an hour and a half last night, I’d guess they would have their fill of grieving, but no…they want to go.  The older two.  Now I know why the Lord pushes my grief a few days ago when I felt it was a bit premature.  I’m still on edge, yes, but my grieving can handle the kids now, I think.  And that is enough. 

Watching little ones learn to process grief is always a bittersweet thing.  It’s good to be there to help them through it, and a joy to see them growing up into life, but…you know, it’s also hard…a big thing for little minds.   Red got to the casket (we’d had him taken for food and brought back to the church when I got to the front of the line).  He wanted to see in the casket.  Realized who was there, and how strange and lifeless he was, saw the slides and realized it was one in the same.  When he remembered that he did know who this was, tears sprang up and he didn’t know what to do with them.  He felt a little out of control I guess and buried himself in my skirt, not able to move for a bit.  And then, he saw that he had done it.  He’d “grieved”.  He was doing a big person thing, and he made it, and he smiled at me.  He said, “I cried.”

I said, “Yes, you did.  That’s okay.  It’s what we do.  We miss people we love.”  He knows he is now with Jesus.

And we walked a few feet, and he stopped again and tears welled, and he looked at me like, “It happened again, now what?”  And he couldn’t move again.

And I picked him up and carried him out.

Someone said at the back of the church…”He’s a little big to be carried, isn’t he?”, laughing.  I said, “Oh, he’s alright.”

And he said, “You can let me down now.  I’ll walk”.

The sweetness of six year old boys…I could just eat ‘em up.

He won’t come to the funeral today.  He didn’t want to.  And I’m glad.  But, they learn to walk through what they can.  I’m glad I’m hear to help them through it is all.

Well, on to peel some potatoes.  Nothing but mashed potatoes seems fitting, and maybe some good chocolate. 

When Marsha and Joey fixed mashed potatoes and some chocolate for me on Wednesday nights, I never really cared what else was on the menu.  It just always hit the spot, whether I needed it or not.  

And, I’ll say it one more time:  thank you for all the peeled potatoes and chocolate.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.   You both have helped us all through hard weeks many times with the labor of love with those weekly meals on Wednesday nights.  We are so thankful and pray you will find your own mashed potatoes and chocolate in coming weeks and months and years, Marsha, Macey (high school senior), and Josh (children’s minister). 

I’d Say “A Bit Cranky” (But as for me, I’d Be Lying)

As soon as last night was over, we all got cranky.  I think just making it through took about all we had.  We slept poorly – young child with restless dreams, a dog chewing on something hard and plastic just outside our back door.  

When we weren’t yelling at the dog, I could not get back to sleep easily.  I was cranky.  I woke cranky.  And I stayed cranky.  The dog couldn’t find her tennis ball in the wet grass this morning and I yelled at her.  I couldn’t keep going.  I came inside.  She jumped at the screen door.  She knocked the screen out because she was so hyper, from not running her energy out, and she barked…a lot.  And I screamed.  It was dark.  It was 6AM, and I was so tired and cranky.  I mean, I screamed SO loud at that poor dog.  And then my daughter wouldn’t get up, and I figured if it worked for the dog…

“GET UPPPPppppp!” straight up the rooftop to the upstairs.  I heard a little sheepish voice in the dark six feet from me:  “Mom?  [laughing], I’m up.  I’m right here!” 

Scared me half to death.  What a foolish Mom.  My throat still hurts.  But, the pain sort of feels good.  It reminds me to check myself.  Because I can be an idiot when I’m tired and emotional.  We all can.

A child needed me within an hour of getting them to school…a sick stomach, probably from all the flux last night.  I stayed at the school with meds an hour to try to wait it out, then brought them home an hour, then, took them back so that they don’t miss their after school activity due to absence.  

I’m making it, or faking it, fine, but I still feel weary and tired and cranky…unmotivated.  I chalk most of it up to the fog of grief. 

I have to keep making lists to stay focused.  I can’t keep my kitchen clean for two hours or the laundry room going fast enough.  Everyone is overloaded with tasks. 

Life just gets so crazy.

Oh, we need more of Jesus…more than we had yesterday or the day before, though that was enough for the need.  I find myself in need again.  How about you?

Here we go:

Lord,

I’m asking you again to help us keep shining for you, even when life sucks us pretty dry.  You give us all we need, but we are still human, still feel the pain, the loss, and the grief, and the shock, and waves of photos and information and tenderness that touch us… as we need to be touched, as much emotion as that brings. 

Only You make it all worthwhile.  You give us reason to carry on.  You give us priorities greater than the feelings.  You fit all the needs into our schedules when it seems there is just no way we should be getting it all done!  Thank you.  Thank you for a 20 min. nap today for me, for a surprise lunch here with a friend who doesn’t mind a sick child around on her day off, or leftovers a couple days old.  Thank you for the beauty of leaves on my drive…comfort of my old tan familiar jacket today…for slip on, broken in sandles,  for the warmth of left-over chicken-pot-pie.  OH!  The joy of a smile, a sincere compliment, a caring ear, a loving teacher…a helpful person.  

Lord, you are so good.  I’m asking you again, please be near…even as you are near already.  Just don’t let go of us.  Help us stay calm.  Gentle.  Loving, as you would be.  Make us willing to tolerate the crankiness of our brothers and sisters…giving them cranky space they need…or that creeps out.  Amen.

To you faithful readers, and those who didn’t know our friend, thank you for your patience in reading along, and for your words, emails, and comments of encouragement.  You would be called My Faithful, I wrote about today on another blog comment.

To those who let me know the posts help you this week, when I was too lost for words to say much of value or edit well…thank you.  That meant so much.  I am a journaler by training and by heart…and that is what comes out of me when I’m hurting most easily.   Some have a hard time with words, and I am thankful when words help, as imperfect and inadequate as they are.  Somehow, writing helps me acknowledge, process, and move on to the next step.   

May the Lord bless you today with your own “outlet”, whatever forms it takes:  baking, a walk, a child, a friend, a song, silence, scripture reading, art, TV, meditation, staring off into space, giving yourself a little extra time.  I bless you in the name of Jesus to keep walking the walk, crawling the crawl, or sitting the sit…whatever you are able to do today…let that be enough.  Pray for more grace than you have in your own self.  That is enough.   

Maggie

   

Celebration and/or Mourning

How do you celebrate when mourning?  Often in our Christian lives, especially when we are part of large churches, imbalanced emotions fight for the surface. 

Do we forget our mourning and go about celebrating?  Or do we celebrate, leaving behind our grief? 

We cannot let go of either.  People and times need oppositional things from us.  It is difficult.  We try to “grieve with those who grieve, and laugh with those who laugh.”  (Ecclesiastes)  Only by God’s grace can we be stretched to “do it all” on days like today. 

It makes for some “incongruent days”, days that stretch us and push us.  It is easy to feel false, but we are not.  We are living. 

Incongruent:  an old math term I love.  The easiest way I can think of to describe it without scaring the vast majority of you off is probably those “nesting cups” toddlers play with–because they are all of the same proportion, they all fit neatly together, from largest to smallest.  They stack well.  Incongruent then, are the other things.  Things don’t stack up neatly or easily.  They certainly don’t “nestle”.  Incongruent. 

What do Iwe do on those days…”incongruent days”, emotions we wrestle with that don’t seem to fit together?  A few verses come to mind:  “You were bought with a price, therefore, honor God with your body“.  Be where I am, and be as “all there” as I can be.  Where there is celebrating, comfort those who need comforting.  Find comfort in being together, even if celebrating comes hard.

Trust the body of Christ to take care of all the vast needs.   There are many of us.  Be where you need to be, and let others be where they need to be.  God takes care of us all.

There isa lot of “life” to be lived some days and weeks and seasons.  May HIS LIFE be enough, shining through ours, even when we can’t be ”everything” we need to be.  We work with “his energy, which so powerfully works in us”.  (Colossions).  Not our energy, but His.  His life.  His love.  His joy.  His peace.  His grace.

Today many of you locals have at least few of these things on your plate: 

• Halloween alternative hosted by our churchs tonight for the community with games and slides.
• A funeral today.
• Children’s class parties at school mid-day.
• Costumes this morning= scatter-brained, irritable (yet glowing, proud) kids
• Food to take funerals and parties and events.
• Funeral planned for the end of the week.

Add soggy cereal left behind at home, or laundry on the floor, or last night’s supper dishes, or homework papers left at home, and in my case, sick teachers struggling to make it through the day. 

Oh, Lord!  Only you can get us through the “incongruent days”!  I ask you to be near to all who need you today.  Take care of all the needs.  Somehow.  Help us “be where we are”, and to be “all there” by your grace and mercy. 

Take care of us in moments we have to breathe deep and find fresh wind that can only come from you.  Lift us up for celebration, give us moments to grieve when we must grieve, provide comfort where comfort is needed, help us laugh with those who laugh.  Let us take joy in just being together today. 

Help us live YOUR LIFE through us, not trying to “be” anything except what you’d have us today…for in this, is your rest you long for us to walk in, only by your grace.

I ask it in Jesus’ name. 

Amen.

And yet…

And yet, it is the mundane of life…the normal, the “must keep going” part of live that takes us beyond our grief.

Thank you, Lord….for getting us through the hard ones.  Every single one.

~Maggie