Closer

I shared this piece with my church family on Sunday June 26,2016

"I find myself looking back

on a year filled with

unspeakable pain

haunting questions and doubts

complete hopelessness

a nightmarish desire to quit

raging anger

torturous thoughts.

The deepest, darkest days of my existence.

And yet, if I had to fight the battle

all over again...

I wouldn't change one moment.

Because out here on the battlefield,

battered and bruised, alone and despairing,

I fell in love with a God

who will not live in a box

and who lovingly and tenderly

lifted me out of my own box

so I could share the untold riches of intimacy with Him.

I find myself looking ahead

to an unknown, blank-slated future;

but one thing I know with all my heart...

Closer to You

is where I want to be."

I penned those words almost 11 years ago.  I was in a seemingly endless season of depression and one

which drove me to God...a God who allowed intense suffering without explanation--a God whose presence at times was like a blanket of comfort, but whose seeming absence at other times left me weeping in anguish and fear.  

I am deeply grateful to have had an abundance of health and hope restored.  Those years of darkness have been a part of shaping who I am today in both healthy and unhealthy ways.

I am at a crossroads in life for various reasons.  I continue to intentionally pursue God and yet there is also a sense of Him pursuing me even more.  Everywhere I turn He is unearthing the rocks of an earthly kingdom which I constructed.

You see, for the majority of my life, I've lived with clenched hands.  I hold tightly to that which is most precious to me.  In both tangible and intangible ways, I play it safe, control, and guard life as it swirls around me.  Why?  Because there's this corner of my heart where I don't fully trust God.

Sometimes life unfolds in ways which knock the wind out of us and leave us gasping for air--for a very long time.  I know all the right answers as to why life falls apart.  The sovereignty of God, our finite ability to understand an infinite God , the brokenness of this planet earth--I know these truths inside out.  Yet somehow, being at peace with His ways in my own life and fully trusting His character is always just slightly out of reach.

This past January, my Spiritual Director approached me about joining a group of other men and women to write our Spiritual Autobiography under her direction.  God is using pen and paper as a pathway to a deeper level of spiritual transformation.

It's time.

To be honest, I'm tired.  I'm weary of years and years of clenched hands.  There's this growing, almost desperate desire to live with open hands.  It won't happen with ease or overnight.  When God dismantles an earthly kingdom it's painstaking work; His work and mine.

Psalm 139:23,24 reads like this--

"Search me, O God, and know my heart;

Try me and know my anxious thoughts;

And see if there be any hurtful way in me,

And lead me in the everlasting way."

I'm giving God permission to do this.  I'm inviting Him to do this-- 

But it will involve time in  His presence with less words and more listening.  Scheduled times of solitude and silence and postures of prayer which involve simply "being" in His presence is where I am starting.

John Bunyan talks about a time when he began to grasp the magnitude of God's love.  He was reading Song of Solomon, the first verse of Chapter 4--where Christ essentially says--'you are my love."

Did you hear that?  Christ says, "you are my love!"

I can't help but  but believe that to open my soul to the depth of these words will also begin to open my hands to living life with a spirit of  peace and trust and security.

Christ says I am His love.

Held

Tomorrow is the 46th anniversary of my mother's death.  And though I look at that number in terms of the longevity, I no longer feel neurotic for still needing to acknowledge and reflect on my loss.  How soothing it has been for my spirit to come full circle this past week.  To move from churning emotions to a sense of peace.  Not because the grief is gone, but because it is still here--and that's okay.  On this post Eden planet I will never recover from this loss.  How could I?!  Her death was too catastrophic, our mother/daughter relationship too binding to suffer being severed and move forward unscathed.  Her life and her death have irrevocably altered my life and I am strangely at peace with the reality this brings.

Earlier this week, I was given a vision or a picture from God which has been a beautiful healing balm for my soul.  I'm not one to be able to easily visualize something in my mind.  I need something concrete.  And so when I boldly asked God if He would give me a vision of sorts to show me that He was still with me on this journey, I was somewhat skeptical.  But within minutes it was there!

The night my mother died, our family was on our way to church.  The car that hit us was being driven by a drunk driver who 15 minutes earlier had been successful in outrunning the police.  When he hit us, the impact threw everyone from our vehicle except me.  My Dad says that my door often "stuck".  I was left alone in the back seat, confused and afraid.

This picture from God has changed all of that--Jesus climbed into the back seat beside me and lifted me up on to His lap...and held me.  He has been holding me ever since.

Simple but oh so powerful...so comforting and so completely reassuring that He is still holding me after all these years.  The realization that He is the only One who completely understands my loss and this never ending journey has blanketed me with such peace.

Natalie Grant sings a powerful song of lament and praise in "Held".  The refrain sings--

"This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was that when everything fell

We'd be held."

After 46 years, I am still being held.

Motherless Daughters

I truly find it hard to believe that I'm here--

Here at this place of somewhat jumbled emotions all surrounding the loss of my mother.  I honestly couldn't imagine that there was "more" to be uncovered, but there was, or is.  I made a rash decision last week to order a copy of Hope Edelman's book, "Motherless Daughters--The Legacy of Loss".  My sister had lent me her copy 20 years ago in the midst of my deepest grief.  I don't know that I read it in its entirety, but I found some excerpts that I had written in a journal and was shocked by how they still resonated so powerfully with me.  It seemed risky to buy this book--what if it plunges me somewhere I don't want to go?  What if it just makes me more sad?  More confused?

But it hasn't.  Pouring over the first 20 or so pages has helped me to feel less lonely, less crazy, less confused, less afraid.  It's like I have been awakened to an entire community of women who understand and are expressing some of my thoughts in their words.  Hope's book is filled with interviews of many motherless daughters, as well as her own journey of loss.  I've always felt that I need to "get over it" and move on; not that I would ever forget my mother, but that I "should" be able to, to put it simply, check this off my list of things to do.  I mean, what would you think of a woman who, 46 years after her mother's death,  still has places of pain and thoughts of wanting her and missing her??  It sounds neurotic!

Oh how I loved Hope's powerful words here--

"Sometimes I think of calling back that high school friend, the one who asked me how much of my life my mother's death would affect.  And with the certainty of thirty-three years, I would tell her:  everything.  It affects everything.  When a mother dies, a daughter grieves.  And then her life moves on.  She does, thankfully, feel happiness again.  But the missing her, the wanting her, the wishing she were still here--I will not lie to you, although you probably already know that.  That part never ends."

So much of my struggle to make peace with myself is what I would call, messy grief.  My grief work over the years, and yes, beginning when I was 5, was so very complicated with confusion and silence and anger and bitterness and unforgiveness and fear and this protective armor holding captive this raw pain that was so ugly it scared me.  Slowly over the years I found safe people who would listen without judgement and layer after layer of the pain began to heal.  I have spent almost my entire life trying to come to the "end" of grief work...I just want it done and finished!!  I hate messy, I resent the slowness and I definitely don't want to be labeled as neurotic!!!

Hope Edelman and countless other women say I'm not!!  And I can think of a few other people, my sister for one, who would preach the same mantra!  It came as somewhat of a surprise to me yesterday, to realize that I have very few friends who are motherless daughters. It just hit me.  Many of my friends have lost their fathers, but very few have lost their mother.  And mother loss for her daughter, is by and large, far more encompassing. 

Nancy Friday speaks this truth--

"When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself."

But I only had my mother for five brief years!!!!  How was I to "give birth to myself" without her??!!

Yes, I was given a stepmom and she devoted her life to the best of her ability to provide for me.  But it is not the same--it's so very different. 

I'm not sure that my sadness today is concentrated on losing my Mom.  I have grieved so well over the years...I know this.  Today, it's a greater awareness of how her loss has impacted my life and the specific ways this unfolds.  And this has been for better and for worse.  Herein is where the need and desire for healing lies...in the "worse" part--the habits and routines and safeguards which I have developed throughout the years. 

How and when healing comes, I'm not sure, yet I know that it begins today in the simple,
honest expression of one of the threads of what it means for me to be...a motherless daughter.

Waiting

Losing my mother in such a traumatic accident and at such a vulnerable age has meant that grief in its various forms and degrees has colored my life.  For many years I wondered if I would ever be free from the grief to truly live.  It seemed there was always another layer, another shade of grief around the bend.  It was so tiring and frustrating to come across new places of pain. 

Grief work is just that--work.  Excruciatingly hard and all encompassing work.  But I have plunged myself into this toil and inched painstakingly through each season with a longing and a hope for healing.  And over the last number of years so much of my pain has been soothed.  A healing balm seems to have been spread over the wounds that once were open and oozing sores of grief.

To say I am grateful is an understatement.  I'd like to say it's been a gift, but a gift is something we are
given and this journey through grief to healing was a treacherous battle.  I fought long and hard for these new colors of acceptance and peace to afford me brighter days.

So when a new, but trusted health care provider suggested that there might be more healing to be discovered I sank inside.  His belief that the ongoing pain in my body is still perhaps a result of longtime emotional pain still to be embraced, has pushed my buttons.  It's not that I think he doesn't know what he's talking about, because he does, and I have learned enough myself to know that our bodies carry memories of injuries and traumatic events for years and years.  I can clearly attest to this!

But really?????!!

Again??!!

More????!!

The timing couldn't be worse...or better...I'm not sure which.  Two weeks from tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother's death.  I was unsure as to how I would remember her on that day, but now there's this sense that her loss is already coloring my "today" and quite frankly that ticks me off.  I'm a little angry about all of this. 

I don't want to be sad anymore!!

I"m tired of grief work....Enough already!!

Am I EVER going to be done this journey??!!

A part of me just wants to avoid the entire thing and yet, if there is something to this health care professional's thoughts, and it's part of the key to freeing my body of physical pain, well then I want to be open to turning this over and looking at it.

Yesterday morning I sat down with God and visibly held out open hands to Him.
"Here is it is God...if there is more for us to work on together...more that needs healing, then You will need to make that clear."

So this is where I am today...open handed before the One who is perfect in wisdom.

And I wait...

The Problem of Pain

I remember reading an author's words years ago that went something like this--"Pain is just pain; it won't kill you."  

C.S. Lewis in his book, "The Problem of Pain" writes, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

"There is no coming to life without pain", reveal the thoughts of Carl G. Jung


While there is truth in all of these statements, they slip off our tongues so much easier when we are not in pain.  But when pain arrives as a guest and then makes the decision to take up residence, such words are harder to say.

It was a little over a year ago that I began having serious issues with this companion of pain.  I struggled then to come to some level of acceptance while seeking various treatment options.  And after many months, I seemed to emerge on the other side, enjoying relatively pain free living once again.  But last September found me coming face to face with this companion once again, and though I've filled my calendar with health care appointments, the results are negligible.  Added to this are new areas of pain.  The accumulative effect is challenging to say the least.  Some days are so very discouraging.

I've tried the, "Millions of people all over the world are suffering in far greater ways than I am."  And they truly are!!

Writing in my Eucharisteo Journal each day reminds me of how much I am blessed.  Even the wealth of health care professionals that I am privy too is cause for gratitude.  And I am grateful!

Staying close to God and listening to His still small voice is necessary food for my soul and encouragement for my spirit.  And He really does encourage me!!

I suppose the stark reality is that despite all of the above, the pain is still there.  Regardless of how I may focus on the goodness in my life, there is still this "problem of pain".  God rarely seems to magically remove the pain in our lives.  I don't know the "why" of this, I just know it to be true.  I'm not sure that I am even fighting this reality.  I think I feel as though I must choose one of two camps to live in.  Either accept that pain is now part of my life, or forge ahead in exhausting the options.  And yet why must I select one or the other?  Because living in limbo is so unsettling; it seems far more concrete to live one way or the other???

This morning I sat in a room full of women listening to an inspiring, godly woman and gifted teacher reflect God's word to us.  She has her own world of pain, challenges, and unknowns far beyond the scope of what I live with.  Yet, she lives out her faith in profound ways and some of this is her acknowledgment of the discouragement she rubs shoulders with.  Today she said, "My circumstance is not a surprise to Jesus and He will hold me in His hands."  Her honesty encourages me and supports me in ways that reveal the beauty of the Trinity's grace.

And perhaps this is only and always what God calls us to in our pain...to see the gracious touch of the Trinity in the trials and confusion and heartaches of this life.

This problem of pain is always going to be present this side of Eden.  I pray for grace to live with pain and the unknowns that are a part of it. 

Humility

Humility is the focus this week in my Lent devotional.  And I have to tell you that in this moment, on the inside, I am stomping my feet, hands on my hips, protesting loudly that "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!"  I don't feel like being humble in the least!

In "Journey to the Cross", Kendal Haug and Will Walker have this to say about the humble person--

"In humility we are becoming less concerned with prestige.

Our wills are breaking and we are not demanding our rights anymore.

On the journey to the cross, fear is losing its grip as we cling to our

identity in Christ.

Pride is being starved because we are letting go of our need to be right

and our desires to be recognized.

We are being liberated from the solitary confinement of self-concern."

Oh really????

Every single one of those statements is a stretch for me and even on a good day.  

Thus far this Lenten season has highlighted the humility of Christ.  I am dumbfounded as I read familiar passages with new eyes.  Jesus was so incredibly empty of Himself.  All the time.  He was completely secure in His relationship with His Father and His God-ordained mission in life.  He was not about demanding His rights and refuting untruths about Himself.  He did not clamor for the limelight but in fact gave it up....all the glory that was rightfully due Him.  He was forever thinking of others and their needs... physical, emotional, and spiritual and consistently putting His needs aside to care for others.  He did not seek approval from others, complain about his lot in life or stomp His feet when He was overlooked and another wasn't.

I expect He was at peace as well.  At peace because He was so committed and purpose driven and wholly in love with me.  This is what was behind all of His actions.  Love.  This heart stopping, unimaginable love

that He has for you and I.  It's what paved His journey to the garden, the cross and the tomb.  Love.  

I sit here in quiet wonder and confess that I just do not have that kind of love.  Some days I don't even

have the desire to love like this.  And even when the desire is there, I fall short of ever

reaching the depths of the love He has for my own soul.  Someone once said, "The cross highlights my badness."  Oh yes it does.  

But the empty tomb, could not contain a resurrection kind of love.  His love defied death, not just so one day heaven would be my home, but so that here and now, I could grapple with things like humility, because a power so much greater than mine, lives and moves within me.

"O give me repentance unto life...

that His Spirit may pervade every fibre of my being..."

--Journey to the Cross

This is the prayer my heart cries out.  

The Keeping of Lent

This keeping of Lent can become like the keeping of the Law

A frenzy of dotting "i's" and crossing "t's"

as if I can possibly get it all "right"

Which is just another way of glorifying my own self endeavours

The wall of the impossible always stops me in my tracks

This sudden halting of my self indulgent efforts

I loudly lament this failure

and arduous push for perfection

The shadow of my sinful humanity turns dark as night

Disgrace and the wearisome sense of endless striving

overwhelms me

"All of us like sheep have gone astray

Each of us has turned to His own way

BUT THE LORD

has caused the iniquity of us all

To fall upon Him

And by His scourging we are healed."

--Isaiah 53:6

And there in the midst of my sin crisis

He appears--

"BUT THE LORD..."

Sufficient for my need

Perfect sacrificial Lamb

Wholly able to take all of my sinful self

upon Him 

Healed and restored

by grace alone

A Fresh Taste of Lent

I've been practicing Lent for several years now and always with a hunger to take it in at a deeper level.  I hope I learn something new each year, but I think often I measure it more in terms of success or failure.
Success and failure being according to my marking scheme of course.  I approach Lent with the same trepidation and desire each time.  The trepidation revolves around what I am going to give up, and whether it will be "good enough"...for God... and for me and if I will be able to keep the legalism more than an arm's length away.  My desire is strong...to know Jesus in His suffering, dying love for me.  I long to grasp His sacrifice for me, something which always seems so out of reach. 

This year I felt unprepared to even begin Lent.  I wasn't sure what Lenten guide I would use and was struggling to know what to give up.  I really didn't want to give up anything; an already telling sign of my self-absorbing ways which Lent seeks to expose. 

But the Spirit faithfully provided a wonderful online resource, "Journey to the Cross" by Kendal Haug and Will Walker as well as a clear direction in what I am to give up AND in turn, what He asks of me to take on.
And today, being the 5th day of Lent I am already noticing a rhythm to this journey that I have never experienced before.  The Spirit has illumined my spirit to see that sacrifice is not about what I give but what He gives.  As I let go throughout my day, I experience how Jesus gives.

"The point of Lent is to reorient life God-ward"

--Journey to the Cross

I am so oriented to self and what I want in the moment.  To have the Spirit nudging me throughout my day towards God has been eye opening and freeing.  It is becoming less about self and more about God.  Less about the ways I seek to meet my wants/needs and more about how God is waiting to be my Provider.

At this point, legalism is sitting at the sidelines.  I know how prone I am towards check lists and it wouldn't take much to get caught up in doing this all "right",  So vigilance is important as I move through the coming days.  Having my ear tuned to the Spirit is paramount.

I haven't journeyed deep into the heart of my suffering Jesus.  I pray this will come and yet I want to be open and attentive to whatever it is the Spirit has purposed to reveal to me.

This fresh taste of Lent is welcoming. I'm walking its path one day at a time.

Dreaming, Hoping, Waiting

"I Praise You for What is Yet to Be"

Wondrous Worker of Wonders,

I praise you, not alone for what has been,

or for what is,

but for what is yet to be,

for you are gracious beyond all telling of it.

I praise you

that out of the turbulence of my life

a kingdom is coming,

is being shaped even now

out of my slivers of loving,

my bits of trusting,

my sprigs of hoping,

my tootles of laughing,

my drips of crying,

my smidgens of worshipping;

that out of my songs and struggles, 

out of my griefs and triumphs,

I am gathered up and saved,

for you are gracious beyond all telling of it.

I praise you

that you turn me loose

to go with you to the edge of now and maybe,

to welcome the new,

to see my possibilities,

to accept my limits,

and yet begin living to the limit

of passion and compassion

until, released by joy,

I uncurl to other people

and to your kingdom coming,

for you are gracious beyond all telling of it.

Guerrillas of Grace

By:  Ted Loder

I've been reading this prayer for a week now.  My Spiritual Director introduced me to it last Tuesday and it has resonated with me in so many ways.  In part, I could recount so much of "what has been" and for sure some of this has been tooling around in my mind.  If I focus on "what is", this too would take a chapter worth of telling.  But it's the "what is yet to be" that has caught me.  

I haven't given myself to anything new for some time now.  That's not to say that there hasn't been a stitch of new in my life.  Quite the opposite!  The past year has found me thrust into new terrain with my daughter moving across the country, but this was not of my own doing.  And yes, her adventure did become my adventure in many ways, but still, it was not something I chose for my life.  But this crossroads that I find myself at is starting to whisper of newness.  And I am wondering if God is perhaps turning me "loose...to the edge of now and maybe, to welcome the new, to see my possibilities, to accept my limits, and yet begin living to the limit."   It sounds so foreign for me actually, because I am all about limits and what I can and cannot manage in my life.  I'm almost afraid to even entertain the thought of a new possibility.  It begs of risk and dreaming and a specific kind of hope, and I seldom, if ever go there.  And yet, an opportunity has been presented and I think it's of God.  I'm hoping it's from God for me. I'm asking God if this is from Him.

And I'm waiting.  Waiting on the "wondrous worker of wonders" who is "gracious beyond all telling of it".

The Crossroad

I often find that the 365 days of the previous year, at first glance seem to blur together.  Then slowly I begin to pull apart the seasons and events, highlights and circumstances I wish I could erase.  Although I haven't perused my journal from last year this holiday as I sometimes do, I know that I would read of struggles I wasn't sure I would ever emerge from, or relationships which appeared to be dismantling, and so much which caught me off guard.  I would read of my doubts and fears and longings and pain and questions voiced.  And I would realize once again, that my God was ever faithful and that those days on last year's calendar which felt hopeless, appear much different today. 

Today spans a new panorama of days and I wonder what lies beyond the horizon.  Last year feels as though it is carrying over into this year in many ways.  I turned 50 10 1/2 months ago.  A milestone for sure and very much an enjoyable one for me at the time, but as the months have passed, I'm unsure of what I think about being in my 50's.  Coupled with this is various physical health concerns which are as of yet undiagnosed making me wonder how life will look even 10 years from now if I'm already facing these particular challenges.

Moving my daughter across the country 4 months ago is still new, still the change of such disproportionate magnitude that it has not fully become a comfortable part of my being.  I am preparing to say goodbye to her again in a few days but this one holds its own unique flavor.  In September she was off on an adventure.  Now, she's returning to her home. 

And I'm standing at a crossroads.  At least this what keeps coming to me over and over again.  What this crossroads means, what it holds, what opportunities lie waiting??  It's all so completely unknown.  Except that everything points to an inward road.  A soul journey with God.  A quiet, purposeful, intensive "being" still with Him.

I'm already endeavoring to NOT try and figure it all out, as is very much my way.  God is pursuing me. That much is sure.  I am preparing Him room, waiting and listening.

Christmas

It's been a Christmas unlike any other which I suppose is obvious since there has never been a Christmas exactly like another.  But this year has had so much that has been unique, difficult and not what I had planned.  Throw into this mix the seemingly unavoidable expectations that I have had and I'm left with a Christmas that I still don't totally understand or feel at ease with how it has and continues to unfold.

My seasonal decorating began late and my desire to create and mail Christmas cards this year drifted into the background.  My oven never did give off the aroma of Christmas baking. And though I had very few gifts to purchase this year, even what was on my list felt overwhelming.  

A woman battling cancer who joined my small group in the fall began to decline much faster than any of us expected.  Her daughter-in-law, also in my small group seemed to gravitate towards my expressions of care or perhaps it was me who gravitated towards their painful journey.  Regardless, the heartache of this family weighed heavily on me, culminating in Will passing away early afternoon on Christmas Eve. 

My anticipation of Ashley coming home from university for 3 weeks was high.  I envisioned our airport arms-enfolding-hugs and hours of alone time with my girl but it was only the airport that  met my expectations.  My spiritual director warned me of this..."Let go of expectations Juanita", she said, but how does one really do that anyway????  Both she and I expected that friendships would be difficult to reengage in.  After all, everyone has gone on with their lives just as she has.  But surprisingly she has had very few spare moments and has been enjoying life with old friends.  And I am truly happy for her....I am.  And we've both realized that "home" and "Mom and Dad" are home base, a safe place and familiar. We are not going anywhere.  Her friends, on the other hand, have changing lives, and who will still be around next Christmas is unknown.  We both feel a little like this 3 week homecoming has been a bit of a tease.  In some ways it has been harder to have her here than not.  With one week to go before she hops on a plane again, we feel somewhat in limbo again.  The goodbye isn't here, but it's so close.  We have some planned mother/daughter time over the next few days which we are both looking forward to.  And the rest of the holiday?  I guess we will just feel our way as we go. 

Our family Christmas hasn't even happened yet, which has been another strange aspect of Christmas.  Cam and Sonya have been in Ecuador since Dec. 16 being life-size Christmas gifts for her sister who lives there.  I am so happy for all them; an adventure for Cam and Sonya and a family Christmas for Jess.  But it has been strange to not have my all children with us for at least part of Christmas day.  I had thought I had planned for this "strangeness".  I think I did.  But one can't plan for how it ends up feeling in the end.

I've walked through many a Christmas season with less than optimum emotional health and though I've been in much harder places in season's past, I've struggled and I expect that all of the above has either
added to how I am processing life or the experiences of this particular season have challenged my emotional stability.  Does it really matter what causes what? 

So what does one do with so many unmet expectations?  How do I navigate that which I don't totally understand myself?  For a time, the heavens have seemed silent.  Even in the quietness of Advent readings and prayer, clarity was absent.  Until two days before Christmas, when I came across these words by Ann Voskamp.

"God always gives God.  

Hush away the hurry, the worry.

We can always have as much of God

as we want."

And there it was...simple, powerful, gentle.  I can have as much of God as I want.  There is so much else this season where it is not what I have wanted or expected or been enough, but I can always have as much of God as I want.

Such a transforming perspective.  Such an invitation to live fully in the midst of empty places.  Such a calling to usher in a new year with.

We can always have as much of God as we want.