One year

One year

52 weeks

365 days

All the "firsts".

The first Easter, first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, first birthday, wedding anniversary, holiday.  Each calendar page has turned and twelve months later, we are here at the first anniversary of Mom's death and her home-going.  I hold her loss in light of eternity and this makes all the difference.

The year was not what I had envisioned.  Never did I picture a pandemic altering the path of grief.  "Being together" as a family was to be a significant part of healing.  "Being together" was to aid in our adjustment of what family now looks like.  "Being together" was to provide us with moments to laugh and cry, remember and celebrate and mark the journey.  Like the rest of the world, we creatively wrote our own first year grief story.

It was painful and joyous, hard and simple, empty and rich, frustrating and satisfying, with tears and laughter, regrets and gratitude, all of which I suppose, is the path of grief on a "good" year.

At times, I'm still unsure if Mom's death has truly hit me.  I can still hear her grandiose laughter, the inflection in her voice as she dramatized an experience, the way she greeted me when I walked in the door.  I can hear her tone when she was frustrated and her sigh of weariness.  I can hear her vehemently disagree and joyfully celebrate.  I can remember her movements when she was healthy and when she was sick.  In many ways, Mom continues to be "alive" for me, and yet, she's not here.  I wonder if, because we couldn't gather in the usual way, if, once that day arrives, it will feel like the "firsts" all over again?  Yet I know that family is never stagnant; we are forever changing as individuals, and the coming months will most assuredly bring forth the new with other "firsts".

Though life seemed to stop when Mom died, it was merely an illusion.  We continued to move forward, however haltingly, even when it felt otherwise.  I have latched on to these words from Sallie Tisdale, "Grief is the opportunity to cherish another without reservation.  Grief is the breath after the last one."  "To cherish another without reservation"--I love that there is a place in my heart which is solely reserved for Mom.  No other person encroaches on this space.  It's just for her...for me...our place.

Many memories have come to visit me in these last few days.  I spent the final two afternoons of Mom's life caring for her, and was there with Dad when she took her last breath.  Those were agonizing passages of time for me.  Two words which came to mind last evening were "Sacred Burden."  My time with Mom was sacred AND it was a burden.  It was both.  They were and are woven together in ways which have made it virtually impossible to separate.  The sacred held the overwhelming sadness of suffering and it carries like a burden in my spirit.  And, this burden, this weight, holds the sacred tension which marks the path from living to dying and all that transpired as time slipped away. And yes, to pray someone into the presence of Jesus is sacred. To be present through all of this was a high honor, another part of these feelings of reverent heaviness.  Perhaps one day my  memory will only speak of the Sacred.  I don't know.  Today, one year later, those time- suspended -hours remain a "Sacred Burden."

I reflect with thanksgiving on the ways in which we were able to be together, laughing and crying, in those first days after Mom passed.  That we could remember and celebrate her life in grandiose fashion,  with hundreds of people, is a rich memory I do not take for granted.  And, that we can't be together today, even with our immediate family, is disheartening if I think too much on that.  None of this, including death, is the way it's supposed to be.  But Mom would not sit around and stew about what cannot be.  She emphasized this in her everyday living.  

For myself as someone who likes to plan, I have some special ways of remembering and celebrating her life.  Dad and I will go for a winter walk on the trails near my home.  I cherish my dear Dad.  He has been such a courageous man.  One of my sister's is teaching at a Virtual Women's Conference and I "signed" up just to hear her speak.  It seems perfect to listen to one of Mom's legacy's share her heart!  The small bag of potato chips I bought (Mom loved chips!!!) will be a fun snack to munch on at the same time.  I must remember to mute myself! haha   I now have in my closet, various pieces of clothing that she wore and her warm, cozy sweater and infinity scarf will bring me comfort in many ways. A plant of remembrance sits on my coffee table.   I came to the realization a few days ago that even my ways to mark this day feel insufficient.  We can't always fill the empty places.  They are there for a reason.  They point us to the one who no longer fills the space.  

I miss you Mom.

I love you Mom. 

Grace --2021

Grace...my word for 2021.  It's a word where, if tangible, I would, like a warm, cozy blanket, wrap it around my shoulders for the days ahead.  I love this word and yet, it's one that I cannot grasp, something which I am not always generous to give to others and that which I find  seemingly impossible to give to myself.

The biblical definition would define grace as God's unmerited favor.  

Webster's Dictionary would list "the exercise of love, kindness, mercy, favor; disposition to benefit or serve another, favor bestowed or privilege conferred."

Grace covers a lot of ground.  It's beautiful, powerful, deep, lavish and much more.

At times, I wonder if I'm not more like the Israelite's in the Old Testament, trying to keep their 613 laws.  But Jesus brought free flowing grace, so why oh why do I resist?!

As I said, grace covers a wide expanse of territory.  Henri Nouwen writes, "I am gradually learning that the call to gratitude asks us to say, 'everything is grace.'"  Really???  Everything???

I vividly remember my Spiritual Director introducing me to this re-framing of life by referring to circumstances, however complicated or painful, as "a grace of God."  That somehow, God would use even "this" in a redemptive way.

All of this wholly challenges me and reminds me that I am barely at the fringe of understanding, embracing and living out of grace.

So what a beautiful word to grow into as this calendar year begins!

Why wouldn't my Grace-filled God desire to pour out this gift on the pages of my life?!

Onward then, by His grace, into grace.

Be Near to God

We should be afraid, of course,
to be so near to God.

We should be startled by the glory of God
and the disruption of angels.

We should be freaked. out. that God even blinks
in our direction, let alone that God dares us
to walk a new path just to see what
God can do with life.

“Do not be afraid; have a child.”
“Do not be afraid; leave your home.”
“Do not be afraid; give up your reputation.”
“Do not be afraid; press on through hardship.”
“Do not be afraid; face a powerful enemy.”

Or,
be afraid.
Be totally overwhelmed.
Be stunned and terrified, in fact,
but here’s the critical part:

be near to God
anyway.

Rachel Hackenberg

All Is Well

All is well all is well
Angels and men rejoice
For tonight darkness fell
Into the dawn of love's light
Sing Ale
Sing Alleluia

All is well all is well
Let there be peace on earth
Christ's come go and tell
That He is in the manger
Sing Ale
Sing Alleluia

All is well all is well
Lift up your voices and sing
Born is now Emmanuel
Born is our Lord and Savior
Sing Alleluia
Sing Alleluia
All is well

Born is now Emmanuel
Born is our Lord and Savior
Sing Alleluia
Sing Alleluia
All is well

A Christmas Ago

 Although this was written fourteen years ago, it's words hold true for me this day. 

 

Holy Son of God made flesh!

To walk with me this broken road---

Speaking truth in my confusion

Spilling grace to cover sin

Transforming harsh realities of pain

Shining light to push back the darkness

Replenishing this tired spirit

Holding fast my hand, my heart…

O Holy One…You have captured my soul

by the sheer beauty of this divine romance!

I worship You.

 

Juanita

Christmas 2006

The Farm

Thoughts from Friday October 30, 2020

My spirit is overflowing this quiet evening.  Beautiful, deep, powerful, spilling over so that I can hardly even put words to it all.

Time has traveled full circle and I didn't notice until today.  The way loss has threaded through the last fifty years is so vivid in my mind's eye.  Memories in rapid succession are replaying.

We went to the farm today, Dad and my sister Charmaine and I.  The farm signifies the beginning of a family and it was also the ending of another.  This beautiful acreage of land housed  the height and depth of life.

Just miles away is that time-frozen intersection where I lost my mother in what I will always refer to as a tragedy.  In an instant my father wore the label of widower of three small children.

In a city, some 60 minutes away a devastated widow with a toddler and baby was already six weeks into grieving the sudden loss of her husband.

Four months later the farm saw the beginning of a new family; two families blending together, desiring to write another story.

Five years later, the joyous arrival of a sixth child, wove us together in fresh and healing ways. 

The farm was eventually sold many years later and over time our blended family has changed and grown giving each of us opportunities to write our own unique stories.

Today also marked nine months since Mom died.  It has been days and weeks and months of grief work and the ensuing adjusting to how our family looks now.  I still don't know how it all looks. This full circle of time began to encircle me.

The three of us journeyed here today desiring to salvage some of our "days gone by" and recreate tangible memories for the future.  The landscape is entirely different.  The house, barn, garage and property have not been cared for far too long, leaving it in a saddened run-down state.  But we knew this and were prepared.  And so with crowbars and hammers, a drill and muscles, we came away with some of that which framed our growing up years.  There were two workhorses in the group and I was NOT one of them!! haha

I'm not sure that we spoke a formal farewell.  It felt natural to drive down the lane way with our treasures and a heap of reminiscing that accompanied their gathering. The days of our beloved farm are part of the present only in our reflecting.  The physical place that was our rural home for 20 plus years is not how we left it. What we do have left are millions of moments which have marked us and shaped is into the people we are today.  The farm will forever be a part of who I am. 

Santuary

Soon after we arrived, I began referring to this place of wonder as "sanctuary."

 

 

Our friends were gifted a home numerous years ago.  They steward their "Gift House", renting it to family and close friends.  It's housed on 26 acres of land, primarily forest, and in this season of autumn, it's a magical wonderland.

By definition, sanctuary means a place of refuge or safety, a nature reserve, a holy place, to name a few.  Whether within the walls or out of doors, I was in "sanctuary."  I had needed this refuge, the stillness, the respite.  I was unplugged from the world and drinking in the bliss of ignorance.  I believe this is okay at times, and for me it's necessary and life-giving.  I was Covid-weary and feeling worn down by a steady stream of "life.  Sometimes when I go away, the fatigue in my spirit lingers.  Not so this time.  By our first evening, the cloak had lifted, and I began to embrace the freedom.  

I had given myself permission for the easing of routines in ways I rarely allow.  I did not open my Bible the entire time we were there.  Did I just say that out loud??!!!  My prayer list too, was set aside and I instead prayed over what was brought to mind. Every so often my disciplines seem to need a reset and this particular week called me to this.   

I sat with God in a welcoming, sturdy rocking chair, walked with Him through the falling leaves and was in awe of the myriad of ways He spoke to me.  I gained a new and much need perspective and was reminded that my life story does not stand on its own, but is tied to His story.  Both are redemptive.  I became aware of ways in which loss and gain are tied together.  I was surprised and grateful for the hidden places He exposed in me--it meant He desired to heal yet another walled off edge.  I experienced the beautiful reworking of what wholeness can look like.  Though so much is out of my control, God revealed in fresh ways, the choices within my realm of control and this was strengthening.

We are home now, a week already.  It's been up and down as I have adjusted to the routines of life and also take part in the stories unfolding in the present.  I have always bemoaned how quickly the everyday overtakes a stretch of quiet filling.  This time, I think I was more accepting and realistic upon re-entry.  There are places in my home which are "sanctuary" and I am being careful to spend time there.  Ultimately, God is my sanctuary, a place of refuge, safety and wonder--wherever I am.