Steps to Peace in Grief

Jesus paid it all,

All to Him I owe,

Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow. 

~Elvina M. Hall, 1865

***

I don’t know if I've always traveled the best way through grief, but the Lord taught me many things along the journey. I learned more about God, myself, and others, and we have choices to make in how we will react to all of life’s difficulties. The following steps are some choices I made on my own journey. And those choices lead to peace.

***

Steps to Peace in Grief:

1. Focus on the character of Christ in the gospels.  Seeking to know Him more fully will form us more into His likeness.

2. Look back and grieve—everything that has broken your heart, and ask Christ to reveal Himself to you in those times.
 
3. Turn to Christ and trust Him with your past, present, and eternity, for “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).”

4. Believe that when you are at a disadvantage, you are blessed, because it's a chance to see God come through for you.

5. Be thankful that Christ Jesus has redeemed you—every part of you, past,  present, and future, it all matters to Him.  He is faithful to forgive you and cleanse you of all unrighteous thoughts, feelings, or deeds (1 John 1:9).
 
6. Rest on Christ, the Rock, whose promise of salvation is a free gift. You don't have to be "good enough" to be loved and accepted by God. The Lord Jesus gave His life to rescue us from darkness and bring us into His family.

7. Immerse yourself in worship and sing songs of both lament and praise, which can stir your heart to hope again.

8. Rejoice that because of Christ, our names are written in heaven (Luke 10:20).

9. Live for your Father's smile.

10. Persevere when you feel like giving up. God has a special place, purpose, and work for you to do in His Kingdom.
 
11. Remember you are precious in the sight of God.

12. Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord. The greatest in the Kingdom of heaven is like a little child.

13. Love others even in your pain.

14. Be confident that the things that overwhelm you are the very things you can trust in the Lord to give you His strength to overcome (2 Corinthians 12:9).

15. Trust in the Lord to protect you from evil. Suffering is a time when you are most vulnerable. (1 Peter 5:8,9)

16. Don't be afraid to ask for help. The Lord works through His people. You don't have to go through grief alone.

17. Longing, seeking, finding, longing…it’s like a cycle that will end when we see Jesus face-to-face. Until then, stay the course.

18. Jesus longs for me even more than I long for Him. He has known me before the creation of the world. He gave His life for me. He’s preparing a place for me, and He’s waiting for me with a love that is higher than the highest mountain, wider than the widest sky, deeper than the deepest ocean, and longer than the longest road.

19. In this world, we have a lot to grieve, mourn, and wail about, but we must long for the day when we can be in the safest place of all—safe in Jesus’ arms. 

20. When you look your greatest hurts straight in the face, turn your eyes upon Jesus.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His wonderful face.

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,

In the light of His glory and grace.

~Helen H. Lemmel, 1922

Doxology of Life

Doxology of Life

Why all the wonders in the world?

In the sky, the land, the oceans swirl?

Creatures diverse and separate teeming, 

Migration sets the cycle streaming. 

Gathering and reaching, 

Through womb of water breaching.

For breath of air and breath of life,

Prevail the whales and butterflies.

More than I can comprehend

Makes a visual Amen.

                       ~C. S. Griese

He was a surfer dude with long hair that fell across his tanned neck. The class looked up to him for guidance. For inspiration. And for a good letter grade in Biology.

He scanned the room and grinned as if he was about to tell us wonderful news. "Raise your hand if you want to skip the chapter on evolution."

Hands sprung up, including mine. Some students were high-fiving; overjoyed for not having to learn another boring concept. Some breathed sighs of relief for skipping a theory they didn't believe in.

My hand was raised for both reasons. I was thankful myself that this teacher and surfer for Jesus didn't subject us to an idea that shakes the faith of many impressionable young people.

My sense of wonder remained. We were not an accident. We were made on purpose. For a purpose.

My ninth grade Biology class unanimously voted out evolution, and I don't think I missed a thing.

To be sure, I've since learned all about it. Through the media, textbooks, college professors, novels, and movies. Evolution has been clearly explained to me.

But, I don't believe it.

Sure creatures are equipped to adapt to their environment, but I've never believed that life was an accident. 

Yet we're taught from a young age, this marred world is all there is. It's no wonder so many suffer from hopelessness.

But, if we believed we were made on purpose, out of love and great intention, wouldn't that change our perspective on life?

The thing is, we really can't know for sure if God is real. There is nothing quantifiable to prove His existence.

But, the qualitative data is there.

His qualities.

His handiwork.

We were made in His image. To love. To create. To contemplate. To give order. To beautify our world.

We cannot see God, but we are His masterpiece.

As are whales and butterflies.

From great to small, all of creation longs for our Creator to reveal Himself and to heal, restore, and renew this broken world.

Salvation is found in no other(Acts 4:11,12).

Through wars and famine, peace and plenty, our God remains the same. He loves us. He has a plan. And, He is good.

And, He's going to make it all right again.

One day, we'll see.

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we are saved (Romans 8:22-24)."

Doxology

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Praise Him all creatures here below.

Praise Him above ye heavenly host.

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Amen.

He Knew Me

He knew me. I mean really knew me. Knew everything that I had done or failed to do. Yet, I found myself wrapped in His warm embrace. I closed my eyes and rested, being filled up with His love.

  

He covered my tattered rags with His woolen robe, the color of blood. I breathed in his scent. Fresh and woodsy. And my skin had changed. It was clean. Cleaner than if I’d bathed in a cool mountain spring.

I glanced up, but he was already a distance away. His skin was covered in what used to cover me, this thick oily substance, black as tar.

His stride was determined. He didn’t turn back. A cypress tree blocked my view. And, then he was gone.

I scanned the horizon. But, all I could see were the mountains that surrounded this lonely valley.

Then I spotted him. Climbing up a mountain. At the top stood a lone tree with two branches, one on each side. I rubbed my eyes. No, it wasn’t a tree. And, those weren't branches. It was a cross.

Dark clouds rolled in and covered the valley. Lightening crashed. I jumped a little and pulled the robe on tighter.

He was gone again. Oh, no. He was somehow fastened to the cross. Streams of red flowed down from his outstretched hands.

I heard Him cry out. Then, fall limp. No. Don’t die. I. love. You.

The sky went black.

Thick darkness covered the valley.

I huddled against a nearby rock, trembling and weeping. Exhaustion overtook me.

When I awoke, there was a light. But, not the sun. It came from within the mountain. A circle of light, as from a cave. Or tomb.

A silhouette. His. He was alive. I cried, but not from sorrow. Joy. My Savior. My King. Please come back. Please take me home.

The sun peeked over the horizon. But, He was no longer there. Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone.

A voice. Not outside but within. Deep in my heart. “You’ll never be alone again. I will come back. Soon. Remember. You are mine. And, you have work to do.”

True Calling

When I turned thirty, I remember thinking, this is the age of Christ, when he began His ministry. But, I didn't feel like I was doing anything special for the Kingdom of God.
Only cooking, cleaning, changing stinky diapers, wiping runny noses, getting little sleep, barely getting out of the house. You know, nothing special.

Life went on. Birthdays 31, 32, and 33. I was the age of Christ when He gave His life as a payment for our sins, was resurrected and left this earth. Still, I was nothing special. Still...me. Still, a nobody.

Time to throw a pity party, right? Unless...

Maybe I got it all wrong.

Nothing special. Useless. A nobody. Doesn't sound like my Father's voice.

The flesh, the world, the devil himself, all send messages about who we are, why we're here, and what makes us valued. 

The flesh, that old sinful selfish part of me says in order to be something special, I need to do something great and have lots and lots of friends to be loved or valued.

The world chimes in that I need to achieve a certain status, to attain a certain unattainable lifestyle, to be known on a broad range to be loved or valued.

The devil will do anything to keep me from knowing my true identity. He will try to get me down by convincing me that I'm a useless nobody or puff me up with vanity that I might be consumed with my own perceived greatness. Whatever works.

Whatever keeps me from realizing my true identity and true calling.

Because if I knew, if all of us knew and woke up from our complacency, like Christ, we would flip over the tables of those who profit by our drowsy coasting through life. Our world would be turned upside down.

We must wake up from our slumber. From the false lullaby of the flesh, the world, and the devil, lulling us to sleep, making us miss opportunities to love a broken world.

Cause that's why we're here. To love. Christ commands it. Love God first and our neighbor next. In small ways, ways that nobody else will even notice. But, that doesn't make us nobodies.

The truth is,

We are loved and valued by God because through Christ, our whole life, has been, is being, and will be redeemed.

Apart from the truth, it doesn't matter what we have come to believe about ourselves, or what others have told us is important.

Nothing else matters but what Christ did on the cross and what that means for us and the world.

Christ is the center, the core, the missing page that has been torn out of our history books.

Everything hinges on Him, whether we acknowledge Him or not.

But, when we do, we change.

Our world changes. Turns upside down.

Or, maybe it was upside down to begin with.

In Christ, we are made right. Turned upright. Back to God. Back to the place and the Person where we are most valued and loved.

In light of His love and grace, we can reach out to our significant other, our children, our friends, acquaintances, even enemies. With love. Agape' love. The giving kind of love that pours itself out to the utmost. Because that is what Jesus did for us.

And that is what will change our world.

Becoming a Woman of Excellence

Nonna Cina. She was my gentle grandmother from Italy. A lady of simple elegance with a wealth of wisdom and heart-felt compassion. I could only hope to one day be as loving, as gracious as Nonna.

It is assumed that some women are just born with an innate goodness. I thought Nonna was like that. But, Scripture teaches all people are born sinners (Romans 3:23). Nonna wasn't born good. Nobody is. And, I didn't know this at the time, but Nonna became a woman of excellence through trusting the Lord in her struggles and hardships.

Nonna didn't waste words. She said those things that stick with you through the years. And, her gifts were the same. Knowing I liked to draw, she once gave me some old pictures from a dated calendar. Each had a picture of a child and a little saying to go along with it. I was a teenager at the time, but I held onto them through the years. 

It's amazing, but I believe each child from those pictures is a beautiful reflection of my own children's personalities and the things I hope for them. Nonna never got to meet any of my children, but in a way, the pictures were a blessing for them from her. I have the four of them framed in my children's room. To remind them of the truth. To remind myself.

The year 1998 was one of those pivotal times in my life. It was the year my Nonna died.

I was twenty. Billy and I loved going over to Grandpa and Nonna’s house for dinner on Sundays. 

Nonna served us spaghetti smothered in authentic Italian marinara sauce, followed by steaming hot cups of espresso. Grandpa Ernie, a baker, served us cake topped with whipped cream frosting for dessert. Billy liked to put some of his frosting in the espresso to cool it, making it bittersweet. 

Not only did Grandpa and Nonna feed our stomachs, they also fed our souls. They encouraged us to follow Jesus and to love others the way that He loved us.

Then Nonna developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. After some tests were done, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. The diagnosis didn’t seem to make any sense. She never smoked, ate home-grown vegetables, and had an overall healthy lifestyle. 

She went to the hospital for more tests and a prognosis.  It turned out that the lung cancer was terminal, and she only had a few weeks to live.

As I was visiting her at the hospital, I noticed a book lying next to her bed. The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom.

“You can have it,” she said, handing it to me. 

Another gift. "Thank you." 

Soft grey curls framed the eyes of someone who was filled with peace. She had no fear of death. She was fully confident that her Savior would take care of her.

It was hard seeing Nonna fade away. Nothing medically could be done for her. Each Sunday, she went to church and wheeled her oxygen tank down the aisle to her pew, until she no longer had the strength. 

While confined to her bed, my dad came to visit her and played his guitar while singing her favorite hymns.  

Six weeks after her diagnosis, she was gone.

As I read through The Hiding Place, I felt comforted.  How could a story about suffering in a concentration camp help me?  

It was because God was there. 

He showed up and took care of Corrie and her sister Betsy in miraculous ways. And He has done the same for me.

Years later, after having a child born with a condition incompatible with life, I picked it up and read it again. I sensed once again how God is faithful amidst great suffering. 

When it seems all hope is lost, God is there to lift us up.  

He empowers us to forgive those who have hurt us and helps us to reach out to them with His love.

***

After Nonna died, Grandpa Ernie went through all of her things and came across her journal.

“I thought you might like to read this,” he said and handed it to me.  It was small and had a rainbow printed on the front. 

Nonna gave gifts even after she went to be with the Lord. What a legacy.

Reading the journal from cover to cover, I got to know my Nonna’s great love for Jesus.  On one page, she wrote the old adage, 

“The heart would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears.” 

I now know what she meant.  Though I have shed many tears in my grief, the light of God’s love has been pouring into my broken heart. Like a prism, the love of Christ transformed my tears, filling me with a rainbow of hope.

If I ever hope to become a woman of excellence like Nonna, then there is one place that I need to be. 

At the feet of Jesus.

I know that's where she is right now.   

Lord God, is it possible that Your Word will enter all of my heart, all of my soul, and all of my mind?  You are my Great Comforter.  You give to me rest and peace.  I love you Lord, O Jesus, my Savior.  To You, I pray for holiness, and humility, to fill me with Your innocence and goodness.  To those who are obedient, Your grace is sufficient. –Nonna Cina

Chasing Rainbows and the Gift of Autism

Like Hannah, I asked the Lord for him (1 Samuel 1:1-28). Well, maybe not quite the same way.

I was alone in the long stretch of a hallway that led to our bedrooms. Pictures of my children, all my children, even my little one who lived a short life, spanned the length of the wall from end to end.

And the tears poured down because another month had gone by, and I still wasn't pregnant.

I had but one child now, my Bright Girl, already a preschooler, who was napping in her room.

I thought I was being quiet. I didn't want to disturb her with my sorrow.

But, I was longing for a rainbow baby. Another son after going through the storm of losing my Luke.

Standing under his picture, another wave of grief hit me. As I bowed my head to weep, I banged into the wall.

Ouch.

Bright Girl came out of her room and saw me rubbing my aching head. I'm sure my eyes were puffy, and I was still sniffling.

"What's wrong, Mama?" She peered up at me with her bright blue eyes. "Do you need your daddy?"

Ah, the wisdom of little children.

I nodded my head. "Yes. I need God, my Daddy in heaven." I held her close and prayed, asking if the Lord would indeed give me another son.

After that I stopped asking and stopped worrying about it.

And, the Lord did bless us with another pregnancy. Through an ultrasound, we discovered the baby was a another boy.  

At about five months into the pregnancy, something went wrong.  Billy was driving, and I was
sitting in the passenger seat of our SUV.  I heard a plop behind me where Bright Girl was seated.

“Mommy, please get my sippy cup,” she pleaded.

Reaching around the seat, I attempted to grab it, but, as I picked it up, I felt a searing pain in my abdomen. 

We arrived home a few moments later, and I rushed to the bathroom.
I had begun hemorrhaging and didn’t know what to do. 
I called out to Billy, and he helped me lay down on the bed. 

As I prayed that the Lord would not let me suffer sorrow upon sorrow, Billy dialed my obstetrician.

We went in for an ultrasound that same day and discovered a rupture between the baby’s egg sac and my uterus. On the ultrasound screen, in black-and-white, I could see the stream of blood trickling down from the tear.

“Will my baby die?” I felt my brow scrunch up.

“There’s about a 50% chance of survival," replied the doctor. "But, you’ll need strict bed rest until you heal up.”

That wasn’t complete assurance my baby would be okay, but nevertheless, I followed the doctor’s strict orders—for six weeks. To keep from feeling anxious, I prayed and wrote down my favorite Scriptures on note cards.

Most days, Bright Girl played with her toys next to me, and I lay on the futon in the living room, reading and praying.  Friends came and brought me magazines, books, and movies to help pass the time. 

After six weeks, an ultrasound revealed the rupture completely healed. 

My baby boy, my Little Man, was born a week after his due date with only two hours of labor. As soon as he was born, he opened up his bright blue eyes to take in this strange new world. 

The doctor laid him on my chest, and as I held him, I rested in awe of my Father God, who had given me such a beautiful child. To be able to hold him right when he was born and take him home with me was like a dream come true.

After his 12 month check-up and immunizations, our little boy came down with a 105 degree fever. We rushed him to a clinic and his fever came down with Tylenol, but after that day, something changed...

I couldn't seem to get a smile, good eye contact. There was an inward turn...

When we would look at him, he would turn his eyes away...

His desire to connect was fading. His growing vocabulary, screeched to a halt...

I felt like I was losing my son.

I kept thinking, this is not happening. But, it was all so subtle. Within a matter of months, he went from a happy, sociable little toddler to one who had constant meltdowns.

He became highly sensory-sensitive and couldn't even stand his own tears on his face and would try to scratch them away when he cried.

I wouldn't give him what he wanted unless he asked for it. He had to ask, either with his words or with baby signs that I taught him before he was one. He would get so frustrated with me. But, I wouldn't give in.

Looking back on that time, I know now that I was fighting for my son. To keep him from losing speech all together. To keep him from disconnecting from us.

Tired of my pediatrician saying he was fine, I took him to a child developmental specialist and a psychchiatrist when he was four.

Both gave him the diagnosis of Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). And, he was referred to an occupational therapist to receive sensory integration therapy.

He started to turn around...

The therapy helped some, but I had this gnawing feeling that it wasn't the right diagnosis. Even though SPD was hard enough to have, I thought Little Man had the mysterious epidemic that is plaguing so many children of this generation.

Autism.

I pondered this in my heart, hoping that I was wrong. But, the concern grew as he did.

Even though, yes, he did talk, he flapped his arms when he was excited and still had trouble looking people in the eyes for more than a few seconds (I had to be quick with the camera to capture him at attention). 

And, he didn't seem to be "growing out of it." He needed more help.

So, when he was eight, I started asking around and connected with friends who had children with autism who had the same behaviors as my Little Man.

With a list of recommended doctors  in hand, I called until I found one that would see him. A neurologist. Surely a neurologist would finally put to rest my concerns for autism.

Before we went to the appointment, I prayed that the doctor would see it if he truly had autism.

And, she did.

She saw that he did.

So, the puzzle pieces finally came together. And, the picture was still my little boy. But, now I know he's autistic, and he has a long road ahead of him.

This is the son I asked for. My rainbow baby. I was chasing rainbows, hoping that having another son would help heal the ache of having a child who died.

But, it was a different kind of rainbow than I was dreaming of.

Image credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Autism_Awareness_Ribbon.png

He has a disability. I didn't ask for that. But, I didn't ask for a child without disabilities either.

And, of course I still love him. He's mine. He's still my Little Man.

Then I saw it. In asking for another son, I was chasing rainbows, an elusive brilliance that fades away with changes circumstances like the clouds clearing from the sky, revealing the brightness of the sun. 

I didn't know it, but all along, I did have a rainbow. 

The rainbow inside my heart.

Through every sorrow, the love of God, my Father in heaven, has been shining in my heart, giving me the rainbow of a transformed life.

It's true. And, this rainbow is eternal.

In all the pain and suffering of life, when we trust in Christ, he gives us more faith, hope, and love. 

And He will do so even now.

There are always glimmers of grace if you look for them.

Evidences of our Father's presence and providence.

Our last visit to our new pediatrician, I saw a glimmer.

He asked Little Man what he wanted to be when he grew up.

"A Christian scientist." Little Man was serious.

"I believe that God divinely intervened to create us. I don't think we came from monkeys either." The doctor winked and patted him on the back.

Good answer. This pediatrician is a keeper.

And, I would agree. We are all here for a reason. God divinely intervened to create us.

We don't often think about the ways our souls have been damaged by the fall, our own sin, or the sins of others.

We need redemption...

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 6:23)

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:39)

We need restoration...

And, sometimes, it is through the valley of the shadow of death that the light of Christ shines all the more brightly (Psalm 23).

Through Christ, the Good Shepherd, our dark valleys of uncertainty can become a rainbow valley for our soul.

As we trust in Christ, rely on Him, and look to Him for all our needs, we will become more and more like Him.


"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. 

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers." (Romans 8:28, 29)


In a way, everything, even hard things like autism, can be a blessing, a gift, if we continue to trust God and offer up our thanks to Him. He knows what He's doing. And, we can keep looking for those glimmers of grace along the way.