So... About 2 months ago, I posted an entry entitled "The 800 lb Gorilla and the Pretty Barista". If you haven't read it-- or if you don't remember it-- click on the title, there, and catch yourself up. It's a wonderful segway into the thoughts I have to share in this particular post...
I realize that it's been a week and a half since I've contributed to this blog. It's been crazy busy at work and at home. (Work is going great-- very busy. TJ is doing very well-- happy and challenging as ever. No updates on the "book deal" yet. Basement will be renovated and restored at the end of this week, and the hardwoods on the main floor will be finished mid-February, in case you were wondering.) But the truth of the matter is that I haven't posted because I've been wrestling with how (or when, rather) to pour out my thoughts into words for all to see on this blog, concerning this most significant event of my life, which is basically the only thing worth updating you all on...
I'm "seeing somebody".
Rather, more significantly, I find myself "in a relationship". With a woman, that is. A "significant other". An intentional "romantic relationship", complete with all of the emotions, statements of intent, talks about future, and so-on... ...and the 800 lb gorilla stands on its hind-quarters, beats its chest, and ROARS. (Or grunts... or... what noise does a giant gorilla make, anyway?)
No, it's not the pretty barista. Now stop asking me about her! :) She was a metaphor. A case study. Not somebody I had truly considered dating. No, the woman in focus is an acquaintance from the past. A "family friend", I guess you could say. She is somebody with whom there was a certain foundation of familiarity... Her sister was one of Leslie's best friends. Through that connection, she'd been following "Leslie's Journey", and had logged some seriously intense hours in prayer for us throughout the past year. She joined her family at one of Leslie's memorial services. I had met her before-- in the context of her being Leslie's friend's sister, and had actually shared some close emotional ties with her family-- although I did not really know her until the events of the past few months.
Goodness, it's a great story! Complete with prophetic movements of the Spirit, unlikely events, and very obvious compatiablity. The stuff a great "romantic comedy" is made of. (Or is it a coming-of-age drama?) I'll share more of it in future posts, should God continue in the "good work" that He's started here. But I just needed to "break the ice", so to speak... I bring it up here and now because this new relationship is in GREAT need of some serious prayer. There is so much to consider and discuss-- so much at stake-- and she and I are WELL aware of all of the "issues". There are hurdles in our path which we are jumping or stumbling through as we come to them. It is a relationship with its foundation in Christ, built with the bricks-and-mortar of brutal honesty and compassionate trust. So far, the hurdles-- though challenging-- have only proven to strengthen us, in retrospect.
Yes, it is soon... 6 months since the completion of Leslie's and my marriage, this coming Monday. And Kate (that is her name) and I have been talking for almost 3 months already. (Don't worry-- there was no "intent" in the early stages, although I confess it didn't take long for the "potential" to reveal itself, at least on my end.) But it wasn't until we spent some time together over New Years that the relationship truly entered this realm of... whatever it is you call this realm. (She was the friend from a former post who gave TJ and me a ride back from the airport, when we splashed back home from vacation. She ended up staying around for a couple of days, entertaining TJ while I dealt with the insurance company, contractors, etc...)
I did not go out looking for her. But I found her. It's ironic, really. In the early stages, I'd expected my "flesh" (my earthly desires and human understanding) to push me into a relationship-- you know... kind of the "rebound" effect. And I expected my faith and "wisdom" to kind of tug on the reigns... "Whoah, boy! Slow it down! You're not ready!" But the irony is that from the beginning of this relationship, my "flesh" tells me that it's "too early", but the Spirit, in all honesty, has another thing to say about it. Our first phone conversation (she lives 3 hours from us, in Indianapolis, so the relationship started via email and telephone), was spent in prayer. From the beginning, we have sought God, and been completely open-handed in our intentions and feelings for one another, just taking a day-by-day approach to encouraging one another in Christ. I just cannot deny my thoughts, feelings, nor the evidence that has me on the path on which Kate and I find ourselves sharing. Our families (including Leslie's) are all aware, and completely supportive. TJ is even on board. He ADORES this woman, at virtually no prompting or provocation on my part. Several of our close friends know. The feedback thus far has been unanimously positive and encouraging. It just seems to be right.
I just need to unveil the truth of this relationship... because it opens up an entirely new door which begs exploration... which I will want to dive into, in the venue of this blog. Complex concepts have been brought to startlingly simple clarity-- ideas such as "healing"... "redemption"... "grace"... "hope"... "rebirth"... "the meaning of earthly love as compared to that of the etranal"... and so-on. And all of these things are being uncovered or discovered with the complete recollection, understanding, and ownership of everything we have been through, over these past 16 months. It's been truly amazing. And remarkably intense. There is SO MUCH to catch up on, my friends. It has been building over the weeks and months to the point where it is basically just plain dishonesty for me to continue to keep it from being known in this venue. So... here it is. Pretty crazy, huh?
Again, I ask for your prayers. (And your grace as you consider the concept of me "moving on".) There is so much at stake here. New romance has been known to cloud better judgment-- the potential results of which are a proposition I dread. But there is so much to gain. Could it be that God would... Well... I'll save those thoughts for another blog entry. Just know that day-to-day, Kate has truly been a blessing, whom God has used to lift my spirits and draw me further into His loving arms. My joy again knows happiness. My peace is no longer weighed down by the burden of solitude or the prospect of loneliness. Kate has simply been a sweet blessing-- a miracle really. God has-- whatever His purpose or reasoning (as if God needs to declare His intent or make an argument on His own behalf)-- led our paths to cross, and indeed share the same course, at least for today. Who knows where He will take us tomorrow. I could venture a guess, based on what He's revealed to us... but for now, we'll just call it "hope".
Time to sign off for tonight. I've got a phone call to make.
:)
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Catharctic January
It's frigid in Chicagoland. Frigid isn't a good enough word for how cold it is. It's "arctic", according to The Weather Channel. The "blizzard" we were supposed to get (according to the aforementioned experts on the topic) was actually no biggie. I'm thankful for my snowblower and my fireplace, to be sure. But it was no blizzard. But now... it's cold. The kind of cold that cuts right into you. So cold that when I walk to my car from wherever I'm leaving, I draw in one last warm breath of air before heading out into the parking lot, exhaling ever-so-slowly while I trot to my parking spot, so as not to have to breathe in again until I'm safely behind the steering wheel. And then, I let it out with a scream, which invariably is clinging on to a blast of steam from deep within my throat. Somehow, that makes me feel warmer.
I was watching the beautiful snowfall last night, sitting by the fire, TJ fast asleep upstairs, and I thought for a bit about Leslie. She hated the winter. Hate is a four-letter word that I avoid using even more religiously than other four-letter words that most other people would deem far less "religious". But hate is just a horrible word. And Leslie hated winter. (Which tells you how much she loved her family, as she could never get herself to honestly consider moving out of the Midwest.) The post-Christmas months were particularly hard on her. January's cold snow and February's gray slush would invariably bring about a cloud of depression onto our home, which she would fight until her birthday in mid-March. And last night, as I considered all of this while watching the snow and the fire, (it was all the more frustrating to her that I love the winter as much as I do), it made me oddly happy for her that she was missing all the snow and bitter cold this time around. Sure, she would have loved cuddling on the couch under a blanket with a glass of wine by the fire... But undoubtedly, if she was looking down on me last night, she was in NO way wishing she could join me. I'm sure it gave her plenty of reason to throw her head back and laugh her contageous laugh once again, just thrilled to be warm and joyful, in the presence of Jesus. If there is snow in heaven, not a single flake ever falls on our Leslie, we can rest assured.
The house is coming along, and I am eager to have our "new home" put together. With the added bathroom in the basement and the newly finished hardwoods throughout the first floor (a necessity, according to insurance, in order to match and blend the newly replaced portions with what remained from before), it will be an even grander place than the one into which we moved a year ago last August. And as I mentioned before, the floodwaters took care of many hard decisions for me I was certain to face down the road... "What do I do with THIS...? I can't throw it away... but it's just taking up space..." Well... none of that stuff is taking up space any longer. At least not in my house. Am I happy about losing all of those things? No. Am I better off without them? I believe this is what they call "catharsis". "A purging of emotional burden." It just seems so fitting this all should happen at the onset of the new year, you know?
All the churning of "stuff" around the house has drawn some interesting reactions from TJ lately. The photos that have been spread around the house to dry, so many of Leslie's old things dug out of boxes, the general disorganization and chaos of the house... all of these things have indeed been hard on him. Or perhaps, they have provided an opportunity for him to experience his own catharsis, of sorts. Prior to all the "churning" around the house, I'd been so thankful with how he'd been doing. He just seems so happy, and "at peace" with our new life. He and I talk about Mommy almost every day. We pray and thank God for her, and that she is all better. We ask God to give her a great big hug for us. We talk about what she's probably doing today... "She's prob'ly playing band," TJ usually says, and that usually gets him talking about the drumset she's preparing for him. Routinely, he asks when we can go to Heaven. He wonders how old he will be. A couple of days ago he announced, "Daddy, when I'm a little bit older, I don't want to go to high school. I just want to go to Heaven."
Last week, I was picking him up at Dana's house (again, Leslie's sister, where he spends 3 days a week playing with his cousins), and Dana, Curt (her husband) and I got into a very good, emotional discussion about "moving on", "closure", missing Leslie, and the usual "healing" stuff. There were tears-- not the messy, bitter kind... the sweet, warm kind. On the drive home, TJ asked why we were crying. I explained to him that we were talking about Mommy. And that, even though we're so happy for Mommy now-- that she is all better now and having fun in Heaven with Jesus-- we still miss her, because we're still here, and not in Heaven with her. And sometimes, that makes us sad, even though we're happy for her... and sometimes it's okay to cry when you're sad... especially when you're happy and sad and all kinds of things, all at the same time. That set off another in-depth discussion (on a 3-year-old level) of Providence, Eternity, and the Scandal of Suffering. :) Later that drive, I looked back, and he'd fallen asleep, certainly with visions in his mind of Mommy laughing and dancing in Heaven. He woke up very late from his nap that afternoon-- well after sunset. He'd wet through in his bed, and was cold, cranky, sleepy, uncomfortable and inconsolable. After struggling a little, trying to get him changed, I gave up and just decided to give him some space until he could get his senses about him, and warm up to the idea of waking up and getting on with the evening. After he'd calmed, I returned to where he was sitting, 2/3 of the way up the stairs to his room, overlooking the mess strewn across the house (the photos, things, etc... all drying out and awaiting their fate). I just asked gently, "What's wrong buddy? What can I do for you?" He just looked at me, and broke down, beginning to cry, "I want my mom!"
He's been so unbelievably resilient throughout the past 5+ months since Mommy "went to Heaven", that the little melt-down completely caught me off guard. I just went up the stairs, scooped him up, held him tightly and began kissing his head. "I know, buddy. I miss her, too. I miss her, too." There's so much that little kid holds... So much that spins through his mind. As resilient as he is, this stuff will undoubtedly continue to bubble to the surface from time to time... Forever, most likely, until he is again united with Mommy in Heaven. This time, it was seeing Dana and Daddy cry about Mommy, and then seeing her things strewn about the house, that brought about this particular "bubbling-up"... this "catharsis", I guess, to stick with the theme.
Lord, be gentle. Have mercy on this child's heart. Certainly times like these are necessary for him to go through, in order to remember and love his mother, as we learn how to live without her. But God, hold him in Your arms when mine aren't warm enough. Let him touch your face when mine is not soft enough. Whisper peace into his ears when my words fall short. I do thank you for this winter, Lord... it is truly beautiful. And it is good to abide in Your warm shelter, as we weather the icy storm outside. I will abide. But I will also ask that you don't delay in bringing the spring.
I was watching the beautiful snowfall last night, sitting by the fire, TJ fast asleep upstairs, and I thought for a bit about Leslie. She hated the winter. Hate is a four-letter word that I avoid using even more religiously than other four-letter words that most other people would deem far less "religious". But hate is just a horrible word. And Leslie hated winter. (Which tells you how much she loved her family, as she could never get herself to honestly consider moving out of the Midwest.) The post-Christmas months were particularly hard on her. January's cold snow and February's gray slush would invariably bring about a cloud of depression onto our home, which she would fight until her birthday in mid-March. And last night, as I considered all of this while watching the snow and the fire, (it was all the more frustrating to her that I love the winter as much as I do), it made me oddly happy for her that she was missing all the snow and bitter cold this time around. Sure, she would have loved cuddling on the couch under a blanket with a glass of wine by the fire... But undoubtedly, if she was looking down on me last night, she was in NO way wishing she could join me. I'm sure it gave her plenty of reason to throw her head back and laugh her contageous laugh once again, just thrilled to be warm and joyful, in the presence of Jesus. If there is snow in heaven, not a single flake ever falls on our Leslie, we can rest assured.
The house is coming along, and I am eager to have our "new home" put together. With the added bathroom in the basement and the newly finished hardwoods throughout the first floor (a necessity, according to insurance, in order to match and blend the newly replaced portions with what remained from before), it will be an even grander place than the one into which we moved a year ago last August. And as I mentioned before, the floodwaters took care of many hard decisions for me I was certain to face down the road... "What do I do with THIS...? I can't throw it away... but it's just taking up space..." Well... none of that stuff is taking up space any longer. At least not in my house. Am I happy about losing all of those things? No. Am I better off without them? I believe this is what they call "catharsis". "A purging of emotional burden." It just seems so fitting this all should happen at the onset of the new year, you know?
All the churning of "stuff" around the house has drawn some interesting reactions from TJ lately. The photos that have been spread around the house to dry, so many of Leslie's old things dug out of boxes, the general disorganization and chaos of the house... all of these things have indeed been hard on him. Or perhaps, they have provided an opportunity for him to experience his own catharsis, of sorts. Prior to all the "churning" around the house, I'd been so thankful with how he'd been doing. He just seems so happy, and "at peace" with our new life. He and I talk about Mommy almost every day. We pray and thank God for her, and that she is all better. We ask God to give her a great big hug for us. We talk about what she's probably doing today... "She's prob'ly playing band," TJ usually says, and that usually gets him talking about the drumset she's preparing for him. Routinely, he asks when we can go to Heaven. He wonders how old he will be. A couple of days ago he announced, "Daddy, when I'm a little bit older, I don't want to go to high school. I just want to go to Heaven."
Last week, I was picking him up at Dana's house (again, Leslie's sister, where he spends 3 days a week playing with his cousins), and Dana, Curt (her husband) and I got into a very good, emotional discussion about "moving on", "closure", missing Leslie, and the usual "healing" stuff. There were tears-- not the messy, bitter kind... the sweet, warm kind. On the drive home, TJ asked why we were crying. I explained to him that we were talking about Mommy. And that, even though we're so happy for Mommy now-- that she is all better now and having fun in Heaven with Jesus-- we still miss her, because we're still here, and not in Heaven with her. And sometimes, that makes us sad, even though we're happy for her... and sometimes it's okay to cry when you're sad... especially when you're happy and sad and all kinds of things, all at the same time. That set off another in-depth discussion (on a 3-year-old level) of Providence, Eternity, and the Scandal of Suffering. :) Later that drive, I looked back, and he'd fallen asleep, certainly with visions in his mind of Mommy laughing and dancing in Heaven. He woke up very late from his nap that afternoon-- well after sunset. He'd wet through in his bed, and was cold, cranky, sleepy, uncomfortable and inconsolable. After struggling a little, trying to get him changed, I gave up and just decided to give him some space until he could get his senses about him, and warm up to the idea of waking up and getting on with the evening. After he'd calmed, I returned to where he was sitting, 2/3 of the way up the stairs to his room, overlooking the mess strewn across the house (the photos, things, etc... all drying out and awaiting their fate). I just asked gently, "What's wrong buddy? What can I do for you?" He just looked at me, and broke down, beginning to cry, "I want my mom!"
He's been so unbelievably resilient throughout the past 5+ months since Mommy "went to Heaven", that the little melt-down completely caught me off guard. I just went up the stairs, scooped him up, held him tightly and began kissing his head. "I know, buddy. I miss her, too. I miss her, too." There's so much that little kid holds... So much that spins through his mind. As resilient as he is, this stuff will undoubtedly continue to bubble to the surface from time to time... Forever, most likely, until he is again united with Mommy in Heaven. This time, it was seeing Dana and Daddy cry about Mommy, and then seeing her things strewn about the house, that brought about this particular "bubbling-up"... this "catharsis", I guess, to stick with the theme.
Lord, be gentle. Have mercy on this child's heart. Certainly times like these are necessary for him to go through, in order to remember and love his mother, as we learn how to live without her. But God, hold him in Your arms when mine aren't warm enough. Let him touch your face when mine is not soft enough. Whisper peace into his ears when my words fall short. I do thank you for this winter, Lord... it is truly beautiful. And it is good to abide in Your warm shelter, as we weather the icy storm outside. I will abide. But I will also ask that you don't delay in bringing the spring.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
When Life Gives You Lemons... Write a Book
Well, things are coming together at the house. The water damage has been fully "mitigated". They did not have to remove nearly as much drywall or insulation as they had originally predicted, and no sub-floor had to be removed. They're just squeezing the last bit of moisture out with dehumidifiers and industrial-strength fans in the basement, now. All of the basement flooring is a loss, which we'd expected. And all-in-all, only about 1/4 of the square footage of the hardwood in the main floor had to be torn up.
I'm blessed to have a friend from church, Bryan, whose family is in the contracting business, specializing in basement refinishing and remodeling. I've used them before, to do my basement in the townhouse we lived in when we first moved to the area 4 years ago. (Nantom Construction is their company's name, by the way. Let me know if you need their number. Absolutely the BEST in the area-- good, trustworthy people who do great, efficient work.) (Kozor-- do I get a discount for that shameless plug?) Anyway, Bryan agreed to take on my job, and is going completely above and beyond-- he has some great ideas for upgrades (ie, an additional bathroom in the basement), and cost-cutting in other areas (ie, the kind of flooring in the laundry room), so overall, with minimal additional investment, my house is going to be WAY better off when he's done than before it was flooded. ALSO!! The GREAT news is that what the adjuster told me would take months will only take weeks. (Yes, Bryan is THAT GOOD.) :)
Also, I'm starting to realize it is going to be a bit of a blessing to have all of the storage area cleared of things-- even as invaluable as some of the things were. Less clutter. It seriously is like a fresh start-- a new house, less stuff... Not like I had a choice in the matter, but I do see the "upside"... as I tend to. Leslie is rolling her eyes right now at this confession, if they have access to blogspot.com in heaven. Anyway... deep breath... it will be alright.
So, yes, I'm all about making lemonade with the lemons that life deals me. After all, the more I live, the more I learn that, indeed, "...all things work together for good for those who trust the Lord, and are called according to His purpose." But additionally, as you, my loyal friends and readers, have learned very intimately about me... I also like to WRITE about the "lemon-to-lemonade" process, and my experiences therein. I've learned there is something extraordinarily therapeutic about seeing my thoughts in writing... and then sharing them... and then actually reading the heart-felt and thoughtful responses that result. The whole thing is so humbling... so encouraging... It's like the truth that I'm learning becomes even more important-- the beauty I'm witnessing, more glorious-- the more the original report echoes off the walls and finds its way back to me. All that to say, thank you so much for sharing these "new chapters" with me. I am so grateful to God for each set of eyes-- every heart and mind-- that takes and indeed absorbs the stuff that spills out of me onto this keyboard.
Ironically enough, I'm going to ask you all for prayer for something specific on this topic of "writing" or "blogging" or whatever it is we call this phenomenon. It's ironic, because that's how this whole thing started... as a desperate call for prayer. I'd always written-- journaled, wrote song lyrics/ poetry, memoirs, etc... But I'd never shared it publicly. When Leslie was first found to have a cancerous tumor behind her polyp, 15 months ago, that all changed. I simply sent out a mass email to friends and family, asking them for prayer... giving details as to the medical intricacies and the logistics of her diagnosis and pending treatment plan. As people learned of Leslie's condition and the numbers of people wanting to be "in the know" grew, I simply sent out one more email, asking people to check in on my private message board on my MySpace page, as they so desired. From there, our friend Ginny, wanting to do something-- anything-- for Leslie, asked if she could beging to copy and paste my postings in a more public venue, in order to perhaps drum up some more "prayer warriors". And the blog known as Leslie's Journey was born. And here we are. I'm not sure when the tone of our entries morphed from that of offering more cut-and-dried prayer requests to one of a more therapeutic, reflective, journalistic nature. (But is there really much of a difference between the two, when you get down to it?) But I came to view my postings no longer as an obligation to keep family and friends informed, but rather, it was becoming a personal NEED... an escape... therapy. And it was so humbling to see what God began to do with it. When things went from bad to worse... and then in turn from worse to utterly horrible... I asked Leslie what she thought of her growing "audience", and the public nature of her suffering. I offered to "pull the plug" on the blog... essentially, that she may "die in peace", (although of course, we didn't ever say it like that). Her response will always remain monumental in my life. Here's a paraphrase of what she told me, as she struggled for breath (even with the help of her oxygen line) that bittersweet morning:
"I've come to realize that this is my ministry. My calling. I don't like it. It's not what I wanted for a life-purpose. But I've always asked God, 'what do you want of me?'. And I realize that this is His answer. I don't know what He's got up His sleeve. We hope it's a miraculous healing. But whatever it is, I've got no choice but to give Him glory in it. It is my ministry. Look at all the people watching! And look at all He's taught US through this! We all have so much to learn from each other. God WILL reveal Himself through this. Whatever happens."
Praise God, amen! What a woman! Yes, YOU, our readers and friends, were indeed used by God Himself to give Leslie a vision and purpose in her suffering. YOU were the answer to so many of her questions, "WHY?" And indeed, YOU are the ones to whom God is still ministering through her. You are her legacy. I will never be able to show my full appreciation for this.
So... What is the prayer request I mentioned, in this instance, you ask? Good question, is my reply, and here's the deal...
I've developed a relationship with a publisher. While he will not be taking on our story to publish himself, he will basically be acting as my "agent". So weird to say... "I have an agent." I am just putting the finishing touches on a book proposal, which for now is entitled, Leslie's Journey. It is subtitled: God’s Story of Love, Life, Suffering, and Redemption in an Average American Family. And friends, I need prayer. I have no idea what to expect. It just seems as though a door has swung open before me, and I'm compelled to walk through it, to see what awaits me inside... (or is it "outside"?) My primary goal is to amplify and honor Leslie's ministry that I spoke of in a previous paragraph. But I'd be lying if I said I don't get excited, personally, about what God could have in store, lying on the other side of this door way. I need prayer for discernment. For protection. For humility. That I might just continue to follow Him into what could be the pending adventure, and not grasp at idols along the way. That the right opportunities might come along... and that the primary, secondary, and tertiary purpose, mode, and result of these opportunities might be that God is glorified-- that He reveals Himself, en masse, in the same way He has up to now, in this "ministry"... and then some.
I just wanted to share this all with you... ask you for prayer... for your wisdom and feedback. Jason (the publisher/agent dude) thought it'd be a good idea to kind of "unveil" the idea here, in this venue. Many of you have asked or made suggestions about this very thing, and indeed, I heard those words... and I thank you for your encouragement.
Well anyway... thanks for your consideration, compassion, and prayers. Back to work... and rebuilding a home.
p.s. Ginny- If you're still checking in on the "Leslie's Journey" site... do you mind giving a little "news brief" there? Thanks! :)
I'm blessed to have a friend from church, Bryan, whose family is in the contracting business, specializing in basement refinishing and remodeling. I've used them before, to do my basement in the townhouse we lived in when we first moved to the area 4 years ago. (Nantom Construction is their company's name, by the way. Let me know if you need their number. Absolutely the BEST in the area-- good, trustworthy people who do great, efficient work.) (Kozor-- do I get a discount for that shameless plug?) Anyway, Bryan agreed to take on my job, and is going completely above and beyond-- he has some great ideas for upgrades (ie, an additional bathroom in the basement), and cost-cutting in other areas (ie, the kind of flooring in the laundry room), so overall, with minimal additional investment, my house is going to be WAY better off when he's done than before it was flooded. ALSO!! The GREAT news is that what the adjuster told me would take months will only take weeks. (Yes, Bryan is THAT GOOD.) :)
Also, I'm starting to realize it is going to be a bit of a blessing to have all of the storage area cleared of things-- even as invaluable as some of the things were. Less clutter. It seriously is like a fresh start-- a new house, less stuff... Not like I had a choice in the matter, but I do see the "upside"... as I tend to. Leslie is rolling her eyes right now at this confession, if they have access to blogspot.com in heaven. Anyway... deep breath... it will be alright.
So, yes, I'm all about making lemonade with the lemons that life deals me. After all, the more I live, the more I learn that, indeed, "...all things work together for good for those who trust the Lord, and are called according to His purpose." But additionally, as you, my loyal friends and readers, have learned very intimately about me... I also like to WRITE about the "lemon-to-lemonade" process, and my experiences therein. I've learned there is something extraordinarily therapeutic about seeing my thoughts in writing... and then sharing them... and then actually reading the heart-felt and thoughtful responses that result. The whole thing is so humbling... so encouraging... It's like the truth that I'm learning becomes even more important-- the beauty I'm witnessing, more glorious-- the more the original report echoes off the walls and finds its way back to me. All that to say, thank you so much for sharing these "new chapters" with me. I am so grateful to God for each set of eyes-- every heart and mind-- that takes and indeed absorbs the stuff that spills out of me onto this keyboard.
Ironically enough, I'm going to ask you all for prayer for something specific on this topic of "writing" or "blogging" or whatever it is we call this phenomenon. It's ironic, because that's how this whole thing started... as a desperate call for prayer. I'd always written-- journaled, wrote song lyrics/ poetry, memoirs, etc... But I'd never shared it publicly. When Leslie was first found to have a cancerous tumor behind her polyp, 15 months ago, that all changed. I simply sent out a mass email to friends and family, asking them for prayer... giving details as to the medical intricacies and the logistics of her diagnosis and pending treatment plan. As people learned of Leslie's condition and the numbers of people wanting to be "in the know" grew, I simply sent out one more email, asking people to check in on my private message board on my MySpace page, as they so desired. From there, our friend Ginny, wanting to do something-- anything-- for Leslie, asked if she could beging to copy and paste my postings in a more public venue, in order to perhaps drum up some more "prayer warriors". And the blog known as Leslie's Journey was born. And here we are. I'm not sure when the tone of our entries morphed from that of offering more cut-and-dried prayer requests to one of a more therapeutic, reflective, journalistic nature. (But is there really much of a difference between the two, when you get down to it?) But I came to view my postings no longer as an obligation to keep family and friends informed, but rather, it was becoming a personal NEED... an escape... therapy. And it was so humbling to see what God began to do with it. When things went from bad to worse... and then in turn from worse to utterly horrible... I asked Leslie what she thought of her growing "audience", and the public nature of her suffering. I offered to "pull the plug" on the blog... essentially, that she may "die in peace", (although of course, we didn't ever say it like that). Her response will always remain monumental in my life. Here's a paraphrase of what she told me, as she struggled for breath (even with the help of her oxygen line) that bittersweet morning:
"I've come to realize that this is my ministry. My calling. I don't like it. It's not what I wanted for a life-purpose. But I've always asked God, 'what do you want of me?'. And I realize that this is His answer. I don't know what He's got up His sleeve. We hope it's a miraculous healing. But whatever it is, I've got no choice but to give Him glory in it. It is my ministry. Look at all the people watching! And look at all He's taught US through this! We all have so much to learn from each other. God WILL reveal Himself through this. Whatever happens."
Praise God, amen! What a woman! Yes, YOU, our readers and friends, were indeed used by God Himself to give Leslie a vision and purpose in her suffering. YOU were the answer to so many of her questions, "WHY?" And indeed, YOU are the ones to whom God is still ministering through her. You are her legacy. I will never be able to show my full appreciation for this.
So... What is the prayer request I mentioned, in this instance, you ask? Good question, is my reply, and here's the deal...
I've developed a relationship with a publisher. While he will not be taking on our story to publish himself, he will basically be acting as my "agent". So weird to say... "I have an agent." I am just putting the finishing touches on a book proposal, which for now is entitled, Leslie's Journey. It is subtitled: God’s Story of Love, Life, Suffering, and Redemption in an Average American Family. And friends, I need prayer. I have no idea what to expect. It just seems as though a door has swung open before me, and I'm compelled to walk through it, to see what awaits me inside... (or is it "outside"?) My primary goal is to amplify and honor Leslie's ministry that I spoke of in a previous paragraph. But I'd be lying if I said I don't get excited, personally, about what God could have in store, lying on the other side of this door way. I need prayer for discernment. For protection. For humility. That I might just continue to follow Him into what could be the pending adventure, and not grasp at idols along the way. That the right opportunities might come along... and that the primary, secondary, and tertiary purpose, mode, and result of these opportunities might be that God is glorified-- that He reveals Himself, en masse, in the same way He has up to now, in this "ministry"... and then some.
I just wanted to share this all with you... ask you for prayer... for your wisdom and feedback. Jason (the publisher/agent dude) thought it'd be a good idea to kind of "unveil" the idea here, in this venue. Many of you have asked or made suggestions about this very thing, and indeed, I heard those words... and I thank you for your encouragement.
Well anyway... thanks for your consideration, compassion, and prayers. Back to work... and rebuilding a home.
p.s. Ginny- If you're still checking in on the "Leslie's Journey" site... do you mind giving a little "news brief" there? Thanks! :)
Monday, January 5, 2009
Starting the New Year With a SPLASH.
TJ and I are happy and tan from our holiday get-away to Florida. We're now back home...
...at least what's left of it.
We were there for about a week and a half. We frequent New Smyrna Beach, FL, where my family has been vacationing since I was a little guy. We had a wonderful time with my family there. We figured it'd be a good thing to get out of the house this holiday season and get some sun. It turned out to be a great decision, on more than just the emotional front. My mind and body were just in GREAT need of a vacation, by the time we left, a few days before Christmas. I had no idea how stressful the holidays can be for a "single parent". Shopping was a debacle this year. Decorations? HA! Just a tree and a nativity scene. And then the special church services, family get-togethers, etc... and work got really busy, too, at the end of the year. I felt like I was chewed up and swallowed by the holiday season and then spit back out... but was happy to land on the beach to dry out a little. It was SO good.
Coming back from vacation is always a tough thing for me. We had planned on returning home in time for my big New Year's Eve plans (tongue-in-cheek... from a former post). It's hard enough to leave the beach, the ocean, the sun, and of course, the family-- we have such a good time together down there. And then, of course, there's the stress of traveling all that way back-- fly or drive, it's always an adventure with luggage and a 3-year-old in tow. And then, upon returning home, there's all the mail to catch up on and tidying up to do, settling back into home before heading back to work and the day-to-day routine. All of that is certainly compounded when the particular vacation from which you're returning is over the holidays-- a tree to take down, decorations and presents to put away... etc... This is what was on my mind as TJ and I spent last Tuesday traveling back home. Those were the thoughts that were on my mind as I opened up the garage door and carried TJ into the house. That first step is always a pleasant one-- you breathe in and smell the smells and feel the air of your own abode... it's like comfort instantly washes over you. "I'm HOME..."
That is, of course, unless that first step is accompanied with a SPLASH.
Chicago had near-zero temperatures, and wind-chills in the -30 to -40F range while we were gone. (Made me happy to be in Florida!) That weather was followed by 50-degree weather with a thunderstorm, I hear... which was in turn was followed by more freezing rain and snow. All of that was enough, as it turns out, to freeze, thaw, and re-freeze the pipe that goes from the water main in my house to the main-floor bathroom toilet. Which was enough to burst a plumbing joint.
I stepped into 2" of standing water on my main floor on Tuesday, when we returned home. The water was coming out with about the force of a high-pressure shower-head, straight out from the bathroom wall. I sloshed my way down to the basement to turn off the water main. On the way down, I realized that the stairwell walls were bubbling up like water baloons. Then, I splashed through my finished basement's carpeted floor to check the sump pump, rather in shock. The cellar/ sump room door was warped so badly that I had to nearly jerk it off its hinges to open it... Yes... It was that bad. It was literally RAINING in the cellar. Water pouring from the rafters, onto all of our belongings we had stored there. 2" of standing water on the unfinished concrete floor. All of our photo albums, collages, wall-art, keep sakes, knick-knacks, decorations, TJ's cradle and crib... all the things we hadn't had time to move into place in the month that transpired between our purchase of the house and Leslie's diagnosis, over a year ago... All destroyed. The "rain" from the bathroom above had filled every box, soaked every bag, saturated everything that was in the room... Boxes were literally pouring off of the shelves, into a soggy heap on the floor, they were so full of water.
Welcome home. And happy freaking new year.
Anyway... all is under control now. We're living in about half the house we were before we left for Florida, and will continue to be until February or March. That's the amount of time it will take them to get everything back to normal. They're currently "mitigating" the damages-- preventing mold, dehumidifying, drying, etc... Knocking out drywall and saturated insulation, tearing up flooring and sub-flooring. Reconstruction will probably start next week sometime. Fortunately, my guitars, all the furniture, recording "studio", pool table, etc... (all things if value that find their homes in the basement) were miraculously spared. But almost all of what was in the storage/sump room is completely a loss, or at least irreversably damaged. These are the things that will bring in the least amount of insurance benefit reimbursement. Just as well, because all of the money in the world can't buy those things back into existence. The men from my "small group" at church came over yesterday to help me go through everything-- trashing what was unsalvageable, inventorying it for insurance, and trying to save the rest of it. Insurance is taking care of the rest of it, minus my deductible. So there's really nothing else anything can do to help... It's just a matter of putting up with the inconvenience of having only half of a house (and a dusty, noisy, cluttered one at that) for the next couple of months.
Oddly enough... I've found the whole ordeal to be rather comical. The friend that brought us back from the airport that Tuesday even congratulated me for not letting a single "naughty word" fly, as we walked into and in turn assessed the mess. I admit there was a bit of a falling out with God over it. "Are you FREAKING SERIOUS!!?? I mean REALLY!!!!!???" I just kept on laughing/shouting, out loud. Yes, I was unbelievably frustrated... but it was more being "annoyed" with God than it was angry. I'm not afraid to get angry with Him... dont' get me wrong. But, hey, it's just a house, right? It's just "stuff". And it's even stuff I haven't used or even thought of for many months, at that. Everything that is important is still intact. TJ and I are safe, healthy, and actually "bonding" quite well, as we embark together on a new year... a fresh start. We still have a roof over our head, and most of our walls around us. We still have heat and water and comfy beds and an unscathed kitchen... not to mention the TV, computer, and all kinds of luxuries that 95% of the world will never possess. I'm thankful we've got good insurance... and a friend who's a plumber and just happened to be on his way home from work, 15 minutes away, when I called him that fateful Tuesday December 30th... and another friend who is a contractor specializing in basement finishing and reconstruction... and a bunch of friends who can come over and help me knock out about 3 weeks of sorting and salvage work in about 3 hours. The optimist in me even is looking forward to "starting over" with a clean basement, cleared storage area, new floors, new paint, and basically half of a new house, come March (or whenever the restoration/ reconstruction is finished).
I guess all we've been through this year has given me a new perspective on what is important... what is valuable, and what is "live-able"... What is a need, and what is a luxury. What is a "loss", in insurance terms, and what truly is a LOSS. Yes, 2008 will live forever in infamy, in the collective memory of TJ and me, family, and our friends. Might as well send it off with a bang. Or at least with a splash.
...at least what's left of it.
We were there for about a week and a half. We frequent New Smyrna Beach, FL, where my family has been vacationing since I was a little guy. We had a wonderful time with my family there. We figured it'd be a good thing to get out of the house this holiday season and get some sun. It turned out to be a great decision, on more than just the emotional front. My mind and body were just in GREAT need of a vacation, by the time we left, a few days before Christmas. I had no idea how stressful the holidays can be for a "single parent". Shopping was a debacle this year. Decorations? HA! Just a tree and a nativity scene. And then the special church services, family get-togethers, etc... and work got really busy, too, at the end of the year. I felt like I was chewed up and swallowed by the holiday season and then spit back out... but was happy to land on the beach to dry out a little. It was SO good.
Coming back from vacation is always a tough thing for me. We had planned on returning home in time for my big New Year's Eve plans (tongue-in-cheek... from a former post). It's hard enough to leave the beach, the ocean, the sun, and of course, the family-- we have such a good time together down there. And then, of course, there's the stress of traveling all that way back-- fly or drive, it's always an adventure with luggage and a 3-year-old in tow. And then, upon returning home, there's all the mail to catch up on and tidying up to do, settling back into home before heading back to work and the day-to-day routine. All of that is certainly compounded when the particular vacation from which you're returning is over the holidays-- a tree to take down, decorations and presents to put away... etc... This is what was on my mind as TJ and I spent last Tuesday traveling back home. Those were the thoughts that were on my mind as I opened up the garage door and carried TJ into the house. That first step is always a pleasant one-- you breathe in and smell the smells and feel the air of your own abode... it's like comfort instantly washes over you. "I'm HOME..."
That is, of course, unless that first step is accompanied with a SPLASH.
Chicago had near-zero temperatures, and wind-chills in the -30 to -40F range while we were gone. (Made me happy to be in Florida!) That weather was followed by 50-degree weather with a thunderstorm, I hear... which was in turn was followed by more freezing rain and snow. All of that was enough, as it turns out, to freeze, thaw, and re-freeze the pipe that goes from the water main in my house to the main-floor bathroom toilet. Which was enough to burst a plumbing joint.
I stepped into 2" of standing water on my main floor on Tuesday, when we returned home. The water was coming out with about the force of a high-pressure shower-head, straight out from the bathroom wall. I sloshed my way down to the basement to turn off the water main. On the way down, I realized that the stairwell walls were bubbling up like water baloons. Then, I splashed through my finished basement's carpeted floor to check the sump pump, rather in shock. The cellar/ sump room door was warped so badly that I had to nearly jerk it off its hinges to open it... Yes... It was that bad. It was literally RAINING in the cellar. Water pouring from the rafters, onto all of our belongings we had stored there. 2" of standing water on the unfinished concrete floor. All of our photo albums, collages, wall-art, keep sakes, knick-knacks, decorations, TJ's cradle and crib... all the things we hadn't had time to move into place in the month that transpired between our purchase of the house and Leslie's diagnosis, over a year ago... All destroyed. The "rain" from the bathroom above had filled every box, soaked every bag, saturated everything that was in the room... Boxes were literally pouring off of the shelves, into a soggy heap on the floor, they were so full of water.
Welcome home. And happy freaking new year.
Anyway... all is under control now. We're living in about half the house we were before we left for Florida, and will continue to be until February or March. That's the amount of time it will take them to get everything back to normal. They're currently "mitigating" the damages-- preventing mold, dehumidifying, drying, etc... Knocking out drywall and saturated insulation, tearing up flooring and sub-flooring. Reconstruction will probably start next week sometime. Fortunately, my guitars, all the furniture, recording "studio", pool table, etc... (all things if value that find their homes in the basement) were miraculously spared. But almost all of what was in the storage/sump room is completely a loss, or at least irreversably damaged. These are the things that will bring in the least amount of insurance benefit reimbursement. Just as well, because all of the money in the world can't buy those things back into existence. The men from my "small group" at church came over yesterday to help me go through everything-- trashing what was unsalvageable, inventorying it for insurance, and trying to save the rest of it. Insurance is taking care of the rest of it, minus my deductible. So there's really nothing else anything can do to help... It's just a matter of putting up with the inconvenience of having only half of a house (and a dusty, noisy, cluttered one at that) for the next couple of months.
Oddly enough... I've found the whole ordeal to be rather comical. The friend that brought us back from the airport that Tuesday even congratulated me for not letting a single "naughty word" fly, as we walked into and in turn assessed the mess. I admit there was a bit of a falling out with God over it. "Are you FREAKING SERIOUS!!?? I mean REALLY!!!!!???" I just kept on laughing/shouting, out loud. Yes, I was unbelievably frustrated... but it was more being "annoyed" with God than it was angry. I'm not afraid to get angry with Him... dont' get me wrong. But, hey, it's just a house, right? It's just "stuff". And it's even stuff I haven't used or even thought of for many months, at that. Everything that is important is still intact. TJ and I are safe, healthy, and actually "bonding" quite well, as we embark together on a new year... a fresh start. We still have a roof over our head, and most of our walls around us. We still have heat and water and comfy beds and an unscathed kitchen... not to mention the TV, computer, and all kinds of luxuries that 95% of the world will never possess. I'm thankful we've got good insurance... and a friend who's a plumber and just happened to be on his way home from work, 15 minutes away, when I called him that fateful Tuesday December 30th... and another friend who is a contractor specializing in basement finishing and reconstruction... and a bunch of friends who can come over and help me knock out about 3 weeks of sorting and salvage work in about 3 hours. The optimist in me even is looking forward to "starting over" with a clean basement, cleared storage area, new floors, new paint, and basically half of a new house, come March (or whenever the restoration/ reconstruction is finished).
I guess all we've been through this year has given me a new perspective on what is important... what is valuable, and what is "live-able"... What is a need, and what is a luxury. What is a "loss", in insurance terms, and what truly is a LOSS. Yes, 2008 will live forever in infamy, in the collective memory of TJ and me, family, and our friends. Might as well send it off with a bang. Or at least with a splash.
Friday, December 26, 2008
To Share the Cup
So I've been following the dialogue from the last post pretty closely and praying through this whole topic of coming alongside a hurting, suffering, grieiving, etc... brother or sister. Thank you all for your contributions.
There was some imagery I stumbled upon in the aforementioned post that I've kind of taken a liking to. It was conjured up in my mind with more than a touch of irony and humor, but the more I thought about it, the more it rings true and profoundly applies to the topic at hand, at least in my twisted mind. The image is that of two people "sharing a glass" of wine at dinner. I originally mentioned it as an image of avoiding the betrayal of trust... (The quote follows, here-- and I apologize for having the audacity to quote my own blog, but it sets up the rest of this post...)
If I'm on a date, and my date offers me a taste of her wine (certainly a bold and intimate gesture), what would she do if I'd take the sip, and then get up from the table and go around the restaurant with her cup, offering sips of her wine to all the other patrons? Just because a friend shares with you a sip from his or her cup, it doesn't mean that it is in fact your cup to share with others.
I think we all get where I was going, there. But the thing that I keep coming back to, in reflection of this topic, is indeed that "glass of wine". Or the concept of "this cup", as a metaphor for various paths of struggle, grief, or intense suffering. There is something strikingly intimate and descriptive about the idea of sharing that glass of wine with someone-- the sweetness, the bitterness, the unique character and aroma, the personal exchange and sharing therein... Indeed, (not to equate any of our suffering with that of Jesus-- as if I need to clarify!), Jesus pled with The Father, on the eve of his crucifixion, that He "take this cup". And prior, He had challenged His disciples (who were quarrelling, ironically about which one was the greatest among them) and asked them, "Can you drink the cup I drink...?" That is... "can you really come along with me and taste of the suffering I'm about to endure? Can you bear this cross?"
This again brings me to a powerfully spiritual truth of the more eternal variety that keeps sprouting up into my life, through these past several months. THIS is the stuff that faith is made of. To drink from Christ's cup. To bear Christ's cross. The whole plan of the "salvation of man to God" centers around suffering, and then redemption. (So often we tend to want to fast-forward through the suffering part and just dwell on the redemption part.) That God should sacrifice Himself in His perfection-- humbling Himself from the highest place to the lowest (Merry Christmas, by the way)-- and pay the price for our sin/fallenness/unGodliness, by enduring-- and then succumbing to, and then overcoming-- some of the most disgusting and treacherous kind of suffering (and even death) anyone could possibly imagine. Remember-- in order to be able to "conquer the grave", He first had to be "sent to the grave"-- and that, not without intensely horrible suffering. So tell me, my Christian brothers and sisters... "Are you willing to drink this cup and bear this cross?" Is the Gospel you preach and hold to and live by a Gospel of happiness and comfort and the path of least resistance? Or is it the Gospel of the Cross? Of faith enduring-- even blossoming and coming to fruition-- in suffering?
This is extremely important to refresh in our minds as we dive further into the topic of "coming alongside a friend or loved one in their suffering", because this, my friends, is the very essence of the Gospel, as best I can tell... Living faith in suffering... "sharing the cup"... This is what I mean when I talk about "abiding" with someone-- or not trying to just "fix it". Until you have actually shared that cup-- tasted the bittersweetness of that wine-- you truly have no idea what you're even trying to fix. And just because you've tasted a different cup doesn't mean you know the fullness of what the cup of another contains.
Now, all you who are suffering, or have suffered-- a minute with you, if I may... Many of you have resonated with my "do-and-don't" lists from the previous post. But it needs to be understood that these guidelines for your family and friends are only going to yield positive "results", (or rather, "processes"), if we, in our suffering, are willing to truly drink our cup ourselves... and then share it. First of all, do you allow your suffering, grief, "healing", or whatever to point you to the Cross? Or is all your energy and focus pointed inward, at how badly this all sucks? Certainly it can be a good thing to call out to God in agony and dissatisfaction with your cup... but it is only good if, indeed, you are calling out to Him. Do you view your suffering as an honor and a privelege, as Paul did-- that you might be able to live the fullness of your faith through intense suffering as Jesus did? Do you who mourn understand why you're called "blessed"? Do you who are poor in spirit understand? What about you who are persecuted? Not that it makes you happy-- there's a different between "blessed" and "happy" (a fact that the American church doesn't always seem to grasp). But before any sort of "healthy grieving" or "faithful suffering" or "cross bearing" or "sharing of the cup" can take place... the person who has been given the cup needs to have both of his/her eyes fixed on that Cross. Otherwise, you are a slave to yourself-- to your own feelings and thoughts and humanness. And once you're there, you'd might as well just go buy a bunch of new-agey, secularly-humanistic self-help books. Because all of the abiding in the world isn't going to help you. Sitting on your duff and feeling sorry for yourself is not abiding. No, accepting your cup, drinking from it, and sharing it in faith with others, with eyes fixed on the Cross... now THAT's the abiding I'm talking about. It's the abiding the Lord was talking about when He said, "Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me."
There's that fruit of the vine again... which brings us right back to the wine and the cup...
So this post is a bit all over the map, and perhaps more abstract. But this should have actually been the precursor to the "To Mourn With Those Who Mourn" post. This is the imagery that is on my mind when I think of suffering, and coming alongside those who are suffering. This is the concept that is flooding my mind as I write a more concrete, direct list of "Dos" and "Don'ts". It's not about comforting a friend in need. It's about sharing a cup.
There was some imagery I stumbled upon in the aforementioned post that I've kind of taken a liking to. It was conjured up in my mind with more than a touch of irony and humor, but the more I thought about it, the more it rings true and profoundly applies to the topic at hand, at least in my twisted mind. The image is that of two people "sharing a glass" of wine at dinner. I originally mentioned it as an image of avoiding the betrayal of trust... (The quote follows, here-- and I apologize for having the audacity to quote my own blog, but it sets up the rest of this post...)
If I'm on a date, and my date offers me a taste of her wine (certainly a bold and intimate gesture), what would she do if I'd take the sip, and then get up from the table and go around the restaurant with her cup, offering sips of her wine to all the other patrons? Just because a friend shares with you a sip from his or her cup, it doesn't mean that it is in fact your cup to share with others.
I think we all get where I was going, there. But the thing that I keep coming back to, in reflection of this topic, is indeed that "glass of wine". Or the concept of "this cup", as a metaphor for various paths of struggle, grief, or intense suffering. There is something strikingly intimate and descriptive about the idea of sharing that glass of wine with someone-- the sweetness, the bitterness, the unique character and aroma, the personal exchange and sharing therein... Indeed, (not to equate any of our suffering with that of Jesus-- as if I need to clarify!), Jesus pled with The Father, on the eve of his crucifixion, that He "take this cup". And prior, He had challenged His disciples (who were quarrelling, ironically about which one was the greatest among them) and asked them, "Can you drink the cup I drink...?" That is... "can you really come along with me and taste of the suffering I'm about to endure? Can you bear this cross?"
This again brings me to a powerfully spiritual truth of the more eternal variety that keeps sprouting up into my life, through these past several months. THIS is the stuff that faith is made of. To drink from Christ's cup. To bear Christ's cross. The whole plan of the "salvation of man to God" centers around suffering, and then redemption. (So often we tend to want to fast-forward through the suffering part and just dwell on the redemption part.) That God should sacrifice Himself in His perfection-- humbling Himself from the highest place to the lowest (Merry Christmas, by the way)-- and pay the price for our sin/fallenness/unGodliness, by enduring-- and then succumbing to, and then overcoming-- some of the most disgusting and treacherous kind of suffering (and even death) anyone could possibly imagine. Remember-- in order to be able to "conquer the grave", He first had to be "sent to the grave"-- and that, not without intensely horrible suffering. So tell me, my Christian brothers and sisters... "Are you willing to drink this cup and bear this cross?" Is the Gospel you preach and hold to and live by a Gospel of happiness and comfort and the path of least resistance? Or is it the Gospel of the Cross? Of faith enduring-- even blossoming and coming to fruition-- in suffering?
This is extremely important to refresh in our minds as we dive further into the topic of "coming alongside a friend or loved one in their suffering", because this, my friends, is the very essence of the Gospel, as best I can tell... Living faith in suffering... "sharing the cup"... This is what I mean when I talk about "abiding" with someone-- or not trying to just "fix it". Until you have actually shared that cup-- tasted the bittersweetness of that wine-- you truly have no idea what you're even trying to fix. And just because you've tasted a different cup doesn't mean you know the fullness of what the cup of another contains.
Now, all you who are suffering, or have suffered-- a minute with you, if I may... Many of you have resonated with my "do-and-don't" lists from the previous post. But it needs to be understood that these guidelines for your family and friends are only going to yield positive "results", (or rather, "processes"), if we, in our suffering, are willing to truly drink our cup ourselves... and then share it. First of all, do you allow your suffering, grief, "healing", or whatever to point you to the Cross? Or is all your energy and focus pointed inward, at how badly this all sucks? Certainly it can be a good thing to call out to God in agony and dissatisfaction with your cup... but it is only good if, indeed, you are calling out to Him. Do you view your suffering as an honor and a privelege, as Paul did-- that you might be able to live the fullness of your faith through intense suffering as Jesus did? Do you who mourn understand why you're called "blessed"? Do you who are poor in spirit understand? What about you who are persecuted? Not that it makes you happy-- there's a different between "blessed" and "happy" (a fact that the American church doesn't always seem to grasp). But before any sort of "healthy grieving" or "faithful suffering" or "cross bearing" or "sharing of the cup" can take place... the person who has been given the cup needs to have both of his/her eyes fixed on that Cross. Otherwise, you are a slave to yourself-- to your own feelings and thoughts and humanness. And once you're there, you'd might as well just go buy a bunch of new-agey, secularly-humanistic self-help books. Because all of the abiding in the world isn't going to help you. Sitting on your duff and feeling sorry for yourself is not abiding. No, accepting your cup, drinking from it, and sharing it in faith with others, with eyes fixed on the Cross... now THAT's the abiding I'm talking about. It's the abiding the Lord was talking about when He said, "Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me."
There's that fruit of the vine again... which brings us right back to the wine and the cup...
So this post is a bit all over the map, and perhaps more abstract. But this should have actually been the precursor to the "To Mourn With Those Who Mourn" post. This is the imagery that is on my mind when I think of suffering, and coming alongside those who are suffering. This is the concept that is flooding my mind as I write a more concrete, direct list of "Dos" and "Don'ts". It's not about comforting a friend in need. It's about sharing a cup.
Friday, December 19, 2008
To Mourn with Those Who Mourn
I've received several comments, questions, emails, and have been in several conversations concerning a topic I've touched on previously-- most recently in the "Grieving with Gram" post-- the topic of of "coming alongside" a person in the midst of suffering, grieving, mourning, etc... From an insider's perspective, what recommendations can I make to the Church, to families, to friends, when it comes to "weeping with those who weep, and mourning with those who mourn"?
Certainly, there are important differences to be drawn between people who are suffering (ie, a terminal illness), and those who are mourning or grieving. And of course, different cases of "grieving" can look quite different-- a person who is recently widowed has quite a different set of circumstances from one who, say, has been recently divorced. (Even 2 recently widowed people's grief processes can look unimaginably different from the other's, regardless of how similar their situations seem "on paper".) So, I can't pretend to speak on behalf of all people grieving or suffering everywhere. (In fact, I was just sharing with a friend last night how there are so many "self-help" books on bookshelves that seem to try to boil down my situation-- grieving, single parenthood, etc...-- into a 5-step process, or a matter of right-and-wrong, or a check-list... and frankly, it just doesn't apply to me. Either I'm a freak, or the author is full of crap. Or maybe a bit of both.) However, there are similarities, too, we must admit, between individual journeys through grief, pain, suffering, mourning... "HEALING", we'll call it. (Indeed, sometimes a wound is so fresh and painful that we can't possibly fathom that we are actually already "healing". But many medical experts will acknowledge that the healing process indeed begins with the sensation of pain. Pain is not the absence of healing... it's the advent of it. Without pain, true healing cannot proceed.) Even those who are "dying" (as Leslie was), are still truly in the midst of their own journey of healing. So what do we do when we find ourselves in relationship with a "healing" person? (No matter how casual or intimate that relationship is... it is still a relationship.) How do we help? What do we say? What do we NOT say? How do we LOVE them?
An important part of the dynamic in a relationship between one who is suffering and one who is trying to come alongside the suffering person, is simply that the one who is suffering needs to be open to it. This is bad news, for all of you out there who have loved ones who are just simply unwilling to let you in. (But be careful, though, in your assessment of who is actually unwilling to "let you in". I know VERY FEW people who are truly unwilling to be loved. In fact, most who are truly this way are diagnosable with some sort of clinical disorder. Don't mistake "hard to love" with "unloveable"... don't mistake "reluctant to share" with "unwilling to share".) No matter how those of us who are "healing" want to hoard our sorrow or pain all for ourselves, we need to come to the realization that a) though our case may be somewhat unique, we still are indeed "suffering" like so many others, in different circumstances from our own; and b) it is good for our own souls and the souls of others to indeed let others "in" to our experiences. This is the divine plan of community. Humanity. The Church. The "social Gospel" (as it's been called) of Jesus. That being said... I just want to preface what I'm about to share with the firm assertion that there is no rule of thumb. No 5-step process to coming alongside a fallen or broken brother. No blueprint for loving those in greatest need.
With that being said, here's the best I can come up with, for now, from my own experience, and sharing in the experiences of others who are at various levels of their own "healing journeys". It's rough... it's not balanced... it may not seem "fair" for you outsiders-looking-in, as far as journeys of suffering are concerned. But it's real. I'll lay it out kind of as a quick reference tool... a list of "dos and don'ts". And I encourage dialogue on this! I'm still learning myself! These lists may need editing, amending, abridging, etc... in future blog posts. Please, leave your affirmations and dissentions alike-- your encouragement and discouragement from what you read-- in the "comments" section of this post, for all to see... this is such a healthy exercise for us all to embark on together... truly God-honoring... So, with a prayer to God and plea to you all for grace, I humbly give you my "Dos and Don'ts"... How to come alongside one who is suffering... or mourning... or healing... or whatever:
DON'Ts:
DOs:
Certainly, there are important differences to be drawn between people who are suffering (ie, a terminal illness), and those who are mourning or grieving. And of course, different cases of "grieving" can look quite different-- a person who is recently widowed has quite a different set of circumstances from one who, say, has been recently divorced. (Even 2 recently widowed people's grief processes can look unimaginably different from the other's, regardless of how similar their situations seem "on paper".) So, I can't pretend to speak on behalf of all people grieving or suffering everywhere. (In fact, I was just sharing with a friend last night how there are so many "self-help" books on bookshelves that seem to try to boil down my situation-- grieving, single parenthood, etc...-- into a 5-step process, or a matter of right-and-wrong, or a check-list... and frankly, it just doesn't apply to me. Either I'm a freak, or the author is full of crap. Or maybe a bit of both.) However, there are similarities, too, we must admit, between individual journeys through grief, pain, suffering, mourning... "HEALING", we'll call it. (Indeed, sometimes a wound is so fresh and painful that we can't possibly fathom that we are actually already "healing". But many medical experts will acknowledge that the healing process indeed begins with the sensation of pain. Pain is not the absence of healing... it's the advent of it. Without pain, true healing cannot proceed.) Even those who are "dying" (as Leslie was), are still truly in the midst of their own journey of healing. So what do we do when we find ourselves in relationship with a "healing" person? (No matter how casual or intimate that relationship is... it is still a relationship.) How do we help? What do we say? What do we NOT say? How do we LOVE them?
An important part of the dynamic in a relationship between one who is suffering and one who is trying to come alongside the suffering person, is simply that the one who is suffering needs to be open to it. This is bad news, for all of you out there who have loved ones who are just simply unwilling to let you in. (But be careful, though, in your assessment of who is actually unwilling to "let you in". I know VERY FEW people who are truly unwilling to be loved. In fact, most who are truly this way are diagnosable with some sort of clinical disorder. Don't mistake "hard to love" with "unloveable"... don't mistake "reluctant to share" with "unwilling to share".) No matter how those of us who are "healing" want to hoard our sorrow or pain all for ourselves, we need to come to the realization that a) though our case may be somewhat unique, we still are indeed "suffering" like so many others, in different circumstances from our own; and b) it is good for our own souls and the souls of others to indeed let others "in" to our experiences. This is the divine plan of community. Humanity. The Church. The "social Gospel" (as it's been called) of Jesus. That being said... I just want to preface what I'm about to share with the firm assertion that there is no rule of thumb. No 5-step process to coming alongside a fallen or broken brother. No blueprint for loving those in greatest need.
With that being said, here's the best I can come up with, for now, from my own experience, and sharing in the experiences of others who are at various levels of their own "healing journeys". It's rough... it's not balanced... it may not seem "fair" for you outsiders-looking-in, as far as journeys of suffering are concerned. But it's real. I'll lay it out kind of as a quick reference tool... a list of "dos and don'ts". And I encourage dialogue on this! I'm still learning myself! These lists may need editing, amending, abridging, etc... in future blog posts. Please, leave your affirmations and dissentions alike-- your encouragement and discouragement from what you read-- in the "comments" section of this post, for all to see... this is such a healthy exercise for us all to embark on together... truly God-honoring... So, with a prayer to God and plea to you all for grace, I humbly give you my "Dos and Don'ts"... How to come alongside one who is suffering... or mourning... or healing... or whatever:
DON'Ts:
- DON'T TRY TO FIX IT. Suffering is not something to be rescued from. It is something to be endured. It is God who heals. Not you. If your motive is to rescue someone, go to the Humane Society shelter and adopt a pet. If your motive is to love somebody, just be willing to abide with a person in their suffering, without trying to fix it.
- DON'T GIVE UNINVITED ADVICE. If they want advice, they'll ask. If you're giving advice, you're just trying to "fix it". As a matter of fact, it just may be that your "healing" friend has more to teach you than they have to learn from you.
- DON'T BE CLICHE. Yes, God has a plan. Yes, this too shall pass. Yes, Leslie is better off now. Yes, God is in control and He hears our prayers. But frankly, these are not truths to be uttered in passing, when one when one is grasping for words and can think of nothing else to say. If you've read it in a Hallmark card, just don't say it... no matter how true. (Indeed, if it's on a Hallmark card, just send them the card.) To the person who is suffering, hearing such things just gives the impression that the person doing the "encouraging" has no idea just how badly this sucks... that the person doing the speaking is really just trying to make him/herself feel better, and not really interested in sharing in the pain. Again, I am not dishonoring the truth of such well-known spiritual foundations. On the contrary... I'm just saying that some truths are actually dishonored or cheapened when they're offered as a band-aid, as a greeting of sorts, or as a passing blurb.
- DON'T ASSUME YOU CAN "RELATE". It's one thing to try to understand and come alongside someone in their suffering. It's completely another to use someone's predicament as an opportunity to share your own sob story. The fact that your 90-year-old grandmother died following a stroke last year may be an unfortunate fact. But what you learned through the course of that experience is not likely to be applicable to your friend who just lost their 9-year-old daughter to leukemia. In fact, something that helped you when your own daughter died of leukemia might not even be helpful to that friend, either. NEVER say, "I understand just what you're going through, because..." Even if you think you can relate. It is much more fruitful to just say, "I can in no way fathom just what you're going through. I am sorry."
- DON'T AVOID THE OBVIOUS. Don't pretend that nothing's wrong. Certainly, there is something to be said for just letting a friend escape their misery and have a conversation about something else. But you need to always be aware... be prepared to "go there"... be prepared to cry, to listen, to love.
- DON'T AVOID THE PERSON. This might sound silly to have to say. But I know a family who, after the tragic death of a loved one, was literally abandoned by their church. I know of a man whose friends stopped calling, stopped asking to hang out, stopped loving them after being diagnosed with a terminal disease. "Not knowing what to say" is NOT an excuse for abandoning your friend or loved one. In fact, it is all the more reason to PURSUE them.
- DON'T BETRAY TRUST. Don't gossip. If you are fortunate enough to have been allowed "inside"-- into the more intimate spaces of a suffering friend's heart and mind-- honor that by keeping it between the two of you. If you want, you may ask if you can have specific people (your family, your friends, your small group) pray for the matter. But don't assume that just because they shared it with you, that they want all of your friends knowing about it-- or even praying about it. If I'm on a date, and my date offers me a taste of her wine (certainly a bold and intimate gesture), what would she do if I'd take the sip, and then get up from the table and go around the restaurant with her cup, offering sips of her wine to all the other patrons? Just because a friend shares with you a sip from his or her cup, it doesn't mean that it is in fact your cup to share with others.
DOs:
- BE PATIENT. There is no universal timeline. Don't dare to come alongside a person unless you are willing to persevere in patience... even if the person is never "healed" by your definition.
- BE KIND. Gentle. A healing heart is fragile. Be kind even when the one you're being kind to is not. If you're not willing to take a punch and answer with a hug or at least a kind word, don't get into the ring.
- REMEMBER: IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. If your suffering loved one snaps, pushes you away, does not accept your gestures, lashes out, crawls into a hole and avoids the light of day... Let it roll off your back-- do not let it affect how you are able to love them. It's just not about you. Likewise, if you're fortunate enough to find a word that actually brings encouragement, don't take credit. Give the glory to God, and just be happy for the one who is suffering, that they're actually encouraged. (As a side-note, this one was extremely difficult for me, as I learned to come alongside Leslie in her life-long struggle with depression... I know many out there can relate.)
- HUG OFTEN. I don't care if it's weird. I don't care if they don't seem like the "touchy-feely" type-- or if you're not the "touchy-feely" type. There are actually clinical studies out there about the positive correllations between "healing" and "physical personal contact". If your loved one side-steps your efforts, try again later. To avoid hugging is to make a person feel as though he's been quarantined. My grief is not contageous by contact. Your love is though. Let me have it!
- LISTEN. Just listen. Even if it's hard. Shut up and listen. Or to be more proper/biblical about it: "...be quick to listen, slow to speak..."
- PRAY!! Offer to pray with the suffering person. Pray FOR the suffering person, every time the person enters your mind. Sure, pray for "healing", but don't just stop there. Pray for peace. Pray for revelation. Pray for strength to endure. (Both for your loved one, and for yourself, as you come alongside.) Ask what it is they need prayer for. If you find that you've gone a single day without praying for a person... well then... I guess you're not really "coming alongside", are you? Of all the gestures people have done for us through our "journey"-- all the gifts, all the acts of service, words of encouragement...-- it is the prayer of our friends, families, and even strangers for which we are most grateful.
- SHARE YOUR PRAYERS. Be specific. Send a note, or tell them when you see them... For example: "Yesterday, I was thinking of you-- you were just heavy on my heart. And I prayed specifically for peace, and that you could just sleep through the night."
- ALLOW FOR SPACE. Not to contradict "DO #4"... but sometimes, a person just needs some space. We just need to be alone sometimes. If you're wondering whether a person needs space or not... simply ask... "Do you just need some space right now?" This is a welcome question, speaking from experience, more so than "how can I help?". (Refer also to "DOs" #1 and #3, if you find yourself trying to love a suffering person who just needs space.)
- GIVE RANDOM, THOUGHTFUL GESTURES. The best things we've received from people are the random, heart-felt notes... just to tell us they're thinking of us and praying for us. Or maybe, a box of cookies in the mailbox with a hand-written card. Or maybe a gift-card for Caribou with a note, "Coffee on me! I'd love to join you. Anytime. But no offense if you just want to enjoy this alone." Oh... and when you give random thoughtful gestures... attach no strings. Don't even expect a thank-you. Certainly don't expect a special seat at the greiving table. The fact that your friend received the gesture should be gratitude enough. (But don't, by the way, ask them whether they actually received it... this comes off as begging for a slap on the back. If it's that big of deal, send it certified mail or in some way that requires a signature.)
- BE PERSONAL IN YOUR COMMUNICATION. Tell the person specifically what they mean to you... tell them specifically how their struggle is affecting your own life-- what you're learning, how you're losing sleep, how you've been encouraged, how you've struggled... even how you're angry at God or questioning His goodness. This most certainly does NOT contradict #3 above. In fact, I can speak on behalf of Leslie, that she just cherished the realization that her own journey was encouraging, challenging, revealing, etc... to others. That God was using her to reach and minister to other people. (This continues to be the greatest source of encouragement in my own ongoing journey.) (NOTE: See #4 in the "DON'Ts"... Do not mistake this "DO" to mean that you should be personal in relating your own story to a person who is suffering, in an attempt to show that you somehow "understand what they're going through".)
- SAY SOMETHING. BUT SAY LITTLE. It's not okay to never talk about it or pretend someone isn't suffering. Granted, someone may not want to talk about their suffering at a given minute. But it is always a good call to just simply say privately, "I'm sorry you're going through what you are." Or, "I've been praying for you like crazy. Just wanted to let you know that." Or, "You've been on my mind a lot. I'd love to talk sometime." Or whatever. And be prepared to move on in the conversation on to a non-related topic. But also, be prepared to just linger there for awhile.
- SPEAK AND ACT IN LOVE. Every word. Every deed. Every prayer. Cover it all in love... measure every motive with I. Cor. 13, and ask, "am I acting in LOVE here?": 4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8Love never fails.
- LISTEN TO THE SPIRIT. The Holy Spirit, that is... If you're not a Christ-follower, I guess you can go ahead and disregard this one. But for those of you who call yourselves "Christians", this is one of the precise reasons why Jesus left us His Holy Spirit... to know how to love each other more fully into the grace, peace, joy, and truth of God. How do you know what's from the Holy Spirit, and what's just that burrito you had for lunch? Ask yourself, "Is this thought, word, gesture, etc... a 'fruit of the Spirit'?" "...the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." (Gal. 5)
I could truly spend more time on this, and indeed, I hope to, via your comments, and perhaps subsequent posts. In the meantime... I guess I'll just wrap it up by saying, "Love each other well. Abide with one another in love. Don't fix. Don't rescue. Just abide."
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Christmas with a Crank
So I interrupt this dialogue (although it's not yet much of a dialogue) on compassion and grieving and more "important" issues, to just share a little frustration on a situational level. I've received some notes and comments here or there from curious "insiders" asking... "so how are you really doing?" or something along those lines. And as I say to all of those people, "What you see on the blog is what you get." Seriously... what do I have to gain here by pretending I'm doing better than I am? By giving God more credit than He deserves for what He's doing in this particular "healing process"? It's not to keep or please an audience, that's for sure... In fact, "analytics" tell me that more people read when things are really bad, than when things are good. (The old "train wreck" effect... Kind of like how people always hit the brakes when driving by an accident on the morning commute, even when their lane isn't really affected.) No... there's nothing to gain, in this venue, by pretending I'm doing better than I am. I know... it's weird, but I'm really doing this well. It's like some people are just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like there's no way I could really be doing this well, considering... Especially during the holidays...
**THUD** (That's the other shoe dropping.) (It's a big thud. I wear size 14's.)
Okay, so maybe that's a little over-dramatic. But in all seriousness, the last two days were definitely the hardest 48 hours I've endured this holiday season.
The summary is that TJ and I are now back at home at 432 Butterfly, having cut short our stay in Ohio for the Aschliman Family Christmas. The entire weekend was basically one giant "melt-down" exibit. Sure, there were times when TJ was okay... but the literal majority of the time was spent "managing" him... Either reprimanding him for making one of his cousins cry, or trying to console him in his own teary fit, or just cuddling him in his sweet little neediness. He was over-tired, over-stimulated, poorly-nourished... and... well... in my opinion... he just needed his Mommy.
After a 2+ hour struggle to get him to settle down and "get control" this afternoon at around nap-time (which I lost, by the way... my first ever such defeat... EVER...), I made the call to forego snowman building time this afternoon and dinner this evening and church with the family tomorrow, and we just called it a year and headed home. Christmas dinner at my parents is seriously an annual event of epic proportions. Perhaps my favorite meal of the entire year... and I'm a "foodie"... a culinary enthusiast. We're talking king crab legs, marinated petit filet mignon (my dad does better steaks than Ruth's Chris), some sort of greens salad with cranberries and walnuts or something, maybe au gratin or baby red-skin potatoes usually, some great wine, and my mom's specialty-- home-made tiramisu to finish it off. It seriously broke my heart to leave before dinner tonight. It's the family event of the year.
And poor TJ missed the snowman-fest this afternoon. Each of the boys (he has 3 boy-cousins on my side) got a snow-man kit for Christmas-- a plastic carrot-nose, a scarf and stocking cap, and button-char-coalie looking things for the eyes and smiles. They were going to put them to use this afternoon, as my parents had 3 inches of fresh pack-able snow on the ground.
Yes... He was that bad. Bad enough to miss all of this. If the dozen-or-so spankings didn't hurt his little rear end enough (remember, I view spanking as a "last resort"), certainly the damage he did to himself throwing his temper tantrums (he bruised his wrist at nap-time today, banging on the door, the floor, and his daddy) will be a stout reminder to him in the morning of his struggles. I was seriously brought to tears of frustration and helplessness several times. My poor family could only stand by and listen from afar as I tried to console, scold, reprimand, punish, or otherwise extend grace to a horribly behaved 3-year-old. Again... he was over-stimulated, over-tired, and oh... by the way... I was trying to get him to lie down in the 4th different bed this week.
How can I NOT begin to really doubt myself? How can I not sense that this is somehow unraveling? How can I not come to the sudden understanding of my own limitations as a father and as a person and realize there's just no way I can "do this". How can I not at least start to wonder if I'm ruining the life of this little child? The weekly travel my job requires... The commitments I try to keep up with... But seriously, do I say "no" to a family Christmas? Do I quit my job or simply tell a customer "no, I can't make it this week, ask my competitor to take my place"? Do I tell my church, "sorry... can't serve... find someone else"? Do I run the risk of literally driving myself insane and cut out my work-out or "quiet" times? (If you suggest a simple "yes" to any of these rhetorical questions, please don't you dare say so out loud... You can't possibly understand the depth of the conviction of my priorities... not that any of these compares to the priority I put on my son... But herein lies the crux of the rhetoric.)
You see, my friends... Family life was simply meant to be managed in partnership between a husband and wife, at least as my my own personal experience has revealed it. I could use this as an opportunity to get on my marriage/divorce soap-box, but I've already been there and done that. (See "Choices"-- posted September 11, 2008 on this same blog.) I learned early on that I cannot be a mommy to TJ. I can only be me-- his Daddy. I cannot be Leslie. Though, as I've mentioned before, she has indeed left parts of her with me-- some of her discernment, her personality, her quiet strength... all these things and more will always be a part of me (which is why she will always be "my better half"). But even in my best moment as a man and a father... even in my best moment when I'm wielding the weapons she left me with before leaving this life... I am still only a fraction of the parenting machine we were together.
I confess, as I drove back toward Chicago this afternoon, (after all his obstinance at bed-time and nap-time at Mimi and Papa's house, TJ fell asleep in his car seat-- not 10 minutes into the 3.5 hour drive back home), I was frustrated. Defeated. Full of doubt. I would have been angry, had I been able to muster up the strength. But I was just spent. I asked God, similarly as I have before... "Certainly, Lord... This cannot be more pleasing to You than the way it was before... When we were a 'whole family'??!!! Certainly, this is not Your better judgment... to have her be with You, and not here!? Certainly, TJ needs his Mommy... I need my wife and my partner... more than you need her there...??!! HOW IS THIS BETTER!!!?? HOW IS THIS YOUR WILL??!!"
...
A very dear friend of mine turned me on to a Christian singer-songwriter named JJ Heller. JJ sings a song-- presumedly to her son or daughter, or at least through the voice of a parent to his/her child-- called "keep you safe". My friend says this song has always brought me and TJ to mind. It goes like this:
Quiet your heart. It's just a dream. Go back to sleep.
I'll be right here. I'll stay awake as long as you need me
To slay all the dragons and keep out the monsters. I'm watching over you.
My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.
You'll have your own battles to fight when you are older.
You'll find yourself frozen inside. But always remember...
If you feel alone, facing the giants, and you don't know what to do...
My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.
This song is beautifully sung and written. I used to envision myself singing it to TJ... or maybe God singing it to me. It has just been lately-- in the midst of bouts with the "Terrible Threes", similar to what we experienced this weekend-- that I've learned to listen to this song with a new outlook... Namely... That God is singing this song to TJ.
You see... This weekend is only a reminder. A gut-check. Am I really trusting that God has me planted firmly in the palm of His hand? And, if in my wreckless abandon, it becomes too easy to just take that leap of faith-- (After all... what, at this point, do I have to lose?? My life? What life do I truly have left to live, compared to that which I've lost?)-- what about when it comes to TJ? Do I trust that God has TJ's best interest in mind? Do I trust that He will provide for TJ? Even in the face of the full understanding of my own inadequacy as a single parent? If God is God-- Lord of my life-- then He is Lord of TJ. If He is providing to meet my needs day-by-day, then certainly, He will provide even more fully for TJ. "Let the little children come unto me..."
Again... I hear the words... whispers evolving into booms like thunder... "In your weakness, I AM MADE STRONG!!!"
God, bless my child. I am incapable of loving him and caring for him and guiding him and nurturing him the way Leslie would, if she was here. But You took her from us. Certainly, You will provide in her absence...? But how!? In faith, Abraham laid Isaac on the altar. In faith, I give TJ to you. Teach me, Father. And where I fall short... show Yourself strong.
**THUD** (That's the other shoe dropping.) (It's a big thud. I wear size 14's.)
Okay, so maybe that's a little over-dramatic. But in all seriousness, the last two days were definitely the hardest 48 hours I've endured this holiday season.
The summary is that TJ and I are now back at home at 432 Butterfly, having cut short our stay in Ohio for the Aschliman Family Christmas. The entire weekend was basically one giant "melt-down" exibit. Sure, there were times when TJ was okay... but the literal majority of the time was spent "managing" him... Either reprimanding him for making one of his cousins cry, or trying to console him in his own teary fit, or just cuddling him in his sweet little neediness. He was over-tired, over-stimulated, poorly-nourished... and... well... in my opinion... he just needed his Mommy.
After a 2+ hour struggle to get him to settle down and "get control" this afternoon at around nap-time (which I lost, by the way... my first ever such defeat... EVER...), I made the call to forego snowman building time this afternoon and dinner this evening and church with the family tomorrow, and we just called it a year and headed home. Christmas dinner at my parents is seriously an annual event of epic proportions. Perhaps my favorite meal of the entire year... and I'm a "foodie"... a culinary enthusiast. We're talking king crab legs, marinated petit filet mignon (my dad does better steaks than Ruth's Chris), some sort of greens salad with cranberries and walnuts or something, maybe au gratin or baby red-skin potatoes usually, some great wine, and my mom's specialty-- home-made tiramisu to finish it off. It seriously broke my heart to leave before dinner tonight. It's the family event of the year.
And poor TJ missed the snowman-fest this afternoon. Each of the boys (he has 3 boy-cousins on my side) got a snow-man kit for Christmas-- a plastic carrot-nose, a scarf and stocking cap, and button-char-coalie looking things for the eyes and smiles. They were going to put them to use this afternoon, as my parents had 3 inches of fresh pack-able snow on the ground.
Yes... He was that bad. Bad enough to miss all of this. If the dozen-or-so spankings didn't hurt his little rear end enough (remember, I view spanking as a "last resort"), certainly the damage he did to himself throwing his temper tantrums (he bruised his wrist at nap-time today, banging on the door, the floor, and his daddy) will be a stout reminder to him in the morning of his struggles. I was seriously brought to tears of frustration and helplessness several times. My poor family could only stand by and listen from afar as I tried to console, scold, reprimand, punish, or otherwise extend grace to a horribly behaved 3-year-old. Again... he was over-stimulated, over-tired, and oh... by the way... I was trying to get him to lie down in the 4th different bed this week.
How can I NOT begin to really doubt myself? How can I not sense that this is somehow unraveling? How can I not come to the sudden understanding of my own limitations as a father and as a person and realize there's just no way I can "do this". How can I not at least start to wonder if I'm ruining the life of this little child? The weekly travel my job requires... The commitments I try to keep up with... But seriously, do I say "no" to a family Christmas? Do I quit my job or simply tell a customer "no, I can't make it this week, ask my competitor to take my place"? Do I tell my church, "sorry... can't serve... find someone else"? Do I run the risk of literally driving myself insane and cut out my work-out or "quiet" times? (If you suggest a simple "yes" to any of these rhetorical questions, please don't you dare say so out loud... You can't possibly understand the depth of the conviction of my priorities... not that any of these compares to the priority I put on my son... But herein lies the crux of the rhetoric.)
You see, my friends... Family life was simply meant to be managed in partnership between a husband and wife, at least as my my own personal experience has revealed it. I could use this as an opportunity to get on my marriage/divorce soap-box, but I've already been there and done that. (See "Choices"-- posted September 11, 2008 on this same blog.) I learned early on that I cannot be a mommy to TJ. I can only be me-- his Daddy. I cannot be Leslie. Though, as I've mentioned before, she has indeed left parts of her with me-- some of her discernment, her personality, her quiet strength... all these things and more will always be a part of me (which is why she will always be "my better half"). But even in my best moment as a man and a father... even in my best moment when I'm wielding the weapons she left me with before leaving this life... I am still only a fraction of the parenting machine we were together.
I confess, as I drove back toward Chicago this afternoon, (after all his obstinance at bed-time and nap-time at Mimi and Papa's house, TJ fell asleep in his car seat-- not 10 minutes into the 3.5 hour drive back home), I was frustrated. Defeated. Full of doubt. I would have been angry, had I been able to muster up the strength. But I was just spent. I asked God, similarly as I have before... "Certainly, Lord... This cannot be more pleasing to You than the way it was before... When we were a 'whole family'??!!! Certainly, this is not Your better judgment... to have her be with You, and not here!? Certainly, TJ needs his Mommy... I need my wife and my partner... more than you need her there...??!! HOW IS THIS BETTER!!!?? HOW IS THIS YOUR WILL??!!"
...
A very dear friend of mine turned me on to a Christian singer-songwriter named JJ Heller. JJ sings a song-- presumedly to her son or daughter, or at least through the voice of a parent to his/her child-- called "keep you safe". My friend says this song has always brought me and TJ to mind. It goes like this:
Quiet your heart. It's just a dream. Go back to sleep.
I'll be right here. I'll stay awake as long as you need me
To slay all the dragons and keep out the monsters. I'm watching over you.
My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.
You'll have your own battles to fight when you are older.
You'll find yourself frozen inside. But always remember...
If you feel alone, facing the giants, and you don't know what to do...
My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.
This song is beautifully sung and written. I used to envision myself singing it to TJ... or maybe God singing it to me. It has just been lately-- in the midst of bouts with the "Terrible Threes", similar to what we experienced this weekend-- that I've learned to listen to this song with a new outlook... Namely... That God is singing this song to TJ.
You see... This weekend is only a reminder. A gut-check. Am I really trusting that God has me planted firmly in the palm of His hand? And, if in my wreckless abandon, it becomes too easy to just take that leap of faith-- (After all... what, at this point, do I have to lose?? My life? What life do I truly have left to live, compared to that which I've lost?)-- what about when it comes to TJ? Do I trust that God has TJ's best interest in mind? Do I trust that He will provide for TJ? Even in the face of the full understanding of my own inadequacy as a single parent? If God is God-- Lord of my life-- then He is Lord of TJ. If He is providing to meet my needs day-by-day, then certainly, He will provide even more fully for TJ. "Let the little children come unto me..."
Again... I hear the words... whispers evolving into booms like thunder... "In your weakness, I AM MADE STRONG!!!"
God, bless my child. I am incapable of loving him and caring for him and guiding him and nurturing him the way Leslie would, if she was here. But You took her from us. Certainly, You will provide in her absence...? But how!? In faith, Abraham laid Isaac on the altar. In faith, I give TJ to you. Teach me, Father. And where I fall short... show Yourself strong.
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