Earthquake!

There is something so unique that happens to us when we walk through a tragedy, whether it be losing a spouse, a child or a parent at a young age.  Unless you have walked through it, you will not understand.  And if you haven't, although you can't personally relate, my hope is that by reading this you will be able to understand what has happened and extend a tremendous amount of compassion and grace to those that have survived a tragedy.  I call it the earthquake.

You are walking through life.  Your feeling good.  You may even been feeling the healing that has been happening.  You recognize that you are solid, you are stable, everything is going smooth.  You are starting to recover and live again.  Then it happens.  The earthquake. One small little nudge in the foundations of you life, and everything reacts.  You feel the earth shaking underneath you, the china is clattering, and books are falling off the shelves!  Sometimes you aren't even able to pinpoint the epicenter of the quake, what caused it, and which fault line was activated.

Just like an earthquake comes suddenly and without warning, so does this emotional earthquake.  Sometimes its a little thing, such as the house being out of order, or a bill you overlooked.  Othertimes its something much larger than that, the loss of a friendship, or stress from work.  But just the same this one  event seems to shake the foundation of your life.  And in the midst of it nothing is working right.  It effects every part of your life, especially your emotional capacity.

In the midst of my earthquakes, regardless of the source, I have this extreme overwhelming feeling.  I'm overwhelmed by the trigger, and everything else.  Walking past a small mess in my house feels like a mountain, one more thing I can't deal with.  And its at these moments that I get extremely impatient with my son.  I cry at the drop of a hat, and generally feel like I can't handle my life.  But in reality I am handling life, I'm handling it very well on a day to day basis- I've just experienced a small earthquake.  The tremor only lasted for 30 seconds or so.  Yet it takes much more time to pick up the broken china, and put the books back on the shelf.

I'm learning to sense its coming.  And in these moments I have learned to seek safety! Run to a door jam, and get safe.  Get away from the source of the quake, and remove myself from any of those objects which come flying off the shelves and agitate me.  If it means leaving a room, or leaving work.  If I have to arrange a babysitter for my son, or let him watch another movie, I will.  I may not be able to stop the quake from happening but I can limit the casualties.

I wish I could say how long we widows are subject to these earthquakes, but I 'm still walking it out and developing an understanding.  What I can say is that it has been 10 months, and they still happen.  They are fewer and far between, they don't last as long and I am beginning to learn to recognize the signals as they approach.

Whether its you or a survivor you know who experiences these earthquakes let me encourage you with this: it is normal! Recognize it for what it is- an overload response of your soul.  And give yourself (or them) the time, space and resources to deal with it.  Grief is not an excuse.  Its a reality.  Its my reality.  And the more I recognize and allow myself to go through the process, the more healed I become!

Stand at the Crossroads

Tonight I sit here, in the midst of yet another impossible situation.  And I want to scream out saying, "Haven't I had enough? Where is my break?"  But one thing I know.... God is faithful.  And as I lay face down on the floor tonight praying, I was stirred to recall all the things God has brought me through.  I was diagnosed with Crohns, God healed me! I had experienced personal betrayal, God helped me to trust again.  I faced difficulties of many kinds in the past three years, and instead of running, God equipped me to stand strong and let Him move in the midst of the chaos.  And through it all He was my strength, and he brought me out on top.

And yet here I am, following the direction He has led me and it seems like everything is shaky and unsure. Yet I am confident that I heard His voice.  So as I lay there declaring His faithfulness in my life, I am reminded that if He brought me through all of those trials, struggles and situations, He is faithful to do it again!

When we reach that point where there is nothing more that we can do to solve our problems, heal our hurt, or make sense of a life fallen apart, He is there.  We need to fall on our knees, and recognize that where our ability stops- His begins!  And that is where I am tonight.  "God I can't do a thing to make this situation come together- but YOU can.  I trust you and tonight I need to hear your voice.  I know that you directed me down this path- which means you will either bring provision or wisdom."

Jeremiah 6:16  New International Version (NIV)

 ¹⁶ This is what the LORD says  “Stand at the crossroads and look;  ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.  But you said, ‘We will not walk in it.’

Tonight I am at a crossroad.  I am standing.  I am looking.  I am asking God which way to go.  And I know He will be that still small voice behind me saying, "this is the way, walk in it" (Isaiah 30:21).  I commit to follow His leading and find the rest awaiting my weary soul.  I challenge you tonight: whatever you are facing, whatever has brought you to this crossroad, trust Him enough to ask which way to go.  Get quiet enough to hear His guidance.  Then walk in it and experience a rest and peace that only God can bring. 

In the Midst of It...

A few days ago I heard that one of my closest friends from 8th grade died unexpectedly.  I hadn't really talked to her since 8th grade, almost 20 years ago.  But I felt compelled to go to the funeral visitation.  I distinctly remember someone coming to my late husband's visitation who was a friend from middle school. And the fact that someone cared enough to come, especially from such a distant relationship in the past touched me deeply.  So tonight was my opportunity.

As I pulled up to the funeral home I thought very presumptuously, "Oh I've been here so much I am immune to this place."  And in some ways that was true.  I had spent the summer planning, ordering and making changes to my late husband's grave marker.  Which involved numerous appointments at the funeral home.  A few of those appointments where emotionally difficult at moments, but overall it was a peaceful experience.

Sitting in the parking lot tonight I was reflecting on those experiences, thinking how great it was this place didn't carry the "sting" it once did.  As I walked in I greeted one of the staff, Tom, who I recall from not only my late husband's funeral, but my sisters as well.  He remembered me and I gave him a brief hug.  It was at that moment that I realized what I was about to face: the room.  The same room in which I had said goodbye to my husband.  The same room where I gave the eulogy for my sister.  Of course it was that room,  I shouldn't have been surprised.  Life has a way of being like that.

So I take a deep breath and enter.  As I stepped into the room, I slowly begin to shake, and tears fill my eyes.  I can't even put words on what was happening.  There were no thoughts going through my head. Just tears, and shaking.  I tried to stay strong, but I was overwhelmed.  Not at the loss of the friend.  It wasn't her funeral I was reacting to.

I was almost embarrassed.  A room full of people I don't know, and a visitation for a friend I hadn't seen in 20 years, and here I am fighting back tears and shaking.  All of a sudden I was caught up in the moments of what I have lost.  When you lose someone so close there is an odd strength that comes upon you during the funeral process. The grace of God shows up.  Add to that the fact that you are still walking in a state of shock.  To an extent your emotions are numb.  But tonight, here I was, absolutely in no way expecting a response like this.  My emotions were raw, no longer numb like the last two times I had entered that room.  My guard was down.  And up it flooded- more healing.

After signing the guest book, I had to get out.  Catch my breath, cry, pray, whatever I needed to do.  So I called for reinforcements- Julie, my widowed bff.  She'd understand.  Over the phone she lovingly encouraged me.  "Don't suppress Jenn.  Live in the moment.  Do what you have to do.  Let God heal you." She even called this moment beautiful.  She prayed for me, so that I could go back in and greet the family, and to say whatever it is God wants them to hear.

In the midst of this healing moment, that is exactly what I did.  I walked up to the parents and introduced myself.  I was still a little emotional, and felt the need to briefly explain. I feel that my honesty, and maybe even the "rawness" of my emotions at this moment touched them.  I know that the words I spoke won't take away the pain, only God can.  I know that my compassion won't heal them, only God can.  But I took that moment to show them love.  Not to encourage them with false words, but to be real.  "Yes life sucks sometimes.  And sometimes it just doesn't make sense.  But know that there are people who understand.  I have been there.  I get it, and I'm praying for you!"  I will continue to pray for this family.  That God will heal their hearts, and help them to find peace in the midst of this horrible situation.

I feel a kinship with them, with any family actually, that has experienced a tragic loss such as this.  And I am amazed that even while I was going there with them in mind- God took a moment to once again take a piece of brokenness in my heart and replace it with another layer of healing.

Liquid Prayers

You never know when its gonna hit you.  Sometimes its the most appropriate of moments: taking a final ride in the '51 Ford Pick-up Truck he rebuilt before it goes to its new home; walking into the restaurant you went to the night you were engaged; or seeing the grave marker newly installed on his grave.  Sometimes its the most random and odd things which spark it: his sit board he used as he cleaned windows on the outside of 30 story buildings; walking through the parking lot and emergency room where you went that morning when you got the call; or walking to your seat at the Christmas Eve church service.  Tears streaming down your face uncontrollably, a flood of emotions, a pinch of sadness, all in an instant...


Today it was in the middle of my Pentecostal Doctrine class.  Random.  Odd.  Almost embarrassing.  But I couldn't help it.  There I was, tears flowing uncontrollably, hoping no one would notice, but I have learned enough at this point to not fight it.  Something in the content of the lecture sparked it, and in my heart I understood and knew why it was I found myself in this moment of healing, but yet words can't express it.  I  recognized that something had pricked my heart, found another broken piece, and it needed healing.

I didn't always respond that way.  When my husband first passed away last fall I grieved hard at the funeral.  It was hard and intense.  I knelt beside his dirt covered grave before I left and said "I'm leaving it all here."  I thought that was the Christian thing to do.  I thought I needed to be strong and move on.  I thought that crying or exposing hurt was a sign of weakness, a result of lack of trust in God.  I felt this very real, yet unspoken, pressure to show everyone how great God was.  And I would do that by being strong. "I was fine."  I suppressed so many natural emotions for the first 5 months because I had believed that to acknowledge those moments when they came was doubting God's work.  And it lead me to an emotional crisis.

I found myself being led by God to change churches at just the right time.  It was a divine intervention of God for my healing.  For at this new church I found freedom.  As I entered each Sunday I was anonymous.  No one knew me.  No one knew what I had walked through.  I didn't have to answer to anyone, or put on a smile.  It was just me and God.  And thats what I needed.  I let my guard down and let God in.  I would answer every altar call at the end of service, walk up that altar to a prayer minister and just cry.  I couldn't express why I was crying.  I couldn't express what I needed prayer for.  Sometimes I would kneel at the altar, during worship especially, and the tears would just keep flowing; my liquid prayers.  They continued intensely for 6 weeks, and slowly began to taper... they still happen although they are more spuratic.

In that time at the altar God corrected me.  On May 1, 2011 God spoke to my heart.  This is what I wrote in my journal that morning:

"Let go of self image and 'I'm so strong, I'm healed, Its all okay'."  Its okay to hurt.  Its okay to let it show.  Its okay to not be able to do everything.  The 'I'm healed' is about ME; pride that I can walk through it, I'm so strong.  Let go of 'me' and 'self'.  Let GOD heal me and He WILL get the glory!!! Its okay to still need to be healed.  It doesn't lessen my testimony or God's healing.  I really did love him selflessly.  Hurt is normal! Let God bring it out and heal it!"

So in those moments, whether at the altar during service, or sitting in a class, I have learned to acknowledge the mourning or grief as a need for healing. And my prayer in these times has become "Bring it up. Bring it out. Heal my heart God."  I know that in these moments God is working, taking the brokenness and making something beautiful with my life!

It doesn't mean you don't trust him.  It doesn't mean you don't believe.  

It doesn't mean you don't know he's not redeeming everything. 

You don't need to run.  You don't need to speak.

Baby take some time, let those prayers roll down your cheek.

It may be tomorrow, you'll be past the sorrow.  

But tonight, it's alright...

Just cry.

-Mandisa, "Just Cry"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4MbnlSMDoE&feature=related