Sometimes thankfulness looks like tears: Our first Thanksgiving without her

 

Thanksgiving approaches.

With it comes overwhelming gratitude...

With it comes overwhelming sadness...

The beauty of true thankfulness is that it looks all of life right in the eye and acknowledges all the chapters that have come so far....and it says thank you. 

Thankfulness doesn't come from having a life that is perfectly packaged and delivered in Pinterest worthy fashion. 

Thankfulness that flows from the heart can be wrapped in ribbons of humanity which may look like sadness, grief, questions, and wonderings....and through it all, a steady rhythm beats in the breast of the brokenhearted. Thankful. Grateful. Humbled to live a life that is rich with all that life has to offer, which includes pain and hurt sometimes. 

This will be the first Thanksgiving without our Kari girl on earth. 

I close my eyes and think of how we will all gather together and bow our heads and she will not be there with us. 

I think of how we will each take a plate and fill it full with favorite dishes that are looked forward to each year, and how she will not be there. 

I close my eyes and am taken back to years before...and can hear her laugh so clearly that I long to keep my eyes closed forever, for I know when I open them...she will be gone again. In the quiet moments where I am taken back in time, I see her pumping her legs on a swing singing her praises out to Jesus loud and sweet. I see long blonde hair streaming in the breeze and a smile as she looks up to Heaven singing to her King. How she loved singing to Him! I keep my eyes closed and breathe deep and slow...and think of how she is now walking with Jesus face to face and how she must be singing to Him with such joy. 

I slowly open my eyes and am back...here in the house where she was raised...where her pictures still smile back at me from their spot on the wall and where her imprints are seen every day. I look out the window and see the brilliant colored leaves falling from the trees and wonder if there is a Fall in Heaven. I see the wind blow the leaves around and the sunshine plays on the burning bush in the yard and think of the colors Kari must be seeing this year in Heaven. Colors that my eyes have never seen. 

Thanksgiving. A time we pause and think of all that we have been given. This year, I think of all that I have lost as well. Thinking about the things lost isn't bad when it is wrapped in the very presence of the King. The loss is a reality. But so is the presence of Christ through it all. That acknowledgment brings about such thankfulness in my soul. 

As I stand up slowly from the porch and lift my face to the sun and feel the warmth of it caress my wounded heart, I am able to lift up hands that are weary as well and praise God in the midst of deep heartbreak. Gratitude floods over me in gentle waves even as tears fall down my face. I take a deep breath again...and I lean into the strength that Christ offers me through a Cross that is blood-soaked and stained with the burdens of His daughters and sons. That Cross leads my eyes to look to the tomb where He was laid silent and cold and I think of the pain I felt when I picked out a place to lay my Kari. I let those emotions come and I take another deep breath...slow and deep. I think of that tomb where Christ was laid and I look up to Heaven where I know He reigns eternal. I think of the empty tomb and the risen Savior and thankfulness crashes over me as I sink down to my knees. 

It took His death to defeat the death of my daughter. It took the death of my Savior to give life to my Kari without any pain and any grief. I see the clouds pass by in the sky, taking different shapes as they blow across my hurting heart, and peace comes. A peace that my Kari girl has not had a single seizure since she stepped onto a street made of gold. She has not struggled with fears or anxiety even once. She has not wrestled against the mental illness that she fought hard on a daily basis. A calmness comes over me as I think of her dancing and giggling her infectious giggle and a smile breaks out across my face. My momma's heart rejoices with my baby girl and I whisper to her, "Happy Thanksgiving Kari". 

True Thanksgiving comes from a broken and contrite heart that sees the beauty of the heart of Christ. 

When He gives.

When He takes.

So this Thanksgiving, my prayer for all of you is that you will not just "count your blessings" but that you will take time to pause long enough to look at some of the hardest parts of your story, the parts that brought you to your knees...and You will see a strand of beauty rising from that pain. You will see the presence of Christ woven throughout those parts of your story...steady and strong. The Rock that has gotten you through the deepest of shatterings. 

Ladder of life

 I recently was asked to write a paper on where I feel like I am in life. It showed a picture of a ladder and the assignment was to look at the ladder and then write the paper on where I felt like I was at on that ladder in achieving and reaching the goals I have set for myself from when I was a child to now. 

Well, now that is quite a complex question, isn't it?! Because life is an ever-flowing flood of grace and sorrow wrapped in many different emotions. It did give me pause though and offered me an opportunity to take that step back and think about goals I had set for myself as a child and the journey of life that has brought me to where I am at today. Life gives us so many opportunities to learn and grow, reaching into parts of our hearts that we may wall off at times but then slowly feel safe enough to pause long enough to pull them out ever so gently and look at the moments that took from us, taught us, gave to us and ultimately helped shape us. 

When I think of where I am at right now, I have many emotions flood over me. I am in a spot that is very different from where I imagined I would be and yet...I am in a beautiful spot. I wear many scars that once use to look old and ugly and they were full of pain for me, but God has a way of showing us beauty in pain and that is especially true within our own hearts. So as I began to be brave enough to look at old dreams, new goals, and the faithfulness of and love of Christ through it all, I began to feel so humbled at the beautiful life I have been given to live. 

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of one thing...to be a wife and a mom. I became just that. I spent 20 years being a wife and I have the honor of being a mom to six girls that have changed my world in so many ways. I have been a foster mom to over 36 babies and they have all captured my heart and I still pray for each of them by name to this day. I was well on my way up that ladder of success the world talks about. I was active in the foster/adoptive community, leading small groups in the recovery ministry, and homeschooling my girls. I loved being a wife and a mom....but then the shattering happened. 

I became divorced. 

I had to go to work outside the home full time.

I could no longer homeschool.

Finances were nonexistent. 

My daughters were struggling and I was struggling. 

Mental health became a real concern as my daughter with special needs began to spiral and hard choices were having to be made.

I didn't just get knocked down a rung or two on the ladder...I was thrown off and into a pit that had been dug below the ladder that I never even realized was there. I was deep in pain and completely broken. I had moved into survival mode and wasn't even sure I would be able to do that on most days. And yet...God was there. Deep in that pit I sat, broken, wounded, and bleeding raw. Feeling forgotten, thrown away, and without purpose. I was lost. I thought many dark thoughts as hopelessness poured into me day after day. Everything I had prayed for was gone. Everything I had thought I was called to do as my purpose was no longer there. I was faced with more challenges than would fit on this blog and they overwhelmed my soul to complete despair. 

I knew to do only one thing. 

Cling to my anchor. 

Although I couldn't see Christ and I couldn't feel Him...I could hear Him. He continued to sing over me and through His Word I was able to hear His voice speaking strength into me. Each day I would lay in that bed and pray for the strength to make it through, for healing to come to my daughter's broken hearts, and for us to remember what joy tasted like.

 I would close my eyes and picture myself on a cliff. I would look down into the darkest waters of turmoil I was walking through and I would feel the rush of pain with each wave as it crashed into my heart. I would take a deep breath. I would envision Christ, strong and steady behind me. I would think about God being a rock behind my back. I would sink myself into the image of Christ and I would see the Word of God as a huge strong tree with roots deep and one of those roots was wrapped around me and connected into my heart, pumping lifeblood into my hurting soul. I would take another deep breath. I would sink back against His Word, steady and strong and true. I would repeat it out loud and often. I made a decision to believe what the Word of God said about me instead of my broken heart. No matter how crazy the waves got or how high they came up the cliff they could not overtake me as long as I stayed rooted to His Word. 

Day by day went by and the simply beautiful became a part of our everyday life. Each day we lived grateful and humble for the life that God was giving us. It was a very different life than what we had imagined but new adventures can always seem scary at first. If you commit to seeing the beautiful, it has a way of finding you. As far as the ladder goes...I have decided that I want nothing to do with the man-made ladder. Instead, I want to be deeply rooted in the tree so that I am just an extension of it. A branch that is able to grow beautiful fruit that can provide hope to others in the midst of dark pain. 

I believe now that pain and sorrow surrendered to hope create fruit that is different than other fruit that has never experienced pain and never surrendered to hope. Pain can create fruit that is bitter to others but pain surrendered to hope is a fruit that draws close to the pain of others and offers to just sit there with them...and in the sitting with others, healing comes. It is something beautiful to no longer afraid of pain, sorrow, or grief. It becomes the ability to stare straight into another person's hurting heart and remind them of the One who never stops singing over them. 

So about that ladder...well...it is just a part of my past now. Something I learned from and grew from but no longer has a place in my life. I may not be "successful" according to the world, but I love my new beautiful. I love that each day there is another part of God's heart that I get to learn about. Each day I get to walk with others who hurt, question, wrestle and stumble as they come to find the beautiful in their journey as well. Life is about adventure and seeking. My favorite verse has been Jeremiah 29:13 for many, many years and I always hear adventure and beauty in it. It says, "And you will seek m and find me when you seek me with all your heart." Our heart holds many things...wonder, pain, grief, joy, laughter, questions...and when we seek God in each of those things, we find Him. Without fail, you will find Him. 

It's not going to look like what you thought it would and it will require bravery that you may not think you have. It may take more out of you than you think you can give but remember that surrendered pain brings forth unparalleled beauty that boldly and gratefully shows the scars they bear knowing that those scars hold the song of hope woven into each one of them. 

Holy Grief

 

                                            Holy Grief

Such beautiful and powerful words to me. I sit here thinking on these things and wonder how can this love be? The depth of this kind of love requires so much grief....the giving of one's child. It is not lost on me that my King knows my pain....the deep gut wrenching difficult to explain kind of pain that comes from the loss of a child. 

Romans 5:8, "God demonstrates His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us." 

I keep reading these words over and over again....because I am finding there is a holy grief that comes with the beauty of our salvation. I'm just starting to discover what this means for me....what it means for all of us and what it has meant all along and we didn't even know it. 

Imagine for just a moment that the world around you is covered in fog and you are trying to walk down an old country dirt road that you have never walked before. The road is unfamiliar even though you have been on other country roads such as this one....but this one has turns, rough patches, stones and rocks in the path, and  holes that dip randomly in the middle of the road. Other parts of the road are soft and easy to walk on but because the fog is so thick that you can't see anything around you even though you know that it is there. At times, the fog will lift and you will see the road in front of you. You may see a hole that you can walk around or a flower on the side of the road that you want to stop and stare at for a moment. At other times, the fog is so thick that all you can do is blindly keep moving in front of you hoping that the road will be there when you take your next step. At times, you stumble and fall, tripping over stones or logs laying in the road...and other times when the fog falls thick upon you, it can result in you falling into one of the holes in the road. Some of them are easy to climb out of but others are much deeper and require a lot of strength and creativity to get you out of them. 

This is grief.

I have wrestled with God on how to walk through grief WHILE worshiping Him. 

Here is what I am learning.

Grief is a holy thing at times....if we let it be. It can heal and draw us close to the heart of Christ even as it strips us of dreams and plans we had.  Holy grief is a sanctification of grief. It turns the very essence of grief that threatens to destroy us into a drawing close of the Father's heart, revealing an intimacy with our King that comes with shared grief. 

I still wrestle with the words, " passed away....or died." I try and say them but they still get stuck in my throat and when they come out they are usually wrapped in tears. I prefer to say, "went home"....because to me that is truth. My daughter went home on January 14th, 2020 and it still amazes me the amount of fog that immediately came in that moment. I was shrouded in heavy thick fog and felt it difficult to breathe in. The air around me felt thick and I felt it was unfair that I was allowed to breathe it when my daughter was not. Every breath hurt at first....and every breath was a reminder of my daughter who wasn't here and I hated that. 

I found myself wrestling with these deep feelings of joy and grief....I suppose that one would wonder how there could ever even be joy when it comes to the death of a child. As a believer I know that my daughter is in Heaven. I know this to be true as deeply as I know the sun will rise and set each day. I know that my daughter knew Jesus as her Lord and King and I know that in that exact moment that she went from this world to Heaven, she was instantly healthy, active, and full of joy. So yes....I rejoice that she is there and getting to talk to Moses, Esther, and Nebuchadnezzar. I rejoice that she has felt the physical arms of Jesus around her and breathed in the very scent of Christ and that she has looked into the eyes of God and seen what color they are. I rejoice that she knows so much more than I do right now and that she will love to share everything with me when I go home....I rejoice in these things....and I grieve these things.

I grieve because her and I were going to live out our lives together in our little country home on our little country road. I grieve because she had worked so hard and had come so far and I grieve because I feel like she had so much life ahead of her still! I grieve because I miss her. I grieve because each day that goes by I am expected to move forward without her and I hate that. And in the grief I find myself desperately searching the Scriptures to know if God understands....because so often it feels like no one can know this pain. The grief can be isolating and lonely. 

Walking through the death of my daughter as a single mom is deeply lonely. Many times I find myself holding it together and being strong for my daughters during the day only to lose myself in tears at night and all you want is someone to sit with you and walk through it with you. The grief brings up pain and anger that I long ago thought had been dealt with....anger that I am a single mom. Anger that I didn't get to spend more moments with her because I was working. Pain that I missed even one moment with her. Anger that her heart was broken by things I couldn't control. Pain that she walked through so much hurt, abandonment and grief when all I wanted for her to have was beauty, security and a stable family. These things seem to come to me at night with such intensity that I am brought to my knees many nights asking God to show me how I am suppose to do this. 

One night as I sat in my war room wrapped in my favorite flannel blanket, I just cried. I couldn't stop no matter what I did. I just wept. And I cried out to God during this time....cried all the pain and hurt and I grabbed my pen and started writing, "How could you?" "Why did you?" "What did this serve?" "Forgive me" "I'm so sorry that I can't rejoice in this the way You need me too"....I just poured out all my thoughts and questions because I know for sure and certain that God is big enough to handle my pain. I wept and grieved all the things that I thought were unfair. I cried that whole night and then I heard the whisper of the Holy Spirit that spoke such gentle words to me, "Your grief is holy. I too know holy grief. You are not alone." And I knew it to be true. I sat there on my knees in that little closet wrapped in a flannel blanket and just let those words flow over me. 

God has carried me through every really tough time and I have learned to throw myself into His Word because without it....I simply can't. Can't...anything. I need His Word. I need the strength that comes from His Word. I need the hope that comes from His Word. So when God directed me first to John 3:16, then to Romans 5:8. and I began to see that God knows what it is like to pour Himself out and still be abandoned. He knows what it is like to have a broken heart. He knows what it is like to watch His child hurt and cry and feel angry that anyone caused them pain. He knows the very real human emotion that I feel and He isn't afraid of it. 

I don't think we fully can understand the great depth of love He has for us. Because if we did, I don't know that we would ever get off of our knees in worship. The love I feel towards my daughter is deep and unwavering...and I can promise you that I would not give her up for the world to be saved. That kind of love is beyond me right now....it amazes me and I praise His name for it but I cannot replicate it and honestly do not want too. I want my girls to stay with me. I want to die before them. I don't want the world to hurt them or make them feel sad. God gave up His Son that WHILE WE WERE STILL SINNERS Christ died for us....STILL SINNERS. So WHILE we were caught up in our own selfish ways, He loved us. He longed for us to know His heart. That love was so deep that He willingly laid down His life for us....knowing fully our imperfections and hot messes that we would be. 

He knows my grief. More than anyone else. He knows the ache of being separated from your child. He knows the longing that is so intense at times because you just want to see her. He knows.

So yes, grief can be holy. This grief has once again brought to light that I am in desperate need of a Savior. It has shown me once again that in my weakest moments He will be my strength. As we enter into Holy Week for Easter, I am drawn to my knees more often than not. This Easter is different for me. I have been a believer for over 30 years now but I think I am just now getting a truer understanding of just what God gave up for us on that cross. I am just now drawing close to the intimacy of grief that came from the Cross...from death....that resulted in abundant eternal joy for Kari. I know I will step into this Holy Week very different this year and as the grief and joy flow mingled together within in my own heart, I will draw close to the heart of my King knowing that Kari is celebrating her very first Easter celebration in Heaven next to angels in holy worship of Christ and it will bring me comfort as I walk this holy grief out.