Yesterday and today I've been a weepy mess. The level of tenderness feels foreign to me because I cannot see where exactly it is rooted which feels very challenging--it doesn't make 'sense'. And, I realized: it's grief. Driving yesterday, I remembered back to a time earlier in my life when I lost someone I cared about. Friends who surrounded me didn't understand my behavior (because it was odd) and they worried.
I remember walking to class with my friend, Autumn a few weeks after my friend died. As we walked up the hill by the University Center (UC to us), she expressed how everyone was concerned about me. She said, "Jess, we think that you might have an eating disorder..." I stopped in the sidewalk as we made the decent to the other side of the building and looked at her with a mixture of anger and compassion. "I don't have an eating disorder, Autumn... I'm just grieving. I know my behavior is strange and honestly, I haven't been able to see it very clearly until you shared those details. Thanks for that--I'm so grateful for the way you all care about me so much. I think this is just my way of coping with what just happened... I don't know how to do this..."Looking back on that season of my life, not much made sense. I walked through days often unaware of my behavior or why I felt the way I did. It was my first true experience with grief.
Monday night, I was grateful to get time with Lindsey. We got Slurpees and took a long walk, catching up on all of the recent details of this waiting process. It's interesting to hear and see how each of us have had to live by faith. It has been weighty and daily the reality feels heavier. I'm so proud of her for the way she's walking through this. She and Kevin have stewarded Sophie's life in a powerfully loving way. I'm blessed by their example (I know I've said it before, but it's just so true).
And, the tears have followed. It's so hard to see my friends in pain. It's a challenge to have once had such strong faith and belief about the way this story turns out and to yield to the understanding that I just don't know how it all turns out. I think there has been a delay in my emotions catching up to the depth of this situation. I've felt things throughout, of course, but this current place... Well, it's the really real. These are the moments when I look to the Lord and say, "Meet me. Press in. Show me what You see. Show me how You love." And I cry. A lot.
Please pray for all of us if you would. For Linds and Kevin. For sweet baby Sophie. For me and my friend, Julie. For the families and the other close friends who are walking daily in this process. We need your prayers today. We need to see the Lord today. We long to cling to His promises today.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Waiting is Hard
We're on day 11 past Sophie's due date and I think we're all feeling it. We're wondering, "Lord, why the delay?" We trust His timing to be perfect. I was just thinking last night about all of the people who need to be present for this sweet baby's birth. Which doctors, nurses and other hospital staff are supposed to be present? Who are the people who need to be in the waiting room, those we're supposed to meet and encourage, while we await Sophie's arrival? He doesn't miss anything and so I trust these final preparations are underway so Sophie can come in His proper time.
But, I don't understand it still. My friends are tired and labor pains have been long (since the wee hours of yesterday morning) -- I include Kevin in this ("friends") because I know he's totally in it with Linds. It's really incredible to know that, actually. One dear friend is caring so well for another dear friend--both of them on this unexpected journey of faith in their life and marriage together. How kind is God to allow me to know them both and live life with them? How kind is God to show me devotion, faithfulness, belief and the beauty of wrestling through the questions as I've sat on the front row watching this story unfold? What a model of devotion they are to me. How kind is God to give all of us the gift of Sophie?
I lost it this morning. I started freaking out as I stood against the wall doing the exercise my chiropractor has asked me to do for my neck. I gripped the wall hoping it would hold me up. The tears fell and I told the Lord, "I just want to stuff these feelings away. I want to drown them out with activity and diversion. I don't want to feel what I'm feeling and wonder what I'm wondering..." I want to know what God knows right now, guys. I want to know the end of this story. He gently reminded me, "Trust Me. I'm good. I'm faithful." He invited me to press in.
I read the story of Solomon dedicating the Temple in I Kings 8. I read of his wholehearted devotion to God and the way the Lord received him. That story doesn't end well--Solomon eventually releases his faithful devotion to God. I want to be a person who embraces the Lord right where He has me. David did this... God didn't allow him to build the Temple, so what did he do? He set aside everything he could to ensure it would be fabulous when his son built it. He honored God even when God gave him a "No". His heart belonged to the Lord.
I guess the bottom line is this, I get to choose to believe the Lord today. Choose to believe what He says when He tells me He is faithful and true. When He shows me His perfect goodness and righteousness, I get to I bow in surrender and take joy in it. He is God. I am not.
Waiting is hard. As we've texted back and forth this morning, I'm encouraged to be in this with Linds and Julie, our other dearest friend. I'm thankful for the friendship we have and the way God has knit us together through so much life lived together. I'm thankful we can offer one another comedic relief and prayer and Scripture to uplift and encourage one another. I'm thankful to know they'd go to bat for me in the way we're standing in the gap with and for Linds right now. I wouldn't trade this season. And, whatever is to come, I won't trade that either.
So, we wait. We hope. We pray that even now, God is knitting together Sophie's skull and her brain inside of Lindsey. We trust the Author of Life to sustain these dear ones. To offer them hope. To invite them deeper into Himself. We ask Him to do the same in us.
But, I don't understand it still. My friends are tired and labor pains have been long (since the wee hours of yesterday morning) -- I include Kevin in this ("friends") because I know he's totally in it with Linds. It's really incredible to know that, actually. One dear friend is caring so well for another dear friend--both of them on this unexpected journey of faith in their life and marriage together. How kind is God to allow me to know them both and live life with them? How kind is God to show me devotion, faithfulness, belief and the beauty of wrestling through the questions as I've sat on the front row watching this story unfold? What a model of devotion they are to me. How kind is God to give all of us the gift of Sophie?
I lost it this morning. I started freaking out as I stood against the wall doing the exercise my chiropractor has asked me to do for my neck. I gripped the wall hoping it would hold me up. The tears fell and I told the Lord, "I just want to stuff these feelings away. I want to drown them out with activity and diversion. I don't want to feel what I'm feeling and wonder what I'm wondering..." I want to know what God knows right now, guys. I want to know the end of this story. He gently reminded me, "Trust Me. I'm good. I'm faithful." He invited me to press in.
I read the story of Solomon dedicating the Temple in I Kings 8. I read of his wholehearted devotion to God and the way the Lord received him. That story doesn't end well--Solomon eventually releases his faithful devotion to God. I want to be a person who embraces the Lord right where He has me. David did this... God didn't allow him to build the Temple, so what did he do? He set aside everything he could to ensure it would be fabulous when his son built it. He honored God even when God gave him a "No". His heart belonged to the Lord.
I guess the bottom line is this, I get to choose to believe the Lord today. Choose to believe what He says when He tells me He is faithful and true. When He shows me His perfect goodness and righteousness, I get to I bow in surrender and take joy in it. He is God. I am not.
Waiting is hard. As we've texted back and forth this morning, I'm encouraged to be in this with Linds and Julie, our other dearest friend. I'm thankful for the friendship we have and the way God has knit us together through so much life lived together. I'm thankful we can offer one another comedic relief and prayer and Scripture to uplift and encourage one another. I'm thankful to know they'd go to bat for me in the way we're standing in the gap with and for Linds right now. I wouldn't trade this season. And, whatever is to come, I won't trade that either.
So, we wait. We hope. We pray that even now, God is knitting together Sophie's skull and her brain inside of Lindsey. We trust the Author of Life to sustain these dear ones. To offer them hope. To invite them deeper into Himself. We ask Him to do the same in us.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Sophie
We're all waiting. We don't know what will happen in the next few days and yet, we continue to pray for complete healing. It would be a miracle. Sophia Kyla Dennis is precious to me, but I haven't met her face-to-face. She's the unborn baby of two of my dearest friends here in Orlando and her brain and skull haven't been developing as she's been growing inside of Lindsey. Her due date has come and gone. Now, we wait. We wait to see what God, the Author of Life, who always leads us into life will do. We trust Him. We petition Him. And, we wonder... Our questions are unanswered and new ones are constantly forming.
This season has been weighty and sweet. We've all taken deeper steps in our understanding of where our hope is placed. As our hope is in the Lord, we won't be disappointed even in the midst of grief. And, there has already been grief. We've been grieving the story we thought He was giving Lindsey and Kevin when we all found out they were expecting their first baby. We've been grieving a broken world which has been redeemed by Jesus and that which is not-yet whole, but is also presently whole because He purchased our freedom through His death on the cross and resurrection from the dead.
Yet, we also press in and grow in our understanding that what He purchased--our healing, our freedom, the true life He intended from the beginning--is offered to us now. We see the example of Jesus and the way He healed every person who came to Him. We see the Apostles and how even the cast of their shadow brought healing to someone. We know the most critical healing is our spiritual healing--no longer separated from God because of our sin, but made alive with Christ as God raised Him from the dead. We see and we wrestle. Our faith grows. Our dependence grows. Our longing for things to finally be set fully right grows.
And, we wait.
We love you, Sophie. We're so thankful for your life. You are precious to us. Come see us soon. We're so excited to meet you face-to-face. xo
(More on Sophie's story here)
This season has been weighty and sweet. We've all taken deeper steps in our understanding of where our hope is placed. As our hope is in the Lord, we won't be disappointed even in the midst of grief. And, there has already been grief. We've been grieving the story we thought He was giving Lindsey and Kevin when we all found out they were expecting their first baby. We've been grieving a broken world which has been redeemed by Jesus and that which is not-yet whole, but is also presently whole because He purchased our freedom through His death on the cross and resurrection from the dead.
Yet, we also press in and grow in our understanding that what He purchased--our healing, our freedom, the true life He intended from the beginning--is offered to us now. We see the example of Jesus and the way He healed every person who came to Him. We see the Apostles and how even the cast of their shadow brought healing to someone. We know the most critical healing is our spiritual healing--no longer separated from God because of our sin, but made alive with Christ as God raised Him from the dead. We see and we wrestle. Our faith grows. Our dependence grows. Our longing for things to finally be set fully right grows.
And, we wait.
We love you, Sophie. We're so thankful for your life. You are precious to us. Come see us soon. We're so excited to meet you face-to-face. xo
(More on Sophie's story here)
Monday, August 12, 2013
The Challenges of Peacemaking
I've been exposed a lot these past 18 months. Some of the things people have shared with others have been partial truths, while other things haven't been true at all. There has been damage caused in relationships as a result of people speaking out aspects of my 'story' to others. This week, I experienced another similar circumstance. This time, albeit I knew the intention lacked malice of any sort, the piece of my 'story' wasn't even from my story. I felt frustrated because I was 'outed' for something that wasn't true. I wondered about how the other person who was invited in to the conversation would view me (I'd only met the person one time). Encouragingly, I saw it--my desire to be seen a certain way. I could make different decisions on how to respond because I saw this. I'm thankful for the seeing.
In my life right now, I'm learning to be a peacemaker and it's painful. Up to this point, I think I'd describe myself as a peacekeeper. The distinction is key. I'm learning to lean in to conflict (whatever form it takes) in hopes of living life in a more honest way with people. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm not ashamed of who I am or how I feel or what I'm walking through. Because I know I'm loved, I can tell the truth. But, I'm not great at this peacemaker thing...
Even though it's true that I'm loved completely and can therefore walk unashamedly in my stuff, there was something in this circumstance which required mending. I needed to do what doesn't come naturally yet. I needed to be a peacemaker. Because, the truth is, this friend still shared my 'story' with someone else without my permission. They made a decision for me--it's okay to share this because 'we' want to have an open environment. They went further by defining the terms of what it meant to achieve this sort of framework: Everything I want to know about you needs to be on the table for everyone else to know about you. Even if what they shared was true (and perhaps more so if it had actually been the case), I would have felt as I did. You see, our stories are ours to tell and ours alone. Unless we grant someone permission to put us on display, a boundary is being crossed. It must be acknowledged because we take something from them: dignity.
The thing is, I've done this, too and I've meant well. But, I've made a decision for those people in those circumstances. I've taken their voices away from them and replaced them with my own. My hope is to continue to be a person who can be trusted with the stories of others. I have a long way to go in the process for sure. This circumstance helped me to see this even more clearly in my own life.
Honestly, I wish I would have launched in to the conversation differently with my friend tonight though. I have a regret about how I dived in so directly. I wish I would have said, "Hey, I know you probably didn't intend this, but here's how I experienced what happened..." Instead, I expressed what was hard and awkwardly walked through the conversation. I became defensive when I felt misunderstood about what was hard and when we didn't see eye to eye on why it was a big deal for me.
And, I don't know where this friend and I will be in the future as a result of this conversation. That's extremely challenging for me... I want peace, but what it takes to arrive there at times feels more like war to me. I hate that feeling. Perhaps it's why 'Peacemaker' hasn't topped my list as most desired character quality. So tonight, I go to sleep with mixed emotions. I'm thankful for the way I'm finally using my voice. I only hope I learn to be a more loving, generous, compassionate person as I become a peacemaker.
In my life right now, I'm learning to be a peacemaker and it's painful. Up to this point, I think I'd describe myself as a peacekeeper. The distinction is key. I'm learning to lean in to conflict (whatever form it takes) in hopes of living life in a more honest way with people. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm not ashamed of who I am or how I feel or what I'm walking through. Because I know I'm loved, I can tell the truth. But, I'm not great at this peacemaker thing...
Even though it's true that I'm loved completely and can therefore walk unashamedly in my stuff, there was something in this circumstance which required mending. I needed to do what doesn't come naturally yet. I needed to be a peacemaker. Because, the truth is, this friend still shared my 'story' with someone else without my permission. They made a decision for me--it's okay to share this because 'we' want to have an open environment. They went further by defining the terms of what it meant to achieve this sort of framework: Everything I want to know about you needs to be on the table for everyone else to know about you. Even if what they shared was true (and perhaps more so if it had actually been the case), I would have felt as I did. You see, our stories are ours to tell and ours alone. Unless we grant someone permission to put us on display, a boundary is being crossed. It must be acknowledged because we take something from them: dignity.
The thing is, I've done this, too and I've meant well. But, I've made a decision for those people in those circumstances. I've taken their voices away from them and replaced them with my own. My hope is to continue to be a person who can be trusted with the stories of others. I have a long way to go in the process for sure. This circumstance helped me to see this even more clearly in my own life.
Honestly, I wish I would have launched in to the conversation differently with my friend tonight though. I have a regret about how I dived in so directly. I wish I would have said, "Hey, I know you probably didn't intend this, but here's how I experienced what happened..." Instead, I expressed what was hard and awkwardly walked through the conversation. I became defensive when I felt misunderstood about what was hard and when we didn't see eye to eye on why it was a big deal for me.
And, I don't know where this friend and I will be in the future as a result of this conversation. That's extremely challenging for me... I want peace, but what it takes to arrive there at times feels more like war to me. I hate that feeling. Perhaps it's why 'Peacemaker' hasn't topped my list as most desired character quality. So tonight, I go to sleep with mixed emotions. I'm thankful for the way I'm finally using my voice. I only hope I learn to be a more loving, generous, compassionate person as I become a peacemaker.
Thursday, August 08, 2013
In Quietness and Rest...
I've been tired this week. The sort of tired where my body says, "Stop! Why are you still in motion?" Needless to say, I felt so grateful to wake up this
morning without need to pull myself together to leave the house for an
appointment. I made an egg with veggies and some toast. I slowly drank
my coffee. Sitting down to read, I felt all over the place and finally
asked the Lord to bring stillness to me and show me something
meaningful. After, I came upon Psalm 93:
The Lord is king! He is robed in majesty.
Indeed, the Lord is robed in majesty and armed with strength.
The world stands firm
and cannot be shaken.
The Lord is king! He is robed in majesty.
Indeed, the Lord is robed in majesty and armed with strength.
The world stands firm
and cannot be shaken.
Your throne, O Lord, has stood from time immemorial.
You yourself are from the everlasting past.
You yourself are from the everlasting past.
The floods have risen up, O Lord.
The floods have roared like thunder;
the floods have lifted their pounding waves.
The floods have roared like thunder;
the floods have lifted their pounding waves.
But mightier than the violent raging of the seas,
mightier than the breakers on the shore—
the Lord above is mightier than these!
mightier than the breakers on the shore—
the Lord above is mightier than these!
Your royal laws cannot be changed.
Your reign, O Lord, is holy forever and ever.
Your reign, O Lord, is holy forever and ever.
The
house I'm living in right now has a lovely bit of open space behind it.
I sat here looking out on green fields warming in the wake of the
rising sun considering these words. It is such a comfort to know the
Lord. I'm thankful for the reminders in this particular Psalm because as
I remember who He is, I find rest.
I
sensed an opportunity to sit in the knowledge of His love for me. So I
asked Him, "Lord, would You show me how You love me today?" As I waited,
several different people and the related circumstances I'm walking
through with them came to mind. My eyes welled up with tears as I
thought about each. They weren't tears of sadness, but tears of release.
I realized the Lord was inviting me to hand the questions, the
frustrations and the outcomes to Him. I asked, "Lord, would You show me
how Your love touches these things and how I'm to respond knowing that
You love me perfectly and completely?"
In
the midst of the weariness, these are the sweetest moments I could ask
for with God. Learning to sit in the quiet to hear Him today made space
for the things going on in my heart to surface. It allowed a place for
me to understand how the Lord loves me and relates to me. We looked at
them together. In the process, He invited me to lift my eyes -- to see
what He sees. I saw His goodness and His love. And, as I remembered the truth of who He is, I found peace and strength at the start of this new day.
Friday, August 02, 2013
Your Love Never Fails
Life has been on the upswing lately. Really. Something has shifted and I'm looking at the world differently. I think it has a lot to do with love. Perhaps for the first time ever, I really know (like know in the bottom of my stomach down to the edges of my toes and back up again to the top of my head know-know) how the Lord loves me. He just does. It's simple. It's profound. I find rest here in His love.
So imagine my surprise as yesterday and today I'm walking around with some sadness. I mean, knowing how He loves me these days has made a significant impact on all the little and big things taking place inside of me and on the outside, too. But, then I started seeing this sadness there and I've been asking Him about it. Well, if I'm honest, at first I decided to ignore it, assuming it would pass. Then it was there again in the afternoon yesterday and last night as I drove home. I cried a little and asked Him why I was crying.
Today, I sat with my journal for a few minutes and wrote out three things I really want right now. The tears came again. I think I hit the sweet spot. (Or perhaps more appropriately, the tender spot.) I closed the pages sort-of quickly because I really don't want to cry today. I just want to enjoy this corner I've turned...sans the tears, you know? (Don't get me wrong--I'm all about the tears, but lately they've come from a place of peace or joy or understanding, not sadness...)
Turning around, there was my Bible on the sofa. Picking myself up and placing it on my lap as I sat down again, I opened it and these words (underlined by yours truly) flew off the page, "I will lead blind Israel down a new path, guiding them along an unfamiliar way. I will brighten the darkness before them and smooth out the road ahead of them. Yes, I will indeed do these things; I will not forsake them. But those who trust in idols, who say, 'You are our gods', will be turned away in shame." Isaiah 42:6-17
Then, my eyes skipped to the page on the left and I read more underlined words: "He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle. He will bring justice to all who have been wronged. He will not falter or lose heart until justice prevails throughout the earth." Isaiah 42:4
In the right-hand margin, I had written this... "He will lead me out of this..." 12.13.12
The Lord is so beautiful in the way He loves and provides for us. Reflecting on how this passage tells us about the coming Messiah, Jesus and goes on to celebrate God's goodness to His people, I cried for the third time since late last night. The truth is, He has walked me through a very painful wilderness season and I'm seeing it fade away into the distance behind me now. I've stepped into a new season, but I was reminded as I read these words today how even here, having been through all of that, there will be sadness. I really don't want to see that reality today. I want bubblegum and gumdrops and things that remind one to always be happy.
Yet, God in His goodness reminds me that my hope in Him is fruitful. If I put it in other things, 'idols' as the passage mentions, I'm going to be very, very disappointed. There are longings inside of me which provide me a unique opportunity: Will I move toward the Lord with them or move away? Will the longings and the lack I feel inside as they remain unfulfilled become my focus, or will I place my hope in Him?
If there's anything I've learned about longing in the past decade, it's simply how God desires to honor what He's put inside of me, but always in His way and His time. I must be faithful. I must move forward and steward the things in my heart I know are from Him. And, I must also wait. Waiting is hard. But He tells me how He's good. He won't crush me or my hope in this process. He won't give up on the good plans He has. He will bring justice to the places in my life where brokenness has wreaked havoc (and I've seen Him do just that these past eight months!). He won't forsake me. He never has. He doesn't fail.
So today, I'm choosing to feel this sadness. I picture myself cupping my hands together offering those three little (rather, one smallish, two rather enormous) items up to Him. I see Him smile and nod His head. How the Father delights in the way we choose to trust Him... I know I can do this now because He loves me. He loves me enough to tell me to rest and to wait as He brightens the darkness ahead of me, leading me on a smooth and unfamiliar path.
So imagine my surprise as yesterday and today I'm walking around with some sadness. I mean, knowing how He loves me these days has made a significant impact on all the little and big things taking place inside of me and on the outside, too. But, then I started seeing this sadness there and I've been asking Him about it. Well, if I'm honest, at first I decided to ignore it, assuming it would pass. Then it was there again in the afternoon yesterday and last night as I drove home. I cried a little and asked Him why I was crying.
Today, I sat with my journal for a few minutes and wrote out three things I really want right now. The tears came again. I think I hit the sweet spot. (Or perhaps more appropriately, the tender spot.) I closed the pages sort-of quickly because I really don't want to cry today. I just want to enjoy this corner I've turned...sans the tears, you know? (Don't get me wrong--I'm all about the tears, but lately they've come from a place of peace or joy or understanding, not sadness...)
Turning around, there was my Bible on the sofa. Picking myself up and placing it on my lap as I sat down again, I opened it and these words (underlined by yours truly) flew off the page, "I will lead blind Israel down a new path, guiding them along an unfamiliar way. I will brighten the darkness before them and smooth out the road ahead of them. Yes, I will indeed do these things; I will not forsake them. But those who trust in idols, who say, 'You are our gods', will be turned away in shame." Isaiah 42:6-17
Then, my eyes skipped to the page on the left and I read more underlined words: "He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle. He will bring justice to all who have been wronged. He will not falter or lose heart until justice prevails throughout the earth." Isaiah 42:4
In the right-hand margin, I had written this... "He will lead me out of this..." 12.13.12
The Lord is so beautiful in the way He loves and provides for us. Reflecting on how this passage tells us about the coming Messiah, Jesus and goes on to celebrate God's goodness to His people, I cried for the third time since late last night. The truth is, He has walked me through a very painful wilderness season and I'm seeing it fade away into the distance behind me now. I've stepped into a new season, but I was reminded as I read these words today how even here, having been through all of that, there will be sadness. I really don't want to see that reality today. I want bubblegum and gumdrops and things that remind one to always be happy.
Yet, God in His goodness reminds me that my hope in Him is fruitful. If I put it in other things, 'idols' as the passage mentions, I'm going to be very, very disappointed. There are longings inside of me which provide me a unique opportunity: Will I move toward the Lord with them or move away? Will the longings and the lack I feel inside as they remain unfulfilled become my focus, or will I place my hope in Him?
If there's anything I've learned about longing in the past decade, it's simply how God desires to honor what He's put inside of me, but always in His way and His time. I must be faithful. I must move forward and steward the things in my heart I know are from Him. And, I must also wait. Waiting is hard. But He tells me how He's good. He won't crush me or my hope in this process. He won't give up on the good plans He has. He will bring justice to the places in my life where brokenness has wreaked havoc (and I've seen Him do just that these past eight months!). He won't forsake me. He never has. He doesn't fail.
So today, I'm choosing to feel this sadness. I picture myself cupping my hands together offering those three little (rather, one smallish, two rather enormous) items up to Him. I see Him smile and nod His head. How the Father delights in the way we choose to trust Him... I know I can do this now because He loves me. He loves me enough to tell me to rest and to wait as He brightens the darkness ahead of me, leading me on a smooth and unfamiliar path.
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