Okay, I am sorry. I have (hopefully only temporarily) lost my little green 88-cent spiral notebook that had all my trip journals recorded therein. I have lost the auh-oof-ta (helps if said with a grunt) to blog because I am still praying it will turn up. I think it got missplaced between the Thompsons' and my new apartment and my office. So if you want to read the rest of the week--errr, let me rephrase--since you want to read about the rest of my Haitian adventure, please join me in prayer that it turns up quickly.
In other news, I could write a book on what the Lord is doing in my heart currently. It's a beautiful thing to learn gently to take my hands off of the things to which I cling so tightly, and place them in His instead of wringing them in worry. Don't worry, it only hurts a little. And that's because of me, not Him.
I must also tell you that despite the fact that I thought I was "over" the most painful parts of losing my precious mom, the grief has also kept me away from this blog. It is a difficult and tricky thing to describe. As I wept the other night and sleep eluded me, I found myself comparing grief to the very tears that lately have so often rolled down these cheeks.
Some days the grief comes on me like a little tear in the corner of my eye. I will think of her, be it a funny memory or a little quip she always used, and a little piece of sadness will well up inside me much like that tear in the corner of my eye.
Other days, the sadness comes early and lasts all day. One tear after another rolls down my cheek as I struggle with the questions that He is big enough to listen to and answer...or not answer.
The sadness comes and goes. But not Jesus. He stays.
Even in the moments when I temporarily forget and think, "Gosh, mom hasn't called me at all this week...I better give her a call-Why in the world haven't I heard from her?"
and painfully remember that I cannot.
Or when I lay in bed and cry because I want so badly to talk with her, laugh with her, hear hear her voice again, pray with her. And I know that I won't.
But God in his Fatherly patience, again brought this scripture to mind, personalizing it with my own name.
"I know it hurts, Lauren. But do not grieve as those who have no hope."
I know you are probably thinking, "Well, that should be easy. Everybody knows her mom was dedicated to Jesus and is now experiencing eternity with Him." But in reality, it is much easier at times to let the grief overtake the hope.
I want her back here. She wouldn't come even if she had the chance.
But I want her to sit with me on the couch and watch What Not to Wear.
Instead, I watch it by myself.
I want her to see Mamma Mia! with me when it comes out in a week or so with me so that we can sing Abba songs at an obnoxious decibel in the middle of the theatre with me.
But I will be singing without the Dancing Queen.
I need to practice making noodles with her because Seth loves noodles and I want to make even better ones.
But I will practice alone.
It takes much less discipline to dwell on the uglies of the raw deal that a fallen world offers than it does to cling to the Truth of the Gospel: that Jesus came for us to have an abundant life...not just there, where she is, but here where I am. That comes with embracing life. The goods and the uglies. I am learning to experience the pain so that I can love Jesus for His commitment to me. His goodness, His kindness, and His love.
For example, I went to the cemetery yesterday. I never did that with my Grandma Liz, because I knew she wasn't there and it brought me no comfort. But since my mom died, even though she isn't there either, I find a great comfort in meeting with God there.
A few weeks ago, I had gone to cry and pray, and was tremendously upset by the fact that someone had stolen the beautiful flower arrangement on the top of the grave.
It ached. Who could do such a thing?
Oh, but how God demonstrated his love for me yesterday in His active pursuit of my good. He sent someone to put an even more beautiful arrangement on the grave.
"I notice. I notice your pain. I know it aches." He whispered gently.
It aches,
but because of you, God,
it doesn't sting.
"The bodies we now have are weak and can die. But they will be changed into bodies that are eternal. Then the Scriptures will come true,
'Death has lost the battle!
Where is its victory?
Where is its sting?'"
Lauren
6 comments:
Lauren, I cannot even imagine your pain, however, I do understand what an amazing amazing woman your mama was and I don't think it would be "normal" (whatever that is) if you didn't feel that pain. my Yhaweh sisters and I got to talking about your mama on Monday because sweet Tami has a kitty named Cheryl after her and you now what she really reminds me of her. Hang in there sista! Love Ya!!
Sweet Lauren! Thanks for commenting on my blog. I will have to add you to my blog list so I can keep tabs on you now. It was good, but tearful to read your blog today. Thanks for sharing so honestly about the hurt. I remember one morning at Harvest, your mom sharing w/ me what a gift you were to here even in the womb! She loved you deeply. Thinking of you as you grieve for her.
Lauren, I know what it feels like to go to the cemetary and find someone has stolen the flowers that you put there. I, on more than one occassion, have went to share news and talk with my grandma, and her flowers too have been missing. We wonder how others can do such a thing, but they are the ones who will have to deal with what they have done. And flowers do not really reflect our love for that person. Your mom knows you and your family love and miss her and she is smiling down on you no matter where you are. I know things seems hard, but keep leaning on God, he is always there and is always listening. If you need to talk or anything else you know where to find me!
Oh, Lauren.....grief and the grieving process are so universal.....it's scary how you put into written words the thoughts and feelings that *I* have. There are days when my arms ache from wanting to hug Willie. I'll hear some news that he would be interested in and think, "I should call Willie," and then realize that I can't. It hurts so bad. But I picture our Great God putting his arm around my shoulder, just as Willie would have, to comfort me and let me lean on Him. And it still hurts.....but it's so good to share that hurt with God. I thank God for the gift of time. The pain will never leave; but, as time passes, it is slowly, slowly, slooooooooowly easing. My broken heart goes out to yours, Lauren.
Lauren, so glad to find your blog. My heart aches along with you. My mom too died from breast cancer, when I was 11. You'd think the older you get the easier it would be getting used to not having your mom here with you but it isn't...its that Hope in Jesus Christ that gets you through until you will reunite. I know there is no one who will ever replace your precious momma who spoke life with every word that came out of her mouth but God is good...I know looking back over the past 25 years now without her...God has placed a Godly woman as a "mother" figure in my life just at the right times that I needed one and I'm sure he will do the same for you. Your mom was one of them!!! If I could reach the goal of being the mother to my own girls like your mom was and raise them to have servant hearts like you Lauren that would make me happy. I know you know your mom was awesome so I don't have to say. Here's a big (HUG) for you! I will always remember the first time I met you & your mom in that little book store next to the post office and how the JOY from both of you just poured out through your smiles. May you have a blessed day in the name of Jesus! Happy Noodle making! (my mom made those too!)
Lauren, I love you :) I look up to ya too. So even though if times are hard, you know that the Good Lord is on your side :) Love ya
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