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Archive for the ‘A Nation Divided’ Category

MYSTERY – UNEXPLAINED – AWESOME

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , on September 21, 2012| 22 Comments »

Two weeks ago our Precept Bible group began our Fall Bible study in the Book of Ezekiel. I knew the book was about visions—lots of them—but had never studied it. The first days homework directed us to read Chapter One. That last verse stopped me cold and sent my mind ripping back through the years…

…to a rainy Sunday afternoon, eight years ago, when my husband and I were returning from Kansas City with our four-year-old grandson, Noah.

Papa drove the car, while Noah and I rode in the backseat and played games and watched the rain splatter on the windshield.

Late in the afternoon we came into Denton, Texas, on I35 South. Traffic was heavy and driving difficult. It had not rained in weeks and the roads were slick.

I glanced toward the east where the sky had cleared and God had painted a spectacular rainbow against the darkness of the passing storm. Noah saw it too and squealed in delight. I began to tell him about his biblical namesake.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flashing red tail lights of the cars just ahead. Then Papa barked, “Sit back. Brace Noah. Relax.”

“What?”

Without thinking, I jerked my neck to look out the back window. An eighteen-wheeler barreled toward us. Another quick peek forward and I saw the cars in front of us stopped! The truck driver would never be able to stop in that short distance. Not on these roads.

“Oh, Lord, please,” I gasped and smashed my body against the back of the seat and threw my left arm over Noah, tight as I could.

In a breath, an arc of brilliant color appeared overhead and a luminous golden light shimmered all around us and reflected like a thousand tiny stars over the hood of our car. The power of stillness surrounded us within and without. There was utter silence. Peaceful silence. Entrancing silence.

Then it was gone.

How long had it lasted? Minutes? Seconds? I don’t know.

But the cars in front of us had stopped. The truck in back of us stopped a few feet from our back bumper. And we stopped. No squealing brakes, no sliding tires, no honking horns. Not a sound.

Transfixed. I sat, unable to speak. Papa let out a long sigh and put the car in motion as the cars in front of us moved too. Neither Noah, Papa, nor I said a word for a few minutes. Then I leaned forward and whispered, “Honey, what did you see back there? What happened?”

Papa wiped his forehead and ran his hand down the back of his neck. He turned and glanced at me. “You tell me what you saw, first.”

“No. Please. Tell me.”

He stammered, “I…it looked like…we were in the middle of a rainbow and the light…DiAne, was unreal. Golden. Sparkling. So quiet and peaceful.”

Our eyes locked in the rear-view mirror and I whispered, “Me too!”

Papa shrugged his shoulders. “Honey, I’ve driven over 2,000,000 miles and watched disastrous consequences occur in comparable situations. That back there…,” his head tilted backward, “…only God could have spared us.”

I turned to Noah. His precious head slumped against the shoulder of his car seat. Sound asleep.

We rode another few miles pondering all that had transpired. Each of us knew a power greater than anything we had ever experienced or known had intervened in our lives. And for once in my life, I was speechless. Full of awe, wonder and worship.

Eight years later there is still a catch in my throat, and tears in my eyes when my mind plays that scene over again.

And that light—

Though I’m an artist I’m at a loss to describe, paint or interpret it in any way except glorious.

What I know is that someway, somehow, the hand of God miraculously spared us that stormy afternoon in Denton, Texas. And He allowed us a glimpse into the world around us that we can’t see—yet.

Noah is now twelve years old and is the same young man I wrote about in my blog Mother’s Day—Again. The same baby God healed in the womb.

I suspect our Father in Heaven has a very special plan for him.

Noah, if you’re listening, that’s three times God has saved you. Once in the womb, once that Sunday afternoon on a highway outside of Dallas, Texas, and once two years ago when you trusted Jesus and gave your heart and life to Him. Never, never, never forget that, grandson.

And wherever you are today, dear reader, God loves you. And He has a very special plan for your life too. Believe Him. Love Him. Trust and obey Him. Because He alone is faithful.

Has God ever  intervened and by the supernatural power of His mighty hand delivered you from illness, death or harm? If so, please share your story with us.

            “As the appearance of the rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the appearance of the surrounding radiance. Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face and heard a voice speaking,” (NAS Ezekiel 1:28).

 

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COWBOYS VS. ANTS

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , on September 14, 2012| 2 Comments »

Fire ants and Texas turf are like pancakes and syrup—they stick together.

‘Specially in these times of drought. The ants do love a good drought and, this year, they have mounted a statewide siege. Texans have circled the wagons and fought back with enormous doses of Amdro and Triazicide.

But the ants continued their attacks. Undaunted. Unafraid. And unaffected.

Ants love our yard. You see, we’re on a hill, and while the ants are drawn to water, they don’t like to live in it. In the rare event it rains, the run-off drains into the neighbor’s yard and down the street. Those critters raced from other yards into ours to find the perfect spot for their tribe to squat and then settled into our hillside home on the range.

That’s how I found them—after a heavy rainstorm.

Ant condos. All over our front yard.

Skyscrapers from an ant’s point of view.

Two bags of Triazicide later, spread carefully over the ant mounds, I sighed, confident I had solved our ant problem.

That was Friday evening.

Saturday morning I opened the pantry to find millions and zillions of ants swarming in my pantry.

They had moved inside and the battle of cowboys and ants was on.

I grabbed a garbage can, a pair of rubber gloves, and a bottle of orange oil. Exposed to the light of morning those little suckers amped into a frenzy. Dowsing the front lines with a tidal wave of orange oil, I swiped everything from the shelf into the garbage can. Anything that survived the orange oil went into the sink for washing while the ants attached themselves to things they could cling to. Bottles, cans, and bags. And me.

To my horror, water didn’t wash fire ants off my skin. They have teeth akin to Jaws and once they bite, they hang on.

It was a long and messy battle, but victory went to the cowboys. There was orange oil on the shelves. Orange oil on the floor. And orange oil on me. But ant carcasses piled high in the citrus-smelling puddles.

My husband and I cleaned up the war zone, showered, and left for shopping and dinner. We returned home late in the afternoon to find survivor ants had joined forces with several other battalions and mounted a massive frontal attack—laundry room, fridge and all over and under the stove—with a rear guard assaulting the back entry hall.

For the next three days the battle raged. We cowboys fell into a military routine of attack, fight,  retreat, then do it all over again the next day. Different location, new bottle of orange oil, and a mounting casualty count. The enemy, however, had innumerable reserves.

By the third morning, I considered hiding in bed. But I knew they’d find me. Eventually. Might as well get up and fight this battle in the kitchen rather than risk a bedroom invasion.

Finally, the Calvary arrived, via the bug guy. He brought in the heavy artillery—tanks of concoctions mixed to annihilate this never-ending army of ants. And he was victorious.

While I set about reclaiming disputed territory, sorting-out and replacing objects in drawers, cabinets and closets, I’ve had to acknowledge my poor housekeeping habits. I realized that while I pounded the computer keyboard, I had postponed weekly cleaning chores, and chosen the urgent tasks over the important ones. And these troublesome little adversaries moved unnoticed into the cracks, crevices, and corners of our home’s foundation. Then they surfaced. Armed and ready to destroy.

During the events of this past week, my heart grew dry and parched, like the scorched Texas earth. Distracted by the invasion of ants, exhausted from necessary household upkeep, and weakened by wrong choices—I’ve struggled.

Our lives are full of distractions that sap our energy, interrupt our days, and turn our attention away from the maintenance our hearts and spirits require—time with God the Father. We must read His Word and listen for His Spirit’s voice in order to recognize and deal with the intrusions of the enemy of our soul before they become a full-scale assault.

It’s all about timely housekeeping.

Just like those ants, the enemy of our soul creeps into the chinks in our armor, and diverts our attention from our relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ. One small choice. One angry word. One single thought or action at a time. Suddenly we find ourselves in a battle, on the front lines, wondering how we got there.

Thank you Lord, that You understand the weakness of our humanity and are ready to hear our cries and restore our hearts. When we ask.

This morning I’m relieved I don’t have to face angry ants. Like spiritual battles, the ants will return and there will be other battles. But I pray this war has taught me lessons about regular cleaning habits, not only in my house, but in my heart as well.

What battles do you face that sneak in and rob your peace? What pulls your focus away from daily communication with your Father in Heaven? What steals the strength of your heart and the power from your spirit?

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THE DEATH OF DEATH

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , on September 7, 2012| 2 Comments »

Have you ever given serious thought to why Jesus would weep when He stood with Mary and Martha at their brother’s tomb?

God would honor His command and Lazarus would walk from the grave. Resurrected. Alive. And Jesus knew this would happen.

So why the tears?

Could it be that He looked into the hearts of His friends and others mourning and in His humanity became overwhelmed with their sorrow? Could it be He looked back through the corridors of time and saw the centuries of tragedy and anguish that sin and death had inflicted on His creation? Could it be He saw His own sacrificial death looming on the horizon? Could He have gazed into future millennia and seen the wars and disease and destruction that must be completed before the end of this era?

Perhaps Jesus also saw how life could have been. God said creation was very good. A perfect relationship, between God and His creations. A perfect life and a perfect future. With no death.

And He wept.

God tells us that the final enemy is death. And anyone who comes face to face with that adversary weeps.

Still that old “if only” rhetoric springs to our minds. If only Adam and Eve hadn’t made that stupid choice. If only I’d been there, I wouldn’t have listened to Lucifer. If only, if only… But the truth is, if we’d been present at creation, we would have made the same choice they did. Look around. Folks still choose death. Every day.

Glance in the mirror. We all make those wrong choices.

I think about the number of times I have deliberately rebelled against God. Knowing what He said, I made the choice to disobey, and have repeated that defiance over and over again. Continually casting my vote for death.

God told Adam and Eve, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it, you shall surely die,” (NKJ Genesis 2:16-17). And they did. They ate. They died. Spiritually and physically. Since that time the sin gene has passed from generation to generation. The Word says, “The soul who sins shall But God had a plan to redeem us to Himself. And His plan was and is His Son—Jesus Christ. God’s righteousness demands judgment. We can’t do anything to save ourselves or to pay that price, because we have birth defects. Perpetual sins that need healing. We’re not perfect. And that’s why Jesus had to die.

Hebrews 9:11(b) tells us “without the shedding of blood there is no remission” from sin. That’s why God killed the animals and used their skins to cover Adam and Eve. A blood sacrifice. That’s why those Hebrew children had to watch their fathers kill their perfect little lambs that first Passover night so long ago. So that when the death angel entered the land of Egypt, he would pass over the houses whose door posts were painted with the blood of the lamb. Another blood sacrifice. That’s why days after raising Lazarus, Jesus would become the once-for-all-time blood sacrifice.

The Lord Jesus Christ, our soon-to-be Passover Lamb stood at the grave site of Lazarus and wept.

This Immanuel—God with us, was born to die.

We want to skim over all that history and get to the good stuff. You know, about the resurrection, our new bodies, and heaven. But we can’t get to the good stuff without going through His blood. And to think there are churches today who never mention the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. They never mention sin. The blood that covers sin. The blood that cleanses. The blood that redeems. And Jesus knew that too.

And He wept.

Could His tears also have been for the multiplied millions who, through all of human time, would refuse to go through His blood? Perhaps He cried for their refusal to hear, their futile attempts to cleanse themselves through religiosity, their ultimate rejection of the only way to God the Father.

And He still weeps.

But the Father has set a day. A day, only He knows, when Death will die.

Dr. Paul Tripp says “We will all get to attend the funeral of Death. And that’s a funeral we will all want to go to. A date certain when we will all see Death placed in the coffin.”

There are two classifications of folks in this world when it comes to grief. Those who are grieving and those who will be grieving. Yes, at some point in your life, you too will stand at someone’s grave site and weep.

But, if your loved one who died was washed in the blood of Jesus, and if you’ve been washed in that blood too, there will be a reunion. God promises. All who have trusted in the blood of Jesus to cover their sins will be with Him. Forever. The curse will be lifted, and the earth restored. And when that day comes, there will be no more death. Death will finally die.

“And He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away. And He who sits on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” And He said, “Write, for these words are faithful and true,” (NAS Revelation 21:4-5).

 

PRESCRIPTION: Are you ready? Ready to cry? Ready to die? If not, please contemplate the words in John 3:16-17 and insert your name:

“For God so loved DiAne Gates that He gave His only begotten Son (Jesus Christ) that if DiAne Gates would believe on Him (Jesus Christ), DiAne Gates would not perish but DiAne Gates would have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son (Jesus) into the world (the kosmos) to condemn the world (the human race), but that the world (everyone who hears and believes) through Him (Jesus) might be saved,” (NKJ John 3:16).

 

“I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like Me. Declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times, things that are not yet done. Saying, “ My counsel shall stand, and I will do all My pleasure”  (NKJ Isaiah 46:9-10).

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THE ROAD TO OUR NEW NORMAL

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , on August 31, 2012| 9 Comments »

 

Last week I posted the first of the series on grief I wrote “Grief’s Ugly Step-Sisters” and there was such response, I am again reposting the next post “The Road to Our New Normal.” I pray this post helps those of you new to this tedious journey. Be sure to let us know how  you’re doing and if we can help!

 

We are the object of attention—until the day after the funeral. That’s when everyone’s life returns to normal. Everyone else’s life, that is.

But not ours.

It’s like we’re on the outside looking in. We humans want to fit in, we’re miserable when we don’t. And in the aftermath of grief we don’t belong. Anywhere. We’ve been stuffed in a sack, shaken up and dumped out. Forever changed.

There’s good news and bad news about grief. The bad news? We will never be the same again. The good news? We’re on the way to our new normal.

And the trip can take a while.

The days and the months, perhaps years, creep by and we long for the way things used to be. We choose to isolate or hide behind closed doors so that others can’t see our pain. Or we zoom here and there, filling life with any and everything. Pretending we’re okay. Trying to not think, because thinking hurts.

Family and friends prefer the hyper-active you. Because they want their old friend back. Like you, they want to pretend you’re alright too. But try as you may, the old you is gone. Forever.

Death has brought you face-to-face with a life-changing reality: life in this world is brief.

Things of this world have filled our lives, our relationships, even our worship. Most of us have lived as though this is all there is. In this age of want-more, get-more, we have tethered ourselves to the here-and-now.

Until someone we love dies.

Then our gears are stripped and we come to a screeching halt. We are backed into a corner and forced to decide whether we really believe what we have said we believed all these years. Can we look beyond the immediate to the eternal? That is a major cross-road for each one of us traveling this road called grief. It’s the intersection of a street called Earthly Delusions with the rough, still-under-construction detour named New Normal.

When our daughter died, I wrapped myself in robes of self-righteousness and parroted, “Oh, I know she’s with God and everything is fine. I’m okay. Really. Why no, I’m not angry. With God? Don’t be silly.”

And for two years I walked that I’m okay—you’re okay road ‘til one evening a family dispute raked the scab of the lie off my hypocritical words and I bled rage. The glass full of iced tea flew from my hand and splattered against the wall and I heard my voice scream, “You could have stopped this, God. But You didn’t.”

Ah. There it was. I told Him I didn’t understand and I didn’t like what He had done. But in the deathly silence that followed I had to confess to God, I was angry. Like He didn’t know.

And you know what? God didn’t send a lightening bolt to strike me dead. He didn’t turn His holy back and walk away. He didn’t condemn me.

He opened His arms of love instead, and I crawled into His lap and sobbed. And He comforted me like a loving father comforts his child after the temper tantrum subsides and the child is remorseful.

Because of  His truth and my repentance, those moments produced my first glimpse of hope and joy in two years. How? When the light of God’s truth shoos away the darkness, it illuminates and cleanses the place where anger and bitterness have thrived. Then the power of His Spirit moves into the open spaces and begins to teach us the lessons that, up to now, we’ve refused to learn.

I began learning those lessons in the following months, and my attitude changed. I was convicted of the self-righteous things I had said and the proud ways I had acted in the past. And as I acknowledged my own needs, compassion for others filled my previously cold, indifferent heart.

God brought people into my life, week after week, who were also experiencing the ravages of grief. I could sympathize with the emotions their losses perpetrated. And I was able to comfort them, because God had comforted me. I saw God work in all of our lives and my emotions were refreshed.

Through a series of unusual circumstances God brought me to GriefShare. Then He opened the door for me to lead a support group. At last my new normal was a work in progress.

I came to understand that like a thermometer, happiness was based on my surroundings. But joy springs from my heart and controls my attitude, in spite of my surroundings. Like a thermostat.

Did the pain go away? No. But I learned that joy and pain can co-exist in my heart. 

Pain is the roto-rooter God uses to increase our capacity for the well-spring of joy to continually bubble-up in our hearts. Day by day, I chose to trust God to lead me forward into this sea of new life. Day by day joy became the key to my endurance. And it still carries me forward, day by day.

When our joy is rooted in people and things that perish, grief will become our identity. But when the tap root of our heart’s joy is anchored in Jesus Christ, He will carry us safely through the storms and tragedies of life. And we will grow and blossom when He sets us down to walk in the new normal on the shores of life again.

“The wilderness and the desert will be glad, and the Arabah will rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it will blossom profusely and rejoice with rejoicing and shout of joy. Encourage the exhausted, and strengthen the feeble. Say to those with anxious heart, Take courage, fear not.  . . . But the redeemed will walk there, and the ransomed of the Lord will return, and come with joyful shouting to Zion, with everlasting joy upon their heads. They will find gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing will flee away” (NAS Isaiah 35:1-4a, 9b-10).

Where are the roots of your joy planted today?

PRESCRIPTION: Go to www.griefshare.org and click on Find A Group. Fill in your zip code and select a group near you. Make plans to attend and let God work that new normal in your life too.

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IT’S NOT THE END – IT’S JUST THE BEGINNING

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , on August 24, 2012| 4 Comments »

It’s been a year. Maybe two.

You ask, “When will this pain go away?”

You’re ready to be done. Ready to be normal again. Ready for any tiny glimmer of hope and joy.

Grief is an exhausting zillion-mile-an-hour trip down Life’s Mall, through dense fog. People are talking, but you can’t understand them. Their blurry faces pass before you, but you don’t recognize them. Your mind operates in slow motion—if at all. Day. After day. After day.

Grief steals your ability to concentrate and focus. Misplaced keys, memory loss, forgotten bills and events are common, unwelcomed additions to life after the loss of a loved one. I would be driving down the freeway confused about how I got to that place. Worse yet, we live in the country with winding two lane roads. More than once, I wondered where am I and how do I get home?

Grief also precipitates physical pain. Your muscles tense causing neck, back, and shoulder pain. And you’re tired. All the time. Sleepy, but unable to sleep. The fridge is heaped up and running over with all those dishes of love from well-meaning friends. You’re not ungrateful, but you’re not hungry. Worst of all, you’re alone, in the middle of a crowd. That one missing loved one means you stand alone.

It’s not uncommon to see your deceased loved one walking down the hallway. You swear they’re real. But you know better. Your mind plays tricks in the middle of devastating turmoil. Troubling. But normal.

You’re not crazy. It’s grief.

But grief is not the end. It’s just the beginning.      

Remember the story in John 6:1-13 where Jesus feeds the five thousand with five barley loaves and two fishes? Truth is that was only the men. When the women and children were counted, there were probably ten to twelve thousand hungry folks to feed that day.

Do you recall how He blessed that little boy’s meager lunch, broke it up, and the disciples distributed it to the crowd?

But do you know the rest of the story?

After everyone had eaten their fill, He instructed the disciples to gather up the fragments so that nothing would be lost or wasted. And there were twelve baskets full of left-overs.

When death shatters your life, by the loss of a loved one, all that remains are left-overs. Fragments.

Then I make a ridiculous statement: God never wastes anything—even your grief.

You ask, “How can God ever use anything as dark and ugly as what I’m going through? What am I to do with the crumbs of my life? Which way do I turn? Where do I go?

The answer is to Jesus. He scoops up the cracked pieces of our lives and places them on His potter’s wheel to repair, integrate, and reshape us into new vessels. By the power of His love, the warmth of His hands, and the pain we’ve experienced, He changes pride into humility, anger into hope, and sorrow into comfort.

Then He certifies all He repairs, “comforting us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (NAS I Corinthians 1:4).

I know this arduous journey has taught me lessons I could never have learned any other way. Jesus used those scattered fragments of grief, after Michelle’s death, and made a new beginning for me.

Would I love to have my daughter back? Of course. But wouldn’t that be selfish? She’s healed and with her Lord Jesus. To have her back would mean she’d have to die again.

I am so thankful God didn’t abandon me outside the hospital room that night.    And neither has he abandoned you.

He picked up those heart wrenching fragments and transformed me.

And He is ready to transform you too.

Yes, God didn’t waste anything—even the darkest moments of my grief that sent me fleeing into His arms.

Now it’s your choice—His light or your darkness. His comfort or your anger. His love and mercy or your doubt and unbelief.

He will transform your life, if you allow Him. You will become a conduit of His mercy and grace to be poured out on others about to enter this foggy journey. And your legacy will point others toward the light of His glory that shines in the darkness of this very long tunnel.

So don’t quit. Don’t run away. Don’t take grief as your identify.

Because grief is not the end. It’s just the beginning.

 

Prescription: Sort the fragments of your grief into a neat stack. Then one by one, “Cast all your anxiety upon Him, because He cares for you” (NAS I Peter 5:7).

           

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LOSSES, PORCUPINES, AND FORGIVENESS

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , , on August 17, 2012| 5 Comments »

When our daughter died, the children moved in with my husband and me for six months while our son-in-law completed required Army schooling and relocated to his next duty assignment.

After that I relocated with the children to the new Post to help establish their household. My husband, the children’s Papa, stayed behind in Dallas to keep our home fires burning. Yet another loss for me.

My list of secondary losses grew day by day. Only I didn’t know what they were or even that they were. I just knew I hurt and everything in my life spun out-of-control. But there were more important issues to address—children who had lost their mom, and a father who had lost his wife. So I put my grief aside.

I thought.

Papa came for weekend visits once or twice a month. During one visit I gave him a box of vintage Madame Alexander dolls to take back home for safe-keeping until our granddaughter was old enough to care for them. Some were her mom’s dolls and some were my mine. Treasures. Waiting to be passed to this child of my child.

Papa rented a car for his trip and when he returned it to the rental company, he forgot the dolls were in the trunk. Half-way home he remembered and backtracked, but the dolls were nowhere to be found. Like so many other things that had vanished during the past six months, they were gone forever.

The emotional rip-tide of tears eroded deeper trenches in my aching heart.

He apologized, over and over again. But I could do nothing but weep, snarl at him, and pile this new heartache onto the mounting stack of losses. I had no idea, nor did I care how he felt.

I’ve come to understand that during the grief process husbands and wives are total  strangers. Unlike a woman, the worst thing a man ever has to face are his emotions. Now Papa had to deal with his emotions as well as a wife drowning in her raging ocean of grief. He was clueless. And I did nothing to ease his guilt.

We are all like porcupines during this anguish.  If threatened or aggravated, our quills extend, aim, and fire at the first shift in the landscape. We are so self-absorbed, we don’t recognize that other family members are also grieving. We focus on ourselves. On our pain. On our loss. Unable to comprehend that our hemorrhaging hearts need a transfusion.

But the old saying—the bumps are what you climb on—holds true. And eventually these losses are rocks we must climb and conquer. Some are not too bad, but others are jagged boulders that feel like we’re scaling Mt. Everest.

So how do we begin managing these troublesome after-the-fact losses?

One profound fact is, Hurt people hurt people.

That’s true among family members where death has intruded.  Understanding this doesn’t take the sting out of hateful words or actions we’ve received or inflicted, but it encourages us to think about why and then choose to forgive whoever caused the pain and anguish. Just like Jesus forgives us when we cause Him pain and anguish.

A few weeks after the lost dolls, I was reading the Word and crying out to God when I heard that still, small voice inside me ask, Would I withhold anything from you that you needed?

I had to answer, “No Lord. But her dolls? Lord, why?”

My mind flew back to the verse that had become my life-ring, “The secret things belong to the Lord. The things revealed belong to you and your children forever…”(Deuteronomy 29:29). This would be another one of those secret things.

Again, another question.  Do you trust Me?

My pathetic voice, saturated with fear and very little faith said, “Yes, Lord. I trust You, even with those dolls.”

And for the moment His peace reigned in my heart.

That’s what the grief journey is about—a rollercoaster ride through heights of His peace interrupted by heart-stopping plunges into the abyss of the next secondary loss.

This pain and confusion you’re going through will not last forever, but it lasts longer than you ever imagined. The goal is to accept the fact you are mourning the loss of someone you loved and you must let tears come when they may. Jesus wept over Lazarus, even as He knew in the next moments He would issue the command and Lazarus would walk out of that tomb—Alive.

Over the years, I’ve wondered if perhaps some father or grandfather who worked at the rental company saw those dolls and his little girl had no dolls. Could those dolls have brought joy where there was none? I choose to believe God allowed those dolls to be held and loved by a little girl He knew needed them. And I thank Him. I’ve also come to understand that God never wastes anything. But we’ll talk about that next week. That’s right. God never wastes anything—even your grief.

Prescription #2:   Be still and quiet before the Lord God and read and listen to His Word.  Then make a commitment to compose a Loss History. Take a sheet of paper and list every loss you can remember experiencing. At the edge of the paper make two columns Historical and Current.

As you list each loss, evaluate whether you’re still grieving. Even if it was fifty years ago. If you are, mark Current. If there is no churning or anger, mark Historical. Every loss must be individually dealt with.

Every grief is unique. You can choose to forgive, even when your heart and mind want to raise a ruckus. Cast your pain on God and leave it there. Refuse to hurt people because you’re hurting.

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GRIEF’S UGLY STEP-SISTERS

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , on August 10, 2012| 28 Comments »

Those of you who follow my blog know my husband and I lost a daughter eleven years ago. Michelle’s death plunged us into deep, inky waters of grief. While struggling just to survive we were blind-sided by Grief’s ugly-step-sisters—Secondary Losses.

Grief is an unwelcome guest who stays much too long, not pretty at all, who plunges the family into chaos. But Secondary Losses are the evil relatives of Grief that slip in the back-door and linger forever. They litter the landscape with shrapnel-sized-shards of anguish that are often as difficult to deal with as the original loss.

Worse yet, they lurk behind the shadow of family members, good friends, even making appearances at happy events. Ever waiting to earn the greatest buck-for-the-bang and then they implode. The injuries they inflict are not terminal, but often perpetrate permanent disabilities upon their victims.

So what in the world are secondary losses?

Well, they’re certainly not bashful. Their name shouts their identity—a related loss that evolves out of the original loss. An additional loss that strikes when you least expect it, when you are most vulnerable.

Like the granddaughter whose grandmother died this year. Her Mimi was the glue that held the family together. Several weeks after her death, grandpa announced he wanted all her stuff out of the house and wanted nothing to do with the rest of the family. Ever. No more Sunday dinners at grandma’s. No more visiting the home that stored a lifetime of memories for this teen. No more relationship with the grandfather she had loved. Three secondary losses that left this grandchild shattered.

When an infant dies, the parents loose their future—their dreams. There will be no first steps, first words. No smiles or hugs. No first day at school. The list multiplies. For years after a baby’s tragic demise, secondary losses accumulate, building a wall of separation and blame between the couple. Unless the grieving couple gets help, more often than not, their marriage disintegrates.

When a husband or wife dies the spouse will most likely remarry. The family is swept up in a reconstruction zone. Where the flood waters of grief mix with the dust of new construction and can cause a murky mess.  Often there are too many in-laws for the new mom or dad to deal with. These secondary relational losses impact everyone—kids, grandparents, aunts, uncles and yes, sometimes even family friends. Holidays, birthdays, and special events change or are forever lost.

The loss of an older child results in the loss of an expected future for the entire family. The role that child played in the family circle sits vacant. For siblings, it’s a wrenching or splitting apart of the oneness that brothers and sisters enjoy that leaves them empty. Half of a whole. If the siblings were twins, many more layers are involved.

The aging process robs us of our parents. While they may be sick and ready to leave this life, there are secondary losses even with an expected departure. You and I are moved up—next in line. We unwillingly become the matriarchs and patriarchs of the family. The structure of the family changes. Everything changes. And we don’t like change.

So what are we to do with these loose strings of grief that tangle, knot, and upset our lives? Are we doomed to a life of grief? No. Not at all. But we must travel those dark corridors. Not climbing over, tunneling under, nor sneaking around the pain. We must work through the grief. And it is work. Left to itself, grief will make you bitter. With God’s help and comfort you will become better. But it’s your choice.

We must understand and accept that it is alright to grieve. It is necessary to grieve. It is normal to grieve. And yes, Christians must grieve. Grief is the normal reaction when someone we love dies.   

Tears are the safety valve God has given the pressure cooker of our injured hearts and our shattered dreams. I tell my GriefShare folks they  must cry 5,395 times during this sorrowful journey, so they’d best get started. Scripture tells us God saves our tears in a bottle. (NAS Psalm 56:8).

Strength and ability to endure great tragedy and loss comes from the power of God, through the Word of God, and the comfort of the Holy Spirit. There is no true healing from this traumatic life experience outside of the touch of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Oh, you can stuff your agony into the depths of your heart. But I promise you, if you bury grief alive, there will be a resurrection one day, and it won’t be pretty.

So let’s determine to walk together in this wretched journey for the next few weeks and I’ll introduce you to several prescriptions that will bring you safely to the other side of this horrendous event, if you’ll follow the Great Physician’s orders.

Prescription #1 – GriefShare is a Christ based support group that is a safe place to empty all the pain and anguish threatening to drown you. Go online to www.GriefShare.org and click Find A Group to locate a group near you.

Next week we’ll talk about how to manage those nasty secondary losses.

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AND WHEN THEY ARE OLD

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , on August 4, 2012| 8 Comments »

 

Ever suffer a consequence initiated by a wrong choice, a rebellious act, or a broken relationship? I can almost hear you groan. Are you saying, “Let me count the times and ways.”

I’m right there with you.

In the early ‘60’s I deliberately disobeyed God. Forty-nine years later, the consequences of that choice continues to billow. Like a hot air balloon in the lives of my children, that decision continually soars to greater heights in troubled skies.

God is faithful to forgive our sin and rebellion when we repent, but unfortunately the consequences of our foolish choices remain. That is why it is imperative to “train up your children in the way they should go…” because when they are old the consequences of your training—whether good or bad—will follow them. Forever.

Parents, you get to make the choice of good or bad training. But you aren’t allowed to choose the consequences.

Failure to teach children the law of the Lord, and the resulting consequences, parade across the TV screen every night during the evening news. The juvenile and criminal courts are full of men, women, boys and girls caught  in the consequences of ignorant or willful rebellion to God’s Word. And the failure of the church to follow God’s instruction to, “love one another,” and then, “go and make disciples,” have multiplied the consequences of bitter, hateful hearts all over the globe.

Only God can chisel the sin and shame from a hardened heart. Only God can take a hurting heart and make it healthy and whole again. Only God can rescue and transform a bitter heart into a tender and transparent one.

I wonder what the hearts of those young girls at Red Neck Heaven are becoming as they grow older? Caught in the sensual thrill of the moment, they become captives of the flesh which cries gimme, gimme, gimme. More, more, more. Do you think, after being exposed to the lustful attention of crowds of men day after day they can be satisfied in one marriage, with the attention of one man, for the rest of their lives?

Do young women brazenly use their bodies to attract young men in order to satisfy their need of an absent father’s love and attention? Have girls become so desensitized they don’t realize they are sacrificing the opportunity for God’s gift of a pure, lifelong relationship with one man? Or are they even aware of the possibility of joy and oneness in an until death do us part marital relationship, because of the examples we have given them? Could this be part of the divorce problem inside and outside the church?

And what about our young men? Mothers, you can verify the fact that your  boys are pursued with a vengeance by girls with a hormonal body, a cell phone, and a computer. Mere children, exploited and bombarded with delusions of fun, pleasure, and excitement. However, the consequences are life changing. Painful. Tragic. Is it any wonder so many men are addicted to pornography—even those in the pulpit?

Is it possible when we give our children carte blanche to the whims of all that surrounds them—movies, books, clothes, attitudes of rebellious friends, fads, the list goes on—we set them up to fail?

The only answer is to teach them God’s truth, that joy and contentment in life only come when you allow God to fill the hole in your heart. Seeking success and fulfillment the world’s way will bring disappointing, lamentable, even disastrous consequences.

What are you going to do today to squash the deception that is suffocating this world, seeking to destroy your child?

“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words, which I am commanding you today, shall be on  your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up,” (Deuteronomy 6:5-7 NAS).

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THE WAY THEY SHOULD GO

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , on July 29, 2012| 4 Comments »

Ever decide to take a road trip?

What did you do first? Determine your destination? Now that’s a dumb question, isn’t it. You need to know where you’re going. Consider the time factor and travel route?

I certainly hope so. Consult a map? Of course, unless you enjoy loosing the way you should go.

If we spend time and energy planning simple road trips, why would we contemplate embarking on the eternal journey of parenting without a plan? Without determining the destination? Without a route to travel? Without a road map?

Yet, that’s what most of us do.

We have grown up in this serendipity age of “whatever be, will be.” One day we’re single—then we’re not. One day we’re a couple—then we’re not. One day everything’s fine—then it’s not. And we find ourselves in the midst of an enormous crisis, wondering how on earth we got there.

And we got there because we raced out of the starting gate without giving a thought to our destination, our route of travel, and with no idea of when, where or how we would arrive at wherever we were going. Like Eve, deceived by the master manipulator, caught up in his whirlwind of lies about life, and facing the consequences of happenstance living.

We truck mindlessly up and down the winding roads of fads and traditions. My husband and I raised our children during the age of good old Dr. Spock. It didn’t take but a few chapters of Spock compared with the Word God to know which life map to follow.

Unless you read only Spock’s instructions. Which many parents did. And the battle accelerated.

Instead of God’s road map, we chose to take a detour down the dead-end road of time-outs with no consequences for a child’s unacceptable behavior. Ignoring God’s instruction, we have tromped into the quagmire of reducing father to a silly, laughable figure on prime time TV. Replacing him with the I am woman hear me roar wife.

Only roaring wasn’t what it was cracked up to be, so mom escaped into the fantasy of day and nighttime soap operas while dad turned into a workaholic who came home only long enough to change clothes for the gym, golf course, or hunting lease. Home became a war zone. The children took over and the family disintegrated.

Without God’s order there is chaos.

Left to themselves, children learned to play games too—mom vs. dad. While television, movies, social media, and the fashion industry turned up the volume. Get more, be more, do more. More toys, more work, more debt. Which equates to less. Less God, less relationships, and less contentment with all things.

The bombs of opposition to the truth of God’s Word explode every where we turn. Only the Word of God can dispel and heal the deadly radiation of these lies. But parents, if we don’t know this truth or are afraid to speak His truth to our children, these mini-wanna-be-adults, become casualties along life’s journey.

Just like those young women working at Red Neck Heaven, ambushed, lined up like lemmings, and targeted for destruction by the enemy of God. During the weeks since our unplanned visit there, I’ve found numerous establishments throughout the Dallas/Ft. Worth area just like RNH. And, if those places are here, you can bet they’re in your town or city also.

Why should we be concerned? Let’s just sing louder ‘til Jesus comes. Whatever will be, will be? Nonsense. That’s how we got here. Maybe a few facts will shine the light of reality and sound the alarm. If you don’t believe me, check with your local Christian pregnancy center.

Our county in Texas, holds the dubious honor of having the highest per capita rate of teen pregnancies, STD’s, and abortions in the State of Texas. If you don’t understand about STD’s ask your doctor. This is a crisis among our school children. Yes, even at the elementary level.

It’s long past time to sound the alarm. We can no longer hide within the sanctuary, pretending we don’t see that our children and grandchildren have lost the way they should live.

Mom, Dad, you are their parent—not their buddy. He only gave them one mom and one dad. And it’s your job to train them in the way God says they are to go. If you don’t have the courage to stand for Christ with your teen now, how will you have the strength to stand for Him during the truly difficult times and events that are to come?

Next week: WHEN THEY ARE OLD

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TRAIN UP A CHILD

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , on July 21, 2012| 3 Comments »

The sign read Red Neck Heaven, but seated at a table surveying the scenery, I’d-a called it Red Neck Hell. From the parking lot it looked like a barbeque joint. But the place was Hooter’s on Steroids.

Tired and famished, my friend Lori and I turned into the Texas Roadhouse parking lot to grab a quick lunch. It was closed. However, the place next door was open and the parking lot filled.

Lots of cars equals good food. Right? We agreed a burger or barbeque sounded great, so we parked and went inside.

The waitress who greeted us couldn’t have been a day past high school graduation and wasn’t wearing much. Should-a been our first clue. But we resumed chatting about the weighty matters of the world while waiting for an open table.

When she ushered us to a table, we realized something we should-a noticed before. Besides the waitresses—all very, very scantily clad—Lori and I were the only women in the place. Second clue.

Our idea of weighty matters of the world took on a whole new dynamic.

I gasped for air and breathed, “Oh Lord, what now? Stay or flee? Which would attract more attention?”

Whether a good or a bad decision, we sat down and ordered a burger.

Multiple TV screens hung around the top of the room flashing pictures of these little feminine replicas of Daisy Mae. And let me tell you, that cartoon country gal was dressed for winter compared to these precious girl-children. The mother in me screamed, “Does your mama know where you are and what you’re doing? Get out-a-here.”

And none of them could have been a day over twenty. I was embarrassed for them, for myself, for my friend, and yes, even for the men making idiots of themselves. Men of all ages, cultures and dress—from business men to cowboys—from Marines to construction workers.

Lori groaned and stared into her water glass, “I don’t know where to fix my eyes.”

“On the food when it comes,” I instructed, “… and eat…fast.”

The burgers and onion rings were great, but following my own advice, I gulped them down and my digestive system rebelled.

We ate fast and left faster.

One man exited the restaurant behind us and made a point of commenting that tomorrow would be A.B.C. Day, Anything But Clothes Day. He said the line to get in would extend around the building by 9 A.M. In broad daylight.

But the real shock to my system was the memory of these young women sashaying about in little but their imaginations, gaudy belly-button jewelry, and cowgirl boots— trailed by the unveiled lust of men—numerous men—leering at them.

Why would these girls be willing to trade God’s promises of blessings to those who are pure in heart for a meager salary and smutty attention from men? Where had they found the brazen ability to make themselves the object of gawking stares and lewd advances? Somebody’s daughters, sisters, friends. Do you care? Does anyone care?

How did we get here?

Parents, do we bear any blame for this ghastly display? Could we be responsible? Have we encouraged our children—boys and girls—to embrace this behavior and call it good?

Mom, could we be desensitizing our little girls by placing them in that first bikini? At age 3? Maybe 5? Training them through the years that it’s okay to expose as much skin as they dare? Is this immoral immodesty one of the consequences of the absence of the Word of God? Or direct opposition to it?

And Dad, lest you say “It’s her mother’s fault. She buys the stuff.” Don’t you realize, whether you believe it or not, you will stand before God, to give an account of your actions protecting the safety and well-being of each member of your family? You are required as the God-appointed head of your family to see and say NO to present and future dangers.

I’m not suggesting a return to the behavior and dress of the 1800’s. But where do we draw the line? How much is too much and how little is too little? We’ve turned our back on modesty and plunged head first into the cesspool of provocation and shame. And, there’s not much difference in behavior and dress inside and outside the church.

The truth is we are here.

But the urgent question is: Do you have the courage to seek to know what God says about this issue and then stand for His revealed truth?

What do you think? Are you living in a houseful of teens who want “to be like their friends?” Let’s discuss this.

Next week, Part Two In The Way They Should Go, we’ll explore what we all have allowed our children to witness and participate in. Is it too late to shut the barn door?

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