Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Anger’

ALMOST DONE FOR 2012 – ONE MORE TO GO

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , on November 30, 2012| 9 Comments »

 

If you’ve lost a loved one in the past three years, chances are on November 15th you’d like to have taken a sleeping bill that would last until January 5th of 2013.

Truth is, all of us live life from one holiday ‘til the next. February brings Valentines, then Easter is next in line, followed by Mother’s Day/Father’s Day, then the 4th of July, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Of course, birthdays and anniversaries are sandwiched in between these festivities—and they are all difficult days.

Then we begin again. Next year.

But if you’re agonizing over the death of a loved one, holiday celebrations are brutal reminders of who’s not there to celebrate with you. You’re sad and lonely. Very lonely.

This year was the fifteenth Thanksgiving without Mama, the thirteenth without Daddy, and the twelfth without our daughter, Michelle. And Monday, the one before Thanksgiving, I had a complete meltdown.

You’d think after all this time I’d be able to get through a holiday event with only a twinge of an emotional setback. But when I opened Mama’s silver chest to polish those family treasures that would grace our dinner table, memories of Thanksgivings past rushed down the corridors of my mind, ripped through my heart, and tumbled out in a river of debilitating tears.

I collapsed in the middle of the floor and gave myself permission to shed tears of love and loss that honor the lives of those who’ve gone home before me.

Tears of grief are liquid healing. Tears that, scripture tells us, God saves in a bottle. Tears necessary to move us through the grief process and into our new normal.

But what happens to those who refuse the opportunity to cry and grieve? Are they stronger? Are those of us who weep and grieve weak?

Absolutely not.

Family members grieve in different manners—each person’s grief is unique. And most every family who has lost a loved one has at least one member who refuses to do their grief work. They choose instead to bury their grief alive because they believe their sorrow is much worse than anyone else and much too difficult for them to bear. Problem is when grief is buried alive there will be a resurrection one day. Or perhaps on many days, year, after year, after year—most often during holidays.

Graves of buried grief incubate anger. Anger blossoms into bitterness. Bitterness transforms itself into rage. And that rage dresses and terrorizes, in many colors and forms—sullenness, rudeness, unexplained irritability, unreasonableness, inability to demonstrate love within the family unit, stubborn refusal to participate in and accept the joy and thankfulness of the season. These reactions can damage or ultimately bring death to living relationships with family members who are dealing with their grief.

These desperate souls have stumbled unknowingly into the quagmire of grief and will not or cannot escape the devastating consequences of their wrong choices.

They are stuck in grief.

Can we do anything to help these scalded, scarred folks?

 Love and prayer. Prayer, prayer and then more love and prayer. As long as there is breath, there is hope.

But we  can’t heal them, only God can—if they seek Him. However, we must not allow ourselves to become entangled or sucked into their web of chaos. And that’s where the line in the sand must be drawn and the remedy may result in the need to create distance or space between ourselves and the one stuck in grief.

Like any other behavior, becoming stuck in grief is habitual. And habits are hard to break. However, catering to bad behavior ensnares all involved in co-dependent relationships.

There are no time limitations on grief or healing. People have come to GriefShare after forty years of being stuck in grief. And when they do the grief work, God promised to heal them and to restore the years the locust have eaten.

As we enter the Christmas Season where does Christmas 2012 find you? Like me, pausing to remember and shed those treasured tears of grief? Or are you the one stuck in grief? Or perhaps you find yourself dreading the family gathering around the tree or table this Christmas, fearing the eruption that is sure to come.

Surviving the Holidays is a wonderful place to begin the necessary healing. Go to the GriefShare website www.GriefShare.org and click on the link to find a Surviving the Holidays event near you. Ask family members to attend with you. Work to keep lines of communication open within the family. Ask God to break down strongholds of anger that have caused family discord.

Every holiday becomes bitter-sweet a few years after loss. And it’s okay to cry,  to feel sad, and to remember.

But hold onto the truth that the day is coming when there will be no more tears, no more separation, and no more death. ‘Til then, I’ve wondered what sized bottle God used for my tears these fifteen years? My guess is a giant washtub. What size bottle will He need to hold your tears?

“Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into Thy bottle; are they not in Thy book?” (Psalm 56:8 NKJ)

Ancient “tear bottles” were actually excavated by archaeologist in Israel. The vessels were used to catch and preserve the owner’s tears during their grief or difficult times.

If you need help dealing with your grief this Christmas Season, please feel free to respond to this blog. I have been  a GriefShare facilitator for the past nine years. There is help and hope available to you today.

Read Full Post »

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.

Read Full Post »

THE ROOT OF THE MATTER

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , , , , on June 28, 2012| Leave a Comment »

We purchased a home in Texas where four pear trees stood like sentinels between the sidewalk and the road. It was September and the trees had pears on them. Mmm, I could taste the soon-to-be pear preserves. There was not an abundant harvest that year, but the trees were young and there would always be next year.

The following spring there were few buds and the sprouting leaves unfurled to reveal withered, yellow-brown ones instead of the expected abundance of spring green.

Being city folks we checked with a neighbor. He suspected root knot and said the only choice was to cut them down and dig up the trunks and roots. Sure enough, his diagnosis was correct. The roots were knotted and dying.

Growing trees in Texas is a challenge. It takes a hardy tree to withstand our heat and long dry spells and the belligerent soil was certainly no help. The ground turns to mush after a good rain, then hard as rock the day after. And, then it dries up, cracks open, leaving bottomless craters in the landscape.

With this wild fluctuation, roots can’t form the necessary network to support the weight of the tree. Like our pear trees, if roots aren’t healthy, the tree will die.

But isn’t that true with of all of us? When my foundation isn’t strong and healthy in the Lord, my roots aren’t able to support and sustain me during the storms of life. I will be like a tree, twisted and broken, possibly uprooted when winds begin to blow.

Many of us travel through life with root-knotted hearts caused by unresolved abuse, injury or grief.  Pain of fear and loneliness that has pressed down on us, layer upon layer for years. Pain of guilt sequestered in dark corners of our hearts. Pain of anger left to fester and seep poison into every area of our lives and relationships.

Unlike root-knotted trees, root-knotted hearts can be healed. The Lord created our hearts for eternity. He alone can cure the diseases we bury deep inside. But we must expose each one of them to the brilliant light and healing balm of the Lord Jesus Christ. The Word of God will be the water, the fertilizer, and the stimulator that encourages new roots to develop and grow. God stimulated roots that will anchor us in the flowing river of His love. Strong roots that will carry His healing power to transform our hearts.

I know well the misery of famished roots, stunted growth, slow death. For much of my life there were gnarled layers of anger and anguish lurking in the dark chambers of my heart. Scarred roots entombed in my subconscious.

Until the moment of my daughter’s death.

My heart exploded like a shaken-up can of soda pop. Those acid strings of heartache and turmoil I had stifled so many years ago now resurrected the ghosts of injuries past—abuse by an uncle in my childhood, lies, unrealistic expectations, verbal and emotional abuse from a spouse, divorce, four deaths in three years—all beyond my ability to deal with. The abuses and sorrows trampled over me and I had no strength to shove them back into the crevices where I’d kept them hidden for more than forty years.

They had to be dug-up, one infected root at a time. Just like I had to dig up those pear trees. The good news for me—Jesus will not throw me on the trash heap like I threw those trees, nor does He play the three strikes—you’re out game. No. He tells me to bring my anguish and afflictions to Him, with open hands, and leave them there. On the altar. In the care of my loving and righteous and just God who will deal with the pain, with the cause, and with me in a loving, righteous, and just manner. Then He will wash me and fill me with His joy. His hope.

I encourage you to ask the Spirit of God to bring to your mind those debilitating wounds tucked into the hidden hide-outs of your heart so that you can surrender every heartache and shame to the One who created you, loves you, and longs to heal you.

            “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper” (Psalm 1:1-3 KJ).

                       

 

Read Full Post »

SWIFT TO HEAR . . . .SLOW TO WRATH

Posted in A Nation Divided, tagged , , , on April 5, 2012| 4 Comments »

A week ago, without warning, the cable cut out in our apartment in Longview, Texas. By mid-afternoon service was restored—to every apartment except ours.

I began making phone calls, and each call ratcheted my frustration and my wealth of words several notches. It was as if each customer sales rep read their reply from the same index card, regardless the problem. They didn’t listen. They didn’t help. They didn’t care.

I left for Dallas the next day, expecting the cable to be restored by the time I returned to Longview the following Monday. My husband and I planned to have dinner in front of the television and watch the national basketball championship game. But seven days and six phone calls later—still no cable.

Now I’ve got swift to hear and slow to wrath nailed—but slow to speak? Not so much.

I grabbed the phone and called the past list of service assistance numbers only to receive the message, “a part was missing and they were awaiting it’s arrival.” Now I’m no technical Einstein, but seems to me if a part was missing everyone in the building would have been without service, right? And I told them so. After a plethora of phone calls I connected with a supervisor who promised she would get to the heart of the problem. Two hours later I called her back and the phone message said the number was invalid.

Anger doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Pastor’s Sunday message on the subject of anger flashed through my mind: But now you also, put them all aside: anger, rage, malice, slander, and abusive speech from your mouth (Colossians 3:8 NAS.)

 Still I tried to argue with God. “I only get angry when people don’t do what they ought to do.”

The Spirit answered, “You don’t do what the Word tells you to do.”

Ouch. With the cover ripped off my own sin I cried out to God. “My temper has flared again. God, I’m so sorry. Please extinguish this fire.”

The Spirit’s finger poked my heart. That’s the reason the Bible is called The Water of the Word—use it to douse your malicious, angry words.

Had I spoken, or even thought about the Word of God? Had I sought His help to solve this situation? No. I rehearsed inflammatory words, hateful thoughts, and a plan of action that would fan the flames instead of encourage solutions. I missed the mark. Again.

Late in the afternoon, the supervisor I had spoken with called to say the problem would be fixed within twenty-four hours. Another twenty-four hours? The Spirit reminded me of my earlier confession and God’s faithful forgiveness—I did my best to use words laced with grace.

Through the night fiery darts zoomed into my mind: But they took seven days. Those reps were rude. Their business practices are unacceptable. Then God’s Words of wisdom and understanding spoke to my heart: Turn the other cheek. A gentle answer turns away wrath. Let it go.

It’s my choice now. Satan’s fiery darts? Or God’s wisdom and understanding?

Perhaps I’d better add the rest of that verse—slow to speak—to my short list and not give Satan so much information from my mouth for a frontal assault.

Do you struggle in this area? Or am I the lone-loud-mouthed-hot-head on the planet who must continually flee to the cross of my Lord Jesus to crucify the prideful idol of self?

“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.” (James 1:19 KJ)

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts