Faith and Loss

How do we reconcile our faith with profound loss?  How do we make sense out of something that doesn't make sense?  It seems that I'm spinning my wheels trying to find some sense in the midst of this great loss. In a sense, I guess I'm trying to figure God out...trying to catch a glimpse of His plan but it's impossible for me to see right now.  I sit here, in the middle of my grief, piling up my ashes around me thinking that somehow that will help. I'm wrestling with God...wrestling with "the plan", working my brain into a frenzy trying to figure out what's going on - what I'm supposed to do with all this emotion. Today, in this moment...I must confess that I haven't got a clue...not one inkling of an idea about the what, where and how of it all.

I know that my Dad is in Heaven.  On the one hand, I'm fully aware of his absence from his physical body but on the other hand I find it unfathomable that he is gone.  I keep thinking that somehow this has been a terrible mistake...that it was the wrong body in that ICU bed...that at any moment I'll pick up the phone and he'll be on the other end.  My mind knows he is gone from this world but my heart is having a most difficult time catching up.  I've heard it said that the heart wants what the heart wants...my heart wants my Dad, here and healthy.  I know, I know, it's selfish of me.  My profound loss is Heaven's profound gain...my tragedy is Heaven's rejoicing.  I don't mean to say that Heaven rejoices in my sorrow but that the loss which causes my great sorrow caused great rejoicing in Heaven.  I know that I know that I know that my Dad heard those wonderful words of welcome from the Heavenly Father, Well done, good and faithful servant...welcome home!"

How do I reconcile my faith with my loss... TRUST!  In the middle of the dark night of the soul...I will choose to trust Him.  Sometimes, I feel like I'm starting from scratch and more often than not I need to strip away all the trappings of religion and denomination and get back to basics...get back to the heart of the matter.  I'm not there yet but I have the desire to get there...to learn to trust the Lord again...or maybe to trust Him fully for the first time.  I'm so glad that I serve a Saviour who is acquainted with my grief and understands my human-ness.  Who suffered in human flesh so that He could identify with my human flesh.  The Heavenly Father can absorb a lot and I'm grateful for that fact.  Right now, I seem to be somewhere between faith and my loss. There's an old pop song that comes to mind when I think of where I am in my relationship with my Saviour.  It's a song sung by The Four Seasons called "Working my Way Back to You" and the lyric that came to me just now was "I'll keep working my way back to you, babe, with a burning love inside..."  I just changed "babe" to "Lord". 

So, that's what I'll keep doing...working my way back to you Lord with a burning love inside.

The Long Goodbye

My sweet husband got the call last night from his mother. His grandmother is not doing well and has been given very little chance of recovery. She is 88 years old - a wonderful soul! A true "southern lady" - she was always so gracious to me, even before I became a "granddaughter in law". She is a retired nurse and before she was diagnosed with Alzhiemers Disease, she took care of anyone and everyone who was sick. That was her gift. She could make the grumpiest patient feel better. She cared for Granddaddy Freeman (whom I never had the pleasure of knowing) while he battled cancer and then later in life cared for her second husband who also had cancer. She is a strong, independent woman, so my mother in law comes by her strength and independence quite honestly. I know that it has been difficult for her to watch "MaMa" deteriorate over the last several years. Unfortunately, none of us "kids" have been in close enough proximity to provide any type of physical help in the care of MaMa these last few years. It is true, what they say about Alzhiemers - it really is the "long goodbye." The grandmother that we all know has been gone now for a while - but her earthly vessel is here and somehow that has brought comfort...just knowing she is still here.

My husband and his 2 sisters have so many wonderful memories of spending summers at her house. I've heard so many stories, and each one brings a smile to the one telling the tale and those of us listening. She loved the outdoors, loved to garden and work in her yard. She could make a paper clip grow...her yard was a showplace - the colors and the smells-WOW, you just can't imagine. Green thumb is an understatement! She didn't care to much for squirrels though...they were all kinda "skeert" of her and rightly so.


And now, we wait for the call that will inevitably come. Waiting is a difficult thing and as we wait, I realize that she's been waiting a long, long time to be reunited with Granddaddy F, her son R and her parents. Heaven is before her -in all it's splendor...the place that Jesus has prepared for her awaits her arrival - a place where she'll be whole and able to think clearly. A place where loved ones wait for her and a place where we will see her again someday. Her loss will be felt deeply by all of us who know and love her, but we are comforted to know that she will be with Jesus, whom she has loved and served so diligently for so many wonderful years.


Kirstyn, Sara Beth, Garrett in MaMa's lap, Connor, Cole -July 2005

"I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

I can only imagine


[Chorus:]
Surrounded by Your glory,
what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine

I can only imagine