Work. I began working when I was fifteen years old. It is what I do best work. Work is labor, doing, achieving, or producing. A few months ago I quit my job for medical reasons and was placed in a season of rest. The word “receive” kept coming up. Receive is very different than work. Receive is accepting it is not necessarily doing anything other than accepting/obtaining, tough words for a doer that is used to doing. What was and is God saying to me? I have to admit I frequent thought of how I could manage to go back to work or even working remotely. The same answer kept coming back to me, “not yet.” Fiddle sticks. The same word “receive” God was/is speaking to me. Receive.

Someone had a smidge about God doing a work in us rather than us working for God. It checked a box with me. In fact it went right along with what I was reading on receiving. Check, check. Full picture coming into swing (because to be honest I am slow; I tell my husband I am the slowest most educated person he will ever meet-lol). Rest. Receive. I am so used to working, giving, doing it doesn’t register to receive, in fact it’s downright difficult to receive rest.

I had spent thousands of dollars out of pocket on medical providers, various tests, therapy, etc.… to help me figure out what was wrong with me. Some of it was helpful but in the end I got frustrated and walked away for a much needed medical break. My estrogen was through the roof at 1240 (that is cancer level high and yes we are addressing it), my anxiety was honestly debilitating- I didn’t want to leave my house most days, and my health was suffering ( I have sense put back on some weight but under a hundred pounds at 45 years old is not healthy). To be raw and honest I was asking God to take me because death seemed like a relief. Yes, it has gotten better but that is the brutal reality of where I was at and where I have come from. I was pretty open about longing for death and spoke of it openly because it helped ease the pain ( this did not make my husband happy as you can imagine).

Rest. Receive. I am so used to praying, “God make me ready for the work,” I didn’t realize I had burned out and my body was changing and not dealing with the “burn out” at all anymore. Rest. Receive. What a mess we make when we don’t listen to our bodies.  We just got back from vacation (a vacation I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go on but my girls were not having my absence, so I trudged through it to make memories with them- the social media pictures looked great but oh it was so difficult for me- so, so difficult for me).

Rest is a time-out of sorts, repose. No work. Receive. First receive the love God has for me. Just receive it don’t do anything because there is nothing to do other than receive, accept God’s love me. Whew that is difficult stuff receiving. It shouldn’t be but it is in our culture mentality of achieving, doing, never stop to catch our breath society. If only we can make people understand all they have to do is receive God’s love first and foremost. How many lives might be changed? Just accept God loves you, receive that love, and soak in it.

Next I had to recognize God is doing a work in me and receive it, just receive it. The season of rest is a gift, receive my gift, be grateful, and enjoy it. Blink, blink.  No scheming to get back to work, no applying for remote jobs, just rest and receiving. It has taken three and half months for that sink in, for that message to penetrate my heart and mind. The season I am in R & R: rest and receiving and its okay to enjoy it (aghast, its okay to enjoy not working, blink blink). Its okay learning to self-care. Its okay setting boundaries and saying no (wow).

I did survive the vacation with memories in tow. And I am discovering my love for landscaping and gardening ( another blink, blink moment). I mean I have begun mowing the backyard and weed-eating (first time for everything and I like it). I haven’t been outside this much since I was a kid! And reading, I am currently reading three books at the same time some days four or five. I sit for hours and read with the trees, birds, squirrels, and the sun. And I ponder often. Prayer has become habitual like breathing air so is talking to God. And as one of my therapists said, “you can smile even during anxiety, its okay to smile, life is still good.”  And I do. I have learned to deep breath and smile. Deep breath and smile. Life is okay, life is content, even blissful, rough patches and all.

Sometimes a season of rest is neither about how well one does a task nor ones inability to perform a task but rather the act of actually resting in self-care. God has allowed me to get off the merry-go-round but that doesn’t mean I can’t get back on it in the future.

When it feels as though something is taken or we are asked to give something up, we immediately ask “what did I do wrong?” as if God is punishing us. While God will correct us at times we must remember seasons of rest are about quieting the noise about and within us so we can recover by renewing our energy and enthusiasm for the task ahead.

In truth, I find a season of rest daunting and terrifying a little. In theory I find it appealing and desirous. I am a worker bee, I enjoy the work, it gives me identity, purpose, and focus but in reality the work does not bring me those things – only God does.

My body has served me well for 45 years, allowing me to push it, take advantage of it, and at times only meagerly care for it. Now it has asked for time to transition through chemical changes created by fluctuating hormones and fatigue. In truth my first response was no response at all but a reaction to push, demand, and pull it to what I wanted. Then my body like a rogue wave crashed upon me, knocking me to the ground, still I got up in fierceness reacted by demanding it do my bidding. Again my body knocked me down to the ground after two months of this I felt I would surely drown if something did not change. And deep down I felt stupid, weak, and ashamed for needing a break. I am after all a PILLAR! Pillars don’t take breaks.

Then God ever so lovingly but firmly said, “It is time LaNissa.” I said, “no surely not see the difference my working is making, its what You gifted me for, what I trained eight years for, this has to be a trick from the enemy.” Again God spoke to me by my inner and outer circle of people confirming that God indeed was directing me to a season of rest. And again I heard ever so lovingly but firmly, “It’s time LaNissa.”

I cried and cried, I had a sway of emotions over take me and God allowed me to mourn and then ever so lovingly, He said “this isn’t a punishment or forever but MY gift to you, all will be well. You have worked diligently and you have completed the task set before you.”

When I looked up from my sorrow, tears streaming down my face I realized God had graciously provided me with multiple people that enclosed me within a tight circle to shelter me (from myself) as they all tenderly walked me to the place I desperately need to be at (and it wasn’t an easy walk because well I am me after all). They all spoke ministering words that soothed my broken heart and weary mind. They assured me all would be well and one day I’d be fit for the merry-go-round again but until then to enjoy my season in the beautiful meadow of rest. A place were Daylilies bloom and nightingales sing, a place where the warmth of the sun will fall on my toes, a place I can howl under the moon, a place to enjoy fire pits and gather those near to my heart to make memories that will never fade. And a place to seek healing.

So I found myself walked to entrance of the “season of rest” and the door pulled open and before I knew it I had stepped through the looking glass. And I sit wide-eyed in this new season of health, renewal, and kindness to myself, wondering, pondering, and resting.

Last year at this time I was with my sister, it would be the last night I’d spend with her. She died at 6:30 am on November 30^th. I can tell you that no matter how much you think you are ready for death, you are not. There is guilty, there is sadness, there is relief, and there are unanswered questions that all seem to linger.

November 29, 2019, started off with my sister requesting orange sherbert to which my mother fed her, at this point she was no longer able to hold a spoon. She was still very much able to voice her likes and dislikes that is for sure! After Kiya was settled my mother left to go home and tend to her cat for a few hours, it was quiet in my house with just my sister and I (my son was upstairs, soon off to work). It was then, she quickly fell into a deep sleep, she waited until my mother left, she held on for our mother, and she waited until my mother left the house to begin the process of dying. She waited unit it was just she and I….

I knew it would be me that would be the one to stay with her, I knew she would never be able to let go if my mother was in the room. After several hours passed, I realized she was letting go. My mother came back, and she knew. She knew she had to stay out of that room. It was a peaceful day, I was on the couch next to my sister reading listening to soft worship music, the lights were dim, and my dogs were near her- the way she would want it to have been. I slept next to her, waking up every 30minutes to an hour to check on her. But she waited until I fell asleep for two hours, she knew I was next her though. I remember thinking how I could I have fallen asleep that long?! – Not having any sleep for days on end that is how. Our mother was in the next room not ten feet away, having fallen asleep herself again not having any sleep for weeks on end- will do that. Kiya knew were finally asleep, and she let go.

She fought cancer tooth and nail, kicking, and screaming. She fought a good fight. I tried to keep her as comfortable as possible that night. Our mother came in and told her she loved her, she held her, she kissed her, and then I had to make her leave the room. One of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life was watching my mother let go of her youngest child, as she tenderly cared for Kiya during the last few months of her life. I hope you never have to tell a mother she has to leave the room so her child can die, I hope you never have to hear the howl of a mother that has just lost her child, I hope you never have to restrain a mother as the funeral home takes her youngest child away in a body bag. These are things I have to carry, the burdens of love, the duty of love, and the emotion of loving.

During Kiya’s last week alive, a select few loved ones were permitted to come see her and say their goodbyes. Oh, the tears shed, the many hugs, the many wails broke my heart in two. It was me that had to endure that with Kiya, as she sobbed, it was me that had to remind her it was not forever but just for a little while. I could not cry, there was no time to cry, it was not my time to cry, no it was my task to carry her to the finish line while cradling her emotionally as I ushered people out of the house, offering what little comfort I could to them.

What is comfort in the face of death? I will tell you what comfort is- it is knowing that death is not forever, it is knowing that death is but a fleeting echo in the new life to come with your Savior. Comfort is knowing that death is not a permanent situation but a temporary one.

There is no “solace” in death other than knowing your loved one is not suffering any more. There is no relief in knowing that you have to wait what seems an eternity to be united with them. And the truth is there is nothing that can ease the pain of death, the sting it leaves on your soul. Praying doesn’t take it away, it may ease the distress of it, but it does not remove it completely. The raw truth is death hurts like hell, and it echoes throughout the months like someone yelling down a canyon. It reiterates over and over again like a story that is on repeat. It is a picture you cannot erase, an emotion you cannot stop, or a melody you can’t get out of your head.

I am not stronger for having walked my sister to death, nor do I have more strength for watching my mother go through her own private hell, I do not view myself as anything but dutiful. Many things present itself as love but most fall short. Love is more than endorphins that influence our emotions, love is more than just a description (because people love a million things), love in its best form is devoted, duty bound, and encompassing. Lover covers, bringing shelter in the wake of grief and agony. It accommodates and protects as it turns into a place of refuge.

 In this I loved my sister until she could no longer love back, I walked her through the valley of death that night, talking softly to her until she regained her sight and she could finally see the light. Her blight was over as her fight was ending, and she was then able to walk into the invite she had received from the One that would make it alright. I knew then as I know now that we will be reunited, as the air turns bright, and it will be so grand to be hand in hand, once again- as the new dawn becomes our delight, and there is never any twilight…

I love you to the moon and back kiddo… and I have the battle scars to prove it. 😊

As I sit and write this tomorrow I turn 44 years old and it will be the first time in my 44 years that my father will not be here, it will also be the first time in 38 years my baby sister will not be here, both died less than five months apart. My birthdays are always difficult, aging is not for the faint of heart, and I never appreciated my birthday really, the vanity in me is reminded my youth is gone (that and my 12-year-old loves to remind me I am getting old). This birthday I will not have my father calling me up sing the Beatles song “Today is Your birthday, it’s my birthday too” and I will not have my sister to text me about getting “old.” I have to admit it stings just a little or maybe quite a lot.

Each year on my birthday I usually go to the beach to slip away and enjoy some “me time” but this year we were unable to go because my senior in high school was being honored at Senior Night and last year I did not want to be that far from Kiya as she was terminal. So this Labor Day weekend has been gloomy for me while I have enjoyed the sunshine, my heart has been sad, a sadness I cannot shake off, and I have been blooming full force in a gloominess.  I have to admit I have not been easy to live with as I’d like to just fall into a murky pit of ashes and roll around feeling sorry for myself or maybe just allowing myself to feel sorrow…  I think to myself, your sister didn’t live to be this old, you really don’t have the right to not be grateful your alive but still I find myself encrusted in gloom, drenched in an internal warfare of sadness, waves of mourning ebbing in that I was not prepared for.

Then I think to myself why are you whining? You live a blessed life, look at the people out there struggling just to have the basic necessities of life, and you are whining about “feeling” sad… sigh – the internal struggle is real. I think the truth about humanity is we are all struggling with something we keep hidden because it is just too painful to share or confront. We are all trying to fill some void in our life with varies things to no avail. We carry on as if everything is okay and we have it pulled together but the truth is we don’t and we sit in our suffering through silence. I admit I have hidden behind academics and my studies… when I graduate with my doctorate I think, eh… what’ch gonna do chickadee? No place to run after that because I dare not enter into another doctorate program (I may be killed by my family). 🙂

I have learned to center prayer twice a day and I have come to love those times when I can get quiet and still before the Lord. When I first began center prayer two years ago, I tried it kicking and screaming for a class but I quickly began to love it. It is very different than the intercession of the charismatic background I am used too. I have learned to invite God into my emptiness during those prayer times, inviting God into my darkness (yes you read that correct darkness). We have all felt empty and we all dabble with a dark-side no point in pretending to be holier than thou.  God reminds me that I am not to avoid the sorrow or the suffering but to walk into them confronting both the emptiness and the darkness head on. He reminds me I am not empty but full of the Holy Spirit nor does darkness linger within me because His light dwells within each room of my heart and mind, illuminating the shadows that lurk around me. My circumstances may feel over-whelming at times but they will not overwhelm me (insert the He-Man cartoon with the sword as he yells “I have the power!”).

My heart is still heavy with mixed emotion but I know that emotion will not drown me even though it may want too. I know that I will put one foot in front of the other and carry on another year and be more grateful I have the opportunity to honor my sister and my father with the life I have been given, along with all the memories I have of them (some good, some bad but all entangled in our tree of life, deeply rooted within my heart). I have learned to give myself permission (very difficult for me) to feel, to cry, and to mourn all while celebrating… it is certainly what both my father and sister would have wanted.

As I close this blog, I am reminded of a time we were celebrating my middle sister’s birthday, we lived in Rhode Island, it was very cold and snowy… as we reviewed the taped video, right in the middle was Kiya’s little face (about 4yrs old) in front of the camera showing the world her booboo on her eye… Or the time I had my first slumber party bday, watching Ghostbusters and my dad jumping up and screaming, scaring the bajezees out of us girls, popcorn went everywhere… fun memories, sad heart, but feet that keep moving forward. Tis the year of 44 for me…

Psalms 139:14 “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” There is always a reason to worship the Lord in every circumstance in every situation, through every emotion… you were fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God!

This afternoon I had the opportunity to talk to one of my former youth students regarding love and what it means as a Christian. It was a complex talk because I found there was some misunderstanding over Jesus’ command to “love everybody” in fact what Jesus says is “love everyone as I have loved you.” That is a sacrificial love. I fear as a church we have taken Jesus’ words out of context and we paint a picture of a kumbaya Jesus that never offended anyone. Jesus offended people on a daily basis, He was notorious for offending people! I know that is not a vision we like to see in the modern church where we have this perception that everybody should feel comfortable but the fact is not everybody is going to feel comfortable with truth or the holiness that leads us to truth. Love in the context that Jesus, Peter, Paul, and the rest of apostles are teaching is first and foremost share the Gospel with everyone do not discriminate who gets to hear the good news: 1. God is King, 2. Jesus offers salvation and restoration, and 3. Sins are washed away- this news is for EVERYONE to hear. If they choose to reject it then that is their right but we do not have the authority to alter truth to make them comfort with it. The second part of love that is being taught through Jesus and the apostles is have compassion and kindness for everyone that means if someone falls help them up, if someone is sick make soup, if you can help someone do it don’t discriminate who you offer aid too. Love does not mean accept, celebrate, or rejoice at lifestyles that lead someone out of God’s will or truth. Love people well but that does not in anyway mean you will not offend them with your faith or the truth of the Gospel. I fear we have created a church that is more worried about being politically correct than spiritual healthy. Only healthy people can help sick people. Jesus said it is the sick that need help not the well and He meant spiritually not just physically.

As Christians we live in a kingdom which is not a republic ( and I cannot stress that enough), we don’t get to vote on what we want to accept in God’s Kingdom, God is King and He makes the rules, He defines truth, and He sets the standards we are to live by. When we enter into God’s Kingdom, we give up autonomy that is the right to self-govern or live anyway we choose. God does not bully people into His kingdom, He invites people. And when we enter we it is with the understanding we must live under His leadership, His rule, not our own. That means we don’t get to rewrite truth to suit our own needs or to make someone feel comfortable in His presence. In fact most people in sin will not feel comfortable in God’s presence at first that is why we are to lead in love. God is holy and holiness demands respect.

Our commission is to reveal God’s love by sharing the Good News of the Gospel, there is a way out of sin and into redemption and also that God is King right now in the present world!! That is exciting and should excite us as believers, it should be the fuel that feeds our motivation to share our faith. That is loving people. In Jesus’ day it was outrageous to the Jewish People that God’s Kingdom would allow Gentiles in, it was extremely offensive to the Jewish religious leaders, after all Gentiles were the enemy of Israel. Yet, Gentiles were accepted and that also meant they did not have to convert to Judaism a term not even around during the time of Jesus, it meant God accepted a Gentile as a Gentile but that did not mean they could live anyway they wanted too, they were called to live by God’s standard as Holy people. Love in Jesus’ day meant offering Gentiles the right to become holy (they had to repent which means change of heart, change of desire, submission to God’s way) and today it means offering people in sin the right to become Holy people. Again, it also means they have to give autonomy up to live in God’s Kingdom.

The most exciting thing about the Gospel message is that through Jesus we find our true authenticity by the restoration Jesus brings to our lives to be Image Bearers of God the very thing we were designed for which is stated clearly in Genesis 1:26-27. The world offers a lot of counterfeit truths, a lot of substitutes but none of them bring true authenticity because that can only be found in the Messiah Jesus. Through Jesus we have the opportunity to become new creations with a new way of going about life, a new way to be human… that does not mean it is your job to make everyone comfortable with your faith but it does mean you have been empowered to reveal the love of God and lead people to the source of your transformation. Christianity and faith are not about making people comfortable but about revealing the love of God and leading them to the source of your change all while sharing the hope that has been given to you. 2 Corinthians 5:17 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

Psalm 98:1 “Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him.” Now is the time to let people hear the song of praise you have for the Lord, sing boldly to Him and for Him for He is worthy. Tell everyone the wonderful things He has done for you, share your faith and reveal God’s love within you.

This is the second death in less than five months I have had to endure and there is a gloom in the air at times. The sky is grey today and it is softly raining, befitting since my father passed away this morning. Still I am a girl hopelessly dreaming, seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, a girl that sees God moving even in death. I am my father’s daughter and when I was growing up people knew when I walked in the room whose daughter I was especially with my red hair, the only kid that had his red hair (more white now than anything). Oddly I was not a daddy’s girl but a momma’s girl but still I am my father’s daughter, no mistake about that.

The last time I saw my father was about five years ago and he didn’t recognize me. I recall someone telling him, that it was his daughter, he was confused at first, it wasn’t registering… you see that is the life of an addict. His ammonia levels were so high it was causing disorientation… after he was hospitalized and drained, he recognized me, hugged me, the niceties of family. My father was a good man, a caring man, a generous man, a man that would give you the shirt off his back. He had a fierce temper though and it wouldn’t do to cross him. He wasn’t always an addict, there was a period he was sober and clean, he renewed his relationship with the Lord, was very active in our church, did tons of outreach programs, and was even a deacon in the church. Addiction is a disease that is not contained to just the user, it is a disease (and it is a DISEASE make no mistake) that seeps out grabbing at the users family, sometimes it is a soft sprinkle, but often times it is a down pour of disappointments, mistakes, regrets, apologizes, selfishness, tears, and so the list could go on… My children did not get to grow up knowing how wonderful their grandfather was because his addiction kept me at bay most of their life, I could not risk exposing my children to that type of environment. During his life my father did all kinds of drugs but in the end, alcohol was what consumed him. His liver was shot and the doctor was certain he had liver cancer. And that was the end of the conversation for my dad, he would not treat it, not consent to a biopsy, that was it… You did not argue with Red Man, he was force to be reckoned with.

My parents divorced when I was very little; therefore, I am a product of divorce and I say product because I do not consider myself a victim, still I have been WELL loved through out my life. It has not been a perfect love because only God can offer a perfect love but I have been well loved by both of my parents in their own unique way. I am stronger for all the experiences I have accumulated throughout my life and I am now able to draw from them to reach others. I am proud of the man my father was, despite his addiction. He was a good man consumed by a disease, gone too early and the earth will miss a genuine soul being taken prematurely.

 My father taught me many things but a few of the most crucial things he brought to me was 1. A love for Jesus, he planted a deep seed of faith within my heart for the Lord and I will forever be grateful to him for that 2. To work hard, being a girl doesn’t mean I cannot do it, and to accomplish anything worthy in life will require hard work, not to be afraid to get my hands dirty because I am not above dirt and grime. He could be rough, down right tough on the lessons but I am better for the ware.  3. To give, help others, he was always helping someone, my motto is help those you can, stretch if necessary, and pray for those you can’t reach at all…

My heart is deeply saddened at my father’s passing, but I know he was ready, he had made peace with God, and his body was failing, he was ready. However, it is a profound loss as a child because even at 43 years of age I am still someone’s child, that one of my protectors is gone, one of the people that would jump in front of a bullet for me is gone.  The last words my father said to me were “I love you,” through his wife, days before he died. Each year he would call me on my birthday and sing the Beatles song “today is your birthday, its my birthday too…” I will never hear that again in this lifetime and that cuts a little, it really cuts deep. Heaven… heaven lives in me, not just because I am a believer but because it holds pieces of my heart.

The sun weeps today, the wind howls, and my world shakes at your passing today but tomorrow is a new day, the sun will rise, the wind will be a gentle breeze, and my world will steadily go on, knowing I will see you again one day.

Psalm 4:8 “I will both lie down in peace, and sleep; For You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Love you forever daddy…

Good Evening…

John 16:33 “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

It’s has been a difficult month, while there have been some happy moments, there has been a lot of darkness too. I once read a quote that said “grief is like glitter, no matter how good you clean the glitter up, you always find glitter later in the cracks you can’t get too because it is impossible to get it all up.” Most people don’t know I have a diagnosis of anxiety, while it plagued me pretty severely in my past, now I only suffer with it from time to time, I know how to better deal with it at this age and as cliché as it sounds God anchors me, offering a refuge of healing specifically for it. Prayer is my anchor in the midst of anxiety, period.

This week it struck vehemently, sigh. Grief and anxiety have been on my emotional menu the past two weeks from not being able to sleep from anxiousness or the one day, I found myself walking my dog and the next moment I’m crying in the middle of the yard while he pooped… Like what the what?! LOL… Probably some of that is hormonal because at 43 and one ovary it happens but I also think the older we get the more we feel pain and the more we feel, the more we empathize with others in their struggles, recognizing our own pain that needs dealt with.

After the death of my sister in November came my father’s cancer diagnosis and rapid health decline in January, followed by the death of our cat last week from cancer (to be honest I felt plagued by death and cancer). I began to feel the weight of all of it burdening my heart, seeping into my mind, and drenching me in sadness… For me grief is like an ocean it ebbs and flows like the tide. I wish there was just one raging fire of grief that could be extinguished, so then I could move on but grief is like a snake it strikes when it wants to without warning, like the tide drenching and drowning me.

Today I went to pick up the last of my sister’s belongings and I saw him… her dog Cash, it’s the first time I’ve seen him since she passed and I wasn’t prepared, I lost it… big fat tears rolled down my face as Pink Floyd’s, Wish You Where Here played on the radio… like the universe was torturing me, playing an ugly joke or telling me, deal with it, it’s there, you can’t avoid grief forever. Although I felt like I had dealt with grief throughout her illness especially the last few months, when she got so sick and she needed constant care but perhaps it wasn’t in fullness.

Today, I got a new tattoo in memory of my sister. I have one already for her, I had done while she was still on this earth but through all of this dizzy, dazing emotions that have left me feeling numb, exhausted, and detached, I decided I needed a new one in connection to her memory and to remind myself to keep shining in the midst of darkness,. We had always talked about getting a tattoo together but she passed away before we could do it. So, today I went down and used the same artist that did her sleeve tattoo, we talked about Kiya as he was working on my wrist, and I felt a cathartic sentiment fall on me. It does not take the grief away, that will never leave, but it comforts me having a new connection to her (I am sure Dutch doesn’t know the totality of what he brought me today but that’s okay, I know it). I say comfort as in an ease, reduce, or lessen of sorrow.

In my experience there is nothing like a sister, she knows all your childhood secrets, shares in your aching heart, sees you at your worse, and watches you transition from child to adult and still loves you. Kiya was always one of my biggest cheerleaders, pushing me to teach, pastor, and reach people. We ebbed and flowed in each other’s lives with support and love… I miss that more than I can say but tonight I have a little star tattoo to look at reminding me to keep going, stretching out of my comfort zone, and to steep deep in compassion, so kindness overflows from me like a shining light blazing bright… something that oozed with ease out of my sister, even as she was dying, always thinking about others, shining bright despite the blackest night upon her.  

Galatians 5:22-23 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I’ve had three babies and with each one they all taught me how to love a little more deeply, what sacrifice means but those things were nothing compared to the love God was teaching me through the passing of my sister. I have a lovely sister; she is six years younger than myself. Almost two years ago she was diagnosed with stage III cervical cancer, it quickly spread to stage IV, in the end it was in her liver and outside of her small and large intestine.

I thought I knew what sacrificial love was but I was wrong, I knew lack of sleep, giving up of my time, sharing my meal, having my closet raided, or my socks taken, those were sacrifices I was used to (the raising of children). Sacrificial love is much deeper than those things it is relinquishing control, it is giving up your space, it is forfeiting the things that comfort you, the area(s) of your life that reassure you-you are in a safe place, and ultimately  the things that you secretly worship (unknowingly) because you have retained control. God began to show me how selfish I was when I was caring for my sister in her finally weeks, He began to break walls down in areas I didn’t even know existed. I had no idea how many places selfishness could hide… When you watch someone slowly die, each day there is suffering, each day there are tears, each day there are questions of why (and you can’t answer), each day you watch someone you love fight like hell to stay alive as her body is dying but her mind stays intact… you tend to want to sink into selfishness, thinking about yourself, cocooning yourself in a softness that eases the blow of what you are enduring.  

People all around you tell you take care of you but what does that mean when you are staring into death with someone you love? There is no “you” in love, there is no “I” in love, what is taking care of self in a time of crisis? Taking care of me was taking care of my sister and my mother that was taking of myself but oh the bitterness of realizing how selfish I was as I grumbled about the task before me, grumbling about things underneath my breath… grumbling out of frustration, grumbling out of anger, grumbling because I couldn’t fix things, and grumbling because I had to sacrifice… that is a raw description of me and it’s not pretty. Death is an unwanted invasion, an assault not only on the body but on the mind and it affects everyone in it’s path… but even in death there are lessons to be learned because God is always talking, always revealing Himself to us, and things that keep us from His fullness. Difficult words to understand but truth. Lessons…

It’s getting up and having the t.v. blaring even though you are used to silence, it’s eating alone because you can’t eat in front of someone that is starving because she can no longer hold food down because she has no bowel sounds, it’s having your house turned upside down and your kids routines off because you have been chosen to be a safe haven where she can find true rest and have love surround her, it’s making sure the dogs are put up so they don’t wake her when she sleeps (which was 90% of the day), it’s sitting through fairytale movies for the 100^th time because it makes her happy, it’s sponge bathing your sister and positioning her head so she can throw-up because she is too weak to do it herself, it’s cleaning her puke ten times a day, it’s changing her multiple times a day, it’s making sure she smells good and sharing your perfume, its positioning her legs, rolling her, and making sure the covers are not on her feet, its setting your alarm between 330-4am everyday so you can start your shift, its sleeping with your bedroom door open so you can hear her call out in case your mother falls asleep, it’s comforting her as she cries, terrified of death, terrified she isn’t good enough for God to receive…. Death takes you out of your comfort zone, it makes you rethink what selfish behavior is, it makes you confront the areas of yourself you have ignored.

Love is messy, it is uncomfortable at times, and it most certainly requires you to be sacrificial in ways you can’t imagine. It demands you lose self and all the things that feed in to self(ishness), that includes losing this romanticized ideology of love and death and battling it out in servanthood.

I have learned that when I tell God all that I have is His that includes my space… the place where I find comfort, the interstellar universe of the home I have created, the atmosphere I cherish the most, the place my freedom is most felt because in surrendering that to God, I have learned you will be uncomfortable, you will lose your liberties, it will be unpleasant at times, and it will be difficult. Why? Because “self” lingers in those things we hold sacred… home is a hollow a ground we dare not share, we dare not sacrifice… To love someone means you are willing to let go of your consecrated ground and invite them in making a shared  dwelling where they feel but more importantly a place they experience your comfort, freedom, and love… that will cost something… love always does.

Matthew 22:21 Jesus said “render to… God the things that are God’s”

I have not blogged in a long time. I debated on blogging today but I shared this with my circle and they encouraged me that other women needed to read this. Every morning I have center prayer and this is what my heart plead to the Lord today.

Today all I have left are the ashes of my failures from yesterday. I am sewn together by mistakes and failures it seems. All I can lay today in front of You, Lord are ashes and broken pieces with the hopes that You can make something of them. I am not a Phoenix that burns up to be born again nor am I a mirror that has been smashed with no hopes of repair. I am just a girl, some say a woman, but often times I feel like just a girl. A girl still at times full of hope as she embraces the wonders of the universe, chasing after shooting stars, with a wild abandonment in her heart. Yet, many times a woman surrounded by her failures, floundering in the wounds that bind her heart with a trail of silent tears. I pray you soothe my hurt while taking the ashes of yesterday’s fire along with the broken pieces of my mistakes and You create something out of them that will bring You glory, for only You can see the beauty that my soul desperately wants to imitate…

I sent that prayer to my circle in hopes that I wasn’t the only one in mid-life that felt they were struggling… to become what their heart so desperately desires. If you like me are struggling with the ups and downs of life… you are not alone. Through parent fails, lack of patience, out bursts of anger, God loves you and He wants you to learn to love yourself, to see the beauty you hold, the beauty He sees within you. If you are like me, you struggle with that concept, and focus all your energy on your failures instead of what you conquered. If you are like me you are torn between that little girl trying to stay alive and find the wonderment in the world and the adult full of imperfections, tainted by failure, hurt, and pain-barely treading water at times. I pray God takes your hurt and fuels your adventurous spirit to still find the wonderment of His glorious creation that surrounds you, waiting to be explored with enthusiastic eyes and an eager heart to grow and learn, expanding in love, mercy, and compassion.

Deuteronomy 33:12 “The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him, Who shelters him all the day long; And he shall dwell between His shoulders.”