Trusting Him Through Loss

I wrote this about a month or so ago, but I still thought I should share it with you. xxoo


I don't do well with goodbyes of any kind. Moving, death, ending relationships. I don't think anyone does well with goodbyes.

This week I found out my dear friend and hair stylist, Mr.Ken, is moving back to California. He will be the tenth friend of mine to announce they are moving in less than a year. I live in the very transient state of Florida, where not many people live whom are natives and where not many people live for very long. This is hard for my small-town-kinda-girl self, where generations live in the same area for many years.

Mr.Ken (center), and my dear friends, The Statons, who moved in March.

So, when I found out this week that he was leaving, I got that same yucky feeling I always do when I know I have to say goodbye. A tight, achy ball of emotion that wells up around my diaphragm, then pushes itself to the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow. The ache then makes it's way into my sinuses, right behind the backs of my eyes, begging to be released through my tears. But, most often, I hold back the flood and endure the pressure-like pain.        

When I got my hair done for the last time on Saturday,I honestly told him that even though people always say they are going to keep in touch, they rarely do, and even when they do, it is never the same. He told me that truthfully, he probably wouldn't keep in touch with me, except through maybe social media.

So,what is the proper way to say goodbye? 

Whenever I feel it's my last coffee or dinner with someone, or the last time I may see them at the nursing home or in the hospital bed, my senses are heightened and I try hard to make it wonderful, but I never leave feeling like it's wonderful and only that I tried too hard. 

I don't usually have the words to say. I feel the English language doesn't give me enough words to express my love or gratitude. "Keep in touch," or "I'll miss you," seem predictable and generic. But to avoid talking about missing them and avoiding the fact that our lives are about to significantly change sounds too disingenuous. I wish I could wrap up all the emotions and feelings I have of my friend or loved one into a nice little box, so they could pull each one out and know exactly how special to me they really are.

When goodbye is spoken, it hurts. It's just something this side of Heaven that we must learn to cope with and live through. I don't know if a heart is ever fully repaired after goodbye. Time helps some. 

As I'm writing this and thinking of my dear Grandad who died twelve years ago, I can still smell his soft, musky scent. I can still remember his hands, fingers slightly bent, tan with age spots and the appearance of many years of hard work, yet a kind, gentle softness. And, his index finger, stiff and not quite right from a ban saw accident. I can feel his wavy, gray hair between my fingers. I can see him leaning forward in his recliner, looking at me with satisfaction on his face and without saying a word, making me feel like the most important girl in the universe. And, now I cry. I hurt. I ache.

My dear Grandad with me as a young girl.

When our hearts are wounded, I think God wants us to not hold back the yuck inside. He wants us to release the yuck through our tears; get it out. Even if we have to cry until there are puddles and then wallow around in them. I believe he wants our fresh wound to be exposed and vulnerable. 

God does repair work and bandages up our wounds. At times in our lives our bandages may begin to slip off and we feel bare and cold again. But God fixes it back over the wound, then asks us to wait patiently until He can perfect our scars and brokenness when we get to Heaven. He will be able to answer our questions.

I shared the same birthday as my Grandad.

Until then, God gives us memories. He teaches us through each love and loss. We learn more about how to love with abandon. Forgiveness becomes easier, as does extending grace. Loss causes us to mean what we say and say what we mean. We pay more attention, give more time, adjust our priorities.

God divides our lives into seasons and he brings people in and out of our lives at different times. The challenge to finding peace again through loss is trusting God. It's acceptance that He knows what is best for me because He created me. It's believing that because God is the creator of the universe, His timing of events is perfect (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). I may disagree or I may not understand the mysteries of the way he orchestrates His timing. Yet, I have to look up at His face, abide in His presence. I must let Him rock me in his bosom, like a child, crying because she doesn't understand why the world isn't always kind and why she doesn't always get what she wants- a happy, tearless, cookie-cutter-kind-of existence.

My family's pet, Luke, passed away a few months ago from a brain tumor. I cried and couldn't sleep for days.

I don't know if it's because I'm hormonal or just blue because the sky is gray, but today I cry. Just like the clouds fill up with moisture until they can no longer hold on to the heaviness, my eyes have decided the pain is just too much to hold onto and the rain begins. All the memories of loss come flooding back at one time and I decide it is time to mourn. Maybe tomorrow I will dance and laugh, but today is not that day.

Although Mr. Ken is special to me, it is not just him that I cry over. It's more that I cry over memories of fleeting seasons, friends, and loved ones. But even in the midst of events swirling around me, even if I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a whirlwind while watching the people I love and value most being carried up and away, I can find solace in His loving arms. Jesus heals. My world is constantly changing, yet He is my solid rock. He never changes. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). Though people or possessions may be taken from me, I can be sure that His ways are perfect and right and that His promises are never broken.

Until next time, my friend, I'm going to leave you with some of God's promises that help me find my inner calm in the midst of outer chaos.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." (John 14:27)

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you. (Isaiah 54:10)

Then finally, this last verse because it reminds me we are never alone in our feelings and our sorrow, because Jesus has been there.

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. (Isaiah 53:3)

Dear Lord, our Comforter and Healer, I am thankful for all the people you've brought into my life that have been special to me and have now moved on to be with you or into new seasons of their lives. I know you have a purpose for the paths you cross and the paths you uncross. Give me comfort today and help me to trust that you can heal and give me peace. In Jesus' name, Amen. 

    

     


        



      
       
    

     

Three Tweets Third Thursday I

My little Carissa is what southerners call a "Miss Priss". She is all girl. She loves shoes, dressing up, bows in her hair, and wearing dresses.

I never understood the whole girly-girl thing when Jenna was younger. All the little girls her age were into Disney princesses, but Jenna didn't care much for dolls and her favorite color was blue, not pink. When all her friends wanted to dress up as princesses, she would follow along, then come to me later and say she didn't really want to play. She stood around in her gown looking awkward and humiliated.

When Jenna started attending preschool, all the little girls in her class were into anything princess or fairy, so I guess as an effort to fit in, she kind of started to like more "girly" things. One day she came home from preschool and announced she now had two favorite colors, blue and pink. I told her that having two favorite colors was kind of like breaking some unspoken rule about favorites and that maybe pink could be her second favorite. She didn't like the idea. She now has a pink room. 

It broke my heart that even at four years old, her choices could be impacted by what somebody else thought was cool. I liked that she was different. I've tried to go into long spiels about being herself and being the way God created her to be, to no avail. 

As a mother, it hurts when you know your child is being influenced by other kids, and that she may not be mature enough to do what she thinks is good and right. Although I'm sure those sweet little girls didn't mean to make her feel inferior, they did. It hurts enough as a parent that you could go to the preschool, gently grab the child by the arm who is making her feel that way, and then let her know how you really feel about their little princess obsession. Not that I've really thought about doing this or anything.   

Anyway, when Carissa began to grow into a toddler, I noticed she naturally gravitated toward "girly" things. I think God was trying to teach me not to be so hostile to pink and princesses and preschoolers. I still don't like princesses because there's always a prince charming, whom doesn't exist in real life. I know because I used to be one of those girls who grew up with the expectation that every man she dated should be like prince charming. I was devastated to find out the hard way that most men like to act like prince charming until they either get you in bed or marry you.   

At any rate, I don't usually allow my girls to watch princess movies because the villains frighten them. Jenna watched Snow White when she was three and then was up half the night scared and arguing with me about whether the Old Peddler Woman existed or not.

Princesses aren't supposed to fight. "That's my tiara...Don't touch my dress!"

  
Nevertheless, Carissa has begun to learn the names of the Disney princesses. She doesn't quite get them exactly right, though, and here are a few of her interpretations:

1. Snow White = Snow Wipe

2. Ariel (The Little Mermaid) = Area

3. Sleeping Beauty = Stinking Booty

I don't think I'll correct her and I laugh to myself at the thought of putting them together.

Gotta go now....

I'm going to Snow Wipe the Area of my Stinking Booty.      

Dear Alla

I can't believe the time has come for you to go to college. I can remember like it was yesterday that we were waiting for you, balloons in hand, to come out of the plane from your long flight all the way from Russia. That was before the attacks on September 11, 2001 and we were able to walk to the back of the airport to watch your plane land and then taxi to the gate. 

I remember being so excited because it was like I was getting a new little sister, someone that I could hug and give kisses and watch her grow and learn. I was hoping that you would love me and not be scared and that you would like the balloons I brought you that day, even though the balloons could hardly represent the way I felt about you becoming a part of our family.

I remember seeing your white-blonde hair and your sweet, solemn face as you came into the airport. You were overwhelmed and I wanted so desperately to explain to you that it was okay to trust our family; that we would take care of you and not hurt or neglect you.

But at two years old and unable to understand the English language, with new people showering their attention upon you, you were scared and frozen and untrusting. It was a huge transition for you to make coming from the orphanage where the conditions were dire. 

In no time at all though, you started to trust and believe you were safe. You began smiling, hugging and kissing, and starting to enjoy a vibrant and joy-filled childhood. You were blessed with not one, but two moms whom love you more than life itself.

My sweet cousins: Myself, Alla, and Cassie.

I want you to know that I don't believe that it was just happenstance that you are where you are today. I believe that God chose you, even before you were born, to be a part of our family. He knew that you were special and that you needed to be in a home where you were taught love and to be yourself. He knew your moms would not try to mold you into being someone you are not, but that they would rejoice in who God created you to be. God knew you would need support during some of those hard obstacles you've had to face, and your family is the safety net He provided.

As I'm writing this, I'm looking at your Senior class picture almost in disbelief that you are now an adult about to set out on your own. You are so beautiful and look so much like my side of the family, with blonde hair and those emerald colored eyes, that I am certain it's not a coincidence. God knew too how creative you would be and how much artistic talent you would have. He knew that if He didn't handpick you for your family, your talents may be pressed down and never fully developed. Now, you are going to art school on a scholarship, chosen not by financial necessity, but out of pure, raw talent.

I don't know how you feel about prayer, but I'm going to pray for you anyway. I'm going to pray for your protection and that God send his angels to watch over you. I'm going to pray for an easy transition into college life and that you love every minute of it. I'm going to pray that you make good choices and make friends with good people. This new journey you are about to embark on is going to affect the way your story is written for the rest of your life.

The only thing I ask from you, is that you stay in touch with your moms; that you call them, keep them informed and a part of your life. Someone once said you never really know what a mother's love is like until you have a child of your own. And since having my girls, I know this to be true. This is going to be one of the hardest things your moms will ever do. In fact, it's the end of raising a child. One goes through motherhood while their children are young, doing the very best they can and trying to prepare their children to be able to leave the nest and go out into the world. When that time finally comes, they grieve. The little person that they've poured their lives into no longer is around. They will need to hear your voice. Your moms will need to know you still may need them and that they are still important to you.

Finally, my dear cousin, I want to say I love you. I've not said this enough to you in the past. I've been busy with my own life, and I've neglected to pour into yours. I'm sad because I don't know how our paths are going to cross now that you're leaving home. But, you need to know that I'm here for you. Always. If you ever feel alone or are in need of help with anything, I am here. My blessing for you Alla is this:

The Lord bless Alla

and keep Alla;

the Lord make his face shine upon Alla

and be gracious to Alla;

the Lord turn his face toward Alla

and give Alla peace.

Numbers 6:24-26

Love,  

          Cara

          

      

    

Paddling Toward Paradise- Reflections on Marriage

I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. I told my mom when I was a child that I was going to live in Florida. That dream really did come true and I've been in Florida for just over six years. 

My home is a five to ten minutes drive from the ocean. Caladesi Island is right off the coast, which was voted America's number one beach in 2008 by "Dr. Beach", (Dr. Stephen Leatherman). The island can only be accessed by boat or by other means of water transportation. Visiting this deserted island has always been a desire of mine, so I decided for my anniversary this year, I would like to somehow make that happen.

Going to dinner for our anniversary seemed too ho hum. I wanted to try something new and adventurous and challenging; enjoy doing something together like friends would.

It's not often that I'm able to participate in activities with my husband alone. In fact, we had never been to the beach together without children. So when I told him my idea of kayaking over to Caladesi Island, he was excited.

Jason and I had a really great time together. We laughed at our awkwardness of trying something new for the first time. We were able to enjoy each other's company; bond together without words spoken. It was simple and sweet.      

Kayaking wasn't as hard as I anticipated, but my arms got tired. It was the first sunny,weekend morning in a long time, so the water was slightly rough from the wake of boats and other watercraft. I found myself fantasizing about getting to the island by motor like all the other seemingly younger, sexier looking people were doing. I began to wonder what I was thinking wanting to paddle my way to an island. 

I caught myself complaining about what hard work it was to have to paddle. And that's when I discovered God speaking to me, like only He can do, in a quiet whisper that felt as if it came across the water, carried by a gust of sea breeze. "Be quiet," He said. "Look around you at this beautiful creation. Be glad!" 

While kayaking on the calm, cerulean water I began to see that God had a message for me that day, that couldn't have been clearer if I had found it on a piece of paper coiled around the inside of a bottle, floating up to my kayak. He helped me discover marriage, like kayaking, is hard work. I get tired and exhausted and sometimes there is a lot of turbulence around me. I may have to stop and regroup when a wave of adversity threatens to send me over the edge. Fantasies about what may appear to be better or easier begin to invade my thoughts and destroy my joy. I envy other people whose relationships seem better than mine.

I forget to look around at the beauty and the greatness of what lies before me. I take advantage of my husband and choose to focus on his faults, while denying my own. Admittedly, I tear down instead of build up. 

Today, on my anniversary, I'm not going to get all mushy and tell you about how in love I am and how perfect and glorious my marriage is. It makes me want to regurgitate my lunch when people walk around acting like marriage is all roses and tiddly winks. Rather, I'm going to be honest and tell you marriage is stinking hard. I want to tell you I need to choose daily to love my husband more selflessly. That I need to not keep a record of wrongs and that I may still have some forgiving to do (1 Cor 13:4-5).

Often times, I think we all fall into the trap of thinking our marriages should be like the early days of our courtship. The excitement, the newness, the butterflies we got in our stomachs when we saw our crush. These feelings can be felt again in marriage at different times, but the lie is that it should be hunky dory all the time. 

When I start to believe this lie, my feelings start to deceive me. Thoughts like, "What am I getting out of this relationship?," or "I don't feel like the spark is there anymore," or "I'm not happy," begin to creep into my mind. The problem with all these thoughts is that they all have "I" in them.

I confess I am a fixer. Without really meaning to, I try to mold and manipulate people or situations into whom or into what I perceive they should be. A therapist once gave me some advice that really resonated with me and I have to regularly recall what she said about my interpersonal relationships. She told me that I shouldn't try to change the person that I'm in relationship with, instead I should try to ask myself, "How can I change my behavior?" How can I react or respond differently in the relationship? 

Changing my attitude or approach is a frustrating concept for me because I don't like injustice or what I perceive to be unfair. Swallowing my pride and being the first in the relationship to make a move in selfless love is difficult. Fear that letting my guard down will end in hurt is always at the back of my mind. I like playing the victim. I don't want to take responsibility for my actions. It's much easier to point my finger and say you. It is your fault. 

      

This anniversary morning I read Colossians 3:12-17, which were the verses read at my wedding. My pastor and friend at Skycrest Community Church, Chris Stephens married Jason and me on July 31, 2010. Pastor Chris gave me a copy of his outline of the words he spoke on that special day about these verses in Colossians. He wrote:

Jason and Cara, clothe yourself in these virtues. 

• Put on compassion.  In other words, prepare yourself to join with one another in the heartaches of life. 

• Put on kindness.  See to it that when your spouse needs a kind word, home is where they come. 

• Put on humility.  Every need presents the privileged opportunity of service; meet the need in loving humility. 

• Put on gentleness.  Your spouse is a precious gift from God. Handle with care. 

• Put on patience.  Present each other with the selfless gift of time. 

• Put on forgiveness.  Forgive each other as Christ forgave you. 

After listing all the virtues in verses 12-13, Paul, the writer of Colossians, tells us to put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. The kind of love Paul is referring to is translated in Greek as agape love; a selfless, sacrificial love. Love in this way is more of a choice or action, instead of a feeling like the Greek eros love, a sexual, sensual kind of love. Rather than focusing on my feelings, I am to make a choice to love. 

Focusing on loving another person sacrificially is radically different than what the world tells me almost daily. I hear things like, "You have to make yourself happy before you can make someone else happy." If I really set out to make myself completely happy first, I may never make anyone else happy in the meantime? On the days I've tried to will myself into happiness, something happens, like I find out I forgot to pay the power bill. "Follow your heart," is another one-liner I dislike. Jeremiah 17:9 tells me "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" When I try to love my husband while focusing on my feelings, I fail every time.

       

Even though sometimes I don't feel like it, I'm going to keep paddling. I am going to choose to focus on all the goodness around me and all that I do have in a wonderful husband and best friend. I can't promise perfection and I know I will probably whine a little bit and complain. But if I quit paddling and allow myself to just drift along, I may never make it to the little piece of paradise unto which I have my eyes set. Marriage may not be the easiest route. It may not always seem like what all the younger, sexier people are doing, but I know if I persevere in love, agape love, God will blow that extra boost of wind I need to reach the island.  

Thank you Father for my husband. I'm blessed beyond measure with the family that you've given me. I know I grumble because marriage can be a lot of work and just plain hard. Please help me to focus on what I do have in a husband, rather than on what I don't have. Help me to choose love. The kind of love you showed me when you sent your son Jesus to save me from my sins and iniquities. In Jesus' name, Amen.