Tag: loss (Page 1 of 2)

3 Things God May Use to Get You Out of Your Boat

July 5, 2022 /

If you live anywhere Up North like I do, you will probably know the feeling of the first summer excursion on “the lake” – always Memorial Day weekend. It may be 30 degrees or 70 degrees, but it’s usually blustery and you wear the Minnesota “uniform” of sweatshirt and shorts.

It’s the weekend when all the boat piers get put in and you’re so anxious for it to truly be summer that you screw up your courage and jump into the icy cold water at least once to say you did.

Remember the “Memorial Day Weekend jump-in-the-lake” story in the Gospels? It’s a dark and windy night on the Sea of Galilee in Matthew 14 when the disciples are in their boat alone and are being “buffeted by the waves”.

Jesus scares them by coming out to them walking on the water (you know, the way you do if you’re God, right?). He reassures the disciples that it really is Him and not the Ghost of Christmas Past, but Peter says “Prove it! If it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.”

Jesus says “Ok, come on out!”

Peter clambers over the side of the boat and starts walking, but then he looks around him at what the wind is whipping up and starts to sink.

Like a harness on a ropes course, Scripture says, “Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand.”  

What was it that motivated Peter to get out of the boat? Jesus’ invitation? Fear of the alternative without Jesus? A sense of adventure?

This story got me thinking about the different things that prompt any of us to get out of our boats of same ol’ same ol’.

3 things that God may use to get out of your boat:

1. Invitation (this may be the least likely one, so read on!)

I had a lunch meeting nine years ago.  The purpose was for me to help a World Vision guy do some brainstorming and networking.  At least that’s what I thought.

I’m pretty creative.  I’m good at ideas.  I’m also good at making work for other people.  It’s a gift.  So I was feeling good about meeting with Bradley (the guy) and giving him some ideas.  That is until he finished telling his story, turned to me and said, “I want you to run a half-marathon with Team World Vision to raise money for clean water in Zambia.”

What the what?!  Not much surprises me.  Even less than that leaves me speechless. This did.

I don’t run.  Unless I’m running from a bear.

As I reflected on the possibility, Fear whispered in my ear:

  • What if you really can’t do it?  What if you don’t finish?
  • What if you let people down?
  • What if you don’t raise any money?

Honestly, one of the loudest whispers was:  This will be a painful, grueling boatload of work and you don’t want to do it.

But there was this invitation that said, “Get out of the boat. This is more important than your discomfort.”

IMG_1977

Years ago in Zambia I danced with women as a well was dug and fresh water gushed out.  They sang “Come and see what God has done.”  The old woman next to me spoke in wonder “He saw us. He answered our prayers.”  I thought, “Wouldn’t be incredible to part of an answer to someone’s prayers?”I think, in this case, God’s answer to the fear of getting out of my boat was “What if I run with you and do something bigger in and through you for others than you think is possible?”

Sometimes an invitation from others is also an invitation from God to get out of your boat.

2. Loss

Six years ago, a dear friend of ours died suddenly, leaving his wife as a relatively young widow. Her grief was intensified as well-meaning people made thoughtless comments or unhelpful gestures.

As an introvert, she would have liked to stay curled up in her bed all day every day, but instead, she got out of her boat (that looked like a bed). She created a class to help people learn to sensitively walk alongside their friends experiencing trauma or loss. This was hard and scary, but it gave her purpose in the midst of her grief, and it equipped others in a much needed way.

Sometimes stepping out of your boat means turning mourning into mission.

3. Need

About 10 years ago our daughter Maggie was doing a summer internship at a girls’ school in northern Uganda. Her job was to create a sex ed curriculum, but in the process of discerning where to start, she discovered that most of the girls were missing 3-4 days of school a month when they had their period, because they lacked resources to buy sanitary napkins (tampons are culturally inappropriate). There was a need that had huge consequences for the education of girls.

Maggie could have just stuck to her assignment, but getting out of her boat meant finding ways to innovate. The school included training the girls in sewing, so Maggie googled how to make reusable sanitary napkins and taught the girls how to make their own.

For her husband, Austin, getting out of his boat looked like carrying cartons of disposable sanitary napkins I had collected here in the states through customs on his first international trip. He delivered them to Maggie in Uganda, so they could also keep a closet of these for emergency needs.

Sometimes stepping out of your boat means tackling insufficiency with innovation.

Can you relate to any of these? Has there been a time when you’ve been prompted to “get out of your boat”? What happened? Share in comments!


How to Navigate Changing Seasons

June 13, 2022 /

The sweet aroma of lilacs envelops me as I bike under the canopy of leafy trees, shading our street. I breathe deep and whisper a prayer of gratitude.

A friend of mine calls this “the lifiest time of the year.” The peonies are finally ready to bloom. The grass needs mowing.

It’s June. Your high-schooler or kindergartener or college student is graduating. Someone is getting married and someone is having a baby and others are starting new jobs or moving.

With the celebration of every new “lifey” thing, there is also a releasing, even a grieving for what is ending or dying.

We have recently moved from California back to Minnesota where life has gone on without us. I’m grieving not having an in-person church home anymore, not having family nearby, not having a clear calling in this season…But I’m also celebrating the lakes and reconnecting with old friends.

Years ago, a mentor of mine likened navigating seasons of change to being a trapeze artist. There is that scary moment when you have to let go of one bar to grab onto the new one coming towards you. The new bar may be exciting, but it also may be hard to let go of the one you’ve been holding.

How do we courageously let go of the past and reach for the future? Can we honestly name the deaths without missing the new life…celebrating both the new blessings, and those of the past?

Some big transitions we naturally mark with ceremonies, or family gatherings, but what about the smaller, quieter changes?

  • Maybe you need to look back through old photos or journals, have a good cry and buy a new one, yielding the next season to God’s will.
  • It might look like a discussion around your family dinner table, each person naming one joy of the past season that they’ll miss, and one thing they’re looking forward to.
  • Maybe it will mean taking a walk with a friend, processing the valuable lessons you’ve learned, and any invitation from God you’re sensing in the coming season. There may be things you are glad to leave behind.
  • Or it might look like praying with open hands, naming the things you’re relinquishing, while thanking God for the new experiences that await you, trusting in His creative life-giving goodness. If you’re facing challenges in this next season it may mean praying for the courage to make hard choices.

Lord, today I celebrate Your goodness and faithfulness in this past season – the gift of friendships, new adventures, a clear place to belong, and assignments from You. I confess I miss these gifts, but I also anticipate Your kindness and direction in this next season. I yield myself to You. I want to greet each day with an adventurously expectant, “What’s next, Papa?” May Your will be my delight. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

What are you leaving behind? What are you anticipating as you reach forward? Stay tuned for a free resource to help you reflect with God and set yourself up for a flourishing new season!

3 Truths for Dealing with Covid Chaos, part 3

August 4, 2020 /

Those of you who are parents (or aunties or have ever dealt with toddlers) know what it’s like when a two-year-old is just DONE – overwhelmed with ALL OF THE THINGS and has a meltdown. As an adult, you pull them onto your lap, rub their back, and remind them of what’s true.

“I’m right here.”

“It’s going to be ok.”

This week I’m posting a series of three truths with Scripture to help calm us in the chaos of Covid. You can see the first posts here and here.

Here’s the second truth…

Truth #2: You have nothing to lose.

I can just hear you yelling at the screen, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I HAVE EVERYTHING TO LOSE!”

Last week was that I listened to someone speaking about the phenomenon of “anticipatory grief” that has been prompted by the chaos and uncertainty of the pandemic.

Covid has broken our collective sense of safety. We are afraid of loss! We don’t know what’s coming next, and so many of us are preemptively experiencing the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, sadness acceptance, and the new one – meaning). BUT these stages are not linear. They themselves are not predictable! Lord have mercy!

Again, it’s helpful to pay attention – to recognize the stages of grief that you’re experiencing while also acknowledging “Lord, this loss is temporal, You are eternal.”

God is JEHOVAH-JIREH -the One who will provide.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

PSALM 23:1

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

2 CORINTHIANS 12:9

But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ

philippians 3:8

But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations.

psalm 33:11

Which of these do you need to hear most today?

What do they say about who God is and who you are?

Soul Care for Grieving Spiritual Travelers at Advent

December 13, 2019 /

Next Thursday we are going to have a quiet, candlelit worship service here in Lucerne, specifically for people who are grieving this Christmas.

Is that you? You may have had a miscarriage, or lost a parent, spouse, or friend, and there is an empty place at the table and in your heart. You are sad and weary.

As John and I were preparing last night, we were trying to choose a couple of hymns that give voice to feelings of loss, wilderness, and promises of hope in the darkness.

I was transported back to my childhood when every year we had the tradition of gathering at my aunt and uncle’s house with relatives young and old.

After dinner at the looooong table stretched with many leaves and augmented with card tables attached, we’d move to the piano.

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It was a loud and joyful time, but today, at least four people are missing from this picture including my brother. Maybe your pictures are missing loved ones this year too.

Now here’s the thing. I come from a musical family. We had cousins and uncles playing french horn, trumpet, trombone. My grandfather played the violin. Aunts and cousins played the piano. I think for a few years there was a flute thrown in. Maybe an oboe.

I had nothing to contribute but my barely adequate voice added to those who were able to actually, you know… harmonize. (That’s me in the middle back in holiday pigtails 🙂 )

I’m holding music for my cousin who is playing an instrument, but I didn’t need it for the lyrics. I know virtually every word of every carol in the book. (Yes, even Angels From the Realms of Glory). The Christmas lyrics are part of my faith vocabulary, because my family sang them over me, and into me, and with me.

This year there may be lyrics of celebration that are hard for you to sing. Impossible even. It’s ok. Be gentle with yourself.

A friend of mine says sometimes we sing faith words with joy and confidence.

Sometimes we sing them as a declaration of the truth we believe in spite of how we may feel.

And sometimes we just can’t sing “Joy to the World”. We’re too sad, and we let the community carry the words for us, blanketing us with hope that God is still with us. He is still good. That’s ok. Let the community carry hope for you.

Is it hard for you to sing this advent? Share in the comments.

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3 Helps When You’re Grieving But No One is Dead

July 29, 2019 /

Late in the middle of a steamy July night, heat lightning pulses intermittently, illuminating the dark corners of my brother’s large, hundred-year-old home. In the family room he lies in hospice and finally takes his last breath with my sister-in-law nearby.

When someone dies, we grieve. We are sometimes confused, lonely. We have trouble figuring out a “new normal”. Tears will spring to our eyes, triggered by something random and unexpected. We lack the energy to do…anything.

Fast forward four years…

My husband John and I turn off our GPS guide and pull into a parking place at a new church in a new neighborhood – new to us at least.

We are blasted by the summer heat as we open the doors of our car. We’re early. Uncomfortably early, like the awkward teen arriving first to a pool party. We slowly look around for a main entrance to the sanctuary.

People who look very different from us are chatting with each other. We know no one. As the only caucasians, it’s a little obvious we are visitors. We are warmly greeted by friendly African Americans who try to make us feel at home.

After an hour and a half of hand-clapping, body-swaying gospel music and a message, we sneak out early in order to make it on time to a reservation we made.

We’re grateful for so many things. To be able to worship anywhere we want. To not have the responsibility of leadership. To feel welcome.

We are thankful, but we are also grieving. Grieving the loss of consistent, life-giving worship and community at the church we left after serving for 30 years.

Maybe you can relate to one of these situations. No one has died, but you’re grieving. You’ve:

  • Moved to a new house – cross country, or across town
  • Just had your first baby
  • Gotten a divorce
  • Sent your first child off to kindergarten or your last off to college
  • Started a new job or lost an old job

You miss old comforts. You are sometimes confused, lonely. You have trouble figuring out a “new normal”. Tears will spring to your eyes, triggered by something random and unexpected. You lack energy to initiate new things.

Change may be by our choice, or not, but to step into something new you need to let go of something old, and that involves loss…grief.

There are many books written about the grieving process when someone dies. But lately I’ve been thinking about how some of the same insights and encouragement apply to those of us experiencing the loss that comes with change.

Some of the same things that help when we’re grieving the death of a person, may help when we’re grieving the loss of a season. These 3 things may help:

  1. Lean into your people.

Some relationships may change, but call that friend who knows you best and listens well. Be honest and vulnerable. Risk asking for help. It’s hard to be the “needy one”, but let others serve you. Accept the meal or the babysitting.

2. Be gentle with yourself. This one is especially hard for me. I’m impatient to make something happen, to jump into a clearly defined new rhythm. I want to DO SOMETHING, but sometimes God wants me to enjoy a snack and a nap like Elijah before his next assignment (1 Kings 19:5-9)

I saved a newspaper article from years ago about a study that was done on the effects of change – even change like moving a few blocks in the same town. It showed that our stress levels go up, and our immune system is compromised, and we’re more prone to accidents. So take a nap, or get a massage and don’t feel guilty.

3. Pray. Journal your feelings and your gratitude.

Especially when we’re going through a time of transition, we can feel thrown off balance. There are new choices to make. We’re not sure where our solid ground is.

I waited and waited and waited for God.
    At last he looked; finally he listened.
He lifted me out of the ditch,
    pulled me from deep mud.
He stood me up on a solid rock
    to make sure I wouldn’t slip.
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,
    a praise-song to our God.

Psalm 40:1-3 msg

We need to process our feelings and new experiences with the Lord. Ask Him to give you perspective and discernment. Thank Him for the places You see Him providing. Ask, not just “What have I lost?”, but “What does this make possible?” (I think I heard this question first from Emily P. Freeman)

This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?”

romans 8:15

What change or transition are you experiencing in your life?

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What to Do When a Friend is in the Depths of Despair

December 5, 2018 /

Tonight is a Christmas candlelight service at our church. Those who are grieving, gather in the darkness, remembering loved ones, present to the loss we’ve experienced, but also clinging to the hope Jesus offers. Emmanuel. God with us. Even in the dark.

It is quiet, and sacred, and to me, feels like a warm comforter on a snowy night.

But it brings to mind a conversation that I had in October with a friend who is mourning.

“I’m here! Yesterday I couldn’t get out of bed. I’ve lost my capacity to engage, concentrate or make decisions.  It’s easier to succumb to the isolation than to fight to justify my pain out in the open.  Let’s count today, sitting in a restaurant with you a win.”

I sit across the table from my friend of almost 30 years, autumnal salads with apples and craisins between us. I listen as she catches me up on the losses she’s experienced over the past year and a half since her husband died suddenly.

“I don’t know who I am anymore.  Life and everyone in it is moving on. People wave goodbye from bright shiny trains, I no longer have a ticket to ride. All I can do is watch them go; disappear into a future I cannot see.”

Three hours later I feel like we’re both exhausted from trying to process the overwhelming pain she’s enduring.

“I know people mean well, but I’m tired of ‘How are you?’” she says as she dispiritedly picks at her salad.

“When I respond authentically, and say, ‘As bad as you imagine or maybe worse’, I watch their hope get swallowed up by disappointment.”  

“Don’t ask if you don’t want to know. I’m angry that it feels like it’s not ok to not be ok. I’M NOT OK and my kids are not ok.” 

Anne of Green Gables would say she’s “In the depths of despair.” Only Anne was being overly dramatic and this is real life trauma.

Even Jesus, when in the depths of despair, turns not only to His heavenly Father, but also His community. In the Garden of Gethsemane He’s very vulnerable. He says to those closest to Him, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow.” and He names what He needs from His community.

“Stay here and keep watch with me.” 

Notice He doesn’t ask them to fix or give advice, just sit with Him in His anguish. This is soooo hard for us isn’t it? We’re DO-ERS! We want to alleviate our friend’s pain, and doing something also makes us feel better about ourselves dontcha know!

“Christ came so that we might share in his resurrection life. But first, He invites us into a co-suffering relationship. This means death, and for us in this, death means releasing our right to have an answer and giving up our desire to be the hero.” Emily P. Freeman

One of the questions we can ask ourselves is “What does love require of me?” 

  • It may often require sitting with a friend and saying nothing, just listening deeply, nodding, or holding.
  • Love may ask us to pray silently or outloud, leaning on the Holy Spirit to give words to our groans on behalf of the other.
  • It may prompt us to validate the pain of our friend by echoing back what we’re hearing and acknowledging that everyone’s grief is unique.
  • Love may lead us to affirm the courage, authenticity, perseverance or other godly qualities we see in our friend even in a season when they feel confused and out of control.

What is your experience walking with friends in pain? Are you afraid of saying the wrong thing? What have you found that’s helpful?

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Mothers or Not Day

May 12, 2018 /

For most women the challenge of living through Mother’s Day joyfully each year is pretty much like getting out of Target without spending at least one hundred and seventy-nine dollars. It’s a unicorn. A pipe dream.

It tends to bring up ALL OF THE FEELS. Yes, joy, but also, lament, shame, longing, anger, fatigue…

There are single women who long to have a husband and kids, and married women trying desperately to get pregnant when each month, they cry in the bathroom with evidence that denies it.

There are kids of all ages who have lost their mothers, or have strained relationships with their moms.

There are moms with kids who are prodigals, far from home, and moms whose children have died, and mothers whose kids are struggling with emotional, physical, or intellectual challenges.

There are mamas who are overwhelmed with littles, who feel like every other mom is Mary Poppins, and they’re the only one without a magical carpet bag of tricks.

And others who feel guilty that they should feel more grateful, but Just. Feel. Tired.

These are legit.

Jesus says “Come to Me… with all of it. I am your safe place, your refuge, your cheerleader, your comforter. And like a loving parent holding us, He pats us gently and says “I’m here…I’m here…It’s gonna be ok. You’re doing great. Just hang on.”

Maybe we could find some way to say that to each other this Mother’s Day?

 

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3 Things to Leave Behind When You’re Traveling Rough Roads with Someone

January 25, 2017 /

I am so grateful John and I get to travel a lot. But travel is not without its challenges.

We have one rule that we stick to no matter what. We never take more than a carry-on suitcase.

I don’t remember for sure, but this could have been implemented the year that John had to borrow underwear for a week when his luggage didn’t arrive in Zambia.

This afternoon I’m packing for another trip. This trip comes on the heels of losing one of our closest friends, suddenly, to a brain aneurism. It’s got me thinking…

Traveling with someone through loss, we need to travel lightly. Just like there are certain items I need to cull out in order to pack in a carry-on, there are unhelpful things we need to leave behind when we are walking through a hard time with someone.

So, here are three things I’ve learned to take out, and leave behind when going through a crisis with someone:

  1. Leave behind right to be offended. This is NOT about you. Forget your ego, your pride, your wants and prioritize what the grieving person wants. No matter what. The wife of our friend who died was wise and brave to say she didn’t want people around her right away. Close friends could have been offended, but they knew this wasn’t about them.
  2. Leave behind control/schedule. When life feels out of control, our inclination is to try to bring order. We want to do anything we can to fix things. We think we’re helping, but we need to let go of our need for control and convenience and just report for duty.
  3. Leave behind assumptions. We all know that every loss is different and everyone grieves differently, but even tiny assumptions need to be tossed. There was someone I was sure my friend would want me to call last week, to take that off her plate, but I was wrong. Other people she wanted me to call, I was surprised at.

I’ve written more about this before, but I’m interested in your thoughts. What has your experience been walking with others on rough journeys?

 

Going There With Each Other

March 27, 2016 /

Two weeks ago my best friend from college called on a Sunday afternoon to tell me she has been diagnosed with ALS.

Yes, that ALS – the horrific Lou Gehrig’s disease that eats away at your muscles til you are a rag doll of your former self.

Arms and legs progressively stop functioning . It also impacts your voice and breathing; lifespan shortens as complications related to lung function intrude.

I simply could. not. deal. I couldn’t accept that my vibrant full-of-LIFE friend with the most infectious laugh on earth might have to experience this crippling horror.

Instead of leaning in, I wanted to lean out. Instead of turning towards, I wanted to turn away. Continue reading

One Thing Grieving People Want us to Know

May 4, 2015 /

Last week we had our carpets cleaned. As I was talking to the Larry the cleaner guy, he noticed and commented on a framed note one of our daughters wrote when she was about 5 years old.IMG_3323

“Do you have kids?” I asked.

“Yeah, I have five kids. Actually, I had five. One died.”

“Oh”, I said. “I’m so sorry. When did that happen?”

“18 years ago” he responded. “Matthew was 6 years old. He died of cancer.”

It was clear he wanted to talk and I wanted to learn from him, so I asked him to tell me about his experience and his son.

Larry is a Christian and shared what his church community had done at the time that had carried them and showed them the love of God. But the one time he teared up was when he said, “But then it stopped. And no one asked how we were doing anymore. And no one talked about Matthew – how they missed him, or what they loved about him. The kids his age went on and grew up and no one talked about Matthew anymore. And that’s the painful part.”

This is what I hear over and over again from people who have lost a loved one.

“We don’t want you to forget our person.”

“We want you to tell us what you remember and what you loved and what you miss. A month after they’re gone, or a year, or 18 years.”

Often, I think we may be afraid if we bring up the name of someone who has died, it will make our friends sad, butI’m trying to learn from those who have lost people they love, and they’re telling me something different. Don’t be afraid of the emotion. Tears may be those of joy mixed with sadness and gratitude.

I didn’t know Matthew, but the next time Larry comes to clean our carpet I’m going to make a point to ask him what he loved the most about Matthew.

I’m going to call my mom and re-tell some special stories about my grandparents.

I’m going to write my cousin and tell her what I miss about her mom.

And today when I saw a friend at church who had lost his wife of 60 years, I asked what he missed most.  “Her bossiness.” he said with a smile and teary eyes.

Is there someone you might remember today?

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