7. Life and Death
We
made the active decision, right away, to protect the church. There was a
period of about two months that I believed this would be cleared up.
That the leadership of the church would BE the church for us.
Three months into it I realized that our decision to not make a racket buried any voice I had. It buried my strong voice. It buried my confident voice. It buried my future voice. It buried my trusting voice.
I woke up one day, in the middle of that third month, full of anxiety, and fully broken. My heart was so heavy that even the idea of reaching out to someone for help was too taxing. I was watching my life crumble both rapidly and in slow motion. I never wanted to leave my bed. I wanted to pull the covers over me, squeeze my eyes shut, and pray that sleep would just overcome me all day, everyday. Isn't it funny that the world doesn't stop for your crisis? Your personal tragedy is the biggest thing around you and everyone else is out there living there everyday, normal lives. They expect you to do the same. So, as I laid in bed, trying to figure out how to get up again, in a fit of rage and overwhelming emotion, I sat up in my bed and through my tears cried out the following words: Everything is dead. There is no life around me anymore, God. Everything feels so dead. And I sobbed for the next few minutes. I sat in my loneliness and my despair and was begging God with every last bit of hope I had to show himself. I had, in a vulnerable space, cried out for help. To no one. To everyone. To the God that I know and trust. I was waiting for the heavens to open up. I was waiting for someone to call me with an answer to this whole mess. I was waiting for anything to show that I had been heard.
Nothing happened.
So, I got up out of that bed, got ready for my day, went to work, came home, and crawled right back into bed. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Those next few days were such a blur. I felt like I was walking through my day carrying a boulder. Like my every step and conversation was exhausting. I remember getting in my car after work and trying to find the energy to keep my eyes open to just get home. I was sure that there was some hangout, outing, obligation, or conversation waiting for me to put my best smile on and rejoin the real world. What could I say to people to get out of it so I could, instead, put my head on my pillow and cry, all by myself. I just needed to keep doing this a little bit longer. I didn't even know what a little bit longer was or how I was going to keep doing it.
During this time, I was also transitioning out of my job that I had been at for 15 years. A friend of mine sent me flowers in my last week, another friend brought me a plant, another friend sent me flowers on my last day. The following week, two other people randomly, and for no other reason than to tell me they loved me, gave me flowers. My house all of a sudden was overcome by these beautiful flowers. I took a picture of them because they were just so pretty and said out loud, "there is so much beauty and life in here!". And I instantly remembered the words I cried out just days before: Everything is dead. There is no life around me anymore, God. Everything feels so dead.
He heard me. He saw me. He used people in my life to remind me of the beauty and life that I could not get to. Naturally, I sobbed then too. But, this time it was full of hope and gratefulness.
Months later, I was sitting with a woman seeking help for this very same issue. Angry that I was back (or still) in this place. Still begging to be past it. Struggling with getting out of bed. Now with a longer period of grief and different callouses enveloping my heart. I sat with her, had a little bit of wine, poured my ugly, broken, fearful heart out to her. That time and conversation was something I sought out because I wasn't OK and needed help. I was vulnerable again and with the last ounce of energy I had in me, I reached out for help. We talked for hours. She said all of the right things. She encouraged me. She identified with my pain. She allowed me to be whatever I was right then - angry, bitter, scared, broken. She gave me a safe space to be all of those things. We were wrapping up the evening and she shared that she was praying for me that morning and wanted me to feel loved while I was there. And she handed me flowers from her garden. She did not have any idea of that two week period of flowers I had received. She just became part of a narrative that reminded me of the beauty and life that can be buried by grief. Can you guess what I did next? I've cried more in the last two years than I have in my entire existence.
I always buy flowers now. For people randomly and/or anonymously. You never know when people need a reminder of the beauty and life that exists around them.
Questions
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain. Hebrews 6:19
Quote
We think we need to know the end result in order to have hope. We don't. We just have to know it isn't over yet. - Brit Barron
Song
"Here again" by Elevation Worship
Can't go back to the beginning
Can't control what tomorrow will bring
But I know here in the middle
Is the place where You promise to be
Three months into it I realized that our decision to not make a racket buried any voice I had. It buried my strong voice. It buried my confident voice. It buried my future voice. It buried my trusting voice.
I woke up one day, in the middle of that third month, full of anxiety, and fully broken. My heart was so heavy that even the idea of reaching out to someone for help was too taxing. I was watching my life crumble both rapidly and in slow motion. I never wanted to leave my bed. I wanted to pull the covers over me, squeeze my eyes shut, and pray that sleep would just overcome me all day, everyday. Isn't it funny that the world doesn't stop for your crisis? Your personal tragedy is the biggest thing around you and everyone else is out there living there everyday, normal lives. They expect you to do the same. So, as I laid in bed, trying to figure out how to get up again, in a fit of rage and overwhelming emotion, I sat up in my bed and through my tears cried out the following words: Everything is dead. There is no life around me anymore, God. Everything feels so dead. And I sobbed for the next few minutes. I sat in my loneliness and my despair and was begging God with every last bit of hope I had to show himself. I had, in a vulnerable space, cried out for help. To no one. To everyone. To the God that I know and trust. I was waiting for the heavens to open up. I was waiting for someone to call me with an answer to this whole mess. I was waiting for anything to show that I had been heard.
Nothing happened.
So, I got up out of that bed, got ready for my day, went to work, came home, and crawled right back into bed. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Those next few days were such a blur. I felt like I was walking through my day carrying a boulder. Like my every step and conversation was exhausting. I remember getting in my car after work and trying to find the energy to keep my eyes open to just get home. I was sure that there was some hangout, outing, obligation, or conversation waiting for me to put my best smile on and rejoin the real world. What could I say to people to get out of it so I could, instead, put my head on my pillow and cry, all by myself. I just needed to keep doing this a little bit longer. I didn't even know what a little bit longer was or how I was going to keep doing it.
During this time, I was also transitioning out of my job that I had been at for 15 years. A friend of mine sent me flowers in my last week, another friend brought me a plant, another friend sent me flowers on my last day. The following week, two other people randomly, and for no other reason than to tell me they loved me, gave me flowers. My house all of a sudden was overcome by these beautiful flowers. I took a picture of them because they were just so pretty and said out loud, "there is so much beauty and life in here!". And I instantly remembered the words I cried out just days before: Everything is dead. There is no life around me anymore, God. Everything feels so dead.
He heard me. He saw me. He used people in my life to remind me of the beauty and life that I could not get to. Naturally, I sobbed then too. But, this time it was full of hope and gratefulness.
Months later, I was sitting with a woman seeking help for this very same issue. Angry that I was back (or still) in this place. Still begging to be past it. Struggling with getting out of bed. Now with a longer period of grief and different callouses enveloping my heart. I sat with her, had a little bit of wine, poured my ugly, broken, fearful heart out to her. That time and conversation was something I sought out because I wasn't OK and needed help. I was vulnerable again and with the last ounce of energy I had in me, I reached out for help. We talked for hours. She said all of the right things. She encouraged me. She identified with my pain. She allowed me to be whatever I was right then - angry, bitter, scared, broken. She gave me a safe space to be all of those things. We were wrapping up the evening and she shared that she was praying for me that morning and wanted me to feel loved while I was there. And she handed me flowers from her garden. She did not have any idea of that two week period of flowers I had received. She just became part of a narrative that reminded me of the beauty and life that can be buried by grief. Can you guess what I did next? I've cried more in the last two years than I have in my entire existence.
I always buy flowers now. For people randomly and/or anonymously. You never know when people need a reminder of the beauty and life that exists around them.
Questions
- Where are the places, what are the moments or experiences that you cried out and felt unheard? Identify them. My throat restricts a little bit in these moments. It. Is. So. Hard. But name them. Name your disappointments. Tell God where you felt let down. There is power in vocalizing your internal wounds.
- Where have you seen hope in this? What have been those moments that help you keep going? Write them down. You will forget them, and you are going to need them to move forward.
- What can you do today to be hope for someone else? As someone that desperately needs hope right now - choose to be the thing you need.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain. Hebrews 6:19
Quote
We think we need to know the end result in order to have hope. We don't. We just have to know it isn't over yet. - Brit Barron
Song
"Here again" by Elevation Worship
Can't go back to the beginning
Can't control what tomorrow will bring
But I know here in the middle
Is the place where You promise to be
I'm not enough unless You come
Will You meet me here again
'Cause all I want is all You are
Will You meet me here again
Will You meet me here again
'Cause all I want is all You are
Will You meet me here again
----------------------------------
Not for a minute
Was I forsaken
The Lord is in this place
The Lord is in this place
Come Holy Spirit
Dry bones awaken
The Lord is in this place
The Lord is in this place
Was I forsaken
The Lord is in this place
The Lord is in this place
Come Holy Spirit
Dry bones awaken
The Lord is in this place
The Lord is in this place
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