It Has Not Happened To Me As I Expected

In the cycle of Mass readings, the first reading has been from the Book of Tobit the last few days. Each day that I've started the first reading, I feel a little bit of delight as I remember how much I like this particular Old Testament Book. It's not long...only 14 chapters total. I just really like the story and, spoiler alert, I especially love the happy ending.

The Book of Tobit is about, shockingly, a man named Tobit during the time of the Assyrian exile, and his wife and son, Tobias. Tobit became blind and is just waiting for death. He sends his son on a journey to get ten talents of silver that he had left in safe keeping with a far away relative. It ends up being a journey of faith and healing that Tobias takes, unknowingly, with St. Raphael. At the same time, it is also about one of Tobit's relatives named Sarah, who is a young woman that has been married seven times but a demon has killed each of her husbands on their wedding night before the marriage can be consummated. 

Just a little light reading!! (Good thing I gave you that spoiler alert, right?!?)

Today's reading focused on 3:1-11,16-17. In these verses, both Tobit and Sarah in their respective cities(villages?) are feeling crushed by their individual crosses. Both pray...starting with proclaiming God's righteousness and begging for His Mercy. Both beg for death. They are both filled with so much pain that they see no other way out.

While our visiting priest went on to give what I'm sure was a very interesting homily focused on the Gospel of the day, my mind was just too drawn to the words of the first reading to think of anything but Tobit and Sarah. The emotion of their words just touched me deeply. Tobit and Sarah both poured their hearts out to God. They had been carrying such heavy crosses for quite a while. They felt tired and hopeless. They felt like there was nothing left for them. There was no future to hope for. They both felt like the only thing left for them was to pray for the end to come. In Tobit's words, "...For it is better for me to die than to see so much distress in my life and listen to such insults."(verse 6) And in Sarah's words, in verse 15:  "...Why should I live? But if it be not pleasing to you to take my life, command that respect be shown to me and pity be taken upon me, and that I hear reproach no more."

In other words, I can't take anymore! Make the hurting stop.

While our crosses aren't the same as Tobit or Sarah's, how many times have we gotten to a place where we have poured our hearts out to God? How many times have we cried out with words that echoed "I can't take it anymore!" and "Please make it stop!" and "Please make it go away!"

I've certainly used those words. And while God might not always take the cross away, He does always show up and give me the grace to take the next step. His plan doesn't usually take the direct route I wish it did to the "finish line", but there are blessings to be found on the journey and even in an unexpected ending. 

Tobias' journey was meant to fulfill Tobit's request to recover the talents he left in safe keeping, to provide for his family when Tobit's wish for death was realized. But Tobias' journey ended up being so much more. Because of St. Raphael's help, Tobias found what would cure his father. St. Raphael also led Tobias to Sarah, who "as his kin...have before all other men a hereditary claim to her."(Tobit 6:10) When Tobias questioned out of fear because rumors traveled fast back then, even without the existence of social media, St. Raphael, (still in disguise), told him how to pray to God and what to do to make the demon flee. Because those words were God's truth...and I'm sure it helped coming from an (unknown) angel, "When Tobias heard these things, he fell in love with her and yearned deeply for her.(6:17)

Doesn't that happen to us to sometimes? When God's truth breaks through our fears and takes hold of our mind and emotions in an unshakeable way? When we feel the "peace beyond all understanding"?(Philippians 4:7) That's pure grace.

Hope is vital but hard to hold onto, especially when living for an extended period of time with really hard circumstances. We can be beaten down so much, that it's impossible to see a different outcome than the one we fear. That's where Sarah was. The wedding night came and Sarah "began to weep".(7:17) Sarah's mother acknowledged her fear. "Be brave, my child; the Lord of heaven and earth grant you joy in place of this sorrow of yours. Be brave, my daughter."(7:18)  Sarah's father certainly doubted:" But Rag'uel arose and went and dug a grave, with the thought, "Perhaps he too will die."(8:9) Rag'uel had a maid sneak in the room to see if Tobias was dead early the next morning so that he could bury him in secret. To Rag'uel's surprise, Tobias was alive, and he praised God!

"...Blessed are you, because you have made me glad. 

It has not happened to me as I expected; 

but you have treated us according to your great mercy...."(9:16)

"It has not happened to me as I expected;" That line stands out to me. It's hard to hope that good things will happen when other moments in life have been so painful. To be able to rejoice and thank God for a blessing you thought could never happen is a gift. When you're prepared for the worse, an unexpected blessing can bring so much healing to a soul that feels broken. 

Despite all of the pain and trauma that Sarah and her family had been through, Rag'uel embraced the great surprise gift they had received. They trusted God to move forward in their lives, and he "ordered his servants to fill in the grave"(8:18). They let go of all the past pain and looked forward to building a life filled with blessings. Hope was given a place to grow in their hearts.

That's what God can do....He can surprise us and comfort us and heal us when things don't happen as we expect it. I need eyes to see that. Maybe you do to? Let's pray for each other and let Tobias' journey remind us all that God can restore even seemingly hopeless situations. 

(And make sure to keep a lookout for angels in disguise along the way!)

A Heart of Wisdom

photo credit loveprayerspeace.com

Motherhood is always a growing and stretching experience. As a wife, mom, and now grammy, I have a lot of things to juggle. I've been a mom for 30 years(which completely blows my mind when I think about how fast time has gone by!). Each season has brought, and continues to bring, its own set of joys and challenges. With eight children born over a span of 19 years, I've gotten to do each of these seasons many, many times. And I can honestly tell you that practice does not make perfect!

Each one of my kids is wired in a unique way with their own needs, strengths, and challenges. Some stages of development were incredibly easy with some of my kids, while with others it was a wailing and gnashing of teeth experience. Take potty training as an example. My first child was potty trained so easily at 2.5. Child number two at the same age looked at the potty and screamed, "NO!" Most of my crew were finally ready between 3 and 3.5. My youngest son could care less what we tried to bribe him with to use the potty and finally(!) was potty trained just days before he turned 4. Our son with severe autism wasn't fully potty trained until around the age of 8...but we were thrilled that he even reached that milestone! So different. And that's just one small stage of development!

We've had a lot of family changes over the last four years. Four college graduations, two grad-school graduations, three marriages, three grandsons, a granddaughter arriving next month, and another grandson arriving in August. My special needs son became an adult, which has meant lots of paperwork and a new road to navigate. Another child started college. My youngest son became and official teenager, and my baby girl is no longer a baby but the "pre-teeniest preteen" we have ever had.

Please click here to continue reading my blogpost at catholicmom.com

Carrying Each Other's Burdens

 Last year, my family went through what I (unaffectionately) called "Second Lent." I remember that we had almost made it to Holy Week. The days were getting warmer. There was more daylight, which is always an amazing feeling after the long, dark days of winter in the Northeast! The hope of spring was starting to poke its way into my heart as winter and Lent were quickly drawing to a close.

That feeling lasted about 24 hours. Then, within the course of a week, two very hard, unexpected crosses showed up into our lives! 

Please click the link to read the rest of my blogpost over at Catholicmom!

photo credit: https://lovepeaceprayers.com/

He Sees Us

 Lent creates a whole host of different emotions in my heart. It all depends on the year. Some years, I am feeling gung-ho and so ready to challenge myself to grow in all kinds of ways. Other years...not so much. This has been one of those "other years."

This year, I didn't even want to look at Lent. I feel like we've been doing Lent since November! Advent was so hard that my husband and I started calling it "Lent-vent." "Lent-vent" was followed up by a very hard time of grieving at the unexpected loss of a friend. The night of my friend's funeral, the first of our family came down with the norovirus. It was such a rough virus for us and took more than a month to work its way through our family, accompanying us through Ash Wednesday.

There was no excitement over Lent arriving for me this year. There was only exhaustion and burnout. I mostly ignored the fact that Lent was coming because I had no extra emotional space for anything. After the stress of the last few months, I would have been happy to just hibernate for the entirety of Lent and wake up on Easter!

Maybe you can relate?

....Please click here to finish reading my blog post on Catholicmom.com. 

photo credit: LovePeacePrayers.com

Love Them To The End

Life changing moments often come when you least expect it. 

There are times when life appears to be going along at a fairly controllable pace. Then something happens. In an instant, the fragility of life smacks you in the face and it becomes undeniably apparent that the control we seem to have is a complete illusion. 

Several days after Christmas, our daughter-in-law's mom had a scheduled surgery to replace a heart valve. Liz's mom had no other health issues, was in an excellent hospital with an excellent doctor, and all expectations were for a successful, uncomplicated surgery with a full recovery. At first, everything supported those expectations. Patti went through the surgery with no problems. She spent a couple of days in the ICU as was planned and then went to a regular room on the cardiac floor. Patti was making great progress. 

Until she wasn't. 

The day her doctor talked about sending her home, Patti collapsed. Patti's recovery was hijacked by massive blood clots that traveled to her heart, lungs and brain. Instead of going home that day, Patti spent the next 10 days in the ICU as doctors tried to save her life. It was a nightmare rollercoaster ride for her family as each day would bring small moments of hopeful news followed by devastating realities as the damage to her heart and her brain continued to unfold. As more and more damage was discovered, it became obvious that Patti could not be healed this side of Heaven. Patti passed into Eternity on Saturday, January 14th surrounded by her loving husband and daughters, and several other members of her family that were so incredibly supportive during the entire devastating journey. 

Patti was more than just my daughter-in-law's mom. Patti was also my friend. I've been blessed to know Patti for about 4 and a half years. Andrew and Liz had been dating for about 10 months when we got a chance to meet Patti, her husband, Chris, and Liz's sister, Tori.  They came to Andrew's college graduation party and from the moment we met them, they felt like family. Liz's family is kind, faithful, and genuine. They fit right in with all our friends and it felt like we had known them for a long time, even though we had just met. When Andrew and Liz got engaged only a few months later, it truly felt that we were combining our whole families. It was an incredible blessing for all of us.

Those last ten days of Patti's life were incredibly painful for me. As a mom, my heart was just breaking for Liz and Tori and the grief they were carrying. As a wife, my heart ached for what Chris was facing. As a friend, I was grieving hard at the thought of Patti not being a part of my life. 

Patti just had so much more life to live...especially with a little grandson that she DELIGHTED in and another grandbaby on the way. I cannot emphasize enough how much pure joy Patti felt at being a "Gramma". Patti lived her whole life for love of her family. You could see it in her body language, hear it in her voice, and feel it in the acts of love that she showed to all those she cared about. Patti loved with her whole heart and her family was everything. I saw it in the way she cared for her dying brother alongside her sisters. I saw it in the joy of being in the presence of her sisters and their love of each other. I heard it in the way she spoke with such love and happiness for her niece, all of her nephews and their wives and children. I saw it in the pure love and acceptance she had for her special needs nephew, Stephen. I saw it in the happiness she shared in at the weddings and receptions of my other son and daughter. Patti was just filled with life and joy. Everyone that knew her experienced it and were touched by it.  

As the stress and bad news increased in the last week of Patti's life, I was blessed to be able to spend some extra time with Patti's family. I drove up to Patti and Chris' house a couple of times to spend part of the day with Xavier while everyone went to the hospital. As often happens in tragic situations, the desire to do something to help carry a loved one's burden was so strong. Just as strong was the helplessness of how little I could actually do. What I could do was be emotionally present-especially with the deep grief everyone was carrying, bring and prep food for dinner and for snacks when they had family and friends stop by, and do dishes and other simple tidying around the house.(Xavier was always enthusiastically encouraging me to vacuum the family room. Apparently that's his new favorite chore.:) It felt like so little, but it was a way to show how much I care for all of them and to lighten the burden they all carried in some very small way.

I was so grateful just be able to "do" something. I did find it really hard to be in Patti's home. There was a feeling of intruding in the sacred space of another woman's kitchen when I was rifling through drawers trying to find measuring spoons or a can opener. I know if she was there, any question would have been answered in seconds and the necessary tool pulled out of the proper place. Without that familiarity, I was left to search and apologize in my head to Patti for stepping into her domain. I know that Patti knows that I was just trying to love and care for her family as she would, but it still felt wrong.

The first day that I watched Xavier was the day that the family had a big meeting with all of Patti's different doctors who each gave a thorough report and their opinions on her prognosis. It was that day that the yo-yo of emotions started to settle as it became more apparent that, without a miracle, Patti was not going to survive. There was much grief, but there was a peace that descended on Patti's family that was completely missing when I arrived that morning. I held a sleeping Xavier when Chris texted me the details of that meeting. As they drove home, I sobbed. I cried for the loss they were all facing. I cried for the coming loss of my friend. I cried that I was sitting on Patti's couch, in her home, holding our precious, sleeping grandson. She should have been the one there enjoying that peaceful moment. I felt so much guilt over that. My heart was just breaking.

Even within all the grief and loss of those hard 10 days, there was even more love. There was an incredible outpouring of prayers from family and friends. There was a constant presence of support from family and friends at the hospital and at their home. Chris' sister, her husband, her daughter, one of her sons and his fiance were at the hospital multiple times. They all came to the house multiple times with food and the desire to spend time with Chris and the girls and show them as much support as they could. Two of Patti's sisters came to be with Liz's family as well, and many of her nephews and their families drove for hours to be at the wake and funeral of their beloved aunt. Chris' best friend, John, made many supportive visits. He and his wife, Nancy, even opened up their beautiful home to host the reception after the burial. The outpouring of love and generosity was awe inspiring. The support that carried Chris, Liz and Tori was faith in action. God's presence in the midst of heartache and tragedy was felt through the outpouring of love from so many family and friends. It reminded me of this quote from St. Teresa of Avila:

"Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which Christ looks old
His compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which He blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are His body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours."

— St. Teresa of Ávila

Through these very hard moments, I got to see the kind of man my son, Andrew, has become. The care and attention that he showed to his wife, his son, and his in-laws made both Jay and I so proud. Andrew and Liz temporarily moved into Chris and Patti's home to be as supportive as they could for Chris and Tori. Andrew was driving all of them back and forth to the hospital every, emotionally filled day. Most days, Andrew had Xavier with him and kept him occupied while everyone spent time with Patti and met with the doctors for updates. (And Xavier was such a source of consolation for his grandpa and auntie. At 18 months old, Xavier doesn't understand what's going on, so his happy smiles and hugs were a much needed balm to hurting hearts.) Andrew made sure everyone was drinking water and eating meals...especially his pregnant wife. But most importantly, he was incredibly emotionally present and supportive, not only to Liz, but also to both Chris and Tori. In one of the hardest moments of his young adult life, Andrew leaned in to his faith and that Grace helped him to support his family throughout the entire difficult time. Seeing his care for all of them just touched my heart. #proudmamamoment

I feel like I got to share in a "highlight reel" of Patti's life in some ways. I know that she certainly had crosses to carry in the time I have known her, but we got to share so many amazing memories. Watching the beautiful video that Chris and Tori put together for Patti's wake, I was brought back to one of the most joy-filled moments of both of our lives as Liz walked out of the bedroom in her wedding dress for the first time. I also saw the picture of us from the night Andrew and Liz announced that Xavier was on the way. I will never forget Patti's hands as she hurriedly tried to rip the wrapper off of the special fortune cookies Liz and Andrew had ordered or her voice as she asked/exclaimed to Liz, "Are you pregnant!?!?" as it slowly dawned on all of us that something really special was being announced.  I will never forget the night that Liz went into labor and Patti and I spent the entire night going back and forth with Andrew and each other as we waited for the news that our grandchild had arrived and mama and baby were both ok. 

I found myself feeling incredibly grateful to God for the gift that Patti was. I'm grateful that she and Chris were open to life and brought two beautiful, loving daughters into the world. I'm grateful that God chose their daughter and our son for each other and brought both of our families together. I'm grateful for all the wonderful moments we shared. I'm just so tremendously sad that there won't be more.

Patti's wake and funeral Mass were truly a celebration of a beautiful life filled with love. Though wrapped in deep grief, there were moments of just pure beauty that I will carry with me for a long time. I wish it wouldn't have been a completely inappropriate moment to take a picture, because watching Liz, Andrew and Liz's dad and sister walking up the church aisle behind the casket holding each other's hands linked in support for strength and love was just incredibly touching and beautiful. Their hearts were broken and hurting but their love for Patti and each other, while being lifted by the prayers of everyone present (and even those who weren't), gave them the strength to endure the hardest day of their lives. 

Patti's pastor knew Patti and her family well. Fr. Larry gave a beautiful, tear inducing homily about the faithful, loving wife and mother Patti was. You could see that Patti's unexpected call home had really affected him. Three and a half years ago, Fr. Larry had concelebrated Andrew and Liz's wedding. He has an amazing voice, and I remember how excited Patti was that he agreed to sing the Ave Maria during the wedding ceremony. At the end of the funeral Mass, Fr. Larry walked off of the alter, stood right in front of Patti's casket, and sang that beautiful song just for her. I don't think there was a dry eye in the church, but it was so touching. It was just another example of how the love that Patti exuded in her life inspired everyone around her to love in return.

It seems so surreal that Patti is really gone. How can a person that was so full of life and love not be with us anymore? How can a person that is still so needed by her family not survive? Sometimes life just doesn't make sense. 

Patti's death has affected me greatly. I know I'm blessed to have lived this long without facing the grief of losing a friend, but it's still really hard. Everything feels different. I feel like my perspective has shifted. How can you not be affected when someone close to you passes away and it highlights the finiteness of our existence in this life?

Patti's death has triggered a good amount of fear and anxiety that I've had to work through.(and am still working through...) Her death has also brought up a lot of questions to ponder; such as, How can I live my life more intentionally? What do I want to focus on at this point in my life? Are there things in different areas of my life that need to be changed or tweaked in order to live more intentionally? Do I have any real goals for this season of my life? What are steps I need to take to reach those goals?

Can you tell that I'm in the "mid-life crisis" zone of life? Or, as Matthew Kelly calls it, "mid-life opportunity."

Life is passing by so quickly. I don't want to waste it. The path is changing as we get older and our kids grow up and start lives of their own...I haven't figured out exactly which way my new path is heading. It's hard to feel lost...and it's uncomfortable. It's an opportunity to grow and to stretch, but it feels pretty torturous when you're stuck in the messy middle of change.

Though the path certainly doesn't feel very clear right now, my ultimate life goal is summed up in John 13:1. 

"...Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, 
having loved his own who were in the world, 
he loved them to the end."

Love our own in this world and love them to the end....that's certainly what Patti did.

This is Tori, Chris, Patti and Liz celebrating with us at Sarah's wedding in August.
I can't believe we had to say goodbye to her just five months later....
I'm so grateful that Patti was a part of our lives.

Isaiah 40, Desert Wanderings, and Punctuation

During Advent, which honestly felt so much like Lent that Jay and I started calling it "Lentvent" and the "Lentiest Advent ever",  there was a particular scripture that caught my eye. It really struck me and I spent the rest of Advent and the Christmas Season with it mulling around in my head. I wanted to write a blogpost about it before Christmas, which I started doing, but it felt clunky and I just had such little time to write that I never finished it. I considered that it might be something to ponder on my own, but I'm still thinking about it all these weeks later. And even though it's clearly no longer Advent..or Christmas...I think that it's still relevant. (Hopefully you do too!)

One particular line caught my eye from the reading of the day back in mid December. The structure of the sentence was actually different than I always thought it was. It made me think of this meme: 

Photo credit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/540291286521991058/

The scripture was from Isaiah 40:1...

"A voice cries, "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, 

Make straight in the desert a highway for our God."

When I hear that verse read out loud, I always thought it went, "A voice cries in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord..." And it actually does in the Gospels, which I discovered as Advent went on.(See Mt 3:3, Mark 1:3, Luke 3:4, and John 1:23)  

Do you see the subtle difference in the comma placement? It just really jumped out at me when I read it. I've thought about it almost every day since then, mostly trying to figure out why this small punctuation change struck me so much. Here's what I've figured out so far.

The way I always heard the verse when it was read in the Gospel readings, "A voice cries in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord", always spoke of John the Baptist.  He was the voice crying in the wilderness, (literally), for people to repent. As can happen when you hear a certain scripture verse over and over again, that one was easy to just gloss over. It was quickly dismissed from my head..."that's just the one about John the Baptist trying to get people ready for Jesus." 

But seeing a simple comma placement changed all that.

When I read Isaiah 40:1-11, it made me think in a whole new way. 

"A voice cries, "In the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord...." Isaiah 40:3

(emphasis mine)

Let's start with the part of the sentence that I highlighted, "In the wilderness". We are supposed to prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness. What does that mean? When I see "wilderness" in the Bible, I automatically think of the Israelites wandering around in the desert wilderness for 40 years until they were able to enter the Promised Land because of their unbelief and lack of trust in the God who freed them from slavery in Egypt. During Advent, I happened to be reading a book called Just Rest by Sonja Corbitt. The book is a a study about the spiritual lessons from the Israelites' Exodus and how to apply those lessons to our own desert, (or wilderness), areas that we have in our own lives. I highly recommend it. (Quick tangent: I got to hear Sonja at a Women's Conference in the Fall and she was amazing. She also has a podcast called the Bible Study Evangelista that I also love and would recommend checking out.)

So what's our wilderness? Well, our wilderness is the broken places, the unhealed places, that we all have in our hearts. It's the areas in our lives where we struggle to trust God and where we rely on ourselves to get what we need because we think that's the only way we will be filled. Our wilderness is the places where we have put up walls around our hearts because life has been hard and we have believed the lie that only we can protect ourselves. Our wilderness is the broken family relationships, the broken friendships, the sins we struggle to let go of, the way of grief when we have lost someone that we love, the unhealed trauma and anything else that keeps us from living fully and authentically.

"A voice cries: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,

make straight in the desert a highway for our God." Isaiah 40:3 

These words of Isaiah are a direction for us. They are an encouragement. God knows what we are going through and He is coming to us. He wants to heal us, forgive us, and bless us. He wants to fill us with all that we need. We are not forgotten or abandoned. But we need to be open to Him. We need to "prepare the way" in our hearts to let Him in. We need to put down our defenses and our self sufficiency and all the unhealthy ways, (big and small), that we self protect and trust that He will come and take care of our needs. (And, wow, is that so NOT easy!!)

That Isaiah verse reminds me of Hebrews 12:13. 

"and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint 

but rather be healed."

How we act and react in times of hardship and pain can make us more predisposed to healing or make everything even harder for us in the long run. (I, unfortunately, have more experience with the latter.)\

Because after we "prepare a way for the Lord", what happens next?

"Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.

And the glory of the lord shall be revealed..." Isaiah 40:4-5

God will take away the obstacles, He will heal our grief and brokenness. His Grace and Mercy will be apparent to us. But it will most likely happen in the desert, because in the desert, God is teaching us trust and reliance on Him and a whole slew of other lessons that aren't easy to learn in the moment but make us stronger, more loving people in the long run.

God wants us to bring our needs to Him, and then He wants us to trust Him to take care of them. He doesn't expect me to find my own way out of the wilderness...that's His job, not my job. My job is to remain open, to be patient, and to watch for Him. God always gives us the next step. It might take longer than we would like, it will most likely involve people we don't expect that help us along the way, and it might be a path that isn't our preference, but He will show us the way. Our job in the wilderness is to "prepare the way of the Lord", and that starts with the disposition of our hearts.  

Sonja says in Just Rest, "Needs are an invitation to experience God's love and provision, and to overcome our bondage to fear and bitterness." 

I just automatically want to look at that word "need" and turn it into "needy", which is such a negative connotation. The world..and the devil...lie to us. They tell us that "I" can do it all and "I" can have it all and I..I..I..I..I. But we were made for a purpose and for relationship and yes, God gave us needs. And those needs are good and necessary because it lets each of us be a conduit of God's Grace and Love to our family, our friends, and even to strangers that God places in our path. 

With age brings wisdom, (at least sometimes!), and I've learned more often than naught to realize when I'm stuck in the wilderness. Unfortunately, I still find myself wandering around my personal deserts complaining like the Israelites instead of relying on God and being in awe of all the ways that He provides for me every.single.day. I'm stuck looking at my circumstances, trying to figure out my own way out, and not preparing a way for God to have access to my heart and my problems. Reflecting on Isaiah 40 is helping me to lean into my desert experience and to wait on God. It's going to help build my "trust muscle" which, between you and me, needs a lot of work. 

(Another important thing that I've learned is that I don't want to be stuck in my deserts longer than I have to be!  I want to learn the lessons and get to the milk and honey...or maybe hot chocolate and cheesecake.) 

If I had to give a "cliff notes" version of what I've learned it's this: 

less self reliance and more reliance on God.....

.....And, of course, that commas are very important!

Healing What is Hidden

I recently attended a funeral for my friend's dad. A funeral is always somber and emotional. Even though I didn't know my friend's dad, I still found myself tearing up as his grown children and the teenage and young adult grandchildren comforted each other. Loss is difficult, even when someone has had a long life. It's just so hard to say goodbye. 

The Gospel reading the family chose was the story of Lazarus. Listening to it reminded me that I had written a blog post a while ago....it was June!!!...in my journal when I felt inspired in adoration. It never got onto my blog because I was waiting for the right timing and then I completely forgot about it until the funeral. When I went to try and find it in my journal, which I figured would take me a while, I opened up right to the page where it was written! I'm taking that as a "God wink" that the timing is now.:)

"When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary sat in the house. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. And even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you. Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this? She said to him, "Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the son of God, he who is coming into the world."(John 11:20-22)

Entering into Martha's grief, I feel the emotion in her words to Jesus. I hear the "Why, Lord?"  I also see the trust. Martha knew and believed who Jesus was. Martha had hope in what Jesus could do in this life and, more importantly, she had the hope of eternal life.

I cry out "Why, Lord?" to God in really hard situations. Grief is so painful to go through. Avoiding grief doesn't work. Although our minds think that it's self preservation, stuffing our feelings just makes everything harder. Having to go through grief reminds me of one of my kids favorite children’s books, “We’re Going On a Bear Hunt”. Here's my spin on it:

“Uh Oh, Grief! We can’t go over it, we can’t go under it. Oh no, we have to go through it.”

I wrestle with the why in difficult life situations, especially in moments of great loss. I wrestle to understand and make sense of the pain. So did Martha. It had been four days since her brother had died. More than that since Mary and Martha had sent word to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” They had been living the fear, angst, and grief of loss. 

Both Mary and Martha told Jesus at separate moments, “Lord if you had been here my brother would not have died.”(Martha in verse 21 and Mary in verse 32.) Mary fell at Jesus’ feet weeping in grief as she said the words. I have done the same; weeping in adoration as my broken heart continued to break as I cried to Him, "If only You had not let this happen to us.”

And just as He felt with Mary in verse 33, Jesus’ heart is “moved in spirit and troubled” when we pour out our broken hearts before Him. Just as He asks Mary, “Where have you laid him?”, Jesus asks us in those moments that grief overwhelms us, “Where is your brokenness? Where are your dead places? Show me the places where you only see brokenness and despair.”

This Bible story doesn't end with Martha and Mary's grief. This is a story about God's plans being greater than our plans. This is a story of miracles and healing. When does healing happen? I think that there are three steps that Jesus shows us in the healing of Lazarus that we can ponder in our own lives.

"Then Mary, when she came where Jesus was and saw him, fell at his feet, saying to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled; and he said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see."

The first step towards healing is when we tell Jesus, “Come and see.” Martha and Mary brought Jesus to the source of their pain. We need to do the same. When we show Him where our hurts are and when we show Him where our brokenness is....that's when we open ourselves to the grace to start the journey towards healing.  

What did Martha and Mary expect to happen at the tomb? Not the miracle of their brother being raised from the dead. They were too grief stricken. They thought all hope had passed. They thought that they missed out on the miracle that could have been..."Lord, if you had been here...". 

But Jesus had another plan. He always has a plan. We often don't understand or "see it". We get trapped in our grief and stuck in everything that seems impossible and hopeless. We forget the words in Matthew 19:26; "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." That's the second step; Faith. Can we push past our limited vision and be open to possibility...especially impossibilities? Can we be open and vulnerable even it we don't have the answers or the final outcome all worked out? That's not easy!

Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb; it was a cave and a stone lay upon it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?"

Jesus says "Take away the stone" and Martha says, "Lord, there will be an odor." Martha could not see past the pain and loss. She saw no other possibility than the reality of the moment. It cost too much to hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. But Jesus knows and understands how much Martha is hurting, so He encourages Martha. "Did I not tell you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?" I hear those words spoken with a tone of comfort and gentleness. I hope you can too.

Jesus encourages us to open our brokenness to Him. He encourages us to allow Him access to the areas in our life that are dead and seem hopeless. That's the third step. We have to "roll away the stone". We have to let down all of our modes of self protection-all the walls we've emotionally erected to try and keep the pain away. We need to step away from all the distractions that we try to avoid looking at and feeling our hurt and brokenness. We need to not be afraid of the "odor" of our festering wounds caused by others and by our own sins. We need to be willing to reopen the wound, because what is hidden cannot be healed. 

Don't just skim over that last sentence. Say it slowly and let it sink in. 

What is hidden cannot be healed.

This time of year is filled with lots of  traditions, family and checking things off the endless lists to create special holiday moments. For many of us, this time of year also carries a lot of sadness and big emotions that we can often try to white knuckle through. Using sheer will to "get through" the holidays isn't good, and in the end just leaves us with more brokenness. It also steals our joy. Advent is the perfect time to let His light into the darkness of our hearts. 

Where are your broken places? Where do you feel dead inside? Where have you lost hope? Bring Jesus to those places. Remove those heavy stones and see what Jesus' plan is. Let's all try to bring our brokenness to God, have faith(and patience) while we wait for Him to show us His plan, and roll away the stone around our hurts to give God access to bring true healing. 

"What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him." 1Cor 2:9