New Beginnings.....New Hope.......Sunday is Here!

Today my son chose to be baptized in the faith.  Today, it was not only symbolic of his life with Jesus but it also meant he is ready to step forward in a new life.  We have lived in our Saturday for a long time now.  We have lived between Good Friday and the questions of loss and pain.  The place of realizing that the future was not going to look like we had planned.  The place of wondering how God was going to rewrite our future.  The place of despair.  We have never lost the faith.  We know God is in control but we have no idea what that is going to look like.  We can't even envision it.  We can't even imagine the complete unknown.  We can't see the resurrection of our lives.  The new beginnings.  The new hope.  Today we tried to grab it.  We took this Easter Sunday and stepped out in faith.  We are ready for new.  We are trusting God.  Samuel took it to a full level publicly choosing baptism.  He said I am ready to accept the resurrection and the next that God has ordained for me.  He said it is time to leave Saturday and live in the Sunday.  He reminded me that there is so much life still to live and it is best to follow the path the Lord has laid out for us.  He reminded me  that it is time to put my faith in action.  He reminded me that Jesus died so we could live.  Every step is scary but I am developing a great anticipation for what is next. 

Pastor Bill whispered in his ear how proud his father would be of him.

New Beginnings.......Let's Do This Thing.

Guilt

So were sitting at the table talking and somehow Rocky's funeral became the topic of conversation.  I shared that I wished we had filmed the entire receiving line.  I wanted to see who was there and what my reaction was to each person.  I don't know why, perhaps because I have been doing a lot of self-reflecting lately about myself and relationships in my life.

My oldest begins to cry.  First, he said he is glad there are no pictures because he doesn't want to remember that day.  I began to ask why and figure out where he was coming from.  He was feeling guilty.

You see, our church set up a room off the sanctuary for the kids.  It was filled with snacks and games.  The kids stayed in that room for most of the receiving line time.  I thought it was a gift that my children were occupied so I could attend to the business at hand.  As a child came through the line, I advised them where the children were.  All the children seemed to be relieved to leave the room where the guy was lying in the coffin.  Uncomfortable for adults, can only imagine how my children's friends felt.  Anyway,  in that room people had their ipods, kindles, phones or whatever other device they had stuffed in their pockets.  Most of my children stayed in that room the whole time.  We had a private viewing as a family (another topic) and they walked back in with me at the beginning of the service (we did not want to witness the lid being closed on the coffin).

The guilt.  Apparently that room was fun.  He should not have had fun and smiled at his fathers funeral.  What kind of person has fun at their own fathers funeral.  I told him, his dad would have been in that room playing games too if he could.  That his dad and all the other people understood  the internal struggle and no one judged or thought anything of it.  He just cried and said, "I had fun at my own dad's funeral".  I have no idea how to make that guilt go away.

I pray he finds peace with it.

I hope he understands that everyone understood.

I hope he realizes that laughter is medicine.

I don't want him to carry this guilt.

I am sad he feels this way.

Guilt can be powerful.

Waves of Grief

When I first became a widow and began reading on the subject, I saw the phrase Waves of Grief a lot.  It reminded me of the song, “waves of mercy, waves of grace, everywhere I look I see your face.”  This is a positive thing.  A reminder that God is always there willing and ready to take us into his loving arms. 

Waves of Grief are different.  They are debilitating.  They completely take your breath away and you don’t see them coming.

Yesterday, I walked into the Royal Ranger Pinewood Derby with the kids.  I knew where we were going.  I knew it was one of Rocky’s favorite events.  He worked hard as it approached every year.  He wanted the boys to have great cars.  I always reminded him it was the boys’ event, and the boy’s cars.  Who was I kidding?  It was his!  Anyway, I walked in and felt something was off.  The boys checked in and I immediately had to step into the restroom to compose myself.  You see, a wave a grief hit me in that room.

Imagine this…..you are standing on the beach talking to a friend and just really aren’t paying much attention.  Maybe, a wave hits and you are all of a sudden wet and didn’t mean to be.  The wave just took on more strength than the ones before it.  Take it a step further…….you are letting the waves crash on your legs and all of a sudden you are knocked off your feet and a wave crashes over you.  You try not to panic and work to float to the top and regain your bearings.  It is scary.  Finally, you are to the top and breathing again but there seems to be a rip tide.  You can’t make it back to shore.  You know you are supposed to swim parallel to the beach until you have control.  You do that but your heartrate is up and you are nervous.  Does the lifeguard see me?  Will they come if I can’t make it? Ahhh…..the sweet feeling of sand between your toes.  You start to breathe again but you are looking at the ocean with a whole new sense of awe.  A respect for its power over you.  As much as you love it you are reluctant to dabble your toes in the water again.  You spend the day thinking about it and remembering the need to breath.

That surprise.  That, whoa….didn’t see that coming sense of awe.  That need to be in control again.  That inability to function at full capacity for the rest of the day.  That is what a wave of grief feels like.

Back to yesterday, that wave crashed over me the minute we entered the room.  I spent hours swimming along the shore.  I caught two of my boys with tears in their eyes and knew they were swimming just as hard as I was.  We didn’t talk because we knew that was place we didn’t want to go in that moment.  But we understood each other.

We got in the car and I simply said, “That was hard.”  They said, “Yup.”  Thankful we survived current and praying the next wave will have a little more mercy and grace.