The Easter Trilogy - Part III

Part III - New Again

I close my eyes and I'm back in time to 1992, wading in a swamp of sadness, anger, abandonment and loss. The future loomed unkind and unclear as I took the steps to annul a marriage.  I didn’t trust my own judgment, I couldn’t envision a family of my own, and I felt, as I put it at the time, that I’d lost my FDA seal of approval.   When the man who promises to love you leaves you, it follows that you’re unlovable.   Trudging through grief and introspection, I searched for solid ground.  I returned to Church and even went so far (it seemed extreme at the time) as to attend a healing mass to be prayed over and that's where this sweet memory was born.  An 80-year-old prayer warrior with his hand on my shoulder –

Honey, I don’t know your heartache but I know the Lord has a few words for you.  ‘Behold, I make all things new again’.

Fast forward, God built me my own little church - it's me, my soul mate for the past 22 years, our gentle-heart daughter, and two chihuahuas, sharing an abundant life.  My own journey is evidence of redemption, grace and rebirth.

I heard a priest once proclaim Good Friday is essential, do not wish away what foreshadows Easter. Call it a universal truth; the dark precedes the dawn. We will experience Good Friday and Easter repeatedly in our lives.  Each cross, no matter how small, demands that I die to self.   When life pushes me toward Calvary, God pours out His grace and changes me forever; I am new again. 

Yet experience and evidence doesn’t make the way of the cross less daunting…for anyone. Even our Lord struggled on the Way.  Simon lightened the load. Veronica's compassion moved her to gently tend to Him.  I witness anew this week that we also encounter Simon and Veronica on our way, from a friend's encouragement to a technician's reassurance. 

My discomfort was mercifully short lived but long enough to soften my heart in solidarity with those who don’t get the “all clear” and I am reminded that all suffering brings me closer to others and to the One who understands, who has lived it like no other.  

The gift from this four day Lenten journey?  Clarity - that we all get a chance - to help bear the weight, to suffer with, to serve, and yes at times, to be the one to carry the cross. But take heart - every Good Friday foretells the promise of Easter.   

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! 
I have overcome the world.  ~ John 16:33. 

The Easter Trilogy - Part II

Part II -  The Cup
So this cup has passed.   Just a lymph node.   No biopsy, no cancer.  Giddy with relief, I joke with my girlfriends that the cute radiologist was the youngest man to touch my chest in years.   My interior world has lined up and righted itself and of course, I’m grateful. 

Perhaps this being Holy Week is a coincidence but this four day Lenten journey felt like 40 days in the desert – barren, lonely and dry, complete with you-know-who whispering lies in my ear.  It may seem counter-intuitive as a Christian not to have asked the Lord to work a miracle and heal what may be lurking in my breast.  Truth is I knew He may not and I didn’t want to be angry with Him.   I allowed a short visit to that murky place posing the question of the centuries – why a loving God permits suffering.    And it is all around - my cousin who lost his teen to a drunk driver, my neighbor who lost her child to a brain tumor, and my dear friend recently treated for breast cancer – the harsh truth that sometimes the cup doesn’t pass.   

Not even for God.   Alone in a dark garden, in fear so intense He sweats blood.   

I knew whatever the outcome He would use this opportunity to imprint something new upon my heart.  He is a God who wastes nothing.

It sinks in - the solitude of the garden, the heaviness of His heart, the intensity of His pain, the depth of His obedience, the breadth of His love, the enormity of His sacrifice.   What He gave for us.  What He gave for me.   For a short few days, the way of the cross stretched before me and I am humbled to feel my humanity in its entirety... 

Uh Lord, yeah, I love you.  I trust in you but really who am I kidding, I don’t want to follow you there.   

And somewhere a rooster crows...

The Easter Trilogy - Part I

Part I - Gethsemane

I begin this at the gates of my own Gethsemane.   Four days ago I got the dreaded call after a mammogram screening.

The doctor saw something.  We need you to come back for more pictures and possibly an ultrasound. 

Adrenaline and blood flood to my feet and I am quickly in panic mode.   Consulting Dr. Google, I find blogs, forums and articles aplenty on the dreaded “call-back mammogram.”  Evidently this is very common; statistics show a 60% chance of a call-back over a course of 10 screenings.  This is my lucky 13^th, so I guess the odds predicted this day would come.  According to the American Cancer Association, 90% of call-backs will result in “go home, everything is fine”.  The other 10% will go on for a definitive biopsy and 80% of those biopsies will be benign.  The stats rattle easily off the keyboard at this moment because after four days they are ingrained in my neuro pathways.  The odds are very good that this is just a quick blip on my way to old age.    And still my brain keeps returning to…

What if I am among the unlucky 2%...

which leads to...

Next Google search - types of cancers, stages of cancer and treatments.   And I wonder how treatment will affect my life.  I look for a silver lining.

Heck, I’ll just tell them to lop off both, get that C cup build-up I’ve always wanted and have United Healthcare pay for it.  Lemons from lemonade.  

But that also passes with the hours and I alternate from repeating the stats silently to whispering to my God just how frightened I am.

I could crawl up in my bed and pull the covers over me until the morning comes if I thought that will help but it won’t.  So I go through the motions, try to remember to eat something, act normal in front of my daughter and immerse myself in being a mother.  We spent yesterday shopping for a dress for her honor society induction.   It was holy.  The funny thing about these moments (and it’s not my first) is how quickly everything falls into perspective.  How the little annoyances mean nothing and a smile from my husband or a kiss from my dog mean the world.

Some moments I have this peace that I can handle whatever comes and other moments are just sheer terror of what I stand to lose emotionally and physically…my peace of mind, my hope, my boobs, my life…  

OK Lord, what have you planned here?  Will I be able to walk through what you call me to do?  Will I be this faith-filled Christian when I see a possible cross looming ahead?   Or will I pretend I don’t know you and feel abandoned?  And if I am healthy, what am I to learn from this?  

I try to leave it at His feet, put this keyboard aside and wait for the morning.   

Where Am I Looking Today??

Finally started the Christmas to-do list during my lunch break and after comparing prices online, weighing important decisions like reverent Christmas card vs. irreverent Christmas letter, realizing that my daughter is an XS not an S (so much for that great Nike deal I scored), planning when to bake dozens of cookies, reviewing our social calendar and charitable commitments, peeking at the credit card statement, and...well soon enough, I could foretell bankruptcy on the horizon in the time, talent and treasure accounts (somewhere to the left of the Bethlehem Star). 

 

It was in this holiday spirit, a co-worker presented me with a problem to solve.  I wasn't particularly in the mood for visitors  at that moment but in his defense, I had forgotten to hang my "No Room at the Inn" on my door.  And so a poorly-timed interruption turned any remaining dreams of half-rotten sugar plums into dreams of strangling the air out of his lungs, someone who for the most part I like when I'm not preparing for the birth of my savior.  

 

Hmm, I don’t think this is what the heavenly angels were harking (or hawking).  As I boiled over, I remembered one of my favorite bloggers, Ann Voskamp, and her Love Comes Down Advent series.  This is a portion of her take on Christmas to-do lists –

Whenever Christmas begins to burden, it’s a sign that I’ve taken on something of the world and not of Christ.  Any weight in Christmas has to be of this world.   Christ came into this world as grace to lift all the weighty burdens.

Christ the Babe comes to us in Christmas as Christ the Savior comes to us on the Cross — seeking only our embrace.

I look over my list on the counter.  What if I laid down efforts and expectations, perfectionism and performance?  What if I breathed deep and simply waited with arms and heart and eyes wide open? What if Christmas was the season to let go of to-do lists adding up — to receive what’s coming down?

I look over my list on the counter.  Christmas, it isn’t a product to wrap but a Person to unwrap.  What is keeping me today from receiving him?

I look over my list on the counter. Christmas, it can’t be bought.  It cannot be created. It cannot be made by hand. Christmas can only be found.  Where am I looking for Christ today?

To Live or Re-live?

A few years ago while tidying up the garage, my husband tossed out an old pair of sandals I had hung onto for years.  He swears he thought they were intended for the trash but I know he hated the sight of them.  At the time I was incensed but when I recall it now, there is no emotional attachment to the incident.  I was angry that day but carried no resentment.  I've heard people use the words interchangeably but resentment is clandestinely more powerful than anger - it pays out much more in residuals.  The word "resentment" stems from the French verb "resentir" literally meaning "to feel again".   Anger is the premiere, resentment is the re-run. 

I've been re-running a particular episode for the past 8 months.  Someone going through a difficult time chose to relieve some of the pressure by displacing their anger on me rather than confront the cause of their situation.  And while I understand that (been there, done that), I was still deeply hurt. I had just lost my mother and their inconsiderate timing further fueled my rage.  Its not that I haven't been able to forgive, I haven't wanted to forgive.  Self-righteous anger can be a comfy bed for a hurting soul.

So imagine my surprise when I sat in Church today minding my own business (paying no attention to the scripture reading), when out of the blue, the thought entered my mind to forgive this person.  I needed to because my God has instructed me to.  Forgiveness can't wait for me to feel it, I must choose it.  And I did.  Just like that.  By the grace of God, the bleeding stopped. 

A wise woman once told me that people find it difficult to forgive because they think it must involve forgetting.  She pointed out that forgiveness does not mean reconciliation. Forgiveness is a choice to let go of my "right to be angry", to no longer wish that the other person could feel the pain they inflicted, to let go of my expectation that they will make it right so I can move on.  In fact, in the French language, to relinquish (or leave behind) is synonymous with forgiveness.  Only I can relinquish what I'm holding onto.

Reconciliation involves cooperation - it requires both parties to communicate openly about what occured, to take responsibility, to resolve the hurt and rebuild the trust.   Reconciliation requires a degree of introspection, soundness of mind and courage.  That is why its difficult and sometimes not safe to reconcile with those who are mentally, emotionally or spiritually ill. 

So sitting in that church, my next thought went to "How will I have a relationship with this person now?  What will it look like?  Can it ever be the same?"  and since I had no answers, I decided to hand those questions to God and trust the answers will come in His time.  Just as clearly as the message He placed on my heart today to forgive and let healing begin.

I've also been on the other side - healed when I received forgiveness.  Years ago after hitting an emotional bottom, I sat down to examine my broken relationships.  I realized that my motives, while often dressed in good intentions, were frequently based in fear and out of that self-absorption, I hurt others.  I would hide behind "good intentions" to justify my behavior when people were angry with me, bewildered that another relationship went sour.  Despite my best attempts at rationalizing that the fault lay elsewhere, those experiences sat in my gut; after awhile leading to self-loathing, a soul-sickness of its own, resulting in more fear and self-centeredness.  Until that day, I was blind to the cycle of destruction I lived in.  The grace of God, and His grace alone, enabled me to start changing my behavior.

So who am I not to forgive?  It is a no-brainer to see that this other person is struggling with their own soul-sickness.  Happy, healthy, whole people don't behave that way.   And if I keep airing the re-runs of that episode, I have little chance of being happy, healthy and whole myself.   Time to change the channel.  

No Fast-Pass On This Ride

I could tell from the moment my daughter threw her backpack in the car, something was bothering her.  On the ride home she began to tell me a story familiar to every mother of a middle school girl.  A classmate had said something and my daughter felt rejected.  Her words swerved from hurt, to anger, to confusion and sounded like me at her age.  I couldn't help myself; as my foot pressed a little harder on the gas pedal, my voice rose and the words of wisdom poured out, "Who cares what she says?  Who cares what she thinks?  Its not your problem.  It's her problem.  Why do you want what that girl says to ruin your day?  You know what she said isn't true.  You can't let people make you feel bad about who you are."  And in the middle of my diatribe, my daughter cut me off, "Why can't you just let me be sad?  You always do this!  I want to tell you how bad I feel - can't you just listen to me?  It hurts!"

After the initial shock, I was tempted to pull off the road, raise the moon-roof and give a standing ovation.  How did this 12-year-old have the insight to say the words that took years of therapy to form with my own mouth?  She gave me something to think about (in addition to the guilt of being a heartless mother). 

What was I trying to do?  I'll tell you.  All those messages I heard for years, the same ones I had just repeated to my daughter, I never really believed myself until a few years ago.  That others' expectations do not define who I am, that put-downs come from low self-esteem, that we all struggle with our own insecurities, some of us just hide it better.   The problem, as I explained to my tweener later that day, is that I want her to buy something because I say so, something which took forty years to travel from my own head to my heart. 

Mommy wants to spare you the time and the tears it takes to learn how to love yourself.  

After that day I lecture less, I listen more, I try to respect that this is her journey and like me, she will be okay, perhaps wiser.  As we travel her teenage years ahead, I'm sure there will be more occasions where I will be tempted to cut to the chase of life's lessons.  I'll want to tell her not to worry so much if the boy wants to be with her but rather if she really wants to be with that boy, that friendships only last with honesty and forgiveness, that 99% of the good stuff in life involves long-term effort rather than immediate gratification, that she'll be much happier (and safer) with creamy skin at 40 than a tan at 18, that she is the only person in the world with the power to hold her back from being who God created her to be, so she needs to be a good friend to herself. 

Oh how I'd love to give my little girl the eyes to see the beautiful, talented, amazing creature she is, and skip the wasted years of worrying "Am I good enough?"
 
But that isn't the way life works.  There are no fast-passes for this ride.

Grief Chapter V

Here is my first post on grief, a subject which lent the final push to creating my blog.  My mother passed away almost five months ago.  It feels more like a couple of months but then, death and grief have put me in a time warp.  So while this is my first time writing about losing Mom, its certainly not Chapter I.  I'd say the first four chapters are written on my heart.  Full of tears, memories, joy, guilt, gratitude, longing, love, peace and heartache so crushing it physically feels like a concrete block was placed on my chest.  That is the mystery of grief, how one can feel all of that in the same day, sometimes within the same few moments. 

Today's chapter touches on something a little heavy that should lighten the heart - the fact that love does conquer death.  This is about the times I have felt my mom with me.  I know that sounds like wishful thinking to those who have no faith in the spirit surviving the body.  Its not my job to convince anyone.  And yes, it certainly is something I would wish for but this is more about experience (defined as having tested before) than it is about manifestation (defined as creating by one's own hands).  

I know I'm not the only one who has had those moments when the thought of someone enters your mind out of the blue and within seconds, the phone rings and that person is on the line.   At some level people know (no matter how uncomfortable or curious it is to admit it), these occurances are too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, especially when they recur over and over.  I always chalked it up to that "fourth dimension" full of happenings that science can't yet explain but yet ordinary Joes experience, lumped under a heading called "paranormal" which runs the gamut from sensing something beyond the five senses, to psychosomatic healing, to the quack who can channel his duck.  I've never channeled an animal but many times, I'd think of mom out of the blue and the phone would ring at just that moment.  It was a unique, odd sensation that I got used to.  

So now I will tell you that over the past few months, I have had that same exact feeling.  In full disclosure, an intimate moment of comfort (out of the blue) preceded and made me conscious of that feeling once more. It pops in there, uninvited, originating from somewhere outside my consciousness.  And I know in that moment she is thinking of me.  Wherever she is, in whatever form she lives on, I am on my mother's mind.  I've no doubt that if there was such a thing as supranatural cellular service, there would be ringing.  And amazingly for a moment, its as if she hasn't left me. 

The truth of what previously was to me just an adage, a trite one at that, becomes evident - that love is so powerful, it surpasses all things, even death.  I understand that today in a way I don't think possible for me before.    There is a knowing in the depth of my soul of how strongly connected we are and will remain for eternity.  That there are powers that break the barriers of the physical world as we know it.

Then there are days like today where I just feel an immense void because this beautiful woman who loved me like no other ever will, moved on to where she was supposed to go, where we will all journey and where I can't yet follow.  And fresh tears fall, and my chest feels heavy and I miss her like crazy.  But that writes the next chapter in grieving.