Tag Archives: God

He Lives!

John 20:3–18, Mary Magdalene speaks with the resurrected Christ

Today is the 42nd anniversary of Mom’s death – and also the day we celebrate LIFE. Eternal life through the saving grace of Jesus Christ, God’s son. Although in this life there is sin and war and famine and death – and heartbreak – God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world, through Him, might be saved (John 3:17).

We still suffer loss – loss of relationships, loss of employment, loss of health, loss of loved ones. But through Jesus Christ, our hearts, despite loss, are healed. And we are saved. And like our Savior who rose on the third day, we can rise again – through Jesus Christ who saves us, and lifts us, and shines His light upon us, and shows us the way.

He knows us, each of us, and asks us in a very personal way to learn of Him – and to follow. He asks us to reach out to others who are hurting. He asks us to open our hearts and to simply LOVE.

But how can we love, or feel love, when our hearts are so broken, we may ask. Just as the seed is planted in broken ground, God’s love is firmly planted in the broken heart. Precisely because our hearts are broken, we can feel greater compassion and a connection to others who are also brokenhearted. Light can penetrate beyond the outer shell of our protected selves and reach into the center of our souls with a healing balm from whence can spring a beautiful flower.

God’s love.

The healing love of Jesus Christ who died, so we might LIVE.

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Thank you, God…there are no coincidences.

mother headstoneThank you, God, for reminding me today that you see me. And you see Jim. And by your love you stitch a beautiful tapestry called life, bringing together, however briefly, the tiniest scraps of fabric to create the whole. Each seemingly insignificant moment becomes meaningful when we listen to the small whisperings of your voice directing us to act. And for that, I am grateful. And honored.

Today, Jim introduced himself to me after a Suicide Survivor Day event. He had reached out to me by phone over a year ago after reading my story of suicide loss in the newspaper. He explained at that time that he had lost his mom too. He was just four years old in 1952. After the brief phone conversation, I forgot about Jim. But you didn’t, God. You led him to Survivor Day. Jim didn’t know if I would be there, but nonetheless, he came prepared with the newspaper article of my story – and the newspaper clipping of his own story of loss all those years ago. He didn’t know I would be there. But you did, God. And you led me to bring a copy of my book, Hope after Suicide. The book you helped me write. I prayed to you that I might recognize the ONE – the one who needed to know that despite devastating loss, despite the loss of our beautiful mothers, there is hope. Hope to heal our broken hearts. Even 64 years later.

Jim had never met anyone else who had lost a mom to suicide or spoken to anyone who could understand. Sixty-four years ago, his dad didn’t explain. It wasn’t OK to talk about it then. But today, it is. Thank you, God, for reminding me.

And God, please heal Jim’s heart. Help him feel his mom close as he reads words meant to help him understand, meant to share hope despite heartbreak. Help him see your hand. Help him see that there are no coincidences. Help him see that you were always there. Help him know that you see him. And you see me.

And together, we are healed. By your love.

Thank you, God.

Amen

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Clay and Creation

pottery1Today marks the five year anniversary of the bicycle accident that changed my life. Other than planning to get back on a bike for the first time in five years, I hadn’t really thought much about the anniversary.

Until this morning, that is.

While kneeling with my husband, thanking God for my bountiful blessings – family, home, sunshine – I asked for protection while I take my bike out for the first time in five years.

And I cried.

I didn’t expect to cry, and it caught me a little by surprise. Today was going to be the day I faced my fears and prayed for balance long enough to ride a block on the bike which I used to ride for miles. That’s all.

But God wanted me to remember. And acknowledge. Not just the pain, but the growth.

And He took a week to prepare me for the lesson.

A week ago today, I awoke in terrible pain with a muscle spasm from the base of my skull to my hip – my left hip – the side that hit the pavement after my head hit the bottom rail of a fence. I hadn’t experienced this type of muscle spasm for many many months. And I hadn’t done anything different that would explain the pain on the same side I landed when I wrecked my bike five years ago. But my body remembered, even if I didn’t.

This past week, my husband pulled out all of our home videos from years ago and I watched a beautiful, vibrant, energetic, polished younger self tackle the demands of work, school, husband, and children in blizzard-like fashion – talking and moving faster than I remember possible. And for a brief moment, I determined to regain that same energy.

Oh, but for a bicycle accident five years ago, I’d still be pouring out more of myself than God could pour in.

God, the great Creator, had different plans, though. He took that still-wet clay pitcher, and he pounded it down on the potter’s wheel. And he fashioned a bowl.

I sat silent for many weeks and months, listening with my heart because my head wouldn’t work. And God filled my bowl, drop by drop, to overflowing – with His love.

And lest I think God is done with shaping me, I am reminded that the clay is still wet. There will be future events – trials, tragedies, and beautiful blessings beyond imagination – that will shape who I am as life rolls forth towards the day that I will step out of this clay body prepared to meet my Creator.

No, not an accident. Just part of the plan.

 

*Photo Credit

 

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