It’s been quiet on my end. No words. I feel like I’m no longer able to fully process the pain all around me. My mind is a jumbled mess as I watch the chaos currently unfolding in the world. I thought 2020 was rough, but it doesn’t hold a candle to 2021 for our family. There has been so much, both close to home and around the world, that I’ve truly been struggling to take it all in. And my heart is utterly crushed by the evil of our day. I’ve been focused, quite simply, on putting one foot in front of the other and doing what absolutely has to be done next.
I’m still recovering from a second bout of COVID. Yes, the second time in less than a year that this virus hit our home. It was not very kind to me this time around. I’ve never seen something in my lifetime polarize people so completely. I’ve watched illness, masks, mandates, vaccines, all reveal the depths of human depravity. Our family has been deeply touched by this virus with the loss of my Dad, and we know several other families personally who have lost someone they love.
I also watched in horror as scenes of chaos and heartbreak unfolded a world away. Fear, desperation, evil, mistrust mingled together as our military left a war-torn country, drastically changing the landscape for countless families in that place. We’ve known so many wonderful people who have given of themselves to love and serve the people of that land. I’ve prayed for those who live there with cries, when words seemed so inadequate. “Oh God, protect, shield, work, move, be merciful.”
Images of a massive hurricane filled my heart and mind with strong and unexpected emotion. For many years, that beautiful coastline was my Dad’s playground. He flew countless trips from the coast to the oil rigs positioned in the Gulf. He helped move helicopters, equipment, and personnel to higher ground numerous times with the threat of bad weather. I’ve always been fascinated by hurricanes, but I found myself consumed with the news regarding Ida’s wake of destruction and wondering how much more devastation will come from storms, floods, fires.
We have dear friends touched by cancer for a second time, some wrestling with even more bouts of this vicious disease. Families now living in uncertainty, dealing with chemo, appointments, opinions, treatment plans, insurance, sick leave . . . completely unable to see around the next corner. Weary. Scared. Hurting.
I’ve struggled to guard my emotions over the past few months. I can’t seem to quiet my turbulent thoughts. I’ve been overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of all that is going on around me. I’ve lost track of who to pray for . . . the list just keeps getting longer. How do I bring all of these needs to the Throne effectively? Honestly, how do I even pray? Does He understand my cries and groans? Does He see all this chaos?
And in the middle of it all, my mind also keeps wandering back in time. To a season of our life that usually stays neatly tucked in the corners.
2011.
How can it be that ten years have passed?
Ten years.
Why do I remember that year so well? Well . . . for starters, we kicked off that particular year with sickness. Specifically, strep throat. Jeremy and I had it at the same time, and strep is NOT kind to him at all.
But, it was also the year that change came to our young family . . . swiftly, completely, irreversibly.
Shortly after we recovered from strep, I found out that I was pregnant with our fourth child, Johnnie. The first twenty weeks or so of pregnancy were pretty typical: morning sickness; eating lots of gummies; running our other kids around to the park, the store, tae kwon do; planting a garden; running to the bazaar; life.
It’s funny how capable the mind is of remembering a significant event, the images are sharp and crisp. Memories etched in the mind’s eye, easily retrieved no matter how much time has passed. There are parts of that year that moved in slow motion. I remember trying desperately to process the rapidly changing events of our lives, knowing that so much of what we had known would never be the same. Yet, I still felt unable to fully comprehend.
With the simple yet complex words, “severe care of Spina Bifida,” our world flipped upside down. And the remaining nine months of 2011 became a series of extremely significant “lasts” for our family. There were plenty of moments during that year when I realized we were living in a rare season of goodbyes, but there were just as many moments I had no clue that the experience we just lived was one we would never experience in the same way ever again. How could I have known?
So, whether you read along or not, this is my Ode to 2011. Ten years later. A way for me to grieve and process and rejoice at the faithfulness of the Lord. It’s not a place that I let myself go very often, rather I strive to live for today and not tread too often in the past. However, 2011 was a year like none other for us. One with a very distinct before and after.
So, here’s to all the lasts . . .
The last time we lived overseas in a place that we loved very much, surrounded by beautiful people and majestic mountains.
The last time we ever knew the sheer joy of worshipping with a band of people who abandoned all to serve the Lord in a foreign land.
The last time we ever traveled on a plane as a family.
The last time we ate delicious Central Asian food or experienced their wonderful hospitality.
The last time we had undivided, limitless, and focused attention for each and every one of our children.
The last time we had a lightness of heart.
The last time we traveled within the US without a certain level of fear or anxiety, tied to medical needs.
The last time we slept through the night, peacefully, without interruption.
The last time we slept in.
The last time we moved without considering what medical care is available.
The last time we did anything on a whim, with little thought to logistics.
The last time I entered a hospital without a measure of tension in my heart and mind.
The last time we truly partnered in ministry, side by side in the work.
Even in the midst of it all, 2011 was still one of the sweetest years of my life. Such peace that only He could give.
And for all the lasts, there were some pretty amazing firsts as well. And that’s where time gives you a beautiful vantage point. A place to stand back and see, with hindsight.
It was the first time we had a front row seat to a beautiful miracle, who continues to defy what doctors have to say. He has blessed our family in ways we never dreamed possible. How is he turning ten?
It was also the first time a deep, fierce, unexplainable love rose up in each of us. It looks different for each of us in this family, but it’s undeniable and amazing.
Also the first time that we walked into a life of complete and total dependence on the Lord, incapable of living in our own strength. Living one day at a time. Always looking to Him.
And the first time that we let go of the script we imagined for our lives and asked the Lord what He wanted in each and every moment.
Whether I’m thinking back on 2011 or grieving the heartbreak of today, I’ve needed some serious remembering. Maybe you do too.
A recalibrating of sorts . . . taking my eyes off circumstance and fixing them on the Lord.
I confess that I haven’t been at my best the past few months. But God is so faithful to keep pointing me back to truth. I’ve been speaking some of the these truths to myself over the past couple of weeks. Literally, having a conversation with myself. Isn’t that normal? Ok, I may be on the verge of a mental breakdown!
Let’s remember together.
Remember . . .
- There is nothing new under the sun. Evil is evil, and it’s been a part of our world from the moment Adam and Eve sinned.
- God is good. He is faithful. He is long-suffering. He is steadfast.
- God is present. He is near. He never promises any of us an easy or trouble-free life, but He does promise that He will never leave us or forsake us.
- God fights the battles. We need only to look Him and fix, literally set, our gaze on Him. Remember there is a battle raging in the heavenlies; we do not fight against flesh and blood.
- God is eternal; we are but a moment. All of these trials, tribulations, afflictions are light and momentary, in light of eternity.
- God is personal. He sees and knows all things. He created each of us in the depths of the womb, with purpose.
- God paid the ultimate price to redeem us. There is nothing we will ever face that compares to the sacrifice He made by stepping out of heaven, taking on human flesh, living a sinless life on this earth, and going to the cross to face judgment for all of mankind through His death.
- Sin and death do not have the final word. They have already been defeated and are living on borrowed time. Jesus is alive and He conquered with a decisive victory, once and for all.
- God is still on His throne. None of the chaos has sidelined His power, authority, or sovereignty.
- God has a purpose. If we are still breathing, He has ordained it so. No matter what you or anyone in your circle is facing, we have the privilege of always pointing others to Him.
What beautiful truths.
Find them in the Word. Read them. Listen to songs filled with doctrine. Sing them. Write them in a journal. Cling to them.
The only hope, joy, peace, and comfort that we have in this world is found in Him.
I leave you today with words from Deuteronomy 4:9. Though written long ago in the days of Moses when the people of Israel saw incredible things of the Lord, they still hold true today. If you have seen the Lord, known Him and the magnitude of His work, whatever you are walking through this day, remember to . . .
“Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known . . . “
Let’s do this together.
Actively remember.
Keeping our souls diligently.
A Thousand Little Deaths 