That’s Gonna Leave a Mark – (but not for long)

Writing and journaling has been a true blessing in my personal grief journey. So when another blogger announced a “grief writing challenge,” I decided to join in. The gist of the challenge is to read, copy, and reflect over a different scripture passage for the next thirty days.

Here we are at day one and the passage is challenging – no pun intended.

Listen, I tell you a mystery. We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed – in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true:

Death has been swallowed up in victory.

Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

1 Corinthians 15:51-57

On the surface, the passage is somewhat straightforward. Paul was trying to help the early Christians wrap their heads around the physical transformation that must take place to our mortal bodies before entering into heavenly eternity. And, Paul is sharing a truth about the changes to take place that were not previously revealed in scripture. In other words, he’s revealing a mystery.

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No More Tears

Today – May 2, 2019 – marks eighteen years since we lost my daddy to cancer at the age of only 56. As I think about him and so many loved ones who have finished their race in this world – I can’t help but to think of eternity.

Video excerpt from a class assignment on the Story of Scripture . . .There’s a day coming when there will be no more tears.

While so many mysteries surround the next life, two things are certain to me. A day is coming when there will be no more death, pain, or tears. And, the veil between today and that future day is ever so thin.

Two pieces of my heart – my daddy and my Brooke

Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for the thirty-three years that I shared with my daddy. It wasn’t long enough (we never think it is), but I am still ever grateful for that precious time. Thank you for memories that are outside the realm of death. Thank you for an eternal world where You will once again live in our midst and we will be reunited with those whom we love so dearly. Please send your Holy Spirit as our Comforter so that we may await with hope that day when there will be no more tears. In the name of your Son, Jesus. Amen!

SDG

Who Does That?

Have you ever found yourself in conflict? Someone says or does something that hurts you – deeply. You are left wonder how to handle the situation. What to do next? Sometimes it is not a close relationship, and you let it go. You move on. Other times, moving on isn’t an option.

When this happens in my world, my initial reaction (too frequently) is revenge. A little taste of their own medicine. A little passive-aggressive tit-for-tat. (I’m a work in progress. What can I say?)

Then, once my initial shock, hurt, and disappoint pass, I tend to let it go. But not always in a forgive-and-forget sort of way. Sometimes, my attitude can look a lot more like “let it go” or “write it off.”

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Thy Will Be Done

For most of my conscious memory, I’ve had a black thumb. Cacti didn’t stand a chance. Does anyone know how to perform CPR on an air plant? Do rock gardens need water?

Yet, I really enjoy the beauty of nature. Lush greenery and vibrant flowers literally breathe out life to us. The coolness that creeps off the shade of tropical foliage brings restoration. It’s so easy to see how gardeners are transported to another place has they dig through the soil and tend their plots.

Don’t be surprised if you feel this way too. Our souls are wired for garden life. In the beginning when God deemed things “very good,” there we were winding through plush paths lined with breath-taking flora. No weeds. Perfect temps (You can read the details yourself, but no one was hunting for a jacket in Eden). And at the end of the days, “happy hour” was spent hanging out with God himself. 

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One More Mile

This morning, I overhead some crazy talk. One of the the girls at physical therapy said, “I had the urge to go on a run last night.” Yeah, you heard right. Then, she proceeded to explain that “a run” meant six miles. You may be one of those people who loves to run. I am not. Every fiber of my being resists “the urge.” 

Still, there was that one time.

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Season 3

On March 16th, just two short days away, it will be the second anniversary of Brooke’s accident. With wedding anniversaries, there are time-honored understandings about what to do. Paper, cotton, leather, flowers, wood cover the first five years. Tin, crystal, china, silver, gold, diamond as time drags on. Even though you wouldn’t expect anniversary gifts to be “one size fits all,” society has tried-and-true suggestions for how to tick off each passing year. 

Not so much with death. Like marriages, no two grieving families are the same. Yet, we don’t even try when it comes to death anniversaries.

There is no script.

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Motion Granted

For over twenty-five years, I’ve been an attorney. Arguing was a big part of my job. Granted, we attorneys dress up our arguments with flowery language. We lay them out in poetic prose. We even give written arguments cute nicknames like “Petitions” – “pleading” our case – or “Motions” – “moving” the court to see things our way. 

Sometimes, my prayers to God resemble a legal argument more than a heartfelt plea. I tend to throw decorum aside. I just go barging into God’s office “pleading” my case or “moving” Him to see things my way. (For the record, I’ve never barged into a judge’s chambers.)

A few Sundays ago, I kinda pulled that “barging in” thing. As my husband and I sat in services at our local church, the sermon had come to a close. The pastor announced that it was time for a baptism. 

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