Forward Living in the Flash Flood (Part 2 of Probably 4 now)

Recently, I was visiting my dear friend in the hospital after… you won’t believe this… 56 hours of labour. Not only was it two and a half days long, with many jaw-dropping details and horrors, but for the grand finale, the doctors had to use the vacuum and forceps to try to deliver the baby that resulted in pretty severe damage to her head. The day after she was born, she was taken by ambulance to a city hospital to be monitored for suspected brain damage. At the point of my visit, she was two days old and they were waiting for an ultrasound to determine if the delivery process had caused bleeding of the brain which could have resulted in permanent brain damage. Whew.

Soup is much easier to get over.

My mind was spinning to all the possibilities. What does this mean for my friend? What will this precious little baby’s future will look like? Why didn’t they do a C-section? Why didn’t someone take more precaution? I questioned the process and felt like screaming; all the while not realizing that my questioning and reasoning would do nothing to undo what had already been done.

The conversation continued. Who knows what would’ve happened if there had been a C-section? You can’t forget that’s major surgery as well. Plenty of complications can result from that route too. You can’t assume that would’ve been a better option. You don’t know.

But we’d like to think so wouldn’t we? Anything that isn’t our currently reality often seems like the better choice.

Then my friend’s mother-in-law interrupted my downward spiral of thinking with something I will never forget.  

Live forward. Even if she’s brain damaged, she’s a perfect gift from God. He is sovereign. You’ve got to live forward. She’s yours. You guys will love her. She’s perfect and you live forward.

As I let that truth soak in, my dialogue with the unchangeable past was quieted. But… Live forward. What if… ? Live forward.

I’m learning (present tense) that living forward is trusting God’s presence in the present. It’s choosing not to dwell on the past and to be paralyzed by that plaguing question, what if? It is trusting in God’s sovereignty when we want to blame human error. It is believing that no matter how hard the situation we face is, we are held in loving, capable and powerful hands.  

I was listening to a devotional by Jennifer Rothschild and the truth of her words further deepened the roots of this lesson in my heart. God’s presence is in the IS, not the IF. He is I AM. Not I wish… not I hope… not I think. I AM.

God called this scripture to mind- Isaiah 43:18-19:

Brooklyn heading home with a clean bill of health

¹⁸ “Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
¹⁹ See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.

I am thankful that God doesn’t just tell me to wipe my tears, stop my questions and get on it with already. In his mercy, He allows me to sometimes just “sit on the floor and cry” if I must. But his grace always invites me to more. He so badly wants me to choose abundant life. He wants me to see the new thing He is doing.

If you’ve ever seen a plant springing up, you know that you may only be able to see a tiny piece of what’s coming. But it’s enough to make you sure of it. He’s making a way for me to walk through wilderness and providing refreshment for what may feel like a wasteland in my life.

He wants us to trust that His presence is in our IS and that He is I AM. Always. Today. No matter what. And tomorrow too.

I am SO thankful that I can report sweet little Brooklyn was given a clean bill of health and sent home two days later. She is just about 3 weeks old and healing up, growing fast and keeping her new parents busy!

I have one more story for you in part 3… A journey that has only just begun and doesn't have a “finish line” so to speak. It’s a true testimony of living forward, one that requires a marathon type of trust. 

Living Forward (Part 1 of Most Likely 3)

Recently, I was making my first ever batch of cream of broccoli soup. Since soup is a bit of a process, I usually make big batches when I decide to embark on this challenge. That made what was to come that much worse.

Here I was in the midst of my first batch of cream of broccoli. We also happened to be in the middle of a 12- day cleanse, so with limited selections, there was no back-up plan for lunch.

Everything was boiled and ready so I took the next step and put everything in the blender. I had just hit the liquefy button, so I put my hand on the top of the lid to secure my contents when I heard the most terrible noise. The plastic insert on the lid had found its way into my soup with the help of my attempt to “secure” the goods. I had no idea what damage 2 seconds and a spinning blade could do to a piece of hard plastic.

There I was, standing in the kitchen, no back-up plan for lunch. My Wednesday Bible study participants are arriving in less than half an hour. Kitchen looks like a mini-tornado has swept through. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was still in my pajamas. It was that kind of day.

I slowly removed the lid engaging in a conversation with myself.

Maybe it’s in 1 or 2 big chunks that I can just take out. Then we can just pretend this never happened. Nope. One big chunk with several little chunks missing. Maybe I can just eat the soup really carefully and spit out the plastic chunks? Better not risk plastic poisoning or an ulcer. Maybe I can strain it? Did I mention the very small shards of plastic?

After about a minute of contemplating my options and realizing there really were none, the lamenting started.

If only I hadn’t turned it to liquefy! If only I hadn’t pushed so hard on the lid! Why did I have to ruin this? I don’t have time for this right now! Not to mention, I’m hungry!

The thought of sitting on the kitchen floor and crying was crossing my mind when I felt like God was tapping me on the shoulder.

It’s done. There’s nothing you can do about it. Move forward.

But… maybe I can… what if…?

You can’t change it. Move forward.

At that moment I was reminded of how often I spend time lamenting over things that are completely out of my control. All the while, God is reminding me that I can’t rewrite the past. I can’t change that season of my life. I can’t go back and be a better steward of my resources. I cannot undo what has been done. He prompts and invites me to accept his mercy and grace for the present, and move forward.

Yet, I’m a dweller. Instead of letting Him take me by the hand and continue on the path, I often want to just sit down and lament a while. I’m not sure why I feel like it’s a good use of my time to dialogue with myself about what cannot be changed. Yet for some reason, I find myself doing in. Often. I replay scenarios. I think, if only I had done that differently. What if I’d obeyed God right away? Did I invest my time and energy into the right thing? Could something have been different?

Rather than the what if's and if only's, He invites me to seek Him with the living forward question, what now God? In spite of what has just happened, what do you want me to do now? He always has an answer for that one. A good one. 

There was a lesson for me in my ruined batch of soup, but I must confess, moving on from a ruined recipe is much easier than some of the challenges that life brings our way.

Stay tuned. I will be sharing with you two much more serious challenges to live forward recently faced by dear friends of mine with precious babies. Trust me, you will be challenged, encouraged and blessed by their stories. 

Temporary Pain for Eternal Gain

The other day I took my not-so-little baby girl for her 12 month immunizations. As we waited in the waiting room, she had no idea what was on the horizon. She sat on a chair eating her cracker, waved at strangers, and smiled without a care in the world.  

I wasn’t looking especially forward to what I knew what was coming. I knew she wouldn’t be open to the multiple injections especially once she received the first one and knew what to expect.

As the nurse stuck her with one needle after the other, the crocodile tears started falling. She screamed and cried, trying to resist and I will never forget the face she gave me when she looked up at me.

It was as if she was saying, “Why aren't you doing something about this?! Don’t you realize this is hurting me?!”

As she struggled, I just held her close and promised her it would be okay. I knew the pain was temporary and it would be over soon. I wasn't going to leave her alone. Like my wise mother always says, “This too shall pass.”

She cried and cried but sure enough, within a matter of minutes, she’d made a full recovery, and after a 3 hour afternoon nap she was a happy camper once again. Later that night her dad said, you wouldn't even know she was stuck with so many needles today!”

She’s too young to understand, but I know as her mom, that the short term discomfort is going to benefit her in the long run. It will make her immune system stronger and protect her from some otherwise avoidable and painful illnesses. I could’ve told the nurse to stop after one, but then I would be leaving her exposed to other things that would cause an even greater amount of pain. That minute of pain and discomfort, while at the time, probably seemed like the end of the world to her, was for her own good.

It seems like this year so far has been characterized by painful situations for many people close to my heart. Innocent babies with serious health conditions, marital struggles, parenting struggles, other health risks, death of loved ones, complications with pregnancy and labor… I could go on.

This morning I was reminded by Peter in his first letter that, “for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire- may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”

Often, when faced with trying circumstances, we are tempted to turn to God in the midst of our pain and say, “Why aren’t you doing something about this? Don’t you realize this is hurting me?!”

In my own experience, God hasn’t answered that first question. The second one though, I feel like He has said something to this effect: “Yes, I do know how much pain you’re in. I’m right here with you, holding you close. Take comfort in my arms. Trust me. This is just for a little while. I’m preparing you, strengthening, equipping you and testing you. There’s something so much better on the other side of this.”

I pray that no matter how painful a trial you may be going through today, that you rest in His arms. Trust Him in the trial. Look for what He is saying, doing, teaching and testing. Know that the temporary pain will have some eternal gain.

May our lives become testimonies of His presence to those around us, so when they look they say, hypothetically, "You'd never know you've been stuck with so many needles!" 

I think Laura Story said it best in her song, "Blessings": “Pain reminds us that this is not our home.” 

Look forward to heaven. Look forward to an intimate walk with Him. Look forward to a deeper level of faith and trust. 

Make It Look Good

In the summer of 2011, we were getting ready to make a move for Mike’s new job which required us to sell our little Lethbridge home. Thanks to my avid HGTV watching, I was well aware of the positive impact staging could have on the sale of your home. I eagerly headed out to a few of my favorite home décor stores ready to spend in attempt to improve the eye appeal of our home.

Let give you some background on our home’s usual appearance. I have a sign hanging in my bathroom that says, “My house was clean last week. Sorry you missed it.” I wish even that were true, but in reality, there are probably a handful of weeks in the year it is. I’m embarrassed to say that regular Saturday morning cleaning was one of those good habits we both grew up on but unfortunately didn’t carry into married life. Our cleaning habits were more established in the way of, clean if people who don’t normally come over are coming over, or clean when the clutter reaches the point of interfering with our sanity.

While I’d like to think that we aren’t necessarily dirty people, my friend once “complimented” me by saying “Your house isn’t that messy, it just looks… lived in.” We’re not grossly dirty but we are pile people. Clutter builds up. Dishes get left, perhaps more than occasionally. To top that off, that summer we were in the midst of finishing a long drawn out basement renovation. The finishing work had yet to be done and there were many evidences of some learning curves that we’d hoped could be strategically hidden in order not to become “stumbling blocks” to potential buyers.

That was the reality of the house we were trying to market.

It’s amazing how quickly you can change an appearance. After some focused time of decluttering, finishing work, cleaning, redecorating and staging, it was show home-like. You would never even know the two of us had lived there. Our friend that had even helped Mike finish the basement said, “I can’t even see the imperfections and I even know what I’m looking for!” We were told the house would probably take up to 3 months to sell. It sold in 4 days for 98% of the list price. I’m thinking of becoming a stager…

I find it ironic that the principle behind staging is really to hide all imperfections and make the home look unrealistically appealing so that everyone who comes through wants it. It’s really just a nicer name for fabrication. Façade. Fake.

I was struck by the reality that I can fall into the same trap. You won’t find it anywhere on Facebook or Instagram, but last week, I had a day. It was noon and I was still in my pajamas. My daughter thought boycotting the morning nap was a good idea. I was overtired and feeling quite cranky. The dishes from the night before were still there because I was tired and had opted to just go to bed. Instead of having lunch ready when Mike came home, I was standing in the front entrance in all my unshowered glory crying because the dog had just knocked over and broken my case.

Why is that? Probably because people only display their highlight reel.

We are well versed at keeping the not so pretty behind closed doors. We are trained at concealing the thoughts, attitudes, motives, feelings towards people and insecurities about ourselves that reveal we just don’t have it all together.

There’s just one problem. It’s not real life.

No matter how well we can fool people, the façade comes to an end because there is One who knows us better than we know ourselves. No matter how well we can put it together for the people in our lives, He sees through me. He knows my heart, my thoughts and my attitudes. Nothing, at all, is hidden from His sight. He knows the real condition of my house, and better yet the condition of my heart. His name is Jesus. I can’t paint my life to look a certain way for Him, He sees it all and for reasons I cannot explain, He loves me just the same.

During our time in Lethbridge, God blessed me tremendously with relationships that I will call see-through. We stumbled through stormy seasons together which brought the blessing of transparency and depth. This resulted in authentic relationships. 

I would challenge you today, to be transparent before God. Take off the mask. It’s totally safe, I promise. He sees what we can’t. He knows what has made us hurt, what makes us react and what makes us do what we do. Ask him to show you the condition of your heart. He will show you what’s there and bonus, He can also show you what to do about it!

If you have the wonderful privilege of those in your life you can be transparent with, consider yourself blessed. If you don’t, ask God to bring someone into your life that you can be real with. There is great freedom in being transparent with a trusted friend. I wonder how our world would change if our approach was, what you see is what you get.

If you’re in my neighborhood, stop on by. With an almost one year old, a dog that sheds like it’s going out of style, and my unbroken habits, chances are my life will look the same way it looks on the average day, like a work in progress.

Hebrews 4:12-13

“For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”

Why Stumbling?

When I first started blogging, my dad had recently been diagnosed with ALS. The purpose of my writing was to keep people informed on his prognosis and it ended up being a combination of his progress and the lessons God was teaching me along the way. When people stopped by, they’d often mention something to him about the blog. Finally one day, he pulled me aside, and on his letter board spelled, “What’s a blog?” I had to laugh before explaining what I was doing. I told him I was writing to keep people up to date and about lessons God was teaching me along the way. He shook his head and next spelled, “Write only the truth.” He never wanted the spotlight on Him, only God. 

I received a great deal of encouragement about writing during that season of life. In the season I’m currently in, where there aren’t quite as many work and school demands, I’ve felt somewhat called back to the old keyboard. As I sit and pondered what to write about and what to call it, my dad’s instruction resonates in my mind. Write only the truth. Why? He knew and I know that only the truth of God’s Word has the powerful ability to change lives. That is what I will strive to do. Find the bits of truth in everyday life and write about them in a way that hopefully encourages you to live them out in your own life.

You may be wondering about the title. While it may seem strange, I can’t think of a better way to describe my spiritual life. Sometimes I start out running and things are going well. But then I allow something to cut me off from my good race. Sometimes I’m walking along and then find myself tripping over some of the obstacles in my path.

I often wish I were more of a spiritual runner or walker- steady, gaining ground and heading in the right direction. Maybe one day I’ll get there. For now, even after knowing Jesus Christ for 18 years, I still forget, I still get caught up in the daily unimportant urgencies of life, and I talk to much which leaves me feeling like I’m in somewhat of a spiritual stumble. It’s not always pretty. I don’t always respond to God and people as I know I should. But I can say in the words of Beth Moore and only by the grace of God, I may not be where I want to be, but I’m not where I was!

I do hope and pray that one day I’m running very steadfastly, unceasingly in the direction of becoming only like Jesus. For now, I still fall and I must allow Him to help me back up and get back on the right path. There are those I stumble with. We help each other up, cheer each other on and head together in a Jesus direction, no matter what pace we may be currently traveling it and no matter how long it may take us.  I invite you to come along in the general direction of spiritual maturity with me whether you're walking, running or stumbling. 

The Road to Healing

I was visiting with a neighbor of mine not too long ago and we got talking about our parents. I quickly learned quickly that her mom had died suddenly in the years following her high school graduation. I briefly shared about my dad’s illness and how he’d passed on 3 years ago. She looked at me somewhat surprised and said, “You can talk about it? It hasn't been that long.” I thought for a moment about why that is. It’s not because I’m some strong person. It’s not because it wasn't hard or painful. It’s because God is a healer.   

At the funeral this past weekend, I saw a lot of fresh wounds. The pain was so raw that it was hard to watch. The casket was layered with several ribbons that read sister, daughter, and best friend. I wept at the thought of each of those relationships lost. The tears continued coming as her boyfriend shared about how they’d just been planning to get engaged later this year and married next summer. Between tears, he shared how he couldn't believe that one week they were planning their wedding and now suddenly he was speaking at her funeral. 

As I have been praying for God to carry my friends through this difficult time and begin the process of binding up wounds that only He can do, He has been reminding me of a few of the stones that He paved my road to healing with. 

1. Thankfulness. God has done a lot in my life through this simple truth. Give thanks in all circumstances. I still vividly remember getting the call of the diagnosis. My dad told me what it was. I had never heard of ALS but I did know what fatal meant and I remember him saying 2-3 years. I sobbed. I couldn't believe it. The days that followed were a blur but one thing I do remember was kneeling down in my living room and praying. I was totally lost for words so I started saying thank you.  A few things came to mind. Thank you that you saved him. Thank you that he modeled what faith looks like. Thank you I grew up with a loving father. Thank you that you chose him to be my dad. I remember nothing from those early days except that I ran out of time before I ran out of things to be thankful for. Being thankful didn't erase or even minimize the pain, but it reminded me of how faithful God had been in the past and that He was still trustworthy in the present.  

2. Trust. I've lost track of the times over that 15 months that God whispered to me, “Will you trust me?”  I remember asking God lots of questions. How will I live without my dad? I am and will continue to be your heavenly father. What about my mom and sister? They’ll be alone. I will take care of the orphans and the widows. They have a special place in my heart. What about when I have kids and they won’t know him? Or when Emily gets married? We need him! I will supply your every need. I remember one particular time God asked me that tough question. Seven months before he passed away, my sister and I were driving to the hospital. My dad had gone in an ambulance with possible pneumonia which we were told could be the end because his body might be too weak to fight it. As we drove, she quietly said, “This could be it.” All I could think was, no God, I’m not ready. I heard Him. He asked me again, “Will you trust me?” As the hospital came into view, through fears and tears, I had no choice but to say yes.  

I will never forget something a friend who’d spent a lot of time praying with me said during that time. “I’m excited for you for when the things you've trusted God for in faith, come to pass and you truly experience His faithfulness.” There have been many things in the past 3 years that I have not looked forward to simply because my dad wasn't going to be there to share in it. I thought the gaping hole that he left would be too overwhelming but I can say this. God has been faithful. We’re all still standing. He got us through. There are still some bridges we haven’t yet crossed that scare and sadden me to think about. But I remember this great quote, “My confidence in the future comes from a God who has proven Himself in the past.” There’s nothing that he asked me to trust Him with that He hasn't delivered on. 

3. Choosing to bless. We were driving to the funeral on Saturday when the song, “Blessed Be Your Name” came on the radio. I smiled and Mike asked why. I said because I remember a time when I could not listen to this song without bursting into tears. It would poke at my wounds. I love the song because it always challenges me to choose to bless the name of God in any circumstance. That includes the plentiful land with flowing streams as well as the desert place and the wilderness walk.  I am constantly challenged by the line, “You give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your name.” I know there was a time when I was blinded by pain, but the truth is, even when I couldn't see it, God was still good and He was still faithful. There was something about saying it out loud that began to convince my hurting heart that it was still true and began to turn my wound into a scar.  

4. Talking. I realize not everyone is an out loud processor, but talking to God and talking to others has been a huge part of healing. At the beginning, I had a lot to say to God. Why?!  Then it became, what are we supposed to do when…? Between the questioning was a lot of crying out. This is really hard. I need your strength. I will just miss him so much. It hurts. When I stopped talking long enough to listen, God also spoke to me, particularly through Psalm 91 one summer morning and it has always stuck with me: 

“Dwell in my shelter and you will find rest there. Say out loud that I’m your refuge and fortress, your God in whom you trust, even if you’re having trouble believing it. My faithfulness will be your shield. Because you love me, I will rescue you. I will protect you for you acknowledge my name. Call on me and I will answer you. I will be with you in trouble.”

When my dad was sick, I was listening to Beth Moore describe the difference between wounds and scars.“You don’t want that thing to stay a wound. You want God to heal it. Scars don’t still hurt. If that thing still hurts, it doesn't matter how long ago it was, it’s still a wound. If something touches me in a place I've been hurt, and it still hurts, it’s not a scar. The longer a wound stays open, the more infected and dirty it gets. Let Him get to you.” 

I've heard it said before that time heals all wounds. I’m not sure I believe that. I think time makes us adept at protecting our wounds so they’re not exposed, but it doesn't mean that they’re healed. 

She shared a verse from Psalm 147:3, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” The word binds tells us it’s a process. He could just point to it and provide instant healing but He seems to choose to take us through this process of binding. In Beth’s words, “He wants us to fall in love with Him as healer where we come out of it more in love with Him than anything we could possibly see or touch.” 

I challenge you… even dare you,  to allow God into your pain. Let Him get to you. 

Thank him. I heard it once said that God has saved me from eternity in hell. If he did nothing else but that, He would still be good. Yet, He does so much more. He makes it so I can live. No matter what age someone passes on, it always seems too soon. It feels like we are robbed of time from the 9 month old baby who literally had her whole life ahead of her, to the beautiful 25 year old girl with the exciting life changes on the horizon, to the 61 year old pastor with many years of sharing Christ and enjoying being a Papa. No matter how much of the future we feel robbed of, I would venture to say that in each case there are many things in the past to be thankful for. 

Say yes to trusting Him even if it’s so dark right now that you can’t see the light. Choose to bless His name. Let what you know to be true to guide your heart. If you don’t know Him to be true, ask Him to begin revealing Himself to you today. There’s nothing He’d love to do more. Talk to Him and tell him how you feel. Tell him you don’t understand but let Him speak to you. I promise you, He is a healer. I pray that no matter what your wound is, you will begin down the road to healing so one day you too can testify to His great healing power and let your scars tell His story. 

I'm Reminded

I was catching up with a friend this week and she casually and naturally asked, so what’s new? I paused for a moment and thought about my answer. Well… in the past two weeks, my Grandpa was admitted to the hospital with an infection in his leg, my dear friend found out that her precious 4 month old baby has a heart condition and will need immediate surgery and two days ago my friend’s girlfriend died suddenly from complications due to pneumonia resulting from lupus and heart failure. She just sort of stared at me, like, what I am supposed to say to all that? I was expecting, not too much, and you? 

As those very near and dear to my heart have been first hand experiencing deep pain, fear of the unknown and intense loss, I’ve noticed some of the same questions that surfaced in my own heart when my dad got was diagnosed with ALS. Why God? Why this? Why him? Why now? 

As I sat around tonight with a grieving community, listening to the cries of the hearts trying to make sense of what is completely senseless and trying to attach purpose to pain, I was reminded of a few things. 

1. I still don’t know why. I got to listen to my wise and wonderful mother in her role as speaker as she talked about her journey through questioning. She said, it’s okay to ask why, but if we stay there too long it’s like spinning our wheels in the mud. It gets you nowhere and leaves you frustrated. Even if I knew why, it wouldn't erase the pain.  Eventually, God needs to move us from why, to what now? In light of all that’s happened, what do you want from me, since I’m still here? I don’t know why my dad had to get sick and suffer and miss out on seeing his baby and grandbabies grow up. I don’t know why an innocent baby who’s already battled so much to be alive has to go through heart surgery. I don’t know why a beautiful young life was taken at the age of 25. 

I do know that God is faithful. I do know He is trustworthy. I do know that He has and will continue to make good on His promise to bring good out of all things, the hard, the heart-wrenching and the painful. I do know that it’s still really hard some days. But I also know that He IS enough for what I went through, am going through and will go through. 

2. Deep community forms during tragedy. When my dad was sick, I started blogging. It was a bit of an outlet for me and a way to keep the masses informed. What I didn’t realize was that in suffering, people have a stronger desire to connect. They want to cry together, laugh together, know what you’re going through and relate.  My dear friend started a CarePages blog to keep friends and family posted on her little guy’s progress. She wrote yesterday, “I feel very lifted up in what could be a very low time.” Community gives people an opportunity to rally around and be the hands and feet of Jesus during an otherwise hopeless feeling time. 

There is something about not keeping it all together that subconsciously gives other people permission to grieve out loud. Transparency paves the way for intimacy both in relationship with God and with others. I cried this morning just reading the description of them bracing themselves to even be able to see their little guy on the stretcher ready to be operated on. As hard as it is, there’s something that compels you to walk together through the valley so you can one day celebrate together on the mountain top. Tonight, as I was listening to some of the stories of this beautiful girl and the sadness over the plans that won’t get to be completed, I felt like I was watching an opportunity unfold,  the kind of opportunity for deep relationship and genuine fellowship that can only be formed from being in the trenches together. 

There have been a few things that I learned on that journey that I feel are engraved on my heart. One of them that continues to ring in my mind is, “don’t waste the suffering.” God has a specific gift of grace readily available to those going through a specific struggle. There are things He will accomplish and intimacy that will develop that can only happen in the valley. 

3. The longer I live, the less attached I become to this life.  Growing up, I had a fairly “easy” life. I liked it. I was comfortable. I had dreams and plans. When my dad got sick, I was never more excited for heaven. After watching him suffer, and experiencing a great deal of pain, I’ve never had a greater desire to cling to my spiritual green card. I was reminded over and over again, and still am now, that this world is not my home. I’m just visiting. Everything I have and everyone I love is on loan. This is the warm-up. The main event is still to come and it’s going to be grand. That citizenship unfortunately doesn’t exempt us from pain. It’s still hard because we love. Love leaves us vulnerable, and God’s invitations home seem to come at times that we wouldn’t choose. 

God did create a place without pain and suffering (Garden of Eden) but gave them one instruction- not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. They did anyway and hence, pain and suffering entered the world.  Thought more than a few years have passed between then and now, this world has been forever tainted with pain, hardship, suffering, disease, natural disaster… you name it. We were all given another invitation to paradise. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6) If you know him as your personal Lord and Saviour, then I look forward to the heavenly party with you. If you don’t, I pray that you would you take a moment to ask Him to show Himself to you. There’s nothing He would love to do more than show you the way to eternal life. 

I love the song by Jeremy Camp, “There will be a Day.” My sisters and I sang it at church on the last Father’s Day we celebrated with my dad. I cling to the promises that the words hold:

I try to hold on to this world with everything I have 
But I feel the weight of what it brings, and the hurt that tries to grab 
The many trials that seem to never end, His word declares this truth, 
that we will enter in this rest with wonders anew 

But I hold on to this hope and the promise that He brings 
That there will be a place with no more suffering 

There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears 
There will be a day when the burdens of this place, will be no more, we’ll see Jesus face to face 
But until that day, we’ll hold on to you always 

I know the journey seems so long 
You feel your walking on your own 
But there has never been a step 
Where you’ve walked out all alone 

Troubled soul don’t lose your heart 
Cause joy and peace he brings 
And the beauty that’s in store 
Outweighs the hurt of life’s sting

I can’t wait until that day where the very one I’ve lived for always will wipe away the sorrow that I’ve faced 
To touch the scars that rescued me from a life of shame and misery this is why this is why I sing….