Through the Tears...May You Taste and See

My heart is breaking.

Aching sorrow, tears, and sleeplessness... 

"...weep with those who weep."

A friend is grieving. The heaviness of grief makes my breath stop. I want to wrap her in a hug that will never stop. To rage, question, sob, and mourn as she walks through this dark, terrifying, and often debilitating forest of grief. I want to be there... to make cups of tea, to take care of necessary chores, to encourage or to quiet the sobs.

But most of all, I want to hold her hand. 

And pray.

Silently.

To myself.

A painful prayer.

I will not pray this prayer out loud. I will not speak my request to her. For now, she must cry. Now she needs to mourn. "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...a time to weep... a time to mourn." Tears help. Tears are good. 

But I will pray.

I pray that she will see... that she will taste and see the goodness of the Lord. That the beauty and glory of this truth is not spoken from a place of safety, goodness, and blessing, but that it is shouted in a moment of fear and desperation.

This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him

    and saved him out of all his troubles...

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!

    Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!

He is here. In this moment. In this trial. In this loss. I have no idea why.  But I know that he is still good. I don't see it. I don't understand. I know that this only happened because He allowed it. And I don't know why He allowed it. I can't see. I've tried. Tears streaming down my face... I've asked. I just don't know.

But he's good. You can taste it. You can see it.

"The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry." He weeps with our grief, and that one of the first things he will do, in a perfected world is to "wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." Before the Hero of the universe proclaims His own glory, even before He announces that He has made "all things new," He stops to tell us, "you will not cry. I will erase this pain. I will make you whole."

But tonight, the tears come. And as my heart aches to reach across the miles with a long, never-ending hug, I cling to this promise, 

"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good... [for] The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."*

Oh, Lord, please.... let it be so.

*Psalm 34

This Has Been A Happy House

Tonight, as my living room fills up with boxes, as I empty another closet, as I pull packing tape across another bubble-wrapped picture frame, my throat is very tight.

We sold our house.

I am so incredibly, unbelievably relieved. As Scott interviews for jobs, and finishes up seminary, we needed to sell our house. We are leaving Lafayette. We don't know for sure where the next job is, but we do know it's not here...

But I'm also incredibly, unbelievably heart-broken. As I dug through the entry-way closet, and pulled yet another picture frame off the wall, I started to cry.

I love this house.

I loved living here with my brother during graduate school. I loved my beginning in young professionalism with my dear roomie, Jessica. I loved the excited exasperation when my hubby moved in, as I made room for all of his things alongside mine. We lost a baby here. We brought a baby home here. We cuddle a little three-year old who was destined never to be ours. We had Christmases, birthdays, and fights about how to do home improvement projects. There have been countless movie nights, dinner parties, early morning accountability meetings, and fire-side chats.

I love this house. But I love it because it is more than a house.

It is my life. These people, my families, this town... this is where I've lived.

And it's never easy to leave a place where you've truly lived. A part of your soul rips when you do. This is not just my house. This is the place where I've been loved and happy. It's a place where I've learned more about my flaws, and been given the safety to grow.

I do love adventure, but all really big adventures start with leaving comfort. Grad school, marriage, adoption... they were all very big adventures. And now, I'm about to embark on another adventure. And the scary thing is, I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm doing... But I guess that's the way it is with all really good adventures. No one ever wrote a book about a heroine who sat at home in the safety of predictability.

But I think that that's what heaven is going to be like... a huge adventure and absolutely no fear. Imagine what you could do if you weren't crippled by heart-breaking nostalgia and over-active homesickness...

I'm getting ready for my next adventure... and dreaming of the thousands of adventures I will enjoy in that delightful place where there is no fear, as I sift through hundreds of happy memories at "Trace Two."

My favorite ladies... "The Cardigans." I'm blessed to have been surrounded all through college with wonderful friends.

I have a weakness, an addiction, really, for Christmas decorations... And if you had this fireplace, wouldn't you?

Mid-bathroom re-model. This was my 23rd birthday present from my hard-working brother, Bax.

PARTY!!! There's no doubt... cram a bunch of people into an under-sized condo, and they're bound to have fun.

Sunset in summer 2010

Patio parties, complete with colorful lighting, of course.

My delightful early morning accountability ladies... 6:00 a.m. isn't early at all--when you have coffee, chit-chat, and tender hearts. 

First anniversary present... an oil painting for the mantle.

Walking through our neighborhood. For whatever reason, I decided to see if I could make my shadow look like Winnie-the-Pooh. It's a little depressing how close I came...

Our first Christmas! (And the beginning of Scott's love for crazy socks.)

Our little "cherished" treasure...  the adoption that never happened. We only had her for three short days. But she still holds a piece of our hearts. 

Bringing Grant home! 

Christmas 2012... Celebrating with my Michigan loves.

Daddy and Grant. Both thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal of bottle feedings.

Yes, this has been a happy house.

Fifth Avenue in heaven, please?

I'm missing the City. Spending a couple weeks in a location hardly makes one a native, but it can be a little bit like eating samples at the grocery store. "Ooh, that's yummy... I want the whole package!"

I like to think that someday heaven will have a slice of the "big city" feel... I'll get my big city experience in a perfected world.

That sounds nice.

Lattes, the Hallelujah Chorus, and Heaven...

My eyes are tired, but open. Propped, glazed, fixed by the caffeine I so foolishly imbibed this evening. 


My old age is peeking out. I used to be able to drink coffee at 10 p.m. and be sound asleep by 10:17. Now, after a 4 p.m. latte, I stare at my ceiling, willing myself to fall asleep.


Tonight, in my sleeplessness, I propped my chin in my hands, snuggled under my down blanket, and traced the moonlight on the tree outside my window. My eyes wouldn't close. Foot tapping, and tired eyes staring, I began to think of today.


Today was a day of exceptional blessings--worship with the family of God, coffee talks (hence the sleeplessness) with delightful sisters in Christ, singing at the top of my lungs with a mass of other believers.


Yet in all this blessing, I was rather wistful. Longing. We talked about it briefly over lattes. Despite a life full of happiness and Starbucks, I still yearn for something yet to come. As I become older, and as I see more of who I am and how truly broken and fallen the world is, I become increasingly anxious for Christ to come back. 


I want to see Him. I want to worship Him, uninterrupted, forever, free from the sin which wraps itself into the very acts which should be most honoring to Him: my prayers, my praise, my meditation. I go from praising God with every fiber of my being, to blatant pride in a split second. I'm so tired of my sin. It is forever sprouting heads like the mythological Greek Hydra... I slice off one head, only to have two more grow.


Imagine the pure, unadulterated joy of praising God. Forever. Have you ever heard a really good performance of Handel's Messiah? When the "Hallelujah Chorus" bursts onto the scene, goosebumps run up and down my arms. 


Imagine that. Only better. Fuller. With every voice of everyone who has ever proclaimed Christ as Lord joining with you. Perfectly. The thunder of the praise, bounding into the stars, spreading infinitely throughout the galaxy, proclaiming what creation has sung for years: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge."


And as I lay there, tracing moonlit branches, again and again, I wondered, "What am I doing? What am I doing right now to "redeem this time"?"


I know that these "days are evil," but that my purpose in proclaiming the glory of God does not start when I join the multitude in heaven. No, I am told that I am to "shine among [the world] like stars in the sky." I am already designed to portray the glory of God. Here. Now. Flawed. Sinful. Weary. God could have chosen to make me perfect at the moment of salvation, but we all know that didn't happen.


Why?


Because something that I don't understand, something in this battle, which "is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms," something about my struggle to conform to Christ, brings God more glory than immediate perfection.


So, while I wait to join in heaven's immortal "Hallelujah Chorus," am I waiting passively? Or am I actively redeeming each moment. Each second. Each action. Taking "captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." 


Because, before I sing with that multitude, even more than worshipping with the amazing servants who have gone before, I want to hear my Savior say, "'You remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in me.' 'Well done...'"


How good it will be to go home...






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Scripture used:
Revelations 2:13
II Corinthians 10:5
Ephesians 6:12
Philippians 2:15
Ephesians 5:16
Psalm 19:1-2
Luke 19:17