When your daily devotion hits you right upside the head & right where you are...from Streams in the Desert....
Surely, I am with you always (Matthew 28:20)
"Never look ahead to the changes and challenges of this life in fear. Instead, as they arise look at them with the full assurance that God, whose you are, will deliver you out of them. Hasn't He kept you safe up to now? So hold His loving hand tightly, and He will lead you safely through all things. And when you cannot stand, He will carry you in His arms.
Do not look ahead to what may happen tomorrow. The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering or He will give you His unwavering strength that you may bear it. Be at peace, then, and set aside all anxious thoughts and worries". ~Frances de Sales
He will silently plan for you,
His object of omniscient care;
God Himself undertakes to be
Your pilot through each subtle snare.,
He WILL silently plan for you,
So certainly, He cannot fail!
Rest on the faithfulness of God,
In Him you will surely prevail.
He will SILENTLY plan for you
Some wonderful surprise of love.
No eye has seen, no ear has heard,
But it is kept for you above.
He will silently PLAN for you,
His purpose will all unfold;
Your tangled life will shine at last,
A masterpiece of skill untold.
He will silently plan FOR YOU,
Happy child of a Father's care,
As if no other claimed His love,
But you alone to Him were dear.
~ E. Mary Grames
Showing posts with label Scripture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scripture. Show all posts
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Woman Up
New product in my Etsy shop!!
 |
....because it should go both ways, y'all...
wink emoticonWo-man UP. "She is clothed with strength and dignity, she laughs without fear of the future". Proverbs 31:25 |
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Strength For The Journey ~ Pinterest
I thought this post was going to be the beginning of something.....and it was. Just not what I thought....I thought I was going to write my way through a journey of mine, here. It turns, out, however....that now is not the time or place due to circumstances beyond my control. I will write about it someday....maybe here, maybe in another blog, perhaps anonymously. Or maybe, if I wait until a safer time, I won't have to be anonymous. For now, it remains to be seen....waiting for it. In the meantime, feel free to visit and follow my Pinterest board on the subject....sharing in the hopes that it will help you find Strength for your journey, too. <3
Follow Jill's board Strength For The Journey on Pinterest.
Follow Jill's board Strength For The Journey on Pinterest.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn
There’s a girl you know, or maybe just know of. She used to be happy. Joyful. Cheerful. Always smiling. But something has changed. She’s been told her smile isn’t as bright….that it doesn’t reach her eyes anymore. If you’re close to her, you might know why, or you might just wonder why but don’t want to ask. You’ve watched her change right before your eyes. You watched as she began to laugh less. And smile less. You watched as she lost her song. She has been asked about…..and talked about. She’s been questioned on whether she has lost her faith. On whether she has been faithful to read His word regularly, to seek Him in all things, to pray. The answer is NO. She hasn’t lost her faith. It’s the one thing she clings to….the one thing that keeps her going. The answer is YES….she kept seeking Him, turning to His Word, and praying even though she has felt those prayers kept bouncing back at her. She’s had to. She doesn’t know how else to live. Her faith is as real to her as the air she breathes….she doesn’t know how to live without it and doesn’t want to, doesn’t know how NOT to pray….sometimes she lacked the words, often times it was just crying out His name and knowing that He could see her heart and hear the words she couldn’t find. She’s been filled with confusion and hurt. With PAIN. She has been mad at God….YES, mad. She has questioned Him, has cried out to Him, has yelled at Him….but she hasn’t turned away from Him. She knows that He’s a big God and can take it…that He knows her heart and her hurt, that He can handle her emotions….that if there’s anyone it’s safe to be REAL with….it’s Him.
She’s felt like just a shadow of her former self….and the
changes in her, her visible descent, began
long before it showed. You never knew
what lied underneath her laugh and her smile….but there was something there
before they were gone. She’s been on a journey so painful, it’s
threatened to do her in. She’s been
stuck in a realm of confusion and indecision, of a 2 steps forward, 3 steps
back process of awakening and enlightenment that left her in a holding pattern,
hovering over which direction to take to break out of it….feeling so close to
reaching bottom but never actually touching down. Her closest friends have wanted to push her,
prod her, somehow get her moving….hurting
as they watched her hurt and feeling helpless.
It wasn’t something they could do for her….she had to do it
herself. And she couldn’t. Not until she knew for sure…..and she couldn’t
find a way to know for sure. It took
something coming into her life, briefly and completely unexpectedly….something
she never imagined would be there….to break her holding pattern and cause her
to make the final descent to the depths that were bottom.
To shake her up completely, to just give out in every way….to cause her
to see what was happening to her….to the person she had once been, and would
continue to happen if she didn’t come out of her fog.
That emotional bottom is paralyzingly dark….so dark, you
wonder if you’re going to stop breathing and have to force yourself at times
not to. Days of functioning
just enough to get the basics done….because life goes on whether you’re
up to it or not…. while the tears won’t stop and the burning, clenching ache in
your throat, your chest, your stomach just won’t let up.
She spent sleepless nights curled up around that ache….spent sobbing
into her pillow, crying out desperately for the Lord to just SHOW UP….pleading
for Him to turn His face towards her again, begging for His deliverance, for
His clarity and firm direction on what to do, for Him to reach out and lift her
up out of this pit of confusion, to finally hear His voice again. And in those darkest hours, while her
children are sleeping and all is quiet….everything she’s lived, every painful
memory, every hurtful word and glare and experience….every bruise on her body and soul is
relived in excruciating detail and she can’t make her brain stop thinking. She can’t hear His voice no matter what she
does, no matter how her heart longs to.
She reaches an exhaustion she didn’t know it was possible to live
through. And then….in the darkest of nights, the voice of the One to whom she
had sought and the music she kept playing but couldn’t hear….slowly began to
speak. Through the darkest of the dark,
He came. It was just the faintest
glimmer, like the hesitant glimmer of the most distant star breaking through
the clouds on the stormiest of nights….but it was there. And she clung to it. All night long. And when daybreak came, she still couldn’t
see that path laying out before her, brightly illuminated so that she could see
days ahead or months ahead or the clearing on the other side. But she saw a stepping stone. Just one.
And it was clearer than clear in which direction she should go to find
her way to the dawn.
She’s still afraid to write it. She’s afraid to click that “publish” button
that will mark the beginning. It’s hard….and
it’s going to hurt. But she’s already
hurt more than anyone ever should and knows that in this hurt, this surrender
to doing something so hard but knows she’s called to do…lies a step to that
healing she’s desperate for. It leads to
another stepping stone and to that clearing along the path that she can’t see.
Not yet, anyway. But
she believes it’s there, she KNOWS it is…..beyond her vision, but not beyond
His. Her vision is dark….but His.....HIS vision leads out of the darkness and into the dawn.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
One Step Closer to Letting Go
Today was meet the realtor day....the day we took one step closer to putting my Granny's house on the market. She was here for five minutes and as I listened to her talk and begin to get details about the house and why it was being sold......I couldn't stay. I walked to the back of the house, closed the door to "my" room and fought with myself as tears and sobs escaped and I struggled to stuff them back in. Deep breaths, tissues, shoes on......I had to get some air, had to go for a walk. My sweet youngest son went with me and as I walked down the drive, I looked over my shoulder at the house, the yard, the trees......and cried. Once again willing them to stop, his sweet hand found mine and his sweet voice told me, "I'm sorry this makes you so sad, but I understand......I love you". We walked and walked and walked around this little town, walked until I felt like a grown-up again and could return to the house and act like one.
For the next two hours or so, I listened to the realtor talking as she walked through the house with my mama and uncle, commenting on how big it is, on the five bedrooms, what good shape it's in, trying to pry up carpet that needs replacing to see if there's hard wood flooring underneath. I listened as she said what a good house it is and how great it is that the only things that will need to be done to get it ready to put on the market are cosmetic, painting rooms, replacing light fixtures......I wished she would go. She couldn't believe how big the rooms are, how "just wonderful" it is, how the timing for putting it on the market is perfect.....blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.....I wish I could move here and make those changes myself and keep this house. Irrational and unrealistic, maybe.....but I still wish that I could.
I listened as they talked of selling my Granny's things at a yard sale. A yard sale.......the thought of strangers carelessly sifting through items that mean nothing to them, looking for a cheap bargain & haggling over fifty cents here and a dollar there, makes me want to yell and scream......and cry, yet again. The items from the kitchen.....they won't know how my Granny used those items, pots and pans and baking dishes....to love her family. They won't know how she put that secret ingredient.....an extra dose of love....into everything she served. They won't know that nothing gave her greater joy than to cook and bake for her loved ones, and how much pleasure she got from watching them eat and enjoy the fruits of her labor. How she would literally beam as she watched plates being cleaned and people going back for seconds, exclaiming how good everything was. Those baking dishes and other items....gifts given, from a daughter's cruise or a grandchild's trip to Sea World, and trinkets collected from family trips, will just be a good deal to them, something they picked up for a dollar or two from someone's yard one Saturday.
I listened more as they talked of taking down pictures, removing items that make this house a home, the items that are all pieces of my family's story, that tell the tale of the lives that were lived here, of the people who were loved, of milestones reached and accomplishments achieved, of moments shared and of memories made.......so that another family can move into this house that my PawPaw built "from the ground up" as I always hear my mama say, brick by brick. They won't know how the original family of five lived in a two-bedroom house until my mama was in her teens, how they worked and worked and worked at their restaurant and store and gas station, and worked in other ways as well, to save......until they could build this house. They won't know that in these rooms, I can still feel the assurance of the unconditional and desperately needed steadfast love that I found here, strong and steady when the world outside was not. It won't mean as much to them as it does to me......I didn't even realize how much it meant to me until now. I never knew you could be so attached to a house, but with each step of letting it go, along with saying goodbye to someone who was so precious to me, it feels like I'm losing a big part of myself, too.
One of Granny's sitters came by and brought a friend with her and they walked through each room, looking around, and I overheard them talking about the furniture, overheard the friend telling my mom that she was interested in some items....what good shape everything is in and what nice things she had. Much of it is already spoken for.....many items will be going into a house we are currently building and as I listened and inwardly raised my eyebrows, I'm pretty sure I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up and the thought went through my head before I could stop it, "too bad, so sad". Eloquent and mature, I know.......the thought of others rummaging through the items that made up my Granny's life and the reality of it happening is a hard one and I think I can sympathize well with people who are hoarders right now.
This day tore me up inside and I literally trembled as I struggled to keep it all in, keep it under control. The only way I could keep the tears and emotions at bay and keep my composure as the realtor and my mom talked to me here and there, asking me questions, asking my thoughts and input.....was to channel it all and write my way through it. I sat and typed as it all went on around me, smiling and talking when needed, while everyone thought I was working on something.....never having a clue that behind my calm and quiet demeanor, a torrent of emotions was threatening to erupt. I thought about how weird I am, having to write to keep those emotions under control, to keep from crying. The same compulsion to write through my Granny's death and funeral pull at me now. I told myself I was being stupid and that people have to do this all the time, that I should just get over it and it shouldn't be this hard, shouldn't be making me feel this way. And I heard the voice of a friend telling me more than once to stop belittling my feelings and struggles. That it doesn't matter what other people think or have gone through or are going through, that my pain is my pain and that I'm entitled to it and have to let myself deal with it in the ways that I need to. To stop being so hard on myself.
The only person whom I think could possibly understand what I'm feeling and why lives very far away, our family estranged by hurt and bitterness and unforgiveness. Relationships broken and severed.......but she would know and she would understand. I wouldn't have to try to explain anything to her.....I know she would know because this place in the middle of nowhere meant as much to her as it means to me.....she shared that with me recently, wrote nearly the same words to me that I have thought and spoken to a few when trying to shed light on this part of what I'm going through. I stared at her words in disbelief that, so completely different than me, she was feeling the same feelings and I found it somewhat of a comfort.....to know that maybe I'm justified in the depths of my hurting. Because I always have a need to justify it in order to allow myself not to feel guily for feeling it.
Two girls, six years apart in birth and light years apart in personality. Two girls who lived through the same childhood, survived the same dysfunctional family, different in how it affected us, different in how we reacted and responded, different in how our hearts were broken, in the wounds and scars left on our souls.....but forever bonded by blood and the hurt that both share whether different in nature or not.
On this chilly January night in Middle Georgia, as I write to try to settle the onslaught of thoughts that won't quiet down because it seems to help....it does help, enough so that I'm doing it regardless of what people think, I wonder if it's possible to feel more alone than I do right now and I wonder how many tears a person can cry before they just run out. Pulling my Granny's blanket up a little higher, I am beyond thankful for the Bible studies done, for the scriptures and songs that flood my mind in response to each thought and feeling that pierces my heart.....telling me, once again, that even though it feels as if I'm alone....I'm not.
For the next two hours or so, I listened to the realtor talking as she walked through the house with my mama and uncle, commenting on how big it is, on the five bedrooms, what good shape it's in, trying to pry up carpet that needs replacing to see if there's hard wood flooring underneath. I listened as she said what a good house it is and how great it is that the only things that will need to be done to get it ready to put on the market are cosmetic, painting rooms, replacing light fixtures......I wished she would go. She couldn't believe how big the rooms are, how "just wonderful" it is, how the timing for putting it on the market is perfect.....blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.....I wish I could move here and make those changes myself and keep this house. Irrational and unrealistic, maybe.....but I still wish that I could.
I listened as they talked of selling my Granny's things at a yard sale. A yard sale.......the thought of strangers carelessly sifting through items that mean nothing to them, looking for a cheap bargain & haggling over fifty cents here and a dollar there, makes me want to yell and scream......and cry, yet again. The items from the kitchen.....they won't know how my Granny used those items, pots and pans and baking dishes....to love her family. They won't know how she put that secret ingredient.....an extra dose of love....into everything she served. They won't know that nothing gave her greater joy than to cook and bake for her loved ones, and how much pleasure she got from watching them eat and enjoy the fruits of her labor. How she would literally beam as she watched plates being cleaned and people going back for seconds, exclaiming how good everything was. Those baking dishes and other items....gifts given, from a daughter's cruise or a grandchild's trip to Sea World, and trinkets collected from family trips, will just be a good deal to them, something they picked up for a dollar or two from someone's yard one Saturday.
I listened more as they talked of taking down pictures, removing items that make this house a home, the items that are all pieces of my family's story, that tell the tale of the lives that were lived here, of the people who were loved, of milestones reached and accomplishments achieved, of moments shared and of memories made.......so that another family can move into this house that my PawPaw built "from the ground up" as I always hear my mama say, brick by brick. They won't know how the original family of five lived in a two-bedroom house until my mama was in her teens, how they worked and worked and worked at their restaurant and store and gas station, and worked in other ways as well, to save......until they could build this house. They won't know that in these rooms, I can still feel the assurance of the unconditional and desperately needed steadfast love that I found here, strong and steady when the world outside was not. It won't mean as much to them as it does to me......I didn't even realize how much it meant to me until now. I never knew you could be so attached to a house, but with each step of letting it go, along with saying goodbye to someone who was so precious to me, it feels like I'm losing a big part of myself, too.
One of Granny's sitters came by and brought a friend with her and they walked through each room, looking around, and I overheard them talking about the furniture, overheard the friend telling my mom that she was interested in some items....what good shape everything is in and what nice things she had. Much of it is already spoken for.....many items will be going into a house we are currently building and as I listened and inwardly raised my eyebrows, I'm pretty sure I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up and the thought went through my head before I could stop it, "too bad, so sad". Eloquent and mature, I know.......the thought of others rummaging through the items that made up my Granny's life and the reality of it happening is a hard one and I think I can sympathize well with people who are hoarders right now.
This day tore me up inside and I literally trembled as I struggled to keep it all in, keep it under control. The only way I could keep the tears and emotions at bay and keep my composure as the realtor and my mom talked to me here and there, asking me questions, asking my thoughts and input.....was to channel it all and write my way through it. I sat and typed as it all went on around me, smiling and talking when needed, while everyone thought I was working on something.....never having a clue that behind my calm and quiet demeanor, a torrent of emotions was threatening to erupt. I thought about how weird I am, having to write to keep those emotions under control, to keep from crying. The same compulsion to write through my Granny's death and funeral pull at me now. I told myself I was being stupid and that people have to do this all the time, that I should just get over it and it shouldn't be this hard, shouldn't be making me feel this way. And I heard the voice of a friend telling me more than once to stop belittling my feelings and struggles. That it doesn't matter what other people think or have gone through or are going through, that my pain is my pain and that I'm entitled to it and have to let myself deal with it in the ways that I need to. To stop being so hard on myself.
The only person whom I think could possibly understand what I'm feeling and why lives very far away, our family estranged by hurt and bitterness and unforgiveness. Relationships broken and severed.......but she would know and she would understand. I wouldn't have to try to explain anything to her.....I know she would know because this place in the middle of nowhere meant as much to her as it means to me.....she shared that with me recently, wrote nearly the same words to me that I have thought and spoken to a few when trying to shed light on this part of what I'm going through. I stared at her words in disbelief that, so completely different than me, she was feeling the same feelings and I found it somewhat of a comfort.....to know that maybe I'm justified in the depths of my hurting. Because I always have a need to justify it in order to allow myself not to feel guily for feeling it.
Two girls, six years apart in birth and light years apart in personality. Two girls who lived through the same childhood, survived the same dysfunctional family, different in how it affected us, different in how we reacted and responded, different in how our hearts were broken, in the wounds and scars left on our souls.....but forever bonded by blood and the hurt that both share whether different in nature or not.
On this chilly January night in Middle Georgia, as I write to try to settle the onslaught of thoughts that won't quiet down because it seems to help....it does help, enough so that I'm doing it regardless of what people think, I wonder if it's possible to feel more alone than I do right now and I wonder how many tears a person can cry before they just run out. Pulling my Granny's blanket up a little higher, I am beyond thankful for the Bible studies done, for the scriptures and songs that flood my mind in response to each thought and feeling that pierces my heart.....telling me, once again, that even though it feels as if I'm alone....I'm not.
(You can disable/mute the auto music player at the bottom of the page so as not to interfere with the video)
Have Your Way
I'm sitting here in a house that was my haven, curled up with a blanket that I remember seeing laying on top of my Granny the last time I saw her. In the dark, alone, and I can't stop crying. In the living room, looking out the front window, through the sheer curtains, to the moonlit front yard beyond. Looking at the massive, dark, shape of the magnolia tree....overgrown and luminous in the dark, its presence making all the other trees in the yard look like lightweights in comparison. Sleep eludes me once again, and worn and weary doesn't even begin to describe me at the moment. A dream woke me up, like so many times recently, and I can't find my way back to sleep again. I wish I wasn't alone.....and know I'm not. I never am......He is here with me, listening and reminding me of scriptures and Truths, but I wish someone, a person, was here with me. One of the ways He loves us is through His people after all, and I wish someone was with me now, to hold my hand, to pray with me.....to just be a comforting presence. But I'm here in the dark, on a couch I've sat on so many times before, with the shapes and forms of familiar furniture and household things keeping me company, crying tears as quietly as I can.
And thinking, thinking, thinking......thinking through dreams and so many things that crowd and clutter my head and burden my heart. He hears all my thoughts, because in all that thinking, I'm talking to Him......and I know that He sees each and every tear. The phrase of Him collecting them all in a bottle keeps going through my head, as that phrase has kept popping up here and there recently, seeing and reading it so many times.
Thinking about all the things I've said to Him the past few months. Conversations I've had with God, whispered prayers, pleas and cries that go something like this:
I've never told my story before......only to a select few. A very select few. I don't like to go there, don't like to go back. Going back is uncomfortable. It hurts. I can tell you about when I was saved. I can tell you details about my life after my salvation. But I don't go back. I've never seen the point, never been willing to go there........and dread and avoid situations in Christian circles where they want you to tell your testimony. I begin with my salvation and move forward.....and people look at me like, that's it?? Yes.....that's it. Nothing here to tell. Nothing exciting or dramatic in comparison to some. Move on now. It's always made me so very uncomfortable. I just don't go there. I change the subject. Or find something to laugh at. Or ask someone a question that shifts the focus off of me and gets them talking about something else. Anything else. I hate to have the focus on me.
Although I'm trying with all my might, I'm not being very successful at talking Him into taking this from me, at pushing, pushing, pushing it away. At least one thing is clear. There's something I'm supposed to do with it. Because if He has me here in this place, for this long, and He won't take it from me, there must be a reason. A reason and a purpose and an outcome I can't see.
Last year was the worst year I can remember having and I can't have another year like that one. I don't want to be here, but I am......and it hurts in way, it hurts so deeply, that I don't know if I could ever find the adequate words to describe it. But I have faith that He will bring me through it, that He will help me find my place of rest.....and just like so many times before.....just like when I look back on those memories I push away because they hurt too much and yet can see through the pain how He worked it all out for good.....I know that He will work this for good, too.
And if I have to be here despite my best efforts not to be, then I want Him to use it. Even if it means saying yes and exposing more of myself than I am comfortable with in a way I've fought so long and hard not to.
Maybe, like me, you don't know exactly how you got where you are. Maybe life was already making you a little weary and the weariness of life and current day worries and stresses collided with events that shook your world during one summer in a way that left you reeling......that collision bringing with it memories that assaulted you with a breathtaking, gut-wrenching pain you didn't know existed. Memories that caused feelings to surface that you thought had long ago been settled....bringing forth emotions that you didn't even know were there within you, just waiting to be excavated and brought to the surface. And well-meaning people look at you curiously and ask what's wrong & those who know a little tell you not to lose your faith and to pray and to give it to the Lord......and you look at them and tell them you'll be fine, that you're just going through a stressful time. You smile and say "thank you" and you want to get them to see that you haven't lost your faith at all. That you have been praying. Not the long, intense, deep and eloquent prayers that used to come easily, but the broken, fragmented cries of the heart, the constant wonderings and ponderings and pleas, the praying you pray from your soul all day long without ceasing, broken fragments and uneloquent at times, but constant all the same. You want them to understand that you haven't lost your faith......that it is clinging to your faith that is all that is getting you through. Maybe you've started wondering if something is wrong with you, if you've done something wrong and there's something you need to make right with the Lord and then it will all go away. And you search your heart, each and every part, looking for what it could be.....and you feel so very confused and alone. Maybe you need to know that you're not alone, that you're not the only one who has ever felt this way......and that there's nothing wrong with your faith. That you can have a rock-solid, unwavering faith and still feel the way you do.....but it's just what you're walking through. And what you're walking through is not who you are. I have a precious friend that has reminded me of that more than once. (Thank you).
Maybe it's time for me to stop fighting, stop arguing and reasoning with the Lord and pushing it all away when He's obviously not wanting me to yet. Maybe it's time to allow myself the right to feel the pain that I feel and stop telling myself I don't have a right to it because my story is not as dramatic and traumatic as some. To allow myself the right to cry and feel it and stop using my genuine and overwhelming thankfulness for what He has done for me, for what could have been but wasn't because He spared me, as justification for my conviction that I don't have a right to feel this way, don't have a right to the level of hurt that I feel. Maybe it's time for me to tell my story in the way that I know best....to write....because pushing it away isn't working very well and I've got to do something with these thoughts and feelings that plague me.
Maybe, just maybe, there's healing in the telling, and the hope of healing is enough to make me surrender. I don't understand, but......
I'm ready to let Him have His way.
(You can disable/mute the auto music player at the bottom of the page so as not to interfere with the video.)
And thinking, thinking, thinking......thinking through dreams and so many things that crowd and clutter my head and burden my heart. He hears all my thoughts, because in all that thinking, I'm talking to Him......and I know that He sees each and every tear. The phrase of Him collecting them all in a bottle keeps going through my head, as that phrase has kept popping up here and there recently, seeing and reading it so many times.
Thinking about all the things I've said to Him the past few months. Conversations I've had with God, whispered prayers, pleas and cries that go something like this:
I don't want his, Lord....please make it stop. Please take it from me.
I am here.
I know You're here, but I don't want this, Lord. I don't want to feel this way, I don't want to think about this anymore. I want to laugh and giggle and smile and be silly. I want to go and do.....and serve....and be happy. I have so much to be happy about. Please, please take it.
I am here.
Why aren't you listening??? Please take this....all of it. I don't want it. I don't have time for this, don't have time to feel this way. I have no right to feel this way. Are you even listening???
I am here. Right here, with you.
You're not listening. Why aren't you listening??? I am no good to You this way. No good to my family. No good to my friends. What is the point of this?? Please, please, please......take it.
I am here. I am listening. I have not left you.
Sigh. I don't know what to do, Lord. I don't know why You're not taking it. What am I doing wrong? I can't keep feeling this way, can't keep going with all of this inside of me.
You don't have to.
Don't You understand how much this hurts?? That I can't even speak the words, that I can't even find them when people ask me what's wrong?? I keep trying to give it to You. I can barely even pray. I pray the same thing over and over and over again......when I can even manage to get the words out. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO???
Write. I didn't show you how to do it for nothing.
I have. I have journaled. Or I have tried to. I have tried to write, tried to channel my thoughts and feelings, tried to do something with it.
Privately. Who told you to make it private?
Ummmmmm, NO. That's not what I put so much work into my blog for. NO. No one wants to hear my story or listen to me whine. NO.
I've never told my story before......only to a select few. A very select few. I don't like to go there, don't like to go back. Going back is uncomfortable. It hurts. I can tell you about when I was saved. I can tell you details about my life after my salvation. But I don't go back. I've never seen the point, never been willing to go there........and dread and avoid situations in Christian circles where they want you to tell your testimony. I begin with my salvation and move forward.....and people look at me like, that's it?? Yes.....that's it. Nothing here to tell. Nothing exciting or dramatic in comparison to some. Move on now. It's always made me so very uncomfortable. I just don't go there. I change the subject. Or find something to laugh at. Or ask someone a question that shifts the focus off of me and gets them talking about something else. Anything else. I hate to have the focus on me.
Although I'm trying with all my might, I'm not being very successful at talking Him into taking this from me, at pushing, pushing, pushing it away. At least one thing is clear. There's something I'm supposed to do with it. Because if He has me here in this place, for this long, and He won't take it from me, there must be a reason. A reason and a purpose and an outcome I can't see.
Last year was the worst year I can remember having and I can't have another year like that one. I don't want to be here, but I am......and it hurts in way, it hurts so deeply, that I don't know if I could ever find the adequate words to describe it. But I have faith that He will bring me through it, that He will help me find my place of rest.....and just like so many times before.....just like when I look back on those memories I push away because they hurt too much and yet can see through the pain how He worked it all out for good.....I know that He will work this for good, too.
And if I have to be here despite my best efforts not to be, then I want Him to use it. Even if it means saying yes and exposing more of myself than I am comfortable with in a way I've fought so long and hard not to.
Maybe, like me, you don't know exactly how you got where you are. Maybe life was already making you a little weary and the weariness of life and current day worries and stresses collided with events that shook your world during one summer in a way that left you reeling......that collision bringing with it memories that assaulted you with a breathtaking, gut-wrenching pain you didn't know existed. Memories that caused feelings to surface that you thought had long ago been settled....bringing forth emotions that you didn't even know were there within you, just waiting to be excavated and brought to the surface. And well-meaning people look at you curiously and ask what's wrong & those who know a little tell you not to lose your faith and to pray and to give it to the Lord......and you look at them and tell them you'll be fine, that you're just going through a stressful time. You smile and say "thank you" and you want to get them to see that you haven't lost your faith at all. That you have been praying. Not the long, intense, deep and eloquent prayers that used to come easily, but the broken, fragmented cries of the heart, the constant wonderings and ponderings and pleas, the praying you pray from your soul all day long without ceasing, broken fragments and uneloquent at times, but constant all the same. You want them to understand that you haven't lost your faith......that it is clinging to your faith that is all that is getting you through. Maybe you've started wondering if something is wrong with you, if you've done something wrong and there's something you need to make right with the Lord and then it will all go away. And you search your heart, each and every part, looking for what it could be.....and you feel so very confused and alone. Maybe you need to know that you're not alone, that you're not the only one who has ever felt this way......and that there's nothing wrong with your faith. That you can have a rock-solid, unwavering faith and still feel the way you do.....but it's just what you're walking through. And what you're walking through is not who you are. I have a precious friend that has reminded me of that more than once. (Thank you).
Maybe it's time for me to stop fighting, stop arguing and reasoning with the Lord and pushing it all away when He's obviously not wanting me to yet. Maybe it's time to allow myself the right to feel the pain that I feel and stop telling myself I don't have a right to it because my story is not as dramatic and traumatic as some. To allow myself the right to cry and feel it and stop using my genuine and overwhelming thankfulness for what He has done for me, for what could have been but wasn't because He spared me, as justification for my conviction that I don't have a right to feel this way, don't have a right to the level of hurt that I feel. Maybe it's time for me to tell my story in the way that I know best....to write....because pushing it away isn't working very well and I've got to do something with these thoughts and feelings that plague me.
Maybe, just maybe, there's healing in the telling, and the hope of healing is enough to make me surrender. I don't understand, but......
I'm ready to let Him have His way.
(You can disable/mute the auto music player at the bottom of the page so as not to interfere with the video.)
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
They Say She Looked Beautiful.....
.....but I don't know for myself. It took everything I had to walk into that room....my steps got slower and slower as we approached the door and emotion threatend to take me under as we entered. I couldn't make it past the closest chair. Everyone else kept going, but I couldn't. I was trembling, trying so hard to keep from falling apart and Mark came and hugged me, asking if I was sure I didn't want to see her. I couldn't look, couldn't force my body to go the number of steps it would take to reach the far side of the room.....I just couldn't do it.
The hour reserved for the family may have been the longest of my life and I was glad when others started coming in....mostly older people and the sound of their sweet, weathered Southern voices comforted me and they helped to distract me from the presence of her casket, from the sad oppression of my thoughts.
I eventually made it further into the room, sitting on a couch with my own family, my boys suffocating me, squishing so close, trying to help. For the next two hours, I was introduced to people I've never met, smiled as I was introduced and even held my composure when unexpected drama erupted and the emotions of shock and incredulousness were added to the ever-growing list. The anger at what had happened help me get through the remaining time, helped to cover the feelings of grief. Fortunately, it was kept low-key and only those of us involved even knew what was going on. I was able to smile some more as people told me over and over again what a good woman my Granny was, how beautiful she looked....so much younger than her age, how pretty her dress was.
I wouldn't know.....I couldn't look. Just couldn't do it and I'm happy to take their word for it. That wasn't really her there, anyway, I told myself.....she's in the Land Eternal.
The funeral was this morning and I couldn't stop the tears as we pulled into the cemetary. I sat on the front row with my mama on one side and my sister on the other.....Mark and the kids behind me. Mandy sang one of Granny's favorite hymns, "Amazing Grace", beautifully....Mama had asked me to do it but I couldn't. I can barely get words to come out of my mouth, how on earth would I have been able to sing??? The pastor talked about Granny, talked about her life....but I only heard bits and pieces.
It was so very hot, beads of sweat rolling down my neck, back and legs and it was hard to breathe....it hurt to breathe, but it hurt not to breathe, too. It just hurt. The Lord sent a breeze and as it drifted over us, I thanked Him for it. I looked at her casket....it's the first time I had really looked at it. It's beautiful, and it matches her dress, a detail that was not intentional. Not the same shade, but a lighter one and a perfect blend. There are roses engraved on it in places, her favorite flower. Mama told me later that they didn't even think of that when they picked it out....another unintentional detail.
The tears came and went in waves, and people walking by us after the service to speak to us was a welcome distraction from what I was feeling. I don't know most of them, and my heart warmed when I saw my cousins.....I didn't know if they were going to come and I was so glad they did.
We talked and caught up a bit and I was distracted from the presence of the casket by their chatter, by their sharing their memories of Granny and PawPaw.....they and my sister share their memories, they can all remember him and how I wish I could. How I wish I had something of him, some memory to share. We talked some more and they took pictures, and it seemed so strange to be reunited in a grave yard, snapping photos of our reunion.
The small crowd started thinning out, one by one and two by two, until there were few left. I couldn't leave without taking one more moment....I wasn't ready and not sure I ever would have been. I stood there with Mark, tears came again and he put his arm around me and I was glad. I stood by her casket several minutes, quiet tears escaping, trying to say good bye, wanting so badly to tell her I love her just one more time.
Ashlyn walked over to me and started rambling on about something, but I couldn't really focus on what she was saying and was trying not to be irritated.....something about how country people talk and I caught the words,"they say 'yonder' a lot. Instantly, the words from the familiar old hymn "When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder" went through my mind and I thought about the fact that when that roll is called, I will be there....and my Granny will be, too.
It was so incredibly difficult to leave....difficult to accept that this was it, to make my feet do what I was telling them to do. But with sweat rolling down my back and my eyes stinging with tears, I turned and walked away, feeling as though I was leaving a piece of myself there at that gravesite.
This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, letting go of someone who has been such a significant person in my life that her worth cannot begin to be measured and who holds such a large piece of my heart. I know I'm not the first nor will I be the last to walk through this.....I know this is part of life, part of loving someone, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt less.
Claiming so many of His promises, and waiting for the morning to come again.
When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more, And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll is called up yonder I’ll be there.
On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise, And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
The hour reserved for the family may have been the longest of my life and I was glad when others started coming in....mostly older people and the sound of their sweet, weathered Southern voices comforted me and they helped to distract me from the presence of her casket, from the sad oppression of my thoughts.
I eventually made it further into the room, sitting on a couch with my own family, my boys suffocating me, squishing so close, trying to help. For the next two hours, I was introduced to people I've never met, smiled as I was introduced and even held my composure when unexpected drama erupted and the emotions of shock and incredulousness were added to the ever-growing list. The anger at what had happened help me get through the remaining time, helped to cover the feelings of grief. Fortunately, it was kept low-key and only those of us involved even knew what was going on. I was able to smile some more as people told me over and over again what a good woman my Granny was, how beautiful she looked....so much younger than her age, how pretty her dress was.
I wouldn't know.....I couldn't look. Just couldn't do it and I'm happy to take their word for it. That wasn't really her there, anyway, I told myself.....she's in the Land Eternal.
The funeral was this morning and I couldn't stop the tears as we pulled into the cemetary. I sat on the front row with my mama on one side and my sister on the other.....Mark and the kids behind me. Mandy sang one of Granny's favorite hymns, "Amazing Grace", beautifully....Mama had asked me to do it but I couldn't. I can barely get words to come out of my mouth, how on earth would I have been able to sing??? The pastor talked about Granny, talked about her life....but I only heard bits and pieces.
It was so very hot, beads of sweat rolling down my neck, back and legs and it was hard to breathe....it hurt to breathe, but it hurt not to breathe, too. It just hurt. The Lord sent a breeze and as it drifted over us, I thanked Him for it. I looked at her casket....it's the first time I had really looked at it. It's beautiful, and it matches her dress, a detail that was not intentional. Not the same shade, but a lighter one and a perfect blend. There are roses engraved on it in places, her favorite flower. Mama told me later that they didn't even think of that when they picked it out....another unintentional detail.
The tears came and went in waves, and people walking by us after the service to speak to us was a welcome distraction from what I was feeling. I don't know most of them, and my heart warmed when I saw my cousins.....I didn't know if they were going to come and I was so glad they did.
We talked and caught up a bit and I was distracted from the presence of the casket by their chatter, by their sharing their memories of Granny and PawPaw.....they and my sister share their memories, they can all remember him and how I wish I could. How I wish I had something of him, some memory to share. We talked some more and they took pictures, and it seemed so strange to be reunited in a grave yard, snapping photos of our reunion.
The small crowd started thinning out, one by one and two by two, until there were few left. I couldn't leave without taking one more moment....I wasn't ready and not sure I ever would have been. I stood there with Mark, tears came again and he put his arm around me and I was glad. I stood by her casket several minutes, quiet tears escaping, trying to say good bye, wanting so badly to tell her I love her just one more time.
Ashlyn walked over to me and started rambling on about something, but I couldn't really focus on what she was saying and was trying not to be irritated.....something about how country people talk and I caught the words,"they say 'yonder' a lot. Instantly, the words from the familiar old hymn "When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder" went through my mind and I thought about the fact that when that roll is called, I will be there....and my Granny will be, too.
It was so incredibly difficult to leave....difficult to accept that this was it, to make my feet do what I was telling them to do. But with sweat rolling down my back and my eyes stinging with tears, I turned and walked away, feeling as though I was leaving a piece of myself there at that gravesite.
This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, letting go of someone who has been such a significant person in my life that her worth cannot begin to be measured and who holds such a large piece of my heart. I know I'm not the first nor will I be the last to walk through this.....I know this is part of life, part of loving someone, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt less.
Claiming so many of His promises, and waiting for the morning to come again.
"Weeping may endure for a night, but Joy Comes in The Morning."
~ Psalm 30:5 ~
When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more, And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll is called up yonder I’ll be there.
On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise, And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A New Dress
We drove into Macon today to get Granny her new dress. When Mandy was here yesterday, she couln't understand why we just didn't get something out of her closet. Granny had lost quite a bit of weight and nothing would fit, but even if she hadn't, we would have done it anyway. She would want a new dress.
She was Down-Home Country, a woman who worked hard and didn't shy away from hard work, but she was a woman who liked to take care of herself, too. She loved "purty" clothes and jewelry to go with it, loved to go to the "beauty shop" and get her hair done, loved to put on her make-up, to look good and smell good. She would have wanted a new dress.
As I got ready to go, visions of what seems like the kazillions of times we got ready to go to Macon went through my mind. There was a phrase she used to say every time as I would pass her in the hallway, either before or after she got herself ready, and it frustrates me that I can't recall it. She was always ready first and would be waiting in her recliner in the den. Without fail, I would walk in, and she would smile and say in her Southern twang, "Alright! Look out, now!!" and I'd laugh at her and off we'd go, traveling the expanse of country highway to Macon, country music playing.
I get myself ready this morning in the same pink bathroom I've gotten ready in so many times and it's hard to put my make-up on because the tears are so close to breaking through. I'm shaky today and walking a fine line, trying to maintain composure. I try to push away the thoughts of what we're doing, pushing them away, pushing down the tears, the thoughts, the memories that hurt. Now's not the time.
Driving down that familiar highway, my thoughts keep taking over until someone says something that jars my mind back to where it should be. I say a prayer of thanks for the friends who have said they're praying for me because I know their prayers are getting me there safely.
We get to Macy's and walk inside ~ begin to look for just the right dress, but nothing seems right. And it has to be just right. A sales associate comes up to us and asks Mama what we're looking for. After a slight hesitation, she tells her and she shows us several dresses......one of which is quite beautiful and we can't put down. It's perfect for her, feminine, but not too feminine, dressy and classy. I can picture her in it and the tears try to escape, so I walk away to distract myself and hear my phone notify me of a text. It was from my precious friend, letting me know she was thinking of me and praying for me right that moment. God's timing is perfect. We ask the associate to hold it for us so that we can walk through the mall and continue to look, just to be sure.
Walking out into the mall, I'm hit with instant pain in my chest as I take into view the mall I haven't been to in so many years, but it's so familiar to me. I don't even know how many times I've walked this mall, but as we walk through it now, I can see us walking through it together, sometimes for something specific, sometimes just to get out and spend time together and have a good time. In my memories, the mall is always crowded, eager shoppers there for some huge sale just like we were. Now, it seems so empty....many of the stores have closed and relocated to a newer mall across town and it makes me sad. There's not a thing wrong with this mall, it's very nice & beautiful and I hate to think of it not doing well because I want it to always be here.
We make our way through, looking and making a few purchases as we go. I glance down the mall and see one of the major department stores closed. "Is that Sears?", I ask and my mama says, "Yeah....good ole Sears is closed up". I'm instantly gone, back in time so many years, to a shopping trip.....just me and Granny. It was summer, and I was spending the week with her. This was the day we went to town; she wanted to buy me a new dress. I remember walking beside her, happy as a clam, when she looked down at her wrist and panicked when she didn't see her watch on her wrist. Pawpaw had given it to her......he had passed away years before, and it was precious to her. She was so upset, the more we retraced our steps and didn't find it. We finally made it back to Sears, back to the Pretty Plus section of the children's department {I was quite the chunky monkey for several years}. We were about to give up, about to leave with her so upset, when I saw it. It was underneath a rack of dresses and our day was saved. I don't know how many times I heard her tell that story.....the story of How Jill Found Her Watch. "Good ole Jill', she'd say. "I don't know what I would've done without her".
Fastforward many years, and at another trip to the Macon Mall, I lost my engagement ring. We didn't find it, and I had to go home and tell my fiance what I'd lost. The fact that I didn't have a pretty ring on my finger bothered Granny so much, that on our next trip up, she handed me that watch that she loved so much because my PawPaw had given it to her. She wanted me to take it to a jeweler and have the diamonds in it made into a ring for me. I wear those diamonds on my left hand now......it represents not only my commitment to my own marraige, but her sweet love for me and legacy of strong love Granny & PawPaw had for each other.
We walk a little more and I'm constantly alternating to feeling in control and losing control, pulling the reigns tighter and tighter on the dam that I'm trying to keep up. We pass the food court, and the Wendy's that used to be on the corner is gone. Mama and I would change up where & what we ate, but Granny always got a Wendy's single with chesese, small fries and a coke. Every single time.
We ended up going back to Macy's and purchasing the first dress we saw. As mama stands in line, she tells me how beautiful the casket is, how much it cost but it didn't matter because Granny deserved the best, and mentions that she didn't even look at the price of the dress. "Doesn't matter", she said. "She never gave us anything but the best, and the best is what she's going to have".
It's true. Only the best for those she loved.
I walk away again, pretending to look at clothes while she waits and pays......this is so hard. My sweet girl walks up and says, 'I love you". She keeps telling me she loves me, which is unusual for her.....to say it this much. She sees me hurting and wants to do something.....it's the only thing she can think of to do.
Thank you, Lord, for my sweet baby.
We're almost done, almost through with this trip. I walk back towards my mama as the sales associate hands her the dress and her receipt, saying something about "in case it needs to be returned". As we walk to the car, mama says, "I think it's going to be kind of hard to return it". She's killing me with these things she keeps saying and I say a prayer, thanking God that I have my sunglasses on.
This day has been so difficult. It's raining now, and I read again through several texts that came in today from my closest friends. I wonder if they know how much it matters to me.....that they've prayed for me, thought of me and cared enough to send them...... to try to love on me through the miles. So much like family, I wish that they were here with me. They get me. They would know what to say to me, but wouldn't have to say anything.....just their being here would help. They understand what I need most and would surround me with hugs and prayers, would comfort me with their sweet presence and reminders of God's love and faithfulness.
I check my email and make my way through so many thoughtful messages from so many other sweet and precious friends.....the Lord encouraging me and loving me through each one. Most from friends in Jacksonville, and then a few that surprise me. People sending me messages through the contact section of my blog, people that I don't even know, that are reading the posts, telling me they are praying for me and my family, telling me of their own recent or not-so-recent losses, offering me comfort through their words and thanking me for posting about my journey through this. I'm amazed at how Christ can and will use anything and everything for His Glory. Who would've thought that writing about my pain because I don't know how else to deal with all my thoughts would cause someone to thank me??
I don't want to face what we have to do tomorrow, and what we have to do on Thursday....my breathing gets shaky and a panicky feeling takes over when I think about it......this hurts so very much. But I know the Lord is with me, every painful step of the way......I don't know how people do this without Him.
She was Down-Home Country, a woman who worked hard and didn't shy away from hard work, but she was a woman who liked to take care of herself, too. She loved "purty" clothes and jewelry to go with it, loved to go to the "beauty shop" and get her hair done, loved to put on her make-up, to look good and smell good. She would have wanted a new dress.
As I got ready to go, visions of what seems like the kazillions of times we got ready to go to Macon went through my mind. There was a phrase she used to say every time as I would pass her in the hallway, either before or after she got herself ready, and it frustrates me that I can't recall it. She was always ready first and would be waiting in her recliner in the den. Without fail, I would walk in, and she would smile and say in her Southern twang, "Alright! Look out, now!!" and I'd laugh at her and off we'd go, traveling the expanse of country highway to Macon, country music playing.
I get myself ready this morning in the same pink bathroom I've gotten ready in so many times and it's hard to put my make-up on because the tears are so close to breaking through. I'm shaky today and walking a fine line, trying to maintain composure. I try to push away the thoughts of what we're doing, pushing them away, pushing down the tears, the thoughts, the memories that hurt. Now's not the time.
Driving down that familiar highway, my thoughts keep taking over until someone says something that jars my mind back to where it should be. I say a prayer of thanks for the friends who have said they're praying for me because I know their prayers are getting me there safely.
We get to Macy's and walk inside ~ begin to look for just the right dress, but nothing seems right. And it has to be just right. A sales associate comes up to us and asks Mama what we're looking for. After a slight hesitation, she tells her and she shows us several dresses......one of which is quite beautiful and we can't put down. It's perfect for her, feminine, but not too feminine, dressy and classy. I can picture her in it and the tears try to escape, so I walk away to distract myself and hear my phone notify me of a text. It was from my precious friend, letting me know she was thinking of me and praying for me right that moment. God's timing is perfect. We ask the associate to hold it for us so that we can walk through the mall and continue to look, just to be sure.
Walking out into the mall, I'm hit with instant pain in my chest as I take into view the mall I haven't been to in so many years, but it's so familiar to me. I don't even know how many times I've walked this mall, but as we walk through it now, I can see us walking through it together, sometimes for something specific, sometimes just to get out and spend time together and have a good time. In my memories, the mall is always crowded, eager shoppers there for some huge sale just like we were. Now, it seems so empty....many of the stores have closed and relocated to a newer mall across town and it makes me sad. There's not a thing wrong with this mall, it's very nice & beautiful and I hate to think of it not doing well because I want it to always be here.
We make our way through, looking and making a few purchases as we go. I glance down the mall and see one of the major department stores closed. "Is that Sears?", I ask and my mama says, "Yeah....good ole Sears is closed up". I'm instantly gone, back in time so many years, to a shopping trip.....just me and Granny. It was summer, and I was spending the week with her. This was the day we went to town; she wanted to buy me a new dress. I remember walking beside her, happy as a clam, when she looked down at her wrist and panicked when she didn't see her watch on her wrist. Pawpaw had given it to her......he had passed away years before, and it was precious to her. She was so upset, the more we retraced our steps and didn't find it. We finally made it back to Sears, back to the Pretty Plus section of the children's department {I was quite the chunky monkey for several years}. We were about to give up, about to leave with her so upset, when I saw it. It was underneath a rack of dresses and our day was saved. I don't know how many times I heard her tell that story.....the story of How Jill Found Her Watch. "Good ole Jill', she'd say. "I don't know what I would've done without her".
Fastforward many years, and at another trip to the Macon Mall, I lost my engagement ring. We didn't find it, and I had to go home and tell my fiance what I'd lost. The fact that I didn't have a pretty ring on my finger bothered Granny so much, that on our next trip up, she handed me that watch that she loved so much because my PawPaw had given it to her. She wanted me to take it to a jeweler and have the diamonds in it made into a ring for me. I wear those diamonds on my left hand now......it represents not only my commitment to my own marraige, but her sweet love for me and legacy of strong love Granny & PawPaw had for each other.
We walk a little more and I'm constantly alternating to feeling in control and losing control, pulling the reigns tighter and tighter on the dam that I'm trying to keep up. We pass the food court, and the Wendy's that used to be on the corner is gone. Mama and I would change up where & what we ate, but Granny always got a Wendy's single with chesese, small fries and a coke. Every single time.
We ended up going back to Macy's and purchasing the first dress we saw. As mama stands in line, she tells me how beautiful the casket is, how much it cost but it didn't matter because Granny deserved the best, and mentions that she didn't even look at the price of the dress. "Doesn't matter", she said. "She never gave us anything but the best, and the best is what she's going to have".
It's true. Only the best for those she loved.
I walk away again, pretending to look at clothes while she waits and pays......this is so hard. My sweet girl walks up and says, 'I love you". She keeps telling me she loves me, which is unusual for her.....to say it this much. She sees me hurting and wants to do something.....it's the only thing she can think of to do.
Thank you, Lord, for my sweet baby.
We're almost done, almost through with this trip. I walk back towards my mama as the sales associate hands her the dress and her receipt, saying something about "in case it needs to be returned". As we walk to the car, mama says, "I think it's going to be kind of hard to return it". She's killing me with these things she keeps saying and I say a prayer, thanking God that I have my sunglasses on.
This day has been so difficult. It's raining now, and I read again through several texts that came in today from my closest friends. I wonder if they know how much it matters to me.....that they've prayed for me, thought of me and cared enough to send them...... to try to love on me through the miles. So much like family, I wish that they were here with me. They get me. They would know what to say to me, but wouldn't have to say anything.....just their being here would help. They understand what I need most and would surround me with hugs and prayers, would comfort me with their sweet presence and reminders of God's love and faithfulness.
I check my email and make my way through so many thoughtful messages from so many other sweet and precious friends.....the Lord encouraging me and loving me through each one. Most from friends in Jacksonville, and then a few that surprise me. People sending me messages through the contact section of my blog, people that I don't even know, that are reading the posts, telling me they are praying for me and my family, telling me of their own recent or not-so-recent losses, offering me comfort through their words and thanking me for posting about my journey through this. I'm amazed at how Christ can and will use anything and everything for His Glory. Who would've thought that writing about my pain because I don't know how else to deal with all my thoughts would cause someone to thank me??
I don't want to face what we have to do tomorrow, and what we have to do on Thursday....my breathing gets shaky and a panicky feeling takes over when I think about it......this hurts so very much. But I know the Lord is with me, every painful step of the way......I don't know how people do this without Him.
"Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.”
~ Deuteronomy 31:6 ~
Monday, July 2, 2012
How Can I Help You to Say Goodbye
She's gone.
At 7:00 this morning, my mama called and I knew as soon as I heard her ringtone.
She died at 10:00 last night in her sleep and I didn't know when I saw her three weeks ago that I'd never see her again. I sat on the phone and tried to reign in the emotions that hit me, tried to tell my mama that I was ok and not to worry. She's worried about me driving up there and wishes I was already there. She's waiting on me to get there to go buy a new outfit for my Granny to wear at her funeral.
I can't do this.
But I can and I will. I'm the strong one.
The quiet one......the one that you can count on. The one that always does the right thing and always knows what to do. Good, strong, dependable Jill. My hands are shaking and I'm begging the Lord to give me control, to help me keep my self together so that I can do what I have to do to.
I can't lose it now.....I have to get the rental car, wake up the kids, finish packing in a hurry. So that I can get there, get to my mama who needs me.
I'm afraid these blog posts will annoy my friends.....but I don't know what to do with these emotions and I don't know what to say and I don't know how else to cope. I've always journaled, always written my feelings down when I had no other way to express myself. I hope that if they're annoyed, they just won't read and they'll be patient with me while I work my way through this.....because I don't know what else to do.
I just lost my Granny, the one who comes to mind when I hear the word family, because our family is more dysfunctional than any soap opera that they've ever played on TV.....and she's the one who gave me so much....so much that I needed and I don't even know if she knew how much she gave me. I don't know what I would have done without her in my life.
So very thankful of the gift of her......
416. My ♥♥ Granny ♥♥
417. Her ♥LOVE♥
........and for
418. My mama
I have to stop crying. Lord, please help me stop. Please help me breathe. Please make my hands stop shaking. Please help me get myself together.
I have a lot to do. I have to go help my mama. I have to be strong. For her. Because I just lost my Granny........but she just lost her mama.
At 7:00 this morning, my mama called and I knew as soon as I heard her ringtone.
She died at 10:00 last night in her sleep and I didn't know when I saw her three weeks ago that I'd never see her again. I sat on the phone and tried to reign in the emotions that hit me, tried to tell my mama that I was ok and not to worry. She's worried about me driving up there and wishes I was already there. She's waiting on me to get there to go buy a new outfit for my Granny to wear at her funeral.
I can't do this.
But I can and I will. I'm the strong one.
The quiet one......the one that you can count on. The one that always does the right thing and always knows what to do. Good, strong, dependable Jill. My hands are shaking and I'm begging the Lord to give me control, to help me keep my self together so that I can do what I have to do to.
I can't lose it now.....I have to get the rental car, wake up the kids, finish packing in a hurry. So that I can get there, get to my mama who needs me.
I'm afraid these blog posts will annoy my friends.....but I don't know what to do with these emotions and I don't know what to say and I don't know how else to cope. I've always journaled, always written my feelings down when I had no other way to express myself. I hope that if they're annoyed, they just won't read and they'll be patient with me while I work my way through this.....because I don't know what else to do.
I just lost my Granny, the one who comes to mind when I hear the word family, because our family is more dysfunctional than any soap opera that they've ever played on TV.....and she's the one who gave me so much....so much that I needed and I don't even know if she knew how much she gave me. I don't know what I would have done without her in my life.
So very thankful of the gift of her......
416. My ♥♥ Granny ♥♥
417. Her ♥LOVE♥
........and for
418. My mama
I have to stop crying. Lord, please help me stop. Please help me breathe. Please make my hands stop shaking. Please help me get myself together.
I have a lot to do. I have to go help my mama. I have to be strong. For her. Because I just lost my Granny........but she just lost her mama.
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
2
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you."
~ Isaiah 43:1-2 ~
Sunday, July 1, 2012
I Don't Know What to Pack
I've been trying to get ready to leave all day.
Finishing up book keeping work, making lunch, stopping here and there to wait for the latest tears to dry, the latest pangs of loss to pass.
My suitcase lies open with a few items inside......make-up. Running clothes. Running shoes. Bible.
My kids keep asking how much to pack for themselves, what kind of clothes they'll need, and how long we'll be gone.
I don't know.
I can't think.
My head hurts.
I keep trying to just do the next thing. I don't know how long we'll be there. I don't know how long we'll stay. There's not much food in her house and we'll need to go to Piggly Wiggly when we arrive. I pack a bag of grocery items that I just bought yesterday. Snacks. Fresh produce that will spoil if we don't take it with us. Bananas.......
Banana Pound Cake.
A treat that my kids love to have for breakfast, for a snack, for dessert.....pretty much any time I'll let them eat it. It's one of my Granny's recipes.....one of the favorites that I now make for my family, tweaked ever so slightly to make it healthier, but it's still her recipe all the same.
I was baking it on Friday evening. I had recently taken it out of the oven and was letting it cool when I read the email that she wasn't going to pull through and that she was fading fast. I went downstairs to take it out of the pan and thought I was going to vomit from the sweet smell - usually so pleasant & comforting ~ and from the emotions that threatened to overflow and I tried desperately not to spill any tears on it as I sliced some pieces for my husband and children. They were watching a movie and I breathed a prayer of thanks as I handed them the bread......it was dark in the room and they couldn't see my face, couldn't see the tracks of my tears or evidence of them in my eyes. They didn't know yet and I didn't want to say it.
The tears come again as I wrap some up to take with us. We're leaving in the morning to go to a place that is just as much home as my current address is. In some ways, maybe even more so. This will be the hardest trip that I've ever traveled there, every mile so ingrained in me that I think I could drive it in my sleep.
I look at my clothes and I can't decide which ones to take. "This shouldn't be a difficult task", I tell myself. "Just pick some out and be done with it". And I move them around on the hangers, pull them out of drawers and then put them back, finally putting one or two things in the suitcase along with the few items already there. But it's not enough and I can't decide. I feel so stupid.
I don't know what to pack.
I can't do this, Lord......I don't want to do this.
"You have to.......but you are not alone. I am with you", is His reply that I hear so surely, spoken directly to my heart.
I know His Word to be true and I know that it will get me through. Holding on to it now.
Finishing up book keeping work, making lunch, stopping here and there to wait for the latest tears to dry, the latest pangs of loss to pass.
My suitcase lies open with a few items inside......make-up. Running clothes. Running shoes. Bible.
My kids keep asking how much to pack for themselves, what kind of clothes they'll need, and how long we'll be gone.
I don't know.
I can't think.
My head hurts.
I keep trying to just do the next thing. I don't know how long we'll be there. I don't know how long we'll stay. There's not much food in her house and we'll need to go to Piggly Wiggly when we arrive. I pack a bag of grocery items that I just bought yesterday. Snacks. Fresh produce that will spoil if we don't take it with us. Bananas.......
Banana Pound Cake.
A treat that my kids love to have for breakfast, for a snack, for dessert.....pretty much any time I'll let them eat it. It's one of my Granny's recipes.....one of the favorites that I now make for my family, tweaked ever so slightly to make it healthier, but it's still her recipe all the same.
I was baking it on Friday evening. I had recently taken it out of the oven and was letting it cool when I read the email that she wasn't going to pull through and that she was fading fast. I went downstairs to take it out of the pan and thought I was going to vomit from the sweet smell - usually so pleasant & comforting ~ and from the emotions that threatened to overflow and I tried desperately not to spill any tears on it as I sliced some pieces for my husband and children. They were watching a movie and I breathed a prayer of thanks as I handed them the bread......it was dark in the room and they couldn't see my face, couldn't see the tracks of my tears or evidence of them in my eyes. They didn't know yet and I didn't want to say it.
The tears come again as I wrap some up to take with us. We're leaving in the morning to go to a place that is just as much home as my current address is. In some ways, maybe even more so. This will be the hardest trip that I've ever traveled there, every mile so ingrained in me that I think I could drive it in my sleep.
I look at my clothes and I can't decide which ones to take. "This shouldn't be a difficult task", I tell myself. "Just pick some out and be done with it". And I move them around on the hangers, pull them out of drawers and then put them back, finally putting one or two things in the suitcase along with the few items already there. But it's not enough and I can't decide. I feel so stupid.
I don't know what to pack.
I can't do this, Lord......I don't want to do this.
"You have to.......but you are not alone. I am with you", is His reply that I hear so surely, spoken directly to my heart.
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
(Isaiah 41:10)
I know His Word to be true and I know that it will get me through. Holding on to it now.
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