Expectations of a Monday

 

This morning I was watching the sunrise from my patio, like I do a LOT, and as I huddled in my blanket and stared at the horizon, the oddest question came to mind in a "voice" I have come to know as the Lord's. "Why do you do this?"

"Because the sun is going to come up over in that area (I pointed), and I want to see it."

"So you expect the sun to come up?"

"I know the sun will come up." (unless there is some major end of world thing)

"Do you pray to me with the same expectation of answers

that you have about the sun coming up?"

It's going to be a fascinating week.

Happy Monday, y'all. I hope you expect it to be amazing because an amazing God is right in the middle of it.

Single-Minded

Today I failed the grace test.

Last week I told the kids' piano teacher they would miss class this week due to the county thinking they had the right to ask me to do jury duty. She was pretty unhappy and told me I needed to make the county let me out of it. Um...and how do you expect me to do that.

"You're a single mom!" Like I don't know this?

Then she wanted to know when I plan to make up the classes. I don't. I had already decided I didn't. With piano and voice and other stuff on that day, there was simply no way to make up all of it without taking another day to do it, which I don't have, and I wasn't going to listen to anyone fuss about my making up this class and not making up the other. So, everything got dumped.

And I heard about it.

I listened, and then I said, "In case you haven't noticed, I am a single mom. I can only do so much."

She huffed and puffed, and I walked out the door.

Today I had jury duty, which ran more than an hour longer than expected, so I called when I got in the car and told the kids to be ready when I got home; I was hungry, and we were going out to eat. So we went out to eat, and then we had to get grocery store which had been on the back burner with everything else that loaded this week.

While we were there, my honest focus was getting done and getting home and getting ready for what tomorrow needs. Then we ran into someone my brain thought it should know but couldn't pull up. Turns out it was someone who noticed we didn't make it to youth group tonight. Now, understand, it impressed me to no end that this kind woman knew us when I couldn't pull her up, and she was sincere in her invitation, which I do sincerely appreciate. Not that we've made it to youth even once. The time really doesn't work for me, and I have this crazy idea that church should bless a soul and feed it, not stress it out. She was truly trying to be sympathetic when she said, "We have to shuffle kids to make it work."

And grace was gone.

I just looked at her and said, "I have no one to shuffle with."

I have no clue what was said after that because I was suddenly buried under the avalanche of...

You know, for a long time I just wanted something that looked like normal, and  evidently we've reached it because people seem to think as an only parent I can pull off the stuff that two parents shuffle and struggle to do.

So we sit at the table and look at the possible activities and figure out what works for the family. It's a great life skill really.

But that means the new family get together at our co-op got lost behind one class, and the young actors guild got lost behind something else, and driver's ed will either wait another semester or WonderGirl and I will have to breath deep and find our way through the ocean of emotions since a class isn't possible right now with everything else going on. And the culinary classes WonderBoy would flourish in are hit and miss since the senior year have-tos have priority. And...

People get antsy because they text or call or email and I don't get back to them quickly enough, and they lovingly invite me to things that are good and beautiful, but I don't go because I have so very little personal time that I spend it letting my brain wind down from what people need me to do.

Today I'm drowning in single-ness with all the things that demand to be done and what hasn't gotten done because life shifted my schedule without asking permission first, and none of it is stuff I can step out of, and right now, I'm wondering...how?

And I hesitate to write any of this because some smart-aleck who knows nothing about being a single parent will be more than willing to tell me how I need to organize and plan better or give me some great wisdom on prioritizing, and I'm going to want to tell said know-it-all just that arrogance and wisdom are not the same thing and perhaps he/she should work on the wisdom part.

But here is the thing. I don't write this blog for the people who know everything. They don't need me. I write it for the people who might be walking the same stretch of road, might be just as tired, might be wondering why they get out of bed when it is the same crap different day, might need to know they aren't on the road alone.

You're not on the road alone.

So, let's do this.

Let's just stop right for a moment and make a plan to swim because otherwise, we just might sink.

And the plan goes like this:
I'm going to imagine every one of those lovely people who are asking us to be part of their "whatever". You know the ones, the ones that trip the switch where you feel like you are drowning and no matter how much you do, it's never enough? Yep. Thos.

Okay, got those in your mind? Now, feel grateful for the person who wants you to be part of their live and wants to be part of yours. That person loves you. Really. They do. They love you. Be grateful.

Feel yourself love them back. Let the emotion fill you up until it pushes up the sides of your mouth and you smile.

With that loving smile of gratitude on your face, look them in the eyes and say, "Thank you, but I simply cannot do that right now." They may not like that answer. It's okay. We are not going to let our gratitude become annoyed by their selfishness. Instead, we are going to put our hands up and say, "I'm sorry you don't understand, but really, I cannot do this right now. I'm maxed out, and I would appreciate your not adding to my load by asking for or expecting something I cannot do." If they continue, we will simply say, "This conversation is done. Thank you."

And it is done. The frustration is done. The anger at their selfishness is done. The feeling that we cannot be all things to all people is done. We've been the most important thing to ourselves and our families--protector of the peace.

Now, we are going to pray and thank God for those people and specifically mention something good about them. Why? Because it does our hearts good.

So how are  we going to handle tonight when we try to go to bed and our brains won't turn off? Breathe deep and thank God, not just rattling things off, but stop and think back over the day and pick good things to relive. I'm going to remember my cookies and milk, and give sincere thanks. I have found it is far more powerful to relive 2 or 3 good things and enjoy the gratitude of them than to rattle off a dozen that are things I'm supposed to be thankful for but don't make a difference in my soul.

In the morning? How are we going to get our feet to the floor? "Lord God, give me my daily bread...and give me the strength and wisdom to partake of it well." We are going to look at the Bread Giver because He gives us to do only what really needs to get done. And as long as we keep our eyes on how great is His help, we will drown in our helplessness.

And we won't suffocate from doing it single because we won't be doing it alone.

Copyright 2014 Jerri Kelley Phillips, All Rights Reserved

For Whatever Comes This Week

I know you may become exhausted this week.

I know you may want to just throw in the towel.

I know you may wonder why it has to be so blooming hard.

But whatever mountain you are facing, however big the giant,

stay in the fight.

If you can't fight, stand your ground.

If you cant' stand, hit your knees and pray.

A warrior on his/her knees covered in blood and mud is still a warrior winning the fight as long as you can still declare, "My God is good."

He is good.

He has you.

Keep trusting Him.

 

When Psalm 23 Runs Right Into the Real of My Day

Psalm 23

The Lord is the one who totally has me, I lack nothing.
²     He tells me to rest and be restored, to feed my body, heart, and spirit,
he has places for me to be still and listen and simply enjoy His presence,
³     he refreshes my inmost being, to the very core.
He guides in the exact places I need to go because He is totally amazing.
⁴ Even though I walk
    through the valley of ear infections, lack of sleep, and physical pain,
I refuse to be shaken from my faith that He has it all taken care of,
    because He makes His presence obvious, He’s proven Himself faithful, and I know he never leaves me;
knowing You are the one who fights for me and leads me in the path you’ve cleared allows me to walk in peace and comforts me when I hear the sound of the war around me.

⁵ You give me all the good stuff even when the enemy rages against me.
 You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
You choose me over and over and over. Every second of my life, You choose me, and I am overwhelmed with how good you are to me and the way You cover me and stand on my behalf.
⁶ Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

Every Day Stuff

Sometimes life gets a bit out of hand, and I don't have time to write a "real post", but almost daily God drops nuggets or thoughts or prayers into my heart, and I drop them into a quick post on Facebook.

I invite you to come on over and visit me there, like my page or just lurk. It isn't about my numbers needing to be high. It's about His knowing what hearts need to hear, and who knows but it might be what you need to hear.

Just an invite....

Hope to see you there.

Blessings,
Jerri

https://www.facebook.com/JerriKelleyPhillips?ref=hl

The Challenge of Valentine's Day--Might Not Be What You Expect

I'm once again thinking about Valentine's.

You know why? Because Valentine's is a painful holiday for me.

I don't like being single. This is not where I had hoped my life would be at this point, BUT this IS my life, and I'm determined to make the best of it...and to give the best of it to others.

Last year my friend Kristi Davis gave me flowers, a gift, and a card on Valentine's Day. I still have no words, but my eyes tear up.

I know others who are not where they had hoped their lives would be either, and this is a hard holiday for them, so I'm honestly trying to focus my thoughts outside what I don't have or what I won't get to what I do have and what I can give.

Obviously, I can't send everyone a card or flowers or candy, and I wouldn't if I could. If I could give anything for Valentine's Day, I would give...what I want.

Something personal.
Something all about me because I like feeling valuable.
Something...that gives me joy.

That is what I would give...to anyone who needs it.

And I have an idea of how I am going to do that, but I have some details to figure out, so you'll have to wait for more information. I can assure you I believe it will bless others, and I am going to seriously enjoy it. :-)

In the meantime, may I suggest you prayerfully consider taking this challenge, too? Whether this is a great holiday or a painful holiday, take the step outside yourself, outside the joy or pain of what you expect to get, and ask what you can give.

Maybe it is one thing for one person. Maybe it is cookies for the neighborhood. Maybe...maybe right now Jesus is cooking up an idea for you beyond anything you can think or imagine. How crazy awesome would that be?!

So how 'bout it? You up for the challenge of Valentine's Day?

The Blessing of Others Outside the 24/7 Crisis Mode

"Have learned that even the wellest meaning can't be in crisis mode 24/7...even if you are. Sucks to know that. It's a harsh reality."

First of all, I applaud the courage to say this! Isn't this the absolute truth?!

And, you are right. No one can be in crisis mode 24/7, but I've learned that is a gift.

Sometimes when people aren't in crisis mode, if I give myself permission to step into their reality, it helps me. Either things get in perspective, or I just get a reprieve. Either is good.

For instance, I've had several times when I've called someone and said, "Just tell me about your day."

My closest friends now know that is my code for, "Really hard day. Need to step out of me so I can breathe and step back into it with a clearer mind and less emotion, so I need to step into you."

Usually, they start with, "Well, I did this mundane thing, which was followed by some other mundane thing, and then you won't believe how absurd this other wholly mundane thing was," and I listen and laugh, and we end up talking about all kinds of things. It feels so good to my soul.

When we are done, whatever was slamming me is usually not as bad because I'm not in emotion anymore. Emotion never handled a problem or allowed for healing. Emotions are indicators, not responders. If you want to actually deal with something, you have to think it through and respond. A clear mind is a powerful weapon when crisis comes.

Taking time to step out of the emotion can give the mind time to start grabbing truth, get a solid footing, and stand up to whatever is happening.

Having people who are not in the crisis gives me a chance to step outside of it, too, which allows me to think of how to respond instead of just react.

It's a great thing.

And you may be wondering how to do that. Simple. You choose.

Just like choosing to walk in out of the rain.

If you are walking down a street and it is pouring rain, you are going to get sopping wet. Now, you choose to stop by and say hello to some friends because you want a moment not to be rained on, and they invite you in to warm up by the fire. You walk in and stand by the fire. ENJOY THE FIRE. You aren't in there because you have to be. You aren't in there because your friends need you to be. You are in there because your friends have a fire they want to share with you. ENJOY THE FIRE.

Yes, I know you are still sopping wet, and it is still raining, and you still have a long way to walk.

But for right then, that moment ENJOY THE FIRE.

When I make those phone calls to friends or a friend offers to take me to paint, see a play, etc., I have a chance to step out of the rain and get warm by the fire. I choose not to think about the rain outside. I choose to focus on something good in that moment.

 

Part of healing is forcing the pain to yield to some happy.

And, yes, I have hurt so badly that no matter how 'happy' things were, I always felt the undercurrent of pain raging below the thin ice where I stood. I remember thinking I was never really happy, and I wasn't, not like I was before God shook up my life etcha-sketch. And there were times I hurt so much for what I had lost I couldn't feel joy for what others had. I think that is pretty normal, but, I refused to stay there.

I tried to focus on one thing that brought a smile to my face. I would pray fervently, "God, help me be happy for this person." I clung to anything that felt "better".

Sometimes, that is all a fire can do--make it better, but make the choice to enjoy the better. Sometimes you have to mentally fight to recognize that moment of better, but it is worth it. YOU are worth it.

And you are worth stepping out of crisis and enjoying the reprieve.

It's not escaping. It's catching your breath, and taking time to get off the battlefield with others who help you think about anything but the crisis raging in you is vital to being able to stay in the fight.

I know. There is a voice in the back of your head that calls it abandonment and disinterest, but I've learned that voice lies a lot.

Maybe God didn't put anyone in your crisis with you because He knew you needed to step out of your crisis for a bit and be with them.

And when the war is raging, a reprieve is a wondrous blessing.

The Hard Nights

It's about 10:30 when I crawl into bed...trying to get comfortable in my skin...and I lie there staring into the mostly dark with the lightning playing its flashy game of peekaboo through the window.

And I stare.

And tap fingers on my stomach.

And roll eyes to look at the glowing numbers on my bedside clock.

Minutes. I've passed minutes.

Sigh.

These are the hard nights.

It isn't the night after a long day with the kids or a mentally exhausting day with house repairs or a day spent on the phone navigating my way through computerized voices only to be told computers are down, can I call back later.

Those are the nights when I crawl into bed happy the day is over, happy to have a reprieve, happy for the quiet. Those are the nights my eyes are almost closed before my head hits the pillow. Those are the easy nights.

Tonight my mind is full.

It is full of manuscript progress and things I learned in my research. It is full of another saving grace from the world-reboot no longer needed...and released...and the excitement of the next adventure. It is full of the things that kept a smile on my face throughout the day...that keeps a smile on my face now.

My mind is full...and my bed is empty.

And it is hard.

Because there is no one to tell about upper recievers and lower receivers and glass bedded anything. There is no one who cares that I FINALLY figured out that plot snag I have been trying to untangle for a week. No one is there to give testament to my stepping from one season to another. No one to smile with me or laugh or roll his eyes at a bad joke.

Those are hard nights...the full-heart crying empty nights...

...Not because I have no one to share my bed...but because I have no one to share my life.

And that is hard.

Tell Them...YES!!!

This morning I am sitting in my recliner with a blanket tucked around me, fluids on the table beside me, and meds coursing through me. You know the point when you feel so lousy you are hoping it is a virus that is nearly done running its course because you cannot fathom actually making yourself find the energy to go to the doctor to get meds to feel better? I'm there.

One thing I've learned about God is He uses sickness to still me so I can listen without distraction. I am not feeling obligated to clean house or do dishes or run to the grocery store or have a phone conversation. Sickness is my "free excuse" for being still.

And don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those sappy folks who have the grace to be still and be thankful for the right to suffer for Him and all that. Oh, no. I do not do the martyr thing well. I do not go down without a fight, and I whine horribly at my body's vulnerablities and weaknesses. Really. I am an unlovely patient.

BUT, God is good and faithful, and when I'm done fighting and whining and finally say, "Okay, I'm here. I'm glad you are here, too. What do you want to talk about?", He usually takes me into some really good deep stuff. When it is over, my soul feels full, and I feel recharged throughout my whole being.

This morning I was telling Him how I missed writing the blog, but I really don't have anything profound to say, and I don't want to take up your time and space with fluff.

I heard His sweet whisper, "Ask Me what I want to tell them."

I smiled. "What do you want to tell them?"

"TELL THEM I LOVE THEM!" He boomed excitedly.

"Tell them I love when they come to me. I love time with them. I love hearing the excitement of their lives, and I love when they let me tell them about my excitement. Tell them I love them...high...and long...and wide...and deep...

and if they are wondering if they are still welcome here, the answer is YES!!!"

A Better Answer--What I Wanted

This series began with a question from someone who read my post Battle-made Courage.

She asked:

"In your latest post you mentioned your friends who responded to your emails in a somewhat harsh or maybe an unsympathetic way.  I'm curious and also want to be sensitive in these situations and would like to ask what would have been a better response for you at that time?"

I've offered pages of thoughts and suggestions, and hopefully, in them, people have found understanding of grief and equipping for addressing the pain and needs of those who grieve.
 
However, this writer asked specifically, "What would have been a better response for you at that time?"
 
To help you understand the answer, let me give you an insight into what precipitated the text.
 
I had gone through 7 1/2 months of mind-jarring losses. During those months, I spent countless sleepless hours with children who were grieving and could not sleep. I dealt with a mom who needed to be told daily what the doctor had said about the cancer, and each time I told her, it was the first time she had heard she was terminal...and she sobbed and grieved...every...single...time. My family was in denial. Then my stepdad blamed me for killing my mom when she died and decided to punish me in a variety of mental and financial ways. I cannot even put the whole separation and divorce thing into words, and there were people I had called my closest friends...who decided they weren't.

The week prior to that text I had finished my emergency response training, and every night I closed my eyes and saw my husband die in my arms...over and over and over again. Multiple times a night I was the one who pulled him out of his car and pushed air into his lungs through his blue lips.  I was the one who pounded his chest with compressions trying to get his heart to restart. And every single time...he died...with his head in my lap...anyway.

Throughout those months, I had tried to be brave and courageous. I had tried to be the kind of person my Marine friend would be proud to go into battle with. But that day, there was no bravery. There was no courage, and I had been battled beyond my ability to battle anymore.

And these "friends" demanded more. They made it clear what I had given was not good enough. That I wasn't strong enough. That I was a disappointment.

I deleted them from my phone list, Facebook connections, and email. I was already buckling under the weight of what I had. I could not carry their expectations, too, so I deleted them.

I tell you all that so you have a glimpse of the weight of grief and the responsibility of rebuilding lives when there is a giant gaping hole, or in our case, multiple gaping holes.

What I was really trying to communicate with the text, "I don't want to get out of bed," is how utterly exhausted I was on every level. Mentally, emotionally, and physically I was beyond fumes. Sheer will only goes so far, and mine was gone.
What did I want the response to be?

I wish someone had taken a moment to take care of me.

I wish someone had shown up at my door and said, "I'm here. Let me clean your house. Let me take the kids. Let me fix you meals. Let me...let me take care of you."

I wish someone had shown up with coffee or shown up to take me to coffee.

I wish someone had brought a stupid movie, made margaritas, and laughed hard for a few hours. Any clue how good it would have felt to simply laugh?

I wish someone had just brought sweet tea and a box of kleenex, sat on the deck with me, and said, "Tell me everything. This isn't normal for you. Tell me everything." And when I was done, she would have hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," while I just sobbed.

I wish, for one day, someone would have given me a day where no one needed me to have an answer, no one needed me to be strong, no one needed me to take a deep breath and do the hard thing anyway.

I wish, for one day, someone would have been my answer and would have been strong for me.

I wish someone would have taken a moment to realize even the strongest warrior grows weary. If the battle rages long enough, even the most courageous can reach a point of simply wanting to quit. The cuts and the blows and trying to figure out a way through the battlefield only to be assaulted even more brutally than before takes its toll. At some point every warrior needs to step off the field or into a foxhole and find some rest while someone covers her.

I wish someone had been willing to cover me.

A Better Answer--Part 10, The Power of Time

A friend of mine broke her wrist. A small break. Didn't need a cast, just one of those wrist braces. A month later, she had almost all function back.

Another friend of mine was in a car wreck. The airbag hit her wrist the wrong way, and her wrist shattered. It took surgery and a couple of months to heal. When she went to see the doctor, he would x-ray, see how it was progressing, make sure there were indicators of healing there. She went from one kind of cast to another finally to a brace and eventually nothing. Her ability to use her wrist and hand went from nothing to pinching with fingertips to gripping with fingers to full functionality. A lot of strength had to be regained. It seemed like the healing would never be complete, but eventually it was. Now her wrist is fine, but wow, did it take time to reach "fine".

From the outside, the injuries look the same. However, they were very different breaks. While the small break took only six weeks for full recovery, no one would expect that of the second break. There were just too many things involved in the healing process.

Emotional healing works the same way.

Sadly too many people think healing is controlled by calendar pages, not personal pain. They think recovering from divorce, a death, or a given loss works in a pre-packaged time frame.

If only.

The truth is the second year can be harder than the first. Circumstances play a roll as well. This year a friend of mine had her fourth year divorced. It was her worst for reasons few can understand. The first year my mom was gone was drowned by the marital collapse and death of my husband. It wasn't until I had found my way through the loss of marriage and my children's dad that the reality hit--my mom was gone. That was a breath-snatching Christmas.

I know a precious lady whose marriage split up after 15 years. Her sweetheart since high school, only man she had ever dated, ever kissed, ever believed loved her walked out of their home and into the bed of a woman nearly fifteen years younger than she or her husband are. I couldn't imagine what that was like, and a mutual friend and I were discussing it one day because we were concerned, and the mutual friend said, "I'll be glad when she is done with the first year. She'll be fine then."

I couldn't believe the naivete'. Really? You think she will step over that calendar one-year mark and everything will be fine?

"Well, she'll have gone through all the holidays and lived. Then it is time for her to move on and get over it."

Seriously?!

Yes. Seriously.



Two and a half years.

That is how long it has been since everything began for us.

When the path we were on became obvious, I made a list. It was my "Other Side" list. It was my criteria for what "the other side" looked like. I would know we had made it through once I saw these things active in our lives.

About a month ago I realized we are living that list. We are on "the other side".

In the last 2 1/2 years we've endured incredible pain, cried more than we thought was humanly possible, questioned, screamed in rage, put up walls to protect us from people with bad intentions...and people with good intentions who hurt unintentionally...laughed a lot, found new hobbies...rebuilt our lives.

Rebuilding has taken time.

Working through the pain of the loss...
Working through the anger...
Finding new hobbies...
Finding new joy...

It is a process, not a switch we get to hit.

One of the best gifts we've received from friends we've kept close to us is the gift of time. In fact, their patience is one of the reasons we've kept them close.

They had no time frame for when we should be past the anger or when birthdays shouldn't hurt. They didn't have the expectation that "the first year is the hardest but the second year will be so much easier." They were simply in, for as long as it took, until our feet were on solid ground again and life didn't hurt so much.

They understood healing isn't about the amount of time that has passed. It is about the progress that is made.

Healing is not about getting through the first year or beyond the milestone anniversary. It is not about ticks of time or flipping of calendar pages.

Healing is about reaching a place that is better than what it used to be.

Healing is progressing from where one is to a place where life hurts less and hope leads more.

And that takes time.

A Better Answer--Part 9, The Power of Invasion

As much as I would have loved to have someone offer to mow my yard, fix different things, help in different ways, what I cherish beyond all words are the few people who had the courage to invade when I told them they didn't have to.

Asking for help because I don't have the physical ability or knowledge to use a tool or fix something is one thing. Needing help because my mind or emotions have turned against me...not acceptable.

To have someone who notices when I'm too quiet on FB, haven't texted in a few days, am not picking up my phone, or particular things I say about working in the flowerbeds, turning in paperwork at the court house (where I had to file the divorce petition), or writing thank you notes for those who sent flowers to the funeral...those things are priceless.

As nice as it would be for people to tell us exactly what they need and let us do it, they don't. People don't want others to see their insanity. They don't want people to see them at their worst. So they push through to the best of their ability or shut down when they simply can't go on, and people are too afraid to make them mad or make them cry that they say and do nothing because they are waiting for that "any time you need me" clause to be activated. Except, no one is going to activate it.

So how do you let the person know you are serious about your willingness to be there...even when it is insane?

You invade.

Seriously. Show up at their door with coffee, a movie, dinner, a blender to make margaritas.

I hated evenings after 8:00 pm. The house is quiet. The lack of companionship was a nightmare. I would have loved for someone to show up with a game or a movie and said, "I'm just here to be here." I'm not saying people need to do that every night, but being alone night after night after a day of being the only parent/counselor/teacher/disciplinarian/social-planner/budget-meeter/order-keeper is mentally and emotionally battering. Someone with coffee and a movie who is willing to just be there with you...gold.

Show up with McDonald's for the kids, a box of kleenex, and a few hours to sit and listen.

Fix a picnic and say, "Let's get out of the house awhile."

JUST BE THERE.

Your job isn't to get them out of their rut or to make them see life isn't so bad. If you do that, they aren't going to want you. I wouldn't want you. That is about you, your opinions, and your comfort zones.

This is about them.

Your whole purpose is to be there...with them...where they are.

Sometimes they don't know how to ask you to be there. Sometimes they don't know what they really even need. They just know they need something...someone...because the demands are too many...the load is too large.

Be courageous.
Be what they need.
Do what they need you to do.
Invade.

A Better Answer--Part 8, The Power of Personal Presence 2

In my last post I shared some of the ways people have been a comfort by simply being themselves and being here. However, each of us has our own empty spots, the spots where a presence would feel good.

I can't list all the possibilities, but if you take a little time, ask a few questions, you can figure some things out. If you ask about favorite memories or traditions or what they did every spring or fall, you may be surprised at how much you can find out. People like to tell stories. They like to remember. They like that people want to hear.

It is a heart-lifting surprise when someone gives you room to remember instead of telling you to forget.

Maybe it is a trip to see fall leaves every year.
Maybe it is putting in the flowers or a trip to the beach or opening day of movies.
Maybe it is putting up lights for Christmas or tailgating at a football game or visiting a flea market.
Maybe it is watching fireworks or attending musicals or just a special day.

What do you say once you know? Say something honest.

"I know you and (the person you love) did (this thing). I was wondering, would you like some company? Would you like someone to do that with you? If not, would you like to do something totally different? I know it must be hard to do by yourself. I'll do it with you, or we can do something else. Just tell me what you need."

Or, just show up.

I have no idea how many times I wish someone had just shown up at my door and said, "I'm taking you to (coffee, dinner, the theatre, the botanical gardens...anywhere but here."

I have found two obstacles when it came to asking for help.

1. Being in pain is exhausting. Simply trying to get the kids and myself through the day...especially on days when I really needed someone to step in and help me breathe...just doing what had to be done took all my energy. I couldn't think of what I needed or how anyone could help. Even when people asked what I needed, I had no answer.

2. I had asked for help, for company, for simple presence, and the responses had hurt. I was already drained. I refused to risk inflicting more mental or emotional pain on myself.

I thank God for those I never had to ask.

My husband had moved out. My mom was dying of cancer. My kids were trying to find their way through the rage and pain. I was tired on every level.
I wrote a simple text.
"I can't put two thoughts together."
A few minutes later my phone rang.
John asked me a few questions, told me to get pen and paper, and gave me the plan to get me through the weekend. I had to think about nothing. It was a Godsend.

Valentine's Day is hard. Rob died around 12:30 am on February 15th. We associate it with Valentine's. The emotional tsunami that hit last year felt suffocating. My kids were in unbelievable pain. I was trying to get through the day as a woman who had not been single in nearly 24 years....as a wife who was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong with her marriage...and as a person whose friend had died.

I hurt. Dear Lord in heaven, how I hurt.

And that day people texted and emailed. Told me they were praying. Confessed they had no idea how hard it must be but they were standing with me in their hearts, thoughts, and prayers.

And then there were the flowers and the DVD.

My friend Kristi had been praying for a month about how to love me on Valentine's Day, and the Lord had answered.

She gave me a beautiful bouquet and the Courageous DVD. I have never loved cut flowers so much. I watched Courageous and cried. It was more than a movie. It was an answer to prayer. I had asked the Lord how I'm supposed to be a mom and a dad, and He showed me all He wanted was for me to be courageous, to fight the good fight, to be a good example. If I could instill His character, the kids would come through okay. He is the answer. I simply had to live courageously in Him.

Kristi had no idea about my prayer or my heart...or how hard it can be to be a mom and dad. She only knew her friend was facing Valentine's alone, and she wanted to help. So she prayed and asked the Counselor, the peace Prince...the One who is with me constantly...and she put love into action.


Birthdays are hard, whether it be having a birthday without someone...or finding the way through the birthday of the one lost. When our friend Lonnie died, multiple friends graced his wife with her favorite flowers on her birthday, just like he did. Sure she cried, but it was a good cry.

Anniversaries are hard. I've spent the last two anniversaries doing vulnteer work. It kept me busy all day, and I was so exhausted when I got home I showered and fell asleep.

Some events are hard. Watching WonderGirl be Willie Wonka, the character her dad had always wanted to be, tested my ability to keep breathing. Thank the Lord we were surrounded by a few dozen friends who held my hand, offered a shoulder, and gave a standing ovation for WonderGirl's courage.

The way to be present varies from person to person because the empty places, the hurting spots, vary with each relationship and with each life. It doesn't take a huge presence to make a huge difference, though. Some courage to invade space, a bit of time, and the willingness to see beyond the platitudes hurting people so often dole out will speak love greater than you can imagine.

You may never know how much your presence is needed in a day, how much strength it gives, or how deeply appreciated it is because honestly, for love like that, there are no real words...only heart deep gratitude.

Presence like that isn't the easiest thing to do...but it is a powerful thing to do.

A Better Answer--Part 7, The Power of Personal Presence 1

It was a horrible day. The kind of day you wish you could do over, take things back, handle everything differently.

My son was angry and screaming.
I was angry and screaming.
He slammed doors.
I slammed doors.
My daughter just tried to stay out of the way of the rage and flying verbal knives.

It was a horrible day.

And in the midst of all the horrible, Mary Kate was coming over to help me paint my son's room. A student of mine a handful of years ago. Now a young woman. Instead of a student, she was now a friend...but how far into horrible will friends go?

How much horrible does one want their friends to see?

So I called.

It's bad.

"I'm okay with bad."

Don't come.

"I'm ten minutes away."

Don't come.

"I will paint in a room by myself."

Don't come.

"You don't even have to speak to me."

Don't come.

"I'm not scared."

When I turned off my phone, she had agreed to turn around and go home.

I knelt on the floor and sobbed so hard I ached.

I don't know how long I sat there. I can't tell you what went through my mind. All I know is when I picked my phone and asked, "Where are you?", she answered, "Two minutes away sitting in the parking lot wondering how angry you'll be when I just show up at your door anyway."

"It's really bad."

"I'm not afraid of really bad."

"It's pretty insane."

"Insanity doesn't scare me."

"If insanity doesn't scare you, I need you."

"I'm on my way."

I sobbed. Talked. Maybe some of it made sense. Probably didn't.

She listened.

She sat on the paint spotted drop cloth and listened. I don't remember her saying a word. I just remember she was there.

She was also there when I spent a damp morning walking through the rain dripping grass pulling up ragweed that had taken over my yard.

The week before I had worked in the yard, cleared some flowerbeds...cried the whole time. My husband and I had done the yardwork together. It was my first year to do it alone, and oh what I would have given for someone to just sit in a lawn chair near me, sip sweet tea, and talk. I didn't expect anyone to get on their knees or sacrifice their backs. I just wanted a presence.

It is amazing the comfort a simple presence can offer when all the heart can see is the empty.

And she chose to be present.

She wandered the yard in boots, pajamas, and a jacket with me while we filled three large outside trashcans with milkweed. We talked some. I don't know what about. I remember what I kept thinking.

I kept thinking of kneeling in my front yard over a flowerbed the week before with tears dripping off my chin and telling God how nice a companion would be...and how He gave me one. It was love defined lived out in my backyard.

.     .     .     .     .

 

It took months for me to be able to think of writing thank you notes, and when I finally decided I was ready, I pulled out the notes, suddenly couldn't breathe, and walked away from the notes. I mentioned this to some friends, and four of them offered to come and sit with me while I wrote the notes, offered to make me sweet tea, address envelopes, write the notes for me if I needed. What did I need? They were in.

I didn't want people to see me trying to sort through the emotions and thoughts of a marriage gone wrong, a husband who didn't want to be here, and a life gone away. I couldn't explain how I could go from anger to sobbing in seconds, and I didn't trust people to understand. I was wrong. I should have let them come. I should have trusted their strength more. I should have...allowed them to comfort me with their presence.

The next day I wrote the thank you notes by myself...and cried the whole time. Even though I didn't allow my friends to be there, their love and support gave me courage for the task...and knowing they would be there was love.

.     .     .     .     .

It was WonderBoy's birthday, and I was trying to be courageous, but sometimes courageous needs a friend to stand strong.

I sent a text to my friend John.

"I know birthdays will get easier. I know a time will come when we get through the day without memories, without fighting tears. It isn't today."
He wrote back. "I can't imagine. Focus on getting through today. Tomorrow will be easier."

A few texts and a bit of time later, and WonderBoy was ready to head out for dinner and lasertag.

I texted: "Deep breath. I can rock this."

John responded: "Yes, you can."

And I did.

.     .     .     .     .

Yes, this is crazy...I'm not afraid of crazy.

I can't imagine how hard this is...but I'm still believing in you.

I can't fix hell...but I'll walk through it with you.


Wherever you are, whatever you are in...
...I'm not afraid of the pain....
...I'm not afraid of the crazy...
...I'm not afraid of the hard days...
...I'm there. I'm in with you.

That is love.

That is powerful.

The Missing Answer--When a Baby is Aborted

Last night I sat at church in a candlelight service looking for the light, looking for the Father's heart, seeking Him in the darkness...my darkness...the world's darkness..the darkness where He wanted to be found...the darkness where people need to find Him.

Almost before I had finished asking, "Lord, give me your heart," I heard the words, "The Missing Answer--When a Baby is Aborted." My heart ached, and I knew it is because His heart aches. I felt sadness and compassion of such magnitude it was almost as though I would disappear into it, and I thought I understood.

Then I heard Him whisper through His heavy-heartedness, "It isn't for the babies. It is for the mommas."

I saw an ocean of mommas with hearts filled with pain...and arms empty...and they had no way to grieve.

I heard Him say, "And they can tell no one."

Because people think they are getting what they deserve. People think they should feel bad, they should realize the heinous thing they've done, they should suffer for the wrong they've committed...they should know it was their fault.

The world thinks these mommas have forfeited their rights to ache as mommas because they were frightened, confused, and mistaken about the options laid before them, or maybe they felt they had no option at all. They made a choice most of us don't understand because we've never been there.

I've never been there either, but I understand making mistakes I wish I could undo. I understand the shame I felt, the shame that kept me from telling, from feeling like I had a right to feel anything other than horrible. I understand feeling like I not only deserved to feel wretched but by all that was right, should feel wretched. I understand hating myself and what I'd done. I understand feeling wholly undeserving of compassion and having no hope of forgiveness. I understand grief and guilt that suffocates and drowns.

I also understand my God looks at the person not the choice, heals the pain not judges the person, and loves where a person is and not where other thinks she should have been.

I understand that my God's heart is to heal the brokenhearted, set captives free, proclaim release for prisoners in darkness, forgive sins, and restore lives. I understand my Bible says with God the old is done and a new life is available, and I understand the Bible says those promises are for everyone, not "everyone except women who have had abortions."

And I understand these mommas watch due dates slip by that rip at their hearts but they have to pretend all is fine because how do you tell? Who do you tell?
I understand these mommas put on brave faces when children yell, "Mommy," and they aren't the one being called.
I understand watching loving hugs rips hearts to pieces.
I understand wondering...wishing...what if...

As I sat in that candlelight service celebrating a baby who came to be a light in the darkness, I asked the Lord for His heart for these mommas, and this is what I heard:

You have the right to grieve.
You have the right to be brokenhearted.
You have the right to mourn a due date, a birthday, and a large belly.
You have the right to hurt with a first word, every time a child calls someone else, "Mommy," when someone gets a hug you won't ever feel.
You have the right to ache to the very core of who you are.
You have the right to cry, to wonder what would have been.
You are a mom, and you have the right to grieve and mourn as a mom whose baby has been lost because yours was.
You have not forfeited your right to hurt as a mom who aches for her child. You are a mom. You have the right to grieve as one.
I give you that right.
I'm grieving with you...for you...I know how you hurt.
I'm with you.
I know.
And you don't have to be afraid of me.
I'm right here.
I don't hate you. I don't judge.
I love you. I forgive you. I want you to forgive you, too.
Let's talk about this baby together.
Let's walk through this to find your peace.
I don't want you to stay here.
You've hurt bad enough, long enough.
It's time to heal. Give me the pain. Give me your heart.
I can handle it.
I'm all in. We can get through this.
I know who you are. I know your heart.
I'm asking you to trust mine.

If you know someone who has had an abortion, instead of thinking about the act, think about the person living with the ramifications. Instead of being angry a life was lost, open your heart to seek the life still here to save. Listen, and if you can think of nothing else to say, say, "I love you."

Instead of imprisoning them to what they've done, seek God's wisdom to set them free to who He desires them to be. He doesn't desire them to live in pain and self-hatred for the rest of their lives. That isn't how our God works. His heart for them is love, peace, joy, and forgiveness...from Him and themselves.

Live His heart.

And if you are one of these precious mommas (or daddies)...

If you need to talk,
if you need to pray,
if you need to tell me about the baby you hold in your heart,
if you need to know more about the God who wants to hold you,
please visit my profile. You can find my email there.

I'm not a counselor. I'm just a woman...who has hurt horribly...and who knows a God who loves madly. He is all I have, but He is all you need.

With deep heart love and compassion,
Jerri

I've Been Praying for a Soggy, White Christmas

As I write this, I'm looking out my window. Here in Texas, we've been in drought conditions for...a long time. Today...this CHRISTMAS day...the day of hope...we are walking in mud. The rain has fallen all night, and now it has given way...to snow.

My mind filled with the scripture from Isaiah 55:

⁹ “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
¹⁰ As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
¹¹ so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

 

There are so many I know this Christmas who are waiting for the promise. I believe the Lord wants you to know He remembers you. He knows your name. He knows His promise to you. He knows your heart's desire. He knows you are waiting...and wondering...

 

...Wondering when...IF...you've been forgotten...if the promise is for everyone but you...if you are waiting...for nothing.

 

He has not forgotten you. He has not forgotten the promise. His word is not void or empty.

 

It is no accident that the long prayed for rain and snow have come on this Christmas Day. It is no accident you reading this post. It doesn't matter if you found it on your own, subscribe to it, like it on Facebook, or someone sent it to you because you came to mind. This is in your hands because God knows YOU need it. YOU. He knows He need to be encouraged. He knows you need to be assured. He is the strength in weakness. He's not ashamed if you've begun to wane. He's the Lion of Judah stepping in to safe your faith, to lift you up, to re-establish your footing.

 

I don't know what drought you are in. I don't know what promises seem dead.

 

 

All I know is the ground is a soggy mess covered over by a few inches of snow in this drought hardened area of Texas. Promises are soaking in, germinating, preparing to blossom even as I type this to you. Just as it would be impossible for such blessing to fall from heaven and have no affect...even more impossible...is the ability of our God to speak...and accomplish nothing.

 

This is the second white Christmas in our area in about 90 years. This...never happens...and yet it did.

 

God wants you to know what you are waiting on "would never happen"...but watch...because it will.

 

Praying your faith stands and you hold on to the hope of your own personal soggy, white Christmas...in whatever form that takes for you.

 

Blessings,

Jerri





 

Believing in Full

It is late, and I should be sleeping. Instead, I've been lying here in the dark staring at the ceiling I can't see as the day ambles back through my mind. My mind is so awed, and my heart is so full. Sleep cannot find its way in.

Every year I pray for a "word" for the year. It might be an actual one word thing, or it might be a phrase. I've had years when God gave me a whole chapter. This year He gave me one word--"fulfill".

I looked the word up. It means "completely whole lacking nothing, containing all that is possible."

Wow.

The definition stills leaves me amazed.

I will tell you straight up that the Lord has fulfilled a LOT this year. My children and I are in great places spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. It has been a very good year. However...

There are areas of my life that don't feel fullfilled. In my mind and heart, there are some things lacking and there is space for a few other things. In fact, there are some things He has promised that have not arrived. And there are only 9 days left in the year, and I'm getting a bit...antsy.

This morning as I was praying, I confessed my weaknesses. In my weakness, He is strong. I need His strength to keep my faith boosted. I need Him to strengthen me because this is an area where I am still maturing. Instead of trying to cover it up, I took it to Him, laid it at His feet, and asked Him to handle it. Then I went on and prayed about other things.

When my quiet time was done, I checked my "random verse of the day".

Numbers 23:19

God is not human, that he should lie,
not a human being, that he should change his mind.
Does he speak and then not act?
Does he promise and not fulfill?

"Jerri, have I ever promised anything and not fulfilled it?"

Never.

In fact, He is so crazy deep concerned about me personally I often find myself lost in the awe of it. He is so personal. I lose my keys, look until I am convinced I tossed them in the trash somehow, ask Him to show me, minutes later keys are in my hand. REALLY, He is totally all about me.

Like today.

My neighbor is Vietnamese. She makes the best eggrolls I have ever had. I could eat these things until I was sick. In the past, she brought them over fairly regularly. However, it has been over 2 1/2 years since the last time she has blessed us with egg rolls. I was thinking about that this morning while considering what to bake for everyone in the neighborhood for Christmas, something we used to do every year but haven't as we've been healing.

A few hours later, someone knocked on our door. Yes. It was Pham. Yes. In her hand was a bag of eggrolls. In the other hand was homemade sauce. Such delights! Inconsequential to the world, but so good for my heart. Desire of my heart? Maybe. Who am I to say what importance God puts on desires? I enjoy these eggrolls immensely, and I missed them. Perhaps when an Almighty God is totally all about showing you His promises do not fail, that is desire enough.

That would have been amazing enough, but there is more.

Tuesday night I was doing some much needed shopping. While looking for winter clothes, I prayed about jewelry. In a clear answer, I heard, "I will handle that."

Okay.

When Pham was here, she said she had something for the kids and me. She went home and returned with a beautiful set of candles (also a WAY amazing story) and a bag of stuff. I know. You know what it is, but not just jewelry. Try EIGHT earring/necklace sets, and they are lovely.

Then my Christmas plans took a hit.

My brother, whom I think very highly of and enjoy greatly, was going to be here Christmas Day. However, he is driving in from an area with a good chance of rough winter weather. He can't stay the night, and I don't want him to risk driving into ice and freezing stuff, so I suggested we reschedule. And that was hard because I know his life schedule, and he is genuinely busy. His schedule is not forgiving or agreeable. Until a few days ago, we weren't even sure he was scheduled off for Christmas, so I knew if I gave up Christmas Day the chances of Christmas with him at any point plummeted. Still, I would prefer he be safe, so I told him I thought it would be better if he stay home and tried to psych myself up to cooking a "big" Christmas dinner for three of us.

"I have off Christmas Eve. Want to do Christmas then?"

What?!?!?!? Christmas Eve?!?!?!?! YES! YES! Happy Snoopy dance YES!!!

There were other things. Other prayers answered, kindnesses received, and just overwhelming personal attention. Things I would think of or wonder about or wish I knew...and within hours, they were put in my hands.

And these things keep floating through my mind over and over, and sleep isn't coming, and I'm really okay with that because I have this love drunk smile on my face because of everything He did...and what He is going to do...the promises He is going to fulfill.

Think about it. If He values me so much that He plans ahead to give me my favorite eggrolls that I haven't thought of in...,months...
...if He gave me jewelry that is beautiful...
...if He worked my brother's schedule to get him here despite the weather so we could have Christmas together because I really like it...
...if He adores me so much that He gives me the unnecessary things in my heart and the people who give me great joy...
...if He is all about those "little" things that look so nothing-ish from a life impact perspective...
...surely there is nothing "great" that He will not give me...
...no promise of fullfillment He will withhold.

There is no strength He will withhold...
...no gift of faith to strengthen my ability to stand...
...knowing He does not, cannot lie.

As I finish this, there are now 8 days left of this year.

I believe they are going to be full.

When You Don't Know What to Say...Declassified Navy Information Works

Yesterday my wonderful friend Sharilyn Klahn moved from this piece of eternity to the next. She had hoped to be Home by Christmas, and the Lord was so kind to give her this gift.

I won't lie, and I won't wax poetic. The honest fact is I know things  that hurt her here are no longer hurting her. I know the cancer isn't ravaging her body, and I know she can smile for the first time in months. She had so missed her smile since the cancer had paralyzed her face, and her smile was so beautiful. I know all that.

I also know I keep looking at her blog...wishing to see a new entry. I know I saw a rock in a stream yesterday, and it looked like a heart. I almost texted her a picture. I know the package of goodies that she always sends at Christmas isn't coming this year, and I have never craved peanut brittle like I do now. Not just ANY peanut brittle either. SHARILYN'S peanut brittle.

Around 10:00 last night, I called my friend Scott and told him Sharilyn was gone. He told me he didn't know what to say. Trying not to sound like I was crying really hard, I said, "Just talk to me about anything. Tell me about your day...your plans for the weekend..."

And he did.

Then the conversation wandered....

...to his time in the military and declassified Navy stuff...and how he checks online to find out what is public so he knows what he can talk about. :-)

...then we talked about funny funeral moments--sing alongs, surf music, and songs neither of us like.

...how certain key people in his life make some navy shooters look bad.

...weddings...and how weird wedding planners can be...and how candles not being lit should be a sign to simply turn around and walk back out.

...and....

...and I'm smiling again thinking about it, thinking about the fact he had no idea what to say...and neither did I really...but by picking up the phone after 10:00 and talking even when he had to be up early...by just talking and being there...he said tons...

...And it was what I needed to hear.

A Better Answer--Part 7, The Power of Accepting Another Reality

I spent three days mostly in tears.

I made the mistake of telling someone who promptly said, "Jerri, you need to get on meds and go to a counselor. Three days of crying is not normal."

I agree. In HER world where her husband who is wonderful comes home from work, her mom lives close enough to drop by for dinner, she is successful in her career, and she thinks she has control of time it would be extremely abnormal for her to cry for three days. Anyone who has a life like hers and cries a lot would be concerning.

However, I wasn't living her life.

I was living a life that included children grieving their dad with the anger, sadness, and insomnia that includes, a family that had disintegrated, the attempt to figure out what was real in 19 years of marriage, being alone ALL THE TIME, working through an estate, and a whole slew of other things. AND I was trying to do it by myself because I was infinitely tired of the suggestion of counseling and drugs to make me happy enough for public acceptance.

In MY world, grief and all that it entails was normal. Crying on any given day over any given thing was normal. However, it did not fit into HER world, and she didn't take time to understand mine.

She never asked what made me sad. She never asked how she could help. She never offered to listen. Instead, she demanded I do whatever it took to fit back into her world and her comfort zone.

What she did not seem to realize is I had no way to fit into her comfort zone because I no longer lived in her world.

Imagine if life as you knew it were gone forever. Imagine if your routine, the key people in your life, the way you lived, the security you had, even the idea you actually controlled what would happen tomorrow or later today were gone. Imagine if your reality...was a vague memory covered in the dust of major devestation.

Imagine this with me:
...no more Lego building with Daddy
...no more father/daughter dances or dates
...the texts/emails/calls never coming again
...imagine the inside jokes...that only belong to you now
...dinner coming and the empty chair that won't be filled when Daddy gets home from his business trip
...no more date nights
...8:00 o'clock coming EVERY SINGLE NIGHT...and you watch your favorite shows...alone

Need I go on?

Insert your own imaginations. Whether it be a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, a best friend...the person(s) who makes your lifescape what it is.

Imagine taking that person out of the lifescape, what is left untouched?

Anything?

Now imagine people expecting you to act as though nothing has really changed.

Welcome to reality.

Do you think you would be happy? Do you think you could face each day with a smile? Do you really think you could walk in a closet where your spouse's clothes used to hang or down the hall where your child's laughter used to come through the door...and be "normal"?

Or do you think you might be angry? You might be confused? You might have questions? You might just want to go to bed and not get up? That particular songs, clothing, or days would send you tumbling into the reality that nothing can ever be "normal" again?

How do you think you would feel if someone told you not to feel that way?

How do you think you would feel if someone told you not to cry, to get over it, move on, or focus on what you have? How do you think you would feel if someone suggested the children that are still living should make you feel less loss about the one who has died? How would you feel if someone quoted scripture about not having a right to be angry, not having the right to ask questions, not having a right to be sad?

What if you had the flu and someone told you the Bible says to be joyful in all trials because trials produce all those good things, therefore, you should be joyful you have the flu? Or what if you are to give thanks in all things, so you should give thanks for being worthy to have the flu? What if someone told you to not whine about the aches or fever or vomiting that makes every muscle in your body hurt? What if they told you to get out of bed and act like all was fine because really, this is so inconvenient for everyone else? Would you think they really understood what it meant to have the flu? Would it cross your mind that if you sneezed their direction, a small case of the flu might help them understand YOUR reality?

Or would you want them to understand your misery, understand the pain, understand that in the midst of aching all over physically and mentally you feel like it is never going to get better? Would you want them to understand that you hate that this has happened to you and you might be angry or confused by how intense the suffering is?

Would you possibly just want someone to understand?

Would you want someoen to ask how you are? What you need? How they could help?

Would you want them to reply without judgment of the accuracy of your feelings, thoughts, or desires? Would you want them to simply accept your answer without tleling you how correct or appropriate for the situation it was or how you compared to other who have had a cold?

Would you want them to simply accept you as you were for that moment knowing if given time and the right care you will heal?

Here is the reality check:
Flu reality is in a whole other league from normal, everyday annoyances reality.
Loss and grief reality is a whole other world.

It is wholly unrealistic to expect people living in those worlds to act as though they were in yours.

If you want to have a relationship or want to support them,

 you have to accept them where they are, as they are.

The goal is not to help them find their way back to your reality because they can't.

It will never happen.

The goal is to help them through the grief so they can build life in theirs.

A Better Answer--Part 5, The Power of Credibility

It was WonderGirl's first time back at youth since her dad had died, and the sermon that night just happened to be about honoring fathers and their being the unquestionable head of the house. For WonderGirl, this was a double whammy. First of all, she no longer had a living father, and second, he had chosen to walk out on his family so he could "be happy". The topic of fathers was not a good one for her, and the idea of honoring a father who abandoned his family...yeah, not really.

When the pastor asked the young people to raise their hands for comments or questions, WonderGirl's hand went up. When he pointed to her, she said she thought honor was earned, and some fathers didn't earn it. The pastor told her he didn't care what the father had done. He should be honored and given authority over the house.

WonderGirl cared.

When she got to the car, she was just about beside herself. She was livid, and and she was hurt. By the time the door closed beside her, she was in tears. She unleashed the entire 30 minute drive home. I listened.

When we got home, she went to her room to work things out with God, and I posted on social media an explanation of what had occurred and asked for prayer.

One of the women took that opportunity to tell me I was coddling my daughter and allowing her to walk in anger, that I was allowing her--even encouraging her--to wallow in anger, and we needed to get over it.

As tactfully and calmly as possible, I informed this person that I didn't know how she could make a statement based on blips on a social media page, that there is a whole story she didn't know. She replied that she didn't know what was happening the rest of the time. She was only going by what she saw online, and based on that, she had given her opinion.

My point exactly.

She didn't know what was going on the rest of the time. She never called. She never emailed personally. She never texted. She never messaged. She made no effort to contact us or be part of our lives in anyway beyond the blips of the media page, but that was enough for her to make judgments--and they were judgments--about our hearts, our feelings, our thoughts, and our healing.

I deleted her from my list of friends online. Then I deleted her from my phone and my email.

And I didn't miss her .

Earlier this week I was talking to a friend about the family, and she was asking me about different aspects of life. Specifically, she asked me about the possibility of my dating or having a relationship, and we talked. It is a personal topic, and she knows it, but I also know her heart. I know it because she has walked the hard road with us. She has listened and loved through the ugliest. She has handled honesty I wouldn't put on anyone else. She has proven herself with phone calls, cards, texts, and coffee. She knows the story because she has walked it with me.

When she shared her thoughts on my lack of dating and lack of relationship, it wasn't someone tossing out a personal opinion based on her own filter. It was my heart friend looking closely at my children and me and being concerned for us.

And I listened.

And today as my mind has rolled her words over and over and sorted through thoughts and feelings that popped up while I went through boxess of family pictures and keepsakes, she is the one I texted.

When it comes to helping people on a personal level, there had better be a relationship.

If there isn't, the person will see the "concerned advice giver" as a judgmental busybody who is invading space where they are not welcome. They will not receive the person or advice as a blessing. Instead, they will reject the person and their words with a curse because the person is not speaking to them or their lives. They are simply giving their filtered opinion based on something having nothing to do with the hurting person.

Trust has not been established. Obviously there is no respect.

Honestly, it comes across as arrogance, and arrogance is never helpful.

A few months ago I served as a victim for an emergency response drill. While we were waiting for the drill to start, a female victim and I struck up conversation. While talking, the fact Rob had died came out, and she asked if I were dating anyone. No--and before I could say anything else, she informed me I shouldn't date anyone till the kids were grown, and they didn't need to lose another parent, and I owe my kids--

My palm shot out in a clear, "Stop right there," fashion.

"Excuse me, but you don't know me. You don't know my family. You obviously have no clue what you are talking about."

"Well, I just think--"

"I don't care what you think. I have no reason to care what you think. And you have no reason to think you have a right to dictate to me how to live or how to care for my kids."

You don't know.
You don't know my family.
You don't know how we live.
You don't know our story.
You don't care enough to learn it.
That means you don't care about us,
so why in the world should I care about your thoughts, feelings, or advice?

 If the best you have to offer is opinions from the cheap seats, keep your opinions to yourself. Be helpful by not being hurtful.

If you really want to help on a personal level, you have to get on the level of the person. Invest in the person. Write the texts. Send the cards. Clean the house. Buy the coffee. Listen.

Instead of saying you care, SHOW you care. Otherwise, they won't care at all.