Grieving and God

Everlasting Life

This piece was commissioned by someone who was giving it to a grieving mother. She had lost one of her children. Another dear friend of mine had a son die unexpectedly at age 29. The 7-year-old son of a college buddy died from cancer. And if you follow this blog, you know that our 2 year old granddaughter, Raelyn, died in a tragic accident just a week ago.

We shared our grief with our church family here in Dulce yesterday during our Sunday service. It was good in ways most people couldn't imagine. Why? Because almost everyone I spoke with had tragically lost a child or grandchild. My church family shared my grief in ways that the vast majority of Americans cannot. Those listed above are few and far between. We can be thankful for that, but it makes losing a child or grandchild even more difficult because there are so few with whom to share the grief.

But here, on the Jicarilla Apache Nation, losing a child or grandchild is not so rare. That is a sad situation, one large part of the grief of this Nation. I will not begin to assign causes as to why more children (young and adult) pass away here, but I can tell you about the faith that holds our church members together through this grief.

One woman told me of her father's response when her teenaged brother was killed in an accident. Her father said, "God gives, and God takes away." This man was able to celebrate the short life of his son because he saw that life as a gift to him, even if it ended sooner than the father would have chosen.

Another woman told me of her daughter's death. She said that without her faith that God would comfort her in her grief, the grief would have killed her. She said that praying through her grief upheld her, and knowing others were praying for her brought her through the times when she couldn't even pray.

On a different occasion, following the recent death of an adult child, a person told me that their dying child had asked God to forgive their sins and accept them as God's own. This brought much peace to the grieving parent.

Our family's grieving over Raelyn has only begun, but to these I cling: 1) Raelyn is with God. She is free of pain and fear; she is perfect in every way; and she is God's child.  2) Raelyn's life was a gift to us all. She was a delightful, smart, funny, sweet, and loving toddler. I have many wonderful memories to carry with me wherever I go.
 3) Prayer is essential to our healing. Our 8-yr-old is processing by drawing and writing, talking, and praying about Raelyn and our family. Our first response when we are overwhelmed by the sadness of losing her is to pray together. To hold hands and to name every person who is grieving, including ourselves.

 I ask you to join with us in praying for Raelyn's mommy, Courtney, her stepdad, Brandon, her biodad, Josh, and her brothers and sisters. Pray that they might find God's peace and grace in their grief. Pray that they might find healthy ways to grieve her loss and to preserve her memory.

Rest In Peace, Baby Girl. And God, comfort those of us left here on Earth without her.

This is NOT a Disney World...

We just got back from Disney World. Every child's dream vacation. We went to The Magic Kingdom multiple days, met every princess in the book (and movie!), and rode Splash Mountain at least five times. Our eight-year-old daughter has been dreaming about this trip for months, and she was a dynamo, racing for rides and chances to meet princesses. We also went to Epcot, Sea World, and Gatorland. Whew! A lot of fun in one week!

Against the gorgeous backdrop of Disney, I got a phone call from my son. He told me that his two-year-old daughter (who doesn't live with him) had somehow gotten out of the house the night before into the bitter Wisconsin winter. She had been airlifted to Mayo in Rochester and attempts were being made to revive her.

As the perfect princesses visited and the groundskeepers maintained the spotless grounds... As we waited in line for highly-anticipated rides, and the never-ending panorama of sweets and delights paraded by...

We waited to hear whether our granddaughter, who is also the half-sister of our daughter, Kat, was showing any positive signs. We waited to hear if the CT scan showed any brain activity. We waited to hear if her life-support was going to be removed. We waited to hear that she had passed into the loving arms of Jesus.

Of course our hearts were breaking. Our son's heart was breaking. Raelyn's mommy's and her fiance's hearts were breaking.

And yet, we were at Disney! We were on the dream vacation of our eight-year-old! We were 1500 miles away from the hospital... and we had driven...

So we experienced Disney's Magic Kingdom, Epcot Center, Gatorland, and Sea World, under the storm cloud of a distant tragedy. We caught ourselves crying over silly things, like hearing a toddler crying or eating something that Rae would love.

 Once, both our daughter and I started weeping while in line for a muffin. A man behind offered assistance, and our wee one blurted out, "My baby sister died yesterday." Instead of being shocked, he knelt down beside her and said, "When I was seven, my big brother died. It really hurts, doesn't it? You will always remember your baby sister, and you will always love her. But she would want you to have fun, too. So you have fun, and when the sad comes, you remember how much you love her." Smart man, and kind, too.

Another time, I couldn't find a restaurant we needed to find. I asked about 5 people, and they all gave me directions that I couldn't follow. I finally found a different restaurant and asked if they could provide the wrist bands we needed so we could eat at Sea World. When the man said, "Sure, but not until we open in an hour." I began to cry. I was just overwhelmed with sadness, helplessness, and frustration.

What a juxtaposition: Disney World and tragedy! The perfect princesses and blemishless beauty of Disney, and the cruel reality of hypothermia, organ donation, and cremation.

We would all love to live in a Disney World, where everything and everyone are clear-cut and perfect. The "bad guys" are always caught, and the problems always solved. Someone else picks up the litter and delivers our snacks.

But this is NOT a Disney World. It's a world where two-year-olds make terrible mistakes and pay with their lives. It's a world where each of us has tragedy, in one form or another.


                                                             But isn't it supposed to be a Disney World?

No. It's not. In the Bible, we are told repeatedly that we will have troubles in this world. Psalms 88:3 says, "For my life is full of troubles, and death draws near." 2 Corinthians 1:4 says, "He comforts us in all our troubles..." There are many more verses which refer to the difficulties we will undoubtedly have here on Earth.

We cannot live as though this world is supposed to be a Disney World. Instead, we seek God and His comfort in all the troubles of this world, in all the tragedies that find us here. We do not deny these tragedies, Jesus himself wept. I took comfort in that thought while I wept in the line surrounded by people having fun. Jesus himself knows our family's sorrow.

So let's live like it's God's world. Knowing that in a fallen world, there will be trouble... and tragedy. But also knowing, deep within us, that God is in control of it all, and that it will, in the end, come out right.

We who so desperately miss Raelyn already can take comfort in the fact that we know she is with God. She is in no pain, has no anxiety, and is in a place way better than DisneyWorld.

A Ring, A Knock, A Cry

We never know when the phone will ring with tragic news, an invitation, or a desperate need. If you have ever lived in a parsonage, you know what I'm talking about.

There are days when I am unequal to the task of welcoming such phone calls, or at least their callers. Thankfully, I don't have to meet the needs; God does that. He strengthens us to overflowing with what is needed.

Here in Dulce, it is just as often a knock at the door that alerts us to a need. Sometimes, I am able to help the person with scheduling a party in the church's gym, providing some food and drink, or just an arm around and a prayer. Many times, the need is for the pastor, my husband, and I am thankful that God provides him with the patience, strength, and grace to meet these needs.

We are blessed, here "in the trenches" of God's work. Thank you to each of you who pray for the ministry here in the Jicarilla Apache Nation.

Nicknames

Our eight-year-old found puppies again; this is at least the third time she's found puppies here in Dulce. She loves puppies, and we always stop to play with them, especially if they are at someone's house that we know.

This newest batch happen to be on a road we travel frequently, by foot and by bicycle. Today we were on our bikes. We stopped and she played with the two puppies who were left from the litter of five. The others have been sold or given away, I suppose. This always makes our wee one sad, but she enjoyed the two who are left.






As I waited for our daughter to play with the puppies, a car drove up and stopped. I figured it was someone we knew, so I turned and said hi. It wasn't. It was a mangani woman I'd never seen before. "Mangani" (maan-gah'-nee) is the Jicarilla word for "white person." I find myself identifying unknown white people that way here. It isn't an insult, it's just a descriptive word. My husband received a high compliment a couple of weeks ago; someone told him they "forgot he was mangani." It means we're a part of the community.

Anyway, this mangani woman opened her window and asked, "Are the puppies ready to be given away?" I told her that three of them had already been sold or given away, but they didn't belong to us. I started to tell her the name of the man to whom they belong, but I hesitated. 

You see, here, everyone has a nickname. Pretty much everyone. It took me a while to figure this out. I was very confused! I was trying to learn names and faces, and I thought I would get someone's name sorted out... and then someone else would call them something different from what I knew!

Anyway, I know this man by his nickname, but I don't really call him that at this point, and I sure don't have the right to share his nickname with someone else. So I told her his given name and she went on her way, planning to talk to him about the puppies.

And I got to thinking about this nickname thing among the Jicarilla. I now know enough people that I am aware when a nickname is used for many people. But I'm actually not so sure whether the common name most people are called is their nickname and the occasionally-used name is their given name... or if it's the other way 'round. Or maybe it varies from person-to-person or family-to-family.

I do know that I use the name that has been told to me when I refer or talk to a person. I'm thinking that someday I'll be familiar enough that I'll be able to use both names, but I need to know more of the "rules" before I do!

In His Hands

And then I started mulling how absolutely amazing it is that God knows my name; it is written on His hand. He knows every secret name I have... because I belong to Him.

Amazing.

Rearranging

"By Our Love" is available for $60.00

 These are this first two versions of a new design called "By Our Love." It is a small piece, 8x8 inches, but has many small pieces of glass, as you can see. The very first version of the piece is pictured to the left. If you look very carefully, you will see a couple of changes that were made before I built the second piece (pictured below).

Certainly, the colors were rearranged, but so were a couple of the shapes of pieces. I found the first version very difficult to build, so I rearranged a couple of pieces to make it easier.



I rearranged something else this morning, too. I have been trying very hard to start my day with Bible reading, devotions, and prayer. I have a Bible app that has devotional plans in it. I have chosen one in particular to follow.

But...

Valentine's Day? "By Our Love" is perfect!

I keep getting sidetracked in the  mornings... I think, "Oh, I'll just read this email. It's from my mom, so it's important." or "I want to see what so-and-so said on Facebook." And then half an hour later, I've read all my Facebook updates or emails... and I haven't read my Bible.

It's so easy to get sidetracked. So easy.

The other morning, I picked up my phone to read the Bible. I swiped my phone to get to the Bible app... and I realized something I could do. It was so simple! I can't believe I didn't think of it before! On my phone, there are four apps that are locked in place while the rest of them are on several screens that I swipe to get to. Those four apps were at the bottom of every page. The phone app, the mail app, the camera app, and the music app.  (I was a little proud that Facebook wasn't there!)

So I took the mail off the dock and put the Bible app on the dock. Now it's on every screen. Just a small rearrangement, but it will make me more aware of the Bible and less aware of my  email.

What else could I rearrange in my life so simply that would increase the time I spend with God? I thought a bit, and came up with another. I am trying to memorize scripture, and one of the tools I use is Scripture Typer, a program that tracks my practice and reviews in typing passages I'm trying to memorize. Instead of opening the program when I am ready to type scripture (which happened almost never), I open the program in a separate window when I start my computer for the day. I am practicing scripture multiple times per day instead of once a week or less! So simple.

I am continuing to look for ways to rearrange things so that I am intentionally spending more time with God. What could you do?? Please share your ideas with me, so I can grow, too!

Racism isn't Dead

I have been befuddled by the vehemence with which my White friends and family deny that racism had nothing to do with Eric Chandler's, Michael Brown's, or Trayvon Martin's deaths (among many others). It is unfathomable to me to disbelieve the hundreds of thousands of protestors who speak to experiences of prejudice and racism in America.

And then I figured it out...

At least some of it.

I don't claim to have The Answer, but I realized as I read the responses to the lack of charges in Eric Chandler's death, that many of my White friends and family think that racism goes like this:

1) George Zimmerman hates Blacks and went out "hunting" for a Black to kill... if this isn't the truth, then it isn't racism.

2) Officer Darren Wilson becomes a police officer because he thinks all Blacks deserve arrest and punishment... or even just all "those" Blacks... if this isn't how it happened, it's not racism.

3) Officer Daniel Pantaleo saw Eric Chandler's resisting of arrest as an opportunity to kill off one more Black man... and if this can't be proven, it's not racism.

But that's just wrong. Sure, there are those evil people out there who truly hate all Black people. And there's no doubt that those people are racists. And yes, there are racist Black people who hate all White people. And there are racists of every race and every culture.

But that's not the face of racism I have seen in these situations and in my life. The face of racism is couched in our expectations and the assumptions that follow.

For example, a Black man is viewed as "threatening" by our society. Therefore, a Black man resisting arrest (clearly a wrong thing to do) is perceived as a bigger danger than a White man resisting arrest (just as wrong). It's not that the arresting officer was out to "get" a Black man, it's that the officer's sense of fear is heightened by the assumption that a Black man is inherently more dangerous than a White man doing the same behaviors. This does not point a finger at that arresting officer, but at the society that has created the assumption that Black men are dangerous.

Black people are assumed to be "poor," so when my affluent Black twenty-something daughter drives her very nice car, she is stopped by police for DWB (Driving While Black). This has happened to her many times. If a young White man had been walking in Trayvon's neighborhood with a hoodie on, it's likely he would've been assumed to belong in the upper-middle-class neighborhood, not followed, not murdered. It's not that George Zimmerman was out to "get" a young Black man, it's that he was afraid and assumed a Black man didn't belong in his neighborhood.

A particularly hateful assumption that I have found in my years as an elementary teacher in two states and four districts is that Black boys need more discipline than White boys. And of course, the general assumption that boys need more discipline than girls is in effect, too. What that means is that Black boys get disciplined more strictly and harshly than Black girls, White boys, and White girls. In other words, a Black boy is taught that he is more "wrong" than everyone else. And even more importantly, the Black girls, White boys, and White girls are all taught that Black boys are naughtier (more threatening) than anyone else!

I've even seen and heard about charter schools that are based on the idea that "those kids" (typically kids of color and of poverty) need more discipline and a more rigid curriculum. Entire schools based on an erroneous image of Blackness and poverty as "more wrong."

Another opinion I hear that I disagree with vehemently is, "I'm color-blind" or "The world would be better off if it were color-blind." Perhaps the second one is true if indeed the world could be entirely color-blind, but that's not the truth now. The truth now is that the experiences of a White person from birth to death are quite different from the experiences of a Black person from birth to death. The above assumptions, coupled with overt racism (My daughter repeatedly being told to "get her N* a** off our sidewalk" of a neighbor is just one example.), provide a completely different world-experience for those kids of color who walk into our classrooms, stores, churches, etc. If you do not believe this, ask people of color what their experiences are!!! We cannot fail to know these different world-experiences and expect to treat children of color "the same as anyone." Instead, we must work to include these children, to engage these children, to teach these children from an understanding of their experiences.

Racism isn't only about being or not-being a racist (meaning a person who actively hates another group). It is about being aware of the disadvantages given by society, history, and life circumstances to a group of people and actively working against those disadvantages... if you want to be a non-racist.

In the Face of Tragedy

Tragedy has a very personal face. An impersonal tragedy doesn't exist. I know many of these faces, here in Dulce and elsewhere through my life. I have been the face of tragedy at certain points in my past.

FROG (Fully Rely On God) is 12x12 inches. $100.00

I know the faces of mothers and fathers who lost beloved children to cancer... to accidents... to drugs... to murder...

I know the faces of wives who have lost their husbands too soon... and of husbands lost without their wives...

I know the faces of grandparents who are struggling to raise grandchildren damaged by violence...

I know the faces of women who want to be called "mom" and of men who want to be called "dad" so badly that every breath hurts...

I know the faces of children who have lost parents to death or imprisonment or apathy...

I know the faces of husbands and wives who have been betrayed...

And I know that you know these faces, too. Some of you have been these faces at certain points in your life. Tragedy is personal.

So what do we do, as Christians, when we are present in the face of tragedy?? How do we respond when someone reveals their personal tragedy??

My first answer, on the morning of the latest tragedy in our congregation here, came in Austin Bridges' song, Hold On to Jesus. We hold on to Jesus, and that's true. We cling to the truths given to us by the Bible: "I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:13); "All things are possible for one who believes." (Mark 9:23); and "...we know that for those who love God all things work together for good..." (Romans 8:28)

But what about those times when we don't have the energy to hold on to Jesus?? What about those tragedies that seem to have no possibility of good?? What about the times when our strength fails completely?

I've been there.

And I've been with some as they faced those kinds of tragedies.

What then??

I think the answer is much deeper than "hold on to Jesus," as good as that is. Because when we have no more to give, no prayers to say, no strength to share, no silver-lining to glimpse...

Jesus holds on to us.

We don't have to do anything. We are His, and He loves us. He holds us in our tragedies; he carries us through the dark valleys. Romans 8:26 says, "Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

We don't have to have words to soothe the face of tragedy. We don't have to have answers or platitudes... or even hope. We are His. 

Jesus holds on to us.

Amen. And amen.