Saying Hello

It is always hard to say goodbye to an era, to a season you were highly invested in. There’s a loss and it deserves time, and I believe time is healing. But time itself is not enough…

How do we move on, really, in wholeness and peace and new motivation?

For me, the loss is relatively quite small. It’s the end of my homeschooling era. It’s the end of my “family years” with Selah. It’s entering mid-life, leaving behind the skin and body (and sometimes brain) of a younger me.

Others have more grievous losses, like the death of a child, a major job transition, or a health scare or long term disability.

We know in our heightened focus on mental and emotional health that we can’t shove all this down. We can’t just keep busy until we forget. We can’t self-medicate with idols like overeating and numbing out.

We have to make room for it.

Some ideas for that are to write in a lament journal, just taking time to write when the sadness or confusion hits; prayers written to God who does grieve with us. Sometimes we need to take time off to caress our senses with beauty outdoors, friendships, and things we enjoy- as opposed to bingeing Netflix and ice cream. Sometimes we need to talk with someone regularly who will ask questions to make our minds wake up and sweep out the places we don’t want to go inside, finding fears and core beliefs that drive our thoughts, then feelings, then words and actions.

Healing, letting go, and moving on is an actual journey…a process…and like any good journey or process, there is an end. We are created to be resilient and heal! Skin, neural pathways, feelings- they don’t stay the same. When damaged, they can be renewed. Our hearts, our hurts, our disappointments, our memories can also be renewed and restored through the power and healing of Jesus. He can do it anyway He chooses- in an instant, or through a long journey. But just like Joseph, we can know that the timing has purpose. It is making us, molding us, and we can willingly go with that current or never see that God is there driving a current at all.

So the key is surrender. The key is surrender to an awareness of a bigger picture, of a great big God, of others in need, and of the short time we have here to run in the path He has for us. The key is surrendering not only to God’s work in our story, but surrendering to being a part of His story.

When we left Selah at college, knowing I was entrusting her to God like never before, there was this moment in worship where the lyrics were:

“Oh Christ be magnified~on the altar of my life~oh Christ be magnified in me.”

And I realized, my life being laid down—my surrender—day by day as a parent, and in the other ways I try to trust and obey Him, is for no other reason than to be a willing part of His story.

So, now it’s time to say hello not to the next chapter in my life or my family’s life, but to the page of the seemingly unseen story my life is a part of. Do I have choices, do I have feelings? Yes and yes! But I choose to get excited about His story over mine. The memory of Lyndsay Taylor on the earth will at some point be long gone; but what Jesus did through my simple, transparent, messy life surrendered to Him will actually remain!

I’m going to close with this thought. When we pray for God’s will to be done in our lives, what is our motivation? Is it to see a life that at the end we can say we “did right”; are we praying this in hopes of it all going fairly well?

Or do we pray “Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven” to surrender to our smallness, praying that the reality of our lives – whatever He allows – will make a clear way for others to see Him?

God ~ You areJehovah Rapha, Healer ~ You are Jehovah Jireh, Provider ~ please bring joy into our processes and pain, as we surrender them to Your purposes, for Your glory and Kingdom plans in the world!
Amen.

Saying Goodbye

They said not to blink, so I didn’t.

But still, off she goes.

I am all feelings… because I know something wonderful is over. Yes. Something new is beginning and it is going to be wonderful, too. But still, something beautiful is over and that deserves a moment or two or a million.

I am learning to feel my feelings…and rather than shun the annoying fact that I am human, follow it, allow it, a little.

So what beautiful, wonderful something is actually over? What is so hard to say goodbye to? Let me go way back…

Carrying her and feeling her kick my ribs. I’ll never forget! Pushing her in the cart at the grocery. Snuggling and reading. Her enthusiasm when meeting new people and doing new things. Her dresses and hair bows. Homeschool mornings. Worship time.

Then middle school years. The purple bedroom. The books she wrote, the songs she wrote, sang, and played on the piano. Making friends and even struggling with friends, the hard conversations. Beach vacations. The way she memorized movie lines and made us laugh.

High school ~ I guess this is when I began to start feeling the first stabs of loss. I was sad that so many hard things were happening to her. It was not all bad, but the simple times were over. Health problems and diagnoses a long time coming. Managing appointments and meds. Some hard relationships and discoveries. Also, there were special memories like sharing things with her younger sisters, learning to drive, taking college classes. Watching her start a crochet business. Seeing her pick a college. Dating. Prom. Graduation. One last summer.

Now I am parenting an adult child. And I don’t know how much will change, but I’ve spent a long time trying to get ready for whatever this all means. Tomorrow we take her to college and drop her off, and a new beginning happens for both of us. It’s just sad because my new beginning doesn’t include her as a forefront figure…but it did for more than 18 years. I have new assignments now, and my assignment to her is there but different.

It is brave to love and give to our kids. Praise the Lord for His bravery and strength He supplied in the days that turned somehow to years. We made it! That is something beautiful and wonderful. (And encouraging, because I have three more to raise! Also encouraging because all I did was pray and do my best, and I’m choosing to believe that was enough. Whew, that could be another blog entry…or book.)

It is also brave to let go and move on. I choose to praise Him for His bravery and strength He will give in these days where things are different and maybe even painful. We will make it through the transition! Mommas in the same shoes, I’m talking to the both of us! We will make it through this, too!

I think we just get used to running the race and giving our all; when the scenery changes, when the track changes, we have to be able to move forward into a new scene.

But there are no shoelaces tied up for me just yet.

I didn’t blink then and I’m not going to blink now. I’m here. Tears and all. Fully here because this wonderful beautiful gift deserves nothing less.

November

I haven’t done my usual Wednesday blogging in almost a month.

It has been a hard month…for so many people. The last blog I wrote was about believing, choosing to believe, that God is enough for those who are grieving or doubting. And that is what I have been doing as I wait and pray.

I’m thankful that God brings new opportunities every day – every hour really – to be filled by Him, to be renewed, to remember. Otherwise, how could we do this? How could we keep going? His Spirit and His Word really are our water and food. Our inner man can live abundantly, even in all this.

There were losses and funerals…there were painful conversations…there is chronic illness and questions and pain…there are severe issues in young lives that I care about…several in my immediate family were sick…and God keeps saying “hold on to Me.”

As a “helper”, as a listener, prayer-warrior, mom, wife, and friend, it can sometimes be hard to keep holding on to Him if I am holding on tight to others “in need.” When my focus gets on myself (and how I feel), or others (and how they feel), I begin to sink.

This isn’t about detaching from others, but it is about embracing the reality that my role is actually to keep my eyes on Jesus while asking others to join me.

Again, again, again, again – The exhale comes when we put our eyes on Him. When He is in His rightful place, we can be in our’s. That’s where rest is. That’s where strength is. That’s where joy is.

What I learned in November, again: It is no longer I that live but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. Galatians 2:20

Hang in there – by holding on to Him.

Believing God for the Grievers

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

There is so much grief surrounding us right now.

I have been thinking about how in many parts of the world, that grief never lifts.

I would assume many people become numb to it, becoming accustomed to constant loss.

But most of us here in America aren’t accustomed to constant loss, death, disease, epidemics, or the absolute worst: having a child die before their parent.

But in our community, over the past few weeks and thinking back to a few years ago, we have lost so so so many young people. Each of their families will never be the same, and there is a somberness we all feel in knowing that. I think that’s appropriate. I think we are learning sorrow and joy can co-exist and they must. I think we are learning life is short and we have to stay focused on what truly matters.

Lately, I’ve been telling my kids in light of college applications, test scores, making teams, having a boyfriend or not, all they could worry about, etc. : All that really matters is your peace with God.

Emphasis on God.

How do we carry the pain of grief when something so final and so terrifying happens to someone we know?

We humbly and confidently expect God to show up in the fullest extent of His power and love for them.

We boil it all down to Him and what His Word says He is and what His Word says He can do.

We place our TRUST that HIS power, HIS healing, HIS closeness, and HIS sufficiency is going to rush in, comfort, hold, mend, strengthen, uphold, counsel, and bring life to the grievers – to those left behind to learn how to live again.

We join in their grief by joining in their faith, upholding their faith even if they can’t feel or say or believe anything right now.

I don’t know the right words to say, and this message isn’t for the grievers. It’s for those who love those grievers. As we give money, support in any way we can, help with kids, clean or cook, show up to memorial services, cry and sit and visit and send cards, or pray from afar, this is what we hold onto…for them, for ourselves, because reconciling loss affects us all.

Every one of us will go through loss and sorrow personally. When we do, what do we want people to do for us? What do we want them to hold onto alongside us?

For me, I know the answer.

I want people to trust the Lord with me.

I want people to trust that God is going to reveal a part of Himself to me in my raw heart break that I have never seen before.

I want people to trust that because He lives, I can and will face tomorrow.

As we mourn, as we question, as we despair, as we numb out, as we lay there, as we cry, as we try to function again, we can also believe that God’s power can and will do the impossible.

If He can make a crumpled hand stretch out…

if He can make lung tissue begin to swell with breath again after days in the tomb…

if He can forgive a murderer, if He can welcome all of us into perfect eternity after all our failures…

if He can promise resurrection life of our actual bodies and our actual souls so that anyone who comes to Him will never die and never be lost for good…

He can make a way for grievers and sufferers to thrive again – attached to the Vine, bearing fruit, living, loving, giving, breathing, glowing, reflecting His light in a dark world – consoling others in their afflictions in the same way they received consolation from God. And until that day, He can live in their heart and mind and body through the power of the Holy Spirit and give them each breath that they need, each thought that they need to make it another day.

I choose to believe this. I choose to believe He will be who every mourner will find with them at the very rock bottom of their pit. I choose to believe we daily need to feed our faith so that when it is our time, while we still face all the horrors of physical, mental, and emotional trauma, we know there is only One whose fellowship, whose closeness, can really heal.

For anyone reading this now, the Word of God is alive. When we eat of it, we become more alive. If death is surrounding your heart and mind, He is calling your name out of death and into life–calling your attention to Him and a life in the Spirit, an inner life that will never die. As we sow seed to this inner life, this life in Christ, the things of the world become less important and the mind set on the Him is life and peace. (Romans 8, Colossians 3, Isaiah 26:3) This life is passing. It is shakeable. But we are called into a life hidden with Him, and His refuge, His arms, are there for us every time we cannot handle our earthly senses another moment. He longs to hold us, renew us, and then send us back with new strength. (Isaiah 40:31) Let us grow and deepen that part of us that cannot be shaken.

The Story in the Middle of the Night

 

Lately, God has been bringing to my attention some things I need to know regarding my children who are adopted, two of which are older and not home with us yet. I’ve been praying He would help me know all I can in order to help them transition and heal. I wanted to share this particular topic with my friends and family, and thought this blog might be the best way. Thank you in advance for reading and those of you involved in the lives of any adopted children, I pray this touches you like it is touching me.

We adopted one of our daughters seven years ago, when she had not even reached her 1st birthday. We were elated to get a baby, and I remember thinking, “Oh, we are so lucky to get a baby because she’s too little to even remember her past life or have any traumatic effects from it.” But little did I know, as well as this sweet girl adapted to life in a new family and home, of course blossoming with healthy food and daily nurture, she had impressions on her brain and for lack of a better word, heart, that would never lift. Now, at the age where she can cognitively grasp what the first year of her life really was and all that she lost in it, there is grief and that shows itself in many forms. God brought the education we needed to help her navigate through the feelings that she couldn’t put words to before…but it is a process, and one we will always be in to some extent. I was incredibly clueless about what was going on inside of her precious heart and mind.

Can I go a step further in vulnerability and transparency here to say that I actually have been angry at her for not being more grateful? How many times have I thought, “But you have this now, you have us now, don’t live in the past. God rescued you! That’s what you have to focus on!” For those of us who came from somewhat stable backgrounds, that thought might make perfect sense if there’s at least some sensitivity added to it. And also, the Bible tells us to rejoice in all circumstances and be thankful, right? Well…

God wanted me to really get this, so He woke me up in the dead of night with a story.

This is the first time I’ve really grasped what an adopted child goes through and how it changes them on the inside, regardless of what they are told or even know in their head to be true. As you read this story the first time, try not to make comparisons with adoption, just read it as if you were truly the main character. Imagine this with me, please:

You are a young adult, living with a significant other. You have a job and while things have never been easy, you think you are doing okay. You’ve never moved, you’ve never really seen past your community where you work and live, but you have familiarity and you like it. Voices, scenes, your daily routine, and ultimately that significant other make up your life. But one day, you lose your job and there are absolutely no other opportunities available. You loved that job. It gave you such a sense of identity. It was your thing and you felt good about it. Now it was gone and before long, you have to file bankruptcy. Bankruptcy! Has it really come to this? You always had this sense of “things will work out”, but it slowly ebbs away as you begin living on the street. Worst of all, your significant other that you had been with as long as you could remember, leaves, weeping. You think if they’re sad to leave, then why don’t they stay with me and weather this storm? If they want to be with me, why can’t we do this together? But they can’t and you end up in a group home with a hundred other adults that are also in the same boat.

You feel an incapacitating weight that daily drags you down as you try to figure out what happened. You have no pieces to try to put together, you have nothing.

Time passes in this exact situation, and you learn to make it through the days. Circumstances reinforce the thoughts and beliefs that have taken hold–that you don’t deserve better or that hope only leads to disappointment– although you do your best to not think or feel anything at all. Others in the group home leave, going away and never coming back to tell about it, always with a new adult who came looking for them all smiles, usually of a different color skin and total gibberish of a language! Your friends do seem glad when they leave with these people, so you begin to hope you’ll have that happen to you, too, even though you really don’t know what it’ll mean on a day-to-day basis, what it’ll truly be like.

And one day, it happens. All of a sudden, there is a person clearly interested in knowing you and taking you out of the holding pattern you’ve been in. You don’t know very much about what is changing, you just know it’s going to be a big change and you are going to have a significant other again. You can tell this by the way they’re looking at you and even hugging you, and that makes you feel good, but you remember feeling good before and where did that get you? You have forgotten what it felt like to have a job you loved and earn your own living, that sense of pride. You have forgotten what it felt like to never question if your significant other would leave, that sense of calm and confidence. You have forgotten what it felt like to not live in the past and future; you don’t even realize you forgot how to live in the present.

You are in a whirlwind of new everything for a couple of months. Everyone around you is celebrating, everyone is asking you if you like your new clothes, your new room in your new house…even your new significant other is looking at you in expectation, like aren’t you thrilled?  As an adult, you’ve had enough life experience to understand you are in a better situation. Yes, you grasp that. Having nothing was horrible. The group home stunk. You are glad you have a job again! You are relieved you have plenty of food! You are enjoying the warmth and kindness and attention of your new significant other!

But what you have learned and what you have become cannot be turned off. You’ve learned to emotionally, physically, and socially survive by not getting too excited about anything, by not getting attached or used to anything, anything at all! In that group home, every possession was destroyed, every friend left, every bed room changed, and nobody ever asked you how you felt about it, not to mention all that happened before the group home life. So, yeah, you’re enjoying things for the moment and to a certain extent, but then a shadow falls over your face and while everyone else is celebrating how great this is–because it is great–you just feel scared and sad, and angry that you can’t just enjoy it, that you can’t just toss the past in the past and believe that it is a new day. There’s a fear of jumping in with both feet only to lose it all again. There’s a fear of messing it all up, so that creates a fear of even trying to connect with your significant other or to do a good job in your new occupation. All the feelings of those terrible years are stored deep inside and they come out whenever a situation in your “new life” even barely resembles those experiences. You don’t realize that’s what’s happening, but you do notice that you don’t have the same reaction to things, good or bad, as others do. You eventually get to the place where you know the facts by heart: I’m loved, I’m taken care of, I have a good life ahead of me. But when you’re all alone, you’re really not sure.

Thank you for “going there” with me. I hope something in this story made it real to you, like it did to me. And what we can’t fully understand, we can believe anyway because it’s true, like it or not.

It is my deepest prayer that my girls would have total healing and complete victory. I pray that someday they could be so strong in their faith and belief in God’s love for them that they could say, as Joseph who was sold into slavery by his own brothers yet someday became ruler of all Egypt: “What my enemy intended for evil, God used for good, both for me and to save many lives as well.” We all have wounds that eventually lead to beliefs about ourselves, God, and the world. But when those wounds happen in childhood, the healing takes incredible bravery, patience, perseverance, and help from others who are in for the long haul with that child. 

Please remember this when you are with my children.

As a speaker at the Empowered to Connect conference said last year: “My children bled before they came to me, and they shall not bleed under my care.”

I know it’s hard to know exactly what that care will need to look like, or what you can expect from them. So I say, don’t expect anything. Receive them as they are right now. Don’t judge them for what they feel. This may be a one-sided love for awhile. Give with no strings attached, really. Just love them and if they’re not acting loving toward you or others, take them aside and pour your love on them even more. And please remind me to do the same.

Thank you so much for reading.