I Hope You Dance. Rex came to me a few weeks before he died and asked me to listen to this song by Lee Ann Womack. I sat down and listened to it. I wasn't focusing at all on the words of the song. Instead, I was very aware of him looking at me intently throughout the entire song. I remember thinking, "Why is he looking at me so hard; it's an ok song, nothing outrageous." But, you see, I missed his message.
I didn't think another thing about the song for at least a year after Rex died. Then, all of a sudden, I remembered that song and went searching for it in my brain, trying to remember the name of the song and who the artist was. I had this urgency to hear this song again for some reason. I finally remembered what it was from knowing some of the words in the song. Yet, still I missed the message. I was grieving too much to really "hear" it.
Now, here I am two years later, and I got the message. Rex was not having me listen to a song because it was the best song ever; he was telling me his desires for me once he was no longer here. That is WHY he stared at me so passionately while I was listening. Rex wanted me to choose life and dance after he was gone. When I finally understood, I sobbed. I sobbed at the impact of the words; I sobbed at the beauty of his tender care for me; I sobbed at the unselfishness he showed me. I sobbed at my acceptance of his desire for me.
I am so humbled by the many subtle ways he gave me or the girls a piece of his heart to carry with us as we continue to live on without him by our side. It moves me to know that he was a much deeper man than I ever knew or gave him credit for. It shames me that I didn't realize how extremely precious he was while I had him here.
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
Dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)
Looking back, I don't understand why I didn't recognize what Rex was saying when he had me listening to this song. I remember him wanting me to tell him what I thought, and I recall telling him that I liked the song; at the same time, I could tell that my short and sweet response was disappointing to him. I think back and wonder if he wanted to use that song to talk about our life after his departure from us. And, maybe I missed an opportunity. Yet, how comforting it is to have a sweet moment two years later where he is still speaking to us. To know that I recently had a fresh encounter with what was in Rex' heart is so meaningful to me. Beyond that, Rex' life still holds significance for us.
For the last three years, from Rex' diagnosis of cancer through his death and our grieving, I have wanted more than anything for the pain of these last few years not to be wasted. I wanted them to count. I wanted them to make a huge difference in our lives, as well as, others. If we were going to have to endure this trial and pain, then I wanted to see GREAT things come out of it.
That's not an uncommon desire. The loss of a loved one does those kind of things in your heart. You are looking for a reason to explain the pain. You are looking for something to replace the hurt and loss.
Many passions are born out of illness and death. Some people start foundations or ministries; some people build buildings in their honor; some people make large donations for a cause; some people organize rallies or benefits. Whatever your situation, these things seem to help ease the pain and anguish.
I was really no different. I had BIG dreams. I do not want to live a mediocre life, humming along with no sense of direction or purpose. So, like many others, I started desperately trying to determine what my passion was to be. What great thing do I need to do out of this hurt? Where can I focus my energy and help the world? So many things came to mind that I found myself feeling scattered in all kinds of directions. "God, USE me!" I'm willing, I'm ready.
I wasn't sure if I didn't have specific direction or if I was focusing my energy in the wrong direction because I still did not believe that I was where I needed to be. Then, in August, our church had a "Times of Refreshing" with Tom Elliff. The very first night was a message on the "Inevitable Intruder." It was a great message, but there was one specific part that spoke volumes to me more than any other thing said. Tom was talking about a time in his life when he was praying for the next step in his life and what God would have him do. And, as he lay in a hospital bed thinking about this, he felt God speak to him. As best as I can recall Tom said, "You can serve me, you can worship me, you can praise me, but you can't USE me." It was a slap in the face for me as I suddenly realized that all of this passion in me was directed with the wrong intensity for the wrong motive. In all my efforts to do Great and wonderful things, I was attempting to USE God for my own comfort, for my own fulfillment.
I was broken. God is an Almighty God. He deserves my praise, my worship, my service, but I must not take my pain, my loss, and try to alleviate it in His name. Rather, I must give Him my praise, my worship, my service, my life simply because He is my Creator, my Savior, my God. What I do with my life, I must do because of Him.
I've taken a new breath. I have a grand opportunity to grow as a person and work on those parts of my life that stink. I have come up with my personal definition of success, a definition that includes living deliberately each and every day. My greatest personal desires include having the heart of God by knowing Him intimately and living a deliberate and disciplined life carved in wisdom and character. I have lots of room to grow in both of these areas. And, as I work on these really difficult parts of my life that have been ignored and hardened, I am reminded to not sit it out, but to dance.
Isaiah 43:18-19
18 Do not remember the past events, pay no attention to things of old.
19 Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.
I Hope You Dance,
Donna Meadows
Friday, October 02, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
A lot has transpired in the past 6 months. Life has been very busy and tiring with a toddler. Beyond that, I have gone through some more "refining" in my life. In the past almost 2 years now, I have accepted my widowhood, but I have never been content or happy with it. While I wasn't openly angry about it, nor did I "feel" angry, I manifested my anger by not giving in to the change in our family.
For starters, all the things that Rex did, I refused to do for at least 6 months. I didn't care that they didn't get done; it wasn't my job, and I wasn't doing them. Then, finally, I couldn't ignore it any longer; I wanted some of these things done, but I still was unwilling to do them myself. So, I recruited family members to do them for me. For a while, I also paid for outside help with these things. Then, again, I expected family to help me get them done. "After all, I had enough on my plate to do. I couldn't be expected to do everything. That's why God made husband and wife because the jobs were shared." Whether I admitted it or not, this was definitely my thinking.
My dad is still living and so when Rex died, I transferred some of my needs for security and protection back to him just like I did before I was married. For my dad, he didn't mind because he gets great fulfillment in being needed. So, we were peachy; I needed him and he liked being needed. I think in my mind, I thought that this was a temporary thing because I would eventually maybe re-marry, and then I would have someone to give me that security, stability, and protection. The girls would have a father figure in the home to look up to again. Without a doubt, my dad had become my crutch in transition. My prayer had even become, "Lord, please allow me to be re-married before you take my daddy." I couldn't bear the thought of losing him and being left alone.
God has a way of taking these crutches and kind of kicking them out from under us because He is a jealous God. He wants our dependence to be on Him. Exodus 34:14 For thou shalt worship no other god: for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.
On May 16th, my dad quickly developed severe stomach pain and vomiting. He went to the emergency room. After tests, he learned that he had a bowel blockage. There was no warning signs that led up to this. I had seen him less than 12 hours earlier the night before, and he was fine. He slept fine. That morning, it all began after his morning coffee.
To say the least, my apple cart had been turned over. My grandmother on my father's side had gone through the same symptoms. When they performed surgery on her, she was eaten up with cancer in her intestines. She died a week later. Naturally, I was concerned that history was repeating with my dad.
I felt totally helpless with this new turn of events. What would I do? I had already been devastated with losing Rex. Being surrounded with people who loved me, particularly my dad, made it easier for me to bear.
After 3 days of lying in the hospital bed, the blockage had gotten worse. Surgery was going to have to be done. The surgeon removed about 2 feet of his intestines and sent pieces off to pathology, but he didn't feel that there was any cancer. It was an old fashioned surgery so he has a scar about 18 inches long. This invasive surgery also meant that the healing was going to be slower and longer.
I was very thankful that the pathology came back clean and that we were looking at recovery of abdominal surgery instead of embarking on a battle of cancer. At the same time, I realized more than ever that I didn't need to depend on him as much as I always had. I was going to have to make some changes in my life.
There have been times here and there over the past year when I would ask for instructions or directions on completing tasks that I had never done, and my dad's response was that he would take care of it. He was trying to take care of his daughter not trying to make her dependent. Through his surgery, he realized that he was getting older and that he needed to help me be more independent with things around the house. Quite frankly, he came face to face with his aging and mortality.
I don't like feeling helpless, but I also had not dealt with this silent anger of being left to manage everything that goes with a household and parenting. To put it bluntly, I had RIGHTS, and I shouldn't have to do it all by myself.
With my dad's surgery and weakened body, he wasn't going to be able to do most of the things he was accustomed to doing. I had not lost my dad, but I did lose my crutch. I was being forced to deal with my anger and rebellious heart.
This silent anger started raging inside of me and started to emerge. I was in the midst of softball season with 3 daughters playing on three different teams. I couldn't manage it by myself. My dad had been my primary help. We've been blessed with rain this season, which means more yard work. My dad had been doing that for me. I had mowed before, but I had never touched a weed eater. The garden was starting to grow. My dad and I shared the work, and he usually did much more than me. If something heavy needed to be lifted or moved, he was the brawn for it. Any time I needed something fixed, he was the fix-it guy. He has always fixed almost everything that ever broke for my entire life. He couldn't physically do that now. Now, all of a sudden, the central vacuum motor flew to pieces; the 35 year old dishwasher was majorly leaking and needs to be replaced. My lawnmower which I hadn't needed before wouldn't crank. Rex' truck won't crank. The home projects we had planned couldn't be done as scheduled.
With my anger emerging, I started venting, pouting, sulking, and having a pity party for myself. More than anything, I realized that Rex and my dad are/were true gentlemen to me. I expected there to be people to offer help without me asking for every little thing. I expected to be able to present a need and for someone to see that it was done without begging.
I began to try to take control and fend for myself out of anger. I gave several family members an ear full for not helping when I wanted or needed. I didn't want to manage it all by myself. I couldn't manage it all. Why couldn't they help me? If their yard needed mowing, couldn't they see that mine did too?
The final straw came last week with an incident that happened where I felt that I had been wronged. I was really angry about it. I tried to let it go, and I couldn't. I tried to confront it, and the conversation went in circles with no resolve. I tried to forget it, and I laid awake at night. I tried to force myself to let it go as one of those unfixable things, and I stayed angry. Honestly, this incident was not anything major; why did it affect me so sorely?
Then, I began to try to figure out what had bothered me so much about it. What was my anger rooted in? Why did I take such offense? I had no answers. I wanted to get to the bottom of it. I wanted a clear conscience. I would pick it up and think about it and then because I didn't have answers, I would again try to forget it.
This last Saturday, as I was studying for my Sunday School lesson, God gave me some answers. It had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson. I believe that God sometimes reveals truth in matters on our heart when we are seeking Him, even if it has nothing to do with what we are studying.
The reason I was so angry about this incident was ingrained in what I deemed as MY RIGHTS. For almost 2 years, I had been allowing this silent anger to reside in my heart because I had RIGHTS. I refused to do the things that Rex once did because it was my right to not have to do them. The reason I didn't ask for help is because I shouldn't have to. We should be able to live just like before because I didn't ask to be a widow; my kids didn't ask to be fatherless. We shouldn't have to change our ways to accomodate the change in our family. If my kids want to play ball, then they should get to play. Being a single parent shouldn't stand in the way. RIGHTS, RIGHTS, RIGHTS!!!
I have known for some time that anger is burrowed in claiming rights which is indicative of an ungrateful heart and a lack of contentment. I deserve this; I should have that. I shouldn't have to endure this. In the past year, I have tried to search my heart for rights that I had claimed; I even confessed in prayer that I wanted to give up my rights to the life that I thought I needed and wanted, but I still didn't see specific rights that I had claimed. It tooks my dad's hospitalization and surgery to bring this wound out in the open for me to see it clearly and deal with it. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
Once I was able to identify the specifics, I was able to pointedly confess my sin, my selfishness, my ungratefulness and thank God for where He has put me in this time in my life.
Now, and only now, can I fulfill my responsibilities, balance my expectations, live with contentment, and recognize my privileges. If I truly believe that my life is not my own, if I genuinely think that my purpose in this life is to worship God and God alone, then I must be thankful for the suffering and pain, as well as, the blessing.
II Corinthians 1:5-7 5 You can be sure that the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. 6 So when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your benefit and salvation! For when God comforts us, it is so that we, in turn, can be an encouragement to you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. 7 We are confident that as you share in suffering, you will also share God's comfort.
God is good all the time.
Donna Meadows
For starters, all the things that Rex did, I refused to do for at least 6 months. I didn't care that they didn't get done; it wasn't my job, and I wasn't doing them. Then, finally, I couldn't ignore it any longer; I wanted some of these things done, but I still was unwilling to do them myself. So, I recruited family members to do them for me. For a while, I also paid for outside help with these things. Then, again, I expected family to help me get them done. "After all, I had enough on my plate to do. I couldn't be expected to do everything. That's why God made husband and wife because the jobs were shared." Whether I admitted it or not, this was definitely my thinking.
My dad is still living and so when Rex died, I transferred some of my needs for security and protection back to him just like I did before I was married. For my dad, he didn't mind because he gets great fulfillment in being needed. So, we were peachy; I needed him and he liked being needed. I think in my mind, I thought that this was a temporary thing because I would eventually maybe re-marry, and then I would have someone to give me that security, stability, and protection. The girls would have a father figure in the home to look up to again. Without a doubt, my dad had become my crutch in transition. My prayer had even become, "Lord, please allow me to be re-married before you take my daddy." I couldn't bear the thought of losing him and being left alone.
God has a way of taking these crutches and kind of kicking them out from under us because He is a jealous God. He wants our dependence to be on Him. Exodus 34:14 For thou shalt worship no other god: for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.
On May 16th, my dad quickly developed severe stomach pain and vomiting. He went to the emergency room. After tests, he learned that he had a bowel blockage. There was no warning signs that led up to this. I had seen him less than 12 hours earlier the night before, and he was fine. He slept fine. That morning, it all began after his morning coffee.
To say the least, my apple cart had been turned over. My grandmother on my father's side had gone through the same symptoms. When they performed surgery on her, she was eaten up with cancer in her intestines. She died a week later. Naturally, I was concerned that history was repeating with my dad.
I felt totally helpless with this new turn of events. What would I do? I had already been devastated with losing Rex. Being surrounded with people who loved me, particularly my dad, made it easier for me to bear.
After 3 days of lying in the hospital bed, the blockage had gotten worse. Surgery was going to have to be done. The surgeon removed about 2 feet of his intestines and sent pieces off to pathology, but he didn't feel that there was any cancer. It was an old fashioned surgery so he has a scar about 18 inches long. This invasive surgery also meant that the healing was going to be slower and longer.
I was very thankful that the pathology came back clean and that we were looking at recovery of abdominal surgery instead of embarking on a battle of cancer. At the same time, I realized more than ever that I didn't need to depend on him as much as I always had. I was going to have to make some changes in my life.
There have been times here and there over the past year when I would ask for instructions or directions on completing tasks that I had never done, and my dad's response was that he would take care of it. He was trying to take care of his daughter not trying to make her dependent. Through his surgery, he realized that he was getting older and that he needed to help me be more independent with things around the house. Quite frankly, he came face to face with his aging and mortality.
I don't like feeling helpless, but I also had not dealt with this silent anger of being left to manage everything that goes with a household and parenting. To put it bluntly, I had RIGHTS, and I shouldn't have to do it all by myself.
With my dad's surgery and weakened body, he wasn't going to be able to do most of the things he was accustomed to doing. I had not lost my dad, but I did lose my crutch. I was being forced to deal with my anger and rebellious heart.
This silent anger started raging inside of me and started to emerge. I was in the midst of softball season with 3 daughters playing on three different teams. I couldn't manage it by myself. My dad had been my primary help. We've been blessed with rain this season, which means more yard work. My dad had been doing that for me. I had mowed before, but I had never touched a weed eater. The garden was starting to grow. My dad and I shared the work, and he usually did much more than me. If something heavy needed to be lifted or moved, he was the brawn for it. Any time I needed something fixed, he was the fix-it guy. He has always fixed almost everything that ever broke for my entire life. He couldn't physically do that now. Now, all of a sudden, the central vacuum motor flew to pieces; the 35 year old dishwasher was majorly leaking and needs to be replaced. My lawnmower which I hadn't needed before wouldn't crank. Rex' truck won't crank. The home projects we had planned couldn't be done as scheduled.
With my anger emerging, I started venting, pouting, sulking, and having a pity party for myself. More than anything, I realized that Rex and my dad are/were true gentlemen to me. I expected there to be people to offer help without me asking for every little thing. I expected to be able to present a need and for someone to see that it was done without begging.
I began to try to take control and fend for myself out of anger. I gave several family members an ear full for not helping when I wanted or needed. I didn't want to manage it all by myself. I couldn't manage it all. Why couldn't they help me? If their yard needed mowing, couldn't they see that mine did too?
The final straw came last week with an incident that happened where I felt that I had been wronged. I was really angry about it. I tried to let it go, and I couldn't. I tried to confront it, and the conversation went in circles with no resolve. I tried to forget it, and I laid awake at night. I tried to force myself to let it go as one of those unfixable things, and I stayed angry. Honestly, this incident was not anything major; why did it affect me so sorely?
Then, I began to try to figure out what had bothered me so much about it. What was my anger rooted in? Why did I take such offense? I had no answers. I wanted to get to the bottom of it. I wanted a clear conscience. I would pick it up and think about it and then because I didn't have answers, I would again try to forget it.
This last Saturday, as I was studying for my Sunday School lesson, God gave me some answers. It had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson. I believe that God sometimes reveals truth in matters on our heart when we are seeking Him, even if it has nothing to do with what we are studying.
The reason I was so angry about this incident was ingrained in what I deemed as MY RIGHTS. For almost 2 years, I had been allowing this silent anger to reside in my heart because I had RIGHTS. I refused to do the things that Rex once did because it was my right to not have to do them. The reason I didn't ask for help is because I shouldn't have to. We should be able to live just like before because I didn't ask to be a widow; my kids didn't ask to be fatherless. We shouldn't have to change our ways to accomodate the change in our family. If my kids want to play ball, then they should get to play. Being a single parent shouldn't stand in the way. RIGHTS, RIGHTS, RIGHTS!!!
I have known for some time that anger is burrowed in claiming rights which is indicative of an ungrateful heart and a lack of contentment. I deserve this; I should have that. I shouldn't have to endure this. In the past year, I have tried to search my heart for rights that I had claimed; I even confessed in prayer that I wanted to give up my rights to the life that I thought I needed and wanted, but I still didn't see specific rights that I had claimed. It tooks my dad's hospitalization and surgery to bring this wound out in the open for me to see it clearly and deal with it. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
Once I was able to identify the specifics, I was able to pointedly confess my sin, my selfishness, my ungratefulness and thank God for where He has put me in this time in my life.
Now, and only now, can I fulfill my responsibilities, balance my expectations, live with contentment, and recognize my privileges. If I truly believe that my life is not my own, if I genuinely think that my purpose in this life is to worship God and God alone, then I must be thankful for the suffering and pain, as well as, the blessing.
II Corinthians 1:5-7 5 You can be sure that the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. 6 So when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your benefit and salvation! For when God comforts us, it is so that we, in turn, can be an encouragement to you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. 7 We are confident that as you share in suffering, you will also share God's comfort.
God is good all the time.
Donna Meadows
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
I’M ALIVE! I AM ALIVE! I AM ALIVE! I AM ALIVE! Yes, I can breathe again. I can enjoy living in this life. In recent days, my mourning has turned to rejoicing.
In the midst of my lamenting, I wanted to die. I wanted Jesus to take me and the girls, too, not just Rex. Take us; I don’t want to be here anymore. This life is full of disappointments, hurts, and pain. Who needs it? Who wants it? There’s sin lurking all around us that does nothing but put us in bondage to evil. I couldn’t see anything worth being here for. What happiness I’ve had here didn’t last. I was created to worship God, and I wanted to do it in Heaven, not here. I remember several times groaning to God to take me, and asking Him to please take all of us because I couldn't bear the thought of my children being left without a parent. It was certainly the groanings of a woman in mourning: a woman mourning her loss, a woman mourning her children’s loss, a woman mourning a death to a dream, a woman mourning a change of her plans, a woman mourning her state of confusion, a woman mourning her lack of control in life.
I purposed in my heart several things after Rex died. I purposed that I would not change any of our activities or traditions for at least a year. I purposed that I would not date or have any date type relationships for a year. I purposed that I would deliberately talk about Rex often, and I would do this without crying, for the girls’ sake. I purposed that I would not let my kids feel as if they had lost two parents – one to death and one to incapacitation from depression/sadness. I purposed that I would face my hurt by acknowledging it, talking about it, and thus allowing it to heal. I purposed that my life was totally in God’s Hands, and I surrendered my life to His plan. I purposed to trust God’s sovereignty even though I didn’t understand.
You see, I finally see a silver lining in mourning. For, it was in the mourning that I felt God’s special grace and love as never before. It was in my darkness that I KNEW that God had not forsaken me or forgotten me. It was in my loss, that I realized what is truly important in my life. It was in my solitude that I could be ME and open my heart completely to God’s caring hands. It was in my despair that I could sense His loving presence holding me, caring for me, listening to me, and meeting me in my time of need. Unless you experience a great loss, you will never understand His AMAZING LOVE in this way.
And, if I were you, I would also exclaim that I would NOT want to go through this pain just to experience this level of God’s love. The pain is severe, but His gentle hands are indescribable. The closest thing I can think of to this feeling is that of a mother’s love caring for her children when they are sick. I grew up with a great mother who was a servant in every way; as I was growing up, I saw it best whenever I was sick. She would care for me quietly; she would touch me tenderly; she would feed me foods that would help me to recover. She would clean my wounds and cover them with bandages; she would stay by my bed if she felt I needed it; she would make sure I had any medicine that I needed. She would be there for my every need whether I needed her around the clock or just intermittently. I could rest because I knew that mom was there. Each time, there would come a point in time when the recovery was almost complete; I didn’t need my mom’s care, but I didn’t want to let go of this pampering. It was nice. I kinda liked being waited on this way. But, inevitably, mom knew that it was time to withdraw that care and allow me to get up and do for myself. Did she forget me? Did she quit caring about me? Did she stop loving me? No, none of these things were true. Her caretaker role had shifted; I didn’t need her the same way I did when I was sick. It made me want to stay sick. Well, not really, but I wanted the perks to being sick.
I remember one time when I was a freshman in college in Virginia, I got bed-ridden sick. I was really sick for several days. She drove to Virginia, got a hotel room, took me there with her and cared for me around the clock for what seemed like a week. I will never forget that because in my opinion, it was a mom’s truly selfless act of love for her daughter. Could I have managed without her? Sure. Did I whine and ask her to come? No, I was totally surprised that she did that. I relayed my illness to her and next thing I know, she was picking me up at my dorm. Did she lavish me with this type of attention every time I was ill? Not really, but if I needed her, she was definitely there.
For the past year and a half, I have been sick with mourning, and God has cared for me around the clock. He has brought people in my life to care for me. He gave many of you a burden to feed us, clothe us, clean our house, pray for us, befriend us, and listen to us. He was there for me in the wilderness at night crying out for comfort. He listened as I uttered all of my thoughts about this injustice and then covered me in peace as I fell asleep exhausted from the sobs. He awakened me each day with a sense of hope and promise. He gave me a voice and an outlet for my pain through writing. I felt more than ever that God was living through me, and I was simply a weak but willing puppet of His. In the midst of losing Rex, I liked this pampering, so to speak. I like being cared for, watched over, and loved on. I loved the feel of God’s grace; it’s so nice and soft and warm and cozy.
A few months back, I came to a point where I knew that it was time to shed my clothes of mourning and get back to life. At first, I embraced this in my mind, but then as I started to realize that things were going to change, I resisted. Just like when my mom would withdraw her constant care for me and allow me to carry on with my life, God started letting me resume my role in this life. But, that meant that I didn’t need God’s grace the same way to get through each day. When that happened, I decided that I didn’t want to get better. I liked the care that I had been receiving. Without understanding it, I had a temper tantrum. “Don’t leave me God? Where are you? Why aren’t you staying with me ALL the time? Please, I’m not completely better. I still cry and have sadness in my heart. I want to stay in mourning. Well, not really, but I want to keep receiving
God's abundant grace that I have been receiving through all of this.”
Has God left me? Does He not love me now? No. His role for my needs has shifted. He is exactly what we need when we need it. When this first started happening, I got scared. I was scared that I was losing Him when, in fact, He was telling me, “It’s time to get up and rejoin the living.” I was unsure of how I was to continue?
I was struggling with claiming a verse for 2009; after all, I didn't have a clue what lay ahead in 2009. I never thought for a minute that I would be wearing these shoes a few years ago.
I thought I had lost my voice in my writing. As I contemplated updating my blog, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I tried to force my writing, and it was all wrong. Was I ever going to post again? Does this mean I won’t ever write a book? Have I waited too long? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to drift through life living a mediocre life. I want this life of mine to have meaning, real life-changing meaning for God.
I recognized that as I was questioning this change, I had also begun to live again. I had reclaimed a humor to life that I hadn’t shown or felt in several years. Does living mean I don’t need God anymore? A part of me felt that I had traded my total dependence on God for a part dependence on God and part self-sufficiency. Was I turning my back on God? What in the world is going on with me? Had I disobeyed Him anywhere recently? All of these questions clouded my mind. I wanted answers because I didn't like what this was beginning to look like.
There is a danger in living again. The world has appeal again. Sin is very pleasurable and enticing. Selfishness emerges, and we think it will make us happy, when it really enslaves us and leaves us miserable and alone in the end. While I was grieving, I was safe from the lust of this world. Now that I am no longer carrying my anguish, I can see pleasure and happiness within reach again. This is a dangerous place to be. I must guard my heart and mind lest I fall. I had a dream the other night that showed me this very clearly. The nature of it haunted me throughout the day and into the next evening. I had thought I was dead to worldliness and selfishness. Through this dream, I realized that I am very vulnerable to these feelings. My emotions, my desires, my wants did not die with Rex. They were in a state of shock, and now they have recovered.
I sat down tonight to study my Sunday School lesson, and I felt God’s amazing presence again as I studied; I felt him showing me truth and guiding me in what to share to these young girls I have been given to teach. It was like I sat down with someone I hadn't talked to in a while and spent time together over coffee and just talked. It was nice, and I had a good time discovering God. And, just like when I do have those precious times with close friends or family, I didn’t want it to end. I stayed up late thinking about my pleasant time. I tried to go to bed, but I couldn’t quit thinking. I could still feel God’s presence with me, and I knew it was time to write. God hadn’t taken my voice away. As I sat down to start writing, He gave me an understanding of these past few months, and He gave me the words to share with you.
He also gave me my verse for 2009.
Isaiah 43:18-19
18 Do not remember the past events, pay no attention to things of old.
19 Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.
I bear the scar of a wounded heart, but I must look ahead at the path before me if I am to forge ahead.
Donna Meadows
In the midst of my lamenting, I wanted to die. I wanted Jesus to take me and the girls, too, not just Rex. Take us; I don’t want to be here anymore. This life is full of disappointments, hurts, and pain. Who needs it? Who wants it? There’s sin lurking all around us that does nothing but put us in bondage to evil. I couldn’t see anything worth being here for. What happiness I’ve had here didn’t last. I was created to worship God, and I wanted to do it in Heaven, not here. I remember several times groaning to God to take me, and asking Him to please take all of us because I couldn't bear the thought of my children being left without a parent. It was certainly the groanings of a woman in mourning: a woman mourning her loss, a woman mourning her children’s loss, a woman mourning a death to a dream, a woman mourning a change of her plans, a woman mourning her state of confusion, a woman mourning her lack of control in life.
I purposed in my heart several things after Rex died. I purposed that I would not change any of our activities or traditions for at least a year. I purposed that I would not date or have any date type relationships for a year. I purposed that I would deliberately talk about Rex often, and I would do this without crying, for the girls’ sake. I purposed that I would not let my kids feel as if they had lost two parents – one to death and one to incapacitation from depression/sadness. I purposed that I would face my hurt by acknowledging it, talking about it, and thus allowing it to heal. I purposed that my life was totally in God’s Hands, and I surrendered my life to His plan. I purposed to trust God’s sovereignty even though I didn’t understand.
You see, I finally see a silver lining in mourning. For, it was in the mourning that I felt God’s special grace and love as never before. It was in my darkness that I KNEW that God had not forsaken me or forgotten me. It was in my loss, that I realized what is truly important in my life. It was in my solitude that I could be ME and open my heart completely to God’s caring hands. It was in my despair that I could sense His loving presence holding me, caring for me, listening to me, and meeting me in my time of need. Unless you experience a great loss, you will never understand His AMAZING LOVE in this way.
And, if I were you, I would also exclaim that I would NOT want to go through this pain just to experience this level of God’s love. The pain is severe, but His gentle hands are indescribable. The closest thing I can think of to this feeling is that of a mother’s love caring for her children when they are sick. I grew up with a great mother who was a servant in every way; as I was growing up, I saw it best whenever I was sick. She would care for me quietly; she would touch me tenderly; she would feed me foods that would help me to recover. She would clean my wounds and cover them with bandages; she would stay by my bed if she felt I needed it; she would make sure I had any medicine that I needed. She would be there for my every need whether I needed her around the clock or just intermittently. I could rest because I knew that mom was there. Each time, there would come a point in time when the recovery was almost complete; I didn’t need my mom’s care, but I didn’t want to let go of this pampering. It was nice. I kinda liked being waited on this way. But, inevitably, mom knew that it was time to withdraw that care and allow me to get up and do for myself. Did she forget me? Did she quit caring about me? Did she stop loving me? No, none of these things were true. Her caretaker role had shifted; I didn’t need her the same way I did when I was sick. It made me want to stay sick. Well, not really, but I wanted the perks to being sick.
I remember one time when I was a freshman in college in Virginia, I got bed-ridden sick. I was really sick for several days. She drove to Virginia, got a hotel room, took me there with her and cared for me around the clock for what seemed like a week. I will never forget that because in my opinion, it was a mom’s truly selfless act of love for her daughter. Could I have managed without her? Sure. Did I whine and ask her to come? No, I was totally surprised that she did that. I relayed my illness to her and next thing I know, she was picking me up at my dorm. Did she lavish me with this type of attention every time I was ill? Not really, but if I needed her, she was definitely there.
For the past year and a half, I have been sick with mourning, and God has cared for me around the clock. He has brought people in my life to care for me. He gave many of you a burden to feed us, clothe us, clean our house, pray for us, befriend us, and listen to us. He was there for me in the wilderness at night crying out for comfort. He listened as I uttered all of my thoughts about this injustice and then covered me in peace as I fell asleep exhausted from the sobs. He awakened me each day with a sense of hope and promise. He gave me a voice and an outlet for my pain through writing. I felt more than ever that God was living through me, and I was simply a weak but willing puppet of His. In the midst of losing Rex, I liked this pampering, so to speak. I like being cared for, watched over, and loved on. I loved the feel of God’s grace; it’s so nice and soft and warm and cozy.
A few months back, I came to a point where I knew that it was time to shed my clothes of mourning and get back to life. At first, I embraced this in my mind, but then as I started to realize that things were going to change, I resisted. Just like when my mom would withdraw her constant care for me and allow me to carry on with my life, God started letting me resume my role in this life. But, that meant that I didn’t need God’s grace the same way to get through each day. When that happened, I decided that I didn’t want to get better. I liked the care that I had been receiving. Without understanding it, I had a temper tantrum. “Don’t leave me God? Where are you? Why aren’t you staying with me ALL the time? Please, I’m not completely better. I still cry and have sadness in my heart. I want to stay in mourning. Well, not really, but I want to keep receiving
God's abundant grace that I have been receiving through all of this.”
Has God left me? Does He not love me now? No. His role for my needs has shifted. He is exactly what we need when we need it. When this first started happening, I got scared. I was scared that I was losing Him when, in fact, He was telling me, “It’s time to get up and rejoin the living.” I was unsure of how I was to continue?
I was struggling with claiming a verse for 2009; after all, I didn't have a clue what lay ahead in 2009. I never thought for a minute that I would be wearing these shoes a few years ago.
I thought I had lost my voice in my writing. As I contemplated updating my blog, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I tried to force my writing, and it was all wrong. Was I ever going to post again? Does this mean I won’t ever write a book? Have I waited too long? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to drift through life living a mediocre life. I want this life of mine to have meaning, real life-changing meaning for God.
I recognized that as I was questioning this change, I had also begun to live again. I had reclaimed a humor to life that I hadn’t shown or felt in several years. Does living mean I don’t need God anymore? A part of me felt that I had traded my total dependence on God for a part dependence on God and part self-sufficiency. Was I turning my back on God? What in the world is going on with me? Had I disobeyed Him anywhere recently? All of these questions clouded my mind. I wanted answers because I didn't like what this was beginning to look like.
There is a danger in living again. The world has appeal again. Sin is very pleasurable and enticing. Selfishness emerges, and we think it will make us happy, when it really enslaves us and leaves us miserable and alone in the end. While I was grieving, I was safe from the lust of this world. Now that I am no longer carrying my anguish, I can see pleasure and happiness within reach again. This is a dangerous place to be. I must guard my heart and mind lest I fall. I had a dream the other night that showed me this very clearly. The nature of it haunted me throughout the day and into the next evening. I had thought I was dead to worldliness and selfishness. Through this dream, I realized that I am very vulnerable to these feelings. My emotions, my desires, my wants did not die with Rex. They were in a state of shock, and now they have recovered.
I sat down tonight to study my Sunday School lesson, and I felt God’s amazing presence again as I studied; I felt him showing me truth and guiding me in what to share to these young girls I have been given to teach. It was like I sat down with someone I hadn't talked to in a while and spent time together over coffee and just talked. It was nice, and I had a good time discovering God. And, just like when I do have those precious times with close friends or family, I didn’t want it to end. I stayed up late thinking about my pleasant time. I tried to go to bed, but I couldn’t quit thinking. I could still feel God’s presence with me, and I knew it was time to write. God hadn’t taken my voice away. As I sat down to start writing, He gave me an understanding of these past few months, and He gave me the words to share with you.
He also gave me my verse for 2009.
Isaiah 43:18-19
18 Do not remember the past events, pay no attention to things of old.
19 Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.
I bear the scar of a wounded heart, but I must look ahead at the path before me if I am to forge ahead.
Donna Meadows
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