It's been a long time since I wrote. One season has ended and another has almost come and gone (I like to think of August as the end of the summer, though I know we have another month of heat to endure). I have had many times of thought and needed to write, but I haven't made the effort or space to do so. Maybe that has a purpose too; some things brew inside of me much longer than others and as a good Brewery would suggest, that can produce better product (ok, I don't really know what I'm talking about in regards to the Brewery).
I should have titled this blogspot "Dealing with Death" or something like it as my writings tend to lead me back to grief, but I was hoping that eventually I would write about more than death and it would just be a "Renewing of My Mind." And hopefully someday I will write about more, but this summer I have realized how much I am still struggling with grief.
Let's start at the beginning: Chris and I, along with 3 other adults, took our youth to New York City this summer for a mission trip. It was a great experience that seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. I enjoyed getting to know our youth and being in the city and the many mission activities we participated in. But the trip ended up being cathartic for me in a way I wasn't expecting. Most evenings we were led by a group of college students representing the organization MissionsConnect in a time of worship. The music guy played some songs on his guitar and our small group of 20 would sing along. Rather than being awkward because of our small size, it was an intimate and personal time together. The second night, the leader chose to sing "It is Well With My Soul." We all know this to be a moving and powerful song in and of its own, but it now holds even more meaning for me as we sang this song at Kyle's funeral. I had not even heard it sung anywhere since that day in November until that day when we were sitting in the 7th floor meeting room at PolyTech overlooking the Manhattan skyline. I found my mouth could not form the word, my heart was racing and all I wanted to do was escape the room. Tears ran down my cheeks and I was terrified of being noticed, and yet wanted to scream what I was feeling at the same time. I didn't sing a word and tried to think of other things and was a little bit angry at the leader for choosing such a sacred song to sing. A couple of nights later we had a time of "Experiential Worship" where we could move around stations set up in the room and experience different types of thought - like prayer, meditation, writing, labyrinth, etc. So I found myself at the table of "Letting Go" where you write down something you are holding on to that is hindering your communication with God on a piece of cloth (I think we read the story of Lazarus?) and tape it to a cross. I stared at that cloth with nothing to say.
"What is hindering me?
Do I even want to connect to God?
And the only words that would pour out of my mind was "It is Well With My Soul."
What kind of crap is that?
Sneaky! How can that be what is hindering me?"
So it's come to this, between me and God...my choice to hold on to my grief.
My decision to NOT let it go...because the truth was it was NOT well with my soul and I felt everyone else was fooling themselves. How could Dave Crowder actually believe he was praising God in his concerts days after Kyle's death? How were others I continually read about able to "see God's glory and praise him" because of the message being spread because of Kyle's death? They were in denial or had way more faith than I did. Because none of it was OK by me. I felt God had let me down and, just like a child with their parent, if he let me down, he was going to have to EARN my trust again.
So I brewed on this for awhile in New York. I wrote on that cloth that I needed to let go of my grief and my distrust in God over Kyle's death, but I didn't actually believe that I would let it go anytime soon.
Fast forward a week to my trip to Texas where I saw family and friends for about 10 days. It was very relaxing and much cherished time with them all, even while Chris was still in NC, going to camp with the youth and then unexpectedly dealing with his grandfather's sudden death and funeral in Michigan. On Sunday we are sitting in the "Southtown" service of the church I was a part of the later years of high school. This is also the church that Kyle Lake is from, and I was hoping to see his parents, who were actually in Waco at the building dedication that day. Anyway, now this church has two church buildings and the one we were at was the "contemporary" service. I do NOT like contemporary services. I prefer high church...I would regularly attend an Episcopal service if I believed in all their theology. But if I have to go the other way, then send me to an all out artist service - loudest music you can bear, and good quality too, all the instruments of a band, dimmed lights, candles, art, no program or "order of service", completely on it's own - UBC style. So contemporary is not for me, especially with guitars and old people, but this church is trying so I tried to see past its flaws. The pastor, whom I greatly respect and always look forward to listening to, begins his sermon that had something to do with dancing. I don't really remember the rest because it started a train of thought I desperately needed to ride on and I checked out of his talk. I meditated on the issue of whether or not I felt there was anything to dance for. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my life. I love my husband, I love where we live, I love our ministry, I love my dog, I love my family and friends. I know the beauty of a sunset and the amazing smell of lavender. So I'm not talking about the depressing "is there anything to dance for?" (I've been there and this wasn't it) But just the philosophical question, do I truly feel God has given me a reason to dance? And I realized that I just didn't feel like I had the right to. I would be too hypocritical because I was still angry at him. And I'm not going to dance with someone I'm angry at.
So fast forward another week (I know, this blog is a lot longer than I thought...I'm cramming one summer in here, remember), and (one of my) best friend Jo and I are riding together from Tyler to Memphis and then to Nashville where my car is waiting for me to drive myself from Nashville to Mount Airy. We leave her 1 yr old son in Memphis with her mother-in-law and continue on in the dark to Nashville to her new house and we start a conversation about Kyle's death. I have not talked with anyone, besides Chris, who actually knows Kyle about his death since Novemberish. And with all the issues I was struggling with, I needed to get it all out. We had a good, good conversation. I said some of my fears aloud that I had been afraid to say, as to make them true. Like whether I believed in God's goodness. Or whether we needed salvation. It wasn't that blunt, but that was the heart of where I was at. How could I trust in a God who had so obviously let me down?
Just having the conversation left me a little lighter. And as I'm traveling the 7 hrs home from Nashville to Mt A, I decide to listen to all of Dave Crowder's CDs in descending order, so I start with Collision B, which is hard to listen to, but needed. I had refused to play Illuminate since Kyle's death because it seemed too hopeful and happy for me, but it was truly cathardic, especially my favorite song, Deliver Me, which had already carried me through the depths of my homesickness and depression after moving to NC and a bad teaching experience (and 9/11 for that matter).
Ok, so fast forward once more to a week ago when Chris and I took our random vacation to Ithaca, NY. By far one of our top 3 vacations ever, if not the top, and many opportunities to think and discuss God, and not just with each other. I didn't spend much time in prayer or meditation or study. I didn't spend much time in worship or music, nor did I try to contemplate the state of my soul. But somehow God began to transform me. He allowed me to leave a bit of my grief in New York City and a bit of my grief in Texas and a bit more in Ithaca, so that what I am left with now is almost gone.
I used to still feel the heaviness in my heart when I thought of October 30 and getting the call about Kyle's death. I would still get the lump in my throat when I would say, "when Kyle died...". I would still be surprised at my mind wandering to a moment of grief over something simple or when I would wake up from having a dream about Kyle smiling or being goofy in the corner where he shouldn't be. And I'm not saying that I won't feel these things again. Lord knows, we can't understand our grief or when it will hit. But the load is easier to bear. The walk is easier to take. And I am learning to accept his hand again, even with trepidation, even with a bit of anger hanging on. Like that first hug I give my husband after a fight, or the first time I would see my parents after I was so mad at them, it's something small that gives in, a tiny part of me that lets go and can see that there will be a time when I am healed, a time when I can fully trust again, a time when I will want to dance with the One who made me. And I can praise him for that. And maybe that's all I can hang on to, but it gives me a chance to say, for this moment and in this thought, "it is well with my soul."
And so now, I look to a new season. I am ready for the fall leaves, the fresh air, my favorite time of year. The changes it means to me. I have always thought our calendar year should start over in fall not the dead of winter because for me, fall signals the beginning of change that will lead to newness of life. I don't think of fall as the last hurrah before Winter's death...I think of fall as the beginning of the cycle that takes us through Winter to Spring and Easter. I had been dreading fall because Kyle's death came smack in the middle of it - like I couldn't enjoy fall because of what it represented. But now I am beginning to see that the change is good. God will work in it still. And ultimately God is working in me still. Praise the Lord, O my soul. Ps 146:1
