All Things New
It was a year ago tonight that my dad began the fight of his life.
Tonight we'll return to the pedway where tears streamed into my mask as I walked back to my vehicle after visits.
We will pray for the people we encounter in the hospital halls, after delivering verse cards to the hematology unit where my dad finished his earthly journey (the exact same room he started his cancer fight in).
December 2021
As I prepare for Christmas, I know that every inkling of hope is sacred.
Hope is the first candle that’s lit each Advent and the light I want to shine as I remember my dad's longest sermon.
When the theology he passionately preached became the reality he lived through the blood, sweat, and tears of a 4.5-month cancer journey.
A few months again I attended the second evening of a 13-week program called GriefShare.
Long silences, bitter tears, awkward laughs, deep sighs, and knowing nods led us around the room to share why we were there.
Instead of just carrying our own grief we were witnesses to a room of loss.
Why torture ourselves?
Because we need the brave faces of comrades who show up week after week to do the hardest work of their lives.
The course is about finding your way through grief's labyrinth, from mourning to joy.
The goal is that with each new round of grief we gain tools to navigate this lifelong journey, rather than compounding the pain or getting stuck.
I thought I was open-hearted through the last seven months of grief but “busy” became my drug of choice.
Pascal labels this space we stuff or fill or numb or soothe our "God-shaped vacuum," a broken idol.
John Eldredge says:
Grief grabs me by the shoulder and demands more pain, more tears, more reality, and more time.
It shows up rudely to intrude on the things I’m trying to accomplish, triggering tears and revisiting places God's already worked deeply in my heart and life on:
Control
Striving
Perfectionism
Grief rebounding, with busyness—and all those mini Halloween chocolate bars—has been a catalyst for more of God’s healing in my life.
My last blog post, on longing and light, and my time in Brazil, ended like an unresolved song, waiting for the final chord:
Accepting a lack of resolution.
Accepting I can be sad and have hope.
Accepting less is more!
I suspect this acceptance of an unresolved storyline will be my greatest victory of 2022!
I’ll wrestle down grief for the hundredth time, ending up in the same position of surrender, ugly-crying, and hearing:
“Char, don’t stop believing in good for tomorrow and beyond this broken world!”
Until this globe reveals the biggest makeover of eternity, hope is my pathway to live faithfully.
Christmas is a hard time for those of us grieving and it will be agonizing in a million ways for my family.
Christmas 2019, before covid-distancing.
But it is still magical!
If the faith my dad preached,
while laying in a hospital bed,
is not based on a fairy tale,
then maybe with each birthday,
each Christmas, and
each new year,
we can experience
“a thrill of hope”
as our weary souls rejoice
in what IS to come!
I imagine my dad standing in front of me with his big grin and twinkling eyes, as he takes me into a bear hug and says:
“It was worth it, Char.”
But what do I do between now and then?
A few weeks ago I was lounging in bed on a Sabbath afternoon, grateful providence had brought me word pictures to answer my soul’s cries…
In All Things New, Eldredge describes intoxicating scenes of a redeemed earth.
He quotes CS Lewis' famous Chronicles of Narnia scenes and Tolkien’s tantalizing feasting scenes in The Hobbit.
He invites us to imagine our loved ones doing their greatest work and on their greatest adventures.
The need for a bucket list is questioned when we will get to discover this beautiful earth's bounty renewed!
It is true:
I pray the flicker of hope I feel, even in the midst of grief, will burn into a flame, a torch for the darkest of nights.
As I’ve worked through Organized with Kids’ annual declutter challenge this month in my home I’ve translated this mindset to my schedule, asking God where he wants me to edit, release, and invest my time as I consider my best yeses for 2023.
Good, grieving friends, don't stop asking or looking.
This Advent season, invite the Holy Spirit to open your eyes and heart to the magic of the restoration to come.
Begin to imagine, with unusual detail, the brilliance of Jesus making ALL things new!
“Look, I am making everything new!” Revelations 21:5
What a feast you are going to have this Christmas, Dad! Thank you for a legacy of Hope.
