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The days after learning that Jennifer had died and my grandmother passed away were a whirlwind of a painful numbness. I felt everything and I felt nothing.
My grandmother’s funeral was December 31. I gave her eulogy. It had to be me. It could only be me. No one loved her, knew her like I did. No one loved me, knew me like she did…processing the loss of her was overwhelming.
I told her story to all the people who came to mourn. And there were so many that came. Family. Some who knew her, but not as well as they could have. Or should have. Some who didn’t know her at all but could have. And should have.
And friends. Wonderful friends. Some had met her just a few times. Most had never met her at all. But all of them loved her because I loved her. And I love them for that. Seeing them as I wept through sharing my grandmother’s life that day kept me upright, kept me focused, kept me going. On that day…but like manna from heaven, that focus, that uprightness wouldn’t last longer than the day…what was coming was more than I would be able to ask them to carry…
One person didn’t come at all. My sister. We haven’t spoken in years. She hadn’t seen or spoken to our grandmother in more years than that. But surely, I thought, surely she would come when she knew our precious grandmother was ill. Okay, so she didn’t come when she was sick, but certainly she would come when grandma died…of course she would come to the funeral…right?
But she didn’t. She didn’t call and she didn’t come. She made her position clear in what she wasn’t saying, in what she wasn’t doing. My only sibling. Gone. By choice.
My grief increased. My pain intensified. I prayed the numbness would take over. I screamed out on the inside, praying not to fall apart on the outside…things were not good.
The days moved into weeks…the pain was constant and was getting worse. I was not doing well. But there was lots to do…
A beautiful wedding to coordinate…busy, busy, busy…clients to take care of…busy, busy, busy…a Bible study to teach…busy, busy, busy…a business trip to New York…busy, busy, busy…
Even through all the busy, busy, busy, I was free-falling. I was in trouble. I felt like I was losing my mind.
It was too much. Too much grief. My grandmother and Jennifer. Gone. Too much sadness. My sister. Gone. Too much pain. All at one time. I couldn’t breathe.
I needed help. Sitting in the airport waiting for flight out of New York, I called. To get help. I left a message. And I prayed.
“Lord, please help me…”
“I will,” He said. “Remember, I am doing something…”
I boarded my flight. I came home. And for the first time in more than five months, I had nothing to do. Nothing big on my calendar. No family health crisis to deal with. No social commitments. Nothing.
I exhaled.
And then I got sick. Stay-in-bed sick. Go-to-the-doctor sick. Take-lots-of-medicine sick.
It would mark the end of a very long season. And the beginning of another.
Because change was coming. Help was on its way.
He was doing something.
I learned so much from Jennifer Goodman.
Jennifer was one of my very first Christian friends. We met at work. I was young in the Lord. She had walked God since she was young. I was trying to figure out how life in the Lord worked. She had gone to Bible college and served as a missionary overseas. I was newly single and new to myself in a lot of ways. I didn’t have hobbies or interests. I didn’t know what I liked or didn’t like. But Jennifer was active and busy and was always engaged in living life.
I liked her. I wanted to know what she knew. I wanted a life that was like hers, filled with activity and fun and busyness. She came to work one day with a quilt she had made. It was beautiful.
“How did you make that?” I asked her. “I took a class,” she said.
“Wow, I’d like to learn to do that,” I answered. “I’m taking another class, why don’t you take it with me?” she asked.
From that point on, Jennifer let me tag along to all kinds of things with her. And I learned.
I learned about going to the gym before work and the importance of sleeping in your gym clothes to save time in the morning.
I learned how to make the best rolled sugar cookies. But I could never learn to decorate them as beautifully as she did.
I learned how important it was to have a disciplined church life, to be committed to a church body. I learned that it was critical not to compromise your Christian principles.
I learned that it was 3 1/2 miles around the Rose Bowl and that if you were walking briskly, you could get around in 47 minutes.
I learned that you should never let your season of life, what you did or didn’t have, your hopes, your dreams, your desires keep you from exploring the world the Lord had created.
And I learned that even if you don’t see the friends you love but every once in awhile when you run into them in a Hallmark store, it doesn’t change your affection for them or the connection you share.
That was my relationship with Jennifer over the last several years. More often than not we would run into each other at the card store where we both loved to browse for fun and interesting cards to send to friends.
Jennifer was a faithful card sender.
On December 22, I came home from visiting my grandmother. I was drained. Emotionally. Spiritually. Physically. In every possible way, I was exhausted. Before pulling into the driveway, I stopped to get the mail. The mail would have been delivered hours earlier.
And there it was. Jennifer’s Christmas card, I thought! Her handwriting was unmistakable. Seeing it gave me a lift. We hadn’t talked for awhile and I was glad to hear from my precious friend. To hear that she was well.
Only it wasn’t a Christmas card. And it wasn’t exactly from Jennifer. And all was not well. I opened the envelope and pulled out what was inside. It was an Easter card, covered with fluffy yellow chicks. “Hmmm,” I thought. “That’s interesting.”
Out fell a slip of paper. It was a note from Jennifer’s mom, saying she had found the card in Jennifer’s things and decided to send it.
Jennifer had died. She must have addressed the card in the spring, intended to send it but never did. But now here it was in my hand. But she was gone. I was devastated. I broke down. I cried. Hard. For a long time.
Not because she was gone. I know where she is. She’s with Him, with her Lord, with her Jesus. And as much she loved her life here, lived it to the fullest, she’s living a life now that is beyond description. She’s more than happy. She has joy unspeakable.
But my heart hurt for the lost opportunity to tell my friend how much I appreciated her, appreciated what she did for me all those years ago. Appreciated everything I learned from her. To tell her how much I loved her and how much I loved her spirit. To tell her what an influence she had been on me. How I used her life as an example to others for so many things. I never got to tell her any of those things. The pain of that lost opportunity overwhelms me even now. I can feel the tears rising.
I grieve the loss of my friend. I grieve for her mother who lost her beautiful daughter. For her niece who as a little girl called her Auntie Fer-Fer because she couldn’t say Jennifer. I grieve for her sisters and the rest of her family and her friends that feel her loss so deeply. I grieve…
Three days later, my grandmother died. My grief increased. And my heart cried out louder to the Lord. It screamed out. My pain was blinding.
In the days and weeks that followed, He spoke gently to me…
“Remember, I’m doing something.”
Life changes fast.
Life changes in the instant.
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
— Joan Didion, “The Year of Magical Thinking”
These words have echoed in my mind over the last few months. Since Thanksgiving Day. Because on that day, in the instant, quickly, my life changed. My life as I had known it ended.
Thanksgiving Day 2009 began like so many had in the past, like it does for people everywhere. Peeling potatoes. For mashed potatoes. For dinner. For a celebration of thanks.
And then my phone rang.
My grandmother had collapsed. And it was the beginning of the end of my life as I had known it. As I had loved it. Because she was with me, a part of my life, one of my constants, one of my anchors. A blessing that gave to me continually, loved me unconditionally. She was sure I hung the moon. No one could convince her that I didn’t. The perfect grandmother.
I was two hours away when the call came. I dropped the potato I was peeling. I sped home. I drove carefully. Trying not to cry. Trying not to think about it, about her. Unable to think about anything but her. I knew this day would come. It had to come. It comes for everyone.
But why now? Why now, Lord? The question echoed in the one quiet place left in my heart.
The Lord answers questions asked in the quiet places.
He answered me.
“I’m doing something,” He said. “I’m doing something.”
He spoke quietly. I sighed deeply. I was comforted and scared at the same time.
My family and I prayed for my grandmother’s salvation, so that as we prepared to let her go from this world, we could have the comfort of knowing we would see her again in the next, that she would have the peace of knowing Jesus here for a brief time and know the joy of life with Him forever.
He did that.
We prayed for her comfort, that she would not hurt, not suffer, not know pain. We prayed for His intervention at a moment of crisis during her illness.
He gave us, her, all of these.
We prayed that when the time came that He was ready to take her to be with Him, that it would not be a hard leaving for her.
And on Christmas Day, He decided the time was right. Jesus wanted her at His birthday celebration. He extended His hand. She took it. And she was gone. Away from me. Away from us. But alive with Him.
Praise the Lord.
I miss her. Terribly. My heart hurts. It’s hard to breathe sometimes.
His promise was true, though. It had to be. He is faithful. He was doing something.
And His promise keeps on giving. He’s still doing something.
He took my precious grandmother home and made her different. She lives now in a way she never could have before, in a way she never could have imagined or dreamed. She has joy unspeakable. She’s with Him.
Now it’s my turn.
He wants me to be different.
Praise the Lord.
My change will come here, in this life. He will use this time, this season, this pain, to make me different.
For Him.
He’s doing something.
And I’m comforted and scared at the same time.
That’s what life has felt like this week…like the circus has come to take up residence in my world! It’s been increasingly crazy-hectic-busy since Tuesday. Yesterday, I was sure that someone had let the monkeys loose, it was that nuts.
I think the Lord allows seasons like this to drive us closer to Him. He knows us so well, knows our tendancies, knows our character. In my own life, I know He knows that if things are going along smoothly, I forget my need of Him. It becomes easy to not draw close, to not actively participate in my relationship with Him.
So the Lord allows a little craziness to remind me that during stressful times, I have a choice in how to respond. I can completely freak and use all of my wits to control and manage situations or I can look up and ask for His help. He wants me to ask for help. I’m not always so good at asking for help. 🙂
So He uses times like these to train me in this, to transform me just a little bit more into a woman who looks to Him for help, strength, and power. And you know what? It works! I’ve reached out to Him deeply this week. And He has shown His faithfulness.
The circus here won’t end anytime soon. The good news about that is that it means I’ll be spending lots of quality time with the Lord. I’ll see Him in ways I’ve known before and if I look hard enough, I’ll get to know Him in ways that are all-together new to me. I can’t wait. He gives such amazing gifts at times like this. No cheap cotton candy. But the good stuff, the meaningful stuff that lasts.
So that’s my world. What’s going on under your Big Top?
Do you ever asked the Lord that question? I do. Sometimes more than I should. Okay, sometimes I ask it a lot. It usually comes at the end of the prayer for something that is very close to my heart. You know those prayers that almost hurt to pray because the issue matters so much to you. They usually go something like “Lord, please bless me with a Big Wheel. If you do, I will do everything I can to honor and bring glory to you with it. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.” And then comes the question, “Lord what must I do to earn enough points, collect enough chips, win enough Chuckie Cheese tickets to recieve this blessing from you?”
Several years ago, I was in a season of praying for one of those Big Wheel type of things. I had been praying over it, for it, for some time and the Lord’s voice was quiet on the subject. I heard nothing. Crickets. And the question of what must I do was constantly on my lips. I thought about it, I did things, I efforted. If there was something I could do, I was going to do it. And then, finally, the Lord’s Spirit spoke to my spirit…He said, “There is nothing you can do to make me want to bless you any more than I already do.” And then I was quiet. I pondered and considered what He said. It was freeing and frustrating at the same time. Freeing because He was telling me to stop trying to earn it because I couldn’t. My effort was futile. Frustrating (for my flesh) because it meant my human effort would be left with nothing to do. That’s always a tough place for flesh to be. Because it wants something to do. When it doesnt’ have anything to do, it dies. And that’s what the Lord wants to see happen. He wants to see my flesh die so he can have authority. More on that some other time.
What I love most about what the Lord spoke to me that day is that I can be confident that He wants to bless me. Psalm 84:11 says that He does not withhold any good thing from those who walk uprightly before Him. It’s the answer to the question we ask. “What must I do?” Walk uprightly before Him. And in doing so, we can be assured that everything that is good for me will come from His hand.
That’s one of the many questions I take to the Lord. What about you? What do you ask? What has He answered?
Under Transformation 