What do you do with hurt?

In the last 7 days, I've had so much hurt I feel like my heart will burst.  It's not that one single hurt has taken precedence over the other, it's the accumulation of the hurt that has taken its toll on my humanness.  The events are broken down into the "Biggies" and the "Minors".  The "Biggies":

• My cousin, in her early 40's, has just been diagnosed with aggressive stage 2 breast cancer.

• My mother-in-law, in her late 70's, has declined in health and now faces yet another care transition.

• My friend, in his mid 40's, died suddenly just last night.

• My teammate is dealing with a life way too hard.  As we speak, her Mother is dying and we are trying to help her navigate international flights during COVID.

Add to that the "Minors": 

• car repairs

• a constantly dripping faucet in my upstairs bathroom

• a migraine headache

• a surgery for my Mom, JoAnn

• and unemployment for my youngest daughter who needs money to do her teenage life

And then, the nagging feeling that "normal" life has evaporated to a far away place, the toxicity of news, the division in my community, the chatter on Facebook ... it all piles up on tender hearts that when left unattended makes one feel ... hurt.

What do you do with the hurt?

• When I heard of my cousin's diagnosis I cried.  I called her.  I prayed.  I told My Chris.

• As we've dealt with the myriad of details that seem to consume us with the transition of my Mother-in-law, I've gotten frustrated. I've cried. I've been angry. I've escaped by watching old episodes of "Highway to Heaven" on Netflix.

• When I heard the news of my friend's death I cried.  I questioned why our collective prayers were not answered by renewing his body to live.  I anguished for his wife who is a dear friend.  I didn't sleep.

• When I talked with my teammate, I, too, felt her hurt.  When I got off the phone, I cried.  Her words echoed mine but it was her hurt I felt.  I'm calling to find out what you have to do to travel internationally during a worldwide Pandemic.  Even typing the words seems like a science-fiction novel.

The other "minor" things just get pushed aside to deal with when they are most ready for my attention.  They don't require my mental energy to the degree of the "Biggies".  They do require emotional stamina which seems to elude me right now.

What do you do with the hurt?

Lesson #1:  Acknowledge there will be trouble.

As a follower of Jesus, I am not promised life lived through rose colored glasses.  Quite the contrary.  Jesus says that in fact there will be trouble.  Trouble.  Right here in River City.  Trouble with a capital "T"!  I've lived enough years on the planet to get that.  Trouble in this life is a promise.  You can always count that there will be trouble.  To live with the expectation that bad things will not happen is futile.  Put on your big girl panties and face the reality.  

Lesson #2:  Acknowledge there will be peace.

In the middle of the trouble, there is also peace.  It sounds like an oxymoron but most of the things Christ followers anchor their lives upon does.  Christs' way of navigating life doesn't follow the world's rule books.  We live by faith.  But we also live knowing that He is peace and gives peace.  I don't understand it. I just choose to continue living in it.  This peace billows down like a heavy fog and envelopes the inner cracks of my soul.  It's what I need when I hurt.  And when I hurt, I need it 24/7.

Lesson #3:  Acknowledge there will be relief.

Trouble will pass.  New trouble will come, but the current trouble will pass.  How I walk through the trouble is crucial.  Living in the midst of trouble wanting it to be over and not dealing with the reality it brings, surprised by it, or refusing to utilize the peace in the middle of it is a recipe for disaster.

Now is the time to mature in our faith.  The world isn't in need of a pansy, Sunday School kind of religious  movement that puts sweet labels on circumstances and ties everything up in a special prayer-like mantra.  It's time to put on combat boots and live our faith as movie- character Heroes.  It's time.  Trouble, it's all around us.  It's time to show the world what living with Jesus in the middle of the Trouble can do for a weak human living with total dependence on the supernatural arms of a strong God who can overcome anything.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."  John 16:33

Memories are funny creatures.  Taking a trip down memory lane can illicit such strong emotions; the trip can leave you feeling breathless, scared, joyful, anxious, teary-eyed or any number of emotions that were left unsealed from having lived through something that now is called your "past".

For example, Fall ushers in memories of little girls in silver mini-vans looking for the next "Bride of Beauty" (see subject list under archives for full story), stopping at the next 7-11 for a pumpkin spice cappuccino, and munching on candy corn and peanuts at Memaw's house.  Sweet, precious, fond memories of Falls that have settled in the dust of my past.

This past weekend, our oldest daughter, took a trip (literally) to her Grandparents about 3 hours away from the place she now calls home.  She called (Oh thank God for the invention of WhatsApp!) to tell me that she just passed the railroad tracks signifying the entrance into town and did her own countdown.

Let me explain the "countdown".  When the little women that I call offspring were tiny girls and we would travel to Altus, Oklahoma to see Memaw (My Chris' Mom), we played a little game.  In anticipation of entering town, we would pass a certain strip of railroad tracks.  These tracks were the unofficial marker that meant Memaw's house was right around the corner.  Upon crossing the tracks, we would estimate when to begin the countdown to 10.  10 ... 9 .... 8 ... 7 ... 6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... tires rattled over metal tracks ... little girls cheered ... "We're in Altus!".  End of game.

So, my girl called to tell me she had passed the tracks and did her own countdown.  What's the point?  Memories have power.  Like little B-12 shots in the brain, memories infuse the keeper with life.  If the memory was good, simple, pleasant, warm, fuzzy, cozy, or sweet ... then - no matter how long after the memory was made - when it's revisited - it stirs up good, simple, pleasant, warm, fuzzy, cozy or sweet feelings.  The "Countdown" was sweet.  The memory even sweeter.

Yet, lets say the memory wasn't so "Norman Rockwell".  What if it was hurtful, painful, scary, unpredictable, rocked your world, out of the blue, induced stress, caused fear, and in general made you want to throw up?  Well, that's a different story, isn't it?  Unfortunately, we've all had those kinds of memories tucked within our memory banks.  What do you do with those?

Can I just speak frankly?  You have a choice.  You let the pain work out good in you or you let the pain make you bitter.  The Bible talks about roots of bitterness.  I believe unresolved pain feeds roots of bitterness.  Out of these roots bad things grow.

We can't avoid pain.  Whether its a tiny toddler hand touching a hot stove, a young heart being broken for the first time, a cancer diagnosis, a financial crash ... whatever ... pain is a part of life.  Yet, as I've spent some time walking with Jesus through a lot of pain, I can personally tell you that no pain has been big enough to overcome me.  Has it felt like it was?  You betcha.  Has pain lingered longer than I wanted it to?  Yep.  Yet because God is a good Father, and promises that all things - even the painful things - work together FOR us - pain can be a part of a chapter that is closed.  The memory can raise it's head, but the pain can be laid to rest.

How do I know?  I've seen it in my own life.  Things too unspeakable to make their way onto my lips and be spoken into the air have been healed and walked through.  They are chapters in my "Book of Life" that no longer have negative power.  They have been used for my good.  They have been stripped bare and diagnosed as no longer useful for my good health.  They are reminders of what God has done, how He keeps His promises, and how deeply He cares for me.

Memories have power.
Make memories - in all seasons of your life - work for your good!
Christina

Today I was driving, being annoyed by the incessant, high-pitched beep that was supposedly fixed a week ago but still beeps ... incessantly ... all the time.  I happened to notice a billboard.  There was a picture of a sickly, poor child in third-world country with large bold letters that said:  Who Cares?

It caught my attention.  This billboard was promoting a social work organizations' hunger program. I support that. Fight hunger.  Give your money.  But, what caught my attention was not the attempt to stamp out hunger.  It was the realization of the phrase:  Who Cares?

I think the world and every being living on planet earth is crying out the same slogan:  Who Cares? 

What does humanity do when the answer to that question is nobody.  Be it real or perceived, many humans roam the earth seeking someone to care for them.  They may not be poor, hungry or live in a third-world. Their need is more covert.  They wear nice suits, smell nice and have good hair.  Inside ... they are empty.  

I did a Google search for suicide rates.  I'm not morbid.  I'm just proving my theory that most people can not answer Who Cares? positively.  The top 3 countries for the highest suicide rates are affluent, prosperous countries:  Greenland, Belgium, South Korea (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_suicide_rate).

When a hurting world cries out Who Cares? who is answering?  Gangs.  Drugs.  Alcohol.  Those seem to be pretty obvious.  But, what about loneliness that won't be quenched ... or believing lies that you aren't lovable, pretty, or smart enough for anyone to care?  

Wouldn't it be cool if children of God ... those who have found purpose and meaning in life ... outside of themselves and in the person and reality of Jesus Christ ... were the most vocal in answering that question.  Who Cares?  A loving God.  

What if ... let's get a little crazy here ... these children not only answered the question, but showed it?

Radical?  Sounds like something Jesus would do.  I'd say it's worth a try.  

Last week I sat in one of my favorite cafes, sipping on a 2.60 euro vanilla latte, and listening to a young friend I mentor - who - by the way - has become more like a daughter - share from her heart.  I love this girl.  She and I share the loss of a mother to illness at young ages.  She and I share a similar world view. I'm young enough to "get" her generation and old enough to speak into it.  As she shared her highs and lows, I considered myself first a German grammar killer and then second a privileged soul for being given the opportunity of walking this journey with my young friend.

Just a few days ago I sat on my leaf printed IKEA clearance chair that sits in my entry way.  (I love this chair.)  As I sat, I listened to my dear sister.  She talked enough that the battery on my phone went dead.  For those of you who know this child, this is not surprising.  However, as she shared exurbs from her life, I knew I was being allowed a secret place in her heart.  The things she shared with me were not for the masses, just a privileged few, and I was one of those who was given entry.

This afternoon, I cried like a baby in my Addison's bedroom.  OK, I will say that I have been under the weather the last few days with some virus.  If you are a girl, you know how you get when you don't feel good.  Emotions kinda sit at the base of your gut waiting to come out ... in tears.  This is the first day I am feeling human and as I sat in Addie's room, I just found myself crying.  My heart is breaking if you must know.  I am already grieving this first great parting among us.  She's still part little girl but mostly part grown-up adult.  I love who she has become.  I see a bright and prosperous future for her.  Yet, I cry.  The ending of a season is fast approaching and all I can see is what I'm loosing.

Heartache is just part of life.  My young friend, my sister, me ... we all experienced some heartache.  The question then becomes ... what do you do with heartache?   It really doesn't matter the size of the heartache ... it hurts the same.  It drives us someplace.  It makes us aware of our frailty ... our humanness.  It keeps us honest with ourselves.  It makes bad hair days seem trivial and real life important.

Now, let me digress a bit and share the following.  This week I sat in a cozy living room on a cold and snowy day telling part of my story to a dear friend.  As I shared my life, the ups the downs, she listened.  After awhile, the clock reminded us that time had not stood still.  Feeling guilty for taking so much of her time with my words, I said, "I'm sorry I shared so much.  Poor you for having to hear it all!".  Then, she said the most profound words I've heard in a long time.  She said ... "Don't apologize.  I am the richer for having heard your story!" Isn't that precious?

This brings me back to the question:  what do you do with heartache?  You have to take it somewhere.  Where you take it determines your outcome.  For over 25 years, I've learned that food, shopping, good friends, writing, and even counselors are not the answer.  Do they help?  You betcha!  However, I've learned that the One who created me ... desires me to share my heartache with Him.  That's still a hard one to swallow!  I still can't believe that the Creator of the Universe is so in love with me that He treasures my words.  I still want to apologize to Him like I did my friend ... for taking up too much time ... for sharing too much.  Yet, I hear Him saying to me ... precious girl ... cast everything my way ... I care for you.

What do YOU do with heartache?