Seeing in the storm

I had this vivid dream of my son's soccer game when he was in the 7th grade.  It wasn't the game so much, but it was the weather that set in as the game progressed. First it started to rain. Then the winds picked up. The rain was coming down in sheets so you couldn't see the players on the field. The referees must have missed seeing the lightning because otherwise the game might have been called way sooner. The game tried to go on until finally they called a time out. Finally, the right call was made and that game was stopped. Families quickly picked up their folding chairs and made the mad dash back to the car with their kids in toll. There was no after game time coach talk. Everyone ran to their cars.  As we reached our car I looked back to see that the field light was still on, but no one was on the field. You could hardly see across the field because of the pouring sheets of rain.

Not more than 4 months prior to that game was another storm. Not a meteorological one, but a storm that no family wishes to have. The storm that brewed when our daughter stopped breathing in the middle of the night.  The storm when the EMT's responded and when our family was sent into heighten alert waiting for God to bring her miraculously back. A storm that brought our Children's Pastor from a uneventful trip to California to a very eventful one at our home. It was a night that was so surreal that we could hardly see ahead of us. Shock had enter into us as we watched the emergency medical crew trying with all of their technological know how to bring Maria back. It was a storm that only got worst when the chaplain came out and said 'they did all they could, but they  were unable to bring her back'.

Recently, I attended a conference on American Indian youth about a program that is having major success in improving their graduation rates in high school and post secondary education. At this conference the keynote speaker talked about the incredible impact that trauma has had on the American Indian family and how this trauma can go from one generation to another inflicting damage on virtually every American Indian member. This program is doing something about that problem.  It is creating mentoring relationships with youth by giving them opportunities to 'tell the story' about their trauma. Telling their story resulted in healing for many of these youth. Teaching to tell their story brings healing to those around them.

When trauma happens how many of us want to just bury it in the dirt, cover it up, and walk away and try to to continue life by staying busy?   No matter how much we try the images keep coming back. We do everything but talk about it. We medicate it. We practice meditation. We work over time. We do everything else but talk about it. What if we take some lessons from this American Indian program by getting a mentor ourselves when grief and trauma enter into our lives? What if we found a mentor who was willing to listen to our pain long enough until we are able to work through every teardrop, every hurt, and every sorrow?  Healing just may come sooner than later.  There is healing through the art of telling our story.

And the stones cry out

 
John 14:9
9 Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?

Yesterday, I went to a friends sale. He was selling several decades of LP's, cassettes and CD's from a business he created that helped support his family.  Among these treasures I found two of my first Christian music artists after coming to Christ. It brought back memories of the many changes that had occurred in my life from that single decision I made in the Spring of 1974.  Life has been good.  

As I browse through the thousand's of mint shape LP's Mitch asked how I was doing. He knew of our family's loss of our little girl Maria. We talked about grief.  We both agreed that American's, or most people for that matter, are not real good in the grieving department.  We want to bury it ( sorry about the pun) and then forget about it and move on with our lives.  We try to keep it hidden not knowing that unless we process our emotions the pain of that loss keeps surfacing.  Mitch shared with me about a Pastor friend of his who lived in Rochester, Mn with his young child and his wife.  One day this friend and his wife came home to find the lifeless body of their 9 year old who they learned died from a perfect storm of events. He said this loss effected his friend and his wife for many years. The good news this couple is still married. The pain of their loss has never left them, but it did get better in time.  

As I go through each day I am reminded over and over again that Jesus is walking with me through my grief. The Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are filled with incredible scriptural images of a compassionate  Jesus caring for healing the sick, bringing back a dead Lazarus, and resurrecting from the dead much like he had predicted.  Just like the shortest verse in the bible I know that when Maria died "Jesus wept".  I also know from all of the evidence in the bible and the archaeological finds that Jesus is God and I can rest every night knowing that the same God who brought my child to heaven is the same God who walks with me every day of my life.  That is the assurance I have to get me through those troubling moments that all of us will have in this life. 

My son reminded me that one of the most meaningful conversations he had with his dad came the second Sunday after losing Maria.  He was just 12 when he sat on his bed looking up to me and asking dad " if he really needed to go to church?" He paused before adding," I don't feel like going to church."  If there is ever a pivotal moment for a dad this was it.  I give the right response and I would have kept him from veering off the course of life. I give him the wrong response and I set him on a course that is unpredictable and potentially dangerous. I looked into his eyes. I could see the hurt in him. Then the words I spoke I knew God had placed on my lips. " James, you know we could all stay home.  I know mom doesn't really feel like going to church.  I know you don't and I certainly do not, but if we all stay home from church we will have deprived ourselves of the kind words we might have received from our friends."  He sat there and thought about what I had just said. Then he got up and got dressed. Because of that particular response my son has never wanted to miss a day of church. When we are in pain sometimes the best thing we can do is place one foot in front of the other and just keep going.  To borrow the words of the little absent minded fish in 'Finding Nemo' just keep swimmin, just keep swimmin.'

When grief happens the pain will be there. Rather than try to bury the pain and move on let Jesus be your guide and allow him to walk with you. When pain just won't go away please find a church you can attend on a regular basis where you can get the emotional and spiritual support. Find a church that has an excellent children's and youth ministry that knows how to reach out to your kids.  Our God is wants to heal us of our grief and he does so by giving us hope for the future things to come.

Memories of 9/11 an untold tale of the boat lift

Everyone knows what they were doing the moment the trade towers came down 12 years ago. I was at work watching it unfold on television. My kids were too young at the time were protected from the horror by their school teachers at Meadow Creek Christian school. Shock was seen on the faces of the people who witnessed the falling bodies and the cascading building as it's fragments fell into a deep pile.

The people in this video are the unsung heroes of 9/11.  They were the boat people who came to the rescue  of the people trapped on the island  and had no place to go as smoke and ash filled their lungs.  I bring this video as a tribute to these men and woman on 9/11.