The last golden days of October have arrived. Meanwhile, we're living with the awful surreal reality of the mass shooting in next-door Maine. The whole world has gone mad with torment and grief, our politics are completely off-the-rails, and holiday excesses are just around the corner.
Lament matters.
I don't know about you, but I need to acknowledge these stark realities even as I purposefully refocus and recalibrate, reflecting on things that are good and lovely, excellent and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8). I know no other way to continue forward.
The soothing art of dabbling with watercolors. Choosing to purposefully quiet our ragged souls. Falling in love with the Scriptures yet again. And my take on blogging as 2023 edges toward a close.
Here we go.
SOMETHING LOVED
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SOMETHING READ
In the cacophony of life's demands and pressures, God invites us to intentionally still and quiet our souls. When we let our soul rest in God's presence, we no longer come to him as an infant scrambling for sustenance or demanding his attention and action. Instead, we become like a content older child who just wants to be near for the sake of the relationship. -Mindy Caliguire, Soul Care
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SOMETHING LEARNED
If the Old Testament leaves you daunted and dazed, if the New Testament seems completely unrelated to those first 39 books, The Story of Scripture will turn your faith walk upside down and inside out. I can't speak highly enough of Dr. Mark Yarbrough's presentation, a fascinating journey through the Word of God that connects Genesis right up through Revelation.
After eleven in-person sessions in one weekend, I left with a whole new biblical worldview, in awe of God's covenant plan for those who love Him. Finally, all the pieces fit together.
This course taught by Dallas Theological Seminary President Yarbrough is now FREE online. Yarbrough is a dynamic combination of scholar theologian, gifted leader, and enthusiastic storyteller. Click here to check out the course. Is it time for you to go back to school?
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SOMETHING AHEAD
Something's going on in the blogging world. People are shifting gears. Link Up gatherings aren't what they used to be. Some writers are heading off for greener pastures while others are exploring fresh creative outlets in other social media venues.
The pressures of family life, health challenges, and work responsibilities cramp our style and drain us dry. We lose heart, passion, and focus. It's not uncommon for former prolific blogging dynamos to simply fizzle out, fading from view without a trace or a farewell.
But despite all this, I do believe that 'old-school blogging' is not only here to stay but is beginning to re-emerge as a force to be reckoned with. I'm hearing of people disillusioned with FB and Insta and whatever Twitter is calling itself these days. There's a yearning for good solid writing and old-fashioned dialogue. Less competition and comparison, more collaboration and community building.
All that said, I'm pulling the pieces together for my next venture. I'm anything but technologically literate so I'm immersing myself in a labor of love that's stirred with a hefty dollop of apprehension. (You might remember that I almost lost not one but two websites all within a span of five minutes. And I actually lost my entire subscriber list three years ago in the bowels of the internet. What a train wreck. Thankfully, many of you hung on with me and God has blessed this work.)
Anyway, you, my faithful sojourners, will be the first to know what's next. I'm kind of excited about what He has in store. I'll be back in a week or two. Maybe three? I've learned not to rush into anything new but to honor my need to move slowly.
Grace and space.
I think you'll like what's coming down the pike. Hold your breath, say a prayer, stay tuned.
I'd never really stopped and added it all up before. But in the last month as I began to switch gears to plan for Sunday's Grief Group, it hit me.
I lost eight loved ones in eight years.
My Dad, my Mom; my grandson, Tyler. My niece, Jessica; my cousin, Carol. Lifelong friend, Heather. And my partners in ministry for many years, Bob and Brent.
It hit me that saying goodbye to any one of these loved ones would have been cause for deep grief. But looking back, I now realize that having their traumatic deaths cascade one after the other allowed me to experience grace toward myself in the immensity of it all.
'No wonder you were so filled with anxiety. You couldn't even catch your breath before the next loss rolled around.'
It all made sense. In reflecting, I understand that God's unchanging, steadying presence has truly been my salvation against totally going under. Refusing to stuff the shock and pain was a lifeline. I found the Psalms to be my prayer book. Simply whispering Jesus brought calmness to my undone mind and body.
We moved to the back row on Sunday mornings.
There was incredible healing in blogging and the faithful, empathetic support you gave. Steadily bringing up beloved names at the dinner table kept those who left very much present. Reaching out to others in their need rescued me from total self-absorption.
And praise God for those few souls who quietly, patiently listened to me process again and again without trying to tie everything up with a little pink bow.
These were priceless treasures in darkness.
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Grieving well nudges us to slowly take baby steps forward, one hour at a time. To our surprise, we find ourselves looking in the rearview mirror a bit less. Our hearts become tenderized and we discover gratitude again ... or maybe it finds us.
Our world view slowly enlarges. We begin to re-emerge, re-made by what we have experienced. What we value will most likely change and what we deem important dramatically shift. New priorities may catch us by surprise, the opportunities given to us may be unexpected yet welcome.
If we find ourselves unable or unwilling to move ahead as the years flow on, our lives are tragically cut short. We miss out on the beauty of God's daily good gifts and our inner absorption keeps us from seeing opportunities to reach out to those who find themselves in even more dire straits than we've experienced. Apathy, cynicism, and bitterness far too easily seep in to fill the aching void.
Accepting that we'll never be totally whole until we reach heaven invites us to take the pressure off ourselves to try to accomplish that goal while here on earth. In the process of mending and being renewed, we honor the legacy of those we've mourned so deeply. And wonder of wonders, He 'restores the years the locusts have eaten' (Joel 2:25-26).
We become wounded healers.
There's no need to sit in the back row anymore.
Linda
12/2023 Update
Please come and visit me at Grace & Space, my new online home-sweet-home. I'd love to show you around. I think you'll like it there.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. Revelation 21:4
It's with great sadness that I share the news of the heavenly homegoing of our dear friend and my former ministry partner, Brent Carl. This faithful servant of God, beloved by so many, is now with Jesus, the One he adored and served.
Brent ministered faithfully over the years in churches, Samaritan's Purse, counseling, and creative ministry venues in NY and New England. He was widely known for his gentle pastor's heart, ability to relate deeply to people of all ages, and giftedness in teaching God's Word in ways that were always practical and relevant.
Dear readers, you blessed Brent and Bonnie and their kids with prayer and financial support throughGoFundMewhen I reached out to you back in January. I am trusting that you will do the same for Bonnie and their beautiful children in the days ahead.
And Brent, if you're listening, I know I speak for the many who grieve your suffering and death at such a young age. You have shown us what it looks like to deeply trust Jesus in the valley of the shadow.
Serving together on the same team for those 13 years was sheer joy even during the rocky seasons. Thanks for introducing me to blogging ... and for all the biblical wisdom and encouraging words you shared along the way.
I know you and Bob are having the time of your lives together again with your dearest Friend, Jesus. Save a seat for me at the table, ok ...
THE PORCH A CHRIST-CENTERED WEEKEND NEWSLETTER * gentle conversation & calming snapshots uplifting linkage & occasional surprises for those who delight in doing life in the company of kindred spirits
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The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
I browsed through the over-stuffed racks, searching for a few Mother's Day cards that gently acknowledged that life and love are hard. I quickly shoved most of them back into their plastic nests. The messages were utterly inane or ridiculously unrealistic.
Finally, tucked way on the side I found several that said exactly what I longed to say. I paid for them and then went on my way, wondering why we can't be more honest about how we really feel about what's going on.
Yes, even and especially on Mother's Day.
Your Mother's Day may be filled with candy and flowers and bright shining children serenading you as they serve you a delightful breakfast in bed and cater to your every whim like you're the queen of the universe.
I hope this is true for you. I really do. God bless you. Please enjoy every minute.
Or you simply might not want to get out of bed at all. And wouldn't even think of darkening the door of the church because you just cannot imagine seeing all those happy faces (many of whom are living your reality, you just don't know it).
Death has visited your family. Or your dreams have gone up in smoke. Or perhaps an overwhelming combination of all kinds of losses come bubbling to the top on the holidays. The grief is so real and palpable that you don't quite know what to do with it all.
Sadness, hurt, regrets, disappointments, pain, frustration, and sorrow all crowd on in and whisper lies that masquerade as truth.
But God says that you are beloved. Valued. Priceless. Forgiven. Unlike us humans, He's not going to pass away. He won't leave you, betray you, or drop out of sight. He's not going to change like shifting shadows or give you an attitude or be disrespectful to you. His love is faithful and kind and will last 'til the end of time. And beyond.
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Wherever you find yourself this weekend, overflowing with joy or laden with sorrow, I pray that you will have peace in your heart knowing that you've loved the best you could with what you had at the time. And that the Spirit will bring good memories to comfort you and a life-giving measure of hope for tomorrow. And the next day.
Do something kind for yourself, ok?
And if all is well, reach out to a sister who's struggling. You won't have far to look. Or maybe forward this to a griever who needs to know that she's not alone. Linda
It's been almost nine months since she entered heaven, yet Mom is still very much present.
Speaking her name and drawing her right into anything worth celebrating has kept her spirit alive and well in my heart.
It didn't start on purpose. But it's ended up being natural. And it's turned my mourning into gratitude.
These days, when people, places, or things she enjoyed pop up, I invite her right into the conversation. Delicious food. The ocean's majesty. House projects. Lovely flowers or beautiful music. Habitat for Humanity.
And anything that revolves around her family's antics, adventures, and accomplishments. Nothing that mattered to any of us was too insignificant for her focused attention and enthusiastic response.
Unbelievable!!she'd declare with a big smile.
She never drew attention to herself. Never complained. And found comfort and hope in her deeply personal relationship with Christ. It was always about Him ... and everyone else who crossed her path.
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Sure, there's still moments of intense sadness. I want to send her snapshots of the great-grandkids and fill her in on all the latest happenings. I feel my stomach jolt when we drive by the Quaker Meeting House Road exit or as I push the cart through the supermarket and spot the Belvita or Taster's Choice or Depends. A big hug from one of her friends makes me ache with longing. And some worship songs lead me into a puddle of grief that leaves me drained for the rest of the day.
Yet because His mercies are new every morning, the daily bounty of good and lovely and excellent and praiseworthy gifts of grace come surging in again, filling my heart with gratitude. I'm compelled by Mom's life of extraordinary faith to focus on living in ways that honor Christ and would bring her a quiet satisfaction.
Grieving well is enabling me to release the trauma of that awful, endless, final season of her life. The pain is fading slowly but surely into the background even as peace and joy are taking center stage right where they belong.
What's helped you in your grief journey? What's hindered it? Linda
PORCH a soft place to land a calm weekend haven a gentle pause from life's busyness so we may experience the tender lovingkindness of Jesus as we do life together in community
Hey, it's good to be back together again.
Are you a story teller? A story writer? A story listener?
Right off the top I'll tell you that I'm not a story teller. I can't remember details, my timing is off, I miss the point, I won't leave you hysterically rolling on the floor. A completely unmemorable event.
I'm not a story writer either. Here and there I've given it a whirl, usually with some kind of a devotional twist. But after my third refusal from (in)courage some years back, I tossed that whole idea aside. And I definitely had no interest in even dreaming of publishing anything even though a few kind-intentioned people encouraged me to go in that direction.
What were they thinking?
But all is not lost because I've come to accept that God's shaped me to be a listener. Professionally, yes, but also simply as a human person. It's a humbling honor to hold space for the heart of another, especially when it's tender and broken. And even after all these years, I'm still in learning mode.
Listening is an art that doesn't come naturally to most of us. We're usually too busy figuring out how to respond, how to fix, how to draw attention to our brilliant advice or witty repartee. Our eyes glance at the clock or around the room, we fidget, our body language shouting that we are absorbed in ourselves and not at all present to the person in front of us.
And they know it.
But I still believe that this is a priceless gift to pursue, cultivate, and refine.
The bottom line is that most human beings deeply desire to be acknowledged, heard, valued. More than ever, most of us are yearning to have someone create a quiet space that allows us to be seen. To have the reality of our thoughts and emotions validated. To hold out grace and kindness and hope toward us without judgement or pat answers or some kind of hidden agenda.
To let us know we're not alone.
I love that we serve the One who's not only written our life stories but also already knows when the final curtain is going to fall. Nothing shocks or shakes Him. No one, but no one, listens attentively like Jesus. He truly understands our ins and outs, ups and downs, twists and turns. Because He's been here, done that. Without a taint of sin or shame.
'Heather had a way of crossing barriers and offering unbiased love to those who often had suffered the lack of enduring love before ...'
'Please be sure that people know that I never lost a battle with cancer. God was always in control, not the cancer.'
Philip Yancey's Diagnosis 'A measure of shame seems to accompany disability. There is an innate shame in inconveniencing others for something that is neither your fault nor your desire. And a shame in having well-meaning friends overreact: some may treat you like a fragile antique, or complete your sentences when you pause a second to think of a word.'
Beth Moore's Childhood 'You know that there’s infidelity. You know that there has been abuse ... those years were maniacal ... Looking to your mother and thinking she can’t take care of me, looking to your father and thinking you are the scariest thing in my life. And what happens to us now? It really was terrifying.' (content warning: sexual abuse, mental illness)
PORCH a soft place to land a calm weekend haven a gentle pause from life's busyness so we may experience the tender lovingkindness of Jesus as we do life together in community
let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were Adele
In my years of conversations with women, I can't count the number of hours I've listened to stories of stunning, unfathomable loss.
Grief always makes her huge presence known. She might not be the 'presenting problem,' but she can't help but show up before too long, all big and strong. She sucks the oxygen right out of the room. Grief is unwieldy, powerful and vulnerable ... and desperate to be named, validated, attended to. Somehow redeemed.
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Books on grieving run the gamut from highly questionable and completely unrealistic to absolute game-changers. I don't know about you, but when it comes to this tender topic, I'm not interested in academic studies or professional tomes.
Memoirs. I choose to immerse myself in the stories of others.
We often think that 'grief books' are only meant for those who are, um, grieving. But I'm thinking that those who benefit most might be the ones watching helplessly from the sidelines, wondering what to say, what to do, how to respond.
Far too often we do nothing at all and it ends up sending a message we never intended to send.
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Grief is complex and never straight-forward. More often than not, it's raw and messy, numbing and disorienting. Nothing can prepare us for these chapters in our lives. We'll never be able to package it up all pretty with a big bow on top no matter how hard we try. Life as we've known it will never be quite the same again. We are transformed in ways we never dreamed possible.
But take heart because that might end up being a very good thing.
God is a Healer. He specializes in miracles, the kind that mend and restore our tattered and torn souls. And then He invites us to serve as 'wounded healers' to the broken-hearted around us.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all of our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. - 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
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Each of these women's stories is memorably penned with her own unique viewpoint and emphases. Go ahead and sift through each of them. Listen to their videos. Click the links to read a chapter or so. You'll discover common threads, universal truths, and deeper understanding of grief's unspeakable impact. I'm guessing that one of these will fit the bill for you.
Not just if you are suffering loss. But if you want to authentically, effectively offer your presence to those who find themselves in that place. And I have a feeling that if you're reading this, you do.
The first blog post I ever wrote was a short ode honoring my friend, Lisa, who died far too young. So when I heard that her daughter Marisa was writing this book, I grabbed it as soon as it hit the shelves.
Marisa has become an accomplished, articulate professional woman, an appointee of the Obama White House, known as a 'rabble-rouser of social healing,' and the founder of several organizations.
Getting deeper insight into the impact of Lisa's death on her daughter was a powerful experience for me and brought me back to that February night in 2008 as this 'Counselor for Pastoral Care' followed the church's Pastor to the Lee home after we got the news that Lisa had suddenly gone home to be with the Lord.
It's OK that You're Not OK: Meeting Grief & Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand Megan Devine author website The depth of the impact of this volume surprised me. It's the kind of book where you read a chapter and then need to put it down for a bit. While I read it after my Mom's death, it spoke to other griefs I've known of or actually experienced, the ones that made absolute no sense at all, the kind that you never saw coming, that drop the bottom right out of life itself.
After watching her husband drown in 2009, this psychotherapist has gone on to become a nationally known grief advocate and founded the Writing Your Grief community.
'I am talking about things beyond what we consider the natural order of things ... accidents and illnesses, natural and manmade disasters, violent crimes, suicides ... the underground losses, the pain no one wants to talk about ... the baby who died.
People think the whole point of grief is to get out of it as quickly as possible. As if grief were some strange thing, some bizarre, and incorrect, response to someone you love being torn from your life. Grief gets a narrow window to be expressed. After that, you are expected to return to normal, carrying with you the gifts you've learned from the experience. You're supposed to become wiser, more compassionate, and truly understand what's important. Staying sad means you're not doing it right.'
The sister of Rachel Held Evans writes of the stunning impact of Rachel's sudden death even as she herself was going through her own devastating series of miscarriages. There is a beautiful, gentle strength to her cadence, her writing style, that drew me right in on page one.
As she weaves her story, Amanda seamlessly incorporates research on how rituals are able to aid in healing. And to my surprise, I'm discovering how much I'm drawn to the Jewish ritual of 'sitting shivah.'
'Shivah provides that next right step for friends who want to offer comfort but who are afraid to encroach on the bereaved, afraid of not knowing what to say or what to do. And it shows a mourner how to receive love. Shivah is indeed intrusion. Death must be trespassed upon. In shivah, fear is interrupted by friendship. Loneliness is interrupted by love. Pain is interrupted by presence.'
I'm slowly making my way through these pages. For some reason, I'm in no hurry to finish up. Probably because I'm finding Amanda to be a gentle companion in my own grieving journey.
P.S. A special welcome to all of you from Anne's place! I'm so glad you've stopped by. If you like what's happening around here, please click to subscribe and feel free to share with your friends and fans. I've also pulled together a pile of superb Ebook Deals ... click here to discover some hidden gems!
P.S.S. {4 hours after publication} Upon reflection, I deleted a portion of the final line of the 3rd paragraph. It was poorly worded and didn't reflect my love and passion for God's Word.
I appreciate those of you who support my work and keep this space blissfully ad-free! As an Amazon Associate, I receive a small commission when you do your regular Amazon shopping after clicking on their links here ... at no extra cost to you.
'The many contradictions in our lives - such as being home while feeling homeless, being busy while feeling bored, being popular while feeling lonely, being believers while feeling many doubts - can frustrate, irritate, and even discourage us. They make us feel that we are never fully present.
Every door that opens for us makes us see how many more doors are closed. But there is another response. These same contradictions can bring us into touch with a deeper longing, for the fulfillment of a desire that lives beneath all desires and that only God can satisfy. Contradictions, thus understood, create the friction that can help us move toward God.' Henri Nouwen
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Don't you just love how God can flip our circumstances, our trials, our fears, our failures into something that's absolutely out of this world?
Only the Wise One can shake things up so that darkness fades to light, sorrow cascades into joy, apprehension morphs into a holy anticipation. He has a sacred way of shaping what could have been a disaster into a radiant treasure.
And it's those unexpected gifts, those compelling invitations, that catch us off guard ... and then cause us to smile and nod our heads as we peer through the glass darkly and recognize, once again, His powerful Spirit drawing us closer, closer to Himself.
The thorn becomes the sweetest gift.
The burden draws us to His tender heart.
This, the unexpected gift of contradictions.
Linda
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff they comfort me. Psalm 23:4
Death casts a shadow wide and long.
The impact of suffering on those who've borne witness is unexpectedly immense. There really are no words for this kind of heart-wrenching experience. We are impacted to the core, the very center of our beings, in ways that are difficult to comprehend.
When you've loved well, you grieve deep. When you've opened your heart and been all kinds of vulnerable, loss is multi-faceted and raw. We are left fragile, tender to the touch. Hard grief costs, it doesn't come cheap, and there is a lingering price-tag on body, mind, and soul.
The shadow is death's calling card and it lingers unbidden for those who remain earthbound, those who have suffered loss but have not yet been freed to the bliss of eternal life with Father, Son, and Spirit.
We navigate the fierce winds of grief's storm as He faithfully cradles us close. We venture forward, one day, sometimes one hour, at a time. Each tearful sigh and deep breath become a lavish grace.
And the promised new-every-morning mercies whisper a richly blessed assurance that there is hope, a healing of sorts. For we can slowly emerge from being torn and tattered into one who grows into a wounded healer. A soul who's been there done that, whose heart beats kinder, more empathetic, and far wiser than humanly possible.
We don't grieve like those who do not experience the promises and comfort of Jesus Himself. Yet, we will never be the same. And that could end up being a very good thing.
Linda
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i'm guessing you know someone who needs to read this ... feel free to share
Welcome back to PORCH, your go-to weekend companion. Embrace community. Discover a fresh perspective. Grow your faith in Christ. Get unstuck. Share your story.
Hello again!
Last time I looked it was April. Fast forward three months and here we are.
The family have all headed home and the house is as still as a tomb. The laundry is put away, the floors vacuumed, the fridge emptied. We're just beginning to wonder who we are now that Mom is no longer with us and we're not quite sure where to begin. We're slowly adjusting to not living on high alert status after so many months. We're catching our breath and experiencing the unmooring of deep loss, even while heaving deep sighs of relief.
Grief is a surreal, out-of-body experience. Upending. Wrenching. Emptying. Freeing. Exhausting. There's no 1-2-3 formula and no easy route forward and no quick ending in sight.
Sometimes it helps to talk but not necessarily. A morning walk and an afternoon nap are becoming lifelines. A bout of heavy-duty weeping cleanses the soul. Listening to the Psalms prompts me to praise.
Sharing quietness with someone who 'gets it' is like a cup of cool water in the desert. Beginning to make a few tentative plans seems helpful yet strangely daunting. Blogging lends a familiar rhythm that's comforting and productive. And slowly re-focusing on ministry gives renewed purpose.
It is what it is. God knows. That He hasn't changed like shifting shadows, that He knows the end from the beginning is such a huge comfort I can't even begin to grasp or explain it. I feel His peaceful presence with every breath, every task, every thought, every teardrop. All I know is that our times are in His hands and that all will be well.
And truly, that is enough.
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Just because you live near the ocean doesn't mean you camp out there every day. We get caught up in routines like everyone else - appointments, food shopping, hauling garbage to the dump, volunteering, family logistics, figuring out what's for supper, throwing another load of laundry into the dryer, paying bills, weeding the garden.
Let's hear it for tossing routine to the wind when family's here and going with the flow. Nothing beats an unexpected evening by the sea with those you love. When all was said and done, my twelve year old blonde-haired blue-eyed basketball star begged me to put some family shots on the blog.
So here you go, Brookie 💜!
I hope this month will find you playing tourist wherever you call home.
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Dear Farmer's Market: 6 Reasons I Love You Prices are skyrocketing at the grocery store and the quality of produce hasn't been all that impressive. I'm hoping to get out of my comfort zone and start exploring local farmer's markets in the weeks ahead.
30 Decluttering Resources to Help Simplify Your Home Fewer objects strewn around gathering dust = less visual and mental clutter, a calmer atmosphere, more white space that gives us room to breathe. In the process we tend to become more appreciative of the possessions we truly value and enjoy.
Why Would You Steal My Words? Several decades ago I gave a newbie permission to use my newsletter template and she ended up using some of my written material as well ... without attribution. It was quickly resolved but this article reminded me of how I felt when I first saw my very own words in someone else's publication.
E-Book Deals🎯 I've never seen so many fresh bargains in one week ... I've chosen 45+ for you, many from our favorite authors! Wow! As much as we all love the feel of a real live book in hand, a tablet is our best friend while traveling or heading to the pool. It sure beats dragging around an unwieldy bag of page-turners. I'd love to hear what titles grab your attention.
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May this weekend give you generous helpings of renewal and refreshment ~ Linda
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