Musings on Marriage

Tag: Hope

Cloudy Sunsets

Dear Daughters,

Tonight we had a boring sunset.  Every night I peer out the window to see the palette of the evening.  Sometimes it’s simply blue and grey, other times there are combinations of orange, yellow, blue, maroon, red, purple, orange and countless other colors of the rainbow.  But tonight it was just hues of the blue sky, rather dull colors when contrasted with the other flaming, glorious, golden and sometimes stormy sunsets of previous evenings. 

That got me thinking about what makes a gorgeous sunset.  The more clouds – the positioning, depth, and different layering of clouds, the mere timing and strategically placed clouds – the more beautiful sunset.  The less clouds, the more boring. 

When Grandpa and I used to sit out in the garage he gave me brief lessons in the basic cloud forms.  The cirrus clouds deliver a thin web-like texture, the cumulus give a bit more depth and color, whereas the stratus is the most foreboding of all.  Yet, when all three are combined in different parts of the sky, the results can be stunning when the sun shines through them.

That got me thinking about what makes our lives beautiful.  If I equate clouds with trials, hardships – all those things we try to run away from in life – then the more and various clouds equal the more beauty.  Now I know that’s definitely not what you wanted to hear today.  Nobody I know is asking for difficulties to come so they can become more beautiful, but we all know that hard times do have a way of finding their way into our lives. 

When you girls were younger, I think we owned every Calvin and Hobbes book available. One of the saddest days of my early life was when I heard that Bill Watterson was retiring from writing the comic strip.  Bill believed his most creative years were finished and he didn’t want to decline into mediocrity.  I disagreed 100%.  I loved the humor, sarcasm and insight of Watterson shown through the characters of Calvin, Hobbes and their family. 

When Calvin was complaining of chores, you may remember one thing Calvin’s father replied now and then – was that the chore was building character in Calvin, which would always bring a grimace to his face.

Of course, what Calvin’s dad said is true.  Hard stuff in life does lead to the refining and building of our character.  Troubles that bring us to our knees help to ground off the rough edges of our personality, and if we allow it, trials cause us to become more patient, kind and caring.  *

I remember being decades younger and not having a lot of tolerance for other people’s weaknesses, grief or pain.  But after I experienced betrayal and deaths of those I love, I remember feeling a broken heart – for the first time in my life.  I had heard other people talk about having broken hearts, but when I experienced it myself, I grew in compassion for others’ grief. 

I used to be afraid to talk to those who had lost a loved one to death or suffered a betrayal of a close friend, but now I belonged to the same club as they. I learned to talk about those emotions of grief, depression and anger because my other choice was to stuff them down and let them consume me from the inside out.

There’s a part of us that wants to hide our difficulties from others, pretending that all is well in our lives.  But when we become vulnerable and honest, allowing Jesus to come and walk with us, He will shine through those trials. He has a tendency to make the ugly beautiful. 

Recently I read a story illustrating this principle:

The Cloak

One night a heartbroken friend had a dream that she was standing in front of Jesus. He handed her a cloak. As she looked at the cloak, she realized it was alive. She could see that its threads were strands of specific events from her life, some bright and beautiful, others wormy and grotesque. She looked at the ugly strands–abuse, betrayal, divorce, illness, grief–each reminding her of seasons of excruciating pain. Just as she tried to pull out the threads, she glanced at Jesus. He took the cloak, wrapped her in it, and looked at her with an expression of deep pleasure and delight, as if the cloak were the most beautiful tapestry ever woven. At that moment she realized that if she attempted to pluck out the ugly bits, the entire garment would unravel.

We have all suffered innumerable hurts, heartaches and devastating events, for no one is immune if we live on this planet. At times we may feel like we live in a never-ending dark tunnel.  We have a choice, however – a choice to allow Jesus to fight for us against the hard stuff or succumb to their power and live in fear and despair.

It’s often tempting to curse the clouds when they cover the sun.  I find myself thinking thoughts like:

This was not in my plans.

Why me?

I don’t deserve this.

I feel like God doesn’t even care, He’s just abandoned and forgotten me.

This happens to others, not to me…

Yet, one thing we know for sure is that Jesus is walking with us in the trouble, deep in the clouds, through every storm.  Trust Him with your darkness.

Hope reminds us that our best days are ahead, not behind us. 

Surrender tomorrow to God – He’s already been there.

 Caleb Kaltenbach

Love, Mom

Hope…Always

Dear Daughters,

I received a potted amaryllis bulb at the end of November from Aunt Rhonda.  Over the years I have grown several with great success and I was eagerly expecting the same.  I followed all the directions, put it near a window and watered it faithfully for weeks expecting to see some lush green growth topped with a beautiful flower by Christmas.  Day after day, week after week it looked the same, like a dead bulb in dirt.  After 4 weeks I was just about ready to toss the whole pot in the trash and be done with it.  Then one day I saw a slight white shoot peeking out the top and celebrated that perhaps all my watering and care was not in vain.

Now, finally in mid-February there are some gorgeous magenta blooms – just as I had hoped.

Because I was impatient, I just about tossed out what was to become a lovely flower, but because of that slightly ambiguous word – hope – I faithfully continued to water and keep it in the light so maybe, just maybe it would grow like I had expected. 

And then I got thinking about situations for which I have been praying for years.  The healing of a relationship, the growth of a marriage, the softening of hearts, and the healing of a broken body.  I know Jesus hears my prayers and is working things out for my good but sometimes I get frustrated and think,

Why should I care anymore?

 What good is it doing?

 Will anything ever change?

Have you ever had those thoughts, when the prayers you pray seem to be hitting the ceiling and dropping down again?  It’s hard to keep on loving, keep on showing up, keep on doing good.  In fact, there’s a proverb written over 3,000 years ago stating,

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

Proverbs 13:12

Obviously waiting over three weeks for an amaryllis to bloom is much different than waiting years for something you’re hoping for.  I think of those women who have waited for years to have a baby, suffering through months of infertility and disappointment.  Or those who have suffered sexual abuse and have waited for months, perhaps years, to see a judge convict an abuser.  Sometimes it seems as if God is on mute as we pray for the people we love year after year, hoping that justice will be served. 

I ponder the story of Abraham and Sarah who were promised a child from God and waited for 25 years before it came to be.  King David, who after he was anointed King, had to wait another 10 years running and hiding in caves in order to keep from King Saul’s vengeance.  Good things do happen, promises are kept but sometimes it’s hard to keep on going, every day putting one foot in front of another when we repeatedly hear the voices whispering in our heads,

Nothing is ever going to change, it will be this way forever...

Certainly it feels like it at times, but the truth is – life is changing every day.  Just as imperceptibly as a plant grows – we cannot see it day by day – but during months and years they do grow.  God is listening, working and at just the right time the beautiful bloom will appear.

Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, this he will also reap…Let us not lose heart in doing good,

for in due time, we will reap if we do not grow weary.

Galatians 6:7,9

Did you know that bamboo plants grow as many as 35 inches a day!  And on the opposite extreme there is the Tamarisk tree, native to the drier climates of Eurasia and Africa, which only grows about 1 inch per day.  Why?  Because that’s the way God, in His wisdom, created them.  Different species require different growing times and different maturation dates. 

And there is an appointed time for every event under Heaven.

A time to give birth and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted…

Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Have good courage and confidence because God is doing a good work, and He will bring it to completion.

I love the following prayer from Tim Keller:

Lord, I confess I do not understand your timing. If I were in charge of history and my life I would have arranged things differently.

But I cannot see the whole picture, I cannot see from beginning to end, and so I wait for you in obedience and prayer.  Amen.

Love, Mom

On My Own

Dear Daughters,

A few years ago I watched the movie Les Miserables Les Miz for short.  It’s a fabulous movie based on the novel by Victor Hugo, first published in 1862.  The music in the film is marvelous and moving, emotional and memorable.  The story of Les Miz is based on the character Jean Valjean, known as Prisoner #24601, recently released from 19 years in prison and desiring to find a life of freedom but not knowing how.

It’s a long and complicated story, but in the movie there is a lovely song On My Own sung by one of the minor characters, Eponine.  It is a haunting, heartbreaking song of a woman having to live life on her own.  I learned it quite well because a piano student of mine wanted to sing and play it and asked for my help.  So, I immersed myself in the song, singing and playing it so I could teach it well to my student.  But an interesting shift took place as I sang it over and over.

Originally, the song is sung by Eponine because the man she loves is only in her dreams, yet she longs for him to be a reality – which never happens.  She sings the song on a deserted street in the rain, devastated yet hoping for something more than what she has experienced.  The more I sang it I started believing that this was my life, that I was on my own.  Slowly, the words I sang became those I felt about God during that time in my life.  I had been hurt and rejected by others, my health was failing and I truly felt as if God had abandoned me.  So I sang On My Own more and more, often with fervor, believing that in real life I was on my own.  God had become a figment of my imagination, a nice awareness but simply a pretend idea.

The words of On My Own go like this:

On my own, pretending he’s beside me

All alone, I walk with him till morning…

And I know, it’s only in my mind

That I’m talking to myself and not to him,

And although I know that he is blind,

Still I say there’s a way for us.

I love him, but every day I’m learning

All my life I’ve only been pretending

Without me his world will go on turning

A world that’s full of happiness that I have never known

I love him…..

But only on my own.

It’s a sad song to sing about a boyfriend or husband you wish were yours, but it’s even a sadder song when you’re singing it about God.  God, the one we’re told who has created us, who loves us and desires the best for us.  And yet, sometimes it feels like he’s gone, vanished, given up on us – and we come to believe we are totally on our own.  I made the mistake of singing that song over and over again, becoming more mournful every time, and actually believing that I had no choice but to live life on my own.  I had to look out for me because no one else was going to do it, and so I came to the conclusion that this was my life for a time.  Too long of a time.

The melody was so beautiful, the orchestration exquisite, and the musicality itself continued to draw me in.  How easy it is to let a 3-minute song become your entire belief system. Philosophers can write books of many wise words, but a winsome melancholy popular song often becomes the mindset of the masses who sing it.

Feelings are strong, they can take us up to the moon at times but also into the depths of despair.  It was into the depths of despair that I went.  I continued to sing All Alone and for me it became a reality.

So where can we anchor our minds and hearts when these thoughts consume our every waking moment?

Thankfully, a friend gently reminded me that my feelings were only feelings, they were not the truth.  I am not alone, I was never alone, and I will never be alone.  How do I know that?  Simply because the Bible tells me so.  The Bible has been an anchor for millions of people through thousands of years.  My friend reminded me all the times in the past when Jesus showed his love for me. 

So I rewrote the words:

I’m never alone,

The Spirit lives inside me.

Every day, my Lord he walks beside me.

Without out Him, my life would be disaster

Remembering His faithfulness that I have always known…

 I love Him, I’m never on my own.

The mindset of the original On My Own is found often in the Psalms.  King David and others who wrote the Psalms never denied their feelings, but wrote exactly what they felt, even though it wasn’t true.  God is never afraid of our honest cries and wailings.  But he loves to have them directed toward Him so He can come and give comfort.

They [the Psalms] are remarkable for recording with brutal honesty the cries of those who are sick and suffering, says Tim Keller.  Yet, the hopelessness and despair is only for a season.  When we turn our eyes to God and remember, always remember his faithfulness to us and to others in the myriad stories in the Bible, then we can wait patiently and sing songs of hope instead of anguish and gloom.

Love, Mom

The Holy But

Dear Daughters,

Once again Christmas is past, New Years has been celebrated and here we are in a new decade, with emotions ranging from anticipation to anxiety, fear to hope, wonder to boredom – depending on our circumstances in life.  Along with many other folks this time of year, I have made some goals for the year/decade.  One of the areas I would like to work on has to do with the words I speak. 

Have you ever gotten home from being with someone or a group of people and rewound the conversation in your mind?  Do you ever wish you could take back some words you have spoken and replaced them with better, kinder words?  Yeah, me too – more often than I like.

I’ve been listening to myself as well as others and have noticed that many people live after the but. That is, the word “but.”  If you listen carefully to others (or yourself) you will find out what they really believe after the but.  It doesn’t matter what they say first, what they truly believe comes after the but.  Someone may say,

I really like Charissa, but she’s kinda gossipy.  She didn’t call me when she knew I was having a hard time.

Oh yes, Nathan is so funny, but did you know he had a temper tantrum after he didn’t get the deal he wanted?

Mara is so beautiful, but did you see the look she gave me when I mentioned where I shop?

I really like our pastor, but he never visited my mom when she was sick.

It’s good and healthy to express honest emotions, but most people live in the world after the but.  It doesn’t matter what someone says, you’ll find out what they really believe if you listen to what comes after the but.  We say things like:

I know God loves me, but I feel so abandoned.

I know God promised to provide for me, but I don’t really have what I need.

I know God promises me wisdom, but all I feel is confusion.

When we talk like that we live only in the present circumstance.  The only hope we have is for a change in our feelings or in our current state of affairs.  If we trust solely in our emotions or what is happening around us, we can easily fall into despair.  Satan doesn’t care about our talking about God as long as we put Him before the but.

Dan Stone writes about something called The Holy But.  It’s putting God after the but, where He belongs.  When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, the night before he was killed, he prayed something like this (a paraphrase of Dan Stone).

Father, I don’t want to be separated from you.  If it’s possible please let me out of it.  In fact, this is so heavy on me right now that my soul feels very depressed…

…Yet

…nevertheless

…BUT

…not as I will but as You will.

Jesus was emotionally honest, he spoke freely about what he felt, how hard it was, how he was suffering, but he was willing to submit to His Father’s will. 

King David, one of the main writers of the Psalms, was painfully honest with God.  In Psalm 13 he laments:

How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul,

Having sorrow in my heart all the day?

How long will my enemy be exalted over me…. (verses 1-2)

Many of us think these things but would never dare say them out loud.  David, however, not only spoke them but wrote them down for people to read thousands of years later.  And the interesting thing is God doesn’t mind our honesty.  In fact he desires it. But the fascinating part of this prayer of lament is the way David ends the Psalm,

But I trust in your unfailing love,

My heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,

For He has been good to me. (verses 5-6)

That’s an example of the Holy But.  Nothing had changed in David’s circumstances, but his perspective changed.   It moved him from where he was stuck – in despair and sorrow – and into faith. 

Even though your life may look hopeless at this moment, you can choose to remember how God has been faithful throughout your life.  And if, as on those categorically hard days, you forget about the good things in your past, you can look to the stories in the Bible about how He always keeps His promises, always brings good out of evil, and promises to never, ever, no not ever abandon us.

Remember the stories of Abraham,

Jacob,

Joseph,

Daniel,

Ruth,

Esther,

Rahab,

and the list goes on….

The Holy But is able to change your situation from concentrating on the external issues in life to the internal – your spirit.  You take all those emotions back to the Person dwelling in you and get God into it.  Then you can experience peace even in the midst of the storm.

All fear is but the notion that God’s love ends ~  Ann Voskamp

Welcome this new year and consider letting God bless you in the days ahead by using the Holy But.

The year ahead looks daunting, but I know You are holding me with Your everlasting arms.

I feel like a loser today, but I know You love me anyway.

The world happenings are causing me fear, but I know You are still the King of the earth, King of me and I trust You.

Lord, life is going by so fast!  It frightens me unless I remember your eternity.  We are as rootless as tumbleweeds and will be blown about all our lives unless You are our dwelling place.  In You we are home.  What I have in You I can never lose and will have forever.  I praise You for this unfathomable comfort.  Amen. ~  Tim Keller

Love, Mom

Remembering…

Dear Daughters,

           Today is the 27th anniversary of my brother’s, your Uncle Steve’s death.  He was only 40 years old – soon to be 41 – his life ending much too soon.

Steve loved the outdoors.  One of his favorite pastimes was canoeing down the Snake River, once coming home with a banged-up boat after going through some tougher than expected white water.

            I can still see him playing the piano with his large muscular hands – one of his favorites was Easter Song by Annie Herring.  He also loved to whistle.  In church when other people would be singing, Steve would whistle.  He and I sang duets together, spent time together, but he never talked about the depths of despair that haunted him.

            He went to Mexico to help the poor.  He loved God but had a difficult time loving people.  No one knew, not even Steve himself, why interpersonal relationships were so challenging….     

            I remember that dismal day well. 

            The Koopman clan had planned to spend four days in the heart of the Sawtooth Mountain Range in Idaho.  Redfish Lake was our destination, sitting at an elevation of 6,550 feet where the waters are crystal clear and the beaches are sandy.

            Our full family van had recently arrived from Kansas, our home at the time, anticipating another splendid summer vacation with our family in Idaho.

            It was a tradition, you remember, for as long as you girls have been living.  Each summer our extended family would gather together for three nights and four days, enjoying mountain climbing, water skiing, canoeing, and simply delighting in time together.

We stopped to wait at a designated spot to meet up with Uncle Steve and some of his children, but they never showed up.  We waited far beyond the agreed meeting time until Uncle John came and told us the reason that he had not come.  Steve had been found – dead.

             Even though I was told plainly with words that my brother was dead, my mind could not comprehend it.  I was in complete denial and drove to the hospital to see which room he had been admitted.  When they told me there was no one registered by that name I walked away in a daze. 

            I don’t remember how, but eventually we all ended up at his house and walked out to the garage where the death took place.  The details of the story slowly emerged.  It had happened the evening before, July 4 – Independence Day – when Steve took his own life.  From his perspective, life had become unbearable and he could no longer survive the emotional turmoil that was raging inside him. 

            As we were driving away from his home that dark evening, the guilt, shame and stigma of suicide began to descend on Dad and I.  I was embarrassed, humiliated and ashamed that this happened to our family.  This was for other families, not mine.  Yes, I knew my cousin had given up on life a few years earlier, but things were different in our family. 

            I was absolutely certain that no one would show up at the funeral.  It was too horrifying to think about, much less talk about.  In my mind I imagined a big black letter S sewn on my back.  I felt like an untouchable, a reject, cast out to sit on the ash heap. 

            Dad, one of the few who could stay focused on what needed to be done, helped my sisters and me go through the clouded motions of picking a funeral home, choosing the casket, writing an obituary, planning the service – something I had not been prepared to do on my imagined carefree vacation to Idaho. 

            Then came the day of the visitation.  I was going to be strong and greet the people who could possibly be brave enough to stand with us in this atrocious grief.  But as I walked into the dimly lit parlor and saw his body lying lifeless, his trademark pith helmet lying on his chest, I stayed for a few seconds and then fled out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably. 

            The day of the funeral dawned even though I was hoping it would never arrive.  With legs like lead I got dressed and mechanically prepared the family to go.  I was quite certain that maybe, just maybe, there might be two rows of people brave enough to attend.  Who in their right mind would want to be identified with such an atrocity? 

            When I walked in the doors of the church, my high school friend, Lora, was there with tears and a hug.  She had heard the news and she had come.  Some cousins came from Washington to grieve with us.  People trickled into the church until it was packed.  I remember nothing of the service, just sitting there numb, except for the overwhelming fact that there were people who came and cared and cried with us. 

            God was there in those people who took time out of their glorious summer day, and it was because of those people I knew for certain that God still loved our family.  I was afraid He would perhaps turn His back on us but the presence of many who cared assured me that God was present, even in the midst of our personal horror.

            Riding in the family coach on the way to the cemetery I watched as people mowed their lawns, played catch with their children, some laughing as they were talking to their friends.  I wanted to scream at them to stop.  STOP.  STOP.  Cry and wail with me.  The whole world, all of you, should stop, everyone should feel the same heart-breaking grief that I‘m feeling.  There should be no smiles, no laughter, no joy….not today, not now, maybe not ever again.

            It was a fierce good-bye.  Uncle Steve had devised a permanent solution to a temporary problem. 

It took months, no it was years slowly turning into decades, to be able to process all that had happened.  I read books about suicide, I grieved with friends, cried while singing in church, mourned with tears of unspeakable guilty grief into the early hours of many mornings.  I will never understand what happened, but now 27 years later I don’t feel the need to understand.  Simply knowing Jesus walked with me is enough. 

Nothing can separate me from the love of God.

            I bring up this memory of Uncle Steve to thank you, daughters, for choosing to live even when struggles get hard and relationships are fractured, when life hurts and everything seems so unfair.  When you are in the depths of despair, when your heart is breaking, God walks with you and I will walk with you.  He’s there even when you slog through the valley of the shadow of death.  He is permanently there.  Always.  He will never leave you nor forsake you.  There is always hope, light, and life, even when life seems hopeless, dim and futile. 

            Always choose life.  Love fiercely.

Love, Mom


Dementia, Deafness and DMV

 

SunflowerDear Daughters,

One morning last week I woke up and walked sleepily into the den on my way to the kitchen. It always takes me a while to adjust to the bright sun and the new day. I like quiet and peace in the morning – and a cup of tea.

As I walked through the den, Grandpa was reading the morning paper and I said Good Morning just like I always do. He saw me coming and his first sentence was one of panic. I CAN’T HEAR A THING! MY EAR WENT BONKERS! ALL OF A SUDDEN EVERYTHING JUST WENT BLANK!!!  I’M GOING TO BE DEAF JUST LIKE MY MOTHER!

Whoa, hold on, I’m not quite ready for all this so early in the morning.

I vaguely remembered this happening one other time and it was because wax somehow suddenly dropped into his ear canal (he only has one working ear) and plugged everything. Producing a plethora of ear wax is a gift that Grandpa has been given, for better or worse.

I called his ear doctor and the friendly receptionist found an appointment for him that same day. I think she noted the urgency in my voice.

Since we left plenty early and a car wash was on the way, we decided to stop in. As we were driving up Grandma thought it said Ear Wash, so she and I started discussing how handy it would be to drive through with Grandpa’s window down and get his ear cleaned at the same time, saving a trip to the ear doctor. We decided against it.

We had another short errand to do while we were in town – a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get a registration for the new ATV that Grandpa had just purchased.

As we were walking into the building we had the following conversation:

Grandma: Why are we here?

Me: To get a registration for the new ATV.

Grandma: I didn’t know we got a new one. Where was I?

Me: At home. DAD, LET’S GO IN THIS LINE.

            Over here, Mom.

            OK, DAD, YOU NEED TO SIGN RIGHT HERE BY THE X

Grandpa: SIGN WHERE?? (Since he has a serious tremor he had his signature stamp that he uses for official documents)

Grandma: Why are we here?

Me: To get a registration for the new ATV.

Grandma: I didn’t know we got a new one. Where was I?

Me: At home. OK DAD, IT WILL COST 8 DOLLARS

Grandpa: HOW MUCH?

Me: (shouting directly in his ear) EIGHT DOLLARS.

Grandma: Why are we here?

Me: To get a registration for the ATV.

Grandma: I didn’t know we got one. Where was I? Are we going to be late for the Doctor? Do you know how to get there?

Me: No, we’ll be early. Yes, I’ve been there many times before.

Grandpa: I’M SURE GLAD THEY HAVE CHAIRS IN HERE SO I CAN SIT DOWN.

Me: Yup.

The friendly DMV guy: I wish I had a cool signature stamp like that, my writing is horrible.

Grandpa: I’M SURE GLAD WE DIDN’T HAVE TO WAIT IN LINE, WE CAME AT JUST THE RIGHT TIME.

Me: Yes, it was wonderful, no wait at all.

Grandma: (as we were on our way out) Why did we come here?

Me: Sigh…..

Every day is an adventure in our household. Living with Grandma who struggles with dementia and macular degeneration and Grandpa who finds it difficult to walk and hear, there are never ending conversations of repetitions and descriptions. Dad and I spend much of our time in laughter, some in tears, other times we simply sit together in silence, lamenting the frailties that come with advancing years.Mums (7)

Just this morning, we were making apple sauce from some of the beautiful Granny Smiths we had picked earlier in the week from Grandpa’s trees. Grandma and I were chatting as we used the nifty peeler/corer that makes our work much easier. Grandma asked where I had learned to use the machine so I mentioned that she had taught me many years ago when I was living at home. She looked at me quizzically and said I think you have me confused with someone else. I’ve never seen this thing in my life.Apples (7)

            It still hurts not to be known by my own mother. To her I am the cook, the one who put those pills in the little dishes every night, the picker of garden fruits and vegetables, the one who helps to wash, dry and sort clothes, the lady who gets tea for her in the afternoon and encourages her to play piano every morning.

Even though Dad and I have been living here for almost a year, Grandma will ask if I’m spending the night or do I need to go home and take care of my family.

I feel like she is my little girl and I have become her mother. Much of the time I do my work with joy even though she doesn’t realize who I am. Other times I ache, missing the bond and memories we used to share as mother and daughter.Pops (2)

I weep for what has been lost, disappointed when I realize that she will not get better.

At other times I rejoice for what is coming in the future. Going through this season of life has made me hungry for the coming eternity, my heart longing for our time in heaven when Grandma will know us all once again. I hope for that which Jesus has promised, the renewal of all things:

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. (Hebrews 6:19)Sunset (8)

I am grateful that this world is not the end of the matter, but simply a preparation for the magnificent future awaiting us, a heaven where there is no dementia, no blindness, deafness, or aging. Looking forward to this frees me to love now and helps take away some of the pain of loss. Our current life is much easier to enjoy simply because I know the best is yet to come.

Loss doesn’t rule, hope does.

Love, Mom

 

 

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