A lesson learned walking in the shadows of post-crisis

Although I've been heard saying 2012 was one of -- if not the -- hardest year of my life, now that I have endured 2013, I change my answer. 2013 was harder. It was a year of living in the gray shadows of the drama of 2012.

In 2012, I felt pulled and tugged in many different directions. The two major events were four bonus kids for nine weeks and Kip's dad being in the hospital for 5 months. During these times, I have never felt more exhausted in my life. Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally. Responsibility-wise.

Yet during this time, people surrounded us. People noticed us. Hauling eight children around is quite noticeable. Having four children in hospital waiting rooms is also quite noticeable. In addition, the family of God surrounded us with prayers, cards, gifts, and hands-on-support. It was beautiful.

Many memorable moments of deliverance were woven into our lives.

Then in 2013, things quieted down. Quite thankfully! I no longer wrote daily on the Caring Bridge website. I no longer texted desperate pleas for immediate prayer. I had time to sleep. I had time to cry. 

Yet, it felt harder than it had before. 

That was so strange to me.

Was it because I like being center stage? Was it that people prayed more during that time? Was I more spiritual then? Did I have my focus in a better place?

Or perhaps it was something else.

Not that I had sinned. Not that I had fallen from grace. Not that I needed attention.  

Instead I am re-learning to walk by faith after a long season of flying on eagle's wings.

Isaiah 40:31 says, "Yet those who wait for the LORD will gain new strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles. They will run and not get tired. They will walk and not become weary."

It feels strange. As though I am walking on land after riding on a boat or a roller coaster for a long time. Familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. I have walked on land most of my life. As most of my life has also been non-crisis.

But what is truly different is that I haven't walked in daily life after crisis before.  I am walking in the land of shadows, both in the shadow of the drama of 2012 and in the shadow of the valley of death.

It has felt strange this walking in the strange, gray shadows. He is still sustaining. Still giving grace. Still making me aware of how much I need him.

But now I am learning to walk in this new place. Not a place of grieving from far away, as it was with my brother-in-law's death. But this time a place of grieving from nearby and up-close and personal. And from a responsible human being perspective.

He is still sustaining. But I don't need wings anymore so I'm relearning the walk of faith from here on this side of the strange, gray shadow lands. A needed walk, step-by-step.

Walking in the land of gray shadows. Learning what it means to walk by faith after having been mounted on eagle's wings.

What lessons have you learned walking in the shadows of difficult seasons?

 

Also linking with Jen at SDG. 

The One Thing That I Miss From Crisis {day 19}

Balloons to say goodbye to Papa.

We lived in Crisis Mode for a year or so. Now, a few months removed from that season I find myself still missing One Thing from then. What?! Can that be? Did I just write that?

What is it that I miss? Daily visits to the hospital or the guilt if we didn't make it that day? Exhaustion to a degree I had never physically known?

No, none of that.

But I do miss the clarity of crisis. Crystal clear decision-making about what I needed to do.

Go to the hospital.
Feed the children.

That could be the entirety of my to-do list for a day. It would also take the entirety of my energy and focus. Or the list could be:

Take children to events so life seems more normal.
Or buy groceries. Just buy groceries today.

Unless, of course, a phone call came and set us spinning in another direction. I don't miss that. I don't miss not being able to plan. I don't miss the medical set-backs and unknowns. Yet somehow life seemed more free. There would be the times that I would just need to go home. Even if there were no groceries and  no plan for dinner. Home was what I needed that day. All six of us needed it.

I miss knowing with certainty that what I was doing -- whether it be a hospital visit or buying groceries -- it was what I was called to do that day. It is strange to think that during a time when I couldn't keep up with all the details of my life and would forget things such as my turn to bring snacks to choir and that during a time that I found it hard to smile that I actually miss something from that time.

I have pondered about this and wondered if there was a way to bring the Clarity of the Crisis Mode into every day. I certainly have not done a good job of this. There have been days when I've been paralyzed by the ideas and choices swirling around in my head, trying to decide what is best about things that don't really matter. 

Crisis Mode brought a clarity to the needs of the day. The urgent was the important. It was easy to be about the important, the eternal, when life hung in the balance.

Most days it is easy to get tossed about by urgent distractions that pull me away from what is really important. Yet, now I have discerned the key of the clarity in crisis: the urgent and the important were the same. This brings hope to my every day life.

If I can find the important -- whether or not it is urgent -- then I can again be about the important, eternal things in my corner of the world.

Even though there have been moments when I have been paralyzed by the swirling ideas and choices in my head, I have known even now in the months since Crisis has slowed down that I have been about important things. I have been about tending to the many things which were not tended to during the months of Crisis Distraction.

And so... these days I have been organizing my home, spending time with my children, focusing on my husband, reading my Bible, praying, writing, running, making food, and staying home.

While I long to reach out and connect some more with friendships that have been neglected during the last while, I trust that with time  I'll once again be able to look out beyond the realms of our home again.

Unless, of course, the phone rings again and sends us spinning in an altogether different direction.

Yet, for today, I am thankful for the cozy at-home day we had today.

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How about you? Have you ever been surprised by a longing for some aspect of a difficult time in your life? Join the conversation in the comments. I would love to hear your thoughts!

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This post continues my thoughts of ICU Lessons of Faith. As I write posts about the lessons of faith in My Clarence Chronicles Series, I will continue to number the days of my postings and list them on Day 1's Index Page. But I will also begin to spread my wings and begin to write of other things in this space, too.

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Join me at Jen's place for other women writing for His glory? I find it to be a place of encouragement, perhaps you will, too.

{day 18} Walking in the shadow of death

Walking in the shadow of death.

We are definitely doing that now since Clarence, my father-in-law, died. But it is so interesting because I've been wanting to write about walking in the shadow of death since last fall when my father-in-law's health crisis began.

I didn't know how to write about it. It didn't feel valid to write about it. Or perhaps right is a better word? It didn't feel grateful to speak of walking in the valley of the shadow of death when he was alive. When we were fighting hard for life, how could it be that we walked in the valley of the shadow of death? 

We lingered many days in the In-Between. Staring at oxygen levels. Doctors telling us: "This is no longer ethical" & "We didn't think we would get this far." Back then it was the shadow of death looming ahead of us; now it is the shadow that comes after death. 

Now I know that walking in the shadow of death comes before and after death. Not just after.

Now, that he is gone, I know that we experienced a miracle.

If you compare the pictures from when Clarence left the hospital to three days before he died, which was about a 10-month time span, you can visibly see the miracle. God granted life. God give him more days. For a brief time, the shadow receded just a bit. God gave Clarence the determination and will to live. He gave each one of us a part in how He was working --  whether it was a doctor, a nurse, or  a sibling who was the one to make the called to intervene, to be pushy, or to ask that question about that procedure. God used many hands to bring about the miraculous.

Today, a little over one month after the death of my father-in-law, it feels valid to say that we have been walking in the valley of the shadow of death for quite some time. 

I picture big mountains that cast shadows. Last year we lived in that cold, looming shadow of death before my father-in-law actually crossed the line of death. Often it was cold, looming, dark, unknown, and definitely unwanted. We had  reprieve. We experienced miracles. There were the long miracles. It is amazing to see where he came from to where he was just days before he died: Days of hope, progress, and sunshine as we celebrated his 80th birthday with a pirate cake with my 8 year-old son, right before he died.

I still feel somewhat in shock that he is gone. I have been in the throes of details -- planning funerals, helping my husband, and dealing with a rear-end fender bender. I have never known the solace of being busy in the midst of grief. It has not been my role previously. It feels quite like an ill-fitting garment.

I feel so unfocused. I really wanted to focus this post, this writing on the shadow of death. But in the darkness the pathway of grief seems so dark. It is hard to describe. Much of the pathway is borne alone, especially for my mother-in-law.

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The shadow of death
Mountains high
Looming clouds
The pathway winds around to heights he cannot see
The pathway leads down
He went up
We linger down here in the shadows
Shadows
Cold, lonely
But we know that he is walking without his walker
Swallowing without trouble
Eating ice-cream and beef
Talking with no trouble of all
Worshipping his savior
And we linger here in the shadows
It will be sunny again
There has already been warm spots
The warm hugs of caring friends
Food for many
Plants, flowers, prayers, well-wishes
Trumpet calls, a flag given
Speeches given

Yet the valley loomed large
We walked in its shadows long before he breathed his last breath
The coldness of the shadows

The need to remember
Not to fear
For He is with us

He was with him in the ICU
With her staring out the window
With us and the stove light on
And the hospital calling saying they intubated him again

We felt the long, cold shadows of death
Death of the grave
Long before
The sting of the last breath

But for now, for him
He has taken the last great leap of faith
His faith has become sight

Our faith is still faith

He is holding my child, his grandchild
They wait for us
And one day we will sing together
Great songs of our redemption story
Oh the glories far surpass the trials of now

But for now,
We look through papers
And settle estates
And wish he was here

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This is part of the 31 Day series: 
The Clarence Chronicles: Lessons of Faith from the ICU

Click HERE to read Day 1, which links to all the posts in this series.

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Click HERE to read other 31 Dayers who are also taking the 31 Day challenge.

How to help in crisis Or how salsa found a ministry

Did you know that salsa has a ministry? If you love salsa like I do, you probably already know that. One of the best things I've learned through our recent crisis craziness of 2012 is how to minister to others. This is due entirely to the way so many have ministered to us and loved us really, really well.

Have you ever wondered what you could do to help someone in crisis? What do they need? Me, too. I have often been paralyzed to help because I didn't know what to do. Often the person in crisis doesn't know what they need either.  I often have not been brave enough to do anything. Those missed opportunities make me sad.

Now, I realize that I could help by doing something small. Do something in proportion to your relationship with them. Yet, the better you know someone, the better you can love them. It can be an email or a card in the mail.

Offer what you can do for them. "I'm going to the grocery store or running errands today. Can I pick up something for you while I'm out?". If they say no, accept it and move on. If they say, "Yes. Could you get some milk?" Ask what kind, buy it and deliver it.

Sometimes in crisis, you just need to know someone cares. Showing up with their favorite whatever can communicate just that. Put please do it in a non-obtrusive way. Mail it. Stop by to simply drop it off -- unless they indicate that they need you to stay and talk and just be there. Otherwise, plan to be quick.

Life is so exhausting in crisis and time to sleep, rest, or just be unstimulated is sparse. Be sensitive. They may need company. They may need a break. Each moment is different. It can change quickly. Even as quick as walking from the parking garage to the waiting room kind-of quick. 

Nevertheless, sometimes the need is salsa. Really it is.

One night two of my sisters-in-laws were coming over while my father-in-law was in the hospital. I wanted to minister to them. I would make salsa. I know they like my recipe because each of them has called me more than once for the recipe. I would be bringing their favorite whatever.

I knew I had hit the mark on the money when they showed up with salsa, too!! It was a lovely. Mutual encouragement indeed. I loved them. They loved me, too. Together, we enjoyed the ministry of salsa that night.

I don't remember the particulars of how my father-in-law was that night or why logistics caused them to come to my house. I do know that those of us doing the care giving needed moments like this outside of the hospital. It helped us tremendously to be together, doing something "normal." Usually laughter was included. 

Yes, laughter exists in crisis. It helps to deal with the stress. It helps to bond the caregivers in the craziness that abounds as the normal of the crisis season. It's a can-you-believe-this?-kind of laughter.

A picture during the medical crisis last fall of my mother-in-law, my husband's sister, our sister-in-law and me.

Salsa also exists in crisis and it is good to remember that once-in-awhile. Especially as it is a highlight moment from last fall -- an evening in the ministry of salsa between my salsa sister-in-laws.

Here is the favored Black Bean Salsa Recipe, as close as I can to how I make it since I eyeball it and taste it a lot, tweaking it to my liking.

2 cans of black beans, rinsed & drained
2 cans of corn, drained
1 bunch of cilantro, chopped
tomatoes, chopped & seeded, sometimes not seeded, usually 3-6 tomatoes
garlic, lots, usually minced from a jar
lime juice, lots
salt & pepper, lots
Mix together. The longer you let it marinade, the better. But we almost always dig in right away. 

What have you found is helpful in a long-term crisis, such as a loved one in the hospital for months? What advice would you offer?

Linking with Jen Ferguson today.