owning it

"Owning it" is something I have tried to do since I started writing back in high school. What I write is never perfect, is not always popular or pretty, and sometimes it is downright raw and ugly, but I do my best to make it authentic. Real. Transparent. I acknowledge freely that this is my journey. I cannot write about yours, and since this blog is about my journey it is unique. Yet, at the same time I try to be honest and communicate that we are all on a journey. We all face pain. Loss. Life. Challenges. Storms. Death. And comparing, trying to "one up" someone else's pain does nothing to ease the hurt for either of us. 

When I woke up this morning and opened the room darkening blinds I was encouraged by the bright sunlight and beautiful blue sky that greeted me from the west. I dressed for church, came downstairs, went to the windows in the family room which face the east and stood with a slack jaw, shaking my head. Rain. It was raining. Hard. I stepped out onto the back porch, hoping to see a rainbow. Even craned my neck around toward the front of the house. Nothing.

Driving to church, I thought about storms and life. We are often either facing one, in one, or coming out of one. Sometimes we can outrun it. Sometimes we can change our course and avoid one. Sometimes there is nothing to do but persevere through it. Some we bring on ourselves. Some are the result of another's choices. Some just are the result of living in a broken world.

As I sat in church, the songs we sang were about grace. Tears started because suddenly, without warning, I was mentally at Bill's funeral. During communion, a video of the testimony of a local woman who had battled cancer was played. Part of what she said about facing life circumstances was "just own it, be authentic". As I shook my head yes, I could feel anxiety and a strong desire to flee building in my chest. Tears continued to fall, there was no stopping them. At one point I thought I was going to have to stand and walk out. Every fiber of my body wanted to escape. I was afraid I was going to burst into an ugly cry. I didn't want to do that in public. The overwhelming emotions did not make sense to me. Until all of the pieces fell into place. And I owned them.

Wednesday marked four years since Bill went to live with Jesus in heaven. That day was not nearly as traumatic as I thought it might be and I distinctly remember breathing a big sigh of relief that evening before I went to bed.

Thursday I baked cookies. For KCU's football team. 125 (ish) young men plus coaches times three cookies each equaled 40 plus dozen. It isn't what my heart desires to do, I would love to make a meal for them and have them into my home 10 or 12 at a time, but that's daunting with my fall commitments.

Friday was two soccer games and cleaning the church building. 

Saturday another soccer game and a wedding. 

I have known one set of the bride's grandparents, Don and Carole, for years. They were my high school youth coaches. I babysat the bride's dad and his brothers. I was at the first wedding Carole played the organ for. It was mine. This bride and groom are both KCU grads and many of the guests were my kids who have graduated and moved on to other places to do ministry. Reconnecting is always emotional and as we arrived at the reception venue I realized it was the last place I saw one of my football boys alive. 

three of my KCU boys
the one in back is the groom

This morning all of that was brewing, under the surface. I was praying for Andrew, knowing he was preaching this morning. And it hit me. The emotional storm that was washing over me suddenly made sense. Four years ago he was also preaching. And I was sitting in a pew, at the chapel the wedding was in yesterday, with many of the same people I saw yesterday and with many of the people I was worshipping with this morning as we celebrated Bill's life and prepared to lay his body in the grave. 

grief. 
it is mine.
it is yours.
let's own it.
let's not compare it.
except to say we all face it.
and let's be authentic and say it hurts.
let us be thankful for the healing Jesus offers.
let us praise God death has lost its sting for those who love and follow Jesus. Oh, don't get me wrong, the sting itself still hurts, but the venom delivered by the sting has been neutralized, made powerless, through the blood of Jesus and the power of His resurrection.