The Nagging Why

Why?

After any kind of tragedy, personal or within the community that is the first question asked. Why so young. Why so many. Why didn't God intervene? Why not a miracle?

WHY?

I spent many years asking this question. Crying out to God. Talking to therapists and mentors. Journaling until my pen ran dry. Each time disappointment added to the pain in my heart. There was no answer that made the pain go away. Never would an answer bring back what was lost. No answer would heal a relationship.

I do not regret that season of Why because it taught me about grieving. In our culture, we don’t allow much time for it. We are expected to get on with it. Often the “encouragement” is to let it go and move on. Traumatic losses are not switches that can be flipped off and on. It isn't simply indigestion of the soul that a burp can relieve. It is a deep cut that needs tending. Ignored it festers into bitterness, resentment and anger. With the proper tending the healing process will be long and leave its mark, but in the end love, joy and health will return.

Part of the healing is a season in the land of Why. It is important because it gets us talking: to God, to others, and ourselves. Sometimes the answers fall flat, others are a soothing salve, but the answers never solve the problem. It is when I came to accept this that the next stage of my healing began.

How?

How am I going to get through today? How can I share the grace and love I have received in this season of grieving with others? How can I get to know God better?

After suicides, flashbacks, misunderstandings and constant change, How is my focus. It doesn't make it easier, but life is smoother. Whenever my mind visits the Land of Why, I remind myself to focus on the How. There are no answers for me in Why any longer. My energies are better focused in the present moment. How doesn't erase what happened, but it turns it into something to grow from. The scars from the past will never disappear. They aren't meant to. They are part of my character.

In Rick Riordan’s book, The Red Pyramid, Bast-the cat goddess- is asked to heal a battered old tom cat. Bast replies;

 “And take away his marks of honor? A cat’s battle scars are part of his identity.”

Thanks to those few words, I learned that everything I experience makes its mark. Some beautiful others unsightly, but all together my life is lived. My story is told to hopefully encourage and inspire others. 

Mommy Nugget: Flying the Coop

Kids.

Are they a gift?

Some call them a curse. A Mother’s saying is, “I hope you have a child just like yourself.”

Men are told they have daughters if they were unkind to girls in their teens-Karma.

Each time I held my new born child and felt the wonder of the moment I was aware of the weight. The power to influence this little person to change the world, or destroy it. Every word, action or intent will leave a fingerprint on their soul.

Filled with terror, I would get away within the first few weeks to cry out for help from the Divine. God knew this child. Within the secret place of my womb Divine Love knit together DNA, cells, synapses, muscles and skin. He knew the number of their days.

And… I was responsible. Would I give them roots and wings or a millstone around their neck? At the end of my days, standing at that beautiful throne, I would need to give an accounting of what I said or did.

God and I came to an understanding: I was a steward.

These little people were only moving through my life. I did not own them. Their visit would only last 18 years at least. After that, the relationship would become more of a mentoring than authoritative. I needed to remember that. God had a plan and a path for them. It probably would not agree with my visions of grandeur. God deposited talents and a calling into their heart. I realized that my job was to teach them how to hear that Still Small Voice and follow it.

The truth is, my voice will only carry them so far. Once they are out of earshot, the will be listening to something: a teacher, peers, their own grand schemes…

The terror assuaged, I focused on the end game. I was not raising children. I was raising adults. Personal responsibility, compassion and respect would motivate all of the rules and disciplines that were carried out.

When tattling occurred, we held court. The accuser and accused each had an opportunity to state their case. Then both would examine their part and judgment levied.

Personal property was held with the utmost respect. Sharing was not demanded from the authority, it was given. If BoyA broke BoyZ’s toy then it was replaced by BoyA with his own money or effort to earn the money.

Friendship and equality were heavily enforced. BoyA, BoyZ and GirlyK were best friends. That friendship came first, above everyone else, because someday The Mutant and I would be gone and they would need each other.

 

Today as I consider BoyA-a high school graduate and beginning his next move- and BoyZ-a high school senior-I feel peace. I am not sad because I like who they are. I have few regrets because I savored every moment I had with them.

They were God’s greatest gift of tangible redemption to me.

Define Value

Originally posted on June 11, 2011

We often base a person's value upon an ability to produce a tangible product: monetary wealth, possessions or humanitarian success and notability. If one cannot perform or produce do they have value? How about a person who survives a serious accident with brain damage? What can a baby born with difficulties and only days to live offer? Should we revert to the Spartan way of life; leave them to nature those who cannot fend for themselves?

            

What if a person's value is existence? The fact that I breathe air, move through space and think gives me importance. I think of the baby that lived ninety days.  His value to his family and community was that he lived. They were able to lavishly love on him. The baby was unable to "do" anything, his mere existence created meaning for those around him. 

             

The idea that mere existence is enough is the basis for intrinsic value. A worth not based on what I produce, but what I am. This value can have a positive or negative effect upon the world around me. If I treat those around me with equal value and reciprocate the actions they extend to me, then I increase the significance of life around me.  If I treat those around me as if they owe me and I do not return equal action to them, then I am looting another's creative purpose. 

Photo taken by anitapeppers

            

If we are made in the image of a Loving Creator who is the embodiment of value then our simple

existence is valuable.  It is from Him that our meaning springs. We all are endowed with the ability to create. Our responsibility to discover what form it is to take, develop this creative purpose, and apply it to daily action. If the creative purpose is to respond to people, like the infant, then duty calls for me to execute it with focus. It is out of loyalty to the Creator that I join with people who support my creative purpose. My obligation lies in returning support extended to me. Value for value.

            

 Wisdom guides me in discernment of whom I trust within my life. She guides me away from those who would loot my purpose through distraction or use me for their own benefit. I am foolish if this type of person is allowed in my life only to complain about it. It is impossible for me to think of myself as a victim if I am aiding them in their thievery. The difficult choice for me is to believe in the value the Creator places in me. I need to be brutally honest with myself as I examine relationships where I have taken selfishly and offer amends.  From this evaluation I will feel freedom to become who the Creator purposed me to be.