scripture – God is in the Outcome

𝘼 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡 “𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙜𝙜” 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝘾𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩

Published on March 29, 2024April 8, 2024 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

Within my theology and Christology, there is definitely a place for the historical Jesus and the cultural context within which he lived, alongside the divine person of Christ Jesus who gifts us with salvation and eternal life and lives within us through his spirit. I’m not sure who the original explanation of this came from because I found it copied on many websites while researching the validity of the historical context. The context, by the way, is valid according to my research.

So, we realize Jesus, the man, was a reflection in many ways of the culture within which he was born and lived.

Jesus used the customs and culture of that time to teach with parables, to spread his message, and to prove his divinity and his return to earth again:

Why did Jesus fold the linen burial cloth after his resurrection? The Gospel of John (20:7) tells us that the napkin, which was placed over the face of Jesus, was not just thrown aside like the other grave clothes. The Bible takes an entire verse to tell us that the napkin was neatly folded, and was placed at the head of that stony coffin.

Early Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance.

She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved. She said, “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and I don’t know where they have put him!” Peter and the other disciple ran to the tomb to see. The other disciple outran Peter and got there first. He stooped and looked in and saw the linen cloth lying there, but he didn’t go in.

Then Simon Peter arrived and went inside. He also noticed the linen wrappings lying there, while the cloth that had covered Jesus’ head was folded up and lying to the side.

Was that important? Absolutely! Is it really significant? Yes!

In order to understand the significance of the folded napkin, we need to understand a little bit about Hebrew tradition of that day. The folded napkin had to do with the master and servant, and every Jewish boy knew this tradition. When the servant set the dinner table for the master, he made sure that it was exactly the way the master wanted it. The table was furnished perfectly, and then the servant would wait, just out of sight, until the master had finished eating.

The servant would not dare touch the table until the master was finished. Now if the master was finished eating, he would rise from the table, wipe his fingers and mouth, clean his beard, and wad up the napkin and toss it onto the table. The servant would then know to clear the table. For in those days, the wadded napkin meant, “I’m finished.”

But if the master got up from the table, folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate, the servant would not dare touch the table, because the folded napkin meant, “I’m coming back!”

Jesus left a thoughtful, intentional clue for people who would find the empty grave and little did they know they would see him again so soon. And one day we will, too.

Why is this important on my grief journey? My husband was saved by grace, as am I. Knowing I’ll see Jesus one day also means being reunited with the love of my lifetime here on earth. This story of the folded “napkin” gives me a reminder of the hope I have in Jesus and the assurance that my husband’s death was only a mortal one. He is alive in Jesus and waiting in the place God has prepared for me. That means that his death was not the end but that a new beginning awaits. In that, I find great comfort even as I grieve the changes I continue to face here. ♥️

Look Now From The Place Where You Are

Published on January 19, 2024 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

New beginnings sound like something exciting, something adventurous. In order to experience a new beginning, however, an ending must be acknowledged and accepted. Truly believing there is no way to alter an ending, especially when that ending was not how you wanted things to end, is outrageously difficult. It is hard for those who have not experienced it to understand, but even when that ending is death of someone you love, it’s very difficult to accept the finality of it. The acceptance comes in fits and starts. There are fits of raging against the world that it shouldn’t be this way. There are desperate cries of sorrow and pleas for an altered ending. I am becoming convinced that the only way to defy the disbelief, to nudge into the acceptance, is to focus on what God has planned for your future, even when it wasn’t the future you planned. In fact, especially when it looks like this isn’t the future you wanted, it’s important to lean into God’s new plans and have faith in them, even when it feels like there is no hope.

Several times in the last three weeks, God has brought a specific passage from Genesis into my path. Imagine that: Genesis, defined by the dictionary as “the beginning or origin of anything,” is the place I’m found studying and pondering.

Abram, eventually to be renamed by God as Abraham, has been waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promise to him. When they arrived at what Abram must have assumed was the Promised Land, his nephew, Lot, took all of the best areas of land and left Abram with the rest. Abram must have thought something like, “Your promise was for leftovers?” but:

”The Lord said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Look around from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west. All the land that you see I will give to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then your offspring could be counted. Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.”“
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭13‬:‭14‬-‭17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

In a different translation God said ‘Lift your eyes now and look from the place where you are.’ He was saying don’t look behind you because there is nothing left there for you. Don’t look ahead into what you think should happen or should have happened. Look from the place where you are and, in that, keep having faith that I will do as I promised. My promises were never contingent on whether this would happen; I already saw this coming and I have prepared.

One of the most difficult things about grief is not constantly looking back at what was and also not looking forward at how wrecked what-should-have-been now is. It’s really hard to look from the place where you are. It feels as if disaster surrounds you from behind and ahead. Everything in the now is challenging and leads you to wish for what was and worry about what will be, but we are called by God to be thankful for what was (what we were blessed with in “the before” because it was beautiful and we loved it and them) and to trust His promises for the future.

One of the things He has steadily promised me was provision. I constantly feel internal pressure to do something to make sure His promise comes to fruition. I’m in a challenging place right now and I’ve been instructed to wait on the Lord and to trust and believe in His promise. I’ve been called to be still, which is not a strong attribute of mine. In my heart I truly do believe in Him and His voice. Still my nature consistently challenges me with “what are you doing about it?” Even when I know there is very little I can personally do to alter outcomes ahead of me.

I’m also challenged by purpose. I was a wife, a mom, and a “Lolly” (grandmother) and those were my identity. I’ve lost an identity before and it hurt tremendously, causing me to question who I was as a person if it was not this. I am a nurse by licensure but I’ve known for a long time that God was redirecting that calling on my life and had new directions for me to walk. I thought that direction was wrapped around being a good wife, mama, and Lolly, but a huge part of that identity is gone now that I am a widow.

I’m faced with the question of where that leaves me because it feels as if there is a gaping hole in part of who I am. Multiple people have said things to me about “finding a new husband one day.” This leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. While I do know that people mean well and, to them, they are offering me a new sense of hope that one day this hole will be filled, my husband cannot just be replaced. I don’t think that, when one loses a child, people would just say “well, just have another one; that’ll make you feel better.” And while I understand that I do not have any idea what God has in store for the rest of my life, that is absolutely something in which I have no interest at all right now. Honestly, if that ever was God’s intent and part of His plan for me, He would have to essentially, figuratively, drop someone in my lap for me to even consider it; even then it would be a challenge to navigate my way through the emotions that would surface as a response.

The overarching theme here is that I have to look now from the place where I am. I cannot look back toward what shouldn’t have happened (only at the joy and blessings that my husband brought to my life.) I cannot look forward as if it were a puzzle I am capable of figuring out; I say this meaning that, although we do make plans, I cannot determine the outcome of my life. I don’t know if I will die tomorrow or not for fifty years so trying to make a plan that encompasses what the rest of my life will look like is foolish. I have to look from where I am now. One step at a time, one day at a time. There are no shortcuts or crystal balls. The world works in such a way that new beginnings don’t just come the day that you are born. Learning to walk is a new beginning. Starting kindergarten is a new beginning. First love is a new beginning. Marriage is a new beginning. Having a baby is a new beginning. Divorce is a new beginning. Scott was a wonderful new beginning but now I am, once again, at a new beginning.

Becoming a mama was a new beginning for me, almost 26 years ago. When they moved out, it felt like an ending but it was really just another beginning, a different but still lovely path that has led to one beautiful granddaughter (so far.) I have to learn that my husband physically leaving this earth as another beginning. I didn’t like when my kids moved out on their own. I still miss them when I’m not with them. The same for my husband. I never wanted this particular new beginning. But I had to continue when the boys went out to spread their own wings. I had to learn to look from the place where I was then and begin to take steps toward being a mom from a distance and what that would look like.

Today, I’ve already begun my journey as a widow and I’m still figuring out what that looks like for me. I don’t know exactly where it’s going to take me. I do know that God already knows exactly what that looks like in my future and I wholeheartedly trust that he means it for good and not for failure. That’s where I’m standing right now, looking from the place where I am, knowing that I will be okay. I will have joy. I will have purpose. And I will always have a God who loves me and wants what is best for my life. I’m going to follow that lead.

Forgiveness & Trust

Published on December 31, 2023April 13, 2025 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

Overcome evil and anger by praying for those who hurt and abuse you.

I’ve been like a bear with my paw caught in a trap, wanting to wound the one who could release me in my pain and anger. In this case, my release was only possible by offering grace to the captors who placed me here.

Tonight, I’ve been given the instruction from God to forgive the people who were party to my husband’s death and to offer them grace, yet with the full knowledge and trust that God has the power and omniscience to handle the outcomes. If they realize their errors, their negligence, and learn from that experience, He has the power to make them better from it, because that won’t bring Scott back but that is still a positive outcome. Or He could guide them on a path where they never make the same poor judgements again because they are unable to forget the tragedy that their actions caused. He also has the ability to enter circumstances into their lives to prevent them from ever hurting anyone else if His foresight shows that they refuse to heed the education that this situation is able to provide for their futures. God has called me, in the wee hours of the morning, to trust Him to do that. He calls me to pour out grace upon grace just as He has flooded it over me. And trust me…I’ve needed grace upon grace, too. We all do. Just different kinds.

This is not an easy task to undertake (and make no mistake, it is a chore, a job, an unearthly, overwhelmingly difficult undertaking.) Only He, however, has made it possible because the choice to follow His instruction was more of an obligatory mandate than a decision. I can see the peace on the other side of it even as I feel called, yet because of my own stubborn and hurting heart, still hesitant, to enter into it. Trusting Him is easy; trusting and forgiving them is not.

I’ve chosen whom I will serve. The Bible says that you cannot serve two masters. It’s talking about serving God or a love of money in this particular scripture but it applies, also, to the fact that you cannot serve both God and the enemy. If you choose one, you are no longer serving the other. Jesus won me over a long time ago because He loved me enough to die for me. So, when God says to forgive, I choose to obey. Forgiveness is a choice. You don’t always feel like you have forgiven when you choose to do so. You may still have anger (I do.) You may still have difficulty feeling as if you have truly forgiven them (I do.) But the obedience to God and His Word are important. The choice you make to say “I forgive them, Lord. I’m trusting You to help me do it within my heart and I believe justice comes from You” is what makes all the difference, even if you have to say it day after day after day.

So, I am saying it here, as a reminder that I did, in fact, say it and in hopes I’ll truly feel like I’ve forgiven despite the fact that I will never be able to forget. I can’t forget what they didn’t do, but should have. I can’t forget because I still have nightmares, awake and asleep, about it. But I’m choosing to forgive them.

There is a peace that eventually comes with forgiveness. I mean, I know because I’ve done it in other circumstances. That hard won peace is worth the work it takes to get to a place where you let go of what can never change and let God work in your heart over it. And listen, I’m not bragging about doing this at all. This is me writing it out in the hopes that, as I do, it becomes cemented in some way, becomes real, becomes some kind of lasting thing that takes root because it’s hard sometimes. This time.

If you’re in a place of grief that is accompanied by anger, choose this day whom you will serve. Choose with me, the only path that leads to healing. Choose to forgive and speak it out loud. God will honor your decision to make the difficult choice to follow Him in this endeavor. Judgement is mine, says the Lord. I forgive them; (I forgive them. I forgive them. I forgive them, Lord.) I also hope that one day, here or in Heaven, I get to see how that plays out in the people who were a party to the biggest loss in my life thus far.

The Power of the Shadow of Death

Published on December 3, 2023December 3, 2023 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

In Genesis 13:15 God says to Abram (later called Abraham) “Lift your eyes now and look from the place where you are.”

“After God told Abram to look from that place, the next thing He told him was, ‘Arise, walk in the land through its length and its width, for I give it to you’ (Genesis 13:17 NKJV).”

By Genesis 15, God formally established His covenant promise with Abram to give him and his descendants the land of Canaan.

God could be telling you right now to get up and get on with your dream or vision, your assignment, your life, because He is giving it to you. Your part is to walk it out.

But lately my rememory isn’t working as well as my forgetory. I keep getting up from this place of despair, deciding to move forward with God’s purpose written on my life, and then laying back down in defeat. I am not defeated. I just have not counted myself fully victorious yet.

Or maybe I have…I know who holds my future and that the final battle is already won before we even get there. Am I sitting here, waiting for that victory to come but unwilling to take part in the fight anymore?

“Death’s greatest power is not that it can make people die, but that it can make people want to stop living.”
― Fredrik Backman

This is the conundrum. God has not given me permission to stop living. I know, with all of my heart, that He shows compassion for my loss, my grief, my unending sadness. He bottles every tear and holds it with genuine empathy. I also know that He expects me to rise, using His strength when I have no more, His power, when there is not an ounce in me, to continue the race set before me. While I haven’t yet found or learned the ability yet to continue my own journey without my husband, I know that is what I must do.

There are things to which God has called me but I let the “what ifs” get in my way. One of them goes like this:

If I write these books, what if no one wants to read them? (You don’t write for the reader, you write for yourself and for Me…but still, I’m calling you to write for a reason.) What if no one even wants to publish them? (You can publish them yourself if that happens; that is made reasonably easy these days.) What if no one ever even buys one? (Prosperity may not be the reason for you writing them.) What if it is a waste of time? (How is it a waste of time if it is your calling?) How do I know whether it’s even really a calling or just something I think I’d like to do? (You don’t seem to want to do it, because you still haven’t finished, and yet it is continually on your mind that you must. People are often called to things they don’t feel like doing.)

I recently told a friend that, when I am confused about whether the Holy Spirit is prompting me to do something or if it is just something I’m telling myself, I usually know it’s the Holy Spirit when it’s really not something I want to do. He urges to do uncomfortable things because God knows those things will either help us or will further His plan (or both!)

And so thoughts like this ride on a merry-go-round within my head, on constant repeat. Because death’s greatest power is that it makes people not want to go on living. And yet the Bible says that death has been swallowed up in victory (Isaiah 25:8)

Three more truths in the Bible say this:

God is WITH us in our struggles. (Matthew 28:20)

God is FOR us when it seems all else is against us. (Romans 8:31)

God will carry us THROUGH our pain. (Isaiah 43:1-3)

I want to be here with my children and the rest of my family and friends. I just don’t have any desire to live while I’m doing it. I’m constantly here but I’m not here, a machine that keeps running because someone keeps pouring gasoline in the engine but which has no inclination on its own of what to do, no yearning of its own to complete its task.

I must begin with obedience. The puzzle is to determine how to begin when there is no energy and no ambition or predilection to complete tasks. My house is a mess (which seems to enhance the compulsion to do absolutely nothing.) My brain is a mess (which prompts the same lack of urgency.) My routine is the only thing tethering me to the here and now. Yet I must begin in obedience so that change can commence. The first step must be mine because He gives me the ability to choose. God is a gentleman. He will not force my hand but will continue to encourage me toward a path of eventual healing.

”Our God is merciful and tender. He will cause the bright dawn of salvation to rise on us and to shine from heaven on all those who live in the dark shadow of death, to guide our steps into the path of peace.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭1‬:‭78‬-‭79‬ ‭GNT‬‬

I am definitely living in the dark shadow of death. I don’t know when I’ll step outside of the cold shadow and back into the sun. I do know that, in order to do that, I have to keep stepping toward the Son. So…here’s to trying to get up and walk.

Even If…

Published on October 17, 2023April 12, 2025 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

Written December 3, 2023

You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people. Genesis 50:20

I’m trying to ascertain where this is going to fit into my life, my situation, and my grief.

The enemy was alive and well in that hospital when my husband died. He thwarted possibilities for recovery over and over by using the actions (and inaction) of people. He stopped every action that would have turned it around. I cannot count the number of times, the number of decisions, that could have turned this all around and let me drive home together with my husband. I know each and every one of them but they are many. A tidal wave of failures, one right after the other. An indefensible path to an outcome that we can never return from.

I remember praying in the room with him, when he was having trouble breathing, more and more so. Praying “God help him.” Praying with a security guard in the ICU waiting room while they were coding him. For this stranger, I will always be grateful because he spoke words that refused to be plucked from the whirling dervish of panicked thoughts inside my head. When he left to go back to his work post, I remember texting and asking my Daddy to pray and then saying “Jesus, please, help him. Please bring him back. I need him.” Something like those words over and over and over again. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”

I do not believe that God chose this path for my husband. I believe He knew it would happen because He is omniscient. I believe He could have stopped it because He is omnipotent. I believe He was with me in that waiting room, with my husband in his hospital room for every terrifying second he was still within his earthly body, and with my mother-in-law as she traveled to be with me, because He is omnipresent.

So why didn’t we get our miracle?

Because God gave humans freedom of choice. He could have forced Adam & Eve to worship him. Made them bow to Him and serve Him. But humans would have then been slaves. If a man or woman tries to force you to love them and stay with them, how much more likely are you to try to get away, to end up hating them? No, He gave us free will.

Part of Joshua 24:15 says “Choose this day whom you will serve…” That day, some people chose wrong. I’m not calling anyone a Satanist. We all choose wrong sometimes. When you have an attitude or are being prideful, you’re choosing wrong. When you are arrogant. When you gossip. When you snap at someone because you’re hangry. We’re all guilty of choosing wrong. Some do more often than others.

For some, even kindness and compassion are difficult to display. And then, mixed in with bad decisions, there are probably just some plain accidents and some ignorance of what to do sometimes…and this time, with us, unfortunately an egregious amount of outright negligence when it came to people, trained and licensed, to whom we entrusted his safety.

There are myriad reasons why he’s not here anymore but it all comes down to the fact that sometimes the enemy wins a battle, already knowing he will never win the war. He (the enemy) knows what the Bible says. He believes in God because, to put it gently, they’ve met. Satan knows Him. He’s just always trying to see if he can sway more people to his side while he’s still got the chance.

For some people, loss does cause a sway. Some people cannot imagine how there could be a good God if people who don’t deserve to die, do. The thing is, God doesn’t cause those things. Satan made sickness, not God. And sometimes faithful people don’t get their healing this side of Heaven. I’m not going to pretend to know what God sees that He allows it to happen. But I do know that what we see is like looking through an old-fashioned keyhole. Our vision is so very limited, just what you can see by putting your eye up to that little keyhole. God can already see the whole world of things on the other side of the door. The full panoramic view. I trust that He loves me even when I don’t understand. I trust that He is for me when all else seems to be against me.

My granddaughter is going to the doctor for shots today; one of her parents will have to help hold her still while she receives them. When my children were young, I took them to the doctor for vaccinations, too. I remember the look on my sons’ faces when they were little. That “I thought you loved me; why did you help them do that to me? You didn’t protect me” look. But I was protecting them. From chicken pox and pertussis and polio. I knew something they didn’t. I knew it would be a moment of pain for a lifetime of protection. I could see what they couldn’t.

As for my husband, glory to God, he is enjoying himself now. There is no pain, no heartache, no loss, no weeping, no disappointment. He went through so much of that in his life and I’m so thankful that he’s free of it all now. That doesn’t change how much I selfishly wish he was here with me.

As for me and my house, we will still serve the Lord. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednago (in the beginning chapters of the book of Daniel) were going to be thrown into the fiery furnace. They told the king that God would save them but then said even if He doesn’t, we won’t worship your idols. We’re still going to worship only God.

God not stopping the tidal wave of events that caused my husband’s demise does not make me hate him any more than my kids, knowing I loved them and cared for them, stayed angry at me after shots. They immediately held onto me afterwards because, even if I allowed something that hurt them, they still knew I was their best protector, biggest fan, and first love.

God still loves me just as he loved my sweet husband. I don’t know why He allowed him to be taken away so young and left me here. I don’t know what plans He still has for me or what purpose He wants me to fulfill but Here am I, Lord. Send me.

I’m always, always going to wish that things had turned out differently. I’m always going to dream about our plans to grow old together, travel, play with grandbabies, and all the things. But even still, I trust that one day I will be okay. I trust that one day He will bring joy and purpose back into my life.

By the time you’re reading this, it will have been a while since it was written. I write because I need you to know that, even when there was wrong done that caused the death of my husband, even though I run a race against anger every day, trying to head him off at the pass with forgiveness, I am still about my Father’s business.

Choose, this day, whom you will serve. I’m still choosing You, Abba God. I’m still choosing You.

Grief vs. Faith: A War One of Them Will Never Win

Published on September 30, 2023September 30, 2023 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”
‭‭Daniel‬ ‭3‬:‭17‬-‭18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

And if not…He is still good.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednago were thrown into the fiery furnace, which was heated seven times hotter than usual. The fire was so hot that the men who tied them up and walked up to throw them inside died. There were four men seen walking around (unbound) in the furnace. The three of them, however, walked out not only unharmed, but not even smelling of smoke. Not a single hair on their heads or thread od their clothes was singed.

Miracles exist. I’ve seen some of them. Actual supernatural miracles.

So why didn’t I have the opportunity to pray for one? Why didn’t we receive one? Why didn’t my sister? Why didn’t my in-laws? Why didn’t my daughter-in-love or her Oma? Why has my family experienced tragedy after tragedy in such a short span of time?

Every single one of these deaths were sudden and unexpected. Each created cold shock and electrifying pain all at once.

My mother-in-law lost her oldest son (50 years old) just sixteen months before losing her only living son left, my 49 year old husband. Just the idea of the heartbreak of losing all of your children breaks my heart for her every day. We grieve together.

I was never able to meet Patrice’s mom and knew but wasn’t close with her Nanny, (who died six months apart, Patrice’s Oma, who raised her, losing both her daughter and mother inside half of a year,) but I am close with Patrice and her breaking broke me. We have grieved together.

My nephew took his own life at 14 years old while none of us saw even a hint of a clue this would ever happen. A seemingly happy, boisterous, smiling, fun-loving kid who was excited to be getting his learner’s permit soon, suddenly gone by his own hand. Barely over two weeks later, my husband would die. It’s really, really hard but we grieve together.

And the question about why is rhetorical. I don’t have an answer for why miracles happen for some people and not others.

Bad things happen to 𝘢𝘭𝘭 people. None of us leave this world unscathed. Our world has been broken for a very long time and I’ve said before that darkness reigns here unless we call down Light to vanquish it. Even still, some shadows exist when Light is present here on earth.

In any of these sudden, unexpected scenarios, would we have recognized a miracle if it had occurred? We were not expecting death as it stood on our doorsteps and violently pummeled it’s way in. Essentially another rhetorical question. Of course we would not know.

When everything is seemingly going as it should, life carries musical notes of glorious harmony even as a cacophonous chorus of discordance waits, hidden behind a curtain of happy blindness, for the perfect moment to jump in and steal the refrain. But how can you anticipate the song ending in a way you’ve never heard it happening before? You dance around singing the lyrics you know until you realize that the world is suddenly shouting something entirely different.

So, if none of these deaths had occurred, we would still be singing what we know. Without knowing what happens in this alternate reality, we would be blissfully unaware of the miracle that had allowed us to finish the musical.

Amy Grant sings a song called “Angels” that says “God only knows the times my life was threatened just today; a reckless car ran out of gas before it ran my way. Near misses all around me, accidents unknown, though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home.”

I am a Christian; I know that He is still good. I am also a human who has had difficulty untangling my grief from my faith at times.

As I struggle restlessly, my faith does not angrily leave me, exiting stage left and slamming the door to it’s dressing room, while I ponder the realities of what faith means. It remains on the stage, a courageous contender in the battle with grief, as a scene of bewilderment is acted out in the theater of my mind, a desperate struggle to decipher the apparent incongruity of how these two actors coexist simultaneously.

My days, and often nights, are still a never ending scrimmage (sometimes more of a blitzkrieg) between looking for happiness and wallowing in loss. Yes, I admit it; sometimes I’m wallowing. It’s such an ugly word, wallowing. Not something I enjoy but, rather, get sucked into by a very strong vacuum.

This morning I wrote a positive blog post about moving forward and finding beauty in the things and people I still have. This afternoon I once again misplaced my keys to unlock that door and found myself floundering in the depths of this grief process yet again.

The thing is, miracles do happen every single day on this earth. I will never know, this side of Heaven, the whys and hows of those processes, nor fully know what stops them from happening sometimes. I know the power behind each side of the fight but not the inner workings of the deployment strategies.

What I do know is this: God’s Word is true and infallible. It’s the only thing that is. That’s faith. That means my only strategy is to hold onto the playbook and keep learning, keep practicing the plays.

I also know that my analogies are all over the place in this writing: music, theatrical and sports references. In each of these, though, there are singers/characters/players we like and ones we don’t. I’m not going to spend my time interacting with the ones I have no interest in following. The same goes for the way life is right now for me. I’m already on the winning team. Bewailing the temporary success of my opponent comes as a direct result of human emotions but it won’t stop me from preparing to win the next time we meet up.

Transitioned

Published on September 23, 2023 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

It’s hard for me to say the “D word” about Scott. I have said it. I have written it. But I don’t like it.I don’t like it at all.

He isn’t dead. His body is; I know that and that’s the part I hate. He isn’t physically here anymore and that hurts every single day. But he isn’t dead because God is not dead. My husband is alive in Christ. He has just transitioned to a new way of being. His body died, yes. He died at the hands of others. I cannot alter that reality any more than I could stop the swells at sea. And I ache over these facts every day.

My God is a deliverer and a healer. He makes all things new. Because of this, my husband’s transition was a glorious moment for him, contrasting sharply with his last hours in his earthly body. For this I am grateful. But the moment he came into glory was the moment my own worst nightmare began. For that, I am bereft of happiness and I don’t know how long that part is going to last.

I experience joy, but joy and happiness are not the same thing. Joy is an inner sanctum, a place inside your heart where you can experience positivity even when your mind cannot feel happiness at all. Our children bring me joy. Our granddaughter brings me joy. Happiness is something that seems to get farther and farther away in my rear view and I wonder if I’ll recognize it when it returns. I suppose it’s like him, though. I’d recognize him anywhere and I’ll know him immediately when my time of glory comes. Maybe one day I’ll have the opportunity to experience happiness in that way while I’m still here and I’ll know it instantly, too. I feel like being happy will come as a surprise, like hearing an urban legend many times and then discovering that it was true all along.

People say “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And it has been an enormous loss for me. But my husband is not lost. He’s just in a place where I cannot reach him, like being on deployment in the desert of Iraq and not having the ability to call home. I only wish he could even write to me from where he lives now. And that I could write back.

I haven’t had any dreams of him yet. I actually rarely even remember my dreams from sleep. I had the most ridiculous dream last week. I very realistically dreamed (apparently) that I had received an Amazon package, something I had ordered in real life. I hunted all over the house for where I had put it. I distinctly remembered opening the box, pulling out the caffeinated, orange mint flavored breath mints I had purchased, separating them into smaller ziploc bags (I spilled some) so that I could give some to my daughter-in-love who is in nursing school, put some in my purse, and saving the rest to keep here at home.

So, as I said, I searched for them everywhere because grief brain makes you terribly absent-minded and I assumed I had set them down somewhere, tucked them into a drawer, or foolishly placed them in a spot that makes no sense (like when I found my lost toothbrush in the kitchen cabinet. But, alas, no mints. I never even thought about checking Amazon to see if they had been delivered yet because I distinctly remembered them arriving. A couple of days later, I got a box in the mail and was surprised to find caffeinated orange mint flavored breath mints inside. Well, they must have accidentally sent them twice, obviously. And yet when I opened the box, they were larger than I expected them to be. Did they send a different kind? That’s when I checked Amazon and found that these were the ones I had been expecting. It ever-so-slowly occurred to me that I had woken up thinking about those mints because it was a dream. Truly incredulous, all I could think was “If I had to have a dream that was that realistic, why couldn’t Scott have been in it?”

People talk about all of these signs you see of people who have moved on from this life. I haven’t witnessed any signs. I know that if there were a way for him to be here other than in my memories, he would do so. But he is in a new place, a new home, a new spiritual body. Maybe one day he’ll come to me in some way (I pray for that and ask him to do so all the time) but it just hasn’t happened yet. I still talk to him every day as if he were here. I still tell him I love him and that I miss him all the time. I still love him and miss him all the time.

Scott’s transition from this life to the next was infinitely harder for me than it was for him. I don’t begrudge him that because what he suffered prior to that moment of beauty for him was overwhelmingly traumatic. I don’t know that I’ll ever fully heal from the terror of those hours and minutes. I’m glad that he has and that he doesn’t have to remember a moment of them because there is no pain or fear where is now. in the same way, it will be infinitely harder for my children than it will be for me when my time comes to leave.

For Scott, transition was a thing of beauty. For me, the transition from wife to widow, from soulmate to loss, has been calamitous. So transition, you see, is a matter of perspective.

My perspective is this:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James‬ ‭1‬:‭2‬-‭4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

No, joy is not the same thing as happiness because we wouldn’t count it all happiness when we face trials of many kinds. But I am joyful in the fact that my husband no longer suffers the many trials he faced on this earth. There is no heartbreak. There is no anguish. There is no fear. There is no loss. Not for him. And yet the same event that brought him into that new reality forces me into the one I live now. And I will count it all joy, for one day I will also be mature and complete, not lacking anything, as well.

Why Must It Always Be War?

Published on September 20, 2023September 20, 2023 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

Our love story was something indescribable. Trying to explain it…they don’t make the words for it. We had something that I know some people go their entire lives without being able to experience. When I’m feeling bitter and angry about losing our future together, I try to remember that.

These days my mind can be described as nothing short of mayhem. If you gave mental states a first, middle, and last name like we do people, I guess it would be Mayhem Chaos Ineptitude. That last name is inherited from the fact that, no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to control Mayhem and Chaos…erratic little devils that they are. Consuming.

This week holds big challenges for me. My mind, on the best of days of the worst of days, struggles to maintain focus or concentration. With challenges looming you’d think I’d rest my mind of weary thoughts but it has plans of its own. Sleep comes fitfully and in short supply. I doubt that this is a recipe for greater focus.

Strangely, despite anxiety, I have an odd sense of peace. How do anxiety and peace co-exist, you might ask? My answer is “in layers.”

Peace runs deep and settles my soul while I am fraught with anxious feelings on the surface. This is a paradox difficult to explain but it is something I have experienced before during another unwelcome intrusion on my life. I know, in the deep layer, that I will be okay. I know, in that place, that God has hidden me under the feathers of His wing.

For the record, God does not actually have feathers or wings; He is not an angel. That is but one example of Biblical allegory that I think embodies the feeling of protection He provides quite well.

So there is a knowing in my soul that I am wrapped in the protection of the Almighty. My soul is secure and my victory is sure.

At the same time, I experience considerate unrest. Fear is not of God but from the Father of Lies so it’s not surprising that he is still after me. I rebuke the anxiety and it flees temporarily, ever to return and sometimes tenfold. Especially with particular trials and tribulations imminent in both short and long distances ahead.

This means that my war between pandemonium and serenity is partially the cause for my lack of peace itself. Why does my brain choose anarchy when I know immediately which side I choose?

I choose to submit to the authority of the One who reigns on the side of quietude and contentment. I choose my side. And if you choose a side then you must become a warrior for that cause.

To battle for the faction of peace, instruments of defense must be held resolutely and those of offense must be utilized effectively. In this case, only spiritual armor will do.

The only offensive tool in a spiritual battle is the Word of God. The Voice of Truth. And the truth is, I am not enslaved by the enemy. I am a daughter of the King of Kings. Since the victory of my Father’s kingdom has already been accurately prophesied, in faith I have no fear.

Today, I am choosing to rest in that. I may have to choose it over and over as minutes pass, but I will fight as valiantly as I am able for the side to which I am loyal. And when I am unable, He still is.

I’d Like One Speedy Miracle, Please.

Published on September 13, 2023September 13, 2023 by God is in the Outcome1 Comment

I’ve been thinking on something while meditating over scripture I had read today. What came to me caused me to do a little further research and here is what I have found:

We get tired of waiting on God to do something about things that we pray over. I’m saying “we” because I know I’m not alone in this.

I want to pray and have it happen…like, now would be nice, right? When Jesus performed miracles he said “Your faith has healed you; get up and walk” or a similar phrase which pertained to their own infirmity. The healing was instantaneous. Just (snaps fingers) like that. That’s how I want my miracles to go. Just (snaps again) like that.

My initial thought was “He’s in the waiting” and I spiritually rolled my teenage eyes at the Holy Spirit (awful) and whined “Yes, I know God is in the waiting but if He’s here, why can’t He do something about it now?” If you are never, ever a wayward teenager when you respond to the Holy Spirit (God), then I applaud you. I’m still trying to grow up and straighten up (pretty sure I always will be) and sometimes my own spirit misbehaves. Maybe that’s just me.

The interesting thing is what I got in my spirit 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵. Yes, Jesus performed miracles and they happened immediately, upon command. I mean, He was Jesus, after all. But the people who we read about in the Bible who were healed had been struggling for a LONG time.

The paralyzed man at the Pool of Bethesda had been crippled for 38 years.

The woman with the issue of blood who touched the hem of His garment had been bleeding for twelve years.

Casting demons out of a man and into pigs – the Bible says he had been naked and homeless “for a long time.”

Lazarus had been dead and in the grave for four days when Jesus woke him. I assure you that, to Mary and Martha, four days without him seemed like an eternity. An. Absolute. Eternity. Trust me.

You’re probably seeing a pattern like I did by now but there are many more and all of them after long (or likely long) periods of suffering except for the man whose ear was sliced off when Jesus was detained. 𝘏𝘦 got healed immediately.

These people came to Jesus with faith that He could heal them. If they had faith that He could heal them, at least most of them were probably men and women of faith already. So, they had probably been praying for healing or easing of suffering for a long time.

Enter Jesus, stage left…

When Jesus woke Lazarus from the dead, he had received word six days earlier that Lazarus was very ill and He had been asked to come heal him.

Jesus’ response? No, we’re going to wait two more days. After two days he told the disciples that Lazarus was dead and they needed to go to him now.

“But when Jesus heard about it he said, “Lazarus’s sickness will not end in death. No, it happened for the glory of God so that the Son of God will receive glory from this.” John‬ ‭11‬:‭4‬ ‭NLT‬‬

He waited for the glory of God. Jesus loved Lazarus so much that he wept over the suffering of Mary and Martha when he arrived. But before that, he waited. He told the disciples “Lazarus is dead. And for your sakes, I’m glad I wasn’t there, for now you will really believe. Come, let’s go see him.” John‬ ‭11‬:‭14b-15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“For your sakes…” For your sakes… For YOUR sakes…

He waited for his friend to die so that others could experience the miracle that the Son of Man performed. So that they could be witness to His glory. He waited so that people would believe.

*********

I don’t like waiting; I’m no good at it. Well, strike that. I have the Fruit of the Spirit and patience is one of those…so I have it but I’m not well-practiced at it because I don’t like it. (There’s that pesky teenager again.)

But He IS in the waiting. If we are waiting for something to happen, it’s going to be in His timing and there’s going to be a reason for that timing. I don’t know what it is and you don’t either, but He has a purpose in the waiting.

That still doesn’t mean I have to like it…but I do have to trust it. And just maybe that will make patience a little easier to use. (But I’m not praying for patience; I’ll pray for grace. If you pray for patience, He may just give you another reason to need it.)

The Breath of Life

Published on September 8, 2023 by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

God fixed my broken pieces, but He did it by way of a soulmate he grew, hand-plucked and then planted right into my life. Now my pieces are struggling to remain attached to each other.

My mind keeps going back, over and over and over, to the moment the doctors walked down the hallway toward me, the disastrous results of my husband’s code blue evident on their faces. I cannot stop feeling what it was like to pleadingly and raggedly cry out “No…NO…NOOOOOOO!!!” and then slide down the wall in sobs as my legs failed to hold my weight.

I think I “knew” when I left his room. I’m a nurse. Not only was he not breathing but he had no airway. In the back of my mind I knew the statistics. I knew the potential and likely outcomes at that point. I knew my likelihood of loss. But I was praying for a miracle. I was holding onto hope like I was falling off of a cliff where the raveling thread of someone’s threadbare sweater was all I had to hold onto. I spent about an hour, give or take, grasping that tiny thread so tightly that it wore shreds into the skin of my palms. Or maybe that was my fingernails.

And then I drowned.

I could feel myself suffocating as I slid down the wall. As one doctor said “go get her a chair” and then told me to tuck my head and breathe. I had been holding onto the ICU visitor phone asking if my husband had been brought over yet when I heard them coming down the hall toward me and I remember seeing the handset hanging from the cord, the cord dangling, as I sat in a crumpled heap on the cold hallway floor. I remember men who had walked toward me, four abreast, all of their faces dour, the one clearly intending to deliver the news just a step ahead of the rest searching my face as he prepared to end my life as I knew it. And I could not breathe. I don’t even know how the cries for mercy made their way out except for the breath of wind that caught in my throat as they approached.

My chest clenched. I don’t know what happened to my heart but if you told me it had stopped beating right then, it would not surprise me. I wonder if that’s what cardiac arrest feels like. I wonder if my husband felt like that, too.

I read a post the other day where a widow said that her husband had “died” once before, during a heart attack, for several minutes while they resuscitated him. When he “died permanently” several years later he wasn’t afraid to go. He had told her that during that first time, he knew exactly when he left his body because the pain stopped entirely, there was suddenly no fear and a sensation he could only define as “euphoria and complete peace” overcame him. He thought to himself that he was leaving this earth and he was okay with it. He didn’t bewail the fact that he was leaving others behind but just knew he was safe and that it was okay. He was okay and they’d all be okay.

I hope that’s what it was like for my husband. Of all of the people I know in this world, my husband 100% deserved peace. He spent many years of his life not having it.

There’s a part of me that wishes he’d know how much we miss him, how much we mourn his loss, but not when I think of what that would put him through. So I guess I just want him to know how much and how completely he was loved and how important he was to people here. I hope he knows now that he made a difference, left a legacy of goodness, kindness, compassion, empathy. And I wish I could see his sweet face when he realized that. I loved the way his face lit up because someone really saw him. When someone saw him as the person I already knew he was.

We take breathing for granted. Air goes in; air comes out. We don’t even think about it most of the time. I’ve had many days since that night, well, that early, early morning, where I had to force myself to inhale. It truly felt like my body wouldn’t do it automatically. Or to exhale just so new air could come in. I remember thinking, theoretically, if I didn’t breathe right now, how long would it take? It felt unnatural to just breathe. Like it feels unnatural to be here when he isn’t.

I believe my heart shattered into a million, zillion pieces that day so how can it still feel like my heart is breaking? Or does it heal a little and the scabs then get ripped open every time a thought crosses my mind, those hundreds of times a day. That cannot be good for healing but I don’t know how to stop it because I never know from which direction the assault will come barreling toward me. It’s completely indiscernible until it hits, until my heart plummets to the ground again beneath blood and ash.

Four of “Lillian’s fish” (our granddaughter’s) died from lack of oxygen due to the hurricane this past week; I had no generator to power the aerator. Scott named them Lillian’s fish (even though we’d had them since early 2022) because she loved watching them from soon after she arrived on the outside of her mommy. We subsequently picked out even more colorful fish to entertain her. The fact that some of those fish died, ones he wanted her to have (albeit at our house because he thought that would make her ask to come visit more) has made me cry more than once. Going to the store where we bought them to get her a few more tomorrow will make me cry again…hopefully I can hold it until I get to the car. I’d rather lose my bladder in public than fall apart. People “get” medical issues (like whatever they might assume would cause me to urinate on myself) better than they “get” grief. Grief makes people uncomfortable.

But now, when I say “Lillian, where’s PopPop?” (she is eight months old now,) she turns her head and looks to his picture. That made me cry the first time but kind of makes my heart smile now. I tell her “PopPop loves you, Lillian. That’s Lillian’s PopPop.” She studies his photograph in a way that makes it look as if he is familiar even though she was only just over four months old when he died. It’s like she is trying to remember where she saw him and can’t quite place it, her face so serious and contemplative. It’s a poignant experience because she usually gets distracted so easily but she stares at his photo for a long time without looking away.

And so I breathe. There are moments sprinkled, however sparsely right now, throughout my days that cause me to breathe.

According to my research, Ruach is the word spoken three times in Hebrew scripture for the breath of God. It’s not described so much as a physical being or an entity but as God’s essence that creates and sustains life. Sometimes it is translated as “Spirit of God”, the Holy Spirit.

However, the actual Hebrew term for “spirit,” ruah (notice the similarity) is used 389 times in the Hebrew Scriptures. Ruah is translated using three different words: wind, breath, and spirit. Context decides the translation, but in Ezekiel it is often used with dual context, like breath and spirit are the same thing.

So the Holy Spirit IS breath. Not all breathe by nature of the Spirit’s breath, although all are invited to, but when my natural breath fails to sustain me, the Holy Spirit can. Yes, at some point my body will fail and the Holy Spirit will leave my earthly domain as my own spirit exits, but when my mind no longer wants to breathe, I have a backup generator as a Christian. I didn’t have to go to Lowe’s and pay a hefty sum for this one as it was bequeathed to me and all I had to do was accept the gift.

If you’ve ever been through a high-force hurricane, you know the value of a good generator. And, oh, have I been living in the eye of a hurricane these past almost-four-months. I’ve been living on the strength of my generator ever since the power went out in May.

I’m just going to keep filling up that generator with fuel because without it my life is so very much more uncomfortable…which doesn’t even seem possible but, alas, it is true. It turns out that the Word and prayer are the only fuel it accepts. The dual power generator I have at home (which spontaneously elected not to function following hurricane Idalia this past week) works on gasoline or propane. They’re a lot more expensive.

As you read this, I hope this week finds you healthy. If you are grieving, I hope you have the generator of breath. If you don’t, I know where you can find one for free.