The Rock

A few nights ago my dream was so vivid that I awoke in a sweat.  I had slid to the edge of a rock precipice with a third of my body over the edge.  There is no love of heights in my history and the view was Grand Canyon-like.  Self-talk kicked in while my body tensed and froze.  Ever so slowly, using my fingers to grasp the tiny indentations, I inched my way back onto the smooth of the rock.  As the last bit of my foot pulled in from dangling in mid air, I exhaled and lay back, feeling the strength of the rock and the sun on my face - but my heart was left pounding outside of my chest….so close.

The next morning I found myself asking Jesus where He was in my dream.  Remember, He promised to never leave me  - never.

The first thought that entered my mind was that He was The Rock.  Without leaning back into Him, I would be over the cliff and completely crushed. For me, looking down includes: “whys”, self-pity, blame, jealousy, guilt, bitterness, unforgiveness and emptiness.  While all of these are understandable, none are desirable and so aren’t really options.   Frequently Kim and I will comment to each other that without Jesus we don’t know if our marriage would have survived the last year.  We don’t know if we’d be sane.  When we look back, the objective insanity of those last weeks in Canuck House was horrific.  And yet He was and is our Peace, our Joy, our Hope - Jordan’s and ours.

This afternoon, Kim and I finally put up the rest of the decorations on our tree. Matt was napping and Joel hadn’t arrived yet - his plane was delayed 34 hours - we’re picking him up at the airport tonight at midnight.   We so long to just be together.  Gifts are not as high on the the priority list as they once were...food gets bumped down as well.  But there is one laugh that we won’t get to hear and one hug we won’t get to experience and Jordan’s absence has made us all the more aware of how precious we all are to each other.  Many of our tree decorations have five names on them...Jordan is all over our tree with us.  But the only reason we have the courage to move forward, dream, risk, laugh and cry with hope is because of Jesus.

Cracked

This week, I'm presenting to a group of students that would be considered a serious challenge.  When the teacher prepped me, he advised that I not expect any interaction.  In fact, they may just retreat to corners and not make eye contact.  

That first morning I awoke with the sense that I needed to share with them just a bit of my journey with Jordan.  I so struggled with that since I have not publicly spoken about his last year and our pain since his celebration last December.

I didn't want to look for pity or manipulate anyone's emotions or have someone trample my pearls.  My stomach churned driving to the school - it’s a school for kids that don't have much hope of graduating...who for various reasons are considered high risk.

Jordan's life is not a trick I can pull out of my hat of stories, illustrations or anecdotes.  He is my baby who lived, suffered and died heroically.  

Yet Holy Spirit kept nudging, gently prodding me to risk it with these perfect strangers.  So I breath deeply after introducing myself as a mother with 3 sons, all taller than me, and told them so briefly about our journey.  I tell the class that from our last year, I'm reminded of how precious and how short life can be.  And how very valuable each one in that room is.  A big part of why I can do what I do is because Jordan wholeheartedly encouraged me to - so that people could know how important they are.

And they responded.  Each one met my eyes.  They raised their hands and risked to answer questions and give their input.  They're pretty broken. But then, so am I.  Broken but not destroyed. When I've heard others say that brokenness is beautiful, I can’t say that has been true for me. Brokenness has sharp, painful jagged edges with parts missing. I can say that my brokenness has only magnified Jesus’ beauty.  And He has proven Himself to be more than enough to handle my brokenness. We do have this treasure in jars of clay with His Light shining through our cracks.

Phil Wickham’s song You’re Beautiful has become a cry.

Verse 3 is where I simply lose it every time. Jesus is soo beautiful.

We’re including a link to the song. Press it and play song #4.

http://grooveshark.com/#!/album/Singalong+2/8328949

Opening Doors

I am often reminded that heaven's gain is our loss.

My Mom used to have two men in her life who treated her like gold. And within two years, they were both gone.  My brother is a wonderful son, who lives only 6 hours away - a 1 hour flight. But it's not the same as living in the same house, or 5 minutes down the road.  

My Dad loved my mom so very well. He cherished her and shared every part of his life with her.
Jordan grew up with his grandparents living only a bike ride away once they moved to town when he was 4 - such a treat.  His weekly "job" involved cleaning a bit around the house, sometimes getting good tips from the change he retrieved beneath the lounge chair in their family room.  And when my Dad,(Grampy), went to heaven, Jordan was the man about Grammy's house, helping with things she couldn't reach, heavy things, man things.  

Mom has reminded me again of a special moment in time. After grocery shopping, Jordan insisted on Grammy waiting in the van while he lifted the bags into the back for her. As they approached the vehicle, Jordan opened and closed her door before he placed the groceries into the back and was on his way to his seat when a man nearby got out of his car to speak with Jordan. Through the wind shield my mom observed the exchange with the handshake that followed.  When Jordan made his way back to the van, my mom was curious.  The older gentleman wanted Jordan to know that he had witnessed the attention given to his grandmother, the door opening and closing, and he wanted to commend him for his evident devotion.

What the man didn't know was that it had been a particularly brutal day in junior high school and Jordan had been a bit down when his Grammy had picked him up.  

A moment frozen in time.  

Even though Kim opens my door, I do miss the mischievous face that used to try get there first and cherish me.