scars

My heart is SO full of emotions as I begin a new year.  Sadness and sorrow that I am starting a year that Ryan is not part of.  But thankfulness for a God who walks WITH us through our pain.  And my heart is so full in other ways too that it often feels as if it cannot possibly still fit inside my chest.  Maybe it doesn’t anymore – it may be sitting outside, where everyone can see it.  Maybe that is what God intended to happen to my heart this year – for it to be so full that it is shared with others.  And I am not sure I will find words fitting to even begin to put this emotion I feel onto “paper,” but I am going to try.  Partly because I want to remember this feeling in case it fades.

Part of that “fullness” is because God is so good and God is so near and He is so faithful.  I am thinking back to a few weeks ago.  Our house has been unpacked and settled for quite a while now, with all the “necessities,” but I am still unpacking some of those boxes that have been pushed to the corners and have no urgency to be opened and gone through.  I recently opened one of those boxes and found all of our wedding items – the cake topper, the pictures, etc…  And I melted into a ball of tears and despair.  The waves of missing Ryan were back full force that morning.  I thought, how many times can I keep feeling this?  How many times will these waves return to consume me?  How many times will I fall back into that feeling of missing Ryan so badly that I do not want to be here any longer?

From day one of Ryan’s passing I knew I had two clear choices: either give in, give up, and let the grief consume me  - or fight to seek God, surrender to God’s will, and give Him permission to heal me.  From day one, I knew I had to surrender to God’s will for my life, but it certainly does not come without a fight.  There have many days, especially early on, where giving up or wanting my life to end seemed like far better options.  However, I have continued to obey the Lord and I kept stepping forward.

So when I get to “that” morning, like with the wedding box, where the wave of despair appears out of nowhere, I pray.  I try to quiet my thoughts enough to just let God near to me.  And I pray that my life be more than just “going through the motions” of existing and that He USE this pain.  I have prayed from the day that Ryan died that God teach me to heal and that God use this horrific situation for good.  But I truly do not think I have been in a place to let God do that yet.  I just knew He COULD and I prayed He WOULD.  But I think I have prayed that prayer selfishly, because I do not want to feel this despair and this sorrow any longer, I do not want to be “stuck” in this spot.  But I now realize, with an explosion of emotions, that God has been using my pain all along for blessings and, for lack of a better word, abundant-ness.

First I think of my children.  My heart has been so incredibly heavy for my Katherine.  She (very reluctantly) started a homeschool charter school here where she attends two days a week.  The fear and anxiety she felt about beginning school made me feel guilty and question if sending her was indeed the right thing to do.  I really feel strongly that it will be in the long run, but I was not sure my heart and her heart could take the transition.  She at first seemed scared and miserable being the new kid – and as a teenager, a grieving teenager at that, her emotions came out as anger.  But I have slowly seen her smile return.  Like a real, actual, joyful smile.  I have talked a lot with her homeroom teacher and even though it is a public charter school and religion can not be part of the program, her teacher is a Christian.  He reached out to me to let me know he was watching out for Katherine (and praying for her!).  He said she very discerningly picked the “good girls” to be her friends and that she was doing well.  How quickly I went from despair to relief and joy.  The funny thing too is that I wanted Katherine to be in the other class for her grade (I thought it seemed to have more girls) and I was disappointed she got the teacher she did.  I almost pushed for her to be moved to the other class – but God knew what He was doing.  He put her in the right class, with the right teacher, and the right kids.  

And then another mom from Katherine’s Nutcracker ballet group contacted me about getting the girls together – and I got to see Katherine settling into having friends again.  Like giggling, teenage silliness, BFF type friends.  And this particular new friend from ballet is a fellow homeschooler, a Christian, and is also struggling with not having a dad in the home anymore.  Seriously, God?  You would bless my little girl with someone she can relate to so quickly?  Thank you.  Thank you. That same week Katherine's ballet teacher contacted me to let me know that Katherine had broken down a bit in class when the teacher had shared about her brother's struggle with brain cancer.  When I shared our story with her instructor, she immediately said her best friend growing up lost her dad the same way, so she could relate and that she was there for Katherine, to talk, to listen, to hug, whatever she needed.  Another safe place for my little girl to grieve and heal.  Katherine is making friends and is surrounded by adults that care about her and bring the joyful, sweet, and talkative Katherine I know back.  Because God has this – He has Katherine in his grip.  He is protecting her and healing her.  Oh, my heart could just burst with this blessing – and how quickly and specifically it was given!

And my Charlie man.  When life gets overwhelming or stressful, in his shy nature, he tends to shut down and withdraw.  It has been how he always is.  In some ways he is so much Ryan’s “mini me” (in blonde) that it provides me great comfort, but also scares me just a bit.  I worry what is going on inside when he is quiet and withdrawn.  So my prayer for Charlie has been to see him be happy out loud and participating fully in life.  My first glimpse of this answer to prayer was at the Cub Scout Thanksgiving feast last month – it was the whole pack and it was loud and chaotic and, for most, joyful.  Normally in a situation that over stimulating, Charlie will just watch.  But that night I saw him giggling and playing and being “all boy,” full of mischief and silliness.  He stopped looking over his shoulder to see where I was and was fully engaged with the other boys in his den.  And, oh, it made my heart swell with happiness.  And I think a lot of this newfound (and hopefully not rare) confidence and outgoing spirit has come from my nephew.  My oldest nephew and Charlie are such polar opposites that we used to have to “monitor” their time together so they didn’t annoy each other or unintentionally hurt each other’s feelings.  But in the last few months, having lived in the same house, and now just a few houses apart, spending endless hours in the backyard together when Charlie had not yet made any other friends, they bonded.  They play make believe “defend the fort” and “attack the girls” games.  And they are silly.  So silly.  My nephew has been a blessing to Charlie, bringing out that side that Char needed.  It is so funny to me that what once was almost a source of stress, having the two boys together for too long, became not only a good situation, but a necessary situation.  I am so thankful for my nephew’s role in Charlie’s healthy healing.  God is so good – He truly takes any situation and uses it.  For good.  Charlie, in his new found confidence, even befriended the neighbor boy next door, and now the two of them have spent winter break bounding back and forth between the two houses, playing Lego, video games, and having light saber battles on the trampoline. 

And actually at my Grief Share meeting earlier this month, I shared how God is beginning to work in my children’s lives and some of the dear sweet ladies that pray for me said that those were exactly the things they had been praying – for Katherine’s transition in school (new friends, the right teacher, etc) and for Charlie to find his “place” here.  I had not even expressed how heavy those things were on my heart, but God knew and these others were led to pray for those specific things - and God delivered, specifically and quickly.  His goodness and His timing just amazes me.  My heart is so full.

The other thing that happened this past month was also at my Grief Share meeting.  Two new women joined our group.  They came in, tears stinging their eyes, their grief heavy and raw and new.  Their beloved had taken his own life as well – it was the wife and the mother that came in, grieving.  My heart just is so heavy for them.  I know that raw, searing, new pain, how overwhelming it is and how you feel you cannot even take the next breathe.  How you do not want to wake up the next day or do this life anymore.  I know that pain intimately and all I could do was hug these women and hold them and cry with them.  But I saw how much healing God has done in me during these past months.  The fact that I could go from that place of deep and utter despair to being the one even thinking about reaching out to be a presence to another is a miracle.  A true miracle.  I could feel their pain and their deep sorrow, but I also saw a want to know how to heal and a desperate need for hope that so mirrored mine such a short time ago and I realized I am not in that deep despair anymore.  I am sad, yes.  I feel the pain of loss, daily, yes.  But I am not CONSUMED by my grief.  I can breathe.  I have hope.  And I even have joy.  Not joy in the loss of my Ryan, but joy in knowing that God can use the pain of my loss to relate to others.  Joy in knowing that defeat is not how this story ends.  Oh, the emotions I felt that night – such deep heartache and pain for these two women but also such praise for the overwhelming abundance of comfort that is our God.  I am not sure my heart can contain such emotion – it feels like it will all just come bursting right out of me.

And just when I thought God could not possibly bless me or be nearer to me that He had been that week, I had two other recent blessings that overwhelm me with the abundance of God’s presence.  One has been getting to know another widower who has been caring enough to talk with me about faith, God, and parenting our children through loss.  God uses others to heal us and brings us joy.  And I am so thankful when another person will heed God’s still small voice and openly share their pains and their scars and their sorrows.  For it is in the opening up and the sharing of our most authentic emotions and feelings that we let compassion and love wash over the pain, covering it with joy.  Having safe places to share, and conversely to listen, is blessing that I am so thankful for. 

The other event was at the dentist, of all places.  I went in for my six month cleaning at a new dentist here.  I have always disliked how we have to find a new dentist, eye doctor, etc. with each move.  So that day I was not particularly excited to show up for my cleaning, but the dentist was very nice and kind of chatty.  He asked if I was new to the area.  At that question I always tense up and start to panic inside – am I going to have to explain my situation?  Or will they just let me be?  I answered that we had moved here over the summer.  But, as I mentioned, the dentist was chatty and he asked me what brought us here.  I simply answered “family,” as I usually do and then inwardly began to pray, “please don’t let him ask, please don’t let him ask, please don’t make me have to have this conversation again now.”  But he did ask.  “So is your husband military then?”  Sigh.  “Yes, he was,” I answer.  “Oh, did he retire?”  There it is, the question that requires an explanation and things will get awkward…  It happens almost daily, every time I meet new people.  Sometimes knowing I do not have the energy to share my story makes me not want to leave the house.  Ever.  But I answered, “no, he didn’t retire.”  Then there is that awkward silence where the dentist is waiting for me to elaborate and I sigh and I do.  “My husband passed away over the summer.”  There, I said it.  Now I wait while the listener processes what I just said and I wait for the standard, “oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!”  This is usually then followed by one of two responses – either a complete change in subject or a cliché attempt at words of comfort.  The more rare response is when someone keeps asking – “what happened?  Was he sick?”  That day the dang dentist surprised me and chose option number three.

To be honest, this man seemed to genuinely care about my response so I began to explain how Ryan struggled and died by suicide.  I kept talking and the dentist kept asking.  I ended up sitting in a dentist chair that morning, crying and sharing my story.  Then this sweet man tells me that his daughter recently attempted suicide and is battling depression and he is praying for her.  We began to talk about the disease of depression and faith and God’s goodness.  I did not see that coming, I was just hoping to get in and out with whiter teeth and hopefully a “no cavity” report.  And then, as we are talking, I hear sniffling and realize the dental hygienist has been sitting behind me listening this whole time.  She leans forward and tells me that both her brother and her husband took their own lives.  She says she cannot tell most people because they don’t know how to respond to that or they look at her funny.  I look at the tears in her eyes, the tears in the dentist’s eyes, and in the background the office radio is softly playing, “The First Noel.”  And so I am sitting there is this dentist chair with two people I have just met and we have instantly bonded over this issue of mental illness and suicide that is everywhere.  It is literally everywhere.  Every time I share my story someone leans in and whispers to me, “me too, I know someone…”  But why, oh why, do we whisper it?  Why do we all keep this “secret,” this pain, to ourselves?  Why do we wait for someone to press us into sharing our story, exposing our scars?  Because when we do share, something beautiful, something healing, something holy seems to occur. 

Below is an excerpt I wanted to share from a book called “The Scars That Have Shaped Me: How God Meets Us in Suffering” by Vaneetha Rendall Risner.
http://danceintherain.com/

I hid my wound marks and was comfortable doing so for decades. But one day, I noticed this in the Gospel of John: “Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord” (John 20:19b-20).

The disciples recognized Jesus when they saw His scars.

And Thomas needed to feel the Lord’s nail wounds to verify that the risen Savior was before him. Jesus didn’t need to have scars on his resurrected body. His body could have been perfect, unblemished, unscarred. But he chose to keep his scars so his disciples could validate his identity. And even more importantly, so they could be assured that he had conquered death.

Michael Card’s song, “Known by the Scars,” expresses this truth so beautifully:
The marks of death that God chose never to erase
The wounds of loves eternal war
When the kingdom comes with its perfected sons
He will be known by the scars

God chose not to erase these marks of death – the wounds of His love for us – so our Savior will always be known by His scars.

Rather than physical imperfections, Jesus’ scars are breathtakingly beautiful. They represent His love and our salvation.

As I considered these truths, something stirred in me.

My scars are significant and precious. I shouldn’t keep hiding them. I am recognizable by them; they make me unique.

They are an integral part of who I am. They show that through Christ I am a conqueror. That I have suffered and by the power of the Holy Spirit have overcome.

My scars remind me that God is sufficient. And that physical perfection is not our goal. A life lived to God’s glory is infinitely more valuable.

Scars represent more than I ever realized.  They can be beautiful.  The dictionary says “a scar is a mark left by a healed wound.” A healed wound. My scars signify healing. And even though my initial flesh wounds have healed, there is yet a deeper healing in acceptance.  

I started to notice scars more as I looked around.

There was something captivating about people who were unafraid to be themselves: authentic, unmasked, and unashamed of the wounds that shaped them. Their vulnerability was magnetic. I was drawn to them. To learn from their self- acceptance. To hear their stories. To see their courage.

I learned it is often a good thing to ask people about their scars. As long as I do it respectfully. And lovingly.

Asking demystifies scars. And allows people to share what has shaped them. Because all scars have a story.

I saw that when we display our scars, we inspire others to do the same. 

Those of us with scars should wear them like jewels, treasured reminders of what we’ve endured. 

It’s okay to show our imperfections. It is even courageous.

And perhaps we’ll discover the beauty in our scars. 

If anything, I think 2017 is a year where I stop whispering.  I stop holding emotions inside.  I stop praying that the new year be comfortable or simply “better than the last year.”  Instead, I want to stand up and let God boldly use my story, use my pain, use my scars, use my voice to do His will.  The emotions of that journey may continue to completely overwhelm me – the relationships and the answers to prayers and the bonds with complete strangers may indeed stretch my heart to the point that it hurts and it bursts – but really my heart was already broken and split wide open last June.  So as I enter 2017, I am not fearful of what lies ahead or the heartache it may entail.  Grief and heartache are a byproduct of love.  I want to love out loud this coming year.  I am overwhelmed with awe that God would enter my busted, bruised, and wounded heart and that He would use it.  But I choose to embrace God’s way - that instead of healing my wounds up to be whole and complete again, He uses the raw pieces left behind and the scars I have to feel.  For when we feel, we reach out.  To be His hands and feet.  To embrace others.  To be thankful.  To praise.  To love.  And love deeply.