Wednesday, February 24, 2010

When Anchors and Stamps Collide



As I’ve stepped into this journey of grief and recovery, I’ve adopted a bit of a philosophy that goes something like this: when a friend or family member says “You should come to ____ [Florida, Seattle, Hawaii, etc.] to visit” I’ve pretty much answered, “okay.” To that end, I just spent a week in Florida seeing several sets of friends who invited me down. While the week was Florida-cool (50-60 degrees for the most part) it was everything I needed: grief processing and memory sharing with good friends, some satisfying golf, and lots of beach walks. While this wasn’t what’s been Dane’s and my usual beach vacation (reading on the beach sun-up to sun-down), it still had a strong “run to the fire” element. This was the first time I’ve seen the waves of the beach without Dane.

Along with God stamps in this journey I’ve also been collecting “anchors,” those promises or truths or epiphanies that give me a moment of clarity or resolve. Picture treading quicksand and suddenly your foot lands on something solid. It might be a brief respite, but it’s solid. On this recent Florida trip two of my anchors converged to form an even bigger, clearer point of resolve. It was a nice surprise.

Anchor One has simply been the thought that Dane is now in a place where she no longer has to worry about scary tests, or life anxieties. She is in her splendor…this is the “is” that Mark spoke of in the memorial service. Meanwhile, while she is experiencing her splendor, I just need to tough it out until I get to join her. That might only be 30 years, which is only 7 more winter Olympics. I can do that.

Anchor Two has simply been the realization that God is with me (and you) in this journey. The God-stamps have made this unavoidable and undeniable. It gives a sense of peace that He is on the job, even though there is still immense pain.

And here is the convergence of those two anchors. First, there’s something about seeing an ancient shoreline, stars, and the moon all at once. I found that my perspective is enhanced when I’m around elements that have existed centuries longer than me, than Dane, than the story of Bear and Dane; and these elements, depending on God’s timing, will be around long after Dane and Bear and their story. As I was experiencing this I had this realization of all the pain that people experience during their brief time in this fallen world. Pain has, does and will always happen. Where did we get the thought that it would be anything else? The only guarantee we have, the only promise we can rest on is simply that God…is….with us. It’s His most frequent promise in Scripture; from His calling people to a task in the Old Testament, to Jesus’ “farewell speech” to His disciples in John 14-17, to the assurances throughout the New Testament of God’s Comforter being in us and with us, this is truly the only thing we can count on.

So as I turn my heart toward toughing things out in this fallen world, I will do it with all the best things that God has to offer me through His promise of being with me: I will depend on grace, I will seek to rest in His comfort, I will seek His peace. And I will seek to maximize all the beauty that can be found in this fallen world, little gifts of God I think that are here to help us through brokeness: I will seek to breathe deep at sunsets, I will explore the night sky and wish upon stars, I will embrace intimacy of friends and family, I will let the panorama of mountain-scapes and the waves of ancient shorelines do their restorative magic, I will wait patiently for the things that bring pain to eventually, through God’s miraculous presence, bring fulfillment.

And I will continue to add to this list.

God is with us. And He has given us exactly what we need to tough it out. I think that’s the biggest theme of the Bible. Some of those gifts come from heaven itself: grace, peace, redemption. Other gifts are native to this world: beaches, mountains, and flowers. And some things are both: stars, the moon, the sun….and rainbows.

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