Applying Peace

 

“You keep him in perfect peace,

whose mind is stayed on You,

because he trusts in You.”

Isaiah 26:3 ESV

My phone dinged with notice of a private facebook message.  A sweet friend had a question for me.  "How have you effectively applied the peace of God to your life?"   The question stopped me in my tracks and took my mind down memory lane as visions of the past four years began bombarding me.
Here is a portion of my response:

I guess for me, it all comes down to a choice. As a child of God, access to His perfect peace is constantly mine. It is my choice to rest in that peace or not.
It is easier to write the words, than to put them into practice.

 

My choice to sit still in the midst of chaotic suffering

and let His peace wash over me is one of acceptance and surrender.

I've had to accept that God is good. His ways are higher and His plans are better. His promises are of an eternal perspective. These facts do not change. My circumstances do not hold the power to alter the character of who God is. His goodness is not dependent on whether He answers my prayers the way I desire.

I have come to terms with pain and difficulty always being a part of this life. They have a purpose for being allowed to touch us. Nothing touches me that God hasn't first stood upon. He knows. He allows; partially because we live in a fallen world and partially because He wants to draw us closer to His side through the difficult times. It is during hardships that we have the ability to see His character, strength, peace, and majesty magnified.

The losses, the sufferings, the sorrows I have faced in this life leave me with a choice.  I can choose to surrender it all to the One who comforts, consoles, and loves. I can surrender the hurts and exchange them for His peace.

For me, being filled with His peace does not mean everything will work out while on this earth. It means, regardless of what occurs here, I have eternity with Him. That knowledge doesn't necessarily lessen the pain. My heart is literally broken. I've felt the physical breaking of it as well as the emotional. It stinks. I won't lie about that.

But what His peace does is stand beside my faith and fills in the cracks and gaps of my brokenness.
It reminds me that my life is only a vapor.
It assures me that eternity in the presence of God will be grander than my wildest imagination.
It sustains me when I cannot catch my breath.

So the application, in my opinion, comes in the CHOICE to accept and surrender. Through these deliberate actions, I am able to apply His peace to each area of my life.

His peace is where I choose to collapse when my parenting skills are lacking and I feel like a failure doing this solo. His Word tells me He is a father to the fatherless. I trust Him to help me parent these children He blessed us with.

His peace is what comforts me when I am lonely. Doing this life as a single wasn't my plan. I still want Tim by my side. But I trust that God goes ahead of me, walks beside me, and hems me in from behind. His peace gives me confidence to hold my head high and not be ashamed of my singleness nor be desperate for a mate. My worth and value are found in my relationship with Him.
His peace is where I surrender my financial fears. I work hard with the skill set He has given me and I try to be prudent in my spending habits. I trust that seeking His wisdom and the counsel of those He has placed around me will help me thrive with less.

 

The foot of the cross is where I exchange my frustrations for His peace.

It is a daily occurrence.

Lord, I lay it all down at the foot of the cross in exchange for Your peace that passes all understanding.  Give me the strength to leave it there, surrendered to You and not pick it back up again piece by piece.  And when I do start trying to carry the burdens of worry, fear, and frustration again, guide me back to You where You are always willing to take my burden in exchange for the gift of our perfect peace.  Amen.

God is Good

 

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

  Romans 8:28

Trusting in God's goodness, it's what I always seem to come back to when everything flips topsy-turvy and I find myself disoriented and unsure of things in this life.

Sometimes it is hard to see goodness around me in the midst of tragedy.

 

It is then that I must trust in the unchanging character of our God. 

He is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-sufficient.  He is always good, even when all around me seems bad.

Even in death.

That’s not an easy thing to process when the life of a loved one ends, when pleas for healing seem to go unanswered.  But He is always good.  And you know what else?  He always heals His children.  ALWAYS!  The healing may not come on this earth, but our loved ones are healed in the presence of their Savior.  The trumpet will sound. The dead in Christ will rise. Every ailment will be no more. Every disease will be vanquished. And that my sisters, is a healing that can never be erased or marred by death again.

“The last enemy to be destroyed is death.”

1 Corinthians 15:26

God doesn't need my life to go smoothly for His goodness to be true.  He is the very essence of good.  I can lean hard into Him during tragedy because He is faithful.  His goodness isn't defined by our standards and it isn't confined to this world.  Often, His goodness isn't even realized here.  We can't see the full extent of what He has planned for us.  Suffering and sorrow are part of life's journey.  They were unavoidable, even for Christ as he walked this earth.  God's plans are for eternity.  The fullness of His goodness will be revealed there.

God restores and He redeems.  He is in the work of making good from bad.

 

"The Lord is good to all and His tender mercies are over all His work."

Psalm 145:9 KJV

His focus is on the eternal.  Cling to His goodness.  When all in this life is ripped out from underneath you and you are free falling into a dark abyss, know that He is with you.  He never leaves us, He never forsakes us.  No matter how dismal this life gets…we win in the end.  Because, God is good!

~Lori

Breathing In Hope (as featured on A Widow's Might)

 

 

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined,
what God has prepared for those who love him"

1 Corinthians 2:9 ESV

None of us envisioned THIS as our future.

We didn’t walk our wedding aisle gazing at the pure love and joy on our groom’s face with thoughts that we would one day be widowed.

But THIS is where we are.

It is our “current”.

The pain is real and the grief is raw.

We cannot alter the circumstances that have brought us here. No matter how much we wish we could.  Time doesn’t flow in reverse.

There is a time to grieve. We cannot skip out on this.  We only harm ourselves if we try to rush the process.

Our loss was life shattering. Every single aspect of our world is now changed; every one of them, new.  This compounded loss that exists in each layer of us can plant seeds of fear.  Oh, we don’t necessarily recognize the little nagging thoughts as fear.  But it is there.

Fear we can’t possibly navigate this earth without the leadership of our husband manifests itself in constant thoughts of failure. If we aren’t careful, we can almost convince ourselves we are incapable without even attempting to accomplish something new.

Our fear of repeating a walk through such great loss causes us to hesitate in loving again.

Fear of the unknown nestles deep worry into our thoughts. Worry can begin to influence all processing in our brains, turning each situation into something potentially negative.  But we of all people should remember that this life is full of unknowns.  After all, we didn’t plan on being here, right?

What if it is time to come out from under the heaviness and start living again? Not living without the pain, but living around it.  Not erasing the memories, but cherishing them in their rightful place and looking ahead with expectation.

If you are not at this place yet, that’s okay. Do the work inside of your grief for now.  But, if you can honestly evaluate, and you are one who knows you should begin taking those bold steps forward, this writing is for you!

So which is it? Are you working through a healthy phase of grief, or are you stuck in grief because of fear?  Have you quit doing the work of sorting through grief and just settled in tight?  Are you stagnant in this life?

Friends, our God is anything but stagnant.
He is mighty and active.
He is alive and working.
He is NOT in the fear.  No, He is in the hope!

If these thoughts ring true within you, will you take time today to pray through your fears? Hand each one to God.  Name them and give them to the One who calms fears and offers hope.  Call on His mighty name with expectation of what He will do with your life.

Will there be unknowns?
Will there be things that seem too hard?
Will the newness at times be awkward to walk through?
I answer all of these with a resounding YES. But that “yes” is where hope lives.  It lives in the light that is revealed when fears are brought out of their darkness and surrendered.

Hope lives in the increased breaths as you contemplate that first step toward newness.
It resides in the accelerated heartbeat as you bravely walk into your future.
It is the combination of not knowing what comes next and the excitement of trusting that God will walk whatever path lies in your future with you.

Years ago, we had only dreams of beauty when we eagerly gazed upon our groom. Now we have lived more.  Pain has tinged our hearts edges.  What has happened, we cannot change.  We can choose to let that pain grow fear and leave us stagnant, or we can allow God to move us into a place of hope.

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined,
what God has prepared for those who love him"

1 Corinthians 2:9 ESV

None of us envisioned THIS as our future.
We didn’t walk our wedding aisle gazing at the pure love and joy on our groom’s face with thoughts that we would one day be widowed.
But THIS is where we are.
It is our “current”.
The pain is real and the grief is raw.
We cannot alter the circumstances that have brought us here. No matter how much we wish we could.  Time doesn’t flow in reverse.
There is a time to grieve. We cannot skip out on this.  We only harm ourselves if we try to rush the process.
Our loss was life shattering. Every single aspect of our world is now changed; every one of them, new.  This compounded loss that exists in each layer of us can plant seeds of fear.  Oh, we don’t necessarily recognize the little nagging thoughts as fear.  But it is there.
Fear we can’t possibly navigate this earth without the leadership of our husband manifests itself in constant thoughts of failure. If we aren’t careful, we can almost convince ourselves we are incapable without even attempting to accomplish something new.
Our fear of repeating a walk through such great loss causes us to hesitate in loving again.
Fear of the unknown nestles deep worry into our thoughts. Worry can begin to influence all processing in our brains, turning each situation into something potentially negative.  But we of all people should remember that this life is full of unknowns.  After all, we didn’t plan on being here, right?
What if it is time to come out from under the heaviness and start living again? Not living without the pain, but living around it.  Not erasing the memories, but cherishing them in their rightful place and looking ahead with expectation.
If you are not at this place yet, that’s okay. Do the work inside of your grief for now.  But, if you can honestly evaluate, and you are one who knows you should begin taking those bold steps forward, this writing is for you!
So which is it? Are you working through a healthy phase of grief, or are you stuck in grief because of fear?  Have you quit doing the work of sorting through grief and just settled in tight?  Are you stagnant in this life?
Friends, our God is anything but stagnant.
He is mighty and active.
He is alive and working.
He is NOT in the fear.  No, He is in the hope!
If these thoughts ring true within you, will you take time today to pray through your fears? Hand each one to God.  Name them and give them to the One who calms fears and offers hope.  Call on His mighty name with expectation of what He will do with your life.
Will there be unknowns?
Will there be things that seem too hard?
Will the newness at times be awkward to walk through?
I answer all of these with a resounding YES. But that “yes” is where hope lives.  It lives in the light that is revealed when fears are brought out of their darkness and surrendered.

Hope lives in the increased breaths as you contemplate that first step toward newness.
It resides in the accelerated heartbeat as you bravely walk into your future.
It is the combination of not knowing what comes next and the excitement of trusting that God will walk whatever path lies in your future with you.

Years ago, we had only dreams of beauty when we eagerly gazed upon our groom. Now we have lived more.  Pain has tinged our hearts edges.  What has happened, we cannot change.  We can choose to let that pain grow fear and leave us stagnant, or we can allow God to move us into a place of hope.

His Birthday

Tomorrow would be his 48th brithday.

It's the third time we have faced this day without him by our side.

The weirdest thing is that the sun rises and falls each day just the same as always.  At first, I was baffled the entire earth didn't abruptly halt its rotation when he breathed his last breath.  OUR world froze in place, but life around us continued.  Calendars flip months, and years progress.

Our every reality was so altered by the loss of Tim, that we have spent the past few years fighting through slow motion for each opportunity to feel the sunshine on our faces.  Some months all we could feel were rain drops and hail stones when we mustered the courage to lift our faces upward.  Other days, we were incapable of even lifting our heads to check for any rays the sun might be spilling our way.  There have also been moments of fresh air breathed in deeply and precious hope.  Those are the moments that have carried us through the monotony of this life. 

I never could have dreamed how difficult this journey would be for our children and me.  The emotions are not containable at times.  They simply are not.  Tears flow.  Anger rages.  Misery settles.  But I do a disservice to God if I don't also admit that there are positive emotions present too. 

Joy dances.  Peace swirls.  Love settles.  Strength embodies.

We crave more than to just live.  We desire to do more than simply exist "trying not to die", we long to be more than survivors.  We want to shatter expectations and stereotypes of young widows and fatherless children.

We are more intently looking for the sun to wash us with its warmth. 

We are looking for the Son to wash us in His warmth.

I wonder.  Do the saints celebrate the day of their earthly birth?  Probably not, but we will always remember April 3rd as his day. 

Happy Birthday, Babe!  You are loved.  You are remembered.  You are appreciated.  Your life mattered and your legacy lives on.  We are accepting the new mercies of God with each sunrise.  We are thinking of and missing you with each sunset.  We are digging deep to follow your example of taking the next right step, making the next right decision, choosing the next right thing.  I would be lying if I said we are not eager to be with you again.  The missing is so deep, the loss felt in every fiber.  But we are deliberately choosing to live this life to the fullest in honor of your memory and to bring glory to God.  Our God has been ever faithful.  Our God has never once left our side in the darkness of this battle.  Our God is our strength, He is our stability.  He alone causes the sun to rise each morning and we are grateful to Him for your life and the time we were blessed to have you; we are grateful for each day He gives us.  We will view them as the gift that they are and be intentional in our living. 

It Is What It Is (as featured on A Widow's Might)

 

 

“I have been crucified with Christ. 

It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. 

And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God,

who loved me and gave himself for me.” ~Galatians 2:20 ESV

It was what he said.
Time and time again.
When the diagnosis first came, “Lori, it is what it is.”
When the treatments failed, “It is what it is, Babe.”
When death approached, “It is what it is.”
It was never about giving up. It was always about our inability to change the circumstances.
It was never about a lack of faith. Quite the opposite, it was always about knowing that whatever lied ahead, God was already there.
The words have rattled around in this widow’s brain since he first uttered them to me– such wisdom in the middle of tremendous pain. So much confusion for us both, and yet he possessed a complete dependence on the One who was in control, surrendering.

Surrendering…
to the Lord who knows our difficulties and leads the way.
to the One who is trustworthy and faithful.
to the God who never asked us to understand, but did call us to believe.

I watched it play out right before my eyes. “It is what it is.”
This husband of mine and his clinging to God, regardless of what was thrown at him; it left me speechless.
His searching for and finding God’s perfect peace in the midst of chaotic suffering was a humbling and gorgeous process to witness.
The example of full surrender to God’s plan, even when it meant acknowledging the loss of every single shattered dream, every selfish desire, and every personal plan is something of which I still stand in awe.
“It Is What It Is” was moment-by-moment surrender in the heat of the battle.
When Tim’s final cancer war began, we were desperately crying out to God, pleading for earthly healing. Somewhere along the way, our prayers changed to reflect more surrender in our hearts. We found a new level of acceptance that this life ultimately is not in our control.  It simply is what it is.
Now I stand on the other side of the trauma of his death. Facing new challenges, different pain, and unique depths of frustration, I have a choice.  Thankfully, that choice comes on the heels of God’s proven faithfulness.
And so, this life as a widowed woman raising children through adolescence and into adulthood is mine to view as a blessing.
I cannot change the events that took my husband from this earth and left me as the sole earthly parent to our children.
I cannot change our loss, but I can choose my response to it.

I can remember the Lord who knows our difficulties and leads the way.
I can lean into the One who is trustworthy and faithful.
I can fully rely on the God who never asks me to understand, but does call me to believe.

My faith tells me that no matter what lies ahead of me, God is already there. He is preparing the way.
It is what it is
and
He is who He is.



Lord, I surrender to Your will. Use all of this for Your glory.  This loss and my finding how to survive the other side of it isn’t the path I would have chosen, but I trust You to be working in it for my good. Amen.






- See more at: http://anewseason.net/author/loris/#sthash.NjTBPSMT.dpuf

Simple Morning Carpool Music Thoughts

As Colton Dixon sang to me on KLOVE this morning, these lyrics stood out.

"Fear sees a ceiling
Hope sees the stars."

What "ceiling" have I allowed fear to place on my life?

How am I limiting God's work in my life by allowing these fears to have power?

Don't I desire to see the stars?  I teach our children to live their dreams.  I intrust them to aim high adn go big; to do the hard work that will enable their dreams to come true.  This advice should know no age limit!

If we are breathing, we should desire a clear view of the stars.

A Daughter's Pain {as featured on A Widow's Might}

But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting

on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, ~Psalm 103:17

{By far, the HARDEST part of losing my husband has been walking beside my children as they navigate their own grief.  This article is a personal excerpt out of a prayer journal I keep for my daughter.  My son has a similar entry in his.}

A nine year old girl should never have to sit across the breakfast table from her hero and hear he is dying.


She shouldn’t have to experience the shock of hearing months later that the doctors had it wrong and her Daddy’s rare form of leukemia wouldn’t take him, but would change the lives of her family members forever.  Only to hear at the age of eleven that he is battling another new cancer.


A fifth grade girl should not spend her Spring Break moving her parents into an apartment 425 miles away their from home, then returning home with her sixth grade brother to be cared for by extended family.


She shouldn’t have to endure the next two years separated from her parents more than she is with them due to out of state cancer treatments and lengthy hospital stays.


She never should have her eyes see the horrors of a strong man shrinking away in a cancer riddled body.


She shouldn’t have to hold this man’s hand as he lay in a coma experiencing a series of strokes and seizures.


She shouldn’t have to sweetly “shush” his agonizing moans.


No thirteen year old daughter should ever have to stand over the hospice bed of the greatest love of her young life while he takes his final breath.


She should not have to choose a dress to wear for her father’s funeral.


And no fourteen year old young lady should have to spread her Daddy’s ashes at their favorite annual vacation spot.



Today, as deeply as my heart is shattered and breaking for my own loss as well as the tremendous loss my children are experiencing, I stand in awe of my daughter.


She is not like other fifteen year old girls.  She has witnessed too much heartache and unspeakable sorrow.  She has matured beyond childhood in many ways, and yet is still just a girl who deeply loves and desperately needs her Dad.


As she ventures forward in this life, learning, growing, navigating complex relationships; my prayer is…

*that her loss both strengthens and softens her. 

*that the horrors her eyes have witnessed somehow bring a deeper acceptance of and compassion for others.

*that the love affair between her Daddy and me built enough memories in her young mind for her to know what a strong marriage centered on the foundation of Christ is like.  Not that we were perfect, but that even through our imperfections, God made us perfect for each other.  I pray she finds the one who God is already molding to be hers and that she is sensitive to the work He is doing to prepare her for him. 

*that she continues to lean hard into God.  Praying earnestly and listening intently as He guides her through the final years of adolescence into adulthood.

Her healing process will continue until she draws her own final breath.  She has many firsts without her Dad yet to experience, many tears yet to cry, and many frustrations yet to overcome.

She lost too much far too soon.  She has walked a difficult path for years and is finally emerging into the light of living life fully again.  In many ways, she reminds me of a butterfly.  She has had to spend a great deal of time immersed in darkness, and it has made her who she is.  The layers of a happy, loving childhood; intense trauma and sorrow; fierce love and loyalty, they intricately interlace to form beautiful wings that will help her fly.

And fly, she will.  She loves deeper.  She dreams bolder.  She sees the value and goodness in a person quickly.  There is a strength that radiates from her soul that can only come from Christ.

I am honored to be her Momma and proud to watch God working in her life.

Father God, You promise to be a Father to orphans.  Your steadfast love and righteousness are gifts for generations of those who fear You.  I lift the children of each widow who reads this to Your throne right now.  Lord, guide them in your ways, comfort them as only You can, and transform their pain into something beautiful that brings glory to You.  Amen.