frozen wave against sunlight

Preparing to Let Go

To my friends who have recently lost or are preparing to lose their children…my heart is hurting for you.  This is not a time for platitudes and my words may mean nothing during this traumatic time and that’s ok.  I certainly am not the expert in how to prepare for such a loss.  I’ve walked a similar path, but no two stories are ever the same.  Your unique relationship with your child is precious and I know the thought of not having the tangible physical presence of your child takes your breath away.  Honestly, it still takes mine away at times, when I’m missing my girl.  I’ll offer some simple statements and pray that somehow you will be strengthened.

This is NOT the end of your child.  They are “arrows:”

Psalms 127:4:  Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth.

I wrote a blog about it here.  Our lives are not time-lines with an end.  You’re sending your child into eternity ahead of you, but they will live on with a future and a purpose. You will have more days ahead of you with your child in eternity, than you’ll ever have apart, if heaven is where you’re headed too.

I know you know this, but it’s worth saying….don’t wait to say what you want to say.  Soak up every minute you have left with them.  Hold them, smell them, look into their eyes and their souls and make sure they know how wonderful they are and how brave they have been.  No regrets.  However, it’s ok to leave the room for a minute.  In her last days, sometimes Sarah needed a break from me.  I had to respect that and give her time alone with other loved ones.  It was hard.  More often though, she wanted me right by her side and that time was precious.  We did everything possible to honor her and her wishes. 

Don’t take your eyes off Jesus.  I recently watched the end of season 3 of The Chosen series…spoiler alert here…They include the bible story of Peter walking on the water and they took some artistic liberties to connect it to the topic of Peter and Eden’s grief of losing a child.  Wow…did that hit me hard!  Losing a child feels so much like being in the boat in the middle of the storm.  Somehow, Chad and I have chosen to get out of the boat and just walk towards Jesus.  I imagine Sarah standing next to Him and His hands reaching out to us.  We want to go to him too, but our journey towards him is still full of things left here to do.  When I look at the waves and wind, I sink, but when I lock eyes with Him and remember who He is….somehow I rise above the storm.  He’s got you too, friend.  He won’t let go.  You will hear many people express that they could never imagine losing a child.  We can’t either.  We are living and surviving the impossible.  You can too. 

Your child will receive healing soon.  It’s disappointing that it’s probably not going to be an earthly healing.  It’s perfectly ok to get mad about that, but always be honest with God about your feelings.  He knows when you’re pretending and He can take it.  It doesn’t change His feelings towards you.  He knows what’s it’s like to give up a son.  He knows that you can’t see the end of the story yet.  Believe in your heart that you can trust Him with your child.  As hard as it is too imagine, He loves your child even more than you do.  Let that sink in.  Along with a heavenly healing comes so much more than we could ever give them here.  I have found comfort in realizing that there’s a lot of things that happen here that she will never have to suffer through because she is in heaven. She is protected forevermore and she is only experiencing complete and perfect love, joy and peace.  I believe it will takes us about 2 seconds in heaven to forget all the pain that this world caused.

I wish I could tell you that eventually the pain will lesson.  Over time you will learn to carry the pain differently.  You will get stronger, but it won’t lessen it.  You somehow grow around it.  One of the best analogies that I’ve related to is that it is sort of like having an amputation.  You learn to live a part from them, but not without them.   It’s not easy at all.   You’ll need help sometimes, but that’s ok.  Other parents who’ve lost children connect deeply with each other because not many people understand.   Reach out when you’re ready and you’ll be embraced. 

overhead view of white pumpkin in wicker basket

Numb

Grief has a way of interrupting so many things in my life.  So excuse me, for not always making my thoughts flow well and with clarity.  You see, my brain is still sometimes foggy and my memory is terrible-except for the stuff that I want to forget, but I can’t.  I have no concept of “real time.”  I walked around for a few days saying that Chad and I would be celebrating 26 years of marriage…until a friend corrected me and said, “Ugh, isn’t it 28?”  She was right.  In many ways I feel like I’ve lost 2 years of my life.  People that know my story have been so gracious to me in so many ways, but I’m sure there have been many a stranger that thought I was either on drugs or just plain crazy.  I sometimes have no memory of completing task or managing responsibilities.  Somehow, with God’s help, things have gotten done and I haven’t completely wrecked our home. 

I wish I could get motivated.  Motivated to care about things like:  being organized, cooking for my family, cleaning (no worries, I do shower and de-clutter occasionally), exercising- or even just being health.  I used to love to work out.  Now, I just don’t care.  I wonder if I will ever care about such things again?  Poor Libby…I miss every parent deadline, permission slip sign-up, volunteer opportunity, and am terrible about getting events on the family calendar that she’s involved in.  At home, I literally am taking it one day at a time.  I’m thankful for a husband and responsible daughter who understand and help out with the household. 

I’ve decided the best way to describe this stage is that I’m just plain numb.  I don’t want to feel right now.  I don’t want to feel sad.  I don’t want to feel happy.   I don’t want to feel anything.  So, I don’t.  I react to life’s situations, but only on the surface.  I know that I’m guarding this fragile heart of mine, while it’s trying to heal.  This is probably the place where some who are grieving may find ways to help them stay in the state of numb by turning to substance abuse.  I’m not enticed by that option for several reasons, but I certainly understand how someone may go there.  Unfortunately, that path leads to more loss and just starts a cycle that is so hard to break.  It’s a trap. If you’re stuck in that cycle. Please ask for help.

I’m not so numb that my emotions don’t occasionally break through.  So, I guess that’s a good thing.  I have moments where my tears come hard and fast.  It hurts.  It hurts like hell.  The band-aid rips off my heart and it falls apart again and I bleed.  It doesn’t last as long as it used to and it doesn’t happen as much, but it still happens.  I guess that makes me human. 

There is a comfort that comes in those moments though.  It’s not from another person; because…trust me, I make sure I’m alone during those times. It’s the ultimate “Comforter.” (John 14:26)   There’s a calm reassurance and presence that wraps around my heart and squeezes it back together.  He gently places the bandage of Hope over my scar and whisper’s “I’m here and I’ve got you.”  You know what?  He’s got Sarah too.  He holds us both.  That vision gives me so much strength.  So, for now, I’ll focus on that.

I’ve been drawn to the cemetery a few times lately in the early mornings, after taking Libby to school.  I guess I know the cold weather is coming and it won’t be as easy to go.  I took a white pumpkin to her gravesite and left it.  Every year, that was her choice.  She loved those white pumpkins.  I can’t see one and not think of her and all that her life represents now. I understand that not everyone is a fan of celebrating Halloween.  When we think about the process of creating a jack-a-lantern though, isn’t it a bit symbolic of what Jesus wants for us?  When we invite Him in, he cleans out all the yucky stuff and puts a light inside of us that others can see.

I love that as I’m driving off out the cemetery in Hope that I can always see the empty tomb.  That reminder…gives me just the boost that I need to keep driving.   

The New Me

I was able to collect some beautiful seashells on a recent trip to Florida. I started out looking for the perfect shells and then sensed God telling me to pick up the broken ones…they’re beautiful too. I needed that reminder. Sometimes I miss the old me.  The person I was before Sarah’s diagnosis of cancer.  I started to write that I missed the person that I was before she died, but truth is, the day we walked into the children’s hospital and started fighting cancer, was the day that the old me died.  You know that girl, the one that was so carefree and lighthearted–the one that was oblivious to deep pain and disappointment.  Sure I had suffered some losses, but none like the loss that Sarah’s cancer caused…everything changed.  Pediatric cancer is such a giant that it takes all of your focus.  It required me to give up my job, some of my friends, some of my dreams, serving others at church, and other things that were once important to me.  In a lot of ways I had to put my marriage, my other daughter, and all the other things that once seemed so urgent to the side and focus on the fight.  What a fight it was: long hospital stays away from home; hours of stressful waiting and researching, so that you can advocate for your child; lack of sleep on an actual bed; lack of normal routine; or even healthy eating; little to no exercise; being exposed to witnessing your own child and also other children and families suffering horrible side effects and treatments just to give them a chance to survive; and feeling helpless the whole entire time.   Every single family fighting this battle becomes warriors and it changes you…just like the young person who signs up to serve in the military.  They’re always so naïve and innocent, until they experience active duty.  You can’t survive a battle and walk away without some wounds.  Those wounds can heal, but you’ll always have the scars. 

So, that’s me today.  With the deep wound of grief and other scars from the trauma of losing a daughter to pediatric cancer.  As one by one I’ve watched other warrior families lose their children or relapse, it causes deep sadness and always takes me back to those traumatic moments that we lived.  I’m not in any way implying that I don’t want to know about their journeys.  I do want to know, but I’ve come to accept that is just the way this works.  I can relate to their struggle on a whole other level than the “normal” person.  Just like the military veteran, who seeks out other veterans to connect with, there is definitely a connection with those other cancer warriors.  To be honest though, if it’s a newly diagnosed situation or someone that’s still in the “thick of it,” I wonder if my scars scare them?  I know that even being around me, or us (I’m speaking for Chad and Libby here too, I guess) is sometimes hard for others.  Especially, if you haven’t been around us very much.   Hopefully, if know us well, or are willing to hang out with us for a bit, you’re getting more use to the new me/us. 

Yeah, part of me is gone. Good or bad, there are some new things though that have been added to my personality.   There’s a quietness that I know will always be there.  There are deep and somber moments that just hit and I have no control over it.  There is also a deeper sense of purpose and determination to not chase after anything that isn’t truly important, even eternal.  There’s courage because honestly, I’m just not afraid of death.  There’s a deep sense of the spiritual that I know has only come because of the encounters I’ve had with Jesus through this journey.  Yeah, it’s probably made me weird and I’m OK with that.  Just like Psalms 23 promises, He has walked me through this “valley of the shadow of death.”  Actually, I think at times, He’s carrying me. 

happy birthday card

A Letter to Heaven

My Dearest Sarah,

Within the context of time, it’s April 8th and we are celebrating your birthday. I can’t help but wonder how those “dates” are marked in heaven, where time is so different? I fully believe that being in the presence of Jesus must be better than any earthly birthday could ever be-because He loves you and values you so completely. Here on earth we find ourselves using our birthday’s as “markers” to determine how well we’re doing in the process of fully becoming ourselves and I’m sure that upon ones arrival in heaven, without the weight of sin, surely the transformation is instant!

What can I “give” you that you don’t already have? All that comes to mind, is to continue what you started here on earth-with your friends and community. For I know, your love for them lives on eternally. So, that’s what we continue to try and do. I think you’re pleased about the Birthday Blood Drive. I know you were already making plans to have one, once COVID was over. We’re grateful for each person that’s willing to step out of their comfort zone and give to save lives in this way. I’ve recently heard stories of kids going through treatment that are having to wait to receive blood products, because there just isn’t enough. I can not imagine how that feels for those kids, families and medical staff. We can do better.

There’s so many ideas running around in my brain about ways to continue what you started! You’d be so proud of the elementary school for starting their own Bible Club and meeting regularly to learn more about Jesus! G.L.O.W. is going to be able to “gift” every graduating 6th grader a Bible this year and I’m going to personally invite them to join us at our “Fire & Music’ bonfire nights. You’d also be thrilled that your friends are stating a college aged women’s Bible study very soon! I’m so excited for them to strengthen their “tribe” and connect with more friends that are longing to really know Jesus in a deeper way. The impact that will have on the rest of their lives, is mind-blowing! We hope to do more Bible journaling classes, take a larger group of college aged kids to Passion, and do another G.L.O.W. Run this year to raise money for cancer research. There’s more dreams and visions that I’m not quite ready to share…but, I have a feeling you get to take a peek at those sometimes and maybe even Jesus lets you help create those. Together, we make a good team. That’s the beauty of what Jesus did. Physically, death may have separated us for a little awhile, but not forever. Our spirits are forever united through Jesus. So, Happy Birthday Sarah Rose! You inspire me. Every. Single. Day.

Love,

Mom

The Pandemic of Grief

Friends, we are in a season of grief. Every week, there is loss. Because of COVID almost all of us have experienced the death of a friend, family member, or at the least you are hearing stories of acquaintances who have passed away. Many of these are seemingly healthy people, prior to contracting COVID, and sadly they are people who seemed to still be in the prime of their life, possibly with young children. I don’t feel led to address any stance on COVID precautions. We all know the tools that are available to help us fight this horrible pandemic. I’m also not trying to spread fear. At this point, we also know the risk of COVID. I simply feel led to address the topic of grief and loss and its hard to deny the increasing number of folks who are joining the “grief club.” In a way, it’s becoming a pandemic itself. It’s shocking and heartbreaking to see so many families hurting and I can’t help but contemplate the effects of grief on our current society. Realizing that everyone’s grief journey is different, I do think there are a few things that I have learned on my own journey that I’d like to share.

Grieving people will never be who they were before their loved one died. Losing a loved one causes you to lose a piece of yourself and I’m convinced that it’s a piece of your heart. I remember the person that I was before Sarah died, untainted by death. I laughed more, I focused better, I slept better, I ate better, and my priorities were different. I may not seem different to many of you, but to my family, they can tell. There’s an innocence’s that is lost when death steals away someone that you love. It’s as if the unthinkable actually occurred and there is a distrust of statistics and reasoning. I give no weight to percentages now when I hear them used to minimize a risk. I just can’t help it.

Grieving people need space to just be. Don’t expect them to attend family functions or keep appointments regularly. Sometime, even in route to something planned, a wave of grief comes out of no where and just paralyzes me. Please give grace to those who are adjusting to a new normal. Grieving people often just feel sick themselves. The aches and pains of grief can make you feel like you’ve ran a marathon or even have the flu. The lack of sleep can also cause a grieving person to feel less than themselves. If you’re grieving, some days it’s OK if the most that you accomplish is getting out of bed and doing some self-care, like eating, showering, or taking an extra nap. Grieving people need time to work through the trauma of their loss-some more than others. If you are a friend, co-worker, or supervisor of someone who is grieving. Please give them some margin. Sooner or later, you’ll be in their position of grief too.

Grieving people need to know that you are available to talk about and remember their loved one. Please don’t be afraid to say their loved ones name and share memories or special things about their person. I realize that this may cause you to be concerned that you may upset them or make them sad, but honestly they already are both those things. They may actually need someone one else to validate their loss and feelings. It’s more hurtful when others do not acknowledge the loss that you feel. Tears are not always an indication that a grieving person is having a bad day. Sometimes tears are exactly the thing needed to have a better day. Trust me when I say that is a gift to them to even just speak their name. There are exceptions to this rule. So, don’t be too pushy and just follow their lead after you mention their loved one.

Grieving people need forgiveness. That’s right. I said forgiveness. Grieving people will not always make the right choices. They will do things that are hurtful, selfish, impulsive, irresponsible… I could go on and on. You see, the hurt is heavy and grieving people are just trying to stop the hurt, hide the hurt, or forget about the hurt for a while. Grief shouldn’t entitle us to hurt others on purpose and there are consequences to bad choices, obviously. It’s ok to set boundaries with a grieving person, if they are not respecting you. However, just be aware that extra grace is needed when maintaining a healthy relationship with a grieving person. Watch for indications that professional grief counseling may be necessary and encourage them to seek further help.

Grieving people need Jesus. I follow different types of grief support groups on social media. There are some grief support groups that do not tolerate any sort of faith-based approach to grieving. It honestly is so dismal. I’m even more confounded by it because most will admit that their loved one is still a spiritual being. They believe that their soul/spirit has moved on somewhere and they may even believe in heaven, but they will not acknowledge Jesus. Friends, Jesus is the only one to defeat death. He is the key to heaven. He is the way, the truth, and the life. Unless we humble ourselves and accept His payment for our sins, we will not receive eternal life in heaven. Submitting our lives to Him, not only gives us the hope of heaven, but it provides joy, peace, and purpose for us now, here on earth.

Even on my darkest day, I can know, because of Jesus, that I will be reunited with Sarah someday. Even on my darkest day, I can know that the Holy Spirit will comfort me and give me strength to endure the sadness. Even on my darkest day, I can still feel joy. I may be sad for myself because I miss Sarah, but I can know that she is experiencing pure joy and happiness. Even on my darkest day, I know that death has been defeated and one day, it will not exist. God is patient, but there will be a day that every knee will bow before Him and every tongue will confess that He is Lord.(Philippians 2:10-11) If you’re still not sure about Jesus, I encourage you to research Him for yourself.

Reflections On Our Trip

Life goes on, but my heart still hurts. We knew that after the hard past couple of years, that we needed to move forward and take a family trip. Usually family vacations are so fun to plan and there’s so much to look forward too, but when you’re grieving, even vacation planning looses it’s excitement. It becomes one of those things that you know is good for you, but you’re just not feeling it. So you commit to doing it, just because you ought too. It’s like so many things, when you’re grieving-bittersweet. It’s just not the way that we imagined our life would be. Visions of future “bucket-list” vacations always included Sarah. However, we knew it was time to take this step towards reality and go.

So, we planned at family vacation out west. I planned the drive, the hotels, the VRBO’s, the National Parks, the extra stops. We decided to invite one of Libby’s closest friends, Sam, to come along. Thankfully, her parents were willing to entrust us with her for 2 whole weeks. I’m so glad that they did. Big life events, holidays, and vacations just magnify “the missing” for all of us, especially siblings. Libby has suddenly been forced to take on the role of “only child” of two grieving parents. That’s a hard job. We’re doing our best not to smother her and respect her 14 year old introverted self, but it’s hard not to be a helicopter parent. It’s our job to fix what’s broken for her, but this time, we can’t.

I can honestly say it was a good trip. We saw things that were just so beautiful-places that we have been wanting to see for years. We took lots of pictures, saw lots of animals, laughed, ate too much, and had fun. We also felt a deep ache in our hearts that I will compare to being “home sick.” Although, we knew when we arrived home, it wasn’t going to be alleviated. It’s a longing for how home used to be.

It’s no surprise that I pray a lot for God to give me signs from Sarah. I also say things to Sarah out loud sometimes, just in case she can hear me. When you’re missing someone that’s in heaven, you know that they’re ok, but you still want signs that they are still with you somehow.

One day, while sightseeing in Glacier National Park, we were driving along and came by this beautiful crystal blue lake that was so still that it had a mirrored reflection of the snow capped mountains in it. As he often did, Chad quickly pulled over to park and get out and just take it all in. I jumped out of the truck and started taking pictures. He noticed another couple also had stopped and as he does so naturally, he struck up a conversation with the man. He told Chad that he and his wife were retired ranchers from North Dakota and they now lived closer to this area. He said they come to Glacier a lot, and they took this particular drive about every 2 weeks. He said he had never seen it so still. He even told Chad that usually the waves in the lake were white capping because of the wind. So they also were amazed at the beautiful reflections in the mirrored water. I snapped several pictures with the phone camera, trying to frame the shots exactly like I wanted. It wasn’t until I reviewed the pictures that I saw it. This beautiful glow of light that seemed to build in a few of the images, until this magnificent bright image showed up on the picture. Again, none of this was viewable as I took the pictures. I knew right away that it was a sign. I zoomed in to look at the light…It was more breathtaking to me then the gorgeous mountains. All I could do was say thanks! Thank you, Jesus and Sarah, for letting us know that she was with us on our trip. Not the way that we exactly long for, but in a way that is better for her. I know she’s healed, free, and in perfect peace and paradise.

I’ll keep asking for signs this side of heaven. She’s a part of me and I can’t help it. What exactly did I see? I’ll let you interpret that for yourself. You may not see what I see, but that’s ok. What signs have you experienced from your loved one that has passed?

Is Goodbye Just a Lie?

I’ve been wondering

As I’ve been pondering,

The things that you must know.

Once you’ve stepped through-

Once you break through-

To heaven, now your home.

All the questions

Must be answered.

Now you understand.

How your story,

Your hard journey,

Fit into the plan.

Are you watching

Or Still waiting

To see the seeds

You’ve sown

Tendered in the garden

By those of those of us below?

Do you know the sequence

of what there is to come?

Are you here among us,

Or seeing from above?

Is there just a curtain

That makes us feel apart?

Knowing that you’re nearby

Would greatly bless my heart.

Is “Goodbye” just a lie

That need not to exist?

Do you come and walk beside me?

Are you standing in the midst?

One day I’ll see your smile again.

Until that day arrives-

I’ll keep searching.

I’ll keep looking

Because I know

That you’re alive.

Kim Taylor 4/15/2021

Rise

This time of year is so energizing to me.  The warm sunshine and longer daylight hours keep me looking for outside projects.  When the girls were little, we loved photo shoots by the blooming magnolia tree that was in our yard. The above picture is of my cuties in 2010.  Now, my absolute favorite fragrant viburnum shrubs have started budding and I’m really hopeful that the cold snap that’s predicted won’t keep them from blooming.  I love the scent that they cast right outside our front door.  It’s heavenly to me.  I hope that you also find yourself with a little spring in your step as we watch nature coming back to life around us.

It’s appropriate that we talk about the topic of resurrection as we witness the birth of spring and prepare for the Easter weekend.  It all fits together so perfectly doesn’t it? I know that I touched on this briefly in my post a few weeks ago about the seasons.  If you didn’t get a chance to read that one, you can check it out here.  Speaking from the place of a mother who has a child in heaven, I honestly can’t think of anything more comforting than the resurrection power that we’ve been promised through Jesus.  It’s all because of Easter.  Jesus did what I couldn’t do and He saved my child.  He has saved us too, if we’ve accepted His gift of salvation, we can live out our days knowing that even death won’t keep us in the grave.  I’m so thankful for His life giving power. 

The Holy Spirit has been impressing on me these past couple of weeks that His resurrection power isn’t only for the physically dead.  It’s for those of us who are still breathing, but feel dead inside too.  Grieving certainly has a way of making one feel like they have also died right along with their loved one.  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to wanting to crawl inside the grave with Sarah.  It hurt to breathe for a while.  Even knowing that Jesus could heal my broken heart didn’t change the fact that I really didn’t want to be healed.  Grief makes us comfortable with the darkness.  The light can just be too much.  So can crowds, or loud noises.   I found myself numb, not really feeling anything most of the time-sort of like a dead person walking. Recently, I really connected with C.S. Lewis thoughts in A Grief Observed:

And no one ever told me about the laziness of grief.  Except at my job-where the machine seems to run on as much as usual-I loathe the slightest effort.  Not only writing, but reading a letter is too much.  Even shaving.  What does it matter now whether my cheek is rough or smooth?  They say an unhappy man wants distractions-something to take him out of himself.  Only a dog-tired man wants an extra blanket on a cold night; he’d rather lie there shivering than get up and find one.  It’s easy to see why the lonely become untidy, finally, dirty and disgusting.

Can you relate to that?  Not really caring about your own well-being?  Deep grief leaves you feeling lonely, cold, and dead inside.  Sounds like the tomb to me.  At some point, one has to decide whether or not to live again or stay cold and shivering in the tomb. 

I’ve read about other grieving people “snapping” out of that stage of their grief when they consider what their deceased loved one would want for them.   While that’s certainly moving and I totally know that Sarah is cheering me on; the thing that has really empowered me the last few weeks has been the resurrection power of Jesus.  The more that I get to know Jesus the more I’m learning that He specializes in bringing dead things back to life-including me. 

I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead.  I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!  Philippians 3:10-11

When you’ve lost someone close to you, you’ve certainly participated in some suffering.  Now it’s time to experience the power of His resurrection.  I’m daily asking Him to breathe His life into me, energize me, and give me a purpose.  He’s faithful and willing to make beauty from these ashes.  So many times in scripture we see examples of Jesus taking the broken and making it beautiful.  I know that’s His desire for all of us who have been wounded by grief.  There’s nothing that He can’t revive. Friend, is He calling you to “Rise” too?

Happy Easter everyone!

RISE

In the quiet

Dead on the inside

Still within my grief

You whisper to my broken heart

Rise

Eyes now woke

Tears begin to dry

Inhale the fresh wind

Your breath is healing my lungs

Rise

Your words stir

Rattle my dry bones

As your blood flows

My soul comes alive

Rise

My heart beats

A new rhythm forms

My feet feel the tempo

A dance filled with praise

Rise

Your light shines

Step out of the grave

Made new in your presence

Death is rejected

Rise

Kim Taylor, 3/29/2021

2:00AM Poetry

We claim, collect, and clutch
As we gather much
Staking our ground
And settling down
In our palace
Like we’re the masters of our manors-
Managing our estates
When we should feel more like tenants
Or do I dare say it- servants?
Who carefully consider every gift,
Every piece,
Every thing,
We’ve been given.
It’s all property
That we’re borrowing
From The King.
Even the very air in our lungs
Can’t be kept.
We inhale one breath
Only to let it exhale
Not knowing how many more
We will be given.
I think it was by design
That we were made incapable 
Of holding it forever.
The Creator knows
That we would try to hoard
Even the life giving oxygen,
If our lungs allowed.
Nothing here is eternal
And the more we try
To age in reverse
And break the curse,
Save the planet-
It just gets worse
As ugly reveals more ugly
AND
We just want it to stop.
Corruption, decay, erosion-
Our earthly kingdoms crumble
Under the weight of sin and time.
Our skin grows thin
And our bones grow dry
As life itself passes by.
Temporary-
That’s all a tent is made for.
Repair, reinforce, patch-
All feeble attempts
To prolong the inevitable.
Temporal-
What if we lived
Like we knew we were dying?
What if every breath,
Every piece of bread,
Every sunrise and sunset-
Were gifts
Meant to be enjoyed
And not expected?
What If our most prized possessions
Were ALWAYS the things
That loved us back
And turned out to not be “things” at all?
What if the stuff we used here
Became tools
Just to manage well 
What the King has chosen you and me
To be in charge of
While He’s away?
This place might feel different
But it was NEVER
Suppose to feel like home.
You see,  
The King IS coming back.
And When He does-
He’ll know how to fix this mess
Once and for all.
Then, and only THEN,
It will finally feel like home.

-Kim Taylor, 3/25/2021, 2:04AM

Anchors A-Way

So, if you’ve been following my blog for very long, then you’ll understand- for the past few days, 4:00am has been the new 3:00am.  Of course, Daylight Saving’s time has something to do with that, I’m sure.  For about a month, I’ve been sleeping much better.  I think it was probably because I had COVID in February and I was just so tired.  However, now I’ve shifted back into my old pattern of waking up again and when I look at the clock it’s almost exactly 4:00am.  When it usually happens, I have about 10 seconds of time before I remember.  Then, memories come flooding into my thoughts in this order, like scenes from a movie trailer almost:  Sarah’s death, scenes from the hospital, various scenes of our life since she’s been gone, and then my mind frantically searches for memories of her face before cancer.  I usually begin talking to Jesus and asking Him to help me see her now, even if it’s only an image that I’m imagining, based on what I know to be true about heaven.  After a few minutes of this battle in my mind, and realizing that I’m not falling back to sleep, I’ll continue to pray and talk to Jesus about the things and the people that are on my heart.  Sometimes, I’ll just go ahead and get up and turn on the coffee pot.  I’ve had some really beautiful and sacred moments with God in these times. 

This morning, as I was praying, the Holy Spirit gave me 2 words that I feel very strongly that I’m supposed to share.  I know that these words are for more than just me.  I didn’t hear them, I saw them as giant text that my mind actually had to read to digest.  It was this…CHOOSE HOPE.   That’s what I saw in all white colored and capital blocked font lettering.  Those “vision” kinds of things don’t usually happen to me.  Not that I haven’t desired it, but that’s just not how God usually speaks to me.  Without a doubt though, I know it was from Him and that I was supposed to share.

Is that message for you?  I can certainly relate to the message that was given.  I’ve written about the topic of Hope before.  The Bible tells us that Hope is the Anchor for our souls in Hebrews 6:19.  The thing about anchors though, is they have to be attached to something to work.  If an anchor’s rope has been severed it is useless and probably sitting at the bottom of the lake.  The vessel that it was once attached too, probably drifted or wandered into places that it didn’t want to go.  Is that happening to you?  Sometimes, our rope isn’t severed, but we can let our rope that’s attached to our anchor of hope get to long.  When we do that- we drift further away from the truth than we should.  Keeping the rope shorter, protects us and allows us to feel the tug, when we start to drift too far. 

Hebrews 6:19 is quoted and displayed often and rightly so, but there’s a second part to the verse that’s equally as beautiful when you understand the imagery. It actually flows right into verse 20 with a powerful truth.

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.  It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf.  He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.” Hebrews 6:19 NIV

This is one of those passages that I love to use the Bible App to read in all the different versions.  The verses translates the same, but different versions paint better images for us of what it means.  I encourage you to dig in and study it for yourself.  The way that I interpret this passage is that the anchor of Hope is placed in the very presence of God, where Jesus also is and because we are attached to that anchor, we are attached to Jesus who is acting on our behalf as our eternal High Priest or mediator.  Now in Biblical times, the High Priest was the only one worthy enough to enter the Holy of Holies and offer a blood sacrifice atonement for the forgiveness of sins.  So the significance here is about what Jesus did for us on the cross and how He enters into the presence of God on our behalf to atone for our sins and mediate for us with the Father.  It’s a beautiful picture of how He fulfilled Old Testament prophecy.  I love that it’s all attached to Hope.  That’s the thing that we must grab onto and not let go of to stay connected to the very presence of God. 

You see, God will never sever the rope.  We have to hold on to it though.  Let’s rewind a bit more and read what scripture says before verse 19:

“God also bound himself with an oath, so that those who received the promise could be perfectly sure that he would never change his mind.  So God has given both his promise and his oath.  These two things are unchangeable because it is impossible for God to lie.  Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us.” Hebrews 6: 17-18 NLT

The Message translation actually say’s “grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go.  It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline.”  Do you see the preface to the promise?  YOU have to grab on and not let go!  No matter how much it hurts, no matter how far away you get from the anchor, just please don’t let go.  This message isn’t just for the grieving, it’s for the living.  Although, I feel very strongly that AS I grieve, the hope that I have has changed HOW I grieve.  Grace In Grieving has grown out of a desire to share that hope and connect with others who are grieving.  It’s my prayer that together we would choose hope and keep encouraging one another to not let go.

So now I’m curious…who was my word vision for?  Would you be bold enough to let me know and claim it for your own?

Thanks for reading, sharing, commenting.  Every click helps support the message of hope!