"It is a land the Lord your God cares for; the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to the end." ~ Deuteronomy 11: 12 The first sign that the season is changing is the emergence of green from the ground as our lilies are beginning to push forth from their winter slumber. It always amazes me how they know "when," to begin. Each year the flowers die back, and each year they just seem to know when to begin again.
Sometimes I wish that we were able to respond to new chapters in the same way. While I realize that we are Ecclesiastical people with new chapters beginning all the time, there are simply times I wish that we were able to recognize when a new chapter is emerging. Some endings with new beginnings are easier to identify. The end of a relationship, the last day of a job, moving out to go to college, the closing of a loved one's casket. These are milestones that remain with us in our memories, but they signal significant new beginnings in our life. So often we fail to recognize the new day, or the day we wake up feeling different, or the struggle to meet personal or imposed goals. All of our new beginnings should start with the reality that God is present. God was present when the chapter ended, and God will be present with the beginning of a new chapter or season. We must learn to live each day, each hour, and perhaps, each minute as a new beginning, as a unique opportunity to make everything new. Imagine living each day as a bulb, embedded in the love of God, just waiting for the moment to emerge. We are being called to live each moment as a moment of new life, full of God's promises! Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 While I was still in prayer, Gabriel, the man I had seen in the earlier vision, came to me in swift flight... He instructed me and said to me, "Daniel, I have now come to give you insight and understanding. As soon as you began to pray, an answer was given, which I have come to tell you, for you are highly esteemed. Therefore consider the message and understand the vision."
~ Daniel 9: 21-23 Lions and tigers and bears, Oh my! Okay, wrong story. Daniel's story is often our story. Perhaps without the drama of the dark den filled with lions, but we sometimes find that our life is filled with unknowns. Any one of us can discover at any time that there are lions out there! With such characters like Daniel, comes new understandings of how God works. While we know that Daniel faces lions who suddenly weren't hungry. A man Jonah get's swallowed by a fish and is not digested. Three men are tossed into a fiery furnace and walk away without as much as a tan. All of these situations are not just hard to wrap our minds around, but the fact that they survived leaves us asking ourselves, "What just happened?" I am reminded that God does not protect them from the situation happening. God doesn't sweep in and destroy everyone who seems to have a problem with these Biblical greats. Instead, they become Biblical greats because God protects them in the situation. So it is with us. As the angel Gabriel shares with Daniel, "An answer has already been given before you even begin to pray." For each of us, God has provided us with the answer to a situation long before it happens. It's just that we often will end up in a situation that finally gets our attention to realize what the answer is. I lovingly refer to these as life's "speed bumps." Events that happen in our lives that cause us to slow down, or to stop what we are doing so that we may take time to listen. While many of us find ourselves midweek, trying to be part of the "rat race," what have you asked God to help you with, and in doing so, did you wait, or even hear the answer? So often when we do ask God about a situation, we are so quick on the "Amen" that we miss the answer. Praying that we all may learn to listen when we ask God for advice. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 And a voice came from heaven: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." ~ Mark 1:11 There are times in our lives when we simply feel beat down, filled with doubt and discouraged with how God may see us. In those times we may even feel as if we have no worth. While it may be a rare occurrence, when it does happen it can truly change us and our outlook on life.
I am remembering a teenage girl I met living on the streets of Houston nearly twenty years ago when I was first beginning to work with the homeless in one of our inner city neighborhoods. The girl had been living on the street for nearly two years, after having spent a lifetime in foster care and a number of abusive relationships. One of the things I learned quickly on the street is that each person often is given, or creates, a name that is reflective of their situation or personality. She called herself, "Broken." "Broken?" I asked her. "Yes. Every foster home I was ever in had nothing but broken toys. I was even given a broken doll. When I look in the mirror, that's what I see. Someone who is 'broken.'" Her pain was manifested in how she lived her life, and even her name. I had never encountered someone like her, especially a child, who had spent her whole life surrounded by broken things that left her broken and wounded. As much as I would hope that for any of us our encounter with brokenness would only be brief, for many this can be an ongoing struggle. There is simply no "easy fix." Brokenness appears in many ways, and even in church, we are reminded of brokenness with such images as Jesus on the cross, beaten and broken. Broken bodies, broken hearts, broken relationships, and broken minds are just a few among many ways in which we can encounter this kind of pain. I think for me, being able to recognize the brokenness of Jesus on the cross serves as a reminder to me that God can be, and is, present to us in these moments as well. It's as if the invitation comes from a place where we cannot understand, except to see that there is a "light," coming to lead and guide us from this painful darkness. For "Broken," her name actually served as a place to start again. Finding her the help that she needed, and learning to trust in others, were two major hurdles that we had to work hard to address. For any of us, the idea of being broken simply means that there is a place where we can begin to experience healing and wholeness. It is the starting point. It is in these places where we gain a better understanding of who we are, and what God and others can do for us. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. ~ 2 Corinthians 12: 8-9 About a month ago I gathered friends from different circles together to come and sit and talk about our death experiences at our home. What was meant to be an open place for sharing became much more than that. The table that we sat around became a place of healing.
While I knew one of my friends to be a wonderful hospice nurse, what I didn't realize was that in her military career prior to becoming a nurse, she built bombs as a soldier. Another friend, a gifted doctor who cares primarily for teenage youth, grew up in another country, that was being consistently bombed while growing up and during her medical residency, she literally was "piecing" people back together again. Those of us around the table suddenly became drawn into their conversation, realizing the importance of what was being shared, but more than that, what was being said, and how it was allowing for a sacred sharing that was unexpected healing. Finding a place where we can be open about our wounds and our vulnerabilities can be rare, but are needed in order for us to encounter healing and wholeness. While not all of us find ourselves sitting at a table, like the bomb maker and the doctor, we all know something about being hurt. Not all of us bear our wounds physically. There are wounds that effect us emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I have to admit, when my two friends began sharing of their past experiences, I sat there and was surprised by what the two had "hidden away." There was no judgement, or embarrassment or shame, but rather empathy and understanding. Their words were no longer a source of pain, but rather, they were words of healing. For those of us who were present, we also became aware that they were also then leading us into a place where our own woundedness could be shared, and that healing also might become present for us as well. As we prepare to begin Lent next week, may we all consider that our journey this year be filled with encounters that allow us to experience healing. I am reminded that for each of us, Christ represents both woundedness and healing. Through Christ, we are one with God, even with our doubts and wounds, and through our experience we can be a source of healing for others as well. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I roise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord."
~ Psalm 139: 1-4 We all have secrets. There are a number of television shows out there that expose secrets. Marvel Comics is full of secret identities. The term "skeletons in the closet" refers to secrets that one might have in a person's past. Secrets are real. We all have them: thoughts, memories, feelings that we keep to ourselves. Often we think, "If people knew what I feel or think, they would not love me." These carefully kept secrets can do us much harm. They can make us feel guilty or ashamed and may lead us to self-rejection, depression, and in extreme instances, even suicidal thoughts and actions. One of the most important things we can do with our secrets is to share them in a safe place, with people we trust. When we have a good way to bring our secrets into the light and can look at them with others, we will quickly discover that we are not alone with our secrets and that our trusting friends will love us more deeply and more intimately than before. Bringing our secrets into the light creates community and inner healing. As a result of sharing secrets, not only will others love us better but we will love ourselves more fully. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them in the desert. By day the pillar of cloud did not cease to guide them on their path, nor the pillar of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take." ~ Nehemiah 9:19 This morning I realized that I have become comfortable with uncertainty. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because each new patient I meet through hospice is facing the greatest journey of uncertainty that they have ever encountered. When I think about my conversations, I realize that somewhere in our words, they are filled with uncertainty, but surrounded by hope. These are the conversations of my daily life, which of course, then become part of mine.
I feel as if we all have some "want," to know what today will bring. We hang calendars on our walls where we can plan upcoming events. My family even shares an electronic calendar that is coordinated and synched each day so that when we look at our phone we can see what the day looks like for one another. Even my meetings at work come to me as an "invitation," through emails, and then magically arrive in my calendar when I accept the invitation. While we have these tools to plan out our lives, ultimately, we realize that in the back of our minds, there is always the existence of uncertainty. Years ago when I would sit with prospective candidates interviewing for positions in a company I worked for, I would often ask that monumental question, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I admit, I didn't have a response to my own question then, and I have to admit, the older I get, I'm still not sure! I would listen and evaluate the candidate's response, while knowing my own truth. Like the person I just met that is living with a life-limiting illness, all of us actually do live with uncertainty. And it's okay. Frankly, there are no answers to these questions. I am reminded of trips into caves as a kid in Southern Indiana. The flashlight I carried often only provided enough light to take me through the next step. So it is with our journeys. We often only have enough real knowledge to know what to do in the coming hour or the following day. It's as if we are artists, staring at a blank canvas, and learning that the art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not to worry about what it is that we do not know. Having uncertainty about "what's next," means that we are learning to have hope, and to trust that we will have enough light, or knowledge, for the next step that follows. It's as if the steps of faith find us living a life filled with trust in God. At the end of each day, I am amazed at what life has brought, and I'm often surprised by what I have experienced. Even when my calendar heading simply says, "Patient Visit." Uncertainty is filled with just enough light for the next step. Hope and trust in God allows us to confidently step forward, even when the light is limited by our own doubts and fears. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Now may God give you of the dew of heaven, And of the fatness of the earth, And an abundance of grain and new wine; ~ Genesis 27:28 This morning I awoke to find that the air was still very thick with the sea fog that rolled in over us last night. As I opened the door to let the dogs out, I was literally greeted by the moist air. I walked onto the patio and then out to the garden where there are new leaves appearing each day on the plants we have placed.
I remember as a kid, waiting for the dew to burn off before being able to go out and work in the garden or to fire up the mower to cut the lawn. This morning I thought I would do a search on the word "dew" in the Bible. For an arid area where so much of the Bible was experienced and written, the word dew appears over thirty times and it is generally seen as a blessing. I discovered a Jewish prayer entitled, "Tfilat Tal," which is a prayer that asks God to, "Bring a light out of the darkness to draw Israel closer to God, as a root finds water from dew." I didn't realize my journey to the back patio was going to create this exegetical moment in my morning devotion. For most of us, dew is simply, "dew." I have to admit, I could sense it all around me this morning. I live in an area that is often humid. Even the meteorologist has a whole segment added to the weather on whether it is a "good hair day," or not, based on the moisture content in the air. I stopped and stooped over to take a photo as part of my morning journey to find joy. A practice I have been doing for nearly ten years now. I then begin to think of the thousands of pictures I have taken, at last count, just over 100,000 since I have begun the discipline of taking pictures and relating them to my faith. In many ways, the photos are the "dew" that surrounds my life, that is reflective of the faith I have encountered, and the journey that I have shared. They are the "root," that finds the source of God in my life. This morning I am reminded that dew simply exists because the conditions are just right for the droplets of water to form, and for them to cling to something. We are invited each day to be conduits of faith. The presence of God washes over us, and looks to find ways to remain present. This morning I'm struck to discover the words from Zechariah, "For there shall be a sowing of peace. The vine shall give its fruit, and the ground shall give its produce, and the heavens shall give their dew." (Zechariah 8:12) I'm reminded that the dew that I am admiring this morning is from heaven. It both nourishes and provides protection. It is what each of us seek as we Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "We put no stumbling block in anyone's path, so that our ministry will not be discredited." ~ 2 Corinthians 6: 3 It's another rainy, cloudy day along the Gulf this morning. The live oak tree in our front yard continues to push out last year's leaves as new ones emerge, lining the sidewalk as water carries them down to the street. There is something about this time of year that seems to instill a sense of anticipation for spring, while the calendar and the clouds remind me that it is still February, and whether I like it or not, winter is still present.
It's in times like these that I realize that this experience can also be related to our faith. Mountaintop experiences can only exist when the valley has been encountered. The son of one of my patients is about to make his seventeenth trip to the top of Mount Everest. He serves as a guide and leads those who wish to climb to the top. His mom shared that, "This will be his last year to make the climb." You can sense the relief in her voice, sharing of a journey that he made six years ago when one of the men collapsed and died along the way after experiencing a blood clot to his lung. "I just worry about him every time." She continued to explain that it takes "months" to prepare your body for the altitude, and that the person must prepare to be without being able to "catch your breath." She shared how her son remains at a high altitude for "months on end," so that he can be ready to lead without worry of growing weary, or having difficulty with the high altitude. She then smiled and pulled out a book where she shared pictures of every mountaintop accomplishment her son has made in his lifetime. "I knew that he would want to climb mountains as a young boy," she shared. "Even when we went to the beach, he would build mountains out of sand, and talk of the mountains he would climb one day. We just encouraged him, and now look at what he has done. Of course, leave it to my son to not settle for just any mountain. It was always about Everest." I paused for a moment as I write this blog this morning and lift a prayer for the woman and her son. It is the reminder to me that while we may seem to be caught between two seasons, God continues to guide us towards "something." We stare out the window and our mind suddenly begins to wander. For me, I think of what the yard looked like last summer, and I anticipate the flowers and shade of our trees once again. We close our eyes to pray, and we are lead to places that are often surrounded by the intentions of our heart. While we may not be planning to climb Everest, the blessings that God has waiting for us are just as important. Some of them take careful planning and thought. Some are surprise encounters that leave us inspired. While others seem to be a struggle, and we begin to wonder if we will ever "make it." Anticipation for "what is next," is a hidden, but real part of our soul. We live our entire lives for faith's next step, and while we do, we encounter both valleys and mountaintops. We live through winters waiting on spring, and the day that we finally are met by God as we take our final journey home. Living life, knowing that all moments are important, is the reminder that God is always present, and holding us in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field."
~ Matthew 13:44 To be able to enjoy fully the many good things the world has to offer, we must be detached from them. To be detached does not mean to be indifferent or uninterested. It means that we can't be possessive. Life is a gift to be grateful for and not a property to cling to. When we don't become possessive, we then are able to live a life that is free. I have discovered though that even with a sense a freedom, we still need to feel like we "belong." To whom then do we belong? We belong to God, and the God to whom we belong has sent us into the world to proclaim in God's name all of creation that is created in and by love and calls us to gratitude and joy. That is what a free life with a sense of belonging is all about. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me." ~ John 17:23 Rain on the sunroof of my car this morning seems to create a paradox between the name and the actual experience of peering through the window. It has been raining, and the temperature has dipped below 50 degrees, making all of us who live along the Gulf grab our sweaters and coats again.
An early morning start caught me off guard, and the time that I generally spend writing and in prayer was replaced by a rainy drive into the city to be with a family who reached out to me to come and pray with them. I had only been at the home with this family less than an hour when the call came that another family had just lost their matriarch and wanted me to come and sit with them until the funeral home arrived. I ended my visit and then made my way through the rain once again, going deeper into the city, and surrounding myself by concrete buildings with a few random, planned out, trees. I was able to find an available parking spot next to a tow zone, and covered my head with an umbrella that I had in the back seat of my car as I made my way down the street to where their condo is located. As I entered the home, I could hear crying coming from one room, and laughter being shared in another. That is how it is with death. We are met with emotions that lead us to places where we don't always know what emotions to expect. I immediately was hugged by the woman's daughter, as she welcomed me, and sat down to hear of the dying journey her mother just completed. Even now as I type this, hiding in the corner of a small coffee shop near their home, I can still smell her perfume on my sweater, and feel the dampness where her tears fell. The rain outside reminds me of how her grief is now washing over her, and her family. More family arrived, and the grief begins again and again. I think again of the rain on my sunroof, and realize that we are to count the sunny, as well as, the rainy days. Both can be milestones, just as this day has been for this family. I've often wondered what the rainy days were like for Jesus as he walked roads that were just dusty the previous day, but perhaps, now were filled with puddles, and mud? Did he think of the moment that the Divine entered dust to create humanity, and those who he now walked with which were the result of God blowing the breath of life into the creation, on sunny and rainy days? Even on this rainy day, the light still exists. It resides in the aroma of a mourners grief. I am reminded that water flows in the path of least resistance, and so it is with the Spirit of Christ. It is present among us always, awaiting for an opportunity to enter and to flow. Today I am reminded that Jesus is the "door." Both places where I have been this morning I have sensed Jesus' invitation, and John's words in his gospel, "Anyone who enters through me will be safe." (John 10:9) Each place has been a shelter for me, and I have known hospitality. On sunny and rainy days, we are invited to come and to be together with one another, and that we are all one. Today I am reminded that none of us are strangers. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. ~ Matthew 6:33 It seems to me that the world is filled with folks expressing their point of view. Often being critical of others. This morning as I read comments made by a friend and colleague of mine, I sent him a note just simply asking that he, "Change his point of grace."
He responded, asking if I had made a typo? "You mean point of view?" No, I was trying to be as clear as possible. We don't always understand what it is that any one person is going through. Lately it seems that we all are expected to have an opinion, and even more, we are to express it. I had a dear friend years ago who was an elder at one of the first churches I served. Often he would attend a meeting, sitting silently, and listened to everything that was said. At first I didn't understand how he could be so patient, and not interject. What I realize now is that he was actually providing an example for all of us. When he did speak, I just remember being drawn in to what he had to say. Often thought out, and filled with wisdom and wholeness, his words would be filled with grace. Over the years I have thought about him, and how he allowed for not a "point of view," rather, he allowed for a "point of grace," to enter into the conversation. A song I love, "Seek ye First," reminds us that we are to seek the Kingdom of God first, and all shall be added unto us. It's not that our opinion is not important, it is how we react and allow for the Kingdom of God to be present. The gospel writer, Matthew, who reminded us to seek the Kingdom of God first, also reminds us, "Judge not, lest you be judged." (Matthew 7:1) Two very good reminders that we should allow for silence before responding, and when we do, to make sure that we are responding from a "point of grace." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." ~ Hebrews 13: 5
In today's world we all know a little something about being, or feeling, abandoned. It seems that it has become part of the human condition. We begin conversations via a text, and then find it excusable when the other party stops responding without even so much as a, "talk to you later," or, "I have to go now." It's acceptable behavior, and it's expected. What is it about our ability to complete a conversation? Even in the time of Jesus there were times when he felt abandoned. Not just because there seemed to be issues communicating with the disciples, but even in actions. He asks the disciples to remain alert in the garden while he goes off to pray, only to return and find them sleeping. The disciples get tossed about by the storm and feel abandoned when Jesus doesn't awake until they find they are fearful of drowning. Time and time again it seems to occur. The real question is how do we overcome such feelings? Understanding the feeling of abandonment and how we react to the feeling can have lasting effects. Realizing that with God, the presence is real and always, will help to bring peace to us when we feel like we have been left out. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 So when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!” And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit. ~ John 19:30 I awoke early this morning, dreaming that I heard the voice of one of my patients. There are those patients that I simply "get to know." She has been one. Grabbing some scones I had baked, a few tea bags, and then stopping by a local bakery for some additional sweets, I made my way up the Gulf freeway into the city. I called ahead and was greeted at the door by one of her daughters, handing her the "goodies," and a hug at the same time. I made my way back to a quiet and darkened room.
The woman that I have spent hours talking to on visits is now non-responsive. There is an uncanny silence at this point, creating a beautiful peace. I sat, holding her hand, and describing the day outside. From a cell phone nearby, the familiar piano entrance, and Cat Stevens began to sing, "Morning has Broken." Down the road I can hear a freight train announce it's arrival at an intersection. I suddenly realize that the tone of the horn is in the same key as the song. The gentle cycle of the concentrater in the room providing oxygen seems to keep time with the melody. I realized that I was present for the symphony that the universe seems to proclaim when the Creator invites one of the creation to return. Recently I gathered with several health care workers who shared of their first "death experience." I shared that my "first death experience of a patient," was as a chaplain in training over twenty years ago. I can still remember the face of the man's wife as she was told that her husband had died in the Emergency Room. It was a Good Friday, a day that many of us as Christians understand to be the day of death for Christ. In this case, the death was the husband of a woman who, like those present on the day of Christ's death, seemed to be overcome by sorrow and shock. The death was not pretty, and if I close my eyes, I can still see the man's face, the condition of his body, the smells and the sound of the doctor's voice as he announced, "I call it 9:14 pm." I followed the doctor to the waiting area, where we ushered the family into a private room to give the news. The doctor asked that I grab a box of Kleenex from the counter and, "follow me." I followed without even thinking about what was about to happen. These two words that were asked of fishermen, a tax collector, and others, to follow Christ without hesitation, were now the words being told to me. I followed without question of what would happen next. There are no words for the sound of grief. Just when you think that you can begin to describe the cry that comes from a place that has no name, you realize that it has deeper meaning. This morning's death was met by simple tears and silence. Tears that were filled with a sacred understanding that the struggle was now over. The notebook that had been keeping track of medication doses for the past three days was suddenly turned over, and the machine that had been humming when I arrived, was turned off, releasing one last burst of oxygen, as if to exhale in relief. Suddenly the great mystery of death has once again been encountered, and a new milestone in the life of a family, and one that will now be etched into stone on a grave in West Virginia, will be all that remains from this morning. "I go to prepare a place for you," and the words, "And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever," cross my mind, but are not spoken. They are words that bring me comfort, so that I can be present for the journey that continues for this family. I am still called to be present. Even as we wait for reports to be completed, and as we wait for the knock on the door of the funeral home undertaker. "From ashes we are created, and to ashes we shall return," are the reminder that we are created out of mud, met by the Divine. "The Kingdom of God is at hand." It is realized in one another on days like today. Each day we are reminded to seek God with our whole heart, mind and soul. To not be afraid. To have hope, faith and love. On this day I embrace it all as I leave, get in my car, and drive away to be with another family. "I am the way, the truth, and the life..." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:13 "We fell in love on this block of land we have lived on for the last sixty years," a woman shared with me this morning. "You know that building just behind our house? It has 1927 on the top of it? It was in the doorway of that building he told me that he loved me. I was only eighteen years old. It was the first time anyone ever told me they loved me. Other than my family. You know what I mean?"
Pointing to her husband who was born in 1931, in the back of this building that served as both a business that sold household goods, and housed a young couple who was provided a bedroom and ketchenette in the back, he started life in that building. She laughed as she compared the shape of the building to that of her husband today. "He has lived on this block his whole life. His family ended up buying enough land behind the building to build this house. I have lived in this house since 1956," she continued. Her husband, my patient, smiled as she told of their love story. "He had a blue dodge that matched his eyes." As I often do with couples that I meet, I ask them what it was like falling in love with one another. It doesn't matter what the age of the couple, you can generally discover that somewhere the two met, fell in love, and the rest? Well, you know... Sometimes there are, "happily ever afters," and then some, "a little harder to explain." She smiled big as I asked her husband if it was hard chasing after her? The grin he made told the story. His eyes, now heavy from years of the Texas sun shining on them as he built houses throughout the day, watered up, and he shares, "She stopped just long enough." Their's has been a difficult, "Happily ever after." The two share a common chord that is tuned by their love for one another. The laughter, the sadness, the memory loss, and the inability to even take and hold one another's hands, now is a melody that softly is leading him away from her as he lays dying. "It's been a good life," she says, "and I already miss him so much." Love stories and life. There is no exact science, just as there is no science to the art of dying. Love simply is love. It is our human nature, just as living and dying. "I'm so glad she stopped long enough for you to catch her," I tell him. "Me, too," he struggles to say as he pats his hand on his chest, just above his heart. I often find that I discover something very sacred in these moments. A memory creates an emotion that encapsulates the sacredness, and somehow we are made whole. I understood their love story in the two sentences he spoke. As scripture reminds us in a simple statement, "God is love." So that love is with each of us. The Psalmist who reminds us that, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow after me," reminds us that God is pursuing after us and simply waiting for us to stop. In that moment the love that surpasses all understanding becomes ours. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body." ~ Philippians 3: 20-21 Yesterday afternoon I spent time with a woman who is in the final days of her life. As we sat and talked, she told me, "I'm trying to make friends with death."
It was the first time that I ever encountered someone attempting to engage in death in a way that it brought about a friendship. For this woman, this was her way of finding comfort as she draws nearer to her last breath. I remember the loneliness I discovered when my daughter went off to college and I struggled to "figure out," what my life was going to be like. I had not lived alone in over twenty years, and when I suddenly discovered that I was the only one living at home, a sense of loneliness seemed to overwhelm me. A friend suggested that I "make friends with my loneliness," much like this woman yesterday making friends with death. What I discovered is that drawing closer to my loneliness actually helped me to discover more about the feelings that I was having. I became aware that I could either run from these feelings, or try to understand them better. So often we try to avoid the things that cause us pain, feelings of loneliness, or things that have wounded us. It is only natural not to want these things in our lives. However, when we run away from these things, they do not necessarily diminish from our lives. We may find a way to temporarily block them, but unless we address these things, they may suddenly reappear in ways that may lead to unhealthy, life choices, feeling lost, or even into depression. Our challenge is not to escape these situations, but to discover the source by exploring why it is that we feel a certain way, or react to things in a particular manner. It's not easy to do because identifying the things that have or can cause us pain can be rather frightening, challenging, or just simply painful. The woman yesterday, sharing that she is "making friends with death," reminded me that when we get to know more about why we feel, or act, a certain way, while identifying the cause, it somehow loses some of the power over you. What we fail to realize is that it often doesn't mean that we need to sit and dwell on the issue. Instead, we must search these things our with our heart. As this woman "makes friends with death," I realize that what she is doing is creating a place in her heart where she can live without fear as she completes her journey. Having the courage to face our fears, pains, or wounds, means that we emerge on the other side as changed. Our ability to make friends with these things creates a place for healing and wholeness while we strive to move forward. As we take these things to heart, we are reminded to love God with that same heart, our soul, and to love our neighbors as we strive to love ourselves. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 |
AuthorRev. G. Todd Williams is the author of the book, "Remember Me When..." and is a former hospice chaplain and pastor. Archives
February 2024
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