Soul Restoration

"He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters, He restores my soul." Ps. 23:2-3a

In 2004 Charlie and I were led to tear down our sixty-five year old cottage. It needed a ton of work as it was sinking precariously into the ground. The reason we waited so long was the old building sat so beautifully close to the lake. If we rebuilt, the DNR said we had to move the new structure so that it measured seventy-five feet back from the lake in every direction. We finally decided to bite the bullet and began clearing the land. Down went the old beloved structure and up went the new. Our lakehouse now sits on the point with water on three sides. We never dreamed that we would have such great views because the trees had been so thick that we couldn't see what a beautiful point was behind us. Sometimes you can't see the lake for the trees, as the old saying doesn't go.

Remembering our great family times at the lake over the years, we decided to give the new site a name: Restoration Point after Psalm 23 - "He restores my soul." Since then, we have seen much soul restoration occur in lives during time spent at Restoration Point.

This Christmas, the first anniversary of Nick's homegoing, we all spent ten days together at the lakehouse. There were twenty - four of us. We were all together for the first time since December 23rd, 2010 with its sad events. Many prayers went up for our family and the Lord answered. We had an amazing time. There was even a three month old baby with us that our oldest son and his wife are in the process of adopting. Little Elizabeth flew with them all the way from Alaska.

After everyone left, I started praying about my own direction for 2012. 2011 was a year of grieving for me, but now I am impressed that it is time to begin moving on. In the quiet of "Restoration Point," I received some good words for 2012. I would like to share them with you because I think they show us all clearly how to move on to whatever God has for us in this new year. They are taken from the "Our Daily Bread Devotional Journal" for 2012.

"The word connected captures our contemporary experience of life. Many people rarely go anywhere without a cell phone, iPod, laptop, or pager. We have become accessible twenty-four hours a day. Some psychologists see this craving to stay connected as an addiction. Yet a growing number of people are deliberately limiting their use of technology. Being a "tech-no" is their way of preserving times of quiet, while limiting the flow of information into their lives.

Many followers of Christ find that a daily time of Bible reading and prayer is essential in their walk of faith. This "quiet time" is a disconnection from external distractions in order to connect with God. The "green pastures" and "still waters" of Psalm 23 are more than an idyllic country (lake?) scene. They speak of our communion with God whereby He restores our souls and leads us in His paths.

All of us can take time to meet with God, but do we? In Robert Foster's booklet "7 Minutes With God" he suggests a way to begin: Start with a brief prayer for guidance, then read the Bible for a few minutes, and close with a short time of prayer that includes adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication for others. It's vital to take time today to connect with the Lord, who is our life." (David C. McCasland)

Once again, God has used "Restoration Point" to "point" me in the way He wants me to go in 2012. Wherever we are, we can make time to meet with God, knowing that we will experience soul restoration in His presence.

Happy 2012 to you all!

Is Narnia Melting?

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ." II Corinthians 1: 3-5

It has been nearly eight months since Nick died. My grandchild. Charlie's grandson. My children's son and nephew. My grandchildren's brother and cousin. His young life cut off and ended at the youthful age of sixteen. His driver's license three weeks old in the wallet handed to his parents.

I wrote about Nick's death in the previous blog thinking that I would journal my way through grief. But it didn't work that way. I couldn't write about this horrific family loss because all of a sudden I realized that my heart had frozen and locked up like a computer. There was nothing I could do to get it going again. I couldn't write about anything! Not even simple thank you notes. Whenever I started to write, I would stare out the window. I was numb and mute like the cold icey outdoors. When asked when I was going to blog again, I could only shake my head in silence. Sometimes I would say, "When the Lord gives, I guess." And I wondered, would He ever choose to give again?"

I talked to my friend who is a counselor. She said, "Betsy, you are trying to process your grief. Don't do that. When you are in so much pain, you can't process. Just lean into Jesus and let Him comfort you in His way and in His time."

That was very good counsel. I heard the Lord speaking to me through her words. It's the advice that I'd pass on to anyone who is suffering from deep loss. Lean into Jesus and let Him comfort you in His way and in His time. So that's what I did and that's what I am still doing. I have been amazed at the special comfort that He gives and sends into our deepest pain. I've given it a name - God's Customized Comfort. It's tailor made for us but we have to learn to lean into Him and receive it. Isn't that what the Christian's joyful journey is all about - "learning to lean , learning to lean, learning to lean on Jesus," as the beautiful old hymn tells us?

But lately, just lately, I feel a thawing, a melting deep within the innermost parts of my soul. It's like being in the northwoods and hearing a trickle of water surging up in the deep snow of a long winter. When you hear it, you pause and ask, "Is winter melting? Can it be? Will the newness of spring really come?"

Creative thoughts are beginning to gently rise like little bubbles in a kettle of water that sits on a gas flame and is almost ready to boil. There are things I want to write down and share about God's Customized Comfort. His goodness and tenderness in His care for me doing this time has been so healing. He has used His Word and He has brought people in ways that I could never have imagined before Nick went to be with Him. I would like to comfort others with the comfort that He has given me: "who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble , with the "customized" comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." II Cor. 1:4

Am I through the valley? No, I'm not. There is still a long walk ahead. I know that. In the "old days" women wore black for a year when they were mourning a lost loved one. That seems like a long time to wear black clothes but grief takes a long time. I've learned that. Maybe, after a year, my heart will reach into its closet, throw the black mourning veils in the hamper and clothe itself in colors again. Meanwhile I continue day by day to follow my friend's wise counsel and to lean into the pain finding that God's comfort is real and underneath are His Everlasting arms.

Aslon has been there and He is healing. I am listening, perhaps, maybe..... I hear the trickling stream and Narnia is starting to melt.

Ode to Christmas 2010

Christmas Day, 2010. I am in a plane flying to Dallas to attend the funeral of my sixteen year old grandson. He was killed two days ago when the Mazda 6 that he was driving crossed the median and sideswiped a semi. Nick had his driver's license for three weeks. By the time the helicopter got him to the hospital, he had gone to be with Jesus.

I look down from the plane window and see the neatly blocked streets of Milwaukee far below. They are covered with snow like a Christmas card picture. I think about all the people in the houses celebrating Christmas. I picture them opening packages, laughing at funny gifts, and watching their childrens' delight as they unwrap their special presents.

Some of the houses have cars parked in front of them and in their driveways - evidence of happy gatherings inside. I imagine the smells of platters filled with turkey and ham wafting through the rooms. Every year I cook too - pies, brownie bars, whatever my family likes. It gives me great joy. But not this year. That has been suddenly snatched away.

As I stare down, I wonder how the families in each house celebrate Christmas Eve? We always dim the lights and read the Christmas story. Everytime the word angel appears, the grandchildren take turns lighting candles symbolizing the verse, "The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light." Pretty soon the dark room is aflame with light. But not this year.

Charlie and I didn't open any presents this morning. We were packing hastily - rushing to catch the 12:30 pm flight to Dallas. Our one thought - get to our family whose loss is so great! As we hurried out the door, I glanced back at our darkened kitchen. No good smells, no Christmas dishes, no decorated table waiting for friends. This year our house was a way station on Christmas Eve. We thought we were going to celebrate two weeks with our Alaska family. That's what we thought until Thursday, December 23rd at 5:30 pm when we got the telephone call that said - not this year.

My thoughts go back to that evening - grieving and phoning - grieving and phoning. Family to call, loved ones calling back. "My son, my son, how can we be so far away at such a time?" Hearing the grief and pain in his voice and my Texas daughter-in-love's sobs, intensifies the already indescribable pain in my heart.

Miraculously we are booked on a 6 am flight Christmas Eve day from Anchorage to Minneapolis. Two hours sleep and it is 1:30 am. Time to dress and have our son drive us to the airport. For an hour and a half we talk - we share rambling thoughts. We watch four moose passing us in the cold Alaskan night. I remember that seeing them used to excite me. But not this year. I am too numb to register more emotion.

At 3:45 we arrive at the airport and are told that we can have seats together if we sit in the very last row. We don't care, we don't want to be separated at such a time. We both search our bibles for the comfort of the Scriptures. Lord, give us strength - special verses for Nick-anything that will help us get through this agony. As we read, the peace that passes all understanding begins to descend. We write the verses down. I look up to see the man in the window seat next to Charlie watching us. Charlie and he start talking. He is a ship's captain in charge of huge boats that carry cargo from Alaska to Japan. He tells us that he was at sea when he got a telephone call that his sister had died. He said, "What do you do when you are in the middle of the ocean and you get such a call?" We told him that the telephone also rang for us and that's why we were leaving Alaska the day before Christmas. After we had talked, we gave him the Four Spiritual Laws. He took it and read it from cover to cover then carefully zipped it into his leather seaman's jacket pocket. He wasn't supposed to be in that seat - someone had asked him to trade. We weren't supposed to be in our seats. Or were we all three supposed to be there? Was his possible conversion a good fruit from Nick's physical death? Maybe this year he will come to know Jesus. I wonder at God's grace shining in the midst of our darkness.

We arrive in Minneapolis at 2:30 pm. The van from the Country Suites picks us up. "Why are you traveling so late on Christmas Eve Day?" the driver askes us. We tell him and he shares that his son has cancer. He says, "You told me your trouble, I tell you mine." We knew what he was saying. The glitter of Christmas was all around us, but each of our hearts had great needs that tinsel could never fill. Not this year.

We drive the five hours from Minneapolis to home. Christmas Eve - snow falling, slippery roads, wrecker trucks pulling people out of the ditches, but my mind sees one wrecker truck pulling a black Mazda off of a Texas highway. We stop at McD's for a bite. Who are all these people standing in line for fast food on Christmas Eve? Are they traveling for dreadful reasons too? My mind is frozen like the landscape around us. I cannot smile at them - certainly not ask a personal question.

We get home and unpack our Alaska suitcases and make flight arrangements to Dallas for the next day, Christmas Day. Sleeping in my own bed for one night, my last thought is "No candles being lit tonight. No Nick laughing and striking a match as he hears the word 'angel.' But wait! Isn't he seeing the angels as he spends his first Christmas in heaven? Are they the angels who appeared to the shepherds when the Savior was born in Bethlehem? Is he asking them? Ah, Nick, Nick, what are you doing right now?"

My mind returns to the present. Soon I will see the neighborhoods of Dallas-Fort Worth - not snow covered and cold like in Milwaukee - but each house will be celebrating Christmas. My eyes will search for only one - a home where they opened gifts this morning and tried to continue on. A home with unopened presents under the tree labeled "To Nick." A home that now has three teenagers instead of four. How sad can life get?

The plane flies on to our destination. We are nearly there but I can't see the activity below. We are above the clouds and the sun is shining blindingly bright all around us. "Is this how bright the Shekinah Glory shines in heaven, Nick?" I wonder. "Jesus, the angels, God on His great throne. You are seeing and experiencing it all this year."

For an instant, looking out at the brilliant sun, I am there with him. The wonder of eternal life surrounds me. Then I hear the sound of the wheels going down and our plane descends to land. The clouds swirl around us and all is grey again. The trials and afflictions of this present world encumber us as before. But I have seen the upperside and God has reminded me that my grandson is truly alive. "He is not dead for He has risen!" Nick is above the clouds looking down at God's great canvas of eternity. He has fought the good fight, he has finished the race - this year.

We rent our car and drive toward Crowley. Our family is there.

Other Christmases may come and go with new joys and sorrows but we wont forget this year of our Lord 2010. We do not know what future Christmases will bring but we do know that we shall never be the same - not after this year.