How Journaling Increases My Hope

Grandpa and Grandma

When I was a young child, we visited my mother's parents regularly. One of the things I remember about my grandmother is that she wrote in her diary every day until a stroke took away that ability. Since her death in 1986, I have treasured a box of her diaries. Her love for keeping a diary, built in me a love for keeping my own. I asked for a diary of my own for Christmas when I was only 11 years old. I was impatient however, so my very first diary was made of scrap paper and yarn.

A few of Grandma's Diaries

Over the years keeping a diary (a daily accounting of my activities) has morphed into keeping a journal (a record of my thoughts, feelings, doubts, and growth). Journaling has often renewed my soul and given me hope.

Journaling gives me hope . . .

1. by reminding me what God has done in my life. When I look back through the pages of my journals, I am reminded of things God has taught me, ways He has shaped my life, people He has brought across my path. I am reminded of verses that have spoken to me and times I have experienced Him in powerful ways. These fill me with hope that the God who never changes will continue to do His work in my life.

2. when I see prayers answered. Many times when I have reread prayers I have written in my journal, I have been surprised (even though I suppose I shouldn't be) at the very specific ways that God has worked in my life, in the lives of others, and in situations around me. This instills in me a confidence that God will continue His work.

3. when I work through to solutions for challenges I am facing. As I pray and meditate on God's Word, as I pour out my heart through pen and paper thinking through a challenge, nearly always I am led to a solution, to a path through whatever the challenge is. Finding the path through gives me hope.

4. when I am reminded of special times and words of encouragement. On those days when I get down, the only one celebrating at my own pity party, reminders of better days, of words of encouragement bring refreshment to my weary soul. These memories and words of encouragement become like diving into cool, clear water on a hot, dry day.

5. by helping me re-member myself when things feel like they are falling apart. In the midst of hard times, in the midst of loss and chaos, I start to lose my sense of self, to feel like I am falling apart. Reviewing my journals reminds me of who I am, who God has been shaping me to be. I walk away from them with a sense of hope that He can keep me together and with a confidence in my true identity.

Do you journal? How has journaling benefited you?

Alzheimer's - There is Hope

Recently, after I wrote "Alzheimer's - Another Face of Grief" someone commented about the hopelessness of the situation. I was taken a bit off guard by the comment. Granted Alzheimer's Disease (AD) has no cure and while some treatments slow down the disease for awhile, there is as of yet no cure, no effective treatment. (I have heard that an ultrasound treatment is being tested in Australia that has had some success. Let's pray that it IS a successful treatment!)

Despite the reality that AD has no cure and my mom will continue to decline, I do not feel hopeless, I do not perceive the situation as hopeless. In fact, I have a great deal of hope, hope that is not based on this circumstance or on change. Where is this hope?

1. I have hope in the fact that one day my mom will have a new body and mind. After she breathes her last breath here on earth, her soul will be transported to Heaven. There she will be united with her Savior who she has loved and served throughout her life. She will be reunited with my dad, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and others who have gone on before us. AND she will receive a new, perfect body. Gone will be all the aches and pains, the diseases that have ravaged her mind and body here on earth. She will be able to think sharply, see clearly, and move nimbly.

2. I have hope in the fact that God brings good out of all things that affect those who love Him. Sometimes we have to look closely for the good, careful to be aware and not dismiss it. Often, I think, the good is the transformation God brings about in us as we trust Him through the difficult times. Sometimes it is an action we are motivated to do because of where we have been. The good may look different in each situation, but it is the promise of a God who keeps His promises.

3. I have hope in the fact that God will give us strength and that He will provide. God promises His strength to us, and repeatedly He has given me strength when I have faced difficult times. In the last two years as Mom's decline has worsened, He has shown up over and over as Jehovah Jireh The God Who Will Provide. He has provided caregivers, finances, strength, and solutions over and over again.

We could become entangled in the hope that she will get better, but this is most likely a false hope that will disappoint and leave us empty. Paul of Tarsus wrote in his letter to the Romans, "Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us" (Romans 5:3-5 NIV). My hope is borne not from the frailty of circumstances or the false hope of her disease getting better, but in the God who stands with us and provides for us in the midst of difficult seasons.

May you find hope in the midst of difficult circumstances you face. 

Yeah, Though I Walk - 9.11.01 - Everyone Has a Story

On that lovely autumn day with a clear, brilliant blue sky, I was in my classroom teaching Bible to high school students. After my first class, I headed to the church office for my weekly Tuesday morning meeting with the Youth Pastor. The secretary seemed alarmed and mentioned something about the World Trade Center, but I was focused on the upcoming meeting and didn’t really pay much attention. However, the Senior Pastor stood in the doorway of the Youth Pastor’s office. Our Senior Pastor was a big man--tall and broad shouldered and he filled the doorway. He didn’t move, so I stopped and looked up at him. He asked me if I had heard the news. When I shook my head, he told me that the World Trade Center had been hit by an airplane. Each of the towers had been hit. My thoughts quickly turned to the Youth Pastor’s father and brother-in-law who both worked in Manhattan. The Senior Pastor, the Youth Pastor, the Church Secretary and I paused to pray for our country and for those in the towers. Then the students were gathered and we went to tell them and walk with them through the horror of that day. 

The Senior Pastor stood in front of the auditorium like an unmovable, unshakeable rock and told the students that some days shape our lives and our world and this was one of those days. He not only told them the news, he put it into perspective and he prayed with them.

Throughout that day and in the following days we prayed often with our students and we waited. Being little more than an hour northwest of New York City, many of our kids had parents or other family members that worked in the WTC or were police or firefighters in the City. We prayed and we waited. We waited for news of rescue, news of a loved one coming home.  As we talked it seemed that everyone knew someone who had been affected, that everyone had a story of how the Attack on America had directly impacted them. We watched and waited and prayed. One student’s mom escaped the Towers as did the Youth Pastor’s brother-in-law. Their lives were forever changed. The firefighter father of two of our students went into the building, but never came out. Others from our church were at Ground Zero doing rescue and recovery work.  We watched, we prayed, we waited, and everyone had a story.

On September 13, 2001 I penned the following:

Everyone has a story . . .

Stories of pain, shock, terror . . .

Everyone has a story . . .

It was a bright, clear Tuesday.

The sun shone brilliant in a cerulean sky

Over the Big Apple

The capitol of the world

New Yorkers bustled along the streets

Walking to work

Riding the subways

Hurrying about their daily tasks.

Overhead, a jet airliner whined

Spectators commented on how low it flew.

Then the horror began.

The North Tower of The World Trade Center was hit . . .

A direct hit, by a 767.

A city stood in shock

People fled the building

Then 18 minutes later the horror grew

A second plane flew straight into the South Tower

A cloud of fire mushroomed up the building

From where the plane had hit.

About an hour later the South Tower collapsed.

To those who watched it looked surreal, like a horror movie

Except it was real . . . oh, too real for all of America

A plane flew into the Pentagon

Both Towers of the World Trade Center collapsed

Thousand buried in rubble

Fires raged

Screams of terror

People fleeing

The dead and the living buried

The brave rescue workers

The innocent business men and women

The airline passengers

The day-care children

The suicide mission hi-jackers

A city . . . a state . . . a nation watched in horror and shock.

The sky filled with debris

Smoke . . . dust . . . papers . . . bits of buildings . . . bits of people

The hospitals filled

The news dribbled out

Thousands around the nation waited

Did those they loved survive?

Today, 2 days later many don’t know

We still grieve

Flags fly at half staff

Police patrol our streets

Our military is on alert

The terrorists have struck

We put on a brave face

We vow to bring justice

But our hearts . . . our hearts grieve

And deep inside, below our anger

Below the confusion

Below the hurt and pain

We’re a nation afraid

Terrorism has never struck so close to home

And we’re afraid of what will come

BUT GOD

The two most important words in all history

BUT GOD is still in control

BUT GOD still lives

BUT GOD still loves

BUT GOD is unchanged

If our world is turned upside down

If all that we know is destroyed

If the horizon we’ve known all our lives disappears

If the people we love are gone

GOD REMAINS

Our refuge . . . our fortress. . . our grace giver . . . our life giver . . . our hope . . . our strength . . . our peace . . . OUR ONLY HOPE – THE GOD WHO NEVER CHANGES!!!!!!!

What are your memories of 9.11.01?

Yeah, Though I Walk - Part 2 - Learning to Grieve - Grieve Purposefully

Although I had witnessed trauma and grief, I had no idea how to grieve. All I knew was that it knocked people off their feet and was so very painful. 

A book entitled A Severe Mercy changed my perception of grief. The book is written by Sheldon VanAuken and tells the love story of himself and his beloved wife Davey. Through interaction with C.S. Lewis the couple comes to faith in Christ. Davey’s faith grows strong and she is willing to give everything up for her love of Christ. While Sheldon also believes, he is unwilling to surrender everything to God. Davey’s greatest wish is that Sheldon would surrender completely to God and she is willing to give her life to see that happen. She prays to God for Sheldon and offers herself, if need be, on his behalf. Not long after this prayer, Davey becomes ill and after an extended illness, Davey does indeed die and Sheldon is bereft. 

As he described the process he went through to grieve the loss of Davey, I realized that grief didn’t have to be a bottomless abyss of hopeless agony, but that it could be approached in a purposeful way that honored the person lost, the relationship with that person, and God.

Everyone grieves differently and the things Sheldon did might not work for everyone. Still, I believe that the principle behind his actions is universal. Grief can be approached with purpose and a path to hope and recovery can be found. 

Has there been a book or song that has encouraged you in your journey through grief?

Please take a moment to share it with the rest of us. 

Yeah, Though I Walk: Why a Series about Grief?

Why a series about grief? In a few words, to create a safe place to share our stories by first sharing mine, and to invite you to share your story of loss.

Grief has touched my life in many ways and far too often. Too many people I know have lost a loved one, lost a home, gone through a divorce, or suffered another type of loss and experienced deep, profound grief. I too have experienced painful losses.

I became aware of this pattern of grief as my church experienced a season of untimely deaths. Later while working on a timeline of my life for a spiritual formation class, I realized that grief was not only a theme in my church, but in my own life as well. As I processed this with our pastor, he challenged me in two ways:

freedigitalphotos.net

First, he challenged me to complete grief-work of my own that had been left undone.

Second, he challenged me that working with people who are grieving is delicate work that needs to be done with skill as well as love and compassion.

His challenge started me on a journey to work through my own unresolved grief and then to learn how to help others walking through the intense pain of loss.

Since then, I have read and studied, listened and learned about grief and how it impacts us. We never "get over" grief, but we can assimilate it into the narrative of our life in a way that allows us to both love the one lost and to live again ourselves. One of the key tasks of working through grief is to share our stories, to be able to put our loss into words and know that it is heard.

So, this series is about me sharing my story and inviting you to share your story of loss, about us coming together to comfort and encourage one another, to share experiences and hope, to share what helped us through, and to strengthen one another in this place called mourning, grief, and bereavement.

If you feel comfortable to share your story in a comment, I would be delighted to hear it. 

If you would rather contact me privately, you may send me a private e-mail.