Resurrected

 

Loving an addict is watching them die daily.
The holding of breath at every phone call.  Waiting for the shoe to fall.
Loving an addict is telling yourself this is the last time.
No more rescues, no more second chances.  Lost hope over and over.
 
Loving an addict is witnessing a slow-motion train wreck.
Fearing the end result will inevitably come 

and there is nothing you can do to change it.
Loving an addict is a million muttered prayers.
Help them to see.  Help them to stop.  Help them to choose life.
 
Loving an addict is loving someone who can’t love you back.
If only your love was enough. 

 If only they’d choose anything else over the pull.
Loving an addict is questioning your own sanity.
This time.  They truly seem different.  This time maybe they’ll stay sober.
 
Loving an addict is allowing yourself to be drowned.
They pull you down further, but you can’t rescue both under water, 

even though you try.
Loving an addict is hating their actions, choices, mistakes, and flaws.
Screaming internally, wishing they would wake up, 

would hear, would stop.
 
Loving an addict is never hearing truth, 

the lies circle and swallow everything they say.
Words, you learn, can hurt and bruise more than any other weapon.
Loving an addict is a toxic cycle. 
A never-ending rollercoaster of emotions, 

hopes, dreams, pain, and sorrow. 
Broken again and again.
 
Loving an addict means losing pieces of yourself.
Giving with nothing in return.  Wishing for what could have been.  

Or what could be.
Loving an addict is watching them die daily.
Grieving the loss of who they used to be 

and who’ve they become all together.
 
Until they are no more.

 I wrote this a year ago, grieving my sister and what I surely felt was her last days.  She had relapsed and was spiraling.  I'd driven her to rehab, only to learn she checked out a few days later.  Having already lost my brother and father to this disease, I was angry and scared.

When this showed up in my memories, I was preparing to go to a NARCAN training.  Sitting in the class this week, I began to think about my sister's transformation the past year.  

God has restored her life.

Most of my reading and devotions this season have been leading to the Resurrection.  

The Bible is full of stories of broken people, void of hope until they meet the only One who can restore them.  But sometimes, God says wait.

He could have raised Lazarus from the dead the moment his sisters sent word crying for help.  But there was purpose in the waiting.  

Waiting is hard.  We live in a world of instant gratification.  And so, it is natural to question when our prayers aren't answered immediately.

Usually our pleas to God are to "fix" current situations or problems, instead of praying for complete change and restoration.   

But He is a God of Resurrection.  He's in the business of miracles and transformation.

Prior to my sister's relapse, she was questioning her beliefs.  My heart broke when I read her words that she wasn't sure she still believed in God.  Or if she ever did at all.

Though it was painful to watch her slowly fading before my eyes, it would have been harder if she'd died not knowing the Lord.  And maybe that is why she was broken.  It took shattering her life, bringing her knees-bent, to see that God was the only answer for healing.  

Nothing in this world will ever fix our hurt, emptiness or pain.  It's all temporary.  The only restoration is in believing in the One who was Resurrected.  

My prayer for you this Easter - and beyond - is that you see the hope in Jesus.  

Whatever you are facing, no matter the struggles, He can help.  

He hears your cries.  You only need to ask and believe.

 

Unbroken

They say nobody goes through life unbroken. We all have our scars and storms weathered.  Some more than others but none of us leave unscathed.

There have been points in my life when I have been both physically and emotionally broken.    Moments that brought me to my knees.  I've had seasons of spiritual brokenness, where I questioned my faith or was betrayed by those entrusted with the gospel.  And we've certainly had our share of financial breaks, where we faced unemployment, income shifts and unsurmountable medical debt.

But despite what life and evil has brought our way, we are still standing.  The constant through it all is that God never left us.  Even in the seasons of doubt, anger, or deep grief.  

This week, leading up to Easter, one of my devotions spoke on unbroken bones.  (Ps 34:20)  

When you think about all the injuries and pain Christ endured on the cross, it is unbelievable that none of his bones were broken.  God spoke of this before it ever came to be.  

As we sit in the midst of Holy week, instead of focusing on the One who is ultimately in control -Whose hand holds the past, present and future...the world dwells on doom.  With the solar eclipse approaching, conspiracy theories and claims of destruction abound.  People are anxious and filled with worry with what may come. 

I've had periods of worry, some points of time that it nearly overtook me.  My husband sometimes jokes that he never has to worry because I do enough for both of us.  Being a planner, I like to think of it more as an assessment.  Working out all the details and possible outcomes with solutions.  But I've learned that worrying adds nothing good to the problem.  As I've grown older and longer in my faith, I've given more of my worries to God and found unexplainable peace in knowing He is ultimately in control.

Jesus suffered greatly this week.  Unimaginable torture and affliction.  But he was not fully broken.  

God promises that for us too.  No matter the trials and suffering of this life, He is with you.  This world cannot break us because it is not our home.  Whatever we face is temporary.  Hope and Heaven cannot be broken.

Divine Appointments

God has been nudging me since the first of the year to write again. While 2020 gave many people the extra time to develop a new hobby or hone a passion, I found myself focused on new grandbabies and family.  Though writing has been a constant in my life, that period of time until now would see me with my longest drought as an author.  Odd since the past four years have had plenty of material to draw inspiration!

New Years Eve, God prompted me to compile a collection of my devotions from this blog and share with friends.  "A 52 week Journey to JOY."  What I thought would be a handful of women interested, grew beyond my imagination.  I started writing out the names of the women on my calendar to pray for as each week began.  And soon, God would use that space tenfold to fill it with names. 

It was the boost I needed to pick back up the pen and share my God-given gift with others.  

A short while later, I discovered a writer's conference hosted by one of my most beloved and respected Christian authors, Liz Curtis Higgs.  The workshop filled quickly but I was blessed to be among the group of writers attending and counted the days eagerly until the event.

I am home now fresh from the conference and filled with every emotion in awe of how great our God truly is.  There is no doubt this event came in His perfect timing. Going, I hoped for inspiration, motivation, and possibly connections, but what I didn't expect was for this weekend to be a healing balm for my soul.

God used people to send me a smile, a hug, or an encouraging word I didn't even know I needed. I found myself often lifting up prayers of praise in the midst of the conference for how wonderful He is. But the "WOW God" moment is one of which I'm still in awe...

An introvert by nature, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and sat with different people every opportunity, wanting to meet and hear stories from other writers. Coming back to the gathering place for lunch, I almost passed up the table I'd last visited but something told me to sit again.  (I know now it was God)

We exchanged excitement and notes from the workshops. And then, one of the ladies, Tammy, commented about a new favorite author she'd discovered. When she mentioned her own child loss story, my momma-heart connected and I began to share as well.

We'd both lost sons.  

Both boys were nearly the same age.
Both 15 years ago...

To put two grieving mothers together, who were moments ago strangers, is God led. Then, to discover our boys were the same age and to hear they passed on the EXACT same date....but God.  It was a goosebump, tear-filled ending to an experience I will forever treasure.  November 29, 2008, will hold an extra special meaning now.

Tammy, Liz Curtis Higgs, and me

What a divine appointment, to meet the momma of the son who met Jesus the same day as mine!  How Great is our God!