Cedar waxwings
fluttered in the pear tree and waded in the birdbath.
I
grabbed my camera.
Apparently,
the birds merely stop off here on the way from parts further south before migrating
to northern nesting grounds in May.
A
day or so later, I’m in the car with my college age son.
“Mom,
I want you to hear something.” He often shares from his current musical
interests—most recently leaning toward purely electronic music.
“So,
what are we hearing today?”
“Johnny
Cash.”
Didn’t
see that one coming.
Evidently,
he’d inherited a bit of his mom’s eclectic musical tastes.
He
pressed a button on his iphone, and a playlist began.
We
toured Folsom Prison, walked the line, heard from a boy named Sue, and went to
Jackson with Cash’s beloved wife, June Carter Cash.
The
song that grabbed me, though, was “I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger.”
When
news shakes us, like that of this past weekend, it helps to remember that much
like my cedar waxwings, and the wayfaring stranger, we are indeed just passing
through.
The
piercing ache of loss, the tyranny of “if onlys,” and the seemingly unanswerable
questions will give way to a jubilation not subject to the brokenness of this
life.
The
apostle Paul said it well, “…we know that when these bodies
of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by
resurrection bodies in heaven—God-made, not handmade—and we’ll never have to
relocate our “tents” again. Sometimes we can hardly wait to move—and so we cry
out in frustration. Compared to what’s coming, living conditions around here
seem like a stopover in an unfurnished shack, and we’re tired of it! We’ve been
given a glimpse of the real thing, our true home, our resurrection bodies!” (2Corinthians 5:1-5 The Message) .
The suicide death of a friend years ago almost put me under, too. How the pain must sear to lose a child that way. For two years I obsessed on the "Why?" and stumbled through barely able to keep going. Over time, God showed me I didn't have all the pieces to find or even understand the answer to that question this side of heaven. He enabled me finally to unclench my fists and let it go.
I didn't think anything good would ever come of those lonely, hard days, but as I look back, I see it was during that time God confirmed His call on my life to write. In fact, I believe God used the writing to help me find the healing I needed.
It's way above my paygrade to even make a guess what God would do through horrific tragedy, but I know it will be something mighty. A part of this could be to bring forth the truth that anyone, any family can deal with mental illness--hopefully minimizing the stigma so that precious souls don't have to suffer their whole lives in silence.
So thankful for this dear woman and this grace filled writer who are honest about their own struggles with depression and offer many hope.
I'm going there to meet my Savior
To sing his praise forever more
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home
To sing his praise forever more
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home
We are in many ways Cash's wayfaring strangers. But while we’re here, we keep alert for those laboring under heavy loads, and know that even this side of Jordan, God is at work to minister in ways beyond our understanding to bring joy in the midst of suffering.
Prayers
going up for the Warrens and others families grieving a similar loss.
More on this woman's ontinuing struggle
More on this woman's ontinuing struggle