Those Left Behind

 Alongside the original poem I wrote processing the changes with my Grandma, there were also changes for my Grandpa. I wrote the first part of the poem a number of years ago, while the second part is new today.

I see you there

Saying good-bye

The love of your life

No longer here

 

You try to be strong

To stand on your own

To keep it together

Your pain not exposed

 

Stand at her final place

Saying good-bye

We all stand together

To laugh and to cry

 

Disease stole her body

And then stole her mind

Yet you held on

Loving her deeply

 

Time still moves on

Though loss seems too great

The hole that she left us

Can never be filled

 

But in this we hope

She’s now with our Savior

Who loves her the most

Fully healed and restored

Holidays and Loss

As Christmas approaches, I've been reflecting again on what it looks like when you're dealing with the loss of loved ones. It's the first Christmas that my Grandma won't be here, and while she wasn't able to be at the family gatherings for most of the last few years, she was still a part of things.

Over the last while, I've written a few poems that were part of my processing. When I wrote the last one in July, I thought that would be the end of it. But, as Christmas approaches, there was another one that I'm sharing now.

(You can find previous ones here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

Here's the one from today

Christmas approaching

Yet something feels off

Grandma, you’re missing

It doesn’t feel right

 

Decorations and nativity set

The detailed Christmas village

They remind me of you

The joy and the laughter

 

Sometimes I’m okay

And sometimes I’m not

Sometimes I’m laughing

The next time I’m crying

 

Grief is so messy

A hole in my heart

The place that you filled

A place for no other

 

Each time that I miss you

I hear all you shared

The wisdom you offered

How you pointed the way

 

I look at your picture

And see how you smile

It shows how you loved us

How you embraced life

 

Grandma, I miss you

This world just feels wrong

Without you down here

I miss you, I miss you

 

Christmas is coming

The first time without you

I want to pretend that it’s all okay

But I know that it’s not

 

I miss you so deeply

I’ll always remember

Your role in my life

The love that you shared

 

You pointed to Jesus

In all that you lived

You prayed and you loved

Just the way that you lived

 

I see your picture

I choose to let go

Trusting our Savior

Who loves us the most

Dealing with Grief & Loss

We don't know how to deal with grief and loss well today. As a matter of fact, we're more likely to pretend it doesn't affect us, then to actually deal with it.

I've been thinking a lot about with loss and grief in our society. And realizing just how poorly we typically deal with it.

This is something that has been front and center in my life since 2021 began. When you lose six family members and 2 coworkers to death in the span of less than a year, you become very aware of how we tend to deal with loss and grief. Really, of how we tend to just put it in a box with limits around it, expecting certain things of people.

And I'm just as guilty as anyone else at this. Or, I was before living through 2021 so far. Walking through such an overwhelming amount of loss all at once - really just going through any amount of loss at all - changes how you view it all. Or, it will change your view if you allow it to.

We expect people to have some bad days immediately following a loss. We see it as normal if there's tears and wrestling for a period of time. But, after a short time frame - which doesn't seem to have a set length - we expect people to just go back to whatever life looked like before the death and be okay.

I experienced this with the loss of my Grandma a few months ago. She was the most significant loss in the midst of all the losses to death of 2021. For the first few days, people weren't surprised that I answered questions of how I was doing by saying I wasn't doing great. But, once I answered someone once with the fact that I was having a good day - at that moment they asked - it was like that was an indication that I was over it and okay now. When I tell people I'm doing okay not great, or that I'm just having a bad day, most of the responses I get are of surprise. It's like because I had a good day, people assume I'm done grieving the loss of people I loved.

Or, we expect that because we knew the loss was coming, or it came in stages, that we should be used to things without that person already. We too easily make the assumption that if someone is still alive, but can't physically be present at an important gathering, that once they've died we'll be used to them not being around so the holiday or gathering wont' feel any different.

But, the truth is, even if that person hasn't been at the table for the holiday meal in years, the first time that holiday comes when they're gone, something is different. Someone is missing and it feels different. Knowing that loved one isn't around anymore is different at the holidays, then knowing you're going to go visit them at the care-home they're in when the meal is over, or while it cooks.

What I've learned in the 10 months of 2021, is we need to give people space to be not okay for as long as they need to be not okay when someone is dealing with loss. Grief is unpredictable and takes time. Even if we go back to most regular activities in a few days or weeks, the loss of that person still hurts. And sometimes we'll be okay and sometimes we won't be - possibly even in the same 15 minutes. 

I get why we do this. Grief is hard. It's uncomfortable and awkward. It's unpredictable and full of ups and downs. We don't always know what to say or do, so we try to just make it "normal" again. I'd prefer to pretend everything was normal again too, but it's not and pretending it is doesn't help.

So, what can we do to handle this better?

Stop expecting people to be okay for good. Let them be not okay and admit it sometimes. Let them be okay and admit that too without changing the expectation. Basically, be patient with each other. Acknowledge the hole that loss leaves. Be willing to sit in the uncomfortableness - even if you have no idea what to say, just being there makes a difference.

I'm most thankful for friends who don't get awkward when they ask how I'm doing and I start crying again. Friends who stay and listen and care.

I'm most thankful for friends whose response to a text that I'm not doing great that day is to pick me up to go for lunch and walk so I don't have to be alone.

I'm most thankful for friends who give a hug as they whisper a prayer on a day that's hard.

I'm most thankful for unexpected invitations for a visit.

I'm most thankful for friends who give hugs that are as long as I need them to be in the moment, without making it feel awkward.

I'm most thankful for friends who keep showing up - even when I'm maybe not the most fun person to be with all the time.

I'm most thankful for a boss and coworkers who make it okay not be okay all the time - even if it comes at inconvenient moments.

Those things, that my friends have done, they are things we do when we're trying to do better at dealing with grief and loss in our society. That's how we do it better.

Adventures in an Unexpected, Unplanned World

 I could see I had a few messages waiting and some indicators of interest.

I hadn't checked this in a few days. I was still trying to make sense of the next stage of interactions with someone from that last time.

Was I ready to look at it again?

What if those waiting messages were from him again?

What if all the indicators of interest were the same as in the past?

Did I want to keep spending money on this every month? Or was it time to quit?

What are these thoughts about?

The world of online dating and all that comes with it.

As I've written about life as a single woman in the church long past when many think I should have been married, I realize this is a topic I've stayed far away from. Online dating . . . really dating at all.

The reasons have been myriad. From not being sure anyone wanted to read about it. To the mixed bag of experiences I and people I know have had with it. To the pressure that this topic often seems to bring.

But, I've had a few conversations lately about my own desire to marriage, the challenges of being older and still single, and the additional challenges of COVID when it comes to meeting anyone. And the question I'm inevitably asked in these conversations is if I've tried online dating and the latest dating app.

The answers. Online dating? Yes, on a few occasions. The latest dating app? No. I got tired of trying to meet people virtually in my online dating attempts, so the latest app doesn't even get my attention for a second.

Every person's experience is different. I know of a few couples who met online and are happily married. One couple were both friends of mine from different circles who met that way.

But, those experiences are far from what mine were. And no amount of telling I should be willing to spend the money and time if I'm serious about wanting to get married undoes my experiences.

Let me expand a bit on what I wrote at the start and the online dating experience for those who have never had the "pleasure" (maybe "dis-pleasure") of trying it, but are quick to suggest it as the solution.

First comes the time in front of a screen to start. I don't know what the apps are like, but for all 3 of the online dating sites I've been on, it starts with creating your profile. This isn't like your Facebook or Instagram profile. Even just answering the basic questions take an hour or more. If you want your profile to stand out to others looking, then it's longer than that.

The comes the possible matches. The site takes your profile answers and highlights profiles it thinks would be a good match (algorithms, before they became a dreaded Facebook thing). That leaves you with lots of profiles to read through. And you do being to wonder about things when your number 1 match is someone you broke up with because at the core you were two people who didn't work together.

Over time, you start getting messages on the site, or other indications of interest (someone didn't just read your profile and move on - on one site they could send you a "wink to indicate interest). When I first saw those, I was kind of excited. Until I looked at who it was . . . nine out of ten of the indicators of interest were from men my dad's age or older - some even as old as my grandpa. Not what I expected, or what I was looking for (and I had made sure I was clear on the age range I was open to in my profile). So, indicators of interest became mostly creepy feeling, not something important.

Then there's the messages. This one started out well. An opportunity to start a conversation with someone - to get to know them more. All through the online dating site though, so no personal contact information exchanged yet. Sometimes things go on for a while here and sometimes they don't.

I had one particularly memorable message conversation . . . one that was the final thing that made me cancel my membership on all the sites for good. I went into this all with the mindset of giving everyone a chance (except for my ex because I already knew that wasn't a good match).

So, despite not really being interested in moving overseas for someone, I responded to a message from someone in Europe. My profile was clear that I wasn't interested in that kind of a move - unless there was some sort of crazy connection pretty quick. And after a few messages, I re-iterated that to him because I didn't want to waste his time or mine.

His message back astonished, horrified, and terrified me. I can still see the words clearly, as he told me that we could keep getting to know each other while he prayed God would change my mind so I could be a good wife. Instant red flags!!!

I simply replied that I was no longer interested in conversation, thinking that was it. I was wrong. A few days later, all those messages I had were from him. 

That was the end of my online dating foray. I cancelled my memberships on all sites I was on and I've never looked back.

Some may say I gave up too quickly. Everyone is welcome to their own opinions. I've got my experience and that drive that decision. And I've reconsidered since (especially in the last year and a half when the whole world moved online), but just don't want to go there again.

So, why do I share this? What's my purpose in writing this?

It comes from my recent conversations about this where I've been asked if I've tried this. I know the question comes from a good place. From a place of caring. But, unless I ask specifically, when I share my desire for marriage with you, I'm not looking for a solution from you (although if you know someone personally who you think I might click with, I'm open to you offering to arrange a way for us to meet). In that moment, I'm trusting you with part of my heart and I just need you to listen.

Saying Good-Bye

 This is the final part of some poems that I wrote as I have been processing things with my Grandma.

You can find previous parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

It’s different down here

Without you to see

No one I call Grandma

To hug anymore

 

Something feels missing

Without you here

A hole left behind

That only you filled

 

I miss you already

Just being with you

Sitting beside you

Feeling your hugs

 

But I picture you there

Fully healed and restored

In the arms of our Savior

At peace evermore

 

The world feels so different

Without your bright light

Shining for Jesus

In all that you do

 

While words couldn’t express it

Right up to the end

A peace sat around you

As I entered your room

 

You knew of your Savior

You knew what would come

You trusted Him deeply

And pointed the way

 

A woman of prayer

Your legacy left

A love for our Savior

Marked all that you did

 

Good-bye my dear Grandma

I’ll never forget

The words of your wisdom

The love that you showed

 

I know that I’m different

Because you took time

To point me to Jesus

In all that you said

In the Struggle

 I've shared a couple of poems that I wrote in processing things with my Grandma. One back in 2018 and one just a few days ago. Things didn't feel complete yet, but I wasn't sure if I was going to share the rest of them. Today, I'm choosing to share the next part.

I see you there

Fighting to stay here

You keep holding on

To life on this earth

 

I see you there

Struggling to stay here

It’s time to let go

It’s time to go home

 

We know where you’re going

Our Savior is waiting

With welcoming arms

For you to come to Him

 

We’ll miss you down here

But we will be okay

We know where you’re going

That it will be better

 

We know we can trust Him

Our Savior to hold you

To welcome you to Him

Cuz He loves you the most

 

I treasure it all

Every hug, every smile

Every thing you came to

Every card that you wrote

 

I see you there

I choose to let go

Trusting our Savior

Who loves you the most

Even When It's Hard...

 A couple of years ago, things started really changing with my grandparents. It was a lot to process at the time. One of the ways I often make sense of things is poetry. In December of 2018, I shared a poem that I wrote about things that were happening with my Grandma at the time.

As I've been continuing to walk this in the last few months, I found that I was writing more of what felt like much the same poem as I shared in 2018. This part is a couple of months old now. I wrote it after visiting my Grandma on Mother's Day, back in May.

I see you there

Fighting to follow

The words that are spoken

Uncertain of what’s going on

 

I see you there

Dependent on others

To move and for care

Unable to do what you choose

 

I see you there

A smile peeks through

A moment, a glimpse

Of the Grandma I know

 

Reading Scripture aloud

Singing old hymns

The things you’ve held dear

And modelled for us

 

I bend down to hug you

You melt in my arms

No strong arms reach back

As they used to do

 

I miss all your hugs

The way you held tight

It’s my turn right now

To hug you well

 

Grandma, I love you

Feels not enough

Words can’t express 

Just how I feel

 

I’ve missed you for long

It’s not been the same

You’re there and you’re not

All in one breath

 

I see you there

I choose to let go

Trusting our Savior

Who loves you the most

What Do We Do Now?

 Horrifying. Saddening. A light shed on the atrocities committed.

This news has continued to come over the last couple months. The horrors of children ripped from their homes, and ultimately being buried in unmarked graves. Missing the dignity of a proper burial and a chance for family and friends to say good-bye. The terrible reality of things done in the name of country and in the name of God.

Things that never should have been allowed. Things we quickly condemn when we hear about them happening in other places. Things that break the heart of God and should break the hearts of those who claim His Name today.

As I've watched this unfold. Heard the news. Read the reactions. I've wrestled with how to respond myself. With how to even try to make sense of any of this. How do I respond? What can and should I do?

To be honest, it's only in the last few years that I've become more clearly aware of this lengthy part of Canada's story. I wasn't trying to ignore it, but I'd never heard much about it.

It's unfortunately easier than I thought to come up with explanations and reasons. To keep it at a distance that means I don't have to do anything. 

But, I don't want to do that. I don't want to continue in the patterns of the past. It doesn't do any good for anyone.

While I would never compare what my family went through leaving everything behind when they fled the persecution they were facing and came to Canada. But, I did learn an important lesson from stories my great-grandparents told about their experiences or the experiences of their parents.

I learned how important it is to really listen and care about another's story. Not listening to confirm your opinion or understanding. Listening to hear the other person and what they're saying.

I had a quote from Beth Moore come up again recently that explains what I'm trying to say better than I can:

"We cannot have compassion if we don't go sit with people and enter in to how they see it."

As we grapple with what has been discovered - as a country, as a church, as individuals - we have to learn to sit with people and enter in to their experiences of this part of history. Not to analyze, or argue, or convince them of something. But to learn what it was and is like for the other person.

This isn't easy. It takes hard work. It's hard to hear. As Danielle Strickland writes:

"Presencing yourself to enter into the other person's experience. To be part of the joy and the pain. This is the most transformative part of listening and the hardest one to allow yourself to do."

But it is exactly what we need to do. We need to really listen to those who are still living with this. To those who still deal with the results of this terrible part of Canada's story. To those who live with the pain.

We cannot ignore this. Or try to pretend it didn't happen or it wasn't that bad.

It's only in really listening that we can begin to heal. That we can begin to move forward.

Fix Your Eyes

 Sometimes life is hard and things we're going through feel like heavy burden to carry. It feels like we're just barely making it through with the weight of all that's going on.

We're looking for hope. For a way through. For a way out.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 says:

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen s temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

When I read these words a few days ago, I struggled with some of how it was written. I had to sit with it for a while to realize what Paul meant when he wrote these words.

The last couple months have been hard and heavy. Personal losses of an aunt and an uncle. Significant losses and hard times in my work family. It has just all seemed to pile up at one time. It has been a challenging and heavy time to walk through.

So reading words that called our troubles "light and momentary" didn't feel encouraging at first. My first thought was actually, you have no idea what's going on. When we're walking through hard times and loss, those things don't feel light or momentary. It feels like a weight on us that will never be lifted.

But, Paul, who wrote these words, knew what suffering and hard times were. He knew hardship. He knew the heaviness of loss. But, he still called our earthly troubles light and momentary.

How could he do this?

How can we do this in our troubles?

It's all about where we fix our eyes. That's what Paul tells us next in the passage from 2 Corinthians.

When our eyes are down, when they're focused on our circumstances, all we see is our troubles. That's when everything hard becomes overwhelming and never-ending.

The solution: to lift our eyes. To fix them on what is unseen and eternal. To fix our eyes on Jesus, as the writer of Hebrews tells us (Hebrews 12:2). This doesn't remove our troubles. It doesn't remove our loss. It doesn't take away the hard things.

But, it changes our focus.

When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, we see things differently. We see Him and then we see our circumstances through Him.

When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, we know we're not walking through whatever we're facing alone. We have a Companion who cares about us. Who wants to helps us and sometimes carry us through whatever we're facing.

That's the lesson I've learned that I'm trying to apply in my own circumstances right now. It's easy to look at the losses and struggles and be overwhelmed. That's where I was when I first read these verses. 

But, when I choose to fix my eyes on Jesus, something changes. Nothing about the circumstances has changed. The losses still exist. The hard times haven't disappeared. But, it's not as overwhelming because I'm paying attention to Jesus with me in the midst of them.

Once I saw all this, the words of 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 have become words of encouragement and hope.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

What troubles are you walking through that seem anything but light and momentary?

Where are your eyes fixed? On your troubles? Or on Jesus?

How can you fix your eyes on Jesus?

What's Your Perspective?

 What is the lens you're looking at things through?

What is colouring the way you see things right now?

What's your persepctive?

A few days ago, I played what could arguably be the worst golf game I've played since I was just learning the game. And it seemed to keep getting worse the more holes I played.

I could blame the terrible round on many things. It was my first game of the season. I haven't gotten to play much in the last few years. The weather was crazy and undecided - sun, then rain, then sun, then rain again. The wind was making the ball go places that weren't planned.

And all of those things probably played a role in how bad it was. But, they weren't the most important thing impacting my game that day.

A few years ago, I inherited my Grandma's golf clubs. She wasn't able to play anymore and I was in need of new clubs, but couldn't afford them. So, since my swing is very similar to my Grandma's (if you golf, you know this is important), she gave me her relatively new clubs to use.

After a particularly bad shot, I was returning my club to my bag, when I heard my Grandma's familiar words in my head. It was something she reminded me of often in all the hours I spent on the golf course with her and my Grandpa as a teenager.

I was getting frustrated and thinking only about how my golf game was awful. How I couldn't swing a golf club correctly anymore. How it was never going to get better.

As I looked at the clubs my Grandma used, I heard the reminder: "It's just one bad shot. When you get to the ball, it's a new opportunity again. No matter how bad the shot was. You have another chance. Start fresh."

The way I was thinking on the golf course that day wasn't helping my game. I didn't see anything getting better. And I was actually making things worse. My thinking kept me going down a path that would make my game keep getting worse.

If there was going to be a chance of things improving, I needed to approach each shot as a new opportunity, rather than keep getting frustrated. I had to change my perspective. 

Doing so, didn't make my game improve immensely, but something did shift. Things didn't keep getting worse and I even managed to hit a few good shots in the remaining holes.

Our perspective matters. We need to be aware of what is impacting how we see. It matters. And not just on the golf course. It matters in all of life.

What is the lens you're looking at things through?

What is colouring the way you see things right now?

What's your perspective?

Where does it need changing?

What can you do to change it?

Acknowledging the Loss

 You've probably heard it referenced a lot. People talking about the losses of this pandemic. And there have been many for many of us.

Maybe we're tired of hearing about it.

Maybe we're not sure what we're experienced qualifies.

Maybe we just don't know what to think.

Maybe we would rather just ignore it all.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

Not one of those years we usually make a bigger deal of. But still my birthday.

For the last few weeks, my sister has been asking me what I want to do for my birthday. I've likely frustrated her with my lack of answers.

No patio I wanted to have supper on.

No takeout I wanted to pick up.

No food I wanted to make for supper together.

No activity I wanted to do.

Just nothing.

I've never been on to plan things for my birthday. I've done nothing for more of them than I can count. It's just never really been a big deal to me.

But this year, something was bothering me as my birthday drew near. And it made me want to just pretend it wasn't happening at all.

It took me a few weeks to figure out what was going on. What was bothering me was that I couldn't have a few friends over to my house, that I couldn't go out for a dinner or dessert with a group of friends.

And it had nothing to do with whether I actually would this time.

It was about not having the choice - for the second year in a row.

But, it was about more than that too. It was a realization of how long it's been since I could just be with my friends sharing food and games and laughter.

It reminded me of something I read a couple months ago. The article (that I can't find now) was talking about grief over the losses of the last year. Yes, the losses to death, the losses of jobs and security. But, not just those losses. The losses of the seemingly smaller things that are still important to us.

When I first read the article, I wasn't sure I agreed, so I just left it and didn't think much about it. Until the last couple days. Until I realized I was dealing with a loss. A different kind of loss than the ones we usually associated with grief, but a loss nonetheless.

We can probably all name some of those losses in the last year. And it can be easy to minimize them because they don't seem as big as someone else's loss. But that doesn't help us. We can't compare our losses to other's losses.

Whatever the loss we're dealing with, we need to acknowledge it for what it is. Allow ourselves to deal with the emotions that come from the loss. Take if to Jesus and let Him meet us in it.

Then we can begin to walk again.

So, tonight, I acknowledge the loss I'm feeling of that opportunity to be with my friends on my birthday or just a regular Saturday night games' night. It's been a long time. And those nights were important in many ways.

And tomorrow, I'll celebrate my birthday with the people I can be with. Thankful for what I do still have, even in the midst of the loss I feel.

It may not be what I wish it could be. And it still hurts. But something does change when it's acknowledged. Spoken out loud. Shared with somebody.

So tonight I leave you with some questions. Questions I've been wrestling with the last few days.

What loss are you feeling? No matter how small you think it is, it's still a loss. And it's not about comparing it to others.

Have you acknowledged it and taken it to Jesus?

Holding Onto Hope

 What are you hoping for? What are you hoping in?

Where have you placed your hope?

These are the questions running through my mind tonight.

I've had a number of conversations with people lately who are struggling to see or feel any hope. And I am too.

This past year has been a hard one for many of us. Isolation and loneliness. Wondering if or when this will all end. Feeling like we see glimpses of the end of this, only to have them dashed again.

It's hard to have hope when it always seems to fall apart. When it never seems to go the way we hoped.

But, I've beginning to wonder if our struggle with hope is because we're placing it in the wrong places. 

What if hope feels impossible right now because we're hoping for the wrong thing? Or because we're placing our hope in the wrong thing?

By the wrong thing, I don't mean things that are sin. The wrong thing isn't about some sort of moral choice we make.

Much of what we hope for and place our hope in are things on earth, things that fade or fall apart. And when those things do what they will always do, we struggle with hope.

What would happen if we changed the place the where place our hope?

What if we intentionally hose to place our hope in something more than the world has to offer?

I love the way the writer of Hebrews talks about hope in Hebrews 11:1

"Faith means being sure of the things we hope for and knowing that something is real even if we do not see it." (NCV)

Hope is tied to faith. Hope comes from faith. The NIV talks about having confidence in what we hope for. That's something that sounds like it offers more than the things of this world.

In Romans 5:5, Paul tells us why we can have hope:

"And this will never disappoint us, because God has poured out His love to fill our hearts. He gave us His love through the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to us." (NCV)

Hope that comes from God and is placed in God will never disappoint us. That's a pretty great promise!

So I'm challenged tonight about where I'm placing my hope. And reminded that I need to place it in God, because He will never disappoint.

In the midst of all that is currently happening in our world, it's easy to lose hope - if it's something on earth we're placing our hope in.

But, we can choose differently.

Today, I'm choosing again to place my hope in God. And, honestly, that might be a choice I have to make again in 5 minutes. But, it's one I'll keep making.

Maybe you need to do the same thing. It might not be easy. It might need to be a minute-by-minute choice right now. But, it's worth it.

What can you do today to reminder you to put your hope in God?

Why Do I Keep Writing About Singleness in the Church?

 Why do I write about singleness in the church?

Why do I write so much about something that many think applies to so few people in the church?

These questions or variations of them have been running through my mind a lot in the last month - prompted by things I get asked often.

The asking of these questions reveal some common misunderstandings and myths that are believed by many. As I've reflected on these questions, I've realized that maybe it was time to address these questions.

To start, let's look at the myth that the topic of singleness in the church applies to very few people. I don't think anyone would argue that marriage rates are declining. Not all of this decline is attributable to cohabitation though. There are also more people who are single and living alone.

According to a study on living alone in Canada published by Statistics Canada in 2019 (based on 2016 numbers), the number of people living along in Canada has more than doubled in the last 35 years, and in the 2016 census represented 14% of all households in Canada.

While I cannot find the sources for specific numbers right now, I have read many articles and books over the last few years that say the population of singles is growing in our society. And that means it is growing in our churches as well. There are predictions that singles will make up half of society, and our churches, very quickly. If singles, as a group, are growing like this, than this isn't a topic that applies only to a few.

And, as I have written about before, the evangelical church does not appear to have a well-developed theology of singleness. When I first began on this quest, an overwhelming majority of anything written on singleness in the church was published by the Catholic Church. Most evangelical-based books were all about how singleness is just a waiting period before marriage. While things have shifted a little bit in terms of what is out there over the last couple years, we still have a long ways to go if up to half our church people are single and many are likely to remain single for their entire lives.

So, I write about singleness in the church because it needs to be talked about more. Yes, we need the marriage courses church's run. We need the sermons on marriage. We need the support for marriage in a society that doesn't value it.

But, we also need support and resources for singles that aren't focused on the assumption they'll all get married one day. This may be the hope and dream for many of us, but it's not always reality nor is it guaranteed.

When we talk about family, it needs to include a healthy and well-developed understanding and theology of singleness. When we pray for different groups within the church, we need to be intentional about including those who are single past college-age and are not yet seniors. Not in a way of calling us out and emphasizing the difference, but in a way of including us and making us feel valued and seen as part of the church. Not in a way of making of feel valuable only for our service and a focus on not having a family distraction, but in a way of valuing the way we juggle work, home, church, friends, extended family on our own instead of with someone to help with many of those responsibilities.

So, all of this is why I talk so much about singleness in the church. If the changes in statistics of those are single continue as they have, it's not going to be long before 50% or more of our church member are single and not in college or seniors. We need to be ready to minister to this group of people too.

Letter to Grandma

Today's post is a letter to my Grandma. At this point, she is still alive - although in a care home and slowly being lost to disease. In the last year, everything has changed with COVID and it's been far too long since I have been able to see her. I hold on to hope that one day I will see her again - even though I know it won't be the same.

Tonight, I'm reflecting on things. Things from my Grandma that are some of the biggest blessings in my life. 

This time in our world has changed so much for so many. I know I'm not the only one who is dealing with things like this. I pray you might be encouraged to remember the good the blessings, even with the losses of this time. It doesn't change or remove the pain or the hard time, and we need to be honest about the emotions we're dealing with, but that doesn't mean we can't look for the good things too.

Dear Grandma, 

It's been a year now since I saw you and gave you a hug.

Not by my choice. Because of circumstances I can't control.

I drive past the place where you currently live regularly, each time wishing I could pull into the parking lot and head up to your room for a visit.

From what I'm told now, the next time I visit you (if that day comes), it won't be the same. You likely won't remember we. Or even talk anymore.

I hate that this pandemic has stolen a year from us. 

I wish I'd held on for one more minute the last time I gave you a hug.

I wish I'd just been there more.

Tonight, as I sit in your old rocking chair, the memories come back. The rocking chair that matched Grandpa's in the sitting area off your kitchen in your house by the lake. A chair that was a favourite place to sit then and still is today.

As I sit in the faded and worn rocking chair, I remember our conversations. The wisdom you freely shared. The encouragement that was always offered.

It's easy to be sad that I don't get the time near the end of your life's journey on earth that I wish I could have.

It's easy to be mad about what this pandemic has stolen from us.

It's easy to live in regret over what I did and didn't do in recent years in the time I had with you.

It's easy to be disappointed that I can't just pick up the phone and call you to ask a question about leading a Bible study or prayer or anything in life.

But, I hear your voice, reminding me that those aren't the places I really want to stay. Yes, feel the emotion. Don't push them away. Acknowledge and work through the pain and the sadness.

But, always look upward to Jesus. Keep my eyes focused on Him, whatever comes my way.

So, these days, I sit in your old rocking chair, now in my living room, and think back to all the things you would say as talked. Conversations in hours spent at your house, making buns or building train tracks. 

I sit in your old rocking chair and remember the hours spent on the golf course together. Not just teaching me to play golf, but also always pointing me to the truth of God's Word and His ways.

I sit in your old rocking chair and read the commentaries I got from your bookshelf when you could no longer read. Seeing what spoke to you from what you highlighted and noted in the margins. A glimpse into the walk with God I saw in you and always admired. A challenge to keep going and keep trusting God, no matter what comes my way.

I love you. I miss you. And I hope that there is still one more day when I can see you and hug you again.

Your oldest grand-daughter, Tamara

Loss in a Season of Loss

I had a much different post planned for today. One I had written, edited, and perfected to share today. But, when I went to post it, it just didn't feel like the right one to share today.

I've been thinking about some different things today. I don't know exactly where this post is going as I write it. This isn't the way I usually write what I share here. But, this feels important to share tonight.

Earlier today, I read a Facebook post that told me an extended family member had passed away. My great uncle Pete . . . or just uncle Pete, as I called him all my life. As I was blessed to have my great-grandparents alive for most of my life, my great uncles, great aunts, second cousins were part of my life growing up. 

Family holiday gatherings, important life events, and church gatherings and events over the years. All those people and all those memories. People who made my life feel that much more secure, because I knew all those people in that room for those memories cared and would be there if I needed them.

As these memories started coming up, my mind wandered to another, even closer person, it feels like I've lost in so many ways. As I sit here today, writing this, it's been just over 11 months since I last saw my Grandma. One of the many losses within this pandemic. The reality is, she was fading when I saw her last, her memory being stolen from her. Now, all these months later, it's very likely that if I see her again before she passes away, she won't know who I am. 

Physically, I drive past the home where she lives at least once a week. But it was Family Day weekend in February 2020 when I last pulled a car into the parking lot and walked through the doors, got in the elevator, and walked down the hall to her ward to find her for a visit. It's been 11 months since I leaned down over her wheelchair to give her a hug, feeling those familiar, yet weakened, arms reaching up to hug me back. Whispering the words "I love you" and hearing her whisper them back.

Another of the many losses of a pandemic. But, the family losses feel the deepest tonight. 

My next thought was to ponder where to turn. What can we do in the midst of all of this?

At church, we're nearing the end of our "21 Days of Prayer" and we've had morning and evening prayer gatherings online. As I was wondering this, I realized it was time for the evening prayer gathering, so I tuned in. And, that was reminder of where to turn.

In the midst of it all, we have a heavenly Father who is with us. Our Abba, who we can turn to and rely on. When the world around us in confusing and hard and we're facing another loss in a season that already feels full of them, we can call on Him and He is with us.

"The Father has loved us so much that we are called children of God. And we really are His children." (1 John 3:1, NCV)

"For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by Him we cry 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children." (Romans 8:14-16, NIV)

Why Are Hugs so Important as a Single Person?

 "I'm not a hugger."

"I don't need many hugs to survive."

Those are words I would have said easily a year ago. And I really believed them.

Then a global pandemic hit and hugging pretty much everybody in my world became a thing of the past. Suddenly, I was aware of just how many hugs were a regular part of my day, my week. And how much I needed those hugs.

There were the two or three hugs with coworkers at the start of a work day.

There were the hugs with a few friends every time I saw them.

There were the hugs with people at church when I arrived each week.

That's when I realized . . . maybe I am a hugger. No, I don't greet everyone I see with a hug. But, for those I'm comfortable with, a hug was an important part of every time we saw each other.

Realizing how much I missed in these last 10 months or so is a large part of what prompted me to write these posts. It made me realize that I actually needed those hugs. So, I am, in fact, a hugger. I'm just someone who only hugs some people.

So, it made me wonder why this was so important as a single person. Why did it seem like me and other single people I talked to felt the lack of physical touch so much more acutely so quickly?

Now, I realize that there are lots of people from all walks of life are struggling with the lack of physical touch and connection. It's affecting us all. But, what I noticed is that there was a difference in how quickly it was felt by those who are single and live alone and those who lived with others and saw and were close to people everyday.

It relates to what I wrote about in my last post. We have limited what intimacy is and that means we've pushed singles to the edge of this. In many ways, a lack of physical touch has always been our reality. Adding in a few hugs from family each week when I saw them, the list I shared at the start of this post is the extent of all physical touch, and anyone getting even physically close, in my world on a normal basis. And it doesn't help that in many circumstances people already go out of their way to avoid getting too close, let alone touching me.

It doesn't mean there aren't other things that aren't helpful and good. Just incomplete.

"While hospitality is good and necessary, there is an intimacy our unmarried brothers and sisters need that cannot be met with mere meals and occasional movie nights. For singles to feel connected to the body of believers, healthy touch must be practiced." (Lore Ferguson Wilbert, Handle With Care)

That is the reason why those hugs are so important. That is what makes me a hugger.

Rather than avoiding touch, we need to change how we look at it and how we act on it. Especially for the sake of the singles in our midst.

"When it comes to our single friends in the church, instead of prioritizing the keeping up of appearances, what might it look like for married people to prioritize giving the gift of physical touch in appropriate but very intentional ways?" (Lore Ferguson Wilbert, Handle With Care)

Obviously, this is something to put into practice in the future - once this global pandemic is over.

But, still an interesting question to consider. I would expand it to include everyone, whether married or single, offering physical touch in appropriate but very intentional ways.

How do we Change our One-Size-Fits-All Rules?

 If our one-size-fits-all rules cause harm, what should we do instead?

How do we approach these interactions appropriately and in ways that aren't open to misinterpretations?

This is already an area with lots of grey and lots that can go wrong if we're not careful. This is why we like lists of what we can do and can't do to be so clear. It's how we attempt to deal with the grey areas and keep ourselves from the potential of any trouble.

This feels like something I'm not qualified to address. Except I opened up this issue. If I'm going to argue that we need to change things here, then it's only realistic that I offer some thoughts though. 

So, here goes my attempt at an answer . . .

We have to begin with changing our understanding of intimacy and physical touch. It's easy to look at our culture and see the way we have sexualized everything.

"We are so sexualized in our culture that we cannot divorce erotic touch from faithful ministering touch with those between whom there is no physical attraction." (Lore Ferguson Wilbert, Handle With Care)

It doesn't take long to see this in culture. A simple look at advertising tells us this. Or listening to some of the popular music. Or watching just a few minutes to TV.

But, it's not just society.

We've done the same thing inside the church. 

It's why we can't hug someone of the opposite sex without people wondering. It's why we go to great lengths to avoid anything where we might be close with someone of the opposite sex.

And we start this sexualized thinking when we're young. It's in the messages on modesty where girls are told to make sure their clothes don't reveal too much because they don't want to cause the guys to stumble. A message that ultimately tells the girls they're sexual objects to guys. And guys that they're not responsible for their thoughts if a girl's clothing isn't modest enough.

Yes, we should be teaching modesty and care for our brothers and sisters in the church. That's vital to how community works. It's not the principles behind this teaching that we to change. Those are true.

My argument is that we need to change the reasons why we teach the principles. The focus needs to be on honouring God with our lives and our choices, not on making us responsible for the choices of another person.

If we're going to change our one-size-fits-all rules, we have to start with changing the way we view physical touch. It's ingrained in us to view almost all physical touch and intimacy through a sexual lens. But, that limits and constrains us.

If we were to remove that lens, how might our rules change?

What About our One-Size-Fits-All Rules?

 What if I told you that some of the rules - both spoken and unspoken - that we have in our churches around interactions with and physical touch between men and women actually caused harm to some people in our churches?

What is your gut response to that claim?

Because that's the premise of what I'm writing today.

I've struggled with how to write this post. What words to use. How strong to come across. Because, I've probably offended some of you already. 

And, not that long ago, when someone said that to me, I was offended too. Until I took the time to actually think about it and relate it to my own experiences. That's when I realized that caused harm is exactly the right phrase to use. 

I believe our rules were put in place with the best of intentions. And many of them make a lot of sense on paper - but only on paper. Especially in light of the sex-crazed society we live in, where accusations - some true and some not - and sin in this area abounds. With all of this, blanket rules feel safest and clearest. The easiest way to prevent misinterpretations of actions or words.

I get it. I understand why all these blanket rules exist. But, that doesn't change the fact that they also cause harm to some people who are on the receiving end of the results of these rules.

When we think about the fact that no two people have the same story, it makes sense that blanket rules wouldn't work. And that makes this even more confusing and complicated.

Before, I go any further, let me be clear: I'm not advocating for the removal of all rules or boundaries. I'm not saying we shouldn't have any rules. I'm saying we maybe need to look at our rules and maybe the hard and fast rules need a little bit of room.

As Lore Ferguson Wilbert puts it in her book Handle With Care:

"In all my years of being in church, it was common to hear placid and stale counsel regarding touch, Always dos or never dos. But none of this takes into account the variety of stories the people of God carry with them - no two stories are alike, no two people are alike, therefore no touches are alike in their giving and receiving. This makes it an infinitely complicated issue."

One of these complications comes from something I've written about a lot here. Being single.

A little further on in her book, Wilbert puts it better than I could:

"Singleness can be a lonely place. And its lonely edges, for many, show up most often around touch and the lack of it. This is when most people feel their singleness most potently."

I've written about this feeling in previous posts. And it's probably something being felt even more acutely in this time.

But, don't think this is something unique to living through a global pandemic. Wilbert wrote her words long before we were in the middle of a pandemic and it's been true a lot longer than this. This feeling may be exacerbated in this time, but it's always been true.

So, getting back to my claim that our rules cause harm to some people. There's one group that I can talk about. What some of these rules play out like as a single person in the church.

As I thought about how to explain this, the clearest way seemed to be to try to put you in my shoes in a couple of common scenarios. Give you an inside look at what goes on in my head - much of it as a result of our one-size-fits-all rules.

Scenario 1

You see a friend at church you haven't seen in a long time because they're no longer living where you are. They're back for a visit. The challenge . . . he's a married man and you're a single woman. Even though you both know his wife would be okay with it and she's standing right there with him, there's a hesitation as you approach each other and evaluate if a quick hug will be okay with those around you. 

The rules say that hug is inappropriate. That's what you've heard since youth at church. And that's what the looks of most of those who see this tell you. Even if no one says a word about it. But, in any other place, there would be no hesitation to greet each other with a hug - and not an awkward side-hug, an actual hug.

Scenario 2

This one doesn't deal specifically with physical touch, but it relates to the same rules I'm talking about. 

You arrive at church and head for where you usually sit with friends. He is seated already, but she isn't - you haven't seen her yet so you don't even know if she's there and will be coming to sit down. You wonder if you should sit down yet. Or maybe it would be better to just drop your stuff off and go find someone to talk to for now.

You've heard the comments before about a single woman sitting near a married man - even when you stay an appropriate distance away. Even worse if you have a conversation with him while his wife isn't there as well. All this despite the fact that you know, she would be just fine with you taking a seat and having a conversation with her husband before church started, in the public space you're in at the moment.

Now, reading those two examples, thing may seem a little extreme. It might seem a little "out there." Honestly, it was an interesting experience to actually write down the thoughts that go through my head in those situations. Those are just two examples of more I could give with enough time.

But, I hope that those examples give a little bit of insight into how some of our one-size-fits-all rules can cause harm. That kind of thinking I describe, that's what is constantly going through my head in every interaction - especially in settings where these rules have been deemed to apply.