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?