Saturday, January 8, 2022

"It's a Lot of Rain in One Place"

 "It's a lot of rain in one place"

Those are the words of a character on a show I was watching. They were using them to describe their situation. In that episode, there had been a series of losses to death of people in this character's world in pretty rapid succession. They were wrestling with the weight of it all.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

I had almost turned off that episode a few times, as it was hitting on my own grief over the many of losses to death - of family members and people at work - that 2021 had brought. I wasn't sure I could handle watching a show about that. But, for whatever reason, I kept watching. When I got to the end, I was glad I had.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

Those words resonated. They gave me way to describe what a series of losses of any kind coming one after another felt like. It put words, in a simple way, to the journey I've been walking. And then gave some insight into what it takes to get through these times.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

The impact of each loss is like a rainstorm over you - a downpour. It soaks you and it soaks the ground. Nothing about it is pleasant, but it passes eventually and things dry out again.

But sometimes another downpour comes before things have dried out from the last one. The already soaked ground becomes saturated - muddy and sticky. Your already wet clothing soaks up more water and starts becoming cold and heavy.

As the rainstorms keep coming, everything gets more soaked. The ground is a muddy, sticky mess that sucks you in. Instead of keeping you warm and dry, your soaked clothes stick tightly to you, feeling cold, heavy, and restrictive.

Eventually, you realize your stuck. The ground too muddy and sticky for you to get your feet to move by yourself. Any attempt to do so just sucks you deeper in. Clothes stuck to you with water - feeling heavy and restrictive.

You only have one choice at this point. You have to ask for help. You need some people who aren't stuck in the mud to help pull you out. People standing on solid ground who you grab hold of and who grab hold of you to pull you out.

But that's not the only help you need. Once you're unstuck from the mud, those soaked clothes need to be removed and replaced with dry ones. But when they're clinging to you so tightly, restricting your movement, you can't do it yourself. You have to allow others to help you do this.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

Asking for help isn't something we're taught to be good at in our society. Being able to do it all by yourself is praised and held up as the goal we should be working towards.

I think there are different types of help we need to ask for and some are easier to ask for than others.

Asking for help to get your feet unstuck? Not easy, but probably something we'll eventually be will to do when we really need help.

But, how many times do we ask for help beyond that? Not very often. 

Once we're unstuck, we go back to trying to do it all on our own again. We've determined we're going to figure out how to remove those soaked clothes ourselves. And sometimes we might succeed, but we're exhausted and defeated by the time we do. Often, we find out we're unable to do it ourselves.

Why do we do this? Why do we fight the help we know deep inside we need?

It's because once we're unstuck, we don't want to let anyone see what comes next. To admit we still need help means letting a least one person into places we usually hide from others. It gets close. It gets personal. It's vulnerable. It's scary.

But, it's necessary. It's how we get those soaked clothes removed and dry ones in place, without exhausting and defeating ourselves in the process. It's how we learn to live with the losses we've experienced.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

I don't know what your "a lot of rain in one place" has been. But, my guess is that after the last few years in our world, you have that place. That place where you feel stuck in the mud and took heavy and restricted by the weight of your soaked clothes to move. The intensity will be different for all of us. And the help we need to ask for will be different for all of us.

But, if there's something I've learned in the last few months: asking for help is the best thing we can do. It's not a weakness. It's not a sign something is wrong with us. It's the absolute best thing we can. Even if we do it shaking and terrified, it's the way forward in our "a lot of rain in one place."

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

But we don't have to figure it all out alone. We can ask for help.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

What is your "a lot of rain in one place"?

Who can you ask for the help you need? Family? Friends? Church? A counsellor?

Tuesday, January 4, 2022

Hope?

 18 posts in 12 months.

2021 was a pretty quiet year on here.

It wasn't intentional. I started the year with plans for more, but then the events that would make up the year began to unfold and I didn't know what to write. I typically write about what I'm learning or studying here, but, for me, 2021 was really just about surviving more than anything else. Much of the time when I sat down to write, I had nothing to say.

Now, we're four days into the new year and I'm looking ahead to what 2022 might bring. I'm hopeful and I'm hesitant at the same time.

Hopeful about what could come and what God could do.

Hesitant because, after almost two years of disappointment and cancelled things, I'm finding it hard to fully engage in too much planning and looking ahead.

I'm wrestling with hope.

What does it mean?

How do you hold onto it when it seems to be taken away regularly?

Is there a place I can actually put my hope that will never disappoint me or fail me?

Romans 15:13 is a verse one of my friends prays regularly over others in conversation, that talks about hope. She did exactly that on Sunday after church in our conversation. 

It says:

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

The God of hope.

This is the God we serve. A God of hope.

When I read this verse this morning and really took some time to think about it, it became clear that hope is possible because we serve a God of hope.

Not only do we serve a God of hope, we can be overflowing with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit in us. It doesn't seem that this is something that is dependent on circumstances. So, hope is possible regardless of what's going on in our lives. It is possible because we have the Holy Spirit.

Hope is something I know Scripture talks about a lot. And I think we need to look at what all of Scripture says to really understand it. That's something I'm going to be doing for the next while as we begin 2022. As I learn more about it, I'll share it here.

For now, I'm holding onto those words Paul wrote in Romans 15:13:

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Saturday, December 18, 2021

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