Whose Pain is Worse?

A Grace Disguised by Gerald L. Sittser was a book that was recommended to us shortly after our son died. Honestly I have not yet finished reading it because I kept wanting to journal my thoughts as I went through the book. So, it waits patiently in my nightstand. But I have been influenced by his wisdom and since I cannot write better, I will now quote from Gerald Sittser.
"We tend to quantify and compare suffering and loss. We talk about numbers killed, the length of time spent in the hospital, the severity of abuse, the degree of family dysfunction, the difficulty and inconvenience of illness, the complexity of details during a divorce…."
And we could add so many more qualifiers. Our minds seem to have no trouble comparing and sizing up one thing against another.
Sittser continues,

But I question whether experiences of such severe loss can be quantified and compared…What makes each loss so catastrophic is its devastating, cumulative, and irreversible nature…I talked with a woman whose husband was recently killed in a plane crash. I heard about three women who are battling breast cancer. I met with a couple whose daughter was the survivor of an automobile accident that took the life of a passenger. I heard about a man who has struggled with unemployment or professional frustration for many years now. I learned of a couple who have exhausted every medical option in their battle against infertility. I know of a man whose business is on the brink of bankruptcy…Everywhere there is pain, human misery, and tragedy.

Now I sit here crying over pain that I just read about in a book. I have been told that the more pain you endure the less tears you shed, the more devastating the pain has to be to affect you. I disagree. I feel like the more pain I experience the more emotional I become. These stories touch my heart. I relate to their pain. It hurts to be betrayed. It hurts to have your dreams die. It hurts to lose something you love. It hurts to watch your life as you pictured it slowly, or rapidly, crumble around you. It hurts to feel that you cannot succeed and every turn leads to more failure. Everywhere there is pain.
Sittser writes,

[Comparing loss] can lead to two unhealthy extremes. On the one hand, those coming out on the losing end of the comparison are deprived of the validation they need to identify and experience the loss for the bad thing it is… Their loss is dismissed as unworthy of attention and recognition. On the other hand, those coming out on the winning end convince themselves that no one has suffered as much as they have, that no one will ever understand… that no one can offer lasting help. .. So they indulge themselves with their pain and gain a strange kind of pleasure in their misery.
Each experience of loss is unique, each painful in its own way…The right question to ask is not, “Whose is worse?” It is to ask, “What meaning can be gained from suffering, and how can we grow through suffering?

Truly our Lord Jesus spoke truth when He said, “In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”
I do not want to be known by the pain I’ve experienced. I do not want to wear it as a badge or medal won. How have I grown? How has Jesus overcome the world through me, through this trial?
I am reminded of a quote by Paul David Tripp in his book Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands,

God wants to raise up people filled with hope. True hope is not rooted in my achievements or assets, but in my knowledge that I am the child of the King. He loves me with a love that nothing can take away. He has given me his forgiving and empowering grace. He is daily changing and maturing me. He has promised to give me whatever I need to face what comes my way. And he has promised that I will live with him forever in a place without suffering, sorrow, or sin.. This means that in the most difficult moments of my life… what I really live for is safe and secure.

That is overcoming. I want to be a person of hope and comfort to others as we journey through this pain-filled world on our way to eternal glory.

Beauty

Pregnant women face it all the time -- the fat comments. "Yep, she's round like a pumpkin." "Wow. You're getting fat!" "You remind me of a pregnant cow." And the list could go on and on. Why do women feel that they have to defend themselves after comments like that?
I remember one time at a family gathering going to the buffet line for a second helping during the meal. My cousin cheered me on -- that I would eat even though I am a woman. What is it that makes women think they can't eat?
Some would claim that it's a health issue, but I disagree. As far as I can recall few, if any, have ever expressed any concern about my thin husband's choice of unhealthy snacks.
I think about the women I admire. I admire them for their forgiving spirit, their hope in the midst of trials, their humility and compassion for others, their devotion to prayer. I do not think I have ever said to myself, "I want to be just like that older woman because she is so good-looking." And yet I compare myself to an image of what I think physical beauty should be.
Who decides what is beautiful?
I do not think we can say that beauty is unimportant. I know God says that a woman is to adorn herself with a gentle and quiet spirit. In I Samuel, God tells us that man looks on the outward appearance, but He looks on the heart. That's why He choose David for King, but in the next few verses God tells us that David is good-looking. God made a beautiful world. Little girls seems to naturally like dresses and twirling and bows. It seems to be something God created them with. Maybe our view of beauty is just too limited. A man typically does not marry a woman that he does not find attractive, but his opinion could be different than the next man's opinion. Maybe a better view would be to think that we are all beautiful in our own way -- created beautiful, somehow to portray the beauty of the Creator. We are fearfully and wonderfully made.

God's Unconditional Love

Really there's nothing exceptional about my family. No one is particularly intelligent, or good-looking, or talented, well, maybe Eric is. I just love them because they are mine.
I am glad I belong to God and he loves me just because I am His.

A Willing Heart

Sometimes giving is easy and sometimes it's not. I am not saying that sometimes giving is sacrificial and sometimes we just give a budgeted amount. It's sacrificial almost every time for us. To the world we would be absolutely crazy. But sometimes it's easy to give. Sometimes it's easy to trust and know that God will provide what we need. Sometimes with a cheerful heart we easily give to support a cause we whole-heartedly believe in or to help a friend.
But then there are the times when giving is hard. When I cringe just a little as I decide how much to give to those that are hurting and desperately in need around me. Yes, it does sound selfish, but the Bible says that every man can proclaim his own goodness, but who can find a faithful man? I do not mean to proclaim my own goodness. Everyone proclaims their own goodness. I just want to be honest. (And pray that God would change me to be more like Him.) Didn't He give sacrificially? He gave everything. Someone might say that He knew He would gain it all back again. But don't we know the same thing? Don't we know that in Heaven we will never regret the treasure we have laid up there? And yet still I feel like I am holding tightly to earthly treasure.
This past week someone wrote us a generous check. I am grateful for it and I know it could be so helpful in so many ways, but now I am being asked to give most of it away. Wasn't it given to me freely? Shouldn't I freely give? The slight cringe begins. I don't want to. I have been reading through Exodus. The Israelites gave items to build the tabernacle -- so much and so willingly that eventually Moses told them to stop giving. I was convicted by my unwillingly heart.
On one hand the things I want seem so unimportant. God says that having food and clothing we should be content. Why do I have to want more? On the other hand I want to justify myself -- perhaps, it's more than food and clothing, but it's not more than anyone else would think is perfectly reasonable.
Then I wonder if I just don't trust God. Someone else needs the money now and what I would spend the money on isn't required for a few months. Can't I trust God to bring more money then?
Or maybe it's just that it seems like the money represents something bigger that God is asking. I think it would be better for our family to live somewhere else. It seems like God is asking if I would be content here, even if I knew it was forever. It reminds me of the movie Up. The wife, always seeking adventure, dreams of going to Paradise Falls, but something always comes up preventing them. In the end she dies without ever having visited Paradise Falls. I didn't see the end of the movie, so I just have what my husband told me, but he said eventually the lonely, old husband makes it to Paradise Falls and in the process befriends a small boy. He discovers his wife's adventure book where she placed pictures of Paradise Falls and finds that she had also put pictures of her life with him in the book and how that was an adventure. He learns that sometimes it's the people and the every day things around you that really matter.
My husband reminds me that if we see our brother in need we must not shut our heart up from him. It brings to mind It's a Wonderful Life. George dreams of traveling and seeing the world. But instead he gives of himself and his money to those around him and never leaves his small home town. He helps so many people even though he feels like he doesn't do anything. Can I do that? Can I sacrifice my dreams for my brother?
I really don't even know if I will have to sacrifice what I want completely. Some day God may lead us somewhere else. Just right now it seems that God is asking -- Would you sacrifice? Would you stay here forever? Would you be content if your life was always what it is right now?
I am not ready to answer.

God Gave Breath

I wonder how many near death experiences I can survive before my children leave home. It's no wonder grandparents are paranoid -- because they've raised children. Today Caden fell and we couldn't get him to start breathing again. It seemed like forever. The details are all muddled in my mind. I remember Zac crying and hiding behind the corner. I remember the desperation of believing that he was dying and only God could save him now. I called my sister, trying to explain through my cries and hysteria, that little Caden's life was hanging in the balance. I remember my husband leaning over him, the CPR, the call to 911. Then that one beautiful little grunt. He lay flat on his back with his arms stretched out to each side, his eyes closed, his face blue, but making raspy little breaths. Then he started to cry. I was so relieved.
This happened around lunch time. By dinner time I saw his first smile, after dinner he was talking again, and by bedtime he was throwing his diaper in the garbage. I am grateful for his life.

Ouch

My son broke his elbow. Just like that. One day he was fine and the next he had a cast. I've never broken anything and the word broke, just sounds so painful and ruined. In reality though, he is fine now too. It's not hurting him and it will heal. Kids break bones growing up.
Someone asked me if he got enough calcium. Sometimes I think it's my fault that his elbow is broken. That I didn't feed him right making his bones fragile and brittle. I suppose logic should tell me that's probably not true because of all the times he has fallen and not broken anything, still I wonder.

Plans Change

My sister-in-law once said that in some ways it's harder for us missing Danny than for her. She went on to explain that she could get married again, but we won't be getting another son or another brother. Personally if I had a choice between losing a brother and a husband, I would choose a brother. But then, of course it's pointless to compare pain anyways, because that doesn't lead to compassion or help.
I miss my brother.
Yesterday must have been a good day for my sister-in-law because she wrote about the excitement of some day dating again. I sit here and I feel no excitement. I would be very glad for my neices and nephews to grow up with a dad, and I don't want Liisa to be lonely. I wish it could be my brother.
Sometimes I think about the plans Eric and I have made and wonder what I would do if he died. If he dies while I am still in the east, would I move west? I would still want to go, but I would be absolutely crazy to go. Maybe I wouldn't even want to. Who leaves a place surrounded with friends and support and travels to the middle of nowhere -- where they don't know anyone -- in the middle of a crisis. I would have to go where I didn't know anyone or they might feel like they had to take care of me and the boys. Then I would have to learn how to do everything for myself.
What would I do for income? Who could I trust to watch the boys if I needed to go somewhere? This is a crazy idea.
Realistically when someone dies your whole life changes. Even what you thought you wanted changes.
That reminds me of a song.

Yesterday's gone Sweet Jesus,
And tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord, for my sake, teach me to take,
One day at a time.