A Time for Everything

A Time for Everything

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV)

As I pass another milestone in my life—3 years of solo life—I find myself reflecting on the lessons these years in the wilderness have taught me. I am struck by Solomon’s words in Ecclesiastes that there is a time for every activity (3:1). Solomon outlines those activities in the following verses: birth, death, planting, harvesting, killing, healing, breaking down, building up, weeping, laughing, mourning, dancing, casting away what is unneeded, and gathering what is needed, embracing, withholding embrace, seeking, losing, keeping, throwing away, destroying, creating, silence, speaking, loving, rejecting, war, and peace (vv. 3–8). This list is comprehensive! It is more than just a comparison between what is positive and what is negative; it is a declaration that even the hardest activities we encounter—death, break downs, grief, separation, setting difficult boundaries, loss, getting rid of encumbrances that keep us from worshiping God fully—all contribute to God’s purpose for us. Each activity is not just the antithesis of another activity; weeping is not just the opposite of laughing. Weeping has its own purpose, a truth I’ve had to learn to accept in my own life. I’ve had to think deeply about casting away what is unneeded to make room for the harvest of good things the Lord is bringing me. I’ve had to learn how to create boundaries around harmful relationships; unhealthy behaviors; thoughts that invade my peace and security in Christ; and even good things that in and of themselves are not harmful, but for me in this space are unhelpful.

I recently read a story in my devotional that illustrates my reflections on these last 3 years as I look forward to Year 4 and the blessings God is bringing to me as a result of my dependence on Him:

            John Vincent, a Methodist Episcopal bishop of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries and a leader of the Sunday school movement in America, once told of being in a large greenhouse where clusters of luscious grapes were hanging on each side. The owner of the greenhouse told him, “When the new gardener came here, he said he would not work with the vines unless he could cut them completely down to the stalk. I allowed him to do so, and we had no grapes for two years, but this is not the result.” There is rich symbolism in this account of the pruning process when applied to the Christian life. Pruning seems to be destroying the vine, and the gardener appears to be cutting everything away. Yet he sees the future and knows that the final result will be the enrichment of the life of the vine, and a greater abundance of fruit.[i]

As I read this story, I realized that 3 years ago, God came in and said, “I will work with you to continue to grow you, but first, I must completely cut you down to the stalk.” The first year I was completely and utterly dormant, reeling from the shock to my system of having been cut down. The second year, I slowly began to grow again, building a much stronger root system and stalk that would be my anchor for the future. This third year I started bearing fruit—fruit that is far sweeter than any fruit I’ve ever known. I am healthier, stronger, more confident, and poised for a new purpose and new ministry. These years have been seasons that, if I take Ecclesiastes 3 seriously, were necessary and purpose-filled. Viewing them this way changes my perspective on my suffering. Here is how I sum the “time for everything” I’ve experienced since September 23, 2020 in three seasons: a time to be cut down, a time to regrow, and a time to bear fruit.

A Time to be Cut Down

I did not know I needed to be cut down on that sad day in September 3 years ago, but as I’ve reflected on my life before and since, I can see why God had to “cut [me] completely down to the stalk.” It was literally the only way He was going to be able to show me His glory through rebuilding my life. Cutting down is the process of removing the life-sucking parts of the vine that are slowly choking out any nutrients and stifling the vine’s growth. Cutting down interrupts the damaging growth process so a new and healthier growth can occur. For me, I first had to hurt before I could heal. I had to confront some ugly truths about myself and my relationship with God. It was painful at the time. I cried, I ranted, I lamented. There were some very dark days as I was stripped down to my roots and forced to lean into my relationship with God because that relationship was all I had left. As the writer expressed,

            It is a comforting thought that trouble, in whatever form it comes to us, is a heavenly messenger that brings us something from God. Outwardly it may appear painful or even destructive, but inwardly its spiritual work produces blessings. Many of the richest blessings we have inherited are the fruit of sorrow or pain. We should never forget that redemption, the world’s greatest blessing, is the fruit of the world’s greatest sorrow. And whenever a time of deep pruning comes and the knife cuts deeply and the pain is severe, what an inexpressible comfort it is to know: “My Father is the gardener” (John 15:1).[ii]

I call this time to be cut down the gracious path of grief. It was in those most heart-wrenching moments of pain and loss that I learned to shift my dependence from myself onto God. There was no way I could restore my life on my own. I needed my Master Gardener more than I had ever realized I needed Him before. And He walked with me on that path, offering grace for my failures at every turn, flooding me with life-giving mercy as He refused to remember my transgressions. His “mercy was more”[iii] than the wrongs I had done and without the grief I experienced from the cutting down, I would not have understood “how lavish His grace or how faithful His ways”[iv] are to me.

A Time to Regrow

The next two years were a time to regrow. It was a slow and painful process but God was patiently building new systems of nourishment, new leaves, and buds that would eventually become new fruit in my life. One of the major lessons I learned in those years was that walking through the season is important. My friend calls it the “solo experience.” I like that phrase because most of the days I spent in the regrowth season I was required to experience alone. Again, I had to learn how to depend on God more than on anything or anyone else, and this lesson was best learned in a solo journey. Some important leaves of truth emerged during this time of regrowth. In fact, these leaves are what made it possible for the regrowth to occur. Here are a few:

• God is Sovereign
• God is Sufficient
• Support Systems are Necessary
• Seeking Therapy is Essential
• I am Stronger Than I Thought I was
• Soloing is OK
• Waiting on God is an Absolute
• God Hears and Answers the Cries of my Heart

I gave myself fully to the healing and regrowth process. I surrounded myself with many counselors—family; friends; church members; Biblical podcasts; books, and music—in every aspect of my life I wanted to hear from God and learn from God. That meant I must tune out the distractions of complaint, bitterness, and comparison. I engaged in weekly therapy sessions with a Christian therapist and made this time a priority in my life. I joined a life group at church where I was surrounded by mature Christians who loved me and prayed for me on a regular basis. I made myself vulnerable and accountable to these support systems and, most of all, to God. After spending about 18 months studying the attributes of God, He took me through one of the most profound journeys I have ever been on—a time of waiting. The season of regrowth culminated with the promise that in the waiting, God is working. A journal entry from February 2023 perfectly illustrates what the time to regrow came to mean to me:

Psalm 130 says, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits and in His word I hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than the watchman for the morning, more than the watchman for the morning.” This is the time I must put into practice what I say I know. This is the time I fully trust God’s Sovereignty. This is the time I say, “Your ways are higher than mine. I want mountains to move; You want me to climb. So I’m gonna trust You will work Your will in Your time. Your ways are higher than mine.”[v] And this is the time I step my toe in the Jordan,[vi] trusting that I won’t be swept under, that on the other side of this time of testing is a land overflowing with milk and honey.

A Time to Bear Fruit

As I enter Year 4, I believe God has poised me for this time of bearing fruit. It’s time for God to re-energize the life of the vine and to bring forth luscious fruit filled with the sweetness of His companionship and hope. My branches, supported by the leaves of learning I gained during the time of regrowth, are just beginning to bud with God’s fulfilled promises. I have new direction, new hope, a new outlook on life, and a new appreciation for the pain of my past. I have learned to “trust in the Lord with all [my] heart and lean not on [my] own understanding. In all [my] ways [I seek to] acknowledge Him, [trusting that] He will make [my] paths straight.”[vii] By far the biggest TRUTH I take into this new season with me is that God is in the details of my story.[viii] I have countless examples of how He heard the cries of my heart and is answering even the prayers that I was too scared to utter. Each new revelation of His care for the very minute parts of my story is a new budding fruit on my vine.

Do I still need the Master Gardener? Absolutely! I still need daily tending from His Word, through prayer, and through the fellowship of other believers. God will still be in the business of tending to the “suckers” that try to grow and divert His life-giving nutrients from my life. This is why I must stay “rooted and grounded in love” as “Christ [dwells] in [my] heart through faith.” His promise to me is when I put my roots down deep into His soil, I will have “strength to comprehend...and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge...[and I will] be filled with all the fullness of God.”[ix] This, then, is restoration and healing.

 I now know what Solomon meant when he penned Ecclesiastes 3 thousands of years ago. The time for every season he spoke about are pages of my story, filled with the richness that each season brings. I must accept every page, every season, and every moment as God’s loving provision to cut me down, regrow me, and bear His fruit in me. God IS in this story.

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[i] Miller, J. R. (2008). September 19. In L. B. Cowman & J. Reimann (Eds.), Streams in the desert: 366 daily devotional readings (pp. 356–357). Zondervan. (Original work published 1925)

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Getty, K., & Getty, K. (2019, August 11). His Mercy is More [Song recorded by Matt Papa & Matt Boswell]. On His Mercy is More. Getty Music Publishing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxOApooUSFI

[iv] SovereignGraceMusic (2018, July 27). How high and how wide [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-kof4NOGAQ

[v] The Collingsworth Family. (2021, March 12). Your ways are higher than mine [Video]. You Tube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LDm8xB5ipQ

[vi] Joshua 3:1–5 NIV

[vii] Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV, with personalized words

[viii] Katy Nichole. (2022, July 6). God is in this story [Video]. YouTube

[ix] Ephesians 3:16–19 NIV, with personalized words

Don't Fight the Black Keys!

The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

No one I've ever known who plays piano enjoyed learning how to play on the black keys. It is much easier to stay on the white keys. First, the black keys require your fingers to adjust; you must spread your hand in a way that feels unnatural at times. Second, you have to remember if the selected black key represents a tone one half-step up or a tone one half-step down. Finally, you must learn to read your music cognizant of the fact that certain notes on the page are now played on the black keys, and again, you must remember if those tones are higher or lower in relation to what you have just played or are going to play.

But the truth is, if every song ever written was only played on the white keys, we would never know the beauty of a minor scale, save one. We would never know what it feels like to move down into a darker tune, or modulate up to a joyful melody. The black keys add a richness to our music.

My life is full of black keys. My life song is riddled with the darkness of minor tones. It is punctuated by pitches that are both saddening and joyful, sharp in nature and resolved in perfect harmony. It's time to quit fighting the black keys. It's time to accept that the Master Composer allows black keys in my life to bring about a beautifully complex melody. And to add even more depth, He underscores the tune with ancient words of TRUTH and HOPE, even in the midst of discordant tones. It's time to accept all of my life as His beautiful song He sings over me every day.

How about you? Is your life full of black keys, too? Do you fight the melodies and harmonies the Master Composer is penning? Or, do you lean into the difficult passages, taking your time, wading through the hours of practice and meaning-making required to bring your beautiful song to life?  "The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves!" His battle cry is the oratorio He sings over you; He protects you, goes before you, walks beside you, undergirds you, and follows behind you. You do not need to fear playing the black keys as you trust in the One who composed your life song. I know it's hard; you are going to spend countless hours on the black keys. But I promise it will be worth it when you realize that everything - yes, even the black key moments - worked for your good because you love Him and He used those moments for the purpose of making you more like Him (Romans 8:28). God is singing over you, so go ahead, play those black keys!

Waiting on the Lord

 *Written on February 11, 2023*

I have always considered myself a rather impatient person. I think it comes from being orderly, logical, and having the ability to see the steps needed to complete a project. When I am in a group, I get impatient if the process seems to be taking too long or others are not able to grasp the essential parts of the discussion. I remember become very frustrated one time in a team meeting at work when the presenter wanted to move very slowly through every minute detail of the material prior to giving us the book. While we had not yet read the text the presenter was showing us, the concepts the presenter outlined were straightforward, clear, and easily grasped. Several of us in the group became impatient with the process, and to my regret, I finally snapped, “Just show us the book already! We understand!” Not my finest moment.

                I also have a patient side, born through years and experience, and just plain maturity. I was able to exercise great patience when teaching my children to read, ride a bike, tie their shoes, and do many other developmental tasks. I have a strong level of patience when studying or writing. I can practice piano for hours without becoming frustrated and impatient. So, in some ways, my patience in learned tasks counterbalances my impatience for the tasks I find boring or superficial.

                I am in a season of waiting, an exercise in patience, a time when I believe the Lord is looking to see if I will truly follow Him. I cannot see the steps to the end result, which is altogether frustrating for me! It’s hard to not know what will come of this time of waiting. And it’s also difficult to feel that God is on the verge of doing something but still asks me to wait. I would not necessarily say He’s being silent, but it is taking all my mental energy to listen. I find myself leaning into the Word more, listening with greater resolve to the teaching and preaching at church, examining the comments and encouraging words I receive from others. I am introspective, on the lookout for anything God might be wanting me to deal with during this time that once completed, will signal the end of the waiting period. Is my sense of urgency a product of impatience, or is it the lure of the Holy Spirit to prepare me for the next thing?

                In 2006 as I traveled on a long boat up a long river to an Iban village on the island of Borneo, I looked ahead to where the river bend obscured the path. With every bend or curve, I wondered if the village would come into view. I had to mentally tell myself to simply enjoy the view right in front of me and to not waste this moment in time by my impatience to reach my destination. When the Israelites finally crossed the Jordan after wandering in the desert for 40 years, Joshua instructed them to “consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you” (Joshua 3:5). The Israelites were to “move out from [their] positions and follow” the ark of the covenant once it came into view. “Then you will know which way to go, since you have never been this way before,” Joshua said (Joshua 3:3-4). I remember reflecting on my long boat ride and resonating in my spirit with Joshua’s directions. It wasn’t for me to know which way I was going; it was only for me to see the leader and follow. The promise was that if I obeyed, I would know which way to go.

                As I am in this time of waiting, I do not know which way to go. The reason is quite simple: I’ve never been this way before. Oh, yes, I’ve had similar situations to this one, but this time there is another element that is present, one I don’t remember ever feeling or interacting with in the previous times. There is a strong anticipation of the happy day to come, almost as if God has promised it will arrive if I just see Him, obey Him, and follow Him. It is this very anticipation that is making the waiting so hard! I am impatient to see His new thing. I am eager to arrive around the river’s bend. But there is also doubt – I worry that I am not getting this sense of anticipation from God but that I’ve made it up in my own mind, thinking that these signs I think I’m seeing are really just my own imagination or the result of wishing for so long. And it’s that part I am having difficulty with during this time. I am applying myself – I am studying, I am praying, I am seeking counsel, I am learning everything I can about myself and what I feel like I need to know (with God’s guidance) for the time the new thing comes. I am amazed at how my thoughts are directed toward different things than they were when I encountered similar situations in the past. And yet ... there is absolutely no certainty that I will receive the prize in the end. From a human standpoint, it seems quite impossible. My thoughts are circular; I think about the impossibility of the new thing from the vantage point of my present stance, and I get discouraged. But just as quickly, I get a sensation that God is saying, “Just watch Me! You are going to be blown away by how I work this out!” and my happy anticipation and willingness to wait takes over, like a child waiting for Christmas morning for the longed-for present she knows she will receive from her good and loving parents.

I read a brief story recently - a social media post by a person at least 10 years ago. The post was about the person’s little girl. The parent was watching her as she patiently waited in her chair, eyes fixed on the front door, her packed suitcase nearby and ready. As the parent watched, they wondered what the child was thinking about as she waited for a loved one to come through the door for a visit. Even though the parent had told the child the loved one would not be coming that day; in fact, it would be several days before the loved one arrived, the child never moved. “And yet she waits,” the parent wrote. I cannot get that image of the little girl waiting out of my mind. I keep hearing, “And yet she waits,” every time my thoughts go toward the future. The little girl’s patience was exemplar; it showed a pure belief that her loved one would indeed come. It demonstrated the level of trust the little girl had in the promised event. And it painted a picture of deep faith – a child’s faith. She never doubted for one moment that her long-awaited day would come. “And yet she waits.” Oh, to have that kind of wholehearted faith, that pure belief, that perfect trust in the promise to come!

If I only understood more about the Psalmist’s words, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” I know that if I focus on God, if I fill my life with learning to know Him and His character, my desires will become aligned to His will. The desires of my heart will resonate His heart for me. But what is the process when I wonder if I am already hearing His voice, when I wonder if He has truly shown me what is coming around the river’s bend and He is only asking me to wait to see if I will obey? Can I know, with assurance, that my patience will be rewarded with His good gift? And what if I am not hearing His voice or seeing what is to come? Will I still follow Him? Will I still obey? Will I still step into the Jordan, even though I have never been that way before? I don’t want this time of waiting to be in vain; I don’t want to be this focused on God now only because there might be a certain reward (gift) at the end of the testing. Does God know that? Does He truly know my motives – as far as I have examined them to be – are for Him to lead me around the river bend, wherever that is?

Psalm 130 says, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits and in His word I hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than the watchman for the morning, more than the watchman for the morning.” This is the time I must put into practice what I say I know. This is the time I fully trust God’s Sovereignty. This is the time I say, “Your ways are higher than mine. I want mountains to move; You want me to climb. So I’m gonna trust You will work Your will in Your time. Your ways are higher than mine.” And this is the time I step my toe in the Jordan, trusting that I won’t be swept under, that on the other side of this time of testing is a land overflowing with milk and honey.

From Christianity Today:

Waiting upon the Lord ... there's a believing trust that God's in control of everything and that He knows what we don't know and He sees what we don't see. So in light of that, we can step back and say, “God, your timing is going to be best.”

So whether we're waiting on a spouse, or a job, or maybe a sickness to go away, or whatever it is that we're facing, there's a constant trust where we say, “God, I'm waiting for Your time and I'm resting in You and in Your Sovereignty, knowing that You love Your children, and You care for them, and that You know when I'm ready for something and what it is that I'm ready for. So I'm going to trust You.”

A lot of times, while we're waiting on the Lord, [we say], “Now what do I do? Do I just sit back and just do nothing?” What I've found, and when you look through the Scriptures, it seems that while we're waiting on big answers for questions that we have, let's be faithful in what it is that we do know that we're supposed to be doing. And as we do that, oftentimes I find that the Lord is answering some of our questions that we have or things that we're waiting for in that. So it's in our obedience and following what we do know that oftentimes we discover the answers to the things that we don't know. Or that God uses that to put us in the right place to bring about some of the things that we've been waiting on. So, patient waiting on the Lord isn't some kind of passive thing, but it's an active engagement with what we already do know, trusting that God will guide us where He wants us. (Garrett Kell, Senior Pastoral Assistant, Capitol Hill Baptist Church, June 3, 2021; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYjrTDxRzYw&t=18s)

“But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.”

 

Following the Straight Line

 

“Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth.” 2 Timothy 2:15

"OK, Kerry, just follow this straight line I made for you and you'll be fine."

"But, Dad, what if I get off the line? This mower is hard for me to maneuver."

"That's ok. Do your best. If you get a little off, just look at the line and correct your course. It doesn't have to be perfect. It will all work out in the end."

"But, Dad, what if I can't make out the line? Sometimes I can't see where I'm going!"

"Kerry, look down the line. Do you see that post down there? That's your reference point. If you cannot see the line in front of you, just keep your eyes on the reference point. I promise you will stay the course. You'll be able to look back when the lawn is done and see a beautiful straight line. It will all work out."

Every time I mow the lawn, I hear my dad's instructions in my head. I have a particularly challenging part of the yard; whenever I mow that part, I can rarely see where I've been already. I can rarely see the straight line. After much frustration mowing one day, I finally heeded Dad's advice from long ago: I found a reference point. Now when I mow, I have a fence post on the west end of the lawn and a sidewalk line on the east. As long as I keep my eyes on the reference point, no matter which direction I'm facing, I can keep the straight line.

When I veer off the line a bit, I still hear my dad saying, "That's ok. Just make an adjustment, correct your course. It will be fine in the end." And he was right. When the lawn is finished and I survey my hard work, even if I can see where I got off the straight line, I can also see where I adjusted and corrected my course. Rather than being an ugly reminder of my lack of perfection, the course correction is a beautiful reminder that the overall picture remains whole. The job is still accomplished; the reward for my labor is still intact.

Paul’s encouragement to Timothy in his second letter was to present himself to God as one already deemed worthy to do the job. I know for a fact that the first time I stood behind a lawnmower, I was not worthy to do the job well. However, my dad’s belief in me and his patience in teaching me how to do the job made me a worthy candidate for other mowing jobs down the road. In the same way, I am not worthy to stand before God as his worker, yet He placed His stamp of approval on me when His Son took my sins upon Himself. God said on that day, “You can stand before me with confidence; you can present yourself to me as one approved because I see you through the righteousness of Christ.” This is why Hebrews 4:16 admonishes us to boldly approach the throne of grace with full confidence and without shame. I don’t have to vet myself to be a worker; Jesus already placed His stamp of approval on me.

My job is to keep a straight line. How do I do this? First, I set my eyes upon Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of my faith. He is the standard by which I measure and He is that reference point I need to walk a straight line in life. He does not expect me never to veer; He knows I will occasionally need a course correction, but overall, God is building my capacity to follow His straight line. Paul told Timothy to be the one who correctly handles the word of truth. The phrase, “correctly handles,” or as the KJV puts it, “rightly divides” literally means to “cut straight.” The only way I can see my reference point and follow the straight mowing line is to be in the Word of God. It is there I receive the direction from God that helps me know when I am veering to the left or to the right. It is in His Word where I receive instruction in course correcting. The prophet Isaiah spoke to the nation of Judah when they were contemplating veering from the straight line. God’s people were enticed by the nations on either side and were shunning God’s instructions in favor of “carrying out plans that are not mine [God’s], forming an alliance, but not by my Spirit” (Isaiah 30:1). In so doing, Isaiah said God’s people were “heaping sin upon sin” (30:2) They needed a course correction and fast! Later in Isaiah 30 we are told how to correct a course that is veering from the straight line, how to reset our reference point to God: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength ... Yet, the Lord longs to be gracious to you; He rises to show you compassion. ... Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it” (30:15, 18a; 21).

All we need to do to cut a straight line is listen to our Father, set our eyes upon Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith. He is the One who will make our lines straight. He is the One who will look back on our life and say, “Job well done. Let’s go have a tall glass of iced tea and rest.”

Hope Waits in the Dark on Good Friday

 *Written on April 7, 2023*

Hope waits in the dark. Today is Friday; it’s Good Friday. The day when the most poignant – the truest – example of hope waiting in the dark unfolded on a hill far away where all hope seemed lost. As the sky darkened, the earth rumbled, and the clouds thundered, our HOPE willingly stepped into the dark – for me, and for all mankind ever to come. Even as God turned His face away from the HOPE of all men, He knew the dark would only last momentarily and very soon, HOPE would burst forth, in glory and power, shattering the dark that had held it back.

            That day when HOPE stepped into the dark was a day of great promise. Jesus went and shook the gates of Hell, setting captives free with HOPE. Jesus conquered death by walking straight into it. He was the HOPE in the dark, and He brought with Him LIGHT, PEACE, STRENGTH, and RESTORATION.

            So yes, today is GOOD Friday, and the dark is a necessary and important part of God’s story for us. But even in the dark, He did not leave us alone, abandoned, or alienated from HOPE. We may not have been able to recognize it for a few days, but HOPE remained. His love for us tethered our hope and made a way for us to put our faith in things that are unseen.

Don’t be afraid of waiting in the dark;

HOPE remains there with you,

Waiting for just the right moment

to restore and heal.

Jesus is our LIVING HOPE.

 

Hope waits in the dark.

Hope clings to the promise.

Hope makes the heart sing.

Thanksgiving...A Day to Remember, A Day to Be Grateful

I woke up this morning with Thanksgiving on my mind. No, not the endless list of things to get done this morning as I prepped for family to arrive; that scenario didn't happen this year. Instead, I woke thinking about the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and one of my strongest memories of a Thanksgiving gone by.

It must have been about 1974, give or take a year or two earlier. Mom always made a beautiful and delicious Thanksgiving dinner. She started a day or two before, fixing salads, baking pies, shooing us kids out of the kitchen so she could work. On Thanksgiving morning, Dad would load my brother, Kirk and me up in our white Ford Falcon and we would head to the wooded campus of Central Baptist Theological Seminary where our Grandma Ruby lived. I thought we were just going to pick her up and bring her to our house for the day - and that was true. But, the other, more hidden purpose of the trip seemed lost to me as a child of 8: Dad was getting us out of the house so Mom could finish all the last minute preparations for our big dinner.

We would run through the big double doors of the dormitory where Grandma Ruby lived, past the great room with its massive black grand piano (which I always looked at with longing), and down the hall to Grandma Ruby's apartment. We knocked on the door and she greeted us with a smile and gentle hello. Then, she took us to the basement of the building, to a game room of sorts (I suppose), where a TV sat. Grandma Ruby didn't have a TV but this communal set was good enough to bide our time. We sat down on the floor in front of that big set and watched with anticipation the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. We didn't have a care in the world; we just enjoyed the moment.

After the parade ended, Dad, Grandma Ruby, Kirk, and I loaded back into the Falcon and went home for the best dinner of the year. Usually there were others there, too: maybe neighbors, sometimes older women in our church who didn't have family to be with on Thanksgiving, occasionally some extended family of our own. But mostly, Thanksgiving was OUR day - just our little family and Grandma Ruby. And it was perfect.

Thanksgiving 1984...10 years later, not much had changed in the way we did Thanksgiving. We still watched the parade in the morning.  Mom still made a big meal, only now I was her main helper. I peeled, cooked, and mashed the potatoes, helped her set the table, put out the relish tray (my favorite part because I got to sneak bites of olive and okra!), and made the tea. That year would have been my first Thanksgiving after high school and we would have been so excited to have Kirk home from college. Grandma Ruby had moved away by then so we no longer celebrated with her. A day full of preparation and afternoon dining would have been made perfect in the evening when our best friends, John and Roxie and their little girls, Alana (5) and Autumn (1) came over for Thanksgiving pie and conversation. Through the years, their family and ours gradually started spending more and more Thanksgivings together, at least in the evening. Still, Thanksgiving was OUR day - just our little family and our extended "fam" - and it was perfect.

Thanksgiving 1994...10 more years had passed and now, Thanksgiving Day looked a bit different than it had when I was a child. On Wednesday evening, my little family - my husband and my 3 kids, Heather (7), Aaron (5), and Jonathan (2), loaded up in our gold Cutlass Ciera and headed to Missouri for the annual Vaughn Thanksgiving dinner. On the way we listened to Christmas music and always sang our rendition of the 12 Days of Christmas. Each person had their assigned days; Jonathan's part was "5 Golden Rings," and he always said, "Ri-ri-ri-rings!" We'd arrive late Wednesday night at my brother-in-law and sister-in-law's house in Easton where we'd visit until very late, then we were up the next morning to watch the parade and get our food ready for the big dinner. Around noon we'd head out on the 30 minute trip to Aunt Noma's house in rural Maysville where cousins were already tumbling out of the house, football in hand, to get started on a full day of playing. Aunts in the kitchen, chatting as they worked, uncles in the living room, watching football, older cousins visiting, younger cousins dispersed to various rooms to play games. Soon, the heavily laden table in the garage was ready and we enjoyed a delicious meal, followed by more football, more visiting, too many desserts, and just time together. I miss those days. On Friday, we'd head to Kansas City and have Thanksgiving all over again with my parents. It was OUR day - just our little family, and it was perfect.

Thanksgiving 2004...a decade filled with changes. Now, I was the one hosting Thanksgiving in our home; Mom and Dad lived in our little town and they came over to join us. Heather was a senior in high school, Aaron a sophomore, Jonathan in 6th grade, and now Ryan, our youngest, was in kindergarten. We still listened to Christmas music on Wednesday night, we still watched the parade on Thanksgiving morning, we still made all the delicious foods from years past; now Heather or Aaron helped with the relish plate and sneaked bits of olive and okra. We were thankful and grateful to God for how He had protected Aaron from a potentially serious back injury, how He had given Mom and Dad a new home in retirement, and how He had blessed us in the past year. It was OUR day - just our little family, and it was perfect.

Thanksgiving 2014...oh, how 10 years can change the landscape of a family. New faces - Hannah, Lindsey, Madelynne, Charlie - new generations to love and pass our traditions down to. A familiar face was missing that year as Dad celebrated his first Thanksgiving in heaven. I doubt he minded, but oh, how his presence was missed at our Thanksgiving table. We still watched the parade and did all the things we normally did, but our hearts were heavy and we looked for him in every moment. Still, it was OUR day - just our growing family, and it was perfect.

Thanksgiving 2020...the last six years have flown by; there are more new faces: Duke, Cora, David, Parker, Aaron C. Our little family is not little anymore. That's a good thing, but I also know 2020 has not been easy. F
or many of us, the last nine months have crept at a snail's pace. COVID-19 threatened to steal our Thanksgiving, and for some, perhaps it did. Today doesn't look at all like the Thanksgivings of my childhood, or of my children's childhoods, but that doesn't mean that the warmth of the holiday is gone. In fact, perhaps the uncertainty of 2020 has made this Thanksgiving even more important, more sacred. This year we have the opportunity to think about what's really important - it's not the parade, though that's always fun. It's not the days of food prep, though that's a way we show our love for our families. It's not listening to Christmas music, though that helps us remember why we celebrate this season. It's not eating and visiting and relaxing in front of the football game.

No, Thanksgiving 2020 is a time to look back and see how good God has been to us, in spite of ourselves. It's a time to be truly thankful for what matters - the salvation we have in Him, the faith we can access to walk in uncertain times, our friends and family in Christ, our loved ones - even if we cannot be with them today. Oh, that we would have a parade to celebrate these important moments! I think that's why the psalmist said, "Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever."

It's still OUR day...and it is still perfect because it is the day the Lord gave us.

Praise the Lord. I will extol the Lord with all my heart in the council of the upright and in the assembly. 

Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them. 

Glorious and majestic are his deeds, and his righteousness endures forever. 

He has caused his wonders to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and compassionate. 

He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever. 

He has shown his people the power of his works, giving them the lands of other nations. 

The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy. 

They are established for ever and ever, enacted in faithfulness and uprightness. 

He provided redemption for his people; he ordained his covenant forever - holy and awesome is his name. 

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding.

To him belongs eternal praise.

-Psalm 111 NIV

The Legacy of Loss: How Early Fears and Concepts about Death Shape Older Adults' Approaches to End-of-Life Concerns

The Legacy of Loss: How Early Fears and Concepts about Death Shape Older Adults’ Approaches to End-of-Life Concerns

Mae (not her real name) is 84 years old. She was only three years old when her mother died.  She doesn’t remember much about that experience except her mother saying, “Goodbye, my baby,” as Mae’s uncle held her close to her mother’s hospital bed.  Then, Mae was quickly taken away to live with her maternal grandmother.  She never set foot in her family home and she never lived with her father again.

Barely 12 years later, Mae’s world was rocked again…the only other caretaker she had ever known, her grandmother, died as Mae sat across the room and watched.  Her “Ma,” as she called her, insisted that Mae stay with her during her dying days, keeping vigil and attending to her needs.  Mae was thrust again into an unknown world that left her feeling vulnerable and unsafe.

Today, Mae sits in her recliner in her room at a local nursing home.  Four years now she has been alone…four years since her husband of almost 57 years died and left her with this legacy of loss.  She bravely smiles when asked how she is, and if someone mentions Carson’s name, a pained look crosses her face and is quickly replaced by stoicism.  It’s as though the memory of her life with Carson will envelop her and snuff her own life out.  It’s as though every loss she ever experienced is begging to be felt again and again and again.  It’s more than Mae can take.  So, she sits in silence, staring at her wedding ring, and pretends this legacy doesn’t exist.

Mae's early childhood and later experiences are not unique.  For many older adults, the death of close family members was an all too common occurrence during the first half of the 20^th century.  Advances in medicine that we take for granted today were not yet available and death was an unwelcome and frequent visitor in many homes.  It hasn’t been that many years, relatively speaking, since the “deathbed scene” (DeSpelder & Strickland, 2009, p. 94) governed the way death and dying was approached in homes around the world (C. Corr, Nabe, & Corr, 2006; DeSpelder, 2009).  Death was a simple process, an accepted part of the cycle of life, and the purpose of the deathbed was not to delay death but to witness the end of a life well lived (C. Corr et al., 2006).

A cultural shift took place as the 20^th century unfolded.  Death, according to DeSpelder and Strickland (2009), became “invisible” (p. 101).  No longer did families hold vigil beside their loved one’s deathbed; death occurred in sterile and disconnected environments such as hospitals and nursing homes (C. Corr et al., 2006; DeSpelder & Strickland, 2009).  The dying were separated from those who knew them best, and experienced perhaps their greatest challenge surround by individuals who “may be unaware of [their] personal interests, values, needs, and preferences” (C. Corr et al., 2006, p. 34).  Today, some older adults who transitioned through this cultural shift in the way death is approached fear their own dying process for this very reason (C. Corr et al., 2006).

Mae’s early experiences of death were associated with both the detached hospital death that separated her from her mother, and the more intimate home death of her grandmother.  For Mae, where the deaths of these important persons occurred was less important, though, than the experience of the death itself.  For even in the home death scenario, the “invisible death” (De Spelder & Strickland, 2009, p. 101) attitude prevailed.

No one in Mae’s family helped her understand her feelings of loss; no one acknowledged her pain or confusion over what life would look like now that her primary caregivers were gone.  Mae was swallowed up in the cultural concept that death should be handled by professionals, and families should move quickly through the bereavement process toward reintegration with society (C. Corr et al., 2006).  Mae was taught to simply accept death as a necessary part of the human experience, but she was not taught how to deal with the overwhelming sense of loss she felt.

This loss eventually became Mae's legacy…it was the driving force that shaped her decisions for the rest of her life.

Understanding the Experience of Loss

            For years, researchers have tried to understand the experience of loss.  Perhaps the most familiar explanation of the experience of loss is Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief. Kübler-Ross wrote a groundbreaking book titled, On death and dying, in 1969.  Her writing opened the door for new conversations about the process of dying and the experience of death.  In his foreword to the 2014 anniversary edition of Kübler-Ross’s seminal work, Ira Byock stated,

In a period in which medical professionals spoke of advanced illness only in euphemisms or oblique whispered comments, here was a doctor who actually talked with people about their illness and, more radically still, carefully listened to what they had to say (p. xii).

The crowning achievement of Kübler-Ross’s work was that she acknowledged individuals’ feelings about their impending death and gave them a voice to express their fears and concerns (Byock, 2014).  Kübler-Ross’s model became known as a “stage” theory, the first of many such theories to describe predictable patterns of emotions experienced by individuals experiencing grief, either for their own impending death, or the loss of a loved one (Stroebe, Schut, & Boerner, 2017).

            Kübler-Ross (2014) described the stages as a linear process in which the dying individual moved from feelings of shock and disbelief to a gradual acceptance of impending death.  Each stage has a specific function that protects the individual from overwhelming thoughts and feelings that accompany grief over impending or real loss (Kübler-Ross, 2014).

Kübler-Ross developed her model to give “voice to dying patients at a time when communication with them was often perceived by health care professionals as a ‘shameful waste of time’” (Burnier, 2017, p. 50).  The model was soon applied to anyone who was dealing with loss, and became a popular way to explain individuals’ reactions and behaviors when faced with a loved one’s death.

            Some scholars agreed with Kübler-Ross’s (2014) assessment of the stages of grief but recognized that individuals would not necessarily move to a subsequent stage of the grief process without ever going back to a previous stage (Stroebe et al., 2017).  However, for many years, the forward moving progression of Kübler-Ross’s stage theory was widely accepted.

Does everyone experience the stages of grief in the same way or in the same order?

The answer, simply, is:

NO

Not everyone agreed with or accepted the “stages of grief” model.  In fact, Wortman and Silver (1989) criticized stage models because they assume that every individual will experience every stage in a predicted order and will eventually recover or resolve the grief.

“It is generally assumed that although a person who experiences an irrevocable loss will go through a phase of intense distress, this will not last indefinitely.  In fact, after a relatively brief period of time, the person is expected to achieve a state of recovery and return to normal role functioning” (Wortman & Silver, 1989).

            As professionals continued to study grief, informed by their own experiences of loss and the experiences of others, newer explanations for the process of grief emerged. Most notably was Parkes’ model, which was based on the concept of attachment (C. Corr et al., 2006; Wright & Hogan, 2008). Parkes’ concept of grief looked more like this:

While intended to be an improvement on stage models of grief, the phase model proposed by Parkes has been criticized as a process of enduring the grief, and not as an active process by which the grieving individual works through the confusing emotions associated with grief (C. Corr et al., 2006). 

Phase theory has been described like a dirty car being pushed through an automated car wash. Yes, the car comes out clean, but the driver has little to do with the process of cleaning. In the same way, phase theory is used to describe grief as an event to “get through” so that on the other side of it, the individual can return to normal life again (C. Corr et al., 2006).

            The problem with both stage theories and phase theories is that they fail to take into account how the loss itself continues to impact the person who experienced the loss.  Worden (1996) examined the grief experience as a series of tasks.  These tasks may be re-visited at any time, and are always influenced by future events (Worden, 1996).  Worden drew his conclusion from his observations of children experiencing the death of a parent.  Drawing from child development concepts, Worden explained that children’s understanding of death and loss is based on their ability to grasp abstract concepts.

At age 3, Mae thought of her mother as being in another place, but still existing.

By age 15, when her grandmother died, Mae understood that death is permanent and changes the way those who are still living continue in life.

            Worden (1996) viewed the grief process as a never-ending cycle that begins again with every developmental change, every new stage of life.  As the grieving individual grows and changes over time, so does the individual’s grief response. Rather than being a process that is resolved, grief is a process of renegotiation (Biank & Werner-Lin, 2011). Worden’s tasks of mourning look like this:

As Mae grew, she imagined her life now with her mother and her grandmother alive.

·         What would it look like? Would they be proud of her? What would they look like? Would she look like them, act like them, talk like them?

And with each question, Mae’s understanding of her own life stages grew more cloudy.  She never saw her mother take care of her grandparents; she didn’t know what it was like to have her grandmother die a natural death after a long life. 

Without an example to follow, or someone to talk to about these important life passages, Mae grew to fear old age, to be scared of her own death.

Mae did not know that what she was feeling about the losses she had experienced was completely normal.  As one widow said,

‘Bill and I never talked about death. He always believed if we talked about it, one of us would die.’ They didn’t talk about death, but he died anyway at the age of 80. His widow was left with many things she had never told him and a deep sense of guilt to compound the pain of her grief. (Deits, 1992, p. 199)

Sharing the Legacy of Loss

            How can we help Mae as she approaches her own death in the coming years?  Is there anything we can do to share in her legacy of loss?  Davis-Berman (2011) said there is much we can do to help our elders face their fears about death.  Davis-Berman described the kind of distress Mae feels as death anxiety (p. 354).  Many elders cling to the notion that talking about death is off-limits.  Like Bill, they believe that to acknowledge death as a reality will hasten its arrival (Davis-Berman, 2011). 

Have a conversation

Davis-Berman suggested having a conversation with elders about their thoughts and beliefs surrounding death.  Some questions that might be asked include:

•          How often do you have thoughts about your own death?  What do you think about?
•          How often do you have thoughts about the deaths of others?  What kinds of thoughts do you have?
•          How do you live your life as an older person with death as a possibility in the future?
•          Do you think that death is easier or harder to think about and deal with as you grow older?
•          Are you more or less afraid of death as you grow older?

Talk about what the end should look like

            Don’t be afraid to have a conversation with your older loved one about their desires and wishes for end-of-life care.  Talking with individuals about end-of-life care is a well-supported practice that reduces anxiety, depression, and fear about the process of dying (Van Scoy et al., 2017).  If starting a conversation about death feels awkward, try playing a game that invites discussion about end-of-life care.  One such game is called, Gift of Grace. You can learn more about it or order it here: http://www.mygiftofgrace.com/.  The game involves a series of questions that can be used as conversation starters to help families learn what their loved ones want most as they age and prepare for death (Van Scoy et al., 2017).  These important conversations will facilitate ethical and respectful care at a time when our emotions may influence the types of decisions we make for our loved ones as they near death. Types of questions include:

Here are a few comments from those who have used The Gift of Grace (Common Practice, 2016; Van Scoy et al., 2017) to help start important conversations with their family, their patients, and their staff:

“My Gift of Grace has been wonderfully effective at Mercy – beyond our expectations. We are using the game as a conversation starter in a variety of settings, ranging from physician offices, to inpatient ICU, to area classrooms. The game is a non-threatening, fun way to start a conversation around goals, expectations, and directions of treatment.” – Robert, M.D. (Common Practice, 2016)

“I loved that some family members were very humorous and others very sincere. Playing the game was really a sweet time together. Some people in my family were excited to play, some were hesitant. But thanks to those Thank You chips, we were able to have a good time and a good conversation. – Andrew, hospital chaplain (Common Practice, 2016)

“This game is not only valuable to the clients we serve, to facilitate effective communication between caregivers, but it is also a valuable tool to open up dialogue between family members. I played the game with my own father who is dying of emphysema. It was easier for me to say to my dad—”hey let’s play a conversation game” versus “let’s talk about this heavy topic of death.” He is totally up for a game. When I start reading the poignant, excellently communicated questions it just gives me goose-bumps because this concept really touches my heart, and my life’s work to bring death communication out into the open. Every family should add this to their game collection.” – Sherry, family member (Common Practice, 2016)

Above all, always seek to understand elders through the lens of their legacy of loss.  We must be continually aware that what we may see as a minor occurrence – a lost favorite hairbrush, for example – is filtered through the elder’s life experiences of loss; her possessions, her friendships, her closest relationships are one by one being taken away and she re-negotiates her legacy of loss with each new experience of loss.  “Grief becomes a primary context within which [a] child’s development occurs.  Loss becomes integrated into the [individual’s] core self at each stage of development…reworking the [loved one’s] life and death are not evidence of pathology,” (Biank & Werner-Lin, 2011) but an outflow of the individual’s great ability to renegotiate and integrate their loss into their life.

Soon, Mae will experience the final separation from this world; she will release her hold on the present and cross into the afterlife to join her husband, her grandmother, and her mother.  She doesn’t have to walk this final road alone.  Take her hand, experience her legacy of loss, and share hope with her.

References

Biank, N. M., & Werner-Lin, A. (2011). Growing up with grief: Revisiting the death of a parent over the life course. OMEGA – Journal of Death and Dying, 63, 271-290. doi:10.2190/OM.63.3.e

Burnier, D. (2017). A battle of words. Journal of Palliative Care, 32, 49-54. doi:10.1177/0825859717717154

Byock, I. (2014). Foreword to the anniversary edition. In E. Kübler-Ross, On Death and Dying (Anniversary ed.; pp. xi-xv). New York, NY: Scribner.

Common Practice. (2016). My gift of grace: Testimonials. Retrieved from http://www.mygiftofgrace.com/testimonials

Corr, C. A., Nabe, C. M., & Corr, D. M. (2006). Death and dying, life and living (5^th ed.). Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadsworth.

Davis-Berman, J. (2011). Conversations about death: Talking to residents in independent, assisted, and long-term care settings. Journal of Applied Gerontology, 30, 353-369. doi:10.1177/0733464810367637

Deits, B. (1992). Life after loss: A personal guide dealing with death, divorce, job change and relocation (Revised ed.). Tucson, AZ: Fisher Books.

DeSpelder, L. A., & Strickland, A. L. (2009). The last dance (8^th ed.). New York, NY: McGraw-Hill.

Kübler-Ross, E. (2014). On death and dying (Anniversary ed.). New York, NY: Scribner. (Original work published 1969).

Stroebe, M., Schut, H., & Boerner, K. (2017). Cautioning health-care professionals: Bereaved persons are misguided through the stages of grief. OMEGA – Journal of Death and Dying, 74, 455-473. doi:10.1177/0030222817691870

Van Socy, L. J., Green, M. J., Reading, J. M, Scott, A. M., Chuang, C. H., & Levi, B. H. (2017). Can playing an end-of-life conversation game motivate people to engage in advance care planning? American Journal of Hospice & Palliative Medicine, 34, 754-761. doi:10.1177/1049909116656353

Worden, J. W. (1996). Children and grief: When a parent dies. New York, NY: Guilford Press.

Wright, P. M., & Hogan, N. S. (2008). Grief theories and models: Applications to hospice nursing practice. Journal of Hospice and Palliative Nursing, 10, 350-356. doi:10.1097/01.NJH.0000319194.16778.e5