Tag: faith

A Beautiful and Broken Union

- dannalundstrom
I was standing at my kitchen sink crying and smiling this morning as I washed my grandmother’s Christmas Rose, China, and some of my mom’s serving pieces that I now own. I noticed the strong incongruence in my soul. There I stood, looking out at the frigid, yet beautiful, weather on the eve of such a glorious day, a broken heart full of broken pictures as the ballad of my soul played its hymn; this is not how it is supposed to be. But then there was an accompanying melody of, thank you, Jesus, for how it was. Imperfect moments, incomplete holidays accompanied by irreplaceable memories; both beauty and brokenness reigned there in the ordinary, yet extraordinary moment at my kitchen window.
This year, I have followed countless stories of friends, family, and strangers near and far as they have navigated some of the most ruthless roads. Their stories tell of the same sentiment, hurting but not deprived of hope. Their paths are oxymorons, and the perplexing weight of that juxtaposition is heavy. Fractured people, fractured countries, a fractured world, but all encapsulated by a forever kind of grace that guides us through the weary when we cannot feel or see her presence. It is not supposed to be this way, but it is. It is hard but not absent of holy!
A couple of Christmases ago, as I was sitting in a Christmas Eve service singing Silent Night while lighting the candles. God showed me a picture. For the dormant candles to be kindled, the light from our neighbor must remain upright and firm, while the one receiving the light must bend, lean, and become vulnerable, to be ignited. At times we are the beacons, and at times we are the broken. We each have light to give and light to receive, but the cycle cannot be sustained without both the shattering and the shining of souls.
The examples of the ever-present and unchanging reality, the union of beauty and brokenness, are more pervasive than I can list. They are present in every moment and every memory, our tears, our triumphs, our pain and passions, our struggles, and our strengths. Where there is beauty, there will always be brokenness, and it was that way from the beginning.
I am thankful that The Son of God, The King of the world, was born in a dirty stable and laid in a messy manger. The Light of the world, God’s most perfect gift, a Savior for the world, entered this life, and surrounding His arrival was beautiful and broken. Broken circumstances, broken parents, broken leaders, broken countries, and broken plans were the backdrops that set the stage for the most handsome inheritance the world would ever know. It reminds and comforts me when life is not congruent with my heart; it remains in the care of my Savior’s hands. More often than not, it is a fight to remember, and that is alright as long as the fight goes on.
Many of you are experiencing the poverty of loss, illness, and other difficult circumstances this Christmas Eve. I pray you find strength from the life of a baby born into bankrupt surroundings, who suffered among both the sick and the “sufficient” so that He may bring the beauty of His perfect light to mingle among the broken parts of our lives. Jesus, give us eyes to see your grace flowing through our moments of grief, and may that console, sustain, and encourage us through mangled moments as we journey Home.
Merry Christmas, friends!

A Hard and Holy Christmas

- dannalundstrom 2 Comments

A Hard and Holy Christmas

I wish for life to be like a Hallmark movie where love and contentment always win. The ending is tidy and sealed in a pretty package accentuated with a red bow, but that is entertainment and far removed from reality. These movies lead me off course every year around the holidays. They provide a magical escape from the tender truths that are indigenous to what many profess to be the happiest time of the year. There is a not-so-jolly presence that we cannot escape, though. Suffering. The Christmas season is prone to hold a magnifying glass up to an unfair world.

The shattered fragments of people’s pain wear many faces, hold no prejudices, and do not adhere to calendars or circumstances. Maybe the agony shows up in the loss of health, a job, a relationship; a loved one, or the incredible heartache that settles in when we hear someone has to bury their child. Broken people, broken families, broken worlds; may all present differently, but fractured hearts are inherent to us all. The holidays, as merry and bright as they are for many, are equally melancholy for others.

Life is incongruent with my desire for everyone to be happy, but I have learned this difficult lesson: happiness is a circumstantial frailty, not a gospel actuality. Without the assurance of our eternal inheritance, we stand here poor, hopeless, and lost.

Hope is hard and holy, yet both were the backdrop for the birth of our Savior. Nothing in this world lacks the melodic marriage of beauty and brutality. That is not easy, but when we focus on the tenants of the first, it fosters gratitude despite the latter.

In his last words, a 1700s French writer captured something very tragic yet significant. “And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead.” ~ Nicolas Chamfort

Sometimes our greatest challenge as we go about living in this world that is remarkable one moment and ruthless the next is continuing to engage. It is tempting to check out, but we are called to check-in. Numbing our hearts feels like safety, but it dims love and light in a world that desperately needs them. Is leaning into life straightforward in our climate of unparalleled death, destruction, and hatred? No, it is not effortless, but it is essential.

I know many of you are facing unspeakable burdens. My heart aches for you. Right now, pressing in may feel overwhelming. That is understandable. Take the next smallest step in the right direction, and your stamina will increase over time if you keep your hand to the plow. We, unfortunately, have to drink from the cup of hurt before we can be quenched by the hand of The Healer; but God will not forsake His children. One way He manifests himself is through community. I pray wherever you find yourself today, the love of those around you warms, even if just slightly, the weeping heart inside you. Your internal song may never be the same, but I know your soul will sing again. The lessons grief teaches will remain with you and be the balm for the next hurting heart that crosses your path. At the intersection of someone else’s pain, yours will find purpose, and that makes all the difference!

Chasing Sunsets

- dannalundstrom

I have always felt the nearness of Heaven splashed across God’s mighty canvas in breathtaking color. I see the beautiful skies as a veil between an earthly vapor and a vast eternity. Yet, amidst the beauty, suffering remains.

All weekend brokenness has intruded my space and pierced my ears as a deafening interruption. It is there in my loss and yours. It is present in a friend’s diagnosis and in stories of loneliness, suffering and death.

But HOPE. It rises up and flourishes in the presence of the muck and mire that at some point, all are called to wade through. And it gives us the courage to live for the Destination in spite of the details.

In this land of parched living, my soul thirsts to find You and my people in the places I find rest. There, the heartache is bearable because I am in the presence of scriptural truths not sentimental tales.

Tonight, on the side of a mountain cliff, I stood on a solid rock to take this picture because I needed a glimpse of your glory. How perfect; the rock was my firm foundation at the edge of peril. But that is where I found You.

It is hearts closely aquatinted with grief that offer me so much comfort. In my reading I found this,

“But resurrection is not just consolation — it is restoration. We get it all back — the love, the loved ones, the goods, the beauties of this life — but in new, unimaginable degrees of glory and joy and strength.” ~Tim Keller

Grief, A Ruthless Friend

- dannalundstrom
body of water during golden hour

It is incredible how the mind defaults into a self-defense posture one minute, only to fail me the next. The reality of grief is always there, lurking, but the full realization, while it may have reached my head, has not settled in the depths of my heart.

It has been said that is the longest distance, head to heart, and I know it to be right, on this dirt road that many are asked to walk in this life. No mileage signs signal an end, only hazard ahead around each bend.

Grief is a ruthless friend, but one that every loss must respect. He allows me to forget momentarily, then quickly be disheartened by the raw reality that is waiting on the other side of remembrance.

Countless times I reach for my phone to call her. There are so many things I want her to know. I want her to share my highs and lows and all the spaces in between; after all, that is the way a mama’s love goes. They say time heals all wounds, but I do not believe that is true. Some aches seem I will never be able to bid adieu. And if I am honest, never would I want to.

My mind is deceiving me, as it is prone to do. Feelings charade as facts, leaving me vacillating between pain and perseverance. The later must win in the end, but right now the two of them are stumbling hand in hand. To laugh, to live to carry on is to betray the loss, my disloyal thoughts deceptively whisper. On a head level, I know that is fraudulent and untrue. Maybe if I remind myself enough times, my heart will catch up too. For now, I am grappling for the grace to journey straight through the thick and heavy dew.

People are so kind and well-intended; they say do this, or that, believe this or that, and these things you must do. The problem is there is no universal recipe for the profound loss that accompanies the days I must filter through.

And my faith, it feels weak, that is undoubtedly true, but it is not up to me, for it was a gift secured by a Savior in which I had nothing to do. So I struggle, limping and tracked by the tears, as I walk the best I can, crying out and fighting to trust the only Man who will see me through. I thank Him, then question Him. I wrestle with Him and rest in Him, as all wounded warriors do. I am a paradox of emotions, The Psalms living and breathing as they once were for the writers overcome by grief so blue.

Trauma, the place I am traveling through, someday to be ousted by thankfulness-a destination I sometimes see but am not yet fully submitted to; for it is a harbor I am fighting my way towards when the anointed time is due.

A Tangible Gift From The Lord

- dannalundstrom

This is one of those stories that must be told; a God story about His tender and personal faithfulness to me, His daughter, in the midst of great sorrow.

Yesterday morning, (last Saturday, 09/01), was the second worst morning of my life, and that same afternoon I had to get in a car and head to the airport to come home only hours after laying on my mom sobbing my eyes out. During the entire drive to Houston Hobby Airport I was praying, Lord, please let me sit next to someone kind on the airplane who will be empathetic and not bothered by my tears. I texted three friends and asked them to pray for that as well.

I made it to my gate and found a corner to sit in trying to go unnoticed as I was visibly grieving. After a few minutes I looked up and I could not believe my eyes. My precious friend, Monica, who is in my Wednesday morning Bible study was walking up to my gate. I got up and ran to her. She knew my situation, but she was equally shocked to see me as I was her. She thought I was in Dallas and I had no idea she would be in Houston. As it turned out she was in Houston for the night to see her daughter dance at the Ole Miss/Texas Tech football game that was being played in Houston. Our eyes met and I grabbed her, I am not sure who was more confused.

This was one of the most chilling, in a good way, God winks I have ever experienced.

A direct, personal and tangible gift from The Lord.

We were able to sit together on the plane and she kept me mostly distracted and calm. I will never forget how God not only honored my need but in such a sweet way by sending someone who was already praying for me and that I knew and loved. In the midst of my tears and heartache a gift I will never forget walking toward me and reminding me God is always going before me. He is working things out on my behalf and planting priceless pearls of peace to intersect my pain. And, I would also like to think my mama had a little something to do with it as well.

Leave Your Fear At The Door And Bring Facts To The Table

- dannalundstrom
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This is the truth.  We have to trade in our comfort for connection otherwise our relationships are superficial at best.  No one wins in a relationship that is not marked by transparency.
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We are all more alike than we are different.  Vulnerability sets captives free, us and the person or individuals sharing.
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Me too.  I understand.  I have been there.  I struggle with that too.  These are some of the most life-giving words, we can extend to others.
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And if we do not identify with their particular struggle, a clear understanding that we ourselves are flawed and in need of a Rescuer allows us to listen to the hurting with humility and lend compassion in the presence of another’s cross.
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I have many battles I face day to day, some old and others new.  Sometimes it is just as simple yet as difficult as staying in the present and managing my mind from straying off to toxic thoughts.  Every time I need to give my obstacles to The Lord, and at points, the sheer weight of their nature requires that I also enlist a trusted friend.
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Again and again, I have sat before a friend, fenced in by fear and stained with shame.  And you know what?  When I choose the right confidant, I always leave a little freer.
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An integral part of being free is leaving fear at the door and bringing facts clothed in faith to the table.
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Dr. Larry Crabb acknowledges that we never arrive in this life, but as followers of Christ, we are inching more and more, day by day towards Him.
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Photo credit to Life Church, Oklahoma.

Remember Who is Driving The Car

- dannalundstrom


When Carter turned two-years-old, I enrolled him in a mother’s day out program at our church two days a week. What I thought would be a short respite for me with a newborn baby quickly became a place of pain. Each Tuesday, Thursday when I loaded him in his car seat, his little face would peak with concern. The very second he saw we were turning down the road to MDO he would begin to cry and say, “no, mommy, no mommy.” “I stay with you, mommy.” It would break my heart! The school assured me shortly after I left that he was happy and playing with the other kids, but my heart would remain so heavy and haunted by his tears and pleas. Ultimately, though, I had to keep reminding myself that it was for his good, despite my grief. He needed the playtime, the socialization, the learning and so much more that the precious program had to offer that he could not get anywhere else.

I was thinking this morning as I was again shedding tears in this time of change and transition, did I mention I do not like an interruption of the predictable, but that experience was such a picture of God, our good, good, Father. Sometimes he allows us to be “driven” down dirt roads that have a lot of potholes and bumps. The journeys can be frightening, and often it feels like our cries for relief go unheard. But it is essential we remember Who is driving the car and that He never leads us anywhere that is not ultimately for our benefit. I know some circumstances look as though they could never prosper us, only persecute us. We are not God, though. Thank goodness for that! His vision is eternal and from a much broader, all-encompassing perspective. We can be assured, however, that He never leaves us alone with our tears. He hears our weeping and holds every sorrow. (Psalm 56:8)

I do not know what road you are maneuvering today, friend. But this I know for sure, if you remain the passenger, and let Abba Father steer the wheel, it may hurt, and it may sting but hang on to the truth that He is ultimately guiding you to a destination that will be for your gain and His glory. It may take a while to realize the results of the pilgrimage you or a loved one are traveling; sometimes it is not in this life. But faith is the conviction of what we do not see, not certainty in what we do. (Hebrews 11:1) Persevering faith is everlasting; present fact is equivocal. Believe in where you are and where you are going, not because you understand it, but because of The One Who does.

Blessed Hope

- dannalundstrom

If you need hope today where it feels hopeless may I tell you a story? I have a masters degree in Speech-Language Pathology and my second, and favorite job ever was on the rehab floor of a large hospital. I worked with patients who had a variety of ailments from strokes to brain tumors and total or partial loss of their tongue due to cancer. It was something new every day, and it was such a pleasure to be a witness to some remarkable recoveries and a sacred honor to hold the hand of some as they passed on to glory.

There is not a case that will forever stand out to me like that of a sixteen-year-old boy. He flipped his truck and was thrown from the automobile. After weeks in the ICU, he was moved to our floor. All medical indicators proved he was a vegetable. There was no brain activity and no evidence of hope as he lay lifeless and completely unresponsive. The doctors told his family his condition would never improve. They encouraged them to take him off all life-sustaining measures, but the family was resolute in holding steadfast to an unwavering belief.

I along with occupational and physical therapy was called in to work with him on a daily basis. This would be my most significant challenge. Graduate school taught me a lot of things but working with an entirely lifeless person, especially one so young was not one of them. I was at a loss.

This was in the mid-1990’s, and for those of you who remember, the songs YMCA and Young Man by The Village People were all the rage. What was a green and clueless SLP to do, why to sing along to fun music and dance of course? Daily I would use pungent scents to try and elicit a response, move his limbs and so on all while playing and singing those two songs at decibels that I am confident were unhealthy.

Weeks went by, and there was no change. I did not expect him ever to gain any level of awareness much less normalcy. Then one day I was in his room with one of the nursing aides. She was taking his vitals, and she dropped something to which she loudly exclaimed, “shit!” At that moment I witnessed a miracle. The “brain-dead,” teenage patient laughed! As you can imagine, when we reported this there was a flurry of activity in and out of his room. The doctors were dumbfounded. Right there on that fifty-bed rehab floor, a miracle had taken place.

The next time I was able to work with my miracle patient, he still had many limitations including his speech, but when I went in and greeted him that morning, through a very strained, slow and slurred voice his words to me were, Y-Y-Y, M-M-M, C-C-C, A-A-A. It was incredible. I asked him if he could hear me all along and he indicated that he could, he just was not able to respond.

This young man was soon after transferred to a facility closer to his home as he lived a state over to the east. The last report I heard on him many months later was that he was speaking some as well as using an assistive device to augment his communication skills. He was receiving aquatic therapy, and it was looking promising that one day he would walk again, even if in a modified form.

I don’t know where or how he is today, but I do know I experienced first-hand that miracles do happen. I learned that doctors and textbooks are not always right and the resolve of a family determined not to give up despite the odds sometimes wins.

Friend, I do not know what dirt road you are walking today, but if you need a fresh dose of faith, I hope you will take it from this story. Miracles still happen in this life, but if not, we still have what the Bible calls a “blessed hope” in Titus 2:13. That blessed hope is Jesus and His gift of eternal life for all those who have accepted His gift of grace and eternity in Heaven. If you are unsure if that is you, or you know that is not you but you want to be an heir of blessed hope, please find a friend to talk to who can lead you into a beautiful inheritance as a son or daughter of the King. As always, you may contact me, too. dannalundstrom@yahoo.com

You are loved today.♥️

Fishers of Men Not Means

- dannalundstrom 1 Comment

Through earnest prayer, I have seen God change so many circumstances in my life and the lives of people I love. More importantly, I have seen him transform me so that I am not bound to begging for a different outcome but rather a divine income.
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For many years I thought the purpose of prayer was to get something from God. Now I understand that the hope of prayer is to get God. Just God, more of Him and less of me. His desires become mine, not vice versa when I sincerely seek Him.
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Praying does not require fancy language. God does not give credit for style. He is looking for surrender.
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Prayer changes everything. The thing is, change just does not always mirror our desires.
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I have heard a couple of renditions of this misconception the last week, “I don’t understand, He didn’t answer my prayers.” He did, friend. He just answered them His way, and we are not called to comprehend but to commit.
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If you are a parent and you make decisions that are best for your children, you know sometimes they are hard, but they are also right. Our kids most often do not understand. Hard and holy go hand in hand, though, and it has been that way since the beginning.
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God understands our difficulty because He, too, is a Father. He is a person to know not a commodity to control.
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Prayer sometimes changes earthly directions, but most importantly it alters eternal destinations, and that is our primary commission.
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We are fishers of men not means.
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If I can pray for you today, please let me know. It is my privilege to petition the Prince of Peace on behalf of my friends.