Tag: grief

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!

Grace and Grief

- dannalundstrom

Disrupted dreams. How often does life turn out different than our embellished expectations? It is a steep road to navigate when we are holding the shattered pieces of our “pretty” pictures in the palms of our bleeding hands. Life is unfair and not partial to my dreams. I have been struggling lately with the temptation to shut down. Close the door. Close it tight on the hope that offers me the glorious burden of present realization versus rejection.

There is only one hope that stands eternal, and that is not the one that resides in this world built around unsafe scenarios. It is a future hope, secured by the gift of everlasting life obtained by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. But, here, now, I battle to not close myself off to my desires while striking a balance of preventing rainbows from becoming requirements. It is an unpredictable place to be where peace becomes precarious.

The challenge is leaning into life with open hands softly cupped around pliant pages of immaculate intentions.

It. Is. Hard. I am stubborn, born of flesh that efficiently demands fruition. My hands are sticky. Like the freshly spun strands of spider silk, arrangements cling to me, and I wrestle to break free. But when I am standing amidst the shards of well-crafted storylines, reality reminds me that it is a harsh and unforgiving rival. And so I come to a crossroads where I peer at the scandalous hand of hope or the hostile hike of desensitizing from a world that supplies both grace and grief.

Father, you know me and all my intricacies. Remind me that you knitted me together, every fiber when the shame of a not-all-together life creeps in. Help me to open my hands and my heart so that my mind is mailable to your purposes, not my pursuits. There is nothing in me that is strong, good or steadfast except You. When I remember that truth, I no longer answer to the copious condemnation that shadows me. I had not envisioned life or an impending empty nest without the presence of my mom. I am moment by moment dependant on you to whisper that you are with me and there will be mana for every step but only available for the moment in which I stand. The future lends anxiety. Please help me to be an occupant of the present. Remnants of regret litter the past. Flood my heart and mind with the memories of precious times. This day, this moment is where You meet me, and although there is future grace, I was never permitted to stray there. Enable me to stand in the two faces of hope; free to smile, free to laugh, live and love not because I deserve it, but because You secured it.

To hide is not to honor You. To thrive is a testimony to You. May I remember that all the days of my life.

Sincerely, a daughter who desperately needs and loves You.

Within this shadow box is a special and tangible reminder of my beautiful mom. I will treasure it forever. 

Grief, A Ruthless Friend

- dannalundstrom
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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.

It Is Finished.

- dannalundstrom

During Holy Week I like to reflect on the ways I have been knowingly or unknowingly living out of the darkness of the crucifixion rather than the light of the resurrection.

It helps me to make a list.

What would be some things on your list? Fear? Guilt? Perfectionism? Control?Comparison? Condemnation? Working hard to earn approval? They are on mine.

A question I have been pondering is, am I living out of Jesus’ work, It Is Finished or mine, I am finishing it?

It is so easy for me to unconsciously live from a position of unbelief that says it is Jesus plus D’Anna’s work. But that is not the gospel.  The gospel is only Jesus. When I remember that, I am lighter, freedom and joy are actualities not abstractions, and my center becomes calibrated not chaotic.

I am prone to wander, though, prone to forget.  The Good Shepherd knows this of me, however, and continues loving me, pursuing me and carrying me back to His flock anyway.

Friend, I do not know what ways crucifixion living has you in bondage, but I know mine. The good news is we do not have to stay stuck there.  The tomb was empty.  There was a resurrection, and it was to ransom, heal, redeem, forgive and secure eternal life for us.

Our Savior’s great sacrifice was a one time deal.  Just before yielding His spirit on the cross Jesus said, “it is finished.” (John 19:30)  Done. Completed.  Past tense.

I have learned it is one thing to understand that truth in my head, and a whole other thing to stand under it with my heart. I pray we are all living in the light of that truth? It is part of our great inheritance.

Channel of Grace

- dannalundstrom

So many times it is the perceivably bad things that are the good things we need to move us from one place in life to another, to get unstuck so to speak. Happiness and contentment, while they are right and desirable, do not necessarily augment the deepest places of our souls that are waiting to be enriched by the fruits of something far more harsh but holy.

Desperation is a channel of grace.

That sounds counter-cultural and even scandalous, but it is true. If you find yourself there, desperate for relief, change, movement, desperate to know that your suffering will end, take heart, friend.

The gift of desperation is given by God to draw you closer to Him so that you may know and trust Him more fully.

In understanding Him, we better understand who we are in His image, not our own. You are loved.

I Will Try Again Tomorrow

- dannalundstrom 1 Comment

Yea, it is the end of one of those hard days when you feel beaten, battered and bruised, sometimes literally. Your heart has been spun up and wrung out.  Emotions have swirled through your body like a tidal wave leaving you feeling washed out, weak and worn.  You have been fighting all day for this person, praying like the persistent widow for that situation, enduring physical pain necessary for healing, and filtering waves of grief and gratitude that amidst it all, curiously still co-mingle.

There is finally a lull of silence with the parting of the sun; your soul settles slightly, and you know you must choose to either concede or conquer the day’s chaos.  Then comes a gentle reminder that you aren’t in this alone.  He’s in the midst of your pain.  He is present with your people, and he is bigger than that situation.

At the end of days like this, I am so grateful that the Psalms are in the Bible.  Many days I am living them as sure as I am breathing; crying out for relief, reassurance, direction, strength and forgiveness.  Then, when the commotion begins to settle slightly I reach deep within to find despite it all gratitude, thanksgiving, worship, and redemption slowly start marching along to the beat of my broken heart.  I take a breath, and each one becomes a little deeper, a little deeper, and finally I enter a state of ailing rest, remembering that tomorrow, should she come, holds new mercies, strength, grace and fuel for the road ahead.

Today must be released to the past, and it is then when I hear the soft but resolute roar;

I will try again tomorrow!

And you friend must courageously commit also to engage again tomorrow with a fresh mind and hopeful heart!  You are loved.

Just Come

- dannalundstrom 1 Comment

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The Lord allows nothing to be wasted in His economy, especially suffering.  What if everyone’s mission was to use every ounce of pain that has ever touched their life to bring hope to the life of someone walking a similar road.  From our grief, The Lord gives us gifts to be shared to help others.  It is the most beautiful thing when our greatest hurts intersect another person’s greatest needs.  Someone once said, we are all just walking each other Home.  What a wonderful gift, and the greatest pleasure of life, to walk alongside a fellow traveler and say, I know.  I am here.  I see you, but more importantly, Jesus sees you, and He loves you just as you are at this very moment.  There is no need to clean up, change clothes or comb your hair.  He welcomes you as you are.  Just come.

Dancing in the Darkness

- dannalundstrom

It was one week ago today that we said see you later pop to my dad.  This is what was on my heart that day.

Today we honor my dad; not his finalization, but his freedom. The last twelve days have been a tornado of emotions. Last Saturday, the day my dad truly became alive, we were gathered at his side. There had been inadequate time for me to open my Bible the five preceding days. That day seemed as if it would be the same, little time.

Then, a lull happened and everything was quiet.  In hindsight, it was a unique calm, as if not of this world. One of those special moments we rarely recognize until they are written, gone from our grasp, but forever etched in our hearts.

Soft music was playing, and my mom was at my dad’s side.  I sat down behind her and opened my Bible. The verse I landed on was Isaiah 45:3 ~ And I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness–secret riches. I will do this so you may know that I am the LORD, the one who calls you by name.

It was when I was reflecting briefly on this verse that my dad took Jesus’s hand.  I have gone back daily since last Saturday to that same verse. In reflection, I realized it has been the truth of my travels here. These twelve days have been excruciating, and they have been extraordinary.

I know many of you are enduring dark seasons right now, too.  Sometimes they become so oppressive that our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds become clouded by the dust swirling around us.  When I view this world horizontally, it becomes too much to bear.  When my perspective is eternal, I find gratitude even in grievous places.

God has a way of depositing hidden treasures deep in our discouragement.

It is in the dim places that the growth laden, secret riches from God’s hand become undeniably accentuated.  I was not forsaken this week, and neither was anyone in my family.  We have been given some heavy and layered loads, but they were not void of the promise in Isaiah 43:5. Time and time again the Lord has revealed himself.  We do not drift in disillusionment alone.  When Jesus is our choreographer, it is possible for our souls to dance even in darkness.
He pads our paths with priceless pearls of peace that bring grace to our grief.  We must be watchful to see.

One of my biggest challenges is to abide freely in what is, rather than to shackle myself to what should be.  I cannot imagine that we are that different.  I pray this for us today, friends:

Father hold our hearts to a standard of hope within the haze of pervasive pain.  Let us speak the truth when we tremble.  Unite our hands in faith when we fear. Focus our eyes in the realm of the eternal and not the earthly.  Equip us to trust where You have us, not where we think we should be. Believing in You is the inviting part, trusting You with the devastations of our lives is the intentional part.  You know this of us, God.  Give us fountains of gratitude in our grief and grace for our journeys.  I praise you for knowing and loving us intimately enough to call us all by name.  Thank you for your enduring faithfulness.  Amen.

Standing In the Fog

- dannalundstrom 1 Comment

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My family said see you soon to my dad last week as he took his spot in his eternal home. His departure was brutal, and it was beautiful. There was a cd player gently playing; I’ll Fly Away, sung by George Jones. My mom was at his side rubbing his arm and singing the song. I behind her had just opened my Bible, as my son sat at the foot of Poppy’s bed. Then in the most peaceful posture, his breathing stopped, and he flew away.

I have been trying to wrap my brain around everything that has happened. The processing has been slow. When someone asks, “How are you?” It is difficult to explain. I am in a fog. That may sound like a vague answer, but it is my most accurate explanation. I don’t know how I got there, and I don’t know when I will walk out, but this morning, this occurred to me:

At some point after the storm, you realize that perhaps the fog you are standing in is God’s gentle protection to prevent all the pain from pressing in at once. Gratitude is born even in the fog because we remember His tender mercies weather every season we endure.