Tag: Heaven

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.

What Am I Fixing?

- dannalundstrom

I grew up in a small Texas town. My accent was as thick as concrete, and I had a whole lingo understood only by those indigenous to The Big Thicket area of The Lone Star State.

When I left home and went to Baylor University, the big city, I had to in some ways learn the English language, and my friends had to learn mine, whatever it was. As a matter of fact, I was affectionately called, ”Reba” in the school of Speech Pathology and Audiology and it was NOT because I could sing! One term I used frequently and was made fun of for was fixing, but this was not fixing in the sense of I am fixing the car or fixing the clock. It was, I am fixing to go to the store. I am fixing to eat dinner. You get it, right?

I have been thinking a lot lately about what I am fixing. What am I fixing up in my life? My home? My appearance? My reputation? My people? I spend so much time “fixing” the things of this world, yet my heart longs for eternity. How much time am I spending preparing myself and my sphere of influence for our final destination?

What I have realized is “fixing” up things can become addictive and insidiously serve as band-aids that are concealing deep wounds.

As long as we are breathing there will always be something to fix. Right now I have a list of at least ten things, I am sure. But all these things are but dust in the scope of eternity so why do I spend so much futile energy there?

When my vision is focused horizontally, and I am often out of focus, I can too quickly get caught up in all the tasks I see that “need” to be completed. I do have responsibilities, and I am not suggesting neglecting them. But eternity. That is where I want to place the weight of my attention.

As we said in that tiny little Southeast Texas town, I am fixing to go. Well, friends, someday soon I am fixing to go to Heaven, and when the roll is called up yonder, I intend to be there, and no amount of fixing down here is going with me. I hope to see you there!

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.

Remember The Wildflowers

- dannalundstrom
A precious, little Cuban wildflower.

Has anyone by fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can’t even do that, why fuss at all? Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don’t fuss with their appearance—but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? ~Luke 12:27-28 (The Message)

Growing in grace teaches us that it is not the color of one’s skin, but the content of their soul that makes our world beautiful. Under all the facades, past all the tips and tricks to hide what we deem unsightly, God crafted a heart purposed to reflect the love of The Almighty.

Aging is a beautiful thing when we look beyond the ordinary markers to behold the extraordinary meanings.

Wrinkles are the troughs eroded by tears and settled by smiles. They map out our life right there in plain sight, telling the world of a life song threefold. Once a man, twice a child so the circle goes. And in the process of completion wisdom waltzes in and shares her instruction.

Bruises, and scars are signs of a life lived, loved and lost. They are medals of honor that portray the stories that sometimes made us laugh, and other times made us cry. Each one, a monument of rising to the mountaintop or descending into the valley. But we know life is both hard and holy.

Every year, a new number. A new season. A new calling. We all want to behold burning bush moments, but God. Sometimes He places us right in the midst of life’s mundane messes and asks us, live here. Make a difference here with all your scars and scrapes, not in the middle of momentous miracles and before millions of eyes, but among measureless mercies and man’s desperate cries.

Wherever you are friend, remember the wildflowers. You may be one dancing in the wind on a beautiful hillside for all the world to see, or maybe you are tucked into a safe corner disguised by many. Both coordinates are needed and necessary. Be about the business of Kingdom building. The harvest is plentiful in the majestic and the mundane. You were picked and planted to thrive right where you are by the Hands that molded the world. Thrive wildflower. Be alive.

Prayer

- dannalundstrom

It is prayer through things, not out of them that moves mountains. Sometimes my prayers are not answered the way I desire. When they are bound to my expectations, not my evolution the disappointment can lead to despair.

It is right and natural to pray for circumstances, especially difficult ones, to change. Jesus demonstrated that for us when He asked, “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me.” But we cannot miss what He says next, “Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

Jesus was facing the most unimaginable circumstances, and He did ask for a different way, but ultimately His heart’s desire was the will of His Father not the way of His flesh.

It was not until I came to understand and trust the character of God and the location of my final destination that I could afford to pray with a boldness that says, Lord, here is my earnest plea, but it does not trump my longing for your eternal plan. My prayers shifted from being less about relief to more about refinement. If this cannot change, God, change me.

When I desire self-modification more than circumstantial transformation, my communion with The Father is lighter, and I am free to risk more because it is not about a particular outcome but a positive income. Praise seeps in when personal comfort steps out, and God is glorified. That is the objective of prayer. God’s glory. Not mine.

When we pray through the valley of suffering ourselves or with a friend, and we see God’s faithfulness and ever-present provisions in pain, it affords us patient perseverance because we know that He is good and His ways are sometimes hard, but always holy.

How can I pray for you today, friend?

The Best Thing

- dannalundstrom

If you are a loved one are waiting in a hallway of uncertainty, bearing the weight of the unknown, I have a word for you that I pray brings encouragement.

I have been standing on shifting sand the last couple weeks stumbling in ambiguity and anxiety. It has been an all-out fight for me to remain the manager of my mind and keep my spirit in check with the peace of The Lord.

Health circumstances have forced me day after day to examine the authenticity of my theology. What set of beliefs am I operating out of not in fruitful times but fearful ones? I have been like a pendulum swinging back and forth as waves of victory and defeat have washed over me.

Last night in the midst of dark silence, God gave me the sweetest love note that has hushed my hastened heart.

D’Anna, what is the worst thing that can happen? Then, He so gently reminded me that the worst thing, should it be, is the best thing.

I often forget that. Heaven is our Home, and it is second to none.

Friend, if you or someone you treasure as dear are walking a dark road, please do not lose sight and fight to remember that as adopted children, what the world sighs at as dreadful, we can hold with maybe hurting, but absolutely hopeful hands. You are loved.

Maybe

- dannalundstrom

Maybe it is the pervasiveness of pain and suffering.

Maybe it is the outflow of a heart overwhelmed by the burdens before me.

Or maybe it is the fresh awakening of the sacred charge branded in the depths where the Holy hides His instructions.

Whatever the explanation, I feel an urgency today for wandering hearts that are beating in the shadows of uncertainty.

If that is you, friend, I would love the privilege to pray for you. We are all on a journey heading somewhere.

I want you to be certain of your destination.

Feel free to private message me anytime.

You are loved.❤️

A Paisley Kind Of Love

- dannalundstrom

Our little dog, Paisley, is such an example of so many things to me.  She is the essence of unconditional love.  To love like her, how sweet it must be!  She also freely receives love.  Paisley trusts with full abandon that we adore and accept her ALWAYS.  She is in someone’s lap at all times, and she never hesitates to jump into our arms and immediately flip over for a belly rub.  There is never a question in Paisley’s mind that she will not be fully and faithfully received.  Paisley reveres every single one of us, and there is nothing she loves more than being in our embrace.

I have been praying lately to know a kind of love for The Lord like Paisley embodies.  Oh, how I long to bask in the full acceptance, love, and satisfaction of His arms, unhindered by the seeds of condemnation that lurk within me.  I want to know complete contentment in God alone, free of the alluring distractions of the world.  I yearn to live freely from my identity as a well provided for daughter who is insufficient myself, but sufficient because of my inheritance secured by Jesus.

This side of Heaven, I will not fully understand the depths of The Lord’s love for me.  Freedom will continue to be a journey, not a destination until I see my Savior face to face.  There will always be days, hours and moments when I forget that in the words of Jesus, “It is finished.”  Because of that, re-remembering will also be a persistent pilgrimage, not a permanent place.

We are all just walking this life on a journey home, and I am mostly comfortable with all the pit stops, detours, diversions, and potholes along the way.  If I lived life as a straight line, it would perhaps be easy but not enriching.  Living, loving, lamenting and laughing all happen outside the walls of safe and structured.

I have never known how to color any way but outside the lines.  For years that was embarrassing to me.  These days, I am okay being
imperfect, because I know it is my brokenness that renders me eligible to be complete.

Cheers to Paisley who is gaining a little brother tonight.  You may want to remember her, and her brother, in your prayers.  Life gets a little rough when we get knocked off our throne, even for our furry friends.☺️