Finality

    

Two years ago today. 

I vividly remember taking these photos. I vividly remember the conversations that took place in the airport coffee shop just before snapping them. Mom and I held hands and cried. We had just come to the end of an incredible 12 days together. She had to leave, but neither of us wanted her to go. We vowed to remember that even if this was our last time to part ways, we would say, "see you later," because as members of God's kingdom, there are no permanent goodbyes. 

No finality. 

As I spend time here in my passport country, sorting through her clothes and belongings, there are times I forget the 'no finality' part. It just hurts. The wounds feel fresh. The grief is grueling. The photo reminder that it's just been 2 years since I was in her physical presence hit a little harder today. 

I pray that she never wondered, even for one second, whether I loved her. I pray she never questioned how much she meant to me. I pray that she never felt used, abused, or belittled by me. I pray there was never a day she felt afraid in my presence. I pray after her long life of feeling all of that regularly, that she felt a peace, a comfort, a 'home' with me. She said so, and I trust that it was genuine. 

Above all, there is great joy in knowing that she is now in the presence of pure love, pure truth, pure peace. There are moments when my longing for her feels so heavy I fear it will crush me, and it would if I did not give it to the Lord.  

Isaiah 53:4a "Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows..." 

Mom has joined that great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1), and though I don't see her with my eyes, she is still with me. (Half of my DNA is hers!) We will meet again in the new heaven and earth.

Revelation 21:4 "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, not pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." 

[This is true finality.] 

See you later, mom. I love you MOST.

My True Haven

 "But our citizenship is in heaven and we eagerly await a 

Savior from there, The Lord Jesus Christ." 

When I left my birth country to move overseas, I knew I was saying, "See you later," to my tiny inner circle (a handful of adults + 3 littles). What I did not know, however, was that I would never again tryly feel like I belong. Anywhere. With anyone. 

Naturally, since I live outside the country where I was born and grew up, I am an outsider. My instinctive world view is different. I look different. I talk different. I am learning, but still speak the new language at about a grade school level. Some days, piling my extreme introversion on top of being an outsider makes life's most basic activities feel like a daunting mountain of tasks. I often battle the urge to crank my AC, grab a coffee, and curl up in my fuzzy blanket with a good book. My own little haven of escape. 

I returned to my birth country briefly in the Summer of 2023 when my mom suddenly passed away. I can't honestly say I ever felt like I belonged there either, but after losing her that feeling became overbearingly intense. I often told her, "Home is wherever you are." A quick scan back through my life reinforces the consistent theme that I have never really belonged anywhere, with anyone. With one exception. From the time I was born, the longest I ever lived in a. home was 11 years, and that was the most recent years before I moved overseas. Incidentally, mom lived with me that entire time. That home felt like a haven.

I am currently preparing to return my birth country for a few months. While I am looking forward to seeing friends there, I am keenly aware that I will be as much of an outsider there as I am here. Perhaps even more so. People ask me, "Are you excited to go home?" I don't know how to respond to that. My internal response is, "Where, exactly, is home?" 

I have often said that my life with all its drama, trauma, and frequent moving + goodbyes was God's way of preparing me for this season. I recognize the truth in that now more than ever. The feeling of not having a true haven here keeps me from sinking my roots too deeply into this world's soil. 

Paul reminded us in Philippians 3:20 that "Our citizenship is in heaven." 

Jesus prayed in John 17 15-16, 18, "I do not pray that You should take them out of this world, but that you should keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. As you sent Me into the world, I have also sent them into the world." 

Again, Paul reminds us of Whose we are in Romans 1:5-6, "Through Him we have received grace and apostleship for obedience to the faith among all nations for His name, among whom you are also the called of Jesus Christ." 

God created me to belong. To his global body but, more importantly, to HIM. He created me with the desire...the urgency to belong. He also led me to and walked with me through circumstances that would refine me, building the grit and resilience required for each new season. 

My sovereign, gracious Father created me to be HIS. He knows every inch of me, every thought, every word, every move. He went before me, blesses me, and will come behind me (Psalm 139:1-5). 

I certainly do belong. Adopted as a precious daughter into his family, his kingdom. I belong to HIM. 

He is home. 

He is my True Haven.

Fallen Countenance...and Calendars

 

 This is my perpetual calendar. My grandpa made it. He was very talented. He made beautiful calligraphy pieces, drafting type pieces, and all sorts of crafty things. 

 An interesting aversion I have developed since my mom died in August is one toward planners and calendars. I feel almost angry when I see them. (We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps!) When I returned to my host country after dealing with mom's affairs in early Sept, my calendars were still sitting on August as if nothing happened. I blacked out Aug 7th (the day she died) on all of them and did not change them over until I made it to October. Yay--I made it to October. 

Perhaps you noticed I used past tense when referring to my grandpa. That's because he died in 1994...on October 25th. That's 29 years ago today. What's interesting about this is that I have been carrying & using this calendar ever since. It's been through a LOT.   

Last night I was emotionally melting down as I have often done recently. I write letters to my mom because she's really the only person I can talk to. Perhaps she hears. Perhaps not. At any rate, I will write to her because it helps me feel....something. Last night in my letter, I mentioned that it was the anniversary of grandpa's death (her dad) and wondered if they were together. Are they in the same place. I was a brand new believer when he died and had not ever really thought about Heaven, Hell, or Paradise....so I didn't ever have the conversation with him. I hate to think of him not being in Paradise, but it's just a big unknown. 

I often ask Jesus to give me a sign that mom's with Him and that she's at peace. I feel deep in my soul that she is, but still it never hurts to ask Jesus for something, right. 

When I woke up this morning, my perpetual calendar was on the floor. It was hanging in a spot where it is virtually untouched except when it's time to switch months. The hanger is old, but is not worn at all. It was perfectly in one piece 3 weeks ago when I changed it to October and hung it back up. If it had been worn, the ware would have been in the top, middle of the hanger piece that rests on the nail it's hung from. As you can see in the photo, that is not the case. That is a clean cut in an awful strange spot. 

I'm not saying this was a sign, but I find it hugely coincidental that this happened on the anniversary of my grandpa's death, 2 1/2 months after my mom's death, in the middle of the night after I was asking if they are in the same place. I don't know what to make of it, but like I said yesterday, I don't believe in "coincidence."