Racism and Policing: Sitting in the Tension and Seeking Healing

I will get some things wrong, most likely a lot of things. I will miss something, and fumble through. And, I will do my best to describe the tension I’m attempting to hold while avoiding the binary choices the government, the media, and the masses appear to be suggesting. I can’t stop thinking about the pain and fear I see spilled out on the internet all day every day via hateful memes, name-calling, finger-pointing, us vs. them, either/or, tribalistic, angry rants. I believe we need to start talking about how to stand up for what’s right without perpetuating hate. I believe we need to start talking about how to advocate for holy causes without creating unholy wars on our social media accounts, in our families, neighborhoods, communities, churches, states, and country. I believe we need to press into the hard work it takes to have uncomfortable, and more importantly, humble conversations that result in the kind of change that comes from radical love and courageous action.  

As I read the rhetoric on both sides of the issue of police brutality and systemic racism, I keep coming back to the falsehood of dualistic thinking. I keep clinging to, “yes/and,” while trying to reject the natural response of “either/or.” I struggle to avoid binary choices while continuing to practice non-judgment of those I disagree with. It is uncomfortable and lonely to avoid sides, because choosing a side brings immediate belonging. But, I choose to sit in the discomfort, and plead for God’s love to consume my heart so that I may learn to love others as He loves us all. 

What I know is that I have yet to see or feel the value in clinging to sides, digging into being right, staking my claim, or protecting my tribe at all costs. What I know is that I’ve consistently witnessed good fruit grow from loving, listening, and holding grace with open arms. There has never been a time in my life when I’ve felt a more desperate need to find nuance, while attempting to push mass incivility out of my heart and mind. Rather than run to a side and hunker down in an echo chamber filled with people who agree with me, I believe God is calling me to deeply know that I am no more righteous than my neighbor…that my feelings and opinions are not the only ones that matter…that I don’t have it ALL right, and I never will…that I am living in a broken world that breaks people, and that bold action with a foundation of love and grace will bring healing. 

• Being right doesn’t bring healing. 
• Name-calling and pointing fingers don’t bring healing. 
• Pressing into our agenda doesn’t bring healing. 
• Shame and blame don’t bring healing. 
• Weaponizing our words doesn’t bring healing. 
• Spouting statistics and building defenses don’t bring healing. 
• Gearing up for the next gotcha doesn’t bring healing. 
• Memes don’t bring healing.  
• Cancel Culture doesn’t bring healing.  

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• Healing comes from moving towards that still small voice of the Spirit. 
• Healing comes from listening. 
• Healing comes from grace, love, and forgiveness. 
• Healing comes from putting understanding above being understood.
• Healing comes from allowing ourselves and others to express the emotions that make our bodies sick when kept inside.  
• Healing comes from community…communing. 
• Healing comes from validating one another’s trauma and doing no harm.
• Healing comes from expressing God’s love with our actions, our words, our insistence on putting others before ourselves. 
• Healing comes from pressing into difficult conversations with a hunger to hear over being heard.
• Healing comes from de-centering ourselves and making the human being sitting across from us, God’s own creation sitting across from us, more essential.
• Healing comes from restorative dialogue.
• Healing comes from healthy boundaries. 
• Healing comes from learning what weighs heavy on another’s heart and then pursuing an avenue to lift that weight so that they can soar.  
• Healing comes from loving the other as they need to be loved without conditions. 
• Healing comes from allowing the grace of God to show us how to lift another up, protect another’s heart, save another’s life, vote in another’s favor.
• Healing comes from dismantling structures that allow for abuse, developing policies that lift up the oppressed, creating solutions that are equitable for all, and putting others first as Jesus ALWAYS did! Others first: Every. Single. Time. 

I’m not capable of being the hands and feet of Jesus without his direct movement in my heart, and I’m seeking that movement, praying for that movement, hopeful for that movement as I continue to fight the urge to enter a battle that appears to call for “othering” and division.  

The world, the news, many people I follow on social media suggest I choose between all Black people or all police. The love of Jesus tells me that this is not the choice. The love of Jesus tells me that there is hope for change, hope for restoration, hope for redemption, hope for freedom, and that it stems from a love that permeates our core, a love that calls us to lay our lives down for another, a love that sacrifices self, religion, world-views, politics…a love that calls for death to self. 

As I press in, listen, learn, read, and pray about the next action step I should take to fight racism in our country, I am also holding many “yes/ands” in a tension so great I think my heart will tear down the middle if I don’t disconnect from the dualistic commentary pulling, pressing, pushing us apart in every corner of our lives.  

There is so much I have yet to learn, tomorrow may bring a new set of eyes, AND today my “yes/ands” sound like this:

Our country suffers from systemic racism.
There are police officers who deserve our gratitude.

Policing is born from the evil seed of slave patrols.
There are police officers who abhor evil and selflessly lay their lives on the line each day to serve and protect.  

There are policies steeped in racism that lead to the destruction of Black lives and protect racist police.
There are police officers who would sacrifice their lives to save anyone regardless of their skin color.

There are deadly consequences in communities of color when police breathe air they don’t know is racist.
There are police who have worked to build trusting relationships in Black communities.

There are rioters taking advantage of the cause of peaceful protestors.
The majority of people taking to the streets are doing so peacefully.

There are police pepper-spraying and shooting rubber bullets into peaceful crowds.
There are police officers kneeling and marching with peaceful protestors.

The brutality perpetuated on Black bodies by those who are supposed to protect and serve is sickening. 
There are officers who wear their badge with the spirit of a guardian rather than a soldier. 

There is an urgent need for re-evaluation, re-focus, re-structure, and reform in our country’s policing.
There are men and women in blue who put their lives on the line every day to serve their communities.

I do not know or agree with everything the BLM organization stands for.
I agree and loudly declare without hesitation that Black Lives Matter.  

I empathize with the rage, and do so without judgment.
I do not condone rioting and violence.

I do not believe looting is a solution.
I do believe that no matter the looting, murder is worse, and excusing murder by police must end.

I mourn the loss of Black lives.
I mourn the loss of cops killed in the line of duty.    

Ultimately, what I hope and pray for while I hold these “yes/ands” is that the Lord will transform my heart and thoughts to be more in alignment with his. I continue to ask Him for wisdom on how to better love my neighbor, my enemy, my fellow human who was created in the image of God. I continue to pray for his eyes, his heart, his guidance on how I can move and breathe in a way that will lift up the marginalized, protect the oppressed, and stand for the disenfranchised. I continue to ask him what it is I can do to be a light in the midst of collective mourning.

I continue to pray.

Dear Heavenly Father, please help us navigate this fractured world in a way that mends the broken-hearted and avoids the creation of deeper fault lines in the souls of your precious creations. Help us to tear down the walls of injustice and destroy the power structures that create inequity and inequality while also building bridges of love and restoration.  In Jesus name, Amen. 

Delivered From Fear and Filled With Love

If you are living with crippling fear and anxiety, there is hope. If you are living in a place of dark depression, there is hope. If you are living with a resentment and bitterness that won’t leave your weary soul alone, there is hope. If you are experiencing any stronghold in your life, no matter how long you’ve fought, there is still hope!

This is good news, and what makes this great news is that this hope is not dependent on you or anything you can do. It does not depend on your behavior or your prayer. It does not depend on your religiosity or your repetition of memorized verses. This hope comes from Jesus who is in the business of supernatural peace and joy, comfort and love, repair and restoration.

Below is my dad’s testimony about how the Lord delivered him from a crippling fear and filled his heart with a love for others that dispelled the bitterness he held onto for many years. This was not an immediate transformation, but an extended exercise in trust and a release of religious formulas.

If you are struggling with a stronghold in your life I pray this 20-minute video will bring you hope. I pray you will believe deep down that this road you’re on will open to a space of freedom you have never imagined. I pray you will hold onto the hope that this journey leads to a strength far greater than anything humanly possible and that one day you will find glorious healing and wholeness. I pray that you will take rest in knowing that someday peace will come over you “like warm oil.”

I’m thankful for my dad’s vulnerability in sharing his testimony. His transformation has given me the courage to face hardships in my life a thousand times over. The work I’ve seen Jesus do in my dad’s life continues to keep me open to work that is yet to be done in my own.

I encourage anyone who has experienced supernatural intervention to share openly as a way to give God the glory and to bring expectancy of a brighter future to those who find themselves in the pit of hopelessness. Let us remind each other of the victory that lies ahead!

 

Grace in the Trump Era

I’m about to get real about my sinful nature, so please be kind.

The election of Donald J. Trump has thrust me into a battle of flesh versus grace like I have never experienced before. At no time in my life have I felt more convicted yet less prepared to live out the message of Jesus, to love our enemies.

“…I say to you, love your enemy…respond to the very ones who persecute you by praying for them. What reward do you deserve if you only love the loveable? How are you any different from others if you limit your kindness only to your friends?” Matthew 5:43-47

I’ve read this scripture, and the many like it countless times, but it’s never called out to me like it does now. I’ve always considered myself a loving, forgiving, and tolerant person, but the emotions that have risen up in me the past 18 months have been remarkably ugly and uncharacteristic. I loathe the shadow that seems to be rising within me, the bitterness swelling inside. I fear a dangerous reunion with depression and anxiety lurking for me every night, and I realize that this way of living…this swimming in an ocean of toxicity is not sustainable. There’s a quickening in my heart every time I react to our President with disgust, fury, and despair, and I recognize this quickening as a challenge I’m woefully unequipped to sufficiently manage.

I desire to have the heart of Jesus towards Trump, not because I want to be a “good Christian” or because I have something to prove, or want to “appear” holy and faithful, but because I believe that love heals and hate destroys. I feel the tremor of the voice of Jesus deep in my soul saying, “this is your Mount Everest Renee’. This is your purpose, right here, right now. This is who I’ve made you to be…a voice of light and love in this moment, a peacemaker, a woman who learns to wholeheartedly give and receive grace because she fully grasps that every one of my creations is worthy. Your life can be a testament to how I love you and every other human on this earth without conditions, without reservations. If you will allow me to transform your heart so that you can love who you’ve deemed unlovable, then you will break this destructive cycle and breathe in the freshness of my tender spirit in a way you’ve never experienced.” I want to respond to this persistent rumbling in my core, but my human nature cannot summon it. Sealing the goal for grace in my mind has not translated to action in my heart. I pray for the Lord’s heart towards a man I believe is undeserving of grace and then I scoff at myself as I reflect on the knowledge that grace IS exactly that… undeserved favor! If he could earn it then it wouldn’t be grace.

Grace for Trump is not the only place I struggle.

I yearn to have the heart of Jesus towards myself. I intend to offer myself love and forgiveness, but every time I respond to others from a place of judgment and exasperation, my heart sinks in shame. There has been a heaviness, a sadness, a separateness that isolates me from the love I used to sense in my daily life. I fear there’s no place for me anymore. I wonder if the wilderness has swallowed me whole. I scold myself for lacking the heart of Jesus, even while I’m consciously seeking it out. My internal dialogue is not one of compassion or hope as I continually disappoint myself in the journey towards becoming love. I am dispirited by my grave inability to create a gentleness in my heart when I so badly want to be an example of the love of Jesus. This year, I have teetered between healthy accountability and severe self-shaming. I pray for the Lord’s heart towards myself knowing that no amount of good deeds could ever earn His blessings. If I could earn it, then it wouldn’t be grace.

This journey for grace is more wearisome than I expected.

I dedicated this year to grace and I am persistently tested, consistently repenting, consciously aware of every ungracious thought and action. I have hit my knees begging for the Lord’s heart towards those I don’t understand, those I vehemently disagree with, those I fear. I have grappled over how to love my enemies..truly, radically love them. It’s seemingly effortless to flippantly say, “I will love my enemies.” It’s a different endeavor altogether to react from a place of benevolence when I come face to face with an adversary’s hostile shouts, venomous words, and furious eyes. I want to behold myself and others with generosity. I want a lens of redemption to filter out the world’s perspective so that visions of love, grace and mercy are all that remain. I want an agape love to spill out of me in a life-giving stream. I want to feel the strength of God’s love lifting me up in my weakest moments so that I may lift the burden of lovelessness and isolation from those who are wounded and lonely.

I am starving for a grace that glides naturally from my being, but the war of words raging inside my head has done nothing to encourage the love of God in my heart, and so I repent. I repent for making it about me. I repent of my bitterness. I repent of my judgment. I repent of my anger. I repent of my need to be right. My flesh reminds me every day that I am incapable of transforming my heart without supernatural intervention.

Below is a visual of the candid and often unpleasant inner workings of my daily thought life. Beware that it is brutal. I am not proud of where I’m at, but I am hopeful, as I believe The Lord is working on me every second of every day. I rarely make it to column 3 (The Truth), and even when I do, it isn’t without kicking and screaming. God’s wisdom has yet to take root in my heart, but that is my constant prayer.

My Flesh = My Worldly Response = My Knee Jerk Reaction = My Sin	My Human Struggle for Grace = My Self Talk	God’s Wisdom = The Truth
Trump is evil and there’s little to no explanation for supporting a man who bullies and disparages war heroes, immigrants, refugees, minorities, women, the disabled, the dying, leaders of ally countries, literally anyone who disagrees with him!	Ugh! I hate this sin…this tendency to judge others that lives and thrives within me. I am not blameless. I am also guilty of making fun of others, laughing at jokes that are in poor taste, thinking less of certain people when I feel justified. In fact, I do this to Trump and feel TOTALLY justified! BUT, at least I’m willing to reflect on my faults and ask for forgiveness. At least I don’t live my life committing these offenses without any remorse! And, here I go again feeding the sin that enjoys its lofty place in my heart. Why can’t I get this grace thing right?! Why am I always making excuses for my lack of grace? Why can’t I will myself to love the way God loves? I’m so bad at this! I’ll never figure out how to love those my flesh has deemed unlovable!	Everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard…His gift of love and favor now cascades over us, all because Jesus, the Anointed One, has liberated us from guilt… Romans 3:23-24
I am physically ill as I observe how Trump fuels the fire of hatred! I literally can’t think of another person who can stir the malignant brew of animosity more effectively than our current President.	And yet I give myself a pass as I fuel the fire of hatred with name-calling, negative social media posts, and fruitless conversations regarding my disgust for him! I cannot fight hate with hate, so why do I keep ending up here?! Shame on me, shame on me, shame on me!	You are forgiven and so is he.
How is it possible that Trump’s Christian supporters can’t see how he capitalizes on fear to win their support and that fear is NOT from The Lord?!?!	Yet, I’m full of fear too! My reaction to his policies and vicious rhetoric sends me into a whirlwind of fitful nights and dark days envisioning nightmarish outcomes. I’m guilty of allowing fear to rule my heart, as I fear his presidency will bring us to war and/or tear our country apart. I provide fear with a playground as I watch the news, read his tweets, participate in relationships that serve as an echo chamber. I am once again doing the very thing I claim to hate so much! If my faith is in The Lord, then there would be no fear!	God will never give us the spirit of fearing men or others. The Holy Spirit gives us mighty power, love, and self-control…the light of revelation. 2 Timothy 1:7
I have yet to observe any behavior from Trump that exemplifies the love of Jesus, so why do so many “Christians” support him? Maybe I no longer identify as being a Christian when the reputation of some seems to be that of hypocrisy, intolerance, racism, nationalism, pridefulness, dishonesty, fear-mongering, hatefulness, bitterness, intimidation, un-forgiveness, belligerence, sexism…	I have not been appointed judge of moral character. Who am I to act as if I have everything figured out and anyone who disagrees is blind? Who do I think I am?!?! How many times have I encouraged others to dial back their compulsion to be right? How many times have I prayed for the softening of hearts and the opening of ears and the healing of relationships? Yet, here I am dialing into the rage and digging in my heels. HOWEVER, he has admitted he’s never had to ask for forgiveness. At the very least I have the insight to know when I’ve sinned and the ability to feel remorse. At least I’m looking for a way to show love even when I REALLY don’t want to. And here I go again with my righteous anger, my rationalization of denying grace. Once again I’ve failed!	God did not send his Son into the world to judge and condemn the world, but to be its Savior and rescue it! John 3:17
Trump’s narcissism, pride, and lack of any humility whatsoever makes it substantially difficult for me to look at his face, hear his voice, read his words. I look at him and feel evil, see evil, hear evil. He stands for everything my parents taught me to avoid: dishonesty, bullying, disrespect, dishonor, selfishness, vanity, anger, cruelty, hubris, and the list goes on and on. He represents the opposite of every quality I want modeled for my children. He is everything I was taught not to be. The things he is praised for are the very same things I’ve been punished for.	This posture of knowing all there is to know about a man I’ve never met shines a light on the sin of pride and superiority that lives inside of me too. My acidic reaction to Trump is not a seed planted by my Father. This is not a root that bears the fruit of love. This visceral reverberation spreads a twilight over my circle of influence when my desire is to bring the sunrise. So, why is this so damn hard?!?! If I want something SO badly, why can’t I just make it happen? Why can’t I turn myself into the loving and gracious human being I know the Lord desires me to be? I’m so frustrated with this journey. I feel like giving up on my search for grace. Lord, I cannot love the way you love without your heart. Please transform me! Please impart in me the Spirit of Love over the spirit of rightness!	We are both struggling sinners and yet “Christ proved God’s passionate love for us by dying in our place while we were still lost and ungodly!” Romans 5:8
If I’m supposed to give Trump grace, then he and every one of his defenders need to give (fill in the blank) grace! I can’t wrap my head around the people who stand up for his abhorrent behavior and then get defensive when someone reacts with anger in return. Trump started the racist and outlandish birther conspiracy against Obama, yet his supporters are up in arms over the Russian investigation. I hear people belaboring how upset they are with Robert De Niro for yelling an obscenity at an award show, yet these same people cheer when Trump calls NFL players “sons of bitches” and join in the chanting, “lock her up,” and applaud when he mercilessly picks on John McCain, and rallies around him when he encourages his supporters to physically harm protesters. I’m stunned and sickened that he can talk about grabbing women’s pussy’s and how easy it is to take advantage of them because he’s powerful and rich, but yet his base continues to talk about Bill Clinton. It feels to me as if deceit and sexual assault and misconduct are completely forgivable as long as you’re on the “right” side. The false virtues I’ve witnessed makes me definitively unwell. The double standard is outrageous! What is this hypocrisy?!?!	Again, grace is undeserved favor and I need it too! Grace does not wait for the person to get everything right before it shows up. It’s not even waiting for us to get one thing right. If I insist on Trump changing his modus operandi before I change my heart towards him, then I will continue to run low on peace and I will exhaust myself chasing grace. There is no positive change that can come from my despondency. Hope is is not ignited by a fire of vindictiveness. Redemption and reconciliation will never grow from a place of hostility. I must find a way to allow the permanent station of grace to take camp in my heart, but I’m finding it nearly impossible and therefore I’m afraid I’m failing at being Love.	“The Son of Man has come to seek out and to give life to those who are lost.” Luke 19:10 He is seeking us out even while we head in the wrong direction. Jesus views us through the eyes of love because we are made in His image and we have been reconciled to Him through the sacrifice of the savior. He does not withhold his love based on our behavior…He loves us in despite of it. The truth is that His transformative love is available to every one of us, and He will love me through my journey no matter how many wrong turns I take.
If you are offended for him, standing up for him, defending him, I feel like screaming, “he’s not the one that needs protecting! It’s those he oppresses and bullies and demeans and flippantly disregards that need protection!” If you can’t see the hurt he has caused, the hate he has stirred, the fear-mongering tactics he’s forced down the throats of anyone who will listen, then I don’t know how it is we are living on the same planet.	There are so many things I can do to fight injustice, protect the oppressed, love the hurting, care for the poor, and none of those things require vitriol. I only make my heart-sick and the divisions in my circle of influence more polarized when I engage in shaming, finger-pointing, blaming, outrage, and resentment. Sometimes I witness myself expending more energy on being against someone than being for those who need me to stand with them. I am so disappointed that I have come to a place where my knee-jerk reaction is to occupy a space of indignation rather than a space of love and grace. I am terrified that I will never escape this murky water I’m drowning in. Where are you God?! I beg you to lift the heaviness of this contempt that has made its home in my heart the past 18 months. I cannot move forward bearing beautiful fruit without your transformative power! This all feels impossible!	“Looking straight into their eyes, Jesus replied, Humanly speaking…no one can save himself. But what seems impossible to you is never impossible to God!” Matthew 19:26

I’m exhausted from this struggle. I’m exhausted just writing and reading about this struggle. Even while I seek His heart, strive to love the way He calls us to love, attempt to offer grace in all situations to all people, I feel abandoned to blindly feel my way through this chaos on my own. I don’t know how to give grace to Trump or to those who support him no matter what he says or does, but I do know that the Lord loves him and every single one of His creations regardless of our misdeeds and shortcomings. I know that as much as I focus on Trump’s need for forgiveness and grace, I need the very same things! I’m tempted to berate myself for my lack of love, but I know that’s not God’s desire for me. I know He is inviting me to rely on Him. Today, I feel alone. Today, I feel lost. Today, I wonder what road lies ahead. Today, I feel fatigue setting in as I relentlessly beg for a transformation. Today, my spirit is waning as I fruitlessly search for a heart I can’t create on my own. Today, I ask the creator to breathe new life into me. Today, I meditate on The Word that says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” – Psalm 34:18.

I imagine 2 main responses to my struggle:

1. If you’re responding to me with disbelief, disappointment, or even disgust that I could have so much darkness in my heart towards a man I don’t even know, then I challenge you to consider that those are the very same feelings I share in response to Trump. If you’re feeling “column 1” feelings about me, let me be the first to acknowledge that I get it. If you’re sitting in judgement about me or anyone else during this highly polarized era of “othering,” would you join me in my effort to move to “column 3?” I don’t make this request because I need you to like me, but because I want us all to live in a place of wholeness and grace. I want us all to experience one another as God experiences us. I want us all to rest in a place of peace and joy as we face our daily lives in community with one another. I want us to find a way to give each other grace in this messy, broken, imperfect world full of messy, broken, imperfect people. I want us to conquer hate with love! I could try to convince you that I’m not a terrible person, but let me just admit that I’m a sinful human being who is seeking grace and striving to have the heart of the Lord no matter how many times I fail.
2. If you’re responding with disbelief, disappointment or even disgust that I am making an effort to “let Trump off the hook so easily,” I want to be clear that seeking grace is not justifying, excusing, or trivializing wrong-doings. I strongly believe that lies, racism, sexism, oppression, and hate all have to be addressed and consequences are necessary. Grace can be offered without brushing anything under the rug or minimizing the ramifications of someone’s behavior. I believe that in order to be a light in this world we must be pillars of truth, which requires the courage to speak against polluting messages and the willingness to condemn untruths. We must speak up and speak out, and I believe that doing so from a place of love is the only way we can escape the cancer of “column 1.” I believe rising above the fury is the quickest path to a place of unification and healing. If you connect with my “column 1” feelings about Trump, let me be the first to acknowledge that I get it. If you’re sitting in judgement about him or anyone else during this highly polarized era of “othering,” would you join me in my effort to move to “column 3?” I believe that only love is sustainable. I believe radical love and profound forgiveness are powerfully transformative. I believe there’s a path that allows us to stand up for what is right without succumbing to despondency and animosity. I believe there’s a journey ahead that doesn’t include hate, but rather calls us to practice a communion of reconciliation so that we may avoid the death of our joy and the joy of those around us. I believe we can be breath in breathless moments rather than oxygen fueling the fire.

My life is full of choices that can move me towards grace or away. If I am to be an ambassador of redemption I cannot do so by engaging in maliciousness. I am choosing to create a community that bonds over inclusivity versus causticity. I am seeking a way to stand for justice and offer grace simultaneously. I don’t believe it has to be either/or…I want to live a life of both. I want to find a way to hold the hands of the oppressed, the vulnerable, the hurting, and claim out loud what I believe is right and worthy without pointing fingers, placing blame, screaming judgement, spreading condemnation or ostracizing. I want to love loudly and stand boldly for what’s fair, just, and good without being against anyone. I want to be an example of grace’s transformative power. I want the Lord to brand my heart with the reminder that every single one of us is His creation. I want to remember that we all require healing and that love conquers all. I cannot in good conscience continue to wallow in bitterness when I know with all my being that hate will not defeat hate and shame will not fill hearts with loving-acceptance and compassion. I want to live from a place where: Justice is necessary and Grace is transformative!

As I continue to wrestle with grace in the Trump era, I invite you to join me in reflecting on this beautiful scripture:

“Don’t let anger control you or be fuel for revenge, not for even a day…And never let ugly or hateful words come from your mouth, but instead let your words become beautiful gifts that encourage others; do this by speaking words of grace to help them. Lay aside bitter words, temper tantrums, revenge, profanity, and insults. But instead be kind and affectionate toward one another. Has God graciously forgiven you? Then graciously forgive one another in the depths of Christ’s love.” Ephesians 4:26-32

And when we fail, may we remember that we are forgiven.

Grief Keeps Giving. Grace Keeps Saving.

Burt, it’s April and I miss you.

I love celebrating your life but I hate that I have to.

It’s hard to describe the shadows that creep in late at night, while I lay awake unguarded. The harrowing memories that plague my tired mind. It starts before I even consciously realize that we’ve slipped into April. It’s as if everything shifts. The air is thicker, the mood cloudier, the dreams lonelier, the heart heavier, the words insufficient. Like clockwork the grief creeps forward, relentlessly gaining intensity with each passing second. It’s difficult to explain the trembling in my voice that appears this time of year. I may have told a thousand stories that included your name, but in April I can’t even silently think of you without tears welling up in my worn out eyes. It’s as if the valiant effort my mind put forth all year to shrink that permanent hole in my life was all in vain…completely upended as the hole burrows deeper and wider overnight. I am flooded with the realness, the pain, the emptiness that comes with no longer having you here. It’s as if I’m flung back to that day 5 years ago and I have suddenly forgotten how to cope…forgotten the miles I’ve traveled in healing…forgotten how to live with the sorrow that visits always uninvited.

There are no words to adequately describe the aching I feel in my spirit to see you again…hear your laugh, hug your neck, listen to your stories, tell you mine, introduce you to your darling niece and nephews. There’s no stopping the flow of tears as I imagine how much you would love these precious little ones that have been born since you departed, and how much they would love you back. Just last night I read The Book With No Pictures to Isaac, the nephew you kissed on the knee as you passed in the stars. I couldn’t help but imagine the hilarious voices you would’ve invented while reading this book and how much he would’ve relished in your time together. I try to do it justice, to make you proud, to give Isaac a glimpse of the joy and silliness you brought into our lives. I give it my all even while fighting back the quiver in my voice.

I love that your legacy lives on in your family and friends, but I hate that you left a legacy so soon.

Your birthday is in April.

The last time I saw your smiling face and heard your voice was in April, on Easter Sunday, when we announced that I was pregnant.The last letter you wrote me arrived in April. It was red ink, with capital letters, in your beautiful architectural hand writing, clearly expressing your excitement that your baby sister was going to be a mom. You passionately described the unconditional love that comes with parenthood. This letter…the last letter you wrote to me still explodes with adoration for your beautiful girls.

Then there is May.

You left us in May. The last text message you sent the family was on May 11^th, the same day you died. While we were celebrating dad’s 70^th birthday, you were being greeted by Jesus. The call I will never forget came the morning of May 12^th. It was Mother’s Day…it was a day of mere survival because the unthinkable had happened…you had not survived. We delivered your eulogy on the 21^st day of May.

I hate these anniversaries.

Every year, for 2 months I feel myself receding into the shadows where words are meager and bitterness clings to the tip of my tongue. I’m tempted to numb the vivid memories of this trauma with hollow distractions and senseless behaviors. For 2 months a year I spend sleepless nights soaking my pillow with tears of regret, anxiety, anger, fear, heartbreak. For 2 months a year I can no longer fight off the visuals of your death, your viewing, your casket being lowered into the ground, your daughters faces as I drove them to the cemetery. For 2 months a year I’m reminded of the agony I felt completing menial daily tasks after you passed. I’m reminded of the first time I showered after your death and how I despised myself for any sense of relief I felt as the warm water poured over me. I couldn’t shake the guilt that came with knowing that you lost your life in a bitter cold river and now I was allowing this same hijacker of life…this water…rain over me as a source of comfort, washing away my tears. For 2 months a year I think back to that time I couldn’t bare to use punctuation because it felt too final. As if the energy it took to end a sentence was more than I could muster. For 2 months a year the dam breaks wide open and I can’t fight back the sobs or run from the gripping sadness.

Then, the strangest and most unexpected gift is given. Somewhere in the middle of those 2 months I find solace because you ALWAYS show up. You show up in a dream that someone shares with me. You show up in a Bob Marley song that’s playing in a random boutique I step foot in for the first time. You show up in a memory I had forgotten about. You show up in a picture I’ve never seen. You show up in a story I’ve never heard. You show up in a beautiful building that I instantly imagine you creating. You show up in a whisper reminding me that I must not take a moment for granted. I feel you standing beside me. You dare me to self-reflect on my attitude, my complaints, my propensity to take the blessings around me for granted. I picture your smiling face and imagine all I would give to prevent you from taking that hike by yourself…I imagine how many more breaths you could’ve had…should’ve had…and I’m convinced once again that I must use my time and the gift of life wisely and in honor of you. You show up during those 2 months to confirm once again that God’s grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness.

It is during these wearisome months that it becomes crystal clear how God uses each heart wrenching moment to remind me of the preciousness of life. Every year, by His grace, I experience supernatural strength and peace to push through the months of tears and the nights laying awake thinking of you and what I would sacrifice to have you with us again. He comforts me in my most vulnerable time of need and assures me that one day we will meet again and it will be a reunion more beautiful than I could ever imagine. He joins me in my grief and assures me that my grief is not without hope. This year He gave me a song on Easter Sunday and it consumed my soul as I sang from the depths of my mourning heart, “death where is your sting?!” As I sang, with my arms reached high I imagined you with open arms ready to embrace me when it’s my time to journey home. He draws me into Him and I feel close to you again.

Burt, it’s April and I feel you near.

Burton James Little

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” – 1 Pete 5:10