This is an important post for me.
I want to go somewhere with my thoughts—a “place” I’ve been dwelling at in recent days. I don’t think I’m alone in my dwelling, for I believe that there are many of us who’ve pitched our tents a time or two or ten at this address, especially following a season of trauma. It doesn’t mean I want to live here forever, and I suppose there are a few of you who quietly wish that I’d just get on with it—”it” being the rest of my life. But I can’t; nor should I. Nor should any of you because in doing so—in prematurely getting on with it—we run the risk of short-changing the trajectory that will safely and most healthily land us at the threshold of our “next.”
Let me explain.
A couple of nights ago, my husband and I finished watching the HBO miniseries The Pacific. It was grizzly and gruesome and full of a grittiness that exacted a toll on my senses… my thoughts as well. Still and yet, the story was compelling enough to keep me engaged (and fast-forwarding on several occasions). In addition, I wanted to spend some couch time with my husband. He’s a history buff who holds a special interest in wartime eras. Accordingly, he was all about his Christmas gift (thanks boys for thinking of it), and because I’m all about him we spent several evenings bonding together with the men of the 1st Marine Division at Guadalcanal, Peleliu, and Iwo Jima.
There’s so much I could tell you about the movie, so many moments when I felt as if I were there, tasting the torment and feeling the pulse of the Marines who bravely manned their stations and, even more so, bravely pushed forward when the orders were given. You’d expect that… that I would write about their bravery and about their pushing through, but those are neither the scenes nor the sentiment that captured me most fully. Certainly they are noteworthy. Those kinds of victories are the makings of good headlines, best-selling books, ticker-tape parades, and made-for-television movies. Without the bravery of countless armed forces, which undoubtedly served as a pre-cursor to certain triumph, we’d have far less of these moments to chronicle with our token remembrance. Victories are important, but not all of them are won on the battlefield. Some of them are won in lesser places—the silent fields that surround a heart and life once the swords have found their scabbards and the guns their holstered display.
Some victories arrive after the obvious. Some emerge on the heels of a battle quietly fought on the front lines of a return home—a safe landing at a crossroads in a cornfield where the only ammunition in sight is the manure-laden fields begging a healthy harvest in due season. That is the sentiment from The Pacific that captured my heart on the final evening of our watching… the “coming home” sentiment and all that must have meant for the Marines who made it home and who were willing to do the hard thing of living… beyond the Pacific.
Scene after scene, I witnessed the “dropping off” of these men and women, back into the normalcy of what used to be. Some returning to fanfare. Some returning to anonymity. All returning with renewed perspective about their lives and the questions that came alongside to challenge their former safe parameters and sterile thinking. All of them wanting life as usual. Most of them realizing that life as usual could never be again. Instead, life as usual was infiltrated by scalded memories and harsh woundings that refused amputation from their thinking. Thus, a new battle for home turf began within the Marine’s soul with little or no support from a country that proudly displayed its flag, bought its war bonds, and wrote its memoirs.
We left them alone to fight those unseen battles, to deal with their silent pains, while bravely and arrogantly shouting our get on with it. Suck it up. Deal with it. Man up. That’s life. Move on or get left behind.
Easy words to speak; harder words to receive. All quick fixes to the problem of pain. A boorish and rude interruption into the process of healing. Still and yet, words that were often spoken when silence gripped a conversation… when answers weren’t so obvious and when the one offering up solutions wasn’t comfortable with suffering’s significance. Instead of lending grace and time and community to a returning Marine, many were quick to wrap up their comforting with cards and calls and casseroles and deem it enough for the healing.
It wasn’t enough back then; it isn’t enough right now.
And lest you think I’m talking solely about the honorable men and women that serve in our Armed Forces, you’ve missed the bigger picture. For all of us, every last one of us, have stood on the battlefield at one time or another in our lives. We’ve all fought hard for victories that bloodied and bruised us along the way. We all boast the wounding and scars of the sacred ground we’ve fought to preserve… the hallowed hill we’ve climbed to take. And when the battle is through, when the victory seemingly won, we, like the Marines of The Pacific get dropped on in our cornfields… left at our train stations and commissioned with the responsibility of getting on with it.
And somewhere in between the dropping off and getting on with it, there resides a gap. A huge gap. Rows and rows of planted seed that requires time and tending before moving forward with harvest. To quickly step over it is to short change the trajectory that will safely and most healthily land us at the threshold of our “next.” I clearly saw that in the hearts and minds of those returning soldiers in The Pacific. I clearly see this in the heart and mind of me. Even in some of you.
And so, today, I speak to it, and I tell you that I’m not willing to short change my trajectory into my “next.” Today, having just jumped off the train, I willingly stand on the edge of my cornfield and wait. I see the tender shoots before me and will pause long enough to watch them grow in season, not according to my almanac. I will not let others rush me to the other side. They mean well with their cards and calls and casseroles, and the best part of these offerings is nourishment for my walk-thru. I am grateful for them, but they are not enough to heal me. A suffering season that has required a pound or two of flesh as well as a pound or two of struggling faith requires more than human memorial.
It requires eternal mending—sacred renovation and restoration from the only One who knows what it means to suffer perfectly through to victory. God is the trajectory that will safely land me at the threshold of my “next.” Accordingly, he meets me in train station, and he tells me not to rush the journey home. He says that he has time enough to linger with me in my thinking—my talking and my pain. He reminds me that I am the reason for the battle he waged—for the sacred ground he fought to preserve, the hallowed hill he climbed to take. And that according to him, all that is required with my getting on with it is a willingness to place my wearied hand in his nail-scarred one and to rest my wounded flesh next to his. Together, we will unhurriedly watch the harvest come in.
Victories are important, friends, but not all of them are won on the battlefield. Some of them are won next to Jesus, in the silent fields that surround a heart and life upon the return home. This is where I’m standing today. Others may see the battle as over, but I see it is ongoing. Not because I have some martyring need to linger in the pain, but rather because I know that band-aids are poor company when wounds fester with lingering infection. Thus, I give myself permission to tenderly and carefully walk through the mine-field in front of me. I give you permission as well.
Don’t rush you’re getting on with it. Simply live the grace that is given you today, and drink in the view from our Father’s side. He is the trajectory who will safely and wholly… holy lead you home. As always…
Peace for the journey,
PS: I just asked Amelia to pick a number between 1 and 34. She picked 20. So, Cheryl is the winner of Mariel’s new study, Knowing God Through His Names. I’ll have this in the mail to you tomorrow!
I am reminded of a few well meaning folks who suggested I do things to distract myself from the pain and grief of losing my son, especially in the very early days. AS if I really could have.
I am reminded of family who said, "We just want YOU back." As if the former "me" still existed somewhere underneath the new "me."
I am reminded that I was and am determined to "walk through the pain" rather than cover over or cover up the deep emotion that was scarier to those who were witness to it. Somehow I knew and I still know that to rush and "get on with it" meant I would have to deal with "it" to an even greater degree at a later date.
In your time and in God's time…
Though it has only been 3 1/2 weeks since hubby's passing I already feel the 'push' to get on with life. It makes me want to hibernate and shut out the world. It also makes me want to vomit!!
I agree with Melanie, there is a New me and the Old me will never be again…there is so much pain, so much grief, so much More to walk through…how can anyone think you can just 'get on with life'…Life must be created anew as God leads each of us thorugh our darkest seasons.
Blessings in your writings and how you capture truth through your words.
Much love, Cindy
I am constantly amazed at the parallels you draw and the amazing conclusions that appear.
I would write more but my words would not even do justice after such a powerful piece.
When my Mama died when I was 16 years old, I pushed it deep inside of me and would not let myself face the deep grief. I tried to go on with "life as usual" and I have paid for it over the years!
As I read your post today Elaine I could not help but think of our own Marine son who was in Iraq twice during the first 2 years of the war. He was in combat all that time and was badly wounded just before coming home the second time. He still has the dreams, the bad days, the PTSD…..all of it and yet he functions on the outside as a "normal" person. So much so that most people forget what he's been through. But I know he never forgets. He can't.
So you just take your time Elaine. We're not gonna push you. We love you.
Marilyn
When I lost my husband in a car accident and my 5 month old son suffered severe and permanent brain injury in the same accident, I had lots of help and prayers in the first few weeks, but soon after, everyone went home and on to their own lives and I was left feeling lost as the world rushed by. And then the few people who continued to help started the pushing so they would not have to help anymore, so I would get over it and move on. I was so young (21) that I tried to do as they asked, tried to meet their expectations, and I think it hindered the process greatly. Three and half years later, I met my new husband who, having been through enormous tragedy in his own life and having always been told to "get over it", told me to do the same. I stuffed down the rest of the pain I had not worked through, and it was several years later when it suddenly came up again, surprising me at inopportune times. I know now, almost 13 years later, that you cannot rush it, that it is real pain and grief, and it IS OKAY to walk through it slowly, taking in the scenery along the way.
For different reasons and none that compare to yours, the HOLY SPIRIT, brings to my mind again and again … stop rushing! We miss so much when we rush. Heaven knows I've rushed my whole life and here I am now at 59 knowing with certainty it is not the way to accomplish the Will of God.
Much love and admiration and hopefully encouragement to 'keep to (it)' the not rushing.
Kathie
prayers as you continue to heal, both physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Take all the time you need.
Elaine,
First, I just have to say that you write beautifully. Your words capture your feelings and emotions so well that I am brought into your world. Thank you for your transparency. Next, I want to say that I so agree with you. As a mother of an Iraq war veteran, I can see the journey that begins once the soldier has landed safely home. The healing doesn't happen when his feet first touch American soil…it takes time, patience and most of all love. I know our Heavenly Father loves you, Elaine, and I pray that as you continue to heal, you will feel the blessing of knowing you are in His arms.
Love in Christ, Joan
I left out an important few sentences in the first go around… someone should have told me! No worries; now fixed… at least I think so. I get so busy cutting and pasting–
~elaine
Your writing always takes me away…away to a depth I long to reach on my own. My heart and my prayers continue for you. I pray that nothing I have ever said reflected you need to just move on and get over it. It's all about God's timing, which can be hard to grasp. I just know that you always seem to make something beautiful out of your life and I love being able to walk along side you as best as I can.
God has given you such an amazing gift with words..His words. As always, I am inspired.
Believing Him~Pamela
These are such good thoughts Elaine, and will be helpful to so many. I haven't had your kind of journey, but I have found in my own journey, that there are seasons… and the one of grief or pain seems to go on for a long time. I also love Melanie's comments. I have felt the same, that to try to rush would only be temporary and deeper stuff would still have to be walked through later.
God is giving you wisdom in this time, for this time.
Funny, my post today was about moving forward, but on a whole different plane… moving on what I already know! 🙂
Your walking through this time is a lesson for me and I am honored to pray for you and be a cyber buddy as you go.
This is why I love and minister to women who are suffering with depression. I have been there and I help them work through what they are feeling as well as guiding them to different areas of help. I know that it took time to get to that state of depression and it can take some time to heal from it… and it may revisit, again and again. Because my depressed sisters are always told to "get over it" or "get happy" or "you're fine" and I get to validate them and let them linger and learn why they are currently where they are at.
Love you, Elaine…
As God says, we are to "stand"….you stand on that threshhold of the newness and healing that He has for you and don't let anyone tell you you have to push forward. God will tell you when it is time and what that looks like.
As I sat in the waiting room today, waiting for my radiation treatment, I picked up a book that talked just about that….what breast cancer looks like after treatment is done. How to walk those steps, life after cancer.
Praying for you tonight, as you stand on that threshhold…know that I am standing with you, holding you close to the Lord.
Much love,
Stacy
we're always in such a rush to get to the
other side that we miss some of the beauty
in the river.
you're in that liminal place of between and
betwixt. it would be presumptuous of any-
one to rush you.
but, we can pray for your healing and peace
on the journey.
Oh, sweet friend. How you speak such wisdom. These times must not be rushed away from. The tendering, the shaping that takes place there is much too precious. I never thought it possible, but you are even more beautiful now than you were before. Oh, how I love you. I just do.
Elaine, how nice to hear that I won the Bible study! Thank you — and thank Amanda for me 🙂
I couldn't agree more about not hurrying the healing process. It's so important to allow ourselves to feel the grief of situations that wound and alter us. Bless you as you take the time you need before "getting on with it…"
Very well said, Elaine.
This is who you are now, and this is who I am… we are in the process of becoming, and on our way home. But before that, there is a process. Sometimes slow and gentle, sometimes painful and rough. God has a plan and a purpose, and we all know it's beautiful.
You are so right, let's not hurry up with the "getting on with it," or the "moving on." Let's embrace the process, it is part of our journey.
Keeping you close,
Lidj
Elaine,
Once again your words are strong…deep, intense…but the message is clear.
While mine may not be cancer, or the death of a spouse or a child, as others have mentioned in their comments, still we all have in one way or another experienced
"some thing"…things that we are thrown into which becomes a journey in itself,yet there is a process of getting through it, having to deal with it the best we can…and sometimes to rush it is not the way to resolve it.
Bless you, Elaine! Your words are always empowering!
wifeforthejourney:
Americans are uncomfortable with suffering and with mortality. A pretty obvious kind of statement considering we would all prefer a life of ease over hardship – but the fact remains that too many Americans think that the solution to life's problems are easily addressed with a vacation or a lottery ticket or a trip to the pharmacy.
Even in the church, Christians spend a lot of time and energy trying to AVOID hardship and sometimes that means avoiding hurting people. After an early rush of sympathy, prayers, and covered dishes too many Christians move on and just expect the wounded to keep up. The grief stricken get left behind because much of our discipleship appeals to individual conveniences instead of corporate compassion.
For any and all who have experienced the shortcomings of the church, the "Good-enough Samaritans" who left you bleeding on the pavement next to a chicken casserole and a "get well" card – I can only say, as a pastor, that I am sorry. We pastors and teachers and church leaders have not done enough to model an everlasting love. Knowing that we have all, at some point, been that person who has avoided someone when we should have stopped and stayed, or said the wrong things, or forgotten when we should have remembered – may we find the faith we need to forgive others when THEY fall far short of reaching out to us when WE are the hurting ones.
Elaine, though I have an obvious bias, I think your post is especially valuable because you have made your experience available to all your readers. Except for the Lord, no one really knows "just how we feel" BUT for those that stop and read what you have written I think they will find the common thread you have woven through this piece. May you continue to find God's blessing as you are obedient to share your journey with us.
Love,
Billy
Just saying yes, Amen, so be it. Know JUST what you're talking about. Powerful as usual, my friend.
This is something I try to do with others…let their process be theirs according to what they need and what God intends instead of the timetable that makes sense to me. I was a good one for the "get on with it" mentality until I faced my own suffering season that has yet to completely go away. I discovered some things just aren't that easy to move on from.
Again I can't begin to express how much I identify with your post. In many ways I feel I have spent most of my life "getting on with it" forget this happened, forget that…move forward…don't look back. And while there are times of course when we need to do just that, there are MANY more when it is just downright OK to be still and move forward WITH Him on a time schedule that is as unique as we are. I have moved VERY slowly through all that has happened to me through this last year. You have expressed sooo well how "I" have felt I do not need to say more. Thank you for blessing me as always. HUGS, Debbie
All I can think of is 'on a wing and a prayer'. That is how many planes landed in the war after being hit. Today God showed me people on the battlefield I did not know. He asked me to pray for them. I did. The stories/comments below are painful reminders this world is not our home.
Finding it difficult to find the proper words to reply, and finding the focus hard for for the tears that flood my eyes.
I wonder how many times I've been guilty of this when ministering to others…I dare say many. Forgive me if I've ever expressed that to you. We tell ourselves its just the pace of our world today, but it shouldn't be that at all. It's only been in the past year as I've been engaged in a battle of my own that I've become truly sensitive to this. A gnawing sense of hesistancy when I ask for prayers and a growing concern that friends might think it's taking far too long to walk my current road. I said at the start I wanted to walk it alongside the God who ordained it for me, gaining each insight He had for me along the way. While there are still days where I long for things to be "the way they once were…" yet all the while know that cannot be. In the deepest part, I know He's calling me to a "better still" that is yet to come…in His time, not mine.
I never cease to be amazed at the depth with which you can express your heart. Thank you for encouraging me to take the slow, deliberate pace toward victory. I love you so.
"But I can’t; nor should I. Nor should any of you because in doing so—in prematurely getting on with it—we run the risk of short-changing the trajectory that will safely and most healthily land us at the threshold of our “next.” "
These words meet me in my spot today, thank you!
Thank you for your open, honest, faithful heart and the wisdom you impart through your words!
Prayers continue!
Bless your precious hurting heart, Samantha. Thanks for writing your pain here; I know it wasn't easy. I'm sorry for all the ways those closest to you failed you in that time. I'm afraid, like my husband has commented on the post, that I have failed along these lines… to many times to count. We're so prone to our flesh!
God's peace and rest to you this night. I pray we all do better along these lines, as well as offer grace to those who miss the mark.
We're imperfect people belonging to a perfect God. He understands our frailties. That's why the need for Calvary.
peace~elaine
"Don’t rush you’re getting on with it. Simply live the grace that is given you today, and drink in the view from our Father’s side. He is the trajectory who will safely and wholly… holy lead you home."
This is what I love the best – probably because I need to hear it the most.
The permission not to rush… not to rush the healing, and not to rush the "getting on with it."
Thank you my friend… I won't tell you to get on with it, or get over it or move on to something else – and though I may not always comment, I am always reading, and soaking in what God says to me through you.
Love you sweet sister,
Heather
Permission to heal, enthusiastically and fully granted… Permission to heal, longingly and humbly received.
I am so thankful for you.
Though my journey is different from yours, it is, all the same, very difficult. Since yesterday I have been having difficulty moving to the next step.
Thank you so much for this post. My pain, my grief cannot be rushed. Jesus wants to teach me so many things through this 2 year (so far) valley journey. I trust Him. I love Him so.
Thanks again, my friend. And thank you so much for always leaving such an encouraging comment on my blog. You will never know what that means to me.
Sheryl
Thank you, Elaine and Billy for your words. God really is the only one to heal a heart, to carry us when we are too frail to walk on our own. And yes, we are all human. Amazingly, when I met husband #2, I really believe God was asking me to help him, to be that "Good Samaritan", but I was still so lost in my own grief, I did not think I had anything left to reach out with. I wanted to receive help, and God wanted me to give it. God was saying, "Reach out with Me". It really is all about Him.
What a personal, powerful and wonderfully honest posting Elaine.
Through most of the personal trials I've been through, I was always encouraged to "stay strong and get past it", however it was usually a catch-22 as ignoring the process "in-between" caused more crisis and strife later on.
Relish watching the harvest come in hand-in-hand with Jesus at your side Elaine… At your own pace.
Have a Blessed Day!
Elaine,
I feel as though this post was put in my path, today, to read and share with some of my loved ones. It is so powerful and meaningful, particularly about giving ourselves, and others, permission to tenderly and carefully walk through the mine-fields in front of us.
Also, thank you for directing your friend to my blog. She and I, and so many others, are walking that difficult path. I know God is holding us in the palm of His hand, and He won't let go until we're ready to walk on our own.
Wishing You All God's Blessings,
Brenda
I had someone tell me, "We don't want you to change," as if losing a daughter wouldn't change you. I'm so thrilled I found your blog. First of all I like the looks of your blog and second, I found your book. I just hopped over to Amazon and bought it. I can't wait to start it.
After moving here after all we had been through in our last church….I was ready for the next. I was ready to pack up my torn wounded heart and move on to the next thing. I was tough and I figured I would just leave it to God to handle. 🙂
And He did…He sat me down and finally let me see how wounded I was. I needed time to heal…and He was the one who would do it.
And although I know that the wounding was not the same as yours….I understand the time of healing.
You enjoy resting in His presence and His loving arms. He is so tender in His care of us. And since He knows the plans He has for us…He is going to know just how long you need to "sit" to regain your strength. Be still and know He is God.
Elaine – I find myself almost not wanting to say a thing, for this reason – this post felt "hallowed" to me in a way. Like a gentle and intricate snowflake. That if I said anything, its beauty would disappear…
Let me just say I am blessed – by your thoughts, and by your precious spirit.
I will close with the lovely picture of you standing with the Lord – holding His nail-scarred hand – and I will also stand with you – holding His other one…
GOD BLESS!
How can I help but "listen up" when you share from your heart – so recent from it's time in battle? I also couldn't help but consider what's been sown in that time:
Psalm 126:
1 When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed.
2 Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
“The LORD has done great things for them.”
3 The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.
4 Restore our fortunes, LORD, like streams in the Negev.
5 Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.
6 Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
There's such a beauty in standing stock still while He loads one's open arms. What a harvest!
Love,
Kathleen
I've found that the greatest victories I experience aren't a battle that is "won", but what I gained along the way in the battle is really the victory. Yes, my dear one, I know just what you mean about not residing in the superficial here's a card, ya know I care, call me if you need something. That's what true "compassion" is…putting ourself in someone's shoes & truly BEING THERE consistently, yet giving space. There are so many well-meaning folks out there, but it's only those who have lived thru a life-ALTERING experience who can recognize the existence of it in others. I've said this in a previous comment, but in case you don't read it there, please go read "My Well" on my blog. I KNOW you will "get" what it says. Much love & hugs ~ Merana
This is your journey, take your time my friend. I love you.