Wednesday, August 31, 2011

God rescues His gifts...

     I am not sure if I am allowed to mourn you.
     I knew you briefly, held you in my arms, gazed at you through a hospital window, but did I really know you?

      I tried not to connect with you, knowing that I would be leaving soon. I say that it's because I wanted to protect your heart. I really just wanted to protect mine.

      It must have worked because now you are gone and I feel nothing. I wish tears could fall, that I could feel something, but my heart just carries on in a continual state of numbness.

     I don't want to be here. I want to be there. I wanted to bond with you and watch you grow. But, I am on the other side of the world. Removed physically, and I am afraid emotionally too.

     Is it wrong that I heard your name and quietly breathed a sigh of relief it wasn't someone else? Yeah, probably.

     It's also wrong that you were left to fight in cruel world. It's wrong your mother couldn't love you, that you were left to fight illness from the day you arrived. It's also wrong the apathy that will wash over me once the shock of your death subsides. Life will carry on as usual, and that sucks.

     Because you are a miracle. The time you spent on this earth was not a mistake, and your precious little life was worth the blood of my Jesus. My Jesus who holds you in His arms now.

     God Rescues.... from this cold world, He rescued you to one of joy. Not the rescuing I had planned, but He knows better than I.

      Gift of God.... a treasure I failed to recognize as I looked at you through human eyes and not His. I am so sorry. I should have held you more. Loved you more. I won't do that again. You are a gift.

      I pray for the loved ones I have who held you as you went home. May they see His joy. May they feel His comfort and the freedom to mourn.

      One thing you have spoken, two things I have heard: You, O God, are strong, and You, O Lord, are loving. Psalm 62:11

      You mattered, and I will remember You... because everyone needs to be remembered. Tell Lucy I miss her and love her, please.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

And suddenly it changes

     I'm not ready for this...

     I feel like I've said this a lot to God in the last three years.

     Steeping into a plane and traveling over the ocean...
     Moving into a new home with strangers...

     My first day of classes at Florida...

     Holding my daughter's hand as she died...

     Walking across the stage at graduation...

     Saying goodbye to the strangers who became family...

     This is one of those moments. Before this summer, I thought I knew what I was going to do when I returned. I would either be in Tallahassee or Gainesville, getting a Master's degree, and once again be the one leaving. But just because my plan sounds good and has parental approval, does not mean that plan is God's best. Listening to His heart, I decided stay home for the semester and work, saving money as He shows me the next step.

     Tomorrow morning, we are moving my sister Joy into her new apartment. She's leaving for college to make her own memories and create new adventures. One week later, we will be moving Jenna into her apartment as she is also leaving for college.

     I am excited for them, proud of them, and worried at the same time because they are my sisters. And I'm sad. Two of my best friends in the entire world are leaving. And tonight is the last time we will be together for a long time.

     This is a new feeling for me... this sense of sadness and loss. I am used to leaving. I'm good at that. I know how to casually say goodbye, make a joke out of it to lighten the mood, and adapt to a new situation. I am used to life going on without me and not being needed any more.

     But I don't know how to let go and deal with the emptiness. I don't know how to walk into a house and not hear people yelling, singing, and generally speaking in loud voices. How do you move on in a home when the people who made that place home are no longer there. Home for me always meant five people. Now, that's not the case.

      And I think it's that loss that hurts more than anything. Because now my definition of home must change. I know it's only a matter of time before I am gone to a place where my cell phone won't work for good.

     So tonight, it's the four of us, The Belser Girls, as we are collectively known. Tomorrow, everything changes. But tonight, it's ok.

     I'm not ready for this, but I do what I have always done. Breathe deeply. Trust. Find a safe place to let tears flow. Treasure the moments I am given that I will miss so much. And I rest, believing in a God who loves them more than I ever could.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Lessons Learned the Hard Way

I'm not very good at being sick, or injured, or even with a stuffy nose for that matter.

The doctor calls it an abcess. I call it annoying. My mom calls it "another item to add to my list of worries about you going overseas".

Whatever it's called, this wound on my leg makes me angry. It required a doctor's visit and minor surgery, lots of medication, and gauze... lots of gauze.

I didn't want to mention this because I don't want it to seem like I am complaining. But I'm just angry.

I'm angry this thing showed up in the first place.

I'm angry because it won't go away.

I'm angry that I can get care, when other people I know can't.

I'm angry that I can't control this and I have to depend on other people.

But being angry doesn't change anything. It doesn't wipe away the guilt that I feel because people are making a fuss over me. For every hurt that I might be facing, I can give you atleast fifty people who's lives are worse than mine. And when I think of them as I take my medicine, I feel guilty. And then I get angry.

However, I don't want this to be a wasted experience. I told mom today that I think God is making me more compassionate. My bedside manner will certainly be much better now. And I think He likes to give me scars to keep me humble.

Unfortunately, this is just something I might have to face for the rest of my life. My skin is just really prone to weird stuff. It may be my "thorn" that I must suffer through and always be ready to combat.

Sin is kind of like an abcess (leave it to the English major to find the metaphor, or maybe in this case simile... whatever). I can ignore it for a while. Carry on with life as usual, stick a band aid on it, and take a few pain killers, hoping it will just go away on its own.

But it doesn't, and it won't. Instead, untreated sin festers and infects, and it wounds. And it leaves deep scars. Like the scars of unforgiveness I've been carrying around with me. Like my stupid pride that refuses to let people in.

Some sins can't just be treated with a band aid and neosporin. They require being cut and drained. And it hurts, because God never said healing was easy and painless. And sometimes it takes forever for the wound to heal and the scars to form.

Yet, as sin increases, so does grace. As I allow the wounds to be healed, the grace increases. Scars are left to remind me to be more compassionate, humble, slower to anger. The infection leaves as He continues to apply His balm. And all things are made new.