Grief

Why I Go to Therapy and More Thoughts On What It Means to Process

/ Chris / Leave a comment

I’m sitting in the waiting area of the counseling center where I meet with my therapist at four o’clock every Monday afternoon.

I have my regular Flat White that I get from Starbucks on my way (if I didn’t have time to stop by the legendary Civil Coffee for their delicious black coffee).

To my left, there’s an old guy tapping on an iPad with his forefinger. To my right there’s a handsome fellow with a salt-and-pepper beard filling out the paperwork. Next to him is a boy with that 10-11 year old chubbiness. His Mom is sitting catty corner with a concerned pride in her eyes. You know the kind of look only moms give.

The thing that always strikes me when I sit here is the normal-ness of everyone. No one looks sickly or agitated or depressed.

It makes me wonder why they’re here. Did they experience a death close to them? Are they having a midlife crisis?

Are the kids being bullied at school? Were their parents divorced? Do they struggle with intense self-worth or anxiety like so many kids their age these days?

I want to both cry, imagining what they must have experienced, and tell them I’m so proud of them for being healthy enough to get help.

I think through all the reasons these normal people are getting therapy and then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think, “Well, you look kind of normal. Why are you getting therapy?”

I’m sometimes kind of sheepish about using the word “therapy.” It sounds so clinical and dramatic. You don’t, typically “go to therapy” unless something crazy happened to you (even though you probably should anyways).

Despite this, I’m trying to be as open and honest about it as I would about anything else I do. It’s making me process life at a level and with a greater bird’s-eye perspective than when I’m slogging through life moment by moment.

Which is why I go.

Continue reading →

Think the Scary Thoughts

/ Chris / 1 Comment

My therapist recently pointed out that I avoid talking about certain topics.

This didn’t surprise me. I’ve been doing that for years.

When there’s something I don’t know how to process, I just shut it down and run away. Which usually means I turn on a podcast or Netflix or Amazon Prime. Sometimes it’s just easier to escape what scares me than to face it head on.

I think this is why I’ve found it so hard to write any long form posts or do any vlogging over the past year or so. For example, last Saturday I recorded a vlog and rambled on for twenty minutes about nothing. I felt lost in my own head.

That sounds melodramatic, I know, but it’s true. That’s kind of how my brain is right now in this season of life. I have lots and lots of thoughts and feelings but I’m kind of lost as to what to do or where to go with it all.

Which is terrifying in itself because my job is literally to process thoughts. To think about ideas and talk about it on paper… yet that’s exactly what I’ve been running away from.

I’ve never actually put it in those terms before. (I’m getting this for the first time with you guys!) This past year, I’ve been facing the biggest writer’s block of my life and maybe the reason is because my brain is loaded down with all kinds of mental “laundry,” as it were, that I’m refusing to deal with.

It’s hard to get work done when your workspace is completely cluttered with non-work related junk. (In this scenario, the workspace is my brain.)

Continue reading →

Just Sit With Me in the Ashes Here

/ Chris / 7 Comments

Sometimes it’s really hard to know what to say to people who are grieving. I still struggle, even though I’ve been on the receiving end of it.

But I was remembering something, recently, and it reminded me of something anyone can do.

The day my Mom died, after my sister and I were released from the hospital, we went back to the Miller’s house and pulled all the furniture together and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting like that. We sat there until we all went together to pick up my brother Marcel and his new wife Krista from the airport.

I remember my cousin Ellis coming. If my memory holds up, he was traveling in for the wedding and hadn’t heard anything until he was greeted at the airport by a stranger and informed about what had happened.

Others came and went spending hours trying to find things lost at the accident site or making meals or helping pick up the slack for the wedding still happening in four days and the funeral in three. The generosity and kindness of strangers still blows my mind six years later.

But one man sticks out in my memory. I can’t remember exactly who he was let alone recall his name. He came into Miller’s house and sat down on the couch in our little circle. I was a little afraid at first that I’d have to think of something to say. It’s funny how much work it is to respond to simple gestures of love and kindness during times of mourning.

But this man was different. Continue reading →

“Grieving” Revisited

/ Chris / 13 Comments

Prelude: 

I published this piece on my old blog two months and a couple weeks after my Mom died on November 6, 2012.

Written during the throes of the deepest grief I’ve experienced, I find my old thoughts still ringing true today. Yet in other ways, I am encouraged by the progress I see. In the second paragraph I talked about many of us not being willing to share honestly about the battles we faced. In the five years since I wrote this, I think that’s changed–at least among my friends. We are much quicker to “just be real.” It may even be to a fault, but I think I’d rather people be a little too honest about their struggles, then try to pretend they’re totally okay or perfect when they’re not. (I don’t know, what are your thoughts? Am I right about the change in atmosphere?)

From the very first two paragraphs, I can see the hand of God weaving a thread through my story that would eventually lead me to make a major, life-changing decision (watch for my next “Revisited” post a week from now).

I pray this is a comfort to those of you going through the same.

Continue reading →

“Hope” Revisited

/ Chris / 8 Comments

Prelude:

This post was written merely 17 days after my Mom’s death on November 6, 2012 (chronologically before my previous post, “[Not] an Accident”).

In the immediate after math of the accident, the Family of God surrounded our family with incredibly love and comfort. I can’t explain to you how healing and helpful that was. It breaks my heart that not everyone who experiences loss gets that kind of support.

If you know someone who has experienced loss—loss of any kind: a loved one, a baby, a marriage, a child’s faith, a church, a friendship, even significant material things—show them love. Sit with them. Take them food. Try not to talk to much, but do ask them questions. Ask them if they want to talk about their loved one. Don’t forget them.

These are the ramblings of a grief stricken soul under the tremendous grace of an Almighty God.

Continue reading →

“[Not] an Accident” Revisited

/ Chris / 9 Comments

Prelude:

In the fall of 2012, four days before my brother’s wedding, my mother, sister, and I were in a car accident. The incident dramatically affected not only the course of my life, but my very identity.

In the proceeding months, blogging, journaling, and writing poetry became one of the primary ways I processed the accident and aftermath.

Looking through my old blog, Fraction, I was recently amazed at how quickly this process began for me. My first post after the accident was only two weeks later. It was titled “Hope.”

Over the next several months, I want to revisit some of these pivotal pieces as well as publish some of the poetry and other prose I had written during that time, but never published. My hope is that it will not only be healing for me to remember what God has brought me through, but also healing for those of you who have gone or are going through a similar experience.

If that’s you, please know: You are not alone.

I’m beginning with a piece which describes—in details I had since forgotten—what it was like for me to wake up that day. Although some of my theology has matured since I originally wrote it, I do hope you find it encouraging and inspiring. 

Without further ado:

Continue reading →

“I Love You Too!”

/ Chris / 4 Comments

The other night as I sat with friends and family in the Miller living room, it suddenly felt like Jesus silently walked in, sat beside me, and whispered “I love you!” In disbelief at first, I ignored it. “I love you!” he seemed to repeat. It seemed like He wanted me to respond. So I did. “I love you too!” I thought awkwardly.

This is relationship. I had real interaction with Jesus Christ, the Creator and Sustainer of life! I think that this type of interaction really happens many times, but I usually doubt it and dismiss it as simply emotion. I will always cherish this brief interaction with Jesus, and look for more. It amazes me how loving and good God really is. Even in His wrath, He is still loving and good.

Yesterday morning, as I sat in on a chapel service, the speaker showed a YouTube clip about persecution in Indonesia. In the clip, Muslims were slaughtering other Muslims who had converted to Christianity. Although it was only six minutes long, I kept thinking to myself “Just make it stop already! Just make it stop!” I thought the clip would never end, but I knew I had to watch as much of it as I could stomach. I had to see. This brutality is the price these people have to pay in order to follow Christ. And then I thought about how this is what Jesus had to pay to set us free! Not only was He mocked and ridiculed, but He was beaten and bruised, and His flesh was torn apart. He suffered immense pain, agony and separation from the Father [God] so that we could be forgiven of sin and unified with the Father.

And I realized how pathetic my love for Him is. Could I honestly bear His name, while having half my scalp chopped off? I’m not sure I could, save by His incredible grace.

I desperately desire deeper love for Christ. I long for stronger faith so that I can stand firm on the Rock, Jesus Christ. I want to trust Jesus, rather than doubt Him or His love. I want to be convinced of God’s goodness. By realizing my security in Christ and knowing that He is completely good and loving, I can endure the pain He may call me to.

Someone once said something like: “to the degree that we suppress pain, we also suppress joy.” I desperately want to be surrendered to this concept: that to experience great joy, I must also allow myself to experience great pain.

I think in many ways I have tried to suppress my pain. I have tried to be strong. But I think there is something beautiful about just letting yourself hurt and allowing yourself to be weak. The picture that I get is a big and strong middle-aged man kneeling before a gravestone bawling and letting his pain out by gasps and screams.

Many times we get knocked down and we can’t get back up. We need a helper, a savior, a healer. Jesus Christ is that Healer.

I do not know if I have responded well to the pain and hard things in my life, but I want to do better. I want to allow myself to hurt: to grieve loss, struggle with change and allow Christ to bring healing when it is time.

I don’t like pain—I run from it. I pursue happiness just like everyone else. But there is health in bleeding; there is relief in flowing tears. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Finally, I am beginning to understand this verse. Jesus is saying, “Allow yourself to hurt, because I will comfort you!” And we will hurt, but we can’t “bottle” it up, or we’ll burst.

Keep battling on. Keep hurting. Keep healing. Keep relating. Keep living. The end is in sight, just a few more years. God is faithful, by His strength we can do this!

Poured Out Like Wine

Hugo McCord

Would you be poured out like wine
upon the altar for Me?
Would you be broken like bread
to feed the hungry?
Would you be so one with Me
that you would do just as I will?
Would you be light and life
and love My Word fulfilled?

Yes, I’ll be poured out like wine
upon the altar for You
Yes, I’ll be broken like bread
to feed the hungry
Yes, I’ll be so one with You
that I would do just as You will
Yes, I’ll be light and life
and love Your Word fulfilled

Where He Leads Me

Ernest W. Blandy

I can hear my Savior calling,
I can hear my Savior calling,
I can hear my Savior calling,
Take thy cross and follow, follow Me.

Where He leads me I will follow,
I’ll go with Him, with Him, all the way.

I’ll go with Him through the garden,
I’ll go with Him through the garden,
I’ll go with Him through the garden,
I’ll go with Him, with Him all the way.

Where He leads me I will follow,
I’ll go with Him, with Him, all the way.

I’ll go with Him through the judgment,
I’ll go with Him through the judgment,
I’ll go with Him through the judgment,
I’ll go with Him, with Him all the way.

Where He leads me I will follow,
I’ll go with Him, with Him, all the way.

He will give me grace and glory,
He will give me grace and glory,
He will give me grace and glory,
And go with me, with me all the way.

Where He leads me I will follow,
I’ll go with Him, with Him, all the way.

C.D.

Mom

/ Chris / 6 Comments

A mom is security, love and support;

She knows what you’re about, both inside and out.

You tell her the latest, the good and the bad,

And caringly she listens to the heart of the sad.

–

From childhood to grown up

She’s there in the midst.

She’s everything that matters

Like a precious jewel she sparkles and shimmers.

–

But you take her for granted.

Yet her love is not lessened,

Diminished or slanted—

It’s within her deeply planted.

–

And then,

–

You wake up and find,

The gem afore spoken

Sits there and is broken;

She’s moaning and groaning

And running out of time.

–

Oh what I would do,

Looking back with regret,

To whisper her name again and again.

To sing her sweet songs.

Oh how I do long

To shout with my life

–

I LOVE YOU, MOM!

–

I would tear down the sky

Just to say one last good-bye.

To hug her and kiss her

And let her see me cry.

–

The tears run so easy

Like never before,

She loved us so much—

Why didn’t I love her more?

–

But now she is gone,

Taken beyond,

To a land without shadow

A place that is hallow.

–

She’s traveled to Heaven

She’s taken to Jesus

And Jesus can love her

‘Cause He’s the true lover.

–

And though I can’t see it,

And hardly believe it:

I rest in this promise

For I know He will keep it.

C.D.

He Loves Me, Yes!

/ Chris / 2 Comments

I have found it healthy to now and then go back and remember life: to recall one’s thoughts and actions a couple of days, weeks, months or years ago. This morning I took the time to look back in my journal nearly three months. I came to November 4, 2012 in which I wrote about some personal struggles I was having. About half way through I penned these words: “I just wish I could feel and touch, see and hear Jesus.”

On Monday November 5, 2012, I wrote about what I might say at my brother Asher’s wedding reception on the 10th (which I did not actually say, then). I also described some good experiences we were having in Colorado. Life was relatively normal—even good, I would say.

[Turn the page.]

November 12, 2012: “My life has forever changed.”

I cannot bring myself to read November 12th. I read the first paragraph and realized that every fiber of my being loathes this journal entry, but every fiber of my spirit says that reading it would be healthy. It is like pulling off a bandage for the first time.

My left elbow got all chopped up by glass in the accident and the first gauze bandage that was put on, “healed” itself into the wound. This meant that if I wanted to take the bandage off, the scab had to come off as well. It felt like all the healing had been “undone.” But if I wanted a wound free elbow again, it had to happen.

Or maybe it is better described like my back, which was severely put out-of-place. Apparently the vertebral column is so smart that if put out-of-place, over time it will align itself with gravity so that your head will be straight again, even if your back is still out-of-place. So over November and December my back “fixed” itself and quit hurting. Then I went to the chiropractor and had it adjusted, and the pain was renewed. It is not that the chiropractor gave me a bad adjustment, it is just that my back fixed itself wrong, and it may continually need to be put back in place until the muscles get used to the normal positioning.

So it is with my soul. Over time it has coped and settled with the new reality of the absence of Mom and the grief and pain that accompanies it. But God comes along and, sometimes gently sometimes not—but always perfectly, gives me an adjustment.

Great pain is not something one can just ignore and still remain healthy. If I lightly burn my finger, I can live through the pain and my body will heal itself properly; but if I break my leg, it would be wise to immediately seek medical attention and to continually do so until my leg is fully healed, not necessarily made “normal,” but healed.

God is the Great Physician. It is fun to watch Him “do His thing.” It is not always fun to have him “do His thing” on you, but it is always worth it.

Most of the healing is not done through a grand miracle or a great remedy, but through the slow process of therapy; the process of going back, again and again for adjustments, learning how to walk again, or talk—or love.

So here I am: learning to “walk” again and to trust God. It is easy for me to get lost in the world between the pages of November 5th and November 12th; to wish for life before November 6th happened and to fantasize about how life would be had it not. But I am learning that reality has me in a pool of grief flowing from November 6, 2012. And the amazing thing about reality is that God wants to swim with me in my grief. He does not want to take me outside of the pool and have lemonade. He wants to soak up my grief with me and be there to teach me to swim in the deep parts.

I cannot do this alone. I need God. I need His peace to get me through. I need His love.

His love.  What an amazing thing. If I could only grasp a fraction of it, I would be content. But wait, I do not need to grasp His love. He gives it to me freely, and pours it unrestrained into my heart, and from this truth every lie flees. Because if God—the Almighty, the Holy Judge, the Sovereign King over everything—has given me His love without condition, and has justified me and placed me in Christ who sits at God’s right hand: who is there to condemn me? Who is there to keep me from peace? Who can stop me from being healed? No one, I say, because nothing can separate me from the love of God.

On the morning of Tuesday, November 6, 2012, I again repeated to Jesus those words I had written two days before: “I just want to feel you and touch you, to see you and hear you, Jesus.” Three days later as people filed passed my family after attending my Mom’s funeral, I realized that every single day since the 6th I had felt and touched, seen and heard Jesus in an amazingly wonderful and terrible way; because I had felt, touched, seen, and heard the Body of Christ.

He listened to me! And in a weird way, He used tragedy as an answer to my prayer. Yes. Yes! YES! He loves me!

It is because of this love that I can keep pressing forward (although I need daily reminders). It is the assurance of Christ’s affection for me that gives me hope, because I know that all things work together for good to them that love God. Why? Because He loves us.

The Love of God

Frederick Martin Lehman

The love of God is greater far

Than tongue or pen can ever tell;

It goes beyond the highest star,

And reaches to the lowest hell;

The guilty pair, bowed down with care,

God gave His Son to win;

His erring child He reconciled,

And pardoned from his sin.

–

O love of God, how rich and pure!

How measureless and strong!

It shall forevermore endure

The saints’ and angels’ song.

–

When years of time shall pass away,

And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,

When men, who here refuse to pray,

On rocks and hills and mountains call,

God’s love so sure, shall still endure,

All measureless and strong;

Redeeming grace to Adam’s race

The saints’ and angels’ song.

–

O love of God, how rich and pure!

How measureless and strong!

It shall forevermore endure

The saints’ and angels’ song.

–

Could we with ink the ocean fill,

And were the skies of parchment made,

Were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade,

To write the love of God above,

Would drain the ocean dry.

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

Though stretched from sky to sky.

–

O love of God, how rich and pure!

How measureless and strong!

It shall forevermore endure

The saints’ and angels’ song.

C.D.

The Soldier

/ Chris / 3 Comments

“Tell me a story, Daddy!” the little boy exclaimed.

Looking down at his son, the Dad did not see a little boy, but a future soldier. A man who was in training to face the battles of real life, someone who would one day face the world and need to be prepared for it.

So the Dad softly began the story.

“Once upon a time there was a soldier, who served a mighty king. One day, the mighty king called all his soldiers to battle. Like a good man, our soldier responded and headed for the battle.

“The enemy was fierce and terrible. It was said that the enemy was as fierce as a roaring lion. At first this intimidated the soldier, but he pressed on because the king had called him.

“The fighting was intense and many men died. The enemy ravaged the towns and villages of the countryside, burned buildings and killed families. It was brutal. But still the soldier fought on, knowing his king would not let him fight alone.

“At one point, the enemy fought especially hard. It seemed like there was no way for the kingsmen to live out the fight. Some soldiers fled, but our soldier sent a petition to the king and the king sent reinforcements that drove the enemy away—but not after a long night’s fighting. During the night, the enemy made a surprise attack and our soldier was injured. The kingsmen took him aside and comforted him, but eventually they all went back to their fighting.

“The soldier felt all alone. It was dark and he could hear the screams and horrors of the battle. He almost despaired, but just then he felt a firm hand and heard a friendly voice say, ‘I am with you, soldier! Don’t give up; you will be healed if you make it through the night!’ It was the army’s great physician, who had come to help!

“The soldier was encouraged and able to tolerate the darkness a little more after this. But it was still so very lonely. He could hear the enemy making a great noise and he was intimidated.

“Soon the sun began to rise. The soldier could see the glimmer in the far eastern sky. Already the soldier could tell that whatever the great physician had done was healing his body. He sat up and looked around. By now the fighting was over, and had moved to a different place, but the destruction was obvious. The enemy had killed and destroyed, burned and plundered, what hope was left?

“The soldier wondered if there was hope. He saw the destruction from the battle and wondered what good could come from it? Could anything beautiful ever arise again? The soldier looked at his arms and legs, all bruised and bloody: could he ever live normally again?

“Questions and doubt plagued his mind. At first he resigned to the destruction, realizing there was no way around it. This was reality. But as the soldier crawled through the dirt and the ashes, he became angry. Why hadn’t the king responded sooner? Why did the king allow the army’s numbers to become so depleted? Hadn’t the king failed?

“But just then, the soldier looked up, and right there, right in front of him stood the king.

“‘The enemy has been routed and the nation has been saved,’ the king said.

“The soldier was ashamed at his thoughts and anger and looked down mournfully. ‘I am sorry to doubt you,’ said he.

“‘Do not be ashamed, sir,’ said the king. ‘But come and arise, we are victorious!’ And with that the king grabbed hold of the soldier’s shoulders and hoisted the man to his feet.

“‘There is nothing to fear because I will always protect you,’ affirmed the great king. ‘You will never be alone, but always safe under my protection. So go now walk in my joy because you are my victorious soldier.”

The Dad looked at his son who was now fast asleep. It was his story: the Dad was the soldier, and Jesus was the king. One day the little boy was going to face the same experience and the same struggle. He was going to be hurt and would need healing; he was going to doubt, and would need renewed faith. But until then, he would sleep in the safe and loving arms of his dad.

Safe

Phil Wickham

To the one whose dreams have fallen all apart And all you’re left with is a tired and broken heart I can tell by your eyes you think you’re on your own But you’re not alone

Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging seas Give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet With a love so strong it never lets you go No you’re not alone

You will be safe in His arms. You will be safe in His arms The hands that hold the world are holding your heart This is the promise He made, He will be with you always When everything is falling apart, you will be safe in His arms

Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life Is the very same voice that calls you now to rise So hear Him now, He’s calling you home. You will never be alone

You will be safe in His arms. You will be safe in His arms The hands that hold the world are holding your heart This is the promise He made, He will be with you always When everything is falling apart, you will be safe in His arms

Cause these are the hands that built the mountains,

the hands that calm the sea These are the arms that hold the lame

and they are holding you and me These are the hands that heal the leper

pull the lame up to their feet These are the arms that were nailed to the cross

to break our chains and set us free

You will be safe in His arms. You will be safe in His arms The hands that hold the world are holding your heart This is the promise He made, He will be with you always When everything is falling apart, you will be safe in His arms

C.D.