Between the Pain and the Promise

This past Saturday morning I received a phone call from my son, Mark. He is the pastor of a small church in a small seaside community about 9 miles south of where we live. The night before, Friday night, his church and ours had a combined youth “lock in” held at our church.  There were about 25 kids total who attended, plus Mark and our 3 youth pastors.

Mark was so distraught when he called that I literally could not understand him. He was sobbing – and saying something about one of his teens. Now he is a great big kid himself – and I mean big in every sense of the word. He is about 6’ 1” tall and weighs close to 270 pounds. He has a great big heart – filled with love for everyone, but especially for the teens in his church. He was a youth pastor for many years before becoming a senior pastor 4 years ago. So when he was this upset, I knew something terrible had happened.

He was sobbing because one of those precious teens, a girl of 16 that I will call Jenny (not her real name), who had been at the lock-in the night before, had taken her own life a few minutes before he called me. Jenny was best friends with my grandson’s girlfriend, Sarah (again, not her real name). Jenny and Sarah and two other teen age girls worked together on a horse ranch and had all walked out to the big barn together. It was Jenny’s job to clean the stalls in that building, so the other three girls left her there and headed out to their areas to work.

A few minutes later, they each received a text from Jenny saying “This is the worst thing I’ll ever do,” and then they heard a gunshot. By the time they raced back to where they had left Jenny, it was too late. This beautiful child of Jesus had done the unthinkable.

No one knew she was upset at all; let alone this troubled. She had not shared with any of her friends what her plans were. They don’t know where she got the gun. Her last words spoken to my son when she left the lock-in were, “I had a great time tonight and I’ll see you for sure on Sunday.”

Sarah called Mark, her pastor, in shock and disbelief, not knowing what to do. I think she called him before they call 911.  How do you minister to a 16 year old who is standing over the body of her best friend? What kind of answers can you give her and all the other children in both youth groups that are struggling to make some kind of sense out of this tragedy?

And my son called me just after Sarah called him. I rushed to his home, and held him as he wept, cradled my 16 year old grandson in my arms as he sobbed out his grief and anger, and cuddled my two younger grandchildren as they tried to understand why their friend Jenny wouldn’t be there at church in the morning.

Friends, I have no answers. I could only point them toward Jesus. I could only weep with them, hold them and plead for my Savior to ease their pain. I did not know Jenny, and have never met her parents. I can’t begin to imagine what they are going through.  I don’t know if they have a personal relationship with my Lord or not. But I am asking that somewhere, between the pain of yesterday and the promise of eternity, Jesus will make himself known to them today. I covet your prayers for this family, and for this community and for our youth groups as they walk through this very dark valley.

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro

The Photo Album of My Mind

Again, sorry to be away so long. One day I’ll be able to do what I love most – write, write, write! But for now, I remain obedient to where God has me, and that means my life is incredible busy, and I only get to indulge in my favorite activity now and then.

Today, April 20, 2012 marks 15 months that I have been sober. I didn’t even realize I was at another milestone, until I noticed the date. And the reason I noticed the date, is that April 20th is my heart friend’s birthday. I was sending her birthday greetings on Facebook when the date jogged my memory.

I have written about my heart friend before – Connie – who I had hurt years ago. I wrote about “Abba’s Gift” – his restoration of our relationship. Today I want to write about what has been most prominent in my thoughts lately, and how my Abba used my something my heart friend taught me years ago, to help heal some of my deepest wounds.

I have two beautiful children – adults now, and married with kids of their own. My alcoholism did not begin until the kids were pretty much grown and out of the house – off to college. So I was blessed to enjoy a wonderful relationship with both of them, without a lot of damage done to them from my disease as they were growing up. My daughter, Aimee, likes to say she grew up in a “Beaver Cleaver” household. Of course, she didn’t – we had a lot of issues, just like all families do, but she holds fast to her own memories, and that is a good thing.

I remember one particular time when she was 14, and I had just discovered a devastating event involving her. We fought – the first time we ever did, and she ran away. It was late in the evening, after dark, and I took off in my car, looking for her. To my dismay, I spotted her – barefoot, in shorts and a tank top, walking alongside a road that was not a safe area at all. Just when I thought things were as bad as they could get – they got worse. Before I could reach her, a policeman stopped, got out of his car and started to take my beautiful daughter into custody. At that moment, a picture was formed – etched forever on the memory of my mind. I can close my eyes and see her being put into his patrol car, and immediately I am transported back there – with those same feelings of despair and hopelessness.

Things eventually worked out; I approached the officer and he allowed me to take her home. The situation that had caused the rift in the first place took much, much longer to work through and caused wounds for both of us, but we got through it. But what I remember most is a conversation with my heart friend – Connie – a few days later. As I was describing the situation for her and telling her I could not get that horrible picture out of my mind, she shared something with me that brought such comfort; something I have relied on over and over again as my mind pictures have shifted and been added to over the years.

Connie told me that my time with Aimee was like a picture album, and though this particular picture would remain, eventually it would be replaced with other pictures – pictures of her on her wedding day; pictures of her with her own children, pictures of the two of us together, enjoying that special relationship that only mothers and daughters share. And she was right. Now when I look at the “Photo Album of My Mind” – I sometimes pause and gaze momentarily at the picture of Aimee and the policeman. But more often than not, I linger much longer on the pictures that developed since then. My favorite is of her and her daughters. I love watching her parent her own girls – and though she isn’t perfect and has made mistakes, as all of us do, I see her mother’s heart, and I rejoice that God, in his wisdom, not only gave us the ability to add photos to the album; he teaches us how to focus on the ones that matter most.

Scripture promises that God will restore what has been taken away – even if we are the ones who caused the loss to begin with. When it seems like life is at is bleakest – remember, he promises to restore (repay) the years the locusts have eaten.

“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—
the great locust and the young locust,
the other locusts and the locust swarm."—Joel 2: 25

Next time I will write about how this idea of the pictures etched forever in our minds has come full circle. Aimee’s daughter, Shayla, my granddaughter – now almost age 14, is going through some really hard times. Though it is so difficult to watch, and it hurts us all, I am once again reminded that our Heavenly Father – my Abba – knows all about our struggles. And he always has the answer.

Today, I choose to rejoice as I flip through the pages of my mind’s photo album, learning from the pictures that remind me of heartbreaking times, and celebrating the ones the remind me of all the joy I have been blessed with.

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro