Christmas is hitting me deeper

God.

Infinite being that created all of humanity. Perfect, omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent.

Separate from us, those He loves.

When I think about being a follower of Christ, the resurrection of my Savior, Jesus, would seem to be to ultimate celebration of my faith, as it is when He conquered death. When His sacrifice gave us the opportunity to touch heaven, with a simple prayer.

But Christmas is hitting me in a place that is deeper than the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.

I know the history, that the time of celebrating the birth of Christ is not in December and was partnered with pagan rituals to appease the Roman gods. I know that it has become a marketing event that has been replaced with Santa Clause and Winter Solstice.

But Christmas is hitting me deeper.

My heart was broken open this year. I saw my God in a way that I have never seen Him before.

God, like us, is spirit, soul, flesh. We were created in His image, and we are spirit, soul and flesh. God, had no understanding of what it was like to be human on earth, because He was only human in its perfected form, that way we were intended to be. He never walked in the sin that we lived in. His flesh never touched the wickedness we encounter daily. And even in His love for us, God never experience the temptation and assault of sin.

As I play Christmas songs that tell of the story of my Savior’s birth, while I decorate the tree with memories of our life, my heart is heavy and Christmas is hitting me deeper. Tears begin to well up and my heart and I want to celebrate the reality that my God loved me so much that He left holiness to sit in wickedness, to understand, to empathize with me, with you, with all of humanity.

Jesus, Immanuel, God with us. God with us! He came to be with us, to walk among us. But He didn’t come in glory, with angels hailing his arrival. He didn’t come with power and might to show His majesty. No, He came in the womb of a child, a young girl, who loved her God. He came by way of a young man who was to marry this young girl. People like you and me, afraid, uncertain, needing supernatural intervention to affirm the reality of the calling to carry God incarnate in her womb.

And so the angels came to confirm and affirm this miracle. And the earth knew He had come. As Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem to complete the census requirement, a star responded to the majestic King being born in the little city.

My God, my Savior, humbled himself, and was delivered the way we all are, a young girl pushing the baby out of her, water breaking, contractions overwhelming, and blood surrounding Him, as He made His way into the world, He created. His flesh, grown in the woman He created. His heart nurtured by the man He created. And this little family was established on this Holy Night and the whole earth celebrated the reality that HOPE had come. That PEACE responded to the cries of His people.

Christmas is hitting me deep this year.

As I begin to grasp more fully that love my God has for me. His arrival on this broken earth hailed a new beginning to time. He was the new wine that would establish a fulfillment of prophecy since the beginning of time. His arrival, was more than just God with us. It was God know us. It was God show us. God heal us. It was God deliver us. It was God loves us!

The Christmas carols echo in the background and my body responds in dance, with goosebumps, with tears as I fully immerse myself in the reality of my God, whose love is so deep He not only sacrificed His life as a remission of my sin, but he sacrificed His throne to touch us with tangible hands of flesh. To speak to us with audible words of life. To bring a shining light to a dark and weary world. 

Christmas is hitting me deeper.

The lights on my tree and the stockings hung, the presents under my tree, fade away in the shadow of the love of my Jesus. The nativities around my house give me a glimpse of that night. The night when the world rejoiced. When lowly shepherd and majestic wise men were equal. When woman and man were equal. When government and religion were overruled. And a baby changed the atmosphere of our existence. The baby, being nursed by a woman, He created. Fully human, yet embodied God. And yet He came, in the most helpless form, depending on broken humans to love and care for him, as He loves and cares for us.

It’s hitting me deep.

My Jesus, Immanuel.

Come let us adore Him...

Remembering the lost.....

We walked in when Janessa’s mom was telling her story. She was at the laundry mat with her nine year old daughter. All of a sudden she heard fire crackers and asked her mom why? Janessa’s mom thought they were too, but a friend said they were gun shots. Then Janessa told her mom her stomach hurt. Her mom looked and saw what looked like a cigarette burn. Her friend realized it was a gun shot. She was rushed to the hospital. Her mom recalled the last things her daughter said to her and shared how amazing her little girl was.   Many tears were shed, many people were holding each other. On stage congressmen, police officers, pastors and faith based organizations stood to support the family. An innocent life taken, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then this mother, who had just lost her daughter to senseless violence, said in a loud voice…”I forgive the ones who were involved in this shooting.”

Tears streamed down my face. My resolve grew even stronger. Why do these kids do these things? Why do they think shooting at each other is going to solve anything?

It took me back to 2011. My mother was dying of cancer, Elijah was playing football at an underprivileged high school and we were barely surviving. I read on Facebook that a young African American boy was shot in the head during a Russian roulette game, from Edison high school. It grieved my heart, but I was so disconnected from it, the reality of this life did not scathe me. The next day, while I was at a football practice I met a young man, who played football with my son. He was a very nice looking man, with enchanting eyes and a strong sense of pride. I engaged him, asking about his life and why he wasn’t practicing. He shared that his friend had just been shot and killed and didn’t feel like practicing. I determined, through our conversation, that it was the young man I had read about on Facebook.

Something happened to me that day. It connected me to the boy who was shot. I was just one person away from it. My kids were going to school with the kids who were affected by it. I changed me. It gave me resolve to make a difference, to be a positive voice in the mind of the youth, were so much negative is spoken over them. I vowed on the deceased young man’s Facebook page to make his life matter. To make a difference in his community.

Three years later, my husband and I are all in. Coaching, Bible Study, FCA, camp, prayer, making dinners, encouraging words... I had a conversation with the same young man from that football practice in 2011, Isaac, before he graduated about a shirt he was wearing. It that had three young men on it and R.I.P. across the top. I inquired about the young men on the shirt and he told me that one was his cousin, one was his older brother and one was the young man he told me about earlier that was shot from Russian roulette.

“Why?” I asked him. “Why do young men get involved in this kind of activity?” He began to tell me their stories. Each one of them. What happened, how they were shot, who was responsible and when it happened? I listened carefully, trying to find the key to stopping the violence. I asked him again, “Why does this happen so often in West Fresno?” I asked him. His answer shocked me, troubles me to this day. “Because we have nothing to do. People get bored, so they hang out and smoke and drink and get involved in gangs to have something to do.”

My heart skipped a beat. His answer was so matter of fact. He was so certain that if there were things to do, less people would get involved in gangs. He continued to tell me that there are skateboard parks in North Fresno, but not here. There are lights on at night for basketball in North Fresno, but not here. There are movie theaters and shopping centers to go to and do stuff in North Fresno, but not here. Then he continued to articulate his belief that with those kind of things in their community there would be positive things to do, jobs to work and poverty would be less. His intelligence and well thought out response told me he had thought about this many times.

I told him that I was going to do whatever it takes to make a difference. I shared my passion for the community and how God gave me a love for the youth in this community. He smiled and said, “Thanks that means a lot to me.”

Isaac encouraged Bill and I to do what we are doing now. Two years in the making RAW has become a full time ministry for us. Reaching youth, showing them how much they are loved and valued is our goal. In doing so, we found that much of what Isaac said is true. However, the source of violence stems in a mindset that has been passed down from generation to generation that affects the way family life happens.

Many of the youth we encounter come from broken homes. There is no sense of family life that is healthy and safe. In reality, the simple truth in how to stop gang violence lies in a simple action…. LOVE.

Love covers a multitude of sins

Love never fails

Love gives hope

Love produces value

Love gives purpose

Love multiplies

Love invades

God is LOVE

The practical aspects of engaging young people to steer away from gangs, violence and drugs can be found in the “things to do” as Isaac said; but the life changing events that make a difference lie in relationships, rooted in love and lived out in truth.

Janessa’s mom sat down and many faith based organizations shared how they are doing their part to help Stop the Violence. I didn’t even stop to think about the thugs who shot her. Why would I? There senseless violence took and innocent life.

The next morning I woke up to a foggy day schedule. We all got to sleep in and I was thankful for some added sleep. My phone beeped and I looked to see what the notification was telling me. Someone pinned one of my Pinterest pins; someone liked my Instagram photo; 5 new emails; Full lives on Candy Crush; Facebook notifications; Instant Messenger. I clicked on the Instant Messenger to see who sent me a message. I opened it. A mom from Washington Union wrote:

“Did you hear about Isaac Sears? I am just sad by it all.”

My heart stopped.

“No, what happened?” I responded.

“He was arrested for 9 year old Janessa shooting death. Him and another gang rival. I will share the link…. Praying for all,” she wrote back.

“What?!?!? Are you sure? I thought he went to college!” I typed frantically.

As I waited for her to post the link, I frantically looked it up. I saw the story on ABC news, clicked it and read. It said Isaac Stafford and Brian Cooks were involved. Sigh of relief left my lips.

“It said Isaac Stafford…not Sears… thank goodness!!!” I wrote her back.

“It’s him. Didn’t you see the pic? I don’t know why a different name” was her quick response.

Her next message was a picture of the two young men involved.

I started to cry. It can’t be him… There is no way this kid is involved in this. He had such resolve and focus to go to college and play basketball and stay out this kind of life, since 3 of the people he loved were lost to it.

It was him. The young man who encouraged me to do what I do today. All of a sudden my mind wandered to the Stop the Violence rally. I was so angry and disgusted at the thugs who did this and gave them no other thought. But this “thug” was not a thug at all. In fact that would be the last word I would use to describe him. He was in no means a perfect kid. But generally kept his head down to do what needed to be done to play basketball in high school and college.

Another layer of love opened up in my heart.

The first layer was the night I was taking a kid home from Bible Study. Noah and I were in the front seats and 3 of the boys from Real Talk were in the back. We were all laughing and joking around, Lecrea playing in the background. I was following the directions of one of the boys to get to his house. As I turned the corner, there was a drug deal going down. The guys at the window saw my 1999 red Cadillac and jumped. The driver opened his door and pulled a gun on us. I put the car in reverse and punched it harder than I have ever driven before. My heart was beating out of my chest, “Ummm, is there another way to your house?” I asked the boy calmly.

We took another way and I dropped him off. I found out that one of the biggest drug dealers in the West Side had the exact car that we had, so it was a case of mistaken identity. I was thanking Jesus for protecting us, when all of a sudden my heart grieved. Instead of going through the what ifs in my head, as I usually do, I thought about the boy who lived in this neighborhood. I was devastated that he has to live this out every day. My heart changed. Instead of thinking about me, I thought about him.

I literally wondered if I could actually reach such a hard and dark place. I questioned our little Bible Study and pondered if we were making a difference at all. The fear I usually have, melted away into a puddle of love for these families and kids, who live in a community that suffers greatly.

I looked at Isaac’s picture, read all the stories that were posted about the event and just cried and prayed. I did not know what else to do. The Lord reminded me of a book I read by Jackie Pullinger, Chasing the Dragon. She went into the worst city in Hong Kong and dealt with the vilest gangs. Yet, her little Bible Club began to grow and change an entire city. It moved the hardest gangs to their knees in faith of Jesus and hundreds and thousands were set free from a life of drugs, gangs and human trafficking. I realized that is was no different here. Our little Bible Club was making a difference. Our prayers were effecting change. Our persistence to LOVE was changing lives.

And so we continue to fight the good fight. Praying for those who are the shooters, as well as though who have been shot. All need hope, all need love, all need forgiveness. I am so thankful for Janessa’s parents. In their forgiveness to Brian and Isaac, they have shown more love than most. They have partnered with us in showing love to those who many write off. Their love and forgiveness may be the very thing that brings them to the saving grace and hope that Jesus has to offer.

Today as I process the grief and the pain of a life gone too soon and young men, who will bear the burden of it. Today, we press on with the vision God has put in our heart, believing God is going to bring revival and hope.

If you would like to more about the vision God has put in our hearts and would like to support what we are doing to show the LOVE of Jesus, please:

- like us on Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/pages/RAW-Real-Authentic-Worship/1532870260290204

- email us at beukersbill@gmail.com

- leave a comment below

Playing in the mud

Life is messy.

It is not a neat organized, well planned event.

No matter how well we fake it, present it, package it- it’s a mess.

It is messy in our childhoods, messy in our love lives, messy in marriage, messy in parenthood, messy in friendships, messy in extended family, messy at school, messy at work.

It is the way the world works. Broken, falling apart, always dying. There is no hope in this world that can fix the messes. No joy in cleaning up the messes.

My life is a mess. It has always been a mess. From the moment I was brought into this world. Parents, not long after marrying, barely hanging on. Yelling, screaming, fighting; my father’s unfaithful heart broke my mothers. Messy. Divorce, depression, fear; my mother’s broken heart began to break ours. Messy.

At a young age, my innocence was stolen from me. Messy. Trying to find love and acceptance. Messy Falling in love with the wrong person, at too young an age. Messy. Giving too much of myself away. Messy.

I believed that life, was a fairy tale and that my prince would swoop me up from the messes and take me away to a castle far far away and all the messes would stay far behind me. My creative imagination captivated me and allowed me to live in Wonderland. My time there lasted only a year, but I found my Prince. His name is Jesus and he rescued me for the messes of reality.

In steps the man I was to marry. I was not attracted to him, I did not love him, yet the Lord told me he was my husband. I trusted my Prince and stepped into an adventure likened to Alice in Wonderland, falling down the hole into a place I could not even imagine in my mind.

For a moment in time, I felt safe and calm, brushing all the messes of my life under the rug. And for a time, a short while, we presented a clean, well-organized front.

The messes of my life and his, began to seep out from under the rug and our life became messy. In our most noble attempts to follow the Bible, trust God and believe Jesus, the messes of our lives created havoc in our marriage. Arguments, disagreement, words that can never be taken back. Forgiveness, repentance, washing our hands in the redeeming love of Jesus. Finding a way to live in the mess.

Not long after, children adorned our life and the messes from our own childhoods began to make their ways into our family. Fighting hard to keep the messes off our children, we became more of a mess. The arguing-refrained, turned into fear; the disagreements-kept quiet, turned into depression. Still the messes grew and grew in our little family. On a physical front, emotional and spiritual.

Trying to look good for church, we brushed the mess under the rug, smiled and waved at the perfect, plastic church people who maintained a clean, tight, organized life. Inadequacy wrecked our lives. At work, at home, as parents and lovers.

Then one day, as if a messenger from heaven came to deliver the message, hope came. The day was hot and miserable. The water was rushing form the hose and the kids were staying cool. Slowly the planter box filled up with water, as they played. I sat there, watching them slip and fall in the mud, laughing with a deep contentment. Mud flying everywhere, they giggled and slipped and threw the mess everywhere. Splats of mud smashed on the outside of the house, water spraying up into the air and spotting their dirty faces with hints of clean. Mesmerized by the beauty of innocence, wallowing in the mud, transfigured my mindset. Their joy spilled over into their us, thier parents, who threw off the image of clean perfection. We indulged in the simple wonder of contentment.

That was the day I began to delight in the messes. I began to delve into the messes. My vantage point was altered and the messes became an opportunity to play, to laugh, to be content. It was a life moment that would become my life motto. It was as if God was preparing me for the next part of my life. For not long after we encountered the messiest time of our lives.

Following dreams, losing dreams. Facing reality of poverty and loss. Insecure, angry, hopeless. Fighting, not arguing, fighting and yelling and screaming. Homelessness, fear, death. Being swallowed up in the abyss of grief, sorrow overtaking me. Oppression, continued poverty, more death. Guilt, shame, regret.

In the middle of it all, were my children. The ones I wanted to spare from the messes of this life. Standing right in the middle of it, my children experienced an indescribable mess. And, as if prophetic, I watched them play in the midst of it. The mess saturated their being, but it was just mud. It was just a time. The mess is still very present in their lives. It covers them from head to toe. But they have learned to find the joy in the mess, it is not debilitating. They have learned to be content in the mess, it has not destroyed them. They have learned to make the mess fashionable, and walk around without explanation of the mess.

In my attempt to keep my kids from the messes of this life, they were immersed in it. In my passion to give them more, the Lord reached down and showed me that “Life is the messy bits!” It is the stuff that defines us, that grows us, that shapes us. It will never be clean and tidy, it will always be a mess.

And so I delight in the messy bits of life. I find ways to play in the mud. I do my best to see things from the vantage point of my little children, who took the dirt of life and made it an adventure.

Life is a mess, but Jesus cleans us up. He wipes our faces so we can see, He cleanses us from the filth.  We will get dirty again, because this journey is long. But there is a promise that in eternity, the messes will no longer exist. Everything will be neat and clean and orderly as Jesus cleanses us from the filth.

Until then, I will trudge through the mud, finding new ways to play. New ways to make mud pies and mud baths and mud castles and mud art. I will embrace the reality that life is a mess, and I, I was made to play in it. 

I wonder...

I wonder...

What Joseph went through as he sat in a jail cell completely forgotten. I wonder if he ever lost hope or suffered from depression or felt completely and totally alone. I wonder if, even in his provision and favor felt as if he was a crazy person. I wonder if he dreamt about the day when he was released and what he would do or say. I wonder how many times he questioned God. How many times had conversations with God about the unfair predicament of his situation?

I wonder…

So many times when we think about people in the Bible we picture super-human beings who were able to smile and wave through all their struggles while singing praises and thanking God for all their circumstances. They were human like us. They probably cussed a few times, doubted, worried, feared, questioned and even sinned. The people we read about in the Bible struggled with their callings, their families, and their flesh. Yet God still used them.

I see that happen a lot in the Christian culture. This façade of “perfect” that one thinks must be portrayed to be a true “Christian.” I often think of how sad a life that must be; to pretend to be someone you’re not to try to reflect Jesus, who died to purify us. There is no perfect on this earth. There is only imperfect. That is why Jesus is coming back to get us, that is why God is destroying this current earth and creating a new heaven and a new earth.

I wonder…

Why this life I live is hard. Why, no matter how many jobs we apply for, none come our way. I told my husband today, maybe you should apply for jobs you are not qualified for, instead of the jobs you are qualified for and see if you get a job that way. Cuz you are sure not getting a job applying for jobs you are qualified for. Five years we have been doing this… FIVE!!! My nerves are fraying. My hope is holding on. I am undone. I mean completely unraveling. I have no control of my life and it is causing me to break.

I wonder…

How much more of me can break? I am already broken, already undone, already shaken. I have to keep reminding myself that a broken life with Jesus is better than a whole life without Him. My body is revolting and I feel out of alignment. I don’t know where to go, what to do, how to get there. Everywhere we turn doors close. Even in areas where we hear the Lord say go, SLAM! The door closes with a force that pushes me back.

I wonder…

Is it just me or are other people feeling agitated at the current state of our church and state and country. I see an expression of Jesus that I think is manufactured and it irritates me. I see people being turned away from the truth because they are not holy enough or righteous enough or clean enough. I see churches blame groups of people for the reason there is violence or injustice. I want to change it, but feel paralyzed on how to.

I wonder…

If this weight will ever come off of my body. Will I really be able to be successful if I got picked to go to Biggest Loser? What about my kids? Could I really leave them for 6 months at the most important time of their lives? Elijah’s last year in high school, Noah’s first year in high school and Carah a Jr. Higher. Would I be able to withstand the loneliness of not being around my most important support system? Would I break some more? Would I be able to handle the fact that I am doing something for myself and not for my family?

I wonder…

Why people feel threatened by our hearts desire to want to help the youth. I wonder why people in the Christian community find it necessary to invalidate who we are with rumors and lies and stir up trouble amongst our Christian family. Do we really scare you? Are we really intimidating? What is it about us that scare you from my raw authentic approach to life? Or is it that you are scared someone will require you to be the same and you don’t want to take the mask off. Is it really necessary to us abusive tactics to get people in the church to follow you? How about just show the love of Jesus? How about that!!! Maybe then the church would grow!! And youth would be knocking down your door!!!

I wonder…

How much more of this the Lord will require of us to take. I hope it is not too much longer. I hope!!! I have a lot of things I want to do and see and experience with my kids… they are almost grown and gone... Please Lord, hear our prayer; hear our cries; hear our thoughts. We need some breakthrough. Will it come soon?

I wonder…

Christmas music

My sister and I are sitting her listening to Christmas music... Why... well perhaps it is the joy of memories... the happy times we shared as kids with our mom and father and with our own kids... Maybe it is because it reminds us our Savior... who is the only one who is walking this out with us...

We laughed as We wish you a Merry Christmas came on... and I wanted to bring my sister some figgy pudding, since she is pregnant.. Then, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" came on... We bust out laughing...because you know 85 degree weather is a lot like Christmas...

We kept on laughing and was so glad... we needed to. The intensity is overwhelming around here with my mom's cancer.

I am thankful for our daughters who wanted to dance before this. We all swung our arms and shook our boodies to the music. There was a lot of joy. The boys were playing LIFE and looked at us like we were some crazy moms... we are. After we put the kids to bed it seemed appropiate to listen to Christmas music... and it gave us a calm and a peace that can only come from God.

Silent night, holy night, all is calm all is bright!

Depth of Emotions...

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Stayed up late talking to my brother Eric and sister Cari… The depth of emotions is great. My mom sat all 4 of us kids down in her room with my step-dad and began to talk to us about things she did and did not want us to do. I was irritated, mad, frustrated, sad, overwhelmed… Micah, the youngest said, as we walked in, “I feel like a kid, like we are about to get in trouble.” We all chuckled. My heart was aching mostly for Micah. He has always felt like the odd man out. My mom made comments like, I am mostly talking to you (referring to Eric, Cari and I). Sigh… divorce is soooo hard…No matter how hard you try, it seems like someone is left out. She told kept talking about unity… We prayed together, my step dad started and then it was silent. I was about to pray, but before I could get myself together emotionally, my mom prayed. I felt like, oh crap… she thinks no one want to pray for her… anxiety… guilt… breath Teresa, breath…

My mom’s house was filled with people… mostly family. There were a few friends there… One of my mom’s friends is so negative… I wanted to tell her to get the f#*% out of my mom’s house… not the most Christ like and loving thing… It is as if she has some spell on my mom and was sucking the life out of her. The rage rose up in me and I had to walk outside… letting go God… letting go. I do not how…breathing, praying, and breathing. My cousin Christie came out and talked to me, prayed with me…

Went to church today…surrounded by people who speak life. Came home and talked to my Tia Karen. She told me my mom was going to die in 2 weeks… What the Snapple!!! If one more person gives me a time frame of my mom’s death I am going to punch them. Only God knows…like I said before, I am being sure of what I hope for, until she dies (whether that be 2 weeks or 40 years from now0.

Today, I am not sad… I am angry… I want to fight, but have to surrender to God… urgh!

Hope is...letting go

June 10, 2011


My posture seems different… hoping. Hope, what is hope exactly?

I am hoping my mom gets well. I am hoping God is healing her, even now. The amazing thing about hope is that is seems to need companions… It seems to me that hope fades when you are hoping alone. It is my experience that the more people who are around who are hoping for the same thing. The easier it is to hope.

I didn’t see my mom today. Instead I spent 5 hours talking, praying and pondering this experience with Becky, who God has brought into my life to be a spiritual midwife, of sorts. My cousin came with me and the spirit of God gave me even more hope. Hope of restoration, hope of healing, hope of joy, hope for the future. At this moment, I can not see death in my mom, only life. I do not see hopelessness, only hope. My sister spent most of the day with her. My mom has people around her 24/7. My brothers are staying at her house until Sunday, a friend is staying with her until Sunday. She has visitors that stop by all day long and receives phone call and packages every day. My Tia Karen just flew in and my Tia Jaunita (my mom’s sister) her husband Jun and my cousin Roxanne are all visiting her tomorrow. My cousin Roxanne flew in from Kuwait tonight. Today my cousin Christie and her family are coming with me and my kids to visit.

I felt angry that my mom was not getting rest… Wait what? Angry… what the hell… why would I be angry? I seriously have some control issues… or is it that I feel like my hope for healing is getting trampled on because she is not getting rest… I had to breath… my husband said, “Honey, it is probably better than worse that people are lining up at the door to see you mom.. It will bring her joy and she will feel loved. Perhaps that part of the healing process for her. You just have to trust God.”

He is so right… I determined that I am a fixer. If there is a problem, I fix it. If I cant fix it, I get pissed… I get frustrated… so here I am Lord, giving it up to you… I can not fix it, only you can. You are in control.. I am letting go…

Being sure...

June 9, 2011


This morning I was praying and talking to God about my faith. The verse "Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see," came to mind. The Holy Spirit spoke write to my little broken heart and said, "faith is being sure of what your HOPE for... not sure of God's will, not sure of your understanding, not sure of the future... Sure of your hope.... just hope...You are HOPING your mom is healed... just continue to hope and be sure of that hope... don’t worry about whether or not it is God's will or if you have enough of faith... you just be sure of that hope you have for healing in your moms body..." Being sure... okay… being sure….

sure

adj.

1. Impossible to doubt or dispute; certain.

2. Not hesitating or wavering; firm: sure convictions.

3. Confident, as of something awaited or expected: sure of ultimate victory.

4.
a. Bound to come about or happen; inevitable: sure defeat.

b. Having one's course directed; destined or bound: sure to succeed.

5. Certain not to miss or err; steady: a sure hand on the throttle.

6.

a. Worthy of being trusted or depended on; reliable.

b. Free from or marked by freedom from doubt: sure of her friends.

7. Careful to do something: asked me to be sure to turn off the stove.

8. Obsolete Free from harm or danger; safe.

The journey of hope and healing...

Saturday, June 4th


My brother called me this morning and told me that my step dad was in hysterics and falling apart. My mom has not been eating or drinking and can’t sleep. The tumor has exploded in her body and all of her systems are shutting down. My brother told me that she probably has only one more week to live.

I cannot even begin to tell you the range of emotions I am feeling. I am angry and sad, hurt and confused... There are so many factors involved in my relationship with her and I am brokenhearted. I do not do sadness well... only anger... thanks to my "spiritual midwife" who pointed that out. I can control anger and so when I am sad or hurt, go there... I do not know how to be sad or hurt. I have been experiencing a lot of hurt these days and I am deeply emotionally jacked up. It is as if someone took the cap off the well and now everything I have controlled for all of these years is gushing out with uncontrollable intensity.

I love my mother deeply. I always have. I wish I was closer to her. I wish I could share my heart with her. Sigh

I am telling you these things because you are all close to me in some capacity. I need you to help me through this...in prayers, in words, in just being next to me. I do not know how to mourn; I do not know how to grieve. I am not sure what it will look like. So let me apologize ahead of time for any abnormal behavior I may exhibit in this process.

I am the strong one in my family... I have said for years... but am learning that this is not my identity. I don't know what my identity is, and is learning who I am in Christ. It is a process, and I might flip flop like a fish out of water in this place.

Please give me grace, please.



Monday, June 6th

So here it is... my heart open... it is easier for me to write this down for all to read, then talking to people... so if I am not answering your calls, it is because I am too tired and emotional to talk... You know me, I love to talk... but these days I am finding I would prefer to stay in my house, in my room listening to birds chirp, and watching the clouds go by. I feel like I am forgetting people, so if I added you to this conversation after my initial, it is only because I am overwhelmed, not because I do not love you or you are not valuable to me. My mom is frail. She is holding on for everyone else, I discern, to be sure to say their goodbyes and to talk about things that need to be talked about. She seems peaceful, ready to go. Not fighting it, not angry. I can't help but think of all the times my mom is going to miss... She is not going to see my son graduate from high school in three years. She will miss seeing my Noah play quarterback this year. She will not be at my daughter’s wedding. She will not see my sisters new baby.... pain... so much pain... she will not see her grandkids grow up. My sisters kids are 10 and under and my brothers kids are 4 and 2. MY youngest brother is not married and has no kids... She will not see my youngest brother get married... sigh... she won’t be there for my stepdad when his parents pass away, as she will go first. This is so wrong, so crazy... I want to scream and yell... I want to fast and pray and put sackcloth and ashes on my head until she is healed... My understanding of things is being tossed around in a tornado, causing havoc and grief... What the HELL... why... Even in the hardest moments with my mother, even in the most painful areas in my heart that my mother inflicted, there was still a love, still a hope I help onto for complete and total healing and restoration for our relationship so that we could laugh together and go to tea together and takes walks together... but now that hope is gone. I WILL have restoration, I do, even now... but I will not get to walk it out in this life. I will not get to feel her flesh and touch her hair... Then I think, am I giving up? Do I not have enough faith for her healing? Have I just surrendered to what my eyes see and not what my spirit hopes for? Is it her time? Or has her life been cut short? I do not know... All I can do is cry... I spend half the night crying... I can’t read my Bible, don’t say much to God. I felt as if I had crawled up on Gods lap, put my head on his chest and just cried....this is the worst feeling I have ever experienced in my life... My chest hurts, my head hurts, and my body aches with sorrow... My mom said all she wants prayer for is healing and NO pain...That God would take her physical pain away... If you could partner in prayer with me, I would be appreciative.



Wednesday, June 8th

4am...

Awake, feeling overwhelmed...my chest aches with pain...I have to make sure I breath in deep to counter the aches...it is from anxiety. I have had these pains before, been rushed to the hospital before in fear, only to be told I am suffering an anxiety attack... I don't really know where that is coming from. Is it the fear of mom dying? Is it the sadness that is too overwhelming? Is it sorrow?

Today I met with the hospice lady with my mom and step-dad. She explained things and I took notes. She talked to my mom about code status... I heard what she said but asked her to repeat herself many times. Finally my mom said," Teresa I am not going home on full code. If the worst happens, they will not recessitate." The hospice lady asked me IF I could do it. If, worst case scenario, and her body is not healed, could I watch her die and not panic. Could I just sit there with her and watch?

I did not fully process the question...Here I am, a daughter of the God who created the heavens and earth. The God who raised Jesus from the dead. The God who gave power to his son to heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and raise the dead. Could I just let my mom die at 57, never to fulfill the long life, I believe God intended us all to live?

My mom told me this morning that she believed God would heal her body, but now, as she is sitting in the hospital, she is beginning to doubt her own faith. Wondering, do I not have enough? I sat there in silence, not knowing how to assure her or comfort her, as I too am questioning my faith. Then, as if God picked her up from her seat and dropped her in the room, a friend of mine stopped by the hospital. I did not tell her where my mom was and had not talked to her much other than Facebook. She came in, with her comedy central personality and began to minister to my mom in a way I wish I could. She talked about the very thing my mom had just spoken of… It was divine and poetic. She reminded my mom of the verse that says we need to labor to rest… in other words it is hard work to just rest. She reminded my mom that she only needed a mustard seed of faith and God would do the rest. She told my mom not to worry about how much faith she has or does not have, but to just rest in the knowledge that so many others are fighting on her behalf. She gave the analogy of Moses fighting and fighting in faith, by raising his hands to the heavens until he was too weary to fight any more. It was at that point that people raised his hands to help carry his burden to win the battle. She assured her that there were so many more people raising her hands in faith and hope and life. Then she gave me permission to do the same. To allow others to help carry my burden of faith and pain…and so my mom agreed to do just that… labor to rest.

There were so many things happening today, Tuesday, June 7th. So many roads colliding in my life. My mom told me I am an angry person and she wished I would not be so angry. She told me I am a talented writer and need to use it for God’s glory and not to destroy or devastate people, as I had done to her so many times… I usually get pissed off when she makes those kinds of comments, but today I was able to say what was in my heart without fear of rejection or denial. I explained to my mom that it was never my intent to devastate or destroy her, but rather share the pain of my heart. Apologized for hurting her and told her that in sharing my heart with her it came through a filter of pain and not attack. She told me specific things that had wounded her most by my words, very true things I had shared with her. I don’t really know if it was my speaking these things out in the open that wounded her the most, or the way in which I told her. She told me she understood and left it at that.

I read her some of my poetry, and began to read her John 14. More visitors came, and I left to give her some time. My sister and Tio Mike met me for lunch. He shared with us memories he had with my mom when they were kids. Kiara, my sister’s 2 year old daughter brought so much life, so much hope of the future. We went back to the hospital and my uncle spent one on one time with her, sharing his heart. My step-dad was setting up hospice at his house, so my sister and I just sat with her… talked with her… laughed with her. Her countenance lifted and she looked light-hearted, not so heavy hearted. She ate most of her meal; we took her for a walk around the hospital and massaged her hands and feet.

We talked about wounds and hurt and how it is real and affects relationships. How we all deal with hurt differently and that relationships deteriorate because of not understanding how that person deals with hurt or because they are protecting themselves from getting more hurt. There were so many things happening in the spirit that were changing and breaking and moving. Without even trying restoration was taking place, boundaries were being redrawn, hearts were being understood. My dad came back and my sister, Tio and I drove back home. I had been there most of the day and was emotionally tired… I am so thankful for my niece Trinity and nephew Skyler who are here for my kids, and I guess my kids are there for them too…

My husband, who is unemployed, trying to get this salsa business off and being the parent who is in the “life goes on” side of this, is running around registering Elijah for school, watching kids, doing laundry, dishes, and enduring the emotional trauma I bring. His heart is so for the things of God. How he interacts with God and my and the kids is shifting. If is a wonderful thing. Part of these roads all colliding in my life…

It is as if I am standing in an intersection on a road. Only there are not four roads leading there, there are more. One road is the journey of the healing of my soul, another is the transformation of my spirit, and another is the renewal of my mind. Then there is the business road, that looks pretty jacked up and broken; the financial road that is pretty bleak; the road of family; the road of marriage; the road of broken relationships; the road of healthy relationships; the road of pain and suffering; this new road of sorrow; the road of hope; the road of faith; the road of love…. All intersecting at one time, at the same place… I am bracing myself for what is to come when they all reach this intersection… I am hoping there is a reconciliation of myself, so that I can continue down just one road, that leads me away from this intersection, and that is the road of God’s promises…

So tired… I have been writing for an hour. My chest pains have subsided, my burden is lighter. Thank you all who help carry it. Your love and encouragement is a gift that I cherish.

June 8, 2011

Mom cried today...when the hospice nurse told her that watching her blood sugar was kinda pointless... I wanted to punch her and tell her to f-off... It is not pointless... so if she goes into a coma from high blood sugar, that is okay... urgh!!!

I told mom, that is does matter and I will watch it. She began to express some regret, which she had not earlier. She told my sister and me that she wished she spent more time with her grandkids... and was crying...

It was so eye opening to me... I realized at that moment that when I was angry at my mom for not showing up to events, it was not because I was a crazy, physco control freak... It was because I did not want her to have regrets... I did not want her to ever say the words she said today...

She cried herself to sleep... I hated to see that, but was thankful for her vulnerability to me...

Praise God for another day of life... I curse cancer in the name of Jesus and speak life into her pancreas, liver, lungs and limp nodes... Be healed in the name of Jesus mom... be healed...