Faith in the midst of hardship

The hardest thing about faith is the ability to hold on to something that is not tangible. To believe that, no matter what my eyes see, God is right beside me.

Since we closed the restaurant, we have lived by faith. Trusting God, that no matter what our circumstances look like, He will always provide. I have cried and cussed and laughed and been seriously depressed in the process. I am not one who looks at the possibility of being homeless, or carless or foodless and says, "Praise the Lord!"

I am one who says, "What the F Lord?!?!!?" I don't talk to my God like He is some distant deity, I talk to Him like He is my best friend. Flaws and all, realistic, honest, organic, true me.

I sit here... waiting... waiting for life to take a turn. A financial turn, a job, a home, a car. Still in the same place we were when the restaurant closed. 6 years of hardship... 6 years of lack... 6 years of hoping and believing BY FAITH.

I don't see it. I don't see when it will end, but I believe, BY FAITH in a God who loves me that is soon. It is not easy. Money continues to evade us, cars continue to fall apart on us, and a home continues to be out of reach. I breathe... my heart rate rises, my head pounds. It’s getting old, worn out, tired.

Aren't you, the reader, tired of hearing the same old story about the Beukers? Still without a job or a steady means of income to sustain us? Haven't you questioned our motives, intentions or work ethic, due to the situation we are in? I would, if I were on the other side of this.

God always provides. He doesn't fail us. But it doesn't make the reality any easier. It doesn't make waiting until the final hour any better. I still cry when we don't get the job applied for. I still cuss when the car doesn't work and we have no money to fix it. I still get depressed when I don't know how we are going to feed our kids. I don't share it as much. I don't want to be "that person." You know the ones. The ones who always need something, who are always down on their luck. I want to be the person that is always helping, always giving, always encouraging.

I wrote a blog when my mom was dying called, “Jesus wept.” It was about the notion that Jesus cried when he heard that Lazarus died, EVEN THOUGH, even though he knew he was going to raise him from the dead. The emotion of a friend dying was so great, that even the Son of God, who knows the beginning from the end, let out an emotional burst of tears.

That is where I am today. EVEN THOUGH I know my God will provide, THROUGH FAITH, the emotion behind the reality burst out of me with great intensity. I am ready for this season of my life to be over. I realized the other day, that half of Elijah’s schooling years have been hardship. HALF! It started his 6^th grade year and now he is in 12^th, getting ready to graduate. It’s pretty much all my other two kids know. They were too little to remember the debt free, stay at home homeschooling mom. They mostly remember loss and lack.

That overwhelms my emotions, and pours out of me. No matter how hard we have tried, there has not been much respite. It has been a constant pounding of the waves of financial hardship. My legs shake from the weariness of trying to stand in the pounding. My body shakes from the cold water that just pushed me over and tossed me around.

We, Bill and I, made a decision. We need to be in a place where he can work, where there are opportunities for employment in his field. So our eyes are including areas that are not in the Central Valley. Fresno, is our home. It has been the city we have chosen to raise our kids. Twelve years we have lived here. We are faced with the certainty that without a job, with unemployment benefits gone, living on faith and food stamps, a borrowed car and a rented house going up for sale… we are in the same situation we were when we lost the restaurant…two steps away from being homeless, AGAIN!!!

Have we not learned the lesson? Have we missed something? I am waiting for the moment. You know the moment when you finally make it to the other side. When you can look back and say, “Awe, I did it, I pushed through and overcame.” The Joseph moment. That is what I affectionately refer to. The moment, when, after all the hardship he went to, was finally released from prison and made ruler of all of Egypt, right beneath Pharaoh. Or how about the Job moment. After losing everything, he remained faithful, never turning his back on God, and God restored all that he had lost, 7 times over. Even Job told the Lord to curse the day he was born, because the hardship was so great. I have never done that. I just say, “What the F?!?!?” to Him.

There is only so much you can do, only so much you can say. For me and my family, homelessness and serving God is so much more fulfilling than doing something unethical to make a living. But it doesn’t make it easy. In fact, it is excruciatingly painful and exhausting to keep having FAITH in extreme hardship. In addition to the financial burdens, we have been faced with the death of both of my parents, and the emotional trauma that came with their rejection of me as a person.

Then there are my kids, who I try to protect. They too have experienced hardship. My older son faced racism- yes, my predominately “white” son was discriminated against by his coach, who is African American. It has torn me up. Infuriated me. I have found myself looking to Martin Luther King Jr. for quotes and encouragement. It has made me have even more empathy than I ever did before for ANYONE who has been discriminated against due to the color of their skin or race. More hardship, but for my child. My daughter experienced bullying from her cheer coach. She learned to stand up in the face of hardship and was then punished for it. My sweet little girl, who loves everyone, began to turn cynical and angry. She saw injustice and experienced the ugly side of nepotism. We had to help her process the pain of watching the bully stay and coach and her being asked to leave her team for standing up to her. Even today, she is fighting through it, learning to overcome the abuse of a coach. My middle, highly dyslexic, struggles academically. We had to fight and claw for him to be tested for a 504 plan, so that he would have an equal opportunity to succeed in school. He fights stigma of having a disability with humor and being goofy, but I know it hard for him.

FAITH… more faith… believing the hardship my children have faced will benefit their character. I try to show them the positives of being discriminated against, being bullied and having a disability. Empathy, being an overcomer, loving your enemies… I try to stay positive and let it drive their love for all people. Let is marinate to give them savory faith. The financial hardship gives them a broader spectrum of compassion for others. They are blessed! I mean blessed! My extended family floods them with blessings… Aunts, uncles, grandparents… they shower them with the things we cannot. So they do not lack in material things. They do not live in poverty. They know they are loved, they know they are safe. They know what it is to have plenty and they know what it is to have lack.

So faith remains to be the constant in our lives. The one thing that never changes, the one thing that we can all depend on. Faith, is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. That is the story of our life. The story that has carved the deep crevices of character and compassion into our hearts.

I write, to help me process, to help me breathe. My heart rate is slowing down, my blood pressure is lowering. It is my therapy. My way to live. It gives me a canvas in which I can paint the picture of my heart. I stand back and see color. There is no rhyme of reason to the strokes, but it is our life. There is no more room to paint. I hope that soon the Lord will give us a new canvas to paint, a new book to write.

For now, I will go back to my reality, hoping, believing, and living by FAITH. 

Beukers Family Year in Review

Worship

What does that mean exactly? I grew up going to church and first we had worship and then the announcements and then the sermon. Worship, to me, was songs you sang at church. I wanted to be a worship leader one day, because I loved to sing the songs that were sung in church and it was the closest I felt to God.

When I was 18 years old, I decided that I was no longer going to go to church and research other religions to be sure this religion I was raised with was the truth. I was in love with a young man who was Mormon and I wanted to know what the difference was between his religion and mine. That led to a year long journey of self discovery and intellectual awareness of other religions. I read for hours and prayed to this all knowing, all powerful being, asking for his/her direction to the truth. My young and wild heart ached to know if there was, in fact, a reason for my worship; if this God was even worthy of being worshipped. I was intelligent enough to know that we did not evolve from some cosmic chaos, but that there was an infinite creator who had brought this world into existence. I just did not know which avenue of faith was the truth about this creator.

By the time I was nineteen, I had studied many religions, but realized that the truth was the God of the Bible. That Jesus was, in fact, the Savior of this world and this was a religion of love and truth, not condemnation and hate. (Although, some Christians preach that...even though it is not truth). I had to wrap my mind around what worshipping this God meant. What did it look like. How was I supposed to do it? 

It wasn't until recently that I have come to a pure and truthful understanding of what true worship is...

We were recently invited to attend a prophetic worship conference. My entire family went to experience whatever it was that God would have for us. Within 5 minutes it was easy to discern that this was an event that was meant to evoke emotion in the human psyche that fed the soul and tricked the mind into believing that there was some secret way to “tap” into the heavenlies to experience God. The worship leader was instruction people what to do and how to “let go” to experience the fullness of God. I looked around the room and everyone was swaying and moving their arms around to “experience” God in a way that could only happen in this way.

I looked over at my kids. My daughter, who can easily discern the atmosphere, was angry, she said, “This is boring mama.” My boys were chuckling at the theatrics of it all. My oldest, who is black and white with no gray said, “I DO NOT WORSHIP LIKE THIS!” and with conviction stood against the wall with his arms crossed. My middle son, who is sensitive to the spirit of God, was quiet and observed the crowd, carefully taking it in, trying to determine the heart of it. My husband in persistent prayer, waiting to see if something was going to change. I was pissed, like my son, at the abuse of leadership, in their manufactured “experience” of worship.

We left. The kids were so thankful. We talked for almost an hour about what true worship is. We talked in depth about different expressions of worship, different genres of worship, and different perspectives of worship. We talked about how people worshiped God in the Bible. What “sacrifice of praise” means.

Worship is expressed in ways that cannot be controlled or taught or manufactured. It is expressed in the way we live. In how we see the world, in how we respond to adversity. It is expressed in the pain and the joy, the love and hate. It is demonstrated in ways that we sometimes miss.

We worship God when we are walking and notice something beautiful in nature, and stop to delight in the wonder of it. We worship God when we are thankful for our children and cherish their little intricacies. We worship God when we anger overtakes us at the injustice of this world. We worship God with the tears that fall down our faces when we lose someone we love. We worship God in the sports we play, when we give our all and depend on the gifts he gave us. We worship God in the jobs we go to; when we do things we do not want to do and suffer at the hand of our authorities. We even worship God in the raising our fists to him with explicit words flying towards the heavens in rage, because there is an intimacy there that the Lord desires to have with us. In all of our range of emotions and experiences, the fact that we include this Creator, this God, and our Jesus into our everyday lives is a form of worship that is often overlooked.

Yes, singing about the goodness of God is a form of worship. It is a way to express our gratitude and love in song with music. But it is only one form of expression. I am learning how to soak in His goodness, delight in his acceptance of my sinful being; appreciate the blessings, praise Him in the trial; fall in His presence, surrender into his arms. This is worship.

The worship we experience in church is just a type of worship. It is like writing a love letter to the one you love; or a love song. It is a memoir, if you will, a record of the great and marvelous things that our Lord has done. It is a poetic utterance of gratitude and love for this Creator, who gave us life.

Don't want to waste my life...

Notebooks, pens, conversations and scribbles on paper is howwe dream. We call it our Dream Notebook. Every idea, dream, vision, hope orcreative inception is written down on one of many spiral notebooks that stackin my room. The reality of those dreams is an entirely different dimension ofthought and action, however. When I process the amount of time, effort, faithand resources it will take to accomplish a dream, the thought almostdebilitates me. Not because I have fear or don’t believe it can be done; on thecontrary, I know it can! It is the cost that keeps me from moving forward withanything that comes my way. The cost of time, the cost of friendships, the costof investment, the cost of loneliness, the cost of ridicule, the cost emotions,the cost of material things.

I know the cost. I know how much a person can lose forfollowing a dream, personally. I have seen a dream come to life and thenwatched in horror when that dream died. It cost my family everything. That iswhat keeps my husband and me from rushing. That is what keeps our feet firmlyplanted on the ground. So we question ourselves as a result. Do we have what ittakes? How will this affect our family? Will people come to Lord as a result ofthis vision? Where do we start? Will people support us? Will people believe inwhat we are doing? Will we be doing this alone? How will we get youth to come?

The chatter in the mind is loud and we are trying to keep itquiet. It is amazing how words of encouragement can sustain even the weariestsoul, the most doubtful mind and the loneliest souls. Feelings of inadequacies constantlyrise to the surface and I must tell them to be silent. All we can do is walk,one foot in front of the other, believing that we are doing what God has calledus to do. Believing that he will equip us, believing that he will show us theway. Trusting that He will pay the price when the cost is too great for us tocarry.

We take one step and then another and another. It lookslonely so far, it looks impossible. Yet I know my God can comfort, I know thewith God nothing is impossible! Those are the things I hold onto. Those are thereasons we take another step toward the dream, on this adventure.

“This is the promisethat empowers us to take risks for the sake of Christ. It is not the impulse ofheroism, or the lust for adventure, or the courage of self-reliance, or theneed to earn God’s favor. It is simple trust in Christ-that in Him, God will doeverything necessary so that we can enjoy making much of him forever. Everygood poised to bless us, and every evil arrayed against us, will I the end helpus boast only in the cross, magnify Christ and to  find in our own experience that it is betterto lose our life than to waste it.

Therefore, it is rightto risk for the cause of Christ. It is right to engage the enemy and say, ‘Maythe Lord do what seems good to him.’ It is right to serve the people of God,and say, ‘If I perish, I perish!’ It is right to stand before the fiery furnaceof affliction and refuse to bow down to the gods of the world. This is the roadthat leads to fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore. At the end of everyother road--secure and risk-free—we will put our face in our hands and say, ‘I’vewasted it!’"

John Piper – Don’t Waste Your Life

Believing

July 21, 2011


I am turning 37 in 2 days. I have seen a lot in those 37 years, hurt, loved, felt abandoned and rejected, loss…I have overcome a great deal to stand on solid ground and I have been wrong about a great many things. Mostly I have loved my Lord, who has walked me through this process of life. I am at a stage in my life, where life sucks. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be that person who looks at life with fogged glasses, yet in my attempts to clean those life glasses, I only seem to scratch them and mess up their alignment. So my eyes have a hard time beholding the beauty that is around me. Help me Lord Jesus, help me.

Yesterday was a hard day with my mom. In the past when I spoke those words, it was because she and I butted heads, or she did not meet my expectation, or I did not meet hers. In the past, I would tell my mom I was upset and she would tell me I was over exaggerating or that there was a miscommunication. Yesterday was a hard day with my mom, because for the first time in this process it seems she is dying. I have been told that she was for months, and I have not believed anyone. Not because I am in denial, but because I believe God is going to heal her. I believe my God can heal her. Becky shared a quote with me from John Wimber where he said that he would go to the hospital and pray for people and believe God would heal them, and they would die. But he kept on praying. And sometimes people would live, but no matter what the outcome, he was going to keep on praying. I am a warrior. I pray and fight and fast and pray some more. I have seen God move and defend and protect and heal and give. Recently, I have noticed that I am not a warrior; I am a broken, sad, grieving girl who feels like God forgot about me.

So I travel down my life road, wondering how I am going to make it. My mom’s body is deteriorating right before my eyes. Her face and eyes are yellow, her ankle and stomach are swollen. She moves slow and sleeps a lot. The hospice chaplain came to talk and pray with my mom. He was there about an hour and then left. When he left, my mom began to sob uncontrollably. I said, maybe he shouldn’t come anymore mom. She held me tight and said, “No, it is okay Teresa, he helped me today. He helped me to understand what is going on with me emotionally.” I took a deep breath to brace myself for what she was going to say next. “I am grieving,” she said and started to cry again. “I am grieving the loss of my family. I am going to leave them and I am grieving that. I don’t want to. I am not scared or angry with God, but I had this feeling I could not figure out, and it is grief. I am grieving the fact that I won’t be here for my family and my husband and my kids and grandkids.” I hugged her with a fierce embrace and a weight came upon me. I cried with her and felt exhausted. She asked me to come with her into her room and sit with her, and so I did.

About 5 minutes went by and she opened her dresser drawer. She handed me a pouch and asked me to open it. The pouch was pink satin and had a snap and zipper on it. I unzipped the pouch and pulled out a pearl necklace. It was beautiful. My mom took my hands and put the pearls in my palm. She said, “You are my pearl. You were like a piece of sand, rough and irritating at times, but God turned you into a beautiful pearl. Look at the luster and beauty that came from a little rough piece of sand. It is shining and smooth and beautiful, just like you. I want you to have them to wear or for Carah to wear when she gets married.” Tears welled up in my eyes… I want you to be there for Carah’s wedding I thought. I want you to be there. Grief weighed upon me at that moment. But there was more. Inside the pouch was a gold ring with a small diamond in it. It was the ring I bought for my mom for Christmas the first year I started working. I was 17 when I gave it to her. She said, “I want you to give this to Carah when she is 16, so she has something from me that came from you. I want it to be passed down so that she can remember me.” At this point, I was sobbing. I have only been an adult for 20 years. I had kids young so they could be around their grandparents and experience life with them. I expected my mom to live into her 80’s and even 90’s, giving me 30 or more years with her. I was expecting my mom to die when she had white hair and lots of wrinkles. That I can understand and process, this I cannot.

People tell me all the time, when I tell them that I believe God will heal my mom, “well what if He doesn’t?” I respond quickly with, “It is not my job to know if He is or is not. It is my job to believe, and so that is what I am going to do. Whether my mom dies in 2 months or 20 years, I have to believe that God will heal my mom, and that is all I have.” Some people think that I am in denial. The reality is that I am in faith. I believe God can, I believe He will. I have tried hard not to grieve. By grieving I feel like I am not walking in faith. I have tried to be strong and hopeful and positive. My mom handed me a beautifully decorated box with tea cups on it, when I put the pearls away. Inside was a tea cozy for a tea pot, her tea lid holder and a spoon from Holland. I pulled out a box that had a dazzling bracelet in there that sparkled with brilliance. My mom assured me of its monetary value and the value of the pearls. I continued to open neatly wrapped treasures in this box and unwrapped a baby dress that was mine when I was an infant. And finally, I came to the most valuable thing of all… a sewing pattern. It was the pattern my mom used to make me a doll when I was 5. She did not have much money, had me, my brother and was pregnant with my sister. I have the doll, still to this day. She sits in my baby doll cradle that has my name carved in it that sits in the corner of my room. I opened it up and saw the directions and all the pieces neatly cut out. She said, “I thought, maybe you would want it, so you can make a doll for Carah that matches.” Grief!

I was crying and told my mom thank you. She pulled me close and prayed over me. She asked the Lord to bless me and my kids, to give me life and prosperity. To help me overcome my hurts and to bring restoration to the relationships that are broken in my life with my father and brother. She asked the Lord to protect my family and blessed me in my writing. She prayed for my marriage and for my health. She blessed me.

It felt as if she was passing a torch to me. I did not want to take it. By taking that torch, I was taking on the responsibility of matriarch. I did not want to touch it. I want her to keep it. I want my mom to hold on to it. She is the matriarch in this family! I just lost my Nana, 5 years ago on my mom’s side and my grandma on my father’s side just passed away 2 months ago. I DON’T WANT IT!!! She hugged me and told me that it was going to be okay, this life is only temporary, and she reminded me. We are just strangers passing through. She called my daughter into her room and prayed over her. She prayed for her gifts and her purity. She prayed for her husband and her children that she will have one day. I was sobbing… Carah was overwhelmed and was trying not to cry. My mom gave her a box too. Inside was the tea cup that she had that matched one she gave me. She gave my sister and me tea cups that were different and she had the matching ones at her house. She told Carah that she can have it and do tea with me and think about her. Carah hugged her tightly and told her thank you and that she loved her. Carah came over to me and hugged me and said, “Are you okay mama?” I knew she was more concerned about me than she was about herself. I felt like a bad mom… I didn’t want her to worry about me. I wanted her to be in the moment with her Nana. But my daughter has seen me emotionally deteriorate this last year and has a deep concern for me. I told her I was and that she needed to focus on what Nana was saying. My mom continued to bless her and took Carah’s face in her too feeble hands and pulled her close to her and kissed her. Carah started to cry and told my mom she loved her. We packed her tea cup up and went into the living room. We sat down on the couch and my mom sat down on her chair and we all fell asleep.

It was emotionally overwhelming. I know that I am not the only person who is going through this. I know that there are a lot of people that have fought cancer, been around cancer, and lost someone they love to cancer. I know that my siblings and dad are experiencing their own grief. I know that death is a part of this life we live in… But I feel so abandoned by God right now. I do not hear Him, I cannot feel Him and I wonder if He is going to answer our prayers. I still pray, I still worship Him and I will always love Him, but I feel so far from His presence. I don’t know if I should grieve or not. It is upon me and I am fighting it.

 I believe my mom is going to be healed!

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...