When Only an Embrace Will Do

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Have you seen the youtube videos of children greeting their camo-clad father or mother upon their return from oversees military service? I have watched several through tears. Watching little ones jittering as if they need to use the bathroom while waiting for Dad or Mom to come into view, then seeing them rush with outstretched arms to a parent who own arms have longed to hold their beloved child gets me every time.

I imagine that when Dad, for example, was gone for all that time Mom tried hard to offer their child a good explanation.

• “Daddy is working hard far away to protect and serve our country.”
• “I know you miss Daddy, sweetie.  He’s doing a really important job and he’ll be home as soon as he can.”
• “What does Daddy do?  Well, he fixes big tanks and trucks so people can use them to help keep others safe.”
• “You know Daddy is a pilot, right? Well, right now he’s flying things like food and medicine to people far away who wouldn’t have those things without Daddy.”

I don’t know a single child who would understand why their Daddy or Mommy needed to be the one to do these things. What child would say, “Oh, I get it. Now it makes perfect sense why I won’t see my Dad or Mom for a year.  Thanks!”

Explanations don’t satisfy kids who miss and want their parents when only an embrace will do. A child who misses Mommy or Daddy can’t fathom any reason good enough for not having them tuck them in bed at night month after month or missing their birthday party or not being there on Christmas morning. The only thing they want is to be with Dad or Mom…now.

And that’s what their parents want, too. Seeing the beaming faces of mothers and fathers on those videos clutching their kids, often with tears streaming, fills my own heart with joy.

I’ve been thinking about how this relates to my relationship with God. You see, sometimes I think knowledge will help, especially during difficult seasons. There have been numerous times when trials or suffering left me craving an explanation.

• “If I just knew why this was happening, I’d feel better.”
• “God, just explain how all this is going to ‘work together for good’ (Romans 8:28) and then I’ll feel better.”
• “So, Lord, what’s the purpose in this awfulness? Help me understand and it’ll be easier to endure.”

During challenging times it helps me to realize that knowledge isn’t what I need; I need God Himself. The answer to difficulties isn’t explanation but relationship. You see, even knowing the future good that will come “someday” isn’t all that comforting in the midst of sorrow, loneliness or disorienting circumstances. Knowing that “down the road” fruit will come from a dry and painful season doesn’t take today’s sadness and weariness away.

The only thing that makes today’s hardships lighten is the Father’s embrace.

Are you going through a tough time? Do you believe that having God sit down and explain why this is happening and the good things that will come from your pain will really help you? Consider Job. If he knew that his dead children would be “replaced” by future children, would he have said, “Oh, I get it. That makes me feel better.” No. Knowledge just begs new questions, not fresh peace.

When we Christians are hurting and craving explanations for tough times, what we need is to tangibly experience the nearness, comfort and warmth of God’s embrace. Hearts that crave knowledge bow to arms that feel welcomed and loved.

I pray you’ll find the strength to let go of the demand for explanation and knowledge and just run into your Father’s eager arms. You’ve missed Him, not answers.

When News Changes Your Life Forever

There are a handful of days in my life that changed me. Days I can tell you what I was wearing or where I was sitting when I heard the news. JFK’s assassination. Daddy’s heart attack. Mom’s cancer. 911.

Yesterday was one of those days, especially for a dear friend of mine who had something horrific happen to her and her family. When I heard the news I could only weep and shake my head in disbelief.

Anyone who lives long enough will have those days. Moments when you feel like you can’t breathe and disorienting chaos swirls through your heart and mind.

Those times when it feels like life is spinning out of control it’s good to know God is there. And not just there but good. Last night I visited my grieving friend. There were no words tender or wise enough to have helped her. No flowers bright enough. No hug warm enough. No prayer articulate enough.

Some years ago I was experiencing the trial of my life. It was one of “those” days. The news I heard that March day in 1998 rocked my world and started a series of life altering events. The sorrow and perplexity lingered for months, then came and went for years, as Benny and I sorted through the longterm effects of wrong choices made by someone we deeply love.

Friends called and tried to offer comfort, but it felt like someone was trying to put a bandaid onto an open chest wound. One of my friends told me she cried out to the Lord, asking “who is going to take care of Sheree?” You can expect what she heard back.

“I will.”

Oh, and He did. He took care of me through the loneliness. Heartache. Days when I couldn’t cook or do laundry or return phone calls. Sleepless nights. Fretful pacing in my bedroom when burying my face in a pillow was the only way to protect my kids from hearing Mommy’s sobs. Moments of begging God to help me understand why. And, yes, times when — for the first time in my life — I understood why people escaped to thoughts of death as a comforting option.

What should we do when someone we know or love is facing the trial of their life? The Holy Spirit will lead us. He will lead some to serve and others to organize service. A few to visit and many to understand why they weren’t asked to come. And all to pray. In my experience, the one thing that isn’t helpful is for well meaning friends to try to make sense of suffering by speculating what happened, why it happened or what might have been done to prevent it.  Such matters are between the sufferer and their Wonderful Counselor and Prince of Peace.

I’m resting today in this timeless truth from God’s holy word:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Ps 34:18).

Are you suffering today? Is someone you love facing overwhelming circumstances?

Let’s remember that He is close and He still saves.
.

Randy and the Laughing Box

Today I’m starting a series on people whose lives have most inspired me. I’m excited to share their stories with you.

I have a new favorite verse:  “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 6:14).

http://www.googleimages.com

As I approach age sixty, I’m finding that things are falling apart. The most recent issue is foot pain that has required lots of physician attention with little progress. But the good news is that a recent visit to Disney World resulted in Benny pushing me around in a wheel chair. I’ve never come home after a long day at a theme park with so much energy! (Poor Benny; I can’t say the same for him.)

As the day progressed, however, I found myself feeling self-conscious. People were extra nice. We were bumped to the front of some lines while others waited patiently for much longer. And we were able to effortlessly move to the front of the parade line where we had a front row view. I felt undeserving of the special attention because others deserved to be in a wheelchair. I just have a bad foot! Throughout the day I thought about Randy. My older brother of six years traded a chopped Harley Davidson and a peppy Camaro in for a wheelchair at age 21. He broke his neck in a tragic swimming accident on the same day in the same general area as did Joni Eareckson Tada. The similarities were stunning, but the difference is Randy died just six years later while Joni continues to live. (Her book “When God Weeps” is one of those that has most taught me a biblical perspective on suffering — I highly recommend it!)Randy’s years in the wheelchair were full of sorrow and suffering. There were times he wished he had died the day he dove into that quarry near the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. But after long and trying months of healing and therapy in three hospitals, he came home. Home was a handicap-accessible house in Burke, Virginia to which God sovereignly led he and my parents; a home that Benny and I raised our children in before our move to Orlando in 2000.

Randy with us at our wedding in March 1973.

Once Randy was home I laughed and cried more than I had in my previous 17 years combined. One morning I heard his voice over the intercom:  “Sheree, you home?”  Mom had left early that morning for an appointment so his normal morning routine had been delayed. “Yeah, I’m here; what ‘cha need?” “I need some help, sis. Can’t seem to get one foot in front of the other this mornin’,” he responded. I chuckled and told him I would be right there. Then I sat on my bed and cried. My big brother couldn’t even get out of bed alone…Then there was the day he asked me to take him to the mall. Me, the little sister who had only been driving a year, was now transporting him around in a large converted van with a wheelchair loading ramp. We made it to Springfield Mall and I rolled Randy onto the ramp, then into the mall. Not long after we started looking for the stores Randy wanted to visit, laughter broke out and it was coming from HIM! With his head leaned back and his mouth wide open, guffaws were flowing. But the laugh wasn’t his. It hit me. Randy had brought the laughing box!In a successful attempt to embarrass his baby sister, Randy had asked Mom to tuck a small box he found in a toy store into his jacket pocket. Because he could move his arms (but not his hands) Mom positioned it perfectly to allow him to hit it with his elbow at just the  right time.People stared enough back then when a teenaged girl pushed a paralyzed guy not much older than herself around in public. (This was before handicapped access and parking spots allowed wheelchairs to move freely in public places.) But then the laughing started. Loud laughing. Hilarious laughing. Laughing that went on and on. Needless to say, the stares increased. But before long, onlookers were chuckling. I don’t know if they were more humored by Randy, or by the clear embarrassment of the girl pushing him. But I cherish that memory to this day.

That day my laughter once again turned to tears. I went home and cried again. You see, Randy had pleaded with God to heal him. He even made a costly out-of-state trip with Mom to have a well-known evangelist pray for him. But his healing was not to be on this earth.

Rather than become bitter and angry at God’s apparent unresponsiveness to his suffering, Randy chose another road. He applied for a training school and became one of the first quadriplegic computer programmers hired by the Navy. He invited a fellow “quad” he met in the training school to come home with him to share his room in our basement.  Eddie became a beloved part of our family and is one of my Facebook friends today. Randy learned to “do wheelies” on the sidewalk in front of our house; contributed generously from his hard earned money to help Benny with church youth group projects; hosted lots of parties in our basement; and mentored and became a hero to our younger brother, Jon.

The day he died was one of the saddest of my life. I lost a brother and friend; someone who knew how to make me (and everyone!) laugh through suffering and perplexity. But I didn’t lose his godly example, which remains with me till this day. Randy was far from perfect. During his young adult years he did things he regretted that left Mom facing many sleepless nights. And there was the time when I was about eleven that he demanded I iron his pants — then nearly thrust my head into our aquarium when I refused. I did end up ironing those pants.

His suffering ended on September 27, 1975. I’m grateful that my brother had a relationship with Jesus Christ that was tested and proven during the six long years he spent in a wheelchair having to rely on others to do everything for him.

But laugh.

I was surprised to find THE laughing box on google images. Brings back great memories.

Today I ordered something online. Shhh. Don’t tell anyone in my family. Who knows when and where it’s gonna show up?

It’s in honor of Randy. The first person to teach me that “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope (Romans 5: 3-4).