Death and Taxes

Happy Tax Day. As I type, I am listening to a song by Natalie Grant called "Held." It is a song that I was introduced to last summer when I was tracking with the life, struggle with cancer, and eventual death of sweet Joseph Peabody, the 4-year-old son of a college friend of mine.

Our family has been through the ringer over the past month. We lost Donny's Grandmother Levi on March 16. Last Saturday, April 11, we lost Donny's Grandmother Friederichsen to a very quick battle with cancer. She was diagnosed less than a month ago. We have been faced with death so much in the last month. Donny performed both funerals. I sang in Grandmother Friederichsen's funeral on Monday. We both played integral roles in both funerals and have carried a large part of the spiritual and emotional burden for the family. It has been a hard month.

I believe with all my heart in God's sovereignty. I also believe right now that His sovereignty often hurts. It is still for my good and for his glory...but it often hurts. I just got word today that another friend we knew in college and here in Orlando just lost a baby in her 34th week of pregnancy. I thought mourning the loss of our grandmothers was hard...but to mourn the loss of a child never known...I can't imagine.

I am not sure why I feel compelled to blog about these hard things. I guess the saying goes that the two things we can count on in life are death and taxes. We got our taxes done in January. So here I am trying to work through death.

Here are the lyrics to the chorus of Held:
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held

Donny's Grandmothers were a treasure to me. I lost my Grandmother in 2005...it feels like longer, because my Grandmother had had Alzheimers since 2001. Donny's grandmothers brought me in as their own. I called both of them "Grandmother" and meant it with the same love and connection that I did my own Grandmother. As the song says, the sacred does get torn from our lives, and we survive...and I need to know that I am held through it...that the sovereign arms of my heavenly Father, through whom these circumstances first passed, are the same arms that hold me today. We are trying to pick up the pieces from our very hard month. I have loads of laundry, piles of papers, and inherited pots, pans, and other miscellaneous items to wade through...right now, they are reminders of the chaos and brokenness.

I was out on my porch this afternoon, sitting still for as long as I could (which wasn't long), and I asked God: "As I endure these things that you have allowed, would you help me not miss you in them?" All I want to do is put the pieces back together. I need to care more about my broken heart right now than my broken house...I pray I will be faithful to give God a glance here and there as I cope...because only in his arms will I find peace and healing in the hurt.