Being Rescued

Three weeks into the grief and loss class I have reached a point in which I will attempt to explain using the following analogy of 9/11.

9/11 began as a normal day. People going through their routines and going to work. Minds on Starbucks and reports due, meetings, and client requests. When all of a sudden the trajedy strikes. Our physical world is shaken to the core and those that survived, did just that - survived. Using survival methods. Not thinking of the pain, but of one goal - get out of here and quickly. Then came the second wave of people. The rescuers. These rescuers went into the fire, the rubble, the towers, the danger, the mist of hell and to core of the towers to free and bring comfort to individuals trapped, injured, etc.. The rescue workers provided oxygen, manpower, lifted men and women to saftey - basically, did anything and everything possible to keep life and safety to those that needed it, without hesitation, without second guessing the danger and possiblity of risks. It was the job that they had signed up to do. It was the job they knew one day could require of them their very lives. And today we have a memorial honoring those that perished that day, both regular employees of the towers and rescue workers that risked it all. Among uniformed rescuers, there were additinoal rescuers that did not have the traditional uniform, but wore their trade uniform - priest collars or suit and ties. People helping people in the time of need and survival, humanity came to help and serve each other.

Even though in the past week I was feeling like I was sucker punched in the stomach and the rug got pulled under me, I still was able to feel like I was in the process of being rescued. Feeling needed again is a lifeline to anyone. Feeling cared for by being able to share in the grief and loss class. Feeling the Word of God permeate through my heart when I read and understand that it is ok to live again, that it is ok to dream again, and today, I have given myself permission to love again. Today, I am free to dance again. Today, I'm free to run again.

Now, let's make this clear - I still have my battle wounds. But in recovery, being able to think differently is a great step forward. Because that battle is in the mind. Now back to the analogy.

Who are the rescuers?

Well, God is the ultimate rescuer. But I have to acknowledge those he has sent along my path to guide me through. You see being rescued from the very towers of 9/11 required more than 1 person, it required groups, troops, squads. For those severly injured, it required lots of manpower and time. I have not been able to get here on my own. I am ever indebited to my church family, a genuine group of unselfish uncanny admirable honorable young and old people who just care to love and love to care. In the process of my tragedy, these group of people, called by God, that I dearly love have picked me up and taken me to safety. Some have breathed life into me by their very words of encouragement. Some have put bandaids on my scars. Some have helped clean up the flesh wounds and some have held my hand while The Surgeon fixes the broken pieces, and some help me through the therapy. All wear different 'uniforms' in life, but like the picture above, all have one common goal: to rescue.

I have come to realize that being rescued means that there is hope. That there is a light at the end of this tunnel. That as I reached my hand out and cried for help, God heard me and answerd my cry for help. He came to my rescue. The weight of grief and loss becomes bareable and almost livable. Moving forward and onward doesn't sound like such a dreadful phase anymore, but a welcomed opportunity to try again.

Agape Love (God's kind of Love) has rescued me. My God and my brothers and sisters in Christ have come to my rescue with almost a militant attitude: leaving no one behind. save all. rescue all. We stand together. We stand strong. We are family.

My church family built a safety net, whether they know it or not, to allow an easy emotional transition into normalcy. I talk about being back to 'normal' as if it were something new. It is. Being shaken off your boots, while still in them is no easy task - and yet wee were shaken causing me to live in a daze and going day by day seeing days pass me by, not realizing what hit me. The world has stopped. Period. I have finally come to the understanding that losing a loved one, whether by death or divorce is serious business, and ironically, both share the same symptoms.

I have also come to the understanding that in life, there are rescuers and there are standby's. Those who watch from the sideline and simply pray all is well. And there are those who have been called to rescue - those who understand the mandate of love, and loving God's people with that love that just permeates Jesus.
Those - those, my friends, are the ones that lock arms and pick u up by your belt straps, cut the roof of the house, and bring you  inside the house where Jesus is. These friends, brothers and sisters, have led me to Jesus. And it's in Jesus that I can breathe again, live again, dream again, and love again.

What are you? Are you a rescuer or a standby? Today, consider loving God's people the way He loves you, loving your neighbor as thyself.

#graceandpeace