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

Grief and then some....

Ref: Wikipedia

grief/grēf/Noun


1. Deep sorrow, esp. that caused by someone's death.

2. Trouble or annoyance
 
Grief is not a nice word, nor is it a nice act caused by someone else and inflicted on oneself. Grief is a dirty job. During these past few weeks, my pastor (Steve Alessi) has preached a series on Dirty Jobs. One of those "dirty jobs"  included encouraging each other. It's tiring to be encouraging everyone all day long, but the word is clear on encouraging our brothers and sisters.
 
I would submit that grieving is also a dirty job, but each one of us have, will, or currently is grieving.
To love is to be vulnerable to the statement of death. Death never comes at the 'right' time, but it comes. It comes when we love the most - a force to be reckoned with.
 
I found myself in the student's seat as I took part in a grief & loss counseling session. I'm used to being the counselor, so this was very new to me. I was asked a question: What have I learned from the grieving process. For some strange reason, unbeknowest to me, I fell apart - in front of people. For a quick minute I had to gather my thoughts, my composure. As we temporarily passed to the next person, I realized one thing that I  had yet realized: I was grieving.
 
For the first time in my life, being 30+ now, I was grieving like I had lost my son. Aha! I did lose my son. And I had dreams of what our live would be together, I had hopes for him, ones that I would help him reach. I wanted to love him so bad like I hadn't been loved by my own father. I wanted to be a Dad. This was a moment I had been praying for and there I stood holding my baby son in my arms, praying, and giving him over to God.
 
The therapist shared with me the 4 stages of grieving.
 
1. Denial
2. Angry
3. Negotations (w/ God)
4. Acceptance
 
I had accepted little David Alexander's death, and I still do. But the therapist said that sometimes in acceptance we still feel like we were uprooted and shaken to our bones. And we ask ourselves: now what? What now? Where do we go from here?
Our yesterday - what we thought was our normal life, is not so normal anymore. We have a new normal. This normal requires of us alot more strenght, alot more prayer, alot more of alot more.
 
And to my surprise - it's all normal. We all grieve differently.
 
Frankly, the plan that was laid out in front of me was taken from under me. Like a confused child, I sometimes just sit and ask: now what? where do I go from here? This wasn't part of the plan.
 
To my felllow reader, I ask that you do not become super religious on me and begin quoting scriptures... not that it doesn't help, because it does help - alot! But, my writing this today is not necessarily meant for you, it's for me. It's me acknowledging, for the first time, that I loved my baby and I miss him. I wish I could've had a life with him and I wish that my wife didn't have to go through all the pain.
 
Nevertheless, we understand that there's a sovereign God who does whatever He wants, because He can - and you know what, I don't mind, better Him than me. But I need to add something that I have learned along the way.
 
There are some friends that have been able to muster up the courage to embrace us and others who have shy'd away. A few have said that they just don't know what to say. Here's a hint: don't say anything. A simple call to say that you are here for us. A simple squeeze on the shoulder says more than your perfect words will ever transmit. People grieving don't need to hear about love, they need to be shown love. This is action time, not talking time. This is where the rubber meets the road: "love your neighbor as thyself. Encourage one another."
 
So while there are some 'friends' and 'family' that have yet to call in the past 3 months, I understand it's hard to talk about. But you need to know, it's good for anyone who has lost someone to talk about the loss. We all know people grieving in our work places, churches, schools, etc... Let's reach out. Please be an adult, a Christian, a loving and mature person to come up to the one grieving and embrace us and don't forget about us!
 
I'm not necessarily talking about my personal experience, but I've heard close 'friends' say that talking about death is a difficult conversation. Let me change your perspective in this manner. First, if you lost someone, you'd want people to build you up, not keep you in your suffering. So do it others, as you would like it to be done unto thee. Secondly, that's a really lame excuse. If you're really my friend and you see my pain, you better muster up some courage and faith and embrace me. I expect that as my friend. Unfortunately, I've had to downgrade some 'close' relationships because they are too scared to talk about the inevitable. Thirdly, I do not like to talk about death, but about life! Come beside me and help me celebrate life!
 
I know i'm using 'me' as if I'm asking for you to embrace me personally. But I feel like today, I write on behalf of those grieving and I joined the club as the Advocate. The heart of the grieving person says: Love on me. Support me. Encourage me while I grieve. Walk this with me. Don't leave me here doing this alone.
 
My friends and family, Go - love someone grieving. Show them the Jesus in you and remind us (grieving folk) what it is to be the body of Christ.
 
Finally, I have to honestly admit that my own church, Metro Life Church, has been the best embrace, support, encouragement, and cares enough for me and those grieving to take care of our hearts and provide a Christian therapist. That's church ya'll! That's Jesus.
 
So today, I ask: Do you know someone who grieves? Reach out to them, with love, not just biblical scriptures. Embrace. Pray. Love.  Above all is else is love.
Listen, we are all vulnerable - love is. This should be our new normal.
 
As Iron Sharpens Iron. Truly. 'Enough said.