Not Prepared for THAT

I just read a report by one of my oldest friends. He and his wife were prepared to bring a new face into their homes and open their lives up to a precious one who needed a fair amount of love, time and attention.

They were ready, willing, able and anxious. And then it sort of fell apart. Bureaucratic red tape just sucks golf balls through garden hoses. What took them months of preparing, writing and praying literally fell apart in a matter of days. Only in America.

And my thoughts also rest on Ty. Yesterday would have been his 16th birthday. This is his mom's first Christmas without him. Of course she is still dealing with those grief echoes. I love hearing people tell me how to work through grief. Like there is a 14 step guide to dealing with grief (maybe Rick Warren can find forty unrelated verses taken out of context about grief, mourning, death, life, heaven, grace and mercy and write the latest trend-setting book about purpose-driven grieving). Many of my teenagers are also dealing with with Ty's empty chair right now as well.

And I think about Bone's group out there in Owasso, dealing with the death of a friend. After thinking about these things, I remembered someone talking on some talk show about how the American way of life does not teach us to deal with death, loss and grief at all. Those are three things that are in total opposition to what we as American's strive for. We are never really taught how to handle loss. We are never really exposed to those death, gut-wrenching, stomach-punches to our souls. The real problem is that nobody even tries. We can't so we don't.

I wonder if back in the times when people wrote on scrolls and not online if they had these same problems. Death was probably so common to them. Loss and hurt, frequent. I am sure they had a better grasp on it then we do. Then I do.

The worst part of my thinking: the only way to get better at it, to get a handle on it, is to go through it. So as I look at my ailing grandmother who may not make it to a new year, I remember back to holding her hand as she cried over my dad's (her son's) casket. That is sobering. To hear your grandmother tell you how you shouldn't be able to outlive your children. And I think about Korey's honesty to look God square in the eyes as he burns with a rage and a frustration that I have never really felt. And I know God honors our honesty. I know God walks with us.

But to quote Calvin (the boy with the stuffed tiger not the reformer) "either death is mean or it's arbitrary." So God, remind me that loss and hurt and pain and grief and tears are not arbitrary. Help me think that it is just not "my turn at mourny-go-round." Be with Korey as he bears his wounded soul when he comes into your throne-room. I would have already worn out my welcome there if I was in his shoes. I can barely handle a simple drive down I-30, let alone dealing with the anchors weighing his soul down. My heart flies its flag at half mast for him.

Give us rest. Give us peace. And an answer would be great every once in a while too. Boy, would an answer be nice.