pocket truths for one year of loss

Life prevails over death. This is the hope of Christ's resurrection. He brings new things. There may be seasons of darkness and death but LIFE reigns.

Life is victorious. We begin as dust and our bodies thrive. Then bodies wither and eventually return to dust. My father's ashes will forever be washed away in the ocean sand. Yet that is not the end. Christ once and for all defeated death and that means there is always a way for new life to form.

There is however a death that must occur. A repentance, a changing in my deeply ingrained reality that I am and will always be a victim. That my circumstances will overcome me. That I am only a mourner. Only His revelation can do this and my "putting it into practice" so to speak. I worked with young women in England this past year where I taught them: "life is half of what happens to you and the other half is what you do with it." I must eat my own words. The great power of Christ's resurrection has only just begun to be opened to me.

Although I believe in taking the Word in its context (in this case Romans is one of the best books you could want to study), this statement has much deeper meaning..."This happened because Abraham believed in the God who brings the dead back to life and who brings into existence what did not exist before." (Rom 4:17).

This does not mean that hardship and death and loss will perish in this present time. No, not at all. But with it comes the promise that the story is not finished. It is just the pause, the comma, the sigh between the sentence, the "if" before the "but."

But the BUT does come.

Life and hope prevail because of Christ's resurrection and restorative power. Ask Him for yourself what the power of resurrection means.

I love you papa and I miss you deeper than I can ever express

Your and my Story continues...

smudge

There can be nothing more bizarre than carrying one's dead body through an airport in the form of ashes. I never knew a body in a box could be so heavy. Remarkably the weight of loss is far more agonizing.

The image that could not be amputated from my imagination was me physically dragging my fathers dead body up to the baggage check in; "yes, ma-am one bag to check. Oh dont mind him, he's coming as my carry on." Then limping along through security showing the death certificate and asking, "is it okay if he doesnt go through the x-ray check? I promise im not smuggling anything." Then finally on the plane the lovely flight attendant warmly reminds us to "securely stow all items in the overhead bins or underneath the seat in front of you." Realizing that his body is far to big to fit in either spot I neatly contort my father's dead body to "securely" fit under the seat. Candidly, this left little room for my feet.

This twistedly humorous and nauseating picture branded itself on my eyeballs through the entire flight to NC. Everyday i imagined my fathers dead body resting silently in my room as I slept. On the last day when aunty and I hiked out to a beautiful cove beside the ocean, father's body finally looked like ashes to me.

It is a bizarre thing to spread one's ashes in the ocean. Inexplicably it is also a beginning of an end...


Bodies. Dead bodies.
Chafed cheeks do not absorb the tears.
Cold. Rigid. Skin.
Skin dissolves to Ashes
Ashes heavy and dark.
Beauty from ashes?
Not quite yet