It has been a little over two years since I jumped on this blog. So long, in fact, that it took me almost 30 minutes to get signed back in, because I couldn't remember what e-mail address I used for this blog, much less the password. Technology is hard.
I'm not sure why I felt the urge to get back on tonight. My gut tells me that this time of year just does that to me. It used to make me sad, now it has more notes of nostalgia, but significantly more joy than it used to. Writing used to be the way I expressed feelings I couldn't get out.. there were things I could express in writing that I could not express even with years of therapy, or my incredible friends, or any other coping mechanism I tried. Loss, Grief, and Trauma, were just that hard. If you're new here, and want to read more in the backstory, feel free to scroll back. This blog contains many, many years of subjective writing losing a friend to murder at 17, with several very important losses in life within the next 5 years. I've never gone back and read those, so good luck. The good news is, if you don't care about that.. this one stands beautifully all on it's own, and it's definitely not because of anything I did.
This blog didn't start out as a grief blog, but the more I wrote, the more people I met, the more I listened, the more I realized it's a gigantic, overwhelming feeling, that can almost never be put into words. It's full of weight, and yet somehow totally invisible and incomprehensible. It's something that I felt like I would feel the rest of my life- both good and bad. I feel very drawn to those that are grieving, because of those who were drawn to me. I feel comfortable in the hurt, pain, and silence, just as did those who sat with me.
I assumed that, while they would diminish, many of those effects would be with me for the rest of my life. I have an entire bachelor's degree in this type of thing - brain development, systems theory, affects of various life events on the brain. All that jazz. I assumed it was part of who I was. I assumed these things may someday become minimal, but not non-existent, because I know how the brain works. (I'll go ahead and give you a little hint, anytime I think I know how something works, I'm usually wrong.) I (correctly) also assumed that these effects would be seated comfortably between larger, joyful, more meaningful events with time; earning my doctorate, being blessed with a handful of life long friends, buying my own home.. think potato chips between your couch cushions type relationship. Life goes on, right?
But, God.
For the last 13 years (since Brenna dying) I have joyfully (mostly) explored my faith, explored the character of God, and explored a relationship with Jesus Christ. (best idea ever. 10/10 would recommend) I have fallen in love with reading the bible, studying it, and learning more about each individual story and character. I was baptized (for the second time) in 2022, because I decided that I wanted a life that was dedicated to Jesus Christ, no matter what that meant. Those little potato chips seemed mostly in my past, and I felt confident in the incredible work that God was able to accomplish in my life, and the lives of those in my community, through a horrifying, heartbreaking tragedy. I had even gotten both 'for such a time as this' and 'hallelujah anyway' tattooed on my body, as they are my reminders that my will, plans, and ideas for my life is really not all that important. I continue(d) to grow in my faith, my knowledge of the bible, and grow more in love with Jesus Christ. I slowly turned the unpleasant memories from that day into a narrative about how incredible God is. (see me for the full story on this, it's a whole new blog post, or a book.)
Despite miraculous healing and strength given to me only by Jesus, there was one thing I continued to struggle with. Toward the middle of 2023, I started having difficulties with disassociation. I found them to be mostly related to the events of Brenna's death, like hearing a helicopter, the rushing water of a creek, caution tape.. you get the picture. I would feel myself 'check out' for various amounts of time, just to avoid that particular unpleasant memory. They felt so unpredictable, especially since they didn't start until a decade after her death. Bizarre. (Or is it?). But they were exhausting, mentally, physically, and emotionally.
Last July, my sweet friend Cortney convinced me to attend Women's Encounter, a women's conference held 3x per year in Salina, Kansas. Cortney is one of the people I trust the very most in my entire life, and I think I genuinely believed she was nuts when she asked me to go. I had so many brilliant reasons for not going; I do not stay the night well in new places, I do not like the unknown, and I do not like any potential opportunity that might make me, even momentarily, the center of attention. Cortney knows all of this, and she knows the deepest parts of my heart. How she convinced me to attend this conference, I still have no idea. (Well, I do, but you get the point)
Friday night went significantly smoother than I anticipated it going, albeit a bit nerve wracking at times. True to her word, Cortney did not leave my side. We worshipped, had dinner, and I had a Dr. Pepper, so nothing to complain about there. I didn't sleep much the first night, because new places are hard, but I had my favorite blanket, my favorite stuffed animal, and my trusted human in the bunk right next to me. (Another round of applause for the steadfast, trustworthy friend that Cortney is to me)
Saturday morning, as I feared, I felt myself start to sink out of reality when a particular worship song came on. My counselor and I had worked on grounding techniques, so I headed back to our cabin to retrieve my blanket, and see if that helped. I'll spare you the story of the next few hours, but it was the most intense spiritual warfare I've ever experienced in my life. I was surrounded by women who prayed over me intently, and guided me through a series of flashbacks, but for the first time, helped me to take control and then hand it directly to Jesus. And in that handoff, I felt years of weight, of pain, of sleepless nights, of fear, anger, and control, lift off of me in one fluid motion. I felt like I had lost weight. Similar to the previous flashbacks I had had, I was exhausted. I felt like I had worked a 40 hour week in pediatrics with a full moon in a few short Saturday morning hours. But differently... I wasn't tired at all. I just had joy.
One of the hang ups with Jesus I didn't even know I had until I went to Encounter was that, in my years of learning about Christ through trauma and hardship, I felt so different from those around me because [in my subjective and naive thoughts], I didn't do anything wrong. I felt like I watched women around me learn that Jesus washes away every sin they ever have committed, and makes them new... but I didn't understand that. I came to Jesus out of pure desperation, and pain, and having nowhere else to turn, because no human being was going to fix the windstorm that felt like my life at that time. It wasn't my fault someone killed my friend. It wasn't my fault it was horrifying and traumatizing. It wasn't my fault I couldn't do my college years normally because I was afraid of anything and everything. It wasn't my fault the losses and funerals just felt like they kept coming. There cannot be reconciliation for God and I when I never did anything wrong. *Side note; I have many faults, and the Lord graciously shows them to me, and works on them in me. I am simply saying that for the context of this one, particular, hang up with God, I felt strongly as though I didn't contribute to anything that needed reconciled*.
But then I realized, that doesn't matter. It doesn't have to be something that I did. It doesn't have to be my mistake. It doesn't have to be about me at all. It doesn't have to be something that's over.. it can be something that still very well underway.
What if I told you that Jesus could heal the hurt someone else did 'to' you?
What if I told you Jesus could wash over your overwhelming, day to day, panic and anxiety, even though it doesn't stem from anything specific, (or even if it does)?
What if I told you that the diagnosis you received.. wasn't an end all, be all?
What if I told you that Jesus could bring unexplainable peace about the broken relationship with a parent, even without healing the relationship itself?
What if I told you that Jesus could heal every single thing that is not of God? Do you know how long of a list that is? Mine's long. I've got a lot of flaws, y'all.
Quick side note; if you do not know God well, or at all, when I say 'of God', I mean the way He intended for life to be. I firmly believe that God created me, and every single thing in my life. He placed me in this state, in this time period, at this job, with these people. He intended for me to follow Him, and be near to Him at all times, not because He is a God of pride or arrogance, believing He is better than everyone, but because He is my Creator, and He knows what is best for me in all times and in all situations. Period.
Life on this earth is never going to be pain-free. Ever. We will always have loss, hurt, and grief, in so many different contexts.
What if I told you that the Creator of the Universe, the same Creator who created and knit you together, has already given you a gift that takes away your deepest, darkest pain?
Walking with Christ in freedom is something that I can't put into words. And I really, really like trying to put things into words. I just want to be a walking informercial for Jesus, like the kind from the 90's where everyone yelled about whatever they were selling. I'd love that. My friend Kayla told me last July, "Man girl. Freedom looks good on you."
And I just want to share it, with everyone, all the time.
Free, Indeed.
.
