My dear friend hands me a book. These Strange Ashes by Elisabeth Elliot "Elisabeth's Faith Lessons of Her First Year as a Missionary." When reading that description, I had to chuckle at first. My circumstances are "filthy rags" compared to the noble calling and work of a missionary. It reminded me of a time in 2012 when I was given Jesus Calling by a friend whose spouse was dying of cancer. Again, my losses could not be compared to the loss of life, especially of a life that was lived so evidently for Jesus. However, it did give me an evidence that I was being seen. That something in my story was identifiable with another's story. There is a common thread in suffering, and even more so for those that suffer with a hope.
"Strange Ashes" is a fitting title for the paradoxal space I am in. And the opening of the book states this, "Over forty years have passed since this took place. Nearly every time I have told it and tried to explain what I think God wanted to teach me in it..., someone has asked, 'but why did God let it happen?' Someday they and I will be satisfied with His answer. Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God's story never ends with 'ashes.'
The Immense Weight of Loss and Blessing
The intensity and unpredictability over the last few years has not left much time for reflection. There is always something left to be done, an overlapping of all the to do's, and the clatter of chatter on the outside of pressing needs, and on the inside of where I am not measuring up. But I receive these pockets of time, reflection, and I become overwhelmed with the magnitude of it all. And a mental pendulum swings from all that is wrong and all that is right.I stare into the face of this titanic wreckage that addiction has left for me and my family. I can emotionally drown in the sea of loss and grief. This was not my dream. This was not the purpose God intended for me. I am not enough. I never will be enough. And now, My children are being isolated with a woman that is crumbling under it all. I can't shield them from the affects of addiction on our family, and I can't protect them from the obvious affects it has had on me. And it doesn't matter the subject (addiction, financial loss, mental illness, health crisis, unexpected change), this thought process always leads to the same destination...Why? Why me? Why now? Why are we here again? Why not a miracle?
“To be a follower of the Crucified means, sooner or later, a personal encounter with the Cross. And THE CROSS ALWAYS ENTAILS LOSS.”
– Elisabeth Elliot
The baby steps of sharing my story began. When I felt uncomfortable in my community of what seemed like all "normal families," the same, wise friend who gave me the book challenged me to have a brief explanation of our family circumstances. The regular banter at social functions was difficult for me because I didn't want to overcome "light hearted" conversation with something heavy, but I also wanted to be authentic. That approach opened unexpected doors. It kept conversation moving when needed, but also lead me to people that discovered similarities in our stories. I was seen, but not a spotlight.
God was so good in allowing me to test the waters of truth, community, connection, authenticity, trust, and humility...because my deep dive into my faith was on the horizon. And when I did take that plunge...I received a fire hose of grace.
A foreclosure property had been purchased eight months earlier. There were high hopes for the outcome of the house, the outcome of my marriage, and the outcome of our family as we made Georgia our home. When the girls and I moved into the house last month, however, the house seemed a perfect symbol for what the year 2020 was turning out to be.
But then...
A deluge of people showed up at my door (literally.) It started with my campground community...and you travelers know there is no community like a campground community. The campground that became my refuge as I experienced the twist and turns of His plans. I joke that this landing pad became the location God chose for my spiritual whiplash. But I did not experience it alone. And those forever friends walked right alongside me into a home that required the sacrifice of their time, and their energy, and their finances. And, I even got to make a new forever friend that my children and I now have cherished memories with.
But it did not stop there, my story was being shared with others in my faith community. And the abundance overflowed. Meals began being delivered to my home. This was the third Sunday that I left church with a bounty of someone else's time and effort. There have not been many days that the girls and I have not had a visitor over the last month, either to take a measurement, drop off a meal, bring furniture, or to offer a construction skill or expertise. And then the events that I will fondly call construction parties...where my house has been full of self-sacrificing, hard working people that came to offer their time, finances, energy, love, skills, and knowledge.
And in those pockets of time of reflection, I am overcome. And I have to ask Why? Why me? Why now? Why am I blessed again an again? Why such a miracle?
And the weight of it all baffles me. I do not deserve any of it. I didn't do anything to cause addiction to overtake my family. I didn't deserve the suffering that comes from the disease of addiction . I didn't do anything to deserve grace. I didn't do anything to deserve the love and the people and bountiful blessings either. But God is in it all. He is working it all out to complete a great work. A great work that is His design. And, I am left with a bowed head, and a heart being reshaped, and I can only whisper "thy will be done."
A Hope and a Future
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11
When I read the book of Jeremiah and the context of this verse, I despised seeing it on a sticker or casually hung as a house decoration. I would think to myself, does anyone realize what had to happen to the people of Israel before this verse came to fruition. I think I will pass on the prospering, and hope and a glorious future. "Just okay" sounds good enough for me. But now I see this verse in a whole new way. God is still at work. And the prospering, and the protection, and provision, and the hope, and the future are all intertwined in the happenings of before, now, and after. I had to be brought to the end of me. My children had to witness the end of me. And now they get to live in the house that love built. They have a living testimony at a young age that God is their provider. And in this paradoxal, upside down, "every day is opposite day" journey of faith, they have an eye-witness account that "His ways are not our ways." That just when "it looks like the story is over, it has really just begun."
The Most Unexpected, Precious Gift
Acts 4:32 All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had.
If I were writing on paper, you would see the tear drops smudging the ink. I did not receive the miracle that I so desperately desired for my family. I will continue to pray for it. But I did receive a miracle in each and every one of you. The overflowing, overwhelming, abundant gift of connection.
This is the house that love built. The memories that are being made here, were not what I thought they would be. But I can walk through every room of my home, and recall people, conversations, funny mishaps, struggles, triumphs, Jesus.
I was embarrassed, grieved, and in need, and honestly completely dumbfounded by the immense construction work that needed to be done. You wrote me a check, handed over a credit card, brought me food, loved on my children, hauled in donations, poured sweat into my home, taught me, worked when I couldn't, and worked alongside me encouraging me. And we had great conversations, and I got to know you, and heard your stories, and you listened to mine. And my grief lifted, and I was no longer embarrassed, and the differences in our family, socioeconomic, social, or age dynamics did not matter. You are now my friend. And I cannot wait to work alongside you again as Jesus calls us accordingly.
But these strange ashes, Lord,
this nothingness,
This baffling sense of loss?
Son, was the anguish of my
stripping less
Upon the torturing
cross?
Was I not brought
into the dust of death,
A worm and no man,
I;
Yea, turned to ashes
by the vehement breath
Of fire, on Calvary?
O Son beloved, this
is thy heart’s desire:
This, and no other
thing
Follows the fall of
Consuming Fire
On the burnt
offering.
Go on and taste the
joy set high, afar –
No joy like that to
thee;
See how it lights
the way like some great star.
Come now, and follow
Me.
– Amy Carmichael
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