A GRIEVING MOM VIEWS "THE SHACK"

As someone who has suffered the loss of a child (in my case 2 children) I approach such movies with caution. Will I come away with an uplifting message or will my grief be exacerbated?

It helped that I had read the book several years ago, so I knew what to expect from the plot. The father of a murdered child receives a mysterious invitation to return the scene of the crime—a shack in the woods where he encounters the holy trinity. In the movie the father, Mack, is played by Sam Worthington, and God the father “Papa” is played by Octavia Spencer. Jesus, who is played by Aviv Alush, is a closer biblical match with his dark hair and beard, and the Holy Spirit, played by actress Samire Matsubara, manages to be both earthy and ethereal at the same time.

The over-riding theme is forgiveness. Mack must learn to forgive the murderer in order to free himself from the anger that grips his heart. I am no stranger to anger, but I have come to realize that it is a normal part of the grieving process.

After our Jarrod’s death we met with the young man who accidentally shot him. We told him that we forgave him and that we were praying for him. Forgiving him was a conscious choice that we made, and it is correctly portrayed in the movie as a difficult process.  But our job of forgiving is much easier than the parent who loses a child to a deliberate act of violence. It is my hope that this movie speaks to them in a positive way.

Cancer took our other son, Chris. How do you forgive a disease? Does it go back to Adam and Eve and their original act of defiance that introduced sin in the world? Most biblical scholars say so. Cancer is a by product of a fallen world. How do you forgive God for allowing a teenager to die?

This issue is addressed in the movie when Mack becomes angry with Papa, not understanding how She could allow his innocent child to die. Oh how many of us have had that conversation with God!

This scene with Mack yelling at God and storming off the porch was very validating for me. It tells me that it is okay to get angry with God. People in intimate relationships do get angry. I think that is why grieving parents sometimes hate it when people say “It was God’s will” or “They’re in a better place.” The message is don’t get angry—just accept. Well, like Mack, we aren’t always ready to do that, and God understands.

Papa’s response was to keep loving Mack through his anger. Her answer is that God doesn’t promise to fix everything. He does promise, however, that He will never leave us. He reminds us that we can’t see the big picture, and that He can create good from evil. Papa encourages Mack to trust Her.

Another theme in the movie is that God can manifest himself in any form. In the Old Testament he appears as pillar of fire to guide the Israelites through the dessert, and later, as a burning bush. So why not a 40-something African American woman? Omniscience can coexist with warmth and humor.

How many of us have had encounters that we cannot explain? Perhaps someone appeared out of nowhere when we were desperate for help, or we received a unique sign from our departed loved one. Our Chris is fond of sending feathers. He certainly couldn’t do that without God’s cooperation. The movie lends credence to the endless possibilities of the divine.

So what was the hardest part of the movie for me? It was the scene where Mack is allowed to gaze through a waterfall and glimpse his daughter frolicking happily in heaven. One peek at my boys enjoying eternity would energize my soul for years to come! Please please, somebody take me to that waterfall! I sat in the theater, tears in my eyes, like a slighted child, murmuring “No fair.”

And that is always the risk when we encounter heaven through the eyes of Hollywood. The loose ends are usually tied up much neater than they are in real life. Overall, as a grieving Christian, I found that the movie did not stray from my basic biblical beliefs, and it tickled my imagination reminding me that God is always with me, but not always in ways that I can fathom.

A PEACE THAT SURPASSES ALL UNDERSTANDING

Peace is really all that most of us want. But what is peace? Is it getting what we want? Is it freedom from anxiety? Is it the certainty that everything will work out eventually? Is it knowing that we are right where we are supposed to be, doing what we are supposed to be doing?

Getting that job, the nice house, the achievement award—those all produced only temporary peace for me. How about you? Soon the job was stressful, the house needed repair, and the award got dusty. There was always something more that I wanted. I just wasn't sure what it was.

Phil 4:6: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Jesus Christ."

When my teenager, Chris, was enduring lengthy cancer treatments I felt a certain sense of peace just being in the hospital playroom, playing bumper pool with him. (He used to call me "Mrs. Bumperdoodles".) In that situation my sense of peace came from knowing that I was meant to be Chris's mom, and while I didn't know why he had to get cancer, I felt in my heart that we were predestined to spend those precious times together.

Chris's sense of peace on his deathbed was a life-changing experience for me. "Don't worry about me, Mom, "Jesus is coming, and I'll be fine." His peace truly had transcended any understanding that I'd had up until that point in my life. At the time I wasn't a bible reader. I hadn't given Chris any scripture or any pearls of Godly wisdom. His peace had come from outside of our earthly realm.

I have shared that story many times. I am still in awe of how the Lord allowed my dying son to witness to me. 


After Chris died alcohol gave me a form of peace. The warm glow spread throughout my body and dulled my senses. At first, anything seemed possible. Those of us who have battled addictions know what it is like to return again and again to  a chemical peace, a false spirituality. What seemed like freedom at first eventually became a prison.


When I finally surrendered to a loving twelve step group, the sense of peace I felt was overwhelming. Here was a bunch of people who understood me better than anyone else, and they did it with true unconditional love. They talked about a higher power that gave them peace. It started me on a quest to find that loving God. In the years following Chris's death I started studying the bible and sharing my growing faith with Chris's younger brother, Jarrod.

Jarrod, like me, was always and outside the box kind of person. He had a gifted IQ, but hated school. Unlike his older sister, who thrived in school, Jarrod had trouble conforming and ended up finishing online. But during those sometimes troubling years Jarrod and I became very close, and he trusted me enough to confide in me and ask for my advice on matters of the heart. "Do you think I said the right thing, Mom?" He'd ask after sharing a conversation he'd had with his girlfriend.

My heart would swell with love and pride when Jarrod and I had those conversations. I could see the man that Jarrod was striving to be. Once again, I felt a tremendous sense of peace knowing that I was fulfilling my God-given motherly role.

When Jarrod was 19 he and some friends, who were all  under the influence, got in trouble with the law. As as a result, Jarrod had to spend 2 months in jail. The Lord used that time to work on Jarrod. He requested that I bring him a bible.

"Mom, I read this cool passage today," He told me from behind the plate glass. "I really like how it talks about the belt of truth, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit." Here was my son, stuck in jail, finding peace in Ephesians 6. And like my other son, he was teaching me the true meaning of peace.

At the tender age of 21 Jarrod was killed in a freak accident. Like Enoch, the old testament prophet whom God suddenly called home, he was no more. Maybe God was pleased with Jarrod also and wanted him. I know Jarrod didn't always walk with the Lord like Enoch, but I do know that they both ended up in the same place.

A few days after the funeral, Jarrod's girlfriend called and said, "I have to tell you what Jarrod said to me a couple of days before the accident. He told me that he felt really at peace with God."

I have some friends whose children are atheists. They worry about where their children will spend eternity. While they can still call them on the phone, sit down to meals with them, and give them hugs; they don't share the same peace I have about my children⸺a peace that surpasses all understanding.

Do I feel peaceful all the time? Absolutely not. I cry out for my boys that I miss so much. Some days it's hard to get out of bed. Some days my life without them feels more like a life sentence. 

But I have come to realize true peace doesn't mean feeling good all the time. It is grounded in the certainty of an absolute truth. This truth has been planted in our hearts by a creator that we all long to return to. Knowing that we will someday—that is peace. It waits gently behind my tears.

GOD'S TIMELINE AND MINE--TOTALLY NOT THE SAME

Acts 1:7  He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority."

It was 2004 and I had written my first book. My 216 page manuscript about our teenage son's battle with terminal cancer would surely set the world on fire! When my well meaning friend, Lisa, shipped my masterpiece off to Oprah we waited. Visions of talk shows and Good Morning America danced in my head. Certainly the world waited with baited breath for my literary contribution.

But the phone didn't ring.

It was 2010 and I had written my first children's book, a story for children with cancer. No doubt every children's hospital across the country would snatch that puppy up. Perhaps Disney would catch wind of it and make it into a movie! I mean, come on people—I had the songs chosen for the sound track!

No producers called.

It was 2015 and I was retiring from teaching. Now I would have time to promote my writing! I would attend writers' conferences and snag lucrative speaking engagements. My 3 unpublished manuscripts floating around in query-land would finally land on the appropriately ordained desks. I practiced my stage presence in front of the mirror.

Three days after I retired our 21 year old, Jarrod, was killed in an accident. Both of our sons were now with the Lord. Then my husband became ill and the bills mounted. 

It is 2017 and I am now unretired from teaching. We have sold  most of everything we own and have started over. I am back working long hours teaching, my computer waits for me when I get home, but I'm often too tired to turn it on. The agent who encouraged me to build my social media platform, query him again, probably won't hear from me any time soon.

So what have I learned? God's timing and mine aren't even close.

2 Peter 3:8 But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.

 I am slowly surrendering it all to God. Now I wake up and ask Him what He wants me to do today. I think of some of my heroes like Richard Wurmbrand, the founder of The Voice of the Martyrs who was imprisoned and tortured for his beliefs, and Corrie ten Boom who was sent to a Nazi prison camp for aiding Jews. They were grateful for small blessings  and they never lost their faith.

I think of my own hero, my son, Chris, who at the age of 14, assured me that he was at peace with dying. "Jesus is coming, Mom, and I'm going to go, so don't worry because I'll be okay." He had pointed to his schoolbooks on a shelf and smiled. "I won't be needing those where I'm going." His faith was bigger than mine.


Who am I to complain?

The Lord has given me a new ministry for now, a classroom full of needy kids. I am the third teacher they have had since the beginning of the school year. Most are from divorced parents, some in foster care, others have been ravaged by violence, abandonment and addiction. Right now God wants me to deal with real-life characters.

So every morning before school starts I kneel at my desk and I give God my classroom. I ask him to make me a light.

Matthew 5:16: In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.

 The other day one of my students "Sam" had a breakthrough. He has been stealing and lying about it all year. He finally trusted me enough to tell the truth. He admitted his fault and submitted to my leadership. Deep down, he knows that I believe in him. Sam has taught me a lot about what my relationship with God should look like.

Once in a while I get encouraging emails from people who have read my books. The best ones are from children dealing with cancer. They tell me my story helped them cope. Perhaps my apparent lack of earthly success in the book industry is really a triumph in the timeline of eternity.

WHERE ANGELS PLAY

Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."

On September 11, 2001 when the twin towers fell Fire Captain Bill Lavin grabbed his gear and rushed to his department headquarters in Elizabeth, New Jersey. He and his fire chief didn't even wait for orders to deploy. They jumped in a truck and headed to New York.

Bill did what first responders do—he ran towards the danger instead of away from it. Bill was part of that great wave of heroes who worked tirelessly for weeks and months. In an excerpt from his book: Where Angels Live Work and Play (The Story of the Sandy Ground Project) He writes  "...There was no set schedule or plan, so you just kind of worked until you were exhausted, fell asleep somewhere, then got up and did it all over again." Click here to read more.

A schoolteacher in the small coastal town of Bay St. Louis Mississippi, who had connections to New Jersey, decided to teach her students about patriotism and gratitude. So they built a mailbox and decorated it like a flag. They stuffed it full of messages, drawings, and letters to cheer up the first responders, and they delivered it to the firefighters at the Elizabeth Fire Department.

For several years the mailbox graced the chief's office at the firehouse, reminding the firefighters that someone cares. Then, in August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina demolished Bay St. Louis Mississippi. Bill and his crew had to find out if their friends at North Bay Elementary were okay. They had survived, but their school and much of their town had disappeared.

The firemen and their friends held fundraisers to help. "What do you need right now?" Bill asked the teachers.

"We need a place for our children to play." They  replied.

 Bill and his dedicated team of volunteers descended upon Bay St. Louis, and by they time they were done, they had built 3 brand-new playgrounds, one at North Bay Elementary, and 2 more in surrounding areas that were also devastated.

For a while they thought they were retired from the playground business, but then a few years later, disaster struck closer to home. In October of 2012 superstorm Sandy ripped apart much of the Atlantic coast. Bill and and his fellow first responders were once again faced with overwhelming and exhausting recovery tasks. Then in December, the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut brought the nation to its knees.

At the time Bill was also embroiled in political and union battles in an effort to preserve the firefighters pensions and benefits. Amidst all of those events Bill had reached an all-time mental and emotional low.

Then a letter from a little girl arrived. It was a letter thanking Bill and his volunteers for the playground that they had built several years earlier in Bay St. Louis. She told them how much she enjoyed growing up playing on it.They were all thinking of their New Jersey friends in the wake of Storm Sandy.

Bill writes "With all the storms and violence and overall despondency hanging over our country, here was a little girl working to pay it forward in a positive way. And it all began with a playground that had allowed her to feel cared for...What if building more playgrounds could help everyone recover and rebuild once again?"

And The Sandy Ground project was born. Click here for more information.

Bill and his expanding team of volunteers went on to build 26 more playgrounds in storm-ravaged towns in New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut The reason they built 26 was because each of the playgrounds was built to honor one of the 20 children and the 6 adults killed at Sandy Hook.

 Because of The Where Angels Play Foundation four of the most infamous and catastrophic events in recent American history have all been linked by a project of love and hope. Families of fallen children see siblings and neighbors frolicking on playgrounds uniquely designed to match their child's favorite colors and themes. Communities leveled by storms have rallied together, a new spark of hope ignited when their children received a brand-new place to play.

And the work continues. To date the Where Angels Play Foundation has erected more than 40 playgrounds! There are even plans to build one in Africa!

Revelation 21:1: "Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away..."

 Although our ultimate restoration won't come until the return of our Lord, Jesus, in the meantime we are blessed with Bill and his earthly angels who spread love and build hope one playground at a time.

THE GIFT OF LIFE

We have started receiving thank you letters that I'm sure most folks hope they never get—the ones from the recipients of our son's organs.

There is the man with the new liver. He tells us he was really sick, and now he can go back to work and support his family.

Another letter is from a mom thanking us on behalf of her son, who's future revolved around soccer. He thought he was done forever. With his new ACL he can play again.

Someone else has a new kidney, and is released from the bondage of dialysis.

Bittersweet thoughts push my tears out as I try to imagine Jarrod's organs, pink and living inside of someone else.

I think of how athletic and alive Jarrod was, right up until the day he died. He could leap forward and do a full flip in the air, landing on his feet. I like the idea of some part of him energizing someone else.

We had never discussed organ donation with our son. How many parents broach that subject with a twenty one year old? We made our decision based how he lived. He had a servant's heart.

When his sister was going through tough times Jarrod often took her out and treated her to dinner and the movies. He hung out with her and made her laugh with his silly impersonations. When other men in his sister's life had let her down he was always there for her, sometimes buying groceries, putting gas in her car, or crawling around on the floor with his nieces clinging to his back.

When Rob and I were putting change in a jar for our trip to Hawaii we noticed one day how quickly it had filled up. Rob caught Jarrod walking by the bureau one day with a sly smile on his face. He had been tossing in the coins from his job waiting tables.

One of Jarrod's last acts of kindness was a fish fry for the homeless. He and his friend had caught more fish than they could eat so they grabbed a portable grill and headed down to the local homeless camp. I'll never forget the joy in his eyes when he asked his dad to recommend which seasoning to buy.

So it really wasn't hard to imagine what Jarrod would want to do with his organs.

I am so proud of our son. Like Christ himself Jarrod offered his body up for others. He knew he'd get a new one anyway. 

2 Corinthians 5: 1-2: For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands. 2 We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing.


I wish all of Jarrod's recipients many healthy years. May that precious spark of life inside you somehow bring you closer to knowing the Lord like our Jarrod did.

So someday all of you will have a heavenly reunion in your new, perfect bodies.

A DIVINE APPOINTMENT

Back in 1997 when our ten year old son was diagnosed with cancer our world changed forever. Our routines changed. Out dreams were altered. New fears entered our lives.

Until that point in time we had always been the ones who gave at the office, not the ones who needed help. When cancer came into our lives we were embraced by our community, and I was humbled by the many acts of kindness. There were meals, fundraisers, babysitting offers, and a comfortable place to stay during our many trips to the hospital.

Galatians 6:2 : "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."

At the time I was a fourth grade teacher, and Chris was a fourth grade student. The principal at our school allowed me to choose my substitute teacher, who became a close friend. This enabled me to keep the medical benefits, and the class ran smoothly while I was out for Chris's treatments.

Now it is many years later, and I thought I was retired from full time teaching. But God has other plans. 

I had been dividing my time between substitute teaching and writing, hoping to publish more books, earning a little money in the meantime.

Last year my husband became sick, and our finances suffered. It became necessary to work more hours.

Then came the call. A principal at one of the schools where I substitute asked me to take over a class. The teacher's ten year old son has cancer.

So I have come full cycle. I pass on the legacy of love that was handed to me. I strive each day to be a Galatians 6:2 light to those children and a source of comfort to their teacher, knowing her class is in good hands.

I am reading my children's book, "The Bald-Headed Princess" (Click here.) to the class. The main character is an eleven year old dealing with cancer. The class is learning what their teacher's family is going through, and hopefully, they are becoming  more compassionate human beings in the process.

This is a temporary assignment, and I don't know what next year will bring. I pray that the teacher's son will survive, and that they won't experience a loss like ours.

In the meantime my teaching  skills and my writing, birthed out of tragedy, have been divinely appointed for this particular assignment.

MEAN MOM ON STRIKE

This week I am deviating somewhat from my usual type of post. I am sharing a humorous article that I wrote last year. A relative of mine was frustrated because she felt unsupported by her spouse when it came to parenting.

Perhaps you live in a blended family, or you or your spouse are new in recovery and haven't been around for your kids in a while. For those of you fortunate enough to live in a two parent household please make the most of it!

 The bible tells us that when we marry "the two will become one flesh"(Ephesians 5:22-23).

If you don't feel at one with your spouse perhaps the article below will generate some positive discussion!

 ANYWHERE USA

After struggling for many months with lack of support from her family Frieda Frazzle, 39, has staged a walk-out. Reliable sources report that Frazzle has been accused of abusive behavior such as requiring her children to mow the lawn and make polite conversation at the dinner table.

“Honestly," commented one witness who wished to remain anonymous, "Why should I stop playing video games just because the grass is three feet tall? She just doesn’t get me.”

Another anonymous witness, who bore a slight brotherly resemblance to the first witness, declined to comment, but was reportedly making very close contact with his mattress.

“Everyone has to work together to run a household,” Frazzle told this reporter, “But when one person has to constantly enforce the rules it becomes emotionally exhausting. I feel like a single parent. So I have decided to go on strike for a few days.”

The Herald reached out to Frazzle’s husband, Joe, but he was unavailable for comment. He was out having his lips serviced.

Frazzle has reportedly retreated to a local hotel where she will not be cooking an unappreciated dinner. She will not be listening to complaints. She will, however, still be working hard all day to pay bills to keep the house that no one else wants to run.

The Mean Mom On Strike movement seems to be picking up momentum across the country. Mary Meanie of Wimpville Wisconsin went on strike for 2 weeks in September when her teenage daughter, Narcissa, spent all day Saturday at a friend’s house  then refused to do her chores when she got home.

 When Meanie asked her husband to step in and assist he defended his daughter’s behavior by stating that she was depressed and her aura was out of alignment. Shortly after, Mr. Meanie’s teeth were out of alignment and Mrs. Meanie is enjoying an extended retreat at The Wimpville Correctional center.

“This is exactly what I am hoping to avoid,” Frazzle commented. “I have to admit that when I read about Mrs. Meanie’s actions I let out a little fist pump, but I realize that violence is not the answer. Although, when I do the math, the bridgework for my husband would probably be a lot cheaper than the thousands of dollars I’ve spent on family therapy.”

Ima Feddup, of Trembling Hills, PA, a compounding pharmacist, came up with a unique solution to her family issues. She has created an herbal supplement she calls “Growballs” that she has been quietly slipping into her husband’s daily orange juice. 

 “The results have been astounding,” Feddup reports. Instead of avoiding confrontation at all costs my husband looks the kids in the eye and says, “What part of your mother’s request don’t you get?” Feddup is awaiting FDA approval and already has 14 million requests for orders from striking moms across the country.

“I’m not quite ready to resort to drastic measures just yet,” Frazzle concludes, “Perhaps a short hiatus will convince my kids that we need to work together and remind my husband that we need to be a united front.”

In the meantime, Frazzle is in an undisclosed location, having a pedicure and enjoying a drama-free day.

Contact me and share your experience. Are you ready to go on strike?  Or, have you learned to co-parent successfully?