Behold, I Make All Things New

"Behold, I make all things new." Rev. 21:5
And He does ...make all things new.  Even, yes, even through the death of a child He makes all things new.
Months ago I wrote that I would finish with a final post ...and it has taken me months of writing and prayer to find the words I feel led and called to share.  I have many drafts originally meant for this space, but none of them captured what truly was in my heart and what I knew would be best to say here. 
Over the past few days, I've had time with most of the women in my life who have carried me over to safer ground.  It's been a hectic week, school ending, different events ...summer rolling in, and squeezed in between has been the joy of friendships, sometimes only fleeting moments together, a few words exchanged.  Each one has given shape to this post ...thank you, because each one, in her own way reflects a love that is rooted firmly in God.  They are my beacons of light ...
I died when Phoebe died.  My beautiful, feisty 17 year old girl died by suicide on October 9, 2010.  I miss her ...very, very badly.  I live with a rumble of panic just below the surface ...at all times.  I scan the crowd, the coast, the streets, the fields, the sky for my daughter ...always looking.  In my mind, I know I won't find her here ...but my heart will never stop searching for my girl.  Some people are graced enough to understand the gravity, the intensity, the brutal devastation of losing a child ...without having lost one themselves.  They've understood, guarded and guided me to a safer place, and have helped me look away from the people, places and things that are cruel ...they've helped me dismiss the mean things said about me, about my family ...and even about Phoebe.  And in God's graciousness, He has pruned away things that really weren't authentic or genuine in the first place.
I have climbed a million miles since that moment, and I have survived. Slowly, I find myself able to join the living.
God transforms all things, He creates anew all things ...if we let Him.  If we truly desire to follow Him, we will suffer ...it's part of what ties us to Him and the promise of redemption.  I've grown to understand it isn't punishment for who we are or what we've done or not done ...it is simply and beautifully a gift inviting us to live within Him in this life.  And we can respond to that invitation in three ways.  We can out and out reject it, do everything we can to avoid it ...by not choosing God.  We can be miserable in it, unwilling to change, undermining and maligning others while we play the victim for time on end (which is tempting for many), or we can experience sorrow, a true sadness that recognizes the hurt and pain of suffering, while at the same time recognizes, accepts and even embraces the redemptive gift of suffering.  Misery and sorrow are not the same, in fact, they are polar opposites.  Misery loves company and angles to get as much as it can ...it spreads discontent and malice, often secretly, undetected.  Sorrow coexists with joy, like the Crucifixion coexists only with the Resurrection, true sorrow exists with hope and trust ...which will lead to joy.  Misery leads to hatred, while sorrow leads to love ...true abiding love.
I've been around misery, been misled by it ...I don't want it in my life anymore.  I live with sorrow, and while I can recognize all the good things of sorrow, I am praying for it to be truer and more fruitful in my life ...so that others can see that suffering is a part of the Christian walk, and that perceived and lived according to God ...it can be a true witness to His beauty and generosity.  And for sure, I can write this at a time when the wave of sadness has receded in this moment.  I strive to live true sorrow most especially in my deepest moments of pain ...because I simply love God and trust Him with all things ...because He can make all things new.
Suffer patiently, suffer willingly, suffer with joy are three things exemplified by the life of St. Paul.  He lived a life of constant suffering and struggle after his conversion ...and he bore all of it with patience, willingness and joy.  I want to be like that.  It will be a lifetime of striving and restarts.  But ...God has surrounded me with women who live just that ...an amazing collection of personalities who, quite honestly, have been given far  more than their share of real suffering that is not chosen or cultivated by themselves ....and they are beams of light ...they stream joy right back at me, and all those around them.  Smiles and laughter are their hallmarks in the midst of chaos, confusion and piercing moments of pain.  They have cried with me, laughed with me, danced with me, prayed with me ...and sighed those long expirations of exhaustion with me, They have loved me well through this ...more importantly they have loved my family, and they continue to love Phoebe ....even in all of our brokenness.
Phoebe was a teenage girl, one who scoffed at conformity.  She was not one to just do something because she was told, nor was she one to appear publicly one way for adults and another outside her home.  Phoebe was an extraordinary girl who brought life into the lives of many of her friends.  She did some stupid things, and the more I learn, not any different or stupider than her friends who may appear a bit more straight laced.  Phoebe didn't care for people who talked one way and lived another ...in short, she did not care much for 'boring' people.  She saw life to be lived, not contrived.  A bike ride or a walk was adventure.  A bike became a horse galloping the plains of the midwest and a walk might find you cresting the summit of Everest.  So clearly in my mind I can see my backyard strewn with chair pads, towels, chairs and neighborhood bodies during an afternoon of playing the Titanic.  Out their, on that lawn, they fought for their lives in the cold Atlantic, while  8 year old Phoebe barked orders.  Life with Phoebe was rich and adventurous, and as it is with many teenagers, it could also be frustrating and annoying. Her young life took some twists and turns that stayed locked inside. And sadly, her life ended in a moment, a tragic moment.
Left behind,  are the rest of us, her family ...my cherubs and husband, walking together to rebuild ...because of each other.  We are blessed.
Lots of people shared in her life, and everyone has their own story to tell ..some will be kind, hopefully most.  Our story, her story, is ours.  These posts tell my story, a bit of it anyway. 

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen