BUT I MISS HIM

"But I miss him."

"I miss Ethan."


That's what I say, in between the moments of giving thanks for him.

In between the moments of thanking God for those beautiful blue-green eyes.

In between the moments of thanking God for his beautiful, wide, contagious smile.

I say "but I miss him" when I'm laughing at one of his has-to-take-me-a-minute-to-get-it comments.

Some nights as I leave his room, after telling him how blessed I am to be his mother, and that he is the bravest person I know, and how proud I am that he is my son, I walk down the hall and I hear myself whisper to God "but I miss him."

I say "but I miss him" when I now reach down to wrap my arms around his neck in a hug, instead of reaching up, on my toes.


I miss Ethan.


And yet I could not be more thankful for him.

I know that it probably doesn't make any sense.

I've learned during the last nine years how much life doesn't make sense.


How can one cry until they laugh and laugh until they cry?

How can a mom stand strong and determined and dutiful beside the bed of her dying child, and then be broken down into a heap of weakness when a black Labrador Retriever comes running toward her in the hospital parking lot?

I've learned that nothing makes sense about friends that disappear during a crisis, and friends that you didn't know you had, surrounding you and lifting you up in prayer and feeding your family for weeks and weeks and hanging around for nine years. Still praying.


What makes sense about me finding the joy and peace I've always wanted, under the pile of debris from damaged and broken lives?

What in the world makes sense about me being totally grateful for a wheelchair that I also totally hate my child having to use?

What makes sense about me not even noticing that wheelchair, plus a smaller one, and a standing frame, parked beside my antique furniture?


And most of all, what makes sense about Jesus loving me with the same love the Father has loved Him, His perfect Son?  (John 15:9)

What makes sense about God being the Light in my darkness when I didn't want Him or need Him in my artificial light?


No, most of life doesn't make sense.


But if you love someone who has suffered a traumatic brain injury, missing them and giving thanks for them makes perfect sense.


Sometimes, I touch Ethan just to make sure he is really here.


But I also run my hands over the glass of the frame with the legs and hands behind it. The legs that walked, and the hands that could draw like his dad. The legs that took him everywhere, and the hands that held cell phones and golf clubs and the steering wheel of the car that he said he wanted to drive forever.

I run my hands over the glass where the dreams and hopes of another life lived.


And then I look at Ethan.


Alive. Smiling. Blessed. Held together. Favored by God. And I wonder, could God be any better to me?


Could He have blessed me any more?


Yes. Ethan's life, given once, then twice, is a most precious gift.


I shake my head, in complete astonishment and awe of God's love toward my youngest son, his brother, and his mom and dad.

I shake my head, when I wonder how this mom of Ethan's has learned to give thanks for so much that she didn't want to be.


I love Ethan more today that I did December 1, 2003 when I went into his room and I kissed him good-bye, before I left to spend the morning with fifteen four-year-olds and before he left to return to his life in Gainesville.

I remember thinking, "It's okay he's leaving. He'll be home for Christmas in a few weeks."


Ethan wasn't home for that Christmas. 


But for the seven following Christmas mornings, that miracle child of mine has opened presents, laughed with his brother and cousins, and reminded us all of what Emanuel, "God with us," really means.


I could not love Ethan more.


My heart is completely full and overflowing with gratitude towards his Creator, Healer, and Redeemer.


"But I miss him."


I miss Ethan.

I know it probably doesn't make any sense.

But because of the way He comforts me, I know it makes sense to God.

I know that it makes sense to Him when I whisper "but I miss him," and God holds me and whispers back to me, "I know Cheri. I know."



Trust in Him at all times. Pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge for us. *  He is the Father of mercies and God of all comfort. *  God has promised never to leave me or forsake me. *  He brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay.  He has set my feet upon a rock and established my steps. He has put a new song in my mouth-Praise To Our God!

Psalm 62:8,  2 Corinthians 1:3,  Hebrews 13:5,  Psalm 40:2-3 

NEEDING AND GLORIFYING

"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do,

 that the Father may be glorified in the Son." 

 John 14:13

"Suppose you are totally paralyzed, and can do nothing for yourself but talk. And suppose a strong and reliable friend promised to live with you, and to do whatever you needed done. How could you glorify your friend if a stranger came to see you? Would you glorify his generosity and strength by trying to get out of bed and carry him?   No! You would say, "Friend, please come and lift me up, and would you put a pillow behind me?" And so, your visitor would learn from your requests that you are helpless and that your friend is strong and kind. You glorify your friend by needing him and asking him for help and counting on Him."

John Piper, from Desiring God

I understand what Piper is saying.

I see it every day.

I knew that Jim was a good dad.

I knew that he was a great dad.

But until Ethan became completely dependent upon him, I never really understood what kind of a dad Jim really was.

Jim is most "glorified as a dad" when he takes care of Ethan's every need.

He is most "glorified as a dad" when  Ethan asks of Jim for his daily wants and needs, and Jim does his best to meet them.

Jim is most "glorified as a strong dad" when Ethan is at his weakest.

Jim is "most glorified as a dad" when Ethan asks his dad to do for him what he can't do for himself.


I'm not saying that a child has to be physically dependent for their dad to be an amazing dad.

There are many, many ways to be dependent and weak, and to recognize a dad's love for his child.


This is only a physical picture, and not a perfect one, because Jim is not a perfect father. As I was sharing my thoughts about this with Jim, he continually reminded me of how often he fails in his actions, and in his attitude, and that he knows his strength only comes from God.

No, it isn't a perfect picture. Only God gives perfectly. Only His strength is strong enough. Only His heart is continuously pure.


The picture above is an imperfect picture of a perfect spiritual truth: 

 God is most glorified when we are completely dependent upon Him.  (2 Corinthians 12:9)


How many times have I quoted the first few words of John 14:13 to myself:

"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do ..."

Yet I tend to forget the last part of the verse:

"That the Father will be glorified in the Son."

I forget that the purpose of my life is to glorify the Father through His Son.

I forget that when I am weak, He is strong.

I forget that He is most glorified, when the thorn remains and His strength is all sufficient.

I forget when I think that being weak is a sin, and when I assume that surely He is tired of seeing me once again fall on my face.

Ethan asks. He asks all day long.

His needs never go away. In many ways, as God continues to bless him with healing, his needs have actually increased.

And when I take the time to stop and really look at what all Jim does, I am amazed.

And when I take the time to consider myself, and my weakness and how much I need My Father, I am amazed.

Amazed at His Strength.

Amazed at His Grace.

Amazed at His Provision and His Patience.

Amazed how He Answers me when I call.

I do have a friend, who is closer than a brother or an earthly father, that has promised to live with me and to be my strength in my weakness, to be my rest when I am tired, and to be my healer when I am broken.

He is a good friend.

He is the best friend.

I hope you know that He wants to be your friend too.

"The LORD is my strength and shield. 

I trust Him with all my heart. 

He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. 

I burst out in songs of thanksgiving."  

 Psalm 28:7 

Gratitude List #679-693

imperfect pictures that tell perfect truths

Seth and Ethan's dad

that I wouldn't bring my daddy back if I could

the freedom to write my thoughts

the freedom to mess those thoughts up

hope for friends and their physical healing

my sister and all she does for my mother

a way to continue to provide my mother with her extraordinary-God-given caregivers

an appraisal that was more than expected

my brother-in-law and his willingness to help

and once again my neice and great nephew who celebrated July birthdays

for a church that encourages Seth

the messages of Tullian Tchividjian and his blog Liberate

that God continuously redeems my weakness and my disappointments to glorify Himself - 

How amazing is that???

WE ARE SUSTAINED

As I sit here in the hospital, beside my daddy, I am so thankful for the truth of these words from Charles Spurgeon's message "Around the Wicket Gate."


"Often realize the joy of heaven. This is grand faith; and yet it is no more than we ought to have. Within a very short time the man who believes in the Lord Jesus shall be with Him where He is. This head will wear a crown; these eyes shall see the King in His beauty; these ears shall hear His own dear voice; this soul shall be in glory; and this poor body shall be raised from the dead and joined in incorruption to the perfected soul! Glory, glory, glory! And so near, so sure. Let us at once rehearse the music and anticipate the bliss!
 
But cries one, "We are not there yet." No, but faith fills us with delight in the blessed prospect, and meanwhile it sustains us on the road."

Yes.

We are sustained.

By knowing that Daddy will be with Him where He is.

By knowing that Daddy will wear a crown as a child of God.

By knowing that Daddy will see The King in all His beauty.

By knowing that Daddy will hear the voice of God calling his name. 

By knowing that Daddy's soul will soon be glorified 

and that his body will be as perfected as his soul.

We sing Glory, Glory, Glory, as we delight in the anticipation of Daddy being with his Savior, Jesus Christ.

Yes.

We are sustained.

FOR US

This morning, me and my terribly sore throat and totally stopped up nose, turned on the TV and found Beth Moore on Life Today. I haven't been turning on the TV in the morning and when I saw she was on I figured it wasn't a coincidence.

This is a quote from Beth's lesson today:

"The things God allows us to go through are for our giftedness. Not for our harm."

Four years and nine months ago, someone spoke basically the same words to me. Or should I say she spoke them over me. I say over me because those words have become a blessing, a charge, an anointing. God has used them over the years as an answer to many of my "whys?".

She spoke these words to me at a time when things were so bad in our family that I can't even talk about them. Ethan was still in a coma and we were taking care of him at home. And when I thought that things couldn't get any worse...when I thought I could bear no more...there was more.

This person, with a tear-choked voice, told me that when she was praying for me... and in the pain she was feeling for me, she asked God "why" He was doing this to me. He replied, "I'm not doing this to her. I am doing it for her."

"For our giftedness. Not for our harm."

God's timing is perfect. Perfect to speak words exactly when we need to hear them. At a time when we have a choice to make. A choice to believe. A choice to go forward. Or to give up and quit. A time like this morning.

Like I've said before, sometimes we find not one huge mountain standing in front of us but a whole mountain chain. Many times my cry has been, "Lord, could we handle just one thing at a time? Could we climb one mountain at a time? This is too much." But, life's not like that. The mountains seem to go on and on and on. Multiplying mountains.

And, God reminded me today, through Beth Moore and the words that were spoken over me years ago, that it's all for me. It is for my purpose. And if I believe Him...that it's for my giftedness... it will be for the difference that my life...my plain old-ordinary-messed up-redeemed life can make in the lives of the people I love. And, for the difference that my life can make in this time and place where He has placed me.

But, I have to make that choice.

To resent it all...or, in faith, to give thanks for it.

To hate it all...or embrace the opportunity for God's grace.

To fight it with everything in me...or to receive it in humility and trust.

To blame others...or to believe that in every circumstance of my
life, God has the final say.

To lay down in front of the mountains and say I can't and I won't..
to throw a hissy-fit....
or to take that first step in faith and to let Him give me the
strength to continue and when I can't...
to let Him carry me.

"For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:17

Did you see that?

Our affliction is working for us.

Amazing.