Blessed are those who mourn...

My thoughts toward death are so logical.
My feelings, however, do not share that logical mind.
It’s difficult to grieve because my cognitions are so sensible, and my feelings… not so sensible.
I am thankful to have a dear friend (Rachel) to remind me that grief displays itself in many strange ways. Especially when that “display” involves me making a scene in public at a packed movie theater that ends with popcorn dumped all over the floor. (Story is much better [ridiculous] when shared in person).

Loss is exhausting, painful, makes me want to control things that I can since I can’t control the loss.

My grandma is on her death bed. Saying goodbye is so difficult. So inadequate.
She has lived some nearly 90 years. Has been married to the same feisty man for 60 years. Has loved her family so sacrificially. At the end of her life she feels it has flown by and hopes that she mattered and made a difference.

When someone sends her a card, she reads it over and over and holds it close.

She still perks up, even on her deathbed when she seems unresponsive, when you tell her she is lovely or beautiful.

My grandparents rarely ever talk about feelings. Only in recent days has my grandma ever said the words, “I love you”. It’s a generational thing, I suppose. Or how they were raised. Or my grandpa’s reign in the home.

She still is her same sweet self, wanting to be a burden to no one. We tend to think that growing from youth to adulthood is so difficult. I am convinced that exiting this world much more of a struggle than entering.

My mind says that her pain and suffering will finally be over. She will finally be at rest and with her Savior. I do rejoice at that. But my feelings revolt at the process of dying. Whoever said death was natural was lying. Yes, it will happen to everyone, but it will never feel natural to those observing because it was never supposed to be this way.

I take solace in the knowledge and hope that this too shall be made right. There is One who came to make all things well. He does this daily in restoring our broken places. And one day all will be restored. Hallelujah that death does not have the last word.

Quotable

As long as we read the Bible or a spiritual book simply to acquire knowledge, our reading does not help us in our spiritual lives. We can become very knowledgeable about spiritual matters without becoming truly spiritual people.

As we read spiritually about spiritual things, we open our hearts to God's voice. Sometimes we must be willing to put down the book we are reading and just listen to what God is saying to us through its words.

Henri Nouwen

Must Read

Please read this in its Entirety!!

The end.

I am not a Yuppie

So, my interests of late would probably dump me into the "Yuppie" category, but do not be fooled. My enjoyment of certain activities might be similar to that of the twenty-something, white, urban, Lincoln Park, Coach bag toting, Ugg boots wearing, oversized sunglasses and scarf accessorizing, Sushi eating, imported beer drinking, organic shopping, sea salt grinding yuppie. But I do not do these things to fit myself to the mold of the yuppie, but because I am taking advantage of this time of life to try new things and stretch myself.

I had a professor that encouraged each of her students to become a more interesting person. I am trying to know Christ better, love Him more fully and enjoy this season of life He's allowed me.

That said, I am now a proud member of a book club. The majority of the girls in the group are believers, hurray! Three of the girls went to Wheaton. I never felt more like a Bible student until book club. When we were trying to pick our next book, I recognized about 1 in 20 of the authors they suggested. Want a good commentary to read, a book on spiritual formation or even some psychology, I can point you in the right direction. Modern literature - I got nothing.

Our first read - The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan Kundera - was not a favorite of mine. I reacted pretty strongly - I need to remind myself, this is just a story, but I was so worked up over it. Not too mention that this book was way more erotic than I care to read about - all of the characters were unfaithful. There was no real communication occurring. They were miserable, stayed miserable, and it ended with no resolve. The conclusions that each of the characters came to were devestating. I was also troubled by the author's misrepresentation of God. I just don't think that's something to mess around with. If you are going to be quoting Scripture; #1, get it right - don't loosely put words in God's mouth. #2, don't mock it.

I was most saddened by the hopelessness of human existence in the book. Suffering is meaningless. Love in marriage is restrictive - but that did not stop most of them from sleeping with whomever, whenever. Fidelity is not a virtue. Questions all virtues, for that matter. While I could sympathize with one, the characters were utterly selfish.

OK, enough bashing of that book. Moving on. Our books for April are two shorter ones. We are reading Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor and The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin. I just picked up Wise Blood yesterday and I hope this weekend involves getting to delve into it.

OK, what makes me a psuedo-Yuppie numero dos.

I went to yoga for the very first time on Wednesday. My gym offers some really amazing classes so I decided to take advantage of some of them. It's called Pi-Yo and incorporates elements from Yoga and Pilates (relaxing, yet intense).

I am not going to lie - work has been stressful - for the last 3 months. This is great for business - We had a phenomenal first quarter. But I am looking forward to things slowing down a bit - I hope. Yoga helps with stress, yes?

Let me start at the beginning - I walked in and immediately experienced gym anxiety. I have no idea what I am doing, my toes are still winterized and in desperate need of a pedicure. ( Why did i care so much?) I just watch what other people are doing and try to do the same (some of you know just what I am talking about - and in Brian Regan's terms, "Which way we going, Thunder?"). I pull out one of the mats, making sure I am toward the back of the class, so I am not "performing" in front of the whole studio. The other girls are stretching, so I mimic them - literally, how they bend is how I bend. All while trying to look like I have a clue what's going on. (Why I would make a horrible Yuppie!)

Apparently - given a show of hands - I was the only first timer. Once she turned on the music and we sat cross-legged and began to stretch, I felt right at home. I just let the weight of so many (unmentioned) concerns roll right off my neck, shoulders and back and was able to thoroughly enjoy the class. I am all for a repeat and so thankful my gym offers all classes at no additional cost.

Met Rachel for dinner at the Kerryman after the class. She had just gotten a super hot haircut at a swanky salon and I met her in my yoga clothes = totally fitting in with the Yuppie happy hour crowd. For all anyone knew, I could have passed as a Lincoln Park stay-at-homer who left my only child with the nanny to take Yoga and spend time with the girls - Oh wait, I did not have the 4 carat rock to back that up.

The waiter (with an accent) recommended the best drink I have had to date - Turns out the waiter took a liking to us. So, maybe I was flirting. Did I just blog that? Yes, I did. What can I say, it's true. He responded in kind and told us to come back. Aye aye, will do!

So there you have it, my newest updates in the life of a not-Yuppie.

Back in the day Yuppies

After the last tear falls...

Yesterday the office was all a buzz with rumors.

I work on the 46th floor of a building in the Loop of downtown Chicago. My side of the building overlooks Lake Michigan, but other sides of the floor overlook all directions of this beautiful city.

Yesterday, one bright sunny morning, a tragedy occurred.

It was business as usual. I was just having a client sign some paperwork when a colleague broke the news that someone had jumped off the Lyric Opera building. The client said (all too matter-of-factly) that someone had jumped last week from the Marina Towers, almost as if to say, "So, what else is new?".

My first response was shock - then gave way to grief - I was so deeply saddened.

I was astounded by different people's reactions. So much curiosity. Running to the other side of our floor to look out and see the body. I remained on my side of the building, surprised that for an instant I was curious to look. Some even rushed down to ground level to "get a better look". Is it judgmental to say that I was somewhat sickened by this eager response to get a look at this, no doubt, grotesque scene of carnage?

I know that people respond differently to pain and grief and tragedy (like dumping popcorn on the floor at a movie theater - but that's another story...!). But, I could not help but feel that these people were getting charged, even excited, over something so tragic.

It was a 19 year old girl who jumped. Some of the women who have grown children responded by grieving for the parents and families.

"Your baby is finally all grown, and then she ends it? How do you tell a mother that?"

What is there to say? A life lost - taken. I wonder how many of her loved ones had a clue that she was contemplating this. I am burdened for the amount of pain she carried with her to move her to jump. How her loved ones must be reeling.

In this world of intense pain and brokenness I am reminded that people are wounded deeply. I may have trouble to see past the good face they put on, or best foot forward they lead with day to day. But beneath that, the wounds are deep and remain. I am freshly reminded to pray that I might interact with others as those who are deeply loved and be able to be a minister of grace and hope and redemption, as I experience those themes in my life.

Please remember the family of this 19 year old as the mourn the loss of a precious life.

Each person we interact with is the beloved of God. What would it look like for me to really commit to treating them as such? Lord, give me eyes to see each individual as You do.

P.s. title is in reference to one of my favorite Andrew Peterson songs.