Bunnies, Slave Lake, and grace.

Here is an e-mail from two weeks ago to my pastor.

"I had prayed last week, probably Tuesday, that God would have a word for me from someone. About anything. I just needed to hear from God, so I asked Him in a Gideon sort of way. The day before asking, I found a wild baby bunny and took it home. It died a few hours later. Bunnies for me are what ladybugs are for R, so I was very upset. [Side note: R is his wife, and what I'm describing is a sort of language of the heart... God knows our delight in these creatures especially, and He delights in our delighting, I believe, so when we see our favorite creature, we say something like, "Thank you Jesus, for thinking of me."] I thought I had saved it, and that it was going to a good home, (my friend's farm,) but instead it died. When I got home with it (before it died), I researched online what to do with a baby bunny. Everything I read said, put it back. The mom will come at night. Just put it back in it's nest. I felt horrible because I knew I would never have found the nest; I couldn't even remember what part of the road I had found the bunny on. I asked God, "What was the point of that? It was so stupid of me, and any other animal I would have just left on the road, but YOU KNEW about bunnies God, so what was that?" God showed me that leaving the bunny in the storm, right in the middle of the road would have been grace; the mom bunny would be there at night. But instead in my pride, I thought I knew better. I thought I had the best rescue plan; knew what was best for the bunny. I'm sure I don't need to explain to you how that might apply to my life, or anyone's for that matter. It was a hard lesson. I hope I don't have to learn it again."

Later that same week, we packed the 3 kiddos into a rented bus to drive north to a town devastated by fire. Here is a link to a recent article:

http://www.edmontonjournal.com/news/Government+build+units+temporary+housing+Slave+Lake+fire+victims/5116717/story.html

When we were taken on a tour, we wondered at the seeming randomness of it... a few fences left standing, and a wooden play-set where you could see clear across whole blocks wiped out from the fire. Or the block right beside that had no damage, or maybe one house was gone while the rest remained. Thirty percent of the homes were destroyed. Fire whipped from the surrounding forest at up to 100k/hour, (I think that's right...) and blew huge chunks of wood on fire into the town. The pastor giving us the tour said that the town hall caught on fire while people were meeting IN it. They had no idea it was on fire, because it was spreading so quickly. At one point, large groupings of vehicles waited for word from the RCMP because all the exiting highways were also compromised by fire. I imagined how that might feel; if I waited in the passenger seat of our van, nerves high, tension high... praying and immobile, while my kids fought in the back and laughed nervously. What truth would I declare to them and to my own weak spirit? Or would I be bold, declaring God's goodness and standing firm on faith? (Honestly, right now... I think it would be more of the fear part and less of the bold.)

So, with God's revelation in mind, (the bunny thing and grace I mean,) I looked at the ashes and saw grace. We were told that not one person was killed in the fire! But more then that, the Bible says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2Cor12:19. Maybe this sounds silly to you, but I know my Father is up to good things for Slave Lake! He is making the people stronger. "... though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. ⁷ These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." 1 Peter 6-7.

Do you miss Darlene?

"Do you miss Darlene?" my mom asked me and I could hear in her voice that she was holding back tears. Darlene, my mom's cousin. Darlene my Godmother in title, and in creating a space to learn a little of God. The one who spoke peace into our family with her gift of hospitality.
It's been 7 years.

"Yes and no," was my answer.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I, um, I had a dream about her..." and I hesitated; what would she think of my dream?
"I had a dream I was in a beautiful field, and there was forest off in the distance, a cobblestone road and a bridge over a stream. Very vibrant. I knew I was dead, and I felt so much fear! But when I saw Darlene, I felt welcomed. It felt like a home kind of feeling. She took my hand. I said in my dream, "Jesus, I love you. Please take care of my family." Then I woke up. I felt peace. Darlene was at peace and in Heaven, I've no doubt."
My mom was so pleased with my dream, but maybe not comforted. I don't know. The conversation went south and I wasn't sure if I had done right in sharing my dream.
Truly, truly I thought that was all: my grieving process made bearable by a dream of Heavenly beauty.

Our conversation took place maybe two or three weeks ago. Today in a moment of my vulnerability, God showed me memory after memory, suppressed but not completely forgotten and I cried and cried. I remembered playing next to her in church playing with a doll; remembered my terrible imaginings of what lay behind a door in her apartment, (just a stairwell - emergency exit!) I remember going with her to a farm and seeing an artist's loft in the garage, (oh my delight!) and her restaurant... Her trailer by my grandparents cabin, (the memory fading... small fridge, smell of mothballs; my wonder at the sheer number of different things all growing in the same green shade spread out as lawn!), and more church memories. Perogy dinner at the Basillica hall: blessing the baskets at Easter: A picture of Jesus wounded, eyes infinitely sad that people kissed and kissed. (I could only think of the germs; I could not look at His suffering,) I remember sparkly glass and decorating Ukrainian Easter eggs. A dog named Snoopy, and her best friend Elizabeth. Wonderful memories. Sweet memories. Some memories only sad: her funeral: a sheer force of numbness that I am sad to say is my very own retreat into escapism, her on her couch; my mom her comforter and her nurse. Bittersweet. I am sad but very blessed by these memories.

And so I find myself, almost 2 in the morning again, writing. Writing a thank you to God who knows me better then I know myself. Who knew that I needed a good cry... Who orchestrated one more step in my healing: who drew me near so gently that I almost missed it. For it was my friend K's wedding this weekend that opened the crack: her wedding held in the same hall I had been to many times before, with Darlene, only this time instead of excitedly anticipating a dinner with games and prizes and tables full of sweets... this time it was a celebration of love! How gentle of my Father in Heaven! How tender in mercy; how full of loving-kindness! A wedding to draw me out of my shell and bring me back to a place of remembering.

^{Psalm 51: 17}
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.

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

Not sure if this will work but I'm linking with my friend Emily today:



Praying for a safe and speedy delivery of her 2nd baby, another miracle, as she was told she would never have kids. :D