Joy In The Mourning

I have to admit I’ve been pretty weepy and sometimes it leads me straight into the real ugly cry.  Damp eyes, the slow roll of tears down my face then **BAM*** I am a sobbing, snotty heap laying in the middle of a cold, damp floor.   A wail escapes that echos off the tile. This is my new normal.

I have wept in worship, hands lifted high, when that song came on that touched my soul and reminded me I am loved and I am seen in my greatest joy and my deepest hurt.  

I have wept when I think of how my sweet husband has loved me with an unconditional, selfless love that mirrors Jesus so beautifully.  A love I have desperately needed through some really, really hard times.  A love that has remained consistent and strong even when I am not very lovable.

I have wept when I look in the mirror and see the dimples of my first born baby staring back at me.  What a joyous day it will be to see those dimples again in heaven.   FaceTime with your boy reminds my heart that God knows exactly what we need and he longs to give us good, good gifts that bring great joy even in the midst of great heartache.

I wept with heartache after my Make A Wish interview that included a dad with your name.  He looked so much like you.  The texture of his hair, the wide forehead, those eyebrows....my tears quickly turned to tears of joy as I wept over that sweet little guy that we were interviewing for a wish.  So full of life and joy!  As he dug through his toy box for the perfect dinosaur I could see you as a little boy playing with your toys in the floor in a cloud of baby powder that lay so thick on the carpet the vaccum cleaner bogged down.  I dreamt of the man you would be today. 

I have wept with a deep ache in my soul for the challenges and hurt some of my friends are facing.  I have wept for the journey of loss and the journey of healing they are facing.  I have wept with joy and gratitude as I watch God show up over and over again in those places of deep hurt and sorrow.

I have wept for the joy of new life when I saw their little bodies on the ultrasound pictures for the first time.  I have wept for the blessings of grandchildren.  They are my crowing glory.

I have wept when that song comes on that reminds me of my middle baby playing outside with his tractor in the mud, in his rubber boots that had been partially eaten by the dog.  He refused to wear the new pair I bought. Not a care in the world. Tears of pure joy when I think of the man, husband and father he is today.

I have wept when the daily phone calls come from my youngest son. Overflowing joy for the growth he has displayed through his own journey and how he loves his momma.

I have wept when I thought of the young man God chose to gift us with as our own.  Such joy in watching him bloom into the man God created him to be as a husband and father.

I have wept for joy at the gift of inherited children that I get to watch and sometimes encourage as they navigate this journey through life.

I have wept when my phone pings and opens up to pictures that are sent by my daughters in love of my grandchildren or the stories that they share about what is going on in the grandchildren’s lives.  I have wept in gratitude for daughters in love that love me well.  I have wept because I am so thankful they value me in their lives and the lives of their children.  I am so thankful they value me as the mother of their spouses. The gratitude, joy and longing settle into the same space in my heart.

These days I’m ok with the damp eyes, the slow roll of tears down my face, finding myself sobbing, a snotty heap laying in the middle of a cold, damp floor. My wails no longer startle my dogs or my family. They simply show up to love me.

What I have learned from your death is that great love brings great heartache and great joy. I am learning better how to embrace the heartache and joy. I am learning how to allow great grief to live in the same space as great joy. Space in the heart of a momma that loves big and has lost big.

Weeping may come for the night friend but joy does comes in the mourning.

Much 💕,

Chrissy

Broken and Hurting Does Not Equal Contagious

I walked into juvenile court. My heart heavy, yet full of hope. Young boys shackled together by chains around their wrist and ankles. All of them dressed in matching jumpsuits, their faces full of fear and hurt. The only differentiating trait was their hair color and cut. They reminded me of the lost boys in the movie Peter Pan. Drawn by the lights and carnival atmosphere, they have been sucked into the vortex of sin.  My heart broke into pieces.  Inside I was crying out to God to guard their young minds and hearts. Let them see Jesus. The one who will never leave them or forsake them. Let them experience the full love of Christ. Children being parented by the State of Texas. I could only imagine the trauma their undeveloped brains had witnessed. The adult lives they had been exposed to instead of protected from. 

The devil would like nothing better than to steal the hearts and minds of our impressionable children but God said “children are a gift from God; they are a reward from him.” Psalms 127:3. Are these children part of a generational curse? “Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sins of the parents to the 3rd and 4th generation.” Exodus 34:6. That stings. I know I have generational curses that have been passed down through my family. Sin may cause you little pain now but it could be detrimental in the lives of your children and grandchildren later. 

Only Christ can break the curse and bondage within my life, the lives of my children and grandchildren. The precious lives of those young boys. Your life. He tears down the strongholds in our life when we surrender to Him. He breaks the generational curses over your family. He died on the cross for our bondage. He died on the cross for our broken. He died on the cross knowing we would be a muddy mess. 

I look around the courtroom and grieve. I wonder how many people really know the hurt and pain of these families and children?  I also wonder how many know but look down their noses and don’t want to get their hands dirty. How many feel like it is someone else’s problem?  We live in our sterile world pretending we have a perfect life. We dabble in superficial relationships. Relationships that are just deep enough to feel good about ourselves but not deep enough to walk along beside them through their mess. Maybe we say, that is not my problem but the truth is as Christians, it is our problem. Christ says we are to serve the least of these. We are to care for the orphans.  How is it that children show up in court with no one who cares?

These kids in court are just a small picture of a bigger problem. I wonder how many of these kids and broken families have possibly crossed my path. Have they lived in my neighborhood? Showed up at my church? Did I spend five minutes waiting in the grocery store line with them pretending I was preoccupied so I didn’t have to engage?  How about you?  Did you miss a kind word? An opportunity to see the pain in someone else’s life and the opportunity to engage. To share hope. When are we going to start getting dirty and living life with people in the broken and dark places? Trust me. Broken and hurting does not equal contagious. There is great risk though. The risk of freedom from the dark and broken places that may be revealed in our own life. Maybe that’s it. Maybe we are scared our own short comings and fallen nature will fall out of the closet when we attempt to help someone else dig out of the dark into the light of Christ. 

By the grace of God, within this particular courtroom I could identify lawyers, a judge, prosecutors, directors of the juvenile system, court reporters, probation officers and so many others who love Jesus and sacrifice their time and talents to love these kids. They are not only a voice for their future but a voice of hope. The hope of Christ. As these men and women pour into these youth I wonder???

What if we could raise more Christians within the juvenile system that could share the love, hope and trust in a father who will never leave them or forsake them. What if we quit pretending to be preoccupied standing in the grocery line? What if we approached that mom trying to carry her dirty little boy out to her car with a gallon of milk and offered her a hand rather than look upon her with disgust and criticism of her care for her child. How about the man sweeping parking lot? Do you ever consider the lady or man that makes sure the gas station or airport bathroom is clean? So many opportunities, yet just like you, I become self absorbed living in my sterile word. 

Father God, thank you for the many gifts we have to offer others. Help us learn to live outside of our selfishness. Aware of those hurting around us. Help us be willing to make sacrifices in our own lives so we can be a voice for others. Help us show your unconditional love and grace. Amen.

Much love,

Chrissy

Sprinkles of Tiny Miracles

We headed into the new year like most, with great anticipation of new beginnings, do overs, start overs.  2021 unfolded with a bang and then the wave threw us back into the desert of loss and heartache.

We had walked through this desert frequently over the past ten years.  We knew the heat would feel intense and life would feel parched for a while. Then, all of a sudden, the stars twinkled in the sky and cleansing rain poured down our face?

It was one of those moments where God reminds us that even in our brokenness, He is good.  That even in the desert, He is present and hears our prayers. That regardless of our what our circumstance look or feel like, He desires to give us good gifts.

Since losing Ron and Chris, God has shown me over and over again, that there are always tiny miracles sprinkled in with the pain. The confusing, overwhelming, beautiful place where great joy and great grief collide.

In 2020, just as the world was shutting down from Covid, we lost a grandbaby.  Our tiny human we never got to touch and hold was held first by Jesus, Udi, Grandma B, Papa, Uncle Chris and so many others who have gone on before us.

Grief consumed our kids and overwhelmed all of our hearts.  A baby that will never be forgotten nor can it ever be replaced;

but then God…

Saw fit to sprinkle us with another tiny miracle. He gifted our family with life once more.  A gift that was an answer to prayer.

The excitement of the call that we were expecting a new little miracle grand baby in 2022.

A baby we now know is a little boy and will carry the name Weston Blake Cogdell through his life.

We recently celebrated this sweet miracle with family and friends.  Standing off to one side, I couldn’t help but feel God’s overwhelming grace and love.  Not only have we been gifted with a new grandbaby, but we inherited a beautiful daughter-in-love and her gracious, big, fun, loving family.

We have had many other sprinkles of tiny miracles along the journey of grief and healing.  This one happens to be one of my favorites.  This one and another sweet miracle baby that made me a great-aunt.  Kennedy Grace. I will tell you more about her soon! In the meantime, enjoy all this cuteness.

Weston Blake

Four generations

Mommy, Mimi and Weston

Kennedy Grace

All that cuteness❤️

Are you walking in the desert?  Can you find the tiny sprinkles of miracles along the way?

I would love to hear your story…share in the comments.

Much love,

Chrissy

These Dry Bones

These dry bones...
brittle, bleached, weathered

Do you ever feel like you walked into the valley of daily life and struggles and the heat feels as if it is burning your flesh off? The heat of hurt, rejection, fear, loneliness, job loss, financial burdens, broken marriage, loss of hope? Do you feel that if you don’t get relief soon you will just be a mere skeleton of yourself...all your flesh stripped off?

In Ezekiel, the people of Israel were crying out to God saying “our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off”. They too were feeling the heat and angst we experience in this broken world.

As Ezekiel walked through the valley of dry bones, the Lord said to the bones “I will make breath enter you and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am God.” Ezekiel prophesied as the Lord commanded and those bones came to life. God brought them out of their graves and breathed new life into them giving them hope for the future. His desire is to breathe life into our dry bones so that we may live a life worthy of His name and calling. He says “I will put my spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle in your land.” Not only does God say he will breathe his spirit into our life giving our tired and weary bones new life, he also promises to go before us to fight our battles. He reminds us that the battle is not ours.

As I write this, I too have had to cry out to God to breathe life into my own dry bones that have been scattered on the valley floor. Bones dried up by the loss of a spouse, the loss of my first born son, broken marriages, addiction, deception, loss of relationships, financial struggles, loss of hope. I have watched God breathe life into these areas of my life over and over again. I have watched him bring beauty from ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. He say we will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. His desire is to breathe His life into you and into your family. Your struggles, your hurt, your pain, your dry bones.

Lay it down at the cross, I promise He won’t disappoint you.

Ezekiel 37:4-14
2 Chronicles 20:15-30
Jeremiah 29:11
Isaiah 61:3

Much love,

Chrissy

#embracingthemess