This last Sunday, we had the pleasure of having Robb Nash and his team do a presentation at our church. I had never heard him speak before, but his message hit me. HARD. What a reminder to make every moment count; to take what you are and what you have and make a difference. (For those of you unfamiliar with Robb Nash visit http://www.robbnash.com/ Definitely worth checking out.) He talked about finding purpose; knowing the “why” of what you do, not just the “what”. Yeah. That. I have lived most of my life wanting to make a difference, but not knowing how to make that happen. Always feeling too insignificant to really do anything important and constantly berating myself for never measuring up to this unrealistic bar I have set. Thinking I need to go to Africa to change lives, (though unlike most people, I REALLY WANT to go to Africa). Basically, waiting. Just waiting. Until recently.
Within the last 6 months, I have lost two precious babies due to miscarriage and my last remaining grandmother. My most recent miscarriage was only just over a month ago. I wrote a blog post earlier about losing Tayten this February. This time around was very similar. A missed miscarriage that caught us completely by surprise. I didn’t think that this could happen to us a second time, but it did. And we are once again forced to walk through the valley of grief. But we are walking through. One of the things that Robb said was that the cliché statement people throw around when bad things happen, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is a lie. Pain does not automatically make you stronger. It takes a choice. It takes getting out of bed each morning and facing one more day. And sometimes, it takes having the courage to ask for help and to grasp hold of the hand extended to you. If not for the Hope that God has given over and over again through the years, always at the exact moment, I know I would not be here. I am the person that I am today because I accepted the hand outstretched.
The recent losses have made me realize that time is precious. We really don’t know when ours is up. It can be so easy to become wrapped up in our own pain, our own struggles, to the point that we forget there are others hurting and needing just within arm’s reach. On Sunday, while hearing Robb speak about his own experience, of a life ended too soon and then given a second chance, of his choice to reach out to the hurting and make a difference, I was reminded. I have to stop waiting. So many of us are waiting and the world is dying while we do. In Luke 10:2, Jesus said this, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” I have heard that verse so many times and thought, “Ok, I need to pray more”, but never looked at the one following. “ 3 Go your way; behold, I am sending you out as lambs in the midst of wolves.” He told us to pray, which is vital, but then He said “GO. I am sending you”. We are His hands extended. We are the laborers. I don’t have to cross the ocean to be effective – I just need to open my eyes and look around and be available to reach out. Here. Now. In the everyday, mundane, normal of life. To my family, my friends, my neighbor, the teen at the bus stop, the guy begging on the street corner, the frazzled looking mom in the Walmart parking lot. Anywhere. Everywhere. It probably won’t be comfortable. The opportunities might even take us by surprise. Why? Because Jesus called us to. Because He cares about people. Because in being His hands extended, I make a difference. Because that is exactly what someone did for me.
13 years ago, I sat on my bed with a bottle of painkillers and a knife, giving God one last chance to stop me from ending my life. Inside I was hoping, begging Him to stop me. I didn’t want to end it, but I saw no other way to escape from the suffocating darkness that screamed I was worthless and had no reason for living. It was a quicksand that was slowly eating me alive. In that moment, as I felt like I was about to go under, I gave God a final ultimatum – He had one last chance to make it count. And that’s when the phone rang. I answered to hear the voice of a friend that I had lost touch with and not spoken with in almost a year. She had felt the need to call and see how I was doing. A dam broke inside and everything spilled out. Over the course of the next 4 hours, she just let me talk, staying on the phone with me while she got into her car and drove to my apartment and then sitting there until I was spent. When we finished talking, it was like sun had burst through the clouds. I could see the lies that had been keeping me captive and I was given hope for the first time in months. With a lot of prayer and my friend keeping me accountable and staying in regular contact, I was able to find peace and move forward with my life. All because someone reached out.
Sunday night I came home and wrote the final verse to this poem. I’ve been working on it for a little while, but it just didn’t feel complete and I couldn’t figure out why. Turns out the missing piece was me.
CRIMSON RIVERS
I am one of them
Hiding in plain sight
Behind plastic smiles, shadowed eyes
Shattered hearts run crimson rivers
Time rushes past
Tentacles tighten
Pain drags us down
Silently screaming
Begging
For someone to extend a hand
Silver glints
Cool against my skin
Seeking escape in crimson rivers
Despair surrounds
It suffocates
I crave release
Yet I hesitate
Is death really freedom?
Or will the bite of the blade
Only drive the darkness
Deeper?
I waver, I plead
Ground gives way
Demons devour
But another voice rings out
A hand reaches, grasps firm
The grip of a remembered friend
Yet it’s His hands that I see
Pierced and torn
Hope, bought with crimson rivers
Sunlight punctures through the murk
And I am found
Arms envelop, my soul is held
Strength for another day
Now with purpose, open eyes
I see the hidden in the crowd
Making each moment count
Because wounds flowed red
My heart still bleeds crimson rivers
Though the rivers run for you
My hand reaching
Yours to grasp
Is but His extended
May we be His hands extended. Everywhere. Anywhere. Let’s make a difference.
Of Shattered Things 