Posts tagged ‘passage of time’

December 8, 2015

The Object of Anticipation

Anticipation… hope, excitement, expectancy, planning, joy. Anticipation denotatively means “the feeling of looking forward, usually excitedly or eagerly, to something that is going to happen.” Just like the Japanese art of kintsugi, the object of desire—the object of anticipation—is shattered, seemingly irreparable. Perhaps the damage was done knowingly—purposefully. Often, however, it appears to completely chance, completely random and meaningless.

Kintsugi sake cup broken
As the object of anticipation is in pieces, we have a choice. Do we throw it away? Do we give it up—the hope, the symbolism, the joy? Or, do we begin the process of reforming it? The pieces must be assessed. The pieces may be jagged and cracking. They be slivered and scattered. Some may need to be smoothed. Some may not be reusable; once assessed, they may need to left out of the renewal project. Each piece is painstakingly touched, restored, or lovingly removed. Yet, in the hands of a Master, in the heart of the Creator, something beautiful is designed.

Kintsugi sake cup repaired center
The pieces will not, ever, fit back together exactly as they once did. Something has been lost, fragments of dust even, but a loss has occurred. The Master recognizes this loss, acknowledges this loss, and must gently and painstakingly make a filling that is specific and unique to the missing fragment or space. The object of anticipation is not, will never be, the same again. But, the beauty in the acknowledgment. The beauty in the change of anticipation. The beauty in the process of recreating. They are all so valuable to the Master and to the piece now recreated.
Anyone who has the opportunity to touch this piece knows that they hold something thoroughly and meticulously touched by the Master who thought of every line, every edge, every angle, and every depth of filling, every width of space… He has touched and detailed it all.

Kintsugi sake cup repaired inside

As time moves on, it may appear that more and more is repaired, yet, the reality is that the pain, the grief, the missing pieces, will be missing forever. The perspective or aspect might change, but the loss never will, and, thankfully, neither will the love the Creator!

Five years ago today my object of anticipation—the expectation of a sweet new life in our family—also included many “negative” anticipations… fear, dread, concern. We had lost Savannah Grace, nothing seemed to be going right in our ministry, jobs, or home, and my pregnancy just felt “off.” On December 8, 2010, we found out why. I have always wanted to be used by God and for God, but I never wanted to feel the pain of the shattering, the pain of loss and removal. I can say with certainty that God loved me enough to piece me back together; I am golden because He has pieced me back together and created beauty from my pain.


NOTE: These pictures were copied from Lakeside Pottery. I do not have an endorsement or anything of the like from them. I use these pictures with respect for your craft. However, if you wish for me to remove them, I will do so. Thank you for the beauty you create. It is such a gift.

April 8, 2013

Happy 2nd birthday, Jedidiah!

I had a wonderful opportunity to speak at a women’s Bible study during their testimonial series earlier this year.  I was able to write down my testimony from the past three and a half years.  During that time, I wept and I laughed.  I remembered magnificent and dreadful moments that had gotten concealed in the passage of time.

Grief does not go away.  It doesn’t even change.  Jedidiah is my son.  It is as true today as it was two years ago, yet as life marches forward; new babies are born to friends, weekly activities overtake birthdays, and those physically present before us become the ones we pour into.  The passage of time will bring new awareness, new understanding, new needs, and new loves.  But, it does not change grief.

Encarta’s definition of grief is “intense sorrow…great sadness, especially as a result of a death.”  No, grief does not change.   Not for me.  In any moment I can feel the intensity of the loss of my son.  I can feel my arms empty.  I can feel my heart heavy.  I can’t specifically recall his smell, yet I know that it was sweet and strong.  The passage of time will take away memories, will lessen the ability to stay caught in the moment of death, will give fresh perspective, will reveal God’s purpose, will bring comfort.

While the grief itself will not change, the process of grieving does.  The passage of time will force change.  I am so thankful for my moments with Jedidiah, and I am thankful for the last two years.  God uses the passage of time to reveal His bigger plan, His greater purpose.  I can become a blubbering mess in 2.2 seconds and reenter my grief at any time, but God holds me tight and loves me and shows me “why” and “what now.”  So, I don’t most of the time, not now.  I choose what I think about, focus on, and do with what I have.  Everyone must as time passes—whether they have lost a child or another loved one, or even if they are simply having a rough time in life.

So, today we honor Jedidiah by moving on with life.  His brother gets his braces off, and all of his brothers will be at Scouts this evening.  And, today we honor Jedidiah by stopping to think of him in specific ways.  His father took the day off to be close by my side; we will take cookies to the team at Vanderbilt, we will cook dinner for friends with a new baby, and we will bake a cake to celebrate his life.

My many thanks to those of you who have been aware of his birthday and have taken the time to reach out to me, letting me know that he has not been forgotten by you.

May God shine upon you today, and reveal His immense and marvelous love.

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