Daniel SAFARI: Week 3.

In this week's study, we are discussing fortitude vs. compromise. To be clear, we're not talking the type of compromise where everyone gives a little bit and then wins a bit. We're talking about compromise as it relates to letting go of our values during times of duress.

The questions I'm choosing to address are the following:

• Post about a time when you got an unexpected benefit as a result of a trial.
• Are trials a necessary part of Christianity? Discuss.

Three weeks before I turned 30, my mother died.  In February, it'll be 11 years. Oh, dear.  That means I'll be 41 next month.  Shhh.  Don't tell anyone.  She died on my father-in-law's 60th birthday.  I don't love February.  Not only is it a gray month, but, even 11 years later, I still have gray days when I think of my mom.  I often try to plan little treats and/or vacations during February to make it a more palatable month.  Tell me you do those types of things, too.  Well, not planning trips and treats in February, but planning little happies when you know you're not going to be so happy on your own.  Just me?

My mother and I had a tenuous relationship in my 20s.  Probably this had something to do with my growing independence from her, and my lack of codependence regarding her alcoholism.  It was not pretty.  In fact, because of her drinking, I had very little to do with her. Like a toddler who touches the stove, I was tired of being burned.  I learned to avoid her, so I saw her and spoke to her as little as possible.

And then I had children.  And I had a mother, who, jaded and diseased as she was, loved me and dearly, fiercely loved my children.  Yes, that's right.  She loved us all well.  As well as anyone could who didn't love themselves. She wanted to be a part of their lives, and part of mine, of course.  About 10% of me wanted that, too, so the other 90% came along for the ride.  Why?  Because I was torn between having a broken grandmother for my children (and mother for me) and not having one at all.  So, we bumped along until the last time I saw her conscious:  Feb 16, 1999.  She had come to visit me for Valentines Day weekend, to see the kids (then 2.5 and 8 months) and care for them while Big and I had dinner out.  I'll never forget her out in the snow on the morning she was scheduled to go back home, trying desperately not to freeze to death as she had her first ciggie of the day.  When she came in to warm up and have coffee, I asked her if she was ready to get home.  She said, "Well, it would be nice to have my coffee and my ciggie in the same place."  We both chuckled.  I remember that she didn't feel all that hot when I dropped her off for her ride home.  Five days later, she died.  Diagnosis?  Strep pneumonia.  Seriously?  Yes.  She was misdiagnosed as having the flu, so wasn't given any meds.  When I was called to see her on Saturday afternoon, Feb 21st, she was full of tubes and had only hours to live. 

And yet.

In this instance...her death was a beautiful, tragic, amazing mercy.  I believe that God was there, and further, I believe to my core that my mom was healed completely and utterly that day. Not healed here.  Not healed such that we could have a relationship.  Perhaps God knew that our time would be better spent having coffee someday in heaven, after the dust settled down here.

I do not believe that I would be as strong in my faith were it not for the "untimely" death of my mother, at age 54.

Losing my mom was a trial.  To this day, it remains a trial of sorts because...as much as we were broken in our relationship together, I loved her as fiercely as she loved me.  And I miss her.  Every day.  For, as much as alcohol was a part of our lives, so was her sacrifice and hard work and love for me.  She did the best she could with what she had, and then...I believed God released us both.
 
I believe my trip down to the hospital chapel where I released her into His care was a turning point in my faith.  A turning point which allowed me to seek and see something bigger than the intricacies and inadequacies of our mother-daughter relationship. Bigger than what I could ever hope to create or be apart of on this earth. 

Are trials necessary in the lives of Christians?  In the pre-sin era, I'd say definitely not.  However, based on what we're learning on this SAFARI, I know that we must consider them His refinement for our eternal benefit. 

2Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
James 1:2-3 (NIV)

Disclaimer:  To those of my friends who have lost parents, especially recently, please know that nothing in my post was intended to harm you in any way.  May the Lord bless you and keep you on your journey of grief.  May you feel His sweet new mercies each day. xxxooo