The past few days my mind has been more consumed with plans for a class I'm teaching (and loving!) and just the regular responsibilities of my job, my family, my life. People will ask, "how are things coming for Easter?" and I have to stop for a moment and remind myself that Easter is just days away! What I've felt though during my regular, busy life is moments of sadness. The past three days I have felt a lot of loss, or more reminders of loss.
Sunday night I made some banana bread. I had a bunch of bananas that were past the point of no return to actually be eaten and almost too black even for banana bread, so I knew it was now or never. I like to make bread or muffins or something breakfasty for my family to enjoy for the week. As always with my banana bread recipe, I had more batter than my bundt pan would hold so I pulled out my cute little loaf pans, greased them up and finished off the rest of the batter. After cooking the bread and letting it cool, I dumped them out of the pans and wrapped the small loaves in tin foil. Without even realizing it, I thought "I'll take one of these to Mema tomorrow." And then it hit me. She's gone. Isn't it crazy how you can forget something so profound and life-changing? Even after nine months, you just forget. In those little moments, you forget that life changed and it's not like it used to be. Some of my fondest memories with my grandmother were shared over food. Our birthdays were in the same week and every year we celebrated with a birthday lunch. It was usually Subway or Schlotzsky's (we really liked sandwiches). After Ava was born, and her health and my grandfather's health were slowly declining, I took them dinner every Monday night. We ate and laughed and Ava entertained. They cheered at clapped every week as Ava showed off a new skill. Convinced she was a genius, they marveled at her progress each week. They snuggled her and they shared wisdom about life with me. I don't remember why that season ended, perhaps the busyness of life just got in the way, but I miss it. Oh, how I miss it. Even when dinners were just Mema and myself at the table because Pepa was too tired to join us. Or when it was all of my family and both of them, laughing, sharing, loving. What I would give to have one more dinner. One more Monday night. So they could see my girls and kiss them and hug them once more. So I could hold her frail hand, ravaged by arthritis, one more time as we prayed for dinner.
Loss is hard. It takes time to let it sink in and even more time to learn how to go in life without that person. In ministry, I've experienced loss. Last week during a class I'm teaching (it's a worship leader training course), I shared about how to deal when people leave. In ministry, it's inevitable. People will leave. They will walk away. They will tell you it's not personal, but it is. It's one of the most personal things. How can it not be personal? When you've poured your life into someone? When you've loved them, trained them, encouraged them, walked through hard times with them, held them up when they needed it, allowed them into your life in an intimate personal way??? And they just leave. And you are left behind. Sad, heartbroken at the sin that has drawn them away or the circumstances of life that takes them somewhere else. It hurts. It hurts so bad. But the only thing you can do is let them go. Trust God with them, and just let go. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes a year goes by and you finally hear from them. Sometimes they are gone and you never see them again. That loss is hard. This week I'm reminded of the loss of two precious people that I invested in and they walked away. It's easy to feel sorry for yourself and have a pity party and think that it was something you did or didn't do. But the truth is, it's not you.
So, what does this have to do with Easter?? On Sunday, we will celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and the perfect work of the cross. He died for me, for you, for the world. He died for my Mema. She knew Him and love Him and is now living pain free with Him. (This makes me smile!) He died for those two that left. The one that is slowly coming back around and the one that is deeper in sin and pain than ever. He died for me. For when I'm sad, for when I'm at my best, for when I'm a complete mess. This Sunday, in churches all over the world, lost and hurting people will walk into a church. They may be coming back after a long detour of running from God. They may be coming for the very first time. They may hear about Jesus for the first time or the five hundredth time. They will come and meet Jesus. The Jesus that gave His life for them and they will come to an altar or say a prayer or make a decision to live for Him, again or for the first time. And I will come and celebrate Jesus and the life that He's given me. The life that sometimes includes loss, but also includes the hope to deal with the loss. That's my Jesus.
Whatever you have to bring this Sunday, whether it's pain, loss, sorrow, joy, depression, hope, or you're looking for a second chance (or a 50th chance), just bring it. Bring all of it. Bring all of you. My heart is expectant.
Here is a new song we will be introducing on Easter Sunday! Get excited about what God is going to do!!!
