Some Wounds Don’t Heal

Many dear folks have privately asked me how the family and I are doing these several months into our new lives missing Stache and mourning his loss. While I can’t presume to answer publicly for my adult kids, I can confidently say, in general, this wound won’t heal until we see Jesus. It’s far, far too deep and complicated.

Perhaps you can relate?

Right there opens up a question to consider. 

Have you ever been asked to blindly trust God with things more precious than your mind and heart can bear to let go of? 

Funny how we can claim to trust God for our eternity, yet when asked to trust Him with our daily realities, our perceived unmet needs, desires, dreams, and possibly a few unknowns in life, we’re a slain mess about the whole thing, allowing our minds and emotions to run amuck all over the place. Trust Him? What does that even mean?

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my disclosure policy here.

This past week, I cleaned the closet and last few dresser drawers of the man I’ve loved for nearly 41 years. I rifled nostalgically through things special to him as a boy and stuff he randomly tucked away, valuing as a man. We’re not talking about his barn, the basement, the attic, or the multiple garages here—goodness, no, I can’t even think of all that now! I’ve only dealt with our shared personal space—our bedroom.

One Of A Kind

I’m guessing few wives will find, among other things, an old tattoo kit intended for livestock ears—namely goats in this case—tucked high in the closet, next to their husband’s faithful brown cardboard box full of silver buckle and boot polishes and decrepit, used-up brushes—some dating back to 1974. I found his nightstand drawers full of essential household tools he hid from our boys [so he could find them when necessary], his treasured honorary friendship coin, his mother’s picture with him at his Marine Bootcamp graduation, and who knows how many cigars.

His half a closet jammed packed with every variety and color of Hawaiians known to mankind might not be all that extraordinary after nearly eighteen years at Trader Joe’s. Still, along with a few lingering authentic Westerns, complete with snaps, a couple of leisure shirts he paired with his one pair of untorn, dark wash Wranglers, and his Scottish Kilt with the proper hose, and matching garters, it’s obvious the man led a diverse—if not predictably-unpredictable life that made perfect, beautiful sense to those who knew and loved him.

Motivated by the basic needs of others that some of Stache’s clothes can quickly meet and a few nagging questions that randomly haunt my mind with fear, I wandered down memory lanes that took Stache a lifetime to pave. Thankfully, the hours I spent taking it all in were sweeter and more healing than anticipated. What I thought might be too soon turned out to be just right.

I can’t speak for any other marriage. But, when a girl loves a man as I have loved and suddenly loses him to God without warning, there are inevitable unspoken words and lingering questions left without answers. 

God Knows Best

The thing I wonder is, would I be genuinely better off knowing the truths Stache took with him? Would I be less lonely, less wounded, less mystified with God as to why? Would any of our family members be less motivated to clarify their own lives for their remaining loved ones’ sake?

Only God knows. I am honestly conflicted on this.

Knowing vs. Believing

If I’ve learned anything these last months, knowing facts within my mind and believing these truths are two vastly different things. Four months of facing life without Stache still FEELS incredibly unreal—a nightmarish twilight zone, if you will, that I’m merely waiting to stumble out of. And yet this loss is an unchanging truth, whether I choose to believe it or not.

God, in His goodness, hasn’t changed. [James 1:17]. He has seen fit to give gifts of kindness and allow this devastating trial. He’s asked me to trust Him [Prov. 3:5]. He asks me to seek His face [Psalm 105:4] and the things above where Christ is [Col. 3:1]. Jesus isn’t calloused to our family’s pain and loss—He suffered similar pain as a man and much worse [Psalm 22:1, Matt. 27:46].

Speaking for myself, more knowledge, more words, and more precious time with Stache have never been my ultimate hope—God is. That’s what it should be anyway.

God help me—I confess there are fleeting thoughts, moments, and even some days where my mourning steps off into consuming darkness. God’s Word and the Holy Spirit faithfully rescue me wherever I wander, hedging me in, drawing me back to safety and relative health of mind and spirit. I’m finding the need to more often recite or meditate on truths the Lord gave me long ago, simply to keep my footing [Psalm 119:92].

Trust

I’ve mentioned Psalm 27 before. Verse 1 spoke to me again this morning. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

Privileged as I’ve been to live in a time, culture, and experience where the ravages of war have been left merely to my imagination, I have admittedly skipped over the mid-section of this Psalm far too often, lacking a perceived need for God to ‘hide me from my enemies.’

Though I’ve never seen physical war, I regularly engage in prayer—battling plenty within the spiritual realm. And so, with spiritual eyes wide open, I re-read Psalm 27:2-12 and just wept. 

The spiritual equivalents to David’s physical reality are intensely palpable—with verses 8-9 offering a heart cry much like my own. The phrase ‘seek My face’ is used throughout Scripture. Besides obeying God, it’s the safest, kindest, most peace-filled place to put my trust and focus—leaving all questions and bewilderment with God.

Further, in Psalm 27, verses 13-14, David writes, “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.” 

Psalm 27 is essentially an incredibly descriptive word picture of trust. I’ve never seen it quite so clearly before.

Waiting On The Lord

Circumstances such as we face today dependently ‘waiting on the Lord’ for answers is the only helpful occupation that makes any sense. I counsel my kids and grandkids as I counsel myself—we’ve trusted God this far—now He’s asking us to trust Him all the way home to Glory. Is that too much for God to ask of His children? Does this make God cruel?

Presumably, Lord providing, I still have life to live, kids to love, people to serve, more words to write, bread to bake, seeds to grow, chickens to feed, and only God knows what else He holds in my future. But when ghostly questions chase my heart by night or fear hunts down my soul through any given day, there’s only one sure way to find rest—by seeking God’s face with self-abandoned trust in Him.

God’s people are called to control their minds. I’m finding this directive more of a mercy than just the command I assumed when I was young. We are called to think about things that are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. If there’s any virtue or any praise, these are the things God wants our minds to think on [Phil. 4:8]. Do you sense in this God’s protection and care?

Capability vs. Desire

I had a friend wisely pose the question recently, ‘if God asks us to think in specific ways, do we believe He created us capable of doing so?’ Sometimes we honestly don’t feel able to do what God commands. But we might as well face it; the real question here isn’t capability—it’s desire. I ask myself—do I desire to think as God asks me to think?

More than this, however, we are wise to remember that sometimes our thoughts are not our own—often, they don’t originate with us.

The Bible warns that Satan is bent on accusing, discouraging, and tormenting God’s children. Satan and his demons suggest thoughts to us. They whisper accusations, confusion, and lies. It’s up to us to recognize and shut those thoughts out.

God calls His people to prepare for battle as every great warrior does, reminding us that one of our most significant fights is against the devil’s wiles [Eph. 6:11]. “We don’t wrestle against flesh and blood but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places [Eph. 6:12].” 

God considers these spiritual battles real war against our very souls, carefully describing specific armor pieces necessary to ‘withstand in the evil day, doing all, to stand [Eph. 6:13-18].’ These armor tools literally give my wounded heart strength, safety, and direction that I would otherwise not have on my own.

A World Full Of Sorrow

In this season of mourning, I must say, I recognize I’m far from the only one hurting. There is so much tragedy, loss, and suffering in this world.

Some folks have wondered in their private comments to me, ‘why do you need to express your mourning publicly for the world to see?’ I’ll say, it’s not so much me I’m intending you to see. Instead, by expressing our similar sorrows in life and declaring what God has done and is doing—I hope you see the vast loving care of God. No preaching intended—no finger-pointing or shame. Simply come and see the kind mercies of the Lord.

If you are facing devastating circumstances beyond words like my family and me, I hope you’ve chosen and keep choosing to trust God with them. He is so, so good. God loves both you and me. He is worthy of our trust and will never let us down.

In You O Lord, I put my trust;
Let me never be ashamed;
Deliver me in Your righteousness.
Bow down Your ear to me,
Deliver me speedily;
Be my rock of refuge,
A fortress of defense to save me.

For You are my Rock and my fortress;
Therefore, for Your name's sake,
Lead me and guide me.
Pull me out of the net which they secretly laid for me,
For You are my strength.
Into Your hands I commit my spirit;
You have redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.  Psalm 31:1-5 NKJV