Authentically Joycelynn

Living My Best Authentic Life

Faith & Loss

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Faith & Loss

Faith VS Cynicism

I heard a speaker the other day talk about people having a naivety when it comes life if they have not ever experienced a trauma or tragedy. He spoke of what happens to people when they face a tragedy and the veil of naivety lifts. After a tragedy or real traumatic event, your faith or actually naivety is shattered and you become cynical. He goes on to say that after you become cynical you are actually more wise than you were before. That in itself may not be good because as a cynical person you are not as optimistic as before and not as filled with hope. The speaker is the controversial psychologist Jordan Peterson.

To be honest…that was and somewhat is still true in my life. You see, the first few months after our son died, my faith was strong and unwavering. However, as months went on, and the rawness of my loss continued, I began to lose hope and I became cynical. I began to see God in a different way. I lost trust and faith. I mean, if I couldn’t trust Him, the Almighty, to keep my son safe here on earth, after all the prayers I’d prayed and believed wholeheartedly in being answered, how could I ever trust Him with anything?

Seeking Guidance

A side note to expectations of how my healing would unfold… I reached out to Kay Warren when Brandon died. See, her and her husband Rick Warren are very public figures as pastors of Saddleback Church. As very public figures, when their son committed suicide, anyone who had heard and followed Saddleback Church, new of their son’s suicide. I reached out because I wanted a perspective of her as a ministry wife, and how they were able to heal, or start their healing. She didn’t answer me personally, but had her secretary send me an email, with links to some of her videos where she speaks about their journey.

They took a sabbatical from ministry for about 4 months after losing their son. At the four month time period, they went back into the pulpit. They shared their story, and how at 4 months they had come to a time of acceptance. Well.. Four months. I suppose I thought magically at four months, things would start making sense to me and I’d be at a point of acceptance. When four months came and went, and I was still in a fog, and just as raw in my grief as the day it happened, I became disillusioned. This was my turning point, and when I began to question my faith, and all I’d ever believed in. (I realize now everyone’s journey is different, and there is no timeline on grief and healing…but at the time…who is thinking clearly)

Self Condemnation

Maybe this isn’t anything you’ve ever encountered in your life. Maybe you are reading this and wondering how I could be so shattered in my faith. Or just maybe, you have encountered such pain that you’ve experienced losing your emotional innocence or child-like faith. Don’t think this takes God by surprise. Don’t even be ashamed of it. I mean, if you are having this struggle, God already knows, so just own it. It’s a time to take inventory of your beliefs, and renew your faith, albeit different than before your world was torn apart in front of your eyes.

Honestly, I’m trying to understand why I’m so compelled to share my faith struggles. The only thing I can figure out is that during all this time, even when I really felt like God had totally abandoned me…there was a little small voice somewhere deep in my spirit and I still knew there was a God. I could never just abandon my faith. I could not walk away from it totally. I wanted to. Believe me, I did. However, I could not…would not.

A Light in the Darkness

I must admit, the only thing which made sense in my life…the only thing shedding any understanding on this whole thing was a movie many Christians found extremely controversial. That movie is called “The Shack“. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. The basic overview is the struggle of Mack in his faith after his 5 year old daughter went missing during a family fishing/camping vacation. Missy, his daughter, as you find out later in the movie, was taken and killed by a man who was watching the camping area. Mack’s faith hit an all time low, similar to how I felt. I have been able to identify with Mack and his struggles.

My endless “why” questions. If any of you know me personally, I’m never without questions. This is the one trait of mine which has driven my husband crazy with me during our almost 40 years of marriage. I’ve always felt the need to understand the “why” of how anything works. I don’t just blindly do things because someone tells me to. I’ve got this need to understand why I’m doing something the way I’m doing it. That’s actually the mind of someone with critical thinking skills. In the movie The Shack, Mack’s eyes are opened to how God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit actually work in our lives and how the Godhead really love’s him. Not only how God loves Mack, but how God loves His creation.

The movie came out about a month after Brandon died, and I went to see it with a good friend. It helped to watch this at the time, but then I fell into a raw depression, and the fog in my mind was so thick. It’s over two years later, (and two long years of my faith struggle), and I am back to the beginning. Thinking of God’s pure love for me and even though I still do not have questions answered, I am believing I will have more of an understanding into the why of it all.

Expectations

I also have an expectation of a more complete understanding. I’m praying that God share with me in a deep way how to take this pain and grief and create Beauty Out Of The Ashes. I don’t know where you are in your journey. You may be right there with me, ready to begin the journey back home. You may be the person who has had unwavering faith even in your darkest hour. If you’ve never wavered in your faith, bless you.

If you’ve had a time where your faith was shaken to the core, I’d love to hear from you. If you are there now, trying to put the pieces of your life back together, I’d love to hear from you. Oh, by the way, in The Shack, the ending was something I didn’t see coming. The story-line was fiction, but based on spiritual truths from the author’s understanding of the Love of God toward us.

No matter what happens remember this: I have always loved you ” ~ Papa God

When I began writing this particular article, I didn’t know I would be led to share about the love of God or The Shack.  I began sharing my faith struggles. This morning when I woke up, and continued to write, I was reminded of the book and movie. My heart was warmed I remembered how I was touched by God’s love for us. As I’ve finished, my heart of full of joy as I ponder on the way God loves me…but even more important to me in my grief…how he loves my boy Brandon. Right now, in this moment, I feel at peace. It’s time to watch The Shack again. Thank you God for the ability to understand again how much you love me unconditionally…even when I’m angry, when I’m cynical, and when I question “why”.

Authentically Joycelynn

 

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Grace for the Journey

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

A journey can be described as traveling from one place to another.  A journey can also be a long and difficult process of personal change and development.  I’ve traveled both in my life. I know you have too.Those simple descriptions are found doing a Google search. I want to talk about the long and difficult process of personal change and development.

Have you ever watched those movies where people were able to go back into the past and change events so that out comes could be different? Hindsight is always 20/20. Are there ever events which happen in your life, and you think if you could only go back, I’d do this or that differently? What would you change?

Being a mom was really all I ever wanted to be. I knew I wanted to be a nurse from an early age, but being a mom was what I wanted to be more than anything in the world. In 1979, a little over 3 months after Mike and I were married, we found out we were going to be parents. I was beyond excited. There were several times during that pregnancy I thought it might not happen. I had a few bouts of bleeding early on but just a few months later, on September 18, 1980, a healthy baby boy came into our world.

I loved being pregnant. There was something special with each of my pregnancies about feeling them move inside me. I was their protector. They were nourished by me. My body would even go without nutrients just to make sure they were taken care of. I know not everyone cherished their pregnancies like this. I have friends who were extremely sick during their pregnancies and just couldn’t wait to deliver their precious cargo.

The first few weeks were quite an adjustment for Mike and I. Newborns can be fussy creatures. When they get their days and nights mixed up and you as a mom don’t get sleep for weeks there comes the swift realization babies are work. I was still in bliss though. I loved him so much. Michael Brandon Harrell, all 8 pounds, 7 ounces of him…pure kissing bliss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made a scrapbook of each of my 3 children. At the time, you don’t realize the memories may be all you have one day. When our children are small, we carefully watch over them and protect them. To tell you the truth, when they grow older and leave our watchful care, many of us still feel the need to watch over them. At least I do…and did.

Part of our role is to train these little ones to be capable and responsible adults and to one day watch them raise their own families, and the circle of life continues.

What doesn’t cross our minds when these little ones come into our lives, are the heartaches they may endure. I have a dear friend whose daughter was diagnosed with cancer at age 2. She has grown into young adulthood now, but at an early age, circumstances totally out of a protective mom’s control came into their lives. It was a long stressful and painful journey. Her road to recovery was met with many obstacles. Certainly a journey they had not anticipated, nor would they have wanted their daughter to experience this.

We aren’t given the certainties of our lives ahead of time. If we were able to know the future…what would we change in order to avoid difficulties? I know I’ve had these thoughts go through my mind over and over again the past few months. As many of you know, our beautiful Michael “Brandon” Harrell left this physical world after many years struggling with Veteran PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder)  and TBI (traumatic brain injury) on January 17th, 2017 about 3:00 AM. I’m still in the early and raw grieving stages of this experience so my mind searches all over for what I could have done to help prevent this tragedy.  (as moms…we still want to protect our children, no matter how old they are)

I’ve also experienced thoughts of grief for him personally. I’ve grieved through the years of the pain he experienced emotionally after returning from Iraq. He suffered from survivors guilt. Several of those who would have been in his command (had he not been sent home with PTSD)  were killed in the line of duty. He suffered from a brain injury from a bomb that went off 6 feet from him while he was in Iraq.

As a mom I wanted to help him. I wanted to help take away his pain and his emotional trauma. His journey became my journey. At some point during the past 9 years, I wanted to take this pain from him, and I immersed myself in trying to “fix” amd save  him. I disagreed with all the medication the Veteran’s Administration (VA)  kept piling on. As a nurse, I had researched each drug, and realized they weren’t even for what he was diagnosed with. He made the choice to listen to the VA. That’s another topic though…

Somewhere along the way I became lost in my own journey. My journey became so entrenched in looking for answers to help him, I lost my own way. The second guessing creeps in. What could I have done more to save him…to fix him…to help him? Guilt crept in during the first few weeks after his death. A deep hurt pierced my heart. I brought a child into this world that grew up and experienced unimaginable pain. Why did God allow me to bring a child into the world who would suffer so? I had to go through this sort of self-talk in order to hear God speak tenderly to me.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

His GRACE is sufficient for me. His GRACE was not only sufficient for ME, but it was sufficient for Brandon. Brandon worshipped God through his praise only 2 days before his death. Brandon’s journey wasn’t just filled with pain. He has 2 beautiful children, Caleb and Kayla. He had a beautiful girlfriend, Ginger. He loved his brother Jenniss, and his sister Kelly, and their children. They all loved him. He was loved and highly blessed. He had friends. His church friends, and his band of brothers/sisters.

His funeral was packed with people who loved him. His life wasn’t all suffering. His journey was filled with pain, but it was also filled with joy and love. He was the funniest prankster. He rocked out a guitar. I’ve heard of all the conversations he had with friends about God. He was deep in the things of God. He knew God. He prayed.

As a parent, losing a child has been the most devastating thing I’ve ever experienced. I wanted to protect him, to see him heal. He is healed now. He’s in the loving arms of a healing Savior. My journey continues. God’s grace is sufficient for my journey. I’ve laid down the guilt I’ve carried that I couldn’t protect him…I couldn’t fix him. I’m learning now…it’s time to fix me. It’s time to be still now and just let the Grace of Jesus flow through me. For when I’m weak, then I’m made strong…I’m learning to allow His grace to guide me on this journey, and to stop taking on the burdens and guilt He didn’t give us to begin with.

 

 

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The Day My Life Changed

The day my son died, a part of me died with him…

I went to work that morning. Clueless about what was going to unfold only a few hours later. Clueless that an important part of my life had already slipped away into eternity only a few hours before. When tragedy comes knocking on your door, there are things you never forget.

I remember sitting at a computer at the back of the clinic. I had been making a few patient phone calls and sending out a few prescription refill requests. I’m a Cancer Nurse at my day job. We weren’t supposed to have our cell phones with us, and that day, THANK GOD, I was actually following the rules. (I would have received a frantic call from my other son in his shock)

Now thinking back about not having my phone available, I missed seeing my son before they moved him, and this one thing I feel cheated about. That choice was taken from me, and it’s one of the things I needed to come to terms with.

My manager came asked me to come with her. I assumed she was calling me into her office to share a project she wanted me to work on. Instead, I was led into our conference room and there sat my husband. It was about 12:00 noon, and I smiled at him, thinking he was coming to take me to lunch.

The atmosphere changed really quickly, and I noticed there was a solemness in the air. Without him speaking a word, I asked him what was wrong.  Before he could get a word out, I asked him which child… The room was starting to spin. I began to experience almost an out of body type of phenomenon. I was hearing him, but at the same time, I wasn’t there. I was already groaning in a way I had never cried before.

He shared it was Brandon. I already knew he was gone. He continued, but the words began to sound muffled. I was screaming, but it wasn’t a regular scream. It was the most horrific pained groaning. I had never made those type of crying/screaming sounds before. This was something so deep and painful, there are no words to describe the utterances coming from my heart.

I began to cry “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”  The staff sat me down in a chair. I was limp as a dishrag. Our beautiful boy. Our firstborn. Gone. Forever in this lifetime. Patients were all in the chemo bay. I think they though someone had gotten a cancer diagnosis from the doc and was moaning and crying. No. It was me. My baby was gone. He really wasn’t a baby. He was 36 years old. He was my baby though. My firstborn.

How was I ever going to face the next few days? Or the rest of my life?

After what seemed to be an eternity, but I know it was only about 15 minutes, I was led outside and into the car of a church member who had driven Mike there. Mike got my car, and I rode with Donald down to my other son’s house where everyone else was waiting for me.

I wanted to see my son. I wanted to hold my son. In desperation, I called my husband, and asked to see Brandon. Mike told me the police would not let me touch him. Well, I’m here to tell you, there is no one that would have kept me from touching and holding my son. They would just have had to shoot me to keep me away. They had just moved his body to the coroners office though. All I wanted to do was hold him one more time.

Much of the rest of the day was a blur. Family and friends came to my younger sons home. I was walking down a road I never wanted to walk down. No parent ever wants to walk down this road. A part of my heart died that day. January 17th, 2017.

They say it happened around 3:00 AM. There was a neighbor who was up and smoking on his porch. He said he heard a gunshot sound but did not know where it was coming from.

As I thought back to that day, I realized something very unusual had happened early that morning. I woke up close to 3:00 AM for a bathroom run. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was even up at 4:30 AM posting on Facebook. I remember falling back to sleep at 5:45 for an hour before I had to get up for work. I never stayed awake after a quick bathroom run. This is the first time this had ever happened.

So much is unknown about the death and dying. I know we are spirit beings inside an earthly shell. Why was I so awake and unable to go back to sleep that morning? At the time of his spirit leaving this earth? Did his spirit stop to wake me up and say goodbye for now? I just don’t know. I’d like to think he stopped by.

I miss him so much. A part of me died that day. By the way, the picture featured with this post is actually a picture Brandon had staged of himself in 2012.