Marci the Builder

About four months ago, I started building a wall.  I began laying down bricks, applying mortar, and stacking them up.

I didn't realize until today just how big it had gotten.

(It's not a real wall.  It's a metaphor.  Stay with me.  You'll understand.)

People usually build walls to keep things out - to separate themselves from something, or someone.  I have been building a wall to keep reality away.  I don't like reality.  It's cruel.  It's harsh.  And it hurts.

...

Last December, I got an early morning phone call from my friend and neighbor, Elisha Skeen.  She knows I like to sleep in, so when I heard her shaky voice say, "Hey" - not a "good morning" or "how are you doing" kind of "hey".  Just "hey".  I knew something was wrong.

I thought maybe her two-year-old son was sick, or maybe her car wouldn't start.  I never expected her to tell me she had been in the emergency room because of headaches.  Or that they had found lesions on her brain.  Or that her cancer was back.  "It's not good," she said, "but I wanted you to hear it from me, not on Facebook."

"That sucks, Elisha.  That really sucks.  I am so sorry this is happening to you."  That's what I said.  As good as I am at writing, the best thing I could come up with is That sucks.  

It did suck.  It still sucks.

...

That's when I started building my wall.

Later that week, I googled "brain lesions following breast cancer".  There was no good news.  So I laid more bricks.

She ended up in the hospital, underwent brain surgery, lost her hair again, messed up her vision, missed her son, strengthened her faith, encouraged her husband, loved her family, stood up to cancer, inspired thousands of people, and moved to Heaven.  All the while she trusted God and prayed to God and praised God.

I trusted God too.  I prayed to God too.  I praised God too.

But I kept building my wall.

...

It's been three weeks since Elisha died.

I stopped crying about a week after it happened.  Since then, I have felt sorta numb.

I think it's because of my wall.  I kinda got carried away with all the bricks.

You can't see my wall.  But I know it's there.

My husband knows it's there too.  He recognizes the bricks - shopping, eating out, visiting my sister, going out with my cousin, computer time, reading, watching TV - anything to keep me from having to face the fact that she is gone.

It's easier to focus on something else, anything else, than it is to deal with reality.

...

I was listening to K-LOVE radio today, and 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman came on...

Bless the Lord, O my soul
O o o my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
Worship Your holy name

This song was played at the end of Elisha's funeral.

I started to sing along, and I thought about the last time we spoke.  About the last time we texted.  About the last time I saw her.

I miss her.

I miss someone else, too.  I miss God. 

While I have continued to pray, continued to trust, continued to read, continued to go to church, continued to praise, continued to love...  I haven't felt close to God in a very long time.

My wall not only separated me from the hurt of losing Elisha, but it also separated me from my personal relationship with God.

And I miss Him.

...

So I'm getting out of the wall-building business.  

I've got more important things to focus on.  Like how blessed I am to have known Elisha.  How blessed I am to be able to help Steven and Sawyer.  How blessed I am to be alive.

And how God is good.  All the time.  

The Bible says in Matthew 11:28 ~
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

I'm tired of building.  

Those bricks are heavy; and (as my husband would say) those bricks are expensive. 

I'm not a builder anyway.  I'm a farmer.  :)


...

To hear 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman, click here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXDGE_lRI0E