yesterday marked s e v e n years of my mother going home to Heaven.
every year on February 3rd, the days leading up to the date and the actual date always seem to bring a strangely familiar grief.
i usually have floods of several ranging emotions: anger, sadness, bitterness, and then the end of the day is usually sealed with a stamp of God’s promises and hope, hung on me telling myself that with each year, the sting of grief will hurt a little less.
so, as the days began to approach, i EXPECTED the same.
i had a conversation with a friend in the beginning of the week, and i had shared with him about the “anniversary” if you will. and how every year, it’s always a hard time for me.
he responded with something that left me a little unsettled at first. ok, a lot unsettled. ok, let me really be honest: his words pissed me off.
i wanted to lash back at him, although his words intended NO harm.
no, his words (even though he may not have known it) were appropriate, divine, on time, and necessary. God spoke through him directly to me.
he said, “7 is a good number. a number of completion...FINALITY.”
i was stunned. how dare he diminish my grief.
of course it’s FINALITY. my mother is dead.... is what i desperately wanted to say.
he then said, “maybe...this year mourning turns to celebration.”
he then APOLOGIZED and said he hoped his words weren’t coming off as insensitive, but as encouraging and empowering.
i sat there for a bit. because i knew in that moment...
...this was the catalyst for God to free me from being so blindly trapped in my pain and grief for the past 7 years.
and even though i desperately wanted to be freed and let it go, i could feel my flesh rising up and fighting against it.
without even actively thinking, isaiah 43:18-19 in the Message popped into my head:
“forget about what’s happened, don’t keep going over old history. be alert, be present. i’m about to do something brand new. it’s bursting out, don’t you see it?”
don’t you see it Caitlin?
that’s the question that plagued me as i sat on my bed in silence...(something that, let’s be honest, if you know me, you know doesn’t happen a lot.)
i had to have a very honest dialogue with God that day.
frustrated, scared, and overwhelmed with immense sadness, i barely uttered the words, “i can’t see it. why can’t i see it, God?”
“because you won’t let it go.”
a soft, still, voice.
“because, you won’t let it go.”
God doesn’t do anything by mistake.
so, that he spoke his divine words through a friend, to me, on a particular day, in the middle
of a heart wrenching season, that had been consumed with me fighting for control over
everything in my life...
well, it was divinely planned. and right on time.
i’m gonna be real.
control is a hard thing for me.
and, if we reviewed my life, and my childhood, from a psychological and intellectual viewpoint, this isn’t really surprising.
when we grow up in uncontrollable environments, we learn how to self protect.
we learn how to grip the reigns of our situations and circumstances, to the best of our ability. we do whatever we need to do to feel in control.
we learn to hold tight to things that keep us comfortable, safe, and sometimes even dull us and keep us numb, to a certain extent.
we choose what to hold onto.
and what to let go of.
while this keeps us safe, and has the potential to feel protected and empowered in dangerous situations.., the truth is... this is an impossible life to live if we are living for Jesus.
why? because, simply stated...
i am not Im control.
god is.
and, He is not just God over some. or God over a few areas.
he is God.
and He is sovereign.
over ALL.
the truth is, I have battled with God and had my many fights with Him, eventually leading me to wave the white flag of surrender.
those fights are less than fun. they are painful.
and they are exhausting.
and they are the kind of fights that, after it’s over, you wondered why you even fought so long to hold on in the first place.
for some reason, i have never been able to let go of my grief.
hear my heart. when we let go of painful things, it doesn’t mean we’re pretending they didn’t happen.
we’re letting go of them controlling our future. we are relinquishing them of their power to CONTROL us.
after praying, and a few hours of really ugly crying and lots of snot (sorry not sorry) i wiped the tears from my eyes and sat up.
i felt the Holy Spirit ask me a strange question...one that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him ask me before...
“what are you so afraid of?”
the answer is, i’m afraid of the unknown.
i’m afraid of what could happen.
and truly, at the bottom of it all, I’m afraid of change.
because it is unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and uncharted territory.
as I’m reading this, i can feel the voice of condemnation trying to shame me.
because how can i be a Christian and love Jesus and be so compulsively controlling?
how can i say i live my life with bold faith, when i want to stay comfortably perched in my pit of pain?
how can i confess God as my healer, and then grip so tightly to the things he is trying to free me and heal me from?
if this is getting too deep and real, i make no apologies. (in case you’re waiting for one.)
the truth is, for most of my life, pain and heartbreak have been the name of the game.
this isn’t to make me a victim or to try to receive your pity. it’s not an excuse, in Caitlin language...
this is just facts.
it’s truly all I’ve ever known.
so it’s become my “normal.”
how then, is it really a surprise, that when a shift comes, when the urging of the Holy Spirit presses me to release what I’ve held onto for so long, i feel trapped in fear and can’t let go?
the answer is it isn’t a surprise.
but it is a setback. one that God never intends for us.
and, if not identified and fought against, that setback can become a stronghold.
isn’t it interesting that the definition of a stronghold is: “ a fortified place, a place of security or survival.”
having been enclosed in the comfortable and normalcy of my grief so long, my heart pounded at the suggestion of God turning my mourning to celebration.
i didn’t know where to begin. i didn’t know how.
but here’s the beauty...
God does.
all he asks is for surrender. and an open heart to trust Him.
i have watched Him gloriously and miraculously work all things together for my good, even when it looked impossible.
how then, will He not take THIS too, and do the same thing?
my heart is so encouraged by the truth of God’s word.
“even if we are faithless, He remains faithful. He can not deny Himself.” 2 timothy 2:13
it is hard to let go and feel yourself “lose control.”
yes, it’s hard, unless you are handing it to over to somebody who knows MUCH better than you do.
in this case, this release and surrender sets you FREE.
it relieves all pressure off of you.
his promises and his word can be trusted.
his plans are good, even when we can’t see them.
his plan and his purpose is so much greater than anything i could ever imagine for my life.
i don’t want to be in control of my own life.
i want a bold faith and an obedience that always chooses to surrender EVERYTHING to God.
even when it’s scary. even when it’s unknown. even when it’s painful.
as i sat there that day, God spoke many precious things to my heart.
some that i really feel were just meant for me, and nobody else.
but he gently uttered something to me that i feel i am meant to share with you:
God can’t bless us with new unless we surrender the old to Him.
yes, He promises to give beauty for ashes, but only if we WILLINGLY give Him the ashes.
we don’t know how, but we know He WILL.
and isn’t that all we really need?
i can’t control HOW God will, and WHAT He will do, but I choose to declare that I know His character, and His goodness, and I proclaim that HE WILL.
God’s plan has ALWAYS been to propel us forward. NEVER to set us back.
6 months after my mother passed, i was in a season of prayer and fasting at my church.
i had a particularly hard night the night before.
i was up all night, weeping, mourning my mother.
all I remember was praying to God that if He got me through the season of immense grief, i would serve Him and glorify Him for the rest of my life.
the next day, out of the thousands of prayer cards that sat scattered in my church, one card from a 7 year old, Sarah, ended up in my hands.
it read:
“please pray for me and my dad and 3 sisters. We just lost our mom. We need hope and peace.”
as i sit here typing...my eyes flood with tears. i have reminisced that story a few times, but when I went to look it up just now, my jaw dropped, at Sarah’s age.
- Seven. Completion. Finality.
and here, my friends, i sit in this moment, and indeed, i celebrate.
at God’s goodness, at his amazing divine interventions, his faithfulness, his grace that has sustained me in the very deep, and dark, and lonely moments of grief .
yes, i celebrate.
and i finally walk boldly into this new season with SHOUTS of JOY, because this story of my mother and i, that God has written, is about to shift...
yes. it’s about to do a new thing. it is about to bring hope and healing to so many. and, as i take a deep breath, and draw in the silent strength of my good, good Father, i wholly surrender.
here is to the divine completion that only Jesus can bring.
“those who sow with tears, will reap with shouts of joy.” Psalm 126:5
these words from my heart are dedicated to you, momma. i know you’re proud of me, and even more than that, i know your life is being honored, and that God is being glorified by your story. i love you with my whole heart and soul.
and to you, Jason Morales. thank you for being exactly who God has called you to be, and for walking so beautifully in obedience to our God. i love you back.
U N T I L N E X T T I M E,
C A i T L i N
