Thursday, April 26, 2012

Life Imitates Forrest Gump: My Brush With Trauma

"Keep running, Forrest!" Jenny cries, as young Forrest Gump runs with leg braces away from bullies.  It's not the last time he runs in the movie.  After his Mama dies and Jenny leaves him after a brief intimate encounter, he leaves everything behind, buys himself some NIKE sneakers and runs back and forth across the USA.  He even gathers to himself a little following looking for some purpose for their lives.  Imagine the disappointment they felt when Forrest was done running, stopped dead in his tracks, and walked to the nearest exit.

Why Forrest Gump?  In the past 9 months I have experienced real pain, real loss, real grief and I wanted to run from it as far as I could get.  Two significant deaths in our family, Peter's homecoming, and saying good-bye to my family's estate pressed in on me from every side.  Like a ship that broke free from it's moorings in a storm and driven out to sea, like Forrest Gump running from pain, like our little adopted ones washed over with unspeakable emotions, I was adrift and running!  I was running to everything but God to comfort me.  However, the anchor beyond the veil, Jesus, held me fast!

See, Forrest ran as if trying to avoid the past, the storm trying to engulf him.  God pushed me into the character-shaping storm for my good.  With God, trials and sufferings are always useful.  They are used to build good character and to produce great faith.  When going through difficult times God doesn't want us to throw Christian slogans at the situation and run from them.  God wants us to experience the good He is and has for us in the storm.  He wants us to cling to His strong arms as he purposefully blows our ship back to safety, back to the port and there "He" ties us to the dock, with knots that can't come undone.

When I originally hand-wrote this post, I was looking out the sliding glass door of my growing up home. Even when I am not there, I can close my eyes and see the breath-taking view.  I was there to prepare my family's homestead for sale.  That time would be some of the last moments I would have there before the next family comes to claim it.  The grief was almost unbearable.  Saying good-bye was/is very hard.  I want to "Run Jill", from all the pain, all the joy, all the memories and tuck it away into some nice "saying" or fuzzy thought - but God won't let me.  He holds me here and stands with me as healing tears flow down my cheeks.

Our little ones, Eliot and Peter, have experienced great loss at the hands of God - but also great gain.  Through this past 7 months of joy-filled loss God has been deepening in me a compassion and a steadfast love for my boys; a resolve to get to their little hearts, to give voice to their pain, their loss, their grief and not stop at behavior. If I, at 52, can be undone by trauma, then I can't even imagine what they must go through.  God was using this time in my life to open my eyes to the depth of pain our boys feel.

The thought of losing my forever home, not hearing the voice of a beloved parent answering the same number I have burned on my memory, presses me so hard that I can't breathe.  All the good and all the bad and all the in between will no longer tangibly be felt.  All it will be is a memory.  Touching and preparing everything for sale and watching it leave this home in the hands of someone else made me want to flee.  Walking around an empty house, with all familiar things gone and echo-y hallways sent a chill into my heart.  And soon, when I go back to get the last remaining items from the house I will be leaving my "Very Own house key".  I will never use it again to unlock that door. . never.

God took all these thoughts like a PowerPoint presentation and laid them over the boys lives and I think possibly for the first time, I truly entered into their grief.  They both were taken from birth mothers, countries, cultures, family.  Being so young still, they can't even find the words to voice their hurt, but it's there.  Who do they trust, where do they feel safety, will it ever feel better?  And like me, when the pain is at it's worst, do they turn to the only One who can truly comfort them?  Or do they act out, push away, isolate?  I am thankful to God for the real-life traumatic events of my recent life.  God wastes nothing and works all things together for good.  And as I hold my sons, writhing in my arms, trying to free themselves from love and from the pain, I pray tearful prayers for healing, grateful to be in it with them.

It's a multi-layered time for us as a family with many more lessons to be learned.  God is an Awesome Father, with infinite patience and parental skill to bring each of His adopted children finally home.  That same wisdom is available to us and as we encounter God's fresh grace for the healing of our pain, we find the strength to help our little ones in trauma.  And unlike Forrest Gump, I will not get to the end of my journey, stop and resume life where I left off.  We are forever changed.  There is purpose in our race.  Everything works together for good.  1 Corinthians 9:26 says, "We do not run aimlessly; we do not box as one beating the air."  And God wanted me to get this so that I can help our sons see Christ.

(Some Lessons)  During this traumatic journey I am learning to trust God more, to give voice to my brokenness, to receive healing, that darkness isn't dark to Him.  My God is mighty to save, my Jesus is a Great Shepherd and I do hear His voice, and the still small voice of the Holy Spirit can penetrate the loudest storms.  This is true, and this will bring peace, not only to my troubled soul, but to our little boys Eliot and Peter.

I want to end with this incredible quote from Charles Spurgeon's Morning and Evening.
Evening, April 12:  "Come in, strong and deep love of Jesus, like the sea at the flood in spring tides, drown all my sins, wash out all my cares, lift up my earth-bound soul, and float it right up to my Lord's feet.  There let me lie, a poor broken shell, washed up by His love, having no virtue or value, only venturing to whisper to Him that if He will put His ear to me, He will hear within my heart faint echoes of the vast waves of His own love which have brought me where it is my delight to lie, even at His feet forever."
Come Lord Jesus!  Bring all of us to this place.