When Fall Brings Loss and The Cross

Fog sleeps deep on our open field, this crisp fall morning. And it’s almost like someone told heaven, the weight of my very own heart.

A slippery, unfinished deck, flashes me back to last summer. Memories of sitting there, watching kids play, hearing their laughter dancing through my being.

Yet, what was relaxing has now become dangerous. The deck surface, once smelling of freshly layed cedar, makes way for a wet, watery surface.

And why is it, the very things you once trusted and fully believed in, can become our very own instrument of pain?

In spring, we got three alpacas. They were free, and had space, grass uncontrollably growing to eat from. It was an adventure, so we thought we’d give it a try.

And yet, what we were told were kind and docile creatures, turned out to be a nightmare.

The strongest male of the group would lead the others outside of the fence. They wandered our property and eventually stepped into our dead end street, one too many times.

So this fall, we had to let go of the one creating all of the problems. My theory was, if the strong, male leader finds a new home, the other, more docile alpacas will stay kind and close.

They will remain gentle, and we can continue to feed them from our hands…as they trust the children and adults.

Sadly, the other leader, never learned to trust people. Always fighting affection. Continually stiff and rigid, resisting any resemblance of obedience…though longing for acceptance from the corner of his eye.

We had heard he had been in a rescue. A place where the unwanted dwell. And the lady before us had compassion on him, and gave him his own personal home.

Yet, I wonder now….did he not take his new place well? Did he always feel like he was moved and dumped and never learned how to give or receive affection?

And I see how humans are not that different from animals. If we were not taught kindness or gentless in those first two years, the entire wiring of our brain can be different…

And we can buck affection for the rest of our lives. We can question authority, lack trust, and doubt the people God has placed around us for our benefit.

Early life experiences undoubtedly can dry like cement, effecting the foundation into adulthood.

I’ll never forget my daughter’s face. Our friends had a dog they got from the pound. To them, it was kind and affectionate. But the moment my daughter nestled her head near him, he smelt a different scent and snapped at her face.

Her scars today, still prove, a world of love and encouragement can’t erase the memories of a past of damage. Triggers can pop up when you least expect them.

And although God can heal anything. He can take our memories and make them a faded scene seemingly from someone else’s life….

It is by grace, healing comes, not some waving of a wand, standing stronger, or conjuring up some great faith.

Healing is a choice of the individual. Healing is not ours to fix or predict and even capitalize on, for our own personal benefit.

Prayer changes things. But we are not God, or even like him, to demand things, if it is not His time to give and dispense grace.

Scripture says, He predestines people from the beginning of creation for their own unique call and purpose.

And even Judas, the disciple who denied and sold Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, was predestined for that task…divinely called and purposed to lead the procession to the cross.

Have you recently been feeling Him leading you to the cross?

And yet, Jesus loved his betrayer anyway. Jesus got low and washed Judas’ feet as if he had already washed away his sins. 

Jesus showed no impartiality t0wards Judas. Our Savior heals and teaches, and treats Judas like his own, dearly loved disciple, despite Judas’ plan to betray Him.

And yet, I think we can want the world to be our oyster. We want to claim the power to demand alpacas to stay inside their fences.

We expect the world to look like we want…And then, when it doesn’t, we get mad and condemn God, forgetting He is The Author of all lives…we are not.

But this gospel. This self-sacrificial, holy gospel, is one of submission and obedience to the One who calls our name.

It is about loving like Jesus did, even when it isn’t easy or popular. It is about modeling a life that will be scorn, betrayed, and lied about…

And yet, we accept imperfections because our Savior did. We count our lives as loss, because our inheritance isn’t in earthly goods or rewards, but in the countenance of The One who rescued us from the pit.

Our house is a little quieter this morning.

My body still on high alert, tense and prepared for anything.nThe idea of post traumatic stress sydrome is alive and real….in so many ways, words cannot tell.

And yet, I feel His grace. A peace that rests tight though I can’t see the end of the field, I haven’t been able to witness the top of the full staircase…

The last chapter of one person’s rather troubling book.

I have only been a vessel, a temporary person in the life of someone I loved. And I don’t even pretend to “get it” all…at least in the way I wanted…

In the way I had hoped.

I don’t understand why the world spins one moment, and then lies cold, still, and foggy, the next.

But I do get, that this life is a witness to my Jesus. It is the road less traveled, always higher, and can be difficult…this path to our own personal Jeruselem’s….

This journey to the cross.

And I rejoice that it’s not over. Not my story. Not his. Not the alpaca that came and destroyed the fences set before him to keep him safe.

We serve a God who is omnipotent, omnipresent…even when I can’t be all-present, all-knowing, or we start acting like a spoiled children, demanding grace.

So, I rest. One chapter finished. The next, just beginning.

Winter coming, yet, I embrace it humbly.

Knowing, it’s all for His purposes. He is good. He is Lord. He is the maker and healer of it all….

And despite what I feel, I can trust Him…

Even as the fog sets in, and I can’t see the field where my children once laughed and played…

A sliver of light, in a field now hazy.