Butterfly Chronicles Volume 21: O, Lord, You Have Been Good to Me

Today, Rae read this verse to me:

¹ How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?

² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

³ Look on me and answer, LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,

⁴ and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.

⁶ I will sing the LORD’s praise,
for he has been good to me.

I teach writing on Fridays to a class full of boys. During class today, I brought up my personal examples, all Zach, of seeing a boy/man child blossom, learning to love writing. Before Zach went to his real home, I taught three classes on one day...now I can barely breathe through one.

Today's class ended and I hid in the darkened stairwell, gasping for air, suddenly overcome by all the memories shared with my students. Scripture blessings drifted, star light like, into my thinking: wait on the Lord, draw near and He will too, tears streamed and still His words trickled, stand still and watch His deliverance, in peace I will lie down, wait, wait, wait on Me.

Oh Lord this waiting is just so hard and You know already before mind whispers it. And Your words flow: be anxious for nothing, don't worry, fret not, pray without ceasing, but my tears still streamed and Rae came and found me crumpled on step. She leaned my head on her shoulder, gently, "What happened?" me telling the class story. Her, "I know, I know," feeling some of what I felt.

Whipping out her Iphone appendage, finding this Psalm 13, softly streaming out the words, His words never returning empty, never useless. Hidden in the dark stairwell, I thanked her for the bubble boy-like cocoon she has wrapped around me as we share the surrealness of the life we now live. All of us, all who loved Zach, struggling to accept that which we can't find the road to accepting.

A vaul-tish dull steal foot thick 1000 pound crashing down door each time my mind treks the rocky terrain back to that night, my mind still screaming, "No, no, no" while another half of me knows but not really. Knowing this numb confusion is God's hand of protection until I can survive the all agony of total real reality. I don't understand, I just wait for Him to waltz me through it.

This grief, so hill and dale and mountain and valley always up, down, up, is a strange way of changing my way of seeing and living journey.

Taking the exit ramp off frantic living expressway, driving slowly, calmly, stress free, not hurried or caring about being late or what others might think because I'm late, and letting hurried drivers cut me off as I realize they may be rushing to save someone or to be saved. I leave in arrive on time time, but knowing a traffic jam, accident jam, construction jam, God jam, might jam up my time, but trusting and relaxing knowing God knows where we need to be when and all I can do is leave on time come traffic jam or rain jam, God still gets me there in His right time - even as I slow down and relax my shoulders from my ears. Living slow, slow, seeing butterflies.

A silky tranquil numbness, a stiller me, me seeing more of Him. Trusting, knowing all His plans are beyond me, bigger than me, best for me.

The walls erected by friendship builders and family forts protect; we, arriving at an address where so little is important outside the safety of His word and the love fortifications built by family and friends.

Grief is an accelerated classroom if one remains teachable - undeniably cruel, a protective coating, a swallowing dark hole, a sometimes place of light and grand memories, a safe room where others put us before themselves and we so desiring to mirror that right back. A crash course on a crashed course.

Zachery going home is teaching us so many things that nobody but God can teach. Lessons harsh, transforming, birthing our new selves, new lives, knowing Zach's new life reaches beyond human boxed in imagination.

Go gently into the realm of a person's grief. Know they are doing the best they can, and grief's mask shows differently on every face. Walk a mile in their shoes and God is teaching us to walk a mile in the shoes on the feet we meet. We are raw, new, fragile, butterflies struggling against the grief chrysalis.

God, even in this heart-shattering, has been good to me. O, Lord, I will sing your praise.

"Zach's chains are gone. He's been set free." I will sing Your praise. O, Lord, I will sing your praise because You have been good to me.