Butterfly Chronicles Volume 75: The Zach Encounter

Satan swings a two edged sword.

God’s word is sharper than any two-edged sword.

Don't know if it's true in other people's grief, but in ours, emotional rockets red glare and bombs burst in the air around every holiday now.

The days leading up to, on, and after Mother's Day were no exception.  

Here’s a sampling of what unfolded pre and post Mother’s Day:

We ramped up for several days of emotional terrorism under our roof in preparation for Mom's Day.

Mother’s Day - a cacophony of grief’s emotional dysfunction.

Mother's Day evening - daughter to ER – internal bleeding confirmed.

Tuesday - daughter to Baylor for plan of action in dealing with internal bleeding AND daughter learning about a golf acquaintance’s attempted suicide.

Wednesday - me, total collapse at Michael’s office and rushed by ambulance to ER.

Thursday - daughter major medical procedure requiring anesthesia to locate internal bleeding.

Friday - cancelled a party for the second time due to physical collapse.

At some point, daughter learns suicide attempter died.

More drama, fuses blown, emotional grenades.

 

ER Wednesday, I sat working at my desk.

My eyes got jiggly.

The room rocked and rolled.  

I couldn't stand up.

I couldn't walk, talk, or open my eyes.

Paramedics pumping cuff recording blood pressure drop to 80/60.

Body shut down, but WEIRD - my mind conversed with itself in razor sharp clarity.

"Are you dying?"

"I don't think so.  I'm kinda freaked and nervous, but there's no bright light."

"Are you having a stroke?"

"I can't remember the symptoms."

"Are you dying?"

Much less stressed, "I still don't see a bright light."

Then they were there.  He, Jesus Christ, and he, Zachery, were there.  I couldn't see my Savior’s face, but my whole being knew Him and His peace that passes understanding.  His height surprised me; I could only see Him from the waist down, but the glimmering golden, ethereal flow and texture of His robe gave Him away.  From behind the Messiah, Zach peeked, flashing me a joy-filled mischievous smile.

 

My full self heard Zach's message, but he didn't speak aloud.

"It's not your turn mom.  You're okay.  It's not time yet."

A knowing he was right washed over me. In the presence of  The Son and my son, I knew that if it was my time, Zach would've walked to me, he would've put his warm, vibrant, sin-free, perfect, pulsing hand in mine, and he would've joined in the glory of my coming face to face with the I Am.  I melted into this truth so immense; I was swallowed by the sweet knowing of it. 

Zach's words, "It's not your turn, mom," set my soul free, a freedom poured out by my King.  I didn't understand.

In the ER, my blood pressure returned, but my body refused to follow directions, completely held in the grip of an inescapable, crushing exhaustion.  

The next day was daughter's procedure in search of the bleeding, and Nana Pony took my place with dad at the hospital because I was stilled trapped inside a straight jacket of exhaustion.

The tribe and family and others prayed.  We're no closer to answers about daughter, but I have to believe they will come.  Back to Baylor we will go.  And go.  And go.  Until we know.

When I finally made it to Dr. Stacy's table, she gently reprimanded and reminded me that stress plus grief added to an onslaught of difficult events heaped atop emotional turmoil manifests itself in serious health issues.  You crashed she said.

As she poked me with her clicker stick, my Zach encounter drifted back to my mind.  I had forgotten about it. I told her the story.

So wise is she; Maybe God needed you to be completely helpless in order to give you His message with unequivocal clarity.  

Instantly, an avalanche of the past week's begging prayers, whose memories had been lost in the emotional and physical emergencies, painted themselves across my internal forehead. "God, why?  Why are you allowing all this trauma, terror, tumult?  I doubt. I wallow in guilt, relentlessly. Take this guilt because I can’t let it go.  God, send Zach again.  Send him to me again.  Show me his presence in Your  presence and that You are."

The Lord of Lords answered my prayers and came with Zach and his mischievous smile, and I forgot about it…lost it in all the drama trauma.

Mother's Day, the beginning of emergencies and melt downs.  A week after Mother’s Day, I happened to glance at my profile picture on Facebook which has been of my Zach since he died. In the past almost 2 years, Zach’s pictures brought me to my knees in heaving sobs. I couldn't look at them.  The current Facebook picture features Zach with his dad.  I looked at the picture - really looked, and there, staring back at me, Zach flashed that very smile he had smiled at me in heaven.

Unsettling.  Unnerving. God gifting me to SEE Zach in that picture – God rubbed and seared that sweet smile into my eyes and soul without the always pain from before. This seeing Zach was peaceful, happy, tears absent.  God washing me in that smile, letting me taste and savor HIS freedom.  For the first time since Zach’s suicide, my Alpha Omega pulled back my iron shroud of guilt and let me see my son.

NO!! This can't be right.  I searched for it.  Reached for it.  Longed for it.  Chased after it.  Gone, the guilt. As far as the east is from the west.  Nothing in its place, just the guilt completely gone. I could see Zach.  I COULD SEE ZACH!

I've begged for this freedom from guilt, desperately wailing for a forgiveness I refuse to believe in; Burning for forgiveness, but refusing redemption;  I shout the arrogant I wills of Satan.  I will be bigger than You.  I will be more powerful than the Most High.  I will be God, and define me by my rules.  I will own my guilt.  I will cleave to it.”

Dressed in His glimmering, ethereal robe, with Zach peeking around Him and wearing that mischievous smile, God answered my I wills and said, "No."

I don’t want to speak it out loud – that the guilt is gone.  The guiltless days add up, and the guilt doesn't come back.  I am wary.  I am untrusting. I wait.  God holds me in His hand.

As I tried to figure out the "aha" of this long story, it hit me after hearing 4 different teachers teaching 4 different Bible lessons about our battle.  I and we are at battle with the unseen principalities. For the past almost 2 years, I've opened my armor of God and been a gracious hostess to Satan allowing him to slash my soul with his two-edged sword of guilt.

The great news:

God’s Word is alive and powerful.  Sharper than any two edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

If I can let go of the “I wills” and let God be God, Satan doesn't stand a chance.

I've looked.  I can’t find the guilt.  I find a hole in my heart and an indescribable missing.  No guilt. Maybe this means I'm back in the battle.

I love you, Zach.  I can't wait to hold your hand.  Your butterflies find me every day!