Last Sunday at our Healing Hearts Regina staff meeting, I shared that last week could possibly be a tough one for me personally because of the one year anniversary of Dad's admittance to the hospital. I had tried to be proactive in asking for prayer support.  I took time to journal.  I was trying to be aware and prepared for the emotions I anticipated.
Then we got the news of our friends' daughter, Danielle, being declared "brain dead" and their prayerful decision to pull all life support.
For my husband, this was extremely hard-hitting.  He had known this family very well and the closeness of this young girl's age to our own daughter triggered sadness at a deep level.
I felt blind-sided.
In trying so hard to deal with my own grieving, I had no room for someone else's.  I felt completely unable to connect with this family's loss and could not seem to extend comfort to my husband.
We carried on in the week with our ministry which included some counselling, a mission-focus presentation and visiting staff.  By Friday morning, we heard the news of young Danielle's passing and I think our emotions hit an all-time low.
At the very  moment when our guards were down and we were most vulnerable, the enemy of our souls struck.
Hard.
While my husband was experiencing sadness and compassion for another's loss, I reacted to this news and the uncertainty of our schedule with frustration and anger. This left Walter feeling very isolated and alone.  As he shared his feelings, I automatically internalized them as my inadequacy to be supportive and failure to be empathetic.  The enemy had us separated and began to pour lies into my  mind.  My shield of faith was down and my helmet of salvation was hanging by a strap!  So instead of being able to support one another, we seemed divided by grief and anger.
We talked and shared and eventually prayed together, but a heaviness seemed to linger over us.
Our plan was to stay home Friday evening and watch our beloved Roughriders play on television.  Instead of being a quiet, relaxing and enjoyable evening together, that heaviness seemed to increase as our home team played one of their worst games in 20 years!  This may seem trivial and unrelated, but our anger and anxiety grew with the poor playing and mistakes on the football field.
I went upstairs to clean up the kitchen and Walter began playing some solitaire game on his phone.  It was depressing.  But after half-time, I joined him again on the couch and wondered how the second half with our second string quarterback would go...
I had been trying to pray throughout our evening.  I could feel the wall between us and the spiritual cloud over us and prayer didn't seem to break through.  Then a momentum shift in the game turned my focus and we both became more attentive and animated as the Riders got some points on the scoreboard!  Three touchdowns with 2-point conversions had us almost caught up to the rival Calgary Stampeders.
Now, I'd like to say the heaviness broke and the Roughriders won and all was well in our world.
Reality is, that cloud of darkness did seem to break and then I began to pray more earnestly. I could feel a lifting of my spirits and a renewing of my thoughts to more positive and faith-filled directions. (Later we got more details of the memorial service to be held in Calgary and our plans became more clear for the next week or two. )
Today, I sat in our weekly staff meeting and tried to share how my week had gone.  All I could say was that I realized I didn't "do sadness" very well and I got angry with my husband for being able to experience sadness appropriately!  We all kinda laughed, but through some tears, I also felt supported and understood.  Even though I had tried to care for myself, I couldn't anticipate the spiritual attack that came when I was most vulnerable.
I had read Ephesians 4 before church this morning and seemed to interpret everything through a dark and accusatory grid.
"Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, as God in Christ forgave you."
At first, I thought the Lord was rebuking me for not showing kindness and compassion towards my husband, or even towards Danielle's family.  The remnants of self-loathing were trying to creep in from Friday's battle.  But then I reread the verses and I sensed a different tone.  The Lord was telling me to be kind to myself and to be tenderhearted towards my own loss.  I should forgive myself for not being as sensitive and caring as I could have been to my husband.  The Lord forgave me.  He is kind and tenderhearted towards me.  And I want to be ~ and have been in the past ~ caring and compassionate to others in their pain.  So why not treat myself kindly?
The football lesson?  That's for another blog...