Battle of Shalom

I was on my way to Bible study, and I got a text from a dear friend who struggles with mental illness, asking for prayer. 

Her struggles aren’t new ones.  She was put up for adoption as a baby, in and out of foster homes as a child, on the streets as a teenager, and involved in sex trafficking.  This trauma paired with mental illness is nothing short of debilitating.  Lately, she has been doing so much to be the healthiest version of herself that she can be.  Her strength is astounding: she stopped drinking to mask her pain, she works out to take care of her physical health, and being the praying warrior that she is, she’s constantly giving her anxieties to the Lord.  Yet, she is suffering, her business is suffering, and her marriage is suffering. 

I asked my small group to pray for her even as I was at a loss as to how I could pray for her.  Do I ask the Lord to give her strength to keep fighting?  Do I ask the Lord to heal her mental illness?  Will he?

I’m reminded of a conversation my sons had at the breakfast table this week.  My 5-year-old asked my 9-year-old if prayer works and was told, “God never says no to us…. He either says, ‘No, because I have something better,’ ‘Wait,’ or ‘Yes.’”   I am holding on to this truth for my friend.

The Bible study ended and the women’s director sent us off with the Hebrew word, Shalom, meaning peace. I found some respite in that word.  God was preparing me for what was to come that day, knowing that the battle for peace would be at hand.

My grandfather, my last living biological grandparent, has been in and out of the hospital over the last few months with a heart condition that the doctors can’t seem to do much for because of the severity of it and his age.  I planned to ask his wife, my step-grandmother, if I should come home.  Aware of her insecurities, I knew that my asking could be taken the wrong way, so I prayed and had family and friends praying with me to have the right words to ask. 

I’m currently in between jobs so we have had to cut back on expenses like afterschool childcare and having someone clean our house.  So, the rest of my afternoon was consumed by picking up the kids from school, getting homework done, dinner, etc.  I was feeling pretty anxious because of all that was on my heart for my friends and family, but also knowing there was so much to do to prepare for guests coming in town for the weekend.   I also had so much to do to follow up on job opportunities.  I just didn’t know how I was going to get it all done before the guests arrived on Friday.  In the middle of the afternoon chaos I had an urge to go check the mail.  I opened a letter from a family member with a check.  This letter was about what the Lord was doing in their hearts and how they wanted to bless us with a financial gift, not because “we needed” it, but because “they needed” to give it to us.  Oh, but we did need it.  It’s not the money so to speak that we needed, but the reminder that God is with us, providing, and loving us in all the details.

Shalom.

 

Asher comes home, I shared with him this blessing and with full hearts we gathered around the table with the kids to eat dinner and to share about our day.  Asher started with Presley, asking how his day went.  We were blindsided by his eyes welling up with tears as he proceeded to tell us about how he was put in a choke hold by kid during recess and how he couldn’t breathe or talk.  He feared for his life.  How could someone do this to him?   He is the sweetest and kindest kid.  Our hearts were broken.

It was getting late, and I knew I needed to make that call to my step-grandmother to ask if I should come home.  The call did not go well.  In fact, it went worse than I could have imagined.  My intentions to travel there to help out were misconstrued as me saying my step-grandmother couldn’t do enough.  At one point, my grandfather got on the phone and went off about his family staying out of his business.  My heart was literally aching at this point and the waterworks began. This was all too much.

I hung up and called my grandfather’s only two children, my mom and my aunt.  I shamed, I accused, I vented, and I doubted.  They listened, they loved, they encouraged, and they forgave.  This was a role reversal from how things normally have been.  Normally, I’ve been listening, advising, mediating.  Little did I realize how much I needed them to be strong for me.  They allowed me to be weak and held me up.  The night ended with sweet conversations with both of them where I realized a little that the Lord was doing.  I had been praying that He would heal my grandfather’s heart, and, in the words of my 9-year-old son, the Lord was saying, “No, I have something better.”  The Lord is not just concerned with my grandfather’s heart, but with healing all the hearts of my grandfather’s family, mending relationships, drawing us together.

Shalom.

 

The next day, Thursday, was full of sweet redemption.  My husband had written Presley’s teacher and principal about the bullying incident, and they reached out to us immediately with sincere hearts quickly taking the necessary measures to ensure that Presley did not get bullied again by this kid.  My aunt and mother sent sweet messages throughout the day loving on me. My grandfather and step-grandmother realized they overreacted, asked me for forgiveness and I forgave.  My grandfather was also doing better and was going home from the hospital.  Although it was a hopeful day, my heart was still so heavy. I wanted to be with my grandfather, but was not sure if he really wanted me there.  I know he loves me deeply, but he has been through a lot.  Where is his mind in it all?   Where is my step-grandmother’s mind?  Would my coming home be helpful or just cause more misunderstanding and heartache? 

Because of the financial blessing we received earlier in the week, we decided to have someone clean the house Friday so I can catch up on other duties before our guests arrived.  My dog, Noah, and I had to be out of the house at this time, so I took him to a restaurant that had a dog-friendly porch. Two ladies were sitting nearby and were ooooing and ahhhing over Noah.  We talked a little about him, then I went to work on my computer.  I overheard one of the ladies pray these words, “Lord, I pray for the burdened hearts…”  I thought, “Amen.”  I needed to hear that, and to pray that. 

Shalom.

Noah is super chill and doesn’t ever give me a fuss.  He all of sudden got a little whiney, so I walked him to a grassy area which was on the other side of where these women were sitting.  They stopped me to pet Noah.  The lady said in a very tender voice, “Thank you for letting me pet, Noah.  He’s therapy for me.”  I felt the urge to tell them that I overheard part of the prayer and how that was therapy for me.  I went on to walk Noah. I returned back to my table and the lady had left the prayer she was reading on my computer.

The prayer started with…

“Loving God, I pray for all whose brains have been hurt by disease, injury, stress, trauma, and other factors of human life in a hard world. I pray for all who love them and want to help.”

Whoa.

I had to stop and take a moment.  It was as if this prayer was written for me, for my friend that asked for prayer Wednesday morning, for my family.  God’s plan to reveal himself shows his goodness and his faithfulness to us.  This prayer was an entire page, typed out, full of details that were so relevant to my anxieties, helping me understand how I can best love those around me, even when my intentions aren’t fully seen by them.  When I finished reading it, one of the ladies walked up to my table and sat down.  I explained a little about how much this prayer meant to me.  I shared with her about the light the Lord keeps shining in all the darkness of the events over the last few days.  With tears in her eyes, the lady proceeded to tell me how this letter was written for her niece who suffers from mental illness.  She was grateful for what I shared because she had been struggling with her own faith in it all, and she also needed a reminder of His goodness and faithfulness.  As if the day wasn’t intertwined enough by God’s perfectly woven plan, she also said that her dog had just passed away and that being around Noah was truly a blessing to her!  Her name is Karen.  I will never forget that name, especially since it is also my mom’s name.

“The righteous cry out, the Lord hears and he rescues them from all their afflictions. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, saves those whose spirit is crushed.”

                 -Psalm 34:18-20 (also from Karen’s prayer)

Shalom.