standing with hope

By Molly Klima

There are no setbacks in grief. One of my favorite analogies of grief is the likening of it being an ocean. The waves come and go. At times they are overwhelming, pulling you under, carrying you out to open waters. Other times you can barely feel the water lapping at your feet, just enough to brush up against your toes before drifting back out for reprieve. Other times the tide is low and while you can see the ocean and know it’s there, you don’t feel it. This is usually when we feel the safest.

The month of March felt like it was looming over me as the new year began and all of the sudden it’s here. March brings spring, my grandma’s favorite season. She loved the chance to start again. It symbolized new beginnings and watching creation awaken after hard Michigan winters. Ever since I can remember, my grandma and I connected over gardening and growing things. I attribute this to the farmer in us. While my dad and grandpa and oldest brother farmed over a thousand acres, I was at home on the farm helping grandma with her garden, when she wasn’t also in the field. Even as I became an adult, we’d go to the greenhouse together and she was only a phone call away if I couldn’t identify a plant. Vegetables or flowers-it didn’t matter.

While my favorite season is fall, I have the itch by the time the winter weather breaks. I can’t wait to pot seeds and prepare gardens and flower beds. March 16th will mark one year of grandma being gone. Last spring and summer I was too angry to plant anything. My section of our family garden provided more room for one of my brother’s, I wouldn’t be using it. Anything associated with gardening or landscaping felt like a punch to the gut. I was in tears spreading mulch for crying out loud (no pun intended).

I was angry that she was gone. I was angry that we went to doctor after doctor for months and no one could tell us what was going on until she only had two weeks left. I was angry that the strongest woman I had ever known endured so much pain with such little relief. She deserved so much better. The whole thing felt like highway robbery.

Yesterday as I was driving my kids to school the realization hit me that a year ago at that same hour I was 3 exits from the hospital. My uncle updated me that he’d just received a call from the hospital and they were changing her status to comfort care and she was not doing well. I can remember it was a rainy, gloomy morning. The snow from the previous week was slowly melting. I pulled into the first parking spot available. I ran through the large hospital to get to her room. I knew she was alone and I imagined she may be scared, even though I’d never seen her scared in my entire life. Unfortunately, I was right. There was a lot of commotion in the room and while her speech was failing her, she didn’t need to say anything. Her facial expressions said enough. After a little while things settled. Less than 48hrs later, with my sister-in-law and I at her side, she was gone.

In the midst of the heartbreak last year brought, as her health mysteriously spiraled out of control, I can honestly tell you that there were things a long the way to be thankful for. God’s hand was evident in many ways, even if it wasn’t all the ways I’d prayed for. I’m not shooting for toxic positivity or feeling the need to put a bow on an awful situation-because it was really darn hard for the last couple months before my grandma transitioned into glory. I don’t have a happy ending to that scenario to sell you.

There were little ways in the craziness that God showed up. Like the time I was stuck in a traffic jam the morning she needed to go for a chest x-ray. I was impatient and stressed. I realized a good friend was stuck in front of me. What are the chances that on a random morning, across the state line when I am trying not to panic, one of the most calm and collected people I know would be stuck in front of me? I texted Ben to get his attention and he got out of his car and we got to chat. Ben and his wife, Natalie, who is a guest writer here, bring instant smiles to my face no matter what else is going on.

Maybe that seems superficial to you, but it was a divine appointment for me.

let’s talk about joy

Psalm 30:5
…Weeping may tarry for the night,
    but joy comes with the morning

Here’s what I do have: gratitude and joy. I’ve previously written about gratitude and grief here. Today, though, let’s talk about joy. Joy is different than happiness. Happiness is fleeting. Happiness is an outward expression that goes away as soon as our mood or circumstances shift. Joy is a fruit of the spirit, which must be developed over time. Joy is a promise given to us; what we do with it is our choice. The good news is we don’t have to muster up joy or create it.

If we follow Jesus and believe He is who He says He is, then we know that joy is ours. Nehemiah reminds us in 8:10 that the “joy of the Lord is our strength.” God’s people had just fully understood His words and realized their shortcomings. They began to weep as if it was too late for them, but that is not the case. It’s not too late for us either. Everything else in this world is temporary and will eventually fail, but not Jesus. Nehemiah is like, “Hey, I know you messed it all up. I know this is all messed up. But don’t stay there, He loves you! The joy of the Lord, not of ourselves, is our strength.” Not the joy of my husband or children or friends. I don’t need to count on them to provide this. It is of God. God is the one who moves on our behalf. My human flesh could in fact be consumed by grief and sadness like a thick fog consumes the morning: lingering with no visibility for the road ahead. In fact, at different times in my life, that has been the case.

I have so many memories that I can look back and smile on. The night us girls gathered to plan the funeral, we spent hours reminiscing and laughing about all of our adventures with our grandparents. We could write a book and some day I’ll post some of my favorite stories just because: like the time grandma pulled my dad’s coat out of Betsy, the family cow.

I was happy and laughing reliving those moments that shaped me. I can be joyful, even if there is no more time to make memories with my grandma, because of my foundation. I know that this is not the end. I’ve followed Jesus long enough to know that although physical pain and emotional suffering will never end this side of Heaven, it does not mean that we must be in constant turmoil. I can rejoice in Jesus and what He has done for me. I can rejoice that my grandparents are well, even if some days I seem to physically ache from missing them.

Joy is not found in a new car or Christmas present. Joy is found in Jesus. In His words, in His promises to us. Joy is like a sweet balm on a severe burn.

If you’re looking for joy, look for jesus. you will find it there.

-Molly klima

left foot, right foot, breathe, repeat

My cousin Rebecca often recalls a conversation between my grandparents when my grandpa was concerned he would outlive my grandmother. He was certain he’d be lost. When he asked her what he’d do with out her she said, “Fred, you would wake up in the morning. Put both feet on the floor. Lace your boots all the way up and tie them tight. Then put one foot in front of the other.”

Grandma and I shared an affection for the late Pat Summit, head women’s basketball coach at the University of Tennessee from 1974-2012. I’ll forever be a little envious that grandma had the chance to see her speak at a soybean conference. When I think about her response to my grandpa, I think about what Pat Summit told her players to do when life hits you hard. She said, “Left foot. Right foot. Breathe. Repeat.”

I don’t know where you find yourself today. I don’t know what journey you’re on. I know that joy comes in the morning. I know joy doesn’t equal the absence of hard times or mourning. I know I can hold my joy and sadness together and eventually, when the fog will clears the joy of the Lord will have sustained me. Maybe the fog won’t lift in your life as quick as you’d like it to. But be encouraged; you’re not alone or fully dependent on yourself. There is a God loves you and is more than able to meet all your needs, who allows you to spring joy from His strength. So on those tough days, just remember: Left foot. Right foot. Breathe. Repeat.