Displaced?

Displaced. The feeling I have when I am in between worlds. In between my life in Alaska with my husband and this surreal life here in South Florida. Not really feeling like I fit in when I go home, after being gone for long periods of time, and not really connecting here in South Florida because I have long since moved away from my childhood home. I use the word “surreal” to describe being in my mother’s home in Florida because it used to be my home…it feels strange to be living in the place where I lived as a single mother with three children. Perhaps my remarriage and adventure in Alaska are just a dream? I know better, but the concept is a bit mind-altering.

Displaced. The feeling I have because I'm not actively involved in my children's lives. Maybe it's an extension of The Empty Nest Syndrome? Somehow I thought it was just a season of life, but the reality is that it affects the rest of your life. Maybe more so when your only goal in life was being a mom and having a career never really mattered. I don’t hear many women talking about the ongoing saga of the “empty nest,” but surely I’m not the only one who feels this way.

Displaced. Something I know is not true about my relationship with God. His Word tells me that I am “raised up with Christ and seated with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” (Ephesians 2:6) I am a child of God and loved with His “great” love (I John 3:1), an everlasting love. (Jeremiah 31:3)

In my real “spirit life,” I can never be displaced. I have a true sense of belonging that no person or thing on this earth can provide. So, I remind myself to rest in that truth…to keep my “mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth.” (Colossians 3:2) I am secure in the knowledge that nothing can separate me from the love of God…“neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, not depth, nor any other created things.” (Romans 8:38-39)

And especially not my feelings. I can never be displaced.

The Dreaded Blog...

On the day that my mother died, I was reading The Psalms to her and one verse in particular evoked an emotional meltdown for me. I purposed in my heart to write a blog about it, but the events of that day dictated that I wait…

I say “dreaded blog” because I know that I can’t write this blog without tears. It has been almost three months since my mother passed away, but I am still emotionally vulnerable – the feeling that you have when you know that any small thing might bring a deluge of tears that will incapacitate you. I try to avoid those moments, which is challenging, as my task at hand is to sort through my mother’s belongings.

We had been reading through the Psalms together, and each time there would be one verse in particular that spoke to my heart. That day, we read Psalms 120 – 130. The verse that brought back a flood of memories was Psalm 122:1 “I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’”

It was totally unexpected, but when I read that verse, I was transported to my childhood. My parents were so faithful to their church. To a fault. As a young adult, I resented the fact that we had spent more time at church than we did at home doing things that other families did. It took many years for me to understand that the performance mentality I was raised with was not a reflection of God’s unconditional love for me. 

But as I read that verse on my mother’s last day, I had a deeper understanding of my parent’s church attendance. It was part of who they were. They were committed to God and took every aspect of their Christian faith seriously. Their intention was never to neglect the needs of their children, but rather to raise us up “in the way we should go, (so that) even when we were old, we would not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6)

And this revelation brought about tears of repentance for misjudging my parents. And thankfully, I had the privilege of telling my mother about this epiphany and thanked her for her dedication to The Church and her obedience to God. I hope that my parents understood that church attendance was not crucial to their salvation, but I believe that regardless, their intentions were honorable. I know that God sees our hearts and knows our motives and I’m certain that both of my parents heard Him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant…enter into the joy of your Master.” (Matthew 25:21)