See?

a  photo taken while I sat on my front porch this week
See the spider? You can't see its web.

Sometimes I wonder what we might see if our eyes were opened to the things of the Spirit.
A few weeks after we received the diagnosis of brain cancer in our young son, Andrew, I wrote some words on a piece of scrap paper. A few months ago while cleaning out my desk, I found the scrap of paper. I tossed it in the trash.

I had lost my confidence. I began to doubt that what I had written meant anything at all. I had clung to those words for nearly 4 months...from diagnosis to death.

When I found them again, I felt mocked.

A few days ago while running my 3.1 miles, those words came back to me. And it was then I "saw" their value. I wish that I could retrieve the paper with the words. Too late for that.

But the words are still with me - written on my heart.

I am a believer in a personal God. A God who loved us too much to leave us alone. A God who was willing to give of Himself to rescue us from destruction. A God who, in a sense, became flesh colored in order to bridge the great divide between Heaven and Earth.

I am a believer in a God who knows intimately of suffering. A God who is well acquainted with our suffering. A God who speaks to us in varied ways.

A few months ago I tossed aside His words spoken to my heart. I doubted whether they were His words to me. I supposed they were just my own.

A few days ago I "heard" the words again. And I knew. And I know. Again I am clinging to the words. They kept me going last year. And they will keep me going. For every morning and every minute, for every step and every mile, I am that much closer to the realization of those words. Words on a scrap of paper tossed away in hurt. Words now drawn on my heart, tattooed for healing.

They are words that pull me from the pain of the past and ache of the present. They are words that draw me toward the freedom of my future.

They are simple yet profound.

"Don't look at what you see;
See what is coming."

The apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known."

Ancient mirrors, which were made in Corinth, were made of metal and gave dim reflections, an illustration of our imperfect knowledge during this age. But knowledge will be full and instantaneous in the future state of glory. (footnote in my Bible)

John writes in 1 John 3:2 "Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is."

I threw away the words because I had clung to them as an assurance that Andrew would be healed and live here with us.
And now, of course, Andrew is healed and alive. But he is not with us. There is an ache and a sadness because we long for him. We miss him. We love him.

The other day I submitted to the tattooing of the words on my heart
because now I understand and cling to those words in a different way.
One day, all wrongs will be righted and all promises will be realized.
And so I will no longer look at what I see but I will see what is coming.

And what is coming is truly glorious! We shall live as we were meant to live before sin rocked our world. We shall see clearly. We shall see Him for who He really is and we shall be known for who we really are.

So for now I will walk this path and run my race as best I can with this earthly vision but I'll be ever on the lookout for a glimpse of what is to come.

A simple shift of my vantage point, and the sun highlights what I could not see before.
See the web now?

Dear Mickey, (a letter)

I received this comment on my post "I Remember." I have no other way to reply to my dear sister in suffering than to post my letter to her and hope that she comes back to read it. And if you do, dear one, and if you would like private correspondence, my email is mdorsey@tampabay.rr.com.

Melanie, I come here and read often. Sometimes I go back and read some of your posts again. I lost my son 3 years ago and I am still struggling. My faith has been tested and I fear I am losing the battle. I ask God "why", a million times. My whole life has been very difficult and it was like this was the last straw. I can't seem to come up for air anymore and it is getting worse. How do you cope? You seem so strong and I feel so week. I want to love God but I feel like he has turned his back on me and I am not worthy. Even though I continue to go to church it just feels like an automatic motion. Everday I want to hug my son's neck and tell him I love him. I understand the hair you snipped from your son, unfortunately my son burned up in his car and we never saw him again. I have often wondered what would be worse, to lose them quickly,as I did or to have to watch helplessly and not know what to do, as you did. I think you are amazing and I wish I has your strength and faith. Please pray for me as I desperately want God in my life. Sometimes it feels like the pain takes my breath away and smothers everything.

Mickey




Dear Mickey,

I feel your pain. I feel it because I can relate to the suffering, the death and the separation from a dearly loved child.


I also feel your pain in your wrestling with God. I have twisted, tossed and turned with God in confusion, anger and ultimately what boils down to an almost mind numbing disappointment.


Disappointment in a God, who could have done something, but who didn’t.


Let me recount a few of the highlights (perhaps more aptly they should be termed lowlights) that I have experienced in the past eight and a half months since Andrew made his journey to Heaven.


At his hospital bed in the hours before his passing, the four of us hovered as close to Andrew as possible. We huddled together as we spoke tenderly to him, kissed him and caressed him.


I spoke to my husband and our other two children.


“Whatever happens, we do not give up our faith in God. We do not blame Him and we do not turn our backs on Him. We resist being disappointed in Him.”


Well, three of those things I have not given in to. However, the last – disappointment in God…I have to own that one.


I have been very disappointed that God did not honor our faith, and did not do what I believe His word teaches, honor His very Word concerning healing.


(I have promised God I will be honest with Him, honest with myself and honest with others. And so I share here honestly.)


At Andrew’s funeral we stood as a family, with our hands lifted to the Heavens as praise and worship music was sung. We sang and we worshipped.
(It has taken me months to say the “f” word. I usually refer to it as Andrew’s service.)


It was many months later that I would lift my hand high like that in praise again. I could have faked it for the sake of people who may have been observing me. But I had promised to be honest. And I could have taken the approach of fake it‘til you make it or attitude follows action. I could also have offered a sacrifice of praise. But I refused to give what didn’t come from the heart. Sacrifice of any kind must first come from the heart. It must cost you something or it is falsely labeled sacrifice.


You ask me how I cope.


I can give you some practical ways that have helped me get through my days and nights. Nights have been the worst. (I’ll give some of those practical ways at the conclusion of this letter.)

You tell me I seem so strong.
I am always surprised when people tell me I am strong. I have never felt strong. But what I have felt is determined.


Determined to feel the pain and not avoid it.


Determined to get healthy for my husband and children.


Determined to lead others to a Savior who led the way for us to be reconciled to the Father.


I had a close family member tell me when I was questioning so many things about God, that she thought it was too early for me to be reconsidering my theology.


I had to disagree.


I began my wrestling with God the month after Andrew passed on to Heaven.


I needed to find out from getting in God’s face how He expected me to go on.


Not just go on with this physical life.


But how to go on in my walking out my faith. What would that look like now? What would I look like now? What did HE expect of me now?


Now that my worst fears were realized. Now that all I wanted to do was die so I could go to Andrew.


Now that I felt so many eyes watching me…waiting to see what I would do…wondering if my faith would withstand such a devastating loss.


I am not strong. I am weak. But I am determined that in my weakness, the power of God will be revealed. The power of God to draw others to the cross, to the wounded side of Jesus and to the boundless, bottomless, beautiful love of God.


Mickey, God loves you. HE LOVES YOU!


He is not disappointed in you. He is not removed from you.


He may be silent at times. He may be hidden at times.


But he HAS NOT TURNED HIS BACK ON YOU.


His eyes are upon you. His heart is for you. He listens to the prayers of Jesus interceding for you.


He loves your boy and he loves HIS boy.


You have been separated from your son for 3 years. I have been separated from my son for nearly nine months.


But God was separated from His Son for 33 years.


That separation was for me.
For you.
For our sons.

I'm going to stop for now but I have more to tell you.
Please know that I am praying for you, dear sister. I PROMISE TO PRAY FOR YOU. And I'll be praying as a sister who has "been there"...who is still "there" in some ways.

The Part That's Supposed to Be part 3 of "A Flesh Colored God"

I thought I would be able to write part three sooner. I really did. But every time I thought about it, it didn't feel right to write.

(photo: LindaCharlene)

As much thought as I have given to the 3rd part of my experience on the road and in relationship with A Flesh Colored God, I really COULD write it, but here is the problem:

It's too big to write.

What I really want to do is tell it to you. Not in words on paper or a screen but in the flesh. My mouth speaking and your ears earing.

So maybe I will be able to overcome the "issues" that would prevent me from pursuing the telling and your subsquent hearing.
Or maybe I will tell it to a group (at my next opportunity) and ask for it to be recorded and then upload it for you.

Perhaps you would not feel it as I do.
Perhaps you would say, "Well, actually that's all quite simple. I don't know what the fuss is all about."
And perhaps you would be correct.

What I have gained from pursuing A Flesh Colored God is very simple. Yet it is also quite complicated in the living out of it.
And that is what I have begun to do in just one week.
Living out some very simple sounding words which may not be so simple to live.
Yet in their simplicity and maybe even in their complexity, they free me.

Freedom is complex.
For though it speaks of doors opened, weights lifted, shackles loosened and restoration of rights, there is a price to be paid for freedom.
Freedom costs dearly. 

So while at this particular moment, I do not feel "free" to write part 3 of A Flesh Colored God, I have tasted freedom this week and I don't want to return to doing life with a shackled heart.

My son, Avery, jumping in a rainbow. May his heart always remain unshackled.

(Photo by Erin Morgan)