Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 11
July 23, 2023
Part 2 of 3 – Grief: Sorrow Shared
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
This post first appeared July 24, 2022. Due to the number of people who have contacted me privately regarding their own journey with grief, I offer these words again praying that they bring comfort and encouragement.
We all meet grief at some point in our lives. There is no right, better, or perfect way to grieve, but sharing our experiences with others can help us in our own journey. For Part 1 of this 3-part series, click here.
Part 2
During the years of my husband’s paralysis and traumatic-brain injury issues, it became more and more difficult for me to attend funerals, so I stopped.
I stopped because if I fell apart I wouldn’t be able to carry all of me to the car without dropping something.
It wasn’t the grief of the families that bothered me. It was the freedom of their loved one who had passed into the presence of Jesus. It was the liberation that person had finally experienced. The severing of painful and unbearable earthly shackles that I … resented.
That’s hard to confess. It took me a long time to even realize what it was.
I grieved because the husband I’d known was gone yet wasn’t. I grieved when I visited his facility and he didn’t know me. I grieved anew when COVID quarantines took even the visits away.
Isolation dominated my grief, because there were only certain people I wanted to share it with, and General Public was not one of them.
Fellow members of a small-group Bible study had come to the out-of-town hospital on the (very late) night of my husband’s accident. They were there, and that was what I needed—their presence.
They knew I didn’t need answers, explanations, or platitudes.
Those who were close to me carried my pain. They didn’t give me advice, try to explain why, or tell me what I should do— though a retired nurse and mother of many told me to rest because I was going to need it. She was right.
As days rolled into months and years, another friend often called from out-of-state, let me cry the ugly cry, and then prayed for me over the phone.
One of the most comforting things spoken to me was, “I understand.” I rarely needed more than that. It somehow helped redistribute the burden without requiring me to respond graciously.
I wanted to melt into the floor unnoticed. Disappear into a pew at church and not talk. Not share. Not have to smile and nod. I wanted the music to carry me on the voices of other worshippers as I offered my own sacrifice: a broken heart.
But everyone is not like me. Grief is too personal for generalities.
For some people, it is easier to share with strangers. They find help in grief counseling or in groups found at Hospice, nursing homes, or churches.
As time passed, I discovered the double edge of a familiar scripture. “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ,” says Galatians 6:2. It cuts both ways.
That mandate also applies to those who are doing the suffering. Even as we grieve, we can look outside ourselves and find others we can help. People all around us are in need and in pain, but we may never know it unless we ask God to show us.
We don’t have to bombard others (please don’t). Be sensitive. Find out what they need by asking someone else if necessary. Pour into their lives anonymously. Pray for them.
That is sorrow shared.
One message I received from a friend was signed, “Lifting you up.” She had no idea what those words meant to me.
It turned out that I was not forgotten after all. Even in spite of my self-inflicted solitude.
~
Grief is too personal for generalities.
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If you are someone who finds healing in groups, check with local churches, hospitals, Hospice, and nursing homes. You may also find comfort through the following links:
https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/our-programs/support-groups
https://hospicefoundation.org/Grief-(1)/Support-Groups
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July 16, 2023
Part 1 of 3 – Grief: The Intimacy of Suffering
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
This post first appeared July 17, 2022. Due to the number of people who have contacted me privately regarding their own journey with grief, I offer these words again praying that they bring comfort and encouragement.
Everyone faces grief at some point in their life. There is no right, better, or perfect way to deal with it. We just deal with it in our own way.
But there are many little broken bits that we share in common with others, and we often find comfort in sharing those fragments.
In the years since my husband’s lingering disability and death, I have been asked about grieving. Starting with today’s blog post, I will share in a three-part series what I have learned along the way. Much of it may be familiar to you. Some of it you may find unusual or unbelievable. But hopefully in the fragments—the pieces of brokenness—you will find encouragement.
Part 1
I wanted it to be over.
Let me rephrase that:
I REALLY wanted it to be OVER!
I was tired of hurting and just plain tired.
But – (Don’t you love the buts in life?) – the painful, lonely days were days I had to go through. Part of the process.
I remember falling to my knees in my living room one evening, my heart bleeding out through my eyes and dripping into my hands.
And in that surreal moment of knowing Jesus was near, I felt His breath on my hair.
“Really?” someone asked me later. “Did you really feel His breath on your hair?”
Yes.
Which is more real – the physical, limited world in which I exist or the realm of His soul-peace in which I live?
During those earliest days of suffering, I experienced His nearness in ways I had not known before I was alone.
It is the aloneness we kick against, that valley I didn’t want to walk—no, wait—I didn’t walk it. I crawled.
There is no shortcut. I had to go through the valley of shadow without the flesh-and-blood companion I’d once had.
I know, I know—I wasn’t really alone, you say. But in the valley, I felt alone … except for that staff of the Shepherd I kept bumping up against in the dark, that breath on my hair.
Everything was so different and I didn’t like it. But still the Shepherd set a place for me at the table. He fed me when I didn’t want to eat. Especially not with my enemies lurking nearby—
Fear
Longing
Depression
Craving for human touch
The ugly cry that wrecks your voice
Yet, the valley was where I discovered the intimacy of suffering—that precious gift found only there.
So I waited.
I wait for the Lord,
My soul waits.
And in His word do I hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
More than those who watch for the morning …
Psalm 130:5
Grief isn’t something you get over; it’s something you get through.
Like a valley.
~
Grief isn't something we get over, it's something we get through.
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July 9, 2023
Are We There Yet?
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Are we there yet?
Have you ever heard that question roll out from the back seat of your car during a family vacation?
Or have you asked it yourself in the middle of a long and tedious road trip? It’s just so hard to be patient when the journey seems never-ending.
But the journey isn’t always on a road. Sometimes it’s our job, the work we do, or the race we run—the pressing on. It’s not easy. We have to want it badly enough that we’ll give the pursuit all we’ve got.
We might not be where we want to be yet, but we will be because God is faithful.
God promised He would never abandon us but would always give us the strength we need.
That means we’re not in this alone.
I press on to reach the end of the race
and receive the heavenly prize
for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.
~
We're not in this alone.
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Josiah Hanacker doesn’t give up, especially where his family is concerned. ~The Wrangler’s Woman
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July 2, 2023
Out of the Stump
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Last month, a tree in our young orchard was snapped off accidentally about six inches above ground level. Distressing, to say the least, and costly as well. It had to be replaced.
My husband dug up the stump and tossed it aside to make room for a new tree. A couple of weeks later, instead of throwing it away, he put the stump and its root ball in a bucket and added water to see what would happen.
The dried-out stump just sat there in the bucket looking mutilated, forlorn, and forgotten.
But appearances can be deceiving.
Several days later, it sprouted.
The resurrected stump reminded me of how often I mistakenly think defeat is the end. That failure is final and everything is too late.
This may be true in certain cases such as a missed field-goal attempt that would put one football team ahead of the other before the game’s end.
But I believe in most situations, this sentiment is not true. And more often than that, I believe it is one of our enemy’s greatest weapons.
Satan may not succeed in tempting us away from godly living, but he’s very good at disabling us with doubt and discouragement. We shut down, become ineffective, and often fall to depression.
How do we counter the attack?
We need to get ourselves in the right place with the necessary nutrients. We need the spiritual counterparts of what the tree stump needed: soil, water, and light.
When we get around God’s people and get into God’s word, we start healing and growing.
The Bible tells us to let our roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love. Jesus said He is the Light of the world and that those who believe in Him will have rivers of living water flowing from within them.
The prophet Isaiah encouraged the people of Israel that Messiah would come from King David’s lineage. “Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot— yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root” (Isaiah 11:1).
Even ancient Job knew all was not lost: “For there is hope for a tree, If it is cut down, that it will sprout again, And that its tender shoots will not cease” (Job 14:7).
No, failure is not final – unless we’re talking about eternity and failure to trust Jesus. How many chances do we get to choose Him before we die? If we keep waiting and we hit eternity without Him, it will be too late. Failure to take God at His word is one final and fatal mistake that has no do-over.
So let’s do it now.
No do-over
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June 25, 2023
It’s All About Trust
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
People often ask how much of myself I put into my books. The question is straightforward, but most answers are ambiguous. The view we see of ourselves from the inside out is different from the view others see from the outside in.
When I wrote Book 2 of the Cañon City Chronicles, Straight to My Heart, I included a struggle in the heroine’s life that was similar to one of my own: Trust.
Trusting the Lord with my eternal soul has always been easier than trusting Him with other things like my children, my career, or my family’s health.
I know God is perfectly capable of taking care of me and those I love, so why do I fret? Why can’t I let go of worry?
I believe it has to do with choice on two levels:
The choice to let God work things outThe choice to rely on Him to carry me through the result—regardless of what it is.Like Livvy, the lead female character in my book, I have the options of trust or anxiety. I can depend on the one who created the delicate columbine that thrives in the rugged Rocky Mountains, or I can fall back on my own understanding.
When I look at it that way, there really is no contest. My comprehension and perspective are limited. I’m much better off uncurling my fingers and letting God take over—even when His plan doesn’t exactly match up with mine.
After all, He really does know what He’s doing.
What do you struggle with when it comes to trusting God? How do you let go? I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.
~
Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
Proverbs 3:5
It's all about trust
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Trusting God with her eternal soul had been easy for Livvy. She had been raised to take Him at His word, and she believed what He said about salvation. It all made sense to her—God’s gift of love and salvation in Jesus. But trusting Him with her heart where Whit Hutton was concerned? For some reason, that was harder. ~Straight to My Heart
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June 18, 2023
Acceptance and Security
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
“Daddy prays with me at night before I go to sleep. It makes me feel welcome and safe.”
“Welcome” seems like an unusual word choice but think about it. The child who said this feels welcome at home. How many do not?
This child has a place to belong – a safe place to be. This child knows Dad is there and that he’s glad his 9-year-old is too.
Dad may not realize it, but he’s living out an important biblical promise:
“In My Father’s house are many dwelling places.
If it were not so, I would have told you,
because I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
John 14:2 (AMP)
God knows how important a sense of place is. He planted that need within us so He could give us the perfect location.
Acceptance and security are two of the most important things fathers can give their children.
If your dad made you feel accepted and secure, thank him this Father’s Day. If you missed out on that blessing from an earthly dad, ask your Good, Good Father to be that Dad.
Come to Him. He’s waiting for you.
~
He's a good, good Father.
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Bern walked into the garden and stopped at a bloody spot on the ground not three feet from Gracie. Holding his gun on it, he watched for a moment, then kicked away the headless snake and holstered his weapon.
Gracie jumped up and leaped into his arms. “I was so afraid Buster was going to get bit, Papa. I was so afraid.”
The puppy hunkered back in the corner, trembling. Etta picked it up, her ears ringing from the gunshot and her heart racing as she followed Bern and Gracie to the house.
In the kitchen, he righted his chair and sat down with Gracie on his lap, her arms tight around his neck. She laid her golden head against his chest, clearly her father’s daughter.
Etta set the puppy on an old towel behind the stove and gave it a bowl of milk, then warmed Bern’s coffee and filled a plate for Gracie.
“I’m not hungry,” the child mumbled into Bern’s shirt.
Understandably, Etta thought. Neither was she. The puppy would eat well this evening.
Bern picked up his coffee. “You want to help me bury the rattler’s head?” ~Mail-Order Misfire, prequel to the international award-winning series, “The Front Range Brides”
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June 11, 2023
Out of the Storm
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Early afternoon light dims beneath the gray underbelly of an approaching storm and thunder rolls from one side of the river valley to the other.
Twenty minutes later, “… the rains are over and gone….the cooing of doves is heard in our land” (Song of Solomon 2:11-12).
I love these sudden and powerful Colorado storms and have included them in several of my novels set along the Front Range.
They remind me of God in His strength and majesty. In His provision and love.
He is greater than anything I face.
Greater than any fear or foe.
Great enough to set the doves cooing in the drip, drip, dripping trees after the rain.
Out of the Storm – from
Always Before Me
, story-devotions for women
Out of the storm
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June 4, 2023
Like a Tree Planted … and a giveaway!
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Do you have a favorite tree?
Countless varieties flourish on the earth, but Psalm 92 mentions three with a descriptive promise attached:
The godly will flourish like palm trees,
grow strong like the cedars of Lebanon,
and still bear fruit in their old age ( vs 12-15).
I like trees such as pine and spruce that catch an evening breeze in their branches, regardless of the season.
Each fall I marvel at the golden leaves of aspen glimmering along the slopes of Colorado’s mountains.
Apple, pear, peach, cherry, and nectarine trees blossomed this spring in our orchard, promising a fruitful reward.
And giant cottonwoods grow nearby, the poorer cousins of the glittering aspen and a member of the poplar family. Now full with mature summer leaves, the cottonwoods sing, even in a light breeze. Each leaf responds, and the combined murmurs raise a chorus akin to a “rushing, mighty wind.”
An interesting verse in 2 Samuel records what God told David about his upcoming battle plans. “When you hear a sound like marching feet in the tops of the poplar trees …the Lord is moving ahead of you to strike down the Philistine army” (5:24). Some translations list the trees as mulberry trees, others as balsam, or aspen, but their exact identity is unknown.
Trees seem to have made an impression on the poet-king, David, for he writes that the person who seeks God’s way is like a tree planted by rivers of water.
Blessed is the man
Who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly,
Nor stands in the path of sinners,
Nor sits in the seat of the scornful;
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
And in His law he meditates day and night.
He shall be like a tree
Planted by the rivers of water,
That brings forth its fruit in its season,
Whose leaf also shall not wither;
And whatever he does shall prosper.
Psalm 1:1-3
The tree described by David is not a silent winter tree. Not even a spring or fall tree, but a full-leafed tree of summer with leaves that do not wither.
It offers wind song, shade, and comfort, but those benefits are conditional.
This tree is planted by the river—one of God’s metaphors for life.
The men or women like this tree don’t seek guidance from ungodly people.
They don’t hang around with people who deliberately do wrong things,
And they avoid sceptics and scoffers (not sincere seekers).
Instead, blessings come to the people who read and know God’s word, spend time thinking about it, and endeavor to do what it says.
We can be like this tree if we choose. Our roots can reach down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love, anchoring us near that water of life. We can be a summer tree, full of life and song if we drink in His words, His ways, and His promises.
~
Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the Lord.
Psalm 96:12 NKJV
Are you a tree planted?
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Have your name entered for a chance to win an e-copy of Hope Is Built by commenting below about your favorite tree. What is it and why is it your favorite?
Mary skipped the noon meal, appeasing Helen’s motherly concern by accepting a slice of buttered bread. Ignoring the family’s—well, familiness—was something she simply could not do in the midst of them, and she was too torn to try.
The day was warm and the shaded swing in the big cottonwood tree beckoned, low enough to the ground that Mary could sit in it without holding to the ropes. She looked toward the ranch house, pleased that no westerly windows gave the occupants a view of her whereabouts. But she knew her position was clear to anyone watching from the parlor.
She wrapped her left arm around one rope, turning in time to see the thin parlor curtain fall into place. Surely the boys were peeking on her.
The back screen door slapped three times.
That meant three hungry little Huttons had bounded inside, popping her conjecture like a circus balloon. Perhaps it was Helen who had spied her through the curtain.
Mary fingered a dab of butter and stuck it in her mouth. Creamy and smooth, but not nearly as good as an Ayrshire could produce.
Heat climbed her neck as she licked her finger clean. Of course it wasn’t Helen behind the curtain.
She’d never felt more of an outsider than she did at that moment. Things had turned out so differently than she’d expected when she set a course for Colorado. She’d been emboldened by her aunt’s and uncle’s love, assured of their welcoming embraces and warm smiles, and she had relished the thought of being away from Lewis and his grumping.
Now she almost missed him.
Now she had no one and nothing. ~Hope Is Built, Colorado Book Award Finalist
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May 28, 2023
Remember the Fallen
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
For many people, Memorial Day signals the changing of the seasons.
Those of us who can’t wait any longer for summer declare that it’s time to bring out the lawn chairs and barbecue. Who wants to wait another four weeks? We’d rather start thinking about vacations, the end of school, and what to grill. Here in Colorado, we’re lucky if the backyard bash isn’t cancelled due to snow.
Of course Memorial Day is about much more than the barbecue and what the weather will be like.
Once known as Decoration Day, it was set aside to honor and remember the fallen from our nation’s Civil War by decorating their graves with flowers and flags.
After World War I, honors were extended to include those who were casualties in any of America’s wars.
Battlefield casualties were obviously on the founders’ minds, but the fallen have given their lives in various venues.
During World War II, many civilian women went to work outside their homes for the first time, picking up the slack left in the wake of their deploying husbands and fathers, gladly joining the war effort.
Some took to the shipyards in southern California and other coastal states, and many of them contracted tuberculosis. Those who served overseas often came home to funerals and motherless children.
Every year on Memorial Day, I think of those whose names I will never hear who gave all of what they had to give.
The giving goes on. May we who remain live our lives in ways that continue the example of hope and selflessness. And may we pause in our reveling and remember with gratitude the fallen upon whose sacrifices we stand.
~
There is no greater love than to
lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
John 15:13
Of course Mama’s and Papa’s loving spirits were not entombed in the cold earth, yet Mary felt a closeness with them as she whispered her goodbyes. Kissing the palms of her hands, she laid one on each stone. A familiar tune hummed through her—Mama’s favorite hymn—and she sang in hushed tones.
“On Christ, the Solid Rock, I stand … All other ground is sinking sand.”
Atop the hill she felt as if she were on that solid rock, the foundation of her parents’ faith.
“I love you both so much, and I’m grateful for what you’ve given me.” Her throat tightened, thick with tears. “Not only in land and livestock, but in faith and honor.” She closed her eyes against the sting of sadness and drew a stuttered breath. “I’m on my way to Aunt Bertie’s farm. Wish me well.”
A silly thing to say, but she knew they would do so if they were there. ~Hope Is Built Finalist for 2023 Colorado Book Award
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May 21, 2023
You Against the World
Ever feel like it’s you against the world? Occupationally, relationally, or physically? If it’s not one thing, it’s another – right?
Just when we get our sea legs under us, a rogue wave hits, the deck rolls, and our stomachs follow. Why can’t our careers, relationships, and health be set on solid ground?
Why?
When I was a journalist, Why was one of the five Ws that dictated my question-asking:
Who – What – Where – When – Why
Sometimes “how” got in on the lineup, working its way in with one of the others. But Why was the last question.
Yet when faced with tragedies in my personal life, or even mere mishaps, the first question I often asked was Why?
“Why, God, did You let this happen?”
“Why did this have to happen now?”
Last week I joined a casual group of believers who shared prayer requests about recent events in their lives. Each person had serious challenges, including one who shared about an ill loved one.
“It is all good news because God is in it all,” that person said.
That’s what I call faith. Praising God even in the pain. It’s the kind of sacrifice of faith we can offer only here on earth because in heaven there will be no pain, no illness, no broken hearts or missing answers.
If I can just learn to bypass Why and go straight to the other four Ws for my questions, maybe they would look something like this:
Who can I help with a similar problem?
What can I do for that person?
Where can I contribute time, encouragement, money?
When can I pray with them or someone else who needs it?
And I could even throw in the How:
How do I praise you more, Lord?
May we learn to let the Lord give us all the answers we need and to remember that it’s never us against the world.
Because He is with us.
~
“And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
Matthew 28:20
You against the world.
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Never had she felt so alone, so abandoned. Not even after her mother’s consumptive death at the rooming house. ~An Improper Proposal – Book 1 of the award winning series, Front Range Brides
Chanticleer International Book Awards – 1st Place Series, Romance
Listen here: I Am Not Alone
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