This is more than a blog. It’s really a heartfelt response to your letter of love and encouragement, a letter that was sent (and received) in God’s perfect timing.
For those who may not understand, writing blogs is hard, especially now that online responses to our blogs are few and far between. Blame it on Facebook filters, shadow banning, crazy algorithms, partisan politics, or whatever. The reality is that our online blogs get way fewer responses than in the past.
Granted, we are Christian writers, and we ultimately write for an audience of One. But we are human, and human interaction is nice.
Many times, I sit down and write a blog that I have prayed over and thought about in detail. I try to honor God and be as honest and transparent as possible, without embarrassing my family and friends –or exposing them to dangerous fanatics.
I am rarely a political writer. Yes, sometimes, a topic will stick in my craw (as my Mamaw Katie would say), and at those times, I will do a little digging and write something controversial. For example, the COVID pandemic drove me to distraction a few times.
But most of the time, I write about my one and only true earthly passion: my family. With that said, I tend to view everything through the lens of the Bible, even the things that happen to me, my husband, our boys, and their families.
Consequently, God has taught me so much about Himself through my family, and now, more than ever. I am on a learning journey. This time, the lesson topic (the death of a child) was definitely not of my own choosing.
In fact, this is the hardest road I have ever walked. Ever. This treacherous path surpasses unexpected job changes, the loss of all four of our parents, our own obvious aging, financial devastation, and even a past threat of cancer in my own body.
Nothing compares. Nothing even comes close. Absolutely nothing.
Now, keep in mind that all my adult life I have served the Lord with my whole heart. It’s not a game; it’s not for show. Loving and serving my Savior is who I am. My friends know me accordingly, and so does my family. And my husband and sons will describe me – sins and all – as exactly who I claim to be: a flawed and imperfect woman serving the sinless, perfect God.
I love Jesus. That’s all I know.
And it’s a good thing I do because our world has been shaken to its very foundation over the last six years as our youngest son Chris battled leukemia. Through countless doctor visits, chemo treatments, thousands of pills, and needle pricks, Chris never doubted or complained. He fully believed God would heal him.
So, when his brother Jacob (the only viable donor in the whole international donor bank) donated stem cells last summer, we all breathed a sigh of relief and shouted in celebration as God totally healed him.
Then, the dreaded call came this Spring, announcing the return and aggressive mutation of the leukemia. Even then, Chris barely blinked. He just got right back up and started the journey all over again, determined to war and win, with the blood-bought armor of Jesus covering him.
Coach Chris Lucius even helped take his high school baseball team to the State championship games for back-to-back wins in 2022 and 2023.
Yet, less than three weeks after that 2023 championship win, Chris lay in an ICU bed, fighting for his life. As we rallied around him and prayed, I watched my warrior son make the unprecedented choice to head safely into Homeplate one last time. I watched it with my own eyes, and I placed my head on his chest and heard my beautiful, black-haired, blue-eyed, dimpled boy take his very last breath.
We had total peace the day Chris went Home, and our peace from God grew on the day a gymnasium crammed full of people came to celebrate his life – lived all out for Jesus.
Then came the enemy’s waves of despair.
They crashed around me, over and over again. I barely had time between the black waves of anguish to crawl back to the Rock of Ages and cling tightly to Jesus for another breath of Life before the waves thundered again.
But honestly, in the midst of grief, I’ve learned more about the goodness and faithfulness of God in the past two months than all my life put together. Truly, He is literally all I have at times, and yet, He is always more than enough.
Even so, each moment was a battle some days. Yes, I knew it was a battle in a war that my Jesus had already fought and won, but it was a constant battle, nonetheless.
And then came your letter.
There I was, sitting at my computer, keeping my head down, my fingers busy, and my YouTube Scriptures on repeat, so I could keep the treacherous waves at bay. And I was handed a letter from a woman I had never met, a sister in Christ from Georgia, a reader of my words, someone who took the time to reach out and love on me.
It was miraculous.
Oh, my dear reader, as I read your beautiful words, I knew without a doubt that God sees me, and He knows me so intimately because you know me too.
Every word you wrote spoke of who I am and what I try to do each day as a Christian, a writer, a wife, and a mother. You spoke of dozens of things I had written in the past.
You even referenced one of my latest blogs from August 15, that described the choice I must make each day to either stay in bed and wallow in this grief or get up and follow Jesus, one step at a time.
It was obvious that you had truly read my words because your own words were filled with true understanding and compassion. More than that, your words spoke life to my wounded, weary soul as you asked me to remember people who read and need my words.
I wept openly and loudly as I read your letter. And I repented. How could I ever doubt God’s power and His love? You reminded me that God will see me through this grief, and He will give me joy for these ashes of mourning. And one day, you and I (and Chris) will meet.
But if that day is not this side of eternity, please know that I do choose you. I also choose the other people that God amazingly allows me to speak to and write to – for His sake and for His glory.
And over and over again, I choose the precious, loving God Who sent you to me at the perfect time.
With much love and gratitude,
Your Sister, Joy
