People often ask if I got what I was looking for out of my trip to Scotland but I\u2019m not sure how to answer that question. I was never sure what I was looking for. I struggled with whether to go in the first place and almost backed out a few times because, let\u2019s be honest, it felt a bit extravagant. However, it also felt clear that God orchestrated the whole thing. I\u2019ve noticed multiple gifts that God graciously offered me as I\u2019ve thought about it over the last few months. Some I\u2019ve opened and some I have yet to discover. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I shared in a recent blog that one such gift was the recognition and beauty of simply walking with God. Step by step. Through every season. It became clear to me that the pace of our culture is at constant war with this idea. Carving out time to get away with the Lord for the purpose of walking, talking and listening is not only NOT selfish\u2026it\u2019s absolutely necessary.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Another gift that\u2019s been beautiful to unwrap has been my continued healing. I was clueless to the unseen corners of grief in my heart that needed a safe place to be seen, understood and accepted. Thirteen strangers became the healing hands of God as we shared stories, related to one another\u2019s grief, laughed together, prayed together, walked together and clung to the side of a mountain in a \u201cslight wind\u201d together. I find myself praying for them daily and missing them more than I could have expected. The fact that I met thirteen strangers and liked ALL of them continues to amaze me as a woman who takes a while to bond with people. Healing and friendships\u2026gifts 2 and 3. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But there are two more gifts that have left me in tears all day today. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The first is the gift that God sort of \u201cforced\u201d me to open. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Writing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I say \u201cforced\u201d because writing has always been a joy for me. It isn\u2019t a gift I would refuse. I\u2019ve missed it and it\u2019s been clear that God has been telling me, repeatedly, to write for over a year. I simply didn\u2019t know what to say. Or I was afraid to say it. I\u2019m not sure which. I tried, but the words never came. Whether it was the healing that my heart found or the confirmation from my new friends who said, yes, God was telling me to pick up a pen\u2026 I landed in Texas and did just that. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s not great writing – but it\u2019s writing. Six years later and I\u2019m finally beginning to get the details of our journey in Siberia down on paper. I could never have imagined how difficult it would be. I write about 2 pages a day and usually know when I\u2019m done because I can\u2019t see through the tears. But, I keep writing. I don\u2019t think I could have picked up the pen again if God hadn\u2019t healed hidden corners of my heart in Scotland. I also don\u2019t think I could see a beautiful thread in my story until meeting others who had lost loved ones. It all fits together now. Somehow. At least I think it will when I work through the tangled mess of memories and emotions. This precious gift of writing would have been enough if God had only restored it for my own joy, but it has led to another unexpected gift that I opened today. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My daughters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
These three women. Young, brave, tenacious, wise, stubborn, funny, broken girls. These humans that have somehow crossed over an invisible line from child to friend in the last few years. People that I\u2019ve felt the need to be \u201cstrong\u201d for and tried to protect while missing the fact that they\u2019ve been offering me their strength and protection all along. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I\u2019ve written about the journey of Steve\u2019s coma in Siberia it\u2019s become shocking to me that I don\u2019t know the full account of all they suffered here in Texas. I know it was hard. I\u2019ve seen the trauma and tears. I\u2019ve even heard bits and pieces, but I haven\u2019t looked into their eyes to hear and witness their stories. All of them. It wasn\u2019t that I didn\u2019t want to, and I don\u2019t think they have recognized the fact that I haven\u2019t, but it hit me that three completely different young ladies faced a mountain of pain at the ages of 27, 24 and 22. Thank the Lord we had friends and family nearby but the amount of fear, uncertainty, responsibility and confusion that they carried had never landed heavy on my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until today. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I texted one of them asking for a couple of details that I couldn\u2019t remember and was shocked at the speed at which she responded with loads of information. Every memory seemed to be waiting at the forefront of her mind. Waiting to be recounted and relived. Waiting to be heard. I realized how strong these girls of mine had been. They couldn\u2019t be any different but they each moved beyond their fear and frustration to survive that week. And they did it together. One was laser focused on doing something productive to avoid the feeling that Steve wouldn\u2019t come home. One was in shock, had panic attacks and couldn\u2019t function because of the fear and emotion. And one retreated into video games and books while having the conviction that everything was going to be okay. As different as they were, they supported one another and helped one another through their low moments. They prayed and they asked people for help. They didn\u2019t apologize for their feelings or what they needed and when they finally made their way to meet me, halfway across the world, they held me up physically, spiritually and emotionally. I\u2019m not sure I ever told them the relief I felt when I saw them run down the steps of a Parisian hotel at midnight. It was like I\u2019d been holding my breath for a week and, finally, I could breathe again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I\u2019ve been writing and thinking and asking questions, the gift I\u2019ve slowly unwrapped is that I see each of them more clearly. They complement one other. They\u2019re capable of navigating this world and the crappy things that happen. They appreciate the joys and blessings of life and they love their people with a passion that only comes from recognizing the fragility of life. They\u2019re stronger than they feel and more brilliant than they know. And they laugh\u2026really laugh\u2026from their soul\u2026after years of trying to fake it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I may be biased but they are my heroes, my friends, my teachers and always my babies. And I am the luckiest mom in the world. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
People often ask if I got what I was looking for out of my trip to Scotland but I\u2019m not sure how to answer that question. I was never sure what I was looking for. I struggled with whether to go in the first place and almost backed out a few times because, let\u2019s be honest, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":8108,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,3],"tags":[126,182,189,220,243,246,259,274,341,356,672,547,561,588],"class_list":["post-8123","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-faith","category-family","tag-daughters","tag-faith","tag-family","tag-friends","tag-gratitude","tag-grief","tag-healing","tag-hope","tag-love","tag-memories","tag-presence","tag-strength","tag-support","tag-trauma"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8123","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8123"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8123\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8108"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8123"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8123"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/karenlawson.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8123"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}