how pain becomes amazing

Pain birthed my ministry to hurting Christian women and to the leaders who serve them. For you I write. I understand, I’ve been there.

My ministry to hurting Christian women and to the leaders who serve them had an unwelcome beginning.

Pain.

Who likes pain? Not me. I’m a comfort girl, big sweat shirts and blue jeans. No pain, no gain? Jane Fonda had it all wrong.

Yet God allowed it to barrel into my life. Yours too?

The blessedly wonderful and yes it is true: You can know joy. Abundant joy overflowing, sloshing over bucket rims, wetting toes, puddling.

I didn’t know the secret to abundant joy overflowing — and I still forget at times — but I know it now and I want to share it with you. You and me, together, arms linked, seeking joy, finding joy.

Abundant

joy

overflowing

Yes!

This is how pain becomes amazing. God turns it upside down.

The Flip Side

Year ago before A-J-O-Y — abundant joy overflowing yes — I experienced loneliness. Even at church. Especially at church.

I’d go to church desiring friendship with godly women, and it seemed everyone was chatting with someone else and they knew the secret handshake or the secret password or whatever

and I didn’t. I flowered the wall, another daisy lost in the lobby, dying.

Can you relate?

Know this, sweet sister: You are not alone in your emotional and spiritual struggles. You are not alone in the pain that tags along with your physical problems.

God Whispered

Then God whispered to my heart: “Lucy, comfort my sheep who are hurting with the comfort you’ve received from me.”

“Who me?” I asked

“Trust me, Lucy.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Trust me.”

Like the fuzz of a dandelion, my arguments floated away and I said, “Okay, Lord.”

Since then I’ve ministered to hurting Christian women and to the leaders who serve them. Fearful women. Lonely women. Abused women. Women trapped in addiction: shopping, alcohol, pornography. Women who’ve committed adultery. Women with hard pasts. Women like me. Like you.

Will you journey with me to the well? At the well we discover living water. Bubbly, fresh, overflowing. Extravagant.

Special Plans

I’ll share special plans in the coming weeks to help you find hope and healing, comfort and care. I’m fixated on the “HOW” of things. Someone will tell me a great idea, a perfect inspiration, and I ask how. Beyond the how, I need steps, foot prints showing the way. A map to the treasure. And friends.

A journey begins with a single sip. Dare to join me?

With Joy Overflowing,

 

Mom Dies, Then What?

telephoneThe phone rang.

7:00.

Seven in the morning? Who’d call this early?

“This is Officer So-and-So of the Elmhurst Police Department. I’m sad to inform you that your mother is. . .”

You never forget a call like that. My mom was only 62.

I already had a lot going on, especially dealing with difficult memories from childhood.

 Now this.

That sounds whiny, like my mom had a fatal heart attack on an inconvenient day fifteen years ago. Like another day would have been better.

No day is good for a mother to die.

I remember saying to God several weeks later, “Why did you kill my best friend?” knowing he didn’t kill her. He brought her home. Brought her home? Home? Heaven is home? But I’m not there with her so how could it be home? What about me?

Whiney again. Grief is whiney sometimes.

The cemetery stood three blocks from my home. It became my almost daily ritual to walk to her spot, bend low and with my finger trace her name and the dates of her birth and death.

CAROL GALE KUPER

11.7.1931 – 1.10.1994

THROUGH DEATH INTO LIFE 

The days after 1.10.1994 blurred. Sometimes I wailed pain from the deepest part of me, a part I didn’t even know I had. Until then.

My pain reliever: music. Sometimes I danced. Sometime I sat, dazed. I allowed myself to feel. Yes, me. Lucy, the girl who had learned to stuff emotions like I stuff a Thanksgiving turkey. . .to overflowing.

The dam burst.

I grieved you well, Mom.

It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.

Except on your birthday, your death day, and Mother’s Day.

And today. Why today?

I don’t know, Mom. Grief’s like that. Sometimes it plays peek-a-boo.

Question: When you hear the word “grief” what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Please share.

You Are Loved!

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