My grandmother taught me grief is a place to visit, but it’s not a place to stay.
She fought the battle of brokenness, armed with her Bible and her spunk. She’d say, “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not pitiable. Everyone has gone through something, Susannah. Everyone fights some sort of battle. The way you know you’ve won the battle is if you come out stronger because of it.”
As she aged, my heart broke watching my strong, independent grandmother wither away in a nursing home, her body riddled with colon cancer. We emptied her house on Watkins Street of her belongings, sold the dining room table where I’d eaten Christmas ham and mashed potatoes, helped load her antique lamps and “ice box” into the back of a stranger’s truck. When it was apparent she could no longer live on her own and would have to stay in the home, we sold her charming white house on the hill. When I walked out her wrought-iron storm door for the last time when I was eighteen years old, I closed a door on my childhood.
On the day my grandmother died, when I was a few months pregnant with Natalie Ann, I mourned. But I also rejoiced. I rejoiced because I knew she was finally reunited with my father. I rejoiced because she had, indeed, persevered. I think of the words found in 1 Peter 5:10: “After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (ESV).
I rejoiced because my grandmother was restored. Strengthened. Established. After struggling with depression and loss on this earth, and then suffering through terribly aggressive cancer, she finally gained her everlasting prize—the everlasting crown. A crown that neither moth nor rust can destroy. The crown of eternal life.
Take a lesson from my sweet granny. Seek joy, wherever you can. Live. Laugh. Love. Persevere. Keep on keepin’ on.
CHAPTER 20
Thank You for Bein’ a Friend
One of my favorite parts of life is a bout of uncontrollable, eye-watering, bladder-clenching laughter. My gosh, I adore it. That’s how I know when I’ve got a real good friend—when she can make me laugh so hard I have to clutch my stomach, bend over, and slap my knee while joy pours from my eyes.
The first friend I ever had who made me laugh that way was Kristen. We met in first grade and immediately hit it off. We laughed at random things no one else thought were funny. Kristen and I had the talent of getting tickled while in the worst places, like class or church or moments of silence. She would get to laughing, and then I would get to laughing, and one of us would have to excuse ourselves before we both ended up in detention.
Mama always knew when I was on the phone with Kristen. On the weekends in middle school, we’d call each other at 10:30 p.m. when Mama’s Family was over. Mama would poke her head into my room and say, “Susannah, you’ve got to quiet down so I can get some sleep!” And then she’d poke her head into my room again ten minutes later and say, “It’s time to tell Kristen good night.”
Kristen and I were inseparable throughout our school years. We got in trouble for passing notes in class and cutting up about Coach Thomas’s quiet, unintelligible voice. And once we were old enough to drive, we’d laugh so much that the driver would have to pull off for a pit stop at the Exxon bathroom because we just couldn’t hold it any longer.
I looked forward to time spent with Kristen because I knew laughter was imminent. I knew a spit take was possible. I knew peeing in pants was inevitable. I craved it. I craved the inside jokes. I craved doubling over with tears pouring from my eyes. I craved being weak from laughter. I craved whatever nonsense we could get into on the weekends. I craved the joy we brought each other.
Kristen and I rarely hang out anymore because we are both busy being wives and mothers, but when a text or instant message from her comes through, I know someone is going to eventually reply the laugh-cry emoji. We still share a beautiful bond of laughter.
My life has been abundantly blessed with some truly wonderful friends. I’m fortunate to associate with a group of women who always have an encouraging word. I’m fortunate to have friends to pray with and pray for. I’m thankful for the precious ladies I get to do life with. I’m thankful for their children being encouragers in my own children’s lives.
When Mama died, so many stepped forward to lend a shoulder for me to cry on. The love of Christ was shown to me in multiple ways during that sorrowful period in my life. My mother was my spiritual mentor, but when she moved to heaven, the Lord was quick to place friends in my life who desired to mentor me spiritually—to encourage me and lift my spirits. Because God knows we need to be encouraged by each other’s faith, just as Paul said in Romans 1:11–12 AMPC: “I am yearning to see you, that I may impart and share with you some spiritual gift to strengthen and establish you. That is, that we may be mutually encouraged and comforted by each other’s faith, both yours and mine.”
Paul had never even been to Rome when he wrote those powerful and promising words to the few hundred Christians who lived there. He’d met a handful of them on his travels, but he longed to introduce himself and share the good news of Christ not only to that handful of Christians, but to everyone in Rome—including those who had only heard gossip (some not so good) about him. Many Romans were non-Jews who were wondering what in the world the Jewish Messiah (who had lived, died, and been resurrected about thirty years before) had to do with them. Paul made it his mission to proclaim Christ’s love to everyone, both Jew and Gentile.
Paul didn’t even know these people, and yet he yearned to see them. He yearned to get to Rome and strengthen them and lift them up and love them. He wanted to watch them grow in their faith before his very eyes. And he needed them as much as they needed him.
Isn’t that a beautiful depiction of friendship?
Yearning.
Yearning to spend time together. Yearning for conversation and fellowship. Yearning to share and impart. Yearning to love and lift. Yearning to share a spell of laughter. Yearning to offer inspiration and receive some too.
We are social creatures. We are most comfortable when we are surrounded by family and friends. Isn’t this why we spend hours on Facebook? We long for a human connection (and to watch videos of cute dogs and find recipes). We long for like-minded individuals to show us kindness, empathy, and honesty.
We need people, y’all.
Friendship plays a vital role in a fulfilled and contented life. Those of us who are blessed with true friends, whether one or twenty, tend to be happier. There is nothing more satisfying than that bout of eye-watering laughter I mentioned earlier. Healthy friendship brings us joy, and that’s exactly how God intends for it to be.
Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 tells us, “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” (ESV).
Life ain’t easy. We all fall and struggle at some point. So how wonderful it is to have a hand to help us up, a shoulder to cry on, a prayer partner to intercede to God on our behalf. And you know what? God places people in our life for these very reasons, just as he placed Kristen in my youth and some wonderful women in my adulthood as I grieved my mother. He knew I needed them. He knows we need each other. Proverbs 27:17 says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”
True friendship is to encourage. To sympathize. To pass on the beautiful comfort that we receive not only from the Holy Spirit but from others. To truly love one another as God has loved us. To support. To yearn. To sacrifice.
Sacrifice.
This word appears 310 times in the King James version of the Bible. (I didn’t count. I Googled.) Mr. Webster tells us that it means “destruction or surrender of something for the sake of something else: giving up of some desirable thing in behalf of a higher object.”
So, what does sacrifice have to do with true friendship?
Everything.
Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice for us. He laid down His
life so that we can trust Him as our personal Savior and receive new life in Him. I like to consider myself a good friend. I send birthday texts and return books I’ve borrowed, but I’ve never hung bloody and beaten on a cross so that my friends would avoid eternal damnation!
To be a true friend, we must sacrifice. I’m sorry, but there’s no getting around it. This means that our friendships are going to cost us something. Maybe friendship will cost us money or valuable time. Maybe it will cost us our pride. Maybe it will cost us our comfort. Maybe it will cost us dry-cleaning when we pee our pants. But guess what, ladies? Sacrifice ain’t about us. It’s about being obedient to the Lord, and the Lord calls us to sacrifice.
I forfeited sleeping in one Saturday morning because a dear sister needed to call and vent about her baby scribbling a Sharpie on the walls. That may not sound like a major sacrifice, but you just don’t understand my love affair with sleep. Giving up an hour of slumber to listen to my friend cry and scrub her foyer with a Magic Eraser was a pretty big deal for me, okay?
But, in friendship, we are called to surrender what we find valuable for something we consider to have a higher or more pressing claim—our friends. We are called to make ourselves accessible when it isn’t convenient.
(And might I add that we are to joyfully sacrifice. Girls, we aren’t to roll our eyes and huff and puff and complain because Grey’s is about to come on but a friend has a flat tire on some dark back road and thinks she saw a werewolf.)
This. This is true friendship. Giving without wondering what you’ll get in return. Taking a meal to the sick. Loving on the elderly. Forgetting ourselves in a self-serving world. Striving not only to assist our brothers and sisters, but most importantly to serve our Savior.
Maybe you’re reading this and saying, “Well, I am a good friend. I joyfully sacrifice for friendship. I already know all this, Susannah.”
Well, congratulations. But in John 15, Jesus said He is our friend too. Do we sacrifice our time to read His Word? Do we sacrifice some sweet sleep to attend church on Sunday morning? Do we sacrifice our pride when we’re too embarrassed to share our faith with a nonbeliever? Do we sacrifice for the Lord?
Oh mercy. I’m so guilty of taking from our Savior and giving nothing in return.
When I was at a really cool record shop in Omaha last year, I approached the counter carrying a vintage U2 T-shirt and a Pearl Jam CD (because I only have eighteen Pearl Jam CDs). The clerk was a cool-looking guy with red spikey hair, tattoos, and a nose ring. When he asked what I did for a living, I told him I was a writer and podcaster.
“Oh, yeah? That’s cool. What’s your podcast about?”
“It’s a women’s podcast,” I said.
I deliberately left out one word. It’s a Christian women’s podcast. Why did I do that? Because I thought a guy with a pierced septum would think I was weird for being a Christian.
As soon as I walked out of that store, I felt lower than the rent on a burning building. If I’d told him what my podcast was really about, it could have opened up a whole discussion about the Lord. Or the guy may have been a believer and shared his faith with me. Just because he worked in a record store and had hair the color of the Kool-Aid man doesn’t mean he wasn’t a Christian.
I didn’t sacrifice my pride for Jesus, and He deserves the most sacrifice of all.
Satan doesn’t like when we acknowledge our good Friend, Jesus. And not only that, but he doesn’t like it one bit when sisters in Christ come together to pray over their marriages and their children. He doesn’t like it when we do life together. He is threatened by friendship and will gladly throw a little drama in the mix. He will let a petty argument over a borrowed Tupperware dish or a catty remark about an outfit fester. He loves to pull a Yoko Ono and break up the group.
Kristen and I may not ride around every weekend listening to the Dixie Chicks and laughing our butts off anymore, but we never let the Enemy break us up even though he attempted to many times. We fought for our friendship and held on to it without the option of letting go.
Because that’s just how important friendship is.
CHAPTER 21
Whoa! Slow Down
Each morning, within five seconds of waking, my mind goes into overdrive. I immediately begin stewing about the tasks before me. Since I usually oversleep, this only adds to the urgency in my head. It’s like I have a hamster on a spinning and smoking wheel up there, racing and panting his little heart out.
I’m a goal-oriented person, and I live my life by lists. I don’t know how to live without them. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than scratching off one of the day’s many chores. When I really want to feel accomplished, I’ll add something I’ve already done to the list just to feel the gratification of marking it off.
But as soon as I’ve scratched a thick, dark line through one chore or goal on the wide-ruled notebook paper, I add three other things to it. Some days I swear I will never catch up.
Each time the phone rings or chimes, I’m alerted to jot down another thing. Deadlines, speaking events, church functions, the kids’ extracurricular activities, and sports practices all rest on my calendar. I should probably pencil in a time to go grocery shopping too, because we can’t split that lone, frostbitten fish stick on the freezer floor four ways.
I really should organize the hall closet, clean the fridge, and finish reading that book I downloaded on my Kindle four years ago. The car may abruptly ignite into a heaping fireball if I don’t find the time to get the sludgy six-month-old oil changed. And I need to kill the dust armadillos under the couch and find the pair of shoes Natalie Ann misplaced in the fall of 2014. I mean, I know she can’t wear them anymore, but I’d like to know what in the world happened to them and maybe get ten bucks for them on eBay.
Our society praises those who are always on the go, always texting, talking, and scheduling on the phone. It’s difficult to fully enjoy a movie or quiet time or a good book because our minds are elsewhere.
When several of my videos went viral, I was more overwhelmed than ever. It seemed everyone wanted something from me. On top of all my usual responsibilities such as getting the kids to practice, cooking supper, doing laundry, scheduling orthodontist appointments, writing columns, and keeping the dogs alive, I was suddenly a “public figure” who had to be “on” all the time. I had to have new jokes. I had to be inspirational. I had to give a speech. Sign some books. Appear at a charity event. Call in to a radio show. And yes, appear on the Weather Channel to talk about my video on ball moms being the best meteorologists. (I don’t think we’ll be able to play ball tomorrow. Variable clouds early with thunderstorms in the afternoon. Winds southwest at fifteen miles per hour.)
One afternoon I sat on my couch and thought on all the blessings and opportunities the Lord had given me. I never thought a video of me sitting in the car (not wearing makeup or a bra) while I whined about my youngest child going to kindergarten would be seen by more than fifty million people. I never thought that video would grow my platform and open so many doors for my writing and speaking career. I was so incredibly thankful for each and every opportunity, and I wanted to be obedient to Him and walk the path He placed before me, but I was dadgum overwhelmed. I felt pulled in a million different directions, and I’m no Stretch Armstrong. I knew I was going to break because my plate was not just full—it was overflowing.
When I was about twelve years old, I stood in my granny’s bathroom and admired all her makeup and jewelry sitting on her vanity. Granny, a devout Methodist, had dozens of Upper Room pamphlets in a basket on the floor next to the counter. I picked one up, and as I flipped through, I was mesmerized by a particular picture. In black and white, it was a sketch of Jesus on the throne. Dozens of men and women and children relaxed at His feet above the scripture from Matthew, “Come to me all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”
As a twelve-year-old writer, I was utterly fascinated by the words “heavy laden.” I said them over and over as I
stared at the photo.
It was no accident I found that scripture and photo only a year after my daddy had passed away and I was so incredibly weary and heavy laden. I tore the page from the pamphlet and took it home. It hung on my bedroom corkboard for years, and I still have it in a box in my attic.
While sitting on my couch that afternoon, overwhelmed with the million different directions I was being pulled, I recalled that scripture and sketch and envisioned myself resting at Jesus’ feet. I cast all my burdens on Him—the anxiety and stress that accompanied my success and the still-fresh emotional burden of losing my mother. And I rested.
And what sweet relief it was.
I’ve learned that sometimes we have to say no to events or things presented to us. Must we go to every party and social event we’ve been invited to attend? Must we show up for every extracurricular activity? Our society says we should. If we don’t follow through with commitments, we are labeled as lazy slackers with no motivation or purpose.
What if we could skip a couple of unnecessary appointments for the sake of our sanity and not be judged for it or feel pangs of guilt? What if the solution is to just say no? What if the answer is to quit committing to every email, text message, or slip of paper that arrives in our children’s school planners?
Yes.
Okay.
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