Author: Ann Lenaers

Ann is a single mother of one daughter living in South Dakota. She is a published Christian author, public speaker, and certified life coach under the blanket name Peace Is The Road. She is a founding board member for two new non-profits. The Canvus will be a halfway house offering a more compassionate, community based approach to the reentry process for people being released from prison. Strategies For Life is a local group working with the Living Free curriculum in churches, prisons, and more to help people discover identity in Christ, overcome life controlling problems, and enrich the Christian walk. Ann has a passion for community service and is very active in her church and community. Hobbies include hiking, singing, painting, reading, and just about anything creative.

Grief – Love Lost or Gained?

Ann Lenaers

According to SAMHSA (Substance Abuse & Mental Health Services Administration), 61% of men and 51% of women in the United States report exposure to at least one lifetime traumatic event. Up until the fall of 2013 I would not have fallen into those statistics.

In the last roughly 6 1/2 years, that changed dramatically. There is no statistic for what came next.

Pictured above are the faces of every traumatic loss I experienced in that time.

3 Suicides. 3 Cancer Deaths. 1 Heart Failure. And as of June 30th this week – 1 Murder.

This image does not include casual acquaintances who passed away in that time frame. These are all friends and family I loved dearly. It also does not include close calls, including but not limited to my dad’s near-fatal heart attack or the friend I rushed to the hospital after he swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.

I’m uncertain at this point whether death is following me around with a vengeance like the book of Job or if God has me following death around so I can be there with compassion when tragedy strikes. All I know with certainty is the trauma of loss has become a norm. In Psalm 23 it mentions, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil.” It seems while some get to pass through this valley, I have been camped there for awhile now in a tent where I can offer hugs and condolences. Grieving loss of life is not a subject anyone wants to be an expert in, especially through personal experience. Yet here I am, and the only thing I can do is give that experience purpose.

When Steve ended his own life back in August of 2014, it shattered me deeper than I have words to express. Over the next three years I spent every day burying the pain of loss and seeking every desperate way to heal. I didn’t want to let those around me down, and I didn’t feel like many people understood why I was so deeply impacted by him, so I kept it to myself most days. Nobody knew just how deeply I hurt or how each of the other losses kept reopening and deepening the wounds. I loved the few instances where I talked with his family, but they were grieving their loss of him too, and I didn’t want to make it worse for them just so I could feel better. Maybe I did anyway. I don’t know anymore, but I’m sorry if I did.

In March of 2017 I finally cried out to Jesus in what you could refer to as a last ditch effort seeking truth after extensive exploration everywhere else. That was the first time the weight lifted, like I could supernaturally breath again. I still had a great deal to work through for myself, but I finally grasped that I couldn’t heal without God.

Since accepting Christ into my life, I lost my employer of six years unexpectedly last August from what I will simplify as being sudden heart failure. She had welcomed me as part of her family and been there for me so often. Then Monday of this week, my best friend of the last several years was murdered in a home invasion. The man who shot him in the head was on parole with the police looking for him, and he broke into the “wrong” house looking for someone else. He left from there to shoot three more people who all survived and has since been apprehended. (People keep saying “wrong” house as though there is any right house to break into and shoot someone. There isn’t. Language is gut-wrenchingly challenging some days.)

In all these encounters with trauma and loss, I have become more self aware of my grieving process. I know the five stages like the back of my hand (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance). As a Certified Life Coach, Living Free Facilitator, and avid learner of human behavior, I understand grief intimately. Yet no matter how grounded in knowledge and Christ I am, they still happen in their own way. They are just more informed now, shorter, and expressed in healthier ways with the forward momentum of the Holy Spirit moving me toward healing.

Even Jesus wept when Lazarus died, and in that moment he knew he could bring him back to life! There is no stopping or withholding grief. If it needs to be expressed, it will happen.

The pain in the world always inevitably motivates me to counter it by spreading more love. I don’t want to live any other way. I can’t be someone who returns hate for more hate and amplifies the problems. It would dishonor their memories and wishes for my life, compounding the pain already being experienced. Thusly I learned to forgive in all things, even when it can be so very hard. Admittedly it will take time for me to process my way through real forgiveness for this murderer just like it took me time to forgive those who may have held some level of responsibility in the other deaths. The instructions Christ gave in places like the sermon on the mount hold deeper meaning to me now, because I’ve had to walk them out and learn they are truly the only way to survive.

Forgiveness is the only path of any value.

I’ve learned grief is not meant to be carried alone. This time around I have a strong support system in place that has astounded me with their immediate heartfelt presence. In addition, I can turn to prayer where I get moments away from the sadness of the flesh to feel the peace of God that surpasses understanding in my spirit. The years I didn’t have that relief were excruciating and exhausting.

Furthermore, I believe heaven is real, and I will see them again, greeted by the most amazing hugger and brightest smiles and most engaging eyes and charismatic personalities. Our shared faith will heal and uplift me in life and reunite us someday. I don’t know if a couple of them were Christians, but I know most of them were.

At the end of the day, the most important lesson gleaned about mourning as a Christian is that grief does not come from a loss of love, but from an overwhelming presence of it.

There are parts of me that sincerely wish it could get easier, that loss could become less painful the more you experience it. We know death is a part of life, so sometimes I think it would be nice to be a little jaded to it.

The other part of me knows the truth. I want to mourn every single time I experience a loss without fail. At least that way I know my heart is still working. In order to experience deep and real love, we must allow ourselves to be deeply vulnerable – a word that some days sounds like complete insanity and others like the only sane thing to do. My friend who was murdered was truly the most vulnerable and loving person anyone had ever met, and he set an excellent example for me to follow. I know he would be disappointed in me if I allowed this to weaken the love or put up walls in my heart. He would insist I be even more vulnerable, to cry and scream and let it out, but never to shy away.

To have been blessed by every beautiful experience I shared with each one of these people, I had to be open to the fact that someday I could lose that gift. Every time a loss happens, I am selfish in mourning what will not be in my life and the lives of others anymore, but it comes from wanting to continue giving that love we shared – more love – all the love I can. I become more aware that I am vulnerable, more aware of the love I have to give, more aware of everyone who feels the same pain. Grieving loss develops unfathomable empathy. The depth of your pain translates into new depths from which you can love others.

To suffer great loss is the fertile soil of great love. To do the work to heal from that loss is to plant seeds in that soil. To take what you learned from the experience and use your greater empathy to be more compassionate, helping others through their pain – that is to bear fruit.

So if there is one thing I want you to know, it’s that your grief is love gained. It may have been gained through the deepest pain imaginable, pain I would never wish on anyone, but I pray you will embrace it. Let love fuel your healing process, not darkness, bitterness, or hate. When you experience the anger stage, be angry that the world doesn’t have enough of the love you shared with the person you lost, and choose to share it. It’s the only way anything gets better. It’s the only way that maybe someday, these kinds of tragedies can be a thing of the past. Give more love, even when it hurts.

“Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.” – Kurt Vonnegut



The State of Things

Ann Lenaers

I live in South Dakota where we have the fewest Covid-19 cases in the whole country and social distancing can be a natural part of small populations. While New York has 16,000-25,000 people per square kilometer, we would have 4-18 people in the same amount of space. I live in one of the largest cities in the state where we have a decently sized airport bringing us a bit closer together, but that still does not make it massive.

That being said, there are no shelter in place orders yet. We are being instructed to use common sense (definition – having good sense and sound judgment in practical matters), keep gatherings under 10 people, stay home as often as possible, only send one person to the grocery store, parks and non-essential businesses are closed, etc. Schools are doing home-based remote learning until May 1st at a minimum, but that could extend as things progress.

As a devout Christian, my heart has been leaning on passages like “Blessed is he who considers the poor; Yehovah will deliver him in time of trouble. Yehovah will preserve him and keep him alive.” (Psalm 41:1-2) So many Americans are running around in fear right now focusing on how to preserve themselves, but my heart has been laser focused on helping who I can and trusting God to empower and protect me in doing His work.

A crisis reveals our true nature. If you want to know my nature – Love compels me to serve. I can serve. I will serve. Love is a verb. That doesn’t mean I’m planning birthday parties or ignoring social distancing. We are still being smart and safe about it. It means while I may not be a doctor or nurse, there are other places I can help keep things afloat to get us through this crisis.

In times like this, I have to remind myself I cannot help everyone alone, nor is that my responsibility. God will guide me where He wants me to be useful just like a single cell in the body works with millions of other cells to create the functioning whole. Where He guides me, He will protect me.

Recently that has put me at The Banquet, a Christian mission giving free, quality meals to the homeless, hungry, and impoverished. These people need to eat, virus or no virus. The Banquet does not accept any government money so they can avoid all the restrictions of red tape and be able to pray and serve freely, and they rely on volunteers and private donors. They are still open as an essential service. A normal dinner would feed 250-300 people. Right now they are feeding 400-450 people each night and growing as people are being hit hard financially due to this pandemic. (Click here to learn how you can help.) In light of the virus, they are doing everything they can to prevent spread while still providing an essential service, but they need help.

When I show up for my shift, I wash my hands thoroughly, put on gloves, sanitize everything, help them pack each styrofoam container, pray, then come down to the front door and hand out stacks of to go meals to a line of men, women, and children wrapping around the side of the building. I get a split second of contact with people who are in a really hard place in life on top of being in a pandemic, and I do my best to make the most of it by offering them a smile accompanied by positive words like enjoy your meal or have a great night or God bless you. I refuse to miss a single opportunity to share even a tiny fraction of the love of God with them.

Most nights are pretty chill and uneventful. Occasionally someone will come through drunk or try to get extras (which we don’t give so that we have enough to feed everyone). I saw a fist fight break out once over the no seconds rule. Once in awhile one of the guys will come back through the line to complement my eyes and ask if I’m single. One night a man came through the line to get a meal, then proceeded to eat it in front of the building while yelling about how he doesn’t believe in the resurrection of Christ since he’s a Muslim. When he looked at me I just smiled at him then continued to serve the next people in line, but in my head I was thinking whether you believe in him or not, he’s the one who put that meal in your belly. The Holy Spirit guided this place to be established, funded, and supported so nobody would have to go without nourishment. Thinking about that unconditional kind of divine love that serves even those who reject him motivated me to smile even more. So other than a few periodic interruptions, it is usually pretty smooth sailing.

Tonight (April 2nd, 2020) I saw the state of things in a whole new way. The weather here is known for being a bit bipolar. While temps were over 75 degrees and it was gorgeous yesterday, tonight it was 25 degrees with freezing rain. That line of people wrapping around the building waiting for the doors to open was still there half an hour early freezing their buns off to hold their place like they do every night. Some didn’t even have hoods, and their hair was freezing.

Roughly fifteen minutes after the doors opened, a gentleman tripped over himself as he approached to grab his meal from under the glass sneeze guard. I thought he might be drunk. He caught the table and moved quickly out the door, so I thought little of it. A couple minutes later after the line had slowed down, a woman ran in the door and said, “Somebody call an ambulance. A man out front is having a seizure.” The other staff members who saw her approach couldn’t hear her well and were trying to figure out what was happening, but I understood clearly. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket (which any other day would have been stashed in my purse on the other end of the building) and immediately dialed 911. I believe it was an act of God that I had it on me.

I asked him to send an ambulance, gave our address, and told him the situation. At this point my brain was simply checking off the box that I had called for an ambulance like I was asked – task completed. The situation hadn’t fully hit me yet, I was acting in an emergency on autopilot. When the 911 operator asked if I was with the man and I said no, that’s when it clicked that I needed to run. I yelled for someone to cover me, moved the rope stands that blocked people from crossing into the building, and ran out into the cold. Luckily the freezing rain had lightened up, but it was still falling.

When I came around the corner of the building, I saw the man who had tripped over himself earlier. He didn’t trip because he was drunk. He tripped because he was about to have a seizure. The woman who asked for the ambulance was on his right and another man was on his left, each using all their strength to keep him from injuring himself on the brick wall or the concrete sidewalk. The operator continued to instruct me on do’s and dont’s while asking a ton of questions.

As we waited for the ambulance, what I saw in front of me was heartbreaking.

The man was seizing, couldn’t speak, drooling on the verge of vomiting, and lacked any ability to control his body. The woman didn’t have a coat. Her hair was frozen, face was three shades too pale, and lips were blue and heavily chapped. I felt like I was being rational and composed, keeping it together as this man in front of me was having intense back to back seizures and I felt unable to help. Then I looked at the woman and saw a single tear roll down her face. That tear broke me.

Before I saw that tear, this was a serious emergency with a life in jeopardy, but I knew we would get through it if we just stayed calm and did what we were told. After that tear dropped to her cheek, I felt her fear and love and compassion and the way she was trying to keep it together to help him in spite of borderline having hypothermia herself. I was pretty sure from the information I had available to me that they were homeless. All the feelings rushed in, and I reached out and held his free hand with my glove covered one. I couldn’t fix the problem, but I could hold his hand and let him know I cared. I was fighting back my own tears as I heard the sirens of the ambulance begin to approach.

Two female EMT’s stepped out of the vehicle, both wearing face masks, and then all the lives impacted by coronavirus washed over me on top of this incident. Pictures float all over social media of our heroic medical professionals dealing with the influx of the ill while wearing their protective gear. Seeing two real people directly in front of me wearing masks with emergency lights flashing in the background triggered my deeper feelings regarding this pandemic. It shattered my bubble and brought things into my reality I didn’t want to face. This wasn’t even a Covid-19 patient. It was a seizure, but they had to approach everyone as though they might have it. Thinking of them working so hard to handle the influx at hospitals due to the virus on top of their normal workload made me appreciate their dedication that much more.

I’ve been seeing videos floating around of nurses praying together before their shifts and hospital parking lots overflowing with people singing worship songs together and reading articles about how atheist doctors are finding God in this crisis. They are like Esther, here for such a time as this, knowing they could perish but doing what is right anyway. They are like Jesus, doing their best to heal the sick who others are afraid to approach and sacrificing much to be there round the clock, leading with servant hearts.

So right now, I see the heart of God in every doctor and nurse and medical professional on the front lines whether they are Christians or not. There may be executive/political decisions I don’t agree with, but these people are stepping in the face of this evil illness and bravely meeting it with love and healing. This minor glimpse into what that must be like for them jolted my heart. Appreciate the individual by putting yourself in their shoes for a brief moment. Then appreciate the whole when you realize how many individuals are all stepping up to the plate in spite of the risk.

As the EMT’s were assisting the man into the back of the ambulance, I walked over to the woman and told her I could care less about coronavirus in that moment – I was giving her a hug. She was so cold, and I wanted to give her some of my warmth, physically and spiritually. There are other things that kill in this world besides this pandemic, like depression or poverty. Suicide rates are surpassing covid-19 deaths in some places, and I refuse to neglect the holistic picture of health. I hugged her and thanked her for coming to get help. We live in a world where some people would pick up their phone to video record his seizure before they would think to call 911 with it. I wanted her to know I appreciated her heart.

When I came back in the building, I went through all the protocol of cleaning myself up and getting new gloves. I trust God, but I’m not looking to test Him either. The first reason I needed to go to the bathroom, though, was to compose myself emotionally.

I knew things weren’t great right now, but I was still on autopilot taking everything one moment at a time and trying to stay rational. After this experience tonight, it struck me on a deeper level that the state of things as they are right now is not pretty, but we are never without hope that the state of things to come will be good. That hope is found in God and made manifest in each other through the Spirit.

“For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.” Romans 8:24-25

Listen – the people in leadership during this time are going to have hard decisions to make. They have every life in their hands. Pray for them. There is no such thing as a decision everyone will agree with, and the modern world is saturated with people quick to yell about their disagreements. The choices being made will ripple out for a long time to come, and I won’t deny that some of the possibilities being discussed are disturbing to me as a Christian and a free human.

That being said, I will share with you what my friend Shelley said in a Zoom call today. Difficult times often bring out the best and worst in people. Be the “best in people”. I pray this experience will bring the light of God to the surface in each of us so we will accept the call to lead with sound minds and servant hearts full of truth and grace.

Stay healthy and safe friends. Allow God to be the power structure in your life, and place your trust in Him to guide and protect your steps through this present darkness, whether that guidance is to stay shut in your home or to serve. Acting on your trust in Him is always brave in this world.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my path.” Psalm 119:105

Do not let the world harden your heart with fear of the unknown when God has given us the power in the Spirit to overcome all things. Love and take care of your neighbor and yourselves. May everything you do be under the blood of Jesus. Shalom.