Beauty from Ashes

Something unexpected happened after one of my earlier blog posts this year.  I received a text from my daughter, Lexi, that said, “Good stuff!  Glad you found time to start writing again.  I think that one is the best one you’ve done, at least for me to relate to.”

As I read Lexi’s text, my heart melted, and my eyes welled up with tears.

You see, it’s not just because Lexi is my daughter that her words meant so much, it’s because of what Lexi has been through, what we have been through together, the last few years. 

Exactly what all we’ve been through is a story for another day, perhaps one that Lexi will entrust me to share or perhaps one that she will share herself.  What I will say now, though, is that this time last year, Lexi’s life was in distress, and despite our best efforts, our relationship was not in a good place.

It was Lexi’s senior year of high school.  What should have been a year of highlights and memory-making turned out to be a year of heartache and heartbreak.  While others were marking milestones, cheering accomplishments, and delighting in celebration, we were just trying to make it through each day.

We celebrated what we could, but when the school year was over, after Lexi had graduated and walked across the stage, I couldn’t help but feel a loss.  A loss of all that I had envisioned for my daughter, the good times and fond memories, the once-in-a-lifetime experiences, the happiness that she deserved, the shared joy and jubilation, of all that would never happen now.

The time had come and gone.  There would be no redo, no second chance, no resurrection.  We would never get it back.

And I mourned the loss.

Like a house that had been consumed by fire, all that remained were the ashes.

But here’s the thing about ashes.  Where ashes remain, there is rebuilding that can be done.

It doesn’t feel that way when the fire is engulfing us.  When we’re in the fire, all we can think about is surviving.  And sometimes, despite our best efforts to contain it, the fire grows and spreads, taking on a life of its own, and we find ourselves gasping for breath.

And yet, though the fire is all around us, it does not overtake us.  Through the grace of God, we make it out alive.  Wounded, exhausted, depleted, and breathless, we find ourselves still standing, and we begin to make our way through the smoke and the rubble.

But we don’t emerge the same.  Surviving the fire has changed us and given us a new perspective.  And in time, the rebuilding process can begin.

And so it has with Lexi the past few months.

God has restored our relationship.  And though there are some hard things that Lexi is still dealing with, God is working in her life, and she is starting to see how good things can come out of one’s struggles.

It’s just the beginning, and it won’t be an easy process.  It will take time, effort, and perseverance, and there will likely be hang-ups and setbacks along the way.  But someday, something beautiful will rise from the ashes.

That’s what I’ve put my faith in.  Because while I haven’t been able to fully understand or embrace all that has happened, I have been able to trust that God has Lexi firmly in His hands.

Through the pain and heartache, the grief and tears, my heart’s cry has been for God’s will to be done in Lexi’s life.  That will always be my prayer.  Like all the years that my mama prayed for me (and still does), I will continue to pray for God’s will to be accomplished, whatever it takes.

And someday, God will make beauty from these ashes.

“…He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.  In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.”  Isaiah 61:3 (NLT)