He must have said it a hundred times, the gentle spirited man, making a living walking up and down multiple flights of stairs with a portable cooler strapped to his aged shoulders.  “Ice cold beer and water! Get your iced cold beer and water!”

I sat in section 435, row 7, seat 24, decked out in my Chicago Cubs attire, surrounded by the smell of peanuts, pretzels, hot dogs, red licorice, and a sea of St. Louis Cardinals fans. I felt brave, though I stuck out like a sore thumb. I allowed myself to smile, despite the overflowing heartbreak ingrained in the depths of my soul.

24 hours earlier I sat on the cold wooden floor, staring out the screen door at the devastation before me, tears coming from the deepest places of my heart, while the devil laughed and God held my brokenness in the palm of His hand.

In a moment life is gone.I stared at death laying in the middle of the street, trying to grasp a reality I was so uncertain of. There he lay, my dog Zeke, helpless and erased from this world in an instant.

When Jesus Shows Up

My arms longed to reach him, to touch him, to hold him. I couldn’t. I sat and stared and cried out for help. I held onto my heart as I waited for rescue. And Jesus showed up in the flesh to wrap His arms around me, dressed in a red t-shirt and black Nike shorts, her hair in a pony tail and compassion etched into her eyes. Her mercy wrapped him in a towel and carried him out of the street.

A hand touched my back as the soothing words of “Honey, I’m so sorry” made its way to my heart through the sobs. I didn’t even have to look up to know Jesus had shown up in the flesh. Again. She took her flip flops off, plopped up on the couch beside me and held my heartache for hours. Sometimes in silence, sometimes through laughter, and ended by a kiss on the forehead and a prayer.

My grandma sat not sure how to console the broken heart of her 32-year old granddaughter. She did what she did best, set out to fix a problem, finding a fly swatter to drown out the buzzing noise of what seemed like a dozen flying pests swarming the window above my head. Jesus in the flesh again, with flyswatter in hand.

In the humid September air, Jesus showed up again in khaki shorts. My pastor buried my tiny companion in the hard dirt a few blocks away, a task not on his daily to-do list, yet he momentarily stopped his life for mine.

She tucked me into bed that night, my red t-shirt wearing friend, wiping my swollen eyes, hugging my broken heart, and praying peace over me as she turned the lights out. In the midst of deep sadness, my heart was full. Filled by God’s grace and mercy, shown through human hands.

She showed up the next morning with a cup of coffee as I awakened to a sad reality. A quiet house. No morning kisses before the sunrise to remind me it was time to start the day. No snuggling under my pillow, begging me to rub his belly.

Living in a Spiritual Battle

I was also awakened with a righteous anger welling up, crying out from my soul. I am in the midst of a battle. A spiritual battle that just gotten personal! A battle I’m ready to keep fighting as the devil keeps dancing. I know how the story ends and so does the devil, yet he’s stupid enough to keep dancing.

There’s a breakthrough coming. I’ve felt it for days. My mind has been attacked. My friends have been attacked. My family. My church. My car. My health. As I poured my heart out to the Lord on Sunday, I was reminded again something big is about to happen. Of course my dog would be a perfect target to try and shake my faith. BUT MY FAITH IS NOT SHAKEN! It’s only getting stronger.

I know Satan’s tactics. I know he wanted me to blame God for my heart break. Oh.. but he’s getting the exact opposite. I will praise God in this storm, too, and I will not stop. Through the grieving and the heartbreak and the crocodile, snot bubble tears, I will not stop praising God. Because God is good all the time. All. The. Time.

He is my rock. My fortress. My deliverer. My refuge. My shield. My stronghold. He is worthy of my praise, in the midst of every tragedy and every storm.

I sat my coffee on the bedside table and grabbed the hands of my mercy-filled friend to fight back against the liar trying to wipe me out and destroy Esther’s House.  We fought in prayer and victory filled the sad places. I have no doubt mountains were moved in Heaven and on Earth as we praised God and put the enemy in his place.

I put my feet on the floor, washed my tired, weary eyes, and took my heavy, yet joy-filled heart out to conquer the day.

Then God Showed Up Again

“I have an extra ticket to the Cardinals vs. Cubs game,” she said. “Would you like to go?” Jesus in the flesh again, offering me a gift and permission to smile despite the pain. I hesitated. Is this allowed in the midst of grieving?

Jesus used a text message from a friend to answer. “Absolutely. It would be wrong for you not to go. Don’t let the devil steal your joy, Sundi Jo. God knows you love the Cubs, too, and my guess is He will allow them to win, just for you!”

I sat in the stadium, smiling, reminded even in the depths of despair, God shows up and longs to lavish us with his love, in both big and small ways. I asked Him if the Cubs would win. I pictured him smiling with a “Wait and see” grin on His face. I had a feeling even my die hard Cardinal loving friends were silently praying for a Cubs victory. Because that’s who they are, full of compassion and grace and mercy and love.

And God answered our prayers. As the Cubs celebrated their 8-5 win, my heart celebrated God’s love for me. And I embraced the peace of knowing everything would be okay, despite the battle. I had a moment to catch my breath and it felt good.

The Battle Rages On

I don’t know how long to grieve. I don’t know what the process looks like. I know it’s different for everyone. I don’t know when it will get easier. I don’t know when my heart won’t be so broken. But I do know this..

I am well aware Satan is trying to sift me like wheat. I am also well aware Jesus is praying for me, because He says He does and His promises never fail. I realize Satan isn’t done and the battle rages on. But here’s what you should know. Here’s what the devil should know. I will keep fighting.

What does that look like? I will love my enemies. I will turn the other cheek. I will pray for those my flesh desires to judge. I will forgive those who have hurt me. I will make amends for those I’ve hurt. I will smile at the weary. I will hug the broken. And I will praise with all I have in me.

I have cried today. I will cry again tomorrow, I’m sure. I’ve asked “why.” I’ll probably ask again. Oh.. but despite this trial. This heartbreak. This sadness. God, He is here. He is holding me. He shows up through Marcie, Rebecca, Mitchell, Grandma, Sheena, and others, to wipe my tears, hold my hand, tuck me into bed, kill a few flies, pray for me, and take me to a Cubs game.

Jesus wins!