Reflections on Sammi Day
As much as I would love to share the sugar-coated version of this year’s Sammi Day, I’m choosing to share the truthful version. The sugar-coated version is more social media friendly, but the truthful version is more meaningful and redeeming. The sugar-coated version of Sammi Day is that people around the world intentionally loved one another well. My family’s version of Sammi Day involved a lot of tears and godly refinement. Keeping true to my last “Awkward Alex” post, I’m choosing to get awkward with you and share the real Sammi Day (from my perspective).
Sammi Day 2019
This part is hard, friends. This is the part where I’d love to pull up a chair next to you and share this story over a cup of coffee. If you’re a fellow card-carrying member of the Free Range Tears Club, I’d grab a box of tissues and just spill my guts. Put simply, I really messed this one up. Going into Sammi Day 2019, I had all of these aspirations about what the day could be. Last year completely blew me away and I wanted this year to be bigger. I saw the Lord move through the last Sammi Day and I wanted to see Him do it again. That’s not wrong... right?
Last year, I told myself that I would experience all of the emotions of each milestone once and that I would only allow myself to experience a fraction of that pain moving forward. Approaching Sammi Day this year, I scheduled out the day so that I wouldn’t have the capacity to experience the deep heartbreak I experienced last year. My “I already experienced that emotion, so I’m not experiencing that anymore” mentality had warped into a toxic “I can do this on my own” approach. I didn’t start out my day in the Word and I didn’t ask the Lord what He thought about my whole gameplan. My plan ran its course and the whole thing fell apart around dinner time. My family was hurting, but my focus was elsewhere. My family needed my best, but I was giving my best to my mission. Fast-forwarding to bedtime, everyone went to bed grumpy and upset. I was bitter that everyone didn’t get behind my plan that day. We got to do some of the things on my list, but not all of them. As I sat alone on the couch, the dam of grief broke and I curled into the fetal position. The usual emotions of sorrow and longing took the lead at first, but shortly afterward I felt angry. I felt angry that my family didn’t participate in the things I had planned. I felt angry that everyone’s way of grieving didn’t perfectly align with mine. And worst of all, I felt angry that God was allowing me to experience all of these things on my own. Wasn’t I faithful in trying to serve Him? Wasn’t I faithful in my awkwardness today? Wasn’t I faithful on social media by practically encouraging others to live this out?
Social Media: The Shiny, Airbrushed Beast
There are so many good aspects of social media like connectivity with near and distant friends. But there’s also a temptation to show a partial reality with every post we submit. It’s tempting to only show flattering pictures and share the self-elevating stories. It’s tempting to find self-worth that is rooted in likes, comments, and shares. I fed the shiny, airbrushed beast on Sammi Day. I shared the pictures of all of the good things and withheld the bad. I shared the stories of people participating on Sammi Day while harboring bitterness towards my family. I even managed to send smiley faces and encouraging messages even though I sat in the fetal position with hot tears streaming down my face. At one point, I considered taking a picture of myself in my full grief state to fully display my duplicity. At the moment, I rationalized against taking such a picture because it might hold someone back from fully participating in Sammi Day. What a joke.
But God
After having a long, one-sided vent session with the Lord, I eventually went to sleep. Over the next few days, the intensity of my emotions waned, but my resentment remained. As a family, we all patched up and tried to recover from the grief hangover throughout Friday and Saturday. On Sunday morning, Devin and I went to a meeting at our church that keyed in on the importance of spiritual disciplines like prayer, the study of Scripture, and confession. At one point, I wrote down a sentence quoted from Richard J. Foster’s book Celebration of Discpline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, “The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people.” As I looked at the words written on the page, I started to realize that my approach to Sammi Day was wrong.
After the meeting, we attended the sermon about Luke 9:37-45. This particular passage details the story of a man who begged Jesus to heal his demon-possessed son. The father described in the story was desperate for Jesus and begged Him for help with every fiber of his being. This man abandoned societal norms on behalf of his son. Our pastor keyed in on the importance of depending on the Lord for everything, not just the convenient things. I was thankful that I had recently restocked my purse with tissues because I went through quite a few as I sat in my seat. Do you ever listen to a sermon and wonder if it was written just for you? As I sat in the creaky wooden pew, all of the puzzle pieces of Sammi Day fell into place.
Independence and Self-Sufficiency: “That’s Not Your Job”
The two messages I heard that morning dovetailed perfectly; it’s like God was involved or something (ha)! I realized that my approach to Sammi Day relied too heavily on myself and too little on God. In trying to overcome grief, I distanced myself from God and tried to manage my emotions on my own. I didn’t consult Him first about whether this mission was in line with His plans nor did I ask Him if my priorities were in the right order. When I tried to handle this elephant-sized day on my own, He offered me the dignity of allowing me to try. And when I stormed the throne room like a toddler, when things didn’t go my way, He mercifully withheld the appropriate punishment for my actions. And that Sunday morning, He welcomed my dependency on Him with open arms. Spiritual maturity does not mean that I need Him less; it means that I need Him more. I need Him just as much now as I did when I sat next to Sammi in the hospital. I need to hear His voice just as much now as I did in the early days of grief.
As I considered the events of the past few days, I was reminded of a conversation I had with my husband a few months back. Devin had mentioned that if we, as parents, want to know what our key sins struggles are, we just need to look at our children. At first, I scoffed and tried to dismiss the idea… until I realized he was completely right. Children see their parents, model their behaviors, and witness how they prioritize their lives. My eldest child often gets in trouble for bossing her siblings around and taking on roles that are “above her paygrade.” As I discipline my eldest child, I often say, “That’s not your job. That’s my job. Let me worry about that.” Does that sound like anyone you know?
We also had communion on Sunday and, as you can imagine, I was a mess. I confessed that my priorities were out of order and that I was wrong in how I approached Sammi Day. I tried to force a good thing in the wrong way. I ignored the needs of my family in favor of my own agenda. I sat at His feet completely broken and I asked for forgiveness. I admitted I really messed this one up and I didn’t know how to fix it. I then heard Him gently use my own words: “That’s not your job. That’s my job. Let me worry about that.”
What Actually Happened
My hope with all of this is to point the spotlight back where it belongs: on Him. That’s the true heart of Sammi Day. As much as we love and miss our girl, we rejoice in the fact that she is with Him. That alone is worthy of celebration. And, social media rant aside, I am so grateful for all who participated in Sammi Day. I am so deeply grateful for the text messages, pictures and stories you shared. I witnessed some crazy things firsthand and it sounds like many of you did too! I’m in the process of collecting and updating the Sammi Day Challenge page for this year, so stay tuned! I am continually encouraged to watch what God will do, even in spite of myself. Thanks for joining in, friend!
