Do you want to know one of the most repeated questions in grief support groups?
It is, “Am I normal?”
In the midst of great loss,
in the middle of reconstructing a life that includes a giant hole,
while struggling to place one foot in front of the other,
parents who have buried a child are often worried about whether what they feel and how they act is “normal”.
Grieving a child is a complex and life-long process as I wrote about here:
In recent years I’ve noticed more awareness of how hard it can be for women who struggle with infertility to walk into church on Mother’s Day and I am glad.
Pews filled with other women’s children and bulletin announcements, public recognition of “oldest mother”, “youngest mother”, “mother with the most children” along with the obligatory sermon based on Proverbs 31 conspire in a litany of accusation against the barren womb.
Some of these women choose to stay home. Others may be silently lifting a prayer for grace or may, like Hannah, be begging God for a child.
As a bereaved mother, this is a complicated holiday for me too.
I am so, so thankful for all my children.
I received each as a gift from God and treasure them in my heart.
Being a mother has been and continues to be the most demanding and most rewarding thing I have ever done or ever hope to do.
I used to look forward to Mother’s Day.
Not so much because it celebrated me as a mom, but because it was a moment to pause, reflect and remember how wonderful it is to be surrounded by my children.
But there’s no train from here to Heaven, no telephone line that can bridge the gap between where I am and where Dominic is.
I will never again be able to gather my children around our earthly table, see each of their faces, hug their necks.
So bear with me.
And if you think of me and other mothers who have buried children, pray for me and for them.
Pray that we finish strong, that we persevere and that we continue to cling to the One Who can carry us through the rest of our days with hope and courage.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing [through the experience of your faith] that by the power of the Holy Spirit you will abound in hope and overflow with confidence in His promises.
Romans 15:13 AMP
I know that others want desperately me to be “better”. They want me to be happy and carefree and back to the Melanie they knew before child loss.
And not just for their sake, for mine too.
It’s hard to watch someone you care about in pain.
But my reality has been forever changed.
It’s no more likely that I can revert to the person I was before Dominic left us than that I could revert to the person I was before I became a mother.
How many times have you heard, “Becoming a mother changed EVERYTHING”?
Holding my baby for the first time was truly love at first sight. And that love never ends.
Losing my son did not end my love for him.
Great grief is the price I pay for great love.
I pay it willingly.
Watching the young mother with her infant, the older mama and her child at play in a park, the joy and pride of the even older woman as her son or daughter graduates high school, college or gets married–how could anyone think a mother’s grief could be small?
How can all the love and all the hopes and all the dreams of a mama’s heart be squeezed into days or weeks or months of tears and sorrow?
Read the rest here:
April 17, 2014
Father, I have received through Your hand a most grievous wound-part of my heart has been ripped from my chest and I will limp through life forever changed, forever broken.
My beautiful, fearless, strong son has been struck down in his youth. I am dismayed that my body will continue to live when my spirit is crushed.
How can death and life inhabit the same frame?
How can I attend to the externals of commonplace things when all I want to do is hurry through to the eternal home You have prepared for me?
Oh Jesus! Hold my baby! I know that You were with him and I know that you love him. I know (I have to know-or I couldn’t breathe) that you love me!
What a steep price to pay for a tender heart-fill me up with grace, mercy and love. Make our circle stronger and more resiliant.
Help me to love, to be love, to show love, to give love, to eat,sleep, drink love.
“Here I am, LORD, and the children You have given me-make us as signs and symbols to Your people, for the glory of Your Name.” ~Isaiah 8:18
If I believe that only Your Word and the people You have made are eternal, then I must order the rest of the life You give me to align with that truth.
Take this mother’s heart and make this pain count for something.
“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come, but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of the joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.” ~John 16:21-22
Lord, I choose to believe that this pain will produce the life You have ordained and that joy will be the ultimate outcome.
April 30, 2016
I continue to carry both death and life in my body and my heart.
Death reminds me of the cost of sin, of the price of redemption and of how fragile and temporary our earthly existence. It makes me uncomfortable here-is a constant thorn in my flesh.
I cannot lay it aside or ignore it.
The undeniable presence of death contrasts sharply with the equally undeniable life of Christ sustaining me.
I have been asked how I can believe in what I cannot see or touch. How I can trust a God Who allowed such pain in my life.
It is true that I can’t see God, I can’t prove His existence.
But the fact that I’m still holding onto hope gives testimony to the life of Christ in me.
This is in keeping with my own eager desire and persistent expectation and hope, that I shall not disgrace myself nor be put to shame in anything; but that with the utmost freedom of speech and unfailing courage, now as always heretofore, Christ (the Messiah) will be magnified and get glory and praise in this body of mine and be boldly exalted in my person, whether through (by) life or through (by) death.
For me to live is Christ [His life in me], and to die is gain [the gain of the glory of eternity].
Philippians 1:20-21 AMP
April 13, 2014: The Morning After
Everyone is home-everyone except Dominic. Quiet now that there’s just us. How did I even manage to close my eyes last night? How are we going to face another day? How are we going to face all the days to come?
This is the song that came first to mind even as I sat crying in disbelief:
“Alleluia! Alleluia! For the Lord God Almighty reigns!”
You can watch it here: Agnus Dei by Michael W. Smith
And they sang a new song, saying:
“You are worthy to take the scroll
and to open its seals,
because you were slain,
and with your blood you purchased for God
persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.
You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,
and they will reign on the earth.”
Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they were saying:
“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
and honor and glory and praise!”
Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:
“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!”
The four living creatures said, “Amen,” and the elders fell down and worshiped.
Revelation 5:9-14 NIV
Either it is true and everything will be well-or it is not true and nothing will be well.
IT IS TRUE.
HE IS TRUE.
God is on His throne.
“Melanie”-clad in black. Covered in sorrow but trusting in God.
“He who sows in tears shall reap in joy.” Psalm 126:5
April 29, 2016
Today I still cling to those verses, still hold those promises close to my heart.
Some mornings I wake and cannot wrap my mind around the fact that my son is gone.
Sunrise finds me crying out to God, begging Him to make it untrue, to turn back the clock and miraculously restore my life before loss.
It is still hard and I still struggle.
But I believe,
I believe,
I believe.
I’ve kept a spiritual journal for decades. Every now and then I like to gather the pages, look back and reflect.
My journaling intensified after Dominic’s accident.
Writing out my thoughts, questions, pain and sorrow was one way to process the grief. I copied quotes and scripture. I prayed prayers and screamed, “WHY???”. I tried to document the moments when I felt God close and when I felt He was far away.
As I filled each notebook, I added the dates it covered and tucked it away. I wasn’t sure when I would be able to look at those painful pages again.
A couple months ago I brought the pile of journals and set them by my chair. A couple weeks after that, I started reading them.
Some of the entries are still too painful to read.
Some of the events too personal to share.
But over the next few days I’m going to offer a peek into the first hard days after loss.
The days when breathing is a chore, when it still seems like a bad dream, when part of my heart was certain Dominic would walk through the door once again even after I had seen his body lowered into the ground.
My prayer in sharing is this: that those who read know that God did not abandon me in despair; that it is possible to survive the seemingly unbearable loss of a child; that God does not despise our honest lament; and that when the enemy comes in like a flood, the Lord shall lift up a standard against him (Isaiah 59:19).
April 12, 2014 (The day of the accident)
The LORD gives and the LORD takes away: Blessed be the Name of the LORD. May my soul find rest in Thee alone. May my eyes look only to Thy Face. May my heart’s peace be the Prince of Peace. “Dominic”-belonging to God-You gave him to me and he is Yours once again. Marana Tha-Come quickly, Lord Jesus!
Bereaved parents often have several tasks before them in the days and months and years following the death of a child.
One of them is to help their surviving children navigate loss.
I have three earthbound children. And they are grieving.
Their world changed in the same instant mine did. Their hearts are broken too.
I found it hard to watch the pain I saw written on the faces of my kids. Harder still to know that as much as I wanted to be the guide in this situation, I was as lost as they were. My mama instincts demanded that I “make it better” -but I was and am, powerless to do that.
So I settled on being honest.
I decided that I wouldn’t hide my sorrow or my struggle in an attempt to protect them.
Because, really, how could I protect a heart that had been introduced so forcefully to the truth that WE ARE NOT IN CONTROL?
How could I try to manage their sorrow when mine was overflowing?
I acknowledged the pain-the pain of losing Dominic; the pain of not being able to say, “good-bye”; the pain of never knowing exactly what had happened; the pain of feeling like God had closed His eyes or looked the other way while Dominic ran off the road; and the pain of watching each other in pain with no way to soothe or stop it.
I didn’t draw boundaries around how they were supposed to behave.
I asked that we not hurt one another in our sorrow-that we not cast blame, that we not lash out-but other than this request, I made room for tears, shouts, pounding of fists or whatever else we needed to do to let out some of the emotion bottled up inside.
I do not insist that they give Sunday School answers to tough questions. I understand that they are struggling as much as I am. We are all dissecting our faith and our understanding of Who God is, what He is doing, and whether we can trust Him with our hearts again.
We talk-about Dominic and about their lives. I try to listen. Sometimes I’m not as good at that as I would hope to be.
I respect their need for space or their need for companionship. I haven’t tried to be the sole source of support for any of them.
I’m not offended if they choose to express grief in ways that are different than my own.
I am well aware that it is likely they will carry this loss for more years than I will and that they must find their own way to bear that burden.
They haven’t only lost a brother, they’ve also lost the family in which they grew up, the parents they used to have and the sense of safety that pervades childhood.
Their eyes are opened to the fact that bad things happen.
And sometimes bad things happen with no apparent reason and absolutely no forewarning.
We love one another. We acknowledge the impact Dom’s life and his leaving has left on us. We don’t sweat the small stuff (most of the time).
And we focus on making sure each one of us makes it through.
Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.
David Ogden Stiers
Jesus once again addressed them: “I am the world’s Light. No one who follows me stumbles around in the darkness. I provide plenty of light to live in.”
John 8:12 MSG
He didn’t say that there would be no darkness.
He didn’t promise that night would never come.
Instead, He declared that those who follow Him would have a guiding light. That those who look to the Good Shepherd won’t get lost, because He will lead the way.
Even though I am now two years into this grief journey, there are still sleepless nights. And as I lie in bed, remembering Dominic, rehearsing the events surrounding his accident, feeling the pain and longing for relief-it is the trustworthy lamp of Christ’s Presence and the eternal truth of His Word that sheds light on my path.
Every day I have a choice: do I allow grief to overwhelm me and harden my heart or do I cling to mercy and grace and embrace my vulnerability?
Losing a child is a uniquely painful experience, but we all face some kind of trial. Every one of us carries a burden. Each of us must decide.
And it’s not that easy.
Read more here: A Daily Struggle
If you’re looking on from the outside you might well think that I’ve laid most of my questions to rest; that I’m no longer wrestling with trying to comprehend both the sovereignty of God and the goodness of God; and that I’ve figured out how to reconcile verses that seem to promise protection for those that love the Lord and the reality of death and destruction of some of the very same people.
But you would be wrong.
I do experience the peace that passes all understanding. I do rely on Jesus to be the Arbiter of Truth and the Umpire of my questions:
Let the peace of Christ [the inner calm of one who walks daily with Him] be the controlling factor in your hearts [deciding and settling questions that arise]. To this peace indeed you were called as members in one body [of believers]. And be thankful [to God always].
Colossians 3:15 AMP
.I am trusting fully in the ultimate redemption of my pain.
Yet there are moments when I am overwhelmed by the “whys”. Thankfully they don’t come as often as they used to.
Still, I refuse to pretend that I have it all figured out. Five months later I continue to identify with what I wrote here: Wrestling With God
thelifeididntchoose 