When I first began writing in this space, “lament” had only just come into vogue.
Now, it’s everywhere.
If the past few years have taught hearts a single thing, I hope it is there’s no use pretending life doesn’t hurt sometimes. We were not created to carry that kind of pain alone.
And thankfully, we don’t have to.
God, in Christ, invites me to speak it, to sing it, to release it as an exhale so His grace and strength can rush in to fill that empty space.
I was asked awhile back to be part of a project shepherded by fellow parents-in-loss, Laura and Gary House (https://ourheartsarehome.org/).
They wanted to gather and publish stories from other child loss survivors in hopes of encouraging hearts and strengthening the faith of parents facing the unimaginable.
I don’t mind saying that in spite of all I’ve written in this space for the past ten (!) years, it was challenging to distill my thoughts about that night, the days that followed and my own faith journey since into a single chapter.
But I, and a dozen other parents, did just that.
In our own words we tell our stories. We share our struggles and our triumphs.
I realize not every parent enters child loss with the same reverence for Scripture and trust in the promises of God that I had when Dominic left us.
So it may be hard for your heart to believe the words we’ve been reading and studying this month. It may be near impossible for you to feel that God is a good Father, that He has not abandoned you and that He has a purpose and plan for your life, even here in this awful Valley.
If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know that while I still have faith, it’s a tested faith. I have dragged every single thing I believed before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, held it up and scrutinized it in the cold light of loss.
Some things I don’t clutch so tightly anymore. Many things I wouldn’t spend five minutes defending anymore. But there are absolute, rock-solid, foundational truths that I will declare with my dying breath.
The character of God is flawless. His ways are holy and good. He will not allow the enemy of my soul to have the last word. Death is (ultimately) defeated and victory is sure.
When I was on my face in mourning, when dust was my food and bitter tears were my drink, these are the promises that breathed life back into my broken heart.
Remember [always] the word and promise to Your servant, In which You have made me hope. 50 This is my comfort in my affliction, That Your word has revived me and given me life.
Psalm 119: 49-50 AMP
When people in the Bible asked God to “remember” it wasn’t that they thought He forgot. It was a way of reciting truth to their own hearts and praying God’s words back to Him.
So when I was just on the other side of the awful news but past Dom’s service and all the people and activities surrounding it, I began most days in my journal with something similar.
I would write out a verse confirming God’s promises to me and my family. I would make it personal-put our names in it- and pray it back to Him. The more I did that, the more my spirit was revived. The more my spirit came back to life, the more I was able to listen to and hear from Him.
It’s a slow, slow process.
The blow is sudden, severe and debilitating (no matter how your child left this earth).
Recovery cannot be rushed along.
I feel most days like I’m still receiving hope and life in drips and dribbles.
But the more I focus my mind’s attention and my heart’s affection on God’s sure promises, the more alive I feel.
And one day I’ll be fully alive-as Dominic is right now- dancing, laughing, singing to the tune of millions of rejoicing voices.
Until then, I’ll keep pointing my heart in the right direction.
My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan’s country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.
~Reepicheep, C.S. Lewis, Voyage of the Dawn Treader
QUESTIONS:
Do you have hope? Why or why not?
Do you think you can influence whether or not hope lives in your heart? Why or why not?
What do you do each day to feed hope in your heart?
If you are new on this journey of loss, you may be certain you will never feel alive again. You may think you will never feel hope or joy or anything besides sorrow again. I promise that if you will let the words of God sink in, if you will take your heartache to Him and allow Him to touch the broken places, you will begin to revive. How do Reepicheep’s words speak to you today?
If you are farther along the road of loss, record some specific moments when you felt God met you and breathed life into your spirit.
PRAYER:
Lord,
Truth is that all life comes from You. There is nowhere else to turn but to Your face, Your hand, Your heart. Part of me wants to give up and give in. I want to be rid of this pain, this heartache, this sorrow and unrelenting despair. But I know You have a purpose and plan for me even here, even now.
Help me choose to make space for Your word and Your love to penetrate my heart. Help me offer up my broken bits to You and wait patiently for You to weave them back together into something beautiful.
When I have nothing left, touch me. When I give up, encourage me. When I can’t see the light for the darkness, shine on me.
If someone asked me to describe Jesus I would say He’s the God who does not turn away.
He’s the God who comes near.
He’s the God who will always, always, always show up and bend down.
That’s what I hold onto in this life I didn’t choose-that my Shepherd Savior sees me, hears me, loves me and will help me.
For the Eternal watches over the righteous, and His ears are attuned to their prayers. He is always listening. 16 But He will punish evildoers, and nothing they do will last. They will soon be forgotten. 17 When the upright need help and cry to the Eternal, He hears their cries and rescues them from all of their troubles. 18 When someone is hurting or brokenhearted, the Eternal moves in close and revives him in his pain.
Psalm 34: 15-18 VOICE
Not long after Dominic’s death there was a horrible mass shooting and the perpetrator was in his fifties. I have to admit I literally yelled at God, “REALLY???? This guy lives to his fifties only to kill a bunch of innocent people and You didn’t save Dominic from his accident?!!!”
I was angry and frustrated and sad and broken.
If I’m honest I’ve had a few more moments like that since then.
But I’m brought up short when I read these verses and others like them. The wicked do not have God’s ear. They will not know eternal life with Him in Heaven. They may even be worldly successes but nothing they do will last forever. Riches don’t secure immortality.
Only a penitent heart leaning fully on the grace and mercy of God is eternally safe.
Because I am His child. when I’m hurting, God does not run away or turn a blind eye or a deaf ear-He meets me there.
Jesus is the lover of my soul.
He is the Healer of my heart.
QUESTIONS:
Do you feel heard by God? By others? Why or why not?
How do you deal with the fact that sometimes evil seems to win and evil people prosper?
How would you describe Jesus? Has grief changed how you describe Him?
Is your description consistent with what Scripture tells us about Him?
Theology matters-especially when grieving. What I believe about God and Christ either undermine or strengthen my faith. Write down ten things you believe to be true about God and/or Jesus.
PRAYER:
Father God,
I admit that it’s infuriating and feels unfair that sometimes those who don’t love You still prosper. They seem to have a life free from trouble and heartache. And here I am-hurting, deeply harmed and holding on by a thread.
But You are not unjust. You are not ignoring me. You will work all things together for good for those who love you. Help me trust those truths.
You are the God who came near in the stable and on the cross. You are the God who dwells inside those who receive the gift of salvation through Christ. You are not far away.
I am always devastated when another parent discovers the heartache of child loss.
They are forced to join a club no one wants to join.
But I’m grateful when that parent has a platform because of fame, fortune or circumstances and decides to draw attention to the truth of this painful path.
The singer Toby Mac lost his son and chose to do just that. He wrote a song that puts words to the sorrow, words to the struggle and vividly shares the heart of a bereaved parent.
Here it is (grab a tissue):
While I don’t identify with every word in the lyrics, I absolutely identify with the deep pain of sudden loss.
Why would You give and then take him away?
Suddenly end, could You not let it fade?
What I would give for a couple of days
A couple of daysTobyMac, 21 Years
I have cried the same tears, begged for the same answers, dug deep to find strength when I wanted to lie down and give up.
Thousands of parents walk around every day carrying a burden most say they would never be able to carry.
But you do.
Because there’s no alternative but to get up and go on.
Even when your heart is breaking, even when your legs feel like they will not make one more step, you get up, face the day and begin trying to put the pieces back together.
And you learn how to love a child that you can only hold in your heart instead of your arms.
“Those who wait for Me with hope will not be put to shame.”
Isaiah 49:23c NLV
We love stories of overcomers. We invite testimonies that end in victory.
We applaud members of the Body who have a “before” and “after” tale of how Jesus plus willpower took them from the dust of defeat to the pinnacle of spiritual success.
But we hide the strugglers and stragglers in the back pews.
If suffering lingers long, whether or not it is in the hands of the one who suffers to do anything about it, we cringe and pull back and hope they go away.
We don’t offer them the pulpit or the Sunday School hour to speak of how Christ continues to be the hope to which they cling.
Because deep down, we think there must be something wrong with them, something wrong with their brand or quality or strength of faith.If they only got it “right”, they too, would have the victory.
We would rather shush the suffering than face the tension between God’s goodness and His sovereignty.
We shame them to silence by implying they have nothing to share until they are able to wrap their story with a perfect spiritual bow.
We add insult to injury when their need for help exceeds the allotted three weeks or six months or whatever arbitrary deadline we impose on the prayer list and our patience.
But maybe what God has for me and others who suffer long is not a victorious tag line that can be slapped on a photo or shared on social media.
Maybe it’s only in the continued press of suffering that God reveals Himself in ways the non-suffering never see.
Maybe a dash to declare victory is actually rushing past what God has for us in deep pain and ongoing struggle.
Maybe waiting in hopeful expectation for what God is doing and will do in me and through me IS the victory.
We wait for Yahweh; He is our help and shield. For our hearts rejoice in Him because we trust in His holy name. May Your faithful love rest on us, Yahweh, for we put our hope in You.
I long to be enveloped in the sweet peace and safe cocoon of Your people.
But my heart feels oh, so isolated by this great grief it carries inside!
I take my place in the pew and am distracted by the intact, happy families surrounding me. Every bit of chatter about last week’s activities and this week’s plans reminds me I can no longer whisper a reminder to or share an inside joke with my missing child.
Help me come-broken as I am-and offer what’s left of me to You.
Open my heart and apply the Balm of Gilead to my wounded soul.
Speak courage and comfort to my spirit.
Lead the people You call and assemble to practice compassion and to actively reach out to the ones who struggle just to show up.
Thank You for seeing, hearing and loving me even when I feel unseen, unheard and unloved.
See, here’s the thing: to the outside world, my son’s death happened at a single point in time.
But to me, his death is a continuous event.
I must lift the cup of sorrow every day to parched lips. I must choose to take it to the One Who can help me lift it.
Jesus knows this cup.
“You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” Psalm 23:5b
I remember standing in our field with my husband at sundown one day, thankfulness and grace and mercy and wonder flooding my heart-and I whispered, “surely my cup overflows!”
Surely, God’s hand is in this, is on our lives-He has brought us to this place of blessing.
And that’s how I used to always think of that verse-the cup overflowing with goodness and blessing.
But what about when the cup overflows with sorrow?
With pain?
With tragedy, trials and temptations?
Jesus knew about that cup. That’s the cup He begged the Father to take from Him.
The cup that was bitter and hard to swallow.
He prayed three times, He sweat blood and He battled His flesh so that His spirit could conform to the Father’s will.
And in the end, He submitted Himself to the Father’s plan.
He was obedient, even to death, even to death that He did not deserve, did not HAVE to suffer, did not WANT to suffer.
I have buried a son.
And it is the most painful thing I have ever had to bear.
It’s a burden I never anticipated and it’s a burden of which I will not be free until I join him in Heaven.
There are some parents who have suffered the loss of multiple children. Or who have suffered child loss and other difficult life circumstances.
If my cup is full and overflowing, theirs is overflowing still more.
Where to take that full cup?
Where to find the strength to carry it, to drink it to the dregs?
When my heart screams, “No more!” and my body cries, “I can’t do this!”, I look to my Savior for the model of how to carry on.
Only in Christ, Who Himself bore the cup and Who drank its bitter fullness can I hope for strength and redemption.
The One Who knows my pain can carry my pain.
The One Who lives again will breathe life into my heart.
The One Who redeems what the enemy has stolen will turn my mourning to dancing.
This cup will not always overflow with sorrow. Around the banquet table at the wedding supper of the Lamb, it will once again be full of joy.
You make me know the path of life; in your presence is unbounded joy, in your right hand eternal delight.
thelifeididntchoose 