I’m not the same me I was two years ago.
I no longer look with confidence down the driveway as friends and family pull away, certain that we will see one another soon.
I whisper, “Be safe” when we part, but know that they are not the keeper of their days and that “being safe” doesn’t mean everyone escapes deadly peril.
Read the rest here: A Different Me
Grief can be isolating.
It separates me as one who knows loss by experience from those who have only looked on from the outside.
It opens a chasm between me and people who aren’t aware that life can be changed in a single instant.
And I can feel like no one sees me, no one cares about me and no one notices my pain.
Sometimes it even feels like God has forgotten me-that He isn’t listening, that He doesn’t care.
But Jehovah hasn’t abandoned me.
Have you ever wondered why there are lists of names in the Bible? Do you, like me, sometimes rush through them or pass over them to get to the “main part” of a story?
But look again, the names ARE the story.
The God of the Bible isn’t the God of the masses. He is the God of the individual.
He walked in the garden with Adam and Eve. He called out to Cain, ‘Where is your brother?”
He took Enoch, guided Noah, chose Abraham and Moses.
He anointed David, spoke to and through the prophets and He CAME, flesh to flesh to bear the sins of His people, redeem them from death and cover them with His blood.
My name is graven on His hands.
“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands”Isaiah 49: 15-16a NIV
My life is hidden with Christ.
For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life,appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.
Colossians 3:3-4 NIV
He has a new name for me, a secret name I’ll receive in Heaven.
“To the one who conquers through faithfulness even unto death, I will feed you with hidden manna and give you a white stone. Upon this stone, a new name is engraved. No one knows this name except for its recipient.”
Revelation 2:17b VOICE
The enemy wants to convince me that God has forgotten me.
That He has abandoned me in my sorrow and pain.
That when my son breathed his last, He was looking the other way.
That’s a lie.
And I refuse to listen.
Years ago I heard this song for the first time and it touched my heart:
He Knows My Name by Israel (listen here)
Lyrics:
I have a Maker
He Formed My Heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hands
(Chorus)
He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call
Not everyone reading this has lost a child.
But everyone has lost something or someone.
And everyone, if they are honest, has experienced moments of anguish wondering if God in heaven cares.
He does.
He hears.
He knows your name.
When my kids went anywhere, I would always ask them to send a text just to let me know they had safely arrived at their destination. They honored that request (most of the time!) and it eased my mind.
My mama heart wanted to know they were OK.
My living children still send me texts when traveling. It’s an easy way to relieve anxious thoughts and I appreciate it.
But my son, who has made the last great journey, is silent.
And that’s exactly what I expected.
I think Dominic is so enthralled with the beauty of Heaven, with the communion of saints gone before and with the fullness of joy at the right hand of his Savior that he does not look with longing at the life he left.
He is in possession of the promise. He knows fully, even as he is fully known.
At present we are men looking at puzzling reflections in a mirror. The time will come when we shall see reality whole and face to face! At present all I know is a little fraction of the truth, but the time will come when I shall know it as fully as God now knows me!
I Corinthians 13:12 PHILLIPS
He has the ultimate assurance that God is faithful and that His lovingkindness endures forever. Dominic (if he even thinks of it at all) has no concern that the same Savior who rescued him won’t also rescue me.
“You must not let yourselves be distressed—you must hold on to your faith in God and to your faith in me. There are many rooms in my Father’s House. If there were not, should I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? It is true that I am going away to prepare a place for you, but it is just as true that I am coming again to welcome you into my own home, so that you may be where I am. You know where I am going and you know the road I am going to take.”
~Jesus ( John 14:1-4 PHILLIPS)
My faith has been tested in ways I never thought it would be. And it has been, and continues to be, HARD.
Now faith is the assurance (title deed, confirmation) of things hoped for (divinely guaranteed), and the evidence of things not seen [the conviction of their reality—faith comprehends as fact what cannot be experienced by the physical senses]
Hebrews 11:1 AM
The same God who made a donkey speak and sent ravens to feed Elijah can use the birds of the air and the beasts of the field to encourage me.
And He does- I have found a dozen perfect bird’s nests since Dominic left us. I believe they are signs from my Savior, not my son-tokens of hope sent to bless my broken heart from the Father who loves me.
God still speaks-He makes Himself known through His Word, through people, through nature and in still, small whispers to my heart through His Spirit.
He doesn’t answer all my questions. But I don’t feel abandoned.
Dominic is with Jesus and Jesus is with me.
Jesus Christ is always the same, yesterday, today and for ever.
Hebrews 13:8 PHILLIPS
I don’t feel close to Dominic at his grave. I go to honor him, to give voice to his memory but the essence of who he was and who he still is, lies in my heart and in the hearts of those who loved him and love him still.
And the witness of that enduring love is the sign to which I cling.
Faith is to believe when you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.
~Augustine
“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.
Psalm 16:11 CJB
Grief and loss broke my heart and life wide open-no more hidden corners, no more walled-off spaces.
And the vast expanse left by Dominic’s absence will be filled.
Nature hates a vacuum.
What I pour into my heart or allow God to pour into it determines whether I am changed in a way that blesses me and others or not.
I don’t have a choice in being broken.
But I have a choice in being filled. I can position my heart to hear from God and to dwell on His promises and Person or invite bitterness to move in.
I pray that you will have greater understanding in your heart. Then you will know the hope that God has chosen to give us. I pray that you will know that the blessings God has promised his holy people are rich and glorious.
Ephesians 1:18 ICB
Busy, busy, busy and noisy, noisy, noisy.
Every day is full of activity and every minute full of sounds-television, radio, Itunes or Pandora.
I am, at the same time, hyper-connected and dis-connected. My mind is often full but my heart can feel empty.
If I can move fast enough or create sufficient distraction, then maybe I can ignore the harder questions, the deeper thoughts, the uncomfortable feelings that I would rather not explore.
Being in one’s own company alone with God is challenging. Without the noise of outside distraction I am forced to face my fears and hidden darkness. And in the quiet I find that the easy answers leave me empty and unsatisfied. I must listen carefully for the still, small Voice that whispers comfort.
If I want to hear from God I need to embrace solitude and make space to hear.
I am so very thankful for the hope I have in Christ.
I am dependent every moment on the strength of Jesus and the Word of God to point my heart to the eternal truth that my son is safe in heaven and that I will be reunited with him one day.
I honestly don’t know how a person who does not share my hope in the finished work of Christ can bear the burden of child loss.
But hope, strong as it is, and effective as it is, does not erase the pain.
It gives me the endurance to bear the pain.
It allows me to see past the pain to something better.
But I still feel the pain.
Hope is not anesthesia.
Hope does not dull my senses nor does it render my heart hard to the longing and missing and hurting of life without the son I love.
I believe in Christ.
I believe that “God so loved the world He sent His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life”. (John 3:16)
And often, when inviting someone to believe in Jesus I will explain that God loves them SO much, He gave up His Son, just to save them.
Only the hardest heart would think such sacrifice was small or insignificant.
If it was painful for the Father to allow wicked men to kill His Son, then it is painful to me for death to take mine.
It is unhealthy to ignore pain.
But when it comes to emotional pain, we sometimes shut people out or shut them down.
I submit that we diminish the power of the cross when we deny or minimize the presence of pain.
Believing that God is in control and Jesus lives does not undo grief’s storm-it is a lifeline that keeps my desperate and hurting heart from sinking under the waves.
One day my hope will be made sight. One day the faith I hold onto will be realized in full.
Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even though He knew that death would not win and Lazarus would walk out of the grave.
For now, I place my broken heart in the hands of the One Who made it because I know He knows my pain.
And I know that He longs as much as I do for the day when all will be redeemed and restored.
I bet most of you reading this have listened to more than one round of the kiddie tune, “There’s a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Liza, Dear Liza”.
It is a funny song full of silly remedies for patching a bucket that won’t hold water even though it’s been dipped in the well and filled to the brim.
I was talking to my husband the other day about how hard it is to describe the ongoing difficulty of living with child loss.
And this song popped into my head.
Good things still happen in our lives (our bucket is being filled) but losing Dominic has put a hole in the bottom of it (the bucket never gets full anymore).
It’s not that we don’t appreciate and enjoy happy moments. We do.
We love seeing our children, we like to celebrate their accomplishments and sing, “Happy Birthday!”.
We are so very proud of who they are and what they have overcome.
We savor the time we get to spend together, we enjoy eating and laughing and sharing experiences.
But we can’t plug the leak of loss that saps our strength and reduces the fullness of our joy.
Hope postponed grieves the heart; but when a dream comes true, life is full and sweet.
Proverbs 13:12 VOICE
Lest anyone think I’ve forgotten that Jesus promises joy to those who follow Him, I haven’t.
But I also know many promises will not be completely realized until He returns as King on Earth.
The lion will lie down with the lamb, but not today.
Swords will be beaten into ploughshares, but not just yet.
There will be no more night, but the sun still sets once every 24 hours.
I am looking forward to the moment when every single thing I now believe in faith will be plain to every eye.
I can’t wait to see the redemption of not only my pain, but ALL pain.
I long for the morning when JOY is all I will know.
In that day the New Jerusalem shall descend and there will be no need for the sun or moon, because the LORD Himself will be the light.
All the way around shall be eighteen thousand cubits; and the name of the city from that day shall be: THE LORD IS THERE.
Ezekiel 48:35 NKJV
Today would have been Dominic’s twenty-sixth birthday.
He should have been a little over a year out of law school and one year into a career.
Instead, he’s not here. And he will never be HERE again.
I’m getting pretty good at shifting my focus from the giant hole that is where Dominic is supposed to be to the fullness of the life that still surrounds me. Not today.
Today the absence of his presence is especially keen.
I miss him.
I miss his smile.
I miss his harsh logic that would slice through a conversation like a knife. I miss his noisy descent down the stairs-always snapping his fingers to a rhythm in his head.
I miss his sense of humor.
I miss his fearlessness.
I miss his hugs.
I miss how even though he claimed to “hate” kids, he melted every time one crawled into his lap.
I miss how he used to launch himself, back first, on my bed to announce he was there to talk for a bit.
I miss how he found special tools to help me in the kitchen when my arthritis kept me from being able to do something I loved.
I miss how he could combine tough talk and smooth BS into cajoling a complaint department to not only fix the problem but throw in a gift card as well “to keep his business”.
I miss being able to call him with my stupid tech questions and have him walk me slowly through the solution (even though I know it frustrated him).
I miss his texts, his calls, his FB messages. I miss his tweets.
I know I’ll see him again someday and that we will never have to say good-bye again.
But until then, I really, really miss him.
I first learned my son had been killed in the dark hours of morning.
I made phone calls.
I had to be certain there was no mistake in identifying the accident victim. I assured the officer on the other end of the phone I was not in denial, I was just confirming what I knew was true.
That was a lie-my ears heard it as true.
Some part of my brain was acting as if it were true.
And I was passing the information along as true, but it was not until I saw his body that my heart embraced as absolutely undeniable what I had been told.
He was gone, gone, gone. No coming back.
That’s when I knew: Death is awful.
It is hard to have patience with people who say, ‘There is no death’ or ‘Death doesn’t matter.’ There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn’t matter. ~C.S.Lewis
Death was not part of God’s perfect plan for the people He made and the world He created.
But sin marred that perfection and we are left to walk this wounded world in bodies that, at best, wear out, and at worst, plunge headlong into darkness due to illness, accident or violence.
Where is the victory in this defeat?
Where is the happy ending to this sad chapter of life?
Victory is declared when I trust in Jehovah-Nissi-the LORD my Banner-to uproot the evil that the enemy seeks to sow into my life.
Victory is displayed in my surviving children who have chosen to lean in and labor on and love and laugh even while grieving the loss of their brother.
Victory is demonstrated when my marriage does not crumble under the heavy weight of sorrow, when my family is made stronger- not weaker-and when our story breathes courage into the hearts and lives of others facing devastating trials.
The ultimate and eternal victory lies in the finished work of Christ.
I need to emphasize, friends, that our natural, earthy lives don’t in themselves lead us by their very nature into the kingdom of God. Their very “nature” is to die, so how could they “naturally” end up in the Life kingdom?
But let me tell you something wonderful, a mystery I’ll probably never fully understand. We’re not all going to die—but we are all going to be changed. You hear a blast to end all blasts from a trumpet, and in the time that you look up and blink your eyes—it’s over. On signal from that trumpet from heaven, the dead will be up and out of their graves, beyond the reach of death, never to die again. At the same moment and in the same way, we’ll all be changed. In the resurrection scheme of things, this has to happen: everything perishable taken off the shelves and replaced by the imperishable, this mortal replaced by the immortal. Then the saying will come true:
Death swallowed by triumphant Life!
Who got the last word, oh, Death?
Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now?It was sin that made death so frightening and law-code guilt that gave sin its leverage, its destructive power. But now in a single victorious stroke of Life, all three—sin, guilt, death—are gone, the gift of our Master, Jesus Christ. Thank God!
With all this going for us, my dear, dear friends, stand your ground. And don’t hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort.
I Corinthians 15:50-58 MSG
Jesus has redeemed and restored what the enemy has stolen.
I will not enjoy the fullness of this victory until I embrace Dominic in heaven.
But I can live confidently in the promise that it has already been decided.
I can walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death without fear, because Jehovah-Nissi-the LORD my Banner (my Victory) is with me. (Psalm 23:4)
I am not alone.
thelifeididntchoose 