He is with you

Painful realities

Tomorrow marks an entire month since my 16yo. son fulfilled his purpose here on earth and died an earthly death. Yet he lives in heaven and is with God, alive and worshiping the Almighty for ever and ever.

For me and my Dh, it is still unreal, though we have hope of eternity. It is still gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, and daily accompanied with tears. The waves of grief are incessant in their rhythm and, though constant, they are erratic.

Tonight was a rare night where I made dinner. It was in preparing dinner, that the waves of grief came rolling in. I realized then why meal times are so difficult. It's because that's when Matt's absence, for me, is most obvious. It's not only the empty spot at the table, but more so when I count the plates, 9, the silverware, 9, the cups, 9. It was always nine. And now it's eight. Crash of the waves, tide incoming.

If it wasn't for the assurance, comfort, and truth of God's word, the support of family and friends, and the ministering of worship music, I surely would have been pulled under the rip current and drowned.

Isaiah 43:2 "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."

I know that God is with me, my husband, and my children. I know that He carries me. He is my shield, my fortress, my deliverer, my rock in whom I take refuge. (Ps. 18:2)  I know that under the shadow of His wings, there is a place of safety. (Ps. 36:7) I know that He loves me. And it is this reminder that carries me through the waters and puts me safely upon the shore once more.

Grief in a box

I thought I had grief all figured out. That is, before I had ever truly experienced it in this capacity. I have suffered the loss of two very dear friends, and the loss of my father when I was 12yo. But the loss of my very own child, my first born, my teenager, my 16yo. is a whole different story.

I wanted to wrap grief up in a box, have it all figured out, contained neatly in a square container. You see, I'm a "just suck it up and do it" type of gal. I want to just get things done with and move on. If there's a job to be done by Friday, then I'm the gal that has is done on Monday.

But I'm quickly realizing that grief doesn't work that way. And neither does God. And honestly, it sucks. I hate it. How's that for real? I don't like surprises. I never have. I hate the way grief jumps on you when you least expect it. Grief doesn't respect boundaries. It has no limits or social graces. Grief lunges out at you at the grocery store in the cereal aisle when you realize you'll never buy your son's favorite cereal ever again. It mocks you as you walk by the men's clothing section and you realize you won't be buying those sizes anymore either. Grief is quick to remind you that, while you're happy for your friends' big moments, you realize your son will never have an 18th birthday party. Neither will you meet your son's girlfriend or future wife, attend his graduation, his wedding, or know what it's like to gaze at his newborn baby.

Grief doesn't give you answers. It only leaves you empty, broken, without strength, and powerless. I have never felt so weak, yet I am so overwhelmed at the generosity of friends and family. They are holding us up through prayers, meals, and hugs. It is a comforting and powerful thing to simply hug and say nothing. It is a comfort to not have to cook or think about meals or meal planning. It is all I can do to make sure the bills are still getting paid and the laundry washed. Our friends and family are our "hands." Exodus 17:10 tells the story of Moses in battle, growing weary and unable to continue, but with the help of his friends, the battle is won.

"So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses' hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up-- one on one side, one on the other-- so that his hands remained steady till sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword."

God, whose name is Jehovah Jirah (the LORD will provide), has provided for me and my family and continues to be gracious to us. He is gentle and tender, because grief is not. The LORD is my strength. 2Corinthians 12:9  'But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.'

So while I can't put grief in a box, I know, and am daily reminded, that my family and friends are holding up our arms for us and helping to carry this burden.

When the shock wears off

the pain hits. This was one of the most painful days since the first three. I remember when I was about age 9 and had broken my leg. At first, I didn't feel much, just an angry tingling. However, after a few minutes, I remember looking down at my left leg and seeing the bone through the unbroken skin. THAT'S when the pain hit. It felt much like that today.

There has been a fierce battle raging in my mind all day. I have no strength to cling to the Lord, so I rest in knowing that HE holds me. I am comforted in knowing that nothing can separate me from His love, no, not even death. (Romans 8:38-39) I can not be snatched out of His hand. (John 10:29) What a comfort that brings to my weary, wounded heart.

Dh and I are looking into attending a grief support group called Griefshare. We both signed up for their daily emails and have found them to be helpful. I am also looking into a grief camp for the kids. Someone gave us a brochure for Hearts of Hope camp that I think would be beneficial.

Today was our first day of school, too. It went as well as can be expected under these circumstances. I did update the blog photo albums a few days ago, too. Off to a warm bath and then bed. Praying for peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.

A poem

(I wrote this about a year ago.)

Grief is as the Ocean

Grief is as the ocean, wide and deep
pouring over like a tempest, fierce and broad.
Then sun breaks through to shine as God.
Grief is as the tide, swift and sure,
coming and going, coming and going.
Then peace falls like gentle rain.
Grief is as the sea, fathomless and still,
storing treasures, lying languid.
Then glory reigns, unsurpassable.

Grief lessons

There are a few things I've learned about grief these past two and a half weeks. First, grief is exhausting. Unbelievably exhausting. Especially if you have younger children to deal with. The first week of the death of a loved one is incredibly busy. Yeah, busy. Who knew? It's busy with the onslaught of visiting relatives and decision making, the details of funeral planning and trips to the cemetery to pick out a plot, and the well-meaning, but ever-revolving door of friends dropping by with meals. The doorbell and the telephone ringing are relentless. Can we say "Grand Central!"?

Secondly, grief slaps you out of nowhere, with no warning. It hits like waves on the ocean, slamming into you and dragging you against your will, back out to sea. I've learned not to fight it. To just give in and let it have it's way. The more you fight, the worse it is, but if you let it happen, you soon find out that the tide rolls back and the waves recede. Then you get your bearings under your legs a lot quicker and you find yourself swimming back to shore. We have seen God work in huge ways, however, in the midst of our grief. One of these days I will have enough energy to post those! For now, I have learned:

• Sleep, especially the first few days after a loss, will be non-existent! Take advantage of your doctor and get some sleeping pills. I don't recommend using them normally, but the first week, coupled with lack of sleep, is one of those times it's okay to use the system. After that, you can try some natural methods like warm baths with lavender essential oil.


• People want to do something, anything to help. LET THEM. It doesn't matter what it is, let them. They are grieving with you and, while there's nothing they can do to lessen your loss, it makes them feel better and it's one less thing for you to deal with. (As long as it doesn't require you to make decisions!)


• Have someone delegated to take care of the well-meaning ways people/friends want to help out. (For example: meals, childcare, etc.) You don't need more on your plate to do. Grief is enough to handle all by itself, thank you.


• The best answer to "How are you doing?" or "How are the kids doing?" is "As well as can be expected." 


• I absolutely MUST NOT focus/think/imagine the scene or details of the accident. That is a definite NO-NO! There is positively no good thing accomplished in doing that and serves no purpose other than to drag you back out to sea, drowning in grief.


• Listening to worship music is very soothing. It keeps me remembering who God is, what He has done, and how faithful He is.


• To remind myself that my precious son is alive. He is alive in Heaven and one day I will see him again. 1 Thess. 4:13 says that "we do not grieve...as those who have no hope." This is probably the greatest thing that has been the most helpful; to remind myself that my son is not dead. He is alive with Christ.

Finally, I know that the grief process takes time. I must give myself, and others, grace. Our pastor gave us very wise words, indeed, that day on the ride home from the hospital. He said to keep our schedules and daily routines as much as we could, to allow the kids' activities to continue, and to realize that grief and the "stuff" of life will co-exist. It is so true. Experiencing grief happens while life swirls on around you. Pastor Dave said it best in the following poem that he wrote the day after learning of Matt's death:

THE WORLD STOOD STILL TODAY

July 29, 2011

The day began like every day

The busyness, the hurry, the need to get things done

The norm of life was in full flow

Then the world stood still

The norm was shattered with the unexpected

In a moment the unwanted imposed itself

Everything came to a stop with a crash

Then the world stood still

All the busyness of life didn’t matter at that moment

All that we think is so important faded from view

Our world became focused on one tragic point

We were frozen in time

The hours ahead were filled with pain

Unanswered questions flew in and out of our minds

We cried, we embraced, we sat in uneasy silence

Our world stood still

The time came to start the clock again

We didn’t want to, but we had no choice

Slowly, painfully we moved

We moved back into the flow of time

I drove home alone and watched the world rush by

Don’t they know, don’t they care

I felt the terror of a life cut short

I felt myself being swept back into the relentless flow

One day the world will stand still

And time will be no more

Good-bye will become a forgotten word

When we stand on that eternal shore

Paying for grief

I remember how shocked I was at the bill from the mortuary the day we met to plan our oldest son's memorial. (And it was only half the bill!) I thought how ironic it was that not only do we have to grieve, but that we have to pay for it! The mortuary has a fee, the cemetery has a fee, and the monument company has a fee. I remember, too, being surprised at finding money in the condolence cards. I was ignorant of that fact until now.

Grief is not only complicated, it's a learning experience. Maybe if our society wasn't so "separated" from death, it wouldn't be such a shock. Death, in our society, is kept so separate. No longer do dying loved ones live with us. They are closed away in nursing homes, and not only that, but in separate, closed-off sections of the "home"! The dying lay in hospital beds, again, in separate corridors from the living.

It rather angers me that we've done that as a society. This society that values so much instead the "fountain of youth", the never-ending search to stay young. It's such an earthly perspective. Earthly vs. eternal. Quite a difference.

This morning I was thinking of the fact that we have these "deathly" fees to pay, and I thought of Christ. Of the price He paid. Romans 6:23 says: "For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Jesus paid for our sins. It cost him. It cost him his life. He understands full well what Dh and I are going through and the cost involved. 

I take comfort, however, in that verse above because in the same sentence, you see that death exacts a price, but eternal life is free. What a contradiction! God gives us LIFE and it's FREE.  Jesus speaking in John 10:10  also says, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." I need to remember that my son is alive! He is alive in Christ, alive in heaven, for all eternity. And some day, because I have believed and trusted in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, I, too, will join him. I will see my beloved son again. And what joy that will be.