A dark day

Job 3:20-26 "Why is light given to those in misery, and life to the bitter of soul, to those who long for death that does not come, who search for it more than for hidden treasure, who are filled with gladness and rejoice when they reach the grave? Why is life given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in? For sighing comes to me instead of food; my groans pour out like water. What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil."

I am struggling. I don't want to go on. I just want this pain to end. I want my life to end. I am so weak. I cry, but there is not even strength to make a sound. I can only cry from the depths of my soul, "Why has God done this to me?" I don't care anymore. I don't want my faith strengthened. I don't want to be a testimony to anyone else. I am doubting that there even is a God. I am doubting that heaven or eternity exists. What's the point? What was Matt's purpose? I don't understand. If there is a life of eternity, then I just want to enter into it now.

These are dark moments, moments I wonder if I will survive. I cannot help but question if this grief is a mortal wound because that is what it feels like. Yet my heart continues to beat and the daily demands of life continue to pull at me. I thought of the apostle Paul in Philippians 1:19-26 when he says, "for I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your joy in Christ Jesus will overflow on account of me."

I need sufficient courage as Paul says. Dh and I need your continued prayers and the help of the Holy Spirit. I need to do as Proverbs 3:5 says and trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding. So much easier said than done.

Saturday on the farm

It's so hard being here. The kids are doing the usual things like riding the four-wheeler and mini-bike. The older girls hunt for new kittens while the little boys search for frogs and toads. Army boy shoots off the BB gun and Miss T.T. rides bike. Yet while all that goes on, Dh and I walk around broken, shoulders shaking with sobs as we remember that the last time we were here, our son was alive. I look out at the quonset expecting him to have climbed it and see him sitting atop it as usual. I see the Bronco parked in the driveway and remember that he drove it just two months ago. I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop and note that his is not there next to mine. Dh walks the gravel road and remembers that Matt walked to town on the 4th. I know that life goes on, and I know that healing will come, but for now grief overwhelms in these moments.

I've heard that feeling of the loss of a loved one is similar to being an amputee. I never quite understood that analogy until now. There is an emptiness in my heart, a profound sadness such that I wonder it will ever be gone. A piece of my heart has been removed. I don't mean that God won't bring healing, but the loss of our teenager has left a scar that will forever remain. As the waves of grief come crashing in, I will cling to God's word. Psalm 30:5b “...weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

Firsts

Today was our first trip back to ND without our whole family. The last time we went was 4th of July. Matt was still alive and little did we know that just 25 days later, he would die in a head-on collision. It was also the first time I didn't take a family photo. Something that I will forever regret not doing. The weather just didn't cooperate and the opportunity with the busyness of the holiday weekend and it's activities didn't present itself. If only I had persisted. And now the thought of taking a family photo with one of our children not in the picture is agonizing. I can't imagine ever smiling again for a family photo. I've never been good at hiding the things in my heart from showing on my face.

Thursday was hard, packing suitcases and preparing for the trip. I was doing alright until I counted the suitcases and came up one short. I had been dreading this trip because I know that the “firsts” of anything after the loss of a loved one is difficult. I just didn't imagine it would be this difficult.

This morning dawned all too soon and we started to load up the van. Tempers ignited and flew over the littlest, insignificant stuff. Another sure sign of grief rearing it's ugly head. Dh and I were having a hard time. I had posted on FB that we were leaving for the weekend and, while I know people truly only mean well, I just wanted to scream when I read the comments saying, “Have a good time.” Seriously? Have a good time? I wanted to reply, “WE'RE GRIEVING! I'm not going to have a good time!” It's a good thing I don't always say what's in my head. That's what blogging is for. :)

We typically leave between 9:00-9:30am when we're traveling to Grandma and Grandpa's, but this time it didn't happen. Amidst Dh and I breaking down crying intermittently and the stress of trying to get the last minute stuff loaded, it was 10:30am by the time we left the driveway. We set out and only got about 20 minutes into driving when I realized I had forgotten the tub of Matt's clothes. Never mind we had already broken down crying at least 3x's in those twenty minutes, either. I picked up my Tracfone to call my mom and only cried harder when I realized I hit Matt's number on the phone. Ugh. Why does this have to be so hard? Why?

No sooner had I hung up when another wave of grief slapped me in the face. I went to grab a pen from the van console and instead came upon Matt's McDonald's Moche Frappe punch card. Another ugh. The morning was already shot and it didn't appear it was going to get any better. We turned the van around and headed back home. I had told Dh that I thought the brakes on the van needed looking at, too, so we made a plan that he would take the van in while we ate lunch at home and got the tub of clothes.

We finished lunch, loaded the tub of clothes, and headed back out onto the road. It turned out the brakes on the van were fine. By now, I had had a good cry, thanks to the comforting shoulders of a dear neighbor. She just let me sob and didn't try to console me with vain words. It was good and one of these days, I will learn to ride the waves rather than get pulled under! I know, ultimately, that this “first” of traveling without Matt with us would have occurred no matter when we took the trip. Might as well get it over with. Next time, hopefully, will be a little better.

Coming undone

Music is so powerful. I firmly believe that it affects us more than we like to admit. I actually stay away from certain songs because they elicit such a strong emotional response. One such song is Held.

http://youtu.be/i-hJ87ApWtw

Held by Natalie Grant

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held


The incredible identification with this song is just too painful right now. I heard it on the radio as I sat in the van waiting for Sweet Stuff's prescription. I knew I should have turned the station dial. This song isn't new to me. I've heard it before and actually didn't like it because it is just so heart wrenching. I don't want to identify with that kind of pain. Yet I do. I do now. As much as I don't want to. Yet I am reminded of truth. The truth of God's word.
Romans 8:17 Now if we are children, then we are heirs--heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.
2 Corinthians 1:5 For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.
Galatians 6:17 Finally, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.

I belong to Christ. I gave my life to Him many years ago in my early twenties. Then a few years after that, I began to study His word and discovered that because I am His, He will never let me go. I am His bond-servant. I belong to Him and because He put a new spirit in me, that same spirit will cause me to walk in His ways. (Now don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean I won't stumble or never sin again, or that I won't grieve or quench the Spirit.) But I know that He holds me. I have His promise, like the Natalie Grant song says. I am being held. And when I realize that truth, it makes me cry in gratitude.

Turning a corner

53 days. Though last Monday was horrible, I think it did some unseen work on the wound in my heart. I firmly believe, too, that having the abundant number of meals provided for us have helped me to grieve. I haven't had to worry about meal planning or preparation three times a day. I could focus on my grief in that I didn't have to try to shove it aside or ignore it or deal with it later because I was too busy trying to get a meal on the table. I know, without a doubt, that otherwise I would have done what I wanted to do, which was never get up again. I am much like an animal when wounded. I simply want to go hide in a corner and lick my wounds and snarl at anyone that comes near, even if they're only trying to help. On top of all that, I was clueless about how grief affected the immune system and several of us have been sick off and on since a week after the funeral. The meals have been tremendously helpful in more ways than one.

I have thought a lot about this wound that grief leaves. To me, it is much like a third-degree burn victim. The past seven weeks have been rife with intense, unspeakable, indescribable pain, as when one gets burned. But third-degree burns (called full-thickness burns) may have little or no pain or may feel numb at first because of nerve damage. I wonder if I didn't move to this stage almost immediately after the searing pain. Of course, that was after the initial shock wore off, too.

When pain is so intense, the body's coping mechanism is such that it shuts off. I'm fairly certain mine did. However, as with severe wounds, they must be cleaned and tended to. They must be seen by a physician and round-the-clock care given. Wounds this deep must be watched carefully for infection, dressings changed, and antibiotics given. I believe that every time I have allowed myself to cry, to write, to feel, have been times when the dressings were changed, when healing was fostered. You see, I don't think you can do anything to speed healing. I think you can promote healing by doing those things. But only the Great Physician brings healing, and usually it takes time.

The Lord has been so very gentle with us through our loss. He has changed my dressings, and when infection looked likely, He cleaned it out, though painful a process such it was. I never would have thought I would have survived, yet yesterday turned a corner. There is still a very, very long road ahead. The wound, in no way, is any less deep than it was before, but I think that healing has finally begun. There remains a profound, inexplicable sadness, but I trust that the LORD will do what He says. "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:3 NIV) He will be my rock, my fortress, my deliver, my God in whom I trust.

What do I say?

I'm beginning to feel like a broken record. Seven weeks and one day...50 days. The roller coaster ride of grief still makes me nauseous and I still want off. Yet God has been faithful and continues to give grace and comfort. It's been a rough week with being sick. Drama boy's ear infection from two weeks ago didn't clear up and he also got a horrible case of hives yesterday. In addition, I have been battling a terrible sinus infection for over a week. On the up side, we continue to be lovingly supported by friends and family. Meals are still graciously being provided and are tremendously appreciated.

Dh is gone for the weekend at Men's Retreat. He called and is having a wonderful time. I'm happy for him, though last night here at home was B.A.D. Drama boy was up every 1 1/2hrs. I wasn't alone, however, and proved the adage that misery loves company. The girls and I had a sleepover with some BFF's. While it stunk that Drama boy was up all night, we still managed to have some wonderful girl time. In between tending to poor, miserable, sick Drama boy, we watched a really good chick flick.

My friend and I talked, laughed, and cried through the night. One thing I have really struggled with since Matt's death is how to answer the inevitable question, "How many kids do you have?" I know the answer is seven, but I am literal minded. Always have been. Probably not going to change. When I think of that question, I'm thinking, "No, I have six children. I had seven." Yet that's just not an acceptable response for me. And I have struggled with this in my head since the accident. I want to be prepared with an answer when someone asks me the inevitable. And thanks to my dear friend Amy, I finally came up last night with a response that I am satisfied with. "I am a mom of seven." Thanking God for His wisdom, that He should show it to me.

Falling apart

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Josh Wilson - Before the Morning Lyrics

Do you wonder why you have to feel the things that hurt you,
if there's a God who loves you, where is He now?

Maybe, there are things you can't see and all those things are happening
to bring a better ending
some day, some how, you'll see, you'll see

Chorus:
Would dare you, would you dare to believe,
that you still have a reason to sing,
'cause the pain that you've been feeling,
can't compare to the joy that's coming

so hold on, you got to wait for the light
press on and just fight the good fight
because the pain that you've been feeling,
it's just the dark before the morning

My friend, you know how this all ends
and you know where you're going,
you just don't know how you get there
so say a prayer.
and hold on, cause there's good for those who love God,
life is not a snapshot, it might take a little time,
but you'll see the bigger picture

Would dare you, would you dare to believe,
that you still have a reason to sing,
'cause the pain that you've been feeling,
can't compare to the joy that's coming

so hold on, you got to wait for the light
press on and just fight the good fight
because the pain that you've been feeling,
it's just the dark before the morning
yeah, yeah,
before the morning,
yeah, yeah

Once you feel the weight of glory,
all your pain will fade to memory
once you feel the weight of glory,
all your pain will fade to memory
memory, memory, yeah

Would you dare, would you dare to believe,
that you still got a reason to sing,
'cause the pain that you've been feeling,
it can't compare to the joy that's coming

Would dare you, would you dare to believe,
that you still got a reason to sing,
'cause the pain that you've been feeling,
it can't compare to the joy that's coming

come on, you got to wait for the light
press on and just fight the good fight
because the pain that you've been feeling,
it's just the hurt before the healing
oh, the pain that you've been feeling,
it's just the dark before the morning
before the morning, yeah, yeah
before the morning

Monday was a horrendous day. I just couldn't get my bearings. The breakers came in, crashed over me, and I was sucked out to a sea of grief without warning. It was a tsunami of emotions. Only a few times in my life have I felt things were so bad that I wanted to die. This was one of them. The loss of my son was so overwhelming that I just simply wanted to die, to go be with him. I've been sick with a sinus infection the past couple of days and lost my voice and, though I was sobbing, I couldn't even make a noise. I cried out to God, "Why did you do this to me? Lord, why?" I lay there and wept soundlessly until falling asleep. When I woke, I felt as though I were dead already, that something inside my spirit had died. Yet in the recesses of my mind, I knew that a life of bitterness, turning from God, was not the answer. Not if I claimed to be a child of God. So what was I to do, I wondered? How do I live again? I didn't have an answer.

I went to bed Monday night taking a sleeping pill. Tuesday wasn't much better. Seeing the check clear online for the mortuary didn't help, and neither did receiving a bill from the fire department responding to the accident. We had also gotten the notice from AAA about towing the van from the scene of the accident. There was the Life Flight hospital statement and the bill from St. Mary's, too. So many reminders that my son is gone, my heart wounded indelibly.

I did manage, however, to play some worship and praise music on Tuesday, though I wasn't "in the mood" for it. It did help, and by supper time, I was ready to go to Bible study. I am continuing in a Precept study on the book of Genesis, part 4. It's titled, "Wrestling with God." Ya think??? I knew going would be a good thing, even if I was exhausted. I wasn't wrong. The message, even though the video was referring to Jacob and Esau, was applicable to me. It was about persevering, about not throwing away our birthright. It was God's word to me through the video, spoken by Kay Arthur, saying, "Don't drift away."  In fact, my exact thoughts as I lay on my bed Monday afternoon were the words, "I just want to walk away. I want to drift away." God knew. He is sovereign. He had a plan. I need to trust Him.

^{Hebrews 10: 35} 

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.

³⁶ You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. ³⁷ For,

   “In just a little while,
   he who is coming will come
   and will not delay.”

 ³⁸ And,

   “But my righteous one will live by faith.