Grieving with children

Tucked Drama boy into bed tonight and as I did, I asked him the usual, "What should we pray for tonight? What can we say to God?" He replied, "For Matthew to come back." It just breaks my heart to see my children hurting. I explained to him that people in heaven don't come back, but the great thing was that some day we would go there and be reunited and get to see Matt again. Drama boy answered that with, "Then we have to die in a car crash." *sigh* Oh, such tough things for a four year old little boy to process. I answered by saying that people die in all kinds of different ways, but if we have Jesus in our hearts, then we can go to heaven when it's our time to go. Ugh. Never in my life would I have imagined talking to my four year old about the death of his beloved 16yo. brother.

I hate, absolutely hate, that Matt's siblings will grow up without him. It breaks my heart. I have lost my son, but they have lost their brother. Both are an incredible loss. Yet I must trust God. As hard as the truth is at times, like now, I have to trust God that, for whatever reason, he thinks differently. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. (Isaiah 55:8) 

Tonight's small group session also reminded me of that very thing. Just as Joseph's life, I'm sure, didn't go the way Joseph had planned, neither does ours. But God is in the details and he also knows the big picture. I am his child, and he loves me. My life is more than this life. With God's power, I'll get through this. It won't be painless. It won't be quick. But God will use this mess for good. I won't be foolish or naive, but nor will I despair. With God's help, I know, I will get through this. (Max Lucado series "You'll Get Through This") I also have to believe that my children will get through this. It is by no accident that we found this study at this particular time. What precious truths to cling to!

Decisions, Decisions

Drama boy has been going back and forth over many birthday cake ideas, but I think he's finally sticking with a dolphin cake! I'm not real familiar with dolphins. (Imagine that!) But, thanks to Google images, I think I should be able to pull it off. :) (Then I have to "whip up" a Polar bear cake for Mr. Monkey five days after Drama boy's!)

On another note...Drama boy asked me yesterday, "Mom, when are we gonna get Dad's silver van back?" :( One minute I think I'm actually doing o.k., and the next I'm not. *sigh* I once again explained to him that we weren't getting it back, that it had been broken too badly and couldn't be fixed.

The ups and downs of this roller coaster ride of grief, however, are not as steep as they were seven months ago. They've also spread out just a tad, enough that I've been able to laugh at moments and smile with genuineness. I'd say on a scale of 1-10, it used to be a 10 and now it's about an 8. There are moments, though, it certainly shoots back up to 10. Just depends.

I still struggle with answering the automatic "How are you?" question. I realize some people ask because they genuinely care about the answer and others ask out of habit, without thinking. Yet I don't know what to say. Because, to me, to say the standard answer of "Fine" or "O.k." would be lying. I hate being caught off guard with the "How are you?" question when I'm out running errands and whatnot. I want to be prepared with an answer. I have often replied, "I'm functioning." Currently, my standard answer is "I've been better." I think, however, I like this reply: "I'm trusting God."

Looking over the past seven months, I've certainly had enough reason to. I was scheduled today for a colonoscopy, but the clinic called yesterday and informed me that the Dr. had gone home sick. I was a bit irritated at the change in plans, but came to the conclusion that God must have a reason. I will trust Him.

It is a daily decision, almost hourly, to trust Him. There are innumerable times throughout the day when I have to take my thoughts captive and simply go back to the truth that God loves me and that, eventually, His plan will be fulfilled. Not nearly as soon as I would like, but keeping faith that some day, it will.

One of the most difficult things about waiting, however, for that fulfillment is that from July 29, 2011 until I enter heaven myself, I have no choice but to speak of my son in the past tense. I hate that. I hate it. I hate death. Oh, how I long for heaven. Our GriefShare group video last night, though, reminded us of the promise that some day, there will be the death of death. Hallelujah!!! You can bet I will be jumping for joy on that day! I thank God for His Word and for reminding me that God's story is a life, death, life story.

Blog bits and pieces

I have been tossing around the idea of starting a message board/forum for grieving parents. I'm not sure exactly what I'd be getting myself into, however, so I haven't set anything up yet. I really want it to be God's desire and His leading. I know it's what I want. Just not sure if it's what God's wants. I am keeping my eyes open for some confirmation on the whole thing. Tim and I also started a small group at church on Sunday evenings and are really excited about it. We plan on half an hour of praise and worship music, followed by a video series on the life of Joseph from Max Lucado titled, "You'll Get Through This." We've already seen the first lesson and were greatly encouraged.

Seven months with grief

Seven months

It sucks. Death sucks. Grief sucks. I realized, however, that death is a fake, a cheat. He appears to have won, but for those who are in Christ Jesus, we know that death ultimately loses. I am consoled by knowing that, in the end, there will be victory. Today marks seven months since your “re-birth”, Matt. You were born again (spiritually) when you accepted Jesus Christ as the Lord and Savior of your life, but you were re-born (physically) when you died an earthly death, the death of your body. You are alive, re-birthed into heaven's arms. While we grieve down here, you are rejoicing with God, with Jesus, with grandpa, with Jean, with Julie, with Dave, with Kim, and so many other loved ones.

Jonathan gave your picture a kiss last night before bed. I hope you got it. I still pick up your pillow every night, hugging it, wishing it was you, wishing there was a way to bottle up your smell that's no longer there.

We're going to throw some more eggs outside today. I know it's something you would have gotten into! :) I'm still trying to come up with ideas, too, to mark your re-birth date on July 29. Believe it or not, we were actually contemplating going to a paint ball field, but I'm reconsidering since I discovered there's potential pain involved. Still tossing around other ideas.

In the meantime, I am trying to keep my eyes on God, on not what I/We have lost, but on the hope and the promise of eternal life and eternal reunion, a life without death, mourning, crying, or pain. (Rev. 21:4)

You Are God Alone

You are not a God
Created by human hands
You are not a God
Dependent on any mortal man
You are not a God
In need of anything we can give
By Your plan, that's just the way it is

[chorus]
You are God alone
From before time began
You were on Your throne
You are God alone
And right now
In the good times and bad
You are on Your throne
You are God alone

You're the only God
Whose power none can contend
You're the only God
Whose name and praise will never end
You're the only God
Who's worthy of everything we can give
You are God
And that's just the way it is

[chorus]

Unchangeable
Unshakable
Unstoppable
That's what You are



I desperately needed to be reminded of the truth. The truth that God, indeed, is on His throne.
Because this is what the bad days look like:

These last few days have been excruciatingly painful. I have, honestly, wanted to die because the pain is so unbearable. I just want to be with my precious son. I want him back. So many people think I'm so strong, yet I feel like I am falling apart. I am overwhelmed and have absolutely no motivation to do the daily "stuff" of life. I can't do this without God. And I'm not even so sure I can with Him. It just seems that in a matter of months, my life has gone spinning out of control. Absolutely nothing is the same any more and everything has changed and continues to change. Relationships I once thought were secure are not. Places I once loved being at, like church, I now hate. I feel like I'm groping my way around in the dark in vain.

But thanks be to God for His truth! I may not know where I am going, but God does. He is leading me, as He did Abram. Abram did not know where he was going, but he knew who he was following. Abram trusted and obeyed, and I am asked to do the same. The amazing thing, too, is that the strength it requires of me is provided by God as well. Oh, how I long for the day when I can say with full confidence that God did work Matt's death for good in my life. For now, I will trust in His Word because He has been good to me. (Matt. 4:4, Ps. 13:2,6)

Blogging

Some things about grief continue to surprise me. Blogging is one of them. While I love (and even long) to write, I hesitate posting. Everything unrelated to grief seems too trivial, yet I also know that life is more than death. But grief has a way of butting in, showing up uninvited into each joyful moment.

Obviously, the last few weeks have been difficult with the loss of Tim's dad, compounded with health issues and sickness, not only for me, but for the children as well. Sleep, thankfully, at least, has improved. We have, for the most part, resumed "normal" sleep patterns and habits. (The Sleep Number bed is great!) Mr. Monkey is consistently sleeping through the night finally, too. (Of course, last night would have to prove the exception to that!)

Tim and I continue to lean hard on God. We were only too happy to be back at GriefShare this week. It is such a comfort to be among those who truly understand what you're going through. One thing I've learned, however, from GriefShare is not to compare grief. Each person's grief is their own, and one is not greater or worse or less than another's. I've said this before concerning the circumstances of one's loss: "You get your heart ripped out. Either slowly, like in the situation of a loved one dying of cancer, or quickly, like in our circumstances with Matt. Either way, your heart is ripped out. One's not better than the other."

I also picked up Mary Beth Chapman's book, "Choosing to SEE" from the library. I couldn't even read the dedication without crying, nor the prologue from Beth Moore. I was struck by the following quote of Beth Moore's in the prologue: "We cannot fathom the intricacies of the divine plan. But make no mistake, when we are in the driest desert, we can receive the manna to make it all the way to the other side where trees bud again and children laugh. God sometimes delivers us from evils we never see. Other times He parts raging oceans before our very eyes. Still other times He says, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers they will not sweep over you....Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bring your children from the east and gather you from the west" (Isa 43:2,5).

So while grief continues to coexist with moments of joy and laughter, we continue to walk through this season of sorrow. Some days, crawling and limping, trusting in God's character and the hope of eternity. Other days, unable to walk, carried by God and the prayers of so many concerned friends and family. The days where the indescribable, debilitating pain of our loss is overwhelming are excruciating. Days that I still continue to be amazed that Tim and I are alive and survived such a blow. Yet I have a Savior. A God to turn to in those moments and others. I am greatly comforted that I am not alone. He is with me, and, though I may not understand His plan, I know that He is trustworthy and Sovereign. His banner over me is love.

Streams in the Desert - Devotion for Feb. 16

I try to read this little devotional nightly before bed. Yesterday's was very powerful and comforting for me.

Weeping May Last For a Night

"Though I have afflicted thee, I will afflict thee no more" (Nah. 1:12).

There is a limit to affliction. God sends it, and removes it. Do you sigh and say, "When will the end be?" Let us quietly wait and patiently endure the will of the Lord till He cometh. Our Father takes away the rod when His design in using it is fully served.

If the affliction is sent for testing us, that our graces may glorify God, it will end when the Lord has made us bear witness to His praise.

We would not wish the affliction to depart until God has gotten out of us all the honor which we can possibly yield Him.

There may be today "a great calm." Who knows how soon those raging billows will give place to a sea of glass, and the sea birds sit on the gentle waves?

After long tribulation, the flail is hung up, and the wheat rests in the garner. We may, before many hours are past, be just as happy as now we are sorrowful.

It is not hard for the Lord to turn night into day. He that sends the clouds can as easily clear the skies. Let us be of good cheer. It is better farther on. Let us sing Hallelujah by anticipation.
--C. H. Spurgeon.

The great Husbandman is not always threshing. Trial is only for a season. The showers soon pass. Weeping may tarry only for the few hours of the short summer night; it must be gone at daybreak. Our light affliction is but for a moment. Trial is for a purpose, "If needs be."

The very fact of trial proves that there is something in us very precious to our Lord; else He would not spend so much pains and time on us. Christ would not test us if He did not see the precious ore of faith mingled in the rocky matrix of our nature; and it is to bring this out into purity and beauty that He forces us through the fiery ordeal.

Be patient, O sufferer! The result will more than compensate for all our trials, when we see how they wrought out the far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. To have one word of God's commendation; to be honored before the holy angels; to be glorified in Christ, so as to be better able to flash His glory on Himself--ah! that will more than repay for all. --Tried by Fire

As the weights of the clock, or the ballast in the vessel, are necessary for their right ordering, so is trouble in the soul-life. The sweetest scents are only obtained by tremendous pressure; the fairest flowers grow amid Alpine snow-solitudes; the fairest gems have suffered longest from the lapidary's wheel; the noblest statues have borne most blows of the chisel. All, however, are under law. Nothing happens that has not been appointed with consummate care and foresight. --Daily Devotional Commentary