Tag: #Griefblogger

Things I’m Learning…

Categories Christian Living, The First Year, Uncategorized, , , , , , , 1 Comment on Things I’m Learning…

I’ve been feeling quiet in my spirit. I know it’s because I’m processing so many things all at once: it’s almost been one year since Sarah’s death, trying to parent and support a 14 year old who is also dealing with grief and so much change. Changes in our church family, good friends moving away, and trying to discern what God is calling me to do next as a job, etc… In many ways I feel like I’m waiting. While I wait, I am enjoying the freedom to grieve as I need to. I’m not going to lie, the gut punches have been hitting me hard over the past couple weeks as I’ve been missing Sarah and reminded of where we were one year ago and our journey to the end of her life here with us. It’s been especially hard walking into her room, seeing her things, and thinking about the beginning of school and how she should be enjoying being a junior in high school. As grief continues to demand it’s own attention in my life, here are a few things that I’m learning a long the way:

  1. Not everyone will be comfortable around you like they used to be. Sometimes it can make conversations feel awkward as people are unsure how to approach you. Depending upon my particular mood for the day, some days it’s easier to approach others first and just act normal, but somedays I know that I shouldn’t. It’s hard knowing that when people see me, it makes them feel sad. It’s not anything that can be helped.
  2. You can laugh with anyone, but it’s only your best friends that you can cry with. We know that someone has reached a special place in our hearts when we’re comfortable letting out our deepest emotions. I’m thankful for friends that I can be real with, when I need to be.
  3. I look for “signs” from Sarah everywhere. There has been some really special ways that she has been with us lately…like the amazing “angel” figure in my vacation picture. I hope I never stop receiving them. I still haven’t had a real vivid dream with her. I still ask too, but God knows best about how to minister to my heart. So, I’m going to trust Him with it.
  4. When you’re grieving, it’s very easy to let feelings of jealousy and bitterness rule in your heart. I have to be honest, it’s hard not to compare what could have been, when I see FB posts about other kids hitting milestones. Sometimes, very negative thoughts cross my mind as I read comments from mom’s who are missing their children who have just moved away or when someone complains about something very trivial. That is totally normal for me, but it’s also not ok for me to NOT submit those thoughts to Jesus and let His Holy Spirit set me straight. It would be hurtful for me to not acknowledge those feelings, but it’s more hurtful to let those kinds of thoughts rule in my heart. I need to have grace for others. The reality of it is, that I wouldn’t wish this kind of grief on my worst enemy. So, it’s ok if others live in a space where they don’t have to consider the things that I do. I’m learning what posts to just scroll over and sometimes, I just need to stay off of Facebook for a bit.
  5. Sleep is such a precious thing. Lately, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night again. It’s so frustrating! I know that when it happens, the more I try to force myself to go back to sleep, the harder it becomes. So, I just try and find something good to meditate on; or I just bare my soul to Jesus, if I’m struggling with anxious thoughts or trauma.
  6. Worship still is the thing that connects me to Sarah more than anything and most importantly, Jesus. I know that when I worship, it’s like a little taste of heaven. As much as I miss Sarah, Jesus is the only thing that can fill the emptiness in my heart. He understands my grief, but he truly is the only one worthy of our worship. Worship while were suffering is life giving. It is the way to truly activate His strength in our weakness…which leads to my next point.
  7. I’m learning a lot about the biblical theology of suffering. Yeah, I know…that doesn’t sound very exciting. However, we know for those who do not believe, many times it’s because they can not accept that a loving God would allow for pain and suffering of those He loves. I’ve discovered an author, Rebecca McLaughlin, Confronting Christianity & 10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) About Christianity, who has some very helpful insights about this. First of all, if you’re looking for logical answers about theology, I highly recommend her books. The one directed towards teens is superb and actually quite helpful, even as an adult. She takes on almost every culturally relevant issue and has a fantastic way of explaining correct theology, with grace and love. Anyway, back to suffering. She uses the story of Lazarus to make some very keen points in regards to suffering in both books actually. My quotes will come from Confronting Christianity:
  • “Sometimes we call for Jesus and he does not come.”
  • However, “If Jesus had only come when he was called, no one would be crying.” and we wouldn’t have the verse: “Jesus wept.” John 11:35
  • “Jesus does not just feel sorry for us in our weakness and pain. He takes on that agony himself. ”

“He was was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain…Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering…”

Isaiah 53:3-4
  • In the story of Lazarus, “Jesus knows the resurrection is coming. And yet he cries out in his distress.” He bears the heartbreak of our suffering. “Pain is a place of special intimacy with him.” When we go to Him in our sorrow, we find understanding, comfort, and hope.
  • When Jesus does arrive, he doesn’t automatically fix Martha’s problem. Jesus looks into this grieving woman’s eyes and says: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11: 25-26) He wasn’t just talking about Lazarus to Martha. He was talking about Martha herself. It’s as if he was saying to her, as she was longing to have her brother back, “your greatest need is not to have your brother back again. It’s to have me…He himself is life: Life in the face of suffering, life in the face of death.”
  • Our suffering is never an indication that God does not love us or that we’re being punished. Time and time again, in the pages of The Bible, we see those who are “chosen and beloved suffering. When Jesus comes, we see that script played out on a cosmic stage: God’s beloved Son, the One who the Father is well pleased, comes expressly to suffer and to die out of love for his people. Indeed, our beliefs about God and suffering expose the fault lines between our natural assumptions and the biblical narrative.”

I have no affiliation with Amazon for sharing, but if you’re interested in reading Rebecca McLaughlin’s books, they are available on Amazon here. I highly recommend them!

Reflections On Our Trip

Categories The First Year, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , ,

Life goes on, but my heart still hurts. We knew that after the hard past couple of years, that we needed to move forward and take a family trip. Usually family vacations are so fun to plan and there’s so much to look forward too, but when you’re grieving, even vacation planning looses it’s excitement. It becomes one of those things that you know is good for you, but you’re just not feeling it. So you commit to doing it, just because you ought too. It’s like so many things, when you’re grieving-bittersweet. It’s just not the way that we imagined our life would be. Visions of future “bucket-list” vacations always included Sarah. However, we knew it was time to take this step towards reality and go.

So, we planned at family vacation out west. I planned the drive, the hotels, the VRBO’s, the National Parks, the extra stops. We decided to invite one of Libby’s closest friends, Sam, to come along. Thankfully, her parents were willing to entrust us with her for 2 whole weeks. I’m so glad that they did. Big life events, holidays, and vacations just magnify “the missing” for all of us, especially siblings. Libby has suddenly been forced to take on the role of “only child” of two grieving parents. That’s a hard job. We’re doing our best not to smother her and respect her 14 year old introverted self, but it’s hard not to be a helicopter parent. It’s our job to fix what’s broken for her, but this time, we can’t.

I can honestly say it was a good trip. We saw things that were just so beautiful-places that we have been wanting to see for years. We took lots of pictures, saw lots of animals, laughed, ate too much, and had fun. We also felt a deep ache in our hearts that I will compare to being “home sick.” Although, we knew when we arrived home, it wasn’t going to be alleviated. It’s a longing for how home used to be.

It’s no surprise that I pray a lot for God to give me signs from Sarah. I also say things to Sarah out loud sometimes, just in case she can hear me. When you’re missing someone that’s in heaven, you know that they’re ok, but you still want signs that they are still with you somehow.

One day, while sightseeing in Glacier National Park, we were driving along and came by this beautiful crystal blue lake that was so still that it had a mirrored reflection of the snow capped mountains in it. As he often did, Chad quickly pulled over to park and get out and just take it all in. I jumped out of the truck and started taking pictures. He noticed another couple also had stopped and as he does so naturally, he struck up a conversation with the man. He told Chad that he and his wife were retired ranchers from North Dakota and they now lived closer to this area. He said they come to Glacier a lot, and they took this particular drive about every 2 weeks. He said he had never seen it so still. He even told Chad that usually the waves in the lake were white capping because of the wind. So they also were amazed at the beautiful reflections in the mirrored water. I snapped several pictures with the phone camera, trying to frame the shots exactly like I wanted. It wasn’t until I reviewed the pictures that I saw it. This beautiful glow of light that seemed to build in a few of the images, until this magnificent bright image showed up on the picture. Again, none of this was viewable as I took the pictures. I knew right away that it was a sign. I zoomed in to look at the light…It was more breathtaking to me then the gorgeous mountains. All I could do was say thanks! Thank you, Jesus and Sarah, for letting us know that she was with us on our trip. Not the way that we exactly long for, but in a way that is better for her. I know she’s healed, free, and in perfect peace and paradise.

I’ll keep asking for signs this side of heaven. She’s a part of me and I can’t help it. What exactly did I see? I’ll let you interpret that for yourself. You may not see what I see, but that’s ok. What signs have you experienced from your loved one that has passed?

“Sappy” Mother’s Day

Categories The First Year, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Maybe it was the cool and dreary weather compounded by grief, but Mother’s Day was very difficult.  I saw many sentiments from other grieving mom’s that felt the same.  Overall, our weekend started out good.  We went camping, which is a Mother’s Day tradition with some of our family members.  We also attended a lovely FFA banquet, where Libby received some awards and recognition for her hard work and involvement in FFA this year.  Sarah was honored there and Chad and I were even included as Honorary Members of our local FFA Chapter.  It was so sweet of them to do that!  Had I known that was going to happen, I may have actually showered away the campfire smell before we attended! Lol!

We had lots of family time and enjoyed using our camper, singing around the campfire a bit, ate all of my favorite desserts, but something was just missing…and that something was Sarah.  No matter how hard I “tried” to make it a good day, it just wasn’t.  My heart was aching for her.  Chad and Libby, bless their hearts, they were quite melancholy with me.  Maybe it was because I set the tone, or maybe they were just missing being “us” too.  Getting used to the new normal is hard.  We still have moments of joy, but it’s just so different and our hearts always pause to reflect on how much more joyous it would be to hear Sarah laughing right along with us. 

Not enjoying Mother’s Day isn’t a new thing for me.  I actually have had a hard time with it for years.  I learned during infertility, that it was a good weekend to just get out of town and not be involved at church.  There’s been a few years, when I made an exception, but the heart ache for my babies in heaven is always felt more deeply on this day.  A Mother’s heart is never more full than when she’s surrounded by all of her children.  I’ve never had that.

As your children are growing and learning to communicate, there’s a deep intimacy that you feel when you look at them and lock eyes and say things that you mean.  Sometimes, it’s a stern warning for correction-that may send a chill down their spine.  Sometimes, it’s a meaningful statement of love and value that you hope instills in them a security about who they are and how much they mean to you.  Either way, that connection that you make during that moment is priceless.  It’s like you’re looking into their soul.  If your child is still with you here on Earth, don’t ever take that for granted.  I long to look into Sarah’s eyes and tell her so many things:  how much I love her, how proud I am of her, how much I miss spending time with her, laughing with her, and singing with her.  Honestly, I’m still haunted by the way that her eyes looked past me and on into heaven when she died.  I know that’s the trauma.  It’s happening less, but on Mother’s Day, my brain brought it to the surface again.  Grief is like that.  It’s like a loop that you’re stuck in. 

The tears came and that’s ok.  I needed to let them out.  I’m healing, but I’m not healed.  Mother’s Day was a reminder that I won’t get what my heart truly longs for until we’re ALL together in heaven.  So for now, I’ll wait with tears, knowing that Jesus is collecting every single one of them.

 You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book. 

Psalm 56:8

He doesn’t just expect me to dry them up and move on.  He stops with me and allows me to grieve.  While He’s holding me, He’s also got His eyes on our girl.  Knowing she’s looking into His eyes right back, brings me peace.  He knows when I’ll be able to look into her eyes again some day and when I’ll also lay eyes on my 3 other babies that I’ve never gotten to hold. Maybe they know the answer to that question too and like me, they’re counting down the days.  Until then, Mother’s Day is over and I’m one day closer to Heaven.