What do you do when the meal trains run out? What do you do when the condolences and the comforting visits and check ins cease? What do you do when the world seems to move on, but you are still scarred and bruised? The loneliest time of losing a loved one is the day after a funeral. The funeral, seen as a bookend, as a time of closure, marks to others an end. But to the grieved, it marks a time for a life completely flipped on its end. It marks a harsh realization that life as known before, a life hoped for, has slipped away. Memories of Gideon, things hoped for for Gideon, sneak into our daily lives at random times. Emotions hit hard randomly throughout the year and there is always an un-eased ache that rests within me. And while we don’t live in the depression, in the depth of hopelessness, we could easily slip in despair. So how do we do it? How do you continue to move forward? How do you not become consumed with loss, especially the loss of a child? Jesus. Jesus has been my mainstay from that fretful, breathless, first call. Jesus has been my light in the darkest of days. Jesus has been my therapy, my redeemer, my support, my life. Jesus gave me Lance. We have relied on Jesus for strength and we have leaned in on one another. In the middle of our life living in the camper, I felt like such a failure. We had sold our home in hopes of being debt free, made a purchase that only meant rebuilding. The weather was awful, water lines were freezing, conditions were tight and I had little will to go on. My husband was cramped, overworked, no real place of solace to retreat to. My kids were sharing a bunk room, Their bedrooms now gone. Their space to play and create a thing of yesterday. What had I done? One night, I just broke as we were sitting together. I began to cry. I had been trying to carry the weight on my own. I sobbed as I apologized and poured my heart out to Lance. I felt like such a failure. My desire to stay home had brought us to this place. Lance comforted me, reassured me, and held me. We prayed. We leaned in on Jesus and each other. This reliance has been how we’ve gotten through everything. One study notes that 80% of marriages end in divorce after the loss of a child. We were determined to not become another statistic. But that power and covering only comes from Jesus. It’s not our own will or our own ability. We fail each other. Unlike those well wishes and social support in those first few days of child loss, Jesus remains and remembers. He sustains us. He is gracious. He is patient. He keeps us. Without the love of Christ, we would be babbling, bumbling, babies stuck in the depths of suffering. Glory to God that He holds our son. Glory to God that He has given us two more children. Glory to God that He has given me Lance. Glory to God that he heals. Glory to God that he comforts. Glory to God that we will see Gideon again. Glory to God that he knows grief and he knows my grief. Glory to God that he knows me. Glory to God that he knows my name. Friend, if you are stuck in grief and you feel no one knows or understands your struggle, cry out to Jesus. Let Jesus take your burden. Let Jesus hear your cries. Rely on Jesus. There are no 10 step plans to overcome grief. There are no self-help books that will get you through. There is only Jesus. I pray for you. Succumb to Him. Let Him consume you. He is Holy and He loves you. If you need a friend who knows your grief, knows your cries, that friend is Jesus. im not even a close second, but I am also here Mama, my heart cries for you. I want comfort for you. I want you to know that I have not forgotten you or your child. But most if all, I want you to know that Jesus has not forgotten. Submit to Him and he will give you rest.
