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Fixing Me – flannelgraphs

18 Mar

 

This post from Flannelgraphs reminds me of an old Roberta Flack song, “Killing Me Softly with His Song”. Below are the lyrics and a link to the original soundtrack from 1973 on YouTube.

“Killing Me Softly With His Song”

[Chorus]

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

I heard he sang a good song
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To listen for a while
And there he was this young boy
A stranger to my eyes

[Chorus]

I felt all flushed with fever
Embarassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on

[Chorus]

He sang as if he knew me
In all my dark despair
And then he looked right through me
As if I wasn’t there
And he just kept on singing
Singing clear and strong

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

 

Don’t skip the video — the lyrics alone don’t do the song justice and Ms. Flack sings it so beautifully!  “Killing Me Softly With His Song”.

Not all the lyrics express my feelings, but the idea that a stranger could so clearly speak the heart of another certainly fits.

Caitlin, the author of “Fixing Me”, shares her heart, story and faith with humility and eloquence. A teaser for the article follows.  I hope you will take the time to click on the link highlighted in red below!

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“What do you do when you’re angry with the Creator of the universe and the Lover of your soul?  When you’re incredibly disappointed in your Redeemer and feel as though He can’t be trusted with the things, the people you treasure most?  What does a professing believer do with that depth of confusion and spiritual chaos? . . .”

Source: Fixing Me – flannelgraphs – Dealing with faith and finding healing in the depths of loss.

 
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Posted by on March 18, 2016 in Faith, Grief, Links, Music

 

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Renee Swope – Me Too!

15 Mar

The power of validation and affirmation. We all know there are no perfect Christians – it’s inherent in our theology – so why do we try to wear masks of perfection?

 
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Posted by on March 15, 2016 in Faith, Links

 

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My Consolation in Sorrow

13 Mar

iStock_000019848651_Medium-600x400When you lose a loved one to death, you quickly recognize that a great number of people sympathize, even empathize (vicariously experience) with your loss. Close friends and family grieve with you because they lost a friend, a brother, a parent or grandchild too. Some simply grieve for you because they love you but were not personally connected to the one who died. But very few people actually grieve in like manner with you. Even parents experience grief in unique ways. Men often process their sorrow and loss far differently than women do.

I have been blessed by numerous friends and family who have grieved both with me and for me, but none grieved as I. No one grieved as “the mother” with the obliterated heart. None but one. None but one. And I count that one woman as one of my greatest blessings in the midst of all this heartache.

10492559_10152550256319610_3231914152675065142_nHer name is Teresa and I never would have guessed just what she would come to mean to me. (Pictured left, Teresa and her husband, Jakob).

Frankly, I didn’t know Teresa well when my daughters died. I knew who she was, we’d spoken briefly, she is the mother of the young man my oldest daughter had been dating for two and a half years.

 

Teresa, her sister and her son, Alex, stepped in and met practical needs for us following the accident that took Bethany and Katie’s lives. David and I were tied up at the hospital – not wanting to leave the side of our surviving daughter. Teresa and Alex took on the arduous task of purchasing burial garb for both girls. I never saw what they choose but was told Alex had insisted on a scarf in Bethany’s favorite color, pink. They also retrieved all Bethany’s worldly goods from her campus apartment and delivered them to our home. But none of those things explains why Teresa is so special to me.

10525854_805830962812159_8008800412709942090_nAt the time of Bethany’s death, Teresa and her family were living in Sweden. The family moved back to the states approximately six months after the funeral. Her family met us for lunch shortly after their move. I had no idea what to expect and I was a bit nervous. They had been so kind, so generous. Their daughter Emma had written and performed a beautiful song for which her father, Jakob, created a photo montage (Bethany’s Song). Emma also painted a treasured picture of Bethany that hangs in our living room. But in spite of all that, I didn’t know them well but I was aware that they didn’t share the faith that had become so interwoven into my very being. I was afraid my faith would be offensive to them and maybe even afraid that they could find the chink in my spiritual armor and open Pandora’s box in the midst of my suffering. I knew I was vulnerable.

It was at that lunch in an extremely crowded Freddie’s that I discover the blessing that is Teresa. She is God’s gift to me from an entirely selfish perspective. Let me say that Teresa is a wonderful woman in an absolutely average way; the way most women are. They work jobs, raise children, care for their homes and support their husbands.  They don’t live in the spotlight but they are the glue, the strength and the heart of their homes. They are good friends, and contribute to their communities, largely behind the scenes. They are the heart and soul of this world far more than any politician, famous actor, musician or celebrity. Teresa is just such a woman – the world is filled with such talented, everyday but far from average women who make a difference in their small corner of the world. But what makes Teresa so special to me had little to do with any of those things either.

What I discovered about Teresa in that crowded fast food restaurant, what makes her so special to me, what sets her apart as a gift that could have only come from God is only one thing. Teresa loved Bethany with a mother’s heart. Not like a mother, but as if she had adopted Bethany as her own child. Teresa expressed grief that day that mirrored my own. I have not encountered one other person whose feelings and grief over Bethany’s or Katie’s deaths so closely reflected my own.

In the months that followed, Teresa and I got together many times. Over and over she expressed feelings so very similar to mine. The last time we got together, I told her that I find myself embarrassed because people always ask me how Gracen is doing. They always tell me that they are praying for her. And while I am so thankful for that, there is this quiet voice within that wonders if no one cares about how I’m doing, that wonders if anyone is praying for me. I feel selfish. And I feel as if everyone expects me, or David and I, to be finished grieving – to be moving forward.

Teresa confided in me that day that her friends and family also ask how her son is doing; not how she is doing. She too feels as if people expect her to be beyond her grief. What she’s really communicating is that others knew and expected Alex to grieve deeply, but didn’t expect Teresa to grieve as deeply as her son. They understood Alex’s close relationship with Bethany – his grief was expected, but they didn’t realize the depth of the relationship Teresa had developed with Bethany as well. Her grief was unexpected because her love for Bethany was outside the norm of parent relationships with their children’s girlfriends or boyfriends.

In part, Teresa is a treasure because she validates the progression (or lack thereof) of my grief journey. She makes me feel normal in the midst of my personal nightmare. But most of all Teresa is a blessing because her grief is mine. She loved my daughter to such a degree that her heart is as broken as mine.

Bethany was a fortunate beneficiary of Teresa’s love in life and I’ve been the beneficiary of her grief. I’ve benefited by the knowledge of how deeply Teresa loved my girl – I’ve benefited by the gift of someone to share the depths of my loss – to know I’m not alone in my deepest sorrow. I’ve benefited by the friendship she’s bestowed upon me.

While I would never wish my pain and sorrow on another, I can’t begin to describe the ways in which Teresa’s grief has been a consolation for me. There are so many ways in which words meant to comfort unintentionally diminish the value of the loved one lost. Teresa, added value to Bethany’s life and memory. That is why Teresa is such a special blessing to my aching heart.

Thank you, Teresa, for loving my girl and for freely sharing your grief with me.

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2016 in Grief, Links, Music

 

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To Love is to be Vulnerable – C.S. Lewis

06 Mar

 

1 John 4:16b “God is love”

Ever considered that God’s heart is just as vulnerable as ours are?

Partial lyrics:
“Love, how many times can a heart break?
Love, how much weight can a soul take?
Love, I don’t know where you ran off to
But love, love, love, I still believe in you.
Yeah, I still believe in you.
I still believe that you’ll come knocking on my door
When I least expect you to
You give me something I can hold
You pull me through, cuz that’s what you do,
That’s what you do love
Yeah, that’s what you do love”

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2016 in Faith, Links, Music

 

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Perspective

05 Mar

Another great post from The Life I Didn’t Choose (thelifeididntchoose.com).  The author, a bereaved parent, addresses issues of value to every committed follower of Christ.

 

For our momentary, light distress [this passing trouble] is producing for us an eternal weight of glory [a fullness] beyond all measure [surpassing all comparisons, a transcendent splendor and an e…

(Clink on the link highlighted in red below to read the complete article.)  

Source: Perspective – thelifeididntchoose

 
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Posted by on March 5, 2016 in Adversity, Faith, Grief, Links

 

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Welcome to Paranoia!

04 Mar

(Originally published on Facebook 11/17/14)

letter-to-mePlease take a moment and read this blog post from themighty.com, entitled, “A Letter to the Me Who Was Terrified of Our Diagnosis”, before reading any further. (Link highlighted in red below)

A Letter to the Me Who Was Terrified of Our Diagnosis

Oh yeah! I wish I had read this in the early years, when I knew something was wrong but most people (medical professionals included) thought I was simply a paranoid, over-protective mother.

I never could have written this to myself. The many comments that minimized Gracen and Katie’s symptoms from real concerns to simple clumsiness left me second guessing myself. Having lost one child, I was hyper-sensitive to every fear, but also hyper-sensitive to over-reaction. I knew I needed to guard against my over-protective nature, yet that left me consumed with self-doubt. I was not able to see clearly. I needed someone with a more distant perspective than I could manage to encourage me to aggressively pursue answers. It took me quite awhile to find that person.

In the meantime, I developed an advance/retreat strategy. Push, push, push for answers. Gain a bit of knowledge, a fraction of ground. Push for more information. Get shot down and become disheartened. Retreat. Bury my head in the sand. Shake off concerns – ignore fears, ignore fears, ignore fears! Arggggg, can’t ignore my fears anymore – push, push, push! Repeat!

That describes the early years. Every once in a while God would send a glimpse of encouragement. I remember taking Gracen to soccer practice one afternoon, frustrated that a doctor had once again downplayed my concerns, leaving me questioning. Wondering if I was seeing something that didn’t exist. I sat down next to another mother I didn’t really know as practice began. A few minutes after practice started she turned to me and said, “What’s wrong with your daughter?” And while I cringe at the insensitive way in which the question was phrased, at that moment I was thankful because she validated what I knew to be true deep down inside and gave me the courage to push some more.

There came a time when, due to the progressive nature of the girls’ disease, I no longer had to fight to have doctors acknowledge a problem existed. However, at this point I encountered an unexpected attitude from medical professionals. There is a school of thought within the medical community that promotes the idea that the root of the problem is irrelevant. Treating the symptoms is sufficient. Weary of the battle, worried about the future and afraid to look too closely into the future, I acquiesced.

Then one day, having to find yet another neurologist, I stumbled upon Dr. Phillips, a new pediatric neurologist had arrived in NW Arkansas (actually, I think she was the only “pediatric” neurologist in the area at that time). She was a tiny sprite of a thing with a warrior’s heart. After several appointments she turned to me one day and said, “I think we need to search for a diagnosis. You need to know if a condition leads to other medical issues so that we can watch for those and not be surprised by them.” So the hunt was on — and it took years.

Dr. Phillips eventually married a fellow neurologist, and became Dr. Balmakund. When her husband began working at the same clinic, Dr. Balmakund became known as Dr. Mrs. Balmakund. She is the most humble and tenacious doctor I have ever met. She is always open to suggestions from others; medical professional or not. She loves her patients and their families. She takes her undiagnosed cases to monthly conference calls with her peers and to medical conferences where she questions other specialists; always seeking to find another patient presenting with similar symptoms or to find that one specialist who has knowledge of a condition she is unfamiliar with. She has no ego where kids are concerned. She willingly sent us to other specialists and eventually one, who himself, was unable to provide a diagnosis, did suggest two tests that might reveal one. After jumping through a series of insurance hoops, a full fifteen years after Gracen’s symptoms presented, we finally had a diagnosis.

Yipee, right?

Wrong!

David and I found ourselves less than prepared to hear the prognosis revealed one Spring morning at her clinic. However, Dr. Balmakund did not abandon us but set us up with a neuropsychologist to help us work through our fears and concerns and to guide us in the best way to inform all three of our daughters of the less than desirable diagnosis we’d received. Dr. B, as she is affectionately known to many of her patients, has been there for us every step of the way — has gone above and beyond with hospital visits and follow-up phone calls. She has been a gift from God and we could not be more grateful.

In fact, God has been doubly good to us as Amy Grant used to sing. Dr. Mrs. Balmakund works in a practice of like-minded professionals who have supported and encouraged us in our most difficult and darkest moments. They have shared hard truths with love and have pushed us to seek outside help we likely would have made do without. We have needed them and they’ve simply stepped up and in.

Drs. Karkos, Scott and Balmakund have done for me what the woman in this article did for herself. They have ministered to our entire family, not just their patient. In that, they are truly remarkable and have blessed us beyond measure! They are among those I think of when I hear or think of Philippians 1:3, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”

These women are but a small sampling of the men and women God has surrounded and supported us with. So very many people, some who’ve played limited roles, appearing at just the right moment, and some who’ve stood in the gap for a season, and many who have walked alongside us for years — serving as the hands and feet of Christ with a word of encouragement, extending simple kindness, or doing the heavy lifting by praying us through concerns, challenges and downright dilemmas. Oh yes, I am grateful to God for His faithful provision.

Now, I think I should go back and read paragraph one!

 
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Posted by on March 4, 2016 in Chronic Illness, Faith, Grief, Links, Muscular Dystrophy

 

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Notes from the Author

03 Mar

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“When I Fall in Love” by Susan May Warren, includes “Behind the Pages” which is found at the back of the book. Here’s what the author wants you and I to know:

“So often, in the Christian life, when things don’t turn out our as we hope or expect we feel robbed. . . Frankly, God promises us challenges, so we shouldn’t be surprised when they happen. But how, then, do we cope? Psalm 84:5-7 offers answers:

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.”

“Pilgrimage. The journey…through life, towards heaven. God offers us refreshment in the desert, and places of strength along the way. What if our happiness isn’t only in what is ahead of us…but in embracing the now? In enjoying the moments God has given us, even in the midst of suffering? What if we lived with a mindset of rejoicing in the strength, the springs of today…in order to bear the desert of tomorrow? Perhaps the annoying vices of our loved ones might not be so frustrating. Perhaps our faith wouldn’t seem so starved.”

**The Valley of Baka is thought to be a symbolic place meaning “a desert place”, “the valley of tears”, “the valley of weeping” or even “the valley of suffering”.

 

I don’t know about you, but the idea that we grow in strength with each successive trial encourages me. We begin each new trial from a position of greater strength than the last trial. We may grow physically weaker as we age, but grow spiritually stronger as our faith is refined.  James said it this way in Chapter 1 verses 3-4,

“. . . the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect (mature) and complete, lacking in nothing.” (NASB)

We may not “feel” strong, or even as if we are being strengthen. In fact, I daresay most of us feel incredibly weak during the fiery trials of life. Yet after we emerge from the trial we are often surprised to find ourselves stronger precisely because we’ve passed through the fire. In the fire the Holy Spirit quietly accomplished His supernatural work while our distracted and overwhelmed hearts and minds struggled to simply trust and obey.

 
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Posted by on March 3, 2016 in Books, Faith

 

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The Refiner’s Fire by Ewen Huffman

01 Mar

refining-silverThere was group of women in a Bible study group studying the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three, which says: “He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.”

This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study.

That week this woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn’t mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot – then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, “How do you know when the silver is fully refined?” He smiled at her and answered, “Oh that’s easy, when I see my image in it.”

 
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Posted by on March 1, 2016 in Faith

 

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Breakdown & The Calm After the Storm

27 Feb

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Why a glimpse behind the curtain to the deeply personal and hidden grief of a bereaved parent? Not to inspire your pity; of that I can assure you.  Instead to inspire others to look beyond the surface of a grieving friend or family member. To consider how families are affected by loss, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually, as well as the unique family dynamics that result; which might help you comfort, support and encourage them. The bereaved desperately want to be understood, to have their feelings validated, to break free of the isolation, to mourn unrushed, to have another share their sorrow (not attempt to fix it). This post was written months ago and is not reflective of my current state of mind.

IMG_4852

Breakdown

It’s time to get up, past time really.  Breakfast, shower, dressing . . . then my turn.  It all takes time, but I just do not want to get up and we’ll be late if I don’t get moving soon.

It’s raining.  Again.  I hate rain during the daytime.  Hair appointments at noon.  Still, I’d rather stay in bed.  Bury my head in my pillow — close my eyes — forget the world, it’s disappointments, my responsibilities — life and the fact that I’m still living it.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.  Why must I get up?  Why must I breathe in and out?  Why must I do it all over and over again?

IMG_4864

 

 

For the love of Gracen.

For the love of Gracen.

It’s all for the love of Gracen.

 

 

IMG_2964 (1)My heart is anchored here but I long to flee — from what happened — from what is yet to come — to fly far, far away.  To flee this unwelcome reality — oh, to be able to pretend it never happened!  To be able to board a time machine and travel back, back before the collision, back before diagnosis, back before Katie, before Gracen, before Bethany and Cole.  Back before marriage, back before love, back before David, back before my very existence, erasing every footprint, every memory of me.  Back before every bit of my existence tainted the lives of the people I love far more than life.  Just to have the opportunity to un-hurt others by erasing me.

It’s 10:34 a.m., I have to get up . .

I can’t.  I just can’t do it.

Tears falling.

Call David ask him to cancel our appointments.  Ring, ring.

Oh, no, she’s up! Hang up the phone.  Get it together before she sees you!

IMG_3518Ring, ring . . . Oh, crap, David’s calling back and Gracen’s right here!  I can’t talk in front of her.

Leaping off the bed, head down.

“Hey, Janet, Did you call me?”

Leave the room NOW!  Find a place where she can’t hear you!

“Janet, I can’t hear you . . .”  David’s voice comes over the phone line.

Sob.

“Janet?  Janet? What’s wrong?” David’s voice is Frantic now.

“David?”

“Janet?, What’s wrong?”

More crying.  I hear David’s breath hitch through the phone line.

IMG_3518“I’m sorry I had to leave the room.”

“Where’s Gracen?”

“She’s up.  She’s in the bathroom.”

“What’s wrong?”

Another sob slips out.

“I’ve just run out of the energy necessary to force myself to do this today.  I was just calling to ask you to cancel our hair appointments.”

“I’m coming home.”  Frantic.

“No, no, don’t come home.  I’ll be okay.  I’ll be okay.  I just can’t keep our appointments. Not enough time left now anyway.  I’m up.  I can take care of Gracen.  I just don’t want her to see me like this — to worry her.”

“Where are you?”

“Katie’s room.” The room next door to Gracen’s that now holds two twin beds without sheets and blankets, void of anything personal.  Katie’s empty room spins through my mind.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you.  Can you please just cancel our appointments?  I can’t talk to anyone right now.”

“Sure”

“Don’t come home, David.  I’ll get it together.  I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Forty-three more days until Gracen heads to college.  I simply cannot unravel for forty-three more days.  I tell myself, take your meds —  get it together.  You can get up for forty-three more days.  You can.  You can.  You will.

IMG_0415

The Calm After the Storm

Wow! How did that get so out of control?

It was Gracen’s appearance at the same time David called back. The ring tone flooding my system with adrenaline, silent tears turned to sobs as I desperately tried to flee my room preventing Gracen from seeing me in such a state.

Oh, she’s seen me cry before, but only the controlled version.  Not ugly, wretched sobs.

But today I was not able to shelter Gracen from my grief.  I upset her although no words were spoken.  I know she is afraid she will lose another family member; she recently admitted as much.  I fear that too, but for her, all that’s left to lose are her parents — the people who have always represented safety and security to her.  I don’t want to inflame her fears.

And David — he’s seen discouragement and apathy, he’s held me through tear filled nights, he’s shouldered extra burdens when normal parts of life just seem to overwhelm me.  He’s been party to a meltdown or two or ten, but to receive a call at work — never before has he had to cope with a long distance breakdown even when I called to tell him an ambulance was transporting Gracen and I to the ER after a frantic 911 call. Today, I could hear the fear in his voice. It devastates me to know I did that to him!

Heaping fear upon grief — I shoulder my load — Gracen’s and David’s too, as they are forced to shoulder mine as well.  Grief felt far more individual when Cole died — or maybe time has just softened the memories, blurring the rough edges of grief, leaving some sharp and biting and others smooth and fading.

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Helping the Bereaved Bear their Burdens

1.  Understand that it is often a struggle for those who mourn to get out of bed, do everyday tasks, leave their homes, socialize. Others become hyper involved; anything to keep themselves moving, distract themselves from the constant pain. Those who mourn may bounce back and forth between the two extremes.

2.  Realize that the bereaved often perform a grieving cha, cha, cha of sorts.  They try to attack their grief, process and get through it, then overwhelmed, try to suppress it, hide from it, deny it’s existence and ignore it.  Be prepared to go with the flow.  Talk through their struggles with them if they bring them up, or grant them the freedom to talk about other things.

3.  Be aware that grieving families often continue to be hit with additional health problems, trips to doctors, hospitals and emergency rooms can trigger mild to dramatic IMG_3339traumatic responses. What may be a minor problem produces anxiety on steroids. Pray them through, sit with them, validate their fears.

4.  Wives seem to take responsibility for maintaining the emotional equilibrium in the home: husbands strive to protect and shelter.  Loss makes both feel anywhere from inadequate to utterly incompetent.  Grieving men need attention too. Most will never ask for it. Invite men to sporting events, movies, poker night, fishing or lunch. They may not talk about their grief, but your presence signals support and encouragement.

5.  Understand that deep grief often brings remorse for having been born at all.  Job felt this way.  Pay attention to suicidal comments — don’t discount them.  A desire to have never been born and suicidal intentions are not synonymous, however, comments to that effect should not be overlooked.  Pray for wisdom and discernment to hear exactly what the individual is communicating through veiled speech.

6.  Be aware that the sense of personal safety and security has been destroyed for every member of the family.  Fear of experiencing another loss  is both common and rational. While uncommon, many families have suffered separate and subsequent deaths of immediate family members. Please don’t discount or brush off a bereaved parent’s fears in this area. It is a legitimate fear and they need it acknowledged.

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2016 in Faith, Grief, Muscular Dystrophy

 

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I Can’t Do This Anymore!

24 Feb

Small_Red_and_Gold_Banner_PNG_Clipart_Picture

Why a glimpse behind the curtain to the deeply personal and hidden grief of a bereaved parent? Not to inspire your pity; of that, I can assure you.  Instead to inspire others to look beyond the surface of a grieving friend or family member. To consider how families are affected by a loss, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually, as well as the unique family dynamics that result; which might help you comfort, support and encourage them. The bereaved desperately want to be understood, to have their feelings validated, to break free of the isolation, to mourn unrushed, to have another share their sorrow (not attempt to fix it). This post was written months ago and is not reflective of my current state of mind.

 

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I Can’t Do This Anymore!

deep-sorrowThere are days and moments and very long nights when I think, I can’t do this anymore. Come to find out, that simple thought is a trigger for tears.

Intellectually, I know I can.  Physically, I know I can.  Emotionally, well there’s where the breakdown happens.

I don’t know if my impending empty nest is permanent or temporary.  I know who I am for the next three months but not who I will be after that.  I’m really afraid of that answer.

Emotionally I am weak, very weak.  Within the borders of my emotions I fear failure — to prepare Gracen for what’s ahead for her physically — to be there for her in an effective way — to watch her experience the devastation wrecked by progressive disease — to experience it for myself alongside her — to watch David experiencing it alongside her, alongside me. To see the toll it takes on each one of us individually as we somehow images (42)continue to put on a brave face and hide the true depths of the pain and sorrow from each other so as not to increase their individual burden in this bizarrely intertwined protection dance we unconsciously perform.  And as all this plays out within our home and personal relationships, the current culture demands that we have a positive attitude and recognize our blessings. It’s exhausting. It’s overwhelming.  It’s frustrating. It’s impossible.

Moments such as this one, Progressive Disease – A Moment of Triumph, are rare and bittersweet.  (At the beginning of the clip, keep your eyes on the right side of the screen so you don’t miss Gracen’s appearance.)

“Don’t be afraid — trust God”, we are told in the midst of situations where there are very real things to fear.  Sorry, those commands, biblical or not, are not helpful.  I’m not saying they are wrong, just that they aren’t comforting and encouraging. It’s almost impossible to talk yourself out of fear — especially after your worst fear has already been realized. Those words, “Don’t be afraid — trust God”, heap indictment of failure on already emotionally overburdened believers who interpret those words as an accusation — “You aren’t trusting God”, instead of as the encouragement they are intended to be. At the same time, the searing pain within testifies to the truth that what we are trusting God for is eternal in nature. We are terrorized by the knowledge that our desires, for ourselves and those we hold dear in this temporary world, play second fiddle to God’s purposes.  This, of course, I can attest to from all too much personal experience. God’s will serves our ultimate eternal good but the rub is that we reside in the here and now. And while from an eternal perspective our lives are no longer than a blip on a radar screen, in the here and now that blip lasts ten, twenty even thirty years or more.  Our afflictions are light and momentary from an eternal perspective but they don’t feel that way in the day to day.

armor-of-god

Yes, I need to cultivate an eternal perspective, lay up eternal treasures, yadda, yadda, yadda.  But frankly, there are days, moments and very long nights during which I’m too emotionally frightened and exhausted to exercise my spiritual muscles.

 

 

 

Helping the Bereaved Bear their Burdens

1.  Pray that the bereaved will put on the full armor of God.  Their faith is under attack and they are exhausted and deeply vulnerable.

disenfranchised-grief-52.  Avoid the use of platitudes and trite phrases. They serve to frustrate and unconsciously communicate unintended messages.  (i.e., faith and trust in God mean things hurt less, our hope for eternity exchanges grief for joy, joy and happiness are the same thing, the salvation of the lost justifies the death of a loved one).

3.  Be extremely careful in the use of Romans 8:28,  “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.” (KJV)  There are a time and place for every season under heaven.  There are a time and place for this verse. I personally think it’s more harmful than helpful in the face of raw grief and more appropriate a year or two down the road when the bereaved can look back and hopefully recognize the fulfillment of this promise.

4.  Be cognizant of the fact that believing God has filtered everything through His hands before allowing it to happen can lead a believer to blame God for the tragedies that befall them.  In truth, spiritual warfare, an individual’s exercise of free will or the fall of man that affected all of nature are responsible for the death of their loved one. The fact that God allows bad things to happen to His children is not the same as causing bad things to happen. For all we know, Satan was tempting while God was pleading when another’s actions lead to the death of a loved one. “For ours is not a conflict with mere flesh and blood, but with the despotisms, the empires, the forces that control and govern this dark world–the spiritual hosts of evil arrayed against us in the heavenly warfare.”  (Ephesians 6:12 ~ Weymouth New Testament).

0372730254f966f20889e1599ae7c79d5.  Validate feelings.  A grieving father who feels like beating the crap out of the person responsible for their child’s death is normal.  It’s okay; it’s helpful actually to say, “I’d feel the same way if I were you.” Validating feelings in no way condones sinful actions. Feel free to tack on, “You’re not planning to act on that, are you?”, if in doubt.

6.  Do NOT correct the emotions of the bereaved. Emotions are not right or wrong; they were designed by God and serve a purpose.  A fellow new-perspectives-in-borderline-personality-disorder-73-728mourning mother recently told me, “Emotions are for emoting.” How an individual responds to their emotions can be right or wrong but never simply expressing them.  Do NOT tell the grief-stricken that they can’t or shouldn’t feel any given way or that their feelings are sinful!

7.  Affirm the bereaved’s ability to continue on.  Be there for them through cards, text messages, phone calls and lunch or dinner dates.  Don’t take it personally if your call and invitations go unanswered. Simply try again another time.

download178.  Before you offer any advice, imagine yourself in that individual’s shoes; then personalize the advice.  You are now the parent whose child just committed suicide. Consider how you might feel should someone tell you to count it all joy, or that God is good all the time, etc., before you offer any advice to the bereaved. Perspective changes when things get personal.

9.  It is indeed rare for a bereaved person to continue in deep grief for an extended period of time (more than two years).  There are always a few who never recover, however, Christians need to trust that God will heal the hearts of the bereaved as His word promises, in His time. There is a time to mourn and a time to dance (Ecclesiastes 3:4b KJV). When you encourage a fellow believer to move on, choose joy and be thankful for what they still have, you are, in effect, expressing that you yourself don’t trust God to heal their grief, but instead believe that the grief-stricken Christian must work to heal themselves.

 
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Posted by on February 24, 2016 in Adversity, Faith, Grief

 

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