Standing on the Shore

After losing our son in April of 2015, I saw several visuals created to depict grief. Some show a line drawing that looks like a mess of tangled string; there's no clear beginning or end and no real direction. For many, that is an accurate description. Grief is different for each person, so the stages, longevity of each stage, and the order in which each person experiences each stage is different and, therefore, very unpredictable.

I also heard it described as waves in the ocean. Sometimes the swells are immense and enough to pull you under. Sometimes the waves are smaller and more manageable. However, unlike a lake or pond, the waters are never still. There will always be waves. As one waves subsides, another is building and preparing to crash.

The waves for me come on as memories play through my mind, or as I see all the photos of kids going to school or dressed up for Halloween. Every Christmas and birthday celebration floods my mind with thoughts of what Thatcher would have been like. For anyone that has lost a child, these once full-of-joy moments become reminders of what they are missing.

I've done fairly well managing my grief. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that I've done a good job of burying my grief with the busyness of a full schedule. I realized last year that the still moments gave way to tear-filled moments of flash-backs. I dread those quiet moments. I dread being left alone with my memories. Although it's been a year and a half, the memories of that day are so fresh in my mind; they are burned into my being.

Today was a hectic morning, just like all the others. But, as I sat at a red light, flashes of the funeral home and touching his lifeless body flashed through my mind. Why? I have no clue, but I'm sure my grief timeline isn't unlike many others that have experienced the loss of a loved one. There at that stop light, I sobbed for my baby. A year and a half later and I'm still crying in the car.

Some days it feels like life is moving forward at such a fast pace. Days seem to be whirling by me and I'm working to keep my head above water. Then there are days like today sprinkled in the mix in which I am brought back to those heart-breaking moments and I feel stuck in my sorrow. Please don't misunderstand me. I'm in such a better place than I was two years ago when this sorrow began. My faith is stronger, my love is deeper, my compassion is greater.

I write these words tonight not for sympathy, but in hopes that it would encourage another mother in her journey. The days will come when you will laugh again. But days will come when the tears flow...and that's okay. It's okay to have those moments in your closet or in the car when you cry out in anguish. It's okay to have those days when you just want to sit and be with the Lord with tears streaming down your face as you remember your little one. But, as you stand on the shore, waiting for the next wave, realize that vast ocean before you is full of His grace, love and mercy. As you stare out at the great expanse of endless waters, know that His plans and story for you are so much greater than this moment of grief.

Satan Lies

He is the master of deception. He’s cunning and is smart enough not to use bold faced lies with us. He whispers ideas in our head that we can rationalize to the point of belief. He loves to give us things that we can roll around in our brain and ponder. Sometimes it can be things for our own pleasure. Satan will tell us that we deserve that sin, or that it’s not really a sin. Sometimes it can be ideas that bring us despair and anxiety. We deliberate on these ideas and convince ourselves that those little voices are true and we are undeserving of love, acceptance, and unity with Christ. It is Satan’s reward when allow ourselves to believe that God doesn’t care about us.

I know I have touched on this before, but I’m saying it again…SATAN LIES! He has been whispering lies in my ear for quite some time. Initially it was the lie that God didn’t care about me or my sweet Thatcher. Then, once I released that lie and submitted to God’s plan, Satan began telling me that I wasn’t strong enough to let Thatcher go. When I didn’t give into that lie, Satan began telling me that I was a weak mother for not fighting for my son. I could have done something…anything…to save him. He has beaten me at my weakest point, and left me crying in absolute despair.

But, I am here to tell you that our God is bigger. He is sovereign. He is walking right next to you and me through the hard stuff. He weeps with  us when we are in the midst of deep sorrow. He promises to uphold us with his right hand. He loves my child and will use this terrible event for good. I have seen  how many lives my little boy touched in his short time on earth, but there are many more that I'm sure I will never know about.

The waves of doubt and grief will continue to ebb and flow. Some days are darker than others, but I will not surrender to the lies that the enemy speaks. I will continue to hold onto the hope that I have in my Savior and the peace that one day there will be no more pain or tears.