Tag: grief

Loss and Grief

Colleen James18 Comments

The day before we put our house on the market, I found out I was pregnant.

It was a tough time to discover this news with a major move ahead and all the limitations that a pregnancy would put upon me. After all, who would help JJ move our furniture now? And would I be up for packing in light of possible morning sickness and fatigue?

Regardless, I started to warm up to the idea of expanding our family within the next few days and even started thinking about baby names. The truth is, I never wanted Liam to be an only child, but the timing was never right to have another baby before. So, as much as the timing still did not seem right to me (nor would it ever, considering my age), I was happy that Liam would finally have a sibling, and I started to pray for a strong relationship between the two.

All that changed the morning of my birthday, however, as I had reason to believe that I was losing my baby, and as much as I wanted to ignore the signals, I couldn’t. The evidence remained consistent throughout the day.

At JJ’s suggestion, I took a pregnancy test that evening, and JJ was thrilled to see that it was still positive. I felt somewhat relieved too, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end. A quick trip to my doctor’s office the following day confirmed my horrible suspicions. The baby was gone. My pregnancy was over.

The following week, I cycled through different negative emotions—shock, anger, hopelessness, depression.  I couldn’t understand why God would allow us to experience such a loss. I still don’t understand, other than knowing that we live in a sin-filled world, and none of us are exempt from experiencing its horrid consequences up close and personally.

I told God I was angry with Him early on, and I wasn’t willing to receive His comfort, because I knew it would mean acknowledging what had happened, and I just wasn’t ready to let go of what could have been. I wanted God to somehow switch back the hands of time and to erase this awful reality. I wanted to welcome a new baby into our home this fall. I wanted Liam to have a sibling. I wanted to have something to look forward to in light of the upcoming move to a small town that gave me so much angst. I didn’t want to let go of my dreams.

Nonetheless, as much as I tried to push God away, I still found comfort in knowing that He was near. I’ve been through enough hardships alongside my family to recognize that God often seems silent in the midst of our trials, but He’s never far away. We’ve seen His fingerprints all over our stories when we have looked at our hardships in retrospect. This time around, I’ve been more aware of His nearness to me in the moment, grieving alongside my broken heart.

Sensing His presence has made me to think of the few times that my own son has gotten hurt and pushed me away. Each time, I have wanted to gather him into my arms and hold him until his tears have subsided, but he has pushed me away. Instead, all I’ve been able to do is to stand at the entryway of his room, watching him silently as he cries on his bed, waiting for the moment that his pain and anger will fade and he’ll let me console him again.

Perhaps I have acted this same way toward God. I have refused His comfort in my own pain and anger, but He has never left me. He has been watching over me all this time, silently sitting with me, as He has waited for the moment where I would accept His comfort once again.

As much as I would rather never have to experience the emotions that come with mourning a loss (or experience a loss, for that matter), I’m grateful that God does not rush us in our grief. He doesn’t offer meaningless statements or trite responses in hopes that we’ll all the sudden be okay and move on. After all, those words only add to the pain of loss.  No, He allows us the time that grief deserves, and He sits with us the whole time while we mourn.

Not only have I been thankful for His presence in my life during this time, but I’m also comforted in knowing that my grief doesn’t scare Him away. He’ll never abandon me in my pain and suffering. After all, Jesus Himself was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). He understands it better than anyone.

These days, the pain and sadness have subsided some, although they creep up on me unexpectedly at different times, and I imagine this may always be the case. But I know God will see me through this. I know He will encourage me and sustain me when I need it most. And as is the case with many of the past hardships I have experienced, I believe I will see more of His fingerprints over this time as I look back over it in the years to come. I see Him with me now, but I believe He’ll open my eyes even more in the years to come so that I can see just how much He was at work in my life throughout this time. I just have to keep trusting that He is good. I just have to keep believing that He is not withholding good from me.

“For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly.” Psalm 84:11

Abiding Light: A Book Review

Colleen James6 Comments

This is the type of book that I hope you’ll never have a need to read. If you do, however, I hope a copy makes its way into your hands.

Written by my mother’s cousin’s daughter, Heidi L. Paulec shares the personal account of losing her cousin Jamie to death by suicide, including fond memories of him when he was alive, what it was like to receive the news of his death, and how this event has affected her life since then.

The book is very much a family keepsake in that it not only shares Heidi’s thoughts and feelings regarding this loss, but she also shares her family’s memories of Jamie (up to four generations), their thoughts and feelings upon receiving the news of his death, and how they have found hope in God since this tragedy through their firm foundation of faith.

The book is compelling, easy to read, and deeply vulnerable as each family member shares about their own struggles in the face of loss. Nonetheless, hope is the underlying theme of this book. Even in the darkest moments after Jamie’s passing, Heidi and her family have been able to see how God was and has always been their abiding light, sustaining them in their profound grief.

One of the greatest gifts this book has to offer (in my personal opinion) is the knowledge of knowing that no one is alone in such a journey of loss. Others have walked down this road and are ready and willing to lend a listening ear and a lot of empathy and compassion to those who suddenly find themselves in a similar story. Heidi offers resources at the end of her book so that individuals can connect with others in their journey of grief. She can also be contacted at her own website, found here: https://heidipaulec.com/abiding-light/.

Heidi furthermore offers the gift of hope to her readers, as already mentioned. Although she felt steeped in the murky waters of confusion in the early days of her loss, she has been able to see how God was right beside her, sustaining her and providing healing every step of the way.

Not only is this a good resource for those who have experienced loss of a loved one to death by suicide, but it is also an excellent resource for friends or family who are walking alongside a loved one who has lost someone by this means. Heidi provides her own thoughts about how she was best comforted throughout this time, providing the reader ideas on how to show compassion to others.

If you or someone you know is experiencing such a loss, please consider purchasing this book. It may very well be instrumental in your own healing journey (or the journey of someone you may know). It can be found in Barnes and Noble and online at Amazon.

I pray that none of us will ever have to experience this sort of loss, but may we be ready to be part of the healing journey of anyone who may journey this painful path. May we point others in their darkest moments of life to the Light of the World, the one and only Abiding Light.

God prepares us for grief with gifts from his hand, his mind, his heart. He strengthens. He comforts. And he connects us with a resilience and love like no other.”

Heidi L. Paulec, Abiding Light

The Inner Struggles of a Mom

Colleen James14 Comments
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

My son gashed his chin at the park a few weeks ago. It’s not something I intended to write about, but it really left an impression on me. Considering all the blood and how deep the cut was, I think I responded fairly well. My son was a real trooper, too. He cried on the way to the hospital, as is to be expected from a three-year-old, but he quickly calmed down as I continued to reassure him that I was taking him to the emergency room so that he could get better. He even managed to take a nap in my arms as we sat in the waiting room.

Three hours later, after a lot of waiting and a bit of medical care, my son’s chin was finally stitched up, and we headed to the nearest drive thru to pick up a late lunch before heading home. Liam was soon back to his happy, rambunctious self as we ravenously scarfed down our food. It was as if he had already forgotten about the incident. Life was far from normal for me, however. Apart from the stress of trying to keep Liam’s stitches dry and clean that week and keeping him from picking at them or injuring himself any further, my mind was brewing with unwanted thoughts.

That day, I was freshly reminded that I cannot always protect my son. I wasn’t able to protect him at eleven months when he had to be admitted to the hospital for two nights for a disease my husband and I had never even heard about. I couldn’t protect him subsequently at his follow up appointment two weeks later, where the doctor determined that his health had been affected by the illness and he would have to be put on medication indefinitely. I couldn’t protect him eight months later when he slipped on a step at the zoo and had to get stitches for the first time, and I couldn’t protect him this last time when he tripped over his own feet just a few feet from my side.

As much as I try, I am unable to shield my son from much of the harm that comes from living in a fallen world, and this most recent incident was a vivid and painful reminder to me of just that. I am incapable of completely keeping him safe, and I always will be. But the thought that I wrestle with more as I think about all of this is knowing that God can keep him from harm, but He doesn’t always choose to do so. Liam will continue to experience sickness, pain, and sorrow in different seasons of his life, just like everyone else, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

My faith does not falter as I consider these things, however, nor do I doubt God’s character. I have learned long ago to view my circumstances through the lens of God’s goodness rather than the other way around, and He has helped me to see Him at work in the different hardships I have faced thus far. I simply write this to confess that I’m struggling to reconcile myself to the fact that my family’s story may not turn out the way I want it to. We may experience greater suffering, sorrow, and loss than we have ever known, and there’s no way for us to undo whatever hardships we may face.

The most meaningful truth that I keep coming back to, however, is knowing that God did not spare His own Son for me. He gave Him over to a painful and gruesome death on a cross so that I might choose Jesus and have an eternity awaiting me with Him. And if God loved me so much to give His Son for me, then I can trust that He will not abandon me in my darkest moments and worst sufferings. He intimately knows my heart and all its emotions, and whatever may come, He will strengthen, comfort, and sustain me. He will completely see me through this life on earth until He sees me Home, where pain and sorrow will be no more.

I’m also comforted in knowing that God did not spare His own Son for Liam to give him a chance to believe in Him and be saved if he so chooses (and I fervently pray that he does).

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”

John 3:16

God loves Liam more than JJ and I ever could, and it would do me good to really meditate upon that fact and to find freedom in God’s great love for him. I can’t keep my son from harm, and God may not always shield him from all harm either, but I know that God can minister to Liam in his pain, just as He has done for JJ and me over and over again. He can comfort him, give him peace, and outpour His love upon Him in ways unlike anyone else. And those moments, in turn, can become the stepping stones that God uses to build faith in Liam and a deeper understanding of who He is.

Ultimately, I know that I must choose not to dwell on the possible hardships that this life may bring. The Bible admonishes us to think about what is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8), so I will seek to turn my thoughts to those things. But for every new stitch, sickness, or sorrow that may come our way, I want to keep remembering that God did not spare His own Son because of His immense love for us, and He is ready to outpour His love, kindness, compassion, and comfort upon my family and me. We just have to keep seeing our circumstances through the lens of His goodness. We just have to keep believing that He will carry us through this life until He carries us home.