Tag: loss

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

Tumbleweeds

Colleen James13 Comments

I meant to take Liam on a walk with me a few days ago, but instead I found myself sweeping up the patio and then picking up twigs in our yard as he played nearby. A windstorm had blown a bunch of tumbleweeds into our neighborhood a few days before Christmas, and although I had broken down the ones in our yard and filled several garbage bags with them on Christmas Eve, there were still a lot of remaining pieces scattered between the rocks.

The activity seemed fitting for my current mindset and mood. I’m generally excited to usher in a new year and dream about the possibilities that the next twelve months might bring, but this year has been different for me. I’ve been muddling through my normal New Year activities with little enthusiasm this time. The year that the world anxiously awaited is one that has met me with sorrow as my heart continues to ache for friends who suffered incredible losses last year.

Picking up twigs that day was a vivid reminder that, although we’ve entered a new year with hope of better days to come, we must still deal with the physical and emotional debris created by the damage of last year’s storms. We must pick up the broken pieces of our lives if we are to begin the healing process and start to move forward. In light of the aftermath of last year’s storms, perhaps we need to set aside some of our expectations over what we thought this year should be.

Recently I’ve come to realize that a year doesn’t need a whole lot of pizzazz or big celebrations to make it a good one. This year does not need to make up for “lost” time to make it worthwhile either. If the brokenhearted are able to find comfort and move toward healing this year, then it will be a good one. And if those who suffered physical, financial, or personal loss last year are able to move toward recovery in this one, then it will be a good year. But most of all, if we are able to experience God’s perfect peace in the midst of another potentially turbulent year, then I believe that we will be able to say by December that, at least personally, it was a good one.

If anything, last year clearly showed us that we cannot control our circumstances, but I hope it also clearly reminded us that God is still in control, and He can still fill our days with hope, joy, and peace in the middle of any storm. We must remember these things as we journey through these next twelve months. We must choose to remember that Jesus came to give us abundant life, and that life is dependent solely on Him and not on what any given year may bring.

As I mourn the losses from last year (and events that have already taken place this year), I find comfort in knowing that spring will come to our hearts again someday. This long season of winter won’t last forever. We may not enter into it feeling as young or as carefree as we once were, and it may not come as soon as we want or even look like what we were expecting. Nonetheless, just as the birds will sing and the flowers will bloom again, our hearts will find spring anew and delight afresh in the simple pleasures of life and God’s faithfulness throughout every season.

In the meantime, I will continue to pick up the twigs between the rocks in our yards as I delight in the sweetness of hope.