Last night I took a box of Kleenex to bed with me. If I hadn’t, the pillow would have been soaked. This wave of grief wasn’t a tsunami, but it wasn’t a small ripple, either. It was simply a forceful longing to be with Nate. As I lay on my back holding a tissue at the side of each eye to catch the streams, I thought about how bad I was going to look in the morning, crying that hard before going to sleep. In reality, grieving isn’t pretty no matter when it comes.
If someone had sat down on the side of my bed last night and asked, “Why are you crying tonight, when this morning you were fine?” I wouldn’t have had an answer. All I knew then was that I missed Nate intensely. During the night a second wave came, and in the morning, a third. Then I cried while doing dishes, while talking to neighbors, while checking out at Walmart, while conversing with our girls.
Tonight, finally, my wavy day ended, because God said, “This far and no farther.” Whew.
Grieving for Nate looks a little different in each of us. I think some of our children are angry, others are depressed, one is trying to think away from it altogether. Yesterday I studied photographs taken over the two days of Nate’s wake and funeral. I looked carefully at my children where they appeared in the pictures, particularly if they were in the background. What I saw was heaviness, sorrow, pain.
I have moments, even hours of sadness, which is OK. But when I watch our children go through this same agony, my heart breaks. Mary always tells her children, “Remember, I’m the only one who would jump in front of a truck for you.” If I could get between my kids and the truck load of grief each is carrying, I would. But that might be like helping the chicken crack out of its egg, doing more harm than good.
Louisa, Birgitta and I were chatting tonight about the tough times in life and how we try hard to get through, around or over them a.s.a.p. Only a fool would say, “I’m really enjoying this misery and hope it never ends.”
But impatience seems to overwhelm endurance, and we become irritated when there’s no visible value in a situation. The girls and I looked back at several family stress points, hunting for the proverbial good-coming-from-bad. We successfully saw some of that, which builds hope into us that today’s difficulties will yield tomorrow’s good.
This morphed into a dialogue on how to see God’s activity in the world and, more importantly, how to hear from him personally. The answer to that one is complicated, and we talked about it for quite a while.
Jesus told his closest friends he understood it was difficult for them to believe he’d actually risen from the dead. When they finally got it, he said, “You have the advantage of standing here looking at me, listening to my voice, touching me. What about after I’m gone? It’ll be much harder for them. I’ve reserved special blessing for those who believe in me.”
The girls and I agreed he was talking about us.
So, if we’re willing to take God at his word, to believe he’ll lead us, answer our prayers and help us with decisions, he’s going to give us extra perks of some sort. Being singled out for God’s special treatment is a privileged place to be.
Tonight when I put my head on the pillow, instead of being grateful for a box of Kleenex, my gratitude will be for honest conversation with two hurting daughters. They’re looking for God in new ways as a result of their Papa’s death, which amounts to something good already coming from something bad. Tonight, the Lord gave us a peek at some of those special perks he promised.
”Then Jesus told him, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29)
One of those girls’ perks is a mother who is looking for them! We don’t see Jesus here, but we can see Him in those who are fiercely looking for Him, thru waves of grief and boatloads of Kleenex. Blessed are those….who have believed. Blessings to you, and your children, whose grief is still so raw, and whose faith is being chiseled into something lasting and true.
It is the Lord’s day, and like John, your fellow partaker in tribulation and kingdom and perseverance, you are on your own Patmos island. It’s allegedly a beautiful place today, but back then it was more pit than paradise. But there he was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, practicing the disciplines that brought him into the Lord’s presence despite the wretchedness of his circumstances. Quite an example of what to do when life stinks… much like your own worthy example. So John did his part and got quite the perk- he heard, he saw, and he wrote. I don’t know offhand if he out wrote Luke and Paul in terms of volume, but out of him we have a gospel, three letters, and the revelation. Seems like another writer is also bearing witness and faithfully revealing Jesus.
I think of John as the most sensitive of the disciples, the most loyal, the most capable of forging intimate relationship. There he was at the Passover supper leaning back on Jesus’ breast, and it was John that Jesus singled out to care for His mother. His gospel is more poetic and captures human interchange more than the other three. For a man so capable of relationship, he suffered so much loss. He followed John the Baptist… and John was beheaded. He was a tag team with his fellow “son of thunder” brother James… and James was killed by the sword. One by one, each of the twelve martyred, so that when he wrote the three letters, he only needed to identify himself as “the elder”- singular- he was the last man standing. I guess he held onto the one thing that would remain, His beloved Jesus.
So what does a man do, suffering under loss and persecution? 2 and 3 John gives some hints. He continues to write and love and shepherd and teach and protect his flock. Seems the great joy and burden of his heart is your own- “I have no greater joy than this, to hear of my children walking in the truth.”
“Lord, Margaret loves you like John. She wasn’t there to lean back on Your breast, but in faith she does so now. As she meets with You on the Lord’s day and everyday, show her great and mighty things. She loves her children, and bring her joy by seeing each of them walk in truth. You knit each one so uniquely, and each uniquely grieves. But make this one thing the same- draw them all into a rock solid dependence and trust in You. Be their balm and soothe their hearts. Let the teaching of their mother and the commandment of their father be continually on their heart and tied around their neck. Amen.”
Much love,
Terry
P.S. I am sorry, but in the middle of my heart going out to you in your grief, I laughed out loud at Mary’s truck comment- sorry, that was really funny.
Wish you and your children did not have to walk this road of intense grief and void of Nate’s precense. For you and your children- Some days are tolerable when you can busy yourself with the routines of the day. It is times like these that when the heaviness of grief overwhelms you, you have the freedom and priviledge to tell the Lord “that it hurts so much”. With His gentle hand, He lays your head on His chest, where you can hear His heartbeat and whispered voice comforting you with the reply “I know it does, I understand, just lie here and cry it out, I am with you.”
What lessons you are teaching us about loss, sorrow and grief! My heart breaks for you as you long for Nate and miss him so deeply. As a wife I have often taken it for granted that my husband would walk through the door with his briefcase, spend time talking with me, and gratefully enjoy the meal I prepared. It is the unthinkable that one day he would not be here to do those things. The unthinkable has happened to you and I can’t imagine how painful and lonely it is without Nate. As you pass through these waves of grief, I pray that each time it may be easier to bear. And as you talk with and pray for your precious children, may they grow immensely in their faith as they learn how to trust God when there are no answers to their “whys”. You are a wonderful example and source of comfort and information for them.
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…Since you were precious in My sight, you have been honored, and I have loved you.” Isaiah 43:2-4