Someone recently said, “You would think all these years later, it wouldn’t be so bad.” That’s true, until it’s not. Like today. This is the day Hailey died.
I will not likely forget that morning. The moment is seared into my memory. Several of us were piled in a small room sleeping on the floor. The hospital staff had graciously offered the space, and it was an improvement on the uncomfortable, unforgiving chairs and sofa in the waiting room. It was a tight squeeze, but I appreciated having people I loved dearly within arm’s reach. The door cracked open, and the light from the hallway cut through the room. It was so bright. It seemed intrusive. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, thinking that whoever had just opened the door might go away if I just pretend to be asleep. They didn’t go away.
The next thing I knew, I was standing in the cold hallway being told to scrub up. Things hadn’t gone well for Hailey during the night, and now I needed to go see her.
She was two days post-heart surgery. I couldn’t hold her. In fact, it seemed impossible to get to her at all through the jungle of wires and monitors. But I found her tiny hand. Her little body had been so traumatized by the surgery. She was swollen, and her skin was a strange shade of pasty white. I held her hand, stroked the bottoms of her tiny feet, and kissed the top of her head a hundred times, tears streaming down my face. I was so tired, and this was the moment it seemed to sink all the way in that she actually might not come home with me. She didn’t open her eyes that morning, but I stood with her for as long as I could before the monitors screamed and the nurses hurried me out of the room. She only lived a few more hours. And when the doctor delivered the news, I was utterly devastated.
All these years later…
I know it’s ok not to be ok. I also know I belong to a God who makes it His business to heal the broken-hearted and bind up wounds, even those that pierce us to the core. You know, the ones we think we won’t survive. Yeah, He sure does. He does a masterful job mending the things that are broken. God is so good at being God.
I know that you don’t get over these things. They mark you forever. I also know that you can learn how to carry grief forward in a way that honors where you’ve been without keeping you from where God intends for you to go. You don’t have to get stuck. But, you also have to want to get well. I wallowed for a while, allowing resentment and bitterness to set in. But, I realize now that I’ve come to know and understand the redeeming power of God’s love in a way I might not have otherwise known BECAUSE this is part of my story. I’ve seen His goodness and faithfulness over and over again. I know He means it when He says He’s always with us, even in the valley of the shadow of death.
I know refusing to acknowledge pain and grief only leads to more pain and grief. If we have the courage to be honest with ourselves, our people, and God, then we can move through the pain and come out on the other side better for having suffered it. God can’t fully address things we refuse to acknowledge. And He cannot redeem the things we refuse to put in His hands. When standing in the middle of impossible situations, look up. Lock eyes with Jesus and let Him at your heart.
I know God weaves the strands of our lives together to make something good and beautiful. He uses all things — every moment, every tragedy, every tear, every failure, every success. God's lavish, extravagant love and power redeem and restore broken things; all things work together for good and His purpose because He loves us. That’s His promise. When you belong to Him, nothing is wasted and beyond His reach.
I know that one day He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and there will be no more pain, no more sickness, and no more death. And I know in the meantime, He holds us in the palm of His very strong hand. He is full of grace and patient, and kind beyond measure.
Be encouraged today, friends. He loves you so. If you let Him at your heart and invite Him into the broken places, into your disappointment, He will show just how much He loves you. And, it will absolutely blow your mind. There is no pain or brokenness worth holding on to compared to the treasure that He is. I had to open my hands and let go of all my stuff to grab hold of Him. There is nothing that matters more than knowing Him and loving Him. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. Unapologetically.
Because Jesus changes everything. He’s done that for me and can do it for you, too.
