{All these years later ...}

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.

Valentine’s Day? I’d Rather Not.

Valentine’s Day?  I’d Rather Not.

Grief changes everything. Take Valentine's Day, for example. Chocolate candies, fresh flowers, sweet greeting cards, and candlelight dinners for two seem harmless enough. Who wouldn't want to celebrate love and romance, after all? But for grievers, holidays are challenging and, well, just hard. Maybe you can relate? Or, perhaps someone close to you can? 

Let's meet Sandra and James. Today, I want to tell you their story. 

Sandra was grieving her momma's death and sorting through a string of disappointments and heartache in an attempt to find someone, anyone, with whom to share her life. She was wrecked, exhausted by grief, and hanging on by a thread when James came along. Despite having decided she'd take a break from dating, she agreed to dinner and a movie with James. He was polite and kind, but Sandra was mostly unimpressed. She was unimpressed at least until realizing she actually missed him during the week following their date. After one more date, curiosity replaced disinterest. She found James to be kind, tender-hearted, and always giving of himself. He was carefully attentive to her heart. The romance and engagement were a bit of a whirlwind, but they just knew. They fit, and no one could argue! Because of James, Sandra finally understood what it meant to be fully and wholly loved, brokenness and all. This love was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love -- a gift from God, a treasure. 

But the story takes a sudden and unwanted twist two years after they were married. One morning, Sandra woke as James, lying next to her, suffered a massive heart attack. He died at the hospital. Sorrow landed on her with indescribable, heart-wrenching pain. And, so Sandra finds herself grieving on days when she should be celebrating. 

Today, Sandra bravely shared her heart with me in a conversation about love, loss, and moving through grief. Why? Because she hopes her story can offer a shred of hope to other grievers. 

Q: Do you find holidays like Valentine's Day particularly hard? Why or why not?

Sandra: I think holidays and memorable dates (anniversaries) are hard, although I don't always realize the impact until I'm in the moment or until after the day has passed. I feel like I have to work hard not to ruin other people's holidays/major events because I'm grieving. I work through significant dates by taking each moment, each day, each week, and leaning on God. 

Q: What are things other people do that you find most helpful when your grief swells up? What do you wish people wouldn't do?

Sandra: To be honest, support comes in different ways. I want friends and family to check on me; but, I also need them to understand when I need space. Don't avoid the topic. That doesn't make it hurt less. It's more helpful to the healing process when I'm able to talk about it if I need to. Let me feel my emotions and pain without trying to talk me out of it by saying things like, "James wouldn't want you to feel this way" or "You should be over this by now." Unsolicited advice and opinions are more hurtful than helpful. When people tell you where you should be in the process, that's hurtful. Sometimes support is just your presence (even if you're silent).

Q: What are some other things that have helped along the way? 

Sandra: In grief, it's hard to sort out what's real and what's not real. So, find an anchor. For me, it was God, my family, and the people in my church. I have friends who've experienced loss and understand it. So, they were able to help me when I needed it most. Also, finding a Christian counselor was important. When you bury a loved one, you bury hopes and dreams along with him or her, all the plans you've made. It's loss in a lot of different ways. I also have to pay attention to how my body is responding. Sometimes, I need more sleep, so I sleep, for example. 

Q: What might you say to someone else who is just starting their grief journey? What would you want them to know? 

Sandra: This is your journey and process, and people may not understand your pain and heartache. They may not be familiar with the longing left in your heart after such loss. People can't hear the conversations and see the moments you replay in your mind as you process a new reality. Grieve at your own pace. Most importantly, losing someone you love isn't something you GET OVER or forget. You move forward. Sometimes it doesn't hurt as bad, and other times the pain is as raw as the first day. Some days you feel like you're making progress, but then something takes you back. Those moments are not setbacks, but they are part of the process. Don't be afraid to set healthy boundaries for yourself. Seek counseling, accept help, and take your time grieving. God's everlasting love will bring healing and redemption. Just keep going.

There it is, friends. Just keep going. Healing is hard work, but there is hope. Sandra is living proof. Give yourself space and the grace to grieve. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You are not alone. 

James + Sandra on their wedding day, April 2011. James passed away in June 2013.