Tag: faith

is it well with my soul?

If you’ve been around church at some point in your life, you have most likely heard the song “It is Well with My Soul”.  I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know the words to this song.  It’s a great song to sing in four part harmony, (I love hearing my dad sing bass) and it’s a song full of truth. But, since Paxton left, I have had to ask myself is it really well with my soul?

The story behind the song is heartbreaking.  Horatio Spafford was a successful attorney and real estate investor.  In 1871, he lost his fortune in the great Chicago fire and his four year old son died of scarlet fever.  In 1873, he sent his wife and four daughters on a trip to England thinking it would do them good to get away.  He planned to join them after he wrapped up some business.  Tragically, the ship his family was on sank after colliding with another vessel, and all four of his daughters were killed. 

The story I’ve always heard is as he traveled to England to be with his wife, the captain showed him the spot where his daughters’ ship went down and he immediately wrote the lyrics to the song.  As I researched further, I learned he reportedly said “it is well, the will of God be done” at that time, but didn’t write the actual song until three years later.  That makes so much more sense to me.  I was wondering how he was able to write those words in the immediate aftermath of such a staggering loss. 

I believe the words of this song are true, but it doesn’t always feel that way.  When I view this song through the lens of eternity, it is well with my soul.  When I take my eyes off Jesus and view this song through the lens of my humanity, it is not well with my soul.

~Paxton is with Jesus – it is well with my soul

~I spent the weekend packing up Paxton’s room trying to decide what to keep and what to let go of – it is not well with my soul

~Owen and Jenna are amazing kids and bring me joy every day – it is well with my soul

~No 18 or 16 year old should ever have to see their little brother in a casket – it is not well with my soul.

~One day death will be no more – it is well with my soul

~Until then, there is pain and suffering – it is not well with my soul

~Paxton is fully healed – it is well with my soul

~My heart will ache the rest of my life for just one more of his hugs – it is not well with my soul

I’m sure Horatio Spafford knew and believed the words he would write three years after the loss of his daughters.  I understand the weight it carries when people hear that he wrote it so soon after their deaths.  I think it’s so much more profound that it took him three years to be able to write and sing the truth.  He didn’t lose his faith in God, but his grief shaped him and took him on a journey…one of loss, pain, wrestling and trust.  Because of Jesus’s sacrifice and the hope of eternity, he knew that it was well with his soul, even when things were hard.

I sat down to write this today fully prepared to talk about this song from a different angle.  When I read that he actually wrote it three years after losing his daughters, it took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes, an unexpected God Kiss.  I am three years into my journey…one of loss, pain, wrestling and trust.  It is still hard to sing sometimes.  I am still wrestling, but I have a new understanding of the song and Horatio Spafford.  This life is hard.  Living without Paxton is unbearable at times.  Sometimes I lose sight of eternity and wonder how it could ever be well with my soul. I may not always feel the words are true, but because of Jesus’s sacrifice and the hope of eternity, I can say it is well with my soul, even when things are hard.

how can it be well with my soul?

because of the cross

I have hope

You’ll never let me go

I know one day

things of the earth

will pass away

so I tell myself

it is well

to remind my heart

of who You are

when things are hard

when heaven seems so far

if fix my eyes on Christ

and the promises He made

it is well

even on the toughest days

when peace is my friend

or when grief threatens

to swallow me whole

because of Jesus’s sacrifice

and the hope of eternity

I can and will say

it is well

it is well

with my soul

I died too…

I wrote the title to this post on October 1. As I’ve been thinking through it the past few days, I started questioning myself, wondering if “I died too” was too blunt…too harsh. I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things though and the reality is walking the road of child loss can be unpleasantly rough or jarring to the senses which are the definitions of harsh. It can also be brutal, heavy, tough, painful and excruciating which are all synonyms of harsh, so I chose to leave it as is.

It has been three years since my baby left this earth…THREE YEARS. It’s been 1,095 days since I held my sweet boy as he met Jesus. Three years of quiet, heartache, wrestling and learning to hold joy in one hand and sorrow in the other. Three years of figuring out how to face the next day…how to take the next breath.

Paxton wasn’t the only one that died January 25, 2023…the person I was died too. Learning to live life as a bereaved mom has changed me.

~I didn’t have much of a filter before, but it’s completely gone now. Life is too short and too important to not say what I mean, even if it’s hard to say or hard to hear.

~I find it hard to smile in pictures now…especially ones with the kids. I am so proud of Owen and Jenna. They have brought me so much joy but it’s a constant battle between wanting nothing more than to authentically smile in pictures with them and knowing there will be no more pictures with Paxton.

~I see things through a different lens…I know things I wish no one ever had to know or experience. I know what a real “last” is. 

~My relationship with Jesus has changed. I have known Him as my savior and friend. I now know Him as the Son of Suffering…the One who meets me in the trenches, who embraces me as I wrestle and who gently and graciously makes room for my grief.

~My focus is more eternal. I have never longed for heaven more. I was supposed to live the rest of my life with Paxton. It’s a small comfort that he lived the rest of his life with me. What brings me hope, and keeps me going, is knowing I will have eternity with him. I wonder if Jesus will be the first to embrace me and will then reunite me with my son or if Paxton will be the first to embrace me and excitedly introduce me to the Son. Either way, I long for that moment more every day.

There has been beauty raised from the ashes in this journey. There has been good that we have seen, peace that we have felt and joy we have experienced. But the ashes aren’t gone, this is still hard, and I will never be the same. The new me is still being formed. What hasn’t changed is holding on to the promise of Revelation 21:3-4 (NLT)

   3 I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people.  God himself will be with them. 4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”

Come Lord Jesus…

I ceased to exist 

the night you left

a new me is forming

through the fire

and blinding rain

I’m forever changed

my heart covered in scars

longing to be where you are

living for the day

when sorrow and tears

are taken away

I may be different

but one thing remains 

my God is still the same

He loves me

He has already conquered death and

He will redeem my pain

the best of times…the worst of times…


Thursday was our 26th anniversary. A lot of life has happened the last 26 years…

2 cities

2 apartments 

6 houses

numerous jobs

5 pregnancies

1 birth

1 international adoption 

9 foster placements 

1 domestic adoption 

more mistakes than I can count

more blessings than I deserve

The past three years of our marriage are in a category of their own. We never expected our marriage to be perfect or easy…and we’ve had our share of flawed and hard. We’ve also had our share of sweet and beautiful. We’ve seen each other at our best and worst. We’ve been selfless and selfish. We have seen victories and failures. We’ve lived with peace and chaos. We have agreed and disagreed.  We have grieved our son in some of the same ways, but we have also grieved in very different ways.

A lot of people will say (or have been told) that the divorce rate after child loss is 80%. That’s actually not based on any study. The reality is, if a marriage was struggling before losing a child, it will most likely not survive long term.

Since Paxton died, it has been the best of times and it has been the worst of times. January 25, 2023 was the beginning of the worst three years of my life. It was also the beginning of the best three years of our marriage and it has been the best three years of Paxton’s life. I am so grateful for the best God has given us and, at the same time, I still want my boy back.

Despite everything, we have never once given up on each other. I am so thankful for the husband God blessed me with. I’m thankful for his steadfastness and strength. I’m thankful for his love and leadership. I’m thankful for his gentleness and grace. I’m thankful he’s an amazing father and so, so thankful he’s my forever.

thankful you’re beside me

to walk this painful road

and help carry this heavy load

holding me when I fall apart

gently cradling my shattered heart

this is so hard

you are constant

the most important 

person in my life

showing me the love of Christ

grieving together

closer than ever

I never dreamed 

this would be our journey

but I’m so grateful you’re with me

through the best

and the worst

hopeful for eternity 

Mary, did you know? I didn’t…

This was our third Christmas without Paxton. When I woke up Thursday morning, I felt a heaviness, which is not abnormal…but this year my mind went immediately to Mary.

I was thinking about the song “Mary, Did You Know?”. If you’re not familiar with it, the song is asking Mary if she knew all of the things Jesus would do and miracles He would perform. When the angel, Gabriel, appeared to Mary to tell her she would bear a son, he said:

“…Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.  And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.  He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” (Luke 1:30-33 ESV)

Just the appearance of the angel and his announcement that she would bear a son told Mary her baby boy would be special. While she may not have known Jesus would walk on water or heal the blind, she did know that the baby she carried was the fulfillment of God’s promises to save His people. What I’ve been “pondering in my heart” the past few days is this…did she know he would die?

I don’t think she did…especially as she held him in her arms after he was first born.  She may have known he would suffer, but I don’t think his death ever crossed her mind.  A dear friend explains things this way.  We all expect to bury our parents.  We also say “until death do us part” when we get married, knowing one of us will have to bury the other.  What we never do is gaze into our children’s eyes and picture them dying before us. I know I never did.  That is the crushing weight of child loss.  In fact, I remember talking about child loss years ago and stating I don’t think I could survive it.  That same dear friend, who has been missing her sweet Connor for almost 17 years now, also says “you don’t know what you don’t know”.

Oh how I wish I didn’t know the things I do.  I would give anything to be able to kiss Paxton’s face one more time…to have him climb in bed with me in the middle of the night, grab my head and press his cheek to mine.  Never once did I think I’d be walking this journey.  Just like Mary, I didn’t know.  

What I do know is because Mary held Jesus, I will get to hold Paxton again.  Because Mary said “I am the Lord’s servant…may your word to me be fulfilled” (Luke 1:38 NIV), I will get to worship with Paxton in heaven.  And because Mary watched her son die, my son gets to live and I’ll spend eternity with him.

Mary, did you know

how much it would hurt

to see your baby suffer

Mary, did you know

the pain you would feel

as a grieving mother

did you know 

that your baby boy

would hang upon a cross

did you know

that he would give his life

did you understand the cost

God, I didn’t know 

that my baby boy

would walk through so much suffering

God, I didn’t know

that my baby boy

would see heaven before me

what I know

is that You are good

and Your promises are true

and I know a day is coming 

when all will be made new

my eyes can’t see

they’re blind with tears

my heart’s broken in two

I’m on my knees

Jesus be near

please help me trust You

God, I didn’t know

that my story

would be written this way

God, I didn’t know

when I left that night

it would be his last day

what I know

is You’re still good

when I don’t understand

though my aching arms are empty

my baby boy

is with the Great I am

the horizon…

When I was 19 weeks pregnant with our oldest son, Chad and I went on a cruise. After we boarded, we were told we’d be leaving later than scheduled due to weather. We toured the ship, completed our muster drill and had dinner. When we went to bed, we were still in the Gulf of Mexico enjoying smooth waters.

When we woke up the next morning, we were in the Atlantic and our smooth sailing was over. We were going “around” Hurricane Rita, but even 250 miles away she was causing some crazy waves. We made our way to the dining area, but I was so sick I could barely make it to the closest bathroom. My only thought was to head back to our room, get in bed and sleep until the cruise was over, but I had no idea how that would happen. Then someone told me to focus on the horizon…they said even when the waves are rough and the ship is rolling, the horizon never moves. Surprisingly, it worked. Focusing on the horizon did not calm the ocean or make the ship stop rocking, but it brought me peace and settled me in the middle of the hard.

I’ve often used waves and the ocean as a way to describe my grief. I think the memory of that cruise is a perfect way to describe the journey we’ve been on the past three years.

When Paxton died, it was like we had just boarded the ship. The seas seemed calm (manageable) as we completed the initial “tour and drills” of child loss…meeting with the funeral director, choosing a casket and planning Paxton’s visitation and memorial service.

However, the day after all of that was over, I woke up to the roughest seas I’ve ever faced. We weren’t close to a hurricane, we were right in the middle of it. I was being tossed about. I was sick (both physically and emotionally) and all I could think about was getting back in bed and sleeping until it was over, but I had no idea how that would happen.

Unfortunately, this journey will never be over. But, like the cruise, if I focus on Jesus, I can find peace, joy and comfort during the pain. There are still rough waters…some days are more turbulent than others. Focusing on the horizon doesn’t take the grief or pain away. It does remind me that the one who created the horizon also created the waves and promised to hold me through them.

When Paxton was in the hospital, I would stay with him during the day and Chad would stay with him at night. Every morning on my way there, I would listen to worship music. One morning, the song that resonated with me was “Oceans” by Hillsong. Especially the part that says:

And I will call upon Your Name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Hours later, a tech came in to perform an EKG. Paxton was asleep and lights were low so we didn’t talk much. Before he started putting the leads on Paxton, he turned some music on his phone. As he laid his phone down “Oceans” started playing. What a God kiss to know that it was no coincidence that a tech I had never seen before would feel led to not only play worship music, but would also choose that song.

I love being by the ocean. I marvel at its vastness and the sound of the waves brings peace. But, I can see the storm coming. It’s been almost three years since we began this fight. It’s been 1,041 days since I last kissed my sweet boy’s face. The hurricane is just as strong as it was that first day. I miss Paxton more every day and the pain has not gone away.

Just as I learned to focus on the horizon to keep myself steady on that cruise, I’m begging for help from the horizon maker to help me focus on Him and keep me from going under whenever the waves come. I’m pleading for Him to hold my head above water because I can’t do it in my own strength. The waves are still there. The ship still rocks. And sometimes I take my eyes off the only one who can get me through. But the most beautiful and comforting thing of all is He never moves, no matter where I look or what I do.

the sea is churning

a storm is near

I hear the thunder

I feel the waves

the weight of grief

through holidays

and heaviness 

of coming dates

the pain of missing you

never fades

everything around me shakes

I cast my gaze

And fix my eyes

on my horizon

Jesus Christ

even in the the darkest nights

through the deepest water

and fiercest fight

He never moves

He’s by my side

I speak a new language…

I took two years of Spanish in high school. I also took one semester of Spanish in college. I can speak and understand some Spanish, but only un poco. I have never been bilingual…until now.

Since Paxton left, I have become fluent in a new language. Unfortunately, it’s not one of the Romance languages. It’s also not a language I chose to learn and one I never wanted to speak. It’s the language of lament.

The dictionary defines lament as a verb meaning to mourn aloud: wail.

Mark Vroegop, author of Dark Clouds Deep Mercy, defines lament as “a prayer in pain that leads to trust”.

My definition of lament is:

a LAnguage MEaNT for suffering.

There is no other language that describes the angst that comes from having your child’s birth certificate and death certificate in the same place.

There is no other language that describes the ache of not only missing what was, but missing what should be.

There is no other language that describes the anguish of never being able to hug your child or hear their voice the rest of your life.

There is no other language that describes the agony of holding your child in your arms as his heart stops beating.

Often, the language of lament is not expressed through words. This picture of Paxton is a perfect example. You can see and feel the lament on his face. He broke his teeth doing a back flip at the pool. He wasn’t in pain…he was lamenting the fact his teeth were broken, but he was really lamenting because I told him he couldn’t get gold teeth. 😁

Wailing, screaming, wrestling, raging and sobbing are some ways that lament is spoken without words.  Lament is needed. Lament is necessary. Lament is Biblical. 

Biblical lament is trusting that God is good while acknowledging some things are not. Biblical lament is taking your complaints, your sorrows, your anger…whatever emotion you are experiencing…to Jesus without making it look or sound pretty.  Biblical lament is wrestling with God in your suffering knowing some things will never be made right this side of heaven. 

One of the best ways to support someone that is grieving, is to learn the language of and lean into lament. After my fourth miscarriage, a good friend said “if it’s any comfort, I’m mad at God for you too”. There is nothing more freeing than understanding lament is not sin. There is nothing more comforting than knowing Jesus identifies with us in our suffering. There is nothing more hopeful than knowing the Holy Spirit intercedes for us when all we can mutter are groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:26). 

I wish I didn’t know this language. I wish I didn’t have to lean into lament. It’s a language I was forced to learn, and I’ll speak it the rest of my life.

groanings

too deep for words

I need the ache to be heard

this hurts

I search for a way

to describe the pain

wailing

sobbing

screaming

why?!

I speak a new language

of sorrow

of tears

Jesus be near me

I bring my cries to the cross

He understands the cost

He knows the pain of loss

I speak a new language

of waiting

of grief

Jesus please hold me

I bring my suffering to my Savior

He understands the hard

He meets you where you are

I speak a new language

of love left unspoken

my mama heart is broken

but I know Who to put my hope in

our nest is empty…

This past Monday we moved our son, Owen, to college for his junior year. Friday we moved our daughter, Jenna, to college to begin her freshman year. Just like that, our nest is empty. Six years before it was supposed to be. The rooms in our house will never be lived in the same way again. One room in our house will never be lived in again at all.

In September 2003, I joined a moms’ Bible study. I had just suffered my 4th miscarriage in under a year and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to carry a pregnancy past eight weeks.

The first week of Bible study, our leader brought a bird’s nest. Inside the nest were two empty eggs and one that had never hatched. She talked about how motherhood can look so many different ways. It made an impact on me because my “nest” to that point had four eggs that would never be baby birds.

When Bible study ended that next May, I was 7 months pregnant with Owen. I remember on the last day sharing how much that nest analogy meant to me. When I started that year, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be a mom. What I realized is that I was already a mom, my nest just looked different than I had hoped and dreamed.

A lot of times motherhood has been different than I imagined. Sometimes it has been better and sometimes it has been worse. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and have needed to grow just as much as my children, if not more.

I always knew being a mom would be hard. I knew that when I brought them home I would one day have to let them go. I never thought letting them go would be easy, but I never dreamed (or considered the nightmare) one of them would never fly.

My nest has never been perfect. I never expected it to be. But I never thought it would be this hard. I never dreamed it would be empty at this point. And I NEVER imagined my baby would be gone forever.

I was supposed to protect them. It was my job to cherish them, feed them and teach them. It was my job to launch them. But, the truth is they were never mine to begin with. God blessed me with them, but ultimately they are His. And even thought Paxton never got to fly, he is now in the safest, most peaceful home he will ever have. As long as the days seem without him, I’m one day closer to being with him for eternity.

the nest

built with care

piece by piece

ready to

love

protect

nurture

now sits empty

I’m thankful for

the ones that have flown

while aching for

the one not grown

heart breaking

even thought I know

he was never really my own

the Creator who cares for sparrows

and lilies in the field

embraced my broken, baby bird

and took him home

completely healed

I was supposed to live

the rest of my life with him

instead

he got to live

the rest of his life with me

I’m so grateful for the hope of heaven

and promise of eternity

the three Ws…part 3

***the first two Ws are posted under writing my wrestling***

writhing…wrestling…WORSHIP

worship (noun)

to honor or show reverence for God

I’ve been a musician most of my life.  I started piano at a very young age, took classical lessons and theory for 13 years, and performed in multiple competitions and recitals.  I  sang my first solo at the age of 5 and have been a member of multiple choirs, ensembles and worship teams.  So, it was no surprise when I started pursuing a relationship with Jesus, I connected most deeply with Him through worship.

Since Paxton left, church, especially worship,  has been hard for me. Early on, it was difficult to just get out of bed. The few times I did go, I had to walk out because of baby dedications, a kids’ choir or just being overwhelmed with sorrow.  It took almost a year for me to return to church consistently.  Even then, I would find myself completely drained after service and I wasn’t sure why.

I finally realized why Sundays are the hardest days of the week for me…and the reasons tie into the first two Ws.  There is rarely a Sunday service that doesn’t involve writhing at some point, and every Sunday morning is a wrestling match for me.  There are no undercards, just the featured main event…a primetime bout between my flesh and my faith that repeats every week.

flesh – tears of sorrow that my son is not singing beside me

vs

faith – tears of joy that he is singing beside our Savior

flesh – questioning why God let this happen

vs

faith – remembering the ways God has shown me that He loves me and Paxton more than I could ever imagine

flesh – the struggle of standing in the place where Paxton’s memorial service was held

vs

faith – the sweetness of standing in the place and with the people that have been the hands and feet of Jesus to us

flesh – not feeling that the words being sung are true

vs

faith – trusting that God is good even when it feels like He isn’t

flesh – the hard of living on a broken Earth

vs

faith – the hope of living in eternity

While I have been able to start going to church again on a regular basis, it is still a struggle. I’ve always loved to sing and worship is the way I connect most deeply with God. While I believe every word of the songs, sometimes it still hurts too much to sing them.  I know you can worship through more ways than music…you can worship with your giving and your time.  But, my worship has become so much more.  Sometimes it’s singing and sometimes it’s silence.  Sometimes it’s beautiful and sometimes it’s broken.  Sometimes it’s making it to church and sometimes it’s making it out of bed. Worship is bringing whatever you have, even if it’s almost nothing, to the foot of the cross.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how do I worship 

when my heart is breaking

how do I dance when my soul is aching

how do I praise 

when I feel You’ve forsaken me

how do I trust when everything is shaken

how do I rest when my world was taken

how do I follow when I can barely make myself stand

I’ll worship in silence

when I can’t sing the words

when I don’t have the strength

to make my voice heard

I’ll worship with singing

even if it’s in a minor key

a broken melody

the only thing I have to bring

I’ll worship through lament

by bringing you my grief

and trusting that my King

is with me in my suffering

even when I don’t feel it I’ll

dance in the darkness

rejoice in the rain

trust in the trials

praise in the pain

worship in the waiting

until I see my son again 

it will NEVER be good…

My son’s death was not good.

Chad had to face another Father’s Day without all of his kids…that is not good.

Since Paxton left, two other people very close to me have had to bury their sons…that is not good.

Have you ever taken Scripture out of context or not understood its meaning? I’ve done it many times. When I was younger, I remember reading Proverbs 17:17 which says “a friend loves at all times and a brother is born for adversity”. I never felt more validated…that’s why my brother was mean to me…he was born to be! Let’s be honest…I was just as mean to him and that is not what that verse means.😁

Jeremiah 29:11 is another verse that isn’t fully understood…at least I didn’t understand the meaning. It says “for I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”.  Doesn’t that sound so warm and fuzzy…like God wants us to be happy and comfortable? The danger of taking a verse out of context is making it fit into our narrative.  Jeremiah is writing this letter to Isrealites that are being held captive in Babylon.  Many of them would die in captivity.  That’s not warm, fuzzy, happy, comfortable or good.

That brings me to Romans 8:28.  It says “and we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him”.  It is a beautiful verse, full of comfort and hope.  It reminds me that God is good and He is working.  It brings comfort to me by assuring me that God can bring good out of anything.  What it DOES NOT say (or mean) is everything is good.

A lot of times, we think because God is working all things for good that means we have to be okay with everything…that bad things become good.  That is not true!  Jesus gives us a perfect example in the story of Lazarus.  When he saw Mary weeping over the loss of her brother (John 11), it says Jesus was deeply moved.  If you look at the original Greek, it literally means He snorted in anger!  He knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead.  He knew that awful thing would be used for good, but He was still angry at death because death was not good.

Our church has been preaching through the book of Romans.  A good friend of ours, who also happens to be one of our teaching pastors, asked us if we’d be willing to do a video about how Romans 8:28 applies to trauma and grief.  We agreed with the understanding that we would be talking about our grief journey and the wrestling we’re going through.  We were allowed to finish the video without wrapping it up in a pretty little bow, because there are things that will never be wrapped up this side of heaven.  They graciously allowed us to share our story, our heart and our lament.  (I’ll post the video and the sermon below.)

So friends, God is good, but suffering is not and it needs to be acknowledged.  You can have hope without having a happy face.  You can have joy without justifying the hard.  You can have peace without putting a positive spin on everything.  If you are suffering, if you are wrestling, if you are facing things that aren’t good (which we all are), it’s okay.  The ultimate good God is working is eternal.  There are things that will never be good this side of eternity…but we have a good God who will redeem those things in heaven.

God is good.  He has brought good from Paxton’s death and I pray and believe He will continue to do so.  But…

Paxton’s death was not good…

Paxton’s death is not good…

Paxton’s death WILL NEVER BE GOOD.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

not everything that happens is good 

death was not your original plan 

perfection, paradise in Eden

shattered by woman and man 

chaos, pain and sickness began

You can bring good out of anything

You can take our suffering

and use it for Your glory 

but it doesn’t take away the sting

it doesn’t make the story

easy to read

and You can bring

beauty from ashes

but that doesn’t mean

the ashes are gone or

the beauty will be seen

this side of eternity

what it does mean

is I can reach for my King

Man of Sorrows

acquainted with my grief 

I can bring

my hurt

my questions 

my wrestling 

I can look to You for strength

I can trust that one day

all will be redeemed

grief gauntlet

Usually, my grief is like an ocean wave. Sometimes it softly laps at my feet, touching me with gentle sadness. Other times, it’s like an angry surf, knocking me off my feet, taking my breath away and pulling me back into the undertow of sorrow. Often, I never see the wave coming or know the intensity it holds until it hits me.

As I look toward the next few weeks, the ocean has disappeared and a grief gauntlet has taken its place. This time, I see it coming. There’s a pit in my stomach and I’m wearing a heaviness that I can’t shake. I don’t want to face the gauntlet, but I have no choice…it’s there, challenging me head on.

Tuesday, April 29 is Paxton’s 13th birthday…his 3rd birthday in heaven. Wednesday is academic signing day for our daughter Jenna, who is graduating high school next month. Friday is a tradition at our school…a day where all of the seniors are celebrated. A day when they participate in our “Warrior Walk”. The seniors line up and walk around campus, through the mass of all the other students cheering them on. I am so exited for Jenna and cannot wait to celebrate her, but I hate that her little brother will not be there to yell for (or at😜) her.

Sunday, May 4 is Senior Sunday at our church. It’s also Bereaved Mother’s Day. Two extremes in one day…the joy of honoring Jenna as she graduates and launches, and the agony she is my last senior and wasn’t supposed to be.

I have to face Mother’s Day as the last challenge in the gauntlet. I am still a mom…I’m still Owen’s and Jenna’s mom. I’m still Paxton’s mom. But, I’m not the same mom I was three years ago. I am bruised and bloodied from battle. I am weary and scarred. My faith is deeper, I hope I am more gracious, and I am learning how to carry both joy and sorrow.

There are days when I can tuck sorrow away and embrace the joy God sets before me. There are days sorrow pushes joy aside and makes me sit in and with it. There are days they have learned to coexist, but they are both my companions now…always there even when they’re not seen.

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the gauntlet

joy

sorrow

which one will be louder today?

will i be able to keep the tears at bay?

will my heart feel the sunshine

or drown in the pouring rain?

bracing for what’s ahead

moment by moment

step by step

approaching the gauntlet

trying to catch my breath

i can’t go around

i have to go through

ready to get it over with

unable to move

carrying the pain of missing you