Tag: lament

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

“hollow”een

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be spending time with their kids as they trick or treat or attend Halloween parties.  I’ll be alone.

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be handing out candy, delighted by cute kids and crazy costumes.  My front porch light will be off.

For a lot of people, tonight will be one of enjoyment, sugar overload and memory making. For me, tonight will be another night of grief, sadness overload and memories missed.

Chad is out of town and has been worried that tonight will be hard for me.  He was right. This is a hard night for me.  But sometimes, having a hard night can be a good thing.

Sometimes, I need to sit in the sorrow.

Sometimes, I need to hurt in the hard.

Sometimes, I need to pause in the pain.

Sometimes, I need to taste the tears.

And sometimes, I need to give in to the gravity of the loss of my precious boy.

My grief is no longer overwhelming on a daily basis.  I find myself able to catch my breath and find joy between the waves. But I am not better…I am different. I am not over it…I am learning how to carry it. 

I wish the biggest hurdle I faced tonight was keeping Paxton from eating too much candy. Instead, I’m facing another Holloween  without him. It’s hollow because when Paxton was here, he brought the hype and hilarity to every Halloween. Now it’s just another slow, silent day.

I wrote “I only miss you” the first Halloween without Paxton. It seemed perfect to share again because I am missing him like crazy. Enjoy your kids tonight…no matter how big they are. And maybe let them have an extra piece of candy in honor of Pax. 

I only miss you

when the sun rises

when I open my eyes

when there are tears to dry

when I cannot cry

I only miss you

when the seasons change

when the sunlight fades

on a cloudy day

when it rains

I only  miss you

when they sky is blue

when the moon is full, crescent or new

when the grass is wet with dew

any time I think of you

I only miss you

in my dreams

when I can’ t sleep

when I’m happy

when the pain is deep

I only miss you

when I breathe

I only miss you

when my heart beats

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

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

the silence of saturday

I have been thinking a lot this week about the meaning and importance of Easter…

Good Friday is grieving what our sin cost.

Easter Sunday is being grateful for our Savior’s cross.

Good Friday is feeling the forsakenness of the Son.

Easter Sunday is embracing the significance of what He’s done.

Good Friday is sorrow over the Savior’s suffering.

Easter is rejoicing over the resurrection of our eternal King.

Good Friday we feel the devastation of His final breath.

Easter Sunday we see His ultimate victory claimed over death.

But, I’ve never really thought about the silence of Saturday.

I wonder what Mary was thinking and feeling that Saturday.  I know she fully believed her son was the Messiah.  She watched Him grow, loved Him well and trusted God’s plan.  However, she still had to watch her son die.  She still mourned His death.  She still had to bury His body.  The silence of that Saturday had to be the loudest sound she’d ever heard.

His silence did not mean absence, it was sin’s required severance.  He chose separation from relationship with His Father so our relationship with God could be restored.  Without the silence, Good Friday wouldn’t have mattered and Easter Sunday would not be possible. 

I believe with all of my heart that Jesus died  and was resurrected, and because of that, I’ll see Paxton again.  However, I still had to watch my son die. I still have to mourn his death. I still had to bury his body.  I trust God’s plan, but Easter now hits differently for me. I am grieving the need for Jesus’s death.  I am hopeful for His return.  But for now, I am sitting in the silence of Saturday.

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

the cross taken down

one last look at his face

the stone put in place

the sacrifice made

as the Messiah laid

in that cold, dark grave

 tears flowing freely

quiet descended

a perfect life ended

relationship mended

the Son rejected 

payment for my sin

hoping for Sunday

hating the wait

immeasurable pain

unwavering faith

grieving death

grateful for grace

learning to embrace

the silence of Saturday 

what is a God kiss?

From the beginning of this unwanted journey, there were specific things that happened, words that were said and sweet reassurances given that showed us we were loved and not alone. The picture that came to mind is of a father holding his hurt child in his lap and placing a gentle kiss on their forehead. The kiss may not take the hurt away, but it reminds the child that they are precious and held steady in their father’s arms. Any time these sweet gifts were given to us, I felt my Heavenly Father holding me tightly and comforting me with a kiss. I realized that these gifts aren’t just given in the midst of tragedy, they can be seen throughout my life if I look for them. I call these moments God kisses.

I wrote this poem in honor of my sweet boy, and I read it at his memorial service.

the God kiss (written Jan 2023)

a precious little boy, who was not ours from the start,
although the first time I saw him I wanted him to be,
sitting in my car in the DHS parking lot,
wondering why God was asking this of me

as he grew every day, his personality started to shine,
and I fell more in love with each smile,
I marveled (and still do) at God’s perfect design
of that silly, beautiful child

he kept us on our toes over the years,
with his love for adventure and fearless heart,
but he taught us so much through laughter and tears
I don’t even know where to start

from dirt bikes to roller coasters, and climbing the highest tree
his energy never ran out
and at night when he slowed down and cuddled with me
his sweetness made my heart want to shout

the mischievous twinkle in his eye was oh so cute
but could make me a little bit scared,
seeing his vibrant, joyful attitude
he embraced life like no one else dared

his laughter was contagious, so beautiful and free,
and one smile from him could brighten my day
I cherish the 10 years he was here on earth with me
but I’m thankful he’s with Jesus to stay

our hearts are broken, we may never understand,
and our tears will continue to fall,
but as I look back on this journey and the son God placed in our hands,
I realize Paxton was the biggest God kiss of all

sadness

December 11, 2022 was the last “normal” night in our family’s life. It’s surreal that it has been two years since our lives imploded. It’s excruciating that it’s been two years since Paxton’s accident. Last year, reaching all of the first milestones was hard. This year is hard too, but this year I’m overwhelmingly sad.

Since Paxton left, it’s been comforting for me to look at pictures and watch videos of my boy. Recently, that has changed and been a new facet of my grief. When I think about the fun things we did as a family, like going to Great Wolf Lodge, Disney World or Cedar Point, the memory of our smiling, carefree family is now tainted. It’s like I’m watching a horror movie…I can see the tragedy approaching in slow motion and there is nothing I can do.

I wish I could go back and tell that family to soak it in. I wish I could wrap that family in a bubble, freeze them in time and keep them in the wonder, fun and excitement of water slides, roller coasters and togetherness. I wish I could protect them from the chaos and heartbreak that will gut them in a few short years. I wish I could have just one more moment with Paxton.

I’m sad…more sad than I’ve been in a long time. I miss my boy so much. I miss his silliness, his mischievousness and his smile. I miss holding his hand and being wrapped in one of his bear hugs. I miss the person I was. I miss the person he was. I miss the person he would now be.

Two years seems like a lifetime and an instant at the same time. Our grief is different, but it is no less deep, heavy or painful. God has given us sweet gifts the past few years…things that probably wouldn’t have happened if Paxton hadn’t left. We are grateful for those glimpses of joy, but we miss our sweet boy with everything in us.

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

like fog

heavy and dense

sadness is settling in

a familiar

but unwelcome friend

taking me back

to the day when

chaos

devastation and

heartbreak began

my arms ache for your hugs

my ears long for your laugh

my eyes drown with tears

how has it already been two years

since I’ve seen your smile

heard your voice

held your hand in mine

I wish I could

turn back time to have

just one more day

one more hour

one more moment

to feel your warmth

to hear your heart beating

in your chest

on more chance to say

I love you

you’re my best

writhing

are those tears

or raindrops on my cheeks?

it seems the sky is also crying

a silent scream

comes from within me

my body bent in half with grief

from pain there is no relief

sorrow brings me to my knees

Jesus!

the only word I can speak

my soul is writhing