Grief is a Fickle Felon

Grief is a fickle felon. It sneaks up when least expected, attempting to steal the joy and peace that was already bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus.

Take yesterday for example. My husband showed me a photograph that his niece had posted on Facebook of her toddler son thoroughly enjoying a blue snow cone.

We both smiled and agreed that his blue face and mouth were absolutely adorable. It instantly reminded us of our son Chris who also loved bright blue popsicles and snow cones at that age.

Well, actually, Chris never stopped enjoying those icy blue treats. Even a few days before his death, his uncle went to the grocery store long after bedtime to try and find some popsicles as an incentive for Chris to eat and stay hydrated while he was so sick.

Chris did eat those popsicles, and they were some of the last items that he ever ate and enjoyed.

That thought led me down a trail of other popsicle memories.

Like the summer I literally tied a pair of school scissors to the freezer handle in hopes that Chris would cut the tops from his push-up popsicles and throw the thin strip of plastic away in the kitchen. Instead, he left that tiny piece of garbage (in all its ooey-gooey wonder) on his nightstand, an end table, and a million other places.

Then, I was reminded of how Chris and Leigh’s youngest child used the lure of two popsicles – one for her and one for Chris – as her winning ticket to crawl in the bed with them at night. It worked every time, giving her ample opportunity to watch television till she fell safely and securely asleep between the two of them.

Man, popsicles!

Those quick and instantaneous thoughts suddenly made me cry like a baby and miss my own baby – my son Chris.

Yep, grief is a fickle felon, and in the last six weeks, my husband and I have learned more about this thing called grief than we ever wanted to know. For us and for all parents, the death of a child, no matter the age, is just not natural.

Don’t get me wrong! We hope in Christ, and we know without a doubt that our son was redeemed and saved by Jesus Christ. We know that Chris has an eternal home with Him in Heaven. It’s the same heavenly home we plan to occupy one day.

But therein lies the crux of the matter – as parents, we wanted to go home to Jesus before our sons or grandchildren.

We expected our grandparents and parents to die before us. Though my husband and I did not expect to have three of our four parents die in a period of ten weeks, with the remaining parent also dying in less than two years. Even so, our mourning for them was tinged with joy over their long and productive lives.

They were our cherished past, but Chris was our future. And how does one mourn for their future?

With that question in mind over the past six weeks, I have prayed repeatedly for God to help us walk this road with honor and purpose for Him – and for Chris. My prayers took me to the oldest book in the Bible, the story of Job.

Now, I can understand your reluctance if you have never read Job’s story in its entirety. It is not a pretty picture of life, and it’s definitely not one for the Sunday School flannel boards. It is the hardcore, raw reality of grief at its deepest degree.

But try and get beyond the basic story of profound and complete loss. Look beyond Job, even though he is the title character of this true-life drama. Focus on God and hear what He is still trying to whisper to us in the midst of our darkest days. Look for His love – and discover His matchless, unending power.

That’s the part of Job that is capturing my heart right now in the midst of the darkest, most important road we have ever traveled in this life.

So, I keep going back and honing in on God’s Words to Job. His Words are living, breathing hope to me as I continue to miss seeing and touching the face of my son and longing to hear his precious, distinct voice. God’s Words alone speak to me in the middle of this battering, crashing onslaught of a storm called grief.

In fact, Chapter 38 (AMP) brought me to my knees:

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?

 Dress for action like a man;

I will question you, and you make it known to me.

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?

Tell me, if you have understanding.

Who determined its measurements – surely you know!

Or who stretched the line upon it?

 On what were its bases (other version use foundations) sunk,

or who laid its cornerstone,

 when the morning stars sang together

and all the sons of God shouted for joy?”

Through the precious blood of the Lamb, we have been given direct access to the throne of God. But sometimes, I think we forget just exactly WHO it is that we worship and serve. We forget the majesty and power of God.

Verse 6 in this passage slapped me full in the face with God’s holiness – and my absolute un-holiness.

It reminds me that I was not there with God before time began. I have no clue how He fastened the earth to its foundations. I do not even know where or what its foundation might be.

Unlike the angels (and even Lucifer and his minions before they fell), I was not there to marvel at the wonder of God’s creation. I was not there to join in their joyful worship to the Maker of this universe.

Which, by the way, is the very same Maker of my soul and the soul of my son Chris.

So, yes, I weep, and I believe God is fine with my tears. After all, we are the only one of the Maker’s creations that sheds truly emotional tears. How amazing that God is the very One who made a way for humans to vent our grief.

And even Jesus stood at the tomb of his beloved friend Lazarus and wept.

Personally, I believe He wept along with Mary and Martha as they mourned the death of their brother, and I believe Jesus cried over the frailty of sinful humanity. But more than that, I believe Jesus wept because we, as mere mortals, do not have the capacity to see and know the end from the beginning as God does.

In Matthew 24:35-36 (KJV), Jesus declared that truth to His disciples, “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.”

Yes, God alone knows!

So, as we weep and mourn and miss our precious son, we also rejoice because our hope and our trust rest on the firm foundation of God – the One who fastened the foundations of this earth.

He is the same One who continues to lovingly hold Chris in the palm of His hand, and nothing will ever separate or unfasten Chris or us from His love.

Therefore, as Chris’ parents, we simply lay our grief as an offering on that firm foundation. For just as God promised long ago in Isaiah 28, we who believe on Jesus, the tried-and-true Cornerstone, will never be disturbed or disappointed.

And throughout this oldest book of the Bible, we also learn that (just like us) Job’s story was and is and always will be the story of Jesus. It’s the story of the Maker who loved His sinful creations so much that He sent His only Son to die in our stead.

Job is the story of redemption, the salvation of you, me – and Chris. And that’s the greatest story this grieving momma has ever heard.