It’s been a while since I wrote about our grief journey, and even now, I hesitate to write about the subject with it being 15 months since our son Chris died. I think that most people believe we should be “over it” by now.
Of course, no one says that outright, especially not our Christian brothers and sisters. But the expectation is still very evident. So, like most parents living here on earth without their children, we have learned to read the signs and act accordingly.
Now, don’t get me wrong. People are so kind and compassionate; they really are. But human nature simply does not provide us with a handy-dandy, built-in mechanism to compute and process long-term grief.
We really began to notice this disconnect around the first anniversary of Chris’ death. What we noticed is that most people now tend to respond to our loss in one of three ways:
- Avoid the subject (and avoid us, if need be).
- Change the subject and skip talking about Chris altogether.
- Use trite cliches to handily address the subject, such as “life goes on.”
Yes, life does go on. It’s a good life too!
We are enjoying small and big events with our other family members, friends, and family. But those events are constant reminders of who is not there with us, not worshipping at church, not cheering at ballgames, not laughing at the dog’s antics, and not eating at a table piled high with crawfish. The good life is still good; it’s just a different good.
And yes, we trust in God’s sovereignty – and His grace and mercy. We know without a doubt that Chris is safe with our Savior, and we truly delight in Jesus. We realize that every word of the Bible is true, even the ones that do not line up yet with what we are feeling. Ultimately, we fully understand that His truth always trumps our understanding.
But here’s the thing! Jesus fully understands the aching in our hearts to see, hear, and hug Chris. He is not shocked by it or unable to meet us right at the point of our need. And His plans for us are still perfect and good, even though they do not make total sense to us today. Even though our faith is not made sight … yet.
In the meantime, we can testify wholeheartedly that God is as trustworthy today as He was before Chris died. Even more so, if the truth be told. Because we know now beyond a shadow of a doubt that He will never leave us or forsake us, even in the darkest days of our lives. He has carried us in His nail-pierced hands every moment of this journey.
Hallelujah! He is good! Of that, we have no doubt.
But the very Maker of our souls knows that grief is not a one–time trip around the sun; it is a lifelong journey of faith, obedience, and absolute trust in the One we cannot see – the very One in whom we place our eternal hope.
So, we continue to get up every morning that we are blessedly given, then turn around and give ourselves and our time to Him. We surrender daily. Sometimes hourly or even minute-by-minute. And as we do, we watch God take our weakness and our littleness and do big things.
We see our grandchildren flourish in Him. They are growing in their personal walks with God, and that obvious growth blesses us beyond measure. We see the adults in our family draw closer together and closer to God. What more could a mom and dad want?
And we see Chris’ students and his players going out beyond their own front doors and their own school to testify and speak about Jesus. Each week, they actively win souls to the Lord. What a blessing!
And as these precious young people mature and go off to separate colleges, we have no doubt that just like the early believers in the Book of Acts, Chris’ kids (his own and the ones he taught and coached) will be witnesses to Jesus “in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the uttermost parts of the earth.”
We are certain of that!
But in our expectant joy of that soul-winning and the even greater expectancy of seeing Chris again in heaven, the reality is – it’s not right this moment.
This moment is filled with faith and love and joy and hope … and grief … knowing that for today, we simply must wait a little while longer.
And in the waiting, we are learning much more clearly what is meant in Romans 12:15, when it says: “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
So, when you encounter others like us who are still mourning longer than expected, don’t avoid us; don’t turn down another aisle at Wal-Mart. Don’t change the subject and stop talking about our sweet boy. And please don’t try to wrap up all our sorrows in a neat, tidy cliched ball.
Instead, simply greet us with a warm smile or a sincere hug, and maybe just listen more than you speak. Make sure to let us know that you are still praying for us. To be honest, that’s the best way of all to mourn with those of us who are mourning.
Most of all, bear with us till morning replaces our mourning, for as Psalm 30:5 promises, “Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”
And on that morning, rejoice with us then as well! For yes, we serve the One who holds our Chris as surely as He holds every single tomorrow.
