Good Grief

Today I share my blog once again with Jessica ~ one of my

traveling buddies

.

My traveling buddies are friends and family who find themselves on a similar path . . . a journey with no up-grades, many road closures and a heavy burden of grief. We are members of what I call, The Bereaved Mothers Club.Membership is weighty: placing a precious child in the arms of God.

Jessica, and her husband Travis, lost

Kade

, their sweet two-month-old son to SIDS in the fall of 2007. Kade's birth and death dates are coming soon. Jessica knows she is entering a season of grief. She shares with honesty about how moving toward her pain has brought healing along her journey.

It's Good for Me ~ by Jessica

We went to the dairy together last night to take a ride on the new

mule

. (No, not an

actual

mule; it's a cross between a golf cart and four wheeler.) The girls rode in front with Travis, and Brody and I rode in the back. It was a fun little outing and the cool evening breeze was refreshing.

We always love being at the dairy as a family and I know it means a lot to Travis that we are enjoying it. He especially loves it that Macey can carry on an actual conversation about the dairy. Tonight Travis told Macey that a calf had been born and it was a girl. To which she replied, "Oh, it was a girl? Don't you mean a heifer?" Travis darted a surprised and proud look in her direction and put up his hand to offer her a high five. It was a proud moment for both of them.

As we made our way around the dairy, we came to the maternity barn to see the calves that had been born just hours earlier. In the first pen lay two heifer calves. Their mama was leaning over their lifeless bodies, lovingly licking their bodies clean. My mind started racing as Travis explained that they were stillborn.

Why did you just leave them there?

I asked. I felt annoyed and a little angry. I felt protective for the mama cow, and didn't want her to have to stand there unable to revive her babies. I didn't understand why Travis didn't hurry and take the calves out to keep the mama from knowing that they hadn't survived. My eyes began to burn.

It's good for her

, he explained in a compassionate tone.

I began to feel emotional as I tried to understand. How could that possibly be good for her? It's just plain mean. But as I thought about it more, the Lord began to remind me of some precious truths that he's revealed to me.

Kade’s season is upon us, and my heart and mind are in full processing mode. I have had a busy few months; working through my feelings and grief has been put on the back burner. They are always there but just a little tucked away. I have moments of my own, usually in the late evenings during Brody's last feeding. My mind often wanders to what life would be like if Kade were here and how although our home is full of life and busy little bodies, it can somehow manage to feel a little lonely and not quite noisy enough. My days are full and I sometimes feel unable to handle it all. But how I wish I had a 3 year old little boy running around adding to the chaos. I miss him so much I ache inside.

After our ride at the dairy, I couldn't stop thinking about those words.

It's good for her.

My mind went to all of my sweet friends, near and far, who have had to give a child back to the Lord. Some I know well and some I may not meet until glory. I thought of their experiences and how the Lord has made the process good for them.

I thought of my own experience ~ finding Kade's lifeless body; the car ride to the emergency room; the look on all of the doctors and nurses as they left the room after being unable to save Kade; the coroner driving away with his body; the loved ones who came to love and serve us; planning a funeral; picking out a casket and burial plot, and many other memories that have become fuzzy with time. That process was horrific. I remember feeling like I was in the middle of one of those nightmares where no matter how hard you try you can't wake yourself up. I've been living this nightmare for three years now, and I've learned that although the process is often brutal, it is vital.

Those days that I spent preparing to bury Kade played a huge part in my healing. I took time to celebrate his life, to honor the Lord and acknowledge that although His plans were proving to be far different than my own, I was going to follow Him. I took the time to care for Kade on this earth in any way I could. I picked out burial clothes, decorations for his service, flowers for his casket, and my mom and I even cleaned the room at the funeral home where his viewing would be. I was intentional about feeling it all, facing my heartache head on so that I could begin healing in a healthy way. I didn't want to ignore anything only to uncover it years later after it had festered and become rotten bitterness in my heart. All of that

was good for me

.

That mama cow was spending time with her babies ~ smelling them, licking them, and in her own way loving them, and in those things, finding healing. She was getting a chance to care for her babies even after they were no longer living. This process would make it possible for her to live a full life, give birth to more calves and produce quality milk. She would be able to serve her purpose on this earth more fully by going through the process. Isn't it incredible that the Lord created that process for animals too?

Amazing

.

As I near this season for the third time, I am amazed at how the Lord has been so faithful. I can hardly believe that Kade would be 3 . . . 3!

Crazy

. I feel like this is the first time that I am actually looking forward to the process. I don't feel afraid of it or unsure of how to handle it. I'm not wondering if I'll survive or be unable to function. Allowing myself to go through the process has given me the chance to fulfill God's purposes for my life. I have not been hindered by my grief, rather I have allowed the Lord to use my grief to comfort others with the comfort I have received. Although each year has been different, I have learned to be confident in the Lord's perfect plan for the process and that celebrating my precious son is joyful, painful, emotional, healing and,

it's

good for me

.

To read more of Jessica's journey, you may visit her blog,

Seeking His Face

.

Seeing the Forest and the Trees

I'm sure you have heard it said that there are some who just

can't see the forest for the trees

. This idiom describes those who focus on the minutia of the present rather than the vista of possibilities. It implies that something can be gained by allowing our gaze to go beyond the present realities

(the trees)

to see what might be ahead

(the forest)

.

As one certificated in death and grief studies, I companion people who often can

only

see the trees

- the overwhelming sorrow, the enormous hole, and the indescribable loss. They are doing well to see the trees - to wake up each morning, feel the weight of grief, and make it through another day without the presence of their loved one.

To them I say -

"Let's just sit here among the trees. The forest will be there when we are ready to see it."

This week I am

with

dear friends who have many trees growing on the horizon and the forest is becoming obscured as they deal with life and death issues.

(

With

: to make a conscious decision to carry in thought and prayer the burdens of another)

I have to say - these trees are OMINOUS, as trees go.

~ Not like the giant sequoias that display strength and stability; these trees are brittle and spindly, as if their branches would snap under the slightest weight.

~ Not like the mighty oak that beckons travelers to sit under the shade of her sweeping branches; these trees offer no relief, as their twisted branches reach out and snag passersby.

~ Not like the lush trees that flourish along the banks of a river; these trees are thirsty and dry, and suck the very life out of all who travel among them.

Even in this age of technology, there is no Garmin - no simple, lightweight handheld device to navigate through this rugged terrain. There are no guarantees that the medical procedures available on the horizon will change the reality that their precious “Little Man” may not survive.

As I sit with them in the landscape of their lives - the reality that their child’s life hangs in the balance - it is impossible to tell if the moans I hear come from the winds of change blowing through the menacing branches or the hearts of those who find themselves in this place.

But it is here we sit, in the dark night of the soul, waiting until God lifts our gaze to see the forest beyond this place among the trees.

Please join me in being with this dear family engulfed by the foreboding trees of reality that they may . . .

. . . Feel God’s presence in this darkness

. . . Hear His voice among so many

. . . Recognize His leading as He clears a path for them

. . . Know His peace as they wait with hope in His eternal will

For more information and to follow their story,

please visit A Heart of Worship

If you choose to love . . .

"If you choose to love, you choose to grief."

~

Dr. Alan Wolfelt, Center for Loss

February, the month set aside for

those who love

, brings meaning to the quote above for me.

For in my 56 years of life, I chose to love - my parents, my husband, my children, pets, and many friends and extended family. And as the quote expresses, because I chose to love, I will also experience grief when those I love are gone.

February, with its brief 28 days, holds more sorrow for me than all the other months of the year. February marks the death of my mother, the death of my father, and the death of my only son, Scott. As this shortest month of the year approaches, and I see the many signs of

LOVE

displayed in the stores, I feel the weight of grief taking up residence in my heart as I anticipate the approaching days.

I visualize what I may be doing to mark these days. I think about how much I miss each one. I remember the times we shared and the love we experienced. And, perhaps most importantly, once again, no matter how painful, I will give myself permission to

feel

the grief and

mourn

my losses.

I think the words of Jesus are most fitting for these days of February.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

Jesus is saying, blessed are those who do not deny their grief or stuff their sorrows. Blessed are those who embrace the love, who acknowledge the loss, who express what is on the inside and who mourn.

As I studied for my certification in Death and Grief Studies with Dr. Wolfelt, I learned that grief is an emotion we feel on the inside. But mourning is the outward expression of our inner grief. As Dr. Wolfelt says,

"Mourning is grief gone public."

Yes, blessed are those who mourn, for they bring their pain to the outside. Blessed are those who mourn for they allow themselves to release their grief, to make room in their heart to remember the love once shared. Blessed are those who mourn, for you will receive the comfort of others.

And, I want to say, with February coming in a few short days, that if I had to do all over again, I would . . . and I do, choose to love.

Those who would have nothing to do with thorns

must never attempt to gather flowers.

~

Anonymous