I miss my son. My special, strong boy. The missing will never leave me. The place where he belongs in our family only gets larger as he would be getting older. I missed him terribly at Graham's birthday party. His little brother was so clearly absent that I could feel it with each breath that I took.
I think that I will look for him each day of my life. Every family photo I will notice where he would be. Every meal, every holiday, every moment of my life, I look to the place made just for Hudson. On Graham's wedding day, we will have a missing groomsman. On my deathbed, I will be looking and seeing where he should be standing, next to his big brother, Graham. This hole will never leave me. I will always see and feel it.
Grief is longing and loving and aching. It washes over like a tidal wave that nearly drowns you. Grief changes everything. Everything. It has changed my capacity (everything requires more energy now), the way I see the world, the way I see God and prayer and church and worship. It has changed me. My heart has aged a lifetime.
I feel everything more deeply now. The good and the hard emotions. Joy is more palpable and genuine, and sorrow is felt down in my bones.
We all carry grief in our hearts. A lost love. A lost dream. A lost marriage. A lost child. A lost parent. A lost sibling. A lost career. A loss of health. A loss of identity.
Our grief sets us apart. It marks us. We are persevering in a fallen and broken world with battle scars. The danger I am facing is that grief wants to separate me.
Being set apart as a veteran of grief and loss is something that God can use.
But, grief wants to whisper often and consistently, "No one understands, nor can they understand. You are alone in your sorrow. You are alone in your loss. You don't manage your grief like you should. You should hide. You should be ashamed. You should have more faith. God doesn't even understand you anymore. You are different now. They don't want to know this new you. This hurting you. Just pull away. Just hide. Just manage the tidal wave alone."
I am in the war now. Everything in me wants to retreat and be separated by my grief. Separated from people, family, my own heart, and certainly from this big God who loves me but confuses me.
My new prayer is that God would allow my grief to set me apart, battle scars and all. But, that I won't believe the lies and run away alone and be swallowed by the grief. Because, oh will it swallow you!
I was reminded of this beautiful song last week and I just realized (after naming this post!) it has the phrase, "set me apart" right there in the lyrics. Lord, chase me down when grief drags me to loneliness, hopelessness, and deep sorrow. Don't let me isolate my heart from those who love me. Don't let my hardened, bruised heart push you away. Mold me, Lord. Make me like clay in your hands. I've been there before but now, I'm so wounded that my heart is hardened in the survival of grief. Soften me, Lord, and then use me again.
The Potter's Hand
Beautiful Lord, wonderful savior
I know for sure, all of my days are held in Your hands
Crafted into Your perfect plan
You gently call me, into Your presence
Guiding me by, Your Holy Spirit
Teach me, dear Lord,
To live all of my life through Your eyes
I'm captured by, Your Holy calling
Set me apart
I know You're drawing me to Yourself
Lead me, Lord, I pray
So beautifully captured, Amy. Thanks for writing.
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