A
critical aspect of grief is that, through your loss, heaven should become more
real to you. It should cease being thought of as an enigmatic place somewhere out
there in the clouds or in the vast expanse of outer space, and emerge as a
living entity, complete with “mansions” and “rooms” and a River of Life and healing
fruit trees. Walls and gates and endless sunshine, joy and peace. A throne with
a King.
If you are a believer, Jesus has
gone on ahead to prepare a special place for you in that “home.” The glory of
that knowledge is that your baby will be there, awaiting your arrival. With
that in mind, heaven will take on a special focus for you. Your baby was, and
still is, a treasure to you. Our hearts focus on our treasures, and it is no
different, or less intense, for our babies who have traveled the heavenly
pathway ahead of us.
A danger, though, for an anguished,
grieving heart, is in not relinquishing all of your heart to that truth. While
seeking God’s Kingdom and heaven is our ultimate goal (or should be) we must be
careful about mentally living there
while we physically remain here, on
Earth. You are still in this world. God has taken your child to his or her
reward; but the appointed time for your reward has not yet arrived. Do not let
your aching heart and your desire to be with your baby now rob you of the life,
living, and loving God still has for you to do on Earth. Do not let the
ugliness and pain and sorrow of this life defeat you!
It is easy to become too
self-absorbed in our grief. We can be so easily tempted to kick the door open
to the reminders of our anguish, pain and loss, and then pine over what was and
what could have been. “What if, what if,
what if!?” we repeat, over and over and over again. We can even ask
ourselves that question years after the event. We can mull it over and talk it
to death. We’ll come to conclusions that make us feel better temporarily and
then revisit it again later and go through the process again. Over and over and
over again. We make ourselves mentally, emotionally, and physically sick doing
it.
But there is no “what if?” I’m
counseling myself as much as I am everyone else when I say, “You can’t go
there!” or “You’ve got to stop going
there!” Those thoughts only pry the wound open repeatedly, or don’t allow it to
heal in the first place. Through all of the pain of grief, I’ve really learned
what it means to “Take every thought captive to obey Christ.” Over and over I
find myself saying, “No!” to damaging
thoughts and, instead, plunk them squarely down at Jesus’s feet, and then leaving them there, where He can deal
with them. Because, honestly, I don’t really have the capability to deal with
it. He does.
Yes, like a rebellious child who won’t stay in
his time-out corner, sometimes I need to gather the same thoughts up a
multitude of times and redeposit them at Jesus’ feet. With every gather, it
gets easier. I just need to make sure I gather, take, and deposit before I
entertain the thoughts or give them a modicum of attention. If I open the door
to them, they have a tendency to really take control and make hash of my
spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being.
Sometimes we need to look in the
mirror, throw cold water on our faces, and honestly confront what isn’t. Head on. Verbalize it aloud.
Scream at it. (Scream at God, maybe. He can take it.) Curl into the fetal
position and wail. Dissolve into tears at the ugly reality and cry our hearts
out, along with the toxic pain. Then, when we’re spent, we can remove our
sackcloth and ashes, clean ourselves up, and step out in faith.
Please don’t get me wrong. I am not
saying that you should ignore your grief or just “get over it!” What I am
trying to convey is that oftentimes we do need to take an honest look at how we are grieving, and be more mindful about it.
That, in turn, can help us move forward in our healing. How we grieve tells us,
and others, a lot about our faith, the depth of it, and living it out.
I continue to be awed by King David,
in the process of praying for his child and in his response after the baby’s
death. We find it in Second Samuel 12:15-23 (NKJV): “And the LORD struck the
child that Uriah’s wife bore to David, and it became ill. David therefore
pleaded with God for the child, and David fasted and went in and lay all night
on the ground. So the elders of the house arose and went to him, to raise him
up from the ground. But he would not, nor did he eat food with them. Then on
the seventh day it came to pass that the child died. And the servants of David
were afraid to tell him that the child was dead. For they said, ‘Indeed, while
the child was alive, we spoke to him, and he would not heed our voice. How can
we tell him that the child was dead? He may do some harm!’
“When David saw that his servants
were whispering, David perceived that the child was dead. Then David said to
his servants, ‘Is the child dead?’
“And they said, ‘He is dead.’
“So David arose from the ground,
washed and anointed himself, and changed his clothes; and he went into the
house of the LORD and worshiped. Than he went to his own house; and when
requested, they set food before him, and he ate. Then his servants said to him,
‘What is this that you have done? You fasted and wept for the child while he
was alive, but when the child died, you arose and ate food.’
“And he said, ‘While the child was
alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, ‘”Who can tell whether the LORD will be
gracious to me, that the child may live?’” But now he is dead; why should I
fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him but he shall not return to
me.’”
Just how did King David do that? It seems as though he just turned
on a dime, got control over his emotions, and faced reality. From the passage, I
realize this was a man who really knew God. I mean really knew Him—and trusted Him—not only with his own life, but
with the life of his son. Here, and in heaven.
Oh, how I want to possess that kind
of trust, don’t you? Especially in the midst of such heart wrenching pain.
Next week, we’ll explore more of
that passage and how David handled his loss, and how we might learn from it to
better handle ours, and talk about some facts we need to face when treading the
path of grief.
If your grief is still tender, or
you would like to read more on the stages of grief, here are some of my other
posts you might be interested in reading:
“What
Does Grief Look Like?” (There are four parts, so you can start here, on May 27,
2013, and read on from there.) http://brokenheartsredeemed.blogspot.com/2013/05/what-does-grief-look-like.html
“Unhealthy
Grief”
“How
a Mother Grieves” (Two parts on two different dates. Begin here.)
“How
a Father Grieves”
Until
next week,
Thanks
for joining me!
Blessings,
Andrea
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