Grief: What's Normal?

           What is normal grief, or normal grieving? What does it look like to you? Can you define it? Can you tell when someone is grieving normally or isn’t going through the standard stages?

            In this post, we’ll return one last time to the Second Samuel story of the death of King David’s baby. I’ll start with the verses leading up to the ones I want to cover today. And we’ll look at normal grieve, along with other important truths.

           

            “When David saw this 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, and washed and anointed himself, and changed his clothes, and went into the house of the LORD and worshiped. Then he went to his own house; and when he 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.”

           

            We’ll enter the scene today where David’s servants voice their shock at David’s behavior: the fact that after the child died, he arose, cleaned, worshiped and ate. In other words, David intentionally returned to life and acted “normally.”           

           

            But his servants evidently didn’t think there was anything normal about David’s action, considering what had just happened to his baby. They must have thought he should have thrown himself into deeper mourning. They don’t understand it, and they pointedly confront him about his behavior.

           

            The first takeaway from this section of the passage is: Don’t let anyone around you tell you what “normal” should look like when you’re in the grieving process. You are going to grieve the way you are going to grieve. In spite of psychologists setting forth tidy, common stages of grief, that doesn’t mean that you, personally, will experience all or any of them. And it doesn’t mean your grieving spouse or other family members will grieve in the identical way you do. And it doesn’t mean that if you’ve experienced the same type of loss that someone else has, that you know exactly what he or she is going through. As a speaker told the audience at a recent conference I attended, “I know you’ve lost your momma, too, and you tell me you know how I feel. But don’t tell me you know how I feel, because you don’t know how I fee. That was my momma I lost; this is my momma we’re talking about.”

           

            Resist letting others set grieving standards for you; and you must avoid setting grieving standards for someone else. While we are called to weep with those who weep, we are not called to “fix” or keep tabs on, or direct people through the grieving process, to make sure they hit all of the stages, work through them, and come out whole on the other side in a set period of time.

           

            And don’t assume that if a person quickly returns to life after a loss that they did not grieve sufficiently or grieve well, or love deeply. And while David graciously explained his reasons (which end up being for our benefit), do not feel compelled to explain yours.

           

            The second point is to realize that, under the circumstances, you did your best. David prayed and wept, on the chance that God might be gracious and spare his son’s life. He knew he’d done all he could, and God’s answer was “No.” David faced that answer and accepted it.

           

            What so many parents are tempted to do, though, is to chastise themselves (for years, even) for not having done something more on behalf of their child. They may be haunted by a fear that they did something wrong, something that caused the death of their baby. They “just know” that if things went differently, that the death could have been averted.

           

            When we think that way, we neglect to acknowledge God’s providence in the outcome. While our fears and nagging thoughts may have some truth to them, replaying them in our minds, and in our stories, and in our hearts won’t bring our babies back. It won’t change the past. Thinking that way only saps us of our energy for living in the present, and it often robs us of the love we can give others, or the love others can give us. We do not need to go through penance. We’ll never feel better if that’s how we approach it.

           

            As Dr. J. Vernon McGee wrote in his booklet, Death of a Little Child: “Humanely speaking, you did the best you could. You are not as wise nor as strong as God. You did what you could, and you must lave the results to Him. Do not reproach yourself for negligence or ignorance. Regardless of what you had done, you are still a fallible and feeble creature. You did the best you could."

           

            David did all that he could at the time; and he never gave up hope, until the end was proclaimed.

           

            But then his hope really still didn’t die, did it?

           

            As we see in the last line, and which I have talked about before, David maintained hope. A blessed hope. One built on the promises of God: the knowledge and belief that his precious baby was at home in heaven and waiting for David to come to him.

           

            As he pointed out: “I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.”

           

            He knew, and firmly believed in, the end of the story. The happy ending. And there is a happy ending. In spite of all of your anguish, you can be assured of a happy ending.

           

            And it’s this point that I will explore next week. Knowing you will see your little one some day, and grieving as someone who has hope. You will know the joy that David alluded to: Even though your child has gone on ahead of you, and will not return to you in this time, you will one day go to your child and be reunited with her!

Until next week,

Thanks for joining me!

Blessings,

Andrea

Grief: What's Your First Focus?

             In this post, we’ll return once again to the account of King David and the death of his child found in Second Samuel 12:15-23 (NKJV). Today, we’ll look specifically at this section:

            “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.

            This section tells us that when the seventh day arrived, and the baby died, David received the news by picking himself up from the ground, cleansing and anointing (smearing with oil) himself, and putting on clean clothes. Then he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped.

           

            And then he went home and had a meal.

            At first glance, what David did seemed unbelievable. It almost seems…heartless.

           

            But I can relate.

           

            For the four days I lay in that hospital bed tethered to medical contraptions, torso tilted south and legs elevated north twenty degrees, I think I did just about anything I could do to save my unborn baby. I know I didn’t pray with the intensity David did; I didn’t know God well enough twenty-one years ago to do that. But I “fought” right up until the end. And when two doctors and my husband called a halt to the fight (which ended up saving my life), I knew there was nothing more to be done.

           

            And—at that moment—I relinquished the outcome to God.

           

            It’s amazing how God often prepares hearts.

           

            After I awoke later that morning, hunger pangs suddenly struck. It’s as though it was the first time I’d noticed I was hungry, or maybe my mind and body were finally giving me permission to be so. My nurse blew in and announced I’d be wheeled down the hall to take a shower in the adaptive shower stall. (Tiny hospital.) There was no point in me staying in sackcloth and ashes (or a gamey hospital gown). The world had not come to an end, (although the following day I could have sworn it did, or should have); and I was still part of it, even though I might have rebelled against that.

           

            The following day I was allowed to go for a walk, as long as I held onto the wall railings for support. I patrolled the hospital corridors and found the closet-sized chapel (Remember: tiny hospital). And I sat and worshiped, and thanked, and prayed and glorified God. My heart felt compelled to do it; my soul craved it. I needed to do it to verify that in this painful, tear-filled, unpredictable world, there is Someone who is faithful and constant. And He was waiting for me.

           

            I can relate to David.

           

            David knows who can and will restore Him, and He makes a beeline to Him, all cleaned up. I think it may have also been a powerful sign to the nation that he was ready to get back to the job, and the most important place for him to be before returning to “work” was the temple, praising and worshiping. Priorities.

           

            And the Sunday following Victoria’s death, three days after I’d been released from the hospital, I couldn’t wait to attend church, to worship God with the body of Christ—my family and friends. Despite Chris’s strong reservations against it, I insisted. I was empty, and I needed to be replenished.

           

            What can we take away from David and his behavior?

           

            David knows what it’s like to be forgiven.

           

            David knows what it’s like to lose.

           

            David knows who gives and takes away life.

           

            And David, in effect, like Job, says to us through his behavior, “No matter what happens, blessed be the name of the LORD.”

            The fourth point, given in this particular section? God should be our first thought and focus after our loss. If we are truly living our lives intentionally, it must be so. Cast off our sackcloth. Clean ourselves up. Point our faces in God’s direction and give him all we’ve got. (On a note: David did have seven days—a number meaning completion and perfection in Scripture—prior to his baby’s death; seven days in which to agonize. Many cultures have a formal seven-day grieving process. The take away is, though, that at some point, you must be deliberate about your actions. And, in order to be restored, God must be the first focus, because He's the one who is going to do the restoring.)

           

            Since last week’s post was long and intense, I think covering one point today is sufficient. Next week, we’ll go through points five and six and finish up this passage about how David handles his grief.

            So, until next week,

           

            Thanks, once again, for joining me!

           

            Blessings,

           

            Andrea

Honest Grief

           Many times we are dishonest with ourselves when we grieve. Life is complex, and we sometimes need to examine the “why” of loss as much as confront the loss itself. Certainly, we can get too hung up on the why, allow it to eat away at us and never get a satisfactory answer. Yet, sometimes we’re so busy pointing fingers, we forget to look at our responsibility and ourselves and end up prolonging the pain.

            As a caveat to this post, I want to point out (again) that while sin and death were brought into the world through sin, I do not believe that all illness and pain is due to sin. Jesus Himself made that point. It appears that sometimes it is from a person’s personal sin, sometimes it stems from the sin(s) of a parent, and sometimes it is simply for God’s glory. (This post may be difficult for some to read, and I encourage you to hang in there with me.)

           

           

            In this post, we’ll return to the account of King David, and the death of his child found 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.’”

           

            The first fact we need to see and absorb is that “the LORD struck the child…” Struck: as in inflict a disease, plague

           

            Hmmm, I don’t like that passage very much, do you? It kind of makes me nervous. The longer I look at it, the more facts—uncomfortable ones, to be sure—I need to face, to come to terms with.

           

            Since the LORD was—and still is—the giver of life, He had every right to do what He did with David’s child. He still does. After all, it’s His world, and the King gets to call the shots. “My castle, my rules,” as Geoffrey Rush says to Colin Firth (Prince Albert “Bertie”) in The King’s Speech. And as Job said, “The LORD giveth, and the LORD taketh away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.”

           

            It’s as true today as it was thousands of years ago and at the beginning of time, when God had to be God and boot Adam and Eve out of His garden because they chose to violate the rules of engagement. (I think He really missed walking with them in the cool of the day, though, as had been His habit.)

           

            We expend energy setting up our own little kingdoms on Earth, with our own rules, and so easily forget that we’re simply overseers tending to the place until the King returns. In the process, we often convince ourselves we have more personal power and clout than we actually do, over good and evil.

           

            David was in the wrong place at the wrong time, caved to temptation, and committed two atrocities that he would eventually have to “pay” for. And he knows it. Nowhere in the story do we hear him railing against God. To be sure, he does in other times in his life (just read some of his wailing Psalms), but not here. He turns the pointed finger toward himself and does what he knows he should do. Pray.

           

            Second, God seems to have prepared David’s heart for the loss.

           

            If we return to Chapter 12, we find God’s prophet Nathan treating David to a little parable, which David answers in self-righteous anger.

           

            That’s why Nathan bursts out with the accusation that David is actually the evil antagonist in the flash story. Nathan proclaims that while David was sneaking around committing all sorts of vile, calculated, face-saving and self-serving sins, God was watching. And He didn’t like what He saw His son David doing. He couldn’t let it go. He wasn’t about to let David go unpunished for it. To do so would have brought dishonor to His name, His Kingdom, and the nation of Israel. And He would punish David in the full site of David’s kingdom, the nation of Israel.

           

            How embarrassing. For all to see, and for all to read and learn about for thousands of years. Your dirty laundry hung out for billions of people throughout time.

           

            At this point, I’m imagining God agonizing over what He has to do. He may have even grieved over it. Discipline is never easy, for the receiver or the giver.

           

           

            When David confesses openly in six words: “I have sinned against the LORD,” Nathan reassures David that God has “put away” David’s sin and David’s life will be spared.

           

            But not the life of his child. Why not take David, the sinner, and leave the innocent child to live? We might never know the answer to this on this side of Heaven, but we can rest assured God had a purpose. And I’m going to guess that David lived out the rest of his life agonizing in his heart about what he did and the heartache it caused so many people. God spares David’s life, but is that more of an agony than being allowed to live? Sometimes, when we are in the thick of our grief, it seems to be so.

           

            In effect, Nathan tells David that God is concerned about and affected by how we behave as his children because “His reputation is bound up by our conduct,” as Dr. Charles Stanley writes in his Life Principles Bible.

           

            So, as much as David didn’t like what He heard from Nathan, I think right then and there, his heart has started getting prepared for the worst. Interestingly, God often prepares our hearts for losses, to soften the blow. Many times, though, we ignore those signs.

           

            Third, knowing the prophesied future doesn’t stop David from pleading with God to change His mind about taking his son. In the King James Version of the Bible, the word plead is rendered as: “besought.” A searching out by any method, specifically in worship or prayer.

           

            I’m going to guess that David knew God’s heart and His propensity for mercy, love and grace, and was more than willing to take a chance and beg God to change His mind. David didn’t eat and he didn’t sleep, in spite of his servants’ and the elders’ attempts to rouse him up and do so. It is a strong reminder to us that no matter what we’re facing, we need to cast ourselves upon God and His mercy and keep praying with all of our might, until the final answer is rendered.

           

            Now, I can imagine many of you right at this moment have eyes that have narrowed into angry slits and you might be screaming at your computer monitor, iPhone, or tablet, “I am NOT a murderer like David! I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m a good person; I’ve lived a good life. At least I haven’t killed anyone. I didn’t deserve this!” If you perceive I may have insinuated you are a sinner who deserved your loss. I assure you, I am not.         

           

            You alone can look back upon your life, asses the facts, and make a judgment on whether your loss was “fair” or not. If you have read my story, you know that I looked back over my life and determined that my loss was a “fair” judgment, even if that is not the reason God took Victoria home. All I have to look back on now is the outcome of twenty years. I can see the span of life from a different perspective, although my view still doesn’t come close to His.

           

            I am humbly reminded, though, that Jesus did say in Matthew 5:21-22: “You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’ I’m telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother ‘idiot!’ and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell ‘stupid!’ at a sister and you are on the brink of hellfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill” (The Message).

           

            Then we need to ask ourselves: Could David have avoided this devastating outcome if he had been forthcoming about his sin, instead of waiting to be openly punished before confessing it?

           

            It may be that if David had publicly and immediately—and with a sincere heart—dealt with his sins at the beginning, God may have reduced the severity of the discipline. After all, the purpose of discipline is to get someone to change his behavior and to obey. In this case, God had to send His representative to accuse David outright.

           

            What can we take away from these truths?

           

            First, God is God, and He is the author of life. We don’t have to like it, but that’s the fact, and the sooner we come to grips with it the better off we’ll be spiritually, emotionally and physically.

           

            Second, we need to be honest with ourselves about the “why” of the loss, if we can point to it. If we can, and our behavior played a hand in it, then the sooner we confess, the better. If we can’t answer the question “Why?” it’s best to stop asking the question and move forward. It usually doesn’t do anyone any good to belabor that question if no answers are forthcoming.

           

            Third, remember that God is loving and merciful, so we should always be ready to expend energy pleading with God, when the situation warrants it. True, there are times when we get our heart’s desire only after we have let go of the desire and turned it over to God, but not giving up is what hope is all about. And love certainly hopes all things!

            Next week we’ll cover points four thru six learned from this event in David’s life.

Until next week,

Thanks for joining me!

Blessings,

Andrea