I woke up just before 5 am and right away my mind began racing. Since I had gone to bed at a decent hour, seven hours of sleep was actually plenty and I was ready to begin the day. I felt a bit off, however, and got to thinking about the date, November 8th, and realized this is seven months since Morgan’s Celebration of Life service, and I relived pieces of that day and then how or if I’ve changed much since then.
My heart is missing a chunk and that’s not going to change. Yes, I have gotten more used to it, or I’ve decided to avoid the sadness more than I used to.
The first time I checked my personal email this morning, I saw I’d gotten a newsletter from the While We’re Waiting organization and I immediately opened it. I would not feel right copying the whole thing, and I didn’t ask permission, so I’m going to only do a part. The author was saying she’d gone to a Bible study not too long after her daughter had passed and due to it being the first of a series with some familiar and not familiar faces, everybody had to introduce themselves, and people always mention their kids. It was her first time to decide how to answer it, and she did it without breaking down. After the introductions, a video was put on. And from here, Jill Sullivan says:
With that task accomplished, the leader spoke a few words to introduce the series, which was about the book of Esther, and for the next hour, we sat in semi-darkness watching the video. For awhile, I had some difficulty focusing on the video, because as I sat there in there in that room surrounded by all those very friendly women, I suddenly felt like I didn't belong. I realized for the first time that everything, absolutely everything about me is colored by the fact that I'm a mother who has lost a child. Everything I see, hear, say, and think passes through that filter. I can never take that veil off ... it is a part of my very being. I suddenly felt so "different" from all of the other women there, and I felt very alone. Not lonely, mind you, but alone. There's a difference.
She put it so perfectly. Her daughter Hannah passed on over 14 years ago. She and her husband started this group and have now organized 296 retreats for bereaved parents. They took their pain and moved forward with it, and God has definitely worked it for the good for so many of us. Each time W3 and I meet with each other, we’re so grateful that we both went to that retreat the first weekend in May.
I still have only a questionable earthly view of Psalm 139:16. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
Certainly a major amount of love and goodness has come to us bereaved parents because their daughter Hannah got cancer and died. Is this more than Hannah herself could have or would have accomplished if she’d lived? Isn’t getting people close to Him (Love God) and each other (Love Others) God’s greatest desire?
The same can be said for Morgan and her earthly death and every other child that dies before their parents. What am I doing that is going to bring God’s love to others? He knows me. He knows what I will do. Is it really more than Morgan could have done herself? It can only be answered some day in eternity. My brain and heart cannot really comprehend. I will never stop believing in and loving God, but it doesn’t mean I have to understand.
This was very heartbreaking to read. The mother’s word about being colored by her loss are so profound. I’m glad you have found comfort with these other families. I pray that you continue to receive the grace and strength and consolation from the Lord. Honestly, I feel your faith and trust in the Lord goes beyond what so many people would be able or willing to obtain. May God continue to bless your obedience and submission. I know He sees and loves your humble, servant heart. Your fruit is nourishment for those eager to rely upon the Lord.
This absolutely rings true! Literally everything becomes colored by our loss. It regrinds the lens we see everything through. It doesn't alter the past but it tends to alter our view of it......or our perception of it. It does alter our present, to varying degrees, and it undoubtedly impacts our future, again, in varying degrees. And yes, it can feel so very much alone. It is great that you're sharing your journey with us and making a positive impact for all of us reading your journal. It does make a difference in a very positive way! Your faith is contagious. I appreciate you!