I caught myself broken and crying.
Again.
For the millionth time in 6 months. (I just realized that tomorrow will be SIX MONTHS since I fell apart at the foot of the Cross, and gave my guilt and shame to Jesus. There WILL be celebrating!)
I've come to accept this. These tears. And sometimes I LONG for this to happen to me.
I embrace the tears and all of the emotions they bring.
Because they are tears of freedom.
Tears of hope.
Tears of joy.
Tears of repentance.
Tears of a prodigal daughter who has finally come home.
Today it happened first, because of Third Day. I often think about the words to songs and how the author of the lyrics, the really good lyrics, can only write them because he/she understands what it means to go through whatever it is they are writing about.
I was just sitting here, writing (a different post), when this song came on. The first verse, as most of you know by now, I can relate to. At the end, when it seems like there is no hope, the song assures us that there is hope. And I just love how Third Day captured that truth through their song "I Need A Miracle."
I wasn't completely to the point of weeping, until "Held" by Natalie Grant came on, as soon as "I Need A Miracle" ended.
This song always made me feel more hopeless before I embraced the Cross.
This song also made my heart hurt for those who have lost little ones to death. Death never makes sense. But the death of a child is something that we will never be able to understand. Death doesn't make sense. We can grieve and we can move on and God can carry us through tragedy, but we won't ever be able to make it make sense. Because it just doesn't!
No one should EVER have to bury a child.
But, life happens. And we can't prevent it, hide from it, or escape it.
God is not to blame.
Satan is not to blame.
Sometimes LIFE just happens.
A very wise woman told me that many years ago and I have never forgotten it.
I've shared before (briefly and with some of you face to face) about my own miscarriage before I had Olivia--a loss that I didn't truly feel until two years after it happened. It barely made my blog when it happened...this is all I had to say about it at the time it happened, in 2004:
"I'm so glad Christmas is over and that this year is almost over. It sure has been chaotic, to say the least. Last week was filled with more drama and trouble than we've had in a long time. In one week, we had a miscarriage, I got laryngitis and Abbey broke her collarbone (this was Christmas eve too). It has to get better, right? I feel like I am just floating through waiting for the storms to pass. Will they? I'm not so sure I want to start a new year. New years come with new problems and I've had enough to last me for quite some time."
Looking back to that now, I realize how ironic it is, because the seven years that followed were even worse, with more problems, more tragedy, more mistakes, more life...
I think I was just in such a dark place at the time that it was just one more bad thing that happened to me. I accepted it and about two years after the miscarriage, it finally hit me and I had a meltdown over this baby that I lost. Now, I think about that child and wonder if it was a boy or girl. I wonder what our family would be like if the baby had lived. The kids ask about the baby from time to time. But I have reached the point of acceptance, and I haven't forgotten that lost baby that I never got to know.
But even that was nothing compared to what some of my other friends have gone through (or are currently trying to navigate through):
Loss of a baby still in the womb, fully grown and seemingly healthy, dies unexpectedly before being born.
Loss of a baby, barely a month old, when there was no logical explanation or reason for it to happen, gets sick and dies.
Loss of two young boys in a tragic car accident that took the lives of their mother, aunt, and uncle as well.
A very recent loss of a husband, after a very long battle with cancer (I love you-you know who you are!)
LOSS.
DEATH.
But what really sent the tears streaming down today was the chorus of the song. Because I now truly understand what it means to be held. I have felt it. I have felt God's loving arms reaching down and embracing me. There is no better feeling in the world!
And if you are struggling with life or dealing with loss, my prayer is that right now you will feel God's arms wrap tightly around you.
That you will know what it means to be held.
Again.
For the millionth time in 6 months. (I just realized that tomorrow will be SIX MONTHS since I fell apart at the foot of the Cross, and gave my guilt and shame to Jesus. There WILL be celebrating!)
I've come to accept this. These tears. And sometimes I LONG for this to happen to me.
I embrace the tears and all of the emotions they bring.
Because they are tears of freedom.
Tears of hope.
Tears of joy.
Tears of repentance.
Tears of a prodigal daughter who has finally come home.
Today it happened first, because of Third Day. I often think about the words to songs and how the author of the lyrics, the really good lyrics, can only write them because he/she understands what it means to go through whatever it is they are writing about.
I was just sitting here, writing (a different post), when this song came on. The first verse, as most of you know by now, I can relate to. At the end, when it seems like there is no hope, the song assures us that there is hope. And I just love how Third Day captured that truth through their song "I Need A Miracle."
I wasn't completely to the point of weeping, until "Held" by Natalie Grant came on, as soon as "I Need A Miracle" ended.
This song always made me feel more hopeless before I embraced the Cross.
This song also made my heart hurt for those who have lost little ones to death. Death never makes sense. But the death of a child is something that we will never be able to understand. Death doesn't make sense. We can grieve and we can move on and God can carry us through tragedy, but we won't ever be able to make it make sense. Because it just doesn't!
No one should EVER have to bury a child.
But, life happens. And we can't prevent it, hide from it, or escape it.
God is not to blame.
Satan is not to blame.
Sometimes LIFE just happens.
A very wise woman told me that many years ago and I have never forgotten it.
I've shared before (briefly and with some of you face to face) about my own miscarriage before I had Olivia--a loss that I didn't truly feel until two years after it happened. It barely made my blog when it happened...this is all I had to say about it at the time it happened, in 2004:
"I'm so glad Christmas is over and that this year is almost over. It sure has been chaotic, to say the least. Last week was filled with more drama and trouble than we've had in a long time. In one week, we had a miscarriage, I got laryngitis and Abbey broke her collarbone (this was Christmas eve too). It has to get better, right? I feel like I am just floating through waiting for the storms to pass. Will they? I'm not so sure I want to start a new year. New years come with new problems and I've had enough to last me for quite some time."
Looking back to that now, I realize how ironic it is, because the seven years that followed were even worse, with more problems, more tragedy, more mistakes, more life...
I think I was just in such a dark place at the time that it was just one more bad thing that happened to me. I accepted it and about two years after the miscarriage, it finally hit me and I had a meltdown over this baby that I lost. Now, I think about that child and wonder if it was a boy or girl. I wonder what our family would be like if the baby had lived. The kids ask about the baby from time to time. But I have reached the point of acceptance, and I haven't forgotten that lost baby that I never got to know.
But even that was nothing compared to what some of my other friends have gone through (or are currently trying to navigate through):
Loss of a baby still in the womb, fully grown and seemingly healthy, dies unexpectedly before being born.
Loss of a baby, barely a month old, when there was no logical explanation or reason for it to happen, gets sick and dies.
Loss of two young boys in a tragic car accident that took the lives of their mother, aunt, and uncle as well.
A very recent loss of a husband, after a very long battle with cancer (I love you-you know who you are!)
LOSS.
DEATH.
But what really sent the tears streaming down today was the chorus of the song. Because I now truly understand what it means to be held. I have felt it. I have felt God's loving arms reaching down and embracing me. There is no better feeling in the world!
And if you are struggling with life or dealing with loss, my prayer is that right now you will feel God's arms wrap tightly around you.
That you will know what it means to be held.
Dear Jamie,
ReplyDeleteAs one who has walked this painful path I hurt for you and those you know who are in the same place. Your comment, "No one should ever have to bury a child," resonates deeply. I lost my son Charles 23 years ago in an auto accident and the scar tissue is there still on my heart and soul. You never 'get over' the loss of the loved one; it is a void, a hole that cannot be filled by other relationships or people.
I want to speak to a segment of your audience: those who lost loved ones with no time or sense of closure', of 'last things and things unsaid'. The pain of no last things makes the loss all the harder, I know full well. For you I ask the God of Comfort to reach out and touch you. Although the scar remains there can be a earthly healing in this. I choose my words carefully 'earthly healing' because the full healing is in Heaven. Those last words that I could not say will become my first words when I am safe at the harbor of Heaven.
The assurance I have is that one day I will see Charles face-to-face once again and meet his Lord. The assurance does not negate the pain of the heart in this life, for we are broken sinners. But we have a hope. I have rested my life and heart in the hands of the sovereign King who is to be trusted with our lives. Psalms 139 says he knows EVERYTHING about us. Only a lover seeks to know all of the beloved. We are precious in His sight.
Thank you for your willingness to share, to be open and vulnerable.
Thanks for being so open and for your words of encouragement. For you, I rejoice with knowing that you will see your son again some day and I appreciate you taking the time to share insight from your own life.
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