Grief and Hope
When we visited with our pastor in preparation for Lacy's service, he reminded us of the scripture in I Thessalonians 4:13
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope...
Knowing where Lacy is, that he is safe and finally free of all his burdens, does not assuage the pain of loss. We are grieving - sometimes with tears, sometimes with a swift intake of breath - and the grief is oppressive. I don't want anyone to have the idea that our faith that gives us the hope of eternal life somehow makes us immune to grief. On the contrary, we are able to express our pain because we know where our son is right now. We are mourning the loss of his presence in our lives, and the loss of daily contact with the son we loved with all our hearts.
There are no words to express this grief. My body has seemed to shut down, as though I have been under anesthesia. I cannot keep a thought in my head.
Kenny and I are supporting and comforting each other. What a blessing to have my sweet husband! I hope I am a blessing to him as well. We hold one another, we express disbelief at this sudden end to a struggle that was, in some ways, just beginning.
The service on Thursday was a true celebration of our sweet Lacy. So many people turned out to pay their respects and to let us know how much they love us. The love of God was made real in our lives on Thursday. Each and every person who hugged us and cried with us was Jesus to our family.
What a paradox that we can have hope and experience great pain; that we have confidence our son is in the arms of Jesus yet we long to feel one of Lacy's "crusher" hugs.
The waves of grief come and go. My friend, Jenny, is at the beach right now. She called me a couple of hours ago, and we talked about this grief. She told me that she likens grief to the ocean waves - when they come toward you, face them head on, or be knocked down. Let the waves wash over you, taking your breath away and leaving you sputtering to draw a breath. In time, the tide will go out, and the waves will become smaller and more manageable.
We don't want to avoid this grief. We want to face it head on. How can we not? Lacy was a wonderful man and his life leaves a hole in ours.
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope...
Knowing where Lacy is, that he is safe and finally free of all his burdens, does not assuage the pain of loss. We are grieving - sometimes with tears, sometimes with a swift intake of breath - and the grief is oppressive. I don't want anyone to have the idea that our faith that gives us the hope of eternal life somehow makes us immune to grief. On the contrary, we are able to express our pain because we know where our son is right now. We are mourning the loss of his presence in our lives, and the loss of daily contact with the son we loved with all our hearts.
There are no words to express this grief. My body has seemed to shut down, as though I have been under anesthesia. I cannot keep a thought in my head.
Kenny and I are supporting and comforting each other. What a blessing to have my sweet husband! I hope I am a blessing to him as well. We hold one another, we express disbelief at this sudden end to a struggle that was, in some ways, just beginning.
The service on Thursday was a true celebration of our sweet Lacy. So many people turned out to pay their respects and to let us know how much they love us. The love of God was made real in our lives on Thursday. Each and every person who hugged us and cried with us was Jesus to our family.
What a paradox that we can have hope and experience great pain; that we have confidence our son is in the arms of Jesus yet we long to feel one of Lacy's "crusher" hugs.
The waves of grief come and go. My friend, Jenny, is at the beach right now. She called me a couple of hours ago, and we talked about this grief. She told me that she likens grief to the ocean waves - when they come toward you, face them head on, or be knocked down. Let the waves wash over you, taking your breath away and leaving you sputtering to draw a breath. In time, the tide will go out, and the waves will become smaller and more manageable.
We don't want to avoid this grief. We want to face it head on. How can we not? Lacy was a wonderful man and his life leaves a hole in ours.
No words. Love to your family.
ReplyDeleteRebecca and Arbor
As always, Deborah, so beautifully expressed. Jenny's reference to the 'waves of grief' reminded me of the "Footprints in the Sand" poem...I pray Jesus will carry the two of you through this difficult time. Grieve in whatever way you need to and without apology. It is no small thing to lose someone so treasured. Much love, friend.
ReplyDeleteWhen I grieve with you I revisit my own griefs. As tears well and run over I know you share mine as I share yours. I wish for no one to have to grieve but as it is unavoidable, I am glad we can share the experience. And as time passes and we gain comfort we will share it as well. Love you Deborah and Kenny and all you Goff's.
ReplyDeleteWhen I grieve with you I revisit my own griefs. As tears well and run over I know you share mine as I share yours. I wish for no one to have to grieve but as it is unavoidable, I am glad we can share the experience. And as time passes and we gain comfort we will share it as well. Love you Deborah and Kenny and all you Goff's.
ReplyDeleteThe ocean is vast, but the waves do come and go. Jenny is wise. Praying that the rough seas will become more calm and the rhythms more regular as it washes over you these coming months.
ReplyDelete