My blog for this week got completely derailed by divergent thoughts, a random phone call, and the constant inner churning of life’s messy experiences. A new book entered our home, Shattered by Rip Wahlberg. As I read Rip recount how they lost their young son, tears flowed freely down my cheeks. His vivid real time translation of grief’s emotion caught me in the throat. For, I too, have suffered the scalding hot firey pain of grief.

 My journey with grief has left me sobbing, angry, numb, hopeless, overwhelmed, and alone. Last week marked two years since our little 14 week offspring died in the womb. A year later and a year before both mark the loss of two other sweet little babies. 4 babies total have left us, one remains. 7 years ago I sat in a private emergency waiting room with my husband and sister-in-law as reality hit hard, the Dr. walked in with a grave face and my heart felt like it got hit with lightning. I knew before the Dr. spoke the words- he was gone. He had a sudden cardiac dysrythmia while he was at work. My husband’s best friend, business partner, and brother were all dead. My husband had witnessed everything at work that day. Walking alongside my husband as he processed the trauma was hard. We both grieved. 

 My dad called this morning. I was on my sunny porch listening to the Bible. I saw the phone had a missed call so I called him right back. He was unwrapping yet another Biblical truth awareness that was hitting him afresh. With stamina, chuckles, and raw emotion he talked about love and Jesus with fresh enthusiasm- he suddenly stopped, “I miss you so much. My love for you is so deep that when I think about you I feel pain. I just want to be with you. Hang out.” His candid vulnerability touched me deeply. You see, my father experienced a loss so intricately connected to me. He lost me. I’ll share that part of my journey someday but for now let me let it suffice to say that my dad (and family) bore the burden of seeing me utterly broken and amazingly the blessing of seeing me rise again. 

 That pain. My pain. Your pain. Their pain. His pain. Her pain. Is because of love. It is because things matter, people matter. What we go through matters. We all have pain. You see it everyday. Parenting hurts. Discipline hurts. Cold wind blows at our face and it hurts. Life hurts. Disappointment hurts. Pain is such a normal ordinary part of our lives. Why does it still feel so strange and bizarre when it hits? I usually wrap up my writing at this point by circling back to my main theme and bringing some clarity and comfort but I struggle with that today. You know why? Because when I was hurting the thing I wanted most wasn’t more words but a real, throbbing, fearless person to stand beside me, gaze deep into my eyes and let me know I wasn’t alone. 

As I prepare to step into a new season of life my heart is aware that the sunshine does truly shine brighter after the rain. As the darkness fades, winter surrenders to Spring the torn fibers of seasons gone by are knitting together and have made me a stronger person. Pain is not something to run away from or else we will be running our whole life. Pain makes us vulnerable, weak, and at times helpless. Jesus looks us in the eye with so many promises but one stands out to me today. He says, “I’m close to the brokenhearted and save those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18 He reminds me that He is close, understands pain and loss, and is actively at work restoring my soul. That truly makes me excited and filled with hope.

Healing is not the absence of pain but the knowledge that He holds our heart and will never let go!