Grief is a brutal journey.
What I've learned over the past twelve years, is there are certain universal grief truths. Regardless of your loss, you can probably identify with many on the list.
My grief journey started on October 13, 2006. It was on this day I learned my husband, 5 1/2 year-old daughter, and 19-day-old son were killed in a fatal car crash.
In my worst nightmare, I could not have dreamed up what was suddenly my reality.
Read MoreOnce upon a time, Mother’s Day was ‘just’ a day.
When I was younger, I made my mom a card, sent jewelry or flowers, and completely took for granted that I had a great mom who knew I loved her and knew she loved me.
Then I became a mom.
Again, mother’s day was just another day that my family celebrated. I knew Macy loved me every day, so it wasn’t much different than a random Tuesday. For the 19 days I had Caleb, the bond was strong. I loved him, and he loved me.
Then the wreck happened.
Then Mother’s Day was no longer ‘just’ another day.
Read MoreIn the eleven years since the death of my beloved husband, curly red-headed precocious five and a half-year-old, and perfect blonde haired, blue eyed two and a half week old baby boy, the Lord has allowed me to experience a taste of the pain I felt immediately following the wreck.
And the pain was intense.
And it hurt.
And it dropped me to my knees.
And today I am thankful for feeling all the feels again because it allows me to meet you where you are in your pain.
I won’t lie and tell you the road is easy. It isn’t.
But you, dear one in the midst of your pain, can come out on the other side. You won’t be the same… but you can know joy again.
Read MoreSo you’re down and out and not sure you can take much more.
You look around and think to yourself:
This is it?
This is my life?
Is this as good as it gets?
You shrug and respond:
Well, sure it is. It’s what I had comin’ to me.
My mother told me this would happen.
I should have known better.
What was I thinking!
The imagined words of others begin to float into your mind:
You’re no fun; live a little.
Whore. Slut.
Worthless. Damaged
It’s all in your head. You’re overreacting.
You’re exhausted. You’re not sure how you got here, but it’s been awhile.
It’s dark where you are.
It’s hard to breathe.
There’s no rest here.
You’re just going through the motions.
You wonder if anybody knows.
You feel alone here, isolated, even with your friends.
You live in fear here even in the presence of loved ones.
You’re a mess, barely keeping it together.
You’re screaming, but words aren’t coming out.
It happened so slowly. Gradually. Over time. But here you are. In the pit.
And I get it. I’ve been there.
Read MoreAre you stuck?
Stuck in the pit?
The pit of grief?
Oh fellow griever, it’s time. It’s time to move forward. Notice I didn’t say move on…. that’s not what we’re working toward here. We’re working toward forward movement. I want you to know joy again.
Read John 5: 1-9
This passage of scripture spoke to me like none other in my grief journey. God pulled the scales off my eyes as I was reading, and I thought, “THIS. This explains my responsibility in my becoming healed.
When we begin reading, we see that Jesus was back in Jerusalem and at the pool of Bethesda. We also learn that there were a lot of sick people by the pool. According to different studies, it was believed that an angel would stir (or trouble) the waters, and only the first person into the pool was healed.
At the time of the man’s encounter with Jesus, he had been lame for 38 years. That’s a long time, my friends. Now comes the interesting part. Let’s look at what Jesus says to him in verse 6:
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