There is Hope

This is from #OCA. It interested me because this lady's son was older when he died. He committed suicide but there are some good thoughts in it. It was written by Faith Sims.

It isn't for the moment that you are struck that you need courage, but for that long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security. -Anne Morrow Lindbergh (I believe she was Charles Lindbergh's wife whose baby was taken from their home and found dead/murdered)

"My son, my son."

These were the barely audible, barely understandable words of my husband as he called to tell me that our son had died. That's all it took for me to throw the phone across the room trying to make the true untrue.

...His death was unthinkable and couldn't have happened. I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

It wasn't to be.

The death of a child, no matter the age of the child, is such an unnatural loss. Our children should bury us, not the other way around. When I became a mother, I understood the possible risks involved in having children and loving them so much. Something could happen, accidents, sickness, death.

Yet... (I'm learning to love this word-so hopeful)

After (Hayden's) death, I woke up most mornings disappointed and a little mad at God that I woke up at all. I wanted the pain to end. I wanted to be with him. My heart was too broken to go on.

I did wake up though, day after day. Eventually, I was okay with it (waking up I think she means), and finally, thankful for it. I am thankful that God loved me enough to continue to hold me when I didn't even want to be held. I cried out to Him in my hurt, my anger, my shock, my brokenness-and He met me there. He has always been there-my hope. I knew He understood my pain, His Son, too, had died.

My faith in Jesus (and his faith in Jesus) and knowing I will spend eternity with my son is what gets me up in the mornings and propels me forward during the day. The love I have for my family pushes me to look for joy, and the sweet memories of (Hayden) keep him very much at the forefront of my mind.

The depth of our grief is in direct correlation with the width and breadth of our love.

My son died on (August 21, 2015), that date will always loom heavily as it approaches. Its weight is heavy and its burden overwhelming. We buried him on (August 29th)...It's a hard time for our family. The first year was naturally devastating. The second year took me by surprise, as it increased the awareness that the loss is permanent (not looking forward to that!). Now, I see each year will be a mark on the calendar of how much we lost that day. But...There is hope because we get closer to seeing him again. Oh, that makes me smile!

I've learned so much during the past two years. Some, I wish I didn't have to know, but there is so much wisdom that comes from loss, grief, and brokenness that couldn't come any other way.

My hope is that I can be a light for others who find themselves in the path of brokenness. My prayer is to be a comfort to those in need, as I have been comforted. My desire is to show the love and hope that we have in Christ, even in (especially in) our struggles.

The pain is real. The tears are hot and streaming-But God!

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)