When my heart still aches: MY STORY - LATELY
"How can I put this into words?"
Each time I have sat to write this post I ask myself this same question... Are there words? I don't know. I sit to write and the tears come but the words - well, the words remain buried.
So here I am, again.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Still broken....
Five short (or is it long) months ago we lost our fourth (or is it sixth??) child in just the 3rd month of pregnancy. If you have never suffered this type of loss it can be hard to understand. This "loss" is largely intangible as we had no body to bury or even ultrasound picture to treasure. The memories we have are literally all that we have...
Our arms are empty and some days, it seems, so are our hearts.
And yet, we walk-on. Most days I move in and out of grief. Too grateful, for the healing that is taking place literally in our daughter's body and (as a result) figuratively in our souls, to linger in the sadness. But there it remains. Buried under the gratitude and joy. A sadness that I cannot shake. Like the nagging feeling of something important I have forgotten to do.
So, I will admit it here: I am still sad.
My heart - still broken over the loss (or is it losses). And, yet - the tears seem dammed; possibly damned, to never fall. How does one grieve in the midst of such joy? How do I mourn this loss (a life only a few knew even existed) when my heart is so set on rejoicing over this child whose suffering is finally diminishing? What right have I to cry?
Is it possible to be ashamed of your sadness? I think so, now. But, I find that under the shame (and around it, though-out it, all over it) is anger. And, these tears that won't fall appear to turn into stones that I hurl... Or pile high creating walls. Eventually, closing me off from the ones (most importantly the one) who could share in my grief. Because - I'm supposed to be happy.
Life is finally better. Did you read that? Our life is better!
And yet - somehow it's not enough. I wish I could find the words to describe this condition of my heart. A condition I feel I may have "contracted" as a child. Forever grateful for what was and letting go of what was not. Survival and the opposite of bitterness and self-pity the goal. In order to remain largely unbroken I had to accept what little I was given - denying that what I needed was more.
But here is where my faith steps-in.
My God is enough.
Gives more than enough. But those tears; turned stones; turned walls - keep out more than just "them". He is kept at bay, too. As this reality washes over me so does that shame. Have I been walking and talking lies? Do I spew praises and faith as others spew bitterness and untruths?
Or is it all real? Can I feel both faith-full and distant? Can one walk intimately while hiding? I am awakened to the reality that I have been hiding my pain. And hiding it from my God. "Why?", I ask aloud hoping its audibleness will give it form and therefore, understandability.
I blame God for this loss. His plan - the source of my pain.
That heart condition I acquired as a child has that second, less benign phase: Denial. I think it started when those who could not or would not give the more I needed denied, well, that more was actually needed. And so I began to question whether it truly was! Of course, I knew it was but why focus on what is not when one can focus on what is. So I began believing the lie that what others wanted to give me was enough. Sure there were times when I broke from this form and stated my need for more. But was swiftly met with the accusation of "need-y" and "wrong motives" and "high maintenance".
The dysfunction obviously, mine.
And there it was. The condition of my heart was such - is such - that I cannot ask my God for more. But, you see, I do need more.
More love.
More grace.
More mercy.
More hope.
More comfort.
But, my humanity and their humanity make Him seem human, to me. But, friends, He is not.
As I sit poised on the edge of the abyss that is this pain I recognize that my ultimate need is Him.
He has more comfort and gives it freely.
He is Love.
He has given Grace and has shown mercy.
And, He is our only True Hope...
I don't know where this journey through my grief and pain will take me. I only know from where I have come. I never imagined that my God would use this loss to heal a "heart condition" acquired as a child. Or show me just how much He longs to give me more and that my need for more was something He created in me... But He has.
I want to leave you with a scripture that my Lord has "whispered" over me and to me over the last five months. And know that I am loving you and praying for you all, today!
He lets me rest in green meadows;
he leads me beside peaceful streams.
Even when I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me
in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
forever. Psalm 23
Each time I have sat to write this post I ask myself this same question... Are there words? I don't know. I sit to write and the tears come but the words - well, the words remain buried.
So here I am, again.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Still broken....
Five short (or is it long) months ago we lost our fourth (or is it sixth??) child in just the 3rd month of pregnancy. If you have never suffered this type of loss it can be hard to understand. This "loss" is largely intangible as we had no body to bury or even ultrasound picture to treasure. The memories we have are literally all that we have...
Our arms are empty and some days, it seems, so are our hearts.
And yet, we walk-on. Most days I move in and out of grief. Too grateful, for the healing that is taking place literally in our daughter's body and (as a result) figuratively in our souls, to linger in the sadness. But there it remains. Buried under the gratitude and joy. A sadness that I cannot shake. Like the nagging feeling of something important I have forgotten to do.
So, I will admit it here: I am still sad.
My heart - still broken over the loss (or is it losses). And, yet - the tears seem dammed; possibly damned, to never fall. How does one grieve in the midst of such joy? How do I mourn this loss (a life only a few knew even existed) when my heart is so set on rejoicing over this child whose suffering is finally diminishing? What right have I to cry?
Is it possible to be ashamed of your sadness? I think so, now. But, I find that under the shame (and around it, though-out it, all over it) is anger. And, these tears that won't fall appear to turn into stones that I hurl... Or pile high creating walls. Eventually, closing me off from the ones (most importantly the one) who could share in my grief. Because - I'm supposed to be happy.
Life is finally better. Did you read that? Our life is better!
And yet - somehow it's not enough. I wish I could find the words to describe this condition of my heart. A condition I feel I may have "contracted" as a child. Forever grateful for what was and letting go of what was not. Survival and the opposite of bitterness and self-pity the goal. In order to remain largely unbroken I had to accept what little I was given - denying that what I needed was more.
But here is where my faith steps-in.
My God is enough.
Gives more than enough. But those tears; turned stones; turned walls - keep out more than just "them". He is kept at bay, too. As this reality washes over me so does that shame. Have I been walking and talking lies? Do I spew praises and faith as others spew bitterness and untruths?
Or is it all real? Can I feel both faith-full and distant? Can one walk intimately while hiding? I am awakened to the reality that I have been hiding my pain. And hiding it from my God. "Why?", I ask aloud hoping its audibleness will give it form and therefore, understandability.
I blame God for this loss. His plan - the source of my pain.
That heart condition I acquired as a child has that second, less benign phase: Denial. I think it started when those who could not or would not give the more I needed denied, well, that more was actually needed. And so I began to question whether it truly was! Of course, I knew it was but why focus on what is not when one can focus on what is. So I began believing the lie that what others wanted to give me was enough. Sure there were times when I broke from this form and stated my need for more. But was swiftly met with the accusation of "need-y" and "wrong motives" and "high maintenance".
The dysfunction obviously, mine.
And there it was. The condition of my heart was such - is such - that I cannot ask my God for more. But, you see, I do need more.
More love.
More grace.
More mercy.
More hope.
More comfort.
But, my humanity and their humanity make Him seem human, to me. But, friends, He is not.
As I sit poised on the edge of the abyss that is this pain I recognize that my ultimate need is Him.
He has more comfort and gives it freely.
He is Love.
He has given Grace and has shown mercy.
And, He is our only True Hope...
I don't know where this journey through my grief and pain will take me. I only know from where I have come. I never imagined that my God would use this loss to heal a "heart condition" acquired as a child. Or show me just how much He longs to give me more and that my need for more was something He created in me... But He has.
I want to leave you with a scripture that my Lord has "whispered" over me and to me over the last five months. And know that I am loving you and praying for you all, today!
The Lord is my shepherd;
I have all that I need.
I have all that I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows;
he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
bringing honor to his name.
bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me
in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
forever. Psalm 23
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