The Gift of Grieving

Lately, I've been struck with how great it is that Jesus cried over the death of Lazarus. The anguish of the death of a friend hurts. Grieving well is a gift. Stiffing grief only causes more pain.

I haven't lost anyone super recently. My adopted grandmother did go to Heaven last year, and that was hard, but we had drifted a bit since I had moved out west.  I miss her asking for a half a cup of coffee, or making rice krispies with her, or even sneaking PB cookie dough out of the bowl away from her watchful eye.

The grief the my husband and I are working through is a living breathing and ever changing grief. The grief has to do with our dreams and expectations of the future, as well as some expectations of 'normal' everyday life.

Anxiety and sensory processing disorders have given us the challenge of figuring out how to survive through 24 hour periods with very little left to glance at the next 24. Maintaining the safety of our kids is a challenge in balancing visual schedules, the correct sensory input, and praying for peace to reign. It's exhausting. It's overwhelming. It is refining.

When we first held our precious firstborn in our arms we dreamed what any parent does - that we would play with him, teach him how to ride his bike, have endless play dates, sticky banana kisses, outings to the park or libraries....and so on. And we did. For two years we had a relatively typical first parents experience.

It was during the summer before Buddy turned three that the red flags we had been seeing in his development and play became full out warning bells and sirens. Gone were play dates and outings. Screaming and nightmares and utter chaos became the norm. Violence and meltdowns became common.

With visits to specialists we realized this wasn't 'just' a phase or bad parenting or a sickness that would be cured. Coming away from the first pediatric psychiatrist appointment, we were devastated. Not because Buddy was any different, or that we loved him less, or anything like that. It was a grief stemming from the death of dreams and the what -ifs of uncertainty of the future.

Back to Jesus, before this post becomes too sad.  Jesus!  He didn't continue to cry and wallow in his grief.  Why? He knew what was ahead. He knew that he had the healing touch, or rather the resurrecting touch. He finished grieving, got up, and took action. He had an audience. He did the unthinkable and had the tomb opened. Then, he prayed.

Jesus is a great example for me here. He didn't ignore pain. He didn't stay in pain. He showed the world what is ahead for us - life! Joy! Time with Him! 

Back to us and Buddy. It's not the big things that get me down about Buddy's future. I'm sure he'll be fine in the long run - especially with all of the different people God has put in our way to help him out. It's the 'little' things that break my heart for our 5 year old.  -things like how he's had to forgo two different amazing field trips this school year because they would have overwhelmed him past recovery, or that having friends over not only takes planning and patience, but days of recovery as well. It's that we've had to postpone memorizing verses from the Bible because he latches on to a word or phrase and repeats it ad nauseum for hours or days on end.   It's these little tears at my heart that are breaking it, causing the grief to swell.

I have to admit I don't like it. I hate grieving, but I'm starting to realize the gift that it is.  Without proper grieving, I believe we would be stuck in pain so terrible, that we would just give up.

So today, I will have my cry. Tomorrow, though, I will look up and see how God is working.

xo,
J

Soli Deo Gloria