Sacredly Scarred

Our butcher at our local grocery store knows that Tyler is dead.  Not because I’m that strange woman that felt the need to tell everyone I saw that my heart was broken,  (but if I’m honest, I wanted to.)…He knows because my 4 year old felt the urge to tell every person we encountered that Tyler was dead.  I would be in the midst of a conversation and Hudson would randomly blurt out, “our baby died!”  I never hushed him, because often times I wanted to blurt out the same thing.   His heart ached and wanted something he couldn’t have.  The only way he knew how to handle the loss, was to inform everyone he was around the obvious reality of how his heart felt.  I so admire this about a child’s grief.  I’ve learned so much about God and His comforting nature because of my children’s sorrow.  

“In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried out to God.  Out of His temple He heard my voice; my cry reached His ears.”

Psalm 18:6

The heart of a grieving child might be one of the most innocent and raw acts of living I have ever witnessed.  I have 3 children that breath air this side of heaven.  I have three children that grieve in three different ways.  Yet somehow, we have learned and are still learning how to recognize their sorrow and teach them to live with godly grief.   All the while, applying this very principle to my life as well. 

“…we want you to know the truth about those who have died, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.  For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.”

1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

Unlike the grief shared between spouses, children do not always have the ability to discern when they should express their feelings.  In fact, often times their expressions of grief would leave me struggling deeper in the waters than I was before they shared their hearts.    Mostly because I questioned time and time again if how I was responding to them was leaving them with a sense of security or instability; if my responses were full of Truth or mere concepts that I hoped were true. 

As parents we make elaborate attempts to protect our children.  There was no protecting them from an unexpected death.  They had dreams and plans that they fully anticipated for their little brother.  And just like that, their hearts were broken too, as were their dreams.

Connor had been telling me months before Tyler’s arrival of his dreams…”Mom, since my room is attached to Tyler’s room, I will get up in the middle of the night to take care of him so you can sleep.”  So much in this little comment from an enormous heart that has taught me to love so  passionately and thoughtfully. He became my quiet griever.  So much like his Dad.  He would take on the protector role.  Ensuring that he could provide us with the comforts he had some “control” over.  If he saw a tear building up, he ran and got me a Kleenex.  If he saw me turning my head down and walking toward my room, he gently crept behind me and closed the door, as if he knew he could protect everyone else from watching me hurt, and thereby taking it on and experiencing it for himself.  He is my early riser.  Countless times he would walk into the dimly lit room where I had my bible wide open, and just sit beside me, with a tiny, comforting hand touching me and Tyler’s little fox wrapped in his arms.  His heart probably wandering if Mom would ever be the “same” again.  

He is also my deep thinker and rarely blurts out questions before processing his own thoughts.

May 20, 2017

4 weeks. It took that long before Connor really opened up…

Connor asked me the hard questions today.  We were all watching a movie together and he turned to me and asked,

“Did God want Tyler to die?”

Taking a deep breath and wondering what was about to come out of my mouth, I responded, “No, Connor. God did not want Tyler to die, but He will use Tyler’s death to bring people to know more about Him and who He is.”  Satisfied with that answer, Connor asked the next one, “If God is in control of everything, why didn’t He take the cord off of Tyler’s neck?”

With a deeper sigh and a quick prayer that The Spirit would intercede I replied.  My response involved an analogy about life being like a puzzle and the pieces that don’t always look like they really belong can often times confuse us and frustrate us, but they don’t confuse God.  The response is beside the point, my son was grieving with the deepest questions that sometimes have no answers that can satisfy our hearts longing.  Once a month Connor began coming to me with “the” question he was struggling to understand.  I am no professional counselor but I do know my child’s ability to grieve and trust me time and time again to provide his heart a little relief.  It became my living example of God’s design for us.  I know Connor so well that his questions do not take me off guard, just like the Father knows me so well and my heart’s longing as well as my heart’s desires; and nothing surprises Him.

“You have searched me Lord, and you know me.  You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.  You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.”

Psalm 139:1-3

God understands things differently and better than we do.  We trust in Him even when the puzzle remains incomplete in our eyes.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.

Isaiah 55:8

The wonder of a child’s trust in our very words has left me with a greater understanding of the trust that God desires from me.  

Austyn, my oldest, a heart that has been squeezed by the hand of the Almighty.  She danced with uncertainty in her eyes all summer long.  She examined me daily and would ask me often if I was feeling “better.”  She has a unique way of finding the hurting heart in a room.  She has an even more unique way of communicating her hurting heart.  She rests so secure in what Ryan and I say.  She has a gift of faith.  If the Word of God says it, she believes it!  She speaks so often of Tyler, you would think he were still alive.  She was the first to correct me when someone asked me how many children I have.  She is loyal to a brother she never knew.  She is certain that she will see him one day.

“For the word of LORD is true, and all his work is trustworthy.”

 Psalm 33:4

The good grief of a child.  It has no emphasis  beyond the obvious.  It seems to search for relief in the most efficient manner it knows how.  It looks different yet simple.  It is easily persuaded into joy when we speak truth.  It finds hope in the certainty of Jesus.  It is raw and real.  It will leave a parent’s heart torn all over again.  It will leave a parent gaining a new understanding of El Nehkumah, The God who Comforts.

“Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains!  For the Lord comforts His people and will have compassion on His afflicted ones.”

Isaiah 49:13