There are many unknowns in our life that can leave us feeling like there are half-empty chapters in our story. We are faced with lingering, unanswered questions of ‘what if’ and ‘what now?’ But what if those unknowns can become closed chapters in our lives and leave us with the finalization of ‘this will never be’? These closed chapters can be painful and cause us to question God’s goodness, asking Him, ‘Why would You allow this to happen to me?’
There is a time for everything in all seasons of our lives and something we never anticipate is the season to mourn.
Nine years ago, my husband and I endured a loss no parent should ever have to endure—the loss of our son, Bowen. He was our third child, whom we were expecting to be born healthy. But, immediately after he was born, we knew something was wrong. After twenty-four hours of tests and examinations, the doctors diagnosed him with polycystic kidney disease. We had no idea how deadly this kidney disease was in babies until the doctors told us two weeks later that they had done everything they could—there was nothing else they could do. As quickly as I saw our son take his first breath into this world, I saw him take his last breath as I held him in my arms.
Needless to say, as a mother, I was heartbroken—beyond hurting and suffering in the anguish of the loss of our son. But God is so good and has plans beyond what we can imagine. Our son was born on Easter weekend. Oddly as this sounds, our family got up and went to church on Easter only three days after his passing. As I was sitting in the chair listening to the Easter message I’ve heard hundreds of times, God whispered in my ear, “My Son died too.”
God came alongside me that day to let me know, “I’m so sorry you are going through what you are going through, but if anyone knows your pain, it’s Me. I have suffered too.” I heard the death, the burial, and the resurrection in a whole new light that day.
“Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” Romans 5:3-4 NIV
Meeting God in the Midst of Our Pain
If it weren’t for God’s empathy and meeting me in my pain, I wouldn’t be in the place where I am today. Were there days I didn’t want my character built and my perseverance strengthened? Absolutely! I just wanted my son back.
In my suffering God was so tender and gave me the best gift by letting me know, ‘I have your son and will be taking care of him until you see him again one day.’ I didn’t stay angry or wallow in the ‘why.’ But, I had to take the step to take His hand. He was always reaching out, but I had to grab and hold on. We tend to think God lets go of us, but really we’re the ones that let go of Him.
Regardless of how short my son lived, his life showed me every life matters. No life is too short to teach us how precious the gift of life is.
“Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?” says the LORD. “Do I close up the womb when I bring to delivery?” says your God.” Isaiah 66:9
No pain will ever be wasted without something new to be born. Grief cultivates new seeds in our hearts that give birth to something new.
Overcoming grief isn’t something that happens overnight—it takes time. Grief comes in waves without warning, like riding a roller coaster and not having control of the ups and downs. I had to learn not to allow bad days of grief define me. I had to be intentional about getting up every day and putting one foot in front of the other. Every time I did, those steps got a little bit easier.
I started doing things I never did before. I joined a women’s Bible study group, started running, organized fundraisers for PKD to raise money and awareness, ran a kindness campaign doing acts of kindness in honor of our son, and even sponsored thirteen families whose child was on dialysis at the same hospital in which our son died. God was cultivating something new in my heart I never experienced before—a wholehearted healing, faith, joy, love, peace, and freedom that was found when I met Him in the midst of my pain.
Along the way, God taught me a few more things about myself I didn’t know, like there will always be another finish line to cross, no race will ever be long enough to outrun grief, and there will always be another dollar to raise. But the most powerful lesson God taught me is the power of saying ‘no.’ Even though some of these ventures I embarked on were intended to be healthy, they quickly turned unhealthy when I said, ‘yes’ to everything. I had to take into account what season I was in and be realistic with the burden it would have on my family if I said, ‘yes.’
Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow, questioning God and His plans of how my son’s death was for His glory. How could that be the better plan? It’s okay to be real with God and tell Him how you feel. I didn’t like God’s plan, nor would I have chosen it or wanted it for anyone. But, allowing God to have all of my grief and pain allowed my heart to fully surrender to Him and His greater plan to overflow within me. Surrender allows for God’s work to be done no matter how devastating our situations are. I may not have chosen my circumstances, but I can remain hopeful because the God of all hope is still on His throne and the Kingdom is not in trouble.
God will use our pain and put us alongside others who have been through the same thing to mend and heal our hearts. Our son will always be a part of our lives, just not in the way we ever thought or imagined. Many think God didn’t answer our prayers to heal him and bring him home, but God did indeed heal him. Our son is no longer suffering—he has been made whole in Christ and is home in heaven.
The best way to start your journey towards overcoming grief is with God. Not run ahead of him, or look too far back, but with Him, to be in His presence.
Written by Heather Gillis
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on Jen Roland
Featured Image by Ted Erski from Pixabay
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