It has been a little over six months since we lost our oldest son. This has been very difficult for us, his siblings and the rest of our family. I have known other griefs in my life but this one has been the most painful. I have likened this grief to an obnoxious visitor who has intruded our house. I shove it in a back room and tell it to stay out of sight and remain quiet, but at the most inconvenient and unexpected times it comes out and interrupts our lives. It can’t be controlled and always shows up on its own terms.
"How are you doing?"
People have often asked how I’m doing and I answer, “I really don’t know.” I’ve never faced this before. I don’t understand how I am supposed to be. This grief journey of losing a son is uncharted territory. I do not know what to expect. I can’t predict how or when it will affect me. I can only take it one day at a time.
Don’t misunderstand. I'm not incapacitated by it. I keep going day by day, enjoying the love and closeness of our family. In fact, I have even experienced new aspects of joy in Christ as I realize more and more the peace and hope of eternal resurrection life in him. The support of friends, our ministry team and fellow believers in Christ over the months has been phenomenal. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am for all the encouragement and help they have been.
"A grief shared is half grief"
My wife, Sharon, and I have shared many agonizing moments as well as a lot of great memories together through this. I am so grateful for her. We lean hard on each other and have found it so true that “a grief shared is half grief.”
The Lord has been the bedrock source of our strength and hope. His Spirit’s presence has comforted us. The truth of his Word has been the foundation on which we rest. We could not make it through this without him. The assurance that our son, despite his many struggles, has a relationship with Christ and is now at peace in his presence, has been the hope that has sustained us.
God was especially gracious to me because he sent me a postcard a couple of weeks before my son died. Let me explain.
It was on a Friday evening that I got a call from my son and I could tell he was in really bad shape again. We had received calls like this over the years and had repeatedly tried to help him find a way to get out of the cycle that had so plagued him—doing well for a period of time but then falling back into depression and self-medicating through substance abuse.
Are You hearing my prayers?
As I drove to his apartment to check on him, I cried out to God with anguish like I had done many times before. This time, though, my prayers were especially raw. I was at the end of my rope. I was so exasperated about his situation, how nothing seemed to change and how powerless I was to do anything about it. With deep frustration I told God, “I don’t know what else to say to you or ask you that I haven’t voiced a thousand times before!” I expressed that I had never felt so helpless or hopeless about my son’s situation.
When I got to his apartment I found him in pretty bad shape. We spoke for a little while and he assured me that he was going to pull out of it like he had many times before. I was somewhat relieved, but still wondered if things would be different. He would get sober and then, after awhile, his depression would drive him back into the same pattern of abuse.
I drove home temporarily relieved, but still feeling hopeless, helpless, drained and wondering if the Lord was hearing my pleas to him.
As I pulled up to our house I checked the mailbox to retrieve our mail. When I got in the house I sifted through the usual junk mail, bills and other items and then found a post card addressed to me. It was from the alumni director at the seminary from which I graduated about 40 years ago.
Now, you have to realize that I don’t know this guy. While I greatly appreciate the training I received there, I have had little contact or involvement with the school for many years. I don’t ever recall receiving anything directly from any alumni director before. I was surprised that he even had my current address.
His postcard indicated that he had prayed for me just a few days before because I was an alumnus and, since he didn’t really know me or what I was involved in, he said that he just let the Lord direct his prayers for me. This is what he said on the card, “When I was talking to Him (God) about you, He said, ‘I know. I got this!’”
I was stunned. The card was dated August 27. He had prayed for me on that day and sensed that God was saying about me that he knew exactly what I was going through and that he was in control. So, the alumni director passed that message on to me. I received the card on September 3, on the exact day about an hour after I was pouring out my anguish to God about my son, wondering if he was listening at all. God graciously answered me: “I know. I got this.”
In his kindness and mercy God gave me a very tangible indication that he was well aware of what we were going through and that he was in control. I am very grateful for this specific answer to my prayer.
But, you know, I really didn’t need a post card because God had already sent me a book. The Bible assures me that he hears my prayers, that he knows exactly what I am going through, that he cares deeply about my concerns and that he is in control. (And this is true for all of his sons and daughters!).
God's merciful kindness
But it surely was kind of him to specifically speak to a man I don't know, who was praying for me on a particular day, and then have him write me a post card telling me what he sensed God was saying about me, and for me to receive it on another particular day I was crying out to God wondering if he was hearing me at all.
Though it doesn’t diminish the grief and I still don’t have the answers to all the “Whys” in our situation, I am very comforted to realize that God knows and that he’s got this.
It is helping me grieve well.
Comments