I've been stewing on this one for over a week now. I thought several times along the way that it was time to sit down and write but then God said, "Nope." I'm always amazed at how He lets me know when it's time. When I think it's time and He says to wait, it never fails that there's something else He has to show me before it's time to write. This time was no exception. In my last post, I said I wanted to write a series of posts to try and shed some light on things that are helpful and not-so-helpful to do and say around your grieving friends. I'd like to continue that today with a biggie. Please, please, please, for the love of Pete (or anyone else you love 😉), do not say, "I totally understand," to anyone you know who is grieving, especially the loss of a child. Just don't do it. I don't care how much you think something you may have experienced in your life might be similar to losing a child. If you haven't lost a child, you simply don't understand. Period. Even if you have lost a child, no two losses are the same. Being a part of this terrible "club" that nobody wants to join does give us many things in common, and there is certainly a deeper understanding of each other when we talk to someone else who has lost a child. But let me just set the record straight by saying that losing a friend, grandparent, parent, pet, or even a spouse is just not the same as losing a child. Sorry, it just isn't. I'm not at all trying to minimize the pain of anyone else's losses. My point is simply to say please don't tell a grieving parent that you understand what they're going through because you just don't. Sure, there are things about loss and grief that allow us to relate to one another, but we need to always be mindful that everyone's experience is different, and child loss is very, very different from other types of loss.
Whew! Let me take a breath for a second. The thing is, those of us going through it often don't even understand it. This grief and the pain of such a devastating loss can completely overwhelm and knock the wind out of you before you even know what hit you. Especially as a mother, losing a child means losing a part of yourself. A part of me died when I lost Ellie, and another part of me died when I lost Lizzie. Time may lessen the pain, but that is a wound that won't fully be healed this side of heaven. I've written before about how sometimes it literally feels like drowning in the ocean and desperately clawing at anything to try and figure out which way is up so you can come up for air. So my point here is to say this: if I can't understand me, how can I believe anybody else does, ESPECIALLY someone who has not lost a child? The truth is that sometimes we can relate to each other through similar life circumstances, but that doesn't mean that our pain or grief is the same. So instead of saying, "I totally understand what you're going through," maybe next time try saying, "I'm so sorry. I can only imagine what you must be experiencing right now." Oftentimes, well-meaning people say things like,"I'm here if you ever need to talk." That's very nice, but there are very few people who I take up on that offer because I simply don't want "advice" from people who think they know what I'm going through. A friend of mine told me just the other day as we were talking about how I was doing how she totally understands how I feel because she's just gone through a period of rediscovering herself too. I love her dearly, and I know she meant well, but honestly I just wanted to laugh because it sounded so silly. Not to minimize her journey of rediscovering herself, but seriously....it can't possibly be anything even remotely close to what I'm living right now and the magnitude of what losing a child and that aftermath does to a person's life. Child loss is very real and raw. The relationships I value the most during this season are those where I feel I can be real and raw and not have to give "safe" answers like "I'm fine," or "I'm taking one day at a time." I value friends who acknowledge that they don't know what to say or that nothing they say will make it any better. I value friends who feel at a loss so they ask me how they can be a good friend to me right now. If you know someone who is grieving a huge loss, please be that friend to them.
I'm usually very in tune with my physical, emotional and spiritual self. In fact, I always know I'm pregnant well before the second line shows up on a test. I detect little nuances and subtle changes happening internally, not just physically, but also emotionally and spiritually. This is a constantly evolving process, and God is always teaching me more about how to do that, especially regarding being sensitive to His Spirit and His leading. One of the most frustrating things about the past 9 months has been that for most of that time, I've had zero idea what's going on with anything. My body's being all wonky with pregnancy and post partum hormones, not to mention stress hormones from all of the trauma. My emotions have been all over the place, understandably so. Spiritually, I've stayed the most stable, but I think in large part it's because I continually run to Jesus when nothing else makes sense. If I can't understand me, I certainly don't expect anybody else to understand me. But He does. Every. Single. Time. After all, since He created me in His own image, of course He understands. He doesn't need me to be able to identify what's wrong. He already knows. He just wants me to come to Him. The title of this blog is the song I sat down intending to write about. I'll post it below, but as I was writing this, God brought another song to mind, clear as day. I haven't even heard this song in years, yet the melody played in my head so clearly just moments ago because God is good, and He always knows just what I need. Please take a moment to listen.
My world is closing in
On the inside
But I'm not showing it
When all I am is crying out
I hold it in and fake a smile
Still I'm broken
I'm broken
Only one can understand
And only one can hold the hand
Of the broken
Of the broken
When no one else knows how I feel
Your love for me is proven real
When no one else cares where I've been
You run to me with outstretched hands
And You hold me in your arms again
I need no explanation of why me
I just need confirmation
Only You could understand the emptiness inside my head
I am falling
I am falling
I'm falling down upon my knees
To find the one who gives me peace
I am flying
Lord I am flying
When no one else knows how I feel
Your love for me is proven real
When no one else cares where I've been
You run to me with outstretched hands
And You hold me in Your arms again
I have come to you in search of faith
Cause I can't see beyond this place
Oh You are God and I am man
So I'll leave it in Your hands
I really could just keep saying this over and over (because it's TRUE!) but God is just so good. I promise, I really did intend to just write about one song today, the one that's been on repeat for most of the week. But God had other things in mind. He brought a third song to mind as I've been writing. This is another song I haven't listened to in years, but this one is very very special to me. God used this song during a season of my life when I'd had the wind knocked out of me (and I really thought at the time that it was the worst thing I'd ever go through in life). God used this song during that season to encourage and breathe new life into me. He used this song to remind me that He loves, He cares, and even though everything is different, that's a good thing!
Who am I to know Your glory
Who am I to recognize Your voice calling out
How could I be in Your story
God who was and is and is to come who has won
I was dead in my sin
You came in, yeah
You made a way when there was no way
You covered heaviness with garments of praise
You wrote a song and You're singing it over me
I feel a dead heart beating now
This revelation makes me want to shout
That Jesus has been sent
And everything is different, oh yes, it is
You turn ashes into beauty
You are for me not against me now
You found me somehow
You turn mourning into dancing
You turn weeping into joyful noise, oh rejoice
I was dead in my sin
You came in, yeah
You made a way when there was no way
You covered heaviness with garments of praise
You wrote a song and you're singing it over me
I feel a dead heart beating now
This revelation makes me want to shout
That Jesus has been sent
And everything is different, oh yes, it is
What manner of love
That You would call us sons and daughters
We call Abba Father
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
I will never be the same
You made a way when there was no way
You covered heaviness with garments of praise
You wrote a song and You're singing it over me
I feel a dead heart beating now
This revelation makes me want to shout
That Jesus has been sent
You made a way when there was no way
You covered heaviness with garments of praise
You wrote a song and You're singing it over me
I feel a dead heart beating now
This revelation makes me want to shout
That Jesus has been sent
And everything is different
When my loved one spoke those words over me 9 months ago, telling me repeatedly as we stared at Ellie in her casket, I wanted to strangle her. Everything within me wanted to scream that I was not going to let this event define my entire life. I was NOT going to allow my grief to consume me. What I didn't realize at the time is that she was right. I won't ever be the same, but not at all the way she meant when she said those words. The day my daughter died was a defining moment in my life, and I will forever be marked by what I've experienced. But instead of speaking death over me - "you're just never going to get over this," God speaks new life over me and makes my dead heart beat again - "Hallelujah! I will never be the same!" What a difference in perspective! He truly does make a way when it seems there is no way. And He continues singing over me, even as I write today. Seriously, so amazing! He continues to show me that He is enough.
So, with new understanding and a much clearer head, I've realized that I'm in a "rediscovery phase" of my life right now. The reason nothing makes sense anymore (except Jesus) is because everything has changed (except Jesus). I am a different person now than I was 9 months ago. Isn't it ironic that the one thing that still makes sense is the One who hasn't changed. Jesus is just as much on the throne today as He was 9 months ago when Ellie died. It's so freeing to know that just because my old self care habits don't work anymore doesn't mean I'm a hopeless case. It just means I'm different, so how I take care of myself now may also need to be different too. If you're a grieving parent, give yourself grace as you rediscover how to live again (I'm totally talking to myself here!). Find ways you can fill your cup and be gentle with yourself as you figure out your "new normal." If you love a grieving parent, please give them some space to figure things out. They are different now, and that's really puzzling and disturbing sometimes, especially as we are figuring out just how different things are now. Love them, be a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on, but please don't pretend to understand. You and they both know that you just can't understand it until you're walking in those shoes. You don't have to understand in order to be a good friend. Most importantly, urge them to press into the One who does truly understand. I feel like this has been a roller coaster writing this post since God brought those first 2 songs to mind that weren't even on my radar when I sat down to write. So finally, I'd like to end with the song I originally had in mind. It's a rendition of a favorite hymn. I love listening to Matt Maher because his songs are so poetic and on point with what I'm thinking and feeling quite frequently. This is another song from his latest album, Echoes. It's a perfect reminder that I can run to Jesus anytime, no matter how I am or what I feel. He knows me inside and out, and He holds my life in His hands. His arms are open to us all, no matter how dirty, how bruised or how broken we are. We don't need to change a thing or "fix ourselves up" to go to Him. He welcomes us just as we are. Just call out to Him and allow Him to heal us from the inside out. Praise God that I'll never be the same again!💓
In shackles and chains, I came to Your door
And fell on the floor of mercy
Guilty I stood, guilty I was
I couldn't hide my shame
Just as I am, just as I am
Jesus, You welcomed me, You took me in
I'll never be the same again
My life held in Your hands
Just as I am
You saved a place, amazing grace
You came all the way to meet me
Carried me home, with a ring and a robe
Threw your loving arms around me
Just as I am, just as I am
Jesus, You welcomed me, You took me in
I'll never be the same again
My life held in Your hands...
Just as I am, without one plea
But that Your blood was shed for me
And that You bid me, come to Thee
Oh Lamb of God I come, I come
Just as I am, without one plea
But that Your blood was shed for me
And that You bid me, come to Thee
Oh Lamb of God I come
Just as I am, just as I am
Jesus, You welcomed me, You took me in
I'll never be the same again
My life held in Your hands
Just as I am, just as I am
Jesus, You welcomed me, You took me in
I'll never be the same again
My life held in Your hands
Oh my life is held in Your hands
Just as I am
Just as I am
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