On this national day of remembering loss, I’m reminded of our loss. I have mixed feelings about acknowledging days like today. Of course, it’s nice to stop and remember our losses. But also, it is yet another reminder that we are missing our little girl today. Days of remembrance often feel like this to me. This feeling of so much joy that we had our little one in our life for the time we did, and yet, this feeling of so much sadness for what is not. And the feeling of sadness often seems to overtake the feeling of joy in these moments. And I’m left with just a feeling (which is not really a feeling) of nothingness. Perhaps it is the absence of feeling; just a numbing sensation, spreading throughout my body.
Numbness. Loss of feeling. Grey. Fog. There are many ways to describe this, but the best way for me is to see it like a heartbeat, which is ironic, because it’s the very absence of a heart beating for us. But it’s as if we see this little heartbeat, steadily pumping across the screen. But no major dips and no major swells. Just a little up and down action. This is how it feels to live in the grey zone. This is not a season one can live permanently in, it’s just a place of survival. Barely functioning, feeling almost like an observer to life–a reluctant bystander, sitting on the edge, watching life pass by.
But then, these days happen, where your loss is brought to your attention. Where you cannot go anywhere but walk directly into it. Where you are confronted so deeply with your pain, that you have to stop and feel how much it hurts. And I feel the hurt, like a sliver sticking into your skin, constantly rubbing until it is pulled out.
And I turn, and I look my heartache in the face. And as I look at the messiness of it all, I hear a gentle whisper, calling me in. As I look up, I see a tender face, leaning in towards me–holding me where I am. And I hear His voice, the voice that speaks clearly in my confusion and distress. I hear Him speak softly over me, and I suddenly feel everything so deeply. I begin to feel the lowest lows but as He cradles me tenderly, I also begin to feel joy again. It is the strangest experience, but in the depth of my relationship with Jesus and allowing Him to speak to my pain, I begin to feel the most joy I have ever felt.
And there in my losses, I am held. I will be okay. Not just okay, but full. As I experience the fullness of God’s love for me, I’m able to feel the joy and sadness equally. And as I recognize these emotions, that I am able to finally feel–I begin to slowly heal and find wholeness again.
So on this special day of recalling our losses, remember to feel. It’s okay to feel the loss deeply, but then we look up in HOPE and anticipation of what God is restoring back to us. What we don’t see in our lives, will still happen in eternity. God reigns over it all and our losses will be redeemed. Our losses will one day be restored to us, and we will see the BIG PICTURE, which is this....in the end, death will be defeated. Jesus ALWAYS wins!