Language of Grief
Fellowship of suffering has been described as a combination of those who have suffered and those that are suffering. Recently Andy Stanley spoke about this during a message called Comfort Zone. In fact, I wrote about this in a previous post called “Cloud of Witnesses”. I have found this to be true from the moment I met my first mom who had lost their child. There is an undeniable bond that happens and I think it is because we understand the language of grief. We understand the pain, not their pain, but the pain loss brings when you hold your child while they cross over. Collapsing over their bodies and praying to God, screaming out to God because the pain and anguish of that moment is so horrific. It still brings tears to my eyes each time I revisit that moment October 13, 2006 at 6:55 am.
Comfort from those who’ve been comforted is life-giving to those who need comfort. – Andy Stanley
So that quote really spoke to me because it took me back to those early days and weeks after Brit died and had it not been for those who came and sat with me, sometimes not saying a word, but spent life-saving time with me – saved my life. Sharing the same space in time, no demands, and no expectations – just sitting side-by-side meant more to me than I could ever put into words. I was blessed beyond measure for those who did not give up on me. Their comforting made me feel like someone cared.
That being said now that I consider myself a seasoned griever, I have experienced life-giving purpose in writing this blog, in hearing from my followers, meeting moms in person and lastly praying for those who I do not know, but understand the journey they are forced to live out.
I don’t believe I have the answers, nor do I claim to be an expert in offering advice, but what I do know is that grief and I know each other well. It has visited me on many occasions and for a variety of reasons. God has worked in me to allow my pain to be a voice for others and I take that role very seriously.
I don’t want to sugar coat anything here on this blog. It is not my intention to give the impression that the death of my daughter was any easier because of my faith. It was not. It takes a mountain of faith to get through loss. My faith has been questioned, shaken and put to the test, but I have not lost my faith, in fact my faith has grown exponentially in spite of my losses.
Finding purpose to honor my daughter’s memory and to help me heal by helping others has been crucial to my healing. It will always be a work in progress. Eight years since the death of my daughter is different than it was at one year or two years and so on. Each year it changes it evolves into a mature grief. I still cry, sob and yearn for my daughter. I still question why. I still find tears well up in my eyes when I spend a moment thinking of my Brit. The pain is still relevant in my life. My faith has been tested, but not broken. I rely on my faith in God to help me find the purpose in all of this mess.
He comforts us in all of our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled,
we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. – 2 Corinthians 1:4
So on the days when I feel I can’t make it another minute, I remember the advice I got from someone many years ago in the early years of my grief. “Close your eyes and imagine you can crawl up into the lap of Jesus and allow Him to comfort you”. While that seems a little odd, it works. Spending time with God in prayer or in the fellowship of church – has been the very nourishment and comfort that has helped me get to this moment.
Our capacity to comfort is determined by the degree of which we have suffered. – Andy Stanley
I encourage you to watch the video link below from Andy Stanley. I get something new from it each time I watch. He also mentions my story and says my daughter’s name which I found touching. The whole series is also listed below.
Until next time,