“Praying Through Sorrow”

While digging through my old blog, I found this post that I wanted to bring over here for keepsake. I havent really stopped crying since I read through it again. I wrote this July 18, 2005. Not alot has changed since then with Emma- other than she is a year older and has a new diagnosis. My fears are all the same, My heart is still very reflective in this post. It still brings me to my knee’s.

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This is the book that I began reading last week. I wanted to share with you the impact it is having on my life, as well as document it for myself. Chris Jackson lost his daughter at the age of 3 & half years old to a medical ailment. This book is touching my heart in more ways than I ever thought possible.

In the first chapter, He discusses “loose ends” and how he pursued for his child:

I pursued from the moment she was born. I pursued as the negative reports began flooding in, I pursued when she was given less than a year to live, I pursued through fatique, grief and despair. I pursued until I believed the word. I pursued until I knew the Lord would heal her. I pursued until I trusted that the Lord knew best.

He then goes on to talk about her death:

I pursued on August 26, 1999 when she died in my arms. My wife looked at me minutes before our daughters death and said “You know, she was never really ours.” As I nodded through my tears, she spoke again, “No Regrets.”

It is at this point he starts talking about loose ends and describing the feelings that he had to deal with regarding her illness, and her death. This is the part that is gripping me the most right now, because he puts into words the emotions of my heart, and it is so therapeautic to read them and know that they are “normal”…that my greif is normal.

I really do have perspective, there’s this loose end that now dangles from my Christian faith and threatens to blind me. What do I do with the memory of Alexis? What do I do with my experience of pursuit? Oh, I know, someday Ill be able to help people, and I really do desire to minister from my time with her- but what about my heart? What about my families heart? God doesnt owe me. Im not mad at him (although he is certainly big enough to handle my pain and anger and humility) but I do need help. In fact, if He doesnt help me, I might not make it- even after a valiant pursuit.

Wow. This is the exact heartache I am feeling regarding my daughter. My loose end is strangling me. For those who have never faced losing a child, you really cant relate to that loose end. It can either anchor you strangle you…lately it has been doing the latter in my life.

I thought I had everything buttoned up . My life was planned, and my call from God was secure. I had a lot of answers and alot of vision for my life. I had never dreamed that one season of freakish tragedy could change so much. When Alexis was born with brain damage, I knew that God was the healer. I knew 3 years later when we were still fighting. When Alexis died, and healing never came… I knew very little.

I have battled with why God is not healing my daughter… I have battled with that for years, even before she was born. As her parents, her father and I sat in doctors offices rubbing my enormous belly, listening to doctors tell us that there was no hope… quietly squeezing eachothers hands as to reassure the other that “They dont know our God”. We had faith beyond imaginability that God was going to heal this precious little girl.. that she would be born, and she would be just fine. He didnt.

We later felt that the transplant was our answer to prayers… it would heal her tired sick body… it didnt.

And here we are 4 years later, watching this disease ravish our beautiful little girl… where is her healing? And even more devestatingly, I ask.. where is my God?

When Alexis was alive, at least I had a cause. Although hurting deeply and profoundly, at least i was the fighting father. I knew exactly which Scriptures to stand on and which books to read. I knew how to pray, and I knew the right confession to speak. Unwittingly she became my identity. I was Alexis’ dad

I felt robbed. We were suppose to take her to preschool and teach her to play soccer. I had already begun to pray that she would find the right husband. I was suppose to walk her down the aisle someday.

I dont like saying I have three children, but I hate saying I only have two.

I love talking about her, but as soon as I do, I regret it. No one understands. I know they try to, but they cant. Well.. .some people can. However, those who have shouldered the unthinkable dont say much. They just listen. They just love. Theyve had to rediscover who they are too.

My biggest fear through all of this is not how I am going to handle the process of this disease… it is how I am going to handle life once this disease takes her from me. I have spent the last four years enveloped in making sure she is getting everything she needs… what happens when there is nothing else to do? What happens when she is gone? Who will I be then? Just typing that brings me to tears, but at the same time it is something that I am going to have to face, and walk through… despite how much I want to beat the heck out of it… it is the reality of our families life, and pretending it isnt there is not going to make it go away.

Frequent periods of anxiety are normal. Numbness, emptiness, loneliness and isolation can make even normal taskes such as doing the laundry, grocery shopping and vacuuming seem impossible to accomplish. Grief can erupt at awkward moments: at lunch, singing in church, starting your car. Dont be ashamed when your grief does not follow a normal timetable. Periods of anger toward your loved one, other members of your family, friends, yourself, or God are normal.

Those words literally sent me to my knees. I find myself crying at the oddest times, yet the release is so strong and forceful. Last week, I started crying after leaving a friends house whos child was the same age as my daughter…. without even thinking about the relevance, the tears started flowing as soon as I got in the car. My husband often tears up out of no where, just thinking about her makes him cry. Im crying now just typing about crying.

And then the part that I need to read the most:

There are times when I feel swollowed up by endless sorrow. Where do I go from here, and of course why? Did I really hear from God in the NICU on the day of her birth? Did I miss Him? If I missed him, how can I trust the other things I thought He told me? If I heard him correctly, then why didnt I receive a miracle when I was just certain that He told me to fight for one? If He didnt come through for me then, how can I trust Him now? Is the sovereignty of God merely a cop out? Why do bad things happen to good people? How should I then live?

Eight years after my questioning began, I havent found many answers, but I have found HIM. Jesus doesnt have all the answers, He is THE answer Maybe He will make sense of your loose ends in this lifetime, and maybe He wont. The one constant is Him. He will be there

Someday your loose end will be gently reconnected. Take this story to heart:

The only survivor of a shipwreeck washed up on a small uninhabited island. He cried out to God to save him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemd forthcoming.

Exhaused, he eventually managed to build a rough hut and put his few possessions in it. But then one day after huting for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happend. He was stung with grief.

Early the next day, though, a ship drew near the island and rescued him.

“How did you know I was here?” He asked the crew.
“We saw your smoke signal.” They replied.

Thought it may not seem so now, your presnt difficulty may be instrumental to your future happiness.

Im not sure how this is all going to play out. I am not certain how the Lord is going to use this heartache for my families good. I am certain that it will probably devestate us more than we are prepared for, but at the same time I know that my God is big enough to hear our cries, and He will wrap His heart around us and carry us through.

That is the one thing I am certain of.

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I remember writing this, and the pain and heartache we were going through with our daughter at that point. Looking back, not alot has changed, yet I do believe that our faith has grown emensely. One thing we learned January while she was in ICU in heart failure- God is still God. He is still the same God that breathed life into her little body, He is still the same God who promises her a tomorrow, whether here or with Him. God is still sovereign. He is big enough to hande my grief.

Ive also learned that my grief is not weakness. My broken heart is not lack of faith. He hears those cries of my heart, and He holds me through those moments, even though He hasnt answered our prayers for healing- He still hears them.

Ive grown alot since then. My faith has grown alot. I no longer think as much about the day He call’s her home as I did back then. But somedays it blindsides me and the pain is very real. The tears still flow at very odd moments, and the sorrow is still very much part of our lives. My heart as her mom is still broken. My cries for healing are still very consistent. Yet, my faith reminds me that He loves her more than I do. He constantly reminds me of that.