Aches and pains
I am a puddle of tears right this minute. As I mentioned a few blogs back some friends of ours have recently lost their newborn son. While we are not extremely close with the parents, we are very friendly with the mom's sisters, their parents, and I work with the paternal grandfather at MACU. I opened my email this morning and read his reflections about the loss of his grandson.
My heart is breaking because of his comments--that his pain is much more than a loss of a grandchild, it is the loss of dreams, future memories, but trusting the promise and belief that despite the fact we want these individuals we love back so badly we can't breathe, we would never want them to return from the comfort of Heaven.
Having children made me a crazy person. Seriously.
I never obsessed over things like death and protecting my children until I had them. I lived every day as if I had a million more to go and it really didn't occur to me that every moment was precious until the doctor handed me my baby girls. The fear of dying and leaving them alone, or even worse, them dying and I would be left holding nothing made me literally insane (and I had the meds and diagnosis to prove it!) I remember sobbing for hours at the FEAR of something like that happening to me.
I used to say I was afraid of tornados, spiders, and the dark. Now I add something happening to me or my kids. In fact, this is why I have the hardest time speaking to parents after the death of their children because they personify my biggest fears. And if I let myself dwell on it too long I know that I could really go back to that dark, dark place I was in when Molly was small. When I grabbed onto everything that wasn't holy, making my child and my life my two most important idols, and shut EVERYONE out.
In our small group we talked about the fear of death. Of course, as Christians we do not fear the afterlife because we believe we'll join Jesus and live forever. However, as easy as it is to say those words, there is always a small voice that says, "Yes, but who will take care of you children?" "What if your children are the ones who are taken?" "What if you're wrong? What if there isn't a Heaven?"
Get thee behind me, Satan.
I'm going to choose to believe that I am right. I'm going to choose to believe that my God wants something better for me and my family and my friends, and that we will be joined forever in His home. I'm going to choose that my God only wants good for me, and while I do not understand what in the WORLD is going on, I will remind myself that He is in control.
My heart is breaking because of his comments--that his pain is much more than a loss of a grandchild, it is the loss of dreams, future memories, but trusting the promise and belief that despite the fact we want these individuals we love back so badly we can't breathe, we would never want them to return from the comfort of Heaven.
Having children made me a crazy person. Seriously.
I never obsessed over things like death and protecting my children until I had them. I lived every day as if I had a million more to go and it really didn't occur to me that every moment was precious until the doctor handed me my baby girls. The fear of dying and leaving them alone, or even worse, them dying and I would be left holding nothing made me literally insane (and I had the meds and diagnosis to prove it!) I remember sobbing for hours at the FEAR of something like that happening to me.
I used to say I was afraid of tornados, spiders, and the dark. Now I add something happening to me or my kids. In fact, this is why I have the hardest time speaking to parents after the death of their children because they personify my biggest fears. And if I let myself dwell on it too long I know that I could really go back to that dark, dark place I was in when Molly was small. When I grabbed onto everything that wasn't holy, making my child and my life my two most important idols, and shut EVERYONE out.
In our small group we talked about the fear of death. Of course, as Christians we do not fear the afterlife because we believe we'll join Jesus and live forever. However, as easy as it is to say those words, there is always a small voice that says, "Yes, but who will take care of you children?" "What if your children are the ones who are taken?" "What if you're wrong? What if there isn't a Heaven?"
Get thee behind me, Satan.
I'm going to choose to believe that I am right. I'm going to choose to believe that my God wants something better for me and my family and my friends, and that we will be joined forever in His home. I'm going to choose that my God only wants good for me, and while I do not understand what in the WORLD is going on, I will remind myself that He is in control.
I know exactly what you mean. It is so easy to let fear take over and obsess and imagine about all the horrible things that could happen. I can work myself into a full blown panic attack - tears, can't breathe, have to go lay by my sleeping child - in a matter of minutes if I think too much. It makes me ask myself, "Why in the world do I think I have ANY control over anything that could happen to me or Cam?" Thank goodness we have the faith to give it to God no matter how hard that is to do!
ReplyDeleteThe more I see all the heartache and pain and suffering around me, the more I feel like an "alien and stranger" and long for home - for all of us.
ReplyDeleteAnd like you, I am going to choose to believe. Even when I hear that quiet voice in my mind saying "what if it's not true?"
I love you.
I too can work myself into a panic about something happening to Joshua. Especially after Ayden went to Heaven, I had a hard time being rational about continuing to do all the things we had been doing with him. I saw Ayden every time I checked on Josh at night and worried that God would take my baby too. But I chose to trust the Lord, who knows what He's doing even when it doesn't feel like it. Now that Luke has gone too, I'm starting to panic a little again. I all of a sudden don't trust the car seat buckles or the baby swing frame and that johnny jumper thing seems really shady all of a sudden. What if he slips down in the tub and I don't notice quickly enough (even though I'm sitting there with my hand on him). We, like the Woolards, tried so long to grow our family and I'm afraid that God would give us what we so desperately wanted only to take it away again.
ReplyDeleteI'm praying for them. And I'll pray for the rest of us Mamas too. Pray that we are granted peace of mind and heart and that that nasty satan stays far far away! (someone should tell him he's already lost this battle and should just give up!)
Right there with you ladies. I posted about this recently too. My fears for the lives and health of my children and my husband is almost crippling at times. How many times have I walked into my kids' rooms at all hours of the night just to make sure they were still breathing? And I sometimes will touch Layla at night to wake her up if she looks like she is sleeping too deeply.
ReplyDeleteAaron and I texted back and forth yesterday and he asked me if I thought we could handle what the Woolards are going through. I told him that I didn't want to think about it. He commented that God must think a lot of them if He allowed this to happen--knowing that their faith is strong and that they can somehow handle it. My response was, "Is it terrible if I don't WANT God to think that much of me?". Faith is a difficult thing isn't it?
And what am I so scared of? If I TRULY believe that God is in control and that He knows what He is doing then I have nothing to fear. It's easy to say it but sometimes it's hard for my heart to believe it.
Thanks for sharing from your heart. You're such a great, loving mama...your kids are blessed to have you!
So true. .. all the discussion. . . heart breaking right now. . .
ReplyDelete