sacred valleys
“Grief is a gift.”
…The words spoken from our pastor who unexpectedly lost his brother recently. Having experienced various degrees of grief in my own life, my first response was…
“WHAT?!”
But, last week changed my perspective as we have been walking with our children through the valley of death…
A little over a week ago we had to put our thirteen year old lab down.
We knew she was old and have been preparing ourselves for her passing for the last six months to a year… but, it doesn’t make it any easier.
As a mother I have found the most difficult part of walking this journey is watching my children grieve. Thirteen years we had our sweet Bell-dog… My oldest, now sixteen, was three when we got her. All they have known really is a daily life with goofy Bell doing anything for a snuggle.
As my husband was with Bell in her final moments, I was with my three children. The full spectrum of grief was evident as my oldest spiraled quickly to panic…
“I didn’t say goodbye, Mom!” “It wasn’t enough time!” “I need to be with her!”
“No son. The truth is… you were blessed to spend all afternoon with Bell saying goodbye.” I whispered as I held him close seeking to calm his spirit.
My youngest expressed his grief with anger. I reached out to him but he pulled away… clearly angry and wanting to be left alone for a bit.
My daughter sat in the corner, quietly with tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, Lord!” I cried. “Help me walk this sacred ground with my children well… that this time of grief can be a gift.”
A sacred place.
Yes.
And I think time just may slow there.
I’m noticing as we walk through this grief there is immense opportunity to shape and mold my children. It has got me thinking about how God uses the difficult to mold and shape us.
But, it’s more than that.
On the way to the vet, my oldest asked to turn up the radio. “There’s Hope in Front of Me” by Danny Gokey was playing… And He started singing. He texted some friends… And they encouraged him with scripture…
I’m noticing stories.
The gift of grief opening our hearts and minds to recall stories of times past… and we share the things the Lord has done.
To grieve is to have loved.
As we pull away from the vet… the air is heavy. You could almost taste the grief in our hearts in the silent car.
Then out of the quiet my 16 year old cries out from the depths of his heart…
“Lord. Thank you for Bell. Thank you that she was so happy and not in pain. Thank you that you kept her with us for so long. Thank you that we got to say goodbye. Thank you, Lord, for Bell.”
Grief is a gift.
It takes us to the depths of our souls where we are faced with astounding truth… that even in the deepest valleys, our God is there.
[Goodbye Bell. You will be missed puppy. Rest knowing you did your job well.]
