Mourn with those who mourn

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15)

Grief. No other emotion can bring us to our knees with such force as grief. So universal, so devastating. The past several months, I've been hit with so many trials that have caused deep and long lasting grief and mourning. I'm tired, and I know I'm not the only one.

Yesterday, I got an urgent email from a friend asking for prayer for another friend who had been admitted to the hospital just a little bit earlier in the day. She is a fellow MOPS mom (Mothers of Preschoolers), with several young children. She was in critical condition and it was very touch and go. After a long, hard day, and many complications, she went home to be with the Lord just before midnight. It all happened within the window of less than a day.

I was not really close to her, she was a friend of a friend (of several other friends, actually), although I had just spoken with her two weeks ago by phone. She was graciously bringing my family the order of beef we'd just placed with her father, who owns a ranch, and we were making the arrangements. This was the second time she'd delivered beef right to our door, and the second time I'd be away from the house, leaving my husband to meet her. I jokingly said to her that someday we would actually meet in person. Now I know that that day will come when I join her in heaven after I'm called home. My heart aches for her children and her husband and her family as they are just trying to wrap their minds around this incredible loss.

It's cold here this morning. A fitting day for the morning after such tragedy for this family. As I drove my daughter to school I was struck by the faces in the cars I passed, most of them peacefully unaware of the devastation that death has brought overnight, and I don't blame them for that - they don't know. I was just thinking about how life inevitably goes on, and it is good that it does. But sometimes we get stuck.

Try as I might, at times like this I still feel stuck in my grief. Grief over this mother that won't be allowed to raise her small children along with her husband and see where their lives take them. Grief over a child of a friend and coworker who was tragically born still. Grief for my many friends who have known the pain of miscarriage (some of them more than once). Grief over my own child who didn't make it past the first trimester. Grief over our impending move. And I'm sad, and angry, and like a child I want to go home where everything is going to be ok. It's not ok here, and I want off this ride. (Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything irrational.)

Why does this have to be so hard? Why don't our prayers get answered? I try to look at it from God's point of view (in my infinitely limited ability to understand the Mind of God), and I am reminded of my own children. I don't always say 'yes' to their requests - mostly because I know that having candy for dinner or watching another movie wouldn't be good for them. I have to trust that God knows better for me, and when He tells us 'no' He is doing it for our own good. It doesn't make me like the answer any more than my own babies do, but it gives me perspective.

This morning, I revelled in the sweet smell of my daughters' hair as I kissed them good morning. I felt privileged to serve them another glass of orange juice and help them get dressed for their days. I'm trying to take nothing for granted, because none of us know what this day holds. That is the legacy of this sweet, young mother who now knows no more pain or grief. Thank you, S.B. Until we meet in heaven,

Because this song speaks to me in my own grief, and I hope it will speak to you, I'm closing this post with it. It's by Jars of Clay, called "The Valley". Grab some tissue, and then go love the people in your life: