I posted this as my Facebook Status a few days ago and several friends commented privately that they were the ones who needed that special evidence of God's presence in their own lives. They admitted their loss is not through physical death but rather loss of their childhood through horrible abuse, loss of a spouse through betrayal, loss of a friendship and loss of joy through dark, unexplainable depression. Each one longs for God to reveal Himself in a tangible way. And oh, how I long for that touch myself.

Grief comes in all different sizes. Grief grabbed our church family this past summer in a way that changed life perspectives and the way many view their own children and life purposes. Eleven-year-old Ashley Van Wingerden died in a boating accident. Her sweet, young, godly parents and three siblings, her grandparents and hundreds of extended family members struggle to grasp the "why" of death. Their friends agonize throughout the night and day, praying for God to be near, knowing that grief will shadow them for the rest of their lives. Godly parents hover over their children and hold them tighter, realizing that only by God's grace do their children sleep safely in their beds each night.

Every bereaved parent knows that Jake and Wendy's forced entry into the foreign Land of Grief has catapulted them out of their once perfect world into anguish and sorrow that cannot be defined or adequately uttered. Chuck and I recognize their empty yet desperate gaze, the confusion, the intense grief labor required to scratch your way into a new level of normal - a life without their child. In an effort to find a message of hope for these precious parents, God led me back to my first journal after Mark's death. Five weeks after his death my scribbled, barely discernable handwriting reveals my unstable emotional state:

Even now, as I remember that moment, my heart races faster and my chest muscles tighten and I feel that primal wail deep inside. I want my child.

As much as I try to find the right words to offer hope and help, many times all I can do is whisper their names. Oh Jake. Oh Wendy.

Some who read this entry will wish they hadn't and avoid future posts on sorrow because it's so depressing. I understand. But for today I feel compelled to try to expose the dark, intimate early and what feels like never-ending anguish of grieving people.

Many who watch broken people will get tired of the sorrow. But God will call others to stand in the gap. Faithfully praying, pleading with their Father to reveal His presence, needing no acknowledgement or thanks from those who are broken. How thankful I am for those who continue to stand in the gap for us, who did not reject us when our grief destroyed our former selves. Who waited patiently for God to transform our ashes into beauty.

And yes, those of you who are desperate for a glimmer of hope, God will redeem every circumstance of our lives, if we cooperate with His purposes. Whether it is a failed marriage, poor parenting, the abuse of others, long term illness, shattered dreams, or loss through physical death, He calls us to do the hard work of grief with hope that one day we will offer His comfort and courage to a fellow traveler. In the early days and months of grief, I resented anyone suggesting that good could come from Mark's death. And yet back in the deep recesses of my soul, I clung to the hope that God would redeem this horrible grief and touch another life through our son's life.

Three weeks after Mark's death I wrote in my journal,

Longing to trust God warred with longing for Mark. Today, I see God's love won the battle. Along with too many others to count, I plead with God to give that same victory to every broken person reading this post. Do the hard labor of grief, trusting that one day God will keep all of His promises to you, either here or There. And remember, if you know Jesus, there is great freedom in surrendering to this truth: There are some wounds that only Heaven can heal.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Recommended Resources:

To Know Ashley

Treasures of Encouragement

Treasures in Darkness

Loss of a Loved One