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We celebrated my baby boy, Chris’ life on March 25, 2016. It was Good Friday (only God).
I know that the body we held and loved on this earth met Jesus face to face and that he is worshiping at the feet of Jesus. Yet most days, my heart is still so heavy. The weight of lost hopes and dreams swirl through every joyful moment and every sad moment. I can intimately feel the pain of another mother who gave up her son for the benefit of us.
What I wouldn’t give to have my boy back.
It seems each of my days now begin with before and after. Who I was before Chris died. Who I am after.
The calendar date, a date we didn’t ask for. The date our worlds were shattered. The date that will forever mark the moment in our lives when life was no longer what we thought we knew to be true.
There is a calendar day that will always mark the before and after our loss, but there is another calendar date that marks something so much bigger.
Can I feed your soul some truth mixed with hope?
Then the reality hit. Christmas was only a week away. That is where the crazy started. Buying all the “things”, “did I do enough, did I do too much, did I forget someone or something? This is ridiculous. How do we balance the true meaning of Christmas with Santa expectations?”
The quick check of my heart that reminds me that “to whom much is given, much is expected.” My kids and grandchildren will not go without this season but there are many families and kids who will.
A wail escapes that echos off the tile. This is my new normal.
These days I’m ok with the damp eyes, the slow roll of tears down my face, finding myself sobbing, a snotty heap laying in the middle of a cold, damp floor. My wails no longer startle my dogs or my family.
Weeping may come for the night friend but joy does comes in the mourning.
A soul-less Gardener clipped me too early from where I sprouted along my mother’s roots and transplanted my tender sprouts into a discarded work bucket filled with the foulest compost rubble and discarded twigs.
He tended me primarily with a cruel and heavy hand, providing barely enough sustenance to keep me upright and worthy to carry the name seedling.
It has taken me a few days to process our trip to Uvalde this last Friday.
Friday, September 2, 2022, we loaded those 19 boxes in the back of our car and took off for Uvalde.
My heart shattered all over again. My chest tightened and I knew my tears would not be contained for long. I thought of my own child loss and the hell I lived through as I tried to grieve my son and deal with a senseless, selfserving, lawsuit.
I could barely see my phone to take the picture. I could no longer hold my tears.
“Your son is dead.” I looked around in disbelief. Could this really be my life? My hopes and dreams lay in a heap of ashes at my feet mixed with my tears.
Did I do something to cause this?
There was a belief in Jewish culture that if something bad in your life happened it must be because there was great sin in your life.
Are there people in your life that you have tried desperately to create a relationship with, or keep a relationship with?
Not all who you are aquainted with should have the blessing of intimacy in your life.
Are you struggling with accepting that some people are just not your people? Hang onto this truth…
I remember feeling so very confused from all of the expectations I experienced after my husband died and then again when I lost my son. Some of those expectations were of my own making and others from people who had not walked the heartbreaking road of loss and debilitating grief.
It wasn’t until a wise older friend of mine said “Chrissy, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You need to focus your energy on just trying to survive right now.”
Those words were life giving to me.
God often uses a small group of people to raise up an army. (Romans 11)
When Christopher died, I became hyper aware of all the fun runs, scholarships fund raisers, foundations created for child loss and memorial gatherings being held in memory of other children.
Over the next five years I struggled with guilt over not doing “all the things” and not creating new traditions that honored his memory throughout the year.
On a cellular level, I kept hearing God say….
You may be walking in a season where God is calling you too and you are feeling overwhelmed, much as I am right now.
I sincerely thought I was going crazy. Then this fear crept in. Since I thought I was losing my mind, I worried I would lose my memories
At the end of the week I asked if anyone would like to write their perspective of the week.
Since you prayed for these kids and the leaders all week, with their permission, I wanted to share with you their responses.
My body hurts…all over. I crawled into bed last night wondering when that happened.
I can still feel the Holy Spirit as it moved across and in our group of kids this week in a way that adds hope and joy to my soul.
If I am honest I wasn’t really sure what this would look like for my broken mommas heart.
This is what I found…
One of our greatest joys in our life are being Mimi and B to our grandchildren. As the Bible says they are a crown to us, their grandparents. Kings and Queens wear the most beautiful, expensive crowns of gold and jewels, but our grandchildren are more precious than rubies and all the gold in the world.
Yet, there I was, a stranger standing where there should have been a Mimi.
Friends, if you are in a position of caring for children that are not your own, I commend you for your sacrifice and willingness to provide a better life for littles who do not have their own voice.
I also caution you…
Tired is good when your heart is full. I smile and laugh a little more these days, but I carry my grief daily from the loss of my boy, Christopher. The tears surface a little easier in the tired but so does the gratitude.
We pulled into Lubbock late on a Friday night after driving for ten hours. We were anxious to get to Denver for the birth of our grandson, but knew from experience your hospitality and attention to detail would provide us with a great meal and a restful nights sleep so we could continue on our journey refreshed.
I sat taking it all in in the space you provided off the lobby full of comfortable chairs and smiling waiters/waitresses. Surrounded by beautiful dark wood walls and floor to ceiling windows overlooking a patio that welcomed your guests to join you around the fire and sip on a beverage, grief rose and tears began to fall.
Triggers reminding me of the hopes and dreams and anticipation of this day…
With tears streaming down my face, I heard myself say “I am just going to have to ask you for some grace.”
Grace: A spontaneous, generous, free and totally unexpected and undeserved gift that takes the form of divine favor, love, clemency.
I messaged my sweet friend Ms. Wesley and asked how she was doing. She knew exactly what I meant. I wasn’t looking for platitudes or “I’m fine”. She knew I truly wanted to know how she was handling the days, the minutes, the silence, the loss. See, she lost someone she loves very much and has been walking though her own complicated grief.
Her response resonated with me….
“Christopher would love this. I wish he were here to experience it with me.” Tears streamed down my face and in that moment, God whispered, “Chrissy, don’t you think that Chris is thinking the same thing?
Every day there is a moment when I think, “Christopher would love this.” My heart aches for him to be in those moments. If you have experienced loss, I’m sure you can relate.
Then I am reminded of God’s promise of heaven.