It was what would’ve been Dasah’s two-month birthday but instead of taking cute photos of her I was standing at her gravesite for the first time since we buried her. It was a beautiful day and somehow as I was driving that day I found myself turning at the road that goes into the cemetery instead of just driving by as I usually do. Whenever anyone says they’ve just “found themselves” somewhere I’ve always thought they must be a little crazy… who just “finds themselves” somewhere? Well, that day I became that crazy person. I think of turning every time I’ve driven by and just can never seem to muster up the energy to face whatever emotions the grave would stir. That day I chose not to think and just turn. So there I was, tears streaming down my face as I stood before the gravesites of not one, but both of my daughters. I didn’t know what to do or say. Do I talk to them? Do I just cry? How long do I stay? I never really know. How do you wrap your mind around such a loss? I’m still figuring that out though I’m pretty sure I never will. It was the start of the New Year and for some reason the fact that Dasah was born right before Thanksgiving had slightly warped my view of how much time had passed and made me think it had been much longer then it really had been. I found myself as the New Year began wrestling with all of the emotions still stirring within me like relentless waves of grief on the seashore that just when you think the tide has gone far out seems to come back in with a vengeance. Tormented by that awful word “should”, or as someone used to call it “the should bug”. And I’d been bit by it.
“I ‘should’ be more functional”
“I ‘should’ be able to accomplish more than one task in a day”
“I ‘should’ be able to re-engage with people better”
“I ‘should’ be able to initiate with others”
“I ‘should’ be able to open the Bible and concentrate”
“I ‘should’ be able to pray more”
“I ‘should’, I ‘should’, I ‘should’.”
I was living in a sea of “should’s” that was overwhelming me and causing me to put pressure on myself to be at a place that I just wasn’t and I didn’t know where or when the pressure would be released. As I had driven up to their gravesite I was taken a back by the fact that there was still fresh dirt atop Dasah’s gravesite, with a few small blades of grass peaking through (or were they weeds? I’m not sure, grass sounds better). I didn’t think much of it until I got in the car and took a final glance back. It was then that the still small voice of the Lord entered into my world of “should’s” and gently said “It’s okay, the dirt is still fresh and so is your grief”. The relief that washed over me in that moment was as if the skies opened and rain poured down. And I began to embrace the reality of where I was at and ever so slowly release myself from the “shoulds’ of where I thought I “should” be at (which as an aside is a daily battle… those bugs don’t leave quickly). I began to think of looking forward to watching the grass grow, ever so slowly, as I watched new life begin to sprout in my own heart. “Don’t rush the grass”, my counselor said, as I retold to her the story. Oh how quick we are in our western culture to want the dirt gone and the grass grown as quickly as possible. And so it is with grief, we don’t want to do the hard work of entering into the grief process, of letting it be uncomfortable and messy for an unpredictable amount of time (Grief never lets you know when it will start to loosen its grip). We just want the end result, the beauty, the redemption, the truths tied up with pretty bows, “here’s what I’ve learned” and on we go. Well, at least that’s what I would like sooner rather then later. But grief isn’t like that. Norman Wright wrote in his book Experiencing Grief (a must read for those experiencing loss):
“Grief is slow, and you need it to be like this even though you’ll probably want to rush it along. It will take longer than you have patience for. Time seems to stand still especially at night. Don’t let others rush you through this process. They’re not experts, and you’ll discover others will be uncomfortable with your grief. Let your grief do its healing work at its own slow pace. You need its slowness. Grief can not be put on the fast track.” – Norman Wright, Experiencing Grief
A week or two later, I simply drove by their gravesite again, the dirt still fresh and so my heart still feeling mostly a sea of brokenness like the ground broken before me. I liked how her site matched my heart. It felt like a visible reminder of the permission God was giving me to grieve and mourn my daughters still. This week I went again and it had happened, just as I thought it might, sod had been put down (not very well I might add). I had half a mind to take that wretched piece of sod off her gravesite in protest… “Let the grass grow, as slow as it wants to. Don’t rush my grief”. But I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if that would count as defacing public property and land me before a judge explaining myself. (Though I imagine the judge may be quite sympathetic to my reasoning and perhaps even slightly amused).
As I sat there and peeled back the sod, just sitting a top the dirt with no roots attaching itself to the ground, I was reminded that if I try to speed up this grief process or ignore it all together then I am just like the sod. Having the appearance of new life planted but no roots to keep me there. So many of us respond to grief that way. One month, two months, everyone else seems to move on and so it feels as though you must too. We are a microwave culture. If its not instant or can’t be, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.
“When you experience the thoughts and feelings of grief it moves you into unknown territory, but you need to walk through some wilderness. And grief does have another side. Is it an easy journey? No. Is it a painless journey? No. Is it a controlled journey? No. Is the journey worth it? Yes. It will change you as a person and your perspective on life.” – Norman Wright, Experiencing Grief
And so I’m learning, with the help of my counselor, husband and trusted friends to not rush this journey as much as I want to. To not live in the sea of “should’s” and simply allow God to meet me where I’m at and surface the questions, the fears, the longings, the groaning that must reach the surface before true healing can begin. Tullian Tchividjan said in a sermon I recently listened to “Pain is meant by God to be grieved. Grief is an acknowledgement that things are not what they ought to be. When we grieve we are demonstrating trust that the best is yet to come. The groan is worship.” In this I’m holding onto the hope that “Weeping may remain for a night but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5) But I’m not going to rush the morning.
How about you? Are you in a season of grief that you’re covering with freshly cut sod that has no roots instead of pressing into the messiness of the dirt? Do you know a friend who is grieving the loss of someone they love? How can you encourage them to simply press into where they are and not rush them along?
“I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.” – John 16:20
Grief is my companion now, often unwelcome but always there and someday it will be turned to joy. I guess I’ll let God choose when that someday is and let Him do the work in my life that needs to happen in the grief.
To my grieving friends, will you join me and let Him choose the someday and step into what He has for you in the process?
- A Time to be Silent and a Time to Speak - October 29, 2020
- Teaching Them to Hope, Birthday After Birthday. - January 15, 2020
- A Taste of Hope Fulfilled – Briella Dawn’s Birth Story - August 3, 2018
I think of you all often…and I understand…may God guide you and help you in your journey…many thought and prayers as the days come and go! There is no timing in the journe…just take one moment at a time as you step through each day and He carries you through….holding you in my heart…as life trickles in the sunshine and light through the grief of each day…I promise the day will come when clouds lift and the sun fills your heart….
Love,
Soo
You are constantly on my mind and in my prayers. Though a different type of grief, and at a different level compared to your story, I too have been dealing with difficulty and sadness. I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer last Summer and now and scarred and look so different after a double mastectomy. My surgeon says over time the scars will fade. It is a process much like you described. It’s hard to see past the scars. But, like you, I do trust God in the waiting and in the process. I am a songwriter and worship leader and He has taught me so much about how to be comforted and how to heal. I believe my trust and love for God has deepened tremendously as I have walked through this valley. He has led the way the whole time. Prayers for you continue.
This is beautiful. My visits to Jude’s grave have felt so similar over the last year. Sean and I are grieving with you both and trusting God for his timely healing. However long that takes.
I think each of us, if we’re honest, have some place of mourning we struggle through each day, even if its only disappointment in our own failures to listen to the Lord or go to church and listen to a sermon….yesterday, on Valentine’s days, I was grousing about not ever having a beau to love in His own choices for me, and our precious God, sent me a Valentine that I want to share with you……you know, it’s much more a blessing….when all is said and done, to give rather than receive……”I am thy part and thine inheritance”[Num 18:20] “Whom have I in heaven but thee! and there is non upon earth that I desire beside thee.My flesh and heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever [Psa. 73:25-26] “The Lord is the portion o0f mine inheritance and of my cup: thou maintainest my lot. The lines are fallen unto me inpleasant places; yes, I have a goodly heritage.”[Psa. 16:5,6] The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.” [La. 3:24] “Thy testimonies haveI taken as an heritage for ever; for they are the rejoicing of my heart.” [Psa.119:111] “O God, thou are my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirtystland, where no water is….Because thou has been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.” [Psa. 63 1,7] “My beloved is mine, and I am his.”[Cant. 2:16]. and then just a brief thought about broken…..”It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume–it is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.”….so my precious Friends, Lindsey and Kevin, leaving this valentine from God and loving prayers from me. Mary Beth
Lindsey, I am new here but have been so touched and brought to tears by your words. Yours is a story that I know must be hard to share, yet hard not to. The lives you will touch, the ones you’ve already touched and the strength that is so evident here is amazing. I am so very sorry for the losses you’ve had to endure, and will always carry. I lost my daughter Holly, in 2007. Holly was 20 when she was tragically killed but in those 20 years she brought me immense joy. It is my prayer that you have joy as well! I know you will always carry these two precious little ones in your heart as I do my Holly. I thank you for sharing your journey of grief, although I am sorry it is a journey you’ve found yourself on.
Lindsey, I just read your new post. My heart still cries with you. It has not been that long that you lost your precious daughter. I gave my son back to God 11 years ago this May. He was 37, but still my baby. Grief never goes away, but it does get better. I can now talk about him without crying. (well. maybe , sometime).
I enjoy reading your posts each time you write. I met you thru Danial. He is one of my graddaughter”s closest friend, Whitney.
I have never written to someone I dont know, but want you to know, you are always in my thoughts and prayers.
Blessings to you and your hubby, Jan Rettig
Mary Beth… Your words of truth and grace continue to minister to my heart! Thank you for writing the ways God has been meeting you in your own sorrows. I’m so thankful for you!
Thank you so much Shannon and I’m so sorry that you even have a gravesite to go to too. Oh the day that grave sites will be no more! Won’t that be glorious!? Praying for you and Sean too and thankful for you both!
Beautifully written as usual, Lindsey. Praying for you always!
Thank you Chelsea!
Thank you soo!
Your ability to make grief real and acceptable in a culture that wants to fix things and make them shiny and new is refreshing. Our society doesn’t know how to grieve well–so true. But you’ve put beautiful words to mourning that makes it a reflection of God’s grace and mercy. Thank you for that, Linds.
Thank you so much Dayle! Your words are always so encouraging to me!
Oh Sweet Sister Lindsey!!!
Your words were hard to read, but much needed. Just last night I was crying for my Grandma Marion who passed away in April last. I thought I had dealt with the grief of loosing her, missing her and wishing she was here. It’s been a couple months since I’ve wept or let myself feel the pain. She was one in my family who simply took me for who I was and I miss that so much. Reading your words I realize that because others in my family didn’t have the same relationship with her I have tried to “speed along” my grieving so as not to make them uncomfortable. Wow. You are right. Grief is meant by God to be felt and dealt with and prayed over and passed thru, not looked at, poked and rushed around. Thank you. Thank you for permission to still be here. Thank you, Lord, for all that you are doing in and thru Lindsey and Kevin.
XO
Stacey <3
You are still in my prayers regularly x
Lindsey, your words are so honest, true, beautiful, and painfully raw. You are wise beyond your years. This is what I have experienced but with a different loss. For too long I tried to avoid the deepest pain and didn’t allow myself to fully grieve. I found out there is no true healing without that time and hard grief; it only makes the process last longer. Eventually we have to confront that pain that seems it will tear us apart and walk toward and through it. I admire and respect your courage and honesty. I pray for you and Kevin often, though I have never met you. (I am a friend of your dear mom.)
God continue to bless and keep you and make His face to shine upon you. Janis
Thank you Janis! And for sharing a piece of your own story… Thank you! Hopefully we can meet sometime when I’m back in Ohio!