Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Last week, I learned on Tuesday morning that a sweet friend had passed on. I learned two weeks too late. I was not able to go to the funeral, comfort her family, look at her one last time. This time last year I was in "babyland", with Jordan here with me. Last year, last Spring, Jordan died at 6 weeks old, four days after our Spring revival on April 14th. I remember telling a friend at church Sunday- week ago how weary and odd I felt at the thought of having revival-at church. It was a month early according to the calendar, but for me, it took me right back to the thoughts and events that was going on the week before Jordan died. What a precious time that was with him. We had FINALLY found a nipple that he liked and nursed well from his bottle without struggling- that was a 2-3 week experiment in and of itsself.
As I was telling my friend how I was feeling, I said I felt as if, even though it was a year later- I was still waiting for the next shoe to drop. I still felt on pins and needles. I felt as if my pain was not over yet, and I was guilting myself because come on, it's been a year- lets feel better already! But that's the thing with grief. Grief has no timeline. I know this because seven years later- I know I am still grieving my grandmother. I cannot honestly tell you which pain has been worse, losing her, or losing Jordan. Really- I'd have to say her. I had my whole life with her. She was like my best friend. She was really the only grandparent I had growing up. But that's not here nor there, both hurt, tremendously.
My point- grief has no time frame, it is what it is, until it is, no more.
But then I go and open my email two days later after sharing how I was feeling with my friend, to have a new wave of grief staring me right in the eye. I could not believe what I read. One line. That was it. One line and my friend was gone- away- forever- to never see her again. Just like Jordan, last year. You know at least with grandma, she had been sick for a while. She was in the hospital for about two weeks before she passed. We were expecting it. She had lived a long, full life, she was ready for glory. My friend was 35 years old, Jordan was six weeks old. Death knows no age.
The bible says-
"O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good: because his mercy endureth for ever."
1 Thessalonians 5:18
"In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."
"I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels."
"Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice."
My grandmother was saved. My friend was saved. Both of them knew Christ as their Savior. Both of them are with the Lord right now, as well as Jordan. Sheila is up there right now probably rocking him and spoiling him rotten, as they sit by Jesus' feet. It took me months to get up after we lost Jordan, but I don't think Sheila would appreciate that or want that for me. I'm thankful that I can find out when I get there, why the Lord brought Sheila and Jordan home so early in their lives. I'm thankful for the knowledge of knowing for a fact where they are right now.
I cannot imagine the helplessness of not knowing where one of my loved ones are after death, and one of them might actually read this, who knows. If they do, I want them to know I love and care about them and want them to know where they are spending eternity. If anything, I want them to ponder the thought of what their loved ones will be thinking after their death- and maybe that would have them consider the idea that if they know they are going to heaven through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, then their loved ones will know that as well because the change in their life will be that noticeable. Salvation is first and foremost about our own salvation, but lately I've pondered the thought, it's about your loved ones peace as well after you have left this world and left everyone else here to grieve over you.