Tonight we gathered at Brody’s grave to remember his wonderful life — cut short three years ago today in that accident on I-20. That vehicle stopped at Love’s — less than an hour from Abilene. Three 6th grade boys jumped in the backseat. My son wound up in the middle. The seat to his right turned out to be the one that would be deadly.
Are the others recovered? Mostly so.
But in some ways, I’m realizing, we didn’t recover. Our daughter died; five years later our nephew died; five years later our younger son came so close to death.
We’re still bearing the grief.
Many of you bear your own truckload of grief. I’m convinced that we won’t make it if we don’t journey together in honesty.
Thinking of and praying for the Bourlands, the Cope’s and the family at Highland today. Jennifer has helped me bear my “truckload of grief’ these past months…thank you for being willing to journey with me.
Certainly wisdom does not begin nor end with Kahlil Gibran, but over the years I’ve taken comfort many times in his words from The Prophet:
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”
My heart aches for you. I’ll continue to pray for you all.
Dear Friends,
Just a note to say I am one of those hearts grieving in touch with yours. I am saddened to hear of the sorrows so close to you in recent years. My beloved husband of 27 years, Tim Bass, died on 9/20/07. I am gradually learning to live without such a wonderful soulmate and hope to continue to serve God as He leads and be there for our two sons. Tim and I were listening to some of your tapes during his last days. I know you have blessed many since the days we were at Harding. May God bless you, you are especially in my prayers at this time.
In His Grace,
Anne Bass
Amen…
One thing I have learned about the deaths of people you love…you never “get over it”, you just learn how to live with it.
I am thinking of the word to the hymn “Be Still, My Soul.”
Rex
Ithaca Church of Christ
Ithaca, NY
I don’t think we have really learned to walk with each other very well yet. There are some halting attempts at some places to be authentic. Blogs offer anonymous and not so anonymous ways to express thoughts and feelings safely. Would that Larry Crabb’s beliefs that ‘church is the safest place in the world’ were true. Sometimes the paradox is so hard to explain - to live in great joy and at the same time - live in great sorrow. Only those who live at that same place, understand. I think you are one of those people.
Your time in solitude will only intensify the paradox. You know that, don’t you? But don’t waiver in your resolve. God will use you even more.
Love’s Prayers,
Dottie
Mike,
You never recover from the loss of a loved one. My sister died when I was 17 and now I am 52 and I still miss her. I think of what might have been…but my faith has grown stronger over the years and I have learned that God is good and he comforts me when I am in pain and he gives me sunshine on days when I thought the sun would never shine again.
Bonnie
God’s peaceful blessings be with you all.
Dead sadness reaches us all. About a week ago I did a service for a young couple who had a stillborn child. I was mostly okay with it until I got to the funeral home and saw the tiny casket displayed in the chapel.
You are right on it with the “journey together” part. God help us all.
Peace.
“Deep sadness” is what I meant.
Peace.
Sometimes it seems the closer we get to Christ, the griefs just pile up. That is the thing about faith, you know your hope is somewhere else and that is okay. No one can know exactly another persons grief, but as Christians we can pray for them. When my soul feels limp because of suffering, that voice that says “be still and know that I am God” has a bright and glorious feel to it. Sometimes it is the hurt I feel from other Christians that go the deepest. They should know better, but I must forgive as Christ. We are praying for you.
Anne, I am so sad about Tim. I was remembering him to a coworker after reading your comment. I haven’t seen either of you since camp WaMaVa days. Tim’s hugs will be missed. I was always a little afraid when he would hug me. He was big and strong and I was afraid that he might break my bones….but I always welcomed those hugs. You and I go way back…let me know where you are and where life is leading you. Would love to catch up.
Tim was a good man.
love, Julie Stone Danley
Mike, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment…standing in Mom’s living room…Sandra explaining why you wouldn’t be coming to the ZOE Conference…the instant prayer and the weekend-long one too…and then the grief for brothers and sisters we didn’t even know. I’m so grateful you didn’t lose another child that day, but I need to be reminded that the trauma of those days and weeks carry their own kind of grief.
We’ll miss you this year too, but for happier reasons. Lots of love from Fresno.
Mike
I appreciate these words so much. Yesterday was the 5th anniversary of my Mom’s death. My Dad died when I was a few months short of 12. All 4 grandparents died by the time I was 7. Cousins, Uncles, Aunts and special friends have all died since. I have had years and years of dealing with this stuff and thought I had “handled” it all pretty well. Just a few short months ago I felt the heaviness of a depressed spirit and just couldn’t seem to shake it. I began the uncovering process and I think what I found is this.
One absolutely has to walk right through the darkness and feel it all. If you don’t - it keeps coming back in weird ways. Grief will not be stuffed for long.
Year markers are not permission for others to decided when one should be over grieving.
No matter how blessed one may feel, there is a sense of permanent loss that remains.
I am sure there are therapists who read this that may disagree with me. I am not saying one remains in the same dark place forever, but in my own life I know that one never returns to the pre-death place in the same “light” way.
I have always admired the way you have embraced the way Megan’s death & Jansen’s death has shaped your preaching, your ministry. Keep us talking about this when you can.
I live in a ministry of grief. Death touches us all and reminds each of us of the value of shared moments and memories. My heart aches for your losses, near misses and for the ones in the “wrong” seat. May God hold you today as only a father can.
Mike,
All I can do is remind you and Diane of the heart-filled love and admiration I have for you and your family. When those we love hurt their pain ricochets into our own hearts. No words seem to fit, so we mumble ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’ - or some such thing. When what we mean is that we share your pain….we can’t dilute it, but we can share it.
My loving hugs to you all….sharing that pain with you.
Losing parents at an early age deeply affected the way I see death and only because my heritage is firmly entrenched in trust in the Lord and I was basically a Pollyanna, hoping, believing all things, etc. After adulthood I became a fan of C.S. Lewis and shared the Chronicles of Narnia with my children who shared my angst of their missing grandparents. Something about the last book has remained with me all these years, when the children reunite with their childhood “Son of the Great Emperor Across the Sea,” Aslan, (the Christ figure) who is now calling them into the REAL world–eternity with him–has given me the comfort and understanding I needed, and my children, as well as nieces and nephews who endured my reading to them over the years. It’s been 13 years since A.M. and I lost our son Lanny and that REAL world picture, the epic of eternity, becomes even sweeter. My faith can be shaky, I hate that, but getting STILL before the Lord, helps me realize it’s not MY faith, but faith in His faithfulness where I can stand firm. “Deep sadness” will be part of our life stories, each of us, sooner or later. My prayer is that we continue to reach out to others (believers/unbelievers) in the commonality of human suffering…but with the boldness to embrace our suffering in the light of GOD’s faithfulness because light always overcomes darkness when we understand “the rest of the story.”
There is so much pain in death, this makes me long for the days where death will be no more.
http://www.matthewsblog.waynesborochurchofchrist.org
Mike, I so appreciate the way you have used this forum in both being transparent about your journey, and thus ‘giving permission’ for others to do the same. Not everyone reading this blog responds on this blog, but I am convinced that many have felt the freedom to share with friends, loved ones, etc. partially as a result of you sharing part of your life via this blog. Peace.
Anne,
I do not know what to say about your husband’s death except I do not know what to say; except I am sorry it happened to you. I will be thinking of you.
I was thinking of you and the Bourlands and everyone remembering Jan. 16 all day yesterday. My prayers were with you and will continue. I’m glad that I was able to watch Chris play football this year. Love you!
Just this week my mother said, “I wish I could see your sweet daddy.” Daddy died suddenly nearly 14 years ago…and there are still times I can’t talk about it. Mother will be 93 Saturday; we’ll be celebrating the first birthday of a grandchild also on Saturday. The sad times mingle with the happy times, and life goes on, but we continue to miss those we love. For me, I want so much to share the joy I have of being a grandparent with my daddy and grandparents, but I know they are with the Redeemed watching and cheering us on to victory. One of my dear friends who always has called me each year on the anniversary of Daddy’s death is fighting her own battle now, and she probably won’t be here this year on that anniversary. Grief doesn’t go away…there are times it is almost as intense as the first few weeks of loss, especially in times of an additional loss. We need each other as we encounter loses along the way to Heaven!
My father died on September 11th. Not THAT September 11th, he died in 1993 . . . exactly four weeks before my wedding. He had Lou Gherig’s disease so his death was not a shock to me.
Sometimes I feel robbed. My father never got the chance to know his grandchildren. And since he was a public school teacher, he could have helped me some with the maze I have to go through with my son (who has autism and is in special education right now).
I feel robbed because my father did not get the chance to walk me down the aisle. One of my uncles did that (my dad’s younger brother).
Now, a man in my congregation is dying of the same disease. I see how it has insidiously robbed him of the ability to speak and to walk. I cannot decide if I hate autism or Lou Gherig’s more. Right now, I hate Lou Gherig’s because there is NO cure and NO treatment and the person who has it is totally aware that they are trapped in their body.
And to top it all off, September 11th is a double whammy for our family. It means another year without my dad as well as another year since our country was attacked.
Mike,
You have my heartfelt support during these days. Sometimes we lead well because we are on top of things. On other occasions we lead well because things are on top of us. You are always a leader. We are always desiring to cheer you on.
Our intent is that you not stand alone.
Mike and Diane
Do you notice how much more tenderized our hearts are, after the loss of one we love. Or the other ressonse is one of hardened hearts. Sometimes, I wish I could have that hardened heart, but I know without a doubt, that to do so would separate me from the heart of Jesus. May He grant you and all of our dear sweet family at Highland His mercy and succor for those hearts that grieve and will not be hardened.We remain In Him, hurting hearts which only he can touch.
I don’t know if you ever do recover from grief. I echo the thanks of others for your transparency, Mike, and for letting all of us journey with you. I don’t think there’s ever a total “getting over it” - but I hope there is peace. Deep peace.
Thank you for allowing us to witness God through you and in this deep pain.
Much peace and grace.
I added the last thing you said here to my “quotes to remember” list.
“I’m convinced that we won’t make it if we don’t journey together in honesty.”
You’re right, you know. I don’t think we will otherwise.
Thanks for letting me be part of your journey and thanks for being a part of mine.