Steven, with the teenage eye roll: “Yes, Mom.”
Me, with a smile after realizing I told him something he already knew: “Aren’t you glad you have a mom to tell you these things?”
And Steven, as sweet as he is, says “Actually, yes. I AM glad I have a mom.”
And my heart breaks just a little more for him.
I don’t know what it is like to be a boy; and I don’t know what it is like to be a boy without a father. It’s hard to watch my children grieve. I have tried my best to give them opportunities to grieve in a healthy way, and I think they are doing the best they can considering how difficult it has been for them to lose their Dad.
But, this is when I have to pause and rein in the anger that rises up in me. I didn’t feel much anger in the aftermath of Jim’s home going until Father’s Day last June. As we all honored our fathers that day, it was painful for me to know that my children are fatherless and that it has left a huge void in their lives. I suppose it’s a bit like a mamma bear who wants to protect her cubs. I wish I could take away my children’s pain and make everything better for them. But Jim’s death was out of my control. It certainly was not my plan. On the afternoon of Father’s Day, I let God know exactly how I felt about that. I spewed out all the anger and grief and tears I had in me. Until I was exhausted. Grief. is. exhausting.
Steven wrote these words as he helped care for his Dad during his last days on earth when his grief was so very fresh and raw. He very courageously read these words at his father’s funeral. I still cannot read them without tears.
“To my father who is now up above,
The only man I ever loved.
It is not you, it is me
Who lies there restlessly.
It is my father who is going away
Who I pray for every day.
There is nothing I love more than to see you grin;
A laugh, a smile, when U of M gets a win.
You leave behind a family of four,
Who cry, and want you to feel pain no more.
The last year has been an adventure.
An experience in my heart I will always treasure.
Life will be wrong without my dad.
A life I never wanted, a life so sad.
You don’t know how much you make my world go around.
I don’t know how I will ever rebound.
You have lived a successful life
With three kids and a wife.
We need you right now,
And still we wonder how.
How we live our lives and know what to do
Living our lives without you.
I love you so much, this you know
It is too hard for me to say good bye, and let go.
So how do I handle my anger? Thankfully, God is strong enough to listen to my ranting and raving and see my shaking fist and the tears that flow. It’s a comfort to me to know that even the Biblical giants - David, a man after God’s own heart, or Job, who had everything taken away - lamented and cried out to God. They did not turn their backs on Him in there difficulties, but instead continued to communicate their true feelings of lament with the God they loved and served. And the best part for me is this: When the lines of communication are open, God is faithful to return my cry with healing and comfort and, of course, His peace that passes our understanding especially in my present circumstance.
And there is a measure of relief; relief from the overwhelming grief.
It's exactly what Jim told me on the video he left for us. Trust God. How can this be right for me or my children? I don’t know, but I do know God is trustworthy, and that He has a plan for my children and that plan is to prosper them and not to harm them. It’s a plan that will give them hope and a future. Somehow, God will use the pain of Jim’s death to mold us into the people He wants us to be. And so, even when I don’t understand, I will trust Him with my children and let the anger go. Instead, I will bask in the love I feel in His presence and help my children experience that love as well.
“Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you.” Jer. 29:12-13.
So thankful that I can tell my Father exactly how I feel.
