Home, In a Place Prepared For Her

R: Mama, remember when you were little and in my belly?

Me: Actually, you were in my belly when you were little.

R: Right! We were in each others bellies!

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R: Mama, your car stinks.

Me: It stinks? What does it smell like?

R: It smells like germs.

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Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going. John 14:1-4

Seven months ago Reese went Home.

As a mother, I am torn each day between the pain of missing her and the joy of knowing she is completely and forever safe. I never have to worry about her.

Really, how can a mother ask for more than that? It is the ultimate gift. Yet, in my own selfishness and Earthly brokenness, I miss her and still wish for her to be here.

At seven months, I can definitely say the pain has lessened. The heavy, overwhelming, all-consuming grief has subsided to an uncomfortable and neverending ache. If I could visibly show you my heart, you'd see that it's injured, scarred, broken. But slowly, it is healing. Slowly, I am learning to walk again. But certainly in a different way, with a different gait, and a completely different outlook. There will always be something missing here.

When Reese died, I remember desperately wishing someone could tell me the date when I would feel better, when I would not be living in such intense grief. I asked other moms, "how long did it take you to feel better?" Someone please just give me a date when I'll feel better. Without that, it just seemed hopeless and overwhelming.

Of course that was unrealistic and impossible. Grief is personal and there is no specific timeline. And while the grief may become more subdued over time, it never really ends. Do you ever really want to stop missing someone? I don't think so. I hope not. You just want it to become less painful, less crippling.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10

God, in His grace, led Reese Home. This strengthens me. I accept that this is the way it was always supposed to be and, beyond that, I have even started believing it. Is there a difference between accepting and believing? Absolutely.

Each time I see a pregnant woman or a baby, I feel the instant pang of sadness and grief. I feel my limp and I'm momentarily unable to walk. But then I remind myself, "Reese was always meant for 38 weeks here and then meant for her place in Heaven. Don't be sad for what was never meant to be." And then I take a deep breath and I start walking again.

"We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps."  Proverbs 16:9 (NLT)

A friend of mine whose wife died suddenly a few years ago told me that he woke up one day and decided he was "tired of being sad." That was the day when he felt like he began healing and moving forward with his life.

Is it possible that a big part of the process of moving forward is just making the decision that you have to do so?

Maybe it is at least a good first step.

Although I would never claim to know all the answers or even a handful of answers, I believe there is a reason for all of our suffering and I believe that God knows how long it will take for each of us to "feel ok" again. What a great comfort. To know that we who suffer (and we all will) are not lost at sea.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

There has been a Plan all along. A plan for restoration and strength. A reason. 

I can look back now and remember who I was before Reese, my utter brokenness when she died, and the person I am becoming now. Almost like three separate people.

I still can't truthfully say that I am grateful for the suffering. You may not understand, but I hope in time I can say this because I believe it will allow me to offer more hope to others.

But I am so grateful for the gift of Reese and I am so grateful that she lived and now Lives in the place He prepared for her. And I'm grateful for a new outlook.

And although I cry as I write this post, I am learning to be content. Today is better than last month and next month will be better than today. I think this is all I can ask for myself.

For others, I pray for all those who are suffering today - right at this moment - that they may receive this gift as well.

...For I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

Philippians 4: 11-12