Earlier this year, I wrote this post on how important it is to listen carefully. The lessons in it still feel relevant today. I’ve learned that the hard lessons of life, like losing someone, have no specific ending point. But, God still speaks. We just have to listen carefully.
This week has been a strange one. The other day, I wrote about our recent visit stateside to be with family over the holidays. Our visit ended with a funeral, and topping everything off was our contracting COVID on our way home to Africa. Now that we’ve had a week to settle and (mostly) recover physically, we are trying to adjust to what happened in those few weeks while we were traveling. We’re taking time to listen carefully to what God has to say so we can learn how to live in the moments that follow.
I don’t think it’s fair to say that anyone can ever get used to the grieving process. Because every loss is different, every grieving process will be different. Grief is traumatic. Grief makes no sense. The adage “life goes on,” while true in part, doesn’t fully reflect how exactly we are supposed to go on with life in the absence of a loved one or when facing times of extreme stress.
I will come out of this
I lost my mother in September 2008 after a brief illness. While she wasn’t in perfect health, I wasn’t expecting her to go as early as she did. I didn’t make it to her bedside before she died. We were living in Malawi at the time and had adopted our fourth child, a three-month-old baby girl, in May of that year. We named her “Andreya.” For many years, my mother had asked me the question, “When are you going to give me a brown grandbaby?” Mom did get to see Andreya once when we had a visit in May of 2008. Because I had spent time with Mom in May, it came as a surprise that she passed away so quickly.
Our eldest, Tom, was already living in the States when Mom got sick. He called and let us know that she had been admitted to the hospital. I called her immediately, and she was in good spirits. Her voice was strong at that point, and we didn’t have reason to believe this would be the end of her journey. However, after a couple of days in the hospital, she grew weaker. I called daily and began to wonder if I should book a flight after talking with her one Saturday evening. She said during that conversation, “I will come out of this,” and laughed when she heard the baby coo over the phone.
When are you coming?
Mom didn’t come out of it, of course. And just hours after our phone call, she slipped into unconsciousness and was gone before I could book a flight to say goodbye face-to-face. Tom called and said, “Mom, she’s gone. When are you coming?” My heart was racing with emotions that are difficult to describe. I felt grief for my mother, whom I had just lost. I also ached to be with my firstborn, who was facing the death of his grandmother apart from me. The situation was beyond comprehension. First of all, because she was gone, and secondly, because I was going to fly to the States without Jamie (tickets were just too expensive).
The next day, in the middle of all the sadness and planning, a truck filled with our church members pulled into the driveway. If there’s one thing that Africans know how to do, they know how to grieve with you. Our church was very young at the time, and there weren’t many of us. But they came to our house, wrapped me in their arms, and cried with me. They sang, prayed, and even gave a small offering to send to the family. What had happened wasn’t supposed to happen. Mom should have lived longer. She said she was going to come out of it, but she didn’t. And yet, God was there.
Listen carefully
"So take care how you listen; for whoever has, to him more shall be given; and whoever does not have, even what he thinks he has, shall be taken away from him." Luke 8:18 NASB
In the times I’ve dealt with the cruelty of grief, I’ve found it helpful to listen carefully as I go through the process. Instead of listening to the voices that say, “It’s not fair” or “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I’ve learned to listen carefully to God’s voice. I heard God say the day our church people came, “It’s okay; I’ve got you, and I’ve got your mom, too.” How we listen in the dark moments will largely govern how we live in the moments that follow.
I think I’ve quoted my grandfather before, my mother’s father, who said, “If you only understood that you don’t understand anything, then at least you’ve understood something.” Understanding why our lives have to intersect with these painful moments isn’t for us to know. It is above our pay grade. What we need to understand is that God has our lives in His hands. While it is appointed for all of us to die (see Heb. 9:7), physical death is not the end-all for the believer.
At peace with what makes no sense
"and raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the boundless riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus." Ephesians 2:6,7 NASB
There is more to our stories than what we know today. There are ages yet to come when God will show off His kindness and His grace. I’m so looking forward to experiencing what I don’t understand. I’m at peace with what makes no sense right now because I’m listening carefully.
I find this certainly well thought out. Is it ok to pose a few questions?
Of course. Either ask here or you can email me at [email protected] Blessings!