For those of you who have followed the HelpForMyLife.org blogs over the past year,  you may remember Kevin and Dawn. I featured them in my December 22, 2010 blog, A child is born . . . and one is taken. What a privilege to be with this amazing couple!

Their story is one of sorrow and grief, courage and compassion, endurance and hope. Having lost their precious son, Braeden, to cancer just a little over two and a half years ago, just shy of his 4th birthday, they allowed us to take the journey of grief with them as they shared their story.

And it’s a story worth telling.

Our hope in this new year is to launch a new portion of our website that features the stories of real people with real struggles that requires real faith. We’re thinking of calling it, The Journey Through . . . series. It’s because we’re always in process. We don’t arrive until we’re finally and fully restored in the presence of our good God. So on this earth, we’re all journeying through something.

For Kevin, Dawn and their remaining children, their hurt hasn’t evaporated over the past year. They quickly dismissed the notion that “time heals all wounds.” It doesn’t. Braeden’s absence at their Christmas celebration this year is just as poignant and painful as last year and the year before. But they also reflected something that only they can through this journey through grief . . . hope.

Kevin and Dawn readily admit they’re not immune to grief. Neither are they incapacitated by it. Instead, they are inspired by hope. They are using their experience to touch others who have lost children too. They want to share what they’ve learned on this journey they never chose, but that chose them.

What became very clear to all of us who witnessed their story first hand is this:

They have a story to tell. And we have the privilege of telling it.

Their story is not about a destination, but a journey through grief.

Their story is not over yet. They are still on the journey, they haven’t given up . . . because they have hope.

Why? How? As they would tell you emphatically, “God is in this.”

And their story inspires me to hope too.

So as you celebrate this holiday season with your family and friends, be grateful for those who are present, grieve over those who are not, and always remember the  glorious Hope that arrived under the cover of darkness to a couple in a stable 2000 years ago who is our Prince of Peace who heals the brokenhearted and brings comfort to the grieving (Isaiah 61:1-3).

Merry Christmas.

And, look for Dawn and Kevin’s story of hope in the new year at HelpForMyLife.org.

I’ve been gone.

It’s been a rainy season for me and my family.

“When it rains, it pours,” was a saying my Grandma would often use when things were piling up and we were feeling overwhelmed. You know, like when when the muffler falls off the car, then the hot water heater sprouts a leak and floods half the basement, and the door on the toaster oven breaks and you have to jamb a pencil in the latch to make it work because you just spent what money you had on getting the items needed to get your kids prepared for the new school year.

You know what I mean.

Don’t you?

But those kinds of things aren’t life-changing. Frankly, they’re just plain annoying.

But what about when significant losses begin stacking up one on top of the other? That’s not just annoying. That’s overwhelming. Drowning or suffocating is more like it.

That’s been my summer so far.

My wife fell on April 29th, tearing all three hamstring muscles away from the bone on her right leg. Surgery was require to reattach them. Twelve weeks in a brace and no weight bearing, followed by 42 weeks of extensive physical therapy. Yep, that’s 54 weeks total recovery.

On May 13th my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died 3 weeks later on June 3 at 81 years of age. A shock to all of us since she seemed so healthy just 6 weeks prior to the diagnosis.

Then my dad began to fail. Alzheimer’s had been stealing his life away for the past 7 years. He didn’t know mom or any of us for most of the past 2-3 years. And in spite of the fact that we didn’t tell him about mom’s death, after 60 years of marriage, he somehow just seemed to know that his sole mate had gone home to heaven to await his arrival. And he didn’t waste much time. 8 weeks and one day later he arrived to greet her with a healed body and mind.

Yesterday I snapped at my 20-year-old daughter about something I thought she was negligent about. Her defenses shot up. We both felt the tension tighten. She called me on my “accusational” tone. She was right. And I knew it.

She asked me what was going on with me. I didn’t know, but soon I was reduced to tears. And I still didn’t know why.

Then it hit me: “I’ve got no emotional margins left. I’m depleted.Wrung out. Overloaded.” The losses have piled up around me. I just buried both of my parents within 2 months. My wife has begun a long road to recovery. And I feel buried emotionally.”

The journey through grief is a long one. Especially when it’s compounded by multiple losses. “Personal, painful loss forces a door open into the deep parts of our soul, exposing what which we’d just as soon not admit exists, let alone face”(p. 3). I believe that. I wrote that 20 years ago in a booklet on grief, How Can I Live With My Loss? Now I’m re-living it afresh.

Loss is as common as the air we breathe. But our journey through grief is unique to each of us. I’m on that journey. Maybe you are too. Let me reassure you with words from my Father that I find deeply encouraging and comforting in the middle of turmoil that is so disconcerting:

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6)

“. . . because God has said,  “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Heb. 13:5)

What’s reassuring for me is that I’m never alone on this messy journey of grief after a loss. And neither are you if you’ve put your hope in the God who raises the dead.

I’m sure there will be more to come as I process what God is doing in me because of these losses. For now, knowing He’s always with me is what keeps me going.

And then, after some time has past and some things change in your life journey and you reread one of those puzzling passages and go, “Oh, I think I get it now!” Has that happened to you?

It has for me. Here’s one of those baffling texts that became clearer recently for me:

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting . . . Prov. 7:2a

Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve always thought that being invited to celebrate at a party was much better than attending a funeral. One is happy. The other is just plain hard. Right?

But having just gone through the first week after my mom’s funeral, I think “I get it.” Or at least I understand it better than I ever have before.

The writer of Proverbs went on to explain,

. . . for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Prov. 7:2b

Since I received the call 2 weeks ago today of my mom’s death, there has been one theme that has dominated my thoughts, invaded my dreams and ransacked my emotions–death. But when I say “death,” I don’t just mean my mom’s departure from this planet. I mean eternity. Her’s, mine, and everyone else’s who matters to me. Eternity is life viewed through the door of death as the exit from this world into the next. Death is not a cessation of life. Rather, it’s being transported from this reality into the next. It’s letting go of this present reality of struggle and being released into the reality of freedom and joy in what Jesus called “Paradise” (Luke 23:43).

Death pushes our buttons like nothing else in life. It is the finale enemy to be conquered (2 Cor. 15:26). No one gets off the planet alive. If we live long enough, we all die (Heb. 9:27). It’s a foregone conclusion.

But, we spend so much of our lives distracted from what’s most important. Parties do that. They’re distractions. They distract us from the realities of eternity that are vividly unavoidable standing before an open casket with the lifeless body of a loved one inside.

Funerals bring what really matters into HD reality. It’s like watching a football game on a  standard definition 18″ TV. It’s good. You see all the plays. You know what’s happening and you’re fine with it. But then replace that TV with a High Definition 1080p large screen plasma and watch in amazement how the same game explodes with all the crisp, clear, and vivid colors that were unimaginable before. That’s what the writer of Proverbs is saying.

At a funeral, the issues of life and death, of love and relationships, of meaning and what really matters are strikingly displayed for all to reckon with. And like it or not, we all do reckon with them one way or another. And if, in that reckoning process, we “take things to heart” we’ll discover that the little things that really don’t matter much, just don’t. And the important things that do, really do.

All of us must face our mortality (death) and our destiny (eternity). A funeral helps us do that. Taking this to heart can change the way we live the rest of our lives. It should. I know it’s changing mine, and I don’t want to forget it.

Maybe you’ve had a life-changing experience after the loss of a loved one that you’d like to share with the hfml family. We’d be honored.

Our comfort comes from knowing she’s home . . . I mean, really home! Her present reality is what we all dream about and long for. What we imagine heaven to be like, she’s experiencing firsthand. Wow! And that’s a sweetness that has provided a peace that is sustaining us beyond description (Phil. 4:7).

The funeral was a celebration of her life and the difference she made on everyone she touched. When it was my turn to speak, the phrase that kept echoing through my mind for the days prior to the service was: “That’ll leave a mark.” We use that phrase humorously around our house when we are clumsy and bump into something hard, scrape a shin running up the steps, or some such affliction. We laugh and say to each other: “that’ll leave a mark.”

That’s true of my Mom too–”she left a mark on all of us.” In big ways and in little ways, she left her fingerprints all over our lives, our spouses, and our kids. Because Jesus had marked her life with His love and compassion, she left His mark on us each time that she touched us with her love and compassion. She modeled for us John’s encouraging words that remind us that “in this world we are like him” (1 John 4:17).

I have a myriad of words I could write about her. And for me, since words are the tools of my trade, that’s one of the gifts God has given to me to help me process this painful journey through grief and loss and to the celebration of a life well lived with gratitude and hope.

Jesus left a mark on my Mom, and I’m so grateful that He did. And she left a mark on me. And now it’s my turn to leave a mark on others.

In one of my last conversations with her, I told her how much I loved her and that she was a great mom. And I reminded her that her life mattered, that she made a difference and that every life that my brothers and I, our wives, and our children touch–even you reading this today–she has a part in.

Now that’s a legacy. That’s leaving a mark that really lasts.

Now . . . it’s my turn. And, it’s your turn too. Make a point to allow the love of Christ Jesus to mark your life in such a way that you make His mark on everyone you touch today.

Yea, that’ll leave a mark.

Life was anything but easy for Bethany after she lost her left arm and nearly died after being viciously attacked by a large  tiger shark.  She not only had to rise above her fears of going back into the water and to learn how to surf again with only one arm, but she also had to struggle with how to come to terms with why God allowed such a terrible thing to happen. Although she wrestled to understand God, her faith, like her determination to surf again, remained unshakable.

With the help of family and friends, she came to trust God with her unanswered questions. Eventually, she began to see how God takes something as traumatic and awful as a shark attack and turns it into something beautiful and powerful for good.

Anyone struggling with severe loss or thinking about quitting on life and God might want to consider seeing this film. It is so much more than your typical shark attack movie (I’m thinking Jaws). It’s an amazing story that will move your heart and remind you that while God isn’t always safe, He is good!

You may also want to check out the Day of Discovery program When God Takes What Matters Most, Part II: They Mayer Family.

Those are not the words of one of the thousands of family members whose lives have been devastated by the upheaval of the earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan last week. Although they could be.

Those are the words of lament from a father 3000 years ago (Job 3:25) who lost not just one, but all 10 of his children and their families who were snuffed out when a microburst of wind collapsed the home they were in (Job 1:18-19). Job’s catastrophic loss of his family was preceded by the pillage of his economic wealth by bands of marauding thieves (Job 1:14-17). Everything that meant anything to him was gone.

Job went on to lament: “I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil” (Job 3:26).

When everything that means anything to you is gone, where do you turn? How do you respond?

As I watched the news feeds on the networks and internet, I struggled to wrap my mind around the surrealistic video of the 30-foot wall of water that seemed to swallow up the land and it’s inhabitants, and then vomit out a grotesque amount of wreckage, destruction and death as it receded back into the ocean. It looked  like an eerie CGI movie scene. But this time it wasn’t. It was real. As terrifyingly real as it gets.

Trauma–whether natural or man-made–always leaves a contorted heap of rubble and devastation not only on the physical landscape of our world but also in the hearts and minds of those who live through it. The physical clean up efforts of the land will take years. The emotional, relational, and spiritual wounds will take much longer. And it requires help. Help comes from people who not only care, but those who also have experience and training sorting through the turmoil of their own traumas and who have emerge out of the darkness and into the light of hope again.

But grief is a journey. Not a journey we choose, but one that chooses us.

It’s in those moments when we feel crushed and buried under the rubble of trauma that we can mistakenly believe that grief and pain will forever define us. It won’t. But is sure feels like it. While it  shapes and influences the rest of our lives to be sure, it’s not the trauma that defines us. It’s how we respond to it that does.

Jesus knows how trauma messes with us. How it overwhelms us. And how we tend to lose heart when we feel buried (John 16:33). He reminds us that trauma never has the final word. Why? Because he has overcome the world that is overwhelming us.

He invites us to dump our burdens on him and he will help us shoulder the load that’s impossible for us to handle on our own (Matt. 11:28). And, he will provide others who can help us carry the burden that’s too much for us to bear alone (Gal. 6:2).

Please pray. Help bear the unbearable burden by taking the plight of the Japanese people to the God of all comfort who heals the brokenhearted (Isa. 61:1; 2 Cor. 1:3-5). Pray not only for the healing of the land of Japan, but please pray for the healing of her people as they sort through the grief and anguish of their losses and seek to rebuild their wounded souls.

It wasn’t until several hours later that morning that an email from my son informed me that the connection to this tragic loss was closer than I imagined. My son serves on a board with a woman who was close friends with one of the couples. They were Christians with a passion for quality media, education, and to see that the Word of God distributed into the hands of those less fortunate than themselves around the globe. Delivering Bibles from their boat to those who didn’t have a copy of the Scriptures was their mission of hope in their retirement.

Being hijacked by a marauding band of Somalia pirates on the high seas interrupted and brought their mission to an abrupt and grizzly end.

Now, what’s left for the families and loved ones left behind is the loss and the grief. But not just grief. Tragic grief. Grief complicated by the how and why of their deaths.

Some times, we expect grief and can somewhat prepare for it because we know it’s coming. Like when a loved one is suffering through a terminal illness or an elderly family member dies at 91 after a long fruitful life. It’s always sad. But not unexpected.

But when we experience a tragic loss, especially through a violent criminal act, grief takes on a level of intensity that almost feels unbearable.

Violence complicates grief. Not only are we left to deal with the loss of our loved one, but we are also left to face the person or persons who took the life of our loved one through violence. Whether it’s a criminal act that targets an individual or a terrorist act that indiscriminately targets a crowd, the grief that explodes internally is deeply disturbing and messy. Finding comfort in our grief from “the Father of Mercies and God of all comfort” (2 Cor. 1:3) and learning to “grieve with hope” (1 Thes. 4:13) is far from easy.

It’s in this agonizing process of groaning over our pain while anticipating of the day when all will be made well (Rom. 8:23; Rev. 21:4) that we discover that we need help. We don’t do this well alone.

We need the understanding support and love of friends and family who are also struggling with the aftermath of this loss. We also may need the help of our pastor to spiritually shepherd us through and angst of grief. A trained grief counselor can also help us navigate through the uncharted waters of tragic grief. And many have found comfort and encouragement in a support group of fellow grievers who like themselves have been tossed into the waves of complicated grief.

Grief is a journey that none of us choose. It chooses us. And we all take that journey at some time. It’s being ambushed by tragic grief that renders us helpless and hurting.

Please pray for the families and friends whose lives are far less rich because Jean and Scott Adam and their friends Phyllis Macay and Bob Riggle are no longer here to share it with them.

Talk about holiday heartache. I’ve shared before on this blog about the heartache that we experience the first time we go through a holiday without a loved one. It totally changes the color and feel of the holidays. Now my friend will not only have the holiday to look forward to but also the anniversary of his wife’s departure to heaven.

And, as sad as it has been for Ned to lose Kathy, he and the family know that she’s not longer suffering with the cancer that ravage her body. They take comfort in knowing that she’s at peace and free to enjoy all the delights of heaven that they still can only dream about now. And although Ned is a Jesus follower knows that he will see his bride again because she did trust Jesus as her personal Savior and Lord, he and his family still grieve over the loss of enjoying Kathy’s presence here and now.

Paul, a New Testament author,  described the  grief of a Jesus follower as “grief with hope” instead of “grief without hope” (1Thess. 4:13-18). He reminded us that we are not exempt from grief because of our faith. We still grieve. But we grieve differently. We grieve with hope.

Our friend grieves the loss of his wife, as does her children and grandchildren. They have lost a beloved wife, mother, and grandmother for a while. But they know with confidence that she is with the Lord in a place of unimaginable joy and peace that the Apostle John described in Revelation 21:4 as a place without tears . . . “and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

So, if you will, please remember Ned and his family in your prayers as God brings them to mind. Ask “the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our afflictions” (1 Corinthians 1:3-4) to comfort them as they’ve said their last goodbye to a wonderful woman that they will see again, but not just yet.

to us a son is given;

and the government shall be upon his shoulder,

and his name shall be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

These words from Isaiah 9:6 are often quoted during the Christmas season. They are the words that the prophet penned some 700 years before the birth of Jesus. They foretold of his arrival on planet earth as a baby boy who would “save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21). The irony of the silent night invasion of God into the world of mankind in the form of a helpless infant is almost as laughable as it is profound.  The Ultimate Gift from God slipped almost totally unnoticed into our world under cover of darkness with the weight of mankind’s redemption riding on his shoulders. Unbelievable!

Most children burst into our lives with much celebration and fanfare from parents and extended family. Tons of preparation takes place in anticipation of the new arrival. Parents prepare the nursery, buy clothes, paint rooms, stock up on diapers, and much more. However, no one is ever prepared to lose a child. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare. Unthinkable!

Parents are not suppose to bury their children. Children are suppose to bury their parents. That’s what we expect. It’s the natural progression of things.  And while it deeply hurts to lose a beloved parent, it is expected that they will precede us in death. But to lose a child, is devastating.

And walking through those first holidays after the death of a child feels impossible.  Unbearable!

I sat for an hour at a local restaurant last Friday with a courageous young couple who last year lost their precious son after a 2 year heroic battle with cancer. Braeden was 3. Christmas 2009 was awful for Kevin and Dawn. They were invited to many holiday celebrations, but it felt like no one knew what to do with them. They didn’t know what to do with themselves. Uncomfortable! Lonely!

Everyone invited them to holiday celebrations, but no one even mentioned Braeden. They had the sense that after eight months, they should be over it and everything should be back to normal. They wanted to scream. Usually they didn’t. They just felt numb.

This year is different for them. Life is far from normal. It will never be the same. It can’t be. Braeden isn’t here. And while the invitations still come, this year they would prefer to avoid the discomfort and simply have a quiet family celebration at home with their other 3 children. But both of them teared up when talking about their precious “Bub.” They should. This is their son.

When I asked them what they would want from others during this holiday season, Dawn responded almost reflexively, “Say his name.” She continued, “We love Braeden. Say his name. You won’t remind us that we’ve lost him for now. We are reminded of his painful absence everyday. You are not going to bring us pain when you say his name. We love him. We’ll never forget him. And we don’t want others to forget him either.”

She added, “Tell us what you remember about him. Tell us a story or your favorite memory. Kevin’s cousin shared a story about Braeden at his celebration of life service that I had never heard before because I wasn’t there to witness it. What a gift!”

So, remember: grief doesn’t take a holiday over the holidays. In fact it can intensify for many. Sit in on our discussion about dealing with grief and loss over the holidays, and then share with us your story.

And, if you have friends or family members who are grieving the loss of a child, don’t expect them to be over it, even if its been a couple of years. Don’t avoid them. Step towards them and say the name of their child. Share a memory with them about their son or daughter. It just might be the most treasured gift that they will receive this Christmas . . . and the most priceless that you can give.

For more on Braeden Burgess and his heroic family, check out Dawn’s blog: Through This Valley. Merry Christmas Braeden.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year

With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you “Be of good cheer”
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
It’s the hap-happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It’s the hap- happiest season of all . . .

The song goes on to celebrate the festive parties and holiday celebrations that surround the Christmas season for many. But, is it really the happiest season of all? Or, it that just wishful thinking? Many people experience the holidays as anything but happy.

For those who are facing the first holidays without someone they love by their side,  the holidays can be more of a dreaded reminder of the emptiness and heartache that they are feeling. Grief has a way of invading our lives like an unwelcomed and unstoppable virus that infects every aspect of the holidays. Times that were once filled with joy and hope are now clouded with a dread and emptiness that at times may border on despair. Some one is missing. And we’re devastated. Things will never be the same again.

Holiday heartache is real. And we’d like to help. Join me for a round table discussion on facing grief and loss over the holidays with author Shelly Beach and fellow counselor Jeff Olson. Pull up a chair and a cup of coffee as we walk through a struggle that is common for many this time of year.