Grief’s Solitude

The past couple of weeks have been rough. I’ve had to once again deal with necessary repairs from broken pipes and damaged ceilings, etc. But the most difficult is the physical pain I must bear with this aging disabled body I often refer to as my prison. Some of it is age in general, but every time my back hurts beyond belief I am reminded of the years of abuse that resulted in this pain and the awful leg spasms that accompany it.

But there is another grief that consumes me even more so… the ‘missing’ of my son.

I’ve not been shy in stating that I hate Holidays. Too many memories are resurrected this time of year. In addition, my son’s birthday falls right in the middle of Thanksgiving and Christmas. It has always been worst than even the anniversary of his demise for me. I once again enter into that ‘Grief Fog’. I lose concentration quickly and others become impatient with me because of it. I can only focus on whatever they are telling me for so long before I drift out into outer space once again. I know this sometimes is perceived that they are, or what they are saying is, unimportant to me… but that simply is not the case. I want to focus and be attentive; It’s not my intent to drift off; Nevertheless, I do. It is that place of solitude that I venture to beyond my control.

I’ve noticed a ‘quietness’ in the Grief Community the past couple of weeks, as well. It could be that I am not alone. That somehow in this Solitude of Grief, there are many others also in their own place of solitude. If that is true, then we are all alone together.

Yes, alone together… an oxymoron for sure.

Grief’s Solitude is a lonely place. No other human being, try as they may, can go there with us. Our memories are ours alone. What we feel when we encounter them is felt by us alone. There are perhaps some which those close to us who also shared in certain ‘moments’ can relate to more deeply than others. Still, another cannot get into my head and think my thoughts, or into my heart and feel my pain. In such moments, I am driven to my God for He alone knows.

There is a song by Joni Eareckson Tada that brings me great comfort in such solitude called: ‘Alone Yet Not Alone’. It is a gentle reminder to me that although I feel alone, I once again find that ‘feelings are not always facts’. I am also reminded of Elijah who also believed he was all alone, yet God informed him that there were 7,000 others out there just like him (1 Kings 19:14-18).

I cannot wear your shoes and you cannot wear mine. Yet, we can and do travel this road together side by side. We ‘weep with those who weep’ and we ‘rejoice with those who rejoice’. ‘When one member of the body suffers, we all suffer’ (1 Cor. 12:26). Though we cannot specifically feel the pain another suffers, we can acknowledge it and say: ‘Me, too’. It may not, and probably won’t, relieve our own personal suffering… yet, knowing that another is walking alongside of us often gives us the strength necessary to endure and persevere.

We will make it.

Alone together.

Image result for alone together photo

(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
http://www.directtextbook.com/isbn/9781498496728?geis=y
Articles on WordPress.com: https://wordpress.com/posts/bereavedparentsblog.wordpress.com.

Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/author/jude-gibbs/

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))

I am the author of this piece and using it without my written permission is against copyright law. Registration# TX 8-383-134

 

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Gratitude in Grief

This is truly a ‘challenge’ for me. I admit I find it extremely difficult to be grateful since my son’s demise. Though, if I’m to be completely honest, I lacked Gratitude even before his demise. How do I know this? Because my son would often turn to me and say: “Attitude of Gratitude, Mom” in his very loving and gentle way. I am very grateful for his tender reminders.

The Mighty has put forth a ‘challenge’ this month to list three things daily for which we are grateful. I won’t be able to meet that challenge, though I am grateful for it and for others who can. My son was one of the most grateful people I have ever known. No matter what amount of pain he was in, no matter what difficulties and challenges he faced, he could always find something to be grateful for in the midst of it all. He was the type of person that rarely ever asked for anything. Yet, when he was given something, he overflowed with Gratitude. It wasn’t usually expressed in any verbal expression, but it was unmistakably visible in those big blue eyes of his. It was a joy to give him things because he never expected nor demanded anything. A big hug was his ‘thank you’. Oh, how I miss those hugs.

The night before he was killed, he grabbed me in the kitchen and hugged me so tightly and just wouldn’t let me go. I even dropped my arms to my side at one point thinking ‘OK…enough already’. If I had only known that would be the last hug from him that I would receive. But I am so so grateful for that hug! That hug has continued to sustain me many many nights over these past 18+ years.

In my grief, I find there are things for which I am grateful for…#1 is for the time I did have with this wonderful person. His love and respect for me lifts me out of the mire of despair when I am feeling as if I am the world’s biggest loser. If someone like him could see value in a person like me, then somehow I’m not the complete and utter ‘screw-up’ that I sometimes perceive myself to be. If God in His Wisdom picked me to be the Mom of such a wonderful person, to entrust my guidance and parenting with such a precious human being, He must see something in me that I do not see in myself. For such a wonderful person as my son to value me as his Mom is humbling. What an honor was placed on me to be his Mom…and for that I am eternally grateful.

I am grateful for all the beautiful memories I have of my son… memories of heartfelt laughter, memories of heartfelt tears. The Gratitude I have in my heart for everything this person added to my life is inexpressible. He taught me the meaning of Kindness simply by being himself; he taught me about Caring for those many often turn away from for various reasons; he taught me that every human being has value. He always had time for everyone even if it cost him personally. His strength in confronting wrongdoing was noble. He feared no man for he was always seeking Truth. His Faith and Trust in God were unshakable.

When we would drive back and forth to Church together, a song was very popular at that time so it often was played on the radio. I would often sing it from the depths of my heart in Gratitude to my Lord. I now also dedicate it to my son in my Gratitude in Grief:

“Because You Loved Me”
by Celine Dion

For all those times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made right
For every dream you made come true
For all the love I found in you
I’ll be forever thankful baby
You’re the one who held me up
Never let me fall
You’re the one who saw me through through it allYou were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith ’cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

Ooh, baby

You gave me wings and made me fly
You touched my hand, I could touch the sky
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me
You said no star was out of reach
You stood by me and I stood tall
I had your love, I had it all
I’m grateful for each day you gave me
Maybe I don’t know that much
But I know this much is true
I was blessed because I was loved by you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith ’cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

You were always there for me
The tender wind that carried me
A light in the dark shining your love into my life
You’ve been my inspiration
Through the lies you were the truth
My world is a better place because of you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith ’cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
(My voice.)
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith ’cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

Thank you, Babe.   xoxoxo

(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
http://www.directtextbook.com/isbn/9781498496728?geis=y
Articles on WordPress.com: https://wordpress.com/posts/bereavedparentsblog.wordpress.com.

Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/author/jude-gibbs/

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))

I am the author of this piece and using it without my written permission is against copyright law. Registration# TX 8-383-134

“Never Judge God by Isolated Events”

I don’t normally post another’s article, but I read this and did not want to take ‘parts’ of it and share it as my own. I know what it feels like to have that done to mine, so I am sharing this in its entirety as it was received by me.  (((HUGS)))

Whenever a question begins with the words, “Why didn’t God . . .” my usual response begins with the words, “I don’t know.” This past month I was speaking in northern Ontario on the problem of evil for an outreach event. During the Q&A time, a Christian woman sitting in the second row asked, “Why didn’t God prevent her daughter from getting into a recent car accident?”

My answer was candid and to the point. “I don’t know,” I told her.

I don’t know why God permits particular incidents of pain and suffering in our lives. God has not given that specific information to me. Only God knows.

That may not be a very satisfying response. I get it. But it’s an honest response.

Now I believe there are reasons why God allows pain and suffering in our lives. Philosophers often call these morally sufficient reasons. We are given some of these reasons in Scripture. For example, God could permit suffering to test and build our faith (James 1:2-4), to build perseverance, character and hope (Rom. 5:3-5), to judge (Gen. 6:5-7), to discipline (Heb. 12:11), and to warn the world of the impending final judgment (Luke 13:4-5).

These are general reasons why God might permit suffering. However, we cannot presume to know the specific purpose of the suffering in our own lives and the lives of others. We aren’t in a position to make that call. But just because we don’t know the purpose of the suffering doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

If you are a parent, you have probably had the unfortunate experience of holding your child as a doctor sticks them with a needle. This can be a traumatic experience for both parent and child. It is heartbreaking to have your toddler look at you with an expression that screams, “Why are you allowing them to do this to me?”

The child doesn’t understand that this temporary suffering is intended for a greater good.

I think it’s likely that something similar is going on when God permits pain and suffering in our lives. And this explanation is perfectly consistent with what the Bible teaches.

Let me give you two examples from Scripture, and then conclude with a general principle.

Example #1: Suffering of Joseph

Joseph endured suffering. He grew up in a household hated by his brothers (Gen. 37:4). In fact, they plotted to kill him, but decided to sell him into slavery instead (Gen. 37:18, 28). After being brought down to Egypt, he was sold to an Egyptian named Potiphar. Joseph worked his way up to being the overseer over Potiphar’s house, only to be falsely accused of trying to seduce Potiphar’s wife (Gen. 39). As a result, Joseph was thrown in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. He would spend two years in the king’s prison before being freed by Pharaoh (Gen. 41:1).

Joseph experienced tremendous suffering at the hands of others. If any of us were in Joseph’s situation, we would probably ask a whole series of questions beginning with the words, “Why didn’t God . . .”

Why didn’t God stop Joseph’s brothers from selling him into slavery? Why didn’t God prevent Potiphar’s wife from bringing these false allegations? Why didn’t God keep Joseph out of prison? You get the idea.

However, in this instance, we don’t have to speculate why Joseph experienced this suffering. Joseph explicitly tells us the reason. Speaking to his brothers, Joseph says, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Gen. 50:20).

Joseph was able to peek behind the curtain, so to speak, and see what God was doing through it all. God used Joseph’s situation for good—to warn Pharaoh about a very severe famine that was coming to the land of Egypt. Consequently, they were able to store up enough food to save the lives of many, including Joseph’s own brothers.

Example #2: Suffering of the Early Church

Recently, I was reading through the Book of Acts and noticed something I hadn’t before. Immediately after the stoning of Stephen by the Jewish religious leaders, we learn about some significant events that took place.

And Saul approved of his execution. And there arose on that day a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem, and they were all scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles. Devout men buried Stephen and made great lamentation over him.But Saul was ravaging the church, and entering house after house, he dragged off men and women and committed them to prison (Acts 8:1-3).

Stephen had just been executed because of his proclamation of the gospel. The early church in Jerusalem is now experiencing its greatest persecution. In fact, Christian men and women are being dragged off to prison. This forced Christians to flee Jerusalem and to be scattered throughout Judea and Samaria.

The early church must have asked questions like, “Why didn’t God prevent the stoning of Stephen?,” or “Why didn’t God stop Saul from ravaging the church?,” or “Why did they endure such persecution?”

In this instance, God’s purpose isn’t hidden. He is beginning to accomplish His purpose in sending out the gospel.

Before Jesus ascended into heaven, He told the disciples, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

Jesus described that the gospel would spread from Jerusalem, to Judea and Samaria, and, finally, to the ends of the earth. But He didn’t tell them how it would spread. Acts 8 gives some of those details. The gospel is being pushed out into all of Judea and Samaria.

There is a direct link between the persecution of the early church and the gospel moving out. From the perspective of the early church, the suffering was great. People were being killed, imprisoned, and displaced. On the surface, it didn’t look good. But, indeed, something wonderful was happening in the midst of it all. The gospel—the good news of Jesus Christ—was going out to the world as Jesus promised.

The Principle

In both examples, we see how God permitted suffering for His ultimate purpose. In each case, it would have been premature to judge God in the midst of those isolated events. Neither Joseph nor the early church was in a position to see God’s ultimate plan while specific, isolated events were taking place. Yet, there was a plan.

Likewise, we are not in a position to see God’s plan when it comes to specific instances of suffering in our own lives. Isolated events have a way of keeping us near-sighted. Yet, God might be accomplishing something through these events, even if we don’t know what that is.

So here’s the principle: Never judge God’s ultimate plan by your present circumstances.

There are some questions for which we will never get answers. And that’s just the way it is. But God has demonstrated that He can work even the darkest and most miserable circumstances for His ultimate end. Therefore, rather than turning on God for our present circumstances, we should turn to God and trust Him to work it for His ultimate purpose.

For His Kingdom,   Tim Barnett

 

(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
http://www.directtextbook.com/isbn/9781498496728?geis=y
Articles on WordPress.com: https://wordpress.com/posts/bereavedparentsblog.wordpress.com.

Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/author/jude-gibbs/

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))

Frozen in Time

I awoke this morning, still in that twilight zone between sleep and alertness, and in my mind’s eye I saw a woman. She was small in stature and she was in desert lands out West. Far off in the distance, mountains could be seen. She stood at a crossroads.

Behind her the road was covered in dust and sand, as if a sandstorm had its way. Sand, though many find it to be soft under their feet, is actually broken down and very weathered harsh dry material that has been crushed and ground down from rocks, minerals, shells, skeletons, etc. What once was quite hard, has become softened with time because of storms and decay.

As she stood at this crossroad, she knew she could not go back. Though I was sure the road behind her was still intact, it was deeply covered over by this sand and could no longer be traveled. As she looked to the left and then to the right, both paths laid in a haze not too far off in the distance in either direction. The road ahead looked long and led to the mountainous terrain. Yet, there was a brilliant soft light emanating from an undefined source. Though she was fairly certain she could not return the way she came, she was still somewhat undecided regarding the three that remained. Yet, she knew within what road she must travel. She had to follow the light.

I have seen much in my lifetime, many things I wish I had never seen. Though I have encountered much abuse and death on my journey, I still abode in a somewhat protective bubble. There have been times in which that bubble has been popped, often abruptly. It’s as if I had eaten of that apple and my eyes were suddenly opened to the nakedness of this world. I have grieved, at such times, over the loss of innocence. Feelings of regret entered my soul from such loss.

There is a book written by John Bunyan called: ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ which I have read a few times over the years. I admit, I am a fan of his tremendous gift as I am of Dostoevsky’s. If Dostoevsky were alive today, I’d be the captain of his fan club. But I digress. I do not find it to be an anomaly that both of these men did some of their greatest masterpieces while imprisoned. In their sheltered bubbles, removed and separated from the world, they survived by seeking God and knowing Him as their constant companion. Many of the great seers and prophets of old produced great fruit from their trying and harsh circumstances. John the Baptist was that voice crying out in the wilderness. Even Jesus the Christ traveled into the wilderness before He began His brief three year ministry which divided time into two, the before and after.

There is a specific woman that will read this article I am now writing; she, too, is standing at a crossroad. She has been called and beckoned by the Light. She is a Bereaved Mom who is currently at the point in which the initial ‘other worldliness’ that one often experiences at the onset of this Grief journey… the time in which we feel as if part of us still abides in this physical world, but part of us has crossed over into the land beyond… is beginning to fade. I embraced such a time once, and did not want to let go of it. But as hard as I tried to retain it, it faded away anyway. She is being pulled in a few directions. Others are beckoning her to come and belong with their circle in which they abide. They see her gift and they covet it. They are alluring her with sweet words, as honey drips off their tongues. But I must warn her, though on the surface their intentions appear loving and noble, the light they are shining is the angel of light. I say to this woman: beware. Do not succumb to their seductive offerings. God has called you to be separate unto Him. Allow God to direct your steps; He has other plans for you.

Matthew 7:14 But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.

(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
http://www.directtextbook.com/isbn/9781498496728?geis=y
Articles on WordPress.com: https://wordpress.com/posts/bereavedparentsblog.wordpress.com. Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/author/jude-gibbs/

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))

I am the author of this piece and using it without my written permission is against copyright law. Registration# TX 8-383-134

In need of assistance

I am once again blocked on Facebook. Six weeks out of an eight week period I am being prohibited from posting, commenting, sharing to, and joining any groups. Obviously, I am being targeted by some demented troll who has ‘issues’. Since FB never fixes anything nor addresses such issues with anything but form letters (though I do have the BBB, Atty. Gen., SEC looking into the matter), I need another venue in which to share/post support, articles, etc. for those in the Grief community.  However, I am not at all ‘tech savvy’. If someone is able to assist, please contact me. TY!

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Holding on by a Thread

To say that I am struggling today would be an understatement. The tears just keep flowing.  If someone were to say to me right now: “2 + 2= 4”, I would respond with: “Huh?”. It’s a space-cadet day. I’m here, but I’m not here; I’m present, yet I am elsewhere. It is one of those days in which preoccupation wins hands down.

It is my Birthday (#64) and I’m missing my son terribly. He never forgot my Birthday; he never neglected to bring me a card or flowers or something. He always made me feel grateful to be alive and that he was also grateful I was born. I miss him so so much, words are inadequate.

Then there is Chris, my son’s Uncle. At a mere nineteen years of age, he drove out to Death Valley and blew his head off with a shot-gun. In some ways, he was my 1st ‘baby’. Chris was ten years younger than I and was only five when I 1st met him. His birthday is the day after mine so we always celebrated together. After I married his brother when I was sixteen, I would take Chris and his sister everywhere with me. I had no children of my own and their parents were often off jet-setting somewhere so I was glad to be their caretaker in their parents’ absence. In a couple of weeks, it will be the anniversary of Chris’ demise.

My son was very much like his Uncle Chris, though they never met. They were both quite tall at about 6’1″, and both had a similar physique and blue eyes. There was also a time when my son grew his hair long like Chris’. Both were extremely intelligent and strong, yet very gentle souls. Neither were at all materialistic and had an innate dislike for pompous pretentiousness. They sought a higher road in life and deeply felt the pain of others. When Chris died, his sister told me that they use to call themselves my ‘backseat babies’ because I was always taking them places. We’d spend the summers going swimming at a nearby lake, attend the local carnivals, and they often slept at my home or I at theirs when their parents were out of town.

Another similarity between my son and his Uncle is in the way we communicated with one another. With a glance, we would speak volumes to one another. Words were often unnecessary.

The last time I saw Chris, we were all at a small gathering at the home of another one of his sisters. Most of the family was present and it was some sort of celebration. Chris was very quiet that evening. It was obvious to me that he was quite sorrowful. Neither he nor I were the type of people that readily engaged at such occasions; we were observers on the outside looking in. Chris, like myself and my son, wore our hearts on our sleeve; we were not fond of pretense. Once, when his parents were throwing a very lavish Christmas party with many in attendance at their luxurious home, I had removed myself and went to sit in a quiet place in another room separate from the festivities. Chris found me. He had changed out of the party apparel we both jokingly referred to as costumes, and sat and talked awhile. He was getting ready to leave because it was all getting to be a bit much for him, too.

But this last time I saw him, something was different. I still recall the feelings that transpired as we made eye contact. I was about to go over and speak with him but one of his sister’s grabbed my arm to take me into another room to show me something.

I never saw Chris again.

A couple of weeks later I was the 1st to receive the call. The authorities were attempting to locate the family and somehow they found me. I was the one that then had to call his brother, my then husband, and tell him the news about Chris. Apparently, from what the person on the other end of the call relayed, Chris had been found in a parking lot in some remote spot in Death Valley. The coroner later informed us that there was approximately eight minutes between the two shots. Somehow, with nearly half of his head gone, he was able to finish the job after these eight minutes. That was thirty-five years ago.

I am still periodically haunted with the ‘what ifs’.

‘What if’ I had not been pulled away that night by one of his sisters?

‘What if’ I had not been distracted?

‘What if’ I had made it across the room to go speak with him?

‘What if’ I had the chance to spend some time with him that night?

Would my ‘backseat baby’ still be alive today? Would he and my son have had a great relationship since they were so much alike in so many ways? If Chris had not died, how would his life have influenced my son’s? Would my son have taken a different route and not have been associating with his ‘friend’ that killed him?

1 Corinthians 13:

12 For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
http://www.directtextbook.com/isbn/9781498496728?geis=y
Articles on WordPress.com: https://wordpress.com/posts/bereavedparentsblog.wordpress.com.

Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/author/jude-gibbs/

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))

I am the author of this piece and using it without my written permission is against copyright law. Registration# TX 8-383-134

Scars of Grief

I have many scars…I am old. Many are visible and the source of them all varies. Some were self-inflicted, others inflicted by others. None of them are especially attractive. However, they all serve as reminders of what once was.

The self-inflicted ones remain from an attempted suicide at a mere fourteen years old when I had believed I had nothing to live for…that was fifty years ago. Some scars are from my own clumsiness as when I burned myself with an iron as a child in my attempt to be like my Mom. Others have been accumulated as a result of some very angry abusive people. Still others, the surgical ones, were necessary. Then there remain my trophy scars referred to as stretch marks. Those scars are beautiful to me. They are like rewards for a job well done and my reminder of days of Joy.

My deepest scars, however, cannot be seen. Yet, I’m well aware of their existence. Many were inflicted by harsh and cruel words once spoken; many were inflicted by harsh and cruel actions by others.

Though I’ve collected numerous scars throughout my life, none compare to the one I carry because of the demise of my son. That one has never quite healed over as the others; it is easily picked at exposing a river of pain just beneath the surface. Even others find it too ugly, at times, to look upon. It’s a picture of something they choose to turn away from because it frightens them.

My spine is crippled because of the abuse in my twenty-four year marriage. I have only shown the x-rays to a select few. Of those few, the initial reaction of most viewers has been to instinctively turn away with a brief gasp. I’ve only viewed them with sadness.

Yesterday, I had watched a brief one minute video of a preacher speaking about the scars of Christ. I have not been able to stop thinking about those scars. Up until yesterday, I saw them as reminders of what Jesus suffered and viewed them with sadness, too. But then a question entered my mind as to why in His Glorious Resurrected Body He retained those scars. After all, aren’t we all expecting to have a ‘perfect’ incorruptible body to replace this corruptible one? Why did His scars remain?

My thoughts then turned to the fellow we know as ‘Doubting Thomas’. He was a skeptic to whom I can relate. He demanded to see those scars of Jesus before he believed it was truly Him. I, too, once demanded proof. During my seven years of barrenness in which I did have two failed pregnancies, I was being told by the professionals that I could not have children. Yet, I went on to have four children that survived. But when a young man at a coffee prayer house said that we could come up for ‘silent prayer’ one evening, meaning that we didn’t have to tell anyone what our prayer request was, it was a perfect opportunity for me to test God. My prayer, of course, was to be blessed with a child. As this young man began to pray over me, he began to say: “…and Lord bless this new life You are about to give her”. That wasn’t satisfactory to me. In my mind, that could mean just about anything. But then, after all were prayed for, another young man walked over to my then husband and said: “Congratulations! I hear the Lord is about to give you a child.” That was three years before my firstborn arrived.

We often attempt to hide our scars from others. Perhaps, we feel some shame in them; perhaps we view them as ugly. But here was Jesus in this new Glorious Resurrected Body unashamed of His scars. He is God so obviously if He could rise from the dead He could have certainly done so without those scars. Yet, He did not. Those scars identify Him. They are the scars of great love and sacrifice, the result of unimaginable pain. He is not ashamed of how He obtained them. They are part of Who He is and they are beautiful.

As so are mine and… so are yours.

No, I don’t need to place them on a shelf as I would a trophy to display, but I have no need to hide them away either. My scars from my grief Honor my son. They tell others who I am, the Mother of a child that lives on in the Heavenly realm. If someone were to ask me for proof of what I have endured, I shall show them my scars. Upon seeing them, their doubt shall vanish as did Thomas’. They represent my great Love for my child. As my son lovingly stated in one of his poems:

But now, I cry a cry that sheds a new tear!
The tears that now make their path
Down my newly, older face, do not scar
But cleanse the wounds of my past.
They do no harm, but heal.
They are the tears that are shed only by a few
Fortunate to find hope through a hole
In hopelessness!
Tears shed by those who find the love
That was lost in their loneliness.
And now, as I cry my tears of joy,
I shed a tear for you!              (by Roddy, Jude’s Son; excerpt: ‘Gifts from the Ashes’)

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(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
http://www.directtextbook.com/isbn/9781498496728?geis=y
Articles on WordPress.com: https://wordpress.com/posts/bereavedparentsblog.wordpress.com.

Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/author/jude-gibbs/

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))

I am the author of this piece and using it without my written permission is against copyright law. Registration# TX 8-383-134