how the tears we shed in pain lead to growth
I have often heard that our story is an inspiration to others. We have been told that our immeasurable pain and our response to our loss is comforting to others hurting. We have been humbled by this many times, and we often find ourselves slightly deceitful in the perception people have been given by our loss. As we have taken time over the last six months to reflect on our most recent loss, we have noticed our loss response is different, and we have wondered why and how there is this difference, and is it apparent to others.
Our first lost was nearly nine years ago, which many of you know the story, so there is no need to retell it, other than to mention our daughter by name. Elizabeth was young, bright, and an old soul who loved Jesus, her family, and was a good girl who would do whatever she was told. Losing her that July broke our family, not just in the obvious sense, but it broke our spirits in a way we didn’t expect. While we knew that our girl was with the Lord, and her suffering was nothing like what she had endured, we still found brokenness. We saw the effects of this storm scattered in every corner of our lives.
We saw empty rooms and quiet halls. We aw grieving faces and empty voices who couldn’t dare utter condolences in a situation no one could understand. We saw tears we had never seen in the eyes of our elderly family members, the guilt they carried in their own mortal longevity. We saw confusion in the eyes of our youngest who couldn’t possibly comprehend why her sister was no longer in her room or why she didn’t live at Granny’s anymore. We felt guilt in our marriage that we bore a child whose loss caused such insurmountable pain for the other spouse we each loved more than words.
We fought bravely to live life as normally as possible. We fought back the tears that often fell too easily, eventually pushing them back to “controlled” times in the shower, on the drive home from work, or openly on birthdays and anniversaries. We tried not to share our grief with others to minimize their pain in our suffering, and honestly, to emphasize our faith in what we said so many times to console others.
As we faced subsequent losses, we found ourselves more and more comfortable in grief. The recovery time between loss and “return to normal” became shorter and shorter. We found the losses in between our girls to be in the natural order of life (elderly and aging family members), so our grieving was different. Grief nonetheless.
Yet, with each loss, we found more life. We found that we appreciated time more and more and the relationships became more meaningful. We grieved for the lost relationships we longed for, yet we remembered fondly.
From our grief and many tears, our hearts have grown. We have grown in empathy for others hurting. Our tears have been the rain to grow our spirits to see beyond the obvious. We notice when others are hurting as if there is a sixth sense. Empathy allows us to appreciate the suffering and pain of others but doesn’t mean we feel sorry for them. Knowing the pain of another cancer family (adult or pediatric) has become an area we are most commonly called to respond. We empathize with those families, appreciating the pain, the struggle, the fear, the hope, the spirit of the those involved.
From our tears we have also watered some weeds in our garden, let me just be honest. We find brevity in our tolerance of ignorance of others. Those who don’t respect or appreciate the struggles others face leaves us fuming. Our intolerance has caused us to close some doors to protect ourselves, and it is the area we want to work on most in our lives now. We have been given the insight to know that this is an area we still need to nurture and heal.
Our tears come from grief for our girls, Elizabeth and Maddie. We long to see them again, and our hearts ache daily. Sometimes our tears have fallen like gentle rain as trickles down our face when a song comes on or a picture comes up on social media. Other times our tears fall like thundering rain, with a harshness only raw grief can bring forth. We have learned to let it rain and to embrace the tears as they renew our souls in a way no other response can.
Today may be a rainy day for you, and I would tell you to let it rain. Let the tears flow. Reflect on your pain, your hurt, your loss. Embrace your circumstance, but remember to look for what comes after the rain-the growth, the release, the maturation, the resolution, and the peace that only comes from the provider.
I am reminded of Jesus and Lazarus’s sisters, Martha and Mary. In John 11:35, Jesus Wept-the shortest verse in the Bible. Jesus was called to the home of Lazarus, who had died. Jesus saw the grief the sisters and other mourners expressed, and He wept. He did not cry with them over Lazarus’s death, because He knew He came to Bethany to restore Lazarus. Jesus Wept because His people mourned. They were grieving and shedding tears, and He did too, even knowing He was about to restore their loss.
Jesus has great compassion for our sorrow and hurt. Why did God allow Lazarus to die in the first place and make these people grieve? I often find myself wanting the answer to this question. Jesus did not find any comfort or joy in causing His people pain in suffering. He was broken-hearted in their pain. But He came among these mourners and restored their Lazarus. He could have done it from afar, away from the suffering. Instead He came among them and grieved for THEM not Lazarus. God could have restored my girls. He could have prevented them from suffering in the first place. BUT GOD is a loving God and He grieves WITH ME. He doesn’t grieve for my girls, He is not hurting that they are gone from the broken world. He hurts for ME. For You. For the Lost.
My tears fall like rain, and they have nurtured a garden of HOPE. A garden filled with empathy, patience, love, restitution, tolerance, and peace. A garden that sometimes has weeds of bitterness, anger, distrust, and retaliation, but I am learning to weed my garden well, which is always easier after a good, hard rain…
Here’s to your rainy days…