Undescribable

Today it's been one month since our lives changed forever. One month since our hearts have been broken. One month since we lost our precious son, Nathan. We will never again be the same people we were before January 16th, 2012. We have been forever changed.

I cannot express the amount of joy and happiness we've experienced from the lives of Andrew and John. And I cannot express how much comfort the Lord has brought us, and how much peace He has given us with the assurance that Nathan is in heaven. But I also do not think I've accurately expressed the amount of sorrow and pain we've felt in the last month. I don't have the words to even begin to express how it feels to lose your child, so I've avoided trying to. I've mentioned that we are sad, but sadness isn't even close to the correct emotion. I cannot say that we are devastated or hopeless, because our trust in Jesus prevents those feelings. However, the heart-wrenching absence of Nathan is present every single day. Every day I miss him and think of him. Each day gets a little easier, and God has truly carried us through this last month. The strength He's given us is not something the Ryan or I have on our own.

In the last month, I have spent hours and days trying to write his obituary. During the first several attempts, the words were just too difficult to put on paper. Seeing the words written in black & white made it seem so much more real. Nathan won't ever receive a birth certificate, so in turn, there will be no death certificate. I wanted to be sure that there was a public record of his life, because it is and was significant. I never imagined that I would be doing this for my child. Over the last month, we have wrestled with how to handle his body and remains - what does society tell us is the "right" way vs. what do our hearts tell us. We have also had to chose a funeral home to handle the paperwork and the cremation, and have helped to plan a worship service to celebrate what God has done through Nathan's life. I will post details for the service as soon as they're finalized for anyone who might like to attend.

While death is never easy for anyone, it's one thing when you're "making arrangements" for an elderly person who lived a full life and who you have many warm memories of. It's another thing to do it for a child who never got to do all the things you imagined they would do. Thankfully, many of you will never fully understand, and I hope that you never do. The loss of a child is not something I would wish on anyone. I read something in the past few days that I'll try to paraphrase - if a child loses their parents, they are called orphans; if you lose a spouse, you are a widow; but there is no word for a parent who loses a child because there is nothing that can describe it. We appreciate those of you who have expressed your sympathy. A simple "I'm sorry for your loss" means so much to us. We know that it's often difficult to know what to say to someone who's grieving. Even if it brings tears to my eyes, I love when people acknowledge him or call him by name.

Comments like "Well, at least you have two others" or "you can always have more kids" make it crystal clear that people don't understand - and like I said, it's okay that you don't. But we knew Nathan. We had hopes and dreams for him, and his dying left a permanent hole in our lives. Fortunately we know that this hole wasn't put there for no reason. God will use Nathan's life for His glory, that's one thing I'm certain. God has shown us a side of the cross that we never would have experienced without Nathan's death. I have a completely new understanding of the sacrifice that God made for me. I now know the pain of losing my son, just as He did. My son was taken from me and it was completely out of my control, but God voluntarily gave up His son for us, even though it was equally as painful. That blows my mind.

There are times when I feel guilty for feeling so much grief while I have these two beautiful blessings. It's a constant struggle to balance these emotions that are on extreme opposite ends of the spectrum - joy and deep sadness, loving and grieving, bonding and letting go - all at the same time. If there's anything that has made me feel better about the sorrow, it's knowing that God knows our pain and grieves with us. The shortest verse in the Bible is found in John 11:35 and simply says "Jesus wept." Many of you are familiar with the story of how Jesus raised his friend, Lazarus, from the dead, but this excerpt from an article explains why this short sentence is so important...

The shortest verse in the Bible is John 11:35: “Jesus wept.” But for all its grammatical simplicity, it’s packed with unfathomable complexity.

Jesus wept after speaking with Lazarus’ grieving sisters, Martha and Mary, and seeing all the mourners. That seems natural enough.

Except that Jesus had come to Bethany to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew that in a few short minutes all this weeping would turn to astonished joy, and then tearful laughter, and then worship.

So one would think that Jesus would be a confident, joyful calm in that storm of sorrow. But he was “greatly troubled” (John 11:33) and he wept. Why? One reason is simply the deep compassion that Jesus felt for those who were suffering. It is true that Jesus let Lazarus die. He delayed coming, and he did not speak healing from a distance like he did for the centurion’s servant (Matthew 8:13). His reasons were good and merciful and glorious. But this did not mean Jesus took the suffering it caused lightly. “For he does not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men” (Lamentations 3:33). Even though Jesus always chooses what will ultimately bring his Father the most glory (John 11:4)—and sometimes, as in Lazarus’ case, it requires affliction and grief—he does not take delight in the affliction and grief itself. No, Jesus is sympathetic (Hebrews 4:15). And as “the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15), in Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus we get a glimpse of how the Father feels over the affliction and grief his children experience.

Knowing that God himself knows my suffering reminds me that we're not alone in this. He's even put strangers into our lives who we've needed during this time. For example, we received a card in the mail this week from a local family who we've never even met, but who suffered a similar loss. And through the wonders of Facebook, have met another mother who lost her son, Jonah, within days of our loss of Nathan. She's written a beautiful blog to deal with her grief that has brought me much peace as well. If you're dealing with suffering, I would suggest you take a read:

http://growththroughgrief.blogspot.com/2012/02/permission-to-grieve.html?spref=fb

Our lives for the past year have been an open book, so I felt like this is a part that I needed to share as well. The wounds will continue to heal day-by-day, and everytime I look at his beautiful brothers and watch them grow, I will think of Nathan. Even as the pain and sorrow fades, we will always have a place in our hearts that belongs to Nathan.