About an hour before leaving John’s house to get to the concert at Kulaks Woodshed I got the call. A tragedy. My niece had just become a widow. Her husband, twenty-seven years old, and father of my sister’s two year old grandson, was dead. All the questions that poured out of my mouth were unanswerable. What happened? How’d it happen? Why? All I was told was that we don’t know anything except the paramedics couldn’t revive him. He’s gone.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Couldn’t wrap my head around this news at all. I didn’t know how I was going to get through the scheduled set of songs we had planned to be singing at the webcast. Didn’t know how my niece was going to get through the night. Didn’t know anything but shock and bewilderment and pain. Kick in the gut pain. I’ll be honest. There was no joy in the moment I got the call. And there’s none now as I write this. There are no words (and believe me, I’m aware of so many words people of faith share with each other during times like this) but whatever words are meant to help I can’t hear them right now. I have nothing to say to comfort my sister or my niece or other members of my family, or myself, seven hundred miles away. All I can imagine doing is finding a way to show up and shut up and hold them…or is it having them hold me?
I’m hoping I’ll make sense of this someday, but that day isn’t this one. It isn’t that this tragedy has robbed me of my faith, but no amount of faith in the grand plan of happiness is filling my soul right now. That’s the truth. This just hurts and I’m not fighting it. I’m letting it hurt. I’d rather be in denial, but I’m not able to. I’m letting it be what it is. I wish I knew what I could do to truly share the burden my niece and my sister and the rest of my family are carrying. But I do believe if any comfort is coming, only The Comforter can send it, and I’m not Him.
So there it is. The man on the mission to be happy doesn’t have anything happy, or clever, or insightful or uplifting to say today. Again, I know there are things I could say; platitudes that I actually believe, scriptures I’m confident come from heaven. But, some things in life just have to be lived, and felt, and understood backwards. When those things are revealed to me I will receive them as water in the desert. But for now, in this emotional sahara, I can’t find the oasis.
A few years ago I got a letter from someone who told me how much they hated most of my songs. Way too hopeful, he told me. Everything works out too nicely in your songs, he said. In three or four minutes we discover that all it takes is holding on, realizing we’re not alone and believing in the grand plan and the One who created it. He went on to say that life’s far too messy and painful and not so convenient that the “inspirational tune” can heal anything. He was probably having a day like this one when he wrote me, and I get it. I have to confess, however, that as sad as I am right now I don’t hate those songs that I believe were given as gifts to help me cope. I’m just not ready to hear them now. Does that make any sense to anyone but me? If there’s any peace at all in the hidden spaces of my broken heart it’s that I know those songs are there, waiting for me. I hope they’ll be patient. I’ll need them. I know who sent them. And ultimately I know who they’re for. I’m hoping I’ll be able to hear them before too long.
One more thing before I close. I don’t know if our prayers hasten the Comforter to comfort us sooner than He would otherwise, or if He just knows when the moment is perfect and steps in to heal us then. But if you are willing to join me, I’d appreciate your appealing to Heaven to send that comfort as soon as possible to our grieving family.
9 Comments
It makes perfect sense to me. If you had written a cheerful post on a day like this, it would have been fake. Even on our missions to be happy there are times, we simply cannot, and grieving the unexpected death of a loved one is one of those times. Your songs and others like them will be there when you are ready, until then there will be many of us praying for you and your family. Your courage in sharing a pain this deep makes you admired and loved all the more. My family and myself will most assuredly be praying for your family and for the comfort and peace you so desperately seek.
Lynda is right. The messages of hope will be there when you need them and are ready to receive them. It is never easy to lose those you love. I am so sorry for your loss. Your niece’s husband is the same age that I am. It is always a scary thought that you never know what is going to happen. You never know when it’s your turn. But there is a reason to have hope and, although you aren’t ready to hear it, you know it will be there when you need it. I will be praying for you and your family.
This is a gift I was inspired to write and to share, nothing more. It’s not great, and I’m not sure it’s exactly what I was trying for, but it is what I was inspired to write. You and your whole family are in our prayers during this difficult time.
No Words
The news came with no warning
The tragedy was not expected
Day turned to night in a heartbeat
And now your heart is breaking.
As the snow falls this winter morning
I wonder what to say,
And Heaven whispers to my soul,
“No words are needed today.”
We know the doctrine,
We’ve read the scriptures,
The songs we’ve sung,
But, “No words are needed today.”
We all grieve in our own way,
No one should tell you how.
We can only pray and care,
For, “No words are needed today.”
The days ahead look bleak,
You see no end in sight.
We all hope you feel our love,
As “No words are needed today.”
He who stand ready to carry us
Knows what you need to heal.
He is the true source of all comfort.
So, “No words are needed today.”
But I do believe if any comfort is coming, only The Comforter can send it, and I’m not Him.
He just knows when the moment is perfect and steps in to heal us then.
I think you found the “joy” or more appropriate “comfort” in the middle of your pain. Thank you for these words as they comfort me in my own private trial. Your family is in my prayers.
I am so very sorry to hear of your loss! I totally understand where you are coming from. After losing both of my parents before the age of 30 has been very difficult for me. My favorite cousin past away a year ago today from cancer. Sometimes there are no Words that can heal our broken hearts at the time they are most needed. When our souls ache the most it is hard to listen to anything because nothing seems to take away what you are feeling deep down inside. We know the gospel and it’s plan, but when you are the most vulnerable Satan can make it seem so much worse. Your song’s have given me hope and comfort when I have really needed them. I Pray that the comforter will bless you and your family with all you stand in need of at this difficult time. May God Bless You and Your Family!
My heart breaks for you and your family. I have been there. Once when I lost my friend and his wife became widowed. Once when I lost a child and once when I almost lost my own life. I couldn’t listen to your songs without being angry that the pain and sorrow wouldn’t leave. I couldn’t listen to them knowing that I was in such pain and that they were doing NOTHING to help me. I really hope that the comforter comes and gives you peace. Trust me it may be a while though. You are in my prayers. May God Bless you and your family.
You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.
Standing with my Father at the gravesite of my oldest brother – Raymond, 55 years after he was taken at the age of nine; he turned to me, with wetness around his eyes, and said: “You know . . . it never gets any easier.” My Dad, an honorable man of integrity, never viewed this experience from the perspective of the fullness of the Gospel. He would disagree with that statement but that’s not the point. I never knew my older brother in this life, being born a year after, and only because of, his death. They thought the family was complete with the four of them. My attachment to him is strong but I will never have all the same feelings as my second oldest and only other brother, who Raymond was his big brother, who played with him, who thought he was cool and wanted to be like him. I can only empathize to the best of my ability. What is my point? Knowledge of the fullness of the Gospel does exist in the lives of those involved in this incident and with that knowledge . . . no . . . with that testimony; it will get easier – with time – the Lord’s time. In the pre-existence I think we cheered and had quite a hoopla when it was time for one of us to leave for maybe nine months or maybe 90 years – but we celebrated, not the time we had spent together, though I’m sure there were great memories about that too, but rather we celebrated the separation because we knew what it meant and the opportunity it would bring. On this side of the veil, we mourn separations and call them tragic, a loss, sometimes we say it was for the best; but that’s usually reserved for the terminally ill or aged – never for the young and vibrant. That’s because of the influence of the mortal on our spirits. Wordsworth’s poem, that probably anyone reading this is familiar, says it so well:
Our life is but a sleep and a forgetting.
The soul that rises with us our life’s star,
Hath elsewhere its setting and cometh from afar,
Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
From God who is our home.
Not today . . . or tomorrow, but soon may we, I hope all, feel a sense of that pre-mortal celebration after the time-bound mortal part of us releases its grip and allows our spirits to once again celebrate the reason for our being and passing from here – - to have the opportunity to complete the possibilities of our eternal being . . . together.
We love you and continue to pray for you and your family.
Lots of Love from Indiana