As I write this scentence, Eden would be turning 9 months old. It is the same week my niece turns one year old. It makes me sad to think that she will never know her intended best friend and cousin. Last week I saw a little girl, roughly 9 months old at church. I had never really done that before, watch a child that would have been the age of Eden. I saw this little girl pull herself up to a standing position, beaming with pride. Right there, in the flesh, exactly what was taken from me.
It isn’t fair.
My last post, Two Worlds, I had been working on for a few weeks. By this week I already feel like I am in a very different place. The only way I can seem to put it is, I have somehow found a way to carry Eden in my heart. A place where her memory is safe and sacred. It has taken 6 months to get to a place where her memory doesn’t just spark awful feelings of, not just loss and grief, but anger, guilt and abandonment. Only now do I feel like I can think of my baby and be purely happy or sad. Maybe one day I will be left with the memory of only happiness, but for now, I will gladly accept this improvement and honour my journey.
I am reminded of the cheesy yet perfectly appropriate lyrics we are all familiar with.
Near, far, wherever you are
You are safe in my heart
And my heart will go on.
-Celine Dion
A few weeks ago, I had my first dream about Eden since her death. It seems odd that it had taken so long, but the early shock and numbness seemed to blocked out the inevitable pain dreams would have caused. In those first weeks our daily life was nightmare enough. I know I was sent protection from evil thoughts seeping in and tormenting my nights. Every evening I would lay in bed and distract myself by singing “Lord I need you, Oh I need you. Every hour I need you. My one defense, my righteousness. Oh God how I need you.” For weeks I would cry and sing myself to sleep.
When I did finally dream about Eden, everything was normal. She was happy. I was getting her from a nap. I didn’t know I was dreaming, it was just a snip-it of everyday life with my 3 girls. I woke up happy, like I was given a gift. That was the beginning of this shift.
Nathan and I watched the movie The Shack. I read the novel 10 years ago, so I knew what I was getting myself into. There is a scene where the personification of the Holy Spirit has a conversation with the main character Mack, who lost his 7-year-old daughter. As they discuss, they are gardening, turning the earth with their hands, planting new seed, and hacking down overgrown areas – regardless of it’s beauty. The conversation that ensues is one of the most profound, in my opinion. Wrestling with the concept of good and evil, Mack explains that Good is merely something that helps himself or his family and evil is anything harmful to himself or those he loves.
Sarayu (the holy spirit) replies with:
“So you are the judge? – There are billions like you…each determining what you think is good and evil. And when your good clashes with your neighbor’s evil, arguments ensue. Wars break out. (She begins to cry) Because you all insist on playing God.You weren’t meant to do any of that all on your own. This was always meant to be a conversation between friends”.
As they continue working in the soil, she warns him of the poisonous thorns on a root they were digging up. Confused, he asks why it is even there to begin with?
“You’re presuming that poison is bad.”
“Uh-huh.” Mack responds.
“On its own, the sap from this twig would kill you. But combine it with the nectar from this flower, and suddenly it contains incredible healing properties.”
We cannot assume that a poisonous plant is only there for destruction. When you begin to understand how your garden works, you will know how to benefit from what was originally intended for harm. It becomes clear that the garden symbolizes Mack’s life. It is refreshingly beautiful, yet lacks order, “It’s a mess!” Mack says.
The holy spirit replies, “The mess is you”
“Wild, Wonderful and perfectly in process.”
Earlier in the movie the personification of God tells Mack,
As difficult as it is for you to accept,
I’m in the middle of everything
that you perceive to be a mess,
working for your good.
That is what I do.
To put it painfully simple, that which seems obviously harmful to our current lives, dreams and future plans may not be so. Our lives are perfectly in process. And more importantly, we are not meant to judge the process. I am feeling devastated simply because I am looking through the filter of my pain, as any human would! We cannot possibly see the entire plan. Like seeing only, the back of a tapestry. It is a mess of thread with only a very confusing and chaotic image emerging through. Only until you are able to see if from the other side, does it all make sense. A mind-blowing intricate design, with details beyond what we could imagine- who knew it was taking form all along?!
Breakthrough
I am doing what I can to not have a purely emotional reaction for this next movie I want to mention. I have only seen the trailer for it, but it was enough to keep me up at night in tears. The movie Breakthrough is about a boy who falls through a frozen lake and after being pronounced dead, comes back to life. The trailer shows a woman holding the foot of her unresponsive teenage son and praying to God, pleading for Him to save her son, to bring him back to life. And what do you know, his heart starts to beat again. It is a true story of a miracle.
The trailer I watched intermittently cuts to a preacher explaining that this mother refuses to claim death and decided to claim LIFE! The producer goes on to say that it is the most powerful, authentic, verifiable miracle story in recent history, period!
First, miracles happen everyday all over the world. (Period)
Second, I simply cannot buy into these miracle stories anymore. I too held the foot of my unresponsive daughter, as she was being resuscitated, praying to God to bring her back. Please God, Please God, bring her back to me, bring her back to me. Over and over.
He didn’t.
Was God not able? Not big enough?
Did the woman in the movie have a greater faith than me?
Obviously not.
I guess I am just frustrated by the Christian culture that glorifies situations where God responds in a way that we perceive to be favorable. As if God’s existence, sovereignty and love for us is measured only by the “good” things he does (according to us). Further evidence that indeed, we were never meant to be the judge of good and evil. Who is to say that the death of my Eden won’t create just as much of a ripple effect as a miraculous recovery? My response to her death can create a vibration greater than a “miracle story”. I truly believe that. God can still use Eden in her absence. This was His plan. And this was the race that God has chosen for me.
We witnessed a miracle this morning. The girls and I were all dressed and fed, ready at the door by 8:30am for our 9am church service. Our church attendance has been brutal since Eden died, but today we were meant to listen to this sermon. The message ironically similar to these thoughts I just wrote (Saturday night).
He spoke from Hebrews 12.
verse 1. Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily entangles us. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us…
Not the race we planned for ourselves. We are called to embrace the race that God set before us. So call it a journey, my path, my race, regardless it is has been set before me. How do I not stumble when comparing my story with these more desirable miracle stories?
verse 2. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.
I will end with another quote by the personification of God from the book The Shack.
Eden's Garden 
Warmest thanks for this, dear Brittany.
Your remarks in this post of how you are progressing were encouraging and hopeful. I cheer you on in this tragic journey.
Your closing remarks hit a home run for me. I heard a sermon in November about prayer and about God performing miracles. The questions we were to answer were – Is God able to heal? (yes) Does He want to heal? (yes) And it was put to us that our job was to never stop praying and having faith that God would answer those prayers the way we wanted, There was no reference to what happened when the prayer was not answered, just an inference that if we were sincere enough we would get healing. Of course that is not true. I know from watching my 25 year old husband die of cancer, despite around the clock prayers by countless godly people. And I can mention other examples I have lived through. I have been upset and angry since that November sermon, because I was reminded that God did not intervene for me.
Your words ” This was His plan. And this was the race that God has chosen for me.” have spoken to my anger and upset and called me to connect with your journey on another level. I must accept that this indeed was His plan for my life, and grieving about what “could” have been or “should” have been, is turning all my attention on me, rather than acknowledging in humility that this was God’s plan for me all along, It is a new way of putting it for me, Rather than being a victim of widowhood, I should now look at myself as one who was used to further God’s plan. Wow! – a slight change in terminology but a big change of heart,
I know your postings are affecting many people on a deep level. It has also affected me in a very positive way. Thank you for sharing yourself so deeply, precious one.
love and hugs, Barbara
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Yes God is able to do miracles, and only then do we praise His name! But what about the times he doesn’t? How could anyone see it any different when you loose a husband so young? The unfairness of that is enough to lose faith! Its a Christian Cultural mindset, not Biblical however. We have to get used to the idea that we may not know what is best for us. As crazy as it may seem. How could losing a loved one be good?? It comes back to the tapestry analogy. I just have to trust that God is working for the greater good. Trust. It isnt easy.
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There is nothing more painful than losing a child. My granddaughter turned 14 in December…but not in this world. In this world…we buried her before she reached her sixth month with us. It was devastating; overwhelmingly painful. My daughter was immediately plunged into a darkness; into a place I could not go…so for a time, I lost them both. Thirteen and a half years, and every year I go twice to her gravesite; once on her birthday and once on the day she left. I leave a few flowers there for her….for her mother and for me. My daughter moved 1100 miles away and I promised her I would do this for the both of us. I know God didn’t take her from us. These things happen in this world, but sometimes I wonder if I could have done something to have prevented it…did I pray enough? Did I love her enough? I remember bending over her in the emergency room and willing her to open her eyes with all my strength, but she didn’t. I know I will see her again; we will be reunited. I picture her in my mind’s eye…fourteen, long blonde hair, big blue eyes and I tell her I love her. My Heavenly Father got me through that terrible time. He brought my daughter through that time. Now she is stronger than she ever was…serving God with all her heart. I am stronger than I was back then and we both have new joy. But we remember…my daughter and I, and my other two granddaughters, my family, sisters, aunts, sons, daughters-in-law; we all remember. Her name is Emily; she was beautiful. Her laughter was like a sparkling, bubbling brook and it made you feel good to hear it. She was pale; my best friend once said of her: “she’s ethereal, like she doesn’t belong in this world.” And maybe she didn’t, but she was loved and she is remembered and now she is with Jesus in a place where there is no more death. And that is all we have to hold on to for now. We go on and we have new joy, and we have peace…..in HIM.
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It is helpful hearing of families who have survived such tragedy. It is a mystery how people find hope without the Father. I often wonder where I would be without a faith. Even on the days where I am MAD at God, it is woven into me, my anchor. I am happy to hear that you acknowlege your strength after such an experience. I often fear the hard grief because I assume it will swollow me up. Leaving me hollow and useless. Althoughn now I find these things cant help but make us stronger. xo Thanks for reading.
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