The Value of Dreams

Two nights ago I saw my son–twice!  I saw him afresh again yesterday!  But how is that possible considering he died on September 24, 2006 in a car accident?

The sightings two nights ago happened in dreams.  But they weren’t just ordinary dreams.  They were vivid, and I had a clear knowledge of Jacob’s death.  When I saw him, I knew it was very special and I had to take in every little detail of his face, hair and body.  In one of the dreams he was the same age he was when he died–18.  He was sitting on a couch wearing his classic khaki shorts and tennis shoes.  I remember looking at one of his legs draped across a couch and loving that it was HIS leg.  In the other dream, Jacob was a baby.  In fact, he was still in a highchair and I was feeding him.  Again, I remember taking in the little details of his face and cherishing them.  When I woke up, I was thrilled!

If you’ve never lost a child, you might not be able to appreciate the value of a vivid dream.  For those of us who have, these dreams serve as a connection with our child once again.  We literally wake up from these dreams knowing that we have been with our child for a time, and it is wonderful.  It is painful too, because the dream had to end.  These dreams give us hope and strength to keep pressing on through the grief.

I’ve had regular old dreams where images are just brief flashes and the flow of the dream is disjointed and makes little to no sense.  Jacob has been in some of those dreams as well, but they are entirely different.  In those dreams, I have no knowledge of his death.  I just see brief images of him, and there is no sense of wonder about being able to see him.  I wake up from those dreams feeling confused, not elated.

As I walk along this journey of grief, I dream of the time when I get to be with Jacob again, forever.  I dream of our family of four being together again in eternity.  Those dreams give me hope to make it through another day, week, month and year.  Dreams are important to keep us going.

There is a passage in Scripture that says, “Where there is no vision, people perish.” Proverbs 29:18  The word vision can easily be replaced with the word “dream” and the meaning will not change.  Where there is no dream(s), people perish.

By the way, the same night I had the two dreams about Jacob,  my friend who lost her daughter (who happened to be a classmate of Jacob’s) also had two dreams of her daughter–one where she was the age at the time of her death and one of her as a little girl.  We laughed and wondered if those kids were up to something again with both of them showing up in two of our dreams on the same night at roughly the same ages.

One of my ongoing dreams is that over time, more pictures, stories and videos of Jacob will emerge that will bless and comfort me and my family.  A little piece of that dream came true just yesterday.  Someone sent via email a picture of Jacob I had never seen.  It was a beautiful picture of him. He was front and center, smiling and looking straight into the camera.  A mother’s dream come true! Although I would have been happy even if he had only been in the background, I got to see Jacob’s face up close with a big smile, looking straight into the camera.  Seeing that picture was like getting a glimpse of him once again on this earth.

A few weeks before that, one of Jacob’s friends showed me his cell phone.  He had a video of Jacob skimboarding.  We have no videos of Jacob as an older teenager, but there I was looking at a video of my son taken the summer before he left for college.

As we each pass through life, it is important to have dreams, visions, goals.  They keep us moving forward.  Jacob understood that in his short life.  He had huge dreams.  At times they seemed almost too big to attain, but he held on to those dreams and never allowed anyone to talk him out of them.  His enthusiasm for life was contagious and many of us wanted to learn how to dream like he did.

Those dreams helped Jacob to live his life fully.  So full, in fact, that he had on his cell phone, “The Glass Is Full.”  He hadn’t attained all those big dreams of his, but he still knew his life was full…his glass was full.

Never lose sight of your dreams.

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A Father Says Goodbye To His Son

On September 30, 2006 we said goodbye to Jacob at a private family service at Christ Church Cemetery on Saint Simons Island, Georgia. Later, we held a public memorial service where over 700 people were in attendance.  In this video, Michael (Jacob and Raleigh’s dad and my husband) says goodbye to Jacob.

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Life Seven Months After Jacob’s Death

Another journal entry:

My heart is racing!  The phone just rang and the person on the other end said, “Hi, may I please speak to Jacob?”  I could hardly respond. It was an army recruiter who had gotten Jacob’s name from a list of seniors who graduated from his high school. I calmly asked the gentleman to remove Jacob’s name from the list because he had died. That is a classic example of how simple things like a phone call can become complicated.

Last week someone called from our local Honda dealership. The person left a message wanting to know if we still owned the S-2000, the car Jacob was driving when he had his accident.  Did I really have to call them back?  Yes, so they wouldn’t call again.

I was shaking as I dialed the telephone number to return the call.  The phone rang and rang.  Part of me wanted to tell the whole story of what had happened.  I just needed to tell somebody.  But no one answered.  With a little more time to think, I rationalized in my head that I didn’t need to burden anyone with what had happened.  I would simply tell the person we no longer owned the vehicle.  Yet my heart longed to speak Jacob’s name and tell the story.  There were miracles to share despite the tragedy! That’s when I said, “OK, Lord, you know I want to tell this story to release a part of my pain, but I don’t want to burden someone with it.  All I am going to do is say that we no longer own the vehicle.  If you want me to tell the story, You make the person ask the questions.”

Later that afternoon, I tried again.  This time, someone answered the phone immediately.  I said I was calling to inform them that we no longer owned the S-2000.  The man’s response was, “Please just tell me you sold it and that it wasn’t in a wreck!”  My heart stopped.  I could not believe what my ears were hearing.  I said that it had been in a wreck, but gave no other information.  He asked, “Is everyone OK?”  The door had been opened.   I shared the story with him.  He was so compassionate.  Before hanging up, he said very gently, “You have a blessed weekend!”  As I hung up the phone, tears spilled down my cheeks.  I realized that God had heard my cry–the desire of my heart, and He provided.  What an amazing God of detail He is, yet He spoke the universe into existence.

While these past 7 months have been some of the most difficult days in the life of our family, they have also been some of the most blessed.  Michael, Raleigh and I have each had our own moments of knowing God more intimately and passionately than ever before.  For me, I have never desired to know God more.  In the past, I could go days without reading Scripture and my prayers, although frequent, were not always passionate.  My relationship with God was strong but far from being desperate.  Now, I can’t go more than a day or two without reading from Scripture.  When I don’t, I notice that my thoughts are about death rather than life.  These words of Jesus restore me:

But about the resurrection of the dead–have you not read what God said to you, “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob?”  He is not the God of the dead, but the living. Matthew 22:32

Never before have I been so hungry to receive wisdom and understanding.  Every day I cry out to God that He would give me eyes to see and ears to hear Him.  I don’t want to miss a single thing He has for me!  The words of the prophet Isaiah ring through my head:

You will weep no more.  How gracious he will be when you cry for help!  As soon as he hears, he will answer you.  Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them.  Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, “This is the way, walk in it.” Isaiah 30:19-21

At the same time, I have never wanted to see my son or hear his voice more.  I cried like a baby when he left for college.  My heart ached just to walk by his quiet bedroom those first weeks he was away at college.  My heart would jump for joy every time I heard his voice on the other end of the phone.

One day, I was walking in the grocery store missing Jacob terribly.  My cell phone rang, and I saw that it was Jacob calling me in the middle of his busy day on campus.  I remember the time he sent me a text message just to tell me he had seen the daughter of one of my friends on campus.  Sweet connections with my son that he initiated.

I will always cherish his first visit home from college when he specifically asked me if we could talk about some things on his mind and heart.  He told Michael (Dad) not to join us.  To that, Michael replied, “Jacob, you have just made your mother’s year!”  How true!  What I wouldn’t give to have a face to face and heart to heart conversation with my son now.  I want to see his dimpled smile and hear his laughter, but I can’t.  We have no videos of him as an older teenager.  We have pictures of him, but I long for so much more.

Last night, I came across a laughter journal I made once when we were on a family trip.  We were all trying to remember some of the funniest moments our family had shared together.  It was four pages long!  I laughed until I cried, as it occurred to me I will never be able to add another laughter memory with Jacob.  Dear God, that hurts!  He made us laugh so much while he was here.  Our lives were so much richer because of him.

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Unpredictable Emotions

This post comes from a blog I wrote over a year ago:

Yesterday, I spoke with my friend yesterday who had lost her nephew only hours earlier. She repeated a comment her brother (the father of the young man who died) had made to her earlier that day.  She said, “I’m having a strong moment right now.”  Those words reflect the strange place in which we are suspended in the aftermath of a traumatic experience. We are living moment by moment and hour by hour.  There seems to be a near “out of body” feeling of standing outside ourselves and observing that we are doing well.  It seems out of body because we know that we should be in a puddle on the ground given the circumstances.  Yet, somehow, during these early days, we find that we are held together or held up at times by a force beyond ourselves.

The reality is that in the first days of intense grief, we can swing from a strong moment to a total melt down within seconds.  Suddenly, some new thought enters our minds like, “Oh my gosh, he won’t be there at Christmas!” or “I’ll never get to see him get married!” and we fall to pieces.

Varying emotions are to be expected.  A numbness sets in that allows us to function on auto pilot for awhile, but even that numbness can only last so long.  Each time the reality of what has happened hits us afresh, we might find ourselves gasping audibly then crying uncontrollably.  This kind of thing might go on for months.  Even now, as I stand 2 years and 2 months after the death of my son, Jacob, I still have moments that take my breath away because of the intensity of my inner response.

Anger is a very real part of the range of emotions that might be experienced.  For some, anger is an early response, for others it might not come until later.  That anger might be toward the one who died, especially if the death was the result of suicide, risky behavior or a failure to live a healthier lifestyle.  When death is the result of someone else’s actions such as murder or drunk driving, the anger is naturally directed toward the perpetrator.  Sometimes the anger is toward God or the universe for even allowing such a thing to occur.

To those around the grieving person, please refrain from judging the anger.  It may seem irrational, but it is real, and the quicker it can be released, the better.  Anger is poison to the soul.  If it is forced to stay inside, it will only intensify and do more damage.  Providing a safe place for someone to release their anger is helpful.  Remember, it doesn’t have to make sense to you, so please don’t say to the one who is grieving, “You shouldn’t feel that way!” or “Stop talking like that!”  Those responses will only make the anger worse.  Anger that is released is more likely to be diffused.

The first morning after Jacob’s death, I remember being mad at the sun.  How dare it come up and look so beautiful when my son was dead!!  Don’t the darn birds know there is nothing to be singing about now that Jacob has died?  Is that rational?  No, but it was how I felt.  Even in the first few minutes, I was angry at the officer who told us Jacob was dead and the nurse who said Jacob had been dead too long to donate his organs.  There was also the need to deal with my anger toward God for even allowing such a thing to happen to my son.

Many times I cried out to God.  I kicked and screamed and pounded on His chest by pounding on the bed.  Every time I wrestled with God, the match would end peacefully.  God would speak to my soul and comfort me.  He would remind me of how much He loves Jacob – even MORE than I do.  He would assure me that Jacob was right there with Him, forever safe, where there is no more suffering.  I could sense Him wrap His arms around me and hold me, and my spirit was calm once more.

Our emotions are part of who we are, and we should respect them by giving them a safe place to be released.  That might mean getting all alone and screaming at the top of our lungs.  It might mean talking to a close friend who is not afraid to be there when we cry.  Writing our thoughts down on paper might be helpful, even if it means writing so hard it tears the paper.  In fact, that might be the most helpful way.  Then, we might follow it up with tearing the paper to shreds.  Maybe a good workout (think punching bag here) or a long walk or run would help.

To be most effective, each of these physical activities might need to be done in conjunction with an emotional release like crying or yelling.  If we choose to combine the two, we need to be mindful of where we do this.  We should avoid causing undo pain to the ones around us by directing our emotions at them, even if they were somewhat at fault.  They are probably beating themselves up rather harshly as it is.  Anger directed at people will only destroy relationships and create bitterness.  Yes, we need to release the anger, but we also need to do that in safe ways for ourselves and the people around us.

*Now, 3 years and 4 months after Jacob’s death, my mind and body have “accepted” Jacob’s death to a greater depth.  I’m not as shocked when the reality of his death hits me all over again.  Now, it’s more like my mind says, “Oh, that’s right, he’s gone and I really miss him a lot.”  A sadness comes over me, but it doesn’t send me to my knees.  Time will never heal all aspects of Jacob’s death, but my emotions tend to be more stable three years after the loss.

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Calendars and Clocks

This writing first appeared in a column I wrote for a website.  Since the website no longer exists, I am free to publish it again here on my personal blog. This was written June, 2009:

On a recent morning, I received a message from my friend, Tanya, reminding me that exactly one month had passed since the death of her son, who died in a car accident.

“I’m having a very hard time facing this milestone,” she wrote.  As I read her message, the words weighed heavily on me, because I knew how she felt.   The calendar became an unexpected trigger point of pain in her new life.

As a young girl, I got very excited when the calendar finally flipped to September, my birthday month.  The act of crossing off days until the end of the school year or the beginning of a family vacation gave me tremendous satisfaction.  Planning my wedding and anticipating the births of my children turned calendar-watching into a near obsession.

Since my son’s death, however, the calendar has a different effect on me; it occasionally sends me into an emotional tailspin.  It serves to remind me of traumatic events from my past or joyful occasions that will never be fully celebrated again.

Now, every September—the month my son died—the emotional tremors, normally hidden under the surface, turn into a full-blown quake.  April, always one of my favorite months, is the month my son, Jacob, was born. Now sadness accompanies it every year.

During the first several months after Jacob died, a pall came over me every Sunday night because his accident took place on a Sunday evening.  A Sunday that falls on the 24^th of the month is especially difficult, even now, because I find myself replaying the events of THAT Sunday night.

The clock can influence my emotions as well.  Every year on their birthdays, I would regale my kids with the events that took place before, during and after their births.

Jacob’s story began at 7 p.m. on April 20.  After Jacob’s death, I faced that day and hour for the first time while riding in a car with my husband.  We were on our way home from a University of Georgia memorial service recognizing students and faculty members who died the previous year.  As 7 p.m. approached, I felt like I was losing my mind; my chest felt like it was going to explode from the pain in my heart.

My husband, knowing the agony I was experiencing, exited the interstate and pulled into an empty parking lot.  He gently told me to get out and walk with him.   He handed me his cell phone with Jacob’s number already dialed and said, “Tell him the story of his birth, Sandy.”

So I did.

On significant dates, dwelling on my loss is not always helpful, so I schedule activities such as yard work or outings with my husband and friends to keep my mind occupied for much of the day.  However, I’m also very intentional to carve out time to pray, look at pictures of our family and focus on Jacob.

Allowing myself to recognize special days on the calendar helps me process my grief and conduct a quick emotional check-up: Am I feeling stronger this time around?  Am I withdrawing?  Am I using my emotional energy in positive ways such as working on Jacob’s memorial website or journaling?  Am I drawing nearer to God in my spiritual journey through prayer and reading Scripture or am I turning from Him out of bitterness or resentment?

Being able to identify real progress in my emotional healing by checking it against the calendar is encouraging and helpful.  When I find that I have experienced some emotional backsliding since the last check on the calendar, I make a conscious decision to turn the tide back toward healing.

I like knowing I’m not simply treading water and surviving, but moving forward and, dare I say, thriving.

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Does This Grief Ever End?

After someone we love has died, grief overwhelms us. It’s almost like a living organism that wraps itself around us. This organism grips our stomachs and makes it nearly impossible to eat. It invades our hearts, sometimes causing them to beat irregularly. We ache from the intensity of the organism’s grip, but often times we can’t even determine where exactly it hurts – perhaps because in some ways it hurts everywhere. Grief carries a lot of weight, so when it attaches itself to us, we look different, we walk differently, we breathe differently.

So the question is, Do we ever break free of the grip grief has on us? If so, how and when?

The answer that comes to my mind immediately is, yes, we do break free, if we are willing to help make it happen. Some people cling to grief, long after grief has loosened its grip on them. Sometimes people will wear grief like a comfortable blanket because it allows them certain freedoms upon which they become dependent.

Grief offers us the freedom to cry whenever we need to, which is good and important. We might need to cry a lot, and if the intensity of the pain lingers, we might find ourselves needing to cry a lot for a long time. But when our grief (after it has subsided) becomes a license to cry whenever we want, over whatever we want, for however long we want, it is a misuse of that freedom.

Grief offers us the freedom to be angry for a time, but when we consider it a right that we cling to for years, we make everyone around us miserable. We who are grieving are often given leeway when it comes to responsibility, but we ought not take it to a point of thinking it is now our perogative to be irresponsible and irritable. When we take the freedom that grief offers us and misuse those freedoms, we become prisoners of our own self-destructive behavior and attitudes. We are unable to break free to enjoy life.

So, in some sense, we choose when grief no longer controls our lives. Grief will always be there, especially when the loss is someone who was very significant to us, but we don’t have to let it always have the say in the quality of our life. When it comes to how we break free from grief’s grip, we also can have a choice. Sometimes, however, it just happens.

The first moment I felt a slight release came only days after Jacob died. A friend of ours was in China on a business trip at the time of Jacob’s accident. His wife had called him in China to give him the news, and he decided to call us at home. He spoke with my husband, Michael. After discussing the awful details of Jacob’s death and accident, our friend began sharing funny thoughts and memories of Jacob with my husband. I didn’t hear what he was saying, but I heard my husband laughing. That laughter came as such a shock, but I was thrilled to hear it. Not just anyone could make my husband or me laugh at that moment, but this particular friend certainly could. He had always made us laugh in the past, and he was able to do it again, even in our darkest hour. That laughter gave me unbelievable hope that grief would not have its stranglehold on me forever.

Grief’s grip can be loosened to a point of not really even noticing it is there some days, but grief, especially when it is profound, never really ends.  It softens and gets easier.  There are longer periods of time between one deep ache that sends us to our knees and the next, but the subtle ache remains forever.  I think the pain that accompanies grief is supposed to last; it serves to remind us of the frailty of this life and keeps us longing for what lies ahead.  For me, Heaven lies ahead.  I will be with Jesus and Jacob and so many others whom I love and miss.

That’s when grief really ends.

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Wounded ~ Ready To Serve

Without your wounds where would your power be? …In Love’s service, only wounded soldiers can serve. – The angel in Thornton Wilder’s play “The Angel That Troubled the Waters” based on the 5th chapter of the book of John in the Bible.

Life is hard.

If you don’t think so, you probably haven’t lived long enough yet.

When wounded by certain things that happened in my life, a vulnerability set in.  The typical response for me as a young child into early adulthood was to hide the wounds or act as if they didn’t really matter. Out of fear, I lied to others and myself about how I was getting along in life.  I reasoned that if people REALLY knew how I was doing, they would probably run from me and no longer want to be my friend.  After all, their lives were nearly perfect.  Right?

Wrong.

I’m not sure when it happened or what triggered it, but at some point in my life, I decided it was time to stop playing the game.  I needed to accept who I was and the life I had been given.  When that happened, I think the sound of chains dropping must have been audible.  The truth shall set you free.

As I began to accept my own imperfections and the imperfections of my childhood, peace began to settle into my soul.  Compassion began to grow.  I could easily spot others who were hurting, and I wanted to let them know they were not alone.

The first day of my teaching career, my heart instantly connected with each of my sixth grade students as they walked into the classroom.  I could feel their pain as well as their joy.  That’s when I thanked God for the pain of my past.  Because of my own wounds, I was able to identify with the wounds of my students. I could love them and minister to them rather than resent their brokenness.

When my children were born, I was able to envision a life for them that was not so broken.  I knew some of the pitfalls and how to avoid them. While sparing them the personal pain associated with many of life’s wounds, I was able to talk to them about pain from first-hand experience.  Both of my children had wonderful childhoods, but they also had compassion for those who did not. In part, that was because of my childhood wounds. God was able to take the bad things and use them for good.

As a mother who has lost a child, I am deeply wounded in ways that cannot be healed this side of the veil.  Out of this pain, I can look into the eyes of another mother who has lost a child and assure her she has not lost her mind when she can barely think straight.  I can help her envision a life that is worth living, even though her heart will never stop bleeding until she holds her child in her arms again.  The only reason I can do this is because I have been wounded in the same way.

I would never choose the wounds of my childhood or the wounds that come with losing a child.  But I have them.  The question is what will I do with them?  I could hide them and pretend to be perfectly happy all the days of my life while dying inside.  Or I can unveil them and fight to help others who have been wounded.

As for me, I admit I am wounded, but ready and desperate to serve to the best of my ability.  That does not make me a hero.  I don’t see myself as anyone’s savior.  I am a broken and wounded person who can stand next to another broken and wounded person when just about everyone else wants to run.

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Are We Really Helping The People Of Haiti?

A front-page story in our local newspaper yesterday focused on a couple in our community who felt led to help the people of Haiti.  Beautiful hearts.  Good intentions.  The problem?  In the end, it might only cause more chaos and frustration for those who are on the ground in Haiti.

This well-intentioned couple was filling up a trailer with bags of  items people were donating.  The plan is once the trailer is full, they’ll drive it down to Miami and ship it to Haiti somehow.  It wasn’t clear if they are asking for specific goods that they know are desperately needed, and it wasn’t clear if they have strong connections with a reputable organization that is already on the ground in Haiti that will be responsible for receiving and distributing the bagged goods.  If not, those items might end up in a warehouse, clogging up much needed space and never getting to the people in need.

When God nudges us to love others and do good, we should respond, but we should respond in a responsible manner.  We should do our homework and ASK QUESTIONS FIRST.  We need to ask HOW we can help and WHAT is needed before rushing in and doing something that might not really help or, worse yet, do more harm.

When people are in crisis, those who are around them want to help.  They want to do something… anything!  When the desire to help is so great that we don’t bother to take the time to find out what the people in crisis REALLY need, then we are actually acting selfishly.  We are satisfying our own ego and meeting our own “feel good” quota.  We are putting our needs before those who are truly in need.

Don’t assume the people of Haiti need blankets and sweaters.  It has been in the 80 to 90 degree-range since the earthquake.  Don’t assume the people of Haiti need canned goods (although they might).  What if they don’t have can openers to pass out with the canned goods?  Don’t assume you can just bag up a bunch of your old clothes and ship them down to Haiti and it will help.  Someone is going to need to go through all those bags of clothes and separate them out based on size and gender.  Someone is going to have to be in charge of distributing them fairly.  To simply unload bags of clothes and have people rummage through them and decide what they need is chaos!  People might end up hurting one another, or even killing one another, to get what they need.

Systems are in place and people are on the ground who know how to handle disaster situations.  Work within those systems and with those people.  That is the responsible way to help.

Locate reputable organizations/charities you can trust, and find out if they are helping the people of Haiti and how.  You can find excellent groups doing excellent work by doing a little of your own investigative homework.

Forbes magazine evaluates the top charities in the country and rates them based on their efficiency (how much of your money goes to the actual work being done to help people).  The Forbes rating is done every year, and a list of those most efficient charities is available.  I recommend looking only at charities that have a 95% efficiency rating or better.

Go to the websites of charity watchdog groups that look at the details of a charity’s work and finances to determine if they are on the up and up.  Charity Navigator is one of those watchdog groups.

Once you have found the charity you trust, ask what ways you can help.  Chances are, the greatest help you can offer is through a financial donation.  If you live in the same community as the charity, perhaps you can volunteer to help in the office by answering phones or packing goods being shipped.  If you are in the medical profession and want to serve on a team, you will likely look for an organization that coordinates that kind of trip and has plans to go to Haiti.  There again, just do a little research on the internet to find the group that seems to match your interests.

If you desire to help the people of Haiti, by all means do it.  But be sure to do it responsibly.  My personal recommendation for a charity that is already on the ground in Haiti providing millions of dollars worth of medicine and medical supplies is MAP International, but I confess to being a bit biased

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Love One Another

In the aftermath of my son Jacob’s death as a result of a car accident, people all around us performed extraordinary acts of kindness that reflected love.  As a family, we were humbled over and over by the actions of people in our community and around the world.  For the most part, these things were being done by people we knew through church, Bible studies and our work.

We often referred to these people who helped as the physical “hands and feet of Christ.”  However, not all of these wonderful people are Christians.  Even so, were they still being the hands and feet of Christ? In my opinion, YES!

It has never been my belief that a person has to be a Christian to act with love and kindness.  Just a quick glance at the world around us proves that Christians are not the only people loving others.  In fact, I’m sad to say, some of the most hurtful things done to people throughout history have been done by Christians.

What is the explanation then for my friend who makes it very clear she has no interest in God but also went to great lengths to have a huge banner made for Jacob’s memorial service with the passage of Scripture from Psalm 24 about “those who seek him, who seek your face, O God of Jacob”?  In addition, she had my dog groomed as an act of love at a time when that task was hardly on  my list of priorities, even though the dog desperately needed it!  If I believe that all good and perfect gifts are from above, then it makes sense to also believe that these good and perfect acts of kindness and compassion are from above… even when they come through people who do not believe in God.

Jesus never qualified which mourning people would be comforted.  He simply said, “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.”  So, even those who deny God will be comforted.  That’s how much He loves people.

Likewise, He doesn’t only send His good and perfect gifts through people who believe.  God will allow His love to flow through anyone He chooses.  All He does is nudge us.  We have the choice whether or not to follow through and do what He has inspired us to do.  Often times, those who don’t know Him or care to know Him respond positively and become a conduit of God’s love.  Other times, people like me, who know Him and love Him, ignore His nudges and withold the good and perfect gifts God has for someone.

Jesus commanded His followers to love one another.  It’s really not an option for those of us who call ourselves Christians; we are to love.  And not just those who love us.  We are told by Jesus to love our enemies.  Our love is supposed to make it clear to those around us that we are Christ’s disciples. We are to resist the devil, and stand firm against his evil ways.  We are to make no room in our lives for Satan, but we are to make room in our hearts to love everyone, including our enemies.

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The Nearness of God Will Be Evident

I will always remember how sick I felt the first time someone suggested that through Jacob’s death I would gain. Gain what? This person probably meant I’d gain valuable things like insight, compassion, wisdom, etc. But benefiting in any way from Jacob’s death seemed appalling to me.

From the moment I learned Jacob’s accident had left him dead and his friend hanging on to life, I knew I had a choice as to how I would live my life going forward. I kept saying to myself and others, “I don’t want Jacob’s death to be in vain.” However, by refusing to let myself “gain” and be transformed through Jacob’s death, I was the one who was guilty of allowing his death to be in vain. My initial stubborn refusal to let beauty arise from ashes for me personally was also in some way disregarding the victorious and miraculous battle Jacob’s friend was fighting to stay alive and rehabilitate.

Then, it was almost as though I could hear Jacob’s voice saying, “Mom, if you don’t allow my death and Matt’s brave struggle to bring forth positive attitudes and changes in yourself, then my death as well as Matt’s hard work HAVE been in vain.” They were not only going to be in vain, but they were going to be the breeding ground of destruction and pain in my life and the lives with which I came in contact. How could I possibly do that to my son? How could I do that to his friend?

Knowing that my greatest comfort came as I read Scripture and prayed, I began to press into my relationship with God. I leaned on Him more than any other time in my life. He “spoke” to my spirit, especially when I felt fearful about Jacob’s final moments and his experience of entering Heaven. Jacob’s eternal life in Heaven was not in question, but whether or not he was lonely or frightened during those moments of transition from his earthly body nagged at my heart and mind. During those times, I could sense God reminding me, “I was with him, and he is here with Me now.”

God gave me a vision ten days after the accident. In this vision that played out like a movie before me, the accident had just taken place, and I was suspended above and slightly behind Jacob’s car. He was in the vehicle, but I did not see his friend who was riding with him. While it was dark and raining, the scene was very clear. A large, black hand wrapped its fingers around Jacob’s torso and pulled him out of the car. Jacob was unconscious and slumped forward, so he didn’t struggle or show any fear. A deep voice that I knew was connected to the black hand could be heard saying, “I’m going to tear this family apart!”  At that moment, I saw a figure come from the right, and I instantly “knew” who it was. Jesus gently took Jacob’s right arm with both hands and calmly but firmly stated, “Let him go! This one is Mine!”  The hand released Jacob immediately. Jacob’s head lifted as though he was now alert, but still somewhat groggy. He said nothing. Jesus then left with Jacob. Four months later, when we visited the accident site for the first time, the location matched my vision, even the positioning of the vehicle was the same.

During those first months, my nearness to God was unlike anything I had ever known before. Rather than consciously offering up a prayer now and then throughout the day, it was as if I was in a constant dialogue with God. I think that’s the connection God intended us to have with Him.  Ever so slowly, that has slipped away. There is more silence on my part and His, but I think that’s because I’ve allowed the distractions of this world back into my life.

The spiritual experience of God’s nearness was like “scales falling from my eyes.” I was seeing things as I had never seen them before. Even when I closed my eyes, vivid colors would swirl around. Things I had never noticed before caught my attention. My hearing was altered. Usually, I have difficulty deciphering competing sounds, so I’m horrible at conversing with people in a group setting where multiple people are speaking.  Concerts are usually very frustrating for me to attend if people around me are talking.  Less than two weeks after Jacob’s accident Michael and I attended a Jars of Clay concert.  To my amazement, despite some less than ideal acoustics, I could clearly hear the lyrics being sung.  It felt like God was opening my ears to hear because the words ministered deeply to my soul.

I also heard things I never heard before. On more than one occasion, I heard Jacob’s voice. One time I heard, “Hey, Mom!” which is the way he would frequently greet me. This all may sound terribly strange or even scary, but I never felt more alive and “in tune” than ever before. Nearly a year after Jacob’s death, I literally heard a male voice while my husband was out running and my daughter was sleeping. This voice calmly but firmly declared, “Put them together.” That made no sense, but I quickly shared what I heard with friends and family anyway. By that afternoon, the phrase made perfect sense because of the way the day’s events miraculously unfolded. Many of us were in awe that a seemingly meaningless group of words suddenly had full meaning.

The nearness of God was so intense that the account in Scripture of Moses going up on Mount Sinai and standing in the presence of God came to mind a number of times. When Moses returned to the people below, he had to veil his face because he was so radiant as a result of the close encounter with God.  Each time Moses entered the Lord’s presence and then spoke to the people, he was radiant from having been in the presence of the Lord.  In the weeks and months following Jacob’s death, there were several occasions when people, even complete strangers, told me that I was “glowing.” One time, two men working at a desk in an office building in Atlanta jumped when they saw me walk in. I wondered why they had such a reaction. The first one said, “This may sound strange, but you are glowing! I mean, you are really glowing!” The other guy said with his eyes wide open, “It’s true! You are!” If they only knew I had lost my son months earlier. The only explanation for this glowing was nearness of God.  His intimate presence brought forth a radiance that could ONLY come from Him.

God is always near, even when we don’t believe He exists. When we are grieving, He draws nearer still. If we invite Him in with hungry hearts, He is like skin on skin. It will be known, not only to us, but to those around us. Ask God to draw near to you. He will.  And your face will show the evidence, even in your most desperate hour.

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. ~ James 4:7-10

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