Shades of Grief

It started with quiet weeping…slowly, the weeping became wailing; heart wrenching, depths of the soul sorrow spilling out all around me.

I sat still and quiet as I listened from my chair next door. I was afraid to move; afraid to disturb the woman’s pain. Silent tears rolled down my face as I was witness to this moment. Instantly a verse came to my mind.

“He was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief…” -Isaiah 53:3

Jesus felt her pain. Jesus was in that room. Jesus understood.

I began to pray for this woman, whom I could not see. Peace. Comfort. Rest. Healing.

I could hear everything happening in that room. Her daughter had just died. I gathered that she had been on life support and it was time. It was three in the morning. She wailed for ten minutes when I heard a man’s voice say, “You need to stop. She’s gone.” It shocked me. I was spying on their lives and I heard those hard words. I was embarrassed for myself and angry for her. Slowly, her crying became muffled and then there was silence. The only sounds I could hear in the dark were the sounds of the heart monitor and the heavy breathing of my own daughter.

The rooms in the Pediatric ICU were separated by curtains. You could know everyone’s business easily and you could see the tragedies in every room as you walked by them.

My girl had been brought here the previous afternoon. She was in septic shock and as yet we didn’t know why. She had IV lines going in everywhere, three different antibiotics and an oxygen mask on her face with the threat of being put on the ventilator, and still her oxygen levels were not good. Every so often her levels would dip into the 80’s and the machine would beep loudly. I sat with a hand on her, praying.

In that moment when that mother had lost her daughter, I was shrouded in fear and worry and deep painful sorrow. I realized that my Lord Jesus had suffered so much as a man and again when He carried our griefs and pain to the cross. I could feel His pain in that moment the woman cried out. He was here with me too in this, and He was holding my precious daughter in His arms. And He could feel it all. The tears just fell unbidden.

I could do nothing. My nurse brain had stayed awake all night trying to sort through the data and willing the O2 Sats to stay up. There was no sleep to be had in this place. The physical ache in my chest gave way to full blown tears that I tried to keep quiet in the night of the ICU.

Over the course of the next few weeks, my daughter recovered. It was miraculous and beautiful. I finally took a breath because I’m pretty sure I was holding it for two weeks. She bounced back to her healthy self. I, however, was marked by the experience.

I will never forget that night. It comes to my recollection often as I behold the sorrows of the world. He sees and knows us and our pain.

I am convinced that there are shades of grief in our living. The experience I described above was my first face to face with death. Yes, I am a nurse. I have held many a dying hand and many a mother who has lost a child…but I don’t think that I could feel their pain like I did that night in that mother. Perhaps the very real threat of losing my own child made it all the more personal.

All that I know in all those shades that come and go, is that my precious Lord is with me in the midst. I kick and scream, and rage and vent, and weep and fall down black holes, and climb out with mud streaked tears on my dull countenance…only to find that I am still alive in the midst of bright sunshine and still breathing on those dark rainy days…

Alive to carry the Word to those in need of eternal life. Alive to bring blessing.

The grief when I lost my father nearly wrecked me for good. I had forgotten that Jesus was going through it with me. I had forgotten that my dad was dancing in heaven; that his mind and body were restored whole; and that he was with his best friend, God. All of that meant nothing in my pain. This was the blackest shade of grief that I know. There was no sight at all.

It has been TEN years since my dad passed and still the sorrow sneaks up on me and chokes me.

I had learned not to cry when I was hurt. I am not afraid to cry any more. It seems a daily occurrence these days. Tears come. Tears fall. This is like a kaleidoscope. Some days are grey. Some days are colorful tapestries of beautiful memories.

We walk sometimes with eyes cast down, watching our own feet. Other times, our eyes are uplifted. We gaze into the heavenlies. We can’t understand but we know the One who does.

"You have turned for me my mourning into dancing..."-Psalm 30:11