In The Hands of the Lord

This blog is for all those who know the indescribable pain of losing a child.

This blog is for all those whom I pray will never know the indescribable pain of losing a child.

One of these days I’ll probably lose some readers who just can’t handle the dark stuff we often talk about. If you have to go, I get it. What some of us are dealing with is hard. It is unbelievably dark. It is a depth of pain that ebbs and flows but never quite goes away.

Some days the pain recedes into the distance and I am able to experience great joy. Those days I more than manage to live and thrive. In the ebb and flow, there is life and living, with an occasional twinge or reminder out there on the edges ready to make itself known…

This past weekend was not one of those times. I had to fight my way through an incredible obsession. I was consumed with thoughts of driving to Gulfport and digging my son up out of the grave and bringing him home. the

Like I said, dark thoughts. Terrible thoughts. Thoughts no parent should ever have to think.

And yet we do.
Our number is legion and growing every day.
God help us all.

Please don’t try to tell me God understands (although I am sure He does, but that is hardly comforting given what usually comes next). Yes, He went through the loss of His own son in tragic circumstances, but His son came back to life on the third day.

And the rest of us? We are still waiting…

Time does not heal all wounds. These wounds may scab over, but every time we encounter a newly grieving parent–or hear of another tragedy or heartache, the scab is violently ripped off anew. We would like to grieve with you and we try, but our pain once again becomes all we can see and more than we can bear.

The following song was heard at church this past Sunday as the church honored her high school graduates…

See the hands, see the face,
see the miracle of God’s grace.
Now we come as many have before
to place the child in the hands of the Lord.

A child will come into our lives with open hearts, open eyes.
We surround them with a love outpoured
and place the child in the hands of the Lord.

Through every step, the child will grow and change,
there will be joy, there will be pain.
So now we come to join this day
and vow to teach, to guard and pray,
that when they fail and when they soar,
they are held by the hands of the Lord.

And when our hands must let them go,
by faith our hearts will always know
that whatever life may have in store,
we place the child into the hands of the Lord.

There is comfort in those words.
There is unbelievable agony in those words.

It is comforting to know God holds our children’s future secure.
Until He doesn’t. At least in this world.

I am so glad your children/ our children get a chance to thrive. I pray they continue to do so.

But those of us who have lost a child… we know they are safe in the hands of the Lord and mad at the same time that they are.

And like David of old, we cry, my son, my son…

PDFLogo copy

8 thoughts on “In The Hands of the Lord

  1. I can’t even pretend to know what to say to this blog, Les, but I thank you for helping me better understand a small part of what our families are living every day … and will live the rest if their lives.
    You bless me. I am sorrowful that it comes at such a huge cost to you and your family.

  2. Just figured out something I can do for you:

    I can pray that when your “pain once again becomes all you can see and more than you can bear”, God will provide a place and someone/s where nothing is expected of you except to simply be.

  3. I lost my youngest son a little more than five years ago. He was 29 years old. It didn’t take me long to realize that unless I remained very real about what it felt like to be part of a broken whole, I would be doing a great disservice to James, to myself, to others who mourn, but most of all to God if I tried to pretend that I’m happy, happy, happy all the time, time, time. Every day, there is immeasurable pain, but also immeasurable grace. May God bless you in this journey, and may He bless others through you.

    • Teresa,
      I am so sorry for your loss. I know it never goes away. It is hard. Thank you for sharing. It is my hope to be a blessing!

  4. Thanks for sharing the deepest darkest secret feeling that some of us have, but most of us aren’t or haven’t been able to acknowledge publicly.

    Peace is rare and soul wrenching pain is always just a moment away.. I found a saying that struck a nerve deep inside me..

    ” You were given this life because you are strong enough to live it ”

    At first I wanted to scream at God that we didn’t to live this life anymore. But the more I thought about it, I realized that even though we don’t want to live it, we do every day. So… somewhere deep inside there is strength that keeps us fighting to continue to live and I see it in you through your writings. Peace to you my friend.

    • Thank you, Mardi. It is hard–and sometimes I seriously doubt whether I am strong enough to live it at all or at least well. But what choice do we have?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.