Three years ago yesterday, one of my dearest friends lost her six year old daughter to leukemia.
I didn’t know her well then and never had the honor of knowing her sweet daughter but yet still I mourn this loss.
I mourn because I love my friend so much and I’m a mother – my heart resides on the outside of my chest.
I regularly stand in awe of this warrior, this friend of mine who has walked a path that sends a shudder down the spine of any woman who has ever born a child from their heart. Who tells of stories when the treatments weren’t fun and after all, she was just four at the time and the WHY. WHY. WHY. WHY.
And while sitting in her kitchen as she sipped coffee, I listened to her say the words I have heard her utter before yet still ignite my soul.
“I don’t know how people do it if they don’t have faith,” she said.
I concur. Because I don’t either.
This past weekend, my friend posted an update on her Caring Bridge site and her beautifully honest words put some skin on what those who grieve deep-roots grief must feel each day.
“The anticipation of this anniversary has hit me hard. I again feel like I’m on the tightrope walking and trying hard to get my balance and my footing. I miss Caroline. I miss her terribly. I see her everywhere and for that I am grateful. It is hard, but it is good. I’m not sure I’ve actually felt very much since she died. It is slowly coming back. It hurts and is hard, but feeling is better.”
I sit down to write, to put words on a screen that convey what I’m feeling at the start of this Holy Week, a week in which I’m usually somewhat melancholy anyway, so I decide to read my friend’s entry before I stare at the blank screen.
A mother who mourns for her daughter who died far too soon.
A Father who lost a Son.
Suddenly, I see.
“You think this was easy?” He seems to say.
“I gave my ONLY CHILD for you,” I hear.
His tone is not angry. It’s real.
It’s a sacrifice I can’t even begin to wrap my pea-sized brain around.
On Good Friday, while I’m sitting in the pews of my church’s touching noonday service where we literally hammer our sins, written on a piece of confidential paper, to a wooden cross, I know I will find myself thinking about Mary because it’s inevitable.
This is simply just how we mothers are.
She stood at the foot of the cross while he suffered and was powerless. She could do nothing to save her son.
I think my sweet friend knows a thing or two about this.
Yet with this loss, this sting she feels each day, has come a breathtaking renewal, one that has been a gift to observe. A faith that has grown tenfold. A stunning dance with her Heavenly Father. A transfer of this blooming faith to her remaining two daughters. A beautiful trust. A real, belly-laughed giddy joy.
Sharper eyes that see clearer and just know.
And with our Father’s loss? The most stunning example of love and hope imaginable.
On this Multitude Monday, God, Father of Jesus and the rest of us, I thank you for:
401. Your Great Plan
402. Your Son
403. The fact that I will see you one day because of your Son
404. The ways you have been communicating so intimately with me as of late
405. Not rolling your eyes when I ask, yet again, if you would please empty me of myself and fill me with more of you.
406. Friends who are survivors. You know who you are.
407. A young boy who asked his mama this week if he could ask Jesus to come into his four-year-old heart.
408. The angels that sang.
409. Young children waving palm leaves
410. Your Ultimate Sacrifice
As we embark on this week of contemplation, may you feel His love. His sacrifice. What He did – just for you.
Visit other gratitude counters at Ann’s place…
And the sweet sisterhood at Jen’s place…
My heart just breaks for your friend. I cannot imagine. How hard it must be to miss your child every single day.
And He freely gave His son for us. Such great and extravagant love.
Yes – such a good point that I need to add. He did give so very freely – unfathomable.
It is hard to fathom just how much He loves us…that He would send His only Son to die, for us! He is an amazing God, one I am truly blessed to know and love! :)
Stopping in from Ann’s. Beautiful BEAUTIFUL post! Thanks for sharing your heart and sharing how much He loves each of us!
This is such a treasure to read…and children waving the palm branches…coming from Ann’s (commenting to the left and to the right of me)…
What a beautiful post you have written! Karri is a mother who has walked a difficult path, and I am amazed at her courage and strength. I am lucky to call her friend.
Peace be with you.
Thanks for reading, Tanya! I’m with you – she amazes me.
And yes, I’m so very blessed by her friendship as well. What a gift to my soul.
You know the feeling. :)
Wonderful to meet you!
Very touching and beautiful — thank you for sharing and for your inspirational words. I especially identify with #405 and 406, especially this time of year when we are focused on the death of God’s only son. Sometimes it is difficult to sit through service and remembering our son, but that only helps put God’s sacrifice into perspective. Thank you! :)
Yes, I know you know this pain Casey and I’m so sorry you do.
And yet…you too are a portrait of grace – a woman of courage whose joyful spirit is so obvious to all who meet you. I love this about you.
Thanks, sweet one.
All I can do is breathe through this post. It hits me as a mother and as His daughter. Beautifully written — you have captured something pure and true.
Thanks so much for this post. I was drawn to it because of the title, as I have lost 3 children and although I did not get to meet them on earth (they died while still inside of me), I loved and still love them very much and miss them every day. I am still a mother, and each loss was heartbreaking. Thanks for bringing our experiences with loss into focus – for reminding us of an even greater loss, the death of our Father’s Son on the cross, and that He has an even greater plan for us than we have for ourselves :) And let’s not forget one more thing: He has risen!
Criston, I’m so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine and yet…so thankful you are a follower and understand His ways.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. – Isaiah 55:8
A mother indeed…always.
Beautiful words Natalie. Our Father’s loss… he most stunning example of love and hope imaginable. YES. Saying a prayer for your dear friend.
Thanks, Jennifer. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE the print. I gave it to my mother for her birthday and she LOVES LOVES LOVES LOVES LOVES LOVES it too!
This is my first visit to your site–beautiful words! As a mother, I feel for your friend. As a follower of Jesus, I stand amazed at God giving his son. Thank you for this post.
This breaks my heart. Thanks for sharing your friend’s story, Natalie, and thank you for making us rethink the big stuff.
Thank you for these beautiful words about the love for your friend in her time of loss and God’s love for us.
fondly,
Glenda
me either Amy – my friends and their sweet little Gabi. She was just diagnosed with osteosarcoma. she starts her second round of chemo today. for some reason i just feel so drawn to them.
without faith…me either. it makes me rethink all of my life and its purpose and what in the world am i doing….
thank you SO much for your sweet words to me natalie…
XO:)
You don’t need faith to experience all that life is. You need friends, though. And clearly, you are a good one.
I’ve said those same words so many times. Without God I think I would have gone crazy. I’ll be praying for your friend. And thanking God for giving freely what we cannot comprehend.
Blessings,
Pamela
#407–rejoicing! And, no, I can’t even begin to comprehend the pain. As the mother of a son, your words about Jesus’ mother watching her son die on the cross just ripped my heart wide open. Blessings to you as you prepare to celebrate His resurrection.
What a touching post. I saw my sister last week for the first time in 11 months. Not out of choice. The last time I saw her was on the sidewalk outside of her house as I hugged her to return to my family. She is still grieving the loss of her husband from that time. The same sorrow has swallowed me as I watch her face her grief. I long for death to be fully swallowed up one day. So thankful that He has risen and our true hope is still to come.
No words…just. no. words. Thank you for this gentle, tender reminder.
My heart and prayers are for your friend.
Stopping by from SDG.