My heart breaks for you. Ever since I heard, I have had a deep pit in my stomach and I wake up in the night thinking of your loss. I know this is nothing but a sliver of the ocean of hurt you are in. There are no words to convey my aching for you or sadness that accompanies the loss of such a short lived life of 16 years. Many people try to comfort with words that end up hurting like knives driving the pain in deeper. "Heaven needed one more angel", "it will take time to heal", "It's all in God's hands and timing", "He's smiling down on you from heaven", "At least we know he is in heaven" While some of these are true, they do not help the pain and loss you are feeling. Even worse are the stories people share about friends or relatives they know that have lost children so "they know how you are feeling". If I were you I would want to crawl in a hole and shout NO YOU DON'T! Because we don't know how you are feeling. What you said to me keeps repeating in my mind "How do I think of never more? Never seeing him in the yard again, at the dinner table?" As I stood with you Sunday and held you while you cried, you had such strength, such grace, and such perspective. I was reminded of Jesus with Mary and Martha after Lazarus died. Both of them said to him "If you would have been here sooner he would not have died." That is such our tendency. But I am so thankful of his different responses to them. To Martha- the thinker and analyzer- he gave truth and perspective. A reminder of what is to come, what has been conquered, and what we have access to through him. But to Mary, he wept with her. No answer, no explanation, just walked through her emotions right along side of her. So I pray Jesus is exactly what you need, just like I know he will be. At times, he will be a companion in your pain, curled up right there with you, tears streaming over the loss of your beautiful son. And other times, he will be there with you, giving you wisdom, truth, perspective, and revealing the glory in the tragic, the beauty in the suffering. He promises it. And I claim it over you.
So I just sit here as a friend, hurting for you. It is such an honor to stand with you, support you any way I can, and boldly go to the throne for you intercessing when you cannot find the words. Tonight will be hard, Tomorrow will be hard. You will not find closure most likely, but then again, that is not really what we seek at a funeral. I am praying for joy in the memories of your son, a comforter in your sadness, a companion in your pain, small steps of healing to a wound that will never close completely, and a shoulder to lean on in your husband as a tangible reminder of Gods steadiness and steadfastness.
And I do believe he may not be looking down on you from heaven. He is in the fullness of Jesus and I doubt I would want to take my eyes off that to look down on the temporary of the world, but I don't know. I do know he has never seen more beauty and glory than he is experiencing now. But even that doesn't take away the pit in your stomach, the piece of your heart that left this world Saturday. If only I could help you carry the burden of your pain.
Satan is ugly, the war is real, he gets at us at every front. But remember this. You are a good mama. Jesus is known to everyone in your house and is seen to all who enter there. He will sustain you even when you don't want to be sustained. And he won the war already.
So I will do all I know I can do. Sit here and hold up God's word right back to him. And tell him to do what he says. Be near to the brokenhearted. Be the counselor, the comforter he promises to be. To reveal glory in suffering, to give you more of himself.
My heart aches for you,