Season of Seconds

I have felt this post forming and have decided to simply get it out BEFORE I blog all the picture worthy moments of Thanksgiving. These are my thoughts while "going through" - they aren't tied up with a pretty red bow. 

"How was this year's Thanksgiving?"

"It will get easier when you get through the year of firsts." 

But does it? Really?

We heard this so many times in the past year. We expected it.  Maybe for some this is true. This had been our experience in previous losses of babies and our parents. The first year was excruciating and it got "easier" as time went on. Even now I'm not sure it got "easier" as much as we became more adept at hiding and stuffing feelings and presenting the picture-perfect faith which was expected of a Christian pastor's family. 

This loss has stripped us of much. There is the original devastating loss of Josiah's presence, but there are so many secondary losses...of ministry position, of friends we thought would be our forever community who have simply not been able to provide a ministry of PRESENCE, of daily routine, of theological stances we thought were long settled. Somehow, we let ourselves think we'd hit the one-year survival mark and things would be easier with each month and year that passed. The holidays were so close to Josiah's loss I think we were in denial not fully grasping how long this absence would be last year. The reality of the nature of the loss NOW hadn't set in - yes, we have hope in the future - but NOW it hurts! 

We are in the season of seconds now. Things still really hurt.  We begin to feel the finality of the loss. It's harder to pray for the soul of the one who robbed us of Josiah's life, than it was right at first. We sense the length of this loss.  We have been let down, we have seen others come close to walk with us, there are days with only "tears" and not "ugly crying" but it's been hard since October and it's still hard. 

Because of childhood trauma trust has been a hard-won area for me to learn to live out. When we began having children it took decades before I could trust they would not be abducted or molested...it was the earthquake in Japan - being separated from my family which finally convinced me I could trust my babies to God. He loved them. He'd take better care of them than I could, and He didn't NEED me to be there to be sure they were safe. Shortly after the quake I was given a Willow Tree figurine. It was an angel (whose wings fell off long ago) with a little boy, lifting his arms up and the angel holding his arms. It was a visual which ended up reminding me over and over God could be trusted with my kids...the ones in America, the ones in Japan, the adult ones and our youngest. I lived with that hard fought trust for 11 years before it was sorely tested on Oct 23, 2023. While I fasted for my children, our oldest son was murdered. THIS is what trust brought?  I've wrestled. Honestly, where else can I go? Even if I had been in the office with Josiah on that fateful afternoon *I* wouldn't have been able to save him. I know that. I know God was there, caught him, carried him into His presence. 

But how do I trust One who doesn't feel trustworthy? How do I accept the fact His plan allows this sort of devastation? I've been studying Habakuk (3 chapters) for the past 6 months. I refused to fake my feelings with God...and so He and I slogged along. I would set it aside for weeks at a time.  There's so much more I should say, verses I should share but at this point I'm simply trying to get the thoughts and feelings out. I am convinced God can handle my feelings and questions. I am convinced of His character. I am convinced He has remained with us. I'm convinced of His love.

Early Thanksgiving morning I was dusting...and my eyes fell on the Willow Tree visual. "God is trustworthy. I can trust Him with my loved ones." Then, wham, it fell off the step tonsu. 

My response, "That's about right!" Trust doesn't mean things are going to be great all the time. It means He will be with me; He will bring good from bad.  Maybe that broken figurine (which Michael plans to glue together) is a better visual. I am BROKEN and I freely admit it. I hurt. I'm working my way back to trust...my brokenness does not offend God. Sadly, it does offend some. God works slowly with us...and we so often want to see quick results. I have made progress, I have more to go. 

As I discussed with my counselor how surprised I am with the difficulty of these seconds, with the upcoming trial, with my anger at the Willow Tree and yes, at times with God...He reminded me it's o.k. and healthy to allow myself to feel the pain, the hurt, the questions rather than to stuff it and make it pretty and put the bow back on top. 

It's sacred to hold the pain with the gratitude. We have hope in the future because of Jesus, it really hurts now in the present. We live in the tension of now and not yet...the present pain and the future hope. And as Josh (counselor) said it does seem my gratitude, my faith, my relationship with Jesus is deeper because I am allowing myself to feel the pain. 

This Thanksgiving I have felt so loved. I have seen adult children jump in and carry the load I was too tired to carry. I am thankful for relationships rebuilt and salvation stories. I am walking in an even deeper faith. I am also broken. I hurt. Michael and I sobbed together after everyone went home or to bed and I'm thankful I have Michael to sob with. At times Josiah's absence feels like a physical pain. 

The day's grace notes - they're there in the post mixed with the hurt. 

That's how our Thanksgiving went...and now I'll sort through hundreds of darling photos capturing blessed moments and you'll see...gratitude does exist with grief, joy and sorrow enhance each other.