Grief, Grace and the Grave

When I was in junior high, I memorized these words from my teen study Bible: “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I shall yet praise him, my savior and my God” (Psalm 42:5). I remember reading and re-reading the Psalm by lamplight in my grandparents home, allowing the truth to root deeply into my soul. I had no idea how many times the Spirit would bring those words to my mind over the last 15 years. 

In that verse, the psalmist first examines his soul, to see what is causing the pain. Then, he preaches to himself, making the conscious choice to praise in the midst of his despair. Pain and praise are not mutually exclusive. In fact, pain can lead to praise that is sincere and hopeful.

As I ruminate on these words today and ask my soul “Why are you downcast within me?” I know with certainty that my soul is downcast because my baby girl is gone. The pain is still so fresh and real. I know that everyone else’s worlds have continued to move forward, but it feels like I’m still frozen in grief. 

Whatever preconceived notions of deep grief that I may have held prior to March 24 at Zoe’s diagnosis have been shattered in the wake of her life and death. Grief is not only sadness or tears. Sometimes it is the inability to stand up and pour myself a glass of milk. Inability to concentrate. Listlessness. Frustration. The physical fatigue of heartbreak is staggering. I haven’t had the energy or desire to write over the last several weeks. It is a hard, long journey through the valley.

I told Cody yesterday that in some ways I miss the Hayden from last September. So much has happened in one short year. I feel like a different person, mostly in a good way. I have always felt very deeply, but feelings of joy and sorrow are even more magnified. I am grateful that I'm able to pray for people differently now. Miscarriage, fatal fetal diagnoses, and infant death have all become a part of who I am. Things that were once such distant heartaches are my reality. I don’t know how long it will hurt this much. Friends who have lost children tell me that it gets better. They say that the hole in your heart remains, but the raw edges will heal.

We’ve been working to chose the perfect headstone for Zoe. In some ways, it is cathartic for me to meticulously labor over the design. It feels like I’m doing something for my girl. I’m not getting to feed her or help her learn to roll over or take care of her here on earth. Picking out this piece of granite to mark her resurrection destination is a way that I am able to care for and honor her now. It gives some purpose to my disquieted soul.

There is no speedy recovery for grief. In many ways, I think we Westerners prefer physical pain because we have quantitative measures to assess healing. Soul healing is messy. We don’t respond to it very well. We want people to be better quickly instead of walking slowly through the sorrow. I think it is important to feel the pain and not attempt to pretend like I’m okay. Deep grief doesn't mean you don't love Jesus enough. However, when I spend too long thinking only of why my soul is downcast and disturbed within me, my soul has only moved through one important phase outlined by the psalmist. 

“Put your hope in God!” the psalmist exclaims to himself. A very important way that I put my hope in God is by remembering who he is. Continuing in consistent Bible reading has been so important for me. For the last 5 months, I’ve continued on my regular reading plan. I did not try to search out passages that would speak to me. Instead, I kept working through what I had already outlined to read. Seeing his character consistently revealed through the words of Scripture gives my soul strength to proclaim, “I shall yet praise him, my savior and my God!” 

A sweet friend sang "Great is Thy Faithfulness" at Zoe's memorial service. That was the hymn on my lips in the OR as she was born. We also sang it in the hospital room with family and friends. And the words are true! "Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not; As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be." He doesn't change. His character remains the same.

My praise is not circumstantial because his grace is not either. If we only praise God when things are good, then we really don’t worship the living God…we worship a god of our own happiness. Ultimately, even with a downcast soul, I have to decide if I believe Jesus is enough or not. Is he enough to sustain me in sorrow? Is he enough even though my sweet Zoe Karis died? Is he enough in the midst of broken hopes? 

Yes. HE. IS. ENOUGH. 

He was enough for me that day in March when Cody and I were told on speakerphone that she would die. He was was enough to sustain us each day during the remainder of pregnancy. He was enough the day she died. He is enough for today.

That decision- whether Jesus is enough- is what we all must decide. Will we really believe that what he has for us is better than what we would design for ourselves? Will we really believe that God will not abandon us? Will we believe he is enough for our broken hearts and downcast souls?

We will believe he is enough only when we look to the cross. We will see there a God who voluntarily gave up his son for us. Hope creeps into the darkness when we stoop to peek inside the empty tomb. With my eyes fixed on Christ, I am enabled to speak to my own soul, “Put your hope in God! I shall yet praise him, my savior and my God!” For he is enough.