For those who might not know, Aunt Ruby was my paternal grandmother’s sister, so she was my Great Aunt. Aunt Ruby had a son Ronnie who had Down’s Syndrome. In early April of 1985, Ronnie passed away at the age of 43. My paternal grandfather, Papa, died roughly a week later. I remember sitting at Papa’s table with Ruby and Maurine (or maybe it was Linda), who asked her how she was doing. She said, “It just hurts so much.” Five simple, quiet words, but they were like a sledgehammer to me, completely full of emotion. And even that doesn’t fully describe the moment adequately. At that moment, the feeling was almost physical, like the heaviness in the air you can feel when you inhale in a thick fog.
I won’t offer any further speculation on what happened at that moment, but I do know two things. First, whatever unique qualities Ruby needed in order to deal with her special needs child were no longer required by her. Second, I was about to need those qualities myself. For in April of 1985, my wife Cheryl was pregnant with my daughter Jennifer. Jennifer was born with a brain tumor that required dozens of surgeries. There have been too many challenges to list, but she is still here with us, and for that, I am grateful.
I remember Ruby coming and checking on us from time to time. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but she knew. She knew we were connected and what we were going through. She had been through the fire herself, and she was there to help us through it.
My point in all of this is that God has a plan for us, and he is constantly weaving his people through each other’s lives. We don’t usually see the perfection of it all, but that’s because we’re looking at the rug from the bottom. God sees it from the top, and I know he’s weaving it perfectly.
Usually, this is where I would stop, but it wouldn’t be completely honest. What I wrote is true, and I believe it with all my heart. But, there is more truth to be told. Knowing that God is always in control and has a plan doesn’t prevent suffering and grief. We are going to suffer losses, and I won’t minimize those. Even an aging family member who isn’t as sharp as they once were can be troubling. More significant illnesses like Alzheimer’s or strokes can be devastating, and then there’s the ultimate loss in death.
As C.S. Lewis wrote: “We were even promised sufferings. They were part of the programme. We were even told, ‘Blessed are they that mourn,’ and I accepted it. I’ve got nothing that I hadn’t bargained for. Of course, it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not in imagination”.
I recall something my high school English teacher Mr. Binkney used to say: “I don’t want to understand this ___.” When the reality of a trial hits, that’s a natural first reaction. Then you may transition to a desire for understanding, a desire that may never be satisfied. I can remember seeing the movie ‘Steel Magnolias’ not long after one of Jennifer’s set-backs, and Sally Field’s character had lost her daughter, and she went into a rant that really hit home – not that I had lost my daughter, but there was a sense of loss.
I won’t repeat her entire dialogue, but you can watch it here. In part, she said: “I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can’t. She never could. God! I’m so mad, I don’t know what to do. I want to know why. Oh, God, I want to know why! Why? I just want to hit somebody till they feel as bad as I do. I just want to hit something! I want to hit it hard”!
In John 11, we find the story of Lazarus, who had died. Jesus went to where he was and was greeted by Mary, who said: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Now, that’s all she said, but in my mind, there’s something more between the lines that was not spoken, and that is: “Where were you”? What Mary did not understand was that he was there, as he is everywhere. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus told his disciples: “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep.” He didn’t have to let Lazarus die. But he did. That was the plan. But, he didn’t explain to Mary that “it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it” like he had told his disciples earlier in the chapter. Mary was not ready to hear that. What did he do? He wept. There are times when that is all we can do.
In recent times, I have realized I don’t know much about grief, not even my own, and I certainly don’t know anything about yours. What I do know is whenever you grieve, however you grieve, you never grieve alone.