LOVE, WAGS | living through loss

​I made some new brothers and sisters this weekend at a “While We’re Waiting” retreat. Others might make friends; we became family. We shared a bond that we hope to never share with anyone else.

We’re all parents of a child who died by suicide.

Usually when we share the story of how we lost our kids, people shake their head and say, “I can’t even imagine.” Truth be. Well at this retreat, in our sacred space together, trusting each other with our very souls, we finally heard from others, “I get it.”

We didn’t hear anyone say, “Why me?” or “Why my child?” We heard none of those well-meaning platitudes that make us cringe, such as “he’s in a better place” or “it’s all part of God’s plan.” 

No. We looked into each other’s crying eyes and all too clearly understood the devastation we saw in them. We were known to each other. 

When one person told their story, we felt it as if it were our own. We’ve walked in each other’s shoes and still can’t stand the path on which we’re walking. 

We also looked into the faces of confident, smiling teenage boys lining the room next to that of one lovely girl. Their pictures belied their stories, their outward appearance a far cry from what they held inside.

The parents of these children described them as always willing to help, the kind to give you the shirt off their back. They were pranksters, life-of-the-party people. They took care of their siblings, got straight As, kept active in their church, engaged with their family, loved Jesus. They were funny and athletic and kind and talented and responsible.

And all gone way too soon.

We passed their photos to each other as their parents talked about them. We fell in love with each others’ children and honored their memory the best we knew how.

You may wonder, then, how we found hope in that room, as we tearfully told our stories while nestled in a cluster of cozy couches and love seats with people we had just met.

There’s was only one reason to explain that hope: our faith in Jesus Christ and His promises. Period. 

One word kept popping up in our discussions: sovereignty. God’s mighty sovereignty. 

Some of us may think our children died too young. In our eyes, they should have had a long, fruitful life ahead of them. They were going to get married and give us grandchildren and maybe even save the world. We expected them to run the race ’till the end, pushing through the finish line in glory.

At this retreat, we were reminded that they DID finish their race; it’s just that God drew the finish line much sooner than we wanted.

That’s where God’s sovereignty comes in. Not going to deep dive into this truth because there’s so much to learn and it can be difficult to comprehend. Let’s just say that God is in control. 

If I thought that Jonas’s death was random, without purpose, I don’t know how I could survive. Truly. If I didn’t trust in God’s sovereignty, I’d give up hope and go back to bed. Thankfully my faith was strengthened at the “While We’re Waiting” retreat and I’m confident that God will be with us … while we’re waiting.