Day 2: Man of Sorrows. Hope in Grief.

I remember one moment of overwhelming grief when Jane was several days old, and we were living in the ICU. Rich was playing his guitar worshipping in our room, and I desperately told him, “I need you to pray harder!” He must have thought to himself, “My wife is not stable.” Surely, with buckets of desperate tears like mine coming from the depths of my soul, something had to be changing. I figured one of us wasn’t praying hard enough because my weeping didn’t change anything, and that’s where the hopelessness of grief began.

Grief makes you feel completely alone like you're on an island that no man can reach. Not even God. Remember, our situation was nearly a decade ago when social media hashtags were only just beginning. To find others in your exact situation was not easy or common. Others shared pictures of their newborn at home, hitting milestones, living their lives unhindered by hospital visits, surprise diagnoses, blood draws, and desperate night watches. Watching all their lives compared to mine, I concluded that surely, I was all alone.

When I read Isaiah 53:3, the lonely and unseen part of my soul left. It describes Jesus as "a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief."

I had heard this scripture dozens of times in my life, mostly at Easter services at church. But this time, it was clear that it was not meant only for the distant sinner; it’s also for the ones like me: close to His heart yet shattered inside. Not only did Jesus experience the deepest grief, but He was also left alone to manage it on His own, so I wouldn’t have to. And He chose it. He chose to be isolated. He chose to be rejected. He chose to be misunderstood. He chose to grieve.

There are so many opportunities for grief as a special needs parent. Grief over losing your child, grief over the expectations you had for their life, grief over the expectations you had for your own life that you will now have to lay down due to your new role as caregiver. And even grief for the person you used to be before you knew the trauma of loss, hospital stays, and hope deferred.

But even in the bleakest emotional state, we are never alone. We are completely and fully understood by the Lord. He has experienced every hopeless emotion and walked every dark path, so surely, He can be the guide we need to navigate through even the darkest places of grief.

Prayer:

Thank You, God, that You have already experienced every human emotion that I have experienced, even my deepest grief. You chose to know sorrow so I wouldn't have to face it alone. Even in my tears, Your Spirit comforts me and knows me in ways I cannot comprehend. Thank You for Your nearness and the hope I have in You.

Declaration:

I am not alone in my grief; He has gone before me. Even in my sorrow, I have eternal hope because of the life He bought for me on the cross.