There comes a point after even the most devastating loss whether it be days, weeks, months, or years later when you reach a cross roads. You wake up one morning and say to yourself, “enough is enough.” At this point you have a decision to make, do you give up, do you allow this unimaginable loss to destroy you? Do you succumb to the searing pain in your chest? The blood boiling hate & anger? The soul crushing devastation? Do you allow evil to win? The devil to claim your soul? Or do you turn your soul over to the Lord; choosing light, choosing love, choosing life: choosing to rise.
I choose to rise. I choose to have faith. I choose to place my life in His hands and surrender.
This isn’t to say that the storm isn’t still raging inside of me; this kind of storm never dies, but only ebbs and flows with every breath I take. But only that I am willing to learn to dance in the rain, let the lightening run through my veins, and proclaim His glory louder than the thunder piercing my eardrums; allowing Him to energize my soul every day for the rest of my life.
This point for me came one bright sunny Saturday morning when I looked in the mirror and was disgusted by what I saw starting back at me; not the superficial reflection mirrors are meant to depict, not skin and bone, blood and marrow, but the part of my soul only He can see. It was dark; clouded over by hate and anger; stained, and what I believed to be irrevocably shattered. But worst of all it was HIDDEN, not only from my friends and family, my husband, my children, myself, but from the One who should see every part of my heart and soul, the One who will always accept every part of me, the One who accepts me for who I am, no matter what; it was hidden from our Lord in an effort to hold onto some sense of control, some sense of empowerment through the storm my life had become after losing you.
And right then I realized, since losing you, I’d lost my direct line to my faith, the one thing that could help me piece the broken pieces of my heart and soul back together again.
That’s when I decided. I will surrender; whole heartedly, with everything that I am and everything I am going to become. I will place my life in our Lord’s hands and accept that He and He alone can help me through the hole that I’ve dug.
I am a loss Mom, a Still Mother, a still birth survivor, but I am also so so much more. And lately, I’ve been letting the bereaved mother part of my identity consume me, hiding behind my grief, let it shield and protect me from a world I no long recognize; a world now tainted by child loss, still birth and miscarriage statistics.I will not allow my life nor my families to be definied by our loss. It is a part of who we are and will forever be; just as Everett is, but it is does not define us. I refuse to let Everett’s still birth be my death. I refuse to let his life be remembered that way, I refuse to do anything, but honor him with every breath I take.
So from now on, I give my life to you Lord, take my hand and guide me; lead me to where I am meant to be.