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“This is impossible!”
I have heard this more than once in the 27 years of my teaching career. Not always in these exact words. But in a student’s body language, facial expression, or lack of effort because something just felt too overwhelming to learn.
My heart shouted this sentiment shortly after May 14, 2020, when Dalton ran ahead of me to Heaven. God, this is impossible! You can’t expect me to do this!
It’s agonizing to relive the events of the worst day of my life. Once you see or experience something, you can’t unsee it. It is impossible to completely erase the details of my story from my mind. I was the only one at home with Dalton the moment he ended his life. I had to investigate the frightening commotion I had heard. I had to search several places in a panic because Dalton wasn’t responding to my pleas, “Where are you?” I was the one whose brain had to “try” to make sense of why he was lying on the ground. What in the world could have happened? This must be a horrible joke? I had to get help. I had to answer Kirk’s frantic questions and somehow try to explain what was going on when he returned home. How do you tell your husband you think your son is dead?
How does a mother endure such horror and then have to find a way to keep living?
The events I lived through were traumatic and horrifying. Impossible. There is no way around that.
Post-traumatic stress is an overwhelming condition that ravages a person’s mind. Traumatized brains can be incredibly fragile. Unfortunately, the injuries created by trauma are generally invisible to others. Humans often find it challenging to be compassionate when a person’s wounds are hidden and he/she appears to be doing “okay”. One of trauma’s major effects is that the brain loses its ability to think rationally at times. My brain resisted the possibility that I would ever be able to recover and function normally. In complete honesty, I didn’t want to. My heart AND brain had just been ripped from my body and shattered into tiny pieces.
Our loving pastor came for a visit one day. He often brought a verse or quote that I displayed on our refrigerator as a visible reminder of the promises of God. On this particular day, he shared Matthew 19:26 with me. “……with man, this is impossible. But with God, all things are possible.” Seriously? All things are possible? God, this verse can’t be true because losing my son so violently while I was at home is absolutely impossible!
My wounded, irrational brain made no space for the truth that God does His best work with impossible.
Trauma relentlessly pounded us even after the sun went down on May 14. Things like– plan and attend a memorial service for our now forever 15-year-old son. Live in the house where our child died. Reschedule a vacation that no longer included Dalton (canceling airline tickets that had already been purchased). Return to teach at the school where Dalton should have been completing his sophomore year. Select a grave marker. Cook meals and sit down at a table with three occupied chairs while the fourth empty one glared at us. Walk past Dalton’s room and feel overcome by grief because his deserted desk chair sat in a silent room no longer filled with boisterous shouting at friends on video games. Send our daughter off to college just 3 months after our loss and painstakingly become empty-nesters three years early. But most crushing of all, in a little over a week, what should-have-been Dalton’s high school graduation day will torment us. The list goes on and on.
These unimaginable things were certainly NOT what I ever hoped God would “get” to make possible in my life for me.
Each and every one is absolutely impossible with man (my human ability and strength). But God has been known to work a miracle here and there throughout creation. My cloud of grief and suffering overshadowed any recollection of His miraculous stories.
So, how did God make these traumatic and even debilitating events feel possible? We all know that God is not physically here to walk beside us on this Earth. But when I cling to God, I experience an endless amount of grace and mercy as He effortlessly transforms the impossible into possible by giving me everything I need to heal my internal wounds.
God gave us family members that made difficult phone calls for us, did chores around our house, completed projects that needed attention, and just loved us. Friends stopped by to visit, bring sweet gifts, help write thank you notes, or just occupy our time for a bit. Our precious church family loved us and prayed tirelessly for us. God led us to a Christian counselor that was trained in EMDR, a process that disconnects the emotion from the traumatic events we endured so that our minds can begin healing. Through books by Christian authors, I discovered that what I was feeling was completely normal and that I was not going crazy. I learned of a ministry that offered retreats for bereaved parents called While We’re Waiting. Comfort was found in building friendships with other parents who know the same brokenness we feel. God sent a few bereaved moms that I could talk to at any time. These women answered every question with honesty and compassion. When the pressure cooker forced us out of the school, home, and community we loved, God moved mountains. He provided a comfortable and inviting home in the midst of a chaotic market where home-buying was nearly impossible. Both of us found new teaching positions in places that specifically suited each of our needs based on our wounded hearts. And, I was able to find an online Grief Share group tailored to parents who have lost a child to suicide through the ministry, Our Hearts Are Home.
It has taken nearly three years and a lot of work to accomplish the healing that has been done. The process has been messy and at times, even ugly. I still find my circumstances so unbelievable sometimes. Like I’m living in the twilight zone. How did my life end up this way? Without any warning, something can spark a traumatic memory or thought resulting in anxiousness, overwhelm, and anguish.
While God’s unfailing love works to sustain me every day, the reality of what I experienced is still just that. My reality. The traumatic events and heartbreaking losses I suffer are still traumatic events and heartbreaking losses. It is absolutely important for Christians to acknowledge that the magnitude of what we walk through doesn’t vanish just because we trust in and put our Hope in Christ. What does happen is each of the God-given gifts I mentioned above allows us to manage the trauma and grief we experience. In my story, I am learning how to control them rather than letting them control me. Acceptance of the truth that my brain and heart will never be fully healed on this side of Heaven was a huge milestone for me. But I also realize that continued healing occurs with each step that I take with and toward God.
Maybe you, too, have lost a child. And like me, you don’t want to do these impossible things. Or, maybe you have other challenging circumstances in your life that knocked you down and threaten to hold you there. Take comfort in Jesus’ words in Matthew 19:26. Seek God. Plead with Him to make whatever impossible situation you are in feel possible. And coming from a mother who went through what I did, this promise is certainly true!
About a year ago, I ordered a t-shirt that says, “With God, all things are possible.” It has been so tempting to add “Even losing a child” to the back of my shirt. I resisted. But I do think it is important to educate others about the likelihood of suffering in life and God’s role in all of our circumstances. None of us know the impossible events that may come crashing into our world unexpectedly and without warning.
Parents have frequently said to us, “I can’t imagine losing my child.” What they really mean is, “There is no way I could survive losing my child.” I never thought I could survive losing one of mine either.. Somewhere along the way, I learned that God supplies the exact grace required to endure each set of unique circumstances as we are placed in them. Right at the moment we need it. Not before because we wouldn’t know what to do with it.
Some days I am weary and want to quit survival. Retreat to a pile on the floor. Surviving trauma and grief is a choice I have to make every single day. Some days the choice is easier than others. But it is always what’s best for me and the loved ones in my life.
