Life Storms (Ann)

I stood looking at her casket. My heart was broken. No parent should ever have to go through this. She looked so pretty in her favorite new dress, purchased for one of the exciting senior activities that she would be attending before graduation. Graduation was only a few days away and she had been planning to attend Oklahoma Christian University in the Fall. Our dreams for her were shattered, though, in an instant!

I was so lost in my own grief that I couldn’t even comprehend how her death was affecting my husband and the other children. We were a strong Christian family. My husband was a deacon, our children were all involved in the church, and we never missed a service. It’s funny, though, how trauma can make the emotions go crazy and the mind think things that one would not normally think. I was never angry with God but suddenly, a huge wall went up between God and me. The one lifeline I had always counted on was gone. I couldn’t pray. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pray, it was that I couldn’t pray. The words wouldn’t come. The thoughts were incomplete. All I could do was hope that God was holding on to me because I didn’t have the strength to reach out to Him.

People at church didn’t know what to do. After the initial consolation period, being around us became awkward. It was easier to avoid us than to repeatedly ask us how we were doing. I wanted them to ask because I wanted to talk about it. I needed to talk about how I felt and how my family was doing. I didn’t want sympathy. I just needed someone to listen and care.

For a while, our family was not doing well at all. One of our children was having emotional problems that carried over into school. He would move his chair over to the wall and sit, facing the wall until the teacher made him move. In class at church, he would sit under the table, trying to withdraw from everyone into his own grief-filled world. After a few weeks, it was evident that we needed to seek counseling for our son. The Christian counselor that we chose recommended family therapy, separate play therapy for our son, and in addition, therapy for my husband and me. That helped a great deal and finally, I began to walk out from under the dark cloud that had become my constant companion. The church leaders called me into their weekly meeting one evening and had me sit at their table as one by one each prayed for me and my family, asking God to restore my communication link with Him. That evening, the wall was broken down and my healing truly began.

In all of this experience I’ve learned that God is with us and He cares. His Spirit is truly the Comforter. I’ve also learned that it’s difficult for well-intentioned friends, even those at church, to know what to do with tragedy. It’s equally difficult for those going through a tragedy to tell others what they need. I appreciated it when someone would say they were praying for us—especially after the first few months. It made me feel that our loss was not forgotten. There are still times when I want so much for someone to say that they’d like me to tell them about our daughter. I long to get out the pictures and tell them about this sweet, beautiful girl who would still be a light to the world if she were here. I have made a song by Larnelle Harris my personal song. The lyrics say, “If not for the storms, I would never know Your strength, for I’ve found You so faithful through all that You’ve allowed. If not for the storms, there’s no way I would know You as I know You now.” This particular storm in my life has passed and with God’s help, my healing continues.