My grief journey . . . Spiritual eyes . . . An inspiration!

I’ve been asking God to give me spiritual eyes to see the good that can come out of losing a child.  I fully believe that God is in control and that he has a plan and that His plan is perfect and so I trust that what I can not see is really in the works.  Sometimes we just can’t physically see all that is going on around us and so it is really important to try to see things from a different perspective and that is when “spiritual eyes” are needed.

I’ve had glimpses of how Lexi’s life and her death would impact others but today I was able to share her story and my story of walking through the grief process and in turn “inspire” someone that Lexi would have never known.

It’s been almost 2 years since Lexi died, and I am such a different person from who I was before she left us.  I’m much more serious- sometimes I feel I’ve lost that playfulness and spunk in me. I’m more mature- realizing that some things are just not as important as people make them out to be.  I think death will do that to people.  I also used to be very comfortable leading groups, like women’s events, bible studies, etc. and I have just shrunk in the thought of doing those things again and wondered if I would ever be able to be in that place again.  But, I’ve been fine with all that because I’ve been resting in this place of grief- just taking my time walking through all that needs to be processed- knowing that God is with me always and would bring me out on the other side- whatever that will look like.  I’ve been really proactive in dealing with my grief- reading books and articles, going to grief meetings, talking about my grief with others.  I want to take it all in so I can better deal with it all.

Sometimes I think the people in my life have a hard time dealing with the “new me” because they knew me so long as the “old me” and probably wonder when the “old me” will resurface again.  But, truthfully, I know I will never be who I was before.  Yes, maybe some of the “old me” will return, but I am forever shaped by Lexi and by her death and so there is now a “new me.” I am thankful for what I have learned in my grief journey and for who God is continuing to make me.  I know that He will use me for his purposes.

Which brings me to today: I was getting a massage and the masseuse asked “So, how many kids do you have?”  Ah, the ever “simple” question that is not so simple to answer anymore.  It really makes me pause to assess the situation and to see how I should answer.  In the past two years, I’ve been asked that question a bunch of times (after all, it is a very natural question, especially when talking to other moms or new people you should meet).  Only once have I answered “one”- I was in a large group of people that all didn’t know one another and so while giving a quick introduction of our names, how many kids we had, their ages, etc. I figured the best response for that situation was “one”- I mean really who wants to be hit over the head in a big group with the response of “we have two kids, but one died”- talk about a way to change the mood and dynamics of a group.  Since that time, I’ve tried to figure out a way that I can answer that question without dismissing Lexi as one of my children.  Today, thankfully, it was just me and the masseuse so I could more easily respond to that question with “two, but my youngest passed away almost 2 years ago when she was six, so that leaves me with an 11-year-old daughter.”  Of course, upon hearing this, she expressed her sorrow as most people do, and which I appreciate.  And then she went on to ask me about Lexi and about how she died, etc.  I had the wonderful privilege of sharing Lexi’s life with this woman who had asked about my daughter- telling her all about the seizures, medications, brain implant surgery, feed tube, etc.  And then, she said “I’m sure her death was difficult but it must bring you some joy to know that she is no longer suffering in this world.”  And then I got to share with her, “Despite all of those horrible things that occurred, she did not suffer.  She was a delight; she communicated with us; she was a light to this world and to our lives; she interacted with the world around her; she went to school- riding the bus in her wheelchair all by herself.”  The masseuse was so amazed: “Really?” she said.  And then she asked “How did people react to her when they saw her?”  I then got to tell her about her physical beauty and how people were initially drawn to her because of her beautiful ivory skin, her big brown eyes and extremely long eyelashes, her silky soft brown hair, but then people feel in love with her because of her spirit- her gentleness and the peace that exuded from her that just made you want to be around her.  I got to talk about the relationship that she had with her sister- how she just loved to be around her big sister, Chelsea, and how she would just be so happy whenever Chelsea was around.

Normally, I don’t like to talk at all or have the masseuse talk either while I am getting a massage.  But, today, I was thankful that someone asked questions because they were genuinely wondering.  A lot of people don’t ask questions or even mention Lexi’s name, for fear that they might upset me.  I appreciate so much those that ask, instead of not saying anything at all.  And so, I just talked, answering any questions that she wanted to ask.

The masseuse then went on to tell me that her sister (who she practically raised so she was more like a daughter to her) committed suicide 4 years ago. The masseuse then says “and I have never dealt with my grief like you have.  I haven’t even ever said goodbye to my sister and dealt with the anger and pain I have.  I want to be in a place like you are.” We continued to talk some more and this is where, even though my physical eyes were shut and covered by a towel, my “spiritual eyes” could see that it was in this discussion, that God was weaving a little more “good” out of the loss of a child . . . my child.  At the end of my time with her, as I thanked her for a great massage, she said “Thank you for sharing your story with me. You are an inspiration.”  Wow- an inspiration!  Oh, how I hope that she will start her walk along her own grief journey . . . as I continue walking along on my own grief journey, continuing to ask God for “spiritual eyes” to see what I may miss with my own eyes.