As I sit down at my computer, it’s been more than five months since we started our journey through the valley of the shadow, and still things are taking me by surprise. We’ve been attending a grief/share group at a local church which provides videos where others who have experienced losses share their experiences. Often I’ve thought I had nothing in common with activities that caused them pain, only to find out later I was wrong.

Many of those who shared on the videos said that, for various reasons, they had experienced difficult times when they attended church. Some times I wished we could move on because I didn’t identify with anything they said. Then a few weeks ago, I walked into our church’s sanctuary and sat on one of the back benches so Donn could easily join me when he finished a task he needed to do. When we stood for worship, my gaze was drawn to a tall young man in front of me, holding his daughter–about our granddaughter, Sarah’s age–snuggled in his arms, her arms wound round his neck.

Suddenly the realization that Sarah would never experience what that little girl was experiencing struck me. She would never snuggle in her daddy’s arms in church again. In fact, because of Covid and the lifestyle Robb adopted when he got into furniture liquidation, Sarah hadn’t been in church since December of 2019.

Tears began to course down my cheeks as sadness overflowed my heart. I could barely sing. After two songs of this, I gathered my belongings and moved further down the bench where the father and his daughter were no longer in my line of vision. Donn hadn’t returned and no one else was sitting on my bench, so I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. With clearer insight, I understood why some who are grieving avoid the pitfalls of church as I navigated my day with a heavy heart. I resolved not to judge choices made by those who are grieving.

A few days later, Donn and I started running high fevers. Since our family planned to celebrate Thanksgiving that weekend, November 13, we decided to be tested for Covid. Within a few days, we both had positive results. There would be no Thanksgiving celebration this year. At first, gratitude that neither of us were very ill carried me through, but the closer we came to Thanksgiving day, the heavier my heart became. People were praying for us as they thought we would be celebrating our first Thanksgiving without Robb, most of them unaware that there would be no Thanksgiving celebration.

The day after Thanksgiving, I wrote in my journal, “Because of Psalm 34:18 (The Lord is near to the brokenhearted), I know you were close to me yesterday because it was my most broken-hearted Thanksgiving ever.  I had no ability to respond to people’s ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ messages or to pretend that everything was okay.” I went on to vent my anger to God about the reasons we were alone. “I’m angry, I’m bitter, and right now, I don’t care.”

Pain overcame me again as the next verse in my daily Bible reading became a sword that pierced my heart. “He [the Lord] fulfills the desires of those who fear Him…” (Psalm 145:19). I picked up my pen, tears cascading down my cheeks, and wrote again, “Right now that verse seems like a lie. In so many ways, you didn’t fulfill my desires for my son…” I enumerated the desires I’d had for our son that had never come to pass, the prayers that had never been answered.

As I read the next devotional, I picked up my pen and copied a sentence. “As you start to see your situations from God’s perspective, your gratitude and trust will grow.” I added, “I guess that hasn’t happened yet.” It was one of my darkest days since Robb passed away.  

Where do you go when it seems like nothing will ever be okay again? Who do you turn to on your darkest days? I’m so thankful that when I was 24 years old, I began the daily habit of spending time with the Lord—reading my Bible, using various devotional guides from trusted teachers, writing out my joys and my sorrows to Jesus. How would I have gotten through that awful Thanksgiving and the day after without knowing I could pour out my negative feelings and my pain to God? How many people would I have wounded if I had spewed out my anger and bitterness on them instead?

Our very ungodly neighbor in Penn Hills surprised me one day years ago by telling me her nephew was a priest and that what she envied most was how honest he was with God. She said, “He said he screams at Him and tells Him exactly how he feels. I wish I could do that.” 

There’s a reason the book of Psalms is a favorite for those who are walking through loss. David was a great deal like my neighbor’s nephew. His honesty with God encourages me to be honest as well. It shows me that God is big enough to handle every negative emotion and angry feeling I have. It reveals to me that He is near to the brokenhearted and He does save those who are crushed in spirit.

Because of my extended time at Jesus’ feet the day after Thanksgiving, I was able to get out of bed the next day and take part in an event that Donn and I were scheduled to participate in.  Wounds, that would have festered and grown, had been exposed to the only One who is equipped to handle them. Lightning didn’t strike me because I was honest with God and it won’t strike you either.

When I finished journaling the day after Thanksgiving, I turned on ITunes, which was on shuffle, and a song that had helped get me through other dark days began to play. I wept as the familiar words of There is a God washed over my spirit. I pray that if you’re facing challenging days, they would comfort you as well.

THERE IS A GOD

If there is a God Who holds the whole word in His hand
Then where were You when mine came crashing down?
If there is a God Who tells the sun and the stars where to shine
Then where were You when all the lights went out?

These are questions from a heart desperate to know just where You are.
Right now I can’t see You But I’m choosing to believe…

Chorus:

There is a God who’s never left me
And here in the hurting, You’re still with me.
You have carried me this far and You won’t stop now.
Oh, there is a God who sees my sorrow,
Catches my tears in a bottle,
You’re still working even when I can’t see how.
There is pain, there is broken
There is hurt, but He’s the hope I’m standing on…

Verse 2

There is a God Who promises me He has a plan
And I’m protected by His hand Through flood and fire, hey.
And there is a God Who’s working all things for my good,
Sometimes slower than I think He should,
But His ways are higher.

So I’m looking forward to the day
When I see the purpose for this pain.
Oh, but until I do
I’m choosing to believe…

Chorus

There is a God Who won’t let me walk Through this valley alone (this valley alone)
No, I’m not alone
There is a God Who won’t let me walk Through this valley alone (this valley alone)
No, I’m not alone

Chorus

(Songwriters: Randy Phillips, Matthew Joseph West, Aj Pruis)