Elijah's 16th birthday~

"I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night: but if you have been--if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you--you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness."  C.S. Lewis from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

This is how I feel.  I've cried hard and I've cried long...but over the years, the grief surrounding the death of my first child and only son has changed.  

A sort of quietness has come.   

I still cry over the loss of Elijah, but the tears are fewer and fewer and they rarely flow for long anymore.  The receding of grief has been a long, slow process.  Sometimes I've been concerned that the reduction in tears reflects a callousness or coldness in me...but I don't believe that anymore.  I think it's all part of the process.  My heart still hurts when I allow my mind to wonder about my son, but the pain no longer stabs.  

Much of grief's ache has been replaced by honest curiosity...I simply wish I could know my son.  I miss him, but I'm not able to share details and specifics about him that I miss simply because I never got to know him.  I still have more questions than answers, but I am more and more content with the truth that trusting my Lord is best and that He will one day allow me to see this loss with clear understanding.   

A sort of quietness has come.

Sometimes I wondered if I would survive it...could I survive it?  This Grief...this journey that so often felt impossible.  I could not avoid it, control it, nor forget it.  It didn't wait, it didn't mind its manners, it never played fair.  And I know it will never be finished this side of heaven.  But it has changed.

A sort of quietness has come. 

I have stared at it and battled it like the monster that it is.  Sometimes I felt strong, feeling the strength of the Lord coursing through me.  Sometimes I have resigned myself to it, weary from its constant abuse.  Other times I have felt equipped by it and have seen God's kindness and care in allowing me to share or minister to others.  

Through the years I have felt my Lord changing this grief.  I have felt Him turning it in His hands.  I have felt Him softening and smoothing it.  I have felt Him transforming it. 

A sort of quietness has come.

So, I bring you this idea captured in pictures.

Sea glass from my collection~

I love sea glass.  I have a small collection...much of it found along the North Carolina and Virginia coasts.  

I think it's the idea of Redemption that appeals to me.  Broken, jagged garbage drowned in an ocean.  The tossing waves and currents doing their hard work.  The jagged edges slowly worn down by shells and sand...and time.  And, eventually, a rare "jewel" produced.  

This is a picture of how I see my grief surrounding Elijah.  It is no longer dangerous.  It no longer rips and cuts.  This grief is softer now.  Every now and then I'm even hopeful that it could be considered beautiful.

A sort of quietness has come.  

But, let's be clear...it's not my work that has changed the grief.  It is the careful, thoughtful, relentless work of my Lord.  It has been Redeemed by my Savior...it's His story of Redemption.  

This journey...through this kind of grief...is still one that I wish I never had to make.  There is so much that I wish could have been different.  But I also see beauty. 

A sort of quietness has come.

I know my God in ways that I never would have otherwise.  I trust my God deeper than I knew I could.  

And I am thankful.   

Elijah in Daddy's arms~

Lately, God's had me thinking about the idea of Surrender...not resignation, not weariness, but precious Surrender...so I leave you with these lyrics by Lauren Daigle from her song "You Have My Surrender".

Here are my hurts 

Here are my doubts 

Here are the things that I can't figure out

Here are my storms, my crashing seas

Here are the burdens that have brought me to my knees.

Here are my prayers, my heart will wait

I will bind my will so you can have your way

Here are the things I can't undo

I am nothing, nothing without you

And I will take you at your unfailing word

More than all I want is to seek you first

I will bless your name when the night is long

God, you have my surrender.

Here it is if you're interested in listening~

If you're interested in knowing more about Elijah, go here.  Here's another bit of writing I did about fear grown by grief and freedom from it.

As always, thanks for taking the time to read...many blessings to you this year~

Rachel