**I'm trying to be more transparent, more open about my feelings and shortcomings. I've been told that I can come across as perfect, as all put together. But I'm not, I'm imperfect and flawed and struggle. And I think that only in being honest and open can we truly help one another. That's the only way we can grow and bond. So here's a little open honesty for you.**
I can happily say that I have more good days than bad now. But honestly, the number of bad days still surprises me. I don't go a single day that I don't think of Job, and what our lives would be like with him. There's not a moment that I don't miss him and ache to hold him. There's so many things that remind me, that spark the memory of what it should be. What I wish it was.
But most days, I can take a deep breath, send up a prayer for strength, and focus on being thankful for the amazing things I do have.
But not everyday. Every once in a while, it feels as though I just lost him yesterday. The pain is fresh and deep and still so heartbreaking. And it knocks me down completely.
That's when I find myself awake, alone, in the middle of the night, crying out to my Savior for some comfort, any peace. And do you know what usually works?
I have this box. I bought it just to hold my memories of Job. It's small, and doesn't hold many things, but it holds every single card or letter we received.
And so I sit, sort through the few things that mark his tiny life, and read every word of every card. I think about the prayers that those friends and family said over us, about the time they took to pick out a meaningful card, about the loving, encouraging, and comforting words they wrote. And I can almost feel the arms of every one of them hugging me. I can see their faces and feel their love.
Julie, at Joy's Hope, asked for advice and then wrote an amazing blog about What to do and say when a friend loses a baby. It's beautiful, please read it when you get the chance. In an earlier post over on her own website she asked for advice and personal experiences. And as I sat down to respond, I found that all I could think about, all I could remember, were the well-intentioned yet hurtful comments. The ones that belittled my loss and tried to explain it away. I found that it was hard for me to think of what I would tell people TO do. I could only think of what they shouldn't do or say.
It's amazing how much those few poorly worded, hurtful responses stick out so much in my mind when I have a box full of over 50 cards and letters that did just the opposite.
So tonight, I am letting myself feel the pain and the loss as I immerse myself in the blessings that are my family and friends. I am allowing my loving God to show Himself to me through them, through their words.
Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise...
by Laura Story
If you want to read more about Job's story, click here.