Grief Redeemed

I have a confession.  I wrote this post two years ago.  I have felt the Lord's strong and persistent leading to share the story of the grief that I have experienced and the redeeming work that He has done in my heart literally for years.  I am ashamed that I have cared too much about my own preservation to open up my heart for you to see.  Today, the Lord said DO IT. I have seen so many of you grieving and I have hurt for you, cried for you, prayed for you.  I pray that there is some benefit to me sharing my story and that God would be glorified in it. 

Lord, use it.  Use what you have done in my life to encourage and strengthen those who are grieving.  Use it to teach me and change me...I want to be a vessel that is open to your plan even when it exposes the depths of me.

"And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men.  And when they could not get near him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay.  And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, 'My son, your sins are forgiven.'"

Mark 2:3-5

I pray that the sharing of my story would literally bring those paralyzed by their grief to Jesus...the only One who heals. 

Here is where my own personal grief began.

It was a hot, muggy night in May. The whole family had been to my cousin Wesley's high school graduation and I asked to ride home with a friend. My dad didn't seem happy about that but said I could go. Sometimes he would agree for me to do things that he didn't necessarily want me to do. I don't know why he did that. Maybe he was upset that I didn't want to spend time with the family that night. Maybe he was upset that the friend I wanted to ride home with happened to be a boy that I had no business being around. Maybe him being upset had nothing to do with me at all. I'm not sure because that night I did not pursue reconciliation with him. The fact that he was angry made me bitter. I remember getting home and seeing him sitting on the couch, obviously upset. It figured. At least that's what I told myself before I went to bed that night. The normal routine would've included a good night kiss for my daddy. Not that night, and it just happened to be the night that changed my life.

I'll never forget that sound. The door to my bedroom slammed open and I awoke to my mother frantically telling me that something was wrong with my daddy. I was confused...a car accident? I don't think I can go! No, Morgan, he's in the living room. I need your help. Everything in me jumped to action. All emotion was poured into trying to save my dad's life. I was fifteen.

I see the couch that my dad was laying across. I see my mom dragging him to the floor after I told her I needed him there to do CPR. I feel a rib break underneath my hands as I did CPR for the first time on a real person. I can smell the cigarette breath as I attempt to give him life. I hear my mom calling my uncle...she had already called the paramedics. It's painfully dark outside. I'm scared of that darkness. I work for what seems like an eternity, but everything's ok, I thought. I know CPR and I can keep him alive until the paramedics get here. Everything's going to be ok. We're doing everything right. The paramedics ask me to continue my chest compressions. Do they think I'm doing it wrong? Is it a test? I feel relief as they finally take over and get the defribulator to shock his heart. There is still no heartbeat. Everything is definitely going to be ok, though. This is their job, and we did everything right. I go to my room to get dressed and drop to my knees to pray to my heavenly Father. It is the first time the tears have come, but I feel great comfort. God would not take away my daddy. I can see the ambulance in front of us. It's so dark outside. The lights are on in the back, but why are we going so slow? Why aren't they in a hurry? By the time we made it to the hospital tons of our family had already met us there. The painful wait began. The hypersensitivity to the surroundings was still present and I can see everything. My uncle walked away and I see him coming back. Something makes me watch him intently. Someone asked him "Does he have a life?" The answer was no. I felt my own chest tighten and the sobs could not be controlled. No one knew why. It wasn't until the coroner walked in that my mom knew it was over. What a terrible way for her to find out.

Four years later.

It's Labor Day weekend and I am home from college visiting my mom and brother. Clint, my love, came with me but he is leaving on Saturday morning to go on a hiking trip with some friends. I'm a little bitter about that, but it's a conversation we already had and he really wants to go. I am happy that he atleast gets to spend one night with me and my family. He'll be back Monday to pick me up to go back to school anyway. Saturday morning my mom wakes me up super early to wake Clint off the couch. He is notorious for being late and Mark has made it very clear that he needs to pick him up on time. We make coffee- Clint loves coffee- and send him on his way. Mark calls as he's walking out the door "just to make sure". He knows us all so well. I spend the night with friends in Troy and then my mom and I go to Granny Walden's house. Granny has been dying of cancer for some time now. I had already been home once that summer for what we thought was the "end". It was not. The family is now taking turns spending the night with her and it is our turn. Granny Walden's house is old. Simple. Homey. She is the matriarch of our family. Everyone listens to her...even when she refused to get treatment for a cancer that she swore she didn't have- a cancer that would eventually take her life. I sat at her big, wooden table that I think Pa made himself. It has so much character. The house is quiet and granny is in the back bedroom. I pass the time by doing my Pre-cal homework for school. I hadn't heard from Clint. I didn't expect to.

The phone rang. Mom answered. Morgan, do you know a Carolyn White? She left a message on the home answering machine...said that she assumed you'd heard our bad news by now? Yeah, ofcourse. That's Clint's mom, he must have wrecked my car, I thought. I go to look for my cell phone to see if anyone has called. I'm sure Clint just wrecked my car. No big deal. I listen to my voicemails. It's Kim Griffin telling me to give her a call. I feel a grip in my heart. That same grip. Clint would never let someone else call me. He would know. Silence. He would know what I would think. Silence. My heart begins to race. I can feel it pounding outside my chest. He would never let someone call if he could call himself. My hand is shaking as I tell my mom and pick up the phone to call. My mom tries to reassure me that everything is probably fine.

Kim answers. "Hey, Morgan. Are you sitting down?" Silence.

"No, I'm not sitting down!!! Is everything ok?" I feel the panick rise up within me.

"No. Clint had a hiking accident." Those same words...an accident. He's always so wreckless.

Frantic to make it ok, "Is he ok?"

"No, Morgan."

Grasping for anything, "Is he alive?" I would take anything.

" No."

I couldn't hear another word. Almost instinctively I've dropped the phone and I'm prostrate on the grass outside.

"No!" I grip my chest...everything within me hurts. "Not my Clint!"

At that moment, grief swallowed me. The pain was so fierce and so deep that it took over my life. I decided in my heart that God could not be who I thought He was, but that same God, maker of Heaven and earth, pursued me. And this is my story.

"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has annointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion- to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

THAT THEY MAY BE CALLED OAKS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS, THE PLANTING OF THE LORD THAT HE MAY DISPLAY HIS SPLENDOR."

Isaiah 61:1-3