The Hurt and the Healing

One month.

One month without his laughter, his hugs; his smile.

One month without a tearless day.

One month since I was thrown into a turbulent sea, with no clue how to get back to shore.

Before, I was living life on the sand, trying to avoid the occasional rogue wave soaking my legs. Then, one phone call on June 30th pitched me into the ocean, hundreds of feet from shore. The grief is like waves, coming and going. It seems like the waves should be pushing me closer to shore, but the undertow of grief is almost worse than the waves. I think I’m making progress; I have a day of relative normalcy. I expect the waves, but once a few pass, I look around and realize that the undertow has taken me even farther out. I tear up walking into Jo Ann Fabrics, suddenly can’t look at pictures without weeping; lose sleep because my mind won’t rest from thoughts of him. The undertow, the unexpected grief. One wave pushes me forward, the undertow pulls me back. I know Christ is the rock, but my feet aren’t finding solid footing. I know God is good, but the good doesn’t feel good. I know Jesus is alive, but I feel surrounded by death. I know… but Jacob’s gone. And nothing can change that.

Another wave hits. The undertow drags me out.

And I feel a hand grab mine.

One month.

One month ago, I smiled for this picture, minutes before the phone call that forever changed my life.

One month ago, I sat in a room as my dad told me that my brother was gone.

And, one month ago, the same people in this picture wept with me. I crumbled onto Jess’ lap, and she held me. Che and Ceci cried at my feet. Those not in that room prayed in the backyard, for an hour and a half.

One month ago, those people flew me home in the middle of the night, and paid for the whole thing. Brantley and Krislyn drove two hours just to hug me before I left.

One month ago, Lauren drove two hours to get me at the airport. She took me to my family and didn’t leave my side.

One month ago, Hannah jumped on a plane from Kansas City, hugged me, and let me sob on her shoulder.

One month ago, Ceci and Brantley drove 9 hours to come to the funeral. And flew back the next day to finish up 3 more weeks of summer camp.

One month ago, I was hurled into the ocean, but I was not alone.

This is community; this is the Body of Christ. They are not afraid of the ocean. They are not throwing me a life preserver while remaining safely on shore. They are not attempting to drag me back to shore; they know that is impossible. They understand that I am not okay, that I need to ride out the waves. They know that it is hard for me to see Jesus through the anguish.

So, they brave the waves, and come into the ocean with me.

They hug me. They listen to my crazy, irrational, grief stricken thoughts. They remind me that Jesus is still with me, even when I can’t feel Him. They are more than just immediate, they are intentional.

Lauren continues to listen to my deepest fears and doubts. Hannah checks on me every day. She asks me how I’m doing, and wants the real answer. Innumerable others reach out, pray, and provide hope. My fellow camp counselors remind me that I am not forgotten, that they are truly less without me. On Jacob’s birthday, the entire staff wrote on their arms.

They knew that every time I would get tired and want to slack in my job, I would think of my siblings, how each camper was someone’s sister, someone’s brother. They showed me that not only was Jacob the inspiration for my ministry, but for theirs too.

Another wave hits. The undertow takes me farther out. No matter what I do, the ache is still there. I miss him so much it physically hurts. And nothing can change that. But, in the calm between the waves, I look to my right; to my left. I feel multiple hands grab mine.

And I am not alone.

“The way God designed out bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don’t, the parts we see and the parts we don’t.

If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing.”

1 Corinthians 12:25-26 MSG