Yesterday as I shared my past with my siblings via our weekly zoom meeting, I realized how rich I am. Not necessarily monetarily, although compared to many people across the globe, I am rich. I’m not speaking about money, but the wealth of love I have from my family, friends, and my two deceased husbands, Bill and Blair, and especially my current husband, Jim. More than that, the richness I have because of my relationship with my Savior, Jesus.

Earlier yesterday, when writing down prayer requests, I was reminded of a day I’ll never forget, June 13. The day when my last child was born. So different from the other two deliveries. There was no joy or phone calls to make to celebrate new life. Only to let people know it “was over.” You see, this baby was stillborn. Instead of facing life in the cold world, she entered straight into heaven. She was with Jesus, yes, but I was devastated.

I didn’t understand. This was our bonus child. Yet through the agony of loss–and there was agony–I knew I was surrounded by the loving care of my Savior. I had experienced other deaths, but this was the first that hurt so deeply. There were more to come, that would hurt even more.

I no longer grieve the same as I did those first few months of crushing pain after the loss, but I can go back and remember briefly how painful it was. And in that remembering, I can also recall the strength I received from others who prayed for me during that time of grief. The tender loving care of my husband, and especially, the word of God that was there when others were sleeping or busy with their own lives.

but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint (Isaiah 40:31).

There were many other passages. One was one written on a little card, given to me by the nurse who cared for me that night, right after the delivery of my baby. In her note she told me she would be praying for me and she wrote a verse from the Bible that still comforts me.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. 39 No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39). 

That first piercing loss more than forty years ago now, reminds me how much it changed me. It gave me a love and caring for others who are grieving. Each time I facilitate a grief class along with my husband, I’m reminded how much it hurts to lose a loved one in death. It is wrenching, but can also be a time of comfort and strengthening that comes from the Holy Spirit within us. The God of all comfort.

I was never the same after that loss and although I feel sad when I remember, there is great hope and strength.

Grieving person, I don’t know what your loss is today. It might not be the death of a loved one, but death of a life you once loved and treasured. Perhaps a career you no longer have. It might be physical. Mental. Regret for what you didn’t say or do. Like me, it might be a baby you never were able to rock to sleep or comfort. One day, if you put your belief in the Lord to work in your life through this grief, there will be a strengthening you wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t experienced the storm of loss.

I was comforted in all of my times of grief with this passage from the Psalms: “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5).

Wait for the morning. It will come. And with trust in God to help you heal, you will be a different person. Stronger and more resilient. More dependent on the One who gave you strength to go on. You will see everything different after grief. I like what I read once from an English poet, Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909):

And time remembered is grief forgotten

And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,

And in green underwood and cover

Blossom by blossom the spring begins.