God Understands

It was pitch dark as my husband, Eddie, and I drove in complete silence, each surrounded by our own penetrating thoughts. Just the sound of the road beneath our Subaru wheels, random streetlights, and infrequent headlights from cars on the other side of the highway. It was like sitting in a kiddie pool, water touching you yet not covering you.

Denial…

That’s what it was. Unwilling to fully acknowledge the swirling emotions. Driving for over 10 hours, simply focused on forward momentum, and only stopping when our bodies required relief.

Over the years, we developed a road trip rhythm where we would drink in the sights, sounds, and smells of the beauty uncovered along the way. This time, it was a completely different mindset.

Instead of road trip joy, it was sorrow, sadness, anxiety, and heartache rolling through like the tide threatening to overwhelm and drag me under.

Abruptly, my cell phone rang, startling me into military attention. Holding my breath as if I was going underwater, I answered the call.

Tiny shreds of hope rose as I heard my 87-year-old mom’s agitated, unsteady, and frantic voice asking me where I was because she thought I was missing. My emotions shifted from relief that she was still alive to concern upon hearing her delusional, fearful, confused state of mind. I reassured her we were nearly at the hospital and would see her soon.

Ending the call, I drowned in a sea of tears.

Unbeknownst to me, these were her final few days on earth.

Several weeks later, I sat at my kitchen counter remembering the feelings from that car ride; the emotions start small deep in my chest until I feel crushed by a tidal wave. I cannot stop the cries that bubble up, then burst forth.

I miss my mom.

Words of truth from Psalm 91 infiltrate my soul, enveloping me with comfort as I sit in my grief and loss, listening to the words of the Psalm sung to music.

I will dwell in the secret place of the Most High

I will abide under the shadow of the almighty

Surely you will deliver me, you will make a way

With your outstretched arms, Lord, you cover me

You will hold me close, never let me go

I will say of the Lord, you are my refuge and my fortress

My God, in you will I trust

I will not fear the terror by night nor the arrow that flies by day

When 1,000 fall and 10,000 more I’ll stand firm

You will give angels charge over me, keep me in all my ways

They will lift me up. God, you’ll hold me up.

You’re my shield and strength, I won’t be afraid

God’s peace washed over me, encouraging me with how He understands my thoughts and feelings.

He met me at that moment, reminding me how he met my mom in her anxiety and fear when I read Psalm 91 to her at her bedside during her last days. I reassured her she was safe; she was not alone, and God was holding her up.

This memory was like a life preserver amid emotional waves.

On that dark night, I reminded her there was nothing she needed to do. The story in Luke 23:39-43 when Jesus heard and delivered the thief on the cross; all the thief did was humbly call out to Him.

For the last 8 years, I walked every step beside my mom as she called out to Jesus during her battle with heart disease and multiple lung cancers. Each time she beat the odds, rallied, and kept fighting. This time, her body was tired, and she was battle weary.

Within 24 hours after hearing Psalm 91, my mom slipped peacefully away.

I miss my mom.

Grief never really goes away; it does not follow other people’s timelines. We learn to live with it as we maneuver the journey. Grieving is not linear; often misunderstood and lonely.

At random unanticipated moments, tears well up and I surrender to them. God continues meeting me in unexpected ways.

On one occasion, it was a bird song that caught my attention. Then suddenly there was a pair of birds just outside my window. My heart leaped, my breath caught, and tears came to the surface. As if a hurricane struck me, I realized God understood enough to send not just one bird, but two.

You might wonder how a bird could be a gift.

It’s rare to see a bird in a neighborhood of saplings. The backyard of my prior home had full-grown trees with birds making homes, feasting, and bathing. I often felt like Snow White.

I laughed out loud.

I missed birds.

I missed my mom.

When we are sitting in fear, anxiety, sorrow, grief, and loss, God empathizes and holds space with us, surrounds and delivers us.

God understood my mom’s fears, thoughts, and emotions. He held her close, never let her go, and He delivered her.

He held an umbrella over me during each torrential rain.

I don’t know what emotions you hold at bay or how you have learned to stifle your true feelings to make others more comfortable, but God understands. He wants you to know what you don’t deal with now will affect you later; it’s okay not to be okay. Sit in the uncomfortable as He covers you with His outstretched arms.

Face and feel your feelings. Move through them like a surfer experiencing the swell of a wave, ebbing, and flowing.

Lean in and breathe. He understands.