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God Does Not Say He Will Give Us Joy for our Grief

Many of us are familiar with Isaiah 61:3 that tells us God will give us the oil of joy for our mourning.

Did you know there is a difference between mourning and grief? Mourning is the expression of deep sorrow for someone who has died. Grief is what we think and feel on the inside when our child (or someone we love) dies. It is the loneliness, the fear, depression, emptiness, etc. Mourning is the outward expression of our grief, the act of sorrowing.

This is huge because I always thought this verse meant that God would replace my grief with joy, but that is not what He is saying.

If you are like me, the death of my daughter, Becca, became my identity. When I met someone, I wanted to introduce myself as, “Hi, I’m Laura, and my daughter died.” I wanted people to know what I was going through and how much pain I was in.

I believe this is what God was talking about in this verse. He is saying that he will take away our need to express our grief. We will grieve for the rest of our lives, but we won’t always mourn. We will not always have a need to constantly express the pain of our loss.

I want to point out that joy and laughter are still important in our lives. The physical healing that takes place in our bodies with a good laugh is incredible. God is the one who created our bodies to respond to laughter, which means happiness is important to Him!

Psalm 2:4 says that God sits on His throne and laughs.

Ecclesiastes 3:4 tells us there is a time to laugh.

In Job 8:21 we read He will fill our mouths with laughter.

I am not saying this to imply that we are to live from a place of happiness and laughter with our child gone. What I am saying is that God wants to replace your mourning – your expression of the pain of missing your child – with His Spirit, to eventually be able to express joy and even happiness for the good things that are still in your life (and are yet to come).

The first step we need to take is to believe having joy in our lives again is even possible, and then to actually want it back in our lives. Joy comes from a place of hope. Proverbs 10:28 (ESV) says, The hope of the righteous brings joy.

The final enemy to be defeated is death itself, and that is something to look forward to and get excited about. This means that instead of the outward expression of missing our child, it is possible to carry the outward expression of our excitement of seeing them again!

Can you start to see how it is possible for God to give us the oil of joy for our mourning?

There is joy on the other side of our pain. But you don’t have to wait for the fullness of it until you are with your child again, because right now, God wants to give you the oil of joy for your mourning.

Now may God, the fountain of hope, fill you to overflowing with uncontainable joy and perfect peace as you trust in him. And may the power of the Holy Spirit continually surround your life with his super-abundance until you radiate with hope! Romans 15:13 (TPT)

This was only part of a recent episode of the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast. To listen to it in its entirety directly on the GPS Hope website, click here. If you would like to listen to it on the GPS Hope YouTube channel, click here. Or you can find it (Grieving Parents Sharing Hope: Episode 182) on your favorite listening app.

If you would like to join thousands of other bereaved parents receiving a weekly word of hope delivered to your inbox, let us know below.

 

Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.

If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.

If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.

 

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Five Lessons About Grief from Climbing a Mountain

A few weeks ago, the Hope Mobile (our 38-foot motor home that we live in full-time) was parked at a campground in a beautiful valley, surrounded by small mountains. As I would go walking in the mornings, a few of those times I found myself following a trail that took me up one of those mountains.

One morning I realized how my climb up the mountain paralleled several things in my grief journey after my oldest daughter, Becca, died. Here are five of those things.

  1. It’s a lot of work climbing up those mountains. And when you get to the top, it’s wonderful, but you don’t get to stay there. You must work your way back down.

The earlier we are in our grief journey, the harder the climb is and the less time we stay at the top. We find ourselves almost immediately tumbling back down the mountainside, back into the valley. With anything in life, mountaintop experiences are great, even exhilarating. But we don’t get to stay there. It is in the valley where most maturing happens and life-lessons are learned, including how much we need to depend on God to be our guide though this life.

  1. What kept me moving forward and continuing to go up the mountain was not being able to see the full path in front of me. I freely admit I would not have kept going if I could have seen the full path all the way to the top. I kept thinking, “I’ll just go up to that point where it curves, and I’ll probably be at the top.” And when I would turn that corner, there would be more path and I would think again, “Okay, let me get to that point up there,” and I would get there and find more path.

It’s a good thing we can’t see the full path of our lives ahead of time. We can only take a little bit at a time. But that doesn’t mean every corner we turn is bad, it is just unknown what lies ahead. If we keep going, based on what we can see, and not worry about what we can’t see, we will eventually make it all the way.

  1. The last mountain I climbed was taking longer than I thought it would. I was getting quite tired and I started hoping I would meet up with the path I was on the day before, which would be a quicker way back down. As I kept going forward, looking for that other path, I eventually found myself at the very top of this new mountain. As I looked to my right, I was shocked to see that waaaayyyy down below me was the top of the mountain where I had stood the day before. I had no idea that I was climbing that much higher!

As we keep walking on this journey, one step at a time (sometimes one breath at a time) we will one day suddenly discover that we are doing better than we ever thought we could or would. At the time though, it feels like we can’t go on and things will never get better.

  1. Quite often I was paying so much attention to the path and my steps, that I was missing the view, so sometimes I would stop and look out, to enjoy what was around me.

Quite often we are so consumed by our grief (and rightly so, especially those first few weeks and months) that we don’t see what is going on around us. There are good things all around us; things we can still be thankful for. Sometimes we need to force ourselves to put our grief on pause to look for those things.

  1. I also used those times of looking around at the view to get rested before continuing.

Grief is a lot of hard work! It can take everything we have just to be in survival mode. It’s okay to rest when you are weary, when triggers hit hard, and you don’t have any energy to do even the simplest things like take a shower or put a frozen pizza in the oven.

And if you are someone who has faced the death of your child, it is one of the worst traumas a person can go through on this earth. (You will find that experts support this, saying we are going through what is called “traumatic grief” and that five years and less is considered fresh grief for a parent who has lost a child.) You have been through a trauma and can possibly even be dealing with PTSD.

Rest is not only okay, it is what you need, in every area, physically, emotionally, and yes, even spiritually in some ways.

There is one last comparison I would like to share with you, which might possibly be the most important one.

I can show you lots of pictures I took while climbing these mountains. I can tell you some of the things God was speaking to me, but it was my personal climb. Even if you had been with me, we would have seen things through our own eyes and our own thoughts.

In other words, we can be on the same path together, and yet we will be on our own personal separate climb. I would only be able to do so much to pull you into what I was seeing and how I was feeling. I could point something out to you, but you would be seeing it through your own lens of life. You would be having your own experience. It would be with me, and yet separate from me. Some of our climb would be the same experience, and some of it would be very different.

We are each on our own grief journey. Even if you are like me and have lost a child from this earth, there is no way I know how you feel. I know how I felt after my daughter died. I know the suffocating darkness I experienced. I know how I would forget to breath and have to consciously tell myself to take a breath. I know how I wanted to stop hurting so bad and how the darkness lasted for so much longer than I thought it should.

I know how I didn’t want to live, which didn’t make sense because I knew in my head I had so much still to live for. (I had a loving husband, four other children and two grandchildren at the time – one of those being the 9-year-old daughter of my daughter who had died).  None of that mattered. My heart wanted to be with my daughter who was now gone from this earth, and I knew I couldn’t stay here if the rest of my life was going to be this painful. (I wasn’t suicidal, I just didn’t want to live any more and begged God to take me out of here!)

You see, we each have many of the same grief experiences, but it is all though our own personal journey of our personal relationship with the one who died. I know how I felt, but that doesn’t mean I know how you feel, even if you lost a daughter the same way I lost my daughter, through heart damage caused by chemotherapy.

I want to encourage you to keep climbing. If you started and found yourself back down in the valley, go again after you are rested. And even though we each have our own experience, please know that if you are a bereaved parent, we are here at GPS Hope (Grieving Parents Sharing Hope), walking with you every step of the way.

 

For those who would like some helpful ideas on how to take care of yourself on this grief journey, we would like to send you a free resource. To have Thirty Ways to Bring Yourself Comfort and Take Care of Yourself delivered directly to your inbox, just submit your name and email address below.

Note: This will connect you with GPS Hope, including joining over 1,000 bereaved parents who receive a Weekly Word of Hope email on our journey together. If you want to stop receiving it at any time, just hit the unsubscribe button at the bottom of any email.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

 

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

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It’s Okay Not to Be Okay!

When we have to say a final earthly goodbye to our child, it affects everything.

Even the word family takes on a whole new meaning. Our family will never be complete again. There are no replacements for child loss…

Ever.

And because of that, phrases with the word family in them can bring on crashing emotions.

 • Family photo
• Family reunion
• Family vacation
• Family meal
• Family pack (of tickets, etc.)
• Family holiday
• Family picnic

Any kind of family gathering, event, or even advertisements, is a glaring reminder of the child we are missing.

We get a front row seat to the meaning of the word bittersweet. For me personally:

Our middle son will be the only one of the siblings who had all five of them present at his wedding. The other three will be missing their sister, both at the event itself, and in the family wedding photos. Bittersweet…

We have had four grandchildren born since Becca died. The day those precious little ones made their entrance into the world was wonderful, but someone was missing. We only have one grandchild who knew her Aunt Becca. Any other grandchildren will not have that blessing. Bittersweet…

Our family is growing, and as my children get married and start their own families, it gets harder to have us all together for the holidays. On those fun times when we are all together, we aren’t really all together, because Becca and her daughter are missing. Bittersweet…

Graduations, school dances, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, birthday parties, weddings, baby showers…all of these and many more events can be overshadowed with a reminder of who is not there, and be bittersweet…

As I sit here at my desk, I am surrounded by memories and thoughts of Becca. It always amazes me how some days memories can make me smile, and other days they bring tears.

Holidays, like the ones we have just been through, definitely have the same effect on me. Some moments, some days, some years are filled with tears, and others are filled with warm memories that bring smiles and even laughter.

And I have learned that it’s okay. It’s okay to be smiling one moment and crying the next.

It’s okay to be able to go to one event but not go to the next event.

It’s okay to want to talk about my child with someone who misses her. It’s okay to not want to talk about my child right now to anyone.

It’s okay to fall apart and be a mess because something triggered a wave of grief, and it’s okay to have that happen with no explanation.

It’s okay to finally have a burst of energy one day, and the next day not even get out of bed (much less get dressed).

It’s okay not to be okay! Let me say that again, a little louder this time.

IT’S OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY!

Well now, this doesn’t sound like a word of hope, does it? At least not to those who have never faced a deep loss like ours. But if you are anything like me, this was a relief when I found out it is not only okay to be like this, but NORMAL!

It gave me so much hope to know that there are other bereaved parents out there who were once in the same place I am and yet seem to have figured out how to live without their child. And that they still have moments of not being okay with their child being gone from this earth.

And it also helps, when we can find ways others around us make sure the memory of our child is kept alive at these bittersweet events.

With that being said, here are a few suggestions to help you face events this coming year, that you just can’t seem to avoid, in a way that will bring some relief to you, if only for a few moments.

1. Take a memory book and ask people to write something to your child and a special memory.

2. Ask them to make a toast specifically acknowledging by name all family members who have passed on.

3. Play one of your child’s favorite upbeat songs and have everyone dance to it (even something fun like the Chicken Dance song or the always animated favorite Let It Go).

4. Have a silly hat contest, with your child’s favorite color featured. (This would have to be planned ahead and might make a wonderful yearly tradition. Then wear the same hats each year or change it up and make new ones.)

5. Find photos of the family members/friends with your child and make it into a video with music everyone will enjoy watching.

6. Take a movie your child liked to watch and ask the group you are with to watch it with you.

And if none of these suggestions seem like they will make you want to be there, guess what? It’s okay!

So often we are told in life, “It’s not about you.” But the truth is, sometimes it is.

Only you know what is right for you, as a bereaved parent, through the difficult events in the coming year. But whatever you do, do it with HOPE, knowing that means:

HOPE – Hold On, Pain Eases!

I will never say the pain ends, but it will eventually ease, as we learn how to carry the pain of our loss in a way that doesn’t consume and devour us.

But we will always have moments where it still does, and that is okay.

GPS Hope has made an eBook of the top five blogs of 2018. If you would like your own free copy, just let us know below.

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author and speaker Laura Diehl. Laura is a national keynote speaker and also a workshop speaker for both The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences. Laura has also been a guest on Open to Hope several times, and has hosted her own conferences, a virtual conference and many webinars. If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event, click here.

 

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A Gem Hidden Deeply in God’s Word

God’s Word has become so very rich since Becca’s death, even in preparing for what I wanted to say at her funeral. But that isn’t usually the case for those who are grieving the death of a child.

Sometimes it takes two to three years for the pain and fog to lift to be able to even make sense of what is being read (which happened to me for quite a while in the deepest part of my grief). Or, these grieving parents are angry and struggling with their faith, like the woman I heard from yesterday who lost her son five years ago, and just this week walked out of a church service because she still can’t stand to hear people say that God is good.

I have to say that for me personally, many verses I have been taught or have seen a certain way (some of them since I was very young) have become a life-line of hope in a whole new light.

God tells us that His Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our paths (Psalm 119:105). And in the depth of darkness that we find ourselves in after the death of our child, or any deep loss or tragedy, we desperately need any tiny pinhole of light that we can get.

I would like to share one of those scriptures that has taken on a totally new meaning to me now.

Ephesians 3:20 says talks about God being able “to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.”

I have always heard this verse in the context of things like, “When you ask God for a good job, you can claim this verse and He will give you even a better job than you asked for.”

Or I have heard Christian leaders share about applying this verse to something they are praying for (like having a ministry bigger than they could ever imagine) and then adding in a laughing humorous way, “and I can imagine a whole lot!”

As I was reading through the book of Ephesians one day, I realized how much that verse truly applies to those of us who find ourselves in an unwanted and indescribable darkness of deep grief, tragedy and trauma.

We all think and say things like, “I can’t imagine EVER getting out of this pain and darkness.” “I can’t EVER imagine living life without my child.” Or, “God, when will I stop hurting so much?”

And that is exactly where the truth of this verse comes in. God promises that He is able to do more than we could ask for, or imagine! We cannot imagine ever coming out of our painful darkness to a place of living a life of purpose and meaning again. It feels impossible. But He can, and He will do what we cannot even imagine!

Any time we cry out to Him from that place of horrendous pain, even the smallest plea of, “God HELP me!” He goes to work making good on that very promise! Many times, it doesn’t seem like it because often nothing seems to change. We can go days, weeks and even months in the same suffocating darkness and turmoil. As a parent who has to learn how to live again after the death of their child, that grief journey is a long and very slow process to work through. So are other deep tragedies and losses. But God is at work, because we cried out, allowing His power to be at work within us.

So, it’s okay if you cannot imagine ever having hope, light, or purpose in your life ever again. God’s got this! And until that time comes, ask God to send loving, gracious people your way, who will walk with you through the darkness.

 

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.
  • If you are not a bereaved parent but want to support those who are, or want to follow us as we give hope to these precious parents, please connect with us at Friends of GPS Hope on Facebook.
  • If you are a bereaved parent, we encourage you to connect with us on Facebook.
  • Subscribe  to Laura’s YouTube channel for grieving parents.

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How Can I Trust God Again?

Those of us who have lost a child can have major struggles with trusting God.

We may have prayed daily for God’s protection over our children, trusting that He will answer that prayer because of our unwavering faithfulness. We may have fasted and prayed for a sick child, fully believing we will see Jehovah Rapha, God our Healer, in action.

People around us may have told us something like, “Keep praying in faith. God is going to heal your child,” which brought encouragement at the time.

Or how about since that horrible day hearing something like, “Hang in there. God knows what He is doing, just trust Him.”

We often want to shout, “I DID trust God, and my child died!” 

First, let me say that you are allowed to question what God is doing in your life. Surprised? Abraham did, Jonah did, Elisha the prophet did, the twelve apostles did… get the picture?

We have prayed for protection or healing for our children, and that prayer was not answered.

When my daughter, Becca, was three and was diagnosed with cancer, I believed the more people I told that God was going to heal her, the more He was obligated to do so, based on how much faith I had. I was shocked when she had her tiny left leg amputated (due to cancer in the bone) and went through nine months of chemo.

My shattered faith sent me on a journey to discover what this faith stuff was all about. I learned over the years that faith isn’t getting the answer I want to the prayers I am praying. Faith is knowing Him intimately to the point that I trust Him with whatever answer He gives to my prayers.

I saw this in action seventeen years later. Becca had an extremely high-risk pregnancy (due to heart damage caused by the chemo) with a 50/50 chance of surviving the labor and delivery. As they were wheeling her away to start the process, I found myself crying in my husband, Dave’s, arms. I told him I didn’t understand why I was crying, because I knew in my heart I trusted God with both Becca and the child she was carrying.

He wisely answered, “Because we don’t know which direction we are going to have to trust Him for.”

God so very graciously spared Becca’s life at that time, and the life of our first grandchild (who is now 15 years old).

However, nine years later, too sick to even be put on the heart transplant list, our daughter’s heart gave out, and she left this earth on October 12, 2011 at age 29.

Yes, it sent me into a suffocating darkness I didn’t even know existed.

But trusting God and refusing to let go of Him in the midst of my pain, which was so deep I would sometimes forget to breathe, is what got me where I am today.

It reminds me of when Jesus asked his disciples if they were going to leave him like the rest of the crowd did, when He said something difficult that made no sense to them whatsoever. Peter’s response was, “Where else would we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

One thing I have done to help build that trust in God through this, is to slowly shift my thinking to Becca’s gain instead of my loss. For instance, I don’t like it when other people tell me, “But she is healed now!” Duh! I know that, but that wasn’t what I meant when I was praying for her, and I still want her here with me! Telling me that doesn’t “fix me” or make me feel better.

But when I am by myself, and allowing the Holy Spirit to be my Comforter, I can start to receive that truth. She really is healed now, dancing with both legs, has no more trouble breathing and has a strong heart that will never give out again. She is done going through the painful trials and traumas of this world. She is safe. She is whole in body, soul and spirit. And I believe she is waiting for me with great anticipation. I can even thank God that my daughter is safe, and whole, and happy!

Am I totally healed and back to “normal?”  No way! That will never happen. But I am leaning on God in this painful journey, and it is not based on what I can see or know, but the exact opposite. It is based on what I cannot see and what I do not know, because that’s what trust is.

I can choose to believe there is no God or He would have saved my child. I can choose to believe that if there is a God, He isn’t good and He isn’t fair or He would have saved my child. Both of those options leave me feeling angry and empty. I have chosen the third option. There is a God, His thoughts and ways are so much higher than mine, He loves me with a perfect love, and even though I don’t understand why He has allowed this to happen, I still trust Him with my life both here on earth and for eternity. This option has brought me to a place of peace, rest, hope, and life again—even within the pain. (When Tragedy Strikes)

In other words, I have learned that choosing to continue to trust God here on earth with temporary painful things I don’t understand gives me so much more peace than choosing to remain angry and being determined He is not trustworthy.

Trusting God again doesn’t usually happen in just one decision, but in making the decision over and over again. It can be a process, and that is okay.

I encourage you to choose to make that decision as often as you need to, so that God can wrap you in His hope, His comfort, and yes, even His peace. Ask Him to help you shift your perspective to see things in a different way. Allow Him to give you the strength to trade the anger and blame, so you can receive the love of the Father that your child is now basking in. 

Think about it. Our children now know how trustworthy He is because they can see the full picture that we cannot see!

Yes, God has everything you and I need to help guide us out of the darkness of our suffocating grief. You can choose to trust Him in the midst of the pain. And I’ll bet your son or daughter would tell you the same thing.

Would you like a simple tool to help with anger? The award winning “My Grief Journey: A Coloring Book and Journal for Grieving Parents”  has two pages on that subject. If you would like to receive them, just submit your information below.


GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss to a place of hope, light and purpose.

 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author and speaker Laura Diehl. Laura is a national keynote speaker and also a workshop speaker for both The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences. Laura has also been a guest on Open to Hope several times, and has hosted her own conferences, a virtual conference and many webinars. If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event, click here.

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