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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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The Holiday Season vs. Grief

The holiday season brings many emotions to the surface, doesn’t it? And if you have lost someone who was dear to you from this earth within the past year, it can easily evoke dark, painful emotions you may have never experienced before.

For those who have faced a deep loss, the holidays are a reminder of your missing loved one. Some don’t even want to acknowledge Thanksgiving Day or Christmas, as the pain of who is missing is greater than the joy of who is still here.

Only those who have experienced this can understand and agree with what I am saying. To those who are blessed to have not yet faced a tragic deep loss, this doesn’t make any sense, which can cause conflict among families, because each person will have a different way of grieving, based on their own personality and their personal relationship with the family member who is now gone.

Most of us try to “enjoy” the season for those around us who weren’t affected as deeply, don’t we? Especially if there are young children or grandchildren around. But it is difficult, because our hearts can be so heavy. Even within the joy of seeing their excitement, there is often an undercurrent of sadness that just won’t seem to go away.

I want to let you know that it is okay, even normal, to have this struggle. And I want to release you from feeling guilty about it. Give yourself grace, just like you would a friend if they were in the same situation.

You see, grief is not an event. Death is an event, but grief is a process. In fact, it is a life-long process.

Some people will parrot the saying, “Time heals all wounds.” I don’t agree. The wounds of having someone very dear to us leave this earth is one that will be with us until it is our turn to leave. BUT that doesn’t mean it will always hurt so deeply. Time will allow the pain to lessen, if we lean into it and allow ourselves to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, holding the hand of the One who can give us the strength we need.

I like to use the acronym for HOPE: Hold On Pain Eases

My oldest daughter, Becca, loved the holidays. She especially loved Christmas. She loved decorating. She loved shopping (including the Black Friday sales). She loved the Christmas music. She loved the family spending time together. She loved everything about it.

When Becca died on October 12, 2011, I don’t even remember that first holiday season. Everything was a painful blur.

I didn’t think it was even possible, but the second year was even more painful than the first. About the only thing I remember about that second holiday season was one of my sons giving me a Christmas gift of a beautiful heart ornament that was hand painted in Becca’s memory.

The following couple of years my heart still struggled to be part of the holiday season. I went through the motions for the sake of the family, especially my grandchildren.

One year, Becca’s collection of Snow Buddies made it to my house, and I agonized over whether I wanted to set out her favorite Christmas display in my home.

I did it.

I cried some pretty hefty tears while pulling them out and setting them up, but once they were all out and displayed, it felt like she wasn’t quite so far away anymore.

I didn’t think it would ever happen, but I realized I was actually making the shift from feeling like the holidays were a slap-in-the-face reminder of my daughter being gone, to wanting the reminders because they had become warm memories I longed to embrace.

There was something behind all of this, that made it even possible.

…HOPE…

  • I had hope that my life would not always be this desolate and painful.
  • I had hope that God had not reached His limit on being able to help me through this suffocating darkness
  • I had hope in God’s resurrection power; that He could and wanted to breathe life back into me, when I felt like I died after the death of my daughter.

 

As the hope I had took root and started to grow, other things began to grow as well.

And believe it or not, this time of year is one of the best times for that growth to happen for those of us who are grieving.

Why?

First, because being grateful opens the door to making a needed shift in our focus. There is no question Thanksgiving is a bittersweet time for anyone who has faced a deep loss. We can’t stop the unexpected grief waves that attack which can make our hearts feel shattered into a million pieces. But after we allow ourselves the needed time to lean into the grief, we can make the decision whether we are going to stay there and wallow in it or take steps to pull ourselves out of the grief pit.

In other words, at some point we get to choose if we are going to dwell on the bitter, or on the sweet. And one of the quickest ways to cross over from the bitter to the sweet is to start listing (literally on paper is best) the good things we have in our lives. It can be as simple as “being able to smell the turkey as it cooks” to something as deep as, “I had twenty-nine wonderful years with her that I will never lose.”

And when it comes to Christmas, the whole reason Jesus came to this earth as a baby was to become a man and die so that we could have Life. God the Father knows what it is like to have someone very close to Him die, as He watched the torturous murder of His Son. He did that as an exchange for us, so that we would not have to stay in our place of suffocating darkness and pain of grief.

Once again, I want to acknowledge that we are going to have many surprise grief attacks that we will need to allow ourselves to lean into fully, whatever that looks like for each of us in that moment. And the fresher the loss, the more of an undercurrent of pain and sadness we will have throughout the season. But we will get to a point (if not this year, then probably within the next year or two) where we can choose whether our main focus is going to be on death, or life.

Our loved one died, but they also lived. Jesus died, so He could bring life. Not just eternal life after we die, but a fulfilled life after a tragic and painful loss. It won’t look the same… we won’t be the same… but we can still have life after death, here on this earth.

So, go ahead and grieve your loss that hurts so deeply. It is okay and necessary to feel that. But also have hope within that grief and remember: Hold On Pain Eases.

 

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If you would like to give a “gift” to your departed loved one this year, you may want to consider sponsoring an “In Loving Memory” heart decal, to be placed on the Hope Mobile. We would be honored to take him or her with us as we travel around the nation, keeping your loved one’s memory alive. (And it would be a gift to GPS Hope as well, since 100% of the proceeds goes directly into helping us continue our full-time ministry.) CLICK HERE to see the heart decals and find out more. 

 

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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Stop Telling Me I Need to be Thankful

Yes, this is the time of year where “thankfulness” abounds. It is everywhere we turn, from store decorations to commercials to Facebook posts.

But what do we do, when thankfulness is the furthest thing from our minds, and definitely not in our hearts? Do we stay in our house and pull the curtains tight? Do we yell at the TV, telling people who can’t hear us to stop it? Do we stay off social media, so we don’t have to feel like we are gagging at how happy and thankful everyone else is?

Yes, we might do all of those things and much more.

I KNOW how hard it is to be thankful or grateful this time of year, especially when those around us who have never lost a child tells us that is what we should do, because it will make us feel better!!!

Unless you can bring my child back, don’t tell me what to do to make me feel better! Right?

It has been seven years since Becca died, and this is a holiday I still struggle with, but for a different reason than you might think. You see, the last memory of all of us together for this holiday was at Becca’s house.

My Last Thanksgiving with My Daughter

Becca was very ill with severe heart damage (needing a heart transplant) and wheelchair bound. But in her LOVE for hosting and entertaining (it was a God-given gift she was quite good at) she begged to have Thanksgiving at her house instead of the tradition of everyone coming to ours. There were several people who said it would just be too hard; that she couldn’t do it. I knew I would still be the one making most of the food, and preferred using my own kitchen, but something in me knew she really needed to do this. So, I rallied around her, and convinced everyone (including her husband who would also need to shoulder much of the load) to let Becca host the family.

If you know anything about Becca, she always went (what some would consider) way overboard in decorating and preparing when she hosted, which is what made her so good at it. She was also OCD, and everything had to be done to her idea of perfection. (Not always a good combination, I must say…) And what made it worse that particular Thanksgiving Day, was that the only place to fit all fourteen of us was in their basement. This meant that she had to be carried up and down the stairs, with her wheelchair following, to be put back in it. It was a lot of extra work for several of us, causing some frazzled nerves for sure.

But she did it and was SO happy that day as we sat down to eat! My tears are running down my face right now, thinking about it.

This is one of those very bittersweet memories for sure.

And it is my choice to either dwell on the bitter, or on the sweet. As you well know, thinking about the pain of the deep loss, keeps us sucked under the suffocating darkness of grief. BUT, if we force ourselves to dwell on the sweet, such as how super glad I am that I convinced the rest of the family to let Becca host us, on what became her last Thanksgiving here on earth with us, and the wonderful memories I have because of it, I find myself so very thankful. (Oops, there is that word…)

And there you have it. You get to make the choice. Not because others tell you that you should, but because you want your memories to not only give you pain, but to also bring a smile to your heart within that pain.

If this is your first or second year without your child during the holiday season, it might not be possible yet. And that’s okay. But just know that you can eventually become thankful for the memories and the times you had, instead of swallowed up in indescribable pain at not having your child with you. It is possible.

From my personal experience, and many others who are on the same road, we have learned that finding even the tiniest things to be thankful for can start to make a huge difference on this journey. But it isn’t because someone told you that is what you should do. It is because you are ready to make a shift out of the darkness, and realize that this is one of those steps toward the light.

Are you already dreading the Christmas season? I invite you to join me each Sunday live during the advent season, to walk through this difficult time of year together, acknowledging Emmanuel, God with us, within the painful earthly loss of our children. To find out more about it, click here.

 

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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