TO THOSE WHO HAVE LOST

To those who have lost a friend or sibling whose life was too short, I mourn with you. The shock and pain of having someone by your side one day and finding out they won’t be the next is immense. I know you must feel robbed of many things on their behalf and I am so sorry for your loss.

To those who have lost a parent, I cry with you. I haven’t walked through this, but I imagine the difficulty doesn’t take note of how young or old you are. Whether you were the caretaker or still the one being cared for, it’s painful and difficult and I’m so sorry for your loss.

To those who have lost a spouse, right now I weep with you as I just recently caught the smallest glimpse of what you’ve experienced. When you linked arms with your husband or wife on your wedding day, this isn’t what you pictured. The lifetime of memories you had dreamed up with this person have been replaced by excruciatingly difficult circumstances and I am so sorry for your loss.

To those who have lost a child, I ache for you as I write this. When I try putting myself in your shoes, I can’t breath. My heart and my eyes sting when I imagine how your arms must long to hold them, even if it’s just one more time. What you would give to hear one more giggle. To share one more hug. To say one more thing. I am so sorry for your loss.

In early September of 2016, Brent and I walked through our biggest loss up to this point. I’m sure I will write about it eventually, but as for now, I still haven’t come up with the words needed. In the tender days and weeks following, we had a small community of close friends and family who gathered around us and ushered us through. They delivered meals and flowers and hugs and cards and they spoke words they thought were small. But those words were big. They were life-giving.

All of this to say, I hope you can find life in these following, small words.

If you’ve been told the lie that God let this “happen for a reason,” I am so sorry. I wish I could have been there for you in that moment. To stand beside you and protect you from that.  We live in a world that is broken and some things that happen are just broken and terrible things.

Can God bring beauty and life from broken things? Yes.

Does He sit around, devising plans of severe pain to teach you a lesson or show you a reason? No.

My prayer for all of you is that you would feel and hear what I did this past September:

In the midst of the pain and loss we were experiencing, I felt the gentle hand of our Creator on my back. While crying over me like a father over his hurting child, He whispered, “I never meant for it to look this way. I never wanted you to feel this. That wasn’t my plan. I want to redeem this for you. I want to bring beauty from this. But please know I never meant for it to look this way.”

 

3 comments

  1. Pingback: The Best Worst Day | little blue chair blog
  2. Aubrey · January 11, 2017

    I’ll never forget being told that, after miscarrying my second child, it might have been God’s way of letting me know that I worked too much and that all things happen for a reason. Words like this, while well intentioned, cut deeper than I could have ever imagined. Shortly after this, Brent talked about this during an amazing series at EastLake (“Dumb things Smart Christians Believe” – one of my favorites we’ve ever done). Thank you for penning these words Kylie so that this message can be shared and continue to help heal hurting hearts! Love you friend!

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  3. Maria Miranda · January 12, 2017

    Thank you 😊 for sharing this beautiful message, I have a friend who recently lost her husband and she is devastated in a lot of pain, regrets, guilt. I shared this message with her a few minutes ago, hopefully this will help her some, I will keep praying for her and you, God is good and would like that through your testimony you can help bring hope and joy to others that are in pain and hurt! Thanks 🙏 God keep blessing you. May be you can reach her sometime her name on Facebook is Yanet Castillo. My name is Maria Miranda, I used to work with Aubrey at Syngenta.

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