slogging along

Yesterday we said goodbye to a cousin's 19-month-old daughter. It was very sad, very painful and very, very emotional.

I'm so grateful that I have an understanding husband - he actually offered to come with me because he knew it would be a tough time for me, bringing up lots of recent hurts and emotions.

That being said, obviously the funeral wasn't about me. It was so tragic seeing a little blonde-haired beauty lay in a casket. It was so heart-breaking to see a young couple lose their only child. It was just wrong.

There were glimpses of good mixed in with all the sadness though. This little girl's grandpa wrote a very eloquent piece about what he learned from her - mostly humor and to be steadfast in life. The pastor gave a very interesting sermon and used a gospel story that I never would have imagined at a funeral. He spoke from Luke 24 about the two men walking on the road to Emmaus (this was shortly after Jesus' death). He described them as "slogging along down the road" - a terrific word picture of how life is during grief. He also had very appropriate, understanding and kind words for the parents as to what they would expect during this next stage of their life, and how people would come alongside them to support them in their grief. I felt as if either this pastor had lost a child or God had given him perfect words because his message was so insightful about grief and what it can and will do, and how to work through it. He even talked about leaning into the pain at times, embracing it - a very difficult thing to do, but necessary for healing.

It was a helpful message for me as well.

At the grave site, just as one of the pastors placed the dirt on the coffin in the shape of the cross, a huge gust of wind came up, whipping the canvas of the canopy tent and making a powerful, whooshing sound. I'm still not sure if it meant anything, but the timing was peculiar.

These parents are in for the test of their lives and I pray that they will lean on each other, trust that God is sovereign and use this pain to better their ministry (they are both pastors). I wanted to warn them what God will likely require of them in the future, but I didn't dare. I know from experience that He will place people in their paths now who have also lost a child and will want them to comfort and share in another's pain. The upside is that it makes the loss serve a better purpose. The downside is that it also brings back memories and hurt.

They will be slogging along for awhile, just like I have been. But, the boots we wear get less heavy. The muck we're trying to get through gets less viscous. The steps we take get less timid. Until suddenly, we're no longer slogging. We upgrade to a trudge, then a traipse, then we find ourselves actually walking. It will be awhile before we saunter, glide, skip or run, but we will someday, when our tears have washed all the weight off our boots and we can fling them off to run barefoot.