Scroll down to the bottom of the page
to see a video of Gretta
and pictures from her funeral

Monday, January 5, 2009

Where is the Purpose?

So it's January. I am hopeful that this year will be better than the last. There is a part of me that is doubtful too, you see. For all the reading I have done, the clippets of information from all the books on grief, including the people I have talked to about grief, things aren't looking up.

Most of the people I talk to who have gone before me on this journey of grief are quick to inform me that it gets worse long before it gets better. According to the experts on the subject, we are looking at a good 2 years of hard traveling through the mirky waters of grief. At times this seems overwhelming at best. How is it that we could feel worse than we do now? When you already feel as if you are drowning, is it possible to feel as though you are drowning slowly and painfully in some abyss of thick mud? I tend towards, yes.

I have to tell you that I do laugh. I spent the holidays doing normal activities while feeling like I was going crazy. I played cards, made cookies, went skiing, played boot hockey (scored a few goals and even checked a few unknowing fellow players), wrapped and opened gifts, played Christmas music, went to Holiday Programs and services and rang in the New Year at a Waterpark with my family and friends. Pretty normal and even eventful, right? So tell me then why I felt like a 1/2 of a person, wishing I was locked up somewhere with a pack of cigarettes and a padded wall, maybe even some heavy sedation.

When Gretta first died, I had so many people tell me that my testimony at her funeral and the funeral itself (linked on my blog under "Gretta's Links") was such an inspiration to them, would change people and things for the better, that God would use this for good. That was sortof the mantra around me for a few weeks, maybe the first couple months even. I felt that maybe in all of this there was a purpose, a deep meaning, a reasonable reason.

In the aftermath of those first months, I have been left feeling like, "Where is the purpose, what has happened that explains even reconciles the death of my little 2 year old daughter?" I find it difficult to put on the damper for the optimists in my life, but I am not seeing it. Maybe it is not for me to see now or yet, or please God no! ever. I feel like screaming, "Show me something! Tell me something! Give me some reasonable but perferrably profound explanation here Lord and make it snappy!" Can I do that ? Can I scream at God? Will He listen to me when I do? I have to say I am not so sure. I mean I CAN scream, but is He listening to me?

I have always been a planner, an organizer, "in control" even in "out of control" situations. I guess this is one of those times where I must release myself into this completely unorganized, unplanned, total chaos careening out of control places and somehow find some kind of rest? Peace? Quiet? Solace? Yea, uh huh, right, I'll get right on that.

Incidentally or not, I was reminded by a friend that I need to be in the Word of God everyday to hear His voice. It is a voice that my soul aches for, it is His words that I need, His promises, His salvation and salve to my wounded being. So, taking her advice in hand, I have been reading Psalms and Proverbs at least everyday. I would be lying to say that I have found what I am craving there. I have not. What I have gotten however; is a small bandaid with a dot of Neosporin on it to cover my gaping wound. Like you would imagine, I put it on and within a short period of time it slips off, lost somewhere. The swift and obvious answer then is to go right back and get another dose, another bandaid, however small it seems and reapply, right? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. If it will console you to know it, I will tell you then, that I realize it and I will continue to do it; however brief the comfort, however small the relief.


michelle said...


Anonymous said...

go girl, get mad, good and mad. Good for you. It will not mean your not still in love with the lord. Just you don't understand and you don't like it. He knows. That's what matters.

Anonymous said...

I can't say I can even begin to understand your feelings. As a daddy to five kids I can't even bring myself to imagine the grief. I have cried many tears for you and Matt. I couldn't bring myself to say much to you at church when we were there a couple of weeks ago. Just a weak handshake at the greeting time during the service. As the anonymous posting says, you go ahead and be mad at God. He is our comfort and refuge-He cries with us too. He loves us and our kids more than we could ever imagine. He is our strength and we have the peace of knowing that we can dump it all on Him. I know that Band-Aid doesn't really ease the pain much but I also know that with time a wound does heal. There will always be a scar and you'll never forget your pain but it seems you have a strong faith and understanding our our Lord Jesus and you know what you need to do; hard as it may be some days. Know that we love you and your family and we're praying for you and even shedding tears for you.
Kenny G.

LL said...

It was so good to see you at the library on Monday. You are a great Mommy. I can't imagine how hard it would be to do the 'normal things' that the rest of us take for granted. I want you to know I am still praying almost daily for you and your family. God has placed such a burden on my heart for you. I am always amazed at your strength and your honesty. I am so sorry that you are walking through this tragedy, and I will pray that you will somehow be sustained enough to get up another day. God bless you with peace and comfort

Fireflyforever said...

I have just found your blog and wanted to reach out and say my heart breaks for you ... I am a 30-something, Christian mother of three. On October 14th my third child, my second daughter, Emma Faith, was stillborn. She never took a breath.

Reading through your recent posts has moved me greatly. I will not say I understand your grief - your grief is yours and mine is mine but I recognise the anguish, I recognise the anger, I recognise the difficulty in everyday living.

I cannot offer consolation - I just wanted to offer empathy.

tamara said...


When my friends the Coble's lost all three children, Chris' father did the main eulogy as he is a minister. He said he does not believe that this is "part of God's plan" as some would believe, because the God he loves and serves wants us all to have an abundant and full life; but rather he is there to wrap his loving arms around you to carry through the grief. (

You have been in the hearts of all since we learned of your loss and will continue to be. I am not certain who had the forsight to take the photos for you at such a terrible time of despair, but they are beautiful and you were brave to go forward and allow that day to be captured as well.

Know how much we all care and pray for you. I was moved to tears to see the butterfly because as I have shared with you before that is the sign my friend Laurie treasures... she always finds butterflys when she is missing her son Zac who died in February. What a beautiful, peacful reminder that Gretta is with you in spirit always.

Take care through your journey ~ hold onto Matt too.


Anonymous said...

If you haven't already, pick up a copy of The Shack. It's a fictional account of grief and God's love that is unlike any book I've ever read, especially unlike all the "how to get through grief" crap I read. If nothing else, it helped me let God wrap His comfort around me by encouraging a "REAL" relationship with Him.

Anonymous said...

Your oldest little girl looks so heart broken. I hope you're all doing well. Please hear each others hearts.

Jennifer said...
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