Brokenness a Key



This post is in Memory of my Precious Jocab who we lost to a tragic accident on August 14 2003, today, February 09 is his Birthday. I thought as a tribute to him I would post something from my journal about a year following his death.

Today was a better day. Pat and I spent it together, mostly in silence. It was good to share the time where no words were necessary and the silence the best communicator. We ended the evening with a conversation that started in the car and ended as I held her just before she drifted off to sleep. It was a conversation that lasted at least an hour and yet very few words were exchanged. I began be asking, “Are you worried about me.” “I am always worried about you but know when you are silent you are working through it. I just need to know from time to time that you aren’t upset with me for something and as long as you’re not I am ok with your silence.”

My mind was racing all night with thoughts, mostly random, but all seemed to be directing me somewhere. “Deep”, what is so significant about that word? God is digging that deep well and the depth of my heart and soul have been penetrated. Deep seems to have a theme in my life. I wonder if that is what people will see when they look into my eyes, depth.

I think about days like the last two. I have no desire to talk to anyone. I am not sure why, maybe I am so unsure about the lessons I am learning that I don’t want to contaminate the process. My thoughts go to the depth of my struggle, which to a large degree is a very private thing. I realize at sometime they will become public, but not now. This struggle occurs at the very depths of my soul. The struggle comes as the result of great loss, a loss so great it is difficult to comprehend the thought of life without Jacob.

I have one couple in my life that constantly try to comfort me, not by seeking to enter into my pain, but to share just how they fully understand what I am going through. I am sorry but they have no clue. There are others who I know can fully appreciate my pain and with that intimate knowledge seek not to convey their “understanding”. They let me talk, and they listen. Others who mean a great deal to me offer their presence without commentary. They have no way of understanding my pain and don’t try to act like they do. I know they struggle because they don’t understand the meaning of this ending in my life, the shock of this great change, the emptiness that has invaded my life.

They cannot really share my pain because what I have lost cannot be totally understood, respected or revered by them. Pat has helped them by describing the “nevers,” things she will never experience with Jacob. Our friends look on caringly, of course, but there’s little else they can do. They advise, but they cannot possibly know the pain of every step we take. It is not their arms that are empty yet heavy, not their hearts pained with every beat, not their lungs gasping for breath beneath the weight. It isn’t even my desire that they would understand, the cost of this understanding is too great.

A man not well acquainted with me made a comment to a friend of mine. “He just needs to move on.” He felt qualified to make that statement since he had lost more than one of his own children. It is the “pick yourself up, brush your self off” mentality. “Walk it off, pull yourself together”. Sorry, that dog don’t hunt for me.

How do I move on when the thought of moving on is unimportant. If anything, it is the last thing I want to do, it seems impossible. And, as far as I am concerned, moving on would be the worst thing anybody could do. Go on for what reason?

Those others who stand at the edges of my life cannot realize the sense of deep, deep isolation that comes when life as I have known it has been suddenly and irreparably changed. The most difficult are those who desire to, or pray for the pain to be taken away. There is no one who can take the pain away because the pain cannot be taken away. There is no one there to ease it because it simply cannot be eased. They seem to miss the fact that the pain is my connection to the one I have loved and lost. To avoid it would be to avoid the very connection I have with my son.

So at this moment in time my life has slowed to a crawl, and for good reason. The key to this moment in my life is what the depth of my despair is accomplishing. It is here that I find my Lord in a profoundly personal way. This suffering, this grief, the depth of my pain has thrown me into the sea of his love.

 As I read the lament of Jeremiah I read that it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD. I am vindicated in my desire to remain alone and silent, “for the LORD has laid it on him. Let him bury his face in the dust- there may yet be hope.” He has reached into the depths of my darkness, into the pain of my suffering and expressed his desire for intimacy with me.

I  sense that trial, pain, suffering and these distortions of life have a great deal more to do with God’s desire for me than his desire to produce anything in me.

I think I have a mental picture of my “deep calling unto deep”. First I saw, what would be my heart, being opened up to its core. My mind questioned why this would be and another picture representing my soul had been ripped open exposing it’s core as well. I was puzzled by these images until God spoke to my heart saying that these trials, these difficulties are the keys that open the depths of a man’s heart and soul. The more difficult the trail, the pain, the deeper God ministers intimacy.

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