I had a wonderful opportunity to speak at a women’s Bible study during their testimonial series earlier this year. I was able to write down my testimony from the past three and a half years. During that time, I wept and I laughed. I remembered magnificent and dreadful moments that had gotten concealed in the passage of time.
Grief does not go away. It doesn’t even change. Jedidiah is my son. It is as true today as it was two years ago, yet as life marches forward; new babies are born to friends, weekly activities overtake birthdays, and those physically present before us become the ones we pour into. The passage of time will bring new awareness, new understanding, new needs, and new loves. But, it does not change grief.
Encarta’s definition of grief is “intense sorrow…great sadness, especially as a result of a death.” No, grief does not change. Not for me. In any moment I can feel the intensity of the loss of my son. I can feel my arms empty. I can feel my heart heavy. I can’t specifically recall his smell, yet I know that it was sweet and strong. The passage of time will take away memories, will lessen the ability to stay caught in the moment of death, will give fresh perspective, will reveal God’s purpose, will bring comfort.
While the grief itself will not change, the process of grieving does. The passage of time will force change. I am so thankful for my moments with Jedidiah, and I am thankful for the last two years. God uses the passage of time to reveal His bigger plan, His greater purpose. I can become a blubbering mess in 2.2 seconds and reenter my grief at any time, but God holds me tight and loves me and shows me “why” and “what now.” So, I don’t most of the time, not now. I choose what I think about, focus on, and do with what I have. Everyone must as time passes—whether they have lost a child or another loved one, or even if they are simply having a rough time in life.
So, today we honor Jedidiah by moving on with life. His brother gets his braces off, and all of his brothers will be at Scouts this evening. And, today we honor Jedidiah by stopping to think of him in specific ways. His father took the day off to be close by my side; we will take cookies to the team at Vanderbilt, we will cook dinner for friends with a new baby, and we will bake a cake to celebrate his life.
My many thanks to those of you who have been aware of his birthday and have taken the time to reach out to me, letting me know that he has not been forgotten by you.
May God shine upon you today, and reveal His immense and marvelous love.
We are Jedidiah. 