Wednesday, February 26, 2014

14 Things I Wish I'd Known Five Years Ago


Today marks five years since Hannah drew her last earthly breath and stepped into the arms of Jesus.

I have to be honest and say that my immediate reaction at that moment was relief that she was no longer suffering from cancer.  But that relief was quickly swallowed up by grief ... overwhelming, nearly debilitating sorrow at the loss of my precious daughter.

In those raw early days of grief, I remember looking at other people who had lost children several years previously and wondering how on earth those people had made it.  I could not fathom making it through five weeks, much less five years.

And yet, here I am.

It still doesn't seem possible.

I am not the same person I was 1,826 days ago, nor will I ever be that person again.  And that's not all bad ... in fact, that's probably a really good thing.

God has done a lot of work in my life over the last five years ... work that needed to be done.  And, oh my, He's got a lot more to do.  But, if you'll bear with me, I'd like to share a few of the things I've learned over the last five years ... Things I wish I'd known from the beginning.

1.  The loss of a child is indescribably difficult.  It impacts every fiber of your being, and shakes you to your very core.  There are times (even now) when it seems unsurvivable.  BUT ... but ... it does, it really does, get better.  There are those who will tell you that it never gets better.  Do not believe them.  However, we must earnestly desire to get better, and actively take steps to make that happen.  We are not given a choice about having grief, but we do have a choice in how we grieve.

2.  Much of the battle on this journey is spiritual.  Actually, "much" may be the wrong word ... "all" is probably closer to the truth.  At the time when we are the most vulnerable, Satan is absolutely relentless.  He bashes us in the head again and again with "if onlys" and "what ifs".  He fills our minds with memories of horrific sights, sounds, and smells.  He causes us to question God's goodness and mercy.  For me, the best way to fight this battle is to recognize it for what it is ... spiritual warfare.  Whenever I get really down, it is always because I've allowed Satan to get a foothold in my mind.

3.  This is not a competition.  In those early days, I spent a lot of time wondering which was "worse" ... losing a child suddenly and not being able to say good-bye, or having the opportunity to say good-bye but being forced to watch your child suffer in horrific ways.  I wondered if it was "easier" if the child you lost was an infant, or maybe it was "easier" if he or she was an adult when they went to Heaven.  I wondered how my grief stacked against with that of others.  I've learned that it does not matter.  After talking to hundreds of bereaved parents over the past five years, I've found that even though our losses are all different, our pain is the same.  The loss of a child is heartrending, no matter the child's age or the circumstances of his or her death.

4.  There is no time limit on grief.  I used to be so ignorant.  I actually used to think people "got over" the death of a loved one within a couple of months ... a year at the very most.  I now know that one does not "get over" the death of a child ... they just learn how to live without them.  I will be "over" the loss of my child when I put my arms around her neck in Heaven.

5.  Pain is not wasted in God's economy.  God can take our pain and bring good from it.  I've learned that one of the best ways to ease my pain is to stop focusing inward and begin looking for ways to serve Him and others.  It could be something "big", like starting a ministry or a foundation in your child's memory ... or it could be something "smaller."  One sweet mom I know watches the obituaries for parents who lose children close to her son's age when he died, and writes them encouraging notes.  Believe me, this is not a "small" thing to those who receive these gifts of love from her.

6.  There is a difference between happiness and joy.  Happiness is dependent upon circumstances, and since the day Hannah was diagnosed with cancer just over six years ago, my circumstances have not been what I have wanted them to be.  Absolutely everything I do is tinged with sorrow to some degree, whether it's just going to work each day, celebrating a family birthday, or planning my younger daughter's wedding.  Hannah is not here, and that means there is sadness in my heart all the time.  But, I can still have joy in my life, because that is not dependent upon my circumstances.  Joy is unassailable, because it comes from my relationship with God.  Joy is that deep-down, rugged knowledge that God will one day make all things right, even a 17-year-old girl dying of cancer.

7.  I don't have to be strong all the time ... In fact, my greatest strength lies in weakness.  I am not strong enough to do this on my own.  I must allow myself to be weak and lean fully on Him.  That is the only way to walk this road.  2 Corinthians 2:9 -- "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."  As my dear friend Donna says, God tells us, "I want you to be strong, but you don't have to be stronger than me."

8.  C. S. Lewis once said, "No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear."  In the early days of my grief, I felt very cavalier.  The thing I had feared most in life had happened ... What else was there to be afraid of?  As time has passed, I've begun to experience more fear.  I've met parents who have lost two, three, even four children.  If it happened to me once, why couldn't it happen again?  This fear could easily become paralyzing, even debilitating.  But, I've learned that I must give that fear to God, and put my loved ones in His hand.  I want to love having them more than I fear losing them.

9.  I have to remember that I am living in the temporary.  This world that seems so real to us now will dissolve in a moment someday.  I love these lines from the last book in the Narnia series, "The Last Battle" by C. S. Lewis,  "‘There was a real railway accident,’ said Aslan softly. ‘Your father and mother and all of you are – as you used to call it in the Shadowlands – dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is over: this is the morning.’"  When this life in the Shadowlands (but a dream) is over, the holidays will truly begin!

10.  I also have to remember this ... My future with my daughter is going to be so much greater than my past with her.  What an amazing thought.

11.  I cannot put a question mark where God has put a period.  God put a period at the end of Hannah's earthly life on February 26, 2009.  I can question His wisdom in that all I want to (and believe me, I have) but the period is still there.  I cannot change that; and I don't believe He wants me to waste the life He has given me in arguing with Him.  The period has not yet been placed at the end of my earthly life, and there are so much better things I can be doing with my energy and my time.  God still has work for me to do here.

12.  Everyone says stupid things to people who have lost children ... even other people who have lost children (I know I've said dumb things myself)!  I can choose to replay the hurtful things people have said over and over in my mind -- along with the snarky comebacks I wish I'd hit them with -- or I can choose to extend grace to those folks and move forward.  There is only one perfect Comforter ... the rest of us fall far short.

13.  God is sovereign.  God knew the number of Hannah's days before she was born (Psalm 139:16).  There is not a thing we could have done to extend her life by even a single day.  It does no good to question whether we should have gone to a different hospital or tried a different treatment.  She lived exactly the number of days God had ordained for her.

14.  Finally, I've learned that a short life is not an incomplete life.  I've talked to parents whose child never took a breath outside of the womb whose lives have been changed for eternity by that brief life.  Hannah's life may have been short, but it was definitely not incomplete.  In the early months following her death, we heard quite often from people whose lives had been touched by hers ... even a number of salvations directly due to her testimony.  As time has gone on, we've heard those kinds of reports less and less.  But may I share something with you?  A little less than a month ago, out of the blue, we received an email from an old high school friend of my husband's.  Brad had not heard from this friend in years; in fact, we did not even know he had followed Hannah's story.  Here's what he wrote in his email:

Brad,

Just a quick note to tell you what a blessing your journey has been to me, my patients and students that rotate through my facility. I made copies of every email you sent out over the years of Hannah's battle and kept them in a bound folder. [The emails he's referring to are available on this blog. Look in the right hand column and click on "Hannah's Story in Emails."]

Each night as the emails came I would read them to my daughter and son and we as a family would pray for Hannah and your family. I will never forget the day in Feb that I sat down and shared the email that Hannah had lost her battle with this disease. We all cried because of your transparency allowed us to be vested in your journey.

Even today I make all our nursing, x-ray, and oncology students to read the collection of emails at the start of their clinical rotation and it helps remind them we are not treating diseases...we are treating beautiful people like Hannah.

 My continued prayers for you guys. God bless and thank you for allowing others to see the beauty that continues to be Hannah's legacy. 

Ah ... to know that my daughter is remembered, and that her life is still having an impact on others ... there is no greater gift that can be given to a parent who's lost a child.


Five years.  It's a long time.  But it's five years closer to Home ... and that's just fine with me.  Even so, come Lord Jesus.


12 comments:

Sara Huizenga said...

Jill, this is so amazingly true - perfect eternal eternal perspective!! So blessed by having read - xoxoxo

Sara - Mommy to Ari Orange shoes - my little Heaven sent man ...

Sara Huizenga said...

Hannah is so beautiful - her smile makes me feel like I know her already too. <3 <3

lisa steele said...

Thank you for sharing. Hudson, my 13 year old son went to his Eternal home on 9/25/2013 after battling brain cancer for 10 months. Your blog entry put into words my same thoughts. Fondly, Lisa Steele
momoffivels@gmail.com

Northstar96sc said...

Hannah is one of the most beautiful Angels. I pray for comfort for your family and her friends. God Bless All of you--Carol from Ninety Six, SC a friend of Ari Orange Shoes.

Kelle said...

...Again.. Thank You.

Bobette Callahan said...

Jill, thanks for sharing Hannah's story with so many people. The pain and joy that come from losing a child can be lost in the overwhelming grief. On March 10th our son, Caleb, would have been 16 years old. Some days that seems like yesterday and some days it's an eternity. Greg and I have embraced the verse and all that it means that says: "James 1:2-3
King James Version (KJV)
2 My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;3 Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience." This verse and the 23rd Psalm have helped us continue on this journey, the one that will not end until we hold our son again!!
love to you, Brad, & Bethany
Bobette Callahan

Anonymous said...

Jill, you have written the exact message that I have spoken to others for almost 20 years. I couldn't help but feel a connection with you. 19 1/2 we lost our own sweet daughter Hannah to Leukemia at the age of 17 months. Thank you for choosing joy, and you're right, it IS a choice. God has so much more for us in this life but the reality of heaven is so much sweeter as we look forward to loving on our girls again!
Blessings,
Karen Lucht

Tanya Strayhorn said...

Thank you for sharing. My baby girl did not lose her battle with cancer....we are 14 year survivors! Praise Jesus! She was two when diagnosed, but even 14 years later we hear a story of the impact her our journey had. I say "our journey" because how we dealt with her illness made an impact too, just as reading your blog is touching & changing lives...bless you & your family. Kaylea was destined to be a warrior for Christ & knows the gift she's been given taking this blessing and passing it on. Oh...so much I want to say. You, have blessed me today.

Jill Sullivan said...

Thank you all so much for your kind comments, and thank you for sharing your own dear children with me. Bobette, I remember coming to your house just after Nathan went to Heaven, and being at a total loss for what to say. I never would have dreamed that Hannah would be going to Heaven several years after that. And Lisa, I prayed for Hudson, during his battle, and I continue to pray for you and your family now. Sara, I know your family is going through a lot of struggles right now, and I'm lifting you up in prayer as well. Karen, thank you for sharing about your precious Hannah ... Heaven will be sweet, won't it? And Tanya ... Praise God for your precious Kaylea's health and testimony of faith. God is good, isn't He?

Unknown said...

I have been a minister's wife for over forty years and many times needed to minister to hurting parents and children. Your words will help me to bless others and out of your pain will come healing and comfort for many. God bless you as you continue your earthly journey until you are with your daughter, never to know pain, sorrow, or separation again.

Renee said...

We are coming up on the 5th anniversary of our teen son's death to cancer, too. You have said it so well. Thank you.

Jill Sullivan said...

Thank you, Renee, and "minister's wife" for your kind words. I do hope this post brought you some comfort, Renee, and I am grateful for the encouragement from both of you.