Mae's Thread: Mend

An Important Note: This blog post may touch on themes of grief and trauma, including the loss of a child, accidental death or injury, or moral injury. It is written from a peer's perspective, not a professional counselor. If you think this content could be difficult for you to read, we recommend having a trusted counselor review it first.

The Weightiness of It All

It all begins with a desire to survive.

Just a few short months after getting married, I was in physical therapy three times a week for some neck and back injuries I had sustained from a car accident. My car had been hit from behind, and I didn't realize at the time the incredible toll it had taken on my body. When I found myself wobbling up a flight of church stairs and physically unable to control the button on a drinking fountain without perpetually shaking my right arm, I knew something wasn't exactly right. Little did I realize that the car accident had aggravated injuries in my body from a previous car accident decades before that had never fully healed.

Even though I was grateful to finally be in physical therapy, the exercises were leaving me in tremendous pain by the end of each day. This may have had something to do with my bright idea to schedule my physical therapy sessions at the crack of dawn before work each day. Remind me never to do that again!

By the time 5:30 p.m. rolled around each evening, I found myself collapsing to the floor, scrunched up into a throbbing bundle of aching, inflamed muscles.

Standing hurt, sitting hurt, and even lying down hurt. It was just a matter of deciding which part of my body I was going to feel. Despite the fact that I had dealt with increasing amounts of chronic pain and weakness from these injuries for years, I was not sure which was worse—the sickness or the cure!

Eventually, as the weeks ticked past, I began to notice a sense of progress with my exercises. Less pain, more strength and mobility. You cannot imagine how much this lifted my spirits.

There was true hope in my journey after all.

An Unfair Pairing

I heard a pastor preach recently on what the word “glory” from the Bible means. In its most literal sense, it means “weight” or “heaviness.” The pastor made an illustration about his little girl's dolly high chair. He reasoned that if he were to try to sit in that chair, his “glory” would be too much for it. The chair would undoubtedly fall to pieces.

This brought to mind a verse in the Gospel of Matthew 11:28-30:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

I've heard it said that when oxen are yoked together in the fields, a younger or weaker ox is often paired with an older, stronger, and more experienced one. The yoke is actually designed in such a way that the stronger ox must bear the brunt of the burden himself, allowing the less experienced ox to carry just enough to strengthen him without becoming overwhelmed under the intense weight.

Beginning weightlifters understand this concept. When they are just starting out, even very light weights can feel extremely difficult to maneuver. Yet with time and enough consistent training, the exact same dumbbells that once felt impossible to lift begin to “feel” lighter and lighter. Of course, it isn't the weights themselves that are changing.

It's the lifter who’s grown.

So it is with us and the struggles we carry in this life. Christ is the stronger ox. As we stay “yoked” in relationship with Him, He is ever able to carry the bulk of the heaviness that would otherwise seem to crush us.

Yet, His ultimate aim is not that we should stay weak. God's greater desire is that we should grow in His likeness—taking on the shape of His spiritual muscles little by little each day. It isn't that He desires for our lives to be burdensome or harsh. It's that He knows that if we continue to strive with Him in the fields, we will become a reflection of His glory that shines like diamonds against a velvety black canvas of this homesick world.

It may not feel or look like glory in the immediate aftermath of something that could never be described as beautiful. You may not yet see the hope that exists for your current circumstances. Yet there is One who stands right beside you, ready for you to partner with in your strivings to survive each day. As He promises, His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Not because the circumstances are easy or light, but because He is strong enough to carry them with you. This is not only one of His deepest desires, but it is a treasured labor of His great love for you.

Dear One, no matter what you've been through—you can have hope today because of His unwavering and unlimited love for your unique and precious life. In this life we will face many trials, consequences and, at times, pain. Sometimes our trials are physical and other times they are complex emotional ones.

Will you allow Him to partner with you, under the weightiness of it all?

Healing Can't Be Skipped

According to woundevolution.com, there are four stages of healing from a physical wound: hemostasis, inflammation, proliferation, and maturation. Each and every stage of healing is vital and important. If any of these stages were skipped, the wound would not heal properly and it would be left an infected, unhealed mess. 

Just as we must heal from physical wounds one step at a time, we must also heal from trauma one step at a time.

When we have an emotional wound, we need to take the time to let ourselves go through each stage of the healing process. It does not have to be in vain. Yet we must let each stage come to full completion to find the maturity that we are seeking.

In the early stages, we need to allow ourselves to rest and find respite and community support.

It can be beneficial to start small. For the first month, my youngest brother worked remotely from the confines of my home, so that he could be a silent supporter during my initial shock. Through his and my husband's purposeful ministry of presence, I felt the covering that I needed while I wrestled through the beginning stages of grief, numbness, and disbelief. They were a huge part of my metaphorical hemostasis, and emotional stabilization.

Later on, I began to slowly open up to more of my family and friends. Often this was through phone calls or texts. I needed so much time and energy to process. Regarding the sudden loss of a child, I heard someone once say “it only hurts when you breathe.” At least for me, they were not wrong.

Just getting up in the morning to take a shower, get to work, and focus on the daily tasks of living was extremely taxing on my emotions. Every ounce of emotional energy I had left after work, I gave toward caring for my children. 

Yet, with each new day and each little step forward, I began to be able to give more of my attention and my heart to a larger circle of trusted family and friends. It's okay to choose a “small but mighty circle” for this stage of your journey. It can be beneficial to take your time and be intentional about one little thing each day.

Of course, that doesn't mean sitting and being completely stagnant forever. Eventually, it’s like that physical therapy that hurts a bit worse in the beginning. Part of healing is carefully and slowly adding tasks that will strengthen those weakened emotional muscles.

This is when God may allow us to carry a little bit more of the yoke each day. It's not to harm us. It's because He wants us to become stronger—He knows we need to survive and grow and find greater purpose again.

His desire is for us to eventually proliferate and mature, allowing our wounds to heal with the help of His everlasting arms.

Someone once told me that “there's no other way but through.” Somehow, this has been a comforting realization for me. It's been kind of like “Well, if this is the only way to go, then this is the direction I will head.”

As you grow, your grief may never be completely gone. I may always remember my darkest hour, to some degree. Yet, I have found that God has shown me that I have grown around my grief.

I'm a different person, but I am also a walking expression of His faithfulness and His ability to make something new in me. 

Elisabeth Elliot wrote a book entitled Suffering is Never for Nothing. I highly recommend it. We may not always understand the reasons why God allows certain trials or consequences into our lives, until we are face to face with Him. What we can trust is that very often God will use our suffering in such a way that, as Elliot puts it, there will be “repercussions for the life of the world.” 

However, it is important to note that if meaning-making feels impossible right now, that’s okay. Healing doesn’t require finding a ‘purpose’ for pain on any timeline. 

Here's to your healing, Dear One!