Today is Grace’s birthday again. Many of you who read my blog (thank you for doing so!) will know that I write something, each year, to mark the date and celebrate her life. For the last couple of years, I have written reflections and poems and thoughts, as a cathartic process, to help me to face this date and remember.
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| The angel we hang on our tree, to remember Grace |
This year, remembering feels different again. I mentioned, in last year’s post, the counselling I had been through and how much it had helped. I am, by nature, sceptical of these things, until I see real ‘proof.' I’m never entirely sure how to measure change and progress in matters of the heart and mind, but I know that, eight years on, the pain is less than it was at seven and six and five, so I keep going, trusting that healing does take time and energy and that it does get easier, in barely measurable increments.
This year feels different for a couple of reasons. One is that it feels a little as though my tragedy of Christmas past has been subsumed by a new and much more recent one – the loss of my brave and beautiful sister, just three months ago. I think our hearts can only deal with so much at once, so I’m grateful that I feel so much better able to face Grace’s memory this year, as most of my heart is taken up with a much more recent ache. Reflecting on my journey of grief of a different sort, eight years on, gives me hope that I will make it through this one too.
The other reason, I think, is related to the power of telling our stories. In other Decembers, I have felt the traumatic memory and all the associated pain fall out of the loft hatch with a thud, along with the dusty boxes of tree decorations. Every Christmas song in the shops and every ‘Christmas Countdown’ Facebook post has, historically, punched me in the chest and filled me with nervous dread.
But this year has been different. At points in the year, I have delved into my story and had opportunities to share it with others in fresh ways. Partly in blog posts and partly in preparation for a two-week outreach event at church, I have shared bits of my story in other parts of the year, leaving it less prone to lurk and leap out and bite me, as December approached.
In April, I planned to send a helium balloon up into the sky, to remember Grace when she ‘would’ have been born. This back-fired when my six-year-old son fell in love with the balloon and its connection to his sister and refused to let me do it. It then remained in my lounge for a month, a pink and very shiny reminder of her, for much longer than I intended. Somehow, though, it helped and felt right.
In August, I typed out my ‘full story’ for the first time (in inverted commas, because the full story would take a whole book to tell), ready to help others at church tell their own stories. Later, I edited it for the church magazine. In October, I had the unusual opportunity of being recorded telling my story. There were a few emotionally charged moments and a fair amount of editing needed (shout out to the amazing Helen of Little Ninja Media), but it felt, again, like there was cathartic power in the telling of the story, the reflecting on how far I had come, how far God had carried me, since that awful December day. Watching yourself on video is always slightly cringe-evoking, (especially when I was in a room full of people, watching it at a guest event!) but I include the link here, for anyone who is interested and has 6 minutes to spare:
If you haven’t got time to spare, I include the written version below – not exactly a transcript, but it’s what I wrote and worked from, for the video.
The thing about story-telling, is that you can never fully capture all that you endured. But somehow, even in relaying parts and snippets, taking things out from the dark parts of your mind, dusting them down and bringing them into the light, some of their strength-sapping power is broken, some of the pain abates.
So, thank you, as always, to all who continue to live my story alongside me – to everyone who has offered any small word or hug or prayer. I am grateful for each one of you and hope that my story connects with yours and helps you live it differently, somehow.
So happy birthday precious Grace. I’m grateful you were here, so briefly in our lives, and that your legacy of helping me to see God and others, in fresh and better ways, lives on.
YouTube Video ‘Transcript’ (Approximate!)
People often question the existence of God and dismiss the idea of having faith in Him because of bad things that happen – personally or on a world-wide scale. My story is one small illustration of how faith in God can hold up, even in the tougher times. Instead of walking through difficult things alone, in Him we can find hope, healing and strength to get us through.
My background, briefly, is that I became a Christian at 14 years of age. I hadn’t had any ‘faith’ upbringing, no church background. I was invited to church after attending a youth group in my village and, after a few weeks, I prayed a prayer, inviting Jesus into my life.
Life carried on; I did well at school, got a Degree at University, went into teaching and had my first son, who is now 9.
In July 2009, I found I was pregnant again with my second child; the twenty-week scan revealed that the baby was a girl – the perfect way to complete our little family. We phoned friends and family with the good news.
A few weeks later, two days before Christmas, we had some very different phone calls to make. I had begun to feel concerned that I couldn’t feel a great deal of movement. Trying to dismiss it as unfounded fear, I called the doctor. We waited anxiously and were called quickly. The doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat. A scan at the hospital confirmed our worst fears.
It’s hard to really capture all of that and the weeks and months that followed, in a few words. I went through a lot of anger and disappointment. This was the first really hard thing I had ever had to face. I asked some tough questions and there were moments where I felt like giving up on God altogether.
Ultimately, I had to choose. Was I going to be angry with God and give up, or trust Him and keep going? I chose to carry on, knowing in my heart it would be better to recover from this with God supporting, guiding and healing, than it would be attempting to go it alone.
He has helped me in countless ways – strengthening, healing – bringing the right words at the right time to move me forward when things felt hopeless, giving me the right people to connect with to help me to heal and move forward.
I know I have experienced layers of healing over time, but Christmas has always been a big hurdle for me, every year. It always feels like it contains incompatible opposites. The sparkle, cheer and jollity can be hard to face, alongside my traumatic memory. I know Christmas can be like that for others too.
Each year, when I face it, a few things have helped carry me through:
1. Seeing and trusting that God can bring good out of even the worst things. I know, for example, that losing Grace has enabled me to have greater compassion and empathy for others facing their own tough times.
2. Celebrating how far God has brought me, even in the rubbish moments – which I still have – I know He holds me, carries me and continues to heal me.
3. Having an eternal perspective, through faith in Jesus. Hope of heaven is real and important. I know this life isn’t all there is; knowing I will see her and hold her again, in a place with no pain or suffering, gives me hope.
4. Looking further than the chaos of Christmas, further than the Christmas story, to the saviour He became. Jesus walked on earth, experienced pain and brokenness and died in excruciating pain and brokenness so we could be reconnected with God. He identifies with our pain and brokenness and walks with us through it. My life experience and those of countless others, proves this.
One of my favourite verses over the Christmas season is Isaiah 9v2: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light, on those living in the land of deep darkness, a light has dawned.” I know He does this for me, as I face tough things and moments of darkness – asking Him to shine His light on me always helps me move forward with fresh hope.
So, in summary – rubbish stuff happens – none of us can deny it, some of us are living it. I know, from my own painful experiences, that Jesus saves, heals, comforts, gives hope for the future. I pray that anyone suffering similar - or even deeper, more far-reaching hurts and disappointments – will see that they can find hope and healing too, in Jesus, as I have.
This is beautiful! Thank you for sharing your story. I'm glad you're finding healing as you do that and I'm sure it is helping others too.
ReplyDeleteIt has been a privilege to walk with you through your story and to see it powerfully affect others. I know you will experience greater healing and also see others healed as you share your story of God's grace.
ReplyDeleteYou come over so well in the video, Georgina, with a lot of humanity and warmth, even as you tell such a painful story. I'm so sorry about the death of your sister, too, adding to the layers of grief in that way.
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