One of the things we've done this year is joined a Homeschool Learning Cooperative. While it has been a bit of a stretch and commitment, there have been some amazing moments of seeing my kids learn alongside their peers and good friends. I'll post about that separately. After her first class, Avielle came to me and looked slightly off. I asked what was wrong, and as usual, she replied "nothing." But as I began to dig her and ask questions about class and the lessons, that's when I hit the mark. She started to passionately explain, about how no one cared about Mary, the mother of Jesus. "What about Mary, Mommy? She had to watch her son die on a cross. That's awful! I feel so bad for Mary."
Avielle is our little theologian and would always talk to Patrick about his sermons. She loves God's word and has been a prayer warrior from a young age. Her heart is very tender, and for the rest of the day she couldn't focus on anything else but, "poor Mary." The story of Jesus's life, death and resurrection have affected us differently since the passing of Patrick. Death and life are more palpable. This is our second Easter without him, and it seems so mean and so wrong. But Avielle's focus on Jesus's mother helped me to gather and pen my thoughts about this Resurrection Sunday. Mary's story of watching her son be crucified is a quiet, hidden headline. The focus is on how Jesus got up! Jesus rose from the dead. But he did in fact die. And I can't imagine how His mother had to have felt watching that. Today, watching everyone go on about their Sunday, with their raised hands and brunch plans...I felt like the grieving community of believers were a part of the quiet, hidden headline. Jesus really rose; but Jesus really died, too.
Leading up to Sunday, we kept busy. I am thankful for the folks who clocked in to help me because it has been a heavy week and I needed to keep the kids occupied. But today, we have struggled so very badly. The kids have cried off and on, and they have been quieter than usual. I woke up this morning trying my best to go about my normal Sunday morning tasks. I knew the grief was there, it never relents. But there is always a slight hope that this is a nightmare, or a cruel prank. I found myself overwhelmed in a moment. I went into the bathroom, shut the door and began crying. "Not Again, Not Again, Lord NOT AGAIN!" How is it Easter, AGAIN, and Patrick is not here? What world am I living in? I didn't want this. I didn't see this for us...we weren't done.
I would have given just about anything today to be color coordinated, and showing up to church as a whole family, hands raised, singing "Because He Lives" at the top of my lungs. Our family loves Jesus. Our family LIVES Jesus, so why has this sorrow befallen us? But we did it. We showed up and went to church. We listened to the songs, we read the scripture. We all left, exhausted and somber. Thankfully we had planned ahead to go have dinner at my sister and brother -in-law's home. We had good food, crafts, and many hugs.
But the truth is, death is real. And while Christ did conquer the grave, Patrick is still not here with us. There is no song, no scripture that can take this ache away. Only God's grace is keeping us. Yes, we will see him in heaven, but the fact that we don't know when that will be...the fact that in order to hug him again we will have to lay down these earthen vessels and leave others behind feeling this crushing weight of grief is incomprehensible.
Here are some thoughts I shared on Instagram about our day:
"I know: Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. I know: He conquered Death and the Grave. But now, I also know a pain that I can't believe my Lord allowed. If today you've lost someone and you're doing well, I am happy for you. We count all the wins. But if today you've lost someone and you're down in despair and the songs and scripture don't take it away; don't feel guilty. Christ died for that too."
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