Friday, February 27, 2015

I don't do things in order.  I was often guilty of writing the final draft of my paper first, deleting and rearranging to print off a less refined copy as a "rough" draft and then paring it down even further to make an outline. I don't quite understand or submit easily to things that take a process.  I often find myself digging through the garbage for manuals or assembly instructions I was sure I was too brilliant to need.  

This being said, the stages of grief for Branson have been no different.  I was desperate to heal well and learn from what we had walked through. I was surprised when I researched the stages, because they seemed all backwards.. 
Denial? How could I deny what had happened? How empty the crib was.  The baby blankets folded- the tiny clothes hanging.  There was no denying.  
Depression? Although I did experience a very low time in the months following Branson's death, life forced me to get up, to love my kids, to pursue truth. I felt as though in order to heal well, I should be experiencing something similar to what the psychological community believed to be both normal and healthy.  But I wasn't.
Bargaining? What did I have to offer God for her life? mine? I had already given it to Him- told Him indefinitely that I would use her miracle for His glory...that her healing would be a direct link to His all divine power.  I have nothing to offer the Creator of the Universe that I wasn't already laying at His feet during this time.

So, when I found myself in Acceptance of God's choice not to heal Branson on earth, I was relieved.  I was relieved that I had found a place of rest, that I was willing to let her be His.  I was thankful that I was healing.  

Imagine, then, when I wake up 5 days before what would be her 4th birthday to find myself incredibly angry at my God.
Angry at everything.
Angry for the burden, for the journey, for the heartache, for the testimony, for the reputation and stigma it carries, all of it.
I wanted to run away and pretend it never happened- denial.
I wanted to hide- depression.
I wanted to tell God to make something rise up out of that hole he left in me- that it was pointless- His glory could have been revealed in her healing more than her death...what was He thinking.- bargaining.


Oh. I get it.  

So what you are saying, God, is that you expect me to give you these things want me in your arms for the long haul. You have not forsaken me. You are in the midst of it.  The shepherd doesn't rescue the lamb from the briars and set it out on its own.....He is there to walk beside it, to watch over deliver it over and over. 

In every season you are asking for my heart........

Happy Birthday Sweet Branson
From Mama, Daddy, Jaden Lily, eason and Vivienne

1 comment:

  1. Johnna, your story began long before mine, but remembering it has helped me through some of the darkest moments of my own losses. Today I got on here to look for something you wrote years ago and link to it (I'm sorry I couldn't find it specifically, so I hope a home page link will suffice), and this post was right up front. I am here. I am so here. The weeks and months immediately following our losses were so much easier than here and now, more than a year later. This was exactly what I needed to read today. Thank you for being honest and sharing your life here. From one grieving mom to another, thank you.