Ethan’s Mom: Last year during a church wide emphasis on spiritual formation, I learned about the Prayer of Examen.  I wanted to try and apply that spiritual discipline on the evening of the 3rd anniversary of my greatest loss.  After I started writing, I thought maybe posting this would help someone who is struggling to see how God is working in his/her life even on a dark and difficult day.  To clarify, this is not an exercise I could have done on the first or second anniversary.  My journal entries around those days are full of painful questions and lament.  But there was a shift this year, and although I don’t know exactly how I feel about it, it was easier in many ways.  So here is my prayer from last night:

Everyone slept last night, so I was given the rest I needed to face today.  A full uninterrupted night sleep is never a given at this house.

I experienced your grace through Ethan’s Dad, who got up and started the kids’ morning routine without pulling me out of bed.  He gave me the time I needed to gather up my courage before rolling out from under the covers.

You prompted me to go to BSF today.  I walked into the foyer and K greeted me with a hug and a heartfelt prayer for peace and for the ability to see the good you would work throughout the day.  I’m not sure anyone has ever hugged me and prayed at the same time.  I wish my memory would allow a full transcription of the prayer; it was beautiful.

On the elevator, you reminded me of the strength you provide.  It surprised me that you wanted me at BSF this morning.  P told me on the elevator that she remembered me coming back to BSF weeks after Ethan died, how she appreciated my bravery and honesty in admitting that it wasn’t the easiest choice.  Other leaders hugged and told me they prayed for me in the morning.

My group members prayed for me and left messages of encouragement on the GroupMe chat, even the ones who just had babies yesterday.  Everyone who attended class participated, and I was blessed by our discussion.

You gave me the idea to ask L and S if they could watch the little boys while we went to the cemetery when I couldn’t figure out the best plan.  You moved their heart to enthusiastically volunteer, and you were there in the “birthday cake” and “carwash” games, loving on two of my living children through their undivided attention, on a day it is hard for me to engage with the kids.

When we returned, I had an enchilada left over from when one of my group members brought us dinner last night.  Then I also received a text offering to have dinner delivered to us tonight.  After praying last year for someone to bring us dinner and giving up when it didn’t happen, I was shocked to get not one but two dinners provided for us.  Two dinners.

We received text messages from people I didn’t think would remember.  Your grace allowed me to accept that we didn’t hear from others I thought would remember.  Along with cards from our parents and a few others, we received a homemade card from our daughter.  “Smile! I love you guys!” with a picture of the twins swaddled up inside, along with a heart that has a hole in it and a caboose, her two preferred symbols for her youngest brother.

And oh goodness, your blessings don’t get sweeter than the 4 kids we get to hold here on earth.  Hugs, silliness, and giggles brought smiles I wasn’t expecting to smile today.  Were they perfect?  No, but we had less drama than has been the norm around here lately.  Soccer was cancelled because of the rain, so our oldest son and Ethan’s Dad were home and we all ate dinner together.  Chick-fil-a was followed by caboose cookies — I still can’t believe my mom found a caboose shaped cookie cutter.  “Baking therapy” was nice, the cookies looked and tasted great, and the kids enjoyed them.   The sweetness of the treats reminded me of my sweet Ethan as well as your goodness.

We heard several train whistles.  My mom saw the first cardinal of the year on her fence today, and cardinals always remind her of Ethan.  My mother-in-law sent pictures of a hyacinth that a friend brought to them, praying that she would pick the one with twin blooms.  Thank you for being present with them in their pain of losing a grandson and watching their kids grieve the loss of their own child.

Have I missed anything?  Well, maybe the most important thing.  A real sense of Your presence.   Your presence with me as I mourned at Ethan’s grave alone yesterday and with us as Ethan’s Dad and I reflected on our feelings — some familiar, some surprising.  At the graveside, I heard your Spirit whisper to my heart, “Love is eternal.  Pain is not.  And not just the final end to pain that will come at the end of time but the gradual lessening of pain as I heal your heart.  It’s OK to allow the hurt to dissipate because the love will remain.”

You were close, and for the first time, that didn’t seem like a consolation prize.