Ethan’s Mom: If you have ever read a book, pamphlet, or website about grief, you know that there are “stages of grief.” If you’ve read a few, you likely know that these are not linear stages. You don’t progress neatly through denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I never liked the word “acceptance” but that’s probably a topic for another blog post…

So much of the last two years for me has been spent cycling back and forth from “Am I sad enough?” to “How can I survive if I am this sad forever?” It’s particularly frustrating when just a random day becomes heavy under the weight of unexpected grief.

The last few days I have felt anxiety swelling up inside. Sometimes I don’t know what part of that to attribute to my personality, my more generic “mom anxiety”, or to grief. I know sometimes when I am too busy, the emotions build up. Apparently you can put grief on hold but it will have it’s way eventually. It particularly doesn’t help when regular stress compounds the feelings. For instance, Ethan’s twin brother has in the past 10 days (over our spring break road trip, no less) chewed through his pacifier and climbed out of his crib. Thus, my youngest child at home is sleeping his second night in a toddler bed upstairs as I write this. The transition to a big bed is never smooth, and indeed last night there was a lot of crying and waking. That is stressful anyway, but then you add the layer of “how would we do this with 2 two-year olds? Would they be getting up to play or climbing into one bed?” and “These are just more milestones I’ll never experience with Ethan, everyone is just leaving him in the past.” It’s not an overt, stop-me-in-my-tracks pain but more of a generalized cloud over me.

As much as I have heard the stages of grief are not sequential, predictable, or linear, I have always thought of the imagery of the valley as talking about a period of time where the pain is intense and the grief is overwhelming. And certainly, the darkest valley of my life was the first two weeks of March two years ago. Nothing else comes close. Yet, these smaller dips in the pathway can be so challenging in their own right. The little valleys are all but invisible to outsiders and often completely unexpected. No one could have anticipated that the last few days would be tough for me when I had no idea myself.

On the way home from BSF I was pondering our discussion about the Proverbs 31 woman. Our leader encouraged us not to think about this passage as a to-do list or worse, a list of ways we don’t measure up. She reminded us that God sees us every time we serve our family, even if no one else does. She told us that El Roi, the God who Sees, is one of her favorite names of God. This brought to mind a book I am reading with a small group of women over six weeks this spring, Sensible Shoes. One of the characters has a tattoo of an eye on her wrist. The original meaning was to remind her of El Roi, the God who saw her when she was a young single mother in desperate circumstances. Over time, the eye turned from a loving gaze to a judgmental all-seeing eye watching her mess up over and over. The storyline for her character includes how she is learning how God really does see her and truly loves her both because of and in spite of who she is.

As I was pondering the idea of El Roi in my present circumstances, “Hills and Valleys” by Tauren Wells came on the car radio. It was such an encouraging reminder that I am not alone. When I was 14, I spent the summer at a far away camp where I didn’t know a soul. On a particularly lonely day, I received a note from my dear Grandmom that said, “Remember, we Christians are never alone.” On many, many occasions since then, I have recalled that note, written in her slightly messy handwriting and signed with her trademark phrase, “Don’t forget you’re loved.”

Instead of worrying about stages of grief or progress or setbacks, I am realizing I should be focused on climbing hills, trudging through valleys, and taking things a step at a time, always grateful for El Roi and the people he has placed in my life to walk alongside me on this journey. It’s not always easy to believe, but no matter where I am or how I feel, I am not alone and I am loved.

“I’ve walked among the shadows
You wiped my tears away
And I’ve felt the pain of heartbreak
And I’ve seen the brighter days
And I’ve prayed prayers to heaven from my lowest place
And I have held the blessings
God, you give and take away

“No matter what I have, Your grace is enough
No matter where I am, I’m standing in Your love

“On the mountains, I will bow my life
To the one who set me there
In the valley, I will lift my eyes to the one who sees me there
When I’m standing on the mountain aft, didn’t get there on my own
When I’m walking through the valley end, no I am not alone!

“You’re God of the hills and valleys
Hills and Valleys
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone”