Guest Post by Jennifer
Having the honor of writing this guest post, I feel a certain weight upon my shoulders.
About to celebrate what would be the 12th birthday of my sweet angel, Ty, I am a survivor. I am 12 years out of the darkest part of my life. 12 years. That time, in some ways, seems immeasurable. As the magnitude of that number, 12, hits me, I think of so many of you who are still fresh in your grief. I wonder how many of you are still surrounded by darkness. That thought makes me want to squeeze every bit of knowledge I’ve gained into this one post, and offer it to each of you on a silver platter, praying that it will help you somehow.
I want to gather everything I’ve learned and tie it up in a beautiful package, one that brings your sunshine back. Unfortunately, I know that the journey for each of us is different, and your sunshine will come at a different pace than mine. My sunshine came on the wings of a butterfly, one warm afternoon on my porch swing.
While this amazing community brings many types of losses, we are all bound by that loss somehow. It is what makes us similar, what makes us understand each other when it feels as though no one can understand. Some of us had the privilege of knowing our children, and some were lost before they were born. My son was born with very severe heart defects as a result of Down Syndrome. He died when he was 3 ½ months old after a routine cardiac catheterization. I was 24 years old.
Days after his death, I found myself on the porch swing where the two of us would swing and enjoy the sun on our skin. I sat there, all alone now, talking out loud in the hope that he could hear me somehow. Though I had prayed that he would be healed, he hadn’t been. Now, here I was all alone, again, lost in my grief. I called out to him, telling him how much I loved him, how proud I was of him, and how much I wished I could hold him one more time. I had a conversation with him, or at least I hoped that he was hearing me…
I asked him if he could send me a sign. Just a sign, something to show me that he could hear me, that he was okay, that he had arrived safely, finding his way to Heaven. As I made my request, I waited there on that swing for something to happen. Unsure of what to expect, my heart raced. A butterfly flew up to me, floating around the chain that suspended our beloved swing. It flew around me, around the swing, and then floated back out across the yard.
Wondering what this meant, having no idea what kind of ‘sign’ to expect, I felt ashamed as I asked, ‘Was THAT you?’ How could I know? I asked him, ‘Please. Please ask God if you can send me just ONE more sign. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you can send me just one more sign, I’ll know for sure it was you, and I won’t ask again.’
It was then that everything changed. From this day forward, my relationship with my son changed. My relationship with God changed. I had a reason to live again. I knew, without a doubt, that though he was not physically WITH me anymore, my sweet Ty was, indeed, still with me…hearing me, loving me, and feeling my love for him. In this moment, I gained the will to keep living.
There on that swing, I got my wish. I got a sign that could not be denied. As I asked for just one more sign, a shadow fell over our yard. Living in a tidy little subdivision, houses all in a row, I looked around as the shadow fell. All of the surrounding yards were filled with sunshine, yet ours fell black. The shadow followed the perimeter of our yard perfectly. While the sun shone all around our home, I sat in darkness on that porch swing, as our entire yard went black.
How could I not feel the presence of God? How could I not feel Ty there with me? It was official. My son was sending me butterflies. This was the first of many butterfly experiences, butterflies that mysteriously came when I needed them most.
My hope for each of you, as you find your way through your own darkness, is that you will have the courage to ask for your sign. Then, not only to ask for it, but to be still enough to hear it, see it, feel it when it comes. I believe with all of my heart that God is gracious and kind. He knows we need a reason to get up and keep going. He found me there on that porch swing, broken and alone. He allowed me to speak to my boy, and him to speak back to me in his own way.
It was that butterfly that changed my life. If you can find your butterfly, whatever it may be, you will come to see that the distance between Heaven and Earth is not all that far. They can hear us, they feel our love for them, and they are never more than a conversation away.
Find your butterfly, and let it help you out of the darkness. Please know that you CAN do this. Believe it or not, you will, one day, find laughter again. Eventually, the heaviness in your heart will lessen, and your chest will rise and fall with full breath as you inhale fresh air and sunshine again. I am now in that place. 12 years, 2 healthy babies, and lots of butterfly encounters later…I am whole again.
I can still go back to that place, if I try. There are sounds, smells, even words that can transport me like a time machine, right back to that world. The difference, though, is that now, I can leave that place when I’m ready. I’m no longer stuck there against my will. I am far enough out of that grief that I can actually appreciate it for all it has done for my life, my faith, and the person that I have become. I actually pray on a regular basis that I never forget where I’ve been, because it allows me to appreciate where I am now.
I hope that, with time, you can do the same!
A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS
By Jennifer N Naeger
Stumbling through the dark, she is disoriented. It’s as though the floors have been slanted somehow, and try as she might, she cannot walk upright…cannot climb in her slippery socks…cannot make headway no matter how she fights.
Here, in this darkness, she cannot see her hand in front of her face. Truth be told, she’s not sure she even wants to. A part of her has grown comfortable here in the sea of black that surrounds her day and night.
In the beginning, she was drunk with confusion. She had been thrust into this room, this mysterious, maze of chaos, with no warning at all. There was no line at the door, buying her time to get acclimated as she waited. There was no warning sign before the entrance, explaining what to expect. There was nothing. One day sunshine, the next day, a darker dark than she had known possible.
Lost in her pain, her head spun circles around her tired body. Unable to make sense of anything around her, unsure of what to do in this place…she slept. Surely, surely she would awaken refreshed and realize it was all a dream. For what seemed an eternity, she slept.
As she awakened in her subconscience, there was a fleeting moment of hope. She would open her eyes and see that the sun shone thru a window, and all was right in the world again. She peeled her matted lashes apart, just one eye for starters, expecting to see hope there again. She closed it one more time, and then, with great intention, opened it again, concentrating on the motion. Yes, she was sure she had, indeed, opened her eye. It was then that it hit her. It was not a dream. Marks on her cheeks still fresh from her slumber, reality had already stolen her hope. It was real. The darkness was real. Eyes open or closed, the view remained unchanged.
At first, she fought. She wore her fingers bloody groping the walls for a doorknob, a light switch, anything to let in light. There must be a way, right? Exhausted from her frantic, panicked search, she then took to fumbling through the center of the room. New to this place, and what it meant, her mind raced with more questions than answers. Perhaps there was one lone string, suspended from a baren bulb in the center of the room? Surely there had to be something. Somewhere.
The fear and panic of this new place wore her down like chalk on a blackboard. Before long, she was nothing but dust that scattered under her own breath. What was she to do? She called out, but heard nothing but her own voice echoing back. She was alone. Alone in a dark place she had not asked to be. It seemed so unbelievably cold, so baren. Her head spun like she had been on a carnival ride for much too long, her stomach was sick and she had no bearings anymore.
She collapsed there, in what she felt was a corner, and simply surrendered. Exhausted, confused, scared…She started to remember how she had gotten here. She felt a leap in her belly, one that felt so real she instinctively put her hand down to capture it. When it met her shirt, she remembered. He was gone. He was gone. How could it be? What had she done wrong? Why her?
As if an act in a play, drawing to a close, the silence of the depth of this moment filled the room. A pin drop would have echoed like an anchor. She was hollow inside. The leap in her belly was but a pit now, and all of her dreams had gone with it. What she did not know, as she lay there in the dark, was that ONE person did, indeed, see her. The rest of the onlookers felt trepidation about what to say, what to do, how to help….this was far too real for them. They did not know how to help, so they walked away. They walked away without making eye contact, thinking somehow that was better than simply staying with no words to be offered. Each of them thought someone else would help. Each of them comforted themselves by believing they had not forsaken her, they would come back to check on her soon. That’s what they told themselves. One person remained, and He could not be seen.
It was then that she felt it. A slight breeze upon her hair, as she lay there in a ball of despair. At first she thought it was a figment of her imagination, a sign of mania or sheer insanity. But the warmth that then came over her made her lift her head and look around her like a child watching a butterfly in the warmth of the summer sun. She climbed up on to her knees, and then slowly to her feet. What was it she was feeling? She threw out her hands, somewhat defensively at first, but slightly welcoming to any sign of life. When she felt it, she began to cry. The heat of His hand, as it took hold of the frailty of hers, was immeasurable. She immediately felt safe. She was still broken, but she could somehow take a breath again. A full breath. Though she could not see Him, she felt Him. Just as she had felt her unborn son before she saw him. She knew He was there. And now she had hope that He would help her find the switch. And that switch would bring an end to the darkness. His loving hand was all she had left. Thankfully, it was all she would need. He had been there all along, but she had to tire herself until she fell to her knees before she became still enough to hear Him. Feel Him. See Him.
Everyone has their time in the dark. The key is resolving to seek the way out of it. My darkness lay over me like a parachute, and held me under the water as I fought. I’m grateful to have had the courage to have taken His hand the first time He offered it. He brought with Him a butterfly, one that told me that my sweet baby was safe in His arms. The life that that butterfly saved was mine, as it flew around me with a beauty I had never before appreciated. That day, there in the blinding sun, watching its wings beat, He opened my eyes to all that lay in store for me.
My darkest days came when I was 24 years old, while all of my young friends were basking in the warm sun as I drown in my sorrow. But I have overcome that darkness, and I hope that, by sharing my story, I can somehow help you once again find your hope…your joy…your laughter…your butterfly. Whatever it may be. So that, one day, you can find yourself on the other side of grief, here by my side. I survived, I grew, and you can too.
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