Read Letting Go of Disappointments and Painful Losses Online
Authors: Pam Vredevelt
In grief nothing “stays put.” One keeps emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?
C. S. L
EWIS
ONE OF THE MOST DIFFICULT-TO-HANDLE ASPECTS OF
letting go is time. Healing usually doesn’t come all at once and often doesn’t come as fast as we would like. When suffering lingers, we have moments when we wonder if we have what it takes to endure. We’re not sure we can persevere through the pain. We glance behind us and see the looming disappointments. After a severe loss, our psychological defenses are down, and we tend to forecast more gloom and doom. But morosely obsessing over the past or frantically fretting over the future does nothing to help us heal.
There’s another way—a way that leads to rest. Centuries ago, the prophet Isaiah wrote: “[God] will keep in perfect peace all those who trust in him, whose thoughts turn often to the Lord!” (Isaiah 26:3,
TLB).
Rest comes as we live in the moment—not in the past or the future—with an awareness that God loves us and wants to heal our anguish. As we let go of whatever we’re squeezing in our relentless grip and simply trust Him, the empty spaces in our souls become the places God fills with the
healing power of His presence.
Children have a knack for living in the present and trusting those who love them. They are less concerned about the cares of life, the worries of tomorrow, and the regrets or mistakes of the past. They simply give their full attention to the moment, to whatever they are doing, and enjoy it to the fullest.
It’s amazing what kids can teach us about life. I want to close this book with a story that I have reflected on many times while facing the harsh realities of this world. It’s a snapshot from a time in my life when I was deeply mourning the losses my little boy suffers because of Down syndrome. The Lord sometimes speaks to me in pictures. This was one of those occasions. One afternoon as I watched Nathan in physical therapy, God taught me a lesson about letting go and resting in Him.
Shortly after Nathan was born, we enrolled him in an early intervention program in which therapists exercised his mind and body to enhance his development. As an infant, Nathan’s interventions were one-on-one; but as a toddler, he was moved into a classroom setting with several special-needs children.
During the first part of class, the children met in a large, open room where a physical therapist led them in exercises designed to strengthen muscle tone and develop motor skills. Upbeat music filled the room while the children made their best efforts to accomplish simple toe touches, arm reaches, handclaps, bends, and stretches.
I recalled watching similar routines when Jessie and Ben were in preschool. “Head and shoulder, knees and toes,” the kids had chimed along with the tape, keeping their motions in
cadence with the music. Their movements jibed with the beat. Their actions were precise, clearly defined, and consistent. But Nathan’s class was a much different picture. The children’s motions were awkward and rarely in sync with the leader’s. If one of the children happened to dance in rhythm, it was more often than not a happy accident.
But a day came when Nathan lit up with a sense of pride while delivering a perfect performance. He was in step with the therapist through the entire song. He didn’t miss a beat. All his gestures were right on the mark. It wasn’t because John and I had practiced with him umpteen times at home, and it wasn’t because his muscle tone had miraculously changed from floppy to firm.
On that particular day, Nathan had been selected for a demonstration. The therapist asked him to come to the front of the room and stand facing the class while she stood behind him.
“Nathan, lean back into me and put your hands in my hands,” she instructed.
I watched Nathan relax his body into hers and place his little hands in her palms. When the music began, the therapist guided Nathan’s arms through the routine.
One, two, three, four. Up, down, all around. Together. Apart. Clap, clap, clap.
Nathan’s droopy little arms did everything they were supposed to do as he let go and yielded to her lead. His assignment was to lean in and relax. The rest of the work was up to the therapist. Nathan’s weakness was his greatest strength that day.
I embarrassed myself during that class. There we were in the middle of “up, down, clap, clap, clap,” and I was wiping tears from my eyes. I secretly wondered if the other parents were
thinking,
What’s the big deal? She sure gets worked up over her son being picked to lead exercises!
But it had nothing to do with what was going on inside me. The Lord was talking to me through my son. He showed me my need to lean back and rest in the safety of my Father’s arms. He nudged me to let go of the things that were troubling me.
How shall we rest in God? By giving ourselves wholly to Him. If you give yourself by halves, you cannot find full rest; there will ever be a lurking disquiet in that half that is withheld. Martyrs, confessors, and saints have tasted this rest, and “counted themselves happy in that they endured.” A countless host of God’s faithful servants have drunk deeply of it under the daily burden of a weary life—dull, commonplace, painful, or desolate. All that God has been to them He is ready to be to you.
J
EAN
N
ICOLAS
G
ROU
With a keen awareness of my own handicaps, I sensed the Lord reassuring me that His grace is sufficient for me. Should I lose my balance and stumble over bumps on my journey, God will steady me and hold me up. When I get out of step, He will help get me back in sync. The greater my weakness, the greater God’s strength.
1
I don’t have to be strong to be strong. Nor do you. And we can ease our pain by resting in the Lord …
… by living in the here and now,
… by leaning into God’s sovereignty,
… by letting go and letting God take care of the rest.
As we learn to rest in God, time becomes our friend. As it passes, we begin to experience spiritual and emotional healing. One day we realize that we don’t feel quite as much pain today as we did last week or last month. We laugh a little more, and the black cloud that comes and goes isn’t quite as dark and doesn’t hang around as long. We remember, but the pain diminishes. We begin to realize that the days of mourning are giving way to newfound joys.
We have considered a number of strategies that can help us let go of life’s disappointments and painful losses. As we learn to let go of them, we will grow beyond and be transformed by them, and disappointment and pain will no longer be the defining
qualities of our lives. In God’s economy our losses become our gains. Disadvantages become advantages. When we entrust our
disappointments
into God’s hands, they become His
appointments
for divine intervention. He does not allow the waves of grief washing over us to destroy us. Instead He uses them to redirect our lives.
Because of our belief in a home beyond this world, we can be realistic about the deaths that come our way, without becoming hopeless. We don’t have to get stuck in perpetual sorrow or bitterness. Grief has its proper place, but it is temporary—an episode in our journey, not the whole story.
The cycle is continual. It is progressive. Rarely do we pass through it just once while we are letting go of something important to us. It’s kind of like peeling an onion. After we peel one layer, we become aware of something underneath that needs attention. With new awareness come fresh emotion and the need to face, embrace, and process the pain—and then let it go. In time we sense that new depth of character, emotional maturity, and spiritual awakening are coming to the surface. As we come to the end of ourselves, we enter into a vital new intimacy with God.
Jesus said:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
M
ATTHEW
11:28–29,
T
HE
M
ESSAGE