There has been so much hurt directly affecting people close to me the last couple of weeks. And literally after hearing of the 4th death in a two day time frame while at FMSC prior to our prayer time... I broke...
Those lost are not even people I know... Yet those I know and love are hurting deeply... so I hurt...
That is one thing that losing Samuel taught me... empathy...
Grieve with those that grieve, rejoice with those that rejoice... people don't have to hurt alone... We can help shoulder that burden...
My heart hurts for those that hurt...
This past Saturday we packed in honor of the Pals family... When the slide was up on the screen as I set up for orientation... it was almost too much... too much hurt... One amazing family wiped out in a moment... All at once... Read this amazing article that was written on the FMSC blog and take a moment to pray for their families... She says it all so well...
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
Death and life. Hunger and fulfillment. Sorrow and joy. At Feed My Starving Children, we wade in the mire of these dichotomies daily.
We know that more than 6,000 children a day die from hunger related causes. We grieve. We take action. We hope. We do it all again the next day.
We are about life, despite so often being surrounded by death.
This week we lost one of our own. Jamison Pals was a grant writer for FMSC for the past three years. He left us in April to pursue missions in Japan with his family. While here, he touched countless lives. He was about to touch countless more through ministry in Japan.
Not only were we inspired as staff by his heart for Christ, but thousands upon thousands of children will live because of the work he did as a grant writer.
We are grieving with the families of Jamison and Kathryne. But we are not without comfort and hope — this is the wonder and the miracle of a life with Christ.
We know from God’s word that there is a time for everything “and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance…”
Good and gracious God,
May we take time to mourn, to grieve.
Thank you for your grace — that there is room for questioning and anger in grief.
And that sorrow may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.
Be near to us as we walk the line between sorrow and joy every day.
Thank you for Jamison, Kathryne, Ezra, Violet and Calvin.
Thank you for the thousands of children who eat MannaPack Rice™ and the volunteers and donors who make it possible.
Thank you for the comfort and healing from your presence, and we humbly ask for more of it now.
Amen.
After traveling to the Dominican Republic with FMSC, Jamison wrote a blog post about fatherhood. He closed with this verse:
“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12
I am a stay at home, homeschooling mom to 8 wonderful children. Our 5th child Samuel went from his home in my cozy womb to His Heavenly Fathers arms on October 29th 2008, just 1 day after his due date. We still miss him like crazy everyday.
We have since added our daughter, Hope Jubilee, to our family through domestic adoption, as of August 2010. In March of 2011 we were blessed with the birth of our son Levi, who is a miraculous gift we received through embryo adoption. And we anticipate the finalization of our adoption of Isaiah in early May 2013.
This is not the life we ever anticipated living, but we are in awe of God's plans for our family. We are living life surrendering to the will and plans of our Heavenly Father...
Our life is one filled with great joy as we daily live life, and as we look forward with great anticipation to being united with our Savior and reunited with our son Samuel in Heaven.
Please be gentle with me for I am grieving. The sea I swim in is a lonely one and the shore seems miles away. Waves of despair numb my soul as I struggle through each day. My heart is heavy with sorrow. I want to shout and scream and repeatedly ask 'why?' At times, my grief overwhelms me and I weep bitterly, so great is my loss. Please don’t turn away or tell me to move on with my life. I must embrace my pain before I can begin to heal. Companion me through tears and sit with me in loving silence. Honor where I am in my journey, not where you think I should be. Listen patiently to my story, I may need to tell it over and over again. It’s how I begin to grasp the enormity of my loss. Nurture me through the weeks and months ahead. Forgive me when I seem distant and inconsolable. A small flame still burns within my heart, and shared memories may trigger both laughter and tears. I need your support and understanding. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I must find my own path. Please, will you walk beside me?
Remembering
Remembering Go ahead and mention my child, The one that died, you know. Don't worry about hurting me further. The depth of my pain doesn't show. Don't worry about making me cry. I'm already crying inside. Help me to heal by releasing the tears that I try to hide. I'm hurt when you just keep silent, Pretending he didn't exist. I'd rather you mention my child, Knowing that he has been missed. You asked me how I was doing. I say "pretty good" or "fine". But healing is something ongoing I feel it will take a lifetime. ~ Elizabeth Dent ~
1 comment:
Wow! this will change my life. Thanks for posting.
Beth
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