Finding Joy Through My Tears

This blog is to share my journey with God through the heartache and pain of losing my son, Chandler. An outlet for me of sorts. Follow me on my road of grief to healing through the Lord.

Peace

on April 11, 2015

I know it has been a long time. I haven’t been in the best of places. But, this morning, I feel God has asked me to be transparent. He has asked me to come back to what He has asked me to do. And, for whatever reason, it is to blog. To be transparent and share my heart with the whole world. It overwhelms me. I am in no way a role model. I cannot advise anyone on anything at this time in my life. However, He isn’t asking me to. He is asking me to be transparent to those who may see this blog.

In my quiet time this morning, I felt His prompting as I poured my heart out to Him in my prayer journal. My struggles. Honest, raw, full of emotions struggles. I felt Him lay on my heart to share this on my blog. I will be honest here. I had to ask, why in the world would You want me to do something so vulnerable and weak? His response….. Do it. So, I will. My prayer this morning, word for word:

Father, I do not have peace. I thought I did but I don’t think I do. I want to have peace but how do I get there? I do know that it starts with You. It is You in the middle. It is You in the end. How do I have peace in the midst of this gut wrenching grief? Peace in the death of my son.

What does that look like? What is Your will? How can I glorify You? I feel like I am under huge weights of crushing pain. Father, I feel my grief is getting worse. But, I also know that I’ve taken my eyes off of You. Father, I just feel like people do not want to hear about my grief and my struggles anymore. I feel like I should be moving on. So, I keep my grief to myself. I only share with Greg. He understands my crushing pain.

Father, I want to begin my journey of finding peace. With you. God, I know that You have my boy. I know that You are taking care of him. However, I still have seeds of doubt whirling around in my mind from time to time.

Father, I must confess, I feel like I am irritated, almost angry at Chandler. How could I possibly be mad at him? This brings a sense of guilt and shame that I could ever harbor such feelings. How could I, his mother, be irritated/angry with him?

Father, I feel immense guilt if I even sense a twinge of my former self returning. How could I ever do anything the same before June 22, 2013?

Father, I need You to guide my heart. To heal these broken places, to make beauty out of these dreadful ashes. Father, I need Your peace. Your peace that surpasses all understanding.

Father, I can’t even seem to even come close to learning how to live without Chandler. I put on a good show…. And, that is exactly what it is, a show. But, Father, I know if my closest friends can see through my “show” that You most certainly can.

Reality hits. I have not had Chandler in almost two years. TWO YEARS. I haven’t heard his voice, his laughter. Father, I miss our talks. The early Saturday morning calls or visits to my room to talk for hours. I haven’t heard what was going on in his life. His joys, his good, his hard. I haven’t heard the burdens that he was carrying for various others and situations. I know that he doesn’t have all this now. It’s perfection. Eternal perfection. But, Father, this earthly Mom misses our talks. Two years.

Father, Your Word says that time is but a vapor. Just a blink of an eye. A split second. But, for me, two years…. Feels like an eternity plus for this earthly Mom. Father, help me to see time as You do. I know that one day I will completely understand how short this life truly is compared to eternity.

Father, I pray that You will embed my focus on eternity. Down in the very marrow of my bones. Father, help me to focus on the fact that this isn’t my home. Help me to understand and accept that this wasn’t Chandler’s home. That it’s not Alyssa’s home. Sara’s home. Greg’s home. My home. Or, anyone else’s home that knows You and has salvation through your Son, Jesus.

Peace, Father. Please help me find it.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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2 responses to “Peace

  1. Norma Ealy says:

    Oh my gosh! This is exactly how I feel today!! The same prayer I should have prayed, but instead I sit / sat here all day in this grief. Thank you for praying this for me. Tomorrow is my son’s 44th birthday, he has been with my Lord since December 13, 2009.

  2. Helen Stephens says:

    Brandi, I saw this on FB this morning, and thought about you.  I cannot begin to understand what it is to lose a child, but my mother’s heart breaks for the agony this tragic experience brings to you.   You are not alone in your struggles.  God loves you, and so do I.

    Mitchell’s Journey12 hrs · PLEASE, NO / PLEASE KNOW Natalie and I left Mitchell’s room as he drifted to sleep. Mitchell was slipping away. Everything was escalating and we knew time was running out. We both sat in the hall just outside his room and wept. Our tears came from a well of the deepest sorrows. I eventually looked to my weary wife … exhausted, frightened and heavy with grief. My heart broke even more because I knew this woman, who has the tenderest of hearts, loved her little boy in ways onl…y a mother can know. The “fix it” father in me desperately wanted to make it all go away, but I could not. There were many occasions that I prayed to God “Please, no.” I petitioned over and over that somehow … some way … my son would be spared. Yet, every medical intervention was riddled with peril. Too much was happening, too late. Every path was a dark path. Even still our prayers continued, “Please, no.”At some point during my wrestle of the soul I received a distinct impression. After I had cried out what felt a million-and-one times “please no” I was finally answered with “please know”. What followed was a most unique spiritual experience. A peace and understanding had fallen upon my wife and me; and while we didn’t have words to describe what we were feeling, we had a strong sense that we were being told “Please know, everything is as it’s meant to be. I’ve got this.”Over the years I have come to understand that mortality, our life on earth, is a schooling the soul. It is an education that takes a lifetime to complete. There are books to study, things we must do, knowledge and faith we must acquire … and there are tests. Oh, there are tests. There are tests of prosperity; what we do when the sun is shining and our pockets full or overflowing. There are tests of faith; what we do when the lights go out. Test of hardship; how we respond to our difficulties. Test of anonymity; what we do when nobody is watching. So many experiences we encounter … so many learnings, if we become students of the soul. When I consider this hardship I pray that the child in my heart can rise above this profound sorrow. I know I can. And I will. But losing my son has broken every bone in my body, wrenched my soul and pulverized my heart. With all that I understand and have felt spiritually my heart still cries out for my son and I miss him terribly. This hardship has taught me, however, that while I may plea to God “please no” … if the answer is no, I must change my plea to “please help me know.” That is the foundation upon which we grow.

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Brandi Trent

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Finding Joy Through My Tears

This blog is to share my journey with God through the heartache and pain of losing my son, Chandler. An outlet for me of sorts. Follow me on my road of grief to healing through the Lord.

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