Pain. Gut-wrenching, world-stopping, pain. I felt it this morning when I received a phone call. A loving, generous, encouraging family lost a loved one. Death was coming, expected even, but it still didn’t change or stop the onslaught of pain. I never met this person, at least not physically. Yet, I knew her. She was a brave, loving woman who loved her husband and family. Even during her last days, she fought hard, not complaining or asking for anyone’s sympathy. For many months since the diagnosis, people prayed for her at church, through emails received, and the general passing of conversations. I felt this pain not for the loss of this woman in my life, but in the life of her family.
When I turned on the television, I expected to see a news story, a request for a moment of silence, anything to acknowledge this loss! Nothing. Perhaps the thing a person struggles with most after losing someone is continuing in life. And yet, that is the one thing that others are doing so effortlessly. Don’t they know? Don’t they care? How do they manage when I can barely remember to breath, I’m so drowned in my sorrow?
No one doubts that, if possible, any one of her family members would have traded with her, and left this world in her place. If it was only possible, but it wasn’t.
Parallels glare at me, serving as a reminder. He knew His son would die, and so did others. It was written about, talked about, even preached. The day finally came, and the pain was more than anything capable of being expressed. Only this time, He could change it all, and He chose not to do so. He watched His son die. Only this time, the world did stop, and grow dark. People knew something had happened. He was separated from His son for three days, and then reunited!
Now, we are separated from this dear loved one. She has left us to be with her heavenly father, thanks to the ultimate sacrifice. While her earthly mother and father, husband, and children grieve, God rejoices. I once heard, “We rejoice at birth and cry at death, when we should cry at birth and rejoice at death.”
Pain. Gut-wrenching, world-stopping pain. Please pray for the Ellis family, a family so filled with love and concern for others, now needing that from us.