Monday's Mourning Ministry - Bleeding Out Under Death's Knife... - Sing to Jesus ~Fernando Ortega

Monday's Mourning Ministry

Bleeding Out Under Death's Knife...

~

Sing to Jesus ~Fernando Ortega

I could not sleep. I could not get it out of my head...

After writing Friday's Faith for last week, I awakened in the early morning hours of that Friday with the agonizing question I had left at the end of my post.

It was going over and over in my head, tormenting my broken heart and tattered soul,

starting with a paraphrase of C. S. Lewis' s quote and ending with my question posed:

"The Surgeon would not stop before the operation was complete or all the pain up to that point would have been useless....

but in the process, what if He cut out our hearts...?"

I could not sleep. I could not get out of my head this image of the Good Surgeon's knife...cutting our hearts out amidst our great loss of our child...

As I typically do when I cannot sleep, I got out of bed, went into another room to turn on the light, and began writing a poem, hoping to get some of the angst of my heart out, and onto paper. Here is the result:

Bleeding Out Under Death's Knife...

Oh God of mercy, Author of graces,

We Child-Loss grievers walk through life with death

E'er by our side, breathing in our faces.

Lord, lest we suffocate, breathe in Your breath,

Give life to our limbs, enliven our heart,

Resuscitate Your child, breathe in new life,

For e'er since our little one did depart,

Our hearts risk bleeding out under Death's knife...

Only by faith can we walk through Death's dark;

Lest You walk beside, our world is too stark.

Lest resurrection's true, we're most to be pitied,

Keep our eyes on You as we walk toward Life's City...

Our manna for the journey is Your Hope;

Lest we feed on You daily, Your child cannot cope.

We can only face death by walking with Life;

Sustain us Lord under th' Good Surgeon's knife.

*****

Bleeding out under Death's knife is my poor heart in grief, but then I heard this sweet simple song, "Sing for Jesus," reminding me that Jesus literally did die under the Good Surgeon's knife, for all for us...

If He could sacrifice His life out of such great love for us and our children, could I not give my heart and all its longings for my baby girl, to suffer in this life, even if it is for the rest of my life?

Since He died to give her life, even now she lives with Him, "the King of Heaven" for all eternity.

Sing to Jesus

~Fernando Ortega

Come and see, look on this mystery

the Lord of the universe nailed to a tree.

Christ our God, spilling His holy blood,

bowing in anguish, His sacred head.

Sing to Jesus, Lord of our shame,

Lord of our sinful hearts,

He is our Great Redeemer!

Sing to Jesus, honor His name,

Sing of His faithfulness,

Pouring His life out unto death.

(Interlude)

Come you weary, and He will give you rest;

Come you who mourn, lay on His breast.

Christ who died, risen in Paradise,

Giver of mercy, Giver of life.

Sing to Jesus, His is the throne.

Now and forever,

He is the King of Heaven!

Sing to Jesus, we are His own.

Now and forever,

Sing for the love our God has shown.

(Interlude)

Sing to Jesus, Lord of our shame,

Lord of our sinful hearts,

He is our Great Redeemer!

Sing to Jesus, honor His name;

Sing to Jesus, His is the throne.

Now and forever, He is the King of Heaven!

Sing to Jesus, we are His own.

Now and forever, sing for the love our God has shown.

Picture thanks to FotoSearch.com

Poem - Bleeding Out Under Death's Knife - Angie Bennett Prince - 2/4/2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWuDZ0az-c4&feature=related

Wednesday's Woe - The Gap

"Consumed By The Clouds Of Grief"

~Danielle Helms

Wednesday's Woe

This week, I received the following writing of "The Gap" from “The Compassionate Friends of Atlanta”:

Sharon Throop wrote on 10/18/09:

WE lost our only daughter, Wendy, 13 years ago the 12th of next month. I was just sent a prose, that sums up so much for so many who walk this road. You may have read it before, but if not, send it on to some of your friends and realize that it sums up the loss of our children.

The Gap

The gap between those who have lost children and those who have not is profoundly difficult to bridge. No one whose children are well and intact can be expected to understand what parents who have lost children have absorbed, what they bear. Our children now come to us through every blade of grass, every crack in the sidewalk, every bowl of breakfast cereal, every kid on a scooter. We seek contact with their atoms - their hairbrushes, toothbrushes, their clothing.

We reach out for what was integrally woven into the fabric of our lives, now torn and shredded. A black hole has been blown through our souls and, indeed,it often does not allow the light to escape. It is a difficult place. For us to enter there is to be cut deeply and torn anew, each time we go there, by the jagged edges of our loss. Yet we return, again and again, for that is where our children now reside. This will be so for years to come and it will change us, profoundly. At some point, in the distant future, the edges of that hole will have tempered and softened, but the empty space will remain--a life sentence.

Our friends will change through this. There is no avoiding it. We grieve for our children in part, through talking about them, and our feelings for having lost them. Some go there with us; others cannot and, through their denial, add a further measure, however unwitting, to an already heavy burden.

Assuming that we may be feeling "better" 6 months later is simply "to not get it."

The excruciating and isolating reality that bereaved parents feel is hermetically sealed from the nature of any other human experience. Thus it is a trap--those whose compassion and insight we most need are those for whom we abhor the experience that would allow them that sensitivity and capacity. And yet, somehow, there are those, each in their own fashion, who have found a way to reach us and stay, to our immeasurable comfort. They have understood, again each in their own way, that our children remain our children through our memory of them. Their memory is sustained through speaking about them and our feelings about their death. Deny this and you deny their life. Deny their life and you have no place in ours.

We recognize that we have moved to an emotional place where it is often very difficult to reach us. Our attempts to be normal are painful, and the day to day carries a silent, screaming anguish that accompanies us, sometimes from moment to moment. Were we to give it its own voice, we fear we would become truly unreachable and so we remain "strong" for a host of reasons even as the strength saps our energy and drains our will. Were we to act out our true feelings, we would be impossible to be with. We resent having to act normal, yet we dare not do otherwise. People who understand this dynamic are our gold standard. Working our way through this over the years will change us as does every experience-- and extreme experience changes one extremely. We know we will have actually managed to survive when, as we have read, it is no longer so painful to be normal. We do not know who we will be at that point nor who will still be with us.

We have read that the gap is so difficult that, often, bereaved parents must attempt to reach out to friends and relatives or risk losing them. This is our attempt. For those untarnished by such events, who wish to know in some way what they, thankfully, do not know, read this. It may provide a window that is helpful for both sides of the gap.

Sharon (Wendy's Mom)

6-18-77 to 11-12-96 to infinity

*Our shining star, yesterday, today and forever*

www.angelfire.com/oh/wls19/index.html

~reprinted from our "The Compassionate Friends of Atlanta" FB Wall and Discussion Board

**********

"The Gap" describes so well the dilemma we face with our beloved "civilians" who are outside "The Grief War." Some are reaching out to better understand us, always acting "in love." What gifts of comfort they are to us just by loving us at our worst! Others have proven themselves to be unsafe, and for now, we cannot afford to be around them. Our death-poisoned bodies just cannot handle even one iota of toxicity, or we just may go under.

Thank you to Sharon Throop and The Compassionate Friends of Atlanta for "The Gap,"

and a special "Thank you" for the picture and its sentiment to Danielle Helms, a dear friend bonded by "more than the empty ache" for our daughters who died within weeks of one another in 2006. http://twitpic.com/ebsxy