A Familiar Place

Updated: Apr 19, 2020

January 24, 2012 5:31am

There have been reminders, reminders that it’s indeed real. Emails from her dentist reminding me of her checkup and wishing her a Happy Birthday. The pediatrician ask me every time I come in, am I here with Zoe or Chloe. The organ donation people send something in the mail at least twice a month addressed to Zoe Watson. People call Chloe, Zoe. The hospital sends bereavement mail addressed to the parents of Zoe Watson. Chloe says to me, mommy I wish my sister wasn’t dead, when can I see her?” Every time I pass that little park, I can still see her playing and laughing. A familiar place…

There have been moments, moments I never thought I’d have. Moments that hurt so bad, all I could do is clench my fist and wait for it to pass. Moments that a Mother never wants to endure, moments of guilt, moments of screams, moments of silence, moments of trembling. Moments of anger, moments of longing and moments of numbness. A familiar place…

There have been tears, tears that flowed like a river. Tears of anger, tears of anguish, tears of guilt…tears I couldn’t stop. Tears that soaked my husband’s shirt, midnight hour tears that it seemed my pillow could not contain. Tears that quickly turned into sobs…private tears. A familiar place…

Two years ago today, we lost our daughter Zoe…this day is accompanied with memories of what happened, memories I wish I never had. This day comes with that same feeling I felt in the hospital as I watched her take her last breath. It comes with incredible pain. It comes with thinking and over thinking, with questions of what could have been. It reminds me of every hope and dream I had for her. It's a familiar place…

My only solace from that familiar place is MY familiar place, worship.

In my worst moments of pain I have found worship to be my only relief. Worship is about my adoration for God and my adoration for Him will always trump my grief and my emotions. Worship is the balm for my broken heart, for my longing arms, it’s the balm for the wounds of the journey.

These are the moments I ask God to draw me nearer. These are the moments where I choose to receive His peace. These are the times where I stand on my confession, “nothing shall separate me from the love of God, not even losing my daughter, nothing between my soul and my Savior.”

My faith keeps me, faith that my latter shall be greater, that my best days are ahead of me, that all things work together for my good, that there shall be glory after this. That the God I serve is touched with the feeling of my infirmity and I am not alone, that His grace is sufficient for me. That even though my wound is still fresh, every time I minister to a couple or a mother who has lost their child that everything is working together for a divine purpose.

There is life beyond this moment of pain, there is life beyond today...because He is not just Lord of this moment but He’s Lord of my life, therefore I have hope. I hope in Him On today I honor the memory of my daughter by living!

To provide for them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified. Isaiah 61:3

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