Blessed Are Those Who Mourn
A blanket of fog covered the road in front of us as I drove my kiddos to school this morning. As the sunshine was bright behind us, we drove into the cloud—it was dark, hard to see, and there was a stillness that permeated us.
“Parents are only as happy as their saddest child.”
His words devastated me as I listened; I knew this statement to be valid. I had lived out this devastating truth and had experienced the depth of the fog that comes with unhappiness—the deep, dark, quiet fog of a sad child.
Sadness can roll into life, slowly, quietly, and almost without notice.
It can stay for a stage, a season or a series of seasons. When the sadness of a child settles in and sticks like the thick fog it has the tendency to make life feel dark. Even though the sadness was not mine, slowly it swallowed us. It became hard to see the light…it was quiet, isolated and lonely. This sadness, at times, felt like a death; like it captured and killed the child we knew. Nowhere was the joy, the laughter or the light. The fog was deep, thick and dark; it was full of fear, shame, isolation and heartache.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:4
Yet, this mama bear didn’t mourn. I “manned up.” I tried to put on my “big girl panties” and attack this thick fog that threatened to engulf our family.
Did I cry out?
Did I share the struggle?
Did I mourn my lost child?
This fog felt private.
This fog had the words “mental health” and most people can’t handle those words. This struggle wasn’t really my struggle, yet it was, so I battled knowing what was my story to share with my responsibility to protect my child from receiving or feeling judgment. So, I put on a happy face, made the appropriate phone calls and marched forward.
In my own strength things got done. Like a novice explorer, I guided my child through the fog to this new land. Counselors, medication, therapy, and coping strategies…we circumnavigated the mental health world. There was improvement but no comfort. The foggy days turned to foggy weeks and eventually foggy months and I callously moved through the time.
My heart was hardened, my joy extinguished, and my hope wavered by the cold, icy cloud of my child’s depression.
Then it happened. Finally, I mourned.
I mourned the death of a normal childhood. I mourned the brokenness of this world. I grieved over the isolation the enemy pushed me to. I was devastated by the hardening of my heart, I cried out in fear and let the sadness overcome me. I mourned it all.
I mourned and then began to go to God in mourning; honest with my sadness and disappointment with the fog.
His Word became alive, His spirit moved, and slowly His soothing balm of love and truth and light washed over me.
Kyle Idelman would say I came to “the end of me.” I came to the place where there was nothing left that Julie could do to fix or help the situation. The fog was too deep, too thick, and there was nothing I could do that would change that. But, His comfort did change things! I was able to love through the fog, I was equipped and strengthened to have joy in the fog and I was peaceful and not sad even though there was still sadness in my house.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted”. Matthew 5:4
Our family is currently out of the fog. That said, it can roll in at any moment. Now I know when we see the thickness and the darkness approaching, I start in a place of mourning. Mourning is not giving up, mourning is not weakness or acceptance of the situation.
Mourning postures me to receive God’s comfort.
It sets my mind, heart and eyes on Him. Mourning reminds me who the Great Comforter is. And, in the fog, in the sadness, something impossible can happen. Happiness and joy can spring forth and flow out of the sadness.
I don’t know what you need to mourn for today. Maybe you need to mourn for a child, for yourself, for a friend or family member, or for this world. I invite you to mourn, let it go, experience the relief of mourning!! Because the promise is true—and there is a promise here; a promise that there will be comfort. Comfort will come after and through the mourning. God comforts those who mourn. They will be blessed. Don’t miss this promise. Do not miss this blessing. He will comfort you.
The fog is thick, don’t get stuck there. Let yourself mourn—comfort, light, love, peace, and strength is waiting.
I would love to pray for you if you are in a place of mourning today. I would also love to rejoice with you if God has comforted you through a season of sadness.