The grief experts call them secondary losses—those poignant times when a loved one who would have been there is not there, and, no matter how long it’s been, his or her absence is felt, sadly and deeply.
It could be a milestone life event like a wedding or graduation. A holiday meal. An opportunity to share a bit of good news.
Or, as is the case right now, a war on the other side of the globe.
I remember calling my dad on 9-11, after watching the planes crash into the Twin Towers. A first-generation German American from Milwaukee, he moved to New York after college to work and get his master’s degree at Columbia University.
“Oh dear,” he said when I told him what was happening.
Somehow, just knowing he knew helped.
It was like that over and over again in my life. My dad, who voted in 17 presidential elections and knew more than anyone else I knew about most things, didn’t necessarily offer comforting words during tough times. What he offered, probably without even realizing it, whether in person or over the phone, was his comforting presence.
If I’m being totally honest, I’m not sorry my parents passed away in 2019 and weren’t around for the last two years. My mom would have been 90 this year, my dad 89. Chances are, if they hadn’t succumbed to Covid, they might have died of old age.
They’re with Jesus now. I can’t bring them back, nor do I want to.
But I do miss them. Oh, how I miss them.
My girls are near the age I was during the first Gulf War. They’ve lived through far more world and national turmoil than I could even imagine at their age. They’ve certainly been exposed to more of it, thanks to screens and 24/7 news cycles.
The difference is, I’m the parent now. I’m the one who is supposed to offer the reassuring words about the latest catastrophe, national or personal.
I don’t understand all the events, ramifications and consequences, political, spiritual or otherwise. I just know enough to know whatever is going on—here and abroad—is unsettling and deeply confusing.
So what’s a mom to do?
Fortunately, at least when it comes to the latest headlines, I’m not sure my girls need as much comforting as I did. (Shoot, who am I kidding—like I still do.) They have different personalities and struggles, but it doesn’t seem as if they are as prone to worry as I was for so many years.
I think I’m asking for myself, rather than for them.
Where does my help come from?
Who is the source of my strength?
It’s not my parents, as a collective unit. Not my dad. Not even my husband, as comforting as it is to be on this journey together with him.
My help—and yours too—comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
The God who holds the whole world in His hand, who goes before us and is with us, who hung the stars in place and keeps the planets in orbit—He alone is our ever-present refuge in time of trouble.
I can’t call Him on the phone like I called my dad during unsettling times. But I can pray—anytime, anywhere—and know that my heavenly Father hears and understands.
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Do you have a loved one who personifies comfort for you? What aspect of God’s character is encouraging you the most right now? Share your thoughts in the comments, if you please.
♥ Lois
My help—and yours too—comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. Share on X The God who holds the whole world in His hand, who goes before us and is with us, who hung the stars in place and keeps the planets in orbit—He alone is our ever-present refuge in time of trouble. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
