the pain of sorrow

I've been going through a bunch of photos from the hospital when Asher was born and even though it's been hard to look at I think it's been good for me. I'm reminded how raw and real that day and those moments were and also that we were surrounded by loved ones (which I'll post more about on friday) 

These are the moments that at times I want to forget or not remember but I can't… At times I've had people tell me that they can't read this blog often because it's too painful and I totally understand. However, I think that the pain has to be embraced in a strange way because that's part of grief. At first for me grief was always at surface level and I cried a lot often. But lately, it's been deeper and there are days that I feel I don't have the energy to bring it up and work it out. These photos have helped me not have to work so hard at dealing with the sorrow and extreme realness of those terrible emotions. Believe it or not, I want to cry. I want to still be sorrowful and grief asher's loss. I want to remember. I will never wish this on any mother ever, but I never want to live as though this didn't happen. It's changed my life and the grief and confusion and heartache is part of that. It's part of who I am now. And it's only because I have hope in a God who has fully ordained this and has loving purposes in everything He does in my life that I can welcome these painful memories. 
I'd like to think I could sympathize with Jesus's mom when He was on the cross. [now, I know my son is NOT Jesus, but just walk with me through this] It seemed that everyone else had left or couldn't take the grief but she stayed (and John as well, which is no wonder why he was the disciple that Jesus loved) It must have been horrible to experience those moments seeing her son suffer in such an extreme way and die in front of her. But yet she wanted to be there. She was helpless and couldn't stop it from happening but yet she was his mother and she wasn't leaving him….. 


I remember thinking back on Christmas Eve last year if I was feeling anything the way Mary did when she pondered things in her heart when I was the only one who knew that Asher was living inside of me. In the same way, even though I know her experience was VERY different than mine, I wonder what her grief looked like though short lived. I wonder if she finally just ran out of tears to cry. And just sat there at the foot at the cross until they made her leave, I'm sure she would have stayed there as long as they let her… what mother wouldn't. I'm sure she couldn't understand then why her Lord and God let this happen to her son. Yet she had to have some sort of Faith in her soul that would have be telling her heart that His ways are higher than hers. And that God did care about her breaking heart and dying son so much more than even she did herself. And that in this darkest hour there HAD to be Hope, Hope she would desperately need to make it through the coming days…..little did she know. 
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