My husband and I have not been back to our church since before Logan’s passing. We did have a luncheon there after the funeral, but that’s it. The very thought for me is literally terrifying. When I sit and think about church, my heart starts to race, my skin gets clammy and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Before Logan, church was always a ‘reset’ button for me. I would start strong on Monday and by the time Sunday rolled around I was worn down and not at my best. I would go to church and God would break me. The walls I put up during the week, would crumble down, my soul would peek out and God would speak to my heart. My life would come back into God’s perspective.
After we found out about Logan’s diagnosis, I still went avidly for several weeks. Praying for a miracle and having faith and trust that God would give it to me. Until I slowly quit going. The brokenness that I used to look forward to on Sunday’s began to weigh too heavy on me. Once I let that wall crumble, it wasn’t just Jesus I was letting in. I was letting in the reality and the emotion of what was going to happen to my baby. And I could no longer bear that weight. So I stopped going.
After Logan passed, that weight is still there. I know I will be broken when I go to that Sunday service. I know the walls will crumble. But I’m terrified to see what I find there. I haven’t been that broken since I lost Logan’s videos. The idea of sitting in the middle of our church, broken and weeping makes me feel isolated. I imagine myself, sitting there, feeling like the walls are closing in. Everyone looking at me with sympathy, as if they really knew my deepest sorrows. So I have continued to avoid my church. To be honest, I don’t think I have even driven by our church, whether I subconsciously have avoided that street, I don’t know, but it is curious. Wyatt quit going to Awana after Logan passed. Partly due to the grief in our household, and partly because I couldn’t bear to walk into that church.
Today, we had a meeting with one of the ladies that works at the church. Our church has a Bereavement Grant opportunity, and we had applied. Our interview was today. I do not like asking for help, in any shape or form. Those close to me know, that I will suffer through whatever if I know I can manage alone before I would ever ask for help. Our financial situation with medical bills has been extremely humbling. The bring me to my knees, weeping, overwhelming, in awe humbling. I already had so much anxiety about this meeting. I didn’t want to ask for help. It’s honestly embarrassing. I fell onto this verse the other day, but let’s be honest, did I really fall onto it, or perhaps was it DROPPED in my lap.
“And my God will supply every need of yours according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”- Philippians 4:19
I read this verse, and I tell myself, that what God has meant to be, will be. We can ask for help, and Jesus will provide if it’s what is according to His plan. So when others help us, I need to not be embarrassed, but honored that God has chosen them to be apart of our lives. I believe God has continued to bless us and supply our every need. Through this journey, aside from worrying about Logan’s illness, I worry heavily about financials. When Logan started living longer than anyone predicted, I had no clue how we were both going to be able to afford to stay home. The idea of leaving him and going back to work because we financially had to, and possibly miss the only precious time we had with Logan was devastating. I had tried to save as much as possible through the pregnancy. But with all the medical trips to Kansas City, we weren’t getting very far. My stress level was soaring past pulling my hair out. BUT. By the grace of God, he supplied our needs through His people. Amazing people, from across the world, that we’d never met, but had started to follow our journey, were blessing us with financial gifts. And we were able to stay home with Logan until he died. My husband and I were able to ‘run away’ as I like to call it, and grieve without the distractions of everyday life. We were able to be intimate in our grief together as a couple. To build a foundation before coming home to Wyatt.
Today, as the time ticked by, it seemed like a countdown to a big red panic button. I was getting more anxious by the minute. I pulled into the parking lot of my church and literally felt my face flush and my heart pick up its pace. I sat in my car, waiting for my husband to arrive. Literally on the verge of tears when he pulled up. As I got out of the car, the tears starting spilling over slowly. I looked at my husband and told him I didn’t want to go in. But of course we had to. I started walking towards the church, it’s size seemed overwhelmingly huge and bearing down on me like a ton of bricks. I stopped and turned toward my car, having only gone maybe 2-3 steps and began crying. Trying my hardest to take deep breaths, but it just wasn’t helping. I probably never would have made it in the doors had it not been for Josh guiding me. I couldn’t stop crying. I looked around this church, and all I could think was, Logan used to be here. In my belly. But he was here. He should be here. I kept trying to leave, I was uneasy and slightly suffocated. Once out the door, I couldn’t get away fast enough. I drove out of the parking lot and didn’t look back.
I found a quote, while reading one of my grief books, by Andree Seu. I resonated with it so much, I wrote it down, and read it from time to time. How perfectly it describes how I feel about my relationship with God. While we are stumbling, or rather, I am stumbling with our relationship, for what I have endured, I am a warrior of God. I have survived.
“To believe in Christ, in this moment, in this perplexity, in this frustration, in these setbacks, in this present agony, is victory of the highest order.”
I will enter the house of God again. And when I’m ready, I know He will be waiting.