Grief: In Process
The end of September was an impactful milestone in the life of my family. Just over six months ago, Kayla and I welcomed twin baby boys into the world. Simeon John Franks and Elias Jude Franks. They were born at 24 weeks under painful and traumatizing circumstance for them and for Kayla and me. Less than a week later, Elias and Simeon passed from this life into eternity with the Lord. The last six months have been some of the most painful, anxiety-ridden and sorrowful moments I have ever experienced and probably will ever experience again. But it has not been without hope, peace and comfort from the community of believers in our lives, and the Spirit of God who is constantly ministering to us.
They are a few reasons I want to write this article. First, I want to share what this journey has been like for me as a husband, father and Christ follower. Second, I have had many faithful friends, church members and family members who have asked how we are doing, and we are so grateful. We often feel like we could say more, but phone calls, text messages and short conversations in the church foyer cannot wrap up the range of emotions we have felt and still feel. Third, I write for my family and me so that we can look back on these moments and remember that God has not and will not leave us alone in our pain and sorrow. Lastly, I am writing because the last six months, although painful, have been a massive testimony to the grace and comfort of God.
Have you ever had moments where you feel stuck or frozen in time? Even now, you might be able to return to a memory and the emotions you felt. Maybe it was something pleasant or painful, but all the emotions, and even physical feelings can come flooding back. This is what the weeks in the hospital felt like for Kayla and me. Kayla’s water broke early, and we spent several days in the hospital and practically lived in the NICU room while they both were alive. Those days and moments seemed to stand still for me and as I write this paragraph. I can feel the sensations, emotions and anxiety those weeks in the hospital brought. And then suddenly it was over. We walked out of Mercy NICU and never went back.
The next few weeks was a fog—cloudy and gray. I was tired, worn out and sad, but Kayla and I still had two other children to care for and love. They were experiencing grief in their own way, and in those ways, they helped us grieve. What I found, and still find, so interesting in this process was that I anticipated that my grief would be linear. For example, I thought I would be really sad for a while, and then less and less sad, still longing for and missing our boys. However, grief doesn’t like straight lines. For example, at work I have consistently increased my capacity for what I can do. But somedays I walk into the office and break down. Sometimes sending an email is a no brainier, sometimes it can seem like climbing Mt. Everest. Grief comes and goes for Kayla and me, it can knock us flat on our backs, or it can be in the back of our minds while we continue with life.
When it comes to grief, I also had the false belief that it was a bad thing. To be clear, grief comes out of the result of pain, trauma or loss, but it is a gift of God to grieve. What I have learned is that when I sit in my grief, I sit with the Lord. I can welcome him into those moments of heart ache and pain. I can do that because he feels them exponentially more than I could ever experience or feel them. He sits with Kayla and me, he comforts, he cares, he knows our boys that we lost. He formed them in Kayla’s womb. His love for them surpasses all our love for them. Grief makes us cry out for the broken things in the world to be made new, and God’s sovereign plan is to do just that. To make all things new. No more tears, no more sorrow, just joy with him forever. Grieving has often been a major avenue for me to rejoice in God while tears flow down my face.
Grief is also hard work. In our culture, there are hundreds of ways to distract ourselves from what is really going on in our hearts and minds. What has been easy for me is to slip into apathy or avoidance when grief comes on heavy. Maybe you can relate? When I begin to feel sorrow, it is easier to pull out my phone and mindlessly scroll. When life seems to be closing in around me, I can turn on a movie and focus my attention elsewhere. But I need to not avoid or resist. I need to meet my grief head on. This is not the easy way. It is hard and painful, but it is working. God is using my grief and pain to sanctify me.
If you know Kayla and me, then you know she is an LPC therapist. We constantly advocate for therapy in our jobs and enjoy understanding the mind, and how and why we do the things we do. Ironically, until this year, I hadn’t stepped foot into a counseling session that I wasn’t leading. Some of this was fear, but mostly it was pride. Pride in thinking that I didn’t need it because nothing in my life was “going wrong.” After the loss we experienced, I had no other excuse but to go. It has been one of the most helpful things in working through my loss and grief. It has also helped by looking at my own life and seeing the lies I believe about myself and better understanding who God is in relation to me. Kayla has also been going to therapy, and it has been helpful for us as we have waded through some deep waters of trauma and life. I believe any Christian would be well served to think deeply about who we are, and why we do what we do, the lies we believe, the burdens we carry, and that therapy can be a place to work through those things in an organized and constructive way.
Though the last few months have been painful and sad, they have not been without seeing the beauty and sovereignty of God working in my family’s life. Every day, I feel more amazed at the sustaining power God continues to provide Kayla and me. We have not crumbled in our grief because God keeps our legs standing. We have not turned on each other, because he gives us the grace and mercy we need each day for ourselves and each other. God has been and continues to be the amazing comfort we need every single day.
In the hours just before the twins were born, I had never felt so much stress and anxiety. It was the middle of the night, we were scared and nervous, and the delivery was traumatic (a story for another time). But as it was happening, I grabbed Kayla’s hand, and through the power of the Holy Spirit and with tears in our eyes, I said to her, “No matter what happens, we are going to get through this.” After the boys died, I held her hand again and said the exact same words, “We are going to get through this.” I am not sure if I actually believed those words then, but I believe them now. We are getting through this, and we will get through this because God is supplying every need we have. Kayla and I long for heaven more now than ever, and we long to see our boys again. We are heartbroken that we won’t get to see them grow up, walk, talk or play with Asher and Dru (our other kids). However, we know that God is here and draws near to us, and he has no intentions of leaving us in this. He will get us through. He is our hope, and we cling to him.
7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. 8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies….
…16 So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:7-10;16-18