The Gift of Loss-Colored Lenses

Eight years ago, the lenses I view life through became colored by colossal loss. That could sound bad, and, while some of it has definitely been extremely painful (understatement), good gifts have also come from it. Thankfulness and appreciation -- on a scale and magnitude I didn't have before loss invaded the lives of my kids and me -- is one of those good gifts. It's a gift of soul-deep gratitude that is so deep, it sometimes feels like a throne-room encounter. 

Though much has changed over the course of these last eight years, much also remains the same (loss is weird like that), and the gift of my loss-colored lenses is one of those things that remains. So it makes sense that yesterday, I beheld the 16 of us through these lenses as we gathered around the table for our Thanksgiving meal. 

Every single one of the 16 of us, has lost someone precious. Not in an, "Oh, they're really gonna be missed." sort of way, but in a, "This person was vital to my very existence." life-altering sort of way. Amy's husband (now my husband), four children, mother, grandmother and brother; two of Elsie's three precious children; Ray's wife (in case you don't know, that's me), four children and father-in-law were all sitting there... giving thanks. And suddenly I was struck with the fact that 11 of the 16 sitting at the table had lost their mother or father at tender young ages. Eleven. Let that sink in for a minute.

In their lifetimes, these young ones have already experienced more loss than most adults I know -- some at the tender young ages of three and four years old. Think about that for very long and you can't help but drop to your knees and sob. Yet, through the grace and mercy of a good God, they know true joy in the midst of colossal heartache. 

If you're even remotely inclined to think this "just happened" you couldn't be more wrong. People are embittered for life over much smaller things, and if anyone has a "right" to be embittered, it is these precious ones who've lost a parent. No, these kids have made conscious choices to allow God to come in, heal and restore. They have chosen in the pain to trust God to cause all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) And His rewards are bearing fruit in their hearts and lives.

While I love a great preacher, let me tell you, these children's very lives preach one of the greatest sermons I've ever witnessed. They are living well, finding joy in the midst of pain, and reaching out to others with a level of compassion that exceeds their years -- all because they have experienced God's grace and love in the midst of tremendous suffering and loss. These 11 bring the gospel home to my heart in a way few, if any, others can. They know that He loves to give good gifts to His children and make beauty from ashes. Because they have allowed the Lord to shape them through their loss, these 11 are deep souls who love well.

They make it look easy, though anyone who's ever lost like they have knows, it's anything but easy. Lucky me. I get to see these 11 through the gift of my loss-colored lenses. Branden, Alexa, Hanson, Evan, Chandler, Jacob, Gatlin, Gage, Vicki, Toni and Danny are my heroes.