The Beatitudes: Blessed Are They That Mourn

Matthew 5:4 KJV

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

For they shall be comforted. 

Comfort was the last thing I wanted when my Lachlan died. Comfort felt like a slap in the face. No one knew what to say and what they did say, though well meaning, hit with a thud against my hardening heart. If I had been told that God had a purpose for everything one time, I had been told dozens. And not once was it comforting.

I wanted answers. I wanted to know why my baby had died. I wanted to know why it had happened again. I wanted to know why He would give him to me, just to tear him from my womb. Why let me hear his heartbeat, why let me feel those first fluttering movements, why? Why? Why! 

As the shock wore off, the anger began to set in. Anger and pain are a dangerous combination. Anger, pain, and hard liquor are a deadly combination.

In the month following Lachlan's death I crawled into the deepest abyss I could find. I functioned on auto pilot at work and with family and lied through my teeth about how I was. At night, I clutched his baby blanket and sobbed myself into the bottom of a bottle until I was oblivious. I couldn't remember the nightmares that way. 

One night, while I was home alone, I filled the bath with hot water, I lit vanilla scented candles, i turned on his lullaby, I took another drink. And as it burnt its way to my stomach, I put the razorblade to my wrist. 

I was at rock bottom. I had nothing. I had no one. Yet I was surrounded by people who loved me. They loved me but they didn't understand my grief. They couldn't. They hadn't loved him from the moment they knew he was only a possibility. They hadn't felt him move inside their wombs. They hadn't had to labor with him, to deliver him, knowing they'd never feel him grasp their fingers or feel his baby's breath against their neck as they rocked him to sleep. They hadn't had to sit with cold cabbage leaves against their breasts to ease the pain and tenderness of mother's milk coming in with no baby to nourish. My womb and my heart were empty and void. 

I'm not sure how long I sat there. The water turned cold. The candles burned out. But the lullaby still played.

Dragon tales and the "water is wide"

Pirate's sail and lost boys fly

Fish bite moonbeams every night

And I love you

Godspeed, little man

Sweet dreams, little man

Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings

Godspeed

Sweet dreams

The rocket racer's all tuckered out

Superman's in pajamas on the couch

Goodnight moon, will find the mouse

And I love you

Godspeed, little man

Sweet dreams, little man

Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings

Godspeed

Sweet dreams

God bless mommy and match box cars

God bless dad and thanks for the stars

God hears "Amen," wherever we are

And I love you

Godspeed, little man

Sweet dreams, little man

Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings

Godspeed

Godspeed

Godspeed

Sweet dreams

Suddenly as I sat there, the razor blade still clutched in my white knuckled hand, pressing into, but not quite cutting, my tender skin, I remembered another little boy I had sung that same lullaby to, my Logan. My bubbly, soft-hearted, 6 year old little brother who barely understood what had happened to the baby in my belly. My Logan, who my Lachlan had been named after, loved me with his whole heart. How could I leave him with a pain and a hole in his life that he couldn't comprehend? How could I leave him with the same grief and burden I carried with me every minute of every day?

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. 

Logan had been a surprise for my parents. I was 16 when Logan was born and I had no idea that he would be the comfort God would send me in my most desperate hour. God really did have a purpose and a plan. He saw my need, my grief, my desperation long before I needed the comfort of Logan's love and He provided.

He still sees my needs, my grief and my desperation. He comforts me even now as I relive the memories. My comfort now is knowing that Lachlan and I will be reunited in Heaven at the feet of our Father one day. My comfort is in the 2 precious sons the Lord has blessed me with, in their laughter and love, in their giggles and tears, in their hugs and kisses. My comfort is knowing that Logan will meet his namesake one day. My comfort is knowing that I have been forgiven for the sins of my anger and grief. My comfort is knowing that I know The Comforter.

My comfort is Jesus.