A Year of Firsts

Most people do their yearly reflections in January.  Which makes sense, right?  A new year is starting.  A new slate to begin new habits.  A time to reflect on what went well over the last year and what didn’t.  I’ve never been one to do the whole new year’s resolution thing.  It feels like most of them don’t last longer than a month anyways.  However, the new year hit me a little harder this year for some reason.  I couldn’t quite pinpoint why at the time though.  It just felt different. 

As the months flew by, as they seem to do as you get older and have kids who grow all too fast, we approached May I started to identify why the year felt different than most.  May 8, 2023, and May 8, 2024, were bookends of a year of firsts for our family.  On May 8, 2023, my grandpa went home to eternity with Jesus.  Within a matter of about three days, we lost him.  Unprepared and without warning.  We were thrown into a year where he wasn’t present at any holiday gatherings, anniversary parties, or birthday celebrations.  A year that would make us realize the new normal we all faced. 

Perhaps the biggest realization of this new normal for me came just two months later when we welcomed our second daughter into our family.  With our first, I distinctly remember the day we packed her up and took her over to Gma and Gpa’s house to meet them for the first time.  And while we got to do that with our second also, there was someone noticeably missing.  A piece of our family was no longer there.  It was a stark reminder that I would never get to introduce them.  Never get to see him hold her.  He wouldn’t get to watch her grow.  He would never know her name.  That realization brings a burden and a heartbreak that no one can prepare you for.

As we approached and passed the May 8 mile marker this year, I’ve also been simultaneously preparing a first birthday party celebration for our little girl!  The amount of joy she has brought to our family over the past year is unmatched.  We are so thankful for her!  But I’ve realized, even more, the juxtaposition we’ve been living in for the past year.  When you have a new baby, there’s this new sense of wonder.  This excitement that’s hard to describe.  There’s anticipation of holidays and family gatherings.  Excitement in getting to introduce them to family members and friends.  The reality of having a new baby brings joy to so many areas of life.

For the past year I’ve been living in two different spaces.  One that calls for grief and heartbreak.  Longing for the presence of a person we’ve lost.  And another space that calls for joy and excitement.  Anticipation of what’s to come with this new little one.  As we approached the holidays there was an excitement and a sense of devastation all wrapped together.  I’ve realized over the past year that living in this juxtaposition is difficult, a constant battle of feeling one thing, then the other.  Fighting feelings that don’t seem to coexist well. 

However, I’ve also realized there’s also beauty in it.  Beauty in the battle.  It’s okay for the two to coexist.  There are multiple places in Scripture that talk about mourning.  In the beatitudes Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  (Matthew 5:4)  And in Psalm 23 David writes, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”  We are promised that, amidst grief and mourning, we will be comforted.  That the Good Shepherd himself will be with us to walk through “the valley of the shadow of death.”  Ecclesiastes 3 says, “There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.”  (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 & 4)  There’s a space where mourning and grief are okay.  Allowing ourselves into those spaces to grieve is good.  And we are promised that within those spaces we will be comforted. 

Perhaps one of the most reassuring and comforting things for me over the past year is the hope of eternity.  In the midst of the hard spaces there’s hope.  Revelation 21 talks about that hope!  It talks about every tear being wiped away.  Death will be no more.  There will be no more crying or pain.  We have the hope of heaven without all the hard spaces we face here on earth!  But on this side of heaven, grief and mourning are realities we will face.  It’s a heartbreaking reality of our world.  There is loss.  There is death.  There is sorrow.  And it’s okay for the two to coexist.  It’s okay for us to hold hope of eternity while still holding space for sorrow and grief.

Whether you’re in a season of life with more spaces of grief or more spaces of joy, I pray that you’re able to hold space for both.  To allow for them to coexist.  To feel the pain and heartbreak that this world can bring, while also holding hope of what God has promised for eternity!