Forward from Rachel Van Pelt – One of the greatest blessings I’ve been privileged to have in this life is to connect with many beautiful Christians around the world who are constantly living on mission for Jesus. Their letters always inspire me to grow my faith in Christ and share that with others.
This week, I received one of those kinds of letters from my sister-in-love who works with a program called Keramiko Moms through Youth Unlimited in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Yes, my sister-in-love and I share the same name. It can get a little confusing when we’re together but it’s an honour all the same. My brother’s and her home is an almost constantly revolving door of community. It’s a fun house where you’re sure to find some epic shenanigans happening. It’s also a safe place to unload and share your burdens, and know you’ll be unconditionally loved. When I just want to be in their presence and watch Kingdom life at work. It’s messy and challenging, beautiful and gracious. I learn something new every time and walk away convicted to grow.
This family has had their fair share of grief. They live in its reality all while exuding the love and hope of Christ. May you be encouraged by Rachel’s letter as I have been. I’ll add some thoughts on it at the end, as well.
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Keramiko Moms Spring Update
Written by: Rachel O’Neil
As I write this, the warm sunshine has returned and winter feels like it’s slipping away quickly. Our little neighbourhood rink is almost a puddle and I’m burning through windshield washer fluid like there’s no tomorrow. I know it’s an unpopular opinion, but part of me feels sad to see the seasons change. We often joke that “O’Neils are polar bears” because we love the winter so much. There’s magic in the snowfalls and the crisp frost that covers the trees on a cold morning. Winter brings hockey, skiing, sledding, and of course, Christmas! So, there’s a bit of sadness in me as I see those things fade away. But the hope of dry ground means baseball, football, and green fields once again! It’s such a mix of emotions.
This week, I received an unexpected call from a friend. In it, she shared her deep grief over a late miscarriage. My heart dropped. It had already been a few days since her loss, and she was wrestling with a tug-of-war of opposing emotions. One moment, she was overwhelmed with grief, and the next, she was planning one of her older child’s birthday parties. Joy and sorrow, anticipation and loss, hope and doubt—her heart was weary as she navigated that mental battle.
I truly believe that what we’ve built in our lives reveals itself in hard times. Have we cultivated strong relationships that will support us when our world crashes down? Do we have a safe space to show up as we really are, without putting on a perfect smile and responding “Good, how are you?” when we’re not? Does Scripture and the truth of who God is come to mind? Does His love and presence shine through the darkness, or do we numb ourselves with Netflix, caffeine, social media, or addiction? Maybe a little of both, because we’re human after all.
I didn’t have a simple answer for her or a quick quip to make her feel better. Instead, I told her, “Grief doesn’t play by the rules. It comes when it comes, and it doesn’t have boundaries or predictability. It’s messy and it comes in waves.”
Another friend of mine shared at her son’s funeral many years ago that she was so mad at God because her son hadn’t even lived 6 months. They didn’t even “get Christmas” (she said) before he passed. I distinctly remember her saying “But it’s okay, I know God can handle my anger.” That hit me.
Maybe because up until that point I had never really considered that I was allowed to have any negative emotion toward God. I mean, He’s God, after all. We’re supposed to be grateful, joyful, peaceful, patient and all the other fruits of the spirit ALL the time, aren’t we? How dare we get mad at the Creator of the universe. But I’ve learned that one of the best things about God, in my experience, is that he indeed CAN and WILL meet us in our anger. And He goes above and beyond to meet us with kindness, gentleness, and grace. I shared this with my friend. We finished the call without a silver lining or really even a change in her emotion. But I know she felt loved and heard.
I don’t really know how I’m supposed to connect this letter to ministry directly and it’s certainly not my most up-beat and optimistic letter, but I guess I just think that this is what real relationships look like. Messy and real. This is what I am called to do. To show up, listen, point to Jesus and do it all over again. It’s why I got involved with Keramiko. I am on a mission to deliver a message of hope, true hope, to whoever will listen.
I am surrounded with real relationships. The ones that show up, listen and point me back to Jesus. You hold me up, friends. I am so stinkin’ grateful for your prayer, encouragement, and support. Thank you.
When I received Rachel’s update this week, I asked for her permission to share it with you because I know there are many of you who need to hear it. None of us can escape grief and none of us navigate it perfectly. It’s ugly and yet necessary to heal. When my husband, Michael, and I received our confirmation about our infertility, Rachel was one of the first people we called and I’ll never forget what she said to us that day! She said, “Sometimes, you just have to sit in the suck.” Those words were perfect because it gave us the permission our hearts needed to grieve. As painful as it was, we fully accepted the process and let the sorrow come. I believe it’s what eventually helped us find peace with the Lord about the infertility. Though many of us try to stifle grief because we either want to come across as strong to others, our culture doesn’t give time for it, or we feel it’s not understood or accepted, it’ll find it’s way to show itself in other areas if left unattended.
The Lord understands grief better than anyone. Isaiah 53:3 says that Jesus was, “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” He is a High Priest who can sympathize with our every need. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15) Because He understands, He can handle the emotions grief brings about in us – our shock, anger, sorrow, depression, and bargaining. The greatest thing He asks of us through it is that we bring it all to Him. May Rachel’s letter encourage you to come to God’s throne of grace and understand that He will meet you where you’re at and be the Good Shepherd to help you navigate the valley of grief to once again return to joy.
