Don't Tell Them Their Loved One Went to Hell

Yes. Someone said that to us. And we survived that, too. Here's what happened:

Word traveled fast after Dad's body was found. Family and friends came from far and wide to attend Dad's funeral. My parents' house was full of people bringing food and paying their respects. It was a revolving door sending people into our arms to hold us, cry with us, pray with us, grieve with us, and some were sent to teach us. Some taught us what we wanted to be like. Others taught us that 'hand, foot, mouth' isn't just a virus that toddlers catch in the church nursery - it's something we're all capable of having if we open mouth, insert foot, then frantically throw our hand over our mouth in disbelief that our mouth just said that. My Mom's beloved family member (who I will not name in order to save this person from being tarred & feathered at our next family reunion) caught 'hand, foot, mouth' a couple of days before the funeral. Poor thing. Seriously, you shoulda seen it. It would have been sad & tragic had it not been so stinking funny. (DISCLAIMER: We have a warped sense of humor.)  

Mom was standing in the living room with a crowd of people hugging her as they left food on the table and headed back out. Mom says to the people around her, who are crying and sharing sweet, kind stories about Jerry Don, "I'm just so thankful that we'll see him again. I know he's finally well. He's healed. This isn't what we wanted when we prayed for God to heal him, but this is God's healing. And today Jerry is healed. And he's with his Heavenly Father." At this moment everything went into slow motion as the said family member jumped into the circle of people, grabbed Mom by the shoulders and yelled into her face, "No, Linda! You won't see him again. He killed himself! He's in hell!" 

My Mom's colorless face drained more color and then it turned red. In. An. Instant. I mean, red. 

Even in 2005, the word "suicide" was surrounded by taboo. Mom, Jenni and I had to rethink everything our culture (in the South) had taught us about suicide versus what we knew and believed to be true, based on God's Word. Thankfully, there were tons of friends and family whispering the truth of God's love into our ears. And they were lovingly reminding us of Dad's faith. Because when someone kills himself, you not only question God, you question who the person was and you question what they believed.  I knew that despite my Dad's choices at the end of his life, he was a man who loved God. He was a man who had a relationship with Jesus. He was the man who taught me how to read my Bible, how to teach it and how to pray. He taught me to go to church and serve the body of Christ faithfully. I knew that I knew that my Dad was a believer. But the questions that rise following a suicide are in some ways fair. Survivors need to wrestle with what they believe and why they believe it. And though the questions might be fair, they are nonetheless difficult. 

Questions like:

"Would a believer who loved and knew of Christ's forgiveness/love/the cross, could that person plummet to the depths of despair so profoundly that they felt like the only way 'out' was death?" Uh, heavens yes. 

"If you love God and you have the Holy Spirit inside your being, can you ignore Him and run away to the lengths of alcoholism and pointing a gun at yourself?" Uh, heavens yes. 

"If you kill yourself, are you doomed to eternity in hell?" Uh, hell no. 

But some people believe that your fate is sealed eternally if you 'commit suicide.' Some people are taught this in their religion, in their churches or in their families. And some people get 'hand, foot, mouth' and decide to share their beliefs. 

So what did my Mom do?

Well, she didn't throw the family member out of our house. She didn't cuss out the family member, shaming him/her in front of other people throwing them out on the front lawn (like the true hillbillies that we are). She didn't slap him/her across the face with Daytime-Emmy-Award-Winning-Susan Lucci-drama. Instead, my godly, sweet, forgiving Mama, used the moment to teach someone old something new. She told the well-intentioned family member that God's forgiveness is not based on human performance. She explained that the only "unpardonable" sin is not receiving Christ. She told her that Jerry, her beloved husband of 25 years, was indeed a believer in Christ. And she assured the family member that he was in heaven and we would see him again. 

And what did the family member do?

The person looked shocked and said, "No one ever told me that before. I didn't know!"

Use moments, even difficult, painful moments, to teach others. Maybe the person who has offended you has 'hand, foot, mouth' because they really don't know any different. 

Teach them. In Truth. In Love. 

The world offers enough hell. Give 'em heaven. 

Keep going. 

Keep a Journal

Suicide Survivor's Top Ten Things To Do (or NOT Do):

KEEP A JOURNAL

WRITE EVERYTHING. WRITE EVERYDAY. 

Just write. Even if you're "not a writer", write. You'll wish you had if you don't. 

You think you'll remember ever lesson, every great thing God does and shows you. But you won't. You'll forget. 

So write it down. Keep a journal. Get a fancy leather one with your name engraved on it (like I did cuz I'm a total nerd, uh, I mean, I'm a boss, baby. Or is it, "I'm boss." Clearly I'm both.). Or buy a $1.99 black & white composition notebook. It doesn't matter. 

Write the day and the date (i.e. Tuesday, June 11, 2013) and then write what you're feeling that day. Here's an example:

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Today I'm doing really good, especially considering we lost _________________ two months ago today. Oh gosh, I didn't realize today was the 11th...two months. Wow. God is good. Wow. Now I feel like my heart is breaking. It's a little hard to breathe when I realize I haven't heard her voice in two months. Oh great I'm crying in this composition notebook...again.

Just write. 

Recently (on April 11th), one of my dearest friends' older sister went to Heaven. She was only 37. She left behind her husband and two little girls. So before I boarded the plane to go to the funeral, I bought my friend, her sister and their mama journals. I had their names engraved on the journals. And I wrote their instructions inside the front cover of each journal: "Write in this journal. Let it be the chronicle of your journey through your loss. Write down every memory you have of your sister/daughter. And one day, when it's right and when it's special, give this journal to her daughters. It will be the best gift you can give those sweet little girls." 

Write. Remember. Look back and see what God has done and where He has brought you. And praise Him that you're here and you're no longer there. Thank Him for getting you through each second of each minute of each day. He is good. 

Remember His faithfulness. Write it down. 

"Many people have set out to write accounts about the events that have been fulfilled among us." Luke 1:1  The beginning of the gospel according to Luke. He wrote down the account of Jesus to share with us. Aren't we thankful and blessed that he did?

Write it if not for yourself for someone else. One day you'll need to share your story and the lessons you've learned to help someone else through their journey. 

It's not too late to start writing! If your loss was yesterday or 10 years ago, begin writing now. Write what you remember. Write who you've become in light of what you've gone through. 

Start writing. Don't give up. Keep going!

Turn Off The Radio

Suicide Survivor's Top Ten Things To Do (or NOT Do):

TURN OFF THE RADIO

I love music. Music can carry me into a different place, different mindset, even a different decade. To this day when I hear "Return of the Mac" my mind is immediately catapulted back to my senior year of high school. All the memories of 1997 flood my mind. Good (my BFF), bad (my hair & clothing), and ugly (my hair & clothing). Music is like a time machine for me. It makes me think of places, occasions and people, which can hold both sweetness and sorrow. Not regret, but sorrow. That's why after my Dad's suicide I turned the radio off for five months. 

Here's what made me decide to turn off the radio:

It was the day after Father's Day, June 20, 2005. We were setting up the visitation room at the funeral home. Taking fifty or so of our favorite photos of Dad to set up in the room. Since there was no body to view/say goodbye to, we thought bringing some of Dad's favorite things to the funeral home was the best way for people to remember Jerry Don the way he would want them to remember him. So when the funeral director asked us what music we wanted playing as we received visitors, my mom, sister and I looked at each other and laughed..."Uh, do you have any Pink Floyd?" The funeral director was nervous and not amused, but we were, and we were on a mission. We went through all of Dad's favorite CD's and we picked out one of his all-time faves. We could have chosen so many artists and so many songs. If we had had the time to plan for this tragic occasion, the soundtrack to Dad's funeral would have run a gamut from Pink Floyd's "The Wall" to "The Old Rugged Cross" and back to Willie Nelson's "On The Road Again."  But what Jenni and I chose as the soundtrack to the funeral visitation following my Dad's death was Aerosmith's "1980's Greatest Hits." How perfect. 

A few days later I was driving down the road listening to some "oldies" station and Aerosmith's "Dream On" began playing and I began weeping so violently that I had to pull the car over so I didn't cause a wreck. And that's when I decided to turn off the radio. 

I did not want a song or a slew of songs from the summer of 2005 to become the music that would forever take me back to that heartbreaking place. So I turned off the radio. If I found myself in someone else's car, I would play DJ and skim radio stations until I found an oldies station, or at least an "80's & 90's Soft Rock" station. I could handle the music that made me think of/remember my Dad, even when I was on the side of the road sobbing to "Dream On." But I didn't want any of the current music playing to be the songs that took me back to the darkest place I'd ever been, the grief of losing my Dad. 

For me, it was a good choice. Maybe for you or for someone you know going through a recent loss, listening to new music is healing. So for you I say, listen to new music. But for me the best thing was turn off the radio. The best thing was to listen to old music. Or to have silence where I could pray and turn my thoughts, fears, and quiet moments into moments where God could pour healing into me. I listened to sermons. I listened to a lot of Beth Moore on CD! That's what helped me. 

Do what helps you. But definitely embrace the silence. Turn the radio off for one car ride. I did it for five months and it eased my mind. 

Keep going. 

Do NOT Romans 8:28 the Survivors

Suicide Survivor's Top Ten Things To Do (or NOT Do):

DO NOT ROMANS 8:28 THE SURVIVORS

DO NOT Romans 8:28 the Survivors. Unless you're prepared to get throat-punched. This goes under my "Top 10 Don'ts" for any death. 

Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

I LOVE this verse. It's one of my favorite verses in the Bible. But in the frail moments surrounding the sudden and tragic suicide death of my 44-year-old Daddy, that verse felt like acid being poured on my open-wound-of-a-heart. 

Do you know why we feel we have to Romans 8:28 people? Because we're so uncomfortable with silence. 

We feel like we need to say something. Anything. And as Christians we often look for that "encouraging" word to give to a hurting person. So we throw out Romans 8:28. But that's like patching the Titanic with duct tape. 

And I didn't need to be reminded that God was working it out for good. I knew that. My grief, my hurt, my questions, even my doubt did not change the goodness of God. Because who He is is not dependent on my response. I will never add to or take away from the Truth of Who He Is. Because He is. Plain and simple, He Is. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life; He is Love and Hope; and yes, He is good. And all that Truth is in me. And the Truth did finally set me free. But in those moments, I didn't need a stinging reminder of His goodness, because that reminder felt like a back-handed rebuke of my questions, my hurt, my doubt. And Jesus Christ is big enough to handle all of my brokenness even when Christians aren't. 

Do you know what I needed in those awful moments? I needed people to sit with me and be quiet. 

There was nothing anyone could say that would make things any better or different. And I wasn't asking anyone to "fix" me or the situation. 

I just wanted people to be with me. Just be. Sit with me in my pain. Be with me in the quiet. Soak it in. Cry it out. Hold my hand. Repeat. 

No 'fixing' allowed. 

Jesus suffered personal loss in John 11 when his friend, Lazarus, died. Lazarus had two sisters, Martha & Mary, both of whom confronted Jesus with the, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died." scenario. Or to put it in my words, "Why did you let him die?" 

Jesus did not revoke their eternity in Him. John 11:33 says that when Jesus saw Mary weeping, He was, "...deeply moved in spirit and troubled." And verse 35 says, "Jesus wept." In this chapter, even Jesus wrestled with anger and frustration surrounding death and people's response to death. It's hard to watch people you love suffer loss while you sit and do nothing. But sitting with them, praying for them, putting up food, taking out the trash, well, that's just about as close to being perfect as you can get during someone's grief. 

And eventually, when they've traveled a little further through the "valley of the shadow of death" you can send the hurting/grieving/HEALING person a card and you can Romans 8:28 them in the card. But in the early days and months, refrain from throwing the Bible at them...or they might just throw it back. 

He really is working it out for good. 

And if you don't believe that today, that's okay...KEEP GOING!