Anniversary. Usually, the word brings an anticipation, a celebratory sense of something good that has continued or something perhaps you were honored for many years ago, and it deserves to be given recognition and even festivity. My husband and I were approaching our fiftieth wedding anniversary, although we were far too young to be doing such a thing. And we were anticipating a celebration, maybe a river cruise in the Northwest or up the Hudson in New York. The word though is sometimes suffocated more in dread with nothing celebratory even being appropriate, and yet it is still an anniversary, one we cautiously, apprehensively, shrink from while at the same time knowing the disillusionment or heartache of its significance and knowing there is nothing within us that can ignore it or simply let it be another day.
And sometimes such anniversaries come in a stark, foreboding parade. It’s the birthday that precedes or follows the anniversary of the death of a child or a spouse. And the memories come year after year after year. It’s the tragedy that made national, even international, headlines, but you and your family, in the midst of that tragedy faced loss upon loss. The calendar marks the holiday, but your own heart marks the anniversary that leaves your loved one absent. Even decades after the death of our infant daughter just before Christmas, we take time first to remember the daughter God gave before we remember the Son He gave. And for some, such timing gets very complicated. The week of 9/11 brings stark reminders of the tragedy our family was personally impacted by in many ways, but it also brings memories of the death of a brother, a son, and a dad who died just a few days before 9/11. And within that same week is a wedding anniversary of the mom and dad of the son who died, and their own marriage splintered while eight siblings struggled to survive childhood and teen years without a place called “home,” and then the dad who left his family, died, and that anniversary comes too in that same week of 9/11.
Anniversaries. We can grow special memories through the good ones and celebrate with smiles and laughter. But, what do we do with the ones that bring a return to anguish, sorrow, and pain? I hear the pain in the voices of many moms who are drawing close to the anniversary of their child’s death. And it’s not just the first anniversary, or the second, or the tenth, or ............ It’s a time to remember and it’s a time to ask God to pick us up, hold us close, and let us feel the warmth of His embrace, let us ask our questions, and let us share the feelings that swell a mother’s heart. It’s a time, not to hide, but to seek out a friend. It’s a time to rehearse God’s promises, over and over and over. It’s a time to remember the good God has given even in our brokenness. It’s a time to be intentional. Do the things that are best for you to do – for some, it will be a quiet place; for others, it will be a place you once enjoyed together. And know the turmoil of emotions will quiet and soften once again, for another season, and your God will stay with you, encourage you, and grow within you a place of refuge you can share with still others. I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.
– Bev
(Related Bible reading: Psalm 40:1-3; Isaiah 40:11; Isaiah 30:18-21)
