Sufficient Grace and A New Normal
“My grace is sufficient for you.”
2 Corinthians 12:9a
It’s been six weeks since James Bruce died suddenly in his sleep from a seizure. Bruce and I are slowly settling in to a new “normal,” whatever that is. Life with James Bruce was anything but “normal” for over 38 years, so this new territory is very unfamiliar. We are suddenly faced with far fewer phone calls and a pretty clear calendar, free from the 24/7 demands of special needs parenting and long-term plans.
James Bruce’s eleven-month residential stay at Rainbow Omega provided some much-needed relief from his hands-on daily care, but there were still many caregiving decisions that had to be made regarding his behavior, medications, doctors, appointments, services, etc. Over all of those decisions was the knowledge that at the end of the day, Bruce and I were still James Bruce’s parents and ultimately responsible for his care regardless of which agency or program was providing those services.
Bruce and I finally felt ready this weekend to begin going through James Bruce’s personal items. We donated all of his clothes to Rainbow Omega. Our son Robert retrieved and stored the rest of his belongings following James Bruce’s death. Saturday night Robert and Anne brought James Bruce’s things and we shed a few tears and laughs as we went through James Bruce’s favorite treasures. The only thing I was really looking for was “Moses,” a little figure that James Bruce always kept in his left pants pocket. “Moses” was James Bruce’s constant companion and the one thing we dared not lose. Poor “Moses” was so beloved that James Bruce had rubbed his face off just with wear and tear. We also found Piglet, Eeyore, Alvin and James Bruce’s Storybook Bible. None of his favorite items hold any earthly value, but they are priceless to us.
God’s grace sustains us through the many sympathy cards, memorial gifts, and letters that continue to arrive. Three times this past week, women provided lunch visits and the Gift of their Presence. Some also brought new plants as reminders of God’s promises of Spring, new life, and resurrection. Three of the recommended T’s of grief recovery – time, tears, and talking- were gifts of God’s grace from each visit and act of kindness.
As I begin to venture out into our community from the safe confines of our home, I am seeing many folks for the first time since James Bruce’s death. Sensing their anxiety, I am trying to extend God’s grace even as they try to extend comfort. Surprisingly, the #1 question I’ve been asked is not, “How are you doing?” but “Can I give you a hug?”
My Dad’s oldest sister Aunt Lib and I had three unusual things in common: we shared the same birthday; we both had special needs sons; and neither one of us were big huggers. Aunt Lib and I often laughed and said we were "hug averse." Those who know me well realize that this is all too true.
This week I went to buy a birthday present at my favorite local boutique. My friend Paige tearfully asked, “Can I give you a hug?”
Thursday night I attended a Special Connections Moms’ dinner at our church. Part of me resisted going as I struggled to figure out whether or not I am still a Special Needs Mom. God used Bruce to remind me that I will ALWAYS be a special needs mom because I will always be James Bruce’s Mama. Some tears, hugs, and favorite James Bruce stories were shared. I’m so glad I went. There is great comfort in true community, and our family has truly been blessed with tremendous community support. Over the last six weeks I’ve developed a deeper compassion for those who lost loved ones during the Covid pandemic and quarantines. Grief is isolating in and of itself, but grief with quarantine and no community would be almost unbearable.
I volunteered Friday morning at the Big Oak Ranch’s Shed, sorting food items with other BOR Auxiliary members. I hadn’t seen most of the volunteers since James Bruce’s death. My friend Karen came with open arms as she said, “I just have to give you a big hug.” The same thing happened at church yesterday.
Receiving a hug is one way that I can extend God’s grace to others. Those hugs are as much for the giver as they are for me. It is a nonverbal way of saying, “I’m sorry and I care.” I’m slowly learning to allow people to love me the way they want to love me and be grateful for their kindness.
It’s been said that you don’t get over grief; you get through it. That time doesn’t heal, but it takes time to heal. I am finding both of those statements to be true. More importantly, however, is God’s promise that His grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Indeed, it is. Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. Great is His faithfulness!