The quote in the title above is by someone very precious to me – my son Nathan. I’ve got a story to tell you that relates to this quote.
A couple of months ago, my boys and I finally accomplished something we had been attempting to do for nearly 3 years – we contained our Nigerian dwarf goats, our little escape artists! The reason that was such a momentous occasion was that 1) we wouldn’t have to fetch them from our neighbors property every day, several times and 2) we could finally, finally start a garden!
In addition to the garden, I wanted an edible food forest, including fruit trees, bushes, and wild edibles.
One day as I was researching online, I came across a plant on the wild edible list that we have in abundance on our property. I have always disliked this plant. It has thorns, our goats have never seemed to care for it, and I think it’s ugly. But the article I found stated that every part of it is edible, from the roots, to the stalk, to the flowers – as long as you harvest it in the spring-time while it is still tender. Not only is it edible, it is supposedly very good for the liver and for detoxing. What is this plant? It is the humble thistle.
I suddenly remembered that quote of Nathan’s as my perspective was changed immediately. Instead of a field of curses, I now see a future crop of blessings – next spring I intend to harvest many of the thistle plants while they are still tender.
As I was considering this paradigm shift I had just experienced, I suddenly experienced another ‘aha’ regarding an experience I had been going through for the last year.
When a parent loses a child, what I didn’t know was that you also lose a lot of relationships. People feel awkward around you and may not know what to say, so instead of speaking to you, they just avoid you. Not only so, either on a subconscious or conscious level, some are afraid of ‘catching’ what happened to you.
When I finally approached someone whom I loved very much and told her that we missed having them in our lives the last year and a half since Nathan died, she told me, “I fear for my children’s safety when they around yours.” Basically, on the deepest level, she is afraid that if her children are around mine, one of them will die. I grieve for that relationship, but there’s nothing I can do to remove her unreasonable fear.
That first year after Nathan passed, I cried. A lot. Often at inconvenient times. When I felt the grief rising up, I would step away to a private place, weep, and then rejoin the group. It never lasted more than a few seconds, and if I had kept it locked in, it would have made me ill. But it was too much for some people. And they began to avoid me and my family. I grieved for the loss of those friendships.
Also, we stopped being invited on an annual homeschool camping trip. When my boys desperately needed normalcy, they were isolated.
I invited families we used to have over, and heard ‘no’ so many times. One mom told me, “If we go to your place, I’m afraid it’s going to be too hard for my kids, because they’ll be thinking about Nathan.”
I hurt so much. For myself, for my children. They didn’t deserve this.
So far, seems like a curse, right? Where’s the blessing in this?
The blessing is that my husband and I drew closer than we ever have before. My experience has been that tragedy strengthens and magnifies what is already present in a relationship. We were already close, and we became even closer. He is, more than ever, my best friend.
The blessing is that our bonds as a family unit were deepened and strengthened.
The blessing is that I was able have deep talks with my children about human nature and the importance of taking care of people in need, and simultaneously not expecting others to be able to always do that.
The blessing is that I became clear I needed to stop fighting for some relationships and just let go. I grieve the loss of those relationships, but there was also a huge burden lifted from my shoulders at the same time.
The blessing is that a few friends did have the grace and capacity to visit us every month or two, and they became our lifeline. Others became my phone prayer companions. We are so grateful for them.
The blessing is that in my search to fill the void for my children and myself, we met so many wonderful new friends and are now part of several micro-communities – T-Werx Toastmasters, StoryAthlete mastermind group and Families United to Prevent Drowning (FamU) for myself, and for the boys, the Rockdale Flying Club, our neighbor Jon, the Cedar Park Youth Gavel Club, and Kids Outdoor Zone, and the 4-H Welding club.
Our lives are now richer and more abundant than I ever imagined.
Blessings abound – even where it seems there are only thistles.
If there is something in your life that is causing you pain, I ask you: In what way is that painful thing actually a blessing to you?
