Letting Go of Disappointments and Painful Losses Read online

  Those who dwell continually upon their expectations are apt to become oblivious to the requirements of their actual situation.

  CHARLES SANDERS PIERCE

  The trauma of a major disappointment or painful loss tends to break down your defenses. You find it hard to expect much of anything for fear of being disappointed all over again. We went ahead with the shots … but not without anxiety.

  On the heels of a painful loss, relief can come as we revise our expectations to better fit the reality of our current situation. Remember—what is, is. To continue to hang on to expectations that are unsupported by the facts will simply intensify our struggle. If we want to improve the quality of our lives while grieving our losses, we have to learn to let go.

  On several occasions since Nathan’s traumatic entry into this world, I have had to take inventory of my expectations and make some adjustments.

  I can’t expect Nathan to read a book out loud, as Jessie and Ben did when they were in kindergarten. If I hang on to that expectation, I will be disappointed. But I can expect him to read. That is a tangible, reachable goal for him.

  I can’t expect that John and I will be empty nesters in six to twelve years, as we had previously thought. But I can expect that whatever comes will in some way be good and that God will be with us.

  I can’t expect myself to do as much for John, Jessie, and Ben as I did before Nathan joined our family. Their needs have changed, and so have mine. I’m dividing my energies among four rather than three. But I can expect God’s strength to be sufficient for every situation. And because His plan is perfect, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Nathan has added more to the family than he has taken away. We have all made adjustments, and the experience we share is rich. Different from what we expected, yes, but rich.

  I can’t expect myself to always be a wise, patient, and attentive mother and wife. I want to be, of course, but many times I fall short. When I’m tired, I snap at my kids. When they give me flak, I raise my voice. Although I try very hard, I’m not always who or what I want to be.

  What I can expect is that God will pour grace over my weaknesses, as I offer them to Him, and restore my strength.

  In times of weakness I realize once again how profound and desperate is my need for God and His power to change me. That’s when I have to hold tightly to the expectation that He will finish the work He has started in me. That’s when I must stand on the promise that His power in me “is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams]” (Ephesians 3:20, AMP).

  Life doesn’t always dish out what we expect. But if we remain open to new possibilities, the road ahead can be an adventure. The scenery may not be what we would have chosen, but it can be very, very good indeed. One way or another, God will get us to our final destination in heaven. And then, He promises, every expectation we’ve ever had will fall absurdly short of reality.3

  As a man gets wiser he expects less, and probably gets more than he expects.

  JOSEPH FARRELL

  CHAPTER NINE

  REFOCUS

  WHEN WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF LETTING GO OF disappointment or a painful loss, we need to check our focus. Ask yourself:

  Am I focusing on my losses, or on my gains?

  Am I staring at a closed door behind me, or getting ready to walk through a new door in front of me?

  Am I clinging to an ending, or preparing for a new beginning?

  Am I complaining about things I can’t change, or am I changing the things I can?

  When Nathan was born, cards and letters poured in from family and friends. They wanted so much to help and share our grief. One letter enclosed a newspaper clipping that challenged me to open my heart to the new direction my life had taken. It helped me see that by focusing on what I didn’t have, instead of on what I did, I was causing much of my own anguish.

  The clipping was a little story penned years ago by Emily Perl Kingley. Anticipating the birth of a baby, she wrote, is like planning a fabulous vacation. Then delivery day comes, the wheels of the jumbo jet touch down, and you awaken from your slumber to hear a flight attendant’s cheery voice say, “Welcome to Holland.”

  “Holland!” you exclaim. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

  But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

  The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It’s just a different place.

  So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

  It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

  But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

  And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the special and very lovely things about Holland.1

  Shifting our focus from what we don’t have to what we do have brings a quiet calm to a heart torn with conflict. Peace comes when we make a simple choice to take a deep breath and say to ourselves, I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this moment. It means that we stop wasting precious time and emotional energy wishing things were different, longing to be someone else, or wanting another set of circumstances. Refocusing can lead us away from despair toward a greater sense of well-being as we trust that “my times are in Your hand” (Psalm 31:15, NKJV).

  As we begin to focus upon God, the things of the Spirit will take shape before our inner eyes.

  A. W. TOZER

  It doesn’t matter what the circumstance is. It may be singleness or widowhood. It may be a heartbreaking marriage, infertility, disability, betrayal, a child gone astray, job loss, or a lingering illness. Whatever the life situation is in which we find ourselves with no control, we can refocus. With Paul we can learn to concentrate on “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable … anything [that] is excellent or praiseworthy” (Philippians 4:8).

  This mental discipline is part of the “secret” that Paul described a few verses later:

  I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation.… I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

  PHILIPPIANS 4:12–13

  As life would have it, there will be many times when you and I will find ourselves in a “different place.” That much is clear. But God will be with us in that different place. And as we open our hearts to Him, He will give us the strength we need to carry on. He will carry us through our disappointments and painful losses to a place of acceptance and peace.

  That doesn’t mean we won’t feel sad now and then. We will.

  That doesn’t mean we won’t play the “What if?” game. We will.

  That doesn’t mean we will never daydream about “Italy.” We will.

  But as time passes, we will do so less and less.

  I am grateful that God has taught our family to perceive Nathan’s differences as unique qualities to be appreciated and understood. I am grateful that the joy over what Nathan can do far surpasses the sadness over what he cannot do. As time has passed, a shift in focus has enabled us to clearly se
e that there’s a lot of love in Holland.2

  The first thing that Jesus promises is suffering: “I tell you … you will be weeping and wailing … and you will be sorrowful.” But He calls these pains birth pains. And so, what seems a hindrance becomes a way; what seems an obstacle becomes a door; and what seems a misfit becomes a cornerstone. Jesus changes our history from a random series of sad incidents and accidents into a constant opportunity for a change of heart.

  HENRI J. M. NOUWEN

  CHAPTER TEN

  REST

  IN

  GOD

  In grief nothing “stays put.” One keeps emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?

  C. S. LEWIS

  ONE OF THE MOST DIFFICULT-TO-HANDLE ASPECTS OF letting go is time. Healing usually doesn’t come all at once and often doesn’t come as fast as we would like. When suffering lingers, we have moments when we wonder if we have what it takes to endure. We’re not sure we can persevere through the pain. We glance behind us and see the looming disappointments. After a severe loss, our psychological defenses are down, and we tend to forecast more gloom and doom. But morosely obsessing over the past or frantically fretting over the future does nothing to help us heal.

  There’s another way—a way that leads to rest. Centuries ago, the prophet Isaiah wrote: “[God] will keep in perfect peace all those who trust in him, whose thoughts turn often to the Lord!” (Isaiah 26:3, TLB). Rest comes as we live in the moment—not in the past or the future—with an awareness that God loves us and wants to heal our anguish. As we let go of whatever we’re squeezing in our relentless grip and simply trust Him, the empty spaces in our souls become the places God fills with the healing power of His presence.

  Children have a knack for living in the present and trusting those who love them. They are less concerned about the cares of life, the worries of tomorrow, and the regrets or mistakes of the past. They simply give their full attention to the moment, to whatever they are doing, and enjoy it to the fullest.

  It’s amazing what kids can teach us about life. I want to close this book with a story that I have reflected on many times while facing the harsh realities of this world. It’s a snapshot from a time in my life when I was deeply mourning the losses my little boy suffers because of Down syndrome. The Lord sometimes speaks to me in pictures. This was one of those occasions. One afternoon as I watched Nathan in physical therapy, God taught me a lesson about letting go and resting in Him.

  Shortly after Nathan was born, we enrolled him in an early intervention program in which therapists exercised his mind and body to enhance his development. As an infant, Nathan’s interventions were one-on-one; but as a toddler, he was moved into a classroom setting with several special-needs children.

  During the first part of class, the children met in a large, open room where a physical therapist led them in exercises designed to strengthen muscle tone and develop motor skills. Upbeat music filled the room while the children made their best efforts to accomplish simple toe touches, arm reaches, handclaps, bends, and stretches.

  I recalled watching similar routines when Jessie and Ben were in preschool. “Head and shoulder, knees and toes,” the kids had chimed along with the tape, keeping their motions in cadence with the music. Their movements jibed with the beat. Their actions were precise, clearly defined, and consistent. But Nathan’s class was a much different picture. The children’s motions were awkward and rarely in sync with the leader’s. If one of the children happened to dance in rhythm, it was more often than not a happy accident.

  But a day came when Nathan lit up with a sense of pride while delivering a perfect performance. He was in step with the therapist through the entire song. He didn’t miss a beat. All his gestures were right on the mark. It wasn’t because John and I had practiced with him umpteen times at home, and it wasn’t because his muscle tone had miraculously changed from floppy to firm.

  On that particular day, Nathan had been selected for a demonstration. The therapist asked him to come to the front of the room and stand facing the class while she stood behind him.

  “Nathan, lean back into me and put your hands in my hands,” she instructed.

  I watched Nathan relax his body into hers and place his little hands in her palms. When the music began, the therapist guided Nathan’s arms through the routine. One, two, three, four. Up, down, all around. Together. Apart. Clap, clap, clap.

  Nathan’s droopy little arms did everything they were supposed to do as he let go and yielded to her lead. His assignment was to lean in and relax. The rest of the work was up to the therapist. Nathan’s weakness was his greatest strength that day.

  I embarrassed myself during that class. There we were in the middle of “up, down, clap, clap, clap,” and I was wiping tears from my eyes. I secretly wondered if the other parents were thinking, What’s the big deal? She sure gets worked up over her son being picked to lead exercises!

  But it had nothing to do with what was going on inside me. The Lord was talking to me through my son. He showed me my need to lean back and rest in the safety of my Father’s arms. He nudged me to let go of the things that were troubling me.

  How shall we rest in God? By giving ourselves wholly to Him. If you give yourself by halves, you cannot find full rest; there will ever be a lurking disquiet in that half that is withheld. Martyrs, confessors, and saints have tasted this rest, and “counted themselves happy in that they endured.” A countless host of God’s faithful servants have drunk deeply of it under the daily burden of a weary life—dull, commonplace, painful, or desolate. All that God has been to them He is ready to be to you.

  JEAN NICOLAS GROU

  With a keen awareness of my own handicaps, I sensed the Lord reassuring me that His grace is sufficient for me. Should I lose my balance and stumble over bumps on my journey, God will steady me and hold me up. When I get out of step, He will help get me back in sync. The greater my weakness, the greater God’s strength.1

  I don’t have to be strong to be strong. Nor do you. And we can ease our pain by resting in the Lord …

  … by living in the here and now,

  … by leaning into God’s sovereignty,

  … by letting go and letting God take care of the rest.

  As we learn to rest in God, time becomes our friend. As it passes, we begin to experience spiritual and emotional healing. One day we realize that we don’t feel quite as much pain today as we did last week or last month. We laugh a little more, and the black cloud that comes and goes isn’t quite as dark and doesn’t hang around as long. We remember, but the pain diminishes. We begin to realize that the days of mourning are giving way to newfound joys.

  We have considered a number of strategies that can help us let go of life’s disappointments and painful losses. As we learn to let go of them, we will grow beyond and be transformed by them, and disappointment and pain will no longer be the defining qualities of our lives. In God’s economy our losses become our gains. Disadvantages become advantages. When we entrust our disappointments into God’s hands, they become His appointments for divine intervention. He does not allow the waves of grief washing over us to destroy us. Instead He uses them to redirect our lives.

  Because of our belief in a home beyond this world, we can be realistic about the deaths that come our way, without becoming hopeless. We don’t have to get stuck in perpetual sorrow or bitterness. Grief has its proper place, but it is temporary—an episode in our journey, not the whole story.

  The cycle is continual. It is progressive. Rarely do we pass through it just once while we are letting go of something important to us. It’s kind of like peeling an onion. After we peel one layer, we become aware of something underneath that needs attention. With new awareness come fresh emotion and the need to face, embrace, and process the pain—and then let it go. In time we sense that new depth of character, emotional maturity, and spiritual awakening are coming to the
surface. As we come to the end of ourselves, we enter into a vital new intimacy with God.

  Jesus said:

  “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

  MATTHEW 11:28–29, THE MESSAGE

  GROUP

  DISCUSSION

  QUESTIONS

  CHAPTER 1: RELAX AND RECEIVE

  What are you finding difficult to let go of at this time in your life?

  When we grasp and cling, we become emotionally constricted, lose the ability to move forward in our lives, and feel stuck. Can you recall a time in your life when you experienced these things? Please explain.

  Read John 12:23–25, 27–28 again. What was Christ’s perspective on letting go? What is His promise to you?

  Why is letting go such hard work?

  What do you hope to receive from God as you learn to relax your grip? Along with the rest of your group, commit these hopes to God in prayer.

  CHAPTER 2: RECOGNIZE THAT WHAT IS, IS

  Letting go is a process, not an instantaneous event. Can you recall times in your life when you’ve had to go through it? Describe your thoughts and feelings during that time.