I watched from the window as he helped our oldest daughter hang a hand-painted sign on our backyard fence. It said: “We Love You, Chase.” This sign was my daughter’s decoration for our son’s “celebration of life.” Our baby’s funeral was something I never dreamed we would host in our backyard that autumn of 2009. Our lawn was perfectly manicured and had been transformed with a rainbow of color displayed in planted flowers, balloons and painted decorations. My sweet husband had made this happen, after listening to me cry and brainstorm and wonder about Chase’s service through a sleepless night, just a few days before. This act of service—of making sure all was exactly as I needed it to be—was how he loved me day after day, even in our pain. His sweet way of serving all of us was not for his glory, but was just his simple, gentle way of bringing healing to his hurting wife’s heart in whatever ways he could. And, those moments are plastered in my memory forever. But, there are also days when I think back to the months of grief that followed the sudden death of our son, and I wonder what I was like to live with. I wonder what all I’ve forgotten, or perhaps was never even aware of. I know there were situations I never had to handle. There were phone calls made to funeral homes, hospital administration, and friends and family that I didn’t have to make.There was time spent with visitors in our home when I was too tired to form words myself. There were errands run, to Target for basic supplies like paper towels, or to the grocery store, or to our daughters’ school for projects that still had to be completed. There were dishes washed. There were coffees delivered to my sacred place on the corner of our sofa. There were strong hugs provided, when all I could do in return is tremble and cry. There were prayers offered on my behalf, while he held my hand, and brought me before the throne of God, when I couldn’t utter a word. All of these acts of love, and so much more, were provided by the man who God knew would be my soul mate for life, for better or worse, in good times and in bad. The daily “doing” is where my wonderful husband stepped in and loved me so deeply and so well. It wasn’t always with depth of knowledge or long talks that attempted to undo any of the pain. It was through his actions—the daily grind of doing the things that I was crippled to do myself—and showing me how committed he was to walking this valley together. He wasn’t scared of my pain, or the ebb and flow of grief, and he was more than willing to do the countless things I couldn’t. He made sure our three girls had normalcy. He tried to take every worry he possibly could from me, so that I had time to process, and grieve, and find a new normal. And, he never left my side. It was truly his steadiness that helped my heart to heal. The steady and sure response he offered me was key to our strong relationship. But, there was even more that we were very intentional about as we grieved. We had always heard that the loss of a child is one of the biggest destroyers of a marriage. And, I can see how that could be true. I truly believe for us, that it formed in us a resolute determination to walk, hand in hand, serving one another and loving each other into healing. We knew the only way for that to happen was to set our minds on Christ first, turning together toward Him and the hope He offers. Secondly, we had to intentionally set our hearts on one another, serving each other above ourselves, and trying every single day to bless our marriage in some way, even if that was simply finding time to talk and sit and be still. We had to choose to not judge one another in the ways we grieve differently, but instead be one another’s biggest support no matter what. We knew that we must also set our intentions on others, because God says this is the place you find true healing (Isaiah 58). As a unified partnership, we began seeking God’s will for our family, and He began showing us miraculous things as we sought His voice. He also began cementing our relationship, as we poured out our love on our children. One of my greatest concerns after saying goodbye to Chase, was wanting to still mother our living children well. I felt like these days would define so much of how they remembered their brother, their parents, and their grief walk, and I wanted so badly to point them to God and His comfort, even in our pain, so that this loss would eventually be their gain, and their testimony of His faithfulness. By focusing on bringing hope to our three girls, we were overcome by that very same hope and joy. Even as I type these words, I am again astounded by what God provided for our family, when we were truly incapable of so much of this on our own. He gave us the strength to love each other, and to stay connected even on the hardest of days. I am beyond thankful for a loving husband, who set the tone of steadfast strength in our home—even as we both grieved and longed for our pain to be taken away—by serving and doing and turning toward the Lord. Because Mark willingly loved his wife, his children, others who were hurting, and ultimately God Himself, we were able to find healing in ways we never thought possible.
- Chelse
Hope Mom to Chase
Chelsea has been blessed by Hope Mommies since its very beginning, and has been blessed to share this hope she’s found with grieving moms. She lives in Irving, TX and is wife to Mark, mother to Kendyll (15), Carlie (12), Abby Kate (10), Gabe (6), and Chase (born into heaven in 2009), and counts all of them as her greatest joys. She spends her days homeschooling her children, and helping her husband run their family ministry, His Chase Foundation. She loves a quiet afternoon spent reading or writing, and traveling with her family, making adventures and memories together.
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