We didn’t know that God was going to take Tristan home. We also didn’t know that God was going to take the house he grew up in. But three years after Tristan died, God burnt the old house away to give us a new farmhouse that lends itself to peace.
Soon after moving in I knew it was God’s house. He would use it for His purposes and we would use our new selves in it. So I made this sign.
I don’t know what most people think when they come in. Maybe they have the same thoughts I had pre-Tristan.
The “me” before Tristan was so different and foolish compared to the “me” after Tristan. The old me would have looked at this sign and thought something like, “Why are they welcoming sorrow? Shouldn’t they be trying to change it to gladness?” Even though the old me had experienced a fair amount of suffering (a heart-rending childhood, the loss of 3 siblings and a parent) none of that could have prepared me for the singular pain of child suicide loss.
This new me has sorrow for marrow. I can laugh, I can celebrate, but sorrow will never leave my bones. I now understand the verse, “It is better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting.” (Ecc. 7:2) We cling to God in the house of mourning. Because if we didn’t, we’d die. (Matt 26:38) Clinging to God is where we are always meant to be.
We Never Meant to Leave America
When you know the shadow-drenched lands and God has walked you through them, you get a sense for sorrow in others. Our family knows many suffering people, partly because of where we live. When we came to Quebec 23 years ago it was only supposed to be for a 1-2 year job but the studio contract kept getting renewed and before we knew it, we LIVED here. I’m glad I didn’t know it would be this long or I never would have left my beloved USA. But as always, God knew better.
There is a darkness here with less than .05% Christians. On top of that we have had a disproportionate amount of reasons to grieve in our 120 person congregation: suicide, murder, kidnapping, rape, sexual abuse, cult victims, child abuse, mysterious and rare degenerative diseases, suicidal ideation/schizophrenia, blindness, child loss, parental loss, spousal loss, the list just goes on and on. Thankfully, the weaker can lean on the stronger. This is the suffering church that enveloped us when Tristan ran to heaven. This is the church God knew we would need.
I don’t want a sorrow-wreath at my door. But who am I to say how my life is to be used? God is the one who made me and knows how He is going to use me for His kingdom. When I look at His saints in the Bible, weren’t all of them surprised by the roles they would play? Thankfully, He is wiser than us and knows what He is doing.
He gave us this house for those that suffer, but I’m sure we’ll also host rollicking youth-group pool parties, and Canada Day celebrations (that’s their version of The 4th of July), but when those kids frolic through they’ll see that mourning is a part of life and there’s no need to hide it.
One day, sorrow-wreathes won’t be necessary. Sorrow will be flooded away by Light. God’s presence with us. We’ll live on a New Earth and we’ll be able to call our kids to dinner again. A long table of feasting with Job on our right, Eve on our left, our kids laughing and gathering flower wreaths for the table. And I’m sure God will give us what we long for. To call their names to the table like we used to. “Tristaaaaaaaan! It’s time to eaaaaaaaat!”
Dear God, I’m glad you didn’t tell me before about what my life was going to be. I know I would’ve quit. You’ve held me together so far. You have Jesus praying for me that my faith may not fail. Tristy is there with you, he hears Jesus praying. Help me make it through these last years to Your glory. That’s all that matters now. I guess I am thankful for the sorrow wreath if it can be used for Your glory. Save me from myself. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
