Suffering with hope, Together Through the Storms

Frozen in Grief: The Pain of Ambiguous Loss

As we drove away from what felt like the millionth doctor’s appointment for our son, the new prescriptions and prospective treatments felt more like a setup for disappointment than a prospect of future hope. After more than a decade of doctors, evaluations, treatments, diets, and therapies, somehow it always feels like we’re right back where we started—weary, confused, and grieving the layered losses that have come as a result.

Our losses have come in many shapes and sizes, but the loss that’s been the hardest to grapple with is the one we relive every day. It’s a kind of loss that educator and researcher Pauline Boss calls “ambiguous loss,” which “differs from ordinary loss in that there is no verification of death or no certainty that the person will come back or return to the way they used to be.”[1] In a sense, we feel frozen in our grief, unable to move forward or begin the process of healing because we face our loss in a fresh way every day.

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Dr. Boss explains that there are two kinds of ambiguous loss. The first is physical absence with psychological presence (divorce, adoption, loss of physical contact, etc.), and the second is psychological absence with physical presence (dementia, traumatic brain injury, addiction, depression, or other chronic mental or physical illnesses that take away a loved one’s mind or memory).[2]

While any loss is extremely painful, recognizing the unique aspects of ambiguous loss has given us a helpful framework for understanding why we often feel “frozen in our grief” and has helped us learn how to persevere with the hope of the gospel and the strength of Christ in the face of it. As I’ve considered our own losses in light of their ambiguity, I’m learning it’s a grieving process that often repeats itself on a daily basis. But these three practices have drawn me closer to the Lord through that process.

Acknowledge Your Grief

Those who live with some form of ambiguous loss may feel guilty for experiencing grief over a loved one who’s still physically present, but psychologically distant. We can shame ourselves for growing weary of caring for a loved one who isn’t the same person we once knew, or angry, saddened, and frustrated by the challenges that come with a special needs child. But the reality is, when you’re reminded of your loss on a daily basis, and yet are called to serve and sacrifice for the one who reminds you of what’s been lost, grief will be a frequent visitor.

We need space to acknowledge our grief when it comes. But we don’t have to get stuck there. Instead, we can allow the grief of what’s been lost, or what may never be, to drive us to Christ (through his word and prayer).

He’s not a God who’s far off, unable to comfort us and provide what we need; he’s the “Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction” (2 Cor. 1:3). Not only did Jesus experience pain and loss beyond what we could ever imagine, he did so in order that we might know the comfort of his presence, the strength of his power, and the hope of what he’s preparing for us.

Friend, let your grief drive you to your suffering Savior. As you do, he will equip you to endure, gradually producing glimpses of joy as you come to know his presence in a much deeper way.[3]

Accept What Is

The painful reality of our son’s challenges is heartbreaking, but my pain is further multiplied when I get trapped in the cycle of “if only.” If I fixate on what’s been lost rather than accepting what God has allowed, my peace and joy are the first to go. If we dwell on how things used to be (or how we expected them to be), rather than the life God has chosen for us, we miss out on seeing and experiencing the life-changing presence, grace, and blessings that he has for us right where we are.

Sister, God has called each of us to walk the road he has marked out for us for his good purposes, whether it be caring for your spouse whose mind is fading away, serving a friend who physically can’t care for herself or give anything in return, or sacrificing everyday for a child who requires all of your energy, focus, and time. As hard as these callings are, the writer of Hebrews spurs us on to “be content with what you have, for he has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’” (13:5). We’re not only to be content in our possessions, we’re to be content in all circumstances—even circumstances that may never change this side of heaven.

However, I’ll be the first to admit that this is incredibly hard when every ounce of your patience and energy are tested and you experience a fresh sense of loss every time the sun rises. But that’s precisely why the promise of God’s presence is so precious. He assures us, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Every morning that you awake to the painful reality of what lies in front of you, remember that his grace, comfort, and strength meet you as well.

The power to be content and at peace in ambiguous loss lies in the strength and comfort of his presence, not in the hope of better days. By God’s grace, the more we experience his presence, the more we’ll grow in contentment—not because our pain is gone, but because we have the peace of Christ within it.

Assure Yourself of Future Hope

As painful as it is to be reminded of loss on a daily basis, it can also serve as a continual reminder to fix our hope on Christ and the eternal home he’s preparing us for. It may be hard to see beyond today, but we don’t lose heart because Jesus is coming again, “to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor” (Isa. 61:2-3).

Our losses, disappointments, and grief will not have the final word. My precious son (who God has miraculously given a heart of faith) will one day be free from all that torments his mind and body and will experience the joy of being made whole. One day, for all who trust in Christ, genetic disorders, special needs, traumatic brain injuries, mental illness, Alzheimer’s, and every other pain and loss from living in this broken world will be restored in the presence of God’s glory.[4]

Today, if you’re facing a fresh sense of grief over someone you love, let the tears come, pour out your heart before the Lord, and ask for a renewed sense of his comfort, presence, and strength. Then remind yourself that God has chosen this hard road with the specific people and circumstances in your life for his good and sovereign purposes.

If he’s called you to carry the cross of an ambiguous loss, you’ve been given the privilege of walking in the footsteps of Christ and displaying the gospel by laying down your life for another—even when they have nothing to give in return. Press on in the truth that God promises he will never leave you nor forsake you, and he will give you the grace for whatever lies ahead. As you look to Christ, let your grief increase your longing for something more, your longing increase your hope for what’s to come, and your hope enable you to live today in light of that reality.

~Sarah Walton

E2C62A5A-D041-4038-BA61-53C2B3B34C2A_1_201_aTogether Through The Storms (Hardback, Audio, E-book link to Amazon) helps
married couples to navigate the storms of life together. Working through the book of Job, Sarah Walton (author of “Hope when it Hurts”) and her husband Jeff reflect on their own experiences in a marriage that has faced chronic illness, baggage from the past, a child with neurological challenges, and financial difficulties—and show how to cling to Christ and each other.

 

cropped-14333744_10210126362936616_68415526346532153_n.jpgTo read more on the hope we have in suffering, you can purchase “Hope When It Hurts – 30 Biblical Reflections to Help You Grasp God’s Purpose in Your Suffering” authored by Sarah Walton and Kristen Wetherell here or here. You can purchase the audio version here and the Spanish translation can now be purchased at Poiema.co

 

[1] Pauline Boss, “Frequently Asked Questions about Ambiguous Loss,” Ambiguous Loss, University of Minnesota, https://www.ambiguousloss.com/about/faq/.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Romans 5:3–5

[4] Revelation 21:4

[Article originally posted on RisenMotherhood.com]

7 thoughts on “Frozen in Grief: The Pain of Ambiguous Loss”

  1. Sarah, I have a brain damaged sister who will turn 60 in September after the doctors told my parents to put her a home when she was only 18 months old. My sister has put great stresses on our family for many years but she has also humbled all of us with her cheery outlook on life. God Bless you in your daily hardships in caring for your son. God will justly reward you!
    Blessings,
    Lynn Abbott

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, I resonate a lot with that. Though these challenges add a lot of stress and unique challenges, there are so many blessings that come along with it. As hard as things have been for us, I’m so thankful for how much it’s changed us. Thank you for being that example with your sister. God bless you and your family.

      Like

  2. My ambiguous loss is two-fold, and this morning it is made even more real. In the last year, I have seen my own health decline rapidly. I had to have a feeding tube placed 2 months ago, and since then I have grieved everyday for the loss of being able to eat, to watch my family enjoy the foods I once was able to also enjoy. Traveling to see my son, daughter-in-law and grandson is made difficult not only for that reason but also by the fact that I have a suitcase full of medical supplies to bring with me–feeding pump, enough formula food to last me, (it isn’t something I can just go to the store and buy if I run out), syringes, specially designed bandages and tape, backpack to hold the pump so I can be mobile, etc. I can’t run along my grandson as he rides his new little bike or jump on the trampoline with him. My son is concerned that everyone else gets to eat, and he always asks me if there is anything I am able to eat so I don’t feel left out. I grieve for the person I once was and desire to be again. The second aspect of my ambiguous loss is my daughter, once my best friend, has not talked to me nor desired to reconcile in 3 years. She has walked away from her marriage and given the majority of custody of our grandson to her ex-husband. I have not seen him since he was 2 1/2; he is now 5. Our ex son-in-law also refuses to talk to us or allow us to see our grandson. Neither have blocked us on Facebook, although my daughter never posts. Occasionally his dad will post a picture that I quickly save and print since I never know when they will completely block me. My tears fall everyday. I miss them so much and again, I long for what used to be. I have shaken my fist at God in anger, wondering why He has allowed such a devastating loss, especially since our daughter may not even be a believer, even though I thought she was, and my ex son-in-law is not. Who will tell our little grandson about Jesus. Will he be left behind when Jesus returns. It hurts so much. These losses have threatened not only my sanity but also my desire to live. I know God’s Word says He can redeem the years the locusts have eaten, but I can never get these years back with my grandson..

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  3. Dear WordPress:

    Could you please unsubscribe me from Set Apart? I very much appreciate the posts from Set Apart, but I am trying to cut back on the amount of emails in my inbox. Thanks so much. I tried

    clicking on the “unsubscribe” link, but it wasn’t working.

    Thanks again.

    Arlene Gotti

    Like

    1. Hi Arlene, this is Sarah. Not a problem that you don’t want to subscribe anymore, but I’m not sure if I have the ability to unsubscribe you. You would most likely have to email customer service at WordPress rather than my personal blog. I will try to look at it, but I don’t know of a way to unsubscribe people. Sorry! ~Sarah

      Like

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