Who could counsel this?

The time came about 6 months after our son Joel had died that I would find myself on the desperate edge of needing help.  In my mind and heart, I truly did not believe that any human could ever reallllly "counsel" me through this great loss.  I wondered if they could really tell me something about my pain that I didn't already know, and know much more deeply than they.  After some thought, and some prayer I decided that I truly stood to lose nothing, By the grace of God my mother in law, Joel's grandma, gathered some information about a local counselor for me to see.  She was in town from Seattle and could see that things at our home were so very different than they had ever been.  I spent most of my time on the couch, sleeping, crying, and with a genuine dis-interest in participating in life.  In hindsight I can see myself burrowing my head into grief's heavy cloak.  Two weeks of her stay had come to an end and we were on our way to the airport to drop her off.  I never want her to leave when she visits, but now I especially don't.  There is something so comforting about being surrounded by family that truly understand and accept your pain.  Not only do they understand and accept it, they see it for what it is, raw, painful and something that they can't fix.  Though given the opportunity to "fix" this I am sure anyone would.  When I arrived home that day from the airport, there was a list waiting for me on a desk that I once ran and organized our lives from.  As I sat down in a chair that I had avoided for many months, before me was the very first list I had looked at since our son went home to heaven.  The separation of time for me is black and white, before and after...divided by these words from the coroner ; "Your son didn't make it."  As my mind went back to that one sided conversation I stared blankly at the list before me...Number one: call this counselor, at this number, and here is the address.  I started sobbing.  Thoughts were racing through my head, "she saw what a mess I am ... She's so selfless....she did this research for me?! Does she think I am a bad mom? Noooo, I just don't know what to say! Does this mean I am going to get help?"....
I wiped the tears from my eyes and continued to number 2 and then 3 and so on. This list was comprised of love in it's purest form. My mother in law paid the kind of attention to me that God knew I needed.  I wasn't a bad mom, in fact my surviving children were loved, fed and bathed...back to basics so to speak.  But she knew the kind of mom I was before our tragedy.  She knew that the "old" me had so much more to give and that there was a fight in me... somewhere, I had just lost sight of that mom and woman amid the pain among us. So here began the motions of my heart and soul, to take hold of what Jesus died for me to have.  I picked up the phone and dialed the counselors number.  Each ring seemed to grow louder and louder in my ears...she answered.  I thought for a brief moment that I would just hang up and find another way.  Did my attempt at counseling propose that I didn't know Who my true counselor was?  Was I stepping out side of my faith for answers?  I answered back, with broken breaths, "my son died and I need help".                             

The phone call that I was terrified to make was somehow making Joel's death more real.  I was hyperventilating as I agreed to meet with her in an immediate opening that afternoon.   I was feeling divided, like part of me wanted to face my grief head on and the other half, by ignoring it, would somehow disprove my reality.  I showed up.  I showed up in my mess and in my weary walk, but I was present.  Most of what I had to say was filled with pauses for sobbing, but I was working through it, and she was listening...hearing me, allowing me to be this blubbering mess, I so needed to be.  For the first time in 6 months, I finished crying and actually felt like I was done crying for the day.  Every day preceding this counseling session, I often wondered when would I be able to stop crying , even if for a few hours! There was also a time where I tried to count the days between cries, almost like a challenge between my mind and heart.  I scheduled another session before I left, and I was on my way.  Heading home in my car that night I prayed.  I thanked God for using my loved ones around me to deliver me from the all consuming grief that laid atop me.  I thanked Him for the unbiased counselors of our time, who could offer the practical applications we need in our humanness. And then I praised Him.  I praised God for being my All Mighty Counselor.  His job is so infinite, and His love is so paternal. I felt cared for, I felt hope enter into my heart and take root.  I felt like my tears had been wiped away by the King who knows my pain and that the real healing would now commence.  I was able , in prayer, to realize that I had lost sight of some very powerful truths.  That I am a daughter of a Mighty King.  That He promises to wipe away all of my tears. And that He will take what is broken and make it whole again.  God's promises...the poetry that is woven into the very fabric of our lives.  This fabric, this cloak, is what I would much rather burrow my head and heart into. As I have said before, we have a choice.  We are given this free gift of salvation and redemption by God, or we can unknowingly remain under the spirit of grief .  Surely the enemy can have his way with our lives if we choose grief and lonliness.  "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy: I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10.   Jesus tells us to take heart!  The exclamation pointing to the victory we can have through Christ!   "And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."  ~ Isaiah 9:6 <3  You all have my heart and prayers <3 Love, Sarah