I think about grief a lot these days. Not always in my stepfamily, but often my family of origin. I’m grieving a mother who’s no longer part of my life. The mother who raised me is gone — stolen by the disease of dementia.
I’ve just returned from four days nestled amidst the beauty of the Ouachita mountains with my parents, siblings, and husbands. Time spent around a campsite on a cool evening, long hikes in wooded terrain, and leisurely conversation with my sisters in the hot tub provided family fun and relaxation. But amidst the peaceful time together I noticed an underlying burden of grief, a sadness that settled over my heart like a dense fog on a winter day. Despite moments of joy that I tried hard to embrace, my heart reminded me that the relationship with my mom would never be the same.
Grief is a difficult emotion. We can pack it away in hopes of pretending it isn’t there. But it rears its head eventually. Grief shows up in the form of addiction, codependency, anger, depression, obesity, or a host of other issues if not dealt with properly. Too often we address the symptoms of grief, instead of the root of the feelings.
Grief changes relationships. When I visit my parents, I don’t know who will answer the door — the mom who knows me and welcomes me with open arms or a mom of confusion with hollow, sad eyes. I’m grieving for the mom of my childhood, predictable, loving, gracious. It changes my expectations of every visit.
Grief has changed my stepfamily relationships also. When I married my husband, I brought two daughters that joined his family with a daughter and son. As I began the journey with my stepson, I envisioned ball games as his biggest fan and an affectionate mother-son bond my friends had told me about. I looked forward to shopping excursions and pedicures with my stepdaughter.
Instead, I discovered loyalty conflict and distanced relationships. I endured tension at every ballgame as I sat inches away from a woman who wanted nothing to do with her son’s stepmother. I tiptoed around confused emotions as my stepchildren travelled between two homes. I uncovered feelings of insecurity and doubt as a stepmom. And finally .. I lowered my expectations for relationships that would never materialize the way I’d envisioned.
I grieved for the life I would never have.
I cried. I fretted. I protested. I withdrew into myself. I bargained with God. I lashed out at others. I complained.
Until one day, I finally accepted the life God had called me to. And found joy that only God can give.
I love these words penned by Sarah Young in Jesus Today:
“Make every effort to accept as your calling the life I have assigned to you. This perspective helps take the sting out of even the harshest circumstances. If I have called you to a situation, I will give you everything you need to endure it — even to find Joy in the midst of it.
Learning to be content is both a discipline and an art: You train your mind to trust My sovereign ways with you — bowing before My mysterious, infinite intelligence. You search for Me in the details of your day, all the while looking for good to emerge from trouble and confusion. You accept the way things are without losing hope for a better future.”
Acceptance. It’s not easy. But it’s the first step toward healing in our grief.
How has grief affected your stepfamily? Will you share how you’ve coped with it?
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