God's comfort is promised to every one of us, constantly; yet this comfort is experienced differently in different times, especially in the midst of tragedy when we are usually at our worst and often try to reject it. The darkest moments in our lives are often caused by the death of a loved one, when comfort seems far beyond our reach.
There are two times when I have had to face extreme tragedy in my life; the first was on May 10, 1985, when I was a young mother working as a nurse. On that beautiful Spring day, my world became dark when Amber, my beautiful, full of life, 21-month-old daughter drowned in my former in-laws' pond in a tragic accident. I was devastated, and honestly didn't want comfort. Earlier that morning, I had a healthy, sweet, beautiful child; by nightfall she was gone. Comfort was so far from me; even though I knew in my heart that Amber was now in Heaven, all I wanted was my daughter back. Essentially, I was lost.
I have always had a strong faith and walk with God, but I felt so alone. Struggling with such emotions in the South during those days didn't help either, because considering therapy, or even just simply talking about your feelings when something like this happened was taboo; it made other people sad and uncomfortable. I had been taught that it was better to bury them. I retreated into God's Word for answers, although I didn't think I was getting any. Yet, in time, something started to change. I can't say that there was an awareness of discovering comfort in the beginning, or even peace for that matter. Still, in hindsight, I now know that God's comfort was poured over me, and my daily prayer slowly became: "Lord, let this tragedy make me better, not bitter." And he began to do just that. I began to go outside for my talks with God, and I whenever I did, I noticed that these dragonflies would always show up and stay close by me. They become for me a metaphor, a tangible symbol of God's comfort.
Many years later, just when I thought my life was perfect-Richard and I had our five beautiful children grown and we started to begin life with an empty nest-tragedy struck again, this time in August, 2015. Carrie, our beautiful, one of a kind, strong willed, and big-hearted daughter was killed in a car accident. Again, my world stopped, and comfort and peace left me-I had no answers. Going through such a thing again was surreal-almost like I was watching everything happen in a dream. As a parent who had lost a child before, my heart ached and was completely broken for my husband, Richard, for Darlene, Carrie's biological mother, and for Carrie's daughters. I felt the scab that covered my grief for Amber's loss being ripped off. Even though Carrie happened to show up later on in my life, she was my family, my friend, and my daughter, and I loved her with all my heart. Her death devastated me. I knew that I needed to be strong for my family, but all I wanted to do was give up.
Though these things take time, and I'm not exactly there yet, I'm slowly beginning to feel God's comfort again. Life is sometimes all-consuming and rages like a stormy ocean, but I hold fast to my belief that God has promised to be with us in these times-even when we don't think we want his comfort, he is there nonetheless. God does not promise that there won't be hard, and or even seemingly unbearable, times, but he tells us that he will be with us no matter what.
I still struggle with grief; it has become a new way of life and I don't think I will ever, truly "get over" either Amber's or Carrie's deaths, but something that I've learned through tragedy is that sometimes, when we're screaming up at God and begging him to tell us why he is allowing it into our lives, the answer comes in simple things like dragonflies to remind us of his presence and to offer us peace and comfort when we are ready to accept it. Even now, when I see dragonflies, it makes my heart smile, because in them I can see God's promise of comfort.
