As He approached the village, he met a multitude of people in a funeral procession, who were mourning as they carried the body of a young man to the cemetery. The boy was his mother’s only son and she was a widow. When the Lord saw the grieving mother, his heart broke for her. With great tenderness he said to her, “Please don’t cry.” Then he stepped up to the coffin and touched it. When the pallbearers came to a halt, Jesus said to the corpse, “Young man, I say to you arise and live!” Luke 7:12-13

I haven’t written for a long time but I feel this is important to share.
I have battled a lot of physical illness and weakness since my son died three and a half years ago. That is not uncommon for those living with grief. One of the things I have had to deal with the last year and a half, is severe Diverticulosis. I basically have holes throughout my entire gut.  I have had to change my diet drastically to daily avoid pain and infection.
About six months ago, a close friend brought to my attention Luke 7:12-13 from the Passion translation. This story of the widow who lost her son, has always ministered to me, because Jesus saw her first; He went to her.  Jesus was walking with his disciples, going to the town of Nain, when they came upon a funeral. When He saw what was happening, Jesus was moved by this mother’s sorrow so deeply, He raised her son from the dead and gave him back to her. In this context of scripture, the greek word splanchnizomai is used, which denotes the deepest level of compassion. There is no greater word in the Greek language to describe the depth of emotion Jesus felt for this widow over the loss of her son. This word is actually the word for intestines.  Jesus’ emotions fully identified with her grief and He carried her sorrow.

This blew me away! Jesus felt compassion for a grieving mother in His gut so deeply, he raised her son from the dead. When I read this, I felt the issues in my gut were completely validated. I felt seen by my Lord, just like she did that day. He showed me that He truly bears our grief and our sorrows. This brought in a new perspective about my sickness, which now I feel I understand more of why it is there, and I’m honored to carry it for my beloved son.

The other day, I was on a plane traveling home from Colorado. Upon landing, everyone began switching their phones off of airplane mode, waiting to exit the plane, when suddenly, I heard screams and cries from about five rows back. The sound and tone of these cries were hauntingly familiar to me. They got louder and louder as a woman screamed out to all of us on the plane, “My son is dead! My son is dead!”. I immediately began to shake in the terror of what was happening to this mother. I know the feeling; the unthinkable, the helplessness, the horror. She continued yelling, “My son died!” People began moving out of the way to let her off the plane. She began moving down the isle; weakened limbs, bewildered, desperate, repeating the words, “My son is dead.” I knew I had to get to her, but there was a long line of people ahead of me, so I prayed that God would make a way.  I could feel, in my own body, the shock, the crazy, sick, reality that hit her like a semi truck and the impact of what she’s forced to endure for the rest of her life. Once I was off the plane, I shuffled through the crowds, hoping and praying to find her.  I could hear her loud cries, but couldn’t see her. I stood at the top of the escalator looking down, and thankfully saw a young man pushing her in a wheelchair towards baggage claim. Once I got to baggage claim, I followed the cries through the sea of people and found her. I threw my things down on the floor, grabbed a hold of her and held her tight. Pushing my tears back, my voice shaking, I said, “I am so sorry.” She continued to weep saying,” It is too much. My husband died a month ago. It is too much”. I repeated back to her, “it is too much.”  She grabbed her phone out of her purse and told me she needed to call her other children and tell them what happened, repeating  over and over, “My son is dead.” I stayed with her, holding her close, attempting to somehow contain all the pieces of her that had been broken and scattered in a instant. She looked up at me, with tears and bewilderment, and said, “Thank you. I don’t know who you are but thank you.” I waited with her until her daughter arrived. Broken and shattered; this daughter has now lost her brother. When it was time to go, I got down on my knees and looked directly into her eyes and said, “Jesus is near to the broken hearted, He will be near you and never leave you. I assure you.” She then she rehearsed the rest of scripture back to me, “and for those crushed in Spirit.”
After saying goodbye, I jumped into my daughter’s car and broke down. This experience was beyond painful and brought me right back to the moment when I got the word that my precious son had died. I sat in the back seat, crying, and crying out to Jesus, my only comfort.  Arriving home, I was consumed with thoughts and prayers for this beautiful women, feeling overwhelmed by the pain and sleeplessness she is going to face. I layed down and cried until I fell asleep. Right when I woke up, I remembered the story of the widow. Deep sorrow, compassion, and the gut pain Jesus felt, for the widow. Jesus felt it to the point of movement. He was moved by compassion and did something to bring comfort, and ultimately resurrection. His compassion for her, forced him to put himself in her shoes, feeling her pain, recognizing all that she had endured, as he met her  in the darkest hour of her soul.

The pain I felt for this mother, was a familiar pain, which in turn, caused movement. Jesus feels our pain, we too are to feel the pain of those who suffer. Jesus weeps for the loss of a loved one, we are to weep with those who have lost a loved one. The attack of bad news, of brokenness, of despair, is to be sat with, seen, approached and brought close. That is what our savior did, that is what we are invited to do.
There had been a entire airplane filled with people who heard her wails, but it was only her and I, sitting together at baggage claim.  It is not because I am some good person, trust me, it is because my savior has done that for me. He has run to me in my deepest sorrow. He has great compassion and moved towards me, in my darkness, where others don’t want to go. He has also shown me that example, in His word. He has felt my pain in His gut. It has moved Him to action. In the most horrific places or responses to grief and despair, He never leaves us, and actually binds up the brokenhearted. He never forsakes us in the ugliest, the scariest, most horrible nightmares we face. He now invites us to do the same. That is actually a large part of the Christian walk, to bear each others burdens.
I asked the Lord, is this my new life?  It seems as though I have found myself  with many who suffer death and it’s grief since my son has died. Is this my calling? to be with those who mourn and who are in such pain? He said, “all are called there.”

“We are called to be like Jesus. A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. ”

My son’s birthday is 7/12/88- the scripture of the widow is Luke 7:12