Sitting in the Sacred Row. (reflections on Libby, Jessi and a letter to her family)

Sitting in the sacred row. 

I never wanted this for you. I never wanted you to be a part of this grief club. I never wanted you to sit in the front, in the sacred row, in the seat of pain. 

When I got news that Jessi was gone I felt punched. 

I didn’t even know she had had a seizure that led to a diagnosis and a scheduled treatment to come. 

I just got a message saying she was with Jesus. 

I reeled. And the first place my mind went was to you Jenni, her precious twin sister. 

I know what it is to lose a sister. I know what it is to lose a best friend. I know what it is in one moment to be passing a bag of apple slices back and forth as we took a parenting class as we were both pregnant with our first babies and hours later, she took her last breath, and was gone forever here on this earth.

I lost the aunt to my children. I lost my nephew. I lost any future nieces and nephews that she would have carried. I lost my partner in crime. The one who was supposed to help me plan birthday parties and cousin sleepovers and celebrate holidays and go on vacation together. 

The one who was to help me make sense of all the losses to come and be the one to hold me as I grieved. I lost the person who helped me pack for trips. The one who I knew would overbuy shoes for my children. 

I miss the one who would laugh at my jokes. I miss the one who would sing the songs as only she could sing and play the guitar with passion that was all her. I miss the one who would have helped me with my kids with disabilities. The one who understood the family dynamics. 

I lost the peacemaker. The rational one. The one with the halo, albeit a little crooked.

I sat in a celebration of life for Jessi and cried for 3 hours. I cried in gratitude for Jessi and I cried in sadness and grief for you.. I cried for your current loss and all the losses to come. All the holidays and birthdays you will face without her. 

I cry for you Sandy and Clint without your precious daughter.

I cry for you Jenni, without your twin, your other half, a part of your heart and soul gone. 

I cry for you Greg and your beautiful precious five. Four of them who I had the privilege to care for in the nursery at church. Whose little hearts I prayed would know the love of Jesus and come into a saving knowledge of our great God. 

I cried for you Hunt brothers knowing you will never make music all together or make new memories.

I cry for the brokenness and fracture and heartache and devastation.

I sit with you in this pain. I see you. I see the joy of knowing Jessi is fully alive, pain free, dancing and making music and with Jesus… and in my heart I believe my sister Libby threw the biggest of welcome home parties for her. 

I see the million daily reminders you face of your baby girl, your sister, your precious wife, your mama not being there. Not holding you. Hugging you. Encouraging you.  Singing to you. Creating music with you. Laughing with you. Baking bread for you. Growing vegetables for you to eat. Chasing kids around. Smiling.

Your Jessi was very much like my sister Libby. She was also full of joy, loved music, had a beautiful singing voice, and loved Jesus above all things. They are with Him. In His presence there is fullness of love and light. 

We are on this side, dear ones. In the twenty-two years of losing my sister these are some of the things I know to be true:

*God will NEVER leave or forsake or abandon you. He is ALWAYS with you.

*Death is a doorway and one day we will walk through that door with Jesus and be with Him and His people forevermore. You are a breath away from Jessi and Jesus. It doesn’t always feel like it but we will be there soon.

*Your sadness and grief, hope and joy, sorrow and surrender are all evidence of your deep love.

*It’s okay to laugh and find joy and see goodness in life.  And it’s okay if it takes a while to feel those things again. You are not betraying her memory when you smile and laugh again.

*Be kind to yourself. be kind to each other. Take the time (that you possibly can) to eat and sleep. Even the most basic of tasks can be utterly draining. You will each grieve in different in unique ways.

*If you’re here on earth and not with Him in Heaven then that means your mission is not done. He has plans for you. He has purposes. 

Take what spoke to you. Lose the rest. Chew the meat. Spit out the bones. These are merely my reflections. You have your own road to walk and your own grief to bear. Take as long as you need. 

My words can’t contain all the things I wish my heart could communicate to you. I know this is a long road on a path that you didn’t want to take. My prayers for your are this: that you would be able to receive God’s love and comfort and feel His deep presence with you. That the Lord would give you dreams and memories that would encourage your hearts. That you would remain steadfast knowing that you are not in control but He is the One holding you and will never let you go. I pray blessing and life over each of you. May the Lord calm your nervous systems and bring your bodies in alignment with Him. May He remove any and all fear. May you hold fast to hope knowing that He who began a good work will bring it to completion. 

Holding you in my hearts. Carrying you in my thoughts. Praying over you daily. And if you don’t have the grace to hold space for faith, or the loss feels all consuming, I pray that many will come along side you and hold your arms up like Moses' friends did and that you will know that it is God who will fight your battles.

You are dearly loved. May the Lord give you grace for each moment. 

Love, Jennifer

(Only Peace and Praise is a copy of a painting done by Jessi Hunt Kinstler.)