We all watched as Erika Kirk was handed the bitter chalice of losing her beloved husband too soon. As I’ve talked to friends, I have found that we’re all experiencing something similar: grief, sadness, despair, exhaustion, weariness. We deeply feel the absence of Charlie’s voice and continue to mourn for the young family he leaves behind.

My personal grief for Erika has caused me to do a lot of reflecting. Her loss is now mixed with my own recent loss. One year ago, four weeks before our wedding, my fiancé unexpectedly died. 

Reflecting on those moments after loss

My heart is broken with Erika’s. I am in mourning with her. All of the pain and loss and emptiness of my past year have resurfaced as I’ve been living through these days with her.

I died on that August day. My heart broke beyond repair. The dreams that we had were put to death. The future was empty. I wanted to die, too. 

Before my fiancé’s death, I never would have guessed that, in three days, I’d be casket shopping. The plan was to drive to Cincinnati and pick up an antique rug we had bought. But there I was, three days later, sitting in a funeral parlor looking through a catalogue with casket options I knew he would have hated (can anyone get a simple walnut option in those catalogues?)

Decisions needed to be made, plans needed to be canceled, everybody wanted to talk to me, nobody wanted to talk to me, cards to open, ugly Amazon gifts sat awkwardly on the table, flowers filled the room, no appetite, texts stretched a mile. All of it numb. Blurry.

I would never again hug him or hear his laugh or ask for his advice or hear him say “I love you.” I would never call him my husband, and, in death, I don’t get to call myself a widow. Done. Book closed. Final.

Living between the veil

The in-between state of existence is hard to explain. I gave my heart to him, and just because he was dead didn’t mean that I got my heart back. My fiancé continued to hold my gifted heart in his own as he entered Christ’s heart. It was like I was straddling the veil, one foot in the world, one foot in death. Basically, the veil had become quite thin, and my heart was brought close to Christ’s.

Christ did not abandon me. His closeness in my dark hour was the greatest intimacy I’ve ever experienced in my life. I repeatedly told Christ that I was dead, that I didn’t have a heart anymore. In response, He gave me His own heart, breathing life into my shell of a body through the Eucharist and Confession.

The only consolation I received was in prayer. I saw myself in Him at His agony in the garden, in the bloody stripping of His garments, in the carrying of His cross, in His crucifixion. I was helping Christ carry a small share of His burdens like Simon of Cyrene. I offered all that I had to show Him my love, like Veronica offering her veil. 

It was a constant battle with utter despair, but God’s grace was persistent. Through this pain, Christ revealed Himself to me in ways I never knew possible.

A nation in despair

There is so much happening in our world today that would be the cause of immense despair. Shootings in Minneapolis and Colorado schools. The random stabbing of an innocent woman on a Charlotte train. The brutal assassination of a leader who desired to pursue truth to the end. The list goes on and on. Enough broken hearts to bring an entire nation to despair.

I’ve heard a lot of questions these last few days.

Where does it end? How many more tragedies are to come? Is anybody safe anymore? Why is all of this happening? Why does God allow such painful things to happen?

I’ve asked myself questions like this more times than I can count in the last year. 

Why did he have to die? Why did I have to be the one left behind? Why did it happen before we got married? Why didn’t God save him? Am I being punished for my sins? Will this happen to me again?

This is the truth: Death will happen again and again. We all know this. Some of us die in peace, some in violence, some unexpectedly, some too soon, some too late (I think of my poor 100-year-old grandma who wonders why she’s still alive). 

We will never know when or how our lives will come to an end. That was never promised to us. That is not our source of strength. We all need a reminder of what has been promised to us. 

Promises made, promises kept

We are promised a life to come. That the “dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78-79) That God will show us greater mercy than we can imagine, and all we must do is humbly desire to receive it. That God is the perfect arbiter of justice. That the peace of Christ can reign inside each of us, even in the darkest of moments, if we turn our hearts and minds to Him.

Many of us look at Erika Kirk, feeling the impossibility and pain of her life now. We dread, on her behalf, the sad days to come. We cannot imagine how anyone could have the strength to go through such a tragedy as this because we are not the ones going through that tragedy. God offers abundant grace to those who are in suffering. Scripture reminds us of this time and time again. The saints write on this extensively. And I speak from my own experience that it is true. God can raise us to new life.

“Beloved, do not be surprised that a trial by fire is occurring among you, as if something strange were happening to you. But rejoice to the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, so that when his glory is revealed you may also rejoice exultantly.” (1 Peter 4:12-13)

God might give you more than you can handle

Have you heard the famous saying, “God never gives you more than you can handle?” I hear it all the time from well-meaning people, but it completely misses the point.

God allows trials to come our way that are simply too much for us to bear. Some trials are so great that we are left completely emptied. When we hit rock bottom, we are quickly reminded of how entirely dependent we are on God. 

By His grace, we can survive shipwrecks, torture, imprisonment, martyrdom, and the death of a heart. Praise be to God.

Please join me in praying for Erika’s strength, the repose of Charlie’s soul, and hope for a despairing nation.