Last week, our veterinarian relieved the suffering of our faithful dog, Ladybug. Ladybug lived with us for 4 years. She had developed severe seizures when two years ago she bit into an electrical cord and suffered a paralyzing shock. In the last two years, her seizures began to increase in volume and frequency to the point where we were faced with a difficult decision.

The seizures were horrible to watch, each one lasting for several minutes. Medication did not help. The day before Ladybug’s passing, her seizures exploded in number. She had eight seizures in just an hour and fifteen minutes. During seizures on the day of her passing, she emitted a guttural cry like she was begging us for help. 

It has been an emotional time in our home during the week since Ladybug’s passing last Wednesday. Everywhere we go in our home we expect to see our faithful canine friend appear where she lived with us but now, we only see an empty and silent space filled with memories.

The passing of Ladybug was painful, but it has brought a significant revelation that would help us process the passing of friends and what will eventually happen someday when either Jan or myself, goes before the other.

The day Ladybug died was the same day a longtime friend and ministry partner also passed away unexpectedly. It is no accident with the timing of what God would reveal to us. God was preparing us with Ladybug’s passing on how we would process certain aspects of death.

As we were processing our emotions, Jan shared a quote from author Nancy Levin who wisely wrote, “Honor the space between no longer and the not yet.” That quote created a poetic blessing that Jan wrote inspired by Ladybug’s passing. It would bring us great comfort when death occurs with someone or something we love. It is about how to honor that space and its associated memories.

Jan wrote, “You made a space in my heart where there was none and filled me up with friendship and love for days and years and then tears—for she is now gone.

“I honor this space between no longer and not yet—a new space, an expanded space, enlarged by sorrow and compassion. I’m grateful.

“I wait expectantly, for You are worth the wait—knowing your mighty, gracious Hand rests on me. Your blessings carry me into the future where every tear is wiped away and my heart finds my home in you.”

For the last week since Ladybug’s death, I have been exercising my faith in a new way in my empty place of grief. When my imagination recalls the places where Ladybug lived and performed her unique dog actions, I stop and spiritually walk into that empty place and say, “Lord, in this empty place – I honor the space between no longer and what is not yet and invite your presence to fill this emptiness.”

The simple exercise of inviting the Lord into my empty place has begun to reshape my sorrow, not only for the passing of our faithful dog but for my friend who died on the same day as Ladybug. I am honoring their memories in a new way inviting the Lord to come and make Himself known in my place of grief. This has been a process of healing that I was not aware of until the Lord brought His redefining revelation into my place of grief and forever changed how I see and interpret the feelings of emptiness.