A Different Me

I’m not the same me  I was two years ago.

I no longer look with confidence down the driveway as friends and family pull away, certain that we will see one another soon.

I whisper, “Be safe” when we part, but know that they are not the keeper of their days and that “being safe” doesn’t mean everyone escapes deadly peril.

I don’t have the luxury of emotional distance when I read the newspaper anymore.

I can’t watch the text scroll by on CNN or FoxNews and allow my eyes and heart to glaze over as numbers representing lives flash by.

Burying my son has tenderized me.

My mind drifts effortlessly and immediately to the ones left behind any time there is mention of a murder or a suicide or an accident.

And my spirit rejoices  when a heroic rescue uncovers someone buried in the rubble or a passerby stops to help a person who otherwise faced certain doom.  Second chances make me cry happy tears.

I have higher tolerance for the failures of others and lower tolerance for hatefulness and unkindness.

Maybe I’m just tired, but I find it easier to extend grace than to fuel anger.

I don’t care what latest or greatest movie, TV show, fashion fad or IPhone App has just been released-ads for a better, bigger, newer anything don’t entice me.

Don’t try to draw me into drama or worry or hand-wringing over politics or social media or foolish disputes.  There is no part of my heart with room for that.

I will exhaust myself loving others but not on loving things.

I’m a pilgrim and a stranger on this earth. I’m walking a path in a foreign land, looking forward to my heavenly home.  

By an act of faith, Abraham said yes to God’s call to travel to an unknown place that would become his home. When he left he had no idea where he was going. By an act of faith he lived in the country promised him, lived as a stranger camping in tents. Isaac and Jacob did the same, living under the same promise. Abraham did it by keeping his eye on an unseen city with real, eternal foundations—the City designed and built by God.

Hebrews 11:8-10 MSG





Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

11 thoughts on “A Different Me”

  1. I read this and feel like this is me too. We might not have chosen this life but God has choose us to plow a field. Little by little. It’s a difficult journey. I miss who I was, my life, my daughter but I have no choice but to do better. The change in me I hope is noticeable. I hope others see Christ in me. I hope I love ppl more and that they feel loved too. I can say Melanie when I read your work that I see Christ in you. God is using you. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Kathleen, I was thinking of how meat is tenderized-pounded with that mallet that tears tiny holes and breaks apart the fibers. I feel like grieving my son has rearranged the molecules in every part of my body.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I love coming here & reading your posts. I feel like you all are putting my thoughts into words. I don’t seem to care about anything. I’m trying to get pass all the “What ifs” but it’s difficult. It has been a year now since my son has been gone, it feels like last month, last week.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I”m sorry Darlene-it’s a lot of work to face those questions and figure out what to do with them. Some I have decided might just have to remain in tension as long as I live. I don’t know-it’s been two years for me so that might change. But grief is definitely work. Praying for you.


  2. This is so beautifully said. EXACTLY how I feel about this world and the time that I must remain here. “I will exhaust myself loving others but not on loving things.” I could not care any less about matters of no consequence.
    “All I know is I’m not home yet, this is not where I belong….”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This is amazing accurate for me! You put it perfectly into words that describe the feelings inside!!!! From where my mind wonders when loved ones leave or don’t answer a text to the grace I give that is new and different than before my son left earth. The second chances some get… i must confess I am jealous that my son didn’t get a second chance however I’ve learned that maybe he did but we didn’t recognize it or praise God for it because we didn’t know it was a chance. Love your blog. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. So sorry for your loss, Linda. We are all changed by losing a child-no going back. I pray that the changes in me are more Christlike and less selfish or bitter. May God give you the strength and grace you need for each new day. Thank you for the encouraging words.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: