Melanie

Empathy: Let Me Hold The Door For You

I remember struggling mightily to get four young children to church Sunday mornings.

At the time we attended a larger church that had a couple of parking lots-one near and one not-so-near the entrance.

Of course, I was never early enough to park very close to the doors so had to shepherd all four (while carrying the youngest in his car seat) across a small lane, up a hill and finally to the foyer.

What a blessed relief when some kind person opened that door for me as we approached!

It wasn’t much in the whole scheme of things.

It didn’t relieve my aching arms of the load I carried.

But it said, “I see you. I want to do the little bit I can to encourage you.”

I have never forgotten those days.

Opening the door taught me that sometimes the smallest act of kindness is the difference between a heart giving up or hanging on.

I’ve had a lot of people “hold the door” for me on this journey of child loss.

Most of them have not walked in my shoes but they could see my soul was worn and I needed encouragement.

For that I will be eternally grateful.

❤

Anxiety: A Very Real Part of Child Loss

Before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I would not have described myself as “anxious”.

Of course I had my moments, but anxiety, panic or worry was not really something I experienced on a regular basis.

That’s changed.

Read the rest here: Anxiety After Child Loss Is Real

How To Derail A Negative Train Of Thought

It happens most often when things are very quiet or I’m trying to drift off to sleep.

My mind will rehearse the moment the doorbell rang, or the phone calls I had to make, or-worse yet-imagining what, exactly, Dominic experienced when he left the road and plowed through bushes until he was thrown from his motorcycle and died.

Once my thoughts begin to follow that track, it’s so hard to derail them.

It used to be absolutely impossible.

Read the rest here: Grief Coping Strategy: Derailing A Negative Train of Thought

Extending And Receiving Grace

There is so much going on right now in our country and our world that hurts my heart.

I could get on my soapbox and pontificate about what policies should be or what politicians should do but my tiny voice wouldn’t make a difference on the grander stage.

My world is pretty small in comparison to social influencers and the ones who want to be.

BBC Radio - The English We Speak, It's a small world

Even still, what I do and what I say each day matters.

It matters to my family and my neighbors.

It matters to the folks with whom I share social media space, the road and the grocery aisle.

So I make it a habit to extend and receive grace.

I extend it when someone else’s experience informs an opinion different than my own. I extend it when someone posts a meme or article with which I disagree. I extend it when I scroll past what I consider offensive-just ignore it and go on-instead of “taking them to task”.

I receive it when my friends do the same.

Nifty Interweb Treasures: Just keep scrolling – [insertniftyphrase]

It’s not my job to police everyone else on the planet.

It IS my job to live according to my profession of faith in Jesus Christ.

Grace-unmerited favor-poured out abundantly on me and available for me to pour out on others.

I can do that. ❤

Repost: Your Child Matters

I know many of us bereaved moms and dads edit ourselves on a daily basis. While others post freely on social media platforms, we write and delete post after post because we feel like if we put it ALL out there other folks will think less of us.
Or worse-they might think less of the child we miss.
Why oh why would we want to continue to share that same tired old photo some people might ask.
Well, because it’s all we have. We don’t have the luxury of another birthday, Christmas or happy family gathering to snap new pictures of our growing, thriving child.
We wish we did. Believe me, we wish we did.
❤

I know many who read this blog belong to closed online bereavement groups.

That’s a beautiful thing- a place where we can share our pain with others who understand it in a judgement-free zone.

Read the rest here: Your Child Matters

Daily Bread: His Provision Is Sufficient

If I had my way I’d store up grace like green beans-stacking one can atop the other “just in case”.

Then I could decide if and when to open it up and pour it out.

But grace isn’t like that. It’s a perishable though infinite commodity-like manna.

When God led the Israelites into the desert, He promised to feed, nurture and sustain them.

Daily bread rained down from Heaven every morning-enough and more than enough-for their needs. But He warned them not to gather more than they could use THAT day.

He promised there would be another bountiful plenty the next morning.

Manna and the land: God's methods of miraculous provision – Acton ...

Faced with the choice to trust God or trust themselves, some tried to hoard this gift and guarantee (so they thought!) tomorrow’s bounty. It turned to maggoty mush by the next morning.

God was making a point.

He wanted His people to know that He was the Source of their provision. He wanted His people to learn that His faithful love endures forever and shows up every morning.

Many of us grew up reciting this blessing without understanding the deep truth hidden inside:

God is great,
God is good,
Let us thank Him for our food.
By His hand we all are fed,
Thank You, Lord, for daily bread.
Children’s Blessing

Few of us live on daily bread anymore.

Most have pantries and refrigerators and freezers full of food. It’s hard to hearken back to a time when the penny you earned for working a field was the penny you used to purchase that day’s meal.

So, in some ways, the idea of having only enough and no more is both foreign and frightening.

But my Father wants me to trust Him, to lean on Him, to wake looking for His face and reaching for His provision.

Like manna in the desert, if I try to gather more grace than I need it rots before I can use it.

God greets me each morning with the grace I need for that day-no more, no less. It is always enough for the work I must do and the challenges I must face.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is sunrise-trees.jpg

He nurtures and sustains me.

His daily grace is sufficient.

I can rest in His bountiful provision without fear for tomorrow because His faithful love endures forever.

At A Loss For Words: Another Birthday Without You

It would surprise my mama most of all that on this day I’m at a loss for words.

I regularly embarrassed her with my non-stop commentary as a child. I told stories about what I heard and saw (and what my young mind THOUGHT it heard or saw) to anyone who would listen.

But I realize now there are moments too sacred, wounds too deep, experiences too precious for words.

Either you are there and share it-or you’re not-and can’t imagine.

This is one of those times.

Dominic would be [thirty-three] years old today if he had lived.

Living on a farm I’ve buried a lot of things in this Alabama dirt, I never thought my brother would be one of them. I miss you so much Hector Dominic DeSimone! ~Julian DeSimone

He’d be several years out of law school, on some path toward making his mark in the world, maybe (?) married, perhaps even a dad but definitely, positively here and part of our lives.

To be honest, I wouldn’t even care what his life looked like right now as long as it was LIFE.

Something very few people know and even fewer would note is that on Dominic’s birth day, the doctor who delivered him had just the day before become a bereaved parent himself. His daughter left this world by her own hand.

Another C-section, Dominic was lifted up next to my face by this sweet and vulnerable man while the tears poured down my face. I was crying for HIM not for me. I was undone that he had shown up and delivered my child while his own laid lifeless wherever they had taken her.

I thought I understood then.

But I had no clue.

I understand now.

Sometimes you show up and do what you need to because it’s the only way for a heart to survive. Sometimes you walk on because standing still leaves too much time for the horror to take root and overwhelm you.

I miss Dominic.

I miss the future we would have had together and the family we would have been if death hadn’t invaded our reality.

I would literally give anything other than the life of one I love for Dominic to be alive right now.

But it’s not an option.

So I’ll spend his birthday thinking about what we had, lamenting what we will never have, rejoicing that his faith is made sight and I’ll cry.

Because a mama’s arms are made for holding her child, not holding his memory.

Changed For Life

I wrote this three years ago but it still speaks my heart.
❤

I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach. I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.

The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar. It doesn’t surprise me as often when it pricks my heart anew.

The world goes on.

Read the rest here: True Truth

Grieving As A Family

Child loss is also often sibling loss.

In addition to their own heartache, bereaved parents carry the heartache of their surviving children.

The family everyone once knew is now a family no one recognizes. Hurting hearts huddle together-or run and hide-and it is so, so hard to find a way to talk about that pain.

Read the rest here: Grief is a Family Affair

Why Memorial Day Matters

Today is a day when we honor those who gave the last full measure in service to our country and our country’s wars.

It is a day to remember and mark with solemn gratitude the sacrifice of a life poured out.

You don’t have to agree with the reasons for a war to grieve the individuals who died fighting it.

War is far from glorious. It’s ugly and dirty and awful. For those that fight it and those on whose land it is fought.

But in this world where nation invades nation and the wicked often rule it’s sometimes necessary.

Battle field cross (With images) | Memorial day quotes, Soldier ...

Every soldier is a mother’s child. Every soldier leaves someone behind.

In war after war, families across America have been devastated by the deaths of their sons and daughters, many taken in the prime of life, at the dawn of adulthood.

Almost every family and community has a story of burying a promising young soul that was sure to make a difference but who never got that chance.

My father and my son served. My nephew is serving now.

And to all the mothers and fathers whose sons and daughters gave the last full measure for their home and country, I say:

“Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for the love poured into the child that became the brave man or brave woman who would put his or her life on the line for what they believed in. Your toil bore much fruit that continues to bless others today.”

You have given up what no one has the right to ask of you.

You live with both the honor of your child’s legacy and the horror of your child’s absence.

And if your child survived the battlefield but could not survive the scars of war, I am so very sorry.

I understand the pain of missing the child you love, I hear your heart and I am praying for you.

As we gather with our families and enjoy freedom purchased with the blood of sons and daughters, may we REMEMBER.

May we honor the ones who gave everything they had.

And may we remember the families left behind who can never forget.

The strongest love anyone can have is this. He will die to save his friends.
John 15: 13 WE

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