Melanie

Repost: Trusting God After Loss-Why It’s Hard, Why It’s Necessary

This time of year when broken hearts are surrounded by happy hearts it can hit hard.

“Why, oh why is MY child not here?”

“Where were You, God?”

Believe me, more than four years later and I fall right back into the same questions I thought I had asked and answered (or become satisfied NOT to answer).

So I have to return to the basics of walking my heart through the steps of leaning into trust.

I wrote this awhile ago-combining in one post all the posts in this series. I pray that if you, like me, need a refresher course in trusting God after loss, it helps your heart.

One of the greatest challenges I faced this side of child loss was finding a space where I could speak honestly and openly about my feelings toward God and about my faith.

So many times I was shut down at the point of transparency by someone shooting off a Bible verse or hymn chorus or just a chipper, “God’s in control!”

They had NO IDEA how believing that (and I do!) God is in control was both comforting and utterly devastating at the very same time.

Read the rest here: Trusting God After Loss: Why It’s Hard, Why It’s Necessary

Child Loss DOES Define Me

It’s popular in books, self-help articles and even in some grief groups for people to declare , “Child loss does not (will not, should not) define me”.

And while I will defend to the end another parent’s right to walk this path however seems best and most healing to him or her, to that statement I say, “Bah! Humbug!”

Child loss DOES define me.

It defines me in the same way that motherhood and marriage define me. It defines me as much as any other major milestone, event, choice or experience defines me.

How could it not define me and inform the person I am today?

But it does NOT circumscribe me.

Listen carefully to these next words: Child loss is a huge part of who I am but it does not draw a circle around who I am becoming. It is not a line in the sand I cannot cross. It is not a ball and chain weighing me down and preventing my forward motion.

It is not the ONLY thing I am, but it is an important part of who I am.

In many ways it has made life harder-especially in the first three years after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. But in other ways it has made my life more open, larger, expansive and inclusive. Child loss has opened my eyes to other hurting hearts in ways I doubt I would have noticed if my own had not been broken. Child loss has taught me the language of compassion and the necessity of listening well to other people. Child loss has rearranged my schedule and my priorities.

It most certainly helps to define the woman I am today.

Would I have chosen it? Absolutely not!

But I won’t waste it.

I choose to enfold it into who I am and what I do and how I live.

I cannot set it aside and ignore it any more than I could set aside my son.

Could you?

Legacy of Love in Spite of Pain

It’s said that “Hurt people, hurt people”.

And it’s true-often in my own pain I lash out and hurt others. Partly because my pain is so huge and so real and so blinding that I don’t always see what I’m doing to others.

But also, sometimes, (and I hate to admit it!) because misery loves company. If I’M hurting then someone else better hurt too!

That’s not the high road.

And it’s not the road Jesus paved with His blood.

I need to take my brokenness to Him. Because truth told, He’s really the only one that can minister true healing.

When I use my pain-even the unfathomably great pain of child loss-as an excuse for bad behavior all I do is spread the hurt.

It doesn’t take one bit of my own away.

So I try to be more mindful of when discomfort authors my words and stop them before they pour from my mouth on some unsuspecting victim.

I want my legacy to be love.

It’s a daily choice.

Repost: Spent

I wrote this awhile ago but circle back around to it every now and then.

I don’t know why I think I will reach a place in this journey where there won’t be days I’m overwhelmed. Wishful thinking, I guess.

Anyway, even with lots of good and beautiful and wonderful things happening all around me, I still get to the end of my emotional, physical and mental resources on a regular basis.

And then I just need to draw my head in my shell, hunker down and lie low until I can get some rest and perspective. ❤

There’s only so much a body can take in a day. And I’ve reached the limit.

Started out pretty good-up with the chickens and settled into my rocking chair with a cup of coffee and my journal.

But it didn’t last. First one thing and then another-unexpected, unwelcome, uncomfortable-life just comes flying and all I can do is hang on.

Read the rest here: Spent

Willing Submission or Fatalism?

I have to be completely honest-I’m not sure at all that my heart is truly submissive. It may just be that I figure, “What’s the point of resisting God?”.

Paul told the Roman believers to “present your bodies as living sacrifices”.

Trouble is, living sacrifices can (and do!) crawl off the altar.

I’m trying to stay there, subtle and malleable under the hand of the God Who made me. But unlike inanimate clay, I feel every pummel, slap and squeeze as He continues to mold me into the image of Christ.

Some days I’m better at it than others. Honestly, I think I’m better at it when I feel it most. Because then I recognize the bits that need changing, the attitudes that need adjusting, the habits that need to go.

But when it’s little things-judging someone by his outer appearance or demanding my “rights” as a customer from a tired store clerk or even impatiently charging through the house ignoring a phone call because I “have to get (whatever) done!”-that’s when I want out from under the hand of God.

Then there are the REALLY big things that I always balk at.

Why do I have to be ill when I have so much to do? Why my child? Why do all the appliances need replacing at once? Why are relationships so darn hard? Why won’t my RA go into remission? Why did the hurricane make its way right over my parents’ home?

Why, why, why?

And I find myself back at the beginning because truth told, I can’t do a thing about any of that.

Am I willingly submitting to what God allows in my life or am I simply accepting it because there’s no use resisting?

It’s a daily battle.

Still, Eternal One, You are our Father. We are just clay, and You are the potter. We are the product of Your creative action, shaped and formed into something of worth.

Isaiah 64:8 VOICE

Book Review: Joy in the Mourning

My friend and fellow bereaved mom, Leslie Lamm Harder, has published a book chronicling the first months after the sudden death of her son, William.

I’ve not met Leslie face-to-face but have had the blessing of her long distance friendship for over a year now and am constantly and consistently encouraged by her words.

I believe you will be too.

Leslie has written a memoir that takes an honest yet hope-filled look at life after child loss. I appreciate that she chose not to edit out the questions, the hard days, the words that reveal the struggle a heart has to go through when tragedy strikes.

While always clinging to and pointing the reader back to her hope in Christ, she doesn’t hide the truth that hope cannot take the pain away.

It makes it bearable, but it does not remove it.

Many books about child loss are written so long after the event that some authors’ words are inaccessible to the parent who has just started down this path. The author has reached a point of healing that a freshly broken heart can’t comprehend.

Healing does happen.

But it is very slow and incremental and not without setbacks.

Leslie’s book is an excellent aid for any heart seeking to hold onto hope in the dark Valley of child loss. She walks us quietly, gently down the path without insisting on an early declaration of “victory in Jesus”.

I can’t recommend it highly enough.

It will be on my shelf forever and I will be giving copies to parents for years to come.

(Available at Amazon.com)

The Importance of Silence: Holding Space so Hearts Can Speak

We do it all the time in the physical world-leave the shopping cart in line with the admonition to the person behind us to “hold our place” while we run to get that forgotten item.

We leave a gap for that minivan to pull in just where the construction cones narrow a highway from two lanes to one.

We open a door and step aside so the elderly lady with her hands full can manage to get through without dropping the load.

But most of us are not as good at it in relationships.

Read the rest here: Holding Space

George, Barbara and Robin: Child Loss, Love and a Lifetime of Service

I’m not a huge fan of the images of Heaven that feature people floating on clouds.

But I love this one.

Here’s why: Because it highlights the lifelong impact of child loss on a parent’s heart.

You can agree or disagree with his politics or her choice of service projects, but you can’t argue with the evidence of lives lived passionately committed to loving others and doing good in the world.

And I absolutely, positively believe that a huge part of what informed that passion was burying a child.

A heart that has endured such painful loss cannot remain unchanged.

Brokenness begets bountiful love if you let it.

And I believe the Bushes did just that.

I am thankful they are reunited-no more pain, no more suffering, no more waiting for redemption.

So I’ll hang onto this whimsical cartoon as a reminder to my heart that even as I wait, longing for the same, I can choose to live a life of loving service.

As long as I am here, I will reach out

reach down

reach across

to touch the hands and hearts of other hurting humans.

Thank you, George and Barbara, for your example.

Enjoy your reward. ❤

Advent of Kindness

Here’s a thought.

Why not make Christmas about spreading genuine love, grace and mercy instead of about finding the “perfect” gift for already over-flowing lives and living rooms?

I plan to implement this little calendar and hope to find even more ways to spread kindness this season.

I’ve printed one to carry in my purse and one to hang on the fridge. I gave some away to fellow church members who, in turn, are giving some away at work.

A cascade of kindness!

❤

Lessons Learned

I don’t believe for one minute that child loss is a test or curriculum or punishment.

But I do believe there are things I can learn from it.

I absolutely believe there are things I HAVE learned and am learning in this Valley of the Shadow of Death.

What are some of those lessons?

I know life is hard. Not just for me or for those who suffer my particular tragedy or difficulty. Life is hard for everyone. If I can’t see the burden someone is carrying, that’s either because they are good at hiding it or I’m not looking closely enough.

I know many things remain broken for a lifetime. They simply can’t be fixed, put back together or patched up to even resemble what they used to look like. And there’s no shame in that. Brokenness is not failure. For most of us, the brokenness is a result of what has happened TO us, not choices we made ourselves. For those whose brokenness is magnified by poor choices, it’s no less devastating.

I know people give up on you. Some folks simply cannot bear to see another person’s pain so they leave. Others are too self-absorbed to make room for long term compassionate companionship. A few turn away, disgusted because they are convinced it can’t happen to them and if it did, they’d handle it so. much. better.

I know people stand by you. If you had asked me to write a list of the ten people (outside my family) that would still be walking with me over four years later, I’d have only gotten two of them right. People I would never have imagined have stepped up and stepped in and refused to run away no matter how ugly it gets. They are gifts from God and I treasure them.

I know that time is not on our side. We think that tomorrow is the perfect day for sending the card, writing the note, making the phone call. But tomorrow may not come-not for me or for the person that means so much to my heart. Bless today. Give today. Be present. Today.

I know that, for me, my faith has been shaken but not destroyed. I have dragged out every single thing I believe and held it up to the glaring light of child loss. It burned away the superfluous, decorative and/or foolish things but has left the rock-solid foundation of my faith intact. I am as convinced today as ever that God will redeem, restore and resurrect what the enemy has stolen. I am not forsaken.

I know that love lives. I never imagined I would have to love a child of mine from earth while he or she was already in Heaven, but I do. And I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter whether I have his physical companionship because all the love I’ve ever felt is still there. I miss him like crazy. I can’t wait until we are together. I hate our broken family circle. But the circle of love we weave in and out through our hearts and our stories cannot be broken. It is eternal.

I’ve learned that I can hold out and hold on.

I can keep moving forward even with a limp or at a snail’s pace.

I’ve learned that if I lean in and latch on to love, life can still have beauty and purpose. ❤

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