Melanie

Blaming is Just So Easy

Dominic’s death has made me angry at times.

And I really don’t have anyone on whom to focus that anger.

I can blame Dom, but what will that do for my heart?

I can be angry at God, but the truth is, I have too long a history with Him to think that He is punishing me or that He isn’t the loving Father I know Him to be.

So often I end up casting blame on those who don’t live up to my standards of how they SHOULD be walking alongside me in this Valley.

Because all that anger has to go somewhere, right?

Sad thing is, right when I need friends most, if I’m spending my time picking them apart because they aren’t approaching me in the most helpful ways or, worse-avoiding me altogether-then I am guaranteeing I’ll be alone and lonely.

It does hurt when folks say the wrong thing, don’t say anything or let mention of my missing son fall like a lead ball between us.

But most often it isn’t because they MEAN to hurt me, it’s because they don’t know what to say or how to act.

Child loss and its lifelong aftermath is largely a secret in Western society.

Even many mental health professionals don’t recognize its ongoing impact on a heart and life.

I’m beginning to suspect that most of the people I know have been and are doing the best they can to walk alongside me in this Valley. And, well, if it looks a little awkward or is kind of an on again/off again thing-I’ll give grace.

Blaming is easy.

But it pushes hearts apart.

Right when I need them to come closer.

Repost: Being There-No Substitute for Showing Up

I totally get it–we are ALL so busy.

Calendars crammed weeks and months in advance and no white space left over to pencil in lunch with a friend even though we desperately NEED it.

It seems impossible to make that call, write that note or stop by and visit a few minutes.

How can I meet my obligations if I use precious time doing the optional?

But when the unexpected, unimaginable and awful happens, suddenly that calendar and all those appointments don’t matter.

Balls drop everywhere and I don’t care.

Read the rest here: Being There: No Substitute For Showing Up

Leaky Grief

Even though I purpose to be authentic and open about how Dominic’s absence impacts my life, I find that I may go days or weeks without realizing I’m stuffing things again.

Most of the time I figure it out because the grief has found the path of least resistance and leaked onto other people or has made me sick, tired or both.

When I catch myself overreacting to the less than attentive store clerk or avoiding phone calls or snapping at family members I need to take a moment and search for what’s behind that.

When I dread another day, sit for too long in my chair instead of getting up and getting going, procrastinate over simple and easy tasks, have trouble sleeping or am achy all over I need to reexamine my week and see what grief triggers I overlooked or tried to ignore.

At first I was very aware of carrying the load of grief and sorrow-tears made it obvious and impossible to ignore.

But as time has progressed (now 4 1/2 years) I find I can seem to breeze right past things that would have stopped me in my tracks during the first twelve months.

Still, they DO pluck at my heart even if I think they don’t.

And if I refuse to drag those feelings out into the light, they will find their own path.

Grief will not be denied forever.

It leaks out somewhere.

Better for me to face up, own it and choose how it comes out.

A Shepherd’s Heart

If you’ve read even a few of my posts you know that I have a small flock/herd of sheep and goats.

I have learned firsthand why God called His most capable leaders from among shepherds. It’s a tough job and often a thankless job.

But it molds a heart of love and compassion in ways no other work can do.

The Twenty-third Psalm isn’t just words to me, it’s my life:

One night, as I went to close the gate to the goat pen, I noticed an older doe was missing-I didn’t have to do a head count, I just looked at the herd and could tell someone wasn’t there.

Sure enough, Bella hadn’t made it back from afternoon foraging.

I hollered out to my son and, flashlights in hand, we went looking for her. We were pretty certain she must have been knocked down and was unable to get up. Goats can get kind of pushy if there is a particularly tasty bit of browse and often butt one another.

After exploring all the usual places, he going one way and me another, he found her.

Yep, down and helpless.

In the edge of the woods.

Where, if we left her, she would be dead come morning.

So he carried her back to the pen (not an easy task with a full-grown goat!).

Why? Because that’s what shepherds DO.

They tend the herd and flock. They don’t rest until every one is accounted for.

And it’s what God calls HIS shepherds to do as well: know the flock, feed the flock, go out in the dark and the briers and find the missing one.

Not to rest satisfied that they will somehow find their own way home.

I am thankful for Jesus, the Good Shepherd, the Perfect Shepherd.

We who follow Him are called to be shepherds of our own flock-the persons He places under our watchcare, the ones He brings across our path that need love, compassion, a healing touch and a guiding hand.

It’s a tough job.

Often a thankless job.

But it’s our job.

Grace Like Rain: Why It’s So Darn Hard to Ask For Help

I would much rather be the one bringing the casserole than the one receiving it.

Not because I’m ungrateful but because I’m uncomfortable.

It is humbling to have to depend on other people. It’s hard to admit I can’t manage on my own. It’s downright humiliating to need help with daily tasks that used to come easy.

But truth is, I cannot make it alone.

Not now and really, not before-although I had kept up a pretty good front for decades.

While it is hard and humbling and sometimes humiliating, it’s healthy to admit when I’ve reached the end of my own reserves.

Because we were made for relationship.

Helping one another is how human hearts connect and grow together. It’s how we experience grace.

And there’s more than enough grace to go around.

Remember studying the water cycle in elementary school? A great big circle-from the ocean to the sky raining down on the dry land and running back to the ocean. Plenty of water to go around.

Never actually being used up, just rearranged and reapportioned.

Grace is like that. It passes from one heart to the next to the next. Rearranged and reapportioned but never used up.

When I give, that’s wonderful. That’s easy (for me) because it makes me feel like I’m in control, on top, doing my part.

When I receive, that’s a little harder. Because I feel like maybe I’m not trying hard enough, not working diligently enough, not contributing my share.

But that’s a lie.

Because ultimately ALL grace flows from God through Christ.

When I give, I’m giving out of the abundance He has showered on me. When I receive, I am receiving out of the abundance He has showered on someone else.

In the end, it’s all God.

If I refuse the grace He offers through others, I’m refusing HIM.

Not them.

I need to remember that.

Repost: Zero Points for Pretending-You Can’t Hide Your Heart

Oh, sometimes I think I’m clever enough to do it.

I edit my words, costume my body and fix my face so I can act the part. But truth is, I never manage to fool anyone who looks closer than my plastic smile.

I can’t hide my heart.

And I don’t know why I try-I don’t get points for pretending.

There’s no prize at the end of this long road for the one who makes it with fewest tears.

Read the rest here: Zero Points for Pretending: You Can’t Hide Your Heart

Why It’s So Important to Model Grief For Our Children & Grandchildren

It’s tempting to try to hide our tears and fears from our living children and grandchildren.

Who wants to overload a young heart and mind with grown-up problems?

There is definitely a place and time to shelter little people-it’s never appropriate to offload onto small shoulders what we just don’t want to carry ourselves.

But it is neither helpful nor healthy to pretend that sorrow and sadness don’t follow loss.

When I stuff feelings and insist on keeping a “stiff upper lip” I’m telling my kids that it’s not OK to admit that they are struggling.

When I act like it’s no big deal to set up the Christmas tree and deck the halls without their brother here, I’m encouraging them to remain silent instead of speaking up if their hearts are heavy instead of happy.

When I never voice my discomfort with certain activities or social events I am modeling a false front and fake smiles.

Of course, there are times we all have to suck it up and suck it in along this path. But that shouldn’t be the norm. As I’ve said over and over before-if we stuff our hearts full of unreleased feelings, we leave no room for the grace and mercy God wants to pour into them.

I can tell you that many, many folks have interviewed surviving siblings years and decades after their brother or sister left and have consistently discovered that most of them tried hard to live up to whatever standards their grieving parents set.

If Mom and Dad refused to talk about the loss, then they refused to talk about it too. If, on the other hand, the family practiced open communication, they were able to process feelings in real time instead of stuffing and having to deal with them later.

One of the greatest challenges in child loss (or any profound loss) is creating space within our closest grief circle to allow each person affected to express themselves whatever that looks like.

But it’s so, so important!

Don’t hide your tears.

Don’t shut down the questions.

Don’t lock away the uncertainty and anxiety child loss brings in a trunk and only bring it out when no one’s watching.

Because the little people (and not so little people) in your house are ALWAYS watching.

They need permission to grieve. ❤

Free Seminar: Grief and Holidays

I’m hosting a seminar for bereaved moms October 18th. I’ve got it set up as an event on Facebook but I wanted to share it here to make sure no one misses out. ❤

It’s not going to be anything fancy but I hope it will help some of us gird our loins for the last two months of the year that prove challenging to all of us whose child has run ahead to Heaven.

A precious friend who is an amazing baker and caterer will be furnishing the food.

I will be sharing from some things I’ve written in the past and some new things I’ve learned about this year.

We’ll open things up so others who want to can share what has/hasn’t worked for them in the past and we’ll allow for questions and brainstorming.

So bring your appetite, bring a notebook and join us!

We *may* try to Facebook live my talk but don’t depend on that since internet connections out here in the woods aren’t always reliable or strong enough to stream anything.

It’s listed publicly as an event on my own Facebook page and on my public Heartache and Hope page so please go THERE and RSVP if interested.

Here are the important details:

Grief and Holidays Seminar and Supper for Bereaved Moms

Thursday, October 18

6:30-9:30 pm (don’t be thrown off by the length-we will stay and share up to that time, but if you need to leave sooner you certainly can)

Johntown Baptist Church

5201 Vance Road

West Blocton, AL 35184 (About 30/35 minutes from Tuscaloosa, AL and about 45-65 minutes from most Birmingham, AL locations)

There is plenty of space but we need a head count for food and handouts, so RSVP by Sunday, October 14th.

One Day at a Time

A friend who is now battling a new challenge in addition to child loss posted this on her Facebook timeline:

You’re not going to master the rest of your life in one day. Just relax.

Master the day.

Then just keep doing that every day.

I LOVE it! And it reminded me of this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson that has been on my refrigerator for years:

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

Truth is, no matter how much we may TRY to live life in weeks or months or years, we really are only able to live it one day at a time.

And as Jesus said over 2000 years ago: “Don’t worry at all then about tomorrow. Tomorrow can take care of itself! One day’s trouble is enough for one day.” (Matthew 6:34)

If I never knew it before, I know it now.

I am good for a single 24 hour period-one revolution of the earth.

That’s it.

Sure I put stuff on my calendar. I have to. But I never take it for granted. I never assume that what I think is going to happen next week really will happen next week.

I know better.

And I’ve also learned there is absolutely NO use in worrying about what MIGHT happen. Because worrying does not rob tomorrow of its problems, it only robs today of its joys.

So I work each day to do THAT day. I make it the most productive, most love-filled and life-giving day I can.

I go to bed satisfied that I’ve done my best.

Get up the next sunrise and do it again.

One day at a time.

Grief: Why I Still Need Grace From Friends and Family

There have been a number of television shows lately centered around families and personal tragedy that simultaneously draws them closer and tears them apart.

Some of the writers and actors are doing a good job showing what it looks like to live through a nightmare.

Some, not so much.

But none of them will take it out to years and decades-the audience would lose interest, decide that story line needed refreshing or simply needed to GO.

For those living with child loss, it’s no story line. We don’t get to walk away, change the channel, find some new and more interesting or more comfortable screen to watch.

It’s our life.

And we need folks who will hang in and hang on while we live it out. ❤

You cannot possibly know that scented soap takes me back to my son’s apartment in an instant.

You weren’t there when I cleaned it for the last time, boxed up the contents under the sink and wiped the beautiful, greasy hand prints off the shower wall. He had worked on a friend’s car that night, jumped in to clean up and was off.

He never made it home.

So when I come out of the room red-eyed, teary and quiet, please don’t look at me like I’m a freak.

Please don’t corner me and ask, “What’s wrong?” Or worse-please, please, please don’t suggest I should be “over it by now”.

Read the rest here: Grief and Grace:What I Need from Friends and Family

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