Sometimes it’s hard to gauge effectively and objectively how I’m really doing.
Living inside my own head often obscures tell-tale signs that maybe I’m not coping as well as I think I am.
So I depend on feedback from friends and family as an early warning safety system.
But many of us are physically isolated from others who might otherwise help us discern when we need help. A heart can fall fast into a deep pit of despair without realizing it.
At the time all I could manage (barely!) was the twenty-four hours of each long, lonely and pain-wracked day.
After nine-plus years I’ve learned to look ahead, plan ahead and forge ahead to birthdays, holidays, special days and not-so-special days.
But it takes a great deal of effort and often uncomfortable conversations because no matter how long it’s been, I’m still dragging loss and its after affects behind me.
I wrote this in 2016 when I was desperate to communicate how hard it is to try to marry joy and sorrow, celebration and commemoration, light, love, life and darkness, grief and death.
In our modern age of light switches and street lights it’s hard to imagine a world where the tiniest candle flame could lead a body to safety.
But for most of human history that was how people lived.
It’s how some still live.
So when John described Jesus as the “Light that bursts through gloom-the Light that darkness could not diminish” (John 1: 5 TPT) he’s really saying something.
This isn’t a tiny candle or smoky oil lamp barely pushing back the edges of inky night.
But one thing I’m learning in this new and sometimes scary world of “official” ministry is this: People don’t know what you don’t share with them.
So today, in honor of Giving Tuesday, I’m sharing again both how the Lord led me to expand what I’ve been doing for the past nearly ten years into something bigger, more far reaching and definitely more challenging AND how you can be part of it.
If you would like to join me in reaching bereaved parents with the light, love and life of Christ, you can do so through this link:
Thank you to those who have already encouraged my heart by giving.
Your choice to invest in spreading hope and light to hurting parents will have eternal consequences.
If you missed the original post introducing the ministry back in August, here it is:
It’s still dark here.
The days are getting perceptibly shorter for those of us tuned in to the turning of the earth and the passing of the seasons.
But the light is coming. It always does.
And that is what I have clung to in these more-than-ten years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.That’s what compels me to write.
I want every hurting heart to know that the night doesn’t last forever.
It’s also why today I have something exciting (and scary, if I’m honest!) to tell you: I’ve created an official ministry for the work I do here and on Facebook through Heartache and Hope (https://www.facebook.com/heartacheandhope/).
The Lord planted a vision in my heart awhile ago to expand into new territory.
I am a quiet person who longs only to stay (mostly) in my home and surrounding area. I once loved traveling but now only really enjoy it in the company of family to low-key destinations that afford plenty of space and natural beauty. But I am stepping out into uncomfortable places and trusting my Shepherd King to provide the means and direction to journey on.
I’m not one to appropriate Old Testament verses to justify current choices but I do absolutely believe that He nudges us to spread out and to reach further than we might choose to do in our flesh.
So, like Jabez, I pray:
Oh that You would bless me indeed and enlarge my territory! Let Your hand be with me, and keep me from the evil one.”
Waiting to grow up. Waiting to get married. Waiting to have children. Waiting for our children to grow up.
Always looking toward the next big thing.
Israel waited centuries for the Messiah. Generation after generation was born, lived, and died without seeing the fulfillment of God’s promise.
I have always loved the tradition of lighting a candle and reciting Scripture to build anticipation for celebrating the birth of Jesus.The ritual forces me to slow down in the rush of holiday preparation to ponder the coming of God’s great gift.
Celebrating Advent helps me recapture that desperate hope–Israel’s longing heart for her Savior.
Since Dominic went to heaven, Advent is no longer just a seasonal celebration–it’s an attitude of my heart.
I received the blessing of Christ’s first coming-His payment-in-full of sin’s penalty and freedom from the curse of the law. I know my eternity is secure.
But I live in this fallen world where death still intrudes to take the ones I love.
So now I’m waiting with greater desperation and hope for the complete redemption and restoration of the earth God created and the people for whom Jesus died.
Every time I light a candle to drive the dark from a room I remember the faithfulness of God and His promise that no matter how dark it gets, Light is coming.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who lived in a land of deep shadows— light! sunbursts of light! You repopulated the nation, you expanded its joy. Oh, they’re so glad in your presence! Festival joy! The joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings.
Most parents feel a little stressed during the holidays.
For bereaved parents, the rush toward the “Season of Joy” is doubly frightening.
Constant reminders that this is the “most wonderful time of the year” make our broken hearts just that much more out of place. Who cares what you get for Christmas when the one thing your heart desires–your child, alive and whole–is unavailable…
It is so hard to find a way to trudge through the tinsel when what you really want to do is climb into bed and wake up when it’s all over.
Here are some practical ways family and friends can help grieving parents during the holidays:
Don’t resist or criticize arrangements a bereaved parent makes to help him or her get through this season.If they are brave enough to broach the subject, receive their suggestions with grace and encourage them with love. Do your best to accommodate the request.
If the bereaved parent doesn’t approach you–consider thoughtfully, gracefully approaching him or her about what might make the holidays more bearable.But don’t expect a well-laid plan-I didn’t get a “how-to” book when I buried my child…this is new to me and very, very painful. I am doing the best I can to keep my head above the waves and I cannot be expected to captain the boat through these turbulant waters.
Don’t be surprised if a bereaved parent doesn’t want to exchange gifts (or at least, not receive gifts). No one can rewind time or restore my family circle to wholeness and I just can’t think of anything else that I want or need.
Don’t assume that the bereaved parent should be relieved of all meal duties around the holiday.For some of us, doing the routine things like baking and cooking are healing. For others, there just isn’t energy for anything other than the most fundamental daily tasks. ASK if they want to contribute.
Don’t corner surviving children for a private update on their parent’s state of mind.My children are grieving too. When you expect them to give an update on me you diminish their pain and put them in a difficult position. If you want to know, ask me.
If there are young children in the family, it might be helpful to offer to take them to some of the parties/gatherings/church services that their parent may not be up to attending. Ask, but don’t be upset if they say “no”–it might still be too traumatic for either the child or the parent to be separated from one another.
Ask them to share about the one they miss. One of my greatest fears as a grieving parent is that my child will be forgotten. But we might not speak up because we don’t want to make others feel uncomfortable.
I know that life goes on, the calendar pages keep turning and I can’t stop time in its tracks. I greet each day with as much faith and courage as I can muster. This season requires a little more-and I will need help to make it through.