Category: compassion

Christmas 2025: Grace Gifts of Grief

It was a long time before I wanted to believe that I received any gifts worth keeping from this life I didn’t choose.

I knew I had tears, pain, agonizing sorrow, loss, heartache, dashed hopes, empty arms.

If I could give those back and regain my son, I would do it in less than a heartbeat.

I can’t, so I’m left here to ponder what else I’ve received from burying a child.

And I am learning that I have been given some gifts I truly cherish, although the price was higher than I would have willingly paid.

Read the rest here: Grace Gifts of Grief

Christmas 2025: Good Answers to Hard (Insensitive, Inappropriate) Questions

The holiday season is full of opportunities to gather with folks we don’t see all that often. 

It’s also an invitation for those same friends and family to ask all the questions they’ve thought about on the other 364 days of they year but couldn’t ask. 

And sometimes those questions are difficult, or insensitive or inappropriate. 

What to do? What to say?

Here are some great answers from other bereaved parents.

❤  Melanie

I was utterly amazed at the questions people plied me with not long after Dominic’s accident.

They ranged from digging for details about what happened (when we ourselves were still unsure) to ridiculous requests for when I’d be returning to my previous responsibilities in a local ministry.

Since then, many of my bereaved parent friends have shared even more questions that have been lobbed at them across tables, across rooms and in the grocery store.

Recently there was a post in our group that generated so many excellent answers to these kinds of questions, I asked permission to reprint them here (without names, of course!).

So here they are, good answers to hard (or inappropriate or just plain ridiculous) questions:

Read the rest here: Good Answers to Hard (Insensitive, Inappropriate) Questions

Christmas 2025: Inviting Grief to the Table-Holiday Host Etiquette

Spending holidays with friends and family while grieving is hard. No one is really comfortable-neither the bereaved nor those hosting them.

But there are ways to welcome grief to your table, to pave the way for the broken and bruised to join you, if they are able.

Here’s something that’s been going around social media circles this holiday season and offers advice on hosting the bereaved this Christmas.

❤  Melanie

Holiday Host Etiquette by Sarah Nannen

(Emphasis and paragraphs added)

“If you’re inviting someone to your home and they’re grieving, be sure you’re inviting their grief to attend, too. It will be there, anyway.

Read the rest here: Inviting Grief to the Table: Holiday Host Etiquette

Christmas 2025: What Grieving Parents Want Others to Know

People say, “I can’t imagine.“

But then they do.

They think that missing a dead child is like missing your kid at college or on the mission field but harder and longer.

That’s not it at all.

It isn’t nostalgia for a time when things were different or better or you talked more: it’s a gut-wrenching, breath-robbing, knee-buckling, aching groan that lives inside you begging to be released.

There is no smooth transition up the ladder of grief recovery so that you emerge at the top, better for the experience and able to put it behind you.

We’ve all heard the much touted theory that grief proceeds in the following stages:

  • denial
  • anger
  • bargaining
  • depression
  • acceptance

And people (who haven’t experienced grief) tend to think it’s a straight line from one stage to another, gradually going from bottom to top and then on with life.

But it just isn’t true.

Reality is, these “stages” coexist and fluctuate back and forth from day to day and even hour to hour.

Grief remakes you from the inside out.

Losing a child has made me rethink everything I believe and everything I am.  It has changed and is changing my relationship with myself and with others in ways I couldn’t imagine and often don’t anticipate.

And it is hard, hard work.

Life around us doesn’t stop.  Grieving parents return to work, continue to nurture their surviving children, keep getting up in the morning and taking care of daily details.

We are doing all the things others do, but we are doing them with an added weight of sorrow and pain that makes each step feel like wading through quicksand.

We want you to know we are doing the best we can.

Life without my child is like having a leg amputated–I am forced to learn to manage without it, but everything will always be harder and different.

And it will be this way for the rest of my life.

The one thing a grieving parent DOESN’T want you to know is how it feels to bury your child.

I don’t want anyone else to know what it means to leave part of your heart and a chunk of your life beneath the ground.

“But please: Don’t say it’s not really so bad. Because it is. Death is awful, demonic. If you think your task as a comforter is to tell me that really, all things considered, it’s not so bad, you do not sit with me in my grief but place yourself off in the distance away from me. Over there, you are of no help. What I need to hear from you is that you recognize how painful it is. I need to hear from you that you are with me in my desperation. To comfort me, you have to come close. Come sit beside me on my mourning bench.”

Nicholas Wolterstorff   LAMENT FOR A SON

Christmas 2025: 25 Ways to Bring Hope to the Brokenhearted at Christmas

This is the twelfth Christmas without Dominic. There really are no words to describe the intersection of holiday cheer and another milestone in this journey of child loss.

I’m not sad all the time-far from it. Often I am very, very happy.

But I will never stop missing him, missing the family we used to be and missing our blissful ignorance of how quickly and utterly life can change in an instant.

And I will never outgrow the need to have others remember him as well, to encourage my heart and the hearts of my family members and to help us make it through another year, another Christmas. 

I’m certain that for some of my family and many of my friends, they are less and less aware of his absence.  That’s completely natural and understandable.  

But for me, his absence looms just as large THIS Christmas as it did that FIRST Christmas.

Even if you do realize how hard it is for grievers during the holidays, you might not have any idea how to show you care.

I came across this list originally published Family Life Today that gives 25 ideas to give holiday hope to the grieving and wanted to share it because I think it is wonderful.

I can promise you that any hurting heart would be delighted to have a friend or family member reach out in one or more of these ways. 

25 Christmas Gifts or Remembrances for the Brokenhearted

1.  A tree that can be planted in the family’s yard in memory of the loved one (or a gift certificate to a nursery that can be used to purchase a tree in the spring)

2.  Bibles, Christmas Poinsettias, or library books given as memorials

3.  Memorials to the local church or charities

4.  Home videos of the loved one (especially ones of activities that the family may not have)

5.  A scrapbook filled with pictures of the loved one

6.  Special Christmas ornaments (for example, if the child played the piano, see if you can find an ornament in the shape of a piano)

7. Books such as Streams in the Dessert and When Life is Changed Forever

8.  A personal item that would become a memento about the loved one’s personality or gifting

9.  Gift certificates to a cabin or lodge, or to a place that the loved one once enjoyed

10. An original poem about the deceased

11. A journal from friends and family with written memories about the deceased

12. A written tribute to the deceased (The Best Gift You Can Ever Give Your Parents by Dennis Rainey and David Boehi, explains how you can do this.)

13. Addressing their Christmas cards or notes

14. Joining them in holiday shopping or doing the shopping for them

15. Asking if you can help decorate their home for Christmas

16. Sharing homemade Christmas cookies

17. Arranging family photographs in albums

18. Inviting them to decorate a gingerbread house

19. Picking them up for Christmas services at church and holiday get-togethers

20. Helping them shop for that “perfect gift” that they can give to others in memory of their loved one

21. Decorating a small tree with ornaments that have special memories of the loved one

22. Helping them write holiday memories

23. Organizing a candle-light memorial for close friends and family

24. Having a family-time of singing some of the deceased’s favorite Christmas carols and hymns

25. Giving the brokenhearted blank journals to write Bible verses that remind them of God’s presence, such as 2 Corinthians 1:3-4a and Jeremiah 29:11

Giving Tuesday 2025: You Can Make a Difference

I’m a shepherd, not a promoter.

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:

https://square.link/u/cNen14Q1

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.”

And God granted his request.

I Chronicles 4: 9, 10

Read the rest here: Stepping Out in Trust: Heartache and Hope

Supporting Grieving Parents During the Holidays

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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. 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.

Finding Joy Amidst Grief: Holiday Strategies

Fellow brave and bereaved, I don’t know how you feel coming off this late-in-the-month Thanksgiving headed straight for Christmas but I’m kind of tired.

Yesterday I shared about post-holiday blues but this is something different.

I love, love, love any time I get with my family and I want to be clear that THEY do not place demands on me I find burdensome.

But…I am no better prepared to trudge through all the holly-jolly THIS year than I was the second year after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. (I don’t even count the first year when shock overwhelmed my heart.)

This far along in my grief journey many folks I rub shoulders with are either unaware that child loss is part of my story or they’ve tucked that “incident” away in some rarely accessed section of their memory. And while I do not tote my loss around like a token demanding special attention, it absolutely continues to inform how I experience every day and especially how I experience holidays.

So I wanted to share a few thoughts about THIS year-the eleventh Christmas I will celebrate since Dom left us.

  • It’s still hard. It still takes 110% effort to show up, engage, maintain enthusiasm, DO all the things (or even my abbreviated list of things), not let my emotions overrun my desire to be polite and find time to sit silent in the circle of sacred sorrow that helps my heart hold on to hope.
  • I have to constantly revisit my own advice (which I will repost in the coming days) about giving myself permission to bow out of whatever I simply can not face.
  • Communication is key. It sometimes surprises me (but shouldn’t!) that other people can’t read my mind and most forget what I told them last year or the year before. Add to that things change from year-to-year and there’s no way around the need for at least a casual conversation about what THIS year is going to look like.
  • Grace greases the wheels of relationships. Grace for myself. Grace for family and friends. Grace for strangers-including the clerk at the grocery store-who are probably doing the best they can too.
  • Increased social interaction-whether a function of more planned activities or just the crowds of shoppers-means it’s harder for me to escape the pressure of social anxiety that has developed post loss. I try to choose carefully what I add to my calendar, graciously send regrets for the rest and then refuse to feel guilty about it.
  • I am more careful about hydrating and not over indulging in any foods that tend to send my body into overdrive. It’s less about the calories (although I need to be mindful of those!) than it is about the wild swings poor nutrition produces in my sense of physical well-being.
  • I must plan rest stops along the way. I can’t overschedule, overstimulate and overwork myself and still maintain a semblance of control over my emotional response to the grief waves and grief ambushes this season is sure to provide. I try to set aside at least a few minutes EVERY DAY and (if possible) one day PER WEEK that promises quiet solitude and the opportunity to unwind and unspool built up tension and anxiety.
  • I purpose to find joyful moments and beautiful memories when gathered with others and when doing all the things holidays require. I hold them close and cherish them.

Most importantly, I remind my heart that this season is only a season.

It doesn’t last forever.

I will survive this like I’ve survived every day since Dominic left us-one moment, one breath at a time.

Coping With Post-Holiday Grief

I always like to share this post after a holiday because I never want any hurting heart to think the pain they feel “the day after” is not a normal part of the grief journey.

It is absolutely, positively NORMAL to feel more anxious, more sad, more lonely, more despair once the plates are cleared away and everyone else has returned to their respective homes.

Grief is funny that way-sometimes the very busyness and noisy conversation we dread so much BEFORE a big day turns out to be a good distraction from the quiet desperation and longing that would otherwise demand attention.

And then…in the quiet, in the stillness it all comes crashing down.

It’s a paradox really-that grieving hearts can be more anxious and more sorrowful BEFORE and AFTER a milestone day, birthday or holiday than on the day itself.

That’s not true for everyone, but it’s a frequent comment in our closed bereaved parent groups.

Read the rest here: Post Holiday Blues: When The Grief Comes Crashing Down

Remembering Loved Ones During Thanksgiving

As families gather around tables and in backyards to celebrate fall birthdays, Thanksgiving and (soon!) Christmas, my heart longs even harder to hear Dominic’s name.  

Of course I remember him-he’s my son-and of course others do too. 

But it is especially helpful this time of year to have friends and family speak of him aloud. 

Read the rest here: Let Me Know You Remember