It can get lonely in this life. Social media aside, most of us wonder if who we are really makes a difference at all.
But it does.
You are unique-created to make a difference only YOU can make.
The edges of your life touch the edges of others’ lives in places no one else can reach.
Don’t give up.
Don’t give in.
I first wrote about this a few months back when I was pondering the FACT that no matter how wonderful the moment, how beautiful the gift, how marvelous the fellowship of family or friends, I am simply unable to feel the same overflowing abundant joy I once experienced.
Since then, I’ve been thinking about the great heroes of Scripture and studying their stories in detail.
I may be wrong, but I haven’t found one whose life did not contain pain.
Read the rest here: Of Leaking Buckets and Grief
In the wake of revelations that Harvey Weinstein built his media empire in part, by harrassing (and worse) women who worked for him, there is a Facebook wave of “me too” posts by women and men who have also been harrassed, molested or assaulted.
It is empowering.
Because when hundreds, thousands and tens of thousands raise their social media “hands” to be counted, suddenly the lonely heart hiding in the corner realizes they are NOT alone.
I am thrilled that the secrecy and shame of sexual misconduct by men against women is being dragged into the light. That is where it belongs.
I want to do the same for child loss. I want to do the same for grief. I want to start a bold campaign where mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, grandparents and others say, “Me too!”
My heart hurts too.
My life is NOT the same and will NEVER be the same without my loved one’s companionship on earth.
I STILL look for him to come through the door on holiday weekends. I still long to CALL her and share good news or talk over my day. I CANNOT give up his old clothes or put away her toys or bundle up his belongings for charity.
I have to suck in my breath when a quick glance at a passing stranger tells my heart, “THERE HE IS!”
But my head says, “No, that can’t be him-he’s GONE.”
Songs-all kinds of songs-provoke memories, feelings, tears. Dry it up. Keep the fake face smiling. Look forward, don’t let them see.
There are thousands of us. Thousands. of. us.
Who will stand and raise their hand and SHOUT, “Me too!”?
I hate microwaves that have the “quick minute” presets!
It takes MORE time for me to undo that feature and tap in how long I want to nuke my food than it would if it weren’t set up that way.
And sometimes I feel as if “undoing” is a great deal of what I do as a griever.
I have to dispel others’ expectations of what I should be feeling, doing or thinking.
I have to help them understand that unless you have been here, you CAN’T understand.
I pray they never understand.
But in the meantime, here we are, walking the same road but experiencing discord in communication, relationship, expectations and outlook.
Sometimes it’s ME. I’ll admit that up front.
Sometimes I am feeling so vulnerable and broken that the slightest misplaced syllable, the tiniest hint of disapproval, the merest whiff of impatience sends me down the rabbit hole of darkest night and endless grief. I receive things not as they are MEANT but as they FEEL filtered through my own pain.
But sometimes it IS the other person.
Sometimes they are thoughtless, heartless and unsympathetic. Sometimes they think that time has healed all wounds and that I should be “over this”-whatever THAT means. Sometimes it’s inconvenient for them to continue extending grace when what they need is a spot filled on the roster, a hand to help or a quick fix to one of their problems.
I have better days now at over three years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. I even have better weeks every now and again. But what a given day or week will be like is still not mine to decide. Although I steel my mind and heart against the sorrow and missing, one word can pierce the armor I so carefully arrange and I am felled.
So I try to help my friends and family understand that. I spend time (especially when I am less emotional) explaining what it feels like to continue to miss my son. I hunt down examples to share that may speak to their hearts and circumstances. I write this blog. I’m honest when making plans to say that I may have to back out at the last minute or only stay for a portion of an event.
In many ways it’s like having an infant again. When I was nursing my babies there were always things I had to say “no” to or situations that had to be adapted to accommodate the baby. Feeding schedules and nap times dictated my life.
No one seemed to mind then.
My current life is equally hemmed in by what I can’t control.
Try as I might, it’s impossible for me to meet the expectations of others. I’m not a microwave.
I thought I would follow up yesterday’s post with another one to help folks recognize when they NEED to rest.
I don’t know about you but I have a hard time figuring that out sometimes.
One approach that has helped me is something called “Spoon Theory”.
Spoon Theory was first described (as far as I know) by Christine Miserandino of butyoudontlooksick.com.
The original article pertains to chronic illness. But when I stumbled across it a couple years ago it really clicked with me.
The basic idea is that everyone starts with a finite number of “spoons” representing the energy, attention and stamina that can be accessed for any given day. When you do something, you remove a spoon (or two or three) based on the effort required. When you have used up all your spoons, you are operating at a deficit.
Like a budget, you can only do that so long before you are in big trouble.
The only change I would make is to say that in the first months and years, most bereaved parents have far fewer than 12 spoons.
Grief uses at least half of them by itself.
But it’s helpful for me to recognize that I do not have an infinite supply of energy and stamina regardless of what I think has to be done or how many more hours there are in a day. I’ve written about that in this earlier post: Emotional Bankruptcy: I Can’t Spend the Same Energy Twice
And I think it’s a great graphic to show to family and friends so they can understand why we simply CAN’T do everything we used to do.
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Lord, when one of us hungers, make it our instinct to feed.
When one of us is displaced, make it our instinct to share our home.
– Common Prayer
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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.
Because when your family or best friend needs you, you come-no questions asked.
You toss a few necessities in your carry-on, lock the door, unplug the coffee pot and RUN.
You connect that phone to the car charger and dial away as you drive down the road.
And you show up.
Because when someone needs you, REALLY needs you, there is NO SUBSTITUTE for presence.
And the world keeps spinning.
All those “important” commitments cluttering my calendar are still there. But a few phone calls later and they are easily rearranged. Medicine refills can be sent almost anywhere. Church responsibilities can be shouldered by someone else. Social dates can be rescheduled.
The only thing that matters is being exactly where your heart tells you it needs to be for exactly as long as you need to be there.
But you don’t have to wait until it’s an emergency to show up.
If it can wait if it HAD to, then it can wait.
You will not be going over a “to do” list with your last breath.
Choose to make people a priority right now-you might not get a second chance,
