In this journey of loss I have been blessed and wounded by words.
I have been encouraged and disheartened by stray comments. I’ve been thrown a lifeline and pushed under the raging waves of grief by friends, family and acquaintances who often had no clue they were doing either.
Our words matter.
Our tongues have the power of life and death.
Read the rest here: Bridle your Tongue
Every autumn I hear the geese overhead and I think about how all that honking serves only a single purpose: to remind the stragglers they are headed in the right direction.
It speaks courage to my own heart as I remember that not only does the leader call out to those behind, but that each bird takes a turn at the head of the line so that the others can rest a bit.
What beautiful picture of how life SHOULD be.
Read the rest here: Of Flying Geese and Calling Courage!
It’s funny what can make my heart race and my eyes fill with tears.
Sometimes it’s obvious- I hear of another son killed in a motorcycle accident.
But sometimes it’s obscure- like when I see someone using a legal pad to take notes.
Either way, triggers take me back to ground zero. They rivet my mind’s attention and my heart’s focus to the very moment I first learned Dominic had left us.
Triggers can happen anywhere, any time. They are often unpredictable and surprising.
And there is not one. single. thing. I can do about them.
Even four plus years into this journey and I am as vulnerable today as I’ve ever been.
I try to limit my exposure. I try to have an escape route. I try to suck up the tears and stifle the sobs.
But sometimes no matter how hard I try, I’m overwhelmed and undone.
There’s part of me that wishes I could just move on and rejoin life and the human race calm and collected, regardless of what memories a sight, sound or smell taps into.
And then there’s part of me that wants the world to sit up and take notice of the ongoing pain and toll child loss inflicts on a parent’s heart.
I’ll be honest, as I’m writing this I still cannot wrap my mind around the fact that one of my children is dead.
Oh sure, I can relate the series of events, but in my heart of hearts it is as shocking today that Dominic isn’t coming home as it was on April 12, 2014.
I really can’t adequately convey the ongoing sense that this must be a mistake. There must be something someone has overlooked. Maybe it was all a dream and he will come walking through the door.
I’m not crazy.
I know that Dominic is dead. I saw his body in the casket. I saw the casket lowered into the ground. I visit his grave to change out the flowers.
But I will never, ever get used to it.
All it takes is a smell or a sound or any one of a thousand things that I associate with my third child and I’m transported to that awful morning.
So if you see me tear up, shut down or turn away- let me go.
I just need a few minutes to put my game face back on.
We all know those folks-the ones who have a kind word, quick smile and warm hug for everyone they meet.
And we all know the other type-the ones that suck the oxygen out of the room when they walk in and effectively dim any spark of hope a heart might be trying to fan into flame.
I want to be the former, not the latter.
I want to be a light bearer, not a candle snuffer.
In fact, this has become my anthem since Dominic left for Heaven. I cannot bear to think I’m heaping weight onto an already burdened soul.
A smile, a kind word, an outstretched hand may be exactly what a hurting heart needs that minute to keep holding onto hope.
And how many of us are just about to let go at any given minute?
So much of the New Testament is about perseverance. Who needs to persevere if life is full of rainbows and unicorns?
No.
Perseverance is needed for trial and hardship.
My guess is that if you’re reading this, you know about both.
So I pray that the Lord will send someone each day to encourage YOUR heart.
And, being strengthened yourself, you will pass it on.
Life is hard. Most of the time I wanted a participation ribbon just for living through another day. We don’t give each other enough credit for hanging in there during tough times, and we often criticize more than we comfort. Can you imagine what our world would look like if we spent more time encouraging people who are making it against all odds instead of criticizing them?
Paul told us to ‘encourage one another and build each other up’ (1 Thessalonians 5:11). … While God in His infinite wisdom and timing does choose to deliver some of us quickly, many of us spend years persevering before we find freedom and healing for our wounds.
~Esther Fleece, No More Faking Fine
When someone invites you in and serves up her deepest pain along with the coffee it might feel like a trap or a burden or a bother.
But it’s actually an act of great respect and trust.
Not everyone gets the privilege of hearing a heart laid bare and broken, vulnerable and uncovered.
If you are entrusted with such a treasure, consider it a sacred privilege.
Treat it with care.
Carry it carefully.
Wrap it in love.
❤
We don’t mean to speak words that echo like a whistle in an empty auditorium.
But we do.
We open our mouths and pour out platitudes because that’s what’s been poured into us.
But we need to stop. We need to listen.
And then we need to respond to the heart that stands before us and not to our need to shut down and shut up and shut out another person’s pain.
It’s hard to choose compassion. It’s hard to lean in and listen well. It’s hard to let our hearts get all tangled up with someone else’s when we could just walk away.
I am well aware that you have a life of your own full of drama, daily duties and demands. I don’t want to drain you dry.
Truly.
But I might need just a moment of your time and a bit of your courage to make it through my own darkness and despair.
One word.
One REAL word.
“I’m sorry. That is awful.”
“I hate that you have this heavy burden.”
“How can I pray for you?”
“I don’t know what to say, but I want you to know I’m here and not going anywhere.”
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
