I can’t help it.
I think too much. I wonder too often. I work too hard to make sense of things.
And the thing that is puzzling me right now is why people pull away from those experiencing deep and lasting pain.
Read the rest here: the cost of compassion
If you’ve followed the blog for awhile you’ve noticed that I rarely use this space to comment on current events unless they intersect with my experience of child loss.
So I have pretty much stayed away from our crazy political scene during this presidential election cycle because why add another voice to the screaming chorus when no one is listening anyway?
But as we make our way to the inauguration and I see heightened animosity, ugly speech and cruel separation of previous friendships, I realize that my experience is relevant right here, right now.
Until you wake up one morning to find out that your child whom you love, whom you raised and whom you were absolutely certain would bury YOU is gone, you have the luxury of assuming whatever bridges you burn can be rebuilt someday.
You may feel pretty confident that in a few days or months or years you will have the opportunity to pick up the pieces and reinvest in the relationship. You might justify your arrogance and impudence and violent speech that pushes others away by standing on principles, waving the banner of your just cause or simply being adament that YOUR viewpoint is the absolutely only correct one.
I’m a firm believer in social justice, political action, correct theology, and strong opinions.
If you’ve been around me for more than five minutes, you know this.
But I believe even more firmly that nothing gives me the right to be hateful, to be dismissive, to act superior or to cruelly treat another human being.
I am also a believer that whatever happens in Washington is only part of what makes the world.
Laws have consequences.
Policies have impact.
Politicians make decisions that make life better or worse for millions of people. BUT-how I treat the people I come in contact with every day also matters.
You can call me a coward or tell me I’m “selling out” but I am convinced that I can champion a cause without condemning a friend. I know I can disagree without being disagreeable.
If my goal is to sway opinion, what hope do I have of that if I am blasting holes in the fabric of relationship?
Each one of us is making the world-day by day, decision by decision, interaction by interaction.
We are burning bridges or building relationships.
Today–just for a single day–let’s all be kind.
Let’s not bash others with our team banner, our polical banner or the banner of our favorite cause.
Let’s just love one another and offer a smile instead of a smirk- a hand up instead of a put down.
We might find we like that world a whole lot better than the one we are currently making.
My husband is the child of immigrants. And even thirty years after coming to America, my in-laws preferred their native Italian to English.
So when we would be in a crowded room, comments flying, I struggled to keep up with what was being said because I didn’t speak the same language.
Sometimes feelings got hurt because what one of us thought we were saying was not what the other person heard.
Read the rest here: Subtitles
I was absolutely overwhelmed in those first days.
Cars, cars, cars filled my long driveway and front yard.
People spilling out like ants scrambling after the hill is disturbed.
Oh, our hill was disturbed-knocked wide open by that deputy’s visit. Phone calls to let others know. Phone calls from people who couldn’t get in touch with him and were just checking “in case something had happened”.
It had happened.
It. HAD. happened.
After the customary ceremony and handshaking and food, the cards flooded in. Some with hand-written heartfelt messages of, “praying for you”, “we are so very sorry”, “we love you”. Some with pre-printed poems that absolve the sender of the need to find words for things for which there are no words.
My son is dead. What can you say to that?
And then the silence. The morning that I woke up to realize I had done all I ever could do for Dominic. My last act was to find his body a resting place and pray his soul to heaven.
He was home.
I was left in a strange country filled with landmarks I no longer recognized and a language I no longer understood.
Who comes into that?
Not many. Only a few brave souls stick around for the after-only a few true friends keep calling and coming and caring for the long haul.
Because sitting with me in my grief, listening to me question my faith, keeping company with uncertainty and loss of control is frightening. It takes great self-control to simply be present and not try to say something or do something to try to fix the unfixable.
If it could happen to MY family, it could happen to theirs. And no one wants to think of that unless they have to.
So many leave.
Not immediately and not flamboyantly. They just drift away like unmoored sailboats caught in the rising winds of life and busyness and school plays and church socials.
My personal tragedy is a footnote to their life journal-and who reads footnotes?
But there are a few who purpose to make my burden their burden.
A few who call and write and text and message on the important dates like when he died, his birthday, Christmas, Easter. Even fewer who call and write and text and message just because-just because they heard a song or saw a sunset or remembered for a moment that there is a mama out there who carries this grief 24/7.
I have no idea how Jesus will reward His followers when they make it Home. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the ones who choose to run in when others run away will receive a crown. Because their faithful love in the dark places brings life and light to hurting hearts.
And isn’t that the essence of the gospel message?
You are not alone.
You are loved.
There is a way forward.
When you have exhausted all your own resources, God has made a way where there was no way. Even when you can’t take a step on your own-especially when you can’t take a step on your own-Jesus will carry you.
The ones who stay sing the gospel song to my heart.
They remind me that Jesus hasn’t forgotten.
I know it is hard. I know you don’t truly understand how I feel. You can’t. It wasn’t your child.
I know I may look and act like I’m “better”. I know that you would love for things to be like they were: BEFORE. But they aren’t.
I know my grief interferes with your plans. I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years. But I can’t help it. I didn’t ask for this to be my life.
Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family
You know, I don’t expect those outside the Body of Christ to have good theology-that’s like expecting me to be able to explain thermodynamics.
Ain’t gonna happen-it’s outside my scope of understanding and practice.
I do expect those who have spent a lifetime reading Scripture, studying Sunday School lessons and listening to sermons to know better.
But many don’t.
“God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” is bandied about freely among those who, if they thought about it before they said it, know it isn’t true.
Usually it’s tossed at someone going through a tough time in an effort to encourage them.
Can I just let you in on a secret? It is NOT encouraging. At. all. Not one bit.
Because what’s implied is that I SHOULD be able to handle this.
But I can’t.
And it lets you off the hook.
It’s like I’m drowning and instead of diving in to rescue me, you’re giving swimming lessons from the safety of the shore.
It’d be much more helpful if you threw me a lifeline.
God routinely gives me more than I can handle.
It’s one tool He uses to turn my heart to Him. It’s one way He helps me understand (although He knows it already) that I absolutely cannot handle it by myself.
So instead of sending the message that I should be able to handle this-join me in the dark place, hold my hand as we walk together and help me feel God’s love through you.
Talk is cheap.
So many folks think posting a meme or retweeting a catchy phrase is the same as acting on what they believe
It’s not.
If the only action you take to advance the values you claim to hold dear is a few keystrokes behind the safety of a screen I question your commitment.
Don’t tell me you love your neighbor when you don’t know his name.
Get up off the couch and make a difference.
Can I change the world? Probably not.
But I can change my corner of it.
Can I help everyone? No.
But I can help someone.
This is an old story, but it’s true:
We’ve all been there-we ask a routine question and someone refuses to play the social game.
We say, “How are you?” and they answer honestly instead of with the obligatory, “I’m fine. You?”
Suddenly the encounter has taken an unexpected turn.
“Oh, no! I don’t know what to say,” you think.
It can end badly-both of you walking away uncomfortable and wary.
But it doesn‘t have to. There are ways to express compassion and empathy, words that can comfort and encourage.
What should you say when I, or anyone, shares their heart-their pain?
Brene Brown has done some amazing work in the area of shame, hurt, compassion and empathy. I’ve found it valuable in my own valley and also instructive in serving others in theirs.
This short video based on her work is incredibly helpful. Please take a moment to watch it: Brene Brown on Empathy
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.
Whoever first wrote “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me” was either in denial or lived a very sheltered life.
Please, for the love of love, think before you speak.
Choose to listen before you lob a response bomb across whatever divides your heart from another. Count to ten if you have to, take a deep breath, read and re-read your words before you press “post”.
And, if all else fails remember: if you don’t have something nice to say, maybe it’s better not to say anything at all.
The one you think is invincible may be on the edge of crumbling. The one you think is strong may be hanging by a thread.
We all make mistakes in all kinds of ways, but the man who can claim that he never says the wrong thing can consider himself perfect, for if he can control his tongue he can control every other part of his personality! Men control the movements of a large animal like the horse with a tiny bit placed in its mouth. Ships too, for all their size and the momentum they have with a strong wind behind them, are controlled by a very small rudder according to the course chosen by the helmsman. The human tongue is physically small, but what tremendous effects it can boast of! A whole forest can be set ablaze by a tiny spark of fire, and the tongue is as dangerous as any fire, with vast potentialities for evil. It can poison the whole body, it can make the whole of life a blazing hell.
James 2-6 PHILLIPS
Every person on this planet bears the image of the God who made him or her. You can’t disrespect the person without also disrespecting the Lord.
Think back on the most awful thing that has ever happened to you.
Does it still hurt? Do you still carry scars from where it pierced your soul and broke your heart?
Can you forget it? Really, really forget it?
Read the rest here: When Will You Be Over This?
thelifeididntchoose 