I want to make sense of the senseless.
I want to draw boundary lines around tragedy so I know what precautions can keep it far away from me.
But God is in control. Not me.
How Job’s comforters got it wrong…
Category: compassion
Monday Musings: What is Required?
I am a strong proponent of reading ALL of the Bible, considering Scripture in context, studying entire books and digging deep to mine the truth contained therein.
But I think sometimes I am so enamored of finding something new I forget what I’ve already learned.
It’s easy to remain in pursuit of truth and yet dismiss the truth that I’ve apprehended.
I can fool my heart into thinking that learning is the same thing as living.
But it’s not.
Someone said that if believers in Christ put into practice a tiny fraction of what they already know, it would change the world.
And that’s exactly what happened in the first three centuries after Jesus walked the earth.
Christ followers lived such radical lives that even though they were tortured, killed and forced to flee, the Gospel spread like wildfire throughout the known world and beyond. Seeds were planted that continue to bear fruit, even today.
Rome was just as corrupt, just as sensual, just as political as our country today. And Christians weren’t just mocked, they were killed.
But something happened when the church became a close companion of culture.
Gospel teaching began to lose its tranformative power when the powers that be tried to use the power of God to further political agendas.
We aren’t the first generation to look around dismayed by the impotence of the church to impact our world.
Like Solomon said, “There is nothing new under the sun.”
God hasn’t changed.
The Gospel is still Good News. The power of His Word to open eyes, embolden hearts and transform lives is as effective now as it ever has been.
But I must DO what is required. I cannot read the Word and walk away.
I cannot check off a daily devotion and live my daily life unchanged.
When my walk matches my talk, I become a faithful witness to the life-changing power of grace.
The Old Testament prophet Micah created a short list:
He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you Except to be just, and to love [and to diligently practice] kindness (compassion), And to walk humbly with your God [setting aside any overblown sense of importance or self-righteousness]?
Micah 6:8 AMPC
I’m committed to start right here: Do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God.
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It Changes Everything
Part of the reason I share my story is to provide insight for people who haven’t lost a child into the hearts and lives of those who have.
But mainly it is to be a voice for and to encourage other parents walking this valley by letting them know they aren’t alone, their feelings and experiences are perfectly normal and that just as welcoming a child into your family is a life-altering event, saying good-bye to a child is a life-altering event.
We do not expect a mom to “get over” the changes having a baby brings to her everyday experience, and we should not expect a bereaved mom to “get over” the changes burying one brings either.
Want to help? Read: Loving the Grieving Heart
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Please-Just. Listen.
It’s hard-it’s hard to stay the words that come unbidden to mind and threaten to fly out of your mouth.
It takes restraint. And patience. And wisdom.
But when I finally open my locked box of hurt and pain and memories and heartache-please, please-just listen.
I know better than you that nothing anyone says, or does or hopes to do can change the facts.
Dominic’s not here-he’s there.
And I also know that makes you feel helpless. I feel helpless too.
I’m not looking for pity. I don’t want attention. I have no desire to make you sad.
I have to let it out or I’ll burst. If others saw the fullness of emotions brimming in my heart they would stand amazed that I could push them down and keep them inside so much of the time.
But speaking my sorrow is empowering.
It provides a witness. It means that he matters, that I matter and that this awful reality is recognized by someone other than just me.
When you shut me down or shut me out I. am. crushed.
Again.
In the end, you can walk away. You have another life to go back to. My pain is tangential to the reality of your every day.
It is central to mine.
So, please-encourage my heart with compassionate presence and just listen.
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Wow! Just. Wow!
I’m always a little frightened to expose my vulnerable underbelly to the sometimes vicious wilderness of the worldwide web.
So when I clicked “send” for yesterday’s post I had immediate regrets-was it too personal? too negative? too self-focused?
I am overwhelmed by the comments both on the blog and on Facebook-comments of encouragement, understanding and hope-not condemnation or condescension.
All I can say is, “Thank you!”
And I was reminded that isolation is a powerful weapon in the hands of the enemy of our souls.
But godly community disarms it.
So I want to make sure that everyone who reads this blog knows about two online Facebook sites that offer hope and healing through the truth of Scripture and the Good News of Jesus Christ.
Each has a public page visible to anyone on Facebook and features posts of interest to bereaved parents and those walking with them.
While We’re Waiting is a large, well established non-profit organization. In addition to the online presence, it offers in-person support to bereaved parents through retreats and support groups. I am very grateful to the Sullivans and Browns who founded the group after experiencing child loss-their obedience has been a blessing in my life and in the lives of many other grieving parents.
Heartache and Hope is the name of a page I created as an additional resource, along with the blog, for those who are grieving a child.
To receive posts in your newsfeed, simply “like” the public page and benefit from the encouragement.
From each group’s public page, bereaved parents and grandparents can request admission to a closed discussion group.
The private discussion groups are just that-private. Only bereaved parents and grandparents may participate. It’s a safe space where everyone understands and shares your pain.
As I read and was encouraged by each comment on yesterday’s post, I thought of an image many of us have seen-a defensive circle of elephants facing outward-the vulnerable calves safely tucked in the middle.
A lion can prowl around the edges but knows it is already defeated. Nothing can penetrate the powerful perimeter that protects the potential prey.
Peter warned early believers:
Most importantly, be disciplined and stay on guard. Your enemy the devil is prowling around outside like a roaring lion, just waiting and hoping for the chance to devour someone.
I Peter 5:8 VOICE
That’s what community feels like.
I’m surrounded and protected.
That old lion-the enemy-can roar all he wants to. He can’t touch me.
For God did not choose us to condemn us, but that we might secure his salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord. He died for us, so that whether we are “awake” or “asleep” we share his life. So go on cheering and strengthening each other with thoughts like these, as I have no doubt you have been doing.
I Thessalonians 5:9-12 PHILLIPS
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Safe Friends
I hope you have one.
That one person who knows your greatest joys and deepest pain and keeps it locked in her heart as if the secrets were her own.
She is a gift from God to me, that friend.
She’s the one I call when I’m wracked with sobs and the words won’t come. She knows it’s me and just waits on the line until I can speak. She gets my jokes, knows my weaknesses, my strengths and helps me steer a better path on this hard road called “Life”.
She is a safe friend.
A safe friend listens.
Just listens.
She isn’t formulating an answer while I am talking, she isn’t rounding up cliches or Bible verses or platitudes meant to make her sound wise and shush my sharing. She hears my heart even when my words might not make sense.
A safe friend sees.
Really sees.
She looks in my eyes and pays attention to my expression. She notices when my smile doesn’t match the tone of my words or the silent language of my hands.
She won’t let me by with a quick, “I’m fine!” meant to brush off the real need to spill my guts.
A safe friend stays.
As long as it takes.
She doesn’t leave in the middle of a hard conversation. Even if life gets in the way, she will come back and pick it up. She checks in with me and doesn’t let time unwind the threads that bind us together. If I don’t contact HER, she contacts ME.
A safe friend walks with me.
No matter how steep the path, no matter how rocky the road. We might be hobbling along, broken together, but she keeps going and she keeps me going.
A safe friend encourages me to look to Jesus.
She admits that she doesn’t have all the answers. She agrees that there are many things we will have to wait to understand. But she reminds me that for this, we have Jesus. We have a High Priest Who was tempted in every way yet was without sin. We can enter boldly into the Holy of Holies because by His blood the veil is rent.
She doesn’t issue spiritual ultimatums that undermine, instead of strengthen, my faith in Christ.
A safe friend doesn’t cut me out of her life when my life is a mess.
Even if the mess is of my own making. She helps me untangle the knot, own up to the sin, reach out to Christ and make amends.
A safe friend doesn’t just “happen”.
She allows the grace and mercy and love of Jesus to mold her heart so that He can use her.
Everyone NEEDS a safe friend.
Anyone willing can BE that friend.
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I am NOT Crazy!
It was just over a year after Dominic’s accident and a friend forwarded an article about odd behaviors of those who were “stuck’ in grief. Along with the forward was a little tag, “Reminds me of you.”
It hurt my feelings.
And it was inappropriate.
Because not only had I not participated in any of the listed behaviors (most of which anyone would deem odd and some that were actually harmful) but as far as I could tell, I was doing pretty good, considering.
Considering I went to bed one night with four children alive and well and woke in the wee hours of the next day to the news that one was dead.
No warning. No good-byes.
Just gone.
In the months since that day I had gotten up each morning and taken care of necessary tasks. I was not abusing alcohol, drugs or food. I was still exercising when I could.
And I was engaged with my family -working with them to put the pieces of our shattered lives and hearts back together again.
Yes, I cried. A lot. No, I didn’t like to be around crowds. I stayed at home much more than before. I struggled with anxiety when anything out of the ordinary happened. I found small talk hard to follow and forgot things (still do). And I was not participating in many “extra” activities.
I slept with Dominic’s pillows every night-it was a way to touch what was left of him.
But I was functioning.
My friend’s reaction to the fact that I was “still” grieving after a year is not all that unusual.
I speak to bereaved parents who are often made to feel by others as if they should “be over” the death of their child.
They are told to “move on”.
Or, in faith circles, to “be happy he is in heaven”.
Most mental health professionals agree that child loss is probably the most difficult loss anyone has to bear.
A simple Google search will turn up dozens of articles that support this understanding of a parent’s heartache and lifelong struggle to embrace the pain of losing a child.
Yet most people are unaware of this fact.
So I’m here to tell you-grieving mama, grieving dad-you are NOT crazy!
You are not overreacting to one of the most awful things that can happen to someone. Out of order death is devastating!
When asked about his son years after he had died, Gregory Peck replied:
As I’ve written in a previous post Am I Normal?
No one thinks it strange that the ADDITION of a child is a life-long adjustment.
So, why, why, why is it strange that the SUBTRACTION of a child would also require accommodation for the rest of a mother’s life?
I understand that if you haven’t walked this path, you can’t REALLY know what it’s like-even if you try.
I don’t want you to know this pain by experience.
It’s awful and unrelenting.
What I do want you to know is I am NOT crazy for missing my son. I am NOT crazy for wishing I could turn back the clock.
I am NOT crazy because this devastating, paradigm shifting, unbelievably painful event still impacts my everyday life.
Please don’t treat me like I am.
The best help a friend can offer is a listening ear-no judgement-and a hug that says, “I love you. And I’m sorry.”
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Monday Musings: Be Kind
I wrote and scheduled this post BEFORE the Nice terrorist attack and BEFORE the gunning down of police officers in Baton Rouge just yesterday morning.
But how very timely-as long as we divide the world into “us” and “them” we fuel hatred and acts of violence. As long as we choose rhetoric rather than reason we encourage a mindset that believes only radical action will spur change.
As I wrote over a week ago, My Heart Hurts. And I refuse to be part of the division that will only surely result in more death and destruction.
Instead I will choose to be radically kind.
This year has been filled with divisive politics, headlines and heartbreaking reminders of the many ways people can hurt one another.
I have my own opinions and positions on various issues and sometimes they are at odds with those of my friends or acquaintances.
But I am committed to speak, write and interact with everyone I meet in kindness-respecting our differences.
Because we are all image-bearers of the One True God.
James said, “With our tongues we praise our Lord and Father. Yet, with the same tongues we curse people, who were created in God’s likeness. Praise and curses come from the same mouth. My brothers and sisters, this should not happen!” (James 3:9-10 GW)
Jesus answered the question, “Who is my neighbor?” with a well-known parable that shocked His audience and challenged their preconceived ideas.
As soon as I ask, “Who is my neighbor?” I am trying to draw a circle around who I should and should not be obligated to treat with kindness and love.
I’m not going to do that.
Henri Nouwen writes:
Kindness is a beautiful human attribute. When we say, “She is a kind person” or “He surely was kind to me,” we express a very warm feeling. In our competitive and often violent world, kindness is not the most frequent response. But when we encounter it we know that we are blessed. Is it possible to grow in kindness, to become a kind person? Yes, but it requires discipline. To be kind means to treat another person as your “kin,” your intimate relative. We say, “We are kin” or “He is next of kin.” To be kind is to reach out to someone as being of “kindred” spirit.
Here is the great challenge: All people, whatever their color, religion, or sex, belong to humankind and are called to be kind to one another, treating one another as brothers and sisters. There is hardly a day in our lives in which we are not called to this.
I can purpose to listen even when I disagree.
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The Wrecking Ball of Grace
In the aftermath of loss, relationships suffer.
Sometimes it’s because of harsh words exchanged in the heat of emotional moments.
Sometimes it’s due to disagreements about how to deal with ongoing issues. Often, it’s because most people just don’t know what to say and don’t know what to do in the presence of great pain and suffering.
Days and weeks and months pass and one day we wake up and realize that a previously close relationship is now distant and strained.
I know that in my grief I have felt abandoned by people I felt sure would stand with me, would never leave me, would be my most stalwart encouragers.
And I know, too, that I have shut some people out. Some were too chipper or too quick to offer platitudes and others just seemed intolerant of my ongoing pain and sorrow.
Walls have been erected.
My heart sectioned off and my world divided into “us” and “them”.
I’m sorry for that. That’s not the way I want it to be.
Walls between people are built brick by brick.
A word spoken or not spoken. A call, text or message misinterpreted or mistimed.
But they can be brought down with one blow.
Grace is a wrecking ball that breaks through walls and stone cold hearts.
Grace given and grace received.
A call, a text, an email or message that says, “I’m thinking of you. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
Or a card sent the old fashioned way filled with love to assure a wounded heart that it is not abandoned or forgotten.
“”I’m sorry.”
“I miss you.”
“I love you.”
It may not be easy and it might take several attempts.
But in the end, who can refuse extended arms and an open heart?
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Love: No Talent Required
So many times I choose to designate those who are doing great things for the Kingdom of God as having special talent, or a special calling or extraordinary grace.
In doing so I try to excuse myself from my obligations as a Christ follower.
I set those “super Christians” aside as “holy” and “other” to make it easier to trudge blindly on, ignoring the people God places in MY path as MY assignment.
And that is sin.
If my life is too busy to bend down,
if my calendar is too full to make room for helping my neighbor,
if my heart is too hard to break over the pain and suffering and hopelessness that is splattered across headlines and newsfeeds,
then I am not listening to my Savior.
When my heart is turned toward Christ, it is filled with His love, His compassion, His mercy and grace.
Loving others is not a special calling or talent or gift.
It is a command.
[Jesus said] So I give you a new command: Love each other deeply and fully. Remember the ways that I have loved you, and demonstrate your love for others in those same ways. Everyone will know you as My followers if you demonstrate your love to others.
John 13:34-35 VOICE
thelifeididntchoose 