I remember the first couple times I ventured out in public after Dominic left us and the flurry of activity surrounding his funeral was over.
I felt naked, afraid and oh, so vulnerable.
The tiniest misplaced word or random glance could undo me and I burst into tears.
Read the rest here: They Don’t Know What They Don’t Know
After the sharp stab of loss, I think helplessness is the most frightening thing I have felt in this journey.
When I am overcome with the sense that I will never make it, that I can’t go on, that I am not going to be able to put one foot in front of the other for even one more hour, much less one more day-I cry out to Jesus and tell Him that.
I have never gotten an audible answer, or a miraculous phone call or a perfect note in the mail–BUT I think in the moment of absolute surrender, the moment when I know with certainty that I can not do this without His supernatural grace, mercy and strength- HE gives it to me.
Read the rest here: Grace for Right Now
I would much rather be the one bringing the casserole than the one receiving it.
Not because I’m ungrateful but because I’m uncomfortable.
It is humbling to have to depend on other people. It’s hard to admit I can’t manage on my own. It’s downright humiliating to need help with daily tasks that used to come easy.
But truth is, I cannot make it alone.
Read the rest here: Grace Like Rain: Why It’s So Darn Hard to Ask For Help
I’ve found that no matter how low I sink into the pit of despair, God always finds me.
My Shepherd King never leaves me without hope.
If I still my heart I can hear Him singing love, comfort, strength and grace over my wounded heart.
❤
Last week was hard. Partly due to missing Dominic and partly due to things that had no direct link to him, but were made harder because of grief.
I try to do two things when that happens: I withdraw as much as possible to create space for rest and renewal and I remind my heart of the truth:
Read the rest here: Preaching Gospel to Myself
It’s interesting how God gives a similar message to many in His family around the same time. My friend and fellow bereaved mom, Kathleen Duncan posted just yesterday Dear Momma Who’s Feeling Not Enough. She had no idea that I had this post lined up over a week ago for today. So maybe we should all take a moment to realize that we ARE enough-just us. Because of Christ, we ARE enough. ❤
It has taken me decades to internalize the message that I don’t have anything to prove.
It has taken many, many heartbreaking moments to realize that no matter how hard I try to please everyone and met each expectation held over my head, I will fail.
Read the rest here: I Am Enough Because HE is Enough
We use the word “hope” like a magic spell, an incantation, a lucky rabbit’s foot.
But hope is only as sure as the object of our hope.
My hope is based on the unchanging nature of the Lord Jesus Christ Who is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Because of that, I will not be ashamed.
Read the rest here: How To Hold On To Hope
It’s kind of counterintuitive really-that my initial response to Dominic’s death would be affirmation of my faith and my response weeks later would be doubt.
But it makes a lot of sense really.
When the unthinkable happens, if your heart is already turned in a particular direction the path of least resistance is to keep flowing downhill.
A bit later, when shock has worn off and your brain wakes up and you begin to do the “math” suddenly it’s not so easy to believe that God is good, He is sovereign and He has a perfect plan.
I wanted explanations!
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: In The Very Presence of God
One of the things I’m learning this side of burying my precious child is that there is no upper limit to the sorrow and pain I may have to carry in this life. And it’s no use comparing my burden to that of another-begging God to consider the differing weights and to make adjustments to lighten my load because it is heavier than that of another.
I do not get a pass on daily stress and strain.
I’m not guaranteed physical health.
I am just as likely as anyone else to get the grumpy cashier, to drop a dish or lose my keys. Or worse.
Read the rest here: Life is Absolutely NOT Fair
I will not waste my time running here, there and everywhere.
I will not spend my life energy on things or projects or activities that don’t matter.
I am not going to invest the scarce resource of the rest of my life in busyness.
I will give everything I’ve got to hearts and lives and people. I will pour myself into projects I’m passionate about, people I love and pursuits that will outlive my few years on this earth.
Because busyness does not define me.
Love does.
Each day I am reminded by sights, smells, sounds and memories that Dominic is in Heaven and not here.
But there are moments and seasons when his absence is particularly strong-when I can’t breathe in without also breathing a prayer, “Father, let me make it through this minute, this hour, this day.”
And that’s when I need grace-from family, friends and strangers.
Read the rest here: A Little Extra Grace
Busyness has become a national idol-we rush from commitment to commitment, signing up to fill every single minute with something, anything that makes us feel important, valuable, irreplaceable.
Of course we have job and family obligations-as we should-but we don’t feel fully accomplished until we have colored in the edges of our calendar until no white space remains.
Because we think that if we don’t show up, people will miss us. We think that if WE don’t do this or that, it won’t get done. We are absolutely certain that our input is critical to the success of every mission, every committee, every project.
Can I let you in on a little secret? It’s not.
One of the inconvenient and difficult truths that has been burned in my brain since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven is this: his absence didn’t make a bit of difference to the world at large.
It only made a difference to the hearts that loved him.
Read the rest here: Who’s Gonna Miss You Baby?
I have learned a lot in these four years since Dominic ran ahead ahead to heaven.
But what a price to pay for wisdom!
It’s certainly not one I’d have agreed to up front.
Yet, here I am, older and oh, so much wiser, than I would have been if I had not buried a child.
Sometimes I resent that I wasn’t given the choice. I would trade any wisdom, no matter how beautiful and valuable for the life of my son.
Read the rest here: A High Price to Pay
I don’t know about you, but sometimes cute little memes intended to help me “look on the bright side” fly all over me.
Sure, if life gives you lemons (bad hair day, late to work, long line at the grocery store) make lemonade.
But sometimes it’s not lemons life gives you, it’s an avalanche of pain, heartache and world-shattering awful.
Read the rest here: Distant Music
It took me a little while to realize that if I was going to survive this lifelong journey I had to make some changes in how and when I responded to requests to do something, be somewhere or participate in outside events.
Because no matter how worthy the request, there was only so much of me to go around and I was forced to spend nearly all my energy and time and effort on figuring out how this great wound was impacting me and my family.
I cannot overemphasize how much strength and energy is needed to do the work grief requires.
Read the rest here: Grace and Space
Thankfully for most parents graduation isn’t really an end. It marks a transition and perhaps growing geographical distance, but the relationship will continue.
Your child may be harder to reach, but they are not utterly beyond your reach.
You might stand at the doorway of their empty room and wonder when they might come home for a visit and wake up under your roof again, but they WILL come home for a visit.
I’m not diminishing the very real sense of loss parents feel when the child they have nurtured begins a life apart.
But some of us face something harder.
My child is utterly unreachable.
Read the rest here: Please Be Patient With Me
If I had my way I’d store up grace like green beans-stacking one can atop the other “just in case”.
Then I could decide if and when to open it up and pour it out.
But grace isn’t like that. It’s a perishable though infinite commodity-like manna.
When God led the Israelites into the desert, He promised to feed, nurture and sustain them.
Read the rest here: Daily Bread: His Provision Is Sufficient
Chole identifies several groups that were in proximity to Jesus as He was dying on the cross.
Perhaps two people were silenced by grief or gently sobbing.
The others were taunting Him, mocking Him and reveling in His [apparent] inability to save Himself or be rescued by the Father He claimed close connection to.
They had no idea that His death was a last act of willing submission and laying aside of His power, position and possible retribution against those who had put Him there.
Read the rest here: Lenten Reflections: Fasting Criticism, Making Space for Grace
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
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