Category: grief

I’d Really Appreciate Your Patience!

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

Death Doesn’t End A Relationship

“Death ends a life, not a relationship.” ~ Tuesdays with Morrie

A parent’s love doesn’t end simply because a child leaves this earth.  

The relationship is not over as long as a  bereaved parent’s heart beats.

Read the rest here: “Death Ends a Life, Not a Relationship”

Friends: Shelters In Grief’s Storm

If you’ve never been caught short in the midst of an unexpected downpour you might not know how important refuge under the boughs of a cedar or oak tree can be.

Living in the middle of woods, punctuated by open pastures, I’ve retreated more than once to the safety of thick boughs which limit the rain’s ability to soak me through.

I have memorized every safe haven between the road and the middle of my 34 acres.

Faithful friends are like those sheltering trees-offering respite to a weary heart, providing a safe space to take a breath, granting protection when we are pursued by the enemy of our souls.

Read the rest here: We All Need Sheltering Trees

Hiding Behind Small Courtesies

I remember walking down the grocery store aisle after Dom left us wondering if the face I smiled into was faking it like I was. I wondered if they were hiding behind pleasantries because they form a good shield.

I imagine, on some level, most were. Because nearly everyone has a secret wound.

Read the rest here: Broken Hearts Hiding Behind Small Courtesies

Still At a Loss for Words…

Today is Dominic’s birthday. He would have been thirty-three if he lived.

I find as the years roll by it becomes increasingly difficult to “age” the person I last saw into the person he might have become. Oh, I can guess-but that’s hardly worth doing since we all know life rarely follows a straight path.

And that’s what defies language and steals my breath. On milestone days especially, I’m not only mourning what I have lost but also what I will never know.

❤

It would surprise my mama most of all that on this day I’m at a loss for words.

I regularly embarrassed her with my non-stop commentary as a child. I told stories about what I heard and saw (and what my young mind THOUGHT it heard or saw) to anyone who would listen.

But I realize now there are moments too sacred, wounds too deep, experiences too precious for words.

Either you are there and share it-or you’re not-and can’t imagine.

This is one of those times.

Dominic would be thirty-three years old today if he had lived.

Read the rest here: At A Loss For Words: Another Birthday Without You

International Bereaved Mother’s Day 2023

International Bereaved Mother’s Day is observed the Sunday before Mother’s Day in the United States.  This year it’s next Sunday, May 7, 2023.

I didn’t even know such a day existed until I was a mom that needed it.

For those of us who have children in heaven, setting aside a day to acknowledge that unique mother/child relationship is helpful.

Read the rest here: International Bereaved Mother’s Day

My Season of Grief: How a Heart Marks the Days

It’s different for every heart.

But each of us who know child loss have a season of grief.

It’s so much more than “just” the day our child left for Heaven.

For me, it starts in November and runs through the end of May-fully half of

every.

single.

year.  

Read the rest here: Season of Grief: How a Heart Marks the Days

Beauty in Community

It’s hard to explain to anyone who is not part of the child loss community that even though we would NEVER have chosen to join their ranks, these folks are some of the most amazing, compassionate and ENCOURAGING people in the world.

I just got home from Tulsa, exhausted and definitely looking forward to rest, but also encouraged and excited to keep company in person and online with some of these brave souls.

It was an amazing two days sharing hearts and stories, getting to hug necks and spending time listening to parents speak about their precious children. 

I am always encouraged when I look around a room and see real conversations taking place between two earnest faces who are clearly experiencing “me too” moments. 

So, so much grace, comfort, love and compassion flowed!

Oh, there were tears but there was also lots and lots of laughter.

We were free to speak aloud many of the words we are so often forced to swallow in daily life. No one was shocked anyone was *still* missing his or her child or slept with her daughter’s pillow, a toddler’s stuffie or in their son’s old t-shirt.

We rehearsed THAT MOMENT and how it divided time into before and after.

Knowing glances passed when one mama shared how painful it is to have family never mention her boy. And again when a dad asked about what to do with all the anger he felt.

NO explanation necessary.

We understand.

What a joy to help other parents hold onto the hope I have in Jesus and His promises to redeem and restore what the enemy has stolen and destroyed.

I witnessed hearts knit together in sorrow and love.

It was beautiful.

Discerning Biblical Truth: A Conference for Bereaved Parents (and Those Who Want to Help)

I love that social media and online resources mean no bereaved parent has to feel alone or be alone.

But as we’ve learned from three long years of forced isolation, there’s really no substitute for a hug and an in-person smile. There is just something amazing that happens when someone literally comes alongside and says, “Me too.”

That’s why I am excited to be part of an upcoming conference offered by Our Hearts Are Home, an organization founded by fellow bereaved parents, Gary and Laura House.

Y’all know that I don’t do a lot of in-person retreats or conferences.

Even though I love the energy and connection, life has been so demanding and often chaotic for the past several years, I simply couldn’t commit to something weeks or months down the road. The stress of worrying about having to back out at the last minute was too much.

So when I pulled out my calendar and wrote (in ink!) that I would be part of this conference it was a BIG DEAL. It was also a leap of faith-faith in God giving me the words and faith in trusting someone else to shape a space where I could speak them.

I’m as vulnerable as the next bereaved parent.

Years of spilling my experience across the Internet haven’t really made it any easier to do it in person and in public. I’m much more comfortable writing in the quiet of my own home at the kitchen table where I get second chances and can edit what is ultimately shared with others.

Still, this opportunity was one I didn’t want to miss.

Along with sharing our stories, the parents participating in the panel of presenters will be sharing our hearts, our faith journeys and the words and practices that have helped us hold onto hope in the midst of life’s greatest heartache and challenge.

It will be a unique combination of authentic experience and exhortation from those who are living with child loss and who also love Jesus.

I understand if you are too early in this journey to even consider gathering in a room with others who have the same heartache.

It was a long time before I could do that. But may I encourage you to consider taking part online? Or, if you are just beginning to feel a tiny stir in your spirit that says, “Go ahead! It might do you good!” then sign up and join us face-to-face.

I can’t promise there won’t be tears but I CAN promise there will be joy and laughter. Some of the best, most life-affirming moments I’ve had since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven were in the company of others who are missing their Heaven-dwelling children too.

So if your aching heart and weary soul are searching for a safe space to be encouraged, uplifted and filled with honest answers along with biblical truth, please consider joining me for this event.

I’m confident you won’t be disappointed.

Here’s the link: https://ourheartsarehome.org/conference

P.S. If you are interested in “meeting” some of us who will be there, you can find several of our stories in the book published and edited by Gary and Laura here: https://www.amazon.com/Until-Then-Stories-Loss-Hope/dp/B0BFF2LVBL

Update: Covid, Life, Etc.

Let me just say up front I don’t believe in luck or karma or anything like that.

I believe in a Sovereign God who can (at any moment) intervene and sometimes does but who, in general, allows humans to make free will choices and lets the world run according to natural laws He set in motion at the beginning.

That said, I do have a kind of superstitious personal habit of refusing to speak aloud any hope one week, month or year might be “easy” or “good”. Because for decades our days, weeks, months and years have snowballed into a chaotic blur combining lovely moments (birth of grandchildren and a few others) with stress-filled and often life-changing events barely leaving time to catch our breath before the next one comes barreling down the pike.

So when, in late January, I declared February a “month at home” and a “month of rest” I knew better.

I’ve shared earlier that I was diagnosed with Covid Sunday, January 29th. Truly, I have not felt worse within recent memory but am so, so thankful for vaccinations (which did not prevent me from getting it but definitely impacted the severity!) and modern medicine. Both of these meant my extremely exhausted body (just came off nearly three weeks tending my two grandboys plus a week long trip to my dad’s) and immunocompromised state did not end up in the hospital or with awful complications.

My whole family ultimately succumbed to the nasty bug-including my 87 year old dad (who was the first soldier down).

What I haven’t shared is that last Thursday evening I got a call from Papa who was in his local Emergency Room, alone and fitted out for what they thought would be emergency surgery for a non-Covid related situation.

Still talking to him, I rise from my comfy post-supper chair in front of the TV and start tossing clothes in my suitcase (only partially unpacked because, well, Covid) because I’m coming!!!

Calls go out to kids, my husband agrees to stay home and tend animals and we are off within forty-five minutes of the call.

Thankfully, after careful reexamination of imaging, observation of vital signs and a surgeon willing to let Papa decide to take a risk waiting until morning while remaining hospitalized and on IV antibiotics, we avoided emergency surgery.

Fiona, Julian and I arrived Thursday night and got a few hours sleep before showing up early Friday to reassess the situation and help Papa figure out a plan going forward.

He was able to come home with us-weak, tired and on medication-with serious admonitions to take it easy for a few days.

I cannot adequately express the love, gratitude and sheer pride I have for my kids and their willingness to drop everything and come running. They’ve gained this knowledge at a terrible price. I could not have navigated this last, frightening incident without their help and wisdom.

I’m deeply grateful it turned out to be a tiny blip instead of a giant health crisis.

I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayer and concern from folks near and far.

If you are so inclined, pray for a teeny, tiny break for me and my family. We are really kind of worn out.

I’m looking forward (shhhh!!!) to a quieter latter half of February.

Stay tuned for some new posts I’ve been working on and for another trip through Lent together coming soon. ❤

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