Category: grief

Lenten Reflections: Letting Go To Make Space For Love

Letting go to make space for love is the only true fast.

I have observed Lent off and on for decades.

It’s an opportunity to set aside time and dedicate effort to thinking deeply about the current state of my spiritual life as well as refocus my heart’s affections on my Shepherd Savior King.

Faith, in general, is less about the sacrifice of stuff and more about the surrender of our souls. Lent, in kind, is less about well-mannered denials and more about thinning our lives in order to thicken our communion with God.

Alicia Britt Chole

Today’s fast: LENT AS PROJECT

What that means to me: I want these 40 days to help my heart lean in and take hold of Who Christ is.

I don’t want to measure my “progress” toward doing without or even adding another spiritual discipline to my daily routine.

Self-denial can be a source of pride.

I’m ashamed to admit that have succumbed more than once to a holier-than-thou attitude.

I will refuse to check boxes or add up what I’ve done without. “Thicken my communion with God” is my goal.

I want to be like Mary who poured out the precious oil on His feet disregarding cost, other people’s opinions and without a moment’s hesitation once the Spirit gave her heart the nod.

If you observe Lent, what are you aiming for these 40 days? If you are giving up something, why?

Are you frightened, worried or overwhelmed?

God sees, He knows and He wants you to run to Him.

He will gather you in His arms, wrap you in His love and sing songs of peace over your soul. 

*I am sharing thoughts on 40 DAYS OF DECREASE (a Lenten journal/devotional). If you choose to get and use the book yourself, I’ll be a day behind in sharing so as not to influence anyone else’s experience.*

I Must Decrease-Making Room For Jesus. Lent As Invitation, Not Obligation.

Although I have observed Lent off and on for many, many years, it’s different for me now in a profound way.

Some of you know but may have forgotten that Dominic was killed the Saturday before Palm Sunday and buried the Monday after Resurrection Sunday, 2014.

Each year since then I’ve felt like I had to endure two sets of “anniversaries” because his death date and burial date are not only days of the month but also marked by moveable church celebrations.

It has been very, very hard.

As the sun rises earlier each morning in spring, the weather turns brighter and the flowers bloom, my heart grows heavier and heavier. I want to crawl in a hole and wait for the time to slide by-as if not noticing will make a difference.

But I can’t. Life must be lived, not only endured.

So I am choosing this year to try to guide my heart gently through this hard season with purposeful action that will force me to engage with God’s Word, with God’s people and with God Himself.

I know that if I don’t create space and place to prioritize my time with Jesus, to reflect on my life, to purpose to re-align my choices with ones that are more consistent with what I say I believe, then it won’t happen.

Life is full of distractions, temptations and I’m just plain lazy.

There are so many ways to observe Lent! Most of us are familiar with fasting a favorite food or beverage or giving up some entertainment or habit. That’s a fine way to focus on denying our flesh and meditating on Christ.

But this Lenten season I’ll be doing something different.

Last year I was introduced to a book, FORTY DAYS OF DECREASE by Alicia Britt Chole. It’s focus is more on fasting attitudes and actions rather than tangible things.

It was challenging but I loved it so I’m doing it again.

It helped change my approach to the whole season from one of obligation (almost of penance) to thinking of it as an invitation to sit at the feet of my Shepherd King.

If I’m honest, I need to learn this holy habit more than any other-listening instead of always doing, doing, doing.

I’d really like some company and some comments if any of you would join me on this journey! I’ll be sharing my own insights and reflections one day behind so those who want to participate won’t be influenced by my opinion.

If you’ve read the blog for very long, you know full well that God and I have wrestled more than a few rounds.

I don’t have it “figured out”.

But I’m willing to stay in the ring.

I Grieve Because I STILL Love

I confess-until it was MY son who left for Heaven before me I had NO idea that grief was really just love.

But when the person you love more than the breath in your body leaves you, the love remains.

And you have to find something to do with it.

So you sigh and you moan and you find ways to keep that person relevant despite the days, weeks, months and years (!) of experiences that interpose themselves between the last time you were able to hug his neck and the date on the current calendar.

❤

” If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.” ~James O’Barr

I grieve because I love.

My tears are a gift to the son I miss.  My sorrow honors his memory.  My broken heart gives evidence to the ones walking with me that my love is fierce and timeless.

Read the rest here: Love: The Reason I Grieve

How Can I Love a Grieving Parent Well in those First Days?

It will be eight (!) years on April 12th.

And yet those first hours and days are some of the most vivid in my memory. Who showed up, what they did, what they said (or graciously and wisely DIDN’T say), how fragile and lost I felt as precious friends guided me through so. many. decisions.

I will never, ever forget the kindnesses shown to our family during that time. I will never, ever stop thanking God for the brave souls that entered into our world of pain and simply refused to be shooed or frightened away.

❤ Melanie

The death of any loved one opens a door and forces you to pass through.

You cannot procrastinate, cannot refuse, cannot ignore or pretend it away.

Suddenly, you find yourself where you absolutely do not want to be.  

And there is no going back.

Many bereaved parents describe the first hours, the first days after losing a child as a fog–we feel both horrified (I can’t believe this is happening!) and numb (Is this real? Am I dreaming?).

Read the rest here: Loving Well in the First Days After Loss

As If Thy Blessings Had Spare Days

Thou hast given so much to me, Give one thing more, -a grateful heart;

Not thankful when it pleaseth me, As if Thy blessings had spare days,

But such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.

George Herbert

“As if Thy blessings had spare days”.

I love that!

I remember as a young mother being overwhelmed by the responsibility and work raising a human soul required. Sometimes I would get frustrated that my family didn’t seem to appreciate the effort.

I thought, “Here I am, day in, day out with no break and you only seem to notice when I can’t always meet every expectation or desire.”

I wonder how often God looks down on me, His child, thinking the same thing?

Of course He is fully CAPABLE of doing anything. He’s not hampered by the frailty of humanity. But in His infinite wisdom He only acts for my ultimate good and His glory.

There is not a single day when God is not blessing me.

Even when Dominic took his last breath, God provided.

Oh, that I would have a grateful heart! ❤

The Battle For My Mind: Thoughts Matter

So much of this battle has been fought in my mind.

Really, even more than in my heart.

Because you can’t argue with sad or shock or missing or disappointment.

But you can absolutely argue with hopelessness (there is nothing to live for), apathy (there is nothing to do) and distrust (there is no one who can help me).

Read the rest here: Thoughts Matter

Regrets

Every parent has regrets.

We were too busy or we were not busy enough. We spoke harshly when we should have withheld judgement. We insisted on “good behavior” when our child was simply being curious and doing what all active children do.

The difference between most parents and bereaved parents is this: As long as there is breath, there is hope for forgiveness, for mending fences, for saying, “Hey, remember when” followed by an apology and understanding.

When your child is out of reach there’s no chance of making amends or even having a conversation.

So I’m left alone to work through any regrets I have.

I am forced to play both roles and make assumptions about what Dominic may or may not have understood at the time. I have to hope without confirmation that he would forgive me for the moments when I was less than the mom I wish I had been.

Most days I rest in the truth that no matter what, Dominic knew he was loved.

In fact, I try hard to imagine that even in the last second of his life-before he met Jesus-he may have been focused on my mother love and that if I could have been there I would have been.

But there are cold days and cloudy days and days when I feel oh, so inadequate and all the regrets come knocking at the door of my heart.

Those are hard.

So although I rarely play the “if you only knew” card with friends and family I will say this: Tell the people you love what you need to tell them. Let them hear you say aloud how much they mean to you.

Savor ordinary moments because that’s what life is made of.

There’s no regret in that. ❤

Sometimes Sadness is Sanity

Sometimes sadness is sanity. Tears are the reasonable response. Quickness to shush, shame or fix them, can reveal resistance to wisdom.

Zack Eswine

It wasn’t until I suffered the unbearable that I realized how very true this is: Sometimes sadness IS sanity.

Deep grief is the price we pay for great love.

But it’s easy to mosey through most of a life before you’re forced to come face to face with this truth.

Tears are an appropriate and proportional response to loss. Despair is a reasonable reaction to tragic and sudden death. Horror is perfectly understandable when disease ravages the body and steals the soul of someone you love.

So often those who haven’t experienced it want those of us who have to hold the knowledge close like a secret in hopes they won’t have to acknowledge it is true.

But sooner or later death visits all of us.

And when we choose to stand with those who have, through no fault of their own and without giving permission to the universe, been thrust head first into the unrelenting reality of loss, we not only encourage them, we enrich ourselves.

Life is a tenuous and fragile gift.

The quicker we understand and embrace that the wiser and more compassionate we will be.

Time, Child Loss and Major Life Changes

I remember thinking in the first days and weeks after Dominic’s accident that the world really needed to just STOP!

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise again felt like an abomination when my son was never coming home again. Shouldn’t the universe take notice that something was terribly, terribly wrong?

But it didn’t.

So life (even for me and my family) carried on.

Some days lingered like that last bit of honey in the jar-slipping slowly, ever so slowly into nights when my brain betrayed me by replaying all the ifs, whys and should haves as I tried in vain to get some sleep.

Others flew by and I found myself months further into a new year unable to remember how I got there and what I’d done for all that time.

My adult children married, moved, graduated, changed careers, and had their own child (another on the way!).

My mother joined Dominic in Heaven.

I got older.

We’ve celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and holidays.

Daily life isn’t as difficult (most days) as it was in the beginning but my husband’s retirement has forced me to figure things out once again.

I can’t blame it all on the fact we’ve buried a child. I’m pretty sure most couples struggle to find a new normal when one or both give up long term employment for staying home.

Suddenly my little house kingdom has been overtaken by my husband’s love of music in the background (I’m a work in silence kind of gal), his tendency to leave a trail of breadcrumbs (paper, gum wrappers, tools) wherever he goes and a completely different wake/sleep/work cycle than my own.

I have a plan for the next day the night before. He treats every morning as a blank slate and takes a few hours to decide what he will do. By the time he gets going, I’ve nearly finished my list.

Trying hard to accommodate these changes has laid bare one of the main ways I’ve managed my grief for almost eight years.

I can’t make time stop but I work hard to control it. I schedule and plan and execute the plan in an attempt to reorder life so I don’t feel as vulnerable to its vagaries.

It’s a vain attempt.

My husband’s sense of time is challenging my coping mechanism. Once again I need to figure out how to navigate a changing world, how to carry grief and carry on.

I’m working on it.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

❤

Monday, Monday…

Well folks, I managed-after more than a decade of typing with laptop in my lap and coffee beside me-to spill it on my keyboard!

I am painstakingly pecking out this short post with my on-screen keyboard so no one worries.

I’ll be working on getting things back up and running (hopefully by tomorrow) .

Until then, be kind to one another.

❤

Melanie