This was not how I expected it to be.
Children are supposed to be the legacy of their parents, not the other way around.
But it IS how it is. So I will remember.
I will carry the light that was the life of my precious boy and make sure that he is remembered and that the gifts he gave me are given to others with his name attached.
“Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth it has always been a sign that you are alive.”
~ Charlotte Bronte
“There is a sacredness in tears, they are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love. “
~Washington Irving
“I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”
~ J.R.R. Tolkien
I’ve come to believe that my wounds and the grace God has provided in my woundedness are not my personal possession.
God did not cause my pain, but He is redeeming it. He is molding me into a different person than I would have been if Dominic hadn’t run ahead to heaven. And that person has more compassion and grace and mercy and patience than the person I was before.
If I hide my wounds then I am hiding the hope He has hidden in my heart.
I won’t do that.
“Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.”
Hebrews 4:14-16 MSG
Nobody escapes being wounded. We all ar wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not ‘How can we hide our wounds?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.
Jesus is God’s wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus’suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others. ~ Henri Nouwen
Thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he is our Father and the source of all mercy and comfort. For he gives us comfort in our trials so that we in turn may be able to give the same sort of strong sympathy to others in theirs. Indeed, experience shows that the more we share Christ’s suffering the more we are able to give of his encouragement. This means that if we experience trouble we can pass on to you comfort and spiritual help; for if we ourselves have been comforted we know how to encourage you to endure patiently the same sort of troubles that we have ourselves endured. We are quite confident that if you have to suffer troubles as we have done, then, like us, you will find the comfort and encouragement of God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-7 PHILLIPS
Sharing our wounds makes us vulnerable.
When we allow ourselves to become vulnerable, we invite others to do the same.
In this community of mutual vulnerability, healing is possible.
It crosses my mind sometimes.
And it’s a topic of conversation among bereaved mamas:
Read the rest here: Beauty for Ashes
Someone posted this image yesterday on Facebook-they had received a copy in a therapy session and found it a helpful way to picture grief.
I wanted to share it because perhaps you may find it helpful as well. ❤
I think it’s one of the very best ways to think about grief for several reasons:
It didn’t take long after Dominic’s leaving for life to ramp up and obligations to pour in. We had two graduations and a wedding within two months of his funeral.
Then there were thank-you notes to write, dishes to return and every day chores necessary to manage a home and family.
No escaping what must be done.
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.
At first, turning down a request or asking someone to reschedule was relatively easy-the loss was fresh in their minds and they were gracious and understanding. As the weeks and months and now YEARS have passed, it is harder. Not always because they don’t understand but because I sometimes hold myself to an untenable standard that says I should be better by now. I should be able to do all that I could once do. I shouldn’t be so sensitive to the date on the calendar or the place we might meet for lunch or the rainy weather that brings my mood down.
But I’m not able to ignore all those things and sometimes I just can’t do what someone else would like me to be able to do.
So I keep repeating the mantra, “grace and space” to myself.
I need grace-from my own heart FOR my own heart– I must cut myself the slack I would be happy to extend to others.
I need grace from friends and family. I cannot help you understand exactly what it’s like to be me. You can never know all the ways I ache for the life I had before Dominic ran ahead to heaven. You could never imagine all the daily pinpricks my soul must suffer as I walk in this world and am reminded of what I’ve lost.
So you will have to take it on faith when I say, “I just can’t do that”.
I need space.
I need space between me and the noise of the world and the shouting urgency of “to do” lists and project deadlines. So much of the work I must do is silent, solitary work. It takes hours and hours of thinking, talking to God, reading Scripture, journaling and just being alone to sort this all out.
I’m not rejecting YOU-I’m trying to preserve ME.
It isn’t selfishness, it’s love for my family. I refuse to add to their burden by running myself into the ground. I won’t choose to make life harder for them by creating an unecessary crisis.
I don’t know when I might (or IF I might) return to the busy bee I once was. Right now I can’t even imagine it.
I think I will need grace and space for a very, very long time.
We ALL have bad days, fears, struggles and lonely moments. Sometimes we just need to know someone cares. Sometimes we just need a hug.
For those who are struggling today-here’s a hug.
For those who think they are unworthy of the breath they breathe and the space they occupy-here’s a hug.
For those who are afraid that today won’t be any better than yesterday or the day before-here’s a hug.
For those who have absolutely no idea how they will survive the next five minutes, much less the next five hours-here’s a hug.
You are NOT invisible. You are NOT worthless. You are NOT unloved.
The God of the universe loves you.
He sees you.
He’s waiting for you and longs to shower you with grace and mercy.
It’s oh, so hard to know what to do when you are watching a heart break.
You want to reach out and make it better, make the pain go away, make a difference. But it seems like nothing you can do will matter much in the face of such a huge loss.
While it’s true that you cannot “fix” the brokenness in a bereaved parent’s life, there are some very important and practical ways you can support them in their grief-especially as the weeks turn into months and then to years.
Read the rest here: Five Practical Ways to Support a Grieving Parent
We took this picture celebrating Father’s Day 2013 and it was supposed to be a joke.
Dominic had a habit of finding somewhere to be for the end of May (which includes his birthday) and the first couple weeks of June (Father’s Day) nearly every summer for the last six years he was with us.
I had to schedule his high school graduation (we home schooled) for the ONE weekend out of the whole summer when he would be home before he entered college in the fall.
In 2013 he was studying abroad in Switzerland.
So on this day when he was absent (again!) I brought along this picture and thought it would be funny to have him represented in the obligatory Father’s Day photo-little smiling Dominic.
It popped up in my Facebook memories the other day and I realized it’s not funny anymore.
Now the only way Dominic CAN be part of a family portrait is if one of us holds a picture of him.
I hate that.
Who could have guessed that our messing around would now mess with my head?
Fifth Sunday Singings are a tradition down South.
We gather in the evening or afternoon every time there is a fifth Sunday in a month and sing, sing, sing.
Sometimes there are featured groups but often it’s just the faithful few who enjoy picking favorite hymns that might not get much air time on Sunday mornings.
Inevitably the hymns that are chosen most often include a verse or two about “when the roll is called up yonder” or “the streets of gold” or “amazing grace”. Because almost all of us have a hymn etched on our hearts during a time of trial or sorrow or deep suffering.
And it’s the promise that God is faithful, His word is true and this life is not all there is that gets us through.
But for this mama’s broken heart, a few choruses in and I’m in tears.
While I am thankful, thankful, thankful that I know I will see my son again, these hymns remind me that a lifetime may lie between here and there.
The waiting is hard.
thelifeididntchoose 