Category: grief

No Remedy

Our family has a reputation:  If it’s broke, sick or something just plain hard to do–call us.

We are not miracle workers but we are hard workers.  We can’t fix everything, but we will try to do something.  

But there’s one thing we can’t fix.

One thing none of our skills can shape into a victory in the shadow of defeat.  One thing that will not give in to elbow grease or commitment to persevere.

We can’t fix Dominic’s being gone.  

We can’t make it better.

We can’t undo the deep hole his absence has carved in our hearts and our lives.  

And that is very, very hard to live with.  

 

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Of Leaking Buckets and Grief

I first wrote about this a few months back when I was pondering the FACT that no matter how wonderful the moment, how beautiful the gift, how marvelous the fellowship of family or friends, I am simply unable to feel the same overflowing abundant joy I once experienced.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about the great heroes of Scripture and studying their stories in detail.

I may be wrong, but I haven’t found one whose life did not contain pain.

It appears that sorrow and suffering in this world is one of the chief tools God uses to help the hearts of His people long for the world for which we are made-the eternal city whose Builder is God:

It was by faith that Abraham obeyed the summons to go out to a place which he would eventually possess, and he set out in complete ignorance of his destination. It was faith that kept him journeying like a foreigner through the land of promise, with no more home than the tents which he shared with Isaac and Jacob, co-heirs with him of the promise. For Abraham’s eyes were looking forward to that city with solid foundations of which God himself is both architect and builder.

Hebrews 11: 8-10 PHILLIPS

Some point to  lack of abundant joy as proof of a weak faith.

I counter that obedience, in spite of the lack of abundant joy is proof of rock-solid faith.

Walking on in spite of my empty bucket means that I am trusting God to fill it even when I can’t see how.

Here’s the original post:  There’s a Hole in My Bucket

 

On The Edge

Almost three years and here I am-

still on the edge.

On the edge of an anxiety attack.

On the edge of the cliff of deep sorrow and darkness that threatens to swallow every thing bright in my life.

On the edge of giving up and giving in.

On the edge of turning my back on every one and every thing.

On the edge of losing hope.

On the edge of deciding that this fight is really not worth it,

that there is nothing left to give,

that I will absolutely never survive this pain and loss.

Some days I manage to take a few steps back.

I might go a week or more and almost forget the edge is there.

And then one conversation will catapult me forward to the brink again.

Shaking, crying, ragged gasping breaths.

Tears.

So. many. tears.

I thought I had run out of tears.

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

~Zack Eswine

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Choosing to See Wounded Hearts

I can see her all the way down the aisle-even if she doesn’t say a word,  I know.

I know.

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She‘s carrying a burden wrapped in love and buried deep inside.  Someone she poured life into is no longer here.  The missing and the daily sorrow is etched on her face even as she smiles.

What to do?  What to do?  

Making a decision without her better half to help her is overwhelming.  She wants to cry but holds back the tears because, “What would people think?”

So I go up to her and tell her what I think:  “Would you like some help?”

That opens the floodgates.

“I’m looking for hairbands-something to match my white hair.  I have so little left-losing it because of stress, you know. “

Silence while I help her look.

“My husband passed three months ago.  We were married 60 years.  I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

I tell her about Dominic-brief version-so she knows that I understand.

“He’s not suffering anymore and I guess I should be better.  But I just miss him!”

I take her hand and look into her beautiful eyes-eyes that are full of love and compassion and sorrow-and tell her that she will miss him as long as she lives.  That’s how we’re made.

Great love means great grief.  A shared lifetime can’t be severed by death.  We carry that sorrow because our hearts still carry the love.

ann voskamp love will always cost you grief

And I tell her that no one has the right to rush her along. Her wounded heart is a witness to love.  It’s a tribute to her husband and the life they shared.  It’s testimony to the power of God in her that she can bear the wound and still remain.

We prayed, and hugged and both went away refreshed.

Walking wounded has made me much more aware that God places people in my path who are wounded too.  

I want to be the person that stops, no matter what.  I want to be who God created me in Christ Jesus to be.  I want to walk in the good works He has laid out for me ahead of time.

It’s a way of redeeming this sorrow and weaving something beautiful from  my tears.

God has made us what we are. In Christ Jesus, God made us new people so that we would do good works. God had planned in advance those good works for us. He had planned for us to live our lives doing them.

Ephesians 2:10 ICV

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I’m Only ONE Grieving Mama

I was reminded (again!) that when I share my journey, it may (and does!) look very different from another mama’s journey.

I really appreciate that reminder because I never, ever intend to speak for anyone but myself.

I write because it helps me wrangle my own thoughts, feelings, experiences and questions into some sort of reasonable order not because I think I’m documenting a generally applicable description of grief.

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Sometimes other moms have given me permission to share their thoughts and I try to indicate that by using quotes or a general heading.  And sometimes I have asked a question in our closed group and received permission to share insights gleaned from the answers to write a post  on a specific topic.

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My path through this Valley of the Shadow of Death is unique.

It is as unique as the son I buried, as the life I’ve lived previous to and since my loss, as my personal relationship with Jesus, as the weaknesses and strengths I bring to the task.

I have surviving children.  Not every grieving mother does.

My children are all adults. Many grieving mothers are in the midst of the busy child-rearing years.

I don’t have a career.  Other bereaved mothers must get up, get dressed and go to work every day.

I don’t have any grandchildren to cuddle but some mamas do.

I find silence helpful-solititude healing.  Others find silence frightening and feel abandoned.

I don’t want to be distracted from the work grief requires.  Some work hard to run away from the pain.

Scripture is my bedrock, laid down before Dominic ran ahead to heaven. Not all bereaved parents believe in Jesus nor use the Bible as their guide.

So take what’s helpful, leave what’s not.

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And if you ever want to add to what I’ve written, leave a comment.  [REMEMBER these comments are PUBLIC.]

I have always envisioned these posts as conversation starters, not the final word.

My prayer for each bereaved parent who reads these words is that they will feel the Father’s loving arms around them, that He will flood their broken hearts with His grace and mercy. I ask that He give them strength for each new day and that He guide them toward His truth and give them hope.

Much love, my friends.

~Melanie

Repost: The Cost of Compassion

 

compassion is a choice

I can’t help it.

I think too much.  I wonder too often.  I work too hard to make sense of things.

And the thing that is puzzling me right now is why people pull away from those experiencing deep and lasting pain.

Read the rest here:  the cost of compassion

Forgive Us Our Trespasses, As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

There are lots of opportunities for offense surrounding the death of a child.

Once your heart is broken open wide with great sorrow, there’s no defense against the bumps and bruises that are a natural product of human relationship and interaction.

  • Friends and family that didn’t show up.
  • Friends and family that showed up but said or did the wrong thing.
  • Friends and family that abandoned me as soon as the casket closed.
  • People that make me feel guilty for grieving or question my sanity or my “progress”.

But I’m learning to let go of offense.

Not only because it is too heavy to carry in addition to my grief, but because the Lord has commanded it.

I grew up reciting what’s commonly called, “The Lord’s Prayer” without much thought to the individual phrases or their meaning. It wasn’t until adulthood that I read it in context and continued on to the rest of the chapter.

What I found there was chilling.  

These are some of the hard words of Christ that most lay persons and many theologians prefer to gloss over.

“For if you forgive other people their failures, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you will not forgive other people, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive you your failures.”

~Jesus (Matthew 6:14-15 PHILLIPS)

WOW!  The plain reading of this text tells me that if I refuse to forgive others, I place myself outside the forgiveness of my Father.

It makes sense though-if my sins were borne by Christ on the cross, then so were yours.  

If His grace covers me, it covers you.  

If I want to be seen through the eyes of mercy, then I must be willing to look through those same eyes at my fellow man.

At first this feels like bondage instead of freedom.  

But the truth is, forgiveness is liberating.  

It sets me free to operate in the fullness of who I am in Christ.  It forces me to trust Him with my pain, with my sorrows, with my offenses and with balancing the scales of justice.

forgiveness-quote-charles-stanley

Forgiveness opens the path to relationship and community.  It testifies to the mercy and grace of God.  

It shines like a beacon of light in a dark world.  

It is the power of Christ in me.

To forgive another person from the heart is an act of liberation. We set that person free from the negative bonds that exist between us. We say, “I no longer hold your offense against you” But there is more. We also free ourselves from the burden of being the “offended one.” As long as we do not forgive those who have wounded us, we carry them with us or, worse, pull them as a heavy load. The great temptation is to cling in anger to our enemies and then define ourselves as being offended and wounded by them. Forgiveness, therefore, liberates not only the other but also ourselves. It is the way to the freedom of the children of God.

~Henri Nouwen

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Hanging On

(A psalm by David.)

Listen, Lord, as I pray! You are faithful and honest and will answer my prayer.

~Psalm 143:1 CEV

There are days when I am not interested in a deep dive into Scripture or a lengthy conversation with myself or anyone else about faith.

Days when I’m too tired to try to tease out the meat from the fat or the subtle from the obvious.

On those days I hang on to HOPE by remembering some basic truths:

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In my own power I am lost, but God promises not to abandon me to my own resources.

He made me, He called me and He keeps me.

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He hears my cry for mercy.  He collects my tears.  He turns His face toward my suffering and doesn’t look away.

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When my heart is overwhelmed, He is my Rock, my Refuge and my Very Present Help in time of trouble.

when-my-heart-is-overwhelmed-lead-me-to-the-rock

He will not abandon me.

i-am-with-you-always

 

A New Book-Shattered: Surviving the Loss of a Child

I was just made aware of an excellent new resource for grieving parents available free today and tomorrow for Kindle.  I wanted others to be able to take advantage of this offer.

I haven’t read it, but trust my friend, Jill Emmelhainz’s review:  

“I’ve read an advance copy of this book. I wish this had been available when our son died 9 years ago. No platitudes, no sugary counselor-speak. Examples and experiences from other bereaved parents in short simple sections. Kindle version is fr*e today and tomorrow. Paperback version releases next week.”

Here’s the link on Amazon:

Shattered:Surviving the Loss of a Child

shattered

What to say? What to do? Loving the Grieving in Public Places

 

Last week I wrote about some strategies I employ when in a social situation: Surviving Social Situations After Child Loss. 

But if you are the friend, family member or acquaintance milling around who bumps into me or spies me across the room, here are some things you can do and say that will help me as well:

Be aware that the greeting, “How are you?” sometimes feels like a challenge instead of an invitation. I’m scrambling for words to express my true condition without ruining the mood of the gathering.  It would be so much better if you simply said, “Hello” or “I’m happy to see you” without additional comments about how long it’s been.

Don’t pose or push for answers to questions that are primarily designed to satisfy your own curiosity.  If I give a brief reply, take the hint and move on.  If I say I can’t talk about it, drop the subject.  If I turn the conversation back to you, pick it up and carry the ball.  Public spaces are not the place to try to draw me out.  If you are concerned about me or want to REALLY know how I’m doing, take me to lunch or bring me dinner or invite me out for coffee.

questions

Notice my body language.  If I am fidgeting or hugging myself or backing away or crossing my arms it’s time to let me go.  I may hold my tongue but my body will give you abundant clues that I’m nearly at my limit for social interaction.  Give me permission to end the conversation and preserve my dignity.

Hugs are almost always wonderful.  Physical touch conveys love and compassion without requiring any response.  If you know me well enough to hug me or squeeze my hand, please do.

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Don’t corner me-physically, emotionally or spiritually.  Backing me into a tight space makes me feel trapped.  If I’m on the end of a pew or aisle, don’t ask me to scoot down so you can join me.  I’m there in case I need to make an exit.  Don’t stand too close to me while we’re talking-my need for adequate personal space has greatly increased since Dominic ran ahead to heaven.  Don’t throw Bible verses at me or ask me how Jesus is meeting me in my sorrow.  These are things we can talk about together, in private, in a way that makes space for me to be honest and express emotion without fear of embarresment.

Don’t make comparisons between my missing child and person featured in the wedding, baby shower or engagement party we are attending. Trust me, I’ve already done the math. I already know the distance between Dominic’s homegoing and this day.  I am already mourning one more thing I’ll never get to see him do.

cant-understand

Please don’t use this time to tell me about another bereaved mother you “just want to introduce to me”.  I am open and willing to walk with others on this journey, but this is not the time nor the place to put me on the spot.  If you know of another mom that needs my help, write me a note, give me a call or text me.

If I leave a room, don’t follow (unless you are a very close friend).  Let me go.  I will return if I can and if I can’t, I won’t.  Text me if you’re concerned.  If I come back, let me slip in without any fanfare.

If I cry, hand me a tissue or a handkerchief.  Don’t ask, “What’s wrong?” Besides the obvious, I may not have an answer for you.

woman-mourning

Please help me move conversation along when I lose my train of thought or seem at a loss for words.  Grief makes it hard to think sometimes, especially when in a crowd and/or a place with lots of background noise.  Give me permission to end a conversation-it probably doesn’t have a thing to do with YOU-I’m just running out of steam and need a few minutes’ respite from having to talk.  

Attending social events is exhausting for me now.  I want to celebrate birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, graduations-but that means a lot of people and a lot of unknowns.  Dozens of potential triggers, any one of which might conjure a grief wave that can drown me.  

I do what I can to be prepared. 

But I’ll take all the help I can get.

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