Category: grief

I Long To Be Yielded and Still

I first shared this seven years ago when I was still in the early days of mourning Dominic. Our family was facing the third set of holidays with an empty chair at the table.

Life since then has been full of additional challenges and loss.

I still rebel sometimes at the road I’m asked to walk.

But I am more convinced than ever that when I yield my life and heart to the Master Potter, He will mold me and make me into the likeness of Jesus.

And that’s really who I want to be-even if it hurts.

❤

I can’t claim to be satisfied with this life I’m living.  

I do not like this path I am forced to walk, this darkness that hides the light, this pain that burrows deep in my bones.

But I can say I’m learning not to fight it.  

Sometimes I still pitch a fit.  

Read the rest here: Yielded and Still

Lesson From Geese: Calling Courage!

Every autumn I hear the geese overhead and I think about how all that honking serves only a single purpose:  to remind the stragglers they are headed in the right direction.  

It speaks courage to my own heart as I remember that not only does the leader call out to those behind, but that each bird takes a turn at the head of the line so that the others can rest a bit.  

What  beautiful picture of how life SHOULD be.  

Read the rest here:  Of Flying Geese and Calling Courage!

Here’s A Bereaved Parent’s Wish List

If you’ve followed this space for very long, you probably noticed that I don’t publish many lists.

I usually like to share my thoughts and observations generously padded by narrative. That’s because lists can sometimes sound harsh and unkind.

But when I came across this one several years ago, I found it honest, useful and to the point for folks who might not wade through folksy wisdom to find the meat of things.

So here it is one more time.

Read the rest here: Bereaved Parent’s Wish List

As If Time Were In My Hands…

Every spring and every fall we dutifully make the rounds to our clocks and digital devices, putting them first forward an hour and then back in an attempt to make the days “longer”.

As if time was in our hands.

The sun rises and sets according to the Creator’s schedule, we can neither speed the world’s turning, nor slow it down.

We can only choose whether to be present in the moments He grants us.

Read the rest here: Time Change

Don’t Run Away. Your Presence is Powerful.

It’s tempting to avoid someone when their world is dark.

It’s uncomfortable to choose to enter their pain.  But Jesus has called us to walk beside the suffering, to encourage the disheartened and to lift up the ones who stumble.

There are no magic words to erase heartache.

Only presence.

And isn’t that why Jesus came?

Read the rest here: The Power of Presence

Prayers and Praise: One Year Later

A LOT has happened since I wrote this post one year ago to share my husband’s cancer diagnosis and need for surgery.

I am oh, so happy to report that the surgery was successful, the margins clean and he’s had no indication he needs additional treatment. He did, however, develop a hernia that necessitated another (much more complicated and invasive) surgery a few months later.

Still, all in all, we are overjoyed that what could have been the beginning of a long and arduous cancer treatment journey was shortened to surgery and easy follow-up visits to monitor blood work.

I wanted to share this again to remind myself and YOU of how important it is to be honest about our struggles. If I don’t let anyone know I need support and prayers, how can I expect them to show up?

Sometimes the ones we expect to come alongside don’t. But often the Lord provides others who do.

❤ Melanie

Can I just say how very grateful I am for every single person who joins me here and in online groups?

I have been overwhelmingly BLESSED by comments and messages time and time again. It’s definitely been a lifeline when grief, other challenges and everyday living makes this old wounded heart want to give up and give in.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I never take your presence for granted.

Read the rest here: May I Ask for Prayers? Please and Thank You.

I Am Not a Fan of Halloween

I don’t want to take away any happy memories a parent may have of Halloweens past.

I know some families and some communities have celebrations that focus primarily on dressing up, more funny-than-scary traditions and even highlighting the connection between those who remain and those gone before that transcends generations.

I respect that.

What hurts MY heart (and maybe only my heart) is the elevation of death and dying to a spectator sport.

I’ll never get used to that. And I don’t want to get used to it.

❤ Melanie

Except for a few years early in childhood, I have never liked Halloween.  The combination of darkness and creepiness makes my skin crawl.

And now, this side of child loss it makes me angry. 

Why?  Because for one night (really, for a couple of weeks!) Americans not only think about death, they spend millions of dollars celebrating it.

Not celebrating ACTUAL death-not the absolute horror of being told your child is gone, gone, gone.  Instead it’s a fake, “funny”, silly made-up mockery of a very real, very awful truth.

Read the rest here: Halloween

Oh, How I Miss His Voice! Silent Echoes Haunt My Heart.

I try to limit the time I spend perusing old photos and old social media posts of my missing son.

I’ve learned that while they remind me of sweet memories and happy times they also prick my heart in ways nothing else can.

I was looking for something specific the other day and had to scroll through Dominic’s Facebook page to find it. As I did, I began reading some of the back and forth comments under the posts and pictures.

This time it wasn’t what was said or where the photos were taken that hurt my heart.

Instead it was the tiny little time stamp underneath the words that took my breath away.

Nothing more recent than nine years ago was recorded.

Because that’s when his voice went silent.

Read the rest here: I Miss Your Voice: Silent Echoes Haunt My Heart

Sunlight On The Ocean

One of the blessings of this awful, unwanted journey is the beautiful souls I have met along the way. Fellow travelers who, like me, wouldn’t have chosen this path but who are doing the best they can to walk it in a way that honors their child and Jesus.

One such precious friend is Rhyl Venning. Her daughter Kari-lee went to Heaven in 2014 a few months after Dominic.

We found each other through an online bereaved parents support group (While We’re Waiting) and discovered we both need to share openly and authentically about our child loss journey.


Over the years we’ve exchanged messages, participated in book studies together and very nearly met one another even though she lives in Australia and I’m in Alabama. (My mother’s illness and death prevented that.)

Rhyl has done what many set out to do but never accomplish: she’s written a memoir of her experience both as a mom and as a bereaved mom. It’s beautiful, heart rending, honest, riveting and ultimately, full of hope.

There is so much to be gleaned from her story!

The path to motherhood was not easy for Rhyl. Infertility, miscarriage and dashed hopes increased her longing for the precious daughter that finally made her way into the world.

Kari was born with cystic fibrosis though it was awhile before Rhyl and her husband knew. Thus began a lifetime of careful routine, watchful waiting and hope-filled pursuit of treatments and lifestyle choices and ultimately, a lung transplant.

In spite of that, Kari lived an exuberant, joyful and adventurous childhood, youth and young adulthood. She traveled. She loved. She was married.

Rhyl draws the reader into her world, into Kari’s world and into the world of her family and friends. She shares her inner life-her hopes, dreams, fears and sorrow. She doesn’t shy away from deep questions about her own faith and how much wrestling it has taken to reach a place of peace after her precious girl left for Heaven.

If you know a bereaved parent, you can gift this book to them without fear of adding pain to their suffering. They will find a fellow traveler-someone who is willing to tell it like it is and to lead them to the refuge of our Shepherd King without preaching at them.

I deeply love Rhyl and am so very thankful she has written her story and made it available for others to read.

I highly recommend this book to anyone but especially to bereaved parents.

You are not alone.

Not alone in your suffering,

in your wondering,

in your wrestling,

nor in the hope that is found in Christ Jesus. ❤

***You can find Sunlight on the Ocean at Amazon and Barnes & Noble***

Grief Brain: Nine Years and Counting

When I first became aware that Grief Brain was a real thing, it was a blessed relief!

I had long known that physical, mental or emotional stress could alter thinking and make it hard to remember things but I had never experienced such inability to hold even the most basic information in my head or found it nearly impossible to complete simple daily tasks.

It was truly frightening.

And it made life extremely hard.

I think the really, truly awful period of confusion, memory loss and difficulty lasted a good couple of years-not every day as bad as the next or the one before-but it was fairly consistent. I had to use lists, alarms and strict habits (like where I put my keys, the route I took somewhere, etc.) to make it through.

Now, nine years later, it’s not nearly as bad.

That’s partly because I’ve become so good at relying on aids and helps like alarms and calendars and partly because I’ve gotten better at keeping the constant hum of loss compartmentalized in my brain so I can actually think of something else.

But if there is any added stress in the system I regress.

I forget words, names, places, why I’ve walked into a room, where I’m going, what I’m doing and (much to my horror) food in the oven or on the stove.

So if you are in the early days of loss and wonder, wonder, wonder if you are losing your mind, odds are-you aren’t.

It’s just Grief Brain.

It WILL get better.

In the meantime, use whatever helps you do what you have to do.

And be kind to yourself.