Category: heart

Making Our Churches Safe Havens for Hurting Hearts

If you have lived a blessed life where the greatest challenge to your faith has been disappointment and not destruction then I am so, so happy for you. Really.

Some of us have dragged our broken hearts through the church doors out of habit with little hope we might find the genuine comfort we need to survive inside.

Because experience taught us that while it is perfectly acceptable to raise a hand and ask for prayer one or two weeks in a row, it better not become a predictable pattern. Patience with unsolvable and messy ongoing situations runs thin as leaders turn the discussion toward “victory in Jesus”.

But that isn’t what Christ came for-not that we don’t have ultimate and even some temporal victory through Him.

He came for the broken and breathless. He came in the flesh because our flesh is weak and life is hard and bad things happen.

We’ve got to do a better job welcoming and ministering to hurting hearts.

We have to.

❤ Melanie

I am a shepherd.  My goats and sheep depend on me for food, for guidance and for their security.

And every day I am reminded that a shepherd’s heart is revealed by the way he or she cares for the weakest and most vulnerable of the flock.

But most of us are far removed from the daily reminder of pastoral life that was commonly accessible to the authors and readers of the Bible thousands of years ago.  So it’s no surprise that we tend to forget the connection between a shepherd’s life and a pastor’s calling.

Read the rest here: Loving Well: How the Church Can Serve Grieving Parents and Other Hurting People

Understanding A Grieving Heart

In the last post I shared the difference between mourning and grief. While the outward ceremonies have long passed, the inward struggle to embrace and understand the pain and sorrow of losing my son continues.

If you love someone who has lost a child, perhaps these thoughts might help you understand a bit of their pain and how completely it changes the way bereaved parents encounter the world.

Please be patient. Please don’t try to “fix” us. Please be present and compassionate. And if you don’t know what to say, feel free to say nothing-a hug, a smile, an understanding look-they mean so very much.

❤ Melanie

A bereaved parent’s grief doesn’t fit an easy-to-understand narrative. And it flies in the face of the American “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality.

You can’t beat it–it’s not a football game-there is no winning team.

You can’t lose it–it’s not the extra 10 pounds you’ve been carrying since last Christmas.

You can’t get over it–it’s not a teenage love affair that will pale in comparison when the real thing comes along.

You can only survive it.  You can heal from it, but it will take a lifetime and require very special care.

Read the rest here: Loving Well: Understanding the Grieving Heart

Child Loss: Years Later I Still Need Support


Sometimes I’m envious of folks hobbling along in those plastic boots designed to support an injured leg or ankle and aid healing.

Not because of the injury–I’m thankful I’ve never broken a bone-but because it’s an outward warning to anyone who might otherwise be impatient or insensitive that they just can’t go any faster.

I think there ought to be some kind of t-shirt, pin or banner that gives the same kind of warning for those of us walking around with broken hearts and broken lives.

But there isn’t.

Read the rest here: Broken Legs, Broken Hearts, Broken Lives

A Few Brave Souls


I was absolutely overwhelmed in those first days.

Cars, cars, cars filled my long driveway and front yard.

People spilling out like ants scrambling after the hill is disturbed.

Oh, our hill was disturbed-knocked wide open by that deputy’s visit.  Phone calls to let others know.  Phone calls from people who couldn’t get in touch with him and were just checking “in case something had happened”.

It had happened.

Read the rest here: Who Steps In? Who Walks Out?

It’s Impossible To Rush Healing

I’m heading toward seven years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven (April 12th). And while I can mark many ways in which my heart has healed, I can list a dozen areas that are still tender.

I wish, wish, wish there was plan of action like physical therapy or a course of medication like antibiotics that could guarantee reliable progress if followed precisely.

But there isn’t.

All I can do is continue to place myself in the path of healing, do the next right thing and wait patiently for the pieces to fall back in place.

❤


I’ve lived with invisible chronic disease for over a decade.

From the outside looking in, you’d hardly know that I am often in great pain.  I make daily choices about what I will do and what I won’t do based on what I can do and what my body refuses to do.

I take medication.  I do all the things I’m supposed to do to help my body heal.

But I cannot MAKE the healing happen.

Read the rest here: Healing Comes In Its Own Time

Deep Gratitude For Those Who Keep My Lamp Burning!

There are days when my lamp burns so low it’s nearly extinguished.

Those are the days when I really need someone-anyone-to reach out and fan the flame.

I know, I know, for my fellow believers in Jesus we are admonished to “take it to the Lord in prayer”.

I absolutely DO that.

But it was no mere convention that the disciples were sent out two by two. God has made us for community and He has gifted those within the Body so one member may encourage another.

So here’s to the hearts that heed the still, small Voice that says, “Call, text, message, send a card, send flowers, drop by, or make a meal.”

You make a difference. ❤

Image may contain: text that says 'At times our own light goes out and S rekindled by a spark from another person Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the Hame within us.'

A New Year’s Prayer For Hurting Hearts

Some of us enter trembling through the door of a new year. 

This last year wasn’t so good and our hearts are broken.

What if the next year is worse?  How will we manage?  Where can we hide from bad news, bad outcomes, disastrous trauma?

Truth is, we can’t.  

So here we are, bravely marching in, hanging on to hope and begging God for mercy.  

Read the rest here: New Year’s Prayer for Hurting Hearts

Gifts Of Grace In Grief


It was a long time before I wanted to believe that I received any gifts worth keeping from this life I didn’t choose.

I knew I had tears, pain, agonizing sorrow, loss, heartache, dashed hopes, empty arms.

If I could give those back and regain my son, I would do it in less than a heartbeat.

I can’t, so I’m left here to ponder what else I’ve received from burying a child.

And I am learning that I have been given some gifts I truly cherish, although the price was higher than I would have willingly paid.

Read the rest here: Grace Gifts of Grief

Empty Hearts Can Be Filled

I don’t know about you but I’ve never thought of hopelessness as something I wanted on my resume.

Hopelessness is typically tossed into the pile of “negative” feelings we all acknowledge but don’t want to experience and if we do, we try to minimize, rationalize or disguise them.

If I admit to it at all, I tend to look downward, whisper quickly and pray that no one takes much notice because it feels shameful.

But maybe hopelessness is the first step to truly celebrating Christmas.

Read the rest here: Qualified by Hopelessness: An Empty Heart Can Be Filled

So, So Tired of the “Moral High Ground”

Y’all-I’m exhausted.

I’m so, so tired of navigating social media, regular media and personal conversations where one person claims to be morally superior because he or she is wearing/not wearing a mask, taking/not taking the vaccine, traveling to be with family for the holidays or staying home.

I’m worn out with memes and odd glances and offhand comments that make judgements about another human being without knowing one. single. thing. about the other person they claim to understand.

How masks have appeared in art - BBC Culture

Here’s a warning: I’m often honest and open in this space but not often raw. I’m about to be very, very raw.

I wear a mask and am cautious about social exposure for extremely personal reasons.

My son died alone.

I was not there to hold his hand as he took his last breath. I have no way to know if he was frightened, comforted by angels or the Lord’s holy Presence. I don’t know if he called out for me or was senseless.

But all those questions haunt me every night before I finally fall asleep if I let them.

So the idea of being unable to be with a loved one when he or she leaves this world is more than my heart can bear. If something I can do, or they can do (like wear a mask or limit exposure or take a vaccine) means I won’t have to face that, I’m all for it!

My mother died from pneumonia following a stroke.

I wasn’t there but my father was and I heard his frantic voice on the other end of the phone line when I picked up in the middle of the night. We rushed to the hospital but it was too late.

So the idea of another loved one struggling for life-giving oxygen while nothing more can be done to give it to them breaks my heart. If wearing a mask or staying away or managing the number of social contacts is what it takes to minimize that risk, it’s a no brainer for me.

Mask answers No. 3: My face is breaking out, now what? | Novant Health | Healthy Headlines

I’m not afraid of Covid.

I’m not afraid of death.

I’m afraid of loss.

I realize I fall squarely on the side of caution and you might fall on the other side.

I respect that.

All I ask is that you not judge me any more than I am judging you. Make space in your heart for someone who may, for very personal and very reasonable, reasons have come to a different conclusion.

Each of us walks in the world according to our experience and our convictions.

I promise not to impose mine on you.

And I promise not to make assumptions about yours.