help – Page 8 – thelifeididntchoose

Why Do We Turn Away?

The news goes out over Facebook, over phone lines, over prayer chains and everyone shows up.

Crowds in the kitchen, in the living room, spilling onto the lawn.

It’s what you do.

And it’s actually the easiest part. Lots of people, lots of talking, lots of activity keep the atmosphere focused on the deceased and the family. The conversation rarely dips to deeper waters or digs into harder ground: “Where was God?”; “Why him?”; “Why do ‘bad’ things happen to ‘good’ people?”

But eventually the busyness and noise gives way to stillness and silence.

That’s when the harder part starts.

The long hours of nightime darkness that invite questions that demand answers. The quiet hours of daylight that insist on playing a home movie of the years that went before. Forcing me to wrestle. Tossing me in the ring of trying to reconcile this tragedy with my worldview.

And many people turn away from the spectacle.

Even good, loving, Christ-following friends find it hard to stick around and watch.

Because it challenges their worldview too.

It makes them wonder if what they have always believed about God is true. It makes them fearful that if it could happen to my son and to me, it could happen to their child and to them. Ir raises questions, they’d rather not answer.

And they don’t have to answer them-YET-because their lives haven’t been turned upside down and inside out.

So they run.

They stop calling, they stop coming and they keep their distance in public spaces.

It hurts.

A lot.

It’s human nature to avoid pain. No one marches headlong into suffering. Empathy requres energy. Compassion demands opening your heart to the hurt hiding inside someone else’s.

I understand, truly I do.

If I could find a place where sorrow and longing couldn’t find me, I would stay there forever. But I can’t. I have to carry this load, I have to face the tough questions, I have to work hard to give my heart a chance.

It is so much easier when others come alongside. I feel so much stronger when others choose to call courage to my broken heart. I find great comfort in knowing that someone is willing to risk their own comfort to bear witness to my pain and struggle.

Please don’t lower your eyes and hide. Raise them and help heal.

I know it’s hard and you don’t have to, but please don’t turn away.

The Lifter of My Head

When I taught a young women’s Sunday School class, we were exploring the third Psalm.

David wrote this Psalm when fleeing from his son, Absalom. He not only feared for his life, but his heart was broken by the shattered family relationships that led to this power struggle.

It wasn’t the first time he had to rely on God to intervene.

Psalm 3

A Psalm of David, when he fled from Absalom his son.

Jehovah, how many are they that trouble me, many they that rise up against me!

²Many say of my soul, There is no salvation for him in God. Selah.

³But thou, Jehovah, art a shield about me; my glory, and the lifter up of my head.

⁴With my voice will I call to Jehovah, and he will answer me from the hill of his holiness. Selah.

⁵I laid me down and slept; I awaked, for Jehovah sustaineth me.

⁶I will not fear for myriads of the people that have set themselves against me round about.

⁷Arise, Jehovah; save me, my God! For thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheekbone, thou hast broken the teeth of the wicked.

⁸Salvation is of Jehovah; thy blessing is upon thy people. Selah.

DARBY translation

I will do almost anything to make a lesson come alive.

So I lay down on the carpet, forehead to the floor, arms outstretched and asked, “Can I defend myself in any way in this position?”

Of course the answer was a resounding, “NO!” because it was obvious that I could not.

I was at the mercy of whoever may intend me harm. I could neither see them nor stop them. It was a position of absolute vulnerability-the way prisoners knelt for execution in ancient times.

It was the position Esther assumed when she embraced very real danger to gain the opportunity to plead for the safety of her people.

And it reflects the inner truth that I am not in control and utterly reliant on the God Who made me to save me.

A friend posted this on her timeline and I really like it.

I would change only a single thing: Instead of “lift your head” I would say, “let God lift your head”.

Because I am unable to lift it myself.

I don’t have the strength, I don’t have the power, I don’t have the energy to raise my head above my current circumstances. I am bent under the weight of sorrow and grief. If left to myself, I will stay here and simply wait for the end to come-it sometimes sounds easier and more inviting.

But the truth is, it AIN’T over yet.

I don’t get to make that choice. God does. And as long as He keeps me here I want to rely on Him to lift my head and make my life a living testimony to His power, grace, mercy and love.

There IS salvation from God-not only eternal salvation but also salvation from the pit of despair and despondency that threatens to swallow my soul.

When He lifts my head, I can see it.

Grief Brain: It’s a Real Thing! PART TWO: Coping Strategies

So now that you know you aren’t going crazy, what to do?

Give yourself grace-understand that the old you is not the new you.

You will not be able to overcome these very real changes by sheer force of will. No matter how talented or together you used to be, it’s unlikely you can operate on that high plane right now. If you try, you will only exhaust the resources you have left.

So slow down and make room for how grief has impacted your mind.

There are some basic self-care techniques that bear fruit in every area, not only mental acuity:

Eat balanced meals or snacks-It doesn’t matter if you WANT to eat. Consider that you are fueling your body so that it can feed your mind. Find a protein bar you like or eat easy-to-make salads or sandwiches. When blood sugar levels are stable, your mind works better.
Get as much quality sleep/rest as possible-This is very hard, I know, when the setting sun brings memories and thoughts that make sleep almost impossible. But research “sleep hygiene” and apply the techniques that might work for you. Herbal supplements and teas can help as well as prescription medications.
Drink enough water-hydration is so very important and easy to ignore.
Limit alcohol and/or other stimulants/depressants -any of which can interfere with your ability to think and remember. (Do NOT stop medication unless you do so in concert with your doctor)
Exercise-There’s no need to run a 5K. Just a walk around the block or even around your house can get your blood pumping and providing more oxygen to your brain.
Get a physical exam to rule out hypothyrodism, diabetes, heart disease, or any other physical cause for your symptoms. If prescribed treatment, follow the protocol.

Develop work arounds:

I simply admit to people I’m meeting for the first time that I will not remember their name unless and until I use it multiple times, and even then I might forget. It takes the pressure off so I don’t have to pretend when I see them again.
I write down EVERYTHING. If I put something “someplace safe” I jot down the location in my calendar. If I make an appointment or need to make a phone call, I write it where I can see it. If I commit to bring something to a potluck meal, I put down what I promised and when it needs to be there.
I ask for help. Like I said before, if I make lunch plans with friends, I ask that they text me the day before to remind me. If I need extra time to fill out a form, I speak out-I’ve never had anyone refuse. If I can’t remember something important, I admit it and look it up. I have given my family permission to tell me when I’m repeating myself.
I maintain routines and habits. Keys-same place,always. I have a carabiner on my purse to attach them when I leave my truck. Glasses-same place, always. Medicines in those little seven-day sorted containers.
I use the Internet, mail and telephone calls to expedite things and minimize stressful interactions with people. If I am going out to a restaurant, I look up the menu online so I’m not forced to make a decision on the spot. I look up and print directions even though my phone can navigate on the fly. I call ahead to learn how long a repair will take, if items are available and if my prescriptions are actually ready. I send letters and cards instead of visiting when I’m feeling overwhelmed.

Lifestyle choices:

I aim for balance: Harder tasks with easier ones; stressful outings with quiet moments; reading with sewing; outside and inside; work and play. Switching up seems to help keep me sharper somehow.
I don’t overcommit. When someone asks me to do something, unless it is truly an emergency requiring an immediate answer, I consult my calendar. If I already have a couple commitments for a week, I beg off or reschedule for another time. I realize that those working outside the home have far less control over these things but perhaps you might ask your boss for some leeway.
I group similar tasks and do one thing at a time. I find that doing things that require the same skillset on a single day increases my ability to do them well. Shopping, writing notes, cleaning house are things I schedule for one day at a time. I am absolutely NO GOOD at multitasking anymore.
I’m realistic about what I can and can’t do. It is humbling to admit that I’m no longer tolerant of small children and large crowds. I used to be able to handle both. But I just can’t do it, so I limit my exposure. I won’t serve in the nursery at church and I don’t attend concerts. That’s just the way it is now.
I plan for laughter. If it doesn’t happen organically, I seek something uplifting and funny to tickle me into laughing out loud at least once a day. Laughter helps me cope and releases all kinds of feel-good hormones. With the world of memes at your fingertips, this is an easy thing to do.
I refuse to apologize. Yes, I might say, “I’m sorry” when I forget someone’s name, but I don’t make it a habit to make excuses for my inability to live up to others’ expectations. I learned early on that anyone who has not walked this Valley can’t really understand anyway. It frustrates me, adds to stress and does no good. So I let my “yes” be “yes” and my “no” be “no”. I’m beyond being embarrassed.

I do the best I can as long as I can.

And when I reach my limit, I admit it without being shamed.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Exploding the Myth: God Doesn’t Give You More Than You Can Handle

blessings-come-through-rain-drops

You know, I don’t expect those outside the Body of Christ to have good theology-that’s like expecting me to be able to explain thermodynamics.

Ain’t gonna happen-it’s outside my scope of understanding and practice.

I do expect those who have spent a lifetime reading Scripture, studying Sunday School lessons and listening to sermons to know better.

But many don’t.

“God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” is bandied about freely among those who, if they thought about it before they said it, know it isn’t true.

god-doesnt-give-you-more-than-you-can-handle

Usually it’s tossed at someone going through a tough time in an effort to encourage them.

Can I just let you in on a secret? It is NOT encouraging. At. all. Not one bit.

Because what’s implied is that I SHOULD be able to handle this.

But I can’t.

And it lets you off the hook.

It’s like I’m drowning and instead of diving in to rescue me, you’re giving swimming lessons from the safety of the shore.

It’d be much more helpful if you threw me a lifeline.

life-preserver

God routinely gives me more than I can handle.

It’s one tool He uses to turn my heart to Him. It’s one way He helps me understand (although He knows it already) that I absolutely cannot handle it by myself.

So instead of sending the message that I should be able to handle this-join me in the dark place, hold my hand as we walk together and help me feel God’s love through you.

presence best gift

Shake Off the Shame

shame

Shame is a shackle as sure as any chains forged from iron.

And it often finds its home in the hearts of those who bury a child.

Bereaved parents may feel shame for lots of reasons:

Circumstances surrounding the death of their child-suicide, alcohol, drug abuse;
Inability to provide the funeral or burial they want due to financial constraints;
Missing signs or symptoms of an illness that may have led to death;
Family dynamics that pushed a child away from home or relationship.

The list could be endless-on the other side of child loss our brains pick apart every interaction, every choice, every moment that could have gone one way but went another.

Grief is WORK.

But it is impossible to make my way through the pile of emotions if I’m shackled by shame. I can’t move freely and effectively if I’m bound hand and foot by things I can’t control and can’t change.

In the midst of all this work, some bereaved parents find they are immobilized by depression and/or anxiety and need medication to help them through.

woman looking through rainiy window.jpg

And they feel ashamed.

Can I just say this?

There is NO shame in seeking help.

There is nothing shameful about using whatever tools are available to make this awful journey more manageable.

A wise and kind doctor friend said, “Medication does not make the sorrow and pain go away, but it can calm the mind and create space so you can do the work grief requires.”

You are not a failure if you need medical help to quiet your mind. You are not weak if you take a pill to keep from feeling like you’re going to come out of your skin. You have done nothing wrong if you can’t sleep and require a sleep aid to allow your body the rest it needs to carry on.

Don’t compare your journey to anyone else’s.

You are unique. Your path through this heartache is your own.

Do what you need to- for YOU.

Shake off the shame.

grief-is-not-linear

Holiday Planning Helps for Grieving Parents

As much as I hate the mashup of Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas that assaults my senses every time I walk into a store, it IS a reminder that, like it or not, the holidays are coming.

I wrote these posts a few weeks back so that grieving parents and their families could begin to think about and make plans for year-end celebrations.

I know it’s hard-it continues to be hard for me as I approach the third (!) set of holidays without one of my children at the table.

But it is harder without a plan.

So here are links to the posts. I pray they are a small help for heartbroken mamas and daddies:

Grief and Holiday Plans: Working Out the Details

Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations

Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

Practical Ideas for Dealing with the Holidays after Child Loss

Grief and Holiday Plans: Working Out the Details

I live in Alabama where we are still sweating buckets under the late summer sun, so I understand if thinking about the holidays is the furthest thing from your mind.

School just starting, new routines in place-am I crazy?

Well, yes (you can find plenty of folks to back you up on that) and no-the days keep coming, one after the other, and these big days will be here sooner than we think.

And for grieving parents, it takes some thinking, some planning and some preparation to meet both extended family’s expectations and extra responsibilities at Thanksgiving and Christmas while carrying a load of sorrow and pain.

One thing I am learning in this journey is that even though I wish someone else would blaze the trail for me, I’m going to have to do it myself. And because every major milestone is overflowing with emotional booby-traps, I have to plan ahead.

I wrote this post Practical Ways to Love Grieving Parents at Christmas last year and it has some thoughts that many found helpful.

But I didn’t have it out there until right around Thanksgiving which might be too late for some folks to make adjustments in plans already made by others.

So even though it’s early, and even though I am and have always been one of those people that resents the “holiday creep” that blends everything after the Fourth of July into a hodge-podge of orange, brown, green and red (UGH!)-I’m going to spend the next couple posts on practical ways to plan ahead and relieve some of the stress of this time of year on bereaved parents.

Here’s a few things to get you started:

Find a notebook or journal (I use a 70 page spiral bound notebook) and write in large print “Holiday Journal” on the front cover.
Find or print copies of calendars from October through December and staple, tape or glue them on the very last pages or the back cover of your journal.
On the first page, note any dates (in order) of birthdays, regular family gatherings and trips, etc. that are already committed for those three months.
On the second and third pages make a heading: BRAINSTORMING. Then list what you like/dislike/hope for/dread about the upcoming holiday season. (an example: I dread having the family together in one place because it makes my son’s absence that much more apparent) Don’t edit yourself-write it all down-we will refer to this later.
On the fourth and fifth pages make a heading: FAMILY TRADITIONS. Then list all the things your family usually does for the holidays (if this is your first season after loss they will all be pre-loss traditions, if not, they may include both pre-loss and post-loss traditions)
Place your journal where you can get to it easily but out of reach of small hands and family pets.

Then take a breath-you. are. not. alone.

We’ll work together to establish a survival plan for the holidays.

Tomorrow: Dealing with extended family and how to have those hard conversations.

Set it Aside

Good is something you do, not something you talk about.
Some medals are pinned to your soul, not to your jacket.
Gino Bartali

Set aside the tweets and the memes

Set aside the scores and the football predictions

Set aside the latest greatest whatever.

Move it off the table of your heart

And create space for the truly important:

The drowning people fleeing war torn countries where children are starving or being buried alive in bombed out rubble;

The families displaced-many forever-from homes that were nowhere near a flood plain and who never imagined they would watch a lifetime of memories float downstream;

The frightened ones trafficked for men’s pleasure-praying that someone, anyone, notices and steps in to save them;

The lonely teen unsure of where to turn until his thoughts become so unendurable that only one way out seems reasonable;

The old man or old woman, forgotten and alone, breathing stale air in a home that isn’t home-no one speaking his name, her name-as if they had already passed from this life to the next.

You think it doesn’t matter much.

You think someone else will take care of it

Until it’s you–

Waiting for light in the darkness

Looking for hope to hold onto

Begging for help as you’re drowning in despair.

As it is, you boast in your proud intentions. All such boasting is evil. Therefore whoever knows the right thing to do, yet fails to do it, is guilty of sin.

James 4:17 The Berean Study Bible

Wow! Just. Wow!

I’m always a little frightened to expose my vulnerable underbelly to the sometimes vicious wilderness of the worldwide web.

So when I clicked “send” for yesterday’s post I had immediate regrets-was it too personal? too negative? too self-focused?

I am overwhelmed by the comments both on the blog and on Facebook-comments of encouragement, understanding and hope-not condemnation or condescension.

All I can say is, “Thank you!”

And I was reminded that isolation is a powerful weapon in the hands of the enemy of our souls.

But godly community disarms it.

So I want to make sure that everyone who reads this blog knows about two online Facebook sites that offer hope and healing through the truth of Scripture and the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Each has a public page visible to anyone on Facebook and features posts of interest to bereaved parents and those walking with them.

While We’re Waiting is a large, well established non-profit organization. In addition to the online presence, it offers in-person support to bereaved parents through retreats and support groups. I am very grateful to the Sullivans and Browns who founded the group after experiencing child loss-their obedience has been a blessing in my life and in the lives of many other grieving parents.

Heartache and Hope is the name of a page I created as an additional resource, along with the blog, for those who are grieving a child.

To receive posts in your newsfeed, simply “like” the public page and benefit from the encouragement.

From each group’s public page, bereaved parents and grandparents can request admission to a closed discussion group.

The private discussion groups are just that-private. Only bereaved parents and grandparents may participate. It’s a safe space where everyone understands and shares your pain.

As I read and was encouraged by each comment on yesterday’s post, I thought of an image many of us have seen-a defensive circle of elephants facing outward-the vulnerable calves safely tucked in the middle.

A lion can prowl around the edges but knows it is already defeated. Nothing can penetrate the powerful perimeter that protects the potential prey.

Peter warned early believers:

Most importantly, be disciplined and stay on guard. Your enemy the devil is prowling around outside like a roaring lion, just waiting and hoping for the chance to devour someone.

I Peter 5:8 VOICE

That’s what community feels like.

I’m surrounded and protected.

That old lion-the enemy-can roar all he wants to. He can’t touch me.

For God did not choose us to condemn us, but that we might secure his salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord. He died for us, so that whether we are “awake” or “asleep” we share his life. So go on cheering and strengthening each other with thoughts like these, as I have no doubt you have been doing.

I Thessalonians 5:9-12 PHILLIPS

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Psalm 3

A Psalm of David, when he fled from Absalom his son.

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