I’ve thought often of what good, if any, can come from child loss.
I do not think for one minute that God “took” my son to teach me a lesson or to mold me in some way.
But I do believe with my whole heart that God can USE this circumstance to conform me more closely to the image of Christ Jesus.
Read the rest here: Hidden Manna
Life is full of storms.
Some are outside myself and others start in the secret corners of my own heart.
All of them make me wish for quiet and calm, peaceful waters where I can sail the ship of life and not worry about sinking beneath the waves.
When I’m afraid I remind myself that Jesus is the Peace Speaker.
He calmed the wind and waves on the Sea of Galilee and He will calm the wind and waves of my heart.
He is the unchangeable, faithful God and I am always safe in the sea of His love and goodness.
Dear Lord,
Today I thought of the words of Vincent van Gogh: “It is true there is ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea.” You are the sea. Although I experience many ups and downs in my emotions and often feel great shifts and changes in my inner life, You remain the same.
Your sameness is not the sameness of a rock, but the sameness of a faithful lover. Out of Your love I came to life, by Your love I am sustained, and to Your love I am always called back. There are days of sadness and days of joy; there are feelings of guilt and feelings of gratitude; there are moments of failure and moments of success; but all of them are embraced by Your unwavering love….
O Lord, sea of love and goodness, let me not fear too much the storms and winds of my daily life, and let me know there is ebb and flow but the sea remains the sea.
Amen
Henri J. M. Nouwen
I first shared this post several years ago when I realized that the best thing anyone could say to me was: “I’m sorry for your pain. I’m listening. I’m not going anywhere.”
At the time it was mainly about my experience with child loss.
Now I know it’s really the best thing for any heart whenever its hurting or afraid or feeling alone.
❤
Watching someone you love in pain is very, very hard.
And it’s natural that people want to say something or do something to try to ease the burden.
They might offer a story illustrating that it “could be worse” or rush past an expression of sorrow by changing the subject or even compliment me on “how well I am doing”.
But none of those things makes me feel better.
Read the rest here: Sweet Words
I like to greet the early darkness of winter by lighting a single candle so I can sit in its glow.
I’ve always felt a holy hush in those quiet moments as birds and beasts and other living things settle into night.
There’s something very personal about striking the match, lighting the candle and drawing near to the small circle of light it casts instead of flipping a switch to blaze away the darkness with brash, overhead fixtures.
So when a friend who posts encouraging things every day recently posted this quote by Anne Frank, I loved it.
Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.
Anne Frank
Imagine Anne and her family in cramped attic quarters, whispering and walking oh, so softly to avoid detection by the Nazis.
How precious that single candle must have been to this curious, bright and lively girl! A tiny bit of hope in an otherwise dreary and dreadful world.
As long as a candle burns it declares that darkness has not won.
As long as a candle burns it helps a heart see the difference between wrong and right, hope and despair, death and life.
Candles can’t last forever. Eventually the wick burns down, the wax runs out and darkness comes again.
But there is one Light that cannot be extinguished. One Light that always points the way.
Later, Jesus talked to the people again. He said, “I am the light of the world. The person who follows me will never live in darkness. He will have the light that gives life.”
John 8:12 ICB
This world is a hard and cruel place. Bad things happen. Evil men commit atrocities.
And yet, the darkness never fully conquers because the light of the love of Christ lives in the hearts of some people everywhere.
There is always a candle somewhere as long as those who love Jesus choose to shine-a light that both defies and defines the darkness-and points the way to life and hope.
We walk in a “ravine as dark as death” (Psalm 23:4), and still we have nothing to fear because God is at our side: God’s staff and crook are there to soothe us (see Psalm 23:4). This is not just a consoling idea. It is an experience of the heart that we can trust.
Our lives are full of suffering, pain, disillusions, losses and grief, but they are also marked by visions of the coming of the Son of Man “like lightning striking in the east and flashing far into west” (Matthew 24:27). These moments in which we see clearly, hear loudly, and feel deeply that God is with us on the journey make us shine as a light into the darkness. Jesus says, “You are the light of the world. Your light must shine in people’s sight, so that, seeing your good works, they may give praise to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).
Henri Nouwen
It’s said that “Hurt people, hurt people”.
And it’s true-often in my own pain I lash out and hurt others. Partly because my pain is so huge and so real and so blinding that I don’t always see what I’m doing to others.
But also, sometimes, (and I hate to admit it!) because misery loves company. If I’M hurting then someone else better hurt too!
That’s not the high road.
And it’s not the road Jesus paved with His blood.
I need to take my brokenness to Him. Because truth told, He’s really the only one that can minister true healing.
When I use my pain-even the unfathomably great pain of child loss-as an excuse for bad behavior all I do is spread the hurt.
It doesn’t take one bit of my own away.
So I try to be more mindful of when discomfort authors my words and stop them before they pour from my mouth on some unsuspecting victim.
I want my legacy to be love.
It’s a daily choice.
I know, precious heart, as the months and years roll by and everyone else has moved forward and moved on, it’s easy to feel like no one sees your wounds, no one takes note of your sorrow, no one remembers your pain.
It can make you feel invisible.
You feel like a black and white pasteboard cutout in a world peopled by technicolor action figures.
But you are NOT invisible.
The God of the Universe sees you.
He keeps track of every. single. tear.
He cares.
Even if you are still angry with Him.
Because His love is an everlasting love. He doesn’t give up on us just because we don’t have the strength to reach out to Him. He will bridge the gap between what we are capable of doing and what needs to be done.
Sit silent in His Presence and He will come to you.
Gentle, loving, quiet and peace-filled He will come.
No matter how many humans have written you off, your Faithful Father has not forgotten you.
He sees you.
He waits with open arms.
He wants to embrace your wounded heart and your broken life.
Come home. ❤
God is the father who watches and waits for his children, runs out to meet them, embraces them, pleads with them, begs and urges them to come home.
~Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal
I don’t like pain.
I don’t enjoy suffering.
But deep pain and suffering have left a lasting impression on my soul. Experiencing the loss of a child has enlarged my heart and sharpened my senses to the pain and suffering around me.
Choosing transparency in pain is hard and vulnerability is frightening.
But when I let others in, they see that I am just like them. I struggle, I cry out for mercy, I need God’s grace, mercy and strength to carry on.
And that lends authority to my invitation to meet Jesus.
I find great comfort in Henri Nouwen’s words.
He was a Catholic priest who struggled with depression at times and ended his years living and serving at L’Arche-a community of able and disabled persons living together.
He wrote extensively and honestly and openly about his own struggles. He was full of compassion for fellow travelers.
He was honest about loose ends.
I like that.
I’m sure I would have liked him too. ❤
Not Breaking the Bruised Reeds
Some of us tend to do away with things that are slightly damaged. Instead of repairing them we say: “Well, I don’t have time to fix it, I might as well throw it in the garbage can and buy a new one.” Often we also treat people this way. We say: “Well, he has a problem with drinking; well, she is quite depressed; well, they have mismanaged their business…we’d better not take the risk of working with them.” When we dismiss people out of hand because of their apparent woundedness, we stunt their lives by ignoring their gifts, which are often buried in their wounds.
We all are bruised reeds, whether our bruises are visible or not. The compassionate life is the life in which we believe that strength is hidden in weakness and that true community is a fellowship of the weak.
– Henri J. M. Nouwen
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Henri Nouwen is one of my favorite authors. His gentle spirit and kind heart shine in every word.
I have learned a lot from him.
This is one of my favorite passages, especially as I contemplate life after Dominic has left us.
On the one hand I feel as if I am leaving Dominic behind-time on earth marches on and event after event rolls past without his presence or participation.
On the other hand, I feel as if Dominic has run ahead to our forever home and must be waiting for us as much as we long for him.
But Nouwen’s words remind me that time will no longer be something I think about or worry about once we are all together in the Presence of our Savior.
There is no “after” after death. Words like after and before belong to our mortal life, our life in time and space. Death frees us from the boundaries of chronology and brings us into God’s “time,” which is timeless. Speculations about the afterlife, therefore, are little more than just that: speculations. Beyond death there is no “first” and “later,” no “here” and “there,” no “past,” “present,” or “future.” God is all in all. The end of time, the resurrection of the body, and the glorious coming again of Jesus are no longer separated by time for those who are no longer in time.
For us who still live in time, it is important not to act as if the new life in Christ is something we can comprehend or explain. God’s heart and mind are greater than ours. All that is asked of us is trust.
I will confess right here that this week I am more than tired.
I’m defeated.
I have fought the good fight, tried hard to endure and worked myself nearly to death and in the end can’t move the challenging situations I face one inch closer to resolution.
And like I’ve written before here,these months and years after Dominic ran to heaven have amply demonstrated the truth of the phrase “the straw that broke the camel’s back”. It’s not the STRAW, it’s the unbelievable heavy weight the camel is already carrying!
That last, seemingly tiny, almost weightless additional burden sends the poor critter over the edge.
But unlike a dumb animal, I don’t get to just lay down and give up. My head and my heart tell me that if I do, the load will just shift to my family. If I quit I can’t simply drift off into witless sleep where I don’t realize how hard I’m making it for everyone else.
So I don’t give up.
I keep on keeping on.
I raise my eyes to the sky and beg God to give me the grace and strength and help to endure.
I beg for mercy-for some small token that things might just get better.
I lean into the promises of God in Christ and hold on with both hands.
What else can I do but keep praying to You even when I feel dark;
to keep writing about You even when I feel numb;
to keep speaking Your name even when I feel alone.
Come, Lord Jesus come.
Have mercy on me, a sinner.
-Henri Nouwen
thelifeididntchoose 