It is tempting to forget that there were three long days and nights between the crucifixion and the resurrection beause the way we observe this season rushes us past the pain to embrace the promise.
But it’s not hard for me to imagine how the disciples felt when they saw Jesus was dead. It was neither what they expected nor what they prayed for.
Read the rest here: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection
I remember as a young mother of four working hard to keep my kids safe.
Next to fed and dry (two still in diapers!) that was each day’s goal: No one got hurt.
It never occurred to me THEN to add: No one got killed.
Because the most outlandish thing I could imagine was one of them falling or touching a hot stove and us having to rush to the emergency room.
Then I became a mother of teens and one by one they acquired a driver’s license and motored away from our home.
That’s when I began to beg God to spare their lives.
One particularly frightening test was when all four went to Louisiana-my eldest driving and the rest in the van with her. I made them call me every hour and tell me they were OK. It was the first time I realized that I could lose every one of them in a single instant should they crash-all my eggs in one basket.
I was glad when that day was over. Although the irony is they were no “safer” at the end of those 24 hours than they were at the beginning.
Because what I know now, but didn’t know then is this: There is no such thing as “safe”.
Not the way we like to think of it-not the way we add labels to devices, seat belts to cars, helmets to everything from bicycles to skateboards. Of course we should absolutely take precautions! Many lives are saved by them every single day.
But. BUT…
Life is more random than we want to admit. And there is no defense against random.
There is no way to screen for every underlying physical abnormality, no way to drive so well you can stop the drunk or inattentive driver from plowing through a stop sign, no way to anticipate every foolish choice a young person might make that ends in disaster instead of a funny story.
My first response when Dominic died driving his motorcycle was that I wanted my surviving sons to sell theirs. They did so out of respect for me. Neither of them wanted their mama to have to endure a second knock on the door and the same message delivered twice.
I receive it as a sacrifice offered in love from them.
Because it was.
Since Dominic left us almost four ( now five!) years ago, I have had to deal with my desperate need to keep my living children safe.
And it is a real struggle.
Each child is involved in a career that includes inherent risk. None of them are foolhardy, but they are exposed-perhaps more than many-to potential bad actors and dangerous circumstances.
How I long for those days when I could tuck everyone in, turn out the lights and sleep soundly because all my chicks were safe inside my own little coop! How I wish the only danger I thought about or knew about was a bump on the head from hitting a coffee table!
How my heart aches for one more moment of blissful ignorance!
But I can’t live in some imagined water color past. I have to live in the world as it is.
So I remind my heart that safe is an illusion-no matter where we are. Life is not living if it’s only about preserving breath and not about making a difference.
And I let go.
Over and over and over.
I release them to be who they were meant to be.
Even if it costs more than I am willing to give.
The church at Thessalonica was confused about some fundamental doctrines of the Christian faith. They were frightened that they had missed Christ’s second coming and they were concerned about loved ones that had preceded them in death. So Paul wrote this letter to remind them of truth and offer comfort in their emotional distress:
And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don’t want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus. I Thessalonians 4:13-14 MSG
This verse is quoted often to believers who have lost a loved one. At first, gently, sweetly–as an invitation to remember that God is in control, that He has a plan, that the grave is not victorious and that burying the body is not the end.
And, in the early days and weeks after the funeral, it IS comforting–I chanted it to myself like a mantra and it drew my heart from the brink of despair.
But at some point, this verse begins to feel like a rebuke–the well-meaning friend says, “Don’t you know, that Jesus followers don’t grieve like those who have no hope!”
And I turn, dumbfounded, to the person saying this, and wonder, “Have you buried a child?”
Read the rest here: Grieving With Hope
I’ve been working on Christmas posts for weeks now and really thought I’d have something original and new for today. But life has conspired against me and I find myself worn and fragile and oh, so very tired!
Then a thread on a bereaved parents’ page reminded me of Simeon. And my heart knew that even though this post was written two years ago, it was precisely what I needed for THIS year, THIS Christmas.
I am clinging with both hands to the promises I can only see by faith: That this pain will be redeemed, that every tear is captured and treasured by God Almighty and that every single stolen thing will be restored and renewed.
I will proclaim with Simeon that God is faithful and He cannot lie.
So I open my eyes on Christmas morning to a world where joy and sorrow live together for now but look forward to the morning when only JOY will reign.
I fell in love with Ron Dicianni’s painting, “Simeon’s Moment” many years ago. My husband bought and framed a print for me and I sit opposite it every morning as I drink my coffee.
It never fails to touch my heart.
Read the rest here: Faithful Waiting
So many ways to be reminded of how hard it is to hold on in these days and weeks around Christmas.
If your heart is barely able to beat, the pressure to be “hap-hap-happy” can send you over the edge.
If your home is empty of cheerful voices, the constant barrage of commercials touting family togetherness can leave you feeling oh, so lonely.
Early sunsets and darker nights send feel-good hormones flying and leave a body aching for just a little relief from anxious and depressing thoughts.
When you think you can’t hold on, let go.
Let go of expectations-yours and other people’s.
Let go of traditions that no longer serve your heart or draw you closer to the Babe in the manger.
Let go of tons of baking or cooking or entertaining with perfect centerpieces and fragile china.
Let go of blasting Christmas music through the house.
Let go of shopping for the perfect gift or mailing all those cards.
Be still.
Light a candle in the darkness.
Sit quietly and see how even the faintest light can chase away the black of night.
And then hold your empty hands out to the God Who made you, the God Who loves you, the God Who longs to draw you to His heart and let Him fill you with hope.
There IS hope.
He came in the form of a Baby-weak and vulnerable just like us.
He KNOWS our pain.
He is not impressed with our busyness or our decorations or our presents piled high beneath the tree.
He sees the heart. He looks with mercy on a broken heart. He is the Healer of hearts.
He longs to heal yours.
This will be the [eleventh] Christmas without Dominic.
I’m certain that for some of my family and many of my friends, they are less and less aware of his absence. That’s completely natural and understandable.
But for me, his absence looms just as large THIS Christmas as it did that FIRST Christmas.
Even if you do realize how hard it is for grievers during the holidays, you might not have any idea how to show you care.
I came across this list originally published Family Life Today that gives 25 ideas to give holiday hope to the grieving and wanted to share it because I think it is wonderful.
I can promise you that any hurting heart would be delighted to have a friend or family member reach out in one or more of these ways.
25 Christmas Gifts or Remembrances for the Brokenhearted
1. A tree that can be planted in the family’s yard in memory of the loved one (or a gift certificate to a nursery that can be used to purchase a tree in the spring)
2. Bibles, Christmas Poinsettias, or library books given as memorials
3. Memorials to the local church or charities
4. Home videos of the loved one (especially ones of activities that the family may not have)
5. A scrapbook filled with pictures of the loved one
6. Special Christmas ornaments (for example, if the child played the piano, see if you can find an ornament in the shape of a piano)
7. Books such as Streams in the Dessert and When Life is Changed Forever
8. A personal item that would become a memento about the loved one’s personality or gifting
9. Gift certificates to a cabin or lodge, or to a place that the loved one once enjoyed
10. An original poem about the deceased
11. A journal from friends and family with written memories about the deceased
12. A written tribute to the deceased (The Best Gift You Can Ever Give Your Parents by Dennis Rainey and David Boehi, explains how you can do this.)
13. Addressing their Christmas cards or notes
14. Joining them in holiday shopping or doing the shopping for them
15. Asking if you can help decorate their home for Christmas
16. Sharing homemade Christmas cookies
17. Arranging family photographs in albums
18. Inviting them to decorate a gingerbread house
19. Picking them up for Christmas services at church and holiday get-togethers
20. Helping them shop for that “perfect gift” that they can give to others in memory of their loved one
21. Decorating a small tree with ornaments that have special memories of the loved one
22. Helping them write holiday memories
23. Organizing a candle-light memorial for close friends and family
24. Having a family-time of singing some of the deceased’s favorite Christmas carols and hymns
25. Giving the brokenhearted blank journals to write Bible verses that remind them of God’s presence, such as 2 Corinthians 1:3-4a and Jeremiah 29:11
I wake before the morning light. Every. single. morning.
I get my coffee, sit in my chair and wait for sunrise.
I never worry that today it might not happen.
Read the rest here: Morning Is Coming
But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah,
are only a small village among all the people of Judah.
Yet a ruler of Israel,
whose origins are in the distant past,
will come from you on my behalf.
3 The people of Israel will be abandoned to their enemies
until the woman in labor gives birth.
Then at last his fellow countrymen
will return from exile to their own land.
4 And he will stand to lead his flock with the Lord’s strength,
in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
Then his people will live there undisturbed,
for he will be highly honored around the world.
5 And he will be the source of peace.Micah 5: 2-5a NLT
One of the things I struggle with since Dominic ran ahead to heaven is this: is every detail of history planned by God? Or are there general outlines filled in by human choices (good and bad) and leading ultimately to God’s working out HIS story within OUR stories?
How do I reconcile God’s sovereignty and my free will?
I’m still working on that.
But there is one thing I do understand. God had a plan from the foundation of the earth to reconcile sinful man to Himself by the birth, life, death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ.
He sent prophets to point the hearts of His people toward the place the Savior would be born. He laid out promise after promise for hundreds and thousands of years so that when Jesus came, they would be ready.
It was no accident Jesus was born precisely when and precisely where the prophets foretold.
Bethlehem-The House of Bread-became the place that housed the Bread of Life.
Peace is elusive in the best of times.
Even in the absence of all out war (emotional, physical or spiritual) most of us dwell in a kind of no-man’s-land where we might not fear for our lives, but we are not exactly content and satisfied.
And in the world of afterloss, peace seems like a fairy tale promise best relegated to children’s stories and Hallmark movies.
But God knows my heart. He knows my pain. He has made a way for me to experience peace even here, even now.
It’s not the “and they lived happily ever after” peace where every little thing is tied up in a neat package with a perfect bow.
Instead it is the firm assurance that no matter how messy and untidy our lives are, He is in control.
It is a promise that regardless of circumstances, we can rely on Him.
God gave Isaiah frightening visions of the destruction Israel would face. But He also gave Isaiah precious promises of the restoration and redemption that He would bring to His people.
It speaks hope to my heart that this passage begins with “a green shoot will sprout from Jesse’s stump”. Most days, I feel like my life has been cut off to the ground.
I feel like there is not much left for even God to work with.
But Jehovah is the God of Hope.
He is the God Who breathes life into dry bones and brings forth new growth from old stumps.
I may feel like it’s over, but it’s not.
I may feel like peace has fled, never to return, but that is a lie.
“But on this humbled ground, a tiny shoot, hopeful and promising,
will sprout from Jesse’s stump;
A branch will emerge from his roots to bear fruit.
2 And on this child from David’s line, the Spirit of the Eternal One will alight and rest.
By the Spirit of wisdom and discernment
He will shine like the dew.
By the Spirit of counsel and strength
He will judge fairly and act courageously.
By the Spirit of knowledge and reverence of the Eternal One,
3 He will take pleasure in honoring the Eternal.
He will determine fairness and equity;
He will consider more than what meets the eye,
And weigh in more than what he’s told.
4 So that even those who can’t afford a good defense
will nevertheless get a fair and equitable judgment.
With just a word, He will end wickedness and abolish oppression.
With nothing more than the breath of His mouth, He will destroy evil.
5 He will clothe himself with righteousness and truth;
the impulse to right wrongs will be in his blood.
With unwavering steps and integrity uncompromised, He will establish peace.
6 A day will come when the wolf will live peacefully beside thewobbly-kneed lamb,
and the leopard will lie down with the young goat;
The calf and yearling, newborn and slow, will rest secure with the lion;
and a little child will tend them all.
7 Bears will graze with the cows they used to attack;
even their young will rest together,
and the lion will eat hay, like gentle oxen.
8-9 Neither will a baby who plays next to a cobra’s hole
nor a toddler who sticks his hand into a nest of vipers suffer harm.
All my holy mountain will be free of anything hurtful or destructive,
for as the waters fill the sea,
The entire earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Eternal.
10 Then on that day, that root from Jesse’s line
will stand as a signal for the peoples of the world
Who will come to Him seeking guidance and direction;
and glory will be restored to the land where He resides.“
Isaiah 11: 1-10 VOICE
It’s a question every hurting heart has to answer if you celebrate a traditional western Christmas: Will I put up a tree this year?
I had a few months of lonely travel through the Valley of the Shadow of Death before I had to answer that one.
Dominic left us at Easter, so by December I had learned that wishing didn’t make anything better nor did it make decisions disappear.
As Christmas drew near, I just could not bring down the usual decorations from the attic.
So I didn’t.
Instead of trying to work up the courage to dig through boxes and decide what I could or could not bear to see that first year, I bought a new, small tree and put it atop the table in the living room.
How do you arrange pieces of happy memories in a world where everything has changed? How do you touch bits of who you used to be when you have no idea who you are right now?
I decided that even if I didn’t put one other decoration on it, I would have the company of sparkling lights in the darkness of winter evenings.
The lights remind me that the night has limits.
Their tiny twinkling helps me remember that even a small bit of hope is enough to hold on to.
This is the ninth Christmas since Dominic ran ahead to heaven and it is just as hard as the first one.
Each year there are additional challenges and additional heartaches on top of the giant one I carry every day. I’ve found that these years since he left I don’t do well with a lot of the trappings surrounding Christmas.
But what my heart holds onto is the promise of Christmas:
That the Baby became the Man and the Man was Messiah.
I light the lights because they remind me that darkness has limits.
I declare by my defiant act of celebration in the midst of heartache that one day every hard thing, every sad thing and every broken thing will be redeemed and restored.
My prayer for all the hurting hearts this year is that God will make His love real to you in ways you neither expect nor could imagine.
May you find some symbol this season that speaks courage and gives you strength to endure.
And may the promise of Christmas give you hope, even in the darkest night.
thelifeididntchoose 