Category: hope

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***

My Child Matters. He Existed.

I hid this post in my draft folder for months before I published it the first time.

It seemed too raw, too full of all the pain inside my mama heart to put out in the wide world for everyone to see.

And then it was time (like now) to change the flowers on the place where my son’s body rests and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “THIS IS NOT ALL THERE IS OF MY BOY!” I wanted to stop people on the street and make them listen to his story, to give away a piece of him for others to carry in their hearts.

My son is not a number or a statistic or only a memory.

He is integral to my story, blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh–part of my life.

I rest assured he lives in heaven with Jesus but I miss him here with me. That’s selfish, I know.  But I can’t seem to help it.

Read the rest here: You Existed, You Exist

Some Things Are Worth Fighting For: I Will Not Be Moved

I’m not brave by nature.

If I have a choice, I will run every time.  But there are just some things worth fighting for.

My family is one of them.

I will not let the enemy have them.

I will not allow despair to overtake us, fear to bind us, hopelessness to sap our strength.

I will not let death win.

Read the rest here: I Will Not Be Moved

You’ll See Light Again

Today’s posts are pretty raw.

And that’s what I’ve tried to bring to this space again and again-an authentic and unfiltered portrayal of grief, grace, faltering and faith.

Five years ago I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair in an uncomfortable situation. I had NO idea how it would turn out.

But I’d had practice by then.

I’d learned to let the tears fall when they needed to, to plaster a smile on my face when I had to and to cling tightly to truth because, in the end, that was the only way I’d make it.

If you are hanging on to hope by the thinnest of threads, let me encourage you.

I won’t promise “light at the end of the tunnel” as if it will be OVER one day.

But I will promise light in the darkness if you refuse to let go.

2016: Surrender

Surrender

“Follow Me,”  Jesus said to the twelve.

“Follow Me,” Jesus said to me when I was just a child.

“Yes,” I replied-not knowing or counting the cost. 

If it was a single commitment without opportunity for turning back then it would be easy.

But it’s not.  

Read the rest here: Surrender

2017: Grief Groups and Echo Chambers

Grief Groups and Echo Chambers

I belong to several online bereaved parents’ groups and they are truly a lifeline in so many ways.

I can speak my mind there without fear of rejection or correction or of hurting my non-bereaved friends and family.  I learn from other parents farther along in this journey how they cope with birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and every day grief triggers.

Sadly, there are new members added daily.  New parents are forced to join this “club” where the dues are higher than anyone would willingly pay.

Read the rest here: Grief Groups and Echo Chambers

2018: Transparent, Vulnerable, Scared

Transparent, Vulnerable, Scared

I wish I could write openly about the things that are going on right now in my life,  but I can’t.  

So you’ll just have to trust me when I say these past months-really this past year-has been the most challenging since the first 365 days after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

I have cried more in the past three weeks than I have cried in the past three years.  

Read the rest here: Transparent, Vulnerable, Scared

2019: Tears Won’t Last Forever

Scripture Journal Challenge: Tears Won’t Last Forever

Before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I didn’t cry much.

Since April 12, 2014 I’ve cried a river-tears for breakfast, lunch, dinner and into my pillow at night when I tried to fall asleep.

When sorrow overtakes a heart, it’s hard to think about anything else.

There was a very real danger that sadness would drag me down in a pit so deep I would never be able to crawl back out.

And then the enemy of my soul would win.

But God.

Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Tears Won’t Last Forever

2020: Wondering If All These Crazy Emotions Are Normal In Grief?

 If you wonder if all these crazy emotions are normal in grief, the answer is a resounding, “Yes!”.

Grief is a ball of emotions any one of which may demand more or less of your attention on a given day. It’s not just sadness or missing or sorrow or even pain.

Read the rest here: Wondering If All These Crazy Emotions Are Normal In Grief? Yes. Absolutely.

2021: It’s Alright to Be Little Bitty

It’s Alright To Be Little Bitty

I was recently told by someone that my world was tiny.

It hurt my heart.

Not because it is factually inaccurate but because the person who said it implied that distance traveled from my front door equaled responsibility and influence. If I don’t wander hither and yon, then I’m inferior. If I don’t have paid employment then whatever I do doesn’t “really” count.

I know many bereaved parents have been forced to scale back commitments, maybe change jobs or retire early, and, like me, lead a smaller life than before.

I’m here to tell you that’s perfectly OK.

Read the rest here: It’s Alright To Be Little Bitty

Why I Choose to Say, “My Son Died”.

Died.  

It is a harsh word.

I understand completely that some parents don’t want to use it to describe their child and I respect that.

I have chosen to use it often (not always-sometimes I say “left” or “ran ahead to heaven”) because what happened IS harsh. I don’t want to soften it because there was nothing soft about it for me or my family.

Read the rest here: Why I Say, “My Son Died.”

Hope Helps, But It Doesn’t Erase the Pain

It is unhealthy to ignore pain.

heal and acknowledge

But when it comes to emotional pain, we sometimes shut people out or shut them down.

I submit that we diminish the power of the cross when we deny or minimize the presence of pain.

Believing that God is in control and Jesus lives does not undo grief’s storm-it is a lifeline that keeps my desperate and hurting heart from sinking under the waves.

Read the rest here: Heartache and Hope

Some Days I Bake Hope

When I have a rainy day-whether it is literally dripping water from the sky or simply dripping tears from my eyes-I try to do something that will help my heart hold on.

Often I turn to baking.

There is hardly a more satisfying moment than when I pull a perfectly formed loaf of bread or cake or muffins from the oven.

I never get tired of the magic that occurs when you mix the right amount of flour, eggs, sugar and leavening to produce a beautiful edible gift of love.

Read the rest here: Baking Hope

So Many, Enrolled In The School of Suffering

Today I’m remembering the parents at Uvalde, Texas.

When I first heard the news last year I was enveloped in a fog of disbelief (like most folks) and utter horror (as only fellow bereaved parents can comprehend).

I was processing. I was mourning. I was angry.

I relived the awful reality of learning that my child will never again walk through my door, hug my neck, call my name, sit at my table or contribute to a family conversation.

So I want to share something I wrote a couple years ago because I think it’s important.

❤ Melanie

I have written before that Grief is Not a Hammer in the Hand of God.

I do not for one minute believe that the Lord I love inflicted this pain on me for the purpose of “teaching me something”.

But I absolutely, positively believe that He can use it (and HAS used it) to make me more compassionate, kinder and more grace-filled than I was before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

Still, “becoming” is painful and requires that I submit to the hand of the Potter.

Read the rest here: Unwanted Assignment: Enrolled in the School of Suffering

There’s STILL a Hole in My Bucket

I first shared this this several years ago when I was pondering the FACT that no matter how wonderful the moment, how beautiful the gift, how marvelous the fellowship of family or friends, I am simply unable to feel the same overflowing, unadulteraged joy I once experienced.

I absolutely feel JOY but it’s mixed with pain.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about the great heroes of Scripture and studying their stories in detail.

I may be wrong, but I haven’t found one whose life did not contain pain.

It appears that sorrow and suffering in this world is one of the chief tools God uses to help the hearts of His people long for the world for which we are made-the eternal city whose Builder is God:

It was by faith that Abraham obeyed the summons to go out to a place which he would eventually possess, and he set out in complete ignorance of his destination. It was faith that kept him journeying like a foreigner through the land of promise, with no more home than the tents which he shared with Isaac and Jacob, co-heirs with him of the promise. For Abraham’s eyes were looking forward to that city with solid foundations of which God himself is both architect and builder.

Hebrews 11: 8-10 PHILLIPS

Some point to  lack of abundant joy as proof of a weak faith.

I counter that obedience, in spite of the lack of abundant joy is proof of rock-solid faith.

Walking on in spite of my empty bucket means that I am trusting God to fill it even when I can’t see how.

Here’s the original post:  There’s a Hole in My Bucket

2023: Ten (Plus One) Things I’ve Learned About Child Loss

The first time I shared this I was trying to distill years of walking the broken road of child loss into a relatively few, easy to think about, “lessons”.

Since then I could add a dozen more but today I’ll only add one: Being a bereaved parent is not my IDENTITY but it impacts who I am in ways I’m still figuring out.

Just as being married or being female or being from the southern United States informs how I walk in the world and interact with others so, too, does having buried a child.

There’s a lot of pressure to pretend that’s not true.

But I won’t do that.

❤ Melanie

I’ve had awhile to think about this.  Nine years is a long time to live with loss, to live without the child I carried, raised and sent off in the world.

So I’ve considered carefully what my “top ten” might be.

Here’s MY list (yours might be very different):

Read the rest here: Ten Things I’ve Learned About Child Loss