When my perfectly healthy, strong and gifted son was killed instantly in a motorcycle accident on April 12. 2014 my world fell apart. My heart shattered into a million pieces. And after three and a half years, I’ve yet to even FIND all of those pieces much less put them back together.
So what does a heart do when that happens?Because, try as I might, I cannot stop time.
Even THAT awful day only lasted 24 hours.
When the sun rose again, the pain was still there. And behind that pain and mixed with it was something else-disappointment, disaffection, distrust.
Where were You, God???
God is sovereign-He rules.
God is good-He loves.
How do those two truths live together in a universe that includes child loss? How can I trust the rest of my life and my eternal future to a God who lets this happen?
I just got through sharing this past week with a couple of bereaved parent support groups on the topic of “Bringing our child with us into a New Year”.
We talked about how time is tricky once a child goes to Heaven.
In the course of our conversation, I talked about Psalm 139:16.
I know for some parents it brings tremendous comfort.
For others, it feels like the plainest interpretation (in English, at least) is that God ordained our child’s death and that feels cruel.
For what it’s worth, after consulting as many different translations as I could find and looking up key words in a concordance, this is how I think about that verse.
God is outside time. That’s why the Bible says Jesus “was slain from the foundation of the world”.
Yet we know, historically, that Jesus’ death occurred on a specific day in human history. When the Son of God came as the Son of Man and took on flesh, He was as much a prisoner of time as we are. That is why He wept with Mary and Marthaat the death of Lazarus.
It’s not that God ordained my son’s death, it’s that He knew precisely when it would occur. If my son had not left his apartment that night and driven his motorcycle too fast in a curve, I do not for one minute think God would have sent a lightning bolt to end his life because it was “his day to die”.
Our lives are laid out before Him from birth through eternity and nothing is a surprise to Him.
He knows the end from the beginning.
And yet…He has also given us free will.
He has created a world in which biology, physics, and other natural laws prevail.
Sin has marred that creation and so bad things happen. Sometimes the bad things are a result of cells that grow out of control or body parts that don’t function properly. Sometimes the bad things are due to the sin of others or ourselves. Sometimes the bad things are “acts of nature”.
Death is not God’s will for any of us but it is something we must bear because of sin. Thankfully, for those who are in Christ Jesus, physical death is not the final word!
I do not understand this even as I type it.
It’s a mystery that I’ve learned to live with every day (some days it’s easier than others!).
Still, I am more comforted by a God I cannot fathom and Who is all-knowing, all-powerful and all-loving than I would be with a god I could fit into a box of my own making.
On the hard days, I have to remind my heart of that truth.
Trying to ignore or stuff our questions because they are uncomfortable or too hard to think about isn’t helpful. They just rattle around in our minds and burrow deeper into our hearts causing confusion and raising doubt.
One of the questions many bereaved parents desperately want to answer: Did God take my child?
These are my thoughts-ones I believe are backed by Scripture and align with what I know personally about God’s character.
They are the result of many months of wrestling. I offer them in hopes they will help another heart.
❤ Melanie
This is a question that comes up all the time in bereaved parents’ groups: Did God take my child?
Trust me, I’ve asked it myself.
How you answer this question can mean the difference between giving up or going on, between turning away or trusting.
So this is MY answer. The one I’ve worked out through study, prayer and many, many tears. You may disagree. That’s just fine. I only offer it because it might be helpful to some struggling and sorrowful soul.
Several recent conversations and comments have reminded me again how much energy and effort it takes to work through the cosmic questions that rock every bereaved parent’s world.
When Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I no longer had the luxury of turning a blind eye to things like, “How do you reconcile God’s sovereignty with free will?” and, “What difference does prayer make?” or, “Why do bad things happen to ‘good’ people?”.
These are the questions that filled my mind and kept me awake at night after burying my son. Questions I was free to ignore before they took up residence in my soul and echoed in my head with every thump, thump, thump of my beating heart.
So I’m digging out some old posts where I share how I came to understand those questions, live with many (most?) unanswered yet hold fast to the truth that God’s faithful love and grace are sufficient and unending.
I hope it helps another heart.
❤ Melanie
We are a people who love a good mystery as long as it leads to a good ending-bad guys vanquished, questions answered, motives revealed and a tidy resolution.
But real life is rarely so neat and squared away.
Just consider your average doctor’s visit. Diagnosis is often a result of trial and error when a simple blood test or throat culture is unavailable to confirm or rule out a particular malady. Yet we blunder forward, trying this and that until something either works or the illness runs its course.
Relationships are even trickier. We stand toe-to-toe with others hoping we understand what they are saying or not saying, feeling or not feeling-all the while forced to act and react in the space between. It’s a wonder we aren’t all at war with one another.
And then there are the big “What ifs?” and “Whys?”
The cosmic questions that rock our world and threaten to undo us.
These are the questions that filled my mind and kept me awake at night after burying my son. Questions I was free to ignore before they took up residence in my soul and echoed in my head with every thump, thump, thump of my beating heart.
It took a very long time for me to learn to live with them unanswered. And there are still moments when I scream aloud and raise my fist to the sky, demanding an accounting.
But most days, I can rest in that space between the asking and the answer-if not exactly at peace-then at least in a state of suspended animation.
And that may really be all God expects of me this side of heaven.
Job never did get any answers.
He stood before God speechless and in awe.
That’s pretty much where I am right now.
I don’t have to like it.
I don’t have to understand it.
I only have to be willing to admit that He is God and I am not.
Job answered God:
“I’m convinced: You can do anything and everything. Nothing and no one can upset your plans. You asked, ‘Who is this muddying the water, ignorantly confusing the issue, second-guessing my purposes?’ I admit it. I was the one. I babbled on about things far beyond me, made small talk about wonders way over my head. You told me, ‘Listen, and let me do the talking. Let me ask the questions. You give the answers.’ I admit I once lived by rumors of you; now I have it all firsthand—from my own eyes and ears! I’m sorry—forgive me. I’ll never do that again, I promise! I’ll never again live on crusts of hearsay, crumbs of rumor.”
I must remind my heart every day that Jesus Himself declared the blessing in mourning.
I must remember that there is comfort available at His feet.
Not in running from my pain, but in embracing it and trusting Him to redeem it.
What blessing is there in mourning? What comfort in distress? What good can come from pain and brokenness?
Good questions.
Honest questions.
Questions I have asked God.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”~Jesus
The folks that followed Him up the hill were part of a nation that had waited centuries for deliverance from sin and persecution. Jesus was surrounded by people powerless to change their circumstances. They were grieving, mourning, in distress.
So when He said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” He was offering real hope to the brokenhearted. He was issuing an invitation…
When we reach the end of our own strength in grief, God invites us into a fellowship of suffering that includes Jesus Christ.
Burying a child is a humbling experience. It is teaching me that I am powerless and oh, so dependent on the grace and mercy of God.
My heart was broken open wide to receive the truth that fierce love makes me vulnerable to deep pain.
And the pain cleared the clutter and noise of the everyday to focus my mind’s attention and my heart’s affection on the eternal.
My life is swept clean of distraction and foolish things and filled with new understanding of what is important and lasting.
My pain has not disappeared.
But it is making room for the God of all comfort to fill it with hope:
That what I am feeling right now is not forever and forever is going to be glorious…
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
What, exactly, is the value of believers in Jesus plastering an “Everything is fine” mask across our faces?
Are we afraid that if we allow someone to see our pain we are letting God down?
And how could that be?
Did not Christ Himself beg the Father in the Garden to take the cup from Him?
Yet we smile and wave and chat our way through encounters with people around us, pretending, pretending, pretending that life is easy when it most certainly is not.
Denying the dark and refusing to acknowledge the depth of our pain diminishes the value of the comfort of Christ.
When David wrote that, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me” he understood both the desperate need for and the great assurance of Christ’s Presence.
When we allow others to see our broken hearts, we bear testimony to the sustaining grace of Jesus.
And we extend an invitation for them to meet this Savior that gives strength and comfort even in the darkest hours and hardest journeys.
We just moved through the feel-good season of Christmas where we look with awe on baby Jesus, cute and cuddly in swaddling clothes, surrounded by His loving parents.
But what most moderns miss is that even in His birth, His death was foretold.
The manger was most likely hewn from stone, as was His tomb. And while the wise men’s gifts were costly and appropriate, they not only spoke of His kingship, they also included myrrh which was used for embalming the dead.
Jesus came to live so that He could die.
Both His life and his death are models for my own.
Every day of ministry was a day of self-denial-a pouring out of life onto and into the ones He came to serve.
And if anyone-if ANY. ONE.-could have lifted Himself above those who presented their brokenness like offerings at His feet, He certainly could. Not only was He without sin, He was God Himself in the flesh.
But look how gently Jesus welcomed the lost and lonely. See the compassion of the Good Shepherd for His confused sheep. Notice the love and kindness as He gathered the children around Him.
THIS is my example.
I am most certainly not above my Master.
I am called to love and serve as He did-not in a condescending way that says, “I am helping you because I am better than you.” But in a way that says, “I am helping you because I AM you.”
I have nothing I did not receive. I have nothing to give except from the bounty of my Lord.
What I think misery longs for is compassionate companionship.
I think broken hearts need to know they are not alone, that they are not an aberration and that deep sorrow is an appropriate response to profound loss.
What I think folks sitting in darkness need is someone to light a candle and remind them that the night won’t last forever.
That’s why I founded Heartache and Hope, the ministry.
If you visit the website, you’ll see one of my very favorite quotes:
People who have come to know the joy of God do not deny the darkness, but they choose not to live in it. They claim that the light that shines in the darkness can be trusted more than the darkness itself and that a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness. They point each other to flashes of light here and there, and remind each other that they reveal the hidden but real presence of God.
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, quote from The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming
And that is why I am offering four retreats for bereaved moms in 2025.
These are small, intimate gatherings of six to eight moms at my family’s property in the panhandle of Florida offered free of charge to those who come.
Bereaved moms can join me in a quiet, rural setting for a weekend of rest, renewal and restoration through fellowship, study of God’s Word and unfettered sharing of our hearts, our stories and our children.
The theme is “Broken Into Beautiful: Inviting Hope to Heal Our Hearts”.
I’ve had a decade to think about and design the kind of gathering I would have benefited from early on in this journey. We begin on Thursday evening (instead of the traditional Friday evening) to give us additional space and time to get to know one another, to develop relationship and to grow toward trust which promotes profound and breakthrough sharing which leads to healing growth. I have no illusions.
One weekend is not going to put the pieces back together but one weekend can provide the inspiration and confidence that the pieces can be put back together.
We will never be unblemished or unbroken but we can be beautiful again.
Our stories are part of THE story-the story that God is writing not only for us but for all eternity.
Jesus is our Shepherd King who longs to bind up our wounds.
Mercy and goodness don’t just follow us-they chase us down, overtake us and weave the broken bits into a beautiful testimony of love and faithfulness-if we let them.
Are you ready to bring your heart to the table of grace where hope can begin to heal it?
Then join me for one of these retreats.
I’m praying already for the moms God will invite and for the work Holy Spirit will do.
Be brave.
Available dates are: February 6-9, 2025; May 1-4, 2025; August 7-10, 2025; October 9-12, 2025.
Christmas Eve I barely slept because of physical pain.
Christmas Day was full and demanded my attention.
We had a good day yesterday.
Family that hadn’t been here last year managed to arrive (sans luggage) in spite of technical and weather delays. New family was here for the first time. We facetimed with my oldest son and the grandboys. My eighty-nine year old dad was able to get around without pain on two brand new knees and we celebrated his and my daughter’s December birthdays. Everyone treated the day like the gift it was-giving and receiving hugs and slipping some much-needed chats in between.
I’m thankful.
Today I’m sitting in the quiet afterglow of too many carbohydrates and a tree emptied of its gifts yet still shining in the corner.
I’m worn out.
I’m still barely able to type but the pain is better. The dull ache in my left hand is much like the longing in my heart for Dominic.
I can function but it hurts.
So if you woke this morning amazed as I am that yesterday went as well as it did only to find yourself more tearful, more tender, more likely to want to crawl back in bed, that’s not only normal, it’s perfectly OK.
Rest, friend.
The family can eat some of those leftovers in the fridge (or not!). The phone calls and the text messages can wait.
Give yourself permission to sit in the sacred sorrow of missing and let the tears fall.
It won’t always be like this-the chasm between what should be and what is.
One day, ONE GLORIOUS DAY, everything the enemy killed, stole and destroyed will be restored, redeemed and resurrected.
thelifeididntchoose 