Through the fog and dark and limits of my sight
I hear birds singing
as they welcome the day
I still can’t see.
Read the rest here: Through The Fog And Dark
Through the fog and dark and limits of my sight
I hear birds singing
as they welcome the day
I still can’t see.
Read the rest here: Through The Fog And Dark
Imagine being used to the modern convenience of electricity at the flip of a switch and then being suddenly plunged into darkness and disconnection.
Unprepared-no matches, no alternative fuel sources, no extra warm clothes for winter days and nights-just plucked from the world you knew and dropped into a world you didn’t.
That’s what it felt like when Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. No warning, no chance to think through what life might be like, what changes I would have to accommodate, how I would need to face the days, weeks, months and years of his absence.
Read the rest here: Sudden and Unwelcome Change
There are days when my lamp burns so low it’s nearly extinguished.
Those are the days when I really need someone-anyone-to reach out and fan the flame.
I know, I know, for my fellow believers in Jesus we are admonished to “take it to the Lord in prayer”.
I absolutely DO that.
But it was no mere convention that the disciples were sent out two by two. God has made us for community and He has gifted those within the Body so one member may encourage another.
So here’s to the hearts that heed the still, small Voice that says, “Call, text, message, send a card, send flowers, drop by, or make a meal.”
You make a difference. ❤

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.
Read the rest here: Why I Still Put Up a Christmas Tree
I love candles-always have.
I especially love them as the days get shorter and we creep toward the longest night of the year.
I love them more since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Every time I light a candle, I remind my heart that even the smallest light can chase the darkness.
And when thousands-even millions-join around the globe to do the same it brings hope to many hurting hearts.
Want to be part of this wave of light? Read the rest here: Worldwide Candle Lighting Memorial Service: Second Sunday in December
I love candles-always have.
I especially love them as the days get shorter and we creep toward the longest night of the year.
I love them more since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Every time I light a candle, I remind my heart that even the smallest light can chase the darkness.
Read the rest here: Worldwide Candle Lighting Memorial Service: Second Sunday in December
In our modern age of light switches and street lights it’s hard to imagine a world where the tiniest candle flame could lead a body to safety.
But for most of human history that was how people lived.
It’s how some still live.
So when John described Jesus as the “Light that bursts through gloom-the Light that darkness could not diminish” (John 1: 5 TPT) he’s really saying something.
This isn’t a tiny candle or smoky oil lamp barely pushing back the edges of inky night.
Jesus is a spotlight dispelling not only the experience of darkness but the power of darkness!
And that’s only a fraction of the truth revealed in these five verses.
In the very beginning the Living Expression was already there.
And the Living Expression was with God, yet fully God.
They were together-face-to-face, in the very beginning. And through his creative inspirations this Living Expression made all things, for nothing has existence apart from him!
Life came into being because of him, for his life is light for all humanity.
And this Living Expression is the Light that bursts through gloom-the Light that darkness could not diminish!
John 1: 1-5 TPT
Jesus is co-equal with God. He has existed for eternity past along with the Father. They were, and are, in perfect community.
Face-to-face, cooperating in speaking life and light into existence.
No thing and no one draws breath apart from Christ.

That is why my heart can rest secure in the promise that the resurrection is coming.
If Jesus breathed life once into my son, He will most certainly breathe life once again into his glorified body.

So when the darkness threatens to consume me I light a candle.
I watch the flame and listen for my Shepherd King’s voice singing hope over my soul.
QUESTIONS:
PRAYER:
Lord,
I live in a world of uncertainty and often great pain. It’s easy for my heart to sink into despair. It’s hard to hold onto hope.
In the natural it feels like darkness is winning.
But I know, deep in my soul, that Your Light will conquer the darkness. In Your Presence there is no night-only, always, glorious Day.
Help me lean into this truth and hold onto hope.
Let the light, love and life of Christ dwell in me richly and spill over into a lost and lonely world.
Amen
A fellow bereaved mom commented on my recent holiday post with this question: How do you make joy, when your heart has no joy?
It was a good and honest query. One that stopped me in my tracks.
Read the rest here: Flickers Of Light, Guiding My Heart Home
Long time readers may have noticed that the past month there have been fewer original posts and more recycled ones.
I’m not sure precisely why, but it’s been a lot harder to put my thoughts and feelings into words than at any other time in this journey.
I’ve started and abandoned post after post. They languish in my “drafts” file and will, hopefully, eventually, be completed.

There’s just something about the rest of the world being forced to live in the no-man’s-land between what we used to take for granted and what we now have to face that makes it harder to talk about my personal experience.
Grief takes many forms and I believe the whole world is grieving now.
I can hear it. I can feel it.

All of us are facing (many for the first time!) the fact that control is largely an illusion. We climb into our vehicles and assume the person coming at us in the other lane will maintain their position but don’t know that he or she is distracted or medically impaired or drunk.
And then-BAM!-all bets are off. What we take for granted can change in an instant.
So I guess my challenge is in translating my particular grief into language others can understand and relate to.
For the first time I feel there’s a wider audience longing for the secret recipe to life after loss.
I know not every heart is suffering from physical loss of a loved one but I think there are some general principles I’ve learned that can help anyone who’s struggling to find a path through this difficult season:

Truth is, grief can drag you down so low you don’t remember which way is up, much less how to get there. No one knows that better than a bereaved parent.
Still, there are things you can do even there that will help your heart hold onto hope.
Where there is hope there is light.
And light will always, always chase away the shadows.



Walking beside a hurting heart is hard.
Especially for “fixers”.
We want to DO something, to effect change, to “solve the problem”, to make things better.
But there are circumstances in life that cannot be fixed, changed or solved.
Child loss is one of them.
Those suffering under the load of pain and sorrow, devastation, heartbreak and brokenness that enter a heart when a child leaves this earth need compassionate companionship, not advice.
That might mean you have to bite your tongue. It might mean you have to sit silent as tears roll down or sobs wrack your friend’s body. It might mean that you have to refrain from making comparisons between their grief and your own (whatever that might be).
It most certainly means that you should keep reaching out, reaching across the divide that separates the bereaved from the non-bereaved, and put your own ego aside when it seems like all the effort you are making isn’t making a difference.
It takes lots and lots of time and lots and lots of work for a heart to even begin to heal from deep grief.

Your constant and unwavering support can provide the space and grace that enables someone to do that.
Don’t give up on your brokenhearted friend.
Encouragement can make the difference between giving up or going on.
Your compassionate companionship can offer hope and light in a hopeless and very dark place.