Gratitude does not undo grief.
There, I said it.
Gratitude is important. It is (in my opinion) a necessary ingredient for a healthy and hope-filled and useful life. It is the key to any real happiness a heart might find on this broken road.
But it cannot fill up the empty place where Dominic used to be.
Grief does not preclude gratitude.
Although some broken hearts swear it does.
Read the rest here: Gratitude and Grieving: Appreciating What I Have, Acknowledging What I Miss
In this journey of loss I have been blessed and wounded by words.
I have been encouraged and disheartened by stray comments. I’ve been thrown a lifeline and pushed under the raging waves of grief by friends, family and acquaintances who often had no clue they were doing either.
Our words matter.
Our tongues have the power of life and death.
Read the rest here: Bridle your Tongue
I went to see the movie “Christopher Robin” awhile back.
I’ll be honest-it’s pretty much stock-in-trade standard Disney fare where things turn out well in the end.
Of course, I know that things DON’T always turn out well.
In fact, they can turn out very, very badly.
Awful, in fact.
But Pooh helped Christopher remember what was really important.
And it’s not money or houses or anything else you can buy in a store or online.
It’s people.
Living souls are unique creations, singular blessings, unrepeatable gifts and they deserve my time and attention.
Because no matter how cherished or expensive, everything else can be replaced.
I am the proud daughter of a military veteran.
I am the beaming mother of a son who currently serves.
And while others argue about why and where we send troops and fight wars, I pray that wherever they go and whatever they do, they return home safely.
It’s fitting that we set aside a day to honor those who choose to place their lives on the line to fight for love and country and freedom.
Because they do, I can rest secure in my own bed under my own roof.
Growing up surrounded by (mostly) men in military uniform, I learned early the difference between an acceptable salute and a sloppy one, between “Attention!” and “At ease!”, between a captain and a colonel.
I still stand a little taller and walk a little straighter whenever I’m on base. Habits of a lifetime are hard to undo.
I will never, ever apologize for the life of service and sacrifice my father lived and my son is living regardless of whatever politics may scroll across our newsfeeds.
I will honor the living, honor the dead and honor the families that support them.
Don’t let this day pass by without considering the cost of the freedom we enjoy every single day and the men and women who fought and still fight to secure it.
Right, left, middle of the road-your first amendment rights are safe because they are willing to serve.
We mustn’t forget.
I spent last weekend with eleven other bereaved moms.
And lest you think, “How sad!”, let me just tell you we had a beautiful time together.
Sure there were tears-how can there not be when talking about the precious children we miss-but there was fun too.
Of course we had somber moments.
Especially as we lit candles in honor of each child whose light lives on even as their physical presence is denied us.
In between Bible study sessions we ate, talked, walked outside and got to know one another.
A game of “Two Truths and a Lie” revealed all kinds of surprises that had us practically falling off our chairs with uproarious laughter.
Even though most of us had never met before, knowing we shared the heartache of child loss drew us together and opened the door to meaningful conversation.
For 72 hours we didn’t have to put our masks on or walk with one foot in the world of the spared and one foot in the world of the deeply wounded.
We were free-gloriously free-to be real and unguarded.
One of the fun things we did was have a Mary Kay consultant come and do facials and makeup. I think we kind of shocked her when she went around the circle asking, “So what are you primary make up concerns?” and over half of us said, “I don’t wear make up.”
Poor woman.
She had no idea that we had long passed the point of faking feelings or saying what someone expects just because they expect it.
I know it was a stretch for some of the moms to make their way to this place they’d never been to and walk into a room full of women they’d never met.
It was a stretch for me to facilitate discussions when I felt I had reached my limit for anything besides staying home for the rest of this year.
But it was worth it.
There is nothing as beautiful as broken hearts gathering together to love, uplift, encourage and listen to one another.
If you have the opportunity and are afraid, please step out.
Take a chance and link arms with fellow grievers.
I promise you will be glad you did.
I’ve written many times about the fact that my heart still holds all the love it ever did for ALL my children-even the one who no longer walks beside me here on earth.
That’s one of the reasons I will never stop speaking of him-just as I never stop speaking of my living children.
It’s also why I cling tenaciously to the lesson I am learning this side of child loss: Love lives.
It lives in me, through me and is waiting for me in Heaven.
I ran across this lovely poem just recently.
I hope you like it as much as I do.
<3
Epitaph
By Merrit Malloy
When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old me that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away.
Every spring and every fall we dutifully make the rounds to our clocks and digital devices, putting them first forward an hour and then back in an attempt to make the days “longer”.
As if time was in our hands.
The sun rises and sets according to the Creator’s schedule, we can neither speed the world’s turning, nor slow it down.
We can only choose whether to be present in the moments He grants us.
Read the rest here: Time Change
