Love – Page 57 – thelifeididntchoose

Empathy Has No Script

I think if we are absolutely honest, most of us would admit we have few relationships that operate without some kind of script.

We are friends with someone because we like the same hobbies or spend time together at a job or ball park or church.

We fall in love with someone because they “complete” us and offer companionship, emotional support and stability.

When the script fails (for whatever reason) we tend to pull away from those relationships.

But if I choose to enter into the suffering of another, I must do so without a script and commit to the long haul.

I must follow his or her lead, allow him or her to guide my response and refuse to impose my preferences on that hurting heart.

I’m there to hold a hand and help a heart hold onto hope.

What A Difference A Week Makes!

Last week at this time I was anxiously awaiting news that my daughter-in-law and just born grandson had made it through the night.

I was following my deployed son’s journey from half-way around the world as he tried hard to make it home.

I was planning and organizing so that the son who lives near, my daughter and I could leave early Monday morning to drive down and see all of them.

And I was praying: “Grace and mercy and strength and life. Please, please, please God! We need them to be alright.”

I’m still praying.

But I’m also encouraged.

My son, the new father, made it home. His wife, a new mama, is doing well. Our sweet baby is holding his own and improving every day. Uncle, aunt and Mama D were able to see, touch and make much over this new little life.

What a difference a week makes!

I wish Uncle Dominic were here too. He would have loved that tiny baby and completed our circle of love around the incubator.

It’s going to be a long and winding journey from this point forward. I’m not naive. I know we will have peaks and valleys, good days and more difficult ones.

But our family is united for the fight.

We are knit together with bonds of love and steel and will do whatever it takes to support one another in this journey.

And we are oh, so blessed by the many, many people volunteering to come alongside! People praying, sending cards, notes and encouraging messages. Offers of meals, gas cards and preemie baby supplies and clothes.

All these help hearts hold onto hope.

Thank you!

If you are interested in following our journey you may do so on Facebook: PRAYERS FOR RYKER ❤

Repost: The Prayer of the Average and Broken

I am so thankful for my children.

While I was the teacher for their early years, they are now teaching me.

From my daughter, Fiona:

It’s tempting to look at someone doing a hard thing (like foster care) or living out a hard truth (like child loss) and label them as “special”, “brave”, “extraordinary”, or “chosen by God for a big purpose”.

Read the rest here: The Prayer of the Average and Broken

Fear Of What You Know

Last week was a roller coaster.

My first grandchild-a boy-was born prematurely on Saturday after several days of heart stopping, breath robbing drama as his mama went back and forth to the hospital three times in as many days.

My son, his father, is deployed overseas and paddling as fast as he can to get home.

I am twelve hours away and leaving early this morning to go down and do whatever I can to help. My daughter-in-law’s mother is there and I’m not offended to believe she will be better suited to help her daughter than I am.

But I’ll stay for a bit just to be an extra pair of hands.

I’m sure anyone who gets the news that mama and baby are in trouble is frightened. It doesn’t take much for a heart to fear the worst.

But for someone who knows exactly what the worst feels like, there’s a whole other level to this terror.

Fear of what you don’t know can’t hold a candle to fear of what you know by experience.

I spent Saturday in anxious prayer, begging God for grace and mercy. I had no idea how much it took out of me until after I heard baby and mama were doing well and the sun went down. Exhaustion swept over me like a heavy blanket and it was all I could do to make it upstairs and crawl in bed.

I am beyond thankful that this story has a hopeful ending. The little tyke only weighs two pounds but appears to be a fighter.

It will be a long, hard climb for him to mature enough to leave the hospital. There will be challenges along the way.

But his mama is on the road to recovery and his daddy is on the road (flight!) home.

I’ll spend some of the time driving down finishing the baby blanket I was making before he made his early appearance.

Every stitch is a prayer.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds.

But I’m thankful today is a good day.

I’m a grandma! ❤

2019: Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday, A Study in Contrasts

I think I will post this link as long as I maintain the blog because I will always be a voice for those whose lives look more like Ash Wednesday than Mardi Gras.

I will continue to speak out for space in our congregations and fellowships that acknowledge life is often hard, often unfair and often more like a broken hallelujah than a high note.

I am not a member of the Church of the Perpetually Cheerful. I am a member of the Broken Body of Christ, limping through this world, holding onto hope with both hands.

Twenty-four hours separate one of the most outlandish global parties and one of the most somber religious observances on the Christian calendar.

Many of the same folks show up for both.

Mardi Gras, “Fat Tuesday”, is the last hurrah for those who observe Lent-a time of reflection, self-denial and preparation before Resurrection Sunday.

It’s a giant party-food, fellowship and fun-a wonderful way to celebrate the blessings of this life.

Ash Wednesday, by contrast, is an invitation to remember that “from dust you came and to dust you will return”. None of us get out of here alive.

Read the rest here: Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday: A Study in Contrasts

Repost: “Why Am I Robbed, And Who Is Benefited?” Mark Twain on Child Loss

I only recently came across this quote by Mark Twain.

It’s from a letter he wrote to a close friend after his favorite daughter, Susy, aged 24, died of meningitis while her parents were abroad.

It is heartbreaking and utterly perfect.

Read the rest here: “Why Am I Robbed, And Who is Benefited?” Mark Twain on Child Loss

Real Love or a Paper Stand In?

My youngest son was born on Valentine’s Day.

It wasn’t planned that way but escalating blood pressure meant that, ready or not, here he came!

It’s been a lot of fun to have this day so often focused on romantic love (which, let’s be real rarely lives up to the hype!) focused instead on him and family love.

My habit the past few years has been to expand that focus even further and explore the edges of God’s love, my love for others and what love in action looks like.

Too often I SAY I love someone but refuse to DO the loving thing.

Truth is, love is hard. It’s costly. It can be uncomfortable.

It almost always involves sacrifice.

And if I’m not careful, I can let valentines and candy and flowers be a paltry stand in for the real thing.

February is not the only month in the year that tempts me to give a token and walk away instead of giving myself and sticking around to help in meaningful ways.

So I try to keep Jesus’ words before my eyes:

For the greatest love of all is a love that sacrifices all. And this great love is demonstrated when a person sacrifices his life for his friends.

~John 15:13 TPT

I try to focus on love in action instead of only love in words.

Am I the Good Samaritan or am I one of those who toss a prayer from across the way and walk on, comfortable in my piety and clean clothes?

I want to be the Good Samaritan.

Truly I do.

❤

Torches In The Dark

There are so many life circumstances that plunge a heart into darkness.

Child loss is certainly one of them, although not the only one.

And when you’re in the dark, stumbling around, trying to avoid the sharp corners and looking, looking, looking for a tiny sliver of light to guide you out, it is terrifying.

If you don’t have a pocket full of matches or a flashlight or a lantern, you are at the mercy of whoever cares enough to come back for you.

I am so thankful for the friends and family who never tire of my fearful cries when I find myself in dark places.

They come running.

They don’t leave me there.

Sometimes all they have is a tiny candle themselves, a sliver of hope they are clinging to. But they raise it high , share its glow with me and together we take a step forward toward the brighter light of day.

I will never, ever forget the ones who come to me with a torch.

They help my heart when I can’t help myself.

They refuse to leave me in the dark.

❤

Photo of man with lantern by Marko Blažević on Unsplash

Grief Lasts As Long As Love Does

I know that before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I didn’t really think a lot about grief.

I had lost grandparents and other relatives, but no one so close to me that the thought of how I was supposed to relate to them after death made a daily difference.

I realized when Dominic left, that all the love I ever felt for him I still felt.

All the parts of me that belonged to him still belonged to him and the parts of him that belonged to me still belonged to me.

Love doesn’t die. Love lives as long as the person doing the loving has breath.

Grief doesn’t replace love.

It IS love.

Fix It Or Forget It: Why Unfinished Stories Make Others Uncomfortable

Attention spans are shorter than ever.

It’s easy to understand why. We live in a world full of sound bytes, memes, tweets and T-shirt slogans.

But life can’t be reduced to such little snippets, even if we wish it could.

Not every biography has the perfect “beginning, middle, end” arch that makes for a good and satisfying story.

Some of us can’t tie up our experiences in tidy boxes, with colorful bows and a lovely tag line that inspires thousands.

We are living unfinished, messy, hard stories that keep shifting, changing and require us to face mountain after mountain and valley after valley.

And we stumble.

A lot.

I suppose it’s tiresome for our friends to have to slow down, turn around, bend down and help us get back up over and over and over.

Many of our compassionate companions turn into personal trainers at some point: “You can do it! Try harder! Push farther! You’ve got to work at it! Don’t give up! Come on, don’t you want to get stronger, fitter, better????”

The hidden message? If I wanted to badly enough, would try hard enough, work long enough or get the right help, I could “fix” this. I could emerge from child loss whole, healed and healthy.

And when I don’t, they get frustrated, disgusted or just plain bored and leave me lonely on the trail. They walk away and forget-because they CAN forget.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If you think it’s hard to watch your friend struggle with a broken heart, a shattered life, doubts and regrets, it’s harder to live it.

You can walk away. I can’t. You can go home, close the door and think of something else. I go home, close the door and am flooded with thoughts, emotions and overwhelming grief.

If I could “fix it” don’t you think I would?

But I can’t.

I will continue to have a messy, untidy, unfinished life this side of Heaven.

And I will keep climbing, struggling and stumbling.

Will you stick around and walk with me?

Or will you walk away?

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