It’s my habit to watch the sunrise and the sunset every day.
I usually greet the morning in my rocking chair, looking out my east-facing picture window. It never gets old to watch darkness chased away by relentless light rising over the tops of trees.
Beautiful.
Every. Time.
Sunset is a little trickier.
Read the rest here: Sunrise, Sunset
I confess that I have not had a wholehearted desire to study Scripture since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Oh, I nibble on verses every day, but I’ve shied away from the feast that used to fill my heart and soul.
This year, though, I’m committing to a more diligent approach-choosing to focus on one word per month and writing out corresponding verses. I am studying them, looking up cross-references, considering context and making personal application in my journal.
So the first word I chose was “Hope” because I think of all the things I’ve struggled most to hold onto in this life I didn’t choose, hope is the hardest.
In my flesh, I want to give up and give in.
If Heaven is my ultimate destination and I can’t control the future, why not just coast until the Lord calls me home? Why work so hard to live up to a high standard when grace covers it all? Why lift my head when head down or head up, I’m assured of eternal joy?
I’m just being honest here.
But I know, deep in my spirit, that this is not the purpose for which I was created. I was not made by a loving Father to plod hopelessly through this world. He breathed life into my soul so that I could fulfill His kingdom purpose in this place, at this time.
So I get back on the proverbial horse every time I’m tossed off and try again.
Here are just a couple of the verses that are speaking courage to me, helping me hold onto hope with both hands.
I hope they whet your appetite (as they have mine) for finding more.
O my soul, why are you so overwrought?
Why are you so disturbed?
Why can’t I just hope in God? Despite all my emotions, I will hope in God again.
I will believe and praise the One
who saves me and is my life,
My Savior and my God.Psalm 43:5 VOICE
“Despite all my emotions” I will hope in God again. God created me with emotions. They are a gift (even though sometimes it doesn’t seem that way!). But I cannot be ruled by them.
Emotions are changeable.
Truth is not.
So I have to turn my heart by an act of will toward the truth that God is my Savior, He is my hope.
We live with hope in the Eternal. We wait for Him,
for He is our Divine Help and Impenetrable Shield.
Our hearts erupt with joy in Him
because we trust His holy name.
O Eternal, drench us with Your endless love,
even now as we wait for You.Psalm 33: 20-22 VOICE
I love the phrase from Psalm 33:20 “our hearts erupt with joy”! This life is hard and joy is often a distant memory or a fleeting moment, but there will be a Day when my heart will be so full of joy-when every hard and hurtful thing is redeemed-that the joy will overflow like lava from a volcano.
No stopping it!
Now that’s something to hope for!
If your heart needs help leaning in and holding on, here’s a link to a month’s worth of short verses focused on hope: Think on These Things: Hope
Print it out and tuck it in a journal or your Bible. You can even look up the verses online and check out different translations. (Something I love to do because it often reveals things I might overlook!) Copy them out. It only takes a few minutes. Then underline the phrase or phrases that stand out to you.
Make them your own.
Hide the words in your heart.
Let the Word of God speak life and love to your soul.
A few days ago I wrote about how panic is always just a breath away for those of us who have suffered loss.
Like a friend of mine recently said, “We are branded. GRIEF is burned into our hearts and we are never the same.”
So how to live this altered life?
How can I manage that emotional tension that saps energy and strength from my heart, mind and body?
Our family has adopted some practical protocols that help. Sometimes they fail (as they did that night) but for the most part, they give all of us a margin of assurance that keeps panic to a minimum.
We carry our phones, all the time. I was never THAT person before Dominic left us. I used my phone mainly when away from the house or traveling. Otherwise it might be left charging in the kitchen or tucked inside my purse from my last outing.
Not anymore. When I wake up in the morning I grab it and my glasses from the bedside table and my phone is in my hand, in plain view or in my pocket until it is put back there at night. I make sure it’s charged and if traveling or going somewhere a plug may not be available I carry a small power cell to charge on the go.
We tell one another of our plans and, if appropriate, of our route. My kids are grown. I’m not interested in supervising their lives. But they understand my mama heart and graciously give me at least a general idea of where they are and what they are doing. They text when they get back home no matter how late it is.
I don’t stay awake waiting for it, but when I wake in the wee hours or in the morning, I have the reassuring message to greet me.
We answer texts/calls ASAP. Obviously we don’t encourage texting and driving but each of us has learned to give a “thumbs up” icon quickly in response to a text message just so the person sending it can be reassured. Then, when it’s convenient and/or safe, we respond more fully.
We keep each other informed when traveling. We distribute itineraries and give periodic updates on flight status, traffic or other appropriate information so family members not only know where we are but also if our time of arrival has been altered due to flight or weather delays or traffic conditions.
We share phone numbers of friends and coworkers which gives us alternate forms of communication should there be an emergency. Family phone numbers are in “favorites” in our phones so if we are unable to call for ourselves, emergency personnel would know who to call.
Truth is, we can’t stop bad things from happening and we know that.
But there’s no reason to create fear and panic when a quick phone call or text can avert it.
Our hearts bear enough already. ❤
It was a long time before I wanted to believe that I received any gifts worth keeping from this life I didn’t choose.
I knew I had tears, pain, agonizing sorrow, loss, heartache, dashed hopes, empty arms.
If I could give those back and regain my son, I would do it in less than a heartbeat.
I can’t, so I’m left here to ponder what else I’ve received from burying a child.
Read the rest here: Grace Gifts of Grief
Oh, dear one who opened your eyes to the morning light carrying wounds so deep no one can see!
I am so, so sorry.
When things have gone terribly wrong it’s hard to get up and make merry.
I know.
But that first Christmas felt more like heartache and less like ho-ho-ho. So you are in good company.
You don’t have to pretend that nothing has changed but you can reach out and take hold of what remains.
You don’t have to hide your tears or your memories but you can share them with people who love you and long to help you carry the legacy of the one you miss.
Today may be long.
But it is only one day.
You can make it.
You will make it.
I promise.
May you experience the Presence of the Christ of Christmas no matter how dark and lonely and sad you feel. May your heart hold onto hope regardless of how tempted it is to give in to despair. May the Holy Spirit Who overshadowed Mary, overwhelm you and fill you with grace and mercy. May you hear the Father whisper, “Courage, My child” to your soul.
And more than all this, may you know that you are seen, you are loved and you are being carried. ❤
~Melanie DeSimone
I‘ve never been the cheerleader type.
No long legs, long hair or graceful moves that might have caught the eye of the ever watchful gatekeepers who picked the favored few each year to represent beauty on the sidelines.
So (I’ll be honest here) I really didn’t give the position much thought beyond the fact that those girls always got asked to dances first.
But in these years since Dominic left us I’ve learned something very important about cheerleaders-both the ones in the cute clothes at sporting events and the ones that come alongside others in real life: they make a difference.
Cheerleaders are more important than you think.
Someone calling courage can mean a heart holds on when it’s about to let go.
Someone reminding you what’s at stake if you give up can help you dig deep for that last bit of effort hiding inside.
Someone chanting rhythm to your plodding forward progress can provide another focus for your mind besides the throbbing pain in every step.
Someone showing up and standing by your side even when the odds are against you says, “You are worth the effort-win or lose!”
You don’t have to be a certain size or a certain type to be a real-life cheerleader.
You don’t even have to fit into those cute little skirts.
The only qualification is an unqualified commitment to showing up and being seen and holding on and hanging in no matter where life takes the ones you love.
You have the power to be the difference in somebody’s life.
I guarantee it.
So get out there and cheer them on!
❤
This time of year all the package handlers are busy dropping off the bounty of online shoppers’ purchases to millions of doorsteps around the world.
It’s a wonder that most of it arrives on time and in good condition.
I suspect though, that you, like me, have gotten one or two boxes over the years that arrived dinged and damaged, battered and broken.
While it can be a real hassle to get the product replaced, it’s usually only a matter of time before a brand new “whatever” arrives.
People aren’t so easily mended, though.
And I think we forget that.
People are more fragile than they appear. Words are more piercing than we realize. We should add in an extra notch of kindness and gentleness whenever we can.
~Gavin Ortlund
I have friends that take more care with their smartphone than with their spouse or children or parents.
Things can be replaced. People can’t.
Mass produced consumer goods-no matter how expensive or treasured-are worthless compared to a heart.
In an age where clicks and phone calls make it possible to fix so many things, they are rarely helpful in fixing relationships.
“Special Handling Required!” should be plastered across every human’s forehead.
People are irreplaceable, fragile, beautiful gifts.
More valuable than anything we could ever buy. ❤
This is the fifth Christmas without Dominic. There really are no words to describe the intersection of holiday cheer and another milestone in this journey of child loss.
I’m not sad all the time-far from it. Often I am very, very happy.
But I will never stop missing him, missing the family we used to be and missing our blissful ignorance of how quickly and utterly life can change in an instant.
And I will never outgrow the need to have others remember him as well, to encourage my heart and the hearts of my family members and to help us make it through another year, another Christmas. ❤
Here are some great ways to do it: 25 Ways to Give Holiday Hope to the Grieving
It’s popular in books, self-help articles and even in some grief groups for people to declare , “Child loss does not (will not, should not) define me”.
And while I will defend to the end another parent’s right to walk this path however seems best and most healing to him or her, to that statement I say, “Bah! Humbug!”
Child loss DOES define me.
It defines me in the same way that motherhood and marriage define me. It defines me as much as any other major milestone, event, choice or experience defines me.
How could it not define me and inform the person I am today?
But it does NOT circumscribe me.
Listen carefully to these next words: Child loss is a huge part of who I am but it does not draw a circle around who I am becoming. It is not a line in the sand I cannot cross. It is not a ball and chain weighing me down and preventing my forward motion.
It is not the ONLY thing I am, but it is an important part of who I am.
In many ways it has made life harder-especially in the first three years after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. But in other ways it has made my life more open, larger, expansive and inclusive. Child loss has opened my eyes to other hurting hearts in ways I doubt I would have noticed if my own had not been broken. Child loss has taught me the language of compassion and the necessity of listening well to other people. Child loss has rearranged my schedule and my priorities.
It most certainly helps to define the woman I am today.
Would I have chosen it? Absolutely not!
But I won’t waste it.
I choose to enfold it into who I am and what I do and how I live.
I cannot set it aside and ignore it any more than I could set aside my son.
Could you?
It’s said that “Hurt people, hurt people”.
And it’s true-often in my own pain I lash out and hurt others. Partly because my pain is so huge and so real and so blinding that I don’t always see what I’m doing to others.
But also, sometimes, (and I hate to admit it!) because misery loves company. If I’M hurting then someone else better hurt too!
That’s not the high road.
And it’s not the road Jesus paved with His blood.
I need to take my brokenness to Him. Because truth told, He’s really the only one that can minister true healing.
When I use my pain-even the unfathomably great pain of child loss-as an excuse for bad behavior all I do is spread the hurt.
It doesn’t take one bit of my own away.
So I try to be more mindful of when discomfort authors my words and stop them before they pour from my mouth on some unsuspecting victim.
I want my legacy to be love.
It’s a daily choice.
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