Love – Page 63 – thelifeididntchoose

Vulnerable

It’s tempting when wounded to build walls to try to protect your heart.

It seems logical.

Who wants to invite more pain when already carrying a load?

But the wall I build for protection keeps EVERYTHING out-love, grace, mercy and hope as well as heartache.

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

So I choose to let the walls fall.

I choose to let it all in and take the risk.

I will stay soft,

reachable,

vulnerable.

Only Love is Eternal

I’ve read I Corinthians chapter 13 dozens of times.

It was one of the Scriptures read at my wedding.

And while I thought I understood what Paul meant when he wrote, “Love never fails” and “the greatest of these is love” I was oh, so wrong.

It took the death of my son for my heart to fully embrace the eternal power of love.

I have lost many things since Dominic ran ahead to heaven: my sense of control, any certainty that tomorrow will necessarily be better than today, the life I thought I would have here on earth, and foolish confidence in my own ability to discern how God works in this world.

But I have gained this: Absolute unshakable rock-solid assurance that LOVE lives forever.

Only love can help a heart hold onto hope when all evidence screams, “Let go!”

Only love can overcome despair when darkness clouds my vision and obscures the light.

Only love can weave a golden cord that keeps me connected to my child in heaven.

Only love is strong enough to drive the God of creation to send HIS Son to pay for MY sins.

Love is the strongest force in the universe.

Ask any bereaved parent.

When all else dies,

love lives.

How Do I DO This? The Question Every Bereaved Parent Longs to Ask

After the flurry of activity surrounding the funeral, our house was so, so quiet.

Even with the five of us still here, it felt empty.

Because Dominic was gone, gone, gone and he was not coming back.

And the silence pounded into my head and heart until it became a scream:

How do I DO this?

How do I keep on living when all I want to do is give up and give in? How does a body carry this pain-is it even possible?

When I dared look past the moment to the days, weeks, months, DECADES that stretched before me, I was undone.

Even now, if I look too far ahead, my heart pounds and my head explodes.

So I don’t.

Honestly, THAT’S how you do it.

One day at a time.

One moment at a time.

One breath at a time.

I keep reminding my heart that the only thing I have to do is right now. I hold my attention to this very moment and refuse to let my thoughts wander.

Sure I mark dates on the calendar and am even able to plan ahead a bit now. But it was nearly three years until I could do that without shaking as I wrote them down.

So dear mama, dear daddy, give yourself permission not to try to figure out what a parent’s heart was never meant to calculate-how to live without the earthly companionship of the child you love-and just breathe.

One day at a time.

One moment at a time.

One breath at a time.

Repost: Dispelling Marriage Myths Surrounding Child loss

I wrote this last year for our anniversary. It is still true.

We are battered and torn but hanging in and hanging on to one another.

Don’t believe the myth that a marriage cannot survive child loss. It can and many do.

Today my husband and I celebrate 33 years of marriage.

Our thirtieth anniversary wars a mere two months after we buried our son.

Here’s the last “before” anniversary photo (2013)-unfeigned smiles, genuine joy, excitement to have made it that far…

Read the rest here: Dispelling Marriage Myths Surrounding Child Loss

It’s The Little Things

I am oh, so grateful for every single thing someone does to encourage my heart.

And I try hard to pass it on.

Because, really, when you think about it, it’s the little things that either wear us down or build us up.

The daily drip of encouragement or criticism is what shapes our hearts most.

The hardest stone can be worn away by water over time. And the softest earth can be packed firm and resist any new seed when trod upon and squeezed dry by drought.

Words are not neutral. They either build up or tear down.

And so many hearts are holding onto hope by the thinnest thread.

I want to be the person that helps build it into a lifeline, not the one who snaps it in two.

Grateful

There’s all kinds of grateful.

There’s the receiving line, “I’m so glad you came” grateful.

There’s the ordinary, everyday “I’m thankful I have food, clothes a roof over my head” grateful.

And then there is the “I am about to burst because there is no way to contain my overwhelming thankfulness” grateful.

I’ll admit, this side of sending a child ahead of me to Heaven, there are days when even though I know I SHOULD still be grateful, I’m really not.

Then there are days when I realize how very many blessings are still coming my way.

They don’t balance any cosmic scales. They don’t undo my sorrow at Dominic’s absence. But they do help my heart hold on. They do help me find light in the darkness. They do help me know that God is still working and hasn’t abandoned me.

My earthbound children are chief among these blessings.

I am utterly amazed that as often forgotten grievers, each one is finding his or her own way through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. My daughter and sons remain engaged, focused, loving and committed to one another and to me and their dad.

They have continued to pursue personal dreams and goals while also giving practical support to each other.

They aren’t perfect by any means. We fuss, we get frustrated, we have times when we’d rather not be together. But in the end, we have each other’s back.

And that is makes us all stronger. It makes us all bolder.

Life this side of loss is a battle.

No one wants to go into battle alone.

I’m thankful I don’t have to.

Unbroken

I call my parents pretty much every morning.

It was a habit started years ago after my mother had a bad spell and ended up in the hospital. I like to start my day knowing how she and my dad are doing.

The other day Papa and I were talking about the movie, “Unbroken” we saw a couple years ago.

There’s a scene where the main character was forced to hold a heavy beam over his head in a Japanese POW camp for hours. If he let it fall, he would be shot and his torture over. Malnourished, mistreated and disheartened, he somehow found the strength to do it.

He endured.

His courageous example lent courage to the others in that camp. His victory was in not giving up or giving in, though he bore the scars for the rest of his life.

These past months have been difficult ones for both of my parents. Mama’s fall, heart attack and multiple hospital stays have left her very different than she was last summer. Someone needs to be with her all the time.

That means my dad-who has no physical limitations-is as housebound as she.

Papa is absolutely committed to caring for Mama and he’s doing a great job.

But it’s hard on a heart to be confined when you are surrounded by so many chores that need doing and so much wide open space that begs you to get out in the sunshine.

He is enduring.

And I am thankful for his example.

So few of us will have an opportunity to do really grand things that make headlines. But most of us will have a chance to be faithful in hundreds of small things that make up meaningful lives.

Quiet, everyday commitment to not giving up when life is hard and rest seems so very far away is victory even when it doesn’t feel like it.

It speaks courage to other hearts to hold on.

Truly.

Always.

Though the Mountains Fall

I spent my teen years living in a suburb of Denver where the mountains marked west and you didn’t need a compass or GPS to get around.

It never occurred to me that the mountains might crumble or that I might wake one morning to find them somewhere else.

They were steady, sure and absolutely dependable.

When I moved to Pittsburgh and was forced to navigate without mountains to guide me, I found it easy to get lost (and I got lost a LOT in the first few months!).

The landmarks I had depended on were gone.

That’s what it felt like when I received the awful news.

In the first shock of death everything that has seemed most dependable had given way. Mountains were falling, the earth was reeling. In such a time it is a profound comfort to know that although all things seem to be shaken, one thing is not: God is not shaken … the thing that is most important is to do what the psalmist does later, to be ‘still’ and know that God is God. God is God whether we recognize it or not. But it comforts us and infuses strength into our faltering spirits to rest on that truth.

~Elisabeth Elliot

The earth beneath me gave way. I was falling.

But God…

When my heart was shattered, my hope hanging on by a thread, the Spirit of God brought truth to mind and gave me the strength to hold on.

I trust God’s Word and His character, even when I don’t understand what He is doing.

His faithful love endures forever.

I can depend on that.

No matter what.

It’s No Sin To Grieve

You’d be surprised how often Christians are shamed for grief.

Families are encouraged to call their loved one’s service a “celebration of life” instead of a “memorial” or “funeral”.

Of course I celebrate my son’s life-he was a gift-but the day I followed his casket to the cemetery didn’t feel like a celebration, it felt like death.

I continue to grieve what has been ripped violently from me.

Until all is redeemed and restored in heaven, I will walk this Valley in tears.

Grief is not sin.

It wasn’t until another grieving mom asked the question that I realized there are some (many?) in the community of believers that think grief is sin.

Not at first, mind you-everyone is “allowed” a certain amount of time to get over the loss of a dream, the loss of a job, the loss of health or the loss of a loved one.

But carry that sadness and wounded heart too publicly for too long and you better be ready for someone to question your faith.

Read the rest here: Grief is Not Sin

Just. Say. It.

I’m not sure when I began practicing this but I make a habit of telling people I love them even if it makes them uncomfortable.I remember saying it to my granddaddy who never told anyone-as far as I know-that he loved them.

I spoke it over each child as soon as she or he was laid in my arms.

Growing up, I closed every telephone conversation with, “I love you” and taught my husband to do the same.

I also try hard to tell people other important things right when I think of them, instead of “later”-whenever THAT may be.

I’m so, so glad I do and I did.

I have many regrets about Dominic’s too-soon departure from this life.

But I don’t have this one: Unspoken words of love and affirmation.

The last time he was home, it was nearing final exams and I felt like I needed him to know how very proud I was of him and how very much I admired the man he had become. So I stopped him as he was leaving, turned his strong shoulders to face me square, and looked him in the eye to give him words of blessing.

I didn’t get to hold his hand as he left this life.

But I’m confident as he breathed his last, he knew he was loved.

Don’t wait to tell the people that are important to you that they ARE important to you.

Don’t save words for “next time”, “later” or “when we get together again”.

Just say it.

Now.

Right now.

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