Category: Love

Stressed: Why Doesn’t My Head Just Explode?

No days are easy when you are this side of child loss.

There is the constant burden of sorrow and pain bearing down on my heart and mind 24/7.  Then there are the little (and not so little!) everyday bumps along the road of life.

But sometimes it’s not a bump, but a mountain that looms large.  Or it may be a sinkhole that opens up and swallows days and weeks before you even realize how much time has passed since you last drew a calm breath.

These past weeks have been like that.

From the night my mother was lifeflighted to the hospital until today, we spent a week and a half in hospital plus these past few days at home trying to get her stable, better and transitioned to a new regimen that will hopefully keep her reasonably well.

While every medical professional gave great care, the majority of responsibility is falling on my dad and myself.  And it’s a huge adjustment for everyone.  No more in and out to the field on the tractor.  No more quick trips into town-at 2 litres of oxygen per hour it will take one portable tank just for the round trip.

Doctor appointments need to be carefully scheduled and routed to minimize time away from home where there is an unlimited supply of oxygen.

I am learning that elder care is a huge challenge-one I thought I knew (in principle, though not by experience).

I was dreadfully wrong.

Just like child loss, until a single call or event takes your world from “I’m in control” to “I have lost all control”, it’s impossible to understand.

There is so much to keep track of, to manage, to watch for, and to do that I honestly feel like my head is about to pop off.

Add random phone calls, doctor appointments, home health visits and (oh yes!) Hurricane Irma-well, you get the picture.

So here’s to all my fellow sandwich generation peers.

And here’s a special shout-out to the ones whose broken hearts already limp along because they are missing a child they love and are now caring for ailing parents as well.

May we all reach out to the only One Who can strengthen us for this journey.

May we speak courage to one another.  

May we extend grace to ourselves because no matter how hard we try to pretend otherwise, we are human.

shame for being human

 

 

The Loudest Silence

I’ve been away from home for eleven days now.  For a homebody, that feels like forever.

Most of those days I’ve been surrounded by unfamiliar people and lots and lots of noise.

But in the midst of all that activity and sound, there has remained a quiet spot deep in my spirit that holds space for Dominic.

No matter how frantic, how deafening or how crowded things get, his absence is the loudest silence I hear.  

days when your absence is the loudest silence ive ever heard

To My Fellow Grievers-Love Brave

I was unprepared for the many traveling companions grief brought with it.  I knew to expect sadness and despair–but what about anxiety and guilt?

I had no idea how large a space guilt would soon occupy in my thoughts and heart-guilt over what I did or didn’t do when Dominic was still with us, guilt over what I do or don’t do now.

I can do nothing to change what happened in years past.  

There is no magic time machine that will allow me to go back and linger long over his jokes or cling harder when he hugged me.

But I can choose to approach today in a way that frees me of foolish guilt and unnecessary regrets.

I can’t do everything but I can do something.

I can love big and brave and refuse to waste the days I have with the people that mean the most to me.

do what you can with what you have where you are

It ALL Matters

I hate to admit it but I not only like to prioritize tasks I often prioritize people.

I divide them into two columns “Matters”  and “Doesn’t Matter” and give different weight and time and effort to each one depending on which side of the paper they are listed.

While that’s just fine for inanimate objects or household chores, it’s just plain wrong for relationships and people.

Because when I’m approaching another human being bearing the likeness of the God Who made him or her, I don’t get to decide how valuable they are.

That’s already been decided by Jesus Christ.

you are worth more than many sparrows

So my responsibility is to do precisely that task I have been sent to do at that moment-whether it is offering a smile, taking a meal, lending a helping hand or writing a note or making a phone call to encourage a tired heart.

Because it ALL matters.

 

Repost: Grief and Holiday Plans-Working Out the Details

My mother is in the hospital-lifeflighted on Wednesday night from her rural home to the nearest larger medical center.  She’s doing better but we have no idea when she may be released to go home.

So these next days I will be re-posting some blogs from last year.  I hope you will join me praying for my mama and also be patient with the lack of new content.  ❤

I live in Alabama where we are still sweating buckets under the late summer sun, so I understand if thinking about the holidays is the furthest thing from your mind.

School just starting, new routines in place-am I crazy?

Well, yes (you can find plenty of folks to back you up on that) and no-the days keep coming, one after the other, and these big days will be here sooner than we think.

Read the rest here:  Grief and Holiday Plans: Working Out the Details

How “Sunday School” Answers Isolate Wounded Hearts

We of the conservative right rail against political correctness.

We chafe at the constraints imposed from government, media and society that make us feel strangled when we share our faith, our opinion and our life values.

“Free speech!” we cry.

Yet the church has its own form of political correctness that often silences and isolates the very ones we should be serving.

It comes in the form of quick Scriptural replies to heart cries of “Where is God?” (“He’s right here beside you, faithful and good.”)

“Why did this happen?” (“All things work together for good for those that love the Lord.”)

“I don’t think I can take it anymore!” (“I can do all things through Christ.” Or “We are more than conquerors through Jesus.”)

Where is the compassion in that?

I firmly believe that:

All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,

2 Timothy 3:16

Yet, wisdom isn’t only knowing WHAT to say, it’s also discerning WHEN to say it.

wisdomSunday School answers only serve to widen the gap between hurting hearts and the hallelujah crowd.

What wounded hearts need first is understanding, not correction.  They need to know that church is a safe place to speak the pain they carry.  They need to be welcomed into a community of grace and mercy where healing can begin.

in every encounter pretty

 

Strong or Weak? How Labels Harm the Hurting

Labels and categories can be helpful.  When cruising the grocery aisles I’m thankful for the signs that point the way to “vegetables” or “baking needs”.

But labels can be harmful when applied to people.

Read the rest here:  Strong or Weak? How Labels Harm the Hurting

I Am Enough Because HE is Enough

It’s interesting how God gives a similar message to many in His family around the same time.  My friend and fellow bereaved mom, Kathleen Duncan posted just yesterday Dear Momma Who’s Feeling Not Enough.  She had no idea that I had this post lined up over a week ago for today.  So maybe we should all take a  moment to realize that we ARE enough-just us.  Because of Christ, we ARE enough.  ❤

It has taken me decades to internalize the message that I don’t have anything to prove.

It has taken many, many heartbreaking moments to realize that no matter how hard I try to please everyone and met each expectation held over my head, I will fail.

It has taken diets and restrictive clothing and false faces painted on with make up to understand that my body is not the best representation of who I really am.

It has taken years of self-talk to rub out the negativity stamped on the inside of my brain and behind my eyelids.

I am just now (at 53 years old!) learning to lean into my identity in Christ and turn my back on the false identity the world and the enemy of my soul wants me to embrace.

chosen daughter

But the truth is that IF Christ took it ALL to the cross (and I believe He did), then there’s nothing left to prove.

And if there is nothing left to prove then I am truly free.

I’m free to eat and drink to the glory of God instead of eating and drinking to craft  my body into a shrine of perfection and youth.

I’m free of people pleasing and set free to please God (even when it doesn’t please people).

I’m free of trying to impress the neighbors and free to impart the good news of the Gospel-no strings attached.

I am free to be the me I was created to be.

let whatever you do today be enough

What Does Faith Really Look Like?

Is faith always a never-faltering, wild “Hallelujah!”?

I don’t think so.

I think faith is essentially this:  turning my face toward the God I love even when (especially when!) I’ve stopped expecting an answer and maybe even when my heart has despaired of help.

I would argue that faith is precisely that step forward into the dark unknown, onto the broken road, lifting  the unbearable heaviness as an offering and trusting that

God sees,

that He hears

and that He will not abandon me.

We’re all encouraged when we read through Psalms. But what did David endure to experience the depth of love he has for God? What kind of heart-shredding pain did he go through before understanding how real and present God was and just how much God loved him regardless of his brokenness?

Understanding the whole story of the Bible, it’s much easier to see that my brokenness has a purpose.”

~Laura Story, When God Doesn’t Fix It

faith-deliberate-trust

Time Travel

This may come as a shock to my city-dwelling readers, but there is not a UPS store on every corner in rural Alabama.

In fact, there isn’t one in the whole county where I live. 

So when I had to return something with a prepaid label,  the nearest place to do it was up the highway and off an exit that I probably haven’t taken in a decade.  After dropping the package, on a whim, I scooted across the street to the Winn Dixie store for just a minute.

As soon as I entered, I knew I’d made a dreadful mistake.  The store had not changed even a little in the years and years since I was last there.  

And the last time I was there was with all four children.  

Those were the days when we piled into our Suburban and did marathon shopping runs to take advantage of every sale in one day.  My kids were experts at finding the right size item specified on whatever coupons we might be using to drop the price even further.  I would dispatch the boys to get heavier things as I went up and down the aisles loading the buggy with canned goods.

So when I walked in and the store even SMELLED the same, I was instantly transported to those days.  I could almost hear the laughter of my sons, see my daughter next to me and feel that blessed togetherness I cherished even then but long for painfully, desperately NOW.  

I’m not sure that my heart didn’t stop for just a second or two.  I know I held my breath.

It was both beautiful to remember and more painful than I could have imagined.

I was utterly unprepared for the grief wave that swept over my heart.

I forced myself to walk slowly to grab the item I needed.  I got in line, made small talk with a friendly customer and a chatty cashier.  And then I practically ran out the door and to my truck in an attempt to escape the sadness.

At home, I let the tears fall.  Sat in silence and gathering darkness and let myself FEEL all the feels.

I am oh, so grateful for every single moment I can remember but oh, so sad there won’t be any more.

it has been said that time heals all wounds rose kennedy clock