I’ve had some struggles this past week.
Family is messy.
There’s tension between who I am as an individual and who I am as part of the unit.
I want, above all, to be light, love and life to the people I love and even beyond-to the people I interact with online and in person in more casual spaces.
But it’s hard.
I’ve been reminded that the only way I can remain grounded in this world is to help my heart remember that this world is not all there is.
Heaven is my true home.
And when my flesh is exhausted, frustrated and overwhelmed with sadness I speak truth to my heart until it is ready to hear it.
❤ Melanie
2016: A Question of Trust: What About Signs?
It comes up often in bereavement groups:
What about signs from loved ones who have gone on to Heaven?
What about books that tell stories of people who have been to Heaven yet “allowed to return”?
What about cardinals and butterflies and feathers and dreams?
It would be so very easy to allow my feelings to rule my heart and to reject the truth of Scripture. It would be less of a struggle to walk this Valley of the Shadow of Death if I could “talk” to Dominic while waiting to join him.
But the Bible is plain: I cannot trust in anything or anyone but Jesus Christ. Every thing and every one else is fallible and will eventually lead me astray.
I wrote this a few months ago and hope it’s helpful to other grieving parents:
Read the rest here: Signs
2017: The Fight For Joy is Not for the Unarmed
This is very true.
I found that when I received the news of my son’s accident-it was Scripture I had hidden in my heart that helped me stand.
My Bible was available, but I could not open it. My heart was too broken to read.
But the Spirit brought to mind exactly what I needed from the storehouse of Scripture hidden in my heart.
I am still fighting for joy.
Read the rest here: The Fight For Joy is Not for the Unarmed
2018: For Better or For Worse
One year ago today I came in from Wednesday night church to a message on my answering machine:
“Melanie, when you get this, call me on my cell phone. I’m on my way to Dothan. Your mama was lifeflighted and I’m headed to the hospital”
I have no idea what else my dad said because that was as far as I got before shutting down the message and dialing his number with shaky fingers.
Because when you’ve endured the worst possible news-the news that is utterly final-it only takes half a second for your brain and body to jump from alright to utterly terrified.
Read the rest here: A Challenging Year: For Better or Worse
2019: Closing Argument
I was a debater and raised my kids as debaters.
There’s unique beauty in crafting an argument so it crescendos to an irrefutable conclusion.
For the the master orator, nothing is more satisfying than watching her audience lean in and anticipate the glorious finale.
Paul has been leading us to these verses since he began laying the foundation in chapter one of Romans.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Closing Argument
2020: Grief is the Elephant in the Room
I’ve often been the person who refused to go along with some group’s plan to ignore a real issue and try to talk around it.
I usually begin like this, “I know it’s hard to talk about, but let’s be honest and…”
I’m even more inclined in that direction now. If my son’s instant and untimely death has taught me anything, it’s taught me that there’s no use pretending.
So I’m not going to pretend: Western society doesn’t do grief well.
Read the rest here: The Elephant in the Room