Nothin’ Easy About Death

I wrote this post a year ago after my mother joined Dominic in Heaven. Her passing reminded me once again (as if my heart needed reminding!) that there ain’t nothing easy about death.

One year later and I’m no more willing to pretend it’s anything but awful even as I’m resigned to admit there’s nothing I can do about it.

I miss you both so very much.

I remember the moment I realized I was going to have to summarize my son’s life into a few, relatively short paragraphs to be read by friends, family and strangers.

It seemed impossible.

But as the designated author of our family I had to do it so I did.

Today I wrote my mama’s obituary and though her death was not as surprising as Dominic’s it was just as hard to swallow.

Read the rest here: Ain’t Nothing Easy About Death

The God Who Stays

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Child loss is not a hammer in the hand of God.

He didn’t “take” my son so He could mold me into the person He wants me to be.

But He will use this pain and sorrow if I run to Him.

Sometimes I resist but His Father heart is steadfast in its love toward me.

God doesn’t give up and decide I’m “too much trouble” or “too far gone”.

NO!

He’s the Faithful Father watching and waiting with open arms for the Prodigal to return.

He will weave even the darkest and most tangled threads into a beautiful, redeemed tapestry if I let Him.

He’s the God who stays.

Always.

Forever.

Amen.

Healing Is Not Linear

I remember thinking in the early days, weeks and months of this journey that healing was impossible.

The wound was too great, too deep and too devastating to allow for that.

No amount of work or help or wishful thinking could undo the damage.

But I was wrong.

Little by little the shattered pieces of my heart began to reassemble themselves into a very fragile, not-quite-the-same, semblance of the old shape.

When life knocks me around (as it still does quite often) a bit falls off here and there and I have to begin again to put my heart back together.

It’s not simple.

It’s not a straight line.

It’s not a once and done thing.

But it’s possible.

I Would Not Cease Your Weeping

You’d think I’d know how valuable tears are by now.

But sometimes I forget.

Tears cleanse, they provide release for emotion too deep for words. They are precious.

And when you have someone who understands that, who sits silent in the sacred space where tears fall freely, that is a beautiful gift.

There is a sacredness in tears." - Washington Irving [1600x1067 ...

Let me come in where you are weeping, friend,

And let me take your hand.

I, who have known a sorrow such as yours,

Can understand.

Let me come in — I would be very still

Beside you in your grief;

I would not bid you cease your weeping, friend,

Tears can bring relief.

Let me come in — I would only breathe a prayer,

And hold your hand,

For I have known a sorrow such as yours,

And understand.

Grace Noll Crowell, To One in Sorrow

Can I Feel Joy Again?

In case you’re wondering if joy will ever return, I want to assure you that it most certainly can.

It will take a lot longer than you wish it might, but it is there, waiting for you to welcome it.

At first it just felt WRONG to have a moment of happiness because if the pain of missing Dominic somehow didn’t fill my heart I was afraid it meant my love for him was fading. If the broken pieces were knitted back together then maybe one day they’d mend so well I couldn’t find the spot where he fit in.

But I’ve learned no amount of present joy will squeeze out that space where Dominic lives.

I can love him, miss him, sorrow over his absence and still revel in the beautiful blessings the Lord brings into my life.

Just this week I had the privilege of watching my grandson while his mother and father had a little time away. It was so much fun (and hard work!). I had forgotten how exciting it is to view the world through a young child’s eyes. Everything is new, everything is wonderful, everything is worthy of exploration and comment.

The little fellow walked down the hall my great-grandmother walked, my grandmother walked and my mother walked pointing a finger and asking, “This?” as he passed photos and paintings, doo dads and doorways.

The sixth generation to hear the creaking hardwood and learn about life.

What joy!

We showed him family photos and talked about Uncle Dominic. It raised a lump in my throat each time but it also helped me place Dom in his story-helped me learn how to talk about the uncle he will never know except for what we share.

I’m not going to lie.

More than a few times tears threatened to make their way down my cheek as I held his little hand and remembered holding another one just like it decades ago. Nostalgia can be hard to swallow when it’s all you have left of someone you love.

But I reminded my heart that it is big enough for both.

I can miss what I once had AND delight in what I have now.

Both are gifts I cherish and hold dear.

joy and sorrow | Poetry Joy

Giving Sorrow Words


The morning Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, after I made the awful phone calls I reached for my journal. 
 

I knew if I didn’t start spilling the grief onto paper my heart would explode with sorrow.  

Since I learned to hold a pencil I’ve been writing. 

It’s how I sort my thoughts, figure out my feelings and express my heart. 

Read the rest here: Give Sorrow Words.

Feel Like You Don’t Measure Up? Be Gentle On Yourself.

It’s been years (decades?) since I watched much, if any, commercial television.

I do get those annoying pop-up ads from time to time when I visit websites and, of course, Facebook loves to “suggest” products I “need” in my timeline.

But I’m really not exposed to a lot of advertising or images that scream, “You are not enough!”.

When You Don't Feel Like You Measure Up - Beyond Sunday Mornings

Even so, that’s often the way I feel.

Somehow I’ve swallowed the lie that the only way I can be worthy of love and even breath is to be “all that I can be”-whatever THAT means. I need to have the right exercise regimen, the cleanest home, the healthiest food, a morning quiet time with my Bible and praise music, the perfect filing system for all the random papers I have stuffed in boxes, a tidy closet, and a day filled with meaningful activity that produces either income or social change.

All this time stuck at home has served to point out the many ways I fall short of those standards.

Steve Furtick Quote (With images) | Steve furtick quotes, Lovely ...

We’ve lived in this house for twenty-two years which is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere. It’s filled to the brim with memories and stuff and dusty corners where the furniture hasn’t been moved since we got here.

The kids were six through twelve the day we bought the place.

There’s been a lot of activity and growing within these walls and frankly, you can tell.

I need to paint but the idea of wiping off the last little marks of Dominic and his siblings made when they were all here and happy is overwhelming. I need to rearrange the things in what was once his room and make it more useful for when the kids come home to visit but that means I have to go through some drawers and stuff that haven’t been touched since he touched them and I’m not ready.

That’s just two of probably one hundred (literally!) things I could or should do.

What I’ve been doing instead is living through what I call my Season of Sorrow which runs from March through the end of May every year-all the “lasts” (last time I saw him, last time I hugged him) and all the “firsts” (the day he left for Heaven, his funeral) and ends with his birthday on May twenty-eighth.

I’ve learned that I’m no good at starting projects this time of year.

I’m doomed to leave them unfinished which becomes its own kind of condemnation.

But I still feel like I SHOULD be doing them.

Cloud Performance: Some Cloud Platforms Simply Don't Measure Up

I need to be gentle on myself.

That list of things to do is always going to be long. If I worked every day, all day for the rest of my life there would be things left unfinished.

I need to remember that how I loved and who I loved is the measure that really counts.

The most important things in life are not things" Quote

Forest of Sorrow

There are so many ways to describe grief.

So many ways individual hearts walk this path.

For many of us there’s a sense of being locked in time, stuck in space, unable to leave the moment one received the news or the few days before and after.

It’s maddening that the earth still turns, the sun still rises and people go on with life when in so many ways our world is frozen in place.

Elizabeth Gilbert describes deep grief as a “coordinate on the map of time” and a “forest of sorrow”.

I like that.

Child loss is a place no parent wants to go. I found myself in territory so unfamiliar there was no way to get my bearings.

Left alone, I faltered, would have stayed lost, was doomed to walk in circles trying to find my way out.

I desperately needed a guide.

Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope.

Elizabeth Gilbert

Thankfully some parents, further along in this awful journey, created safe spaces for broken hearts to gather and to share.

I am oh, so grateful to them for that!

Not everyone who finds the way to hope and light chooses to come back for those still wandering in the forest of sorrow.

But some do.

They retrace painful steps carrying a torch and say, “Come with me. I can show you the way to hope.”

Go Ahead-Yell, Scream and Throw Things!

A mom who is also coming up on her season of sorrow this spring wrote that she felt like screaming and throwing things.

I get it.

And because I live in the middle of the woods, far from neighbors or nosy passers-by, I’ve done it.

Sometimes I walk in the woods and just holler out my questions, my pain, my indignation that this is my life.

Image result for yelling images

Other times I cry as loud as I want to, not trying to hold in the sobs.

When I’m really angry that it will soon be six years since Dominic has crossed the threshold of home, I take old eggs and toss them at trees. I work myself to a frazzle stacking sticks to burn. I use my clippers and chop away at underbrush, releasing pent up feelings with every satisfying snap of a twig.

Image result for throwing eggs image

The longer it is since his leaving, the more I feel I need to have it together in public. Others have long moved on and my tears are inexplicable to those who have forgotten.

And while I have gotten stronger and better able to carry this load called “child loss” this time of year makes it all fresh again.

The pressure builds with no place to go.

It’s going to force its way through the weakest part of my character if I don’t release it on purpose.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is angry.png

So I do.

If you need me, I’ll be outside for the next few weeks.

If you hear something, don’t worry.

I’m just letting off steam.

Trusting The Heart Of God


No matter how much we love someone, we will eventually fail them somehow.

I know I recite my failure as a mother quite often-usually when I’m tired, weak, stressed and especially burdened with this grief I haul around like a bag of bricks every day.

So it’s hard for me to comprehend the unfailing, faithful, never-ending, compassionate love of God.

But it’s true whether I can wrap my mind around it or not: God’s love never fails.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/08/09/scripture-journal-challenge-when-i-cant-trace-his-hand-i-trust-his-heart/