We are days away from plunging headfirst into the rough and tumble holiday season.
Thanksgiving is coming fast and I don’t know about you, but it seems that once I eat the turkey and dressing, the clock moves faster and the days crowd one another in a race to Christmas and the end of the year.
So I want to take a minute to think about how important it is to make and maintain space for grief during this busy season.
Every autumn I hear the geese overhead and I think about how all that honking serves only a single purpose: to remind the stragglers they are headed in the right direction.
It speaks courage to my own heart as I remember that not only does the leader call out to those behind, but that each bird takes a turn at the head of the line so that the others can rest a bit.
I mentioned yesterday that I’d be spending the weekend at a retreat with other bereaved moms.
I chose the theme, “Broken into Beautiful, because I believe with my whole heart there is no yin/yang dual universe where darkness has power enough to overcome the light. Sin mars creation and wreaks havoc but even all that awful is being woven together into a tapestry of beauty and usefulness that one day will display the glory of God and His love for us.
I also believe that one must make a choice to invite God to transform pain into purpose through His comfort, hope, strength and grace.
So we are settling in this morning with our coffee, Bibles, journals and sweet, sweet time to read about, talk about and digest the promises of God in Christ that can lead us faithfully through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
We will be exploring prayer-choosing to engage even when we don’t have anything to say and don’t want to listen; perspective-learning to trust truth over feelings; perseverance-doing the next right thing no matter how long the journey; and purpose-sharing our stories for the good of others and to the glory of God.
We will chat over meals and craft times (even for the non-crafty!).
We’ve got a jig saw puzzle going.
We will enjoy afternoon walks on dirt roads, evening campfires and plenty of time to pray with one another in quiet corners.
Every time I gather with moms in these intimate settings, I’m amazed by how the Spirit moves and hearts receive some measure of healing.
I can’t wait to see what He does in us this weekend.
Today, five other bereaved moms will join me for a weekend retreat where we will share our stories, our children, laughter and tears.
Each of us brings something unique to the experience and each of us will walk away with something different to ponder in our hearts.
But one of the things I’ve discovered over and over when bereaved parents get together is this: we ALL still (even after years, decades) need affirmation that what we are feeling, thinking and struggling with is absolutely, positively normal.
❤ Melanie
Do you want to know one of the most repeated questions in grief support groups?
It is, “Am I normal?”
In the midst of great loss,
in the middle of reconstructing a life that includes a giant hole,
while struggling to place one foot in front of the other,
parents who have buried a child are often worried about whether what they feel and how they act is “normal”.
Grieving a child is a complex and life-long process as I wrote about here:Am I Normal?
We’ve all done it-pretended to be looking somewhere else when we pass a needy soul.
Who has time to get involved?
They might be an addict or have a contagious disease or mental illness. They might be too lazy to work, too unpredictable to trust, too likely to be here next week and need something again. It might cost more than the five dollars we’re willing to hand out.
So we walk on by and hope they don’t force the issue by standing in our way.
But God never ignores a hurting heart.
He never redirects His gaze so it doesn’t fall on the one begging for mercy.
He does not ·ignore [despise or disdain] ·those in trouble [L the suffering of the afflicted]. He doesn’t hide his face from them but listens when they ·call out to him [cry to him for help].
Psalm 22:24 EXB
How amazing that the God of the universe, the One who hung the stars in the sky and told the sea, “This far and no farther!” hears me when I cry out to Him for help!
And not only does He hear me, He longs to comfort me with His love.
He does not despise my weakness or look down His nose because I’m unable to solve my own problems or help myself.
Even when others ignore me or try to make my pain small, God is listening. He never sleeps. He’s never too busy. He’s never hoping I go away and stop bothering Him.
He knows my name.
I’m not a faceless, nameless one of thousands or millions chattering away like background noise in a crowd.
He hears MY voice.
God-my God-has a personal, specific relationship with me, His child.
He leans in, bends down and listens attentively to whatever I tell Him. Like any human father, His heart is pierced when mine is broken.
I am so, so thankful that the God I serve loves me.
He specifically, purposefully loves me with unconditional love.
Even when I’m weak.
Even when I’m running away.
Even when I question the things He allows in my life.
He will never look away or stop reaching for me.
QUESTIONS:
What does it mean to you that God hears you?
Do you always FEEL heard? Why or why not?
When have you felt God’s personal care and encouragement?
How might you help your heart hold onto the truth in this verse when it seems God isn’t listening or at least isn’t giving you the relief you seek?
Can you find two or three other verses that emphasize God’s attentiveness to His children?
PRAYER:
Father God,
Sometimes I am willing to give mental assent to the fact that You hear me. And yet my heart argues that my head must be mistaken because the answers I beg for are long in coming.
The silence is deafening.
But I know your ways are not My ways and Your time is not my time. Give me confident assurance that You hear me whenever I cry out to You. Thank you that in Christ I can call You “Daddy” and always rest in the truth You are for me and not against me.
Fill my heart full of Your love. Overwhelm me with Your grace-grace to ask and grace to endure no matter what the answer may be.
I get it-you have no clue what it’s like to say good-bye to a life you’ve birthed and fully expected to outlast your own.
I don’t even imagine you can understand because I’m living it and still trying to figure it out.
But there are some things you can do to help me walk this awful and unfathomably painful path.
Please, please, please know that my child isSTILL my child.He is still counted in our family’s number. She remains one of the nieces and one of the grandchildren when we diagram our family tree.
So when you talk to others or tally numbers don’t exclude them.
My last earthly child is not an “only child”. Our mother doesn’t just have “one grandson”.
I need you to say his name!I long for you to share a beloved memory without choking out the details like it’s a chore instead of a privilege.
Can we make space for tears and joy in our family celebrations?
Could you message me privately before announcing the joyous newsYOUR earthbound child is getting married or having a child so I can prepare my heart for the onslaught of “congratulations” posted across social media?
It’s not that I envy (well, maybe a little) your life.
It’s just that you can’t fathom mine.
I didn’t just lose my child once at a single point in time. I lose him again every time there is a milestone or celebration or moment when he SHOULD be there but isn’t.
I’m not asking you to walk on eggshells. That’s unfair and unfruitful.
I AM asking you to learn a new way of speaking about my child in Heaven.
He still exists.
He still matters.
He’s still very much a part of our family AND yours.
It’s possible to stand frozen at the corner of good intentions and helpful action.
I’ve done it dozens of times.
And every time I’ve allowed myself to swallow “but I don’t know what to do” and done nothing I’ve regretted it.
Every. Single. Time.
So I’m here to tell you that when you get that urge, feel that itch, hear that still, small voice that says, “DOsomething“, then do it.
You may already have a good idea of what it is you need to do, but in case you don’t know exactly how to make a difference in the life of a heart hanging on by a thread, here are some things to get you started:
