We had to put down a sick goat the other day.
I say “we” loosely because the men in my family shield me from the hard task of taking life.
But it still hurts.
I hate that life is hard and death is the end of all living things.
More than six years after Dominic left us and I still cry. I’m OK and then I’m not OK.
I don’t know what to tell you-I’m stronger but it’s not easier.
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.
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
I’ve spent most of this afternoon crying.
It’s beautiful weather and nothing terrible happened today but my heart is heavy and I can’t shake it off.
I try so hard to identify triggers and personal traits that lead me down this path of sorrow.
Sometimes I come up empty.
I do think it has something to do with all the changes we’ve been forced to embrace.
They feel familiar.
Sudden, unexpected events have squeezed all of us into a narrow place with fewer options than we are accustomed to have available. Jobs lost, schools closed and (what is the deal???) no toilet paper.
A life that used to feel like an open vista of opportunity now feels constrained and burdensome.
I’m limiting my exposure to news and social media but there’s no escaping it altogether and it’s affecting my ability to keep a stiff upper lip.
I guess lack of sleep has something to do with it too. And the fact that someone’s dogs got into my chickens and killed half of them. Death-any death-is awful!
Plus Mother’s Day coming up. It will be the first I’ve spent without one of my children and without my own mother being at least a phone call away.
I would normally try to talk myself out of giving in. But not today.
I’m sitting outside in the extraordinary windy day and letting the tears fall. I think that’s what I need.
I miss my mama.
I miss my son.
I miss life the way it used to be.
I was surprised to find that this journey is not straight ahead, one foot in front of the other onto a predetermined destination.
Instead it’s a winding path with lots of switchbacks, circles and I often get lost in territory I have passed through before.
I am, in large measure, at the mercy of my heart.
❤
I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to.
I’m not sure if it’s because I feel the need less often or because I’m just better at holding the tears at bay. But when I do, it’s pretty ugly.
My heart is still broken.
My soul still cries out for the child I carried in my womb and mothered for nearly 24 years.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/04/06/again-and-again/
Through the fog and dark and limits of my sight
I hear birds singing
as they welcome the day
I still can’t see.
Are they better than me at knowing the edges of inky night?
Or do they simply have more faith?
Either way their hearts are boldly trusting in the sun they can’t yet prove is real.
Oh, that my own heart would always rest!
Assured.
Unmoved.
Confident.
Certain.
Even in the dark,
even in the fog,
even under the smothering blanket of sorrow,
in the Son.
The One who burst forth from the grave to prove He IS the One.
The One who promises night has limits,
that death is not the end,
that resurrection is sure.
Then I could sing for those still in the fog
and in the dark,
those whose sight is dimmed by tears.
And remind them that
morning is coming!
As sure as the sunrise.
As sure as the Son rose.
Oh, the early days, weeks and even years of grief!
I was a giant walking nerve.
Every sight, sound, smell or even touch that reminded me of Dominic evoked a wave of sorrow that almost always ended in tears.
I cried in the grocery store, walking past Bath and Body Works in the mall, driving down the road when certain songs came on the radio, tidying up drawers and finding a long lost and forgotten something that Dominic tucked away for later.
Sometimes I just wanted to scream, “Don’t you know my son’s not here??!!”
But of course I couldn’t do that and walk around in society.
So the triggers were an outlet for that pent up energy, angst and sadness.
It was awful.
Especially when what I set out to do was something I really needed to do. I’d leave the house with a list of places to go, things to buy and people to see but often return having done only a fraction of it.
I’m better at it now.
I’ve grown stronger and am more skilled at carrying the burden of the disconnect between my heart and other hearts who haven’t experienced deep pain and loss.
I’ve learned how to fix my eyes on some distant point if cornered by a well-meaning friend asking how I am but not really wanting to hear about how Dominic’s death continues to impact our family.
I press my fingers together hard in an attempt to stop the sorrow rising up and threatening to undo me until I can escape to the bathroom, a quiet corner or my car.
And I’ve learned not to be ashamed of the tears that fill my eyes and slip down my cheek despite all my best efforts no matter where I am.
This was not my experience-all my children were adults when Dominic ran ahead to Heaven-but so many grieving parents want to know: Should I let my younger children see me cry?
How much is too much for them to witness, process and hear?
Do I need to shield them from the awful truth of how much this hurts? CAN I shield them?
It depends.
Read the rest here: Should I Let My Young Children See Me Cry?
If it’s random or providence neither are a comfort to me
Are You cruel if You planned it or weak if You allowed it to be?
Half of me is still believin’, the other half is angry and confused
Oh, but all of me is desperate and longing to be held by You
Jason Gray, “Remind Me You’re Here”
I have lots and lots of questions.
And I don’t think ignoring them or shoving them in a chest and sitting on the lid is helpful.
But I’m far enough along in this journey to admit that if I let my heart and mind focus on the questions I’ll drown in sorrow and despair.
Because whatever reason I might come up with or answer I might get from God will never feel like it’s enough to wipe away the tears and satisfy my mama heart.
So I’m learning to live with mystery.
None of my pain has ever caught You by surprise
Still it’s hard to trust You when I’m lost in the wondering why
But I’ll trade every question just to lay down and rest in Your heart
And I’ll reach for Your hand, though You led me here into the dark
Jason Gray, “Remind Me You’re Here”
I love this new song by Jason Gray.
“Remind Me You’re Here” is a beautiful and honest lament before the Lord.
And like all good laments, it ends with asserting the truth about our faithful Father, His everlasting love, and the promise that I am never, ever alone.
So I won’t ask You for reasons
‘Cause a reason can’t wipe away tears
No, I don’t need all the answers
Just be here beside me
Father, remind me You’re here
Jason Gray, “Remind Me You’re Here”
Today has not been a good day.
It’s not a grief anniversary or a holiday or a birthday or any other identifiable grief trigger.
But I have cried. A lot.
Life refuses to pause, to take a break, to stop plowing forward even though I’m worn out and begging for a moment to catch up, catch my breath, figure out how to keep going.
No matter how well I plead my case it seems there’s no reprieve.
The gap between how I wish things would go and how they actually proceed grows wider each day.
I’m not angry.
I’m defeated.
Tomorrow is another day and I look forward to new mercies with the sunrise.
❤
Oh, sometimes I think I’m clever enough to do it.
I edit my words, costume my body and fix my face so I can act the part. But truth is, I never manage to fool anyone who looks closer than my plastic smile.
I can’t hide my heart.
And I don’t know why I try-I don’t get points for pretending.
There’s no prize at the end of this long road for the one who makes it with fewest tears.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/10/02/you-cant-hide-your-heart-and-theres-no-points-for-pretending/
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