I don’t want to remember my son.
I want to make memories with him.
I want him to watch me grow old, to watch him get married and have children and to hear his voice mingled with his siblings at my table.
Read the rest here: I Don’t Want To Remember My Son
There is no quick fix for a broken heart. No remedy for missing someone you love.
Instead, grief is a process.
It’s a lifelong journey of remaking a relationship that can no longer depend on physical presence and new memories.
It circles back again and again, asking the same questions, sometimes finding new answers but often having to settle for the old ones.
Read the rest here: Not a State But a Process
When Dominic ran ahead to heaven, there was a sudden, horrible and unchangeable end to new experiences, to making any more memories, to another conversation, picture or text.
All I have of my son is whatever I had saved up to the moment of his accident.
And it is not enough.
It will never be enough to fill up the spaces of what my heart wishes I had.
He lived for nearly 24 years. But I can’t withdraw those memories like cash and “spend” them, day for day, for the next 24 years.
Read the rest here: “Don’t Dwell on That!”
I keep thinking I’ll write something new and profound for Resurrection Sunday. But I never do. Because there’s really nothing I can add to what I’ve written before: the Gospel IS the Good News.
It’s what makes the waiting possible and hope something more than wishful thinking.
Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.
Hallelujah! Amen.
❤
“The worst conceivable thing has happened, and it has been mended…All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” ~Julian of Norwich
I’m not sure when I first read this quote, but it came to my mind that awful morning. And I played it over and over in my head, reassuring my broken heart that indeed, the worst had already happened, and been mended.
Death had died.
Christ was risen-the firstfruits of many brethren.
Read the rest here: Resurrection: Reality and Reassurance
Yes, I live on the other side of the Resurrection-I know the end of the disciples’ vigil-I am convinced of the empty tomb, the ascended Lord and my Great High Priest’s intercession at the right hand of the Father.
But what I long for I cannot hold. What I hope for I cannot touch. What I know to be true I cannot see.
I live in the space between “it looks like everything has gone horribly wrong” and “Hallelujah!”.
It is painful. It is hard.
And it will last for a lifetime, not just a few days.
Read the rest here: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection
Bury a child and suddenly the death of Christ becomes oh, so personal. The image of Mary at the foot of the cross is too hard to bear.
I trusted Jesus at an early age and I have lived my life beneath the shadow of the wings of the Almighty God.
But I never-not really-grasped the horror of the crucifixion until I watched as my own son’s body was lowered in the ground.
Read the rest here: Remember: Why Good Friday Matters as Much as Resurrection Sunday
There are some congregations that still practice “foot washing” in remembrance of Jesus’ humble service to His disciples.
It’s a beautiful tradition but hardly captures the reality of what it was like to wipe dust, dirt and dung from the feet of (probably) sweaty men with unkempt toenails and calloused soles.
Before the cross, before that ultimate defining act of sacrifice and love which required His willing death, Jesus showed us how to LIVE. He could have given a lecture on love and humble service but He didn’t.
He chose the lowliest task to demonstrate that love is DOING something. It’s doing whatever needs to be done for whoever God places in your path.
I’m often guilty of thinking this task or that task is beneath me- hoping someone else will do it and I won’t have to. I need to be reminded often that’s simply not true.
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Today is the day on the church calendar when we pause and reflect on the Last Supper, and the last words of Jesus to His disciples.
A year’s worth of sermons is contained in John 13-17 but this week I have been drawn to just one verse:
[Jesus said] “Now I am giving you a new command—love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you must love one another. This is how all men will know that you are my disciples, because you have such love for one another.”
John 13:34 PHILLIPS
Read the rest here: Maundy Thursday
I’m sharing this again during Holy Week because if I’m honest this week presents lots of moments when I have to sort through my theology once again.
Dominic’s death is inextricably tied to the days between Palm Sunday and Resurrection Sunday. And my heart is twisted into all kinds of uncomfortable shapes every year around this time.
I’ve said before that what I write is as much (or more!) for myself as it may be for anyone else so I’m reminding my own heart that God did not snatch Dominic from my life.
His death is not a punishment nor a hammer nor a lesson.
❤
This is a question that comes up all the time in bereaved parents’ groups: Did God take my child?
Trust me, I’ve asked it myself.
How you answer this question can mean the difference between giving up or going on, between turning away or trusting.
So this is MY answer. The one I’ve worked out through study, prayer and many, many tears. You may disagree. That’s just fine. I only offer it because it might be helpful to some struggling and sorrowful soul.
Read the rest here: Did God Take My Child?
Would I have chosen this broken path?
Absolutely not.
Will I embrace it as something God can use to make me more like Jesus?
I hope so-I’m certainly trying.
We are told our tears are so very precious to God that He keeps track of them in a bottle.
I often wonder if when we get to Heaven, or when God remakes the earth into its beautiful and perfect form, the bottles will be opened and every tear counted and redeemed.
Read the rest here: Holy Week Reflections: Sorrow Lifted as Sacrifice
I first shared these thoughts a year ago as the world began to shut down in an attempt to quell the pandemic.
Here we are, more than twelve months later still facing not only an uncertain future but dealing with concrete and life-altering changes that have many of us despairing of brighter days ahead.
It’s tough waking up to a world you don’t recognize and don’t like.
If you wonder how to make it through, ask a bereaved parent or sibling. They’ve learned to courageously step forward into scary and uncomfortable tomorrows.
❤
Many of you are waking up each day and facing a world you don’t recognize.
I’ve been doing this for over half a decade.
Almost seven years ago my family’s world was shaken in much the same way everyone’s world is being shaken today.
Read the rest here: Welcome To My World
thelifeididntchoose