I’ve had more than one person suggest I compile these blog posts into a print resource.
It would be a daunting task.
Much of what I write is meant to be a short, stand alone musing about one aspect of grief or another and I’m not sure how to weave individual posts into some sort of cohesive fabric or narrative that would be worth anyone’s time or effort to read.
So I have an honest question: Do you, faithful reader, think such a thing would be helpful?
Is it worth the time, energy, effort and seeking publisher permissions for quotes?
If you do think it’s a good idea, what format might be best? Short essays/posts collected by topic or a narrative of my journey punctuated by excerpts from blog entries?
This is NOT a vanity post, it’s a genuine question.
I’m heading toward seven years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven (April 12th). And while I can mark many ways in which my heart has healed, I can list a dozen areas that are still tender.
I wish, wish, wish there was plan of action like physical therapy or a course of medication like antibiotics that could guarantee reliable progress if followed precisely.
But there isn’t.
All I can do is continue to place myself in the path of healing, do the next right thing and wait patiently for the pieces to fall back in place.
❤
I’ve lived with invisible chronic disease for over a decade.
From the outside looking in, you’d hardly know that I am often in great pain. I make daily choices about what I will do and what I won’t do based on what I can doand what my body refuses to do.
I take medication. I do all the things I’m supposed to doto help my body heal.
For some of us life’s twists and turns include unfathomable pain, sorrow and loss. Broken hearts beating side by side in the dark often find it difficult to reach out across a chasm of grief.
Marriage is hard work under the best of circumstances. Child loss makes it harder.
But there are ways to create space for one another and to extend grace even in this Valley.
❤
It’s no secret that men and women are different.
It’s the subject of everything from romantic comedies tohundreds of books.
“Men are from Mars, women are from Venus” and all that.
So it shouldn’t surprise those of us walking this Valley that our spouse may be grieving very differently than we do. But it often does. Because everything is amplified when it echoes off the high mountains on either side.
And just when we need it most-for ourselves and for extending to others-grace is often in short supply.
There are days when my lamp burns so low it’s nearly extinguished.
Those are the days when I really need someone-anyone-to reach out and fan the flame.
I know, I know, for my fellow believers in Jesus we are admonished to “take it to the Lord in prayer”.
I absolutely DO that.
But it was no mere convention that the disciples were sent out two by two. God has made us for community and He has gifted those within the Body so one member may encourage another.
So here’s to the hearts that heed the still, small Voice that says, “Call, text, message, send a card, send flowers, drop by, or make a meal.”
Even that most awful first day I swallowed tears as I made phone calls and airline reservations and asked for help from those I knew would lend it.
But sometimes the weight of grief and life and stress and pain is simply too much to bear.
So falling apart is really the only option.
And that’s OK.
I can let go and let the tears flow.
I can hide under the covers or inside the house and not answer the phone.
I don’t have anything to prove.
Because I know the One who will hold me until I feel strong enough to pick up the pieces and carry on.
And when you are old, I will still be there, carrying you. When your limbs grow tired, your eyes are weak,And your hair a silvery gray, I will carry you as I always have. I will carry you and save you.
There are so many ways child loss impacts relationships!
Some of the people you think will stand beside you for the long haul either never show up or disappear right after the funeral.
Some people you never expected to hang around not only come running but choose to stay.
And every. single. relationship. gets more complicated.
When your heart is shattered, there are lots of sharp edges that end up cutting you and everyone around you. It’s pretty much inevitable that one or more relationships will need mending at some point.
This year has been challenging in ways I could never have imagined nor anticipated. It’s been that way for most of us I think.
Communal grief, pain and loss have wrapped themselves around the unique grief, pain and loss of hearts everywhere.
Definitely plenty to give a person pause.
And while I do believe it’s a good thing to reflect every so often I’m not certain it has to be on the same date every year.
But since the world seems to agree on this one, I’ll join in:
Turning a calendar page doesn’t guarantee a fresh start. Resolutions, affirmations, hopeful aspirations can’t erase the marks we bear from previous life experiences. I’m all for declaring boldly that tomorrow may be better but I’ve learned the hard way it might be worse. So I hold my hands open either way and adjust my stance to accept whichever it may be.
Attitude makes a difference.I despise silly little mantras that claim I can will my way out of every dark and desperate situation.Bad things happen. Sorrow and sadness are appropriate and reasonable reactions to hard times. Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but feel the feelings, let the tears fall and allow my heart to experience the pain. But I can choose to turn my attention to whatever may still be beautiful in my world. I can lift my eyes to tiny flickers of light on the horizon. I can embrace joy along with sorrow.
My worth is not tied to external accomplishments or society’s arbitrary markers of success. I refuse to listen to the enemy’s lies whispered in my ear, “You are less than. You are a failure. You only count if your ‘wins’ outweigh your ‘losses'”. A new year may feel like a new beginning but it can also be a stark reminder of last year’s list of resolutions that may or may not have yielded measurable progress. Striving for improvement is healthy. Beating myself up for not meeting every goal is not.
Things can be replaced, people can’t. I’m not making light of the very real and very painful loss so many people have suffered this year as businesses failed, income dwindled and hopes for financial progress dashed. It’s no small thing to come back to ashes where your home once stood. Standing in line at a community food bank for a box when you used to stand in line at the grocery store is humbling. But if my family is alive and (relatively) well at the end of the year, we can work the rest out together.
The only investment with a guaranteed return is love. Sure I try to plan for the future. I eat right, exercise, save money and maintain my home and car all in the hope that investing time, energy and effort today will pay off tomorrow. But truth is (as we’ve all learned this year!) outside and unseen forces can undo the best laid plans and preparation. But love is never wasted or destroyed. All the love I pour into others lasts forever.
This time last year I was hope-filled and looking forward to a less stressful, amazing twelve months.
That’s not how it turned out.
I’ve learned some things though.
So I’ll carry that wisdom into [2024]-no lofty resolutions or proclamations-and settle for survival. ❤
So I had made a sort of peace with a 2020 Christmas.
Not being with my dad. Not traveling to see my grandson. My daughter working the holiday, saving folks from Covid and themselves.
Keeping things small and as safe as possible.
The three of us at home had thought up some fun culinary treats and planned on munching in front of a roaring fire.
And then there was a change of plans.
I woke up on Christmas Eve to a massive lower GI bleed and I knew what that meant: a trip to the ER and transfer to hospital.Yippee!
Not at all how I was planning to spend Christmas.
But my scale of awful is so much worse than disappointment and I’m thankful for modern medicine that ensures I can recover.
I escaped needing a transfusion by a small margin.
I’m tired from too little sleep, too few red blood cells and very little food but I am home after just 48 hours!!!
My tree will stay up and presents wrapped until schedules permit the limited family gathering we had hoped for earlier.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this Valley it’s that only death can’t be undone.
In the meantime I’m getting used to letting others do most of the chores around here and trying to occupy myself with lap projects as my body rebuilds.
This Christmas was hard on a lot of hearts.
And New Year’s is around the corner, reminding us that even when we want to, we can’t stop the earth from turning and time marching on.
I pray that if you, like me, were forced to face additional challenges this season you feel the Father’s loving arms around you and that you find the strength to hold onto hope.
thelifeididntchoose 