I must remind my heart every day that Jesus Himself declared the blessing in mourning. I must remember that there is comfort available at His feet. Not in running from my pain, but in embracing it and trusting Him to redeem it.
What blessing is there in mourning? What comfort in distress? What good can come from pain and brokenness?
Good questions.
Honest questions.
Questions I have asked God.
Read the rest here: Blessed are Those Who Mourn?
It’s my habit to watch the sunrise and the sunset every day.
I usually greet the morning in my rocking chair, looking out my east-facing picture window. It never gets old to watch darkness chased away by relentless light rising over the tops of trees.
Beautiful.
Every. Time.
Sunset is a little trickier.
I don’t have a clear view of the west from inside my house and the western edge of my property is peppered with tall trees so I usually only see the beginning of the end of every day. But one of my favorite things to do is watch the golden glow of lingering light touch the tops of the highest pines and then slip away as the sun sinks below the horizon.
Another day has come and gone.
And the days become weeks that become months that become years.
Sometimes the days are long.
But the years are short.
Some days bring news I don’t want to hear. Some bring shouts of rejoicing. Either way I’m not the keeper of my days. The sun neither rises nor sets at my bidding.
But I have choices in the daylight hours. I can work while the sun is shining or I can worry that it might set soon.
I can take advantage of the light or I can wring my hands anticipating the darkness.
I am not naive.
I wish I were.
I wish I didn’t know by experience how much a heart can long for days gone by, days wasted, days that could have held more love and laughter but were overshadowed by worry or hurry or just indifference.
So I watch the sunrise to remind me that TODAY is a gift. And I watch the sunset to remind me that the gift of today is gone forever.
What have I done with it? Who have I loved? Where have I placed my energy and purpose and hope?
Every day is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
I never want to forget that.
Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears~Sheldon Harnick
It’s always a delicate balancing act when I’m with my living children and missing Dominic. I never, ever want to elevate their brother to a level that says I love him more than them-because it isn’t true.
I didn’t love him more when he was living and I don’t love him more now that he’s dead.
But I do love him differently.
I can no longer DO things for him. I can’t buy him a special Christmas gift, send him a thoughtful text when he’s having a tough day, make his favorite dish because he’s coming home for the weekend.
I can only testify to the love I continue to carry in my heart and to the impact he made on my life.
THAT’S why I won’t hide my tears.
I won’t pretend that some things don’t sting, some moments don’t overwhelm my wall of defense against the grief waves that pound relentlessly against it, some smells or sights or memories don’t bowl me over and knock my heart to its knees.
Because not only am I testifying to the love I have for Dominic, I’m also testifying to the love I have for each of my children.
They can see with their own eyes that death will never sever the ties I have with them nor cut the bond of love that stretches like a silken cord between my heart and theirs.
Our family watched the movie “Sully” the other night.
I cried when they showed the real people whose lives were spared hugging and thanking Captain Sully for his choice to do what was necessary to save them.
Because I know that each life saved also saved lives of others–saved them from the awful burden of grief and sorrow that would have become their daily experience.
Read the rest here: Rejoice With Those Who Rejoice
Do not waste time bothering whether you ‘love’ your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this, we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him.
~C.S. Lewis
Romantic love is a relatively new idea in the long history of mankind.
We moderns take for granted that in order to DO something kind and loving for another person, we must FEEL kind and loving toward that person.
But that’s not really what love is all about.
We act in love all the time without feeling love.
Changing diapers. Changing oil. Cooking chicken nuggets when you really want coq au vin.
I am absolutely convinced God makes babies utterly helpless because as parents care for them, they come to love them more deeply and in ways that would never happen without hours and weeks and YEARS of hands-on ministration.
That same principle can be transferred to anyone.
If I am having a hard time “loving” my neighbor or my co-worker or my family member, if I begin to DO loving things for them, my heart will follow.
Maybe not in a day or a week. It might well take a year or more. But eventually, the feelings will develop.
And if they don’t because the person continues his or her prickly ways?
Well, then I will have become a more loving and patient and kind person regardless of their response to me.
Either way, I win.
So this year I am purposing to choose three people in my life that are hard to love and begin actively loving them.
I am going to make sure I contact them often, speak kindly, include them in events and reach out in other ways. I will look for small favors to do that can brighten their days. I will remember birthdays and anniversaries and other special days, I will speak well of them to others.
And I will pray that grace flows both ways from them to me and back again until it blossoms into love.
Stay tuned. 🙂
I participate in a number of online support groups for bereaved parents.
And one topic that makes the rounds at least once a week-often once a day-is how those outside our experience cannot truly understand our experience.
Because it’s true-you THINK you can imagine the pain of child loss if you have children, but even the most vivid imagination can’t conjure the utter blackness that waits on the other side of hearing, “Your son is dead.”
There’s a great divide between me and those who have not experienced child loss.
But it’s one I hope they never have to cross.
Because it’s a mercy to not know.
If all of us could fathom the pain of losing a child, no one would bear children–the risk would be too great.
So while the gap can be a source of misunderstanding and isolation for ME, it is a safeguard for YOU.
And I am grateful for it. ❤
Toss that rock in the water and see what happens.
It’s impossible to keep the ripples from moving farther and farther from the point of impact.
And even though I can’t see it, my casual toss has changed the environment of the pond in ways it would not have been changed without my action.
Our lives are like that- we touch other people every day and rarely know how our brief brush may ripple through their lives for years or even eternity.
I have been lifted up by a smile offered by a stranger-that buoyant mood lasting long enough to save an otherwise dreary day.
I have also had a beautiful morning made overcast by the sour attitude of someone that should be helpful.
I want to bring sunshine not rain wherever I go.
I want to speak courage to trembling hearts.
No telling how far the ripples may go. ❤️
I was absolutely overwhelmed in those first days.
Cars, cars, cars filled my long driveway and front yard.
People spilling out like ants scrambling after the hill is disturbed.
Oh, our hill was disturbed-knocked wide open by that deputy’s visit.
Read the rest here:Who Steps In? Who Walks Out?
My friend and fellow bereaved mom, Margaret Franklin, Ryan’s mom, shared a beautiful Dutch word with me “Sterkte” (pronounced STAIRK-tah).
It literally translates “strength” or “power” but culturally means much more. It means bravery, strength, fortitude and endurance in the face of fear and insumountable odds through the empowering strength of God in me.
Not MY strength, but HIS.
Read the rest here: Trust After Loss: Appropriate God’s Strength
“I wake before the morning light. Every. single. morning.
I get my coffee, sit in my chair and wait for sunrise.
I never worry that today it might not happen.
Read the rest here: Trust After Loss: Access the Truth
thelifeididntchoose