thelifeididntchoose

NOBODY Does it Alone

Even if you think you are the Lone Ranger-riding the hills and vanquishing enemies all by yourself, you aren’t. Heck, HE wasn’t alone either (thus my confusion over his name).

Every single one of us has people in the background making life as we know it possible.

And when life as we know it takes a sudden left turn, all those “invisible” people become oh, so important.

It happened when Dominic ran ahead to heaven. The eleven days between the knock on the door and his funeral were filled with friends, family and even strangers who came by, brought meals, cleaned my house, made phone calls, and did all the things I just. couldn’t. do.

These last weeks have been the hardest season since Dom left us. When I got the phone call Mama was being life-flighted my heart dropped to the floor. Having been there once before, I was not at all ready to revisit the awful pain of loss.

So I gathered what I needed, made a few phone calls of my own and my children and I raced down to be with her and my father.

Thankfully, the ending to THIS story, though hard, isn’t tragic.

After the first eleven days in hospital and only a few at home before a second hospital admission, Mama is back at home getting stronger.

Things are different. Changes are required.

But she is smiling and beautiful. Still with us.

Hallelujah!

But in order for me to stay with my folks for 27 of the past 31 days I have had to call on and depend on the help of others.

For me to leave MY responsibilities at home, someone else had to pick them up. Horses and goats and dogs and chickens don’t feed themselves. The church deposit has to be made each week.

My husband has graciously accepted that our communication is limited and sporadic. What used to be long phone calls every day turned into short bursts and quick texts that let him know I was OK and still breathing.

My youngest son, Julian, laid aside his own project of remodeling his first home to pick up all the things I normally do around the farm-no complaints and no questions asked. He is patient with me when my tired brain can’t think of words while trying to give him yet another chore that needs done.

My daughter, Fiona, finishing a tough last semester in RN school, as well as working and putting in required clinical hours, has called to check on me and her grandmother, offered excellent medical tips and helped me ask for the things we need for Mama. She shoots me funny memes and encouraging texts that provide laughs to boost my immune system and bolster my courage.

My eldest son, James Michael, has squeezed in a weekend visit to my parents’ house in between helping his AF base recover from Hurricane Irma and a hundred other responsibilities as the Public Health Officer for a large command. He drove the tractor and helped bale hay. He brought flowers for Mama and BBQ ribs and sweet tea for me.

My friends at church have graciously given me space and taken up slack so that I didn’t have to worry about my duties as treasurer. No pressure and no tacky comments-only love and understanding from folks who KNOW how important family is.

My very special friend, Laura, sent me back from my brief three day stint at home a couple weeks ago with helpful herbal tinctures to brace my body for stress and hard work. And she always listens without trying to fix me.

Dominic’s example as a strong advocate gave me the backbone to stand and insist that Mama get the care she needed when in hospital and at home. I could hear him say, “Don’t let them get by with that!” to my often trembling heart.

And many, many of my parents’ friends and our extended family have phoned, sent notes and stopped by to encourage my heart and theirs.

People keep saying, “You are doing a good thing for your parents”.

I appreciate that. But I want them to know that I am not doing it alone. It goes back in a long chain to those who choose to take up the slack I leave behind when I drive out my lane.

I would not be free to help if others didn’t choose to help ME be free.

So I want to give a loud and public shout out to each one that has done this hard and necessary work in the shadows.

You are amazing.

I love you.

Zero Points for Pretending: You Can’t Hide Your Heart

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.

No one offers me any token for the months or years or decades I make it without breaking down or cracking up.

But I damage my own soul by shoving the feelings deep. I clog my arteries by swallowing every angry word. Sorrow turns to despair which turns to hopelessness if I never let it out.

And like it or not, it leaks out somewhere.

So I’m learning to speak my truth, to name my feelings and express them in healthy ways:

I journal.
I share in safe spaces like bereavement groups and my church small group.
I exercise-which helps to burn off “steam” or just that awful sense of discomfort when darker feelings overwhelm my heart.
I build rest into my day along with silence so my mind and heart get a break from constant self-restraint and editing needed during conversation.
I read helpful articles and books.
I write this blog.
And when I need to, I talk to someone who is making my journey more difficult and try to work it out.

All of this takes energy and effort when I have the least of either to spare. But the alternative is too grim to consider.

I don’t want to walk the rest of my years carrying more heartache than that of child loss-which is heavier than I could ever have imagined.

I choose to shed the extra pounds of emotional baggage I can leave by the roadside.

I won’t hide my heart.

Costly Obedience

If the only place you get your food is the grocery store with overflowing shelves and more choices than any one person truly needs, then this verse won’t mean much to you.

If you’ve never depended on a homemade pantry stocked with home-canned jars for your winter supply, it’s hard to understand.

But if you’ve ever had to choose between putting that last bit of corn into the ground or into your mouth, you won’t have any trouble imagining the tears that flow as you place each kernel beneath the dirt with a prayer begging for a bumper crop.

And then you wait.

Because only the planting in faith is MY business. The growing is God’s.

Those who walk the fields to sow, casting their seed in tears,
    will one day tread those same long rows, amazed by what’s appeared.
Those who weep as they walk
    and plant with sighs
Will return singing with joy,
    when they bring home the harvest.

Psalm 126:5-6 VOICE

In dark and burdensome seasons of life, I am tempted to cling tightly to what I can hold in MY hand instead of clinging tightly in faith to the One Who holds me in HIS hand.

Sowing in tears is choosing to walk obediently even when obedience is costly and there is no visible evidence that it will produce a good result.

There may be a long wait-perhaps my entire lifetime-to see the harvest of choosing obedience in faith.

But there WILL be a harvest.

He guarantees it.

And then the tears will turn to JOY.

Repost: True Truth

I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach. I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.

The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar.

Read the rest here: True Truth

HELP WANTED: Why Grievers Need Faithful Friends

We all know how it is-you move, you lose an address or phone number, you lose touch.

But sometimes friendships end more abruptly-not because lives drifted apart but because one person became so uncomfortable she chose to walk the other way.

That’s what happens so often the other side of child loss. Friends disappear because loss makes them profoundly uncomfortable.

I get it-I’m a walking reminder that if it happened to me, it can happen to you.

You don’t know what to say when the tears flow. You feel helpless in the face of my helplessness. You are afraid my questions might weaken your faith.

And after months of avoiding me you feel guilty.

But may I tell you something? I still need you.

It doesn’t matter if you have the perfect words. Your presence is what lifts my spirits.

I won’t chastise you for your absence.

Grief IS Love

We try to separate the two.

We want to draw a line that marks when one ended and the other began.

But it’s impossible. Because grief and love are of one piece.

Grief isn’t what comes AFTER love, grief IS love.

Grief is love with no place to go.

It’s what a heart is left with when the person upon which that love would be lavished is no longer available to receive what is offered.

We celebrate lifetime love. We make much over marriages that survive the years. We applaud the lost pet that pads his way home in spite of miles and misery to lay at the feet of his master.

Yet we want grievers to give up their sadness and bottle their tears because it makes US uncomfortable. It reminds us that next week WE could be the ones left with unspent love in our hearts.

But grief can never be small where love is large.

Important Correction: Through This Valley Conference!!

I don’t usually do this when I have to make an edit to a post, but I’m sending out another one just to make sure no one misses out due to my mistake:

The Through the Valley Conference for Bereaved Parents is

Friday, October 6th and Saturday, October 7th 2017

NOT the 5th and 6th!!

Here’s the link again: Through This Valley Conference for Bereaved Parents

Through This Valley Conference for Bereaved Parents-Don’t Miss It!!

I admit I’m not much of a gatherer.

Oh, I love my Sunday School class and my church family. I enjoy the occasional family reunion or wedding. But, on the whole, I tend to stick to small groups instead of large crowds.

And that tendency has been amplified since Dominic ran ahead to heaven.

So I totally understand why a bereaved parent might be reluctant to come to a CONFERENCE full of STRANGERS.

But please listen to my heart, not just my words: this is NOT your average gathering.

April Wendland (a bereaved mother herself) and a very special team of people have worked hard to put together a two-day event that will speak courage to broken hearts.

You won’t be surrounded by people who glance sideways when the tears roll. You won’t feel out of place when the tears turn to sobs.

Because we’ve all been there-we are STILL there.

There is no substitute for hearing (perhaps for the first time), “Me too! I feel that way too!”

If you have never had the blessing of sharing space with other hearts that know exactly how you feel, then please, please, please try to come!

And it’s FREE!

Courage is going to flow through the building. Love will overwhelm your heart. Grace and mercy will spill forth like water from a fountain.

Come be encouraged, strengthened and filled with hope for this journey. ❤ ❤ ❤

Here’s the link: Through This Valley Bereaved Parents’ Conference

Friday, October 6th-Saturday, October 7th

Legacy Church, 3540 Central Ave., Hot Springs, Arkansas

Boundaries: I’m Not a Punching Bag

Last week I wrote a post titled They Don’t Know What They Don’t Know and made the case that often folks say insensitive things but truly don’t mean harm. Many are walking in the dark and step on our toes because they can’t see.

But there are some people who make it a habit to be insensitive.

They are the ones who delight in speaking their mind regardless of how it hurts another heart. They pride themselves on “telling it like it is” and justify the fallout as a necessary consequence of “opening the eyes” of people they consider “blind to the truth”.

And while I believe that it is my duty as a Christ follower to forgive these folks when they hurt my feelings, I do not believe that I am required to continue to offer my heart to them to be tossed to the ground and trampled.

I do not have to welcome them with open arms and invite their untimely and unkind comments.

I do not have to engage with them on social media-I can unfollow, unfriend or simply ignore their posts. I can delete inappropriate comments made on my own posts and untag myself when they try to draw my attention to an article or meme that they think “helps” when it only wounds me.

If the person is a family member, I can choose to be polite when we meet at gatherings but I do not have to sit next to them at the table. I can excuse myself early from birthday parties, Sunday dinners or holiday meals. I can simply refuse an invitation and stay home instead.

If the person is someone tightly woven into the fabric of my friendships, I can do the same thing-choosing not to be alone with them so I’m not an easy target for their “helpful” monologues.

If the person is a casual acquaintance then I can choose not to engage them at all. It’s OK to scoot around the next aisle in the grocery store so that I’m not caught like a deer in headlights when they see me and exclaim, “How ARE you???”

In other words, it is perfectly acceptable to have boundaries around my heart so I can survive this journey.

It is healthy.

It is necessary.

I’m not required to be someone else’s punching bag.

Repost: Choosing to See Wounded Hearts

I can see her all the way down the aisle-even if she doesn’t say a word, I know.

I know.

She‘s carrying a burden wrapped in love and buried deep inside. Someone she poured life into is no longer here. The missing and the daily sorrow is etched on her face even as she smiles.

What to do? What to do?

Read the rest here: Choosing to See Wounded Hearts