I was unprepared for the many traveling companions grief brought with it. I knew to expect sadness and despair–but what about anxiety and guilt?
I had no idea how large a space guilt would soon occupy in my thoughts and heart-guilt over what I did or didn’t do when Dominic was still with us, guilt over what I do or don’t do now.
I can do nothing to change what happened in years past.
There is no magic time machine that will allow me to go back and linger long over his jokes or cling harder when he hugged me.
But I can choose to approach today in a way that frees me of foolish guilt and unnecessary regrets.
I can’t do everything but I can do something.
I can love big and brave and refuse to waste the days I have with the people that mean the most to me.
I no longer have to imagine the worst thing that could happen in the life of a mother-I know exactly how it feels.
And if I allow my heart to ponder that too often or too long, it consumes me.
So I am learning to take those anxious thoughts captive, learning to make them live in only a small corner of my mind instead of taking it over completely.
It takes effort and discipline, but it’s possible.
I don’t have to live the rest of my days a quivering mess– afraid of every sunrise, every phone call, every mile my family travels:
I confront my fear with facts: The absolute truth is that it is no more likely I will lose a child today than it was the day I lost Dominic. I’m not good at determining odds-if I toss a coin ten times and it lands on “heads”-I’m convinced that next time it HAS to be “tails”. But that’s just not true.EVERY time the coin is tossed, it has exactly a 50/50 chance of landing on “heads” or “tails” regardless of what happened last time. That’s not how it FEELS, but that’s how it IS.
I refuse to feed my fear: I don’t linger over news stories that play up danger or magnify the possibility of catching rare diseases. Do these things happen?ABSOLUTELY! But are they likely to happen to me or someone I love, probably not.I will not fuel the fireof fear that threatens to rage through my mind.
I take reasonable precautions: My family wears seatbelts. We take our vitamins and go to the doctor when we need to. We eat right and exercise. We don’t walk across streets without looking both ways. These were all things we did before Dominic’s accident and we continue to do them now.Not one of them would have made a diference that night but they help me feel better.
I limit my exposure to uncertainty: If I’m concerned about someone, I call or text. It’s that simple.I don’t have to live for hours wondering if they are OK. I’m careful not to infringe on my adult children’s lives by a never-ending series of contacts, but they understand my heart. We try to be mindful of letting each other know we arrive safely to our destination.
I exercise control in other areas of my life: Anxiety is a beast that grows stronger the more out of control I feel. I cannot keep my family absolutely safe-it’s not in my power to do so.BUT, I can control some aspects of life. So I do. Even cleaning out a messy junk drawer helps bolster my sense of control. Small, easy to complete projects feed the part of my brain that says, “You can do this!”
I limit caffeine and other stimulants: Increased heart rate, rapid breathing and sweaty palms are signs of anxiety. Caffeine can produce these effects even when I’m not anxious. If my body is feeling this way, my mind is quick to jump on board.
I practice distraction: There are times when I find myself feeling anxious despite my best efforts. When that happens, I am learning to distract myself. I find something to touch, smell, hear or taste that can help me regain composure. I count backwards from ten or twenty. I hum a song or recite a Bible verse. I add numbers in my head or do multiplication tables.
I live in the present: I have no idea what tomorrow holds. If I allow my heart to dwell on what might happen, I will be useless for today. So while I make marks on the calendar for appointments, I wake each morning determined to live right now.
There has been an interesting back and forth in my spirit since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Before I got the knock on the door I didn’t really fear for my children’s safety.
They traveled the world, did things that would make others cringe, ran into situations when others ran away and I can honestly testify that other than the typical, “Be safe!”, comment by mothers everywhere, I did not sit up at night wringing my hands hoping they’d be OK.
Then Dominic was killed less than a mile from his apartment. An ordinary evening doing ordinary things except for his foolish choice to go too fast on his motorcycle.
And everything changed.
Suddenly imagining child loss was not necessary. I was living it in technicolor reality.
There was no earthly remedy for my heartache. No safe space in the physical world for me to carry my pain.
Only God could comfort my mama heart.
God is our shelter and our strength. When troubles seem near, God is nearer, and He’s ready to help. So why run and hide? 2 No fear, no pacing, no biting fingernails. When the earth spins out of control, we are sure and fearless. When mountains crumble and the waters run wild, we are sure and fearless. 3 Even in heavy winds and huge waves, or as mountains shake, we are sure and fearless. [pause][b] 4 A pure stream flows—never to be cut off— bringing joy to the city where God makes His home, the sacred site where the Most High chooses to live. 5 The True God never sleeps and always resides in the city of joy; He makes it unstoppable, unshakable. When it awakes at dawn, the True God has already been at work.
Psalm 46: 1-5 VOICE
I don’t know about “fearless” but I can testify the fear that consumed me in the wake of Dominic’s death for the safety of my earth bound kids was eventually replaced with a calm assurance that nothing had really changed.
They were still in the hands of a God who loved them more than I did.
They were still secure for eternity because they had put their faith and trust in the finished work of Christ.
They were still just as likely (or unlikely) to be the targets of another’s (or their own) sinful or foolish choices.
And our hope was not (never has been) in THIS life. Instead it is in the eternal life God offers all through Jesus.
Ezekiel records a vision of seeing first a trickle, then a stream and finally a river flowing from the throne of God and giving life to creatures, trees and those who eat them.
Truth is, there is no stopping the plans of the Almighty.
And there is no stopping the flow of life from Jesus to His sheep.
I am so thankful for this promise, this truth and my own testimony that God is indeed the Giver of life, a safe Refuge and a sure Foundation.
QUESTIONS:
Would you describe yourself as a fearful person? Why or why not?
We are all afraid sometimes. What do you do when you are afraid? To whom do your share your fears?
How can you make today’s verses personal and allow them to encourage your heart?
I love the water analogies in Scripture. They really speak to my heart because with a farm full of critters I can see how critical water is to life on a daily basis. Has the trial of child loss (or other hard place) made you more or less thirsty for the Living Water Christ offers?
Sleep can be hard to come by when you are overwhelmed with grief, stress or fear. Does it help your heart to think about God as the God who never sleeps? Why or why not?
What do you want from God right now? What would it look like for Him to be your personal place of safety?
Who do you need to release to the care of the Father? Who are you worried about that you need to place in His hands?
PRAYER:
Father God,
You are never caught by surprise. You know the end from the beginning. When things overtake me help me remember that You are there. I need a refuge from this life of grief and pain. I need to rest my feet on the solid Rock of Your presence, Your goodness and Your provision. Open my spiritual eyes to see the way You are working even here, even now.
I want to drink from Living Water. I want to be so filled with Your grace, mercy, love and strength that no matter what life throws at me my testimony is to Your sustaining power.
Joy seems a distant memory. Days when laughter flowed freely and fully from my belly out of my lips are like a dream. Give me joy again. Even tainted with sorrow, give me joy. Thank You that I know you are near and that You have a plan.
This time six years ago, I was on the front end of a very lonely, very frightening three and a half weeks.
Each morning began with a sixty minute drive in Los Angeles rush hour traffic toward the downtown courthouse. My husband and I parked and then walked through metal detectors and past guards down a long, long hall to the courtroom.
Every day was one more eight hour shift listening to lawyers, witnesses and a judge as the events of several years were laid out first by one side and then the other. Questions aimed to elicit unflattering responses hit my husband hard.
The opposing counsel even printed out a couple of my blog posts trying to frame both my husband and his family as intolerant fundamentalist evangelicals who certainly didn’t understand how things were done in the progressive West.
Our fate was in the hands of total strangers and the whole time I couldn’t utter a single word.
I was not allowed to nod my head, smile or frown or even cry when I watched my husband recount our son’s death and the toll it took on him as he returned to the workplace and tried to do routine tasks while being challenged repeatedly by a surly , vindictive and manipulative employee.
Trust me, no television courtroom drama can prepare a heart for the kind of stress, uncertainty, mental anguish and overwhelming fear that a real encounter with the justice system evokes.
Sitting alone (my husband was sitting with his attorneys) I could only spend time writing out scripture, taking notes and trying to guess how all this was impacting the twelve jurors sitting mere feet away. Only nine were required by California law to agree in order to reach a verdict which just added to the uncertainty.
I felt oh, so weary, scared and forgotten.
One of the scripture passages I wrote over and over was today’s verses.
27 Why, then, do you, Jacob, inheritors of God’s promise,
you, Israel, chosen of God—
Why do you say, “My troubled path is hidden from the Eternal;
God has lost all interest in My cause”?
28 Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard?
The Eternal, the Everlasting God,
The Creator of the whole world, never gets tired or weary.
His wisdom is beyond understanding.
29 God strengthens the weary
and gives vitality to those worn down by age and care.
30 Young people will get tired;
strapping young men will stumble and fall.
31 But those who trust in the Eternal One will regain their strength.
They will soar on wings as eagles.
They will run—never winded, never weary.
They will walk—never tired, never faint.Isaiah 40: 27-31 VOICE
The nation of Israel was feeling lonely and all alone.
Had God forgotten? Had He abandoned them? Didn’t He care they were at their wit’s end and the limit of endurance?
So Jehovah sends Israel an encouraging Word through Isaiah.
He begins with questions: “Why are you questioning Jehovah’s interest in your cause? Do you think after all we’ve been through He’s forgotten you now? Can anything be hidden from His sight?”
As I sat day after day after day, I had to remind my heart that no matter how it FELT, God was very near. We were not abandoned. Whatever went on in that room with no windows was not hidden from our Shepherd King.
The very next set of questions Isaiah poses is one of my all time favorite verses: “Hey Israel! Do you really not know that God is eternal, everlasting, all-knowing and all-powerful? Haven’t you heard He made the earth and everything in it? Do you imagine He ever gets tired, worn out, too stretched to intervene in the affairs of men? “
This trial wasn’t the first time in my life I needed to be reminded that nothing is hidden from the Lord’s sight. It wasn’t the first time I needed reassurance that God is never too tired or too distracted or somehow limited by my understanding of who He is to reach down and give me a boost.
In the ten years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I’ve had days, weeks and even months when, in my despair and grief, I forgot the truth.
The whole passage comes to a dramatic conclusion that leaves Israel (and me!) with no room for doubt.
“Hey-God breathed into Adam and made a living man from dust. Sure, you may be tired and worn out from circumstances or age, but He can breathe life and vigor back into you too. Young folks seem nearly invincible but even they have limits. You just wait (expectantly, in faith, certain that He will show up and keep His promises) on Him. The kind of energy Jehovah will give you won’t run out. You’ll be like an eagle soaring effortlessly on wind currents higher and higher and higher.”
I’m here to tell you that God keeps His promises. His Word is sure.
I look back on those three weeks and stand amazed that I didn’t fall over from exhaustion and stress about five or six days in because except for surviving my son’s death, it was the hardest thing I ever did.
It was absolutely, positively God’s strength and not my own.
QUESTIONS:
I know most of my readers are bereaved parents and probably share my testimony of days, weeks, months of utter exhaustion under the load of grief that child loss dumps on a heart. Can you identify a specific moment when you felt God’s strength poured into your spirit? Can you think of an event, holiday or date you just knew you couldn’t face but somehow managed to survive?
How can meditating on these verses help your heart hold onto hope?
What new insight does including verses 27-28 to this familiar passage give you?
Consider looking these verses up in at least three different translations/paraphrases and compare them. Does that help you understand them better? Why or why not?
PRAYER:
Father God, I want to always remember that You are so much more than I can ever imagine or comprehend. Too often I try to circumscribe You by my limited understanding of how you work in the world. But You are too big for any box I try to stuff You into.
When I forget, remind me. When I doubt, strengthen my faith. When I feel alone, make Your Presence undeniably real to me. When I am weary, breathe new life into my spirit.
Thank You for patiently, graciously, mercifully dealing with me. Thank You for your everlasting, faithful love. You are a good, good Father.
Amen
*If you want more details about what happened that year, you can find it here:
I’ve written before about anxiety and child loss here. No matter the cause of death, the FACT of a child’s death seems to create the perfect conditions for a parent’s body and mind to experience anxiety, dis-ease, fear and often a sense of impending doom.
My world was rocked to its foundation the moment I heard the words, “He was killed in a motorcycle accident”.
The worst thing I could imagine had come true.
There was no protection from it happening again, no guarantee that THIS unbearable pain would be the ONLY unbearable pain I would have to carry.
I think my body chemistry was instantly transformed that morning to include rapid heartbeats, shallow breathing and a horrible creepy tension that climbs my spine and clenches its claws tightly at the base of my skull.
Before Dominic left us for Heaven I was not an anxious person.
At the recent Our Hearts are Home bereaved parent conference, this was a hot topic.
Bereaved parents battle anxiety on a daily basis:
* Are my surviving kids and spouse OK?
* What do I say when someone asks, “How many children do you have”?
* Why can’t I remember anything?
* Will my boss understand that I am just unable to perform my job duties as I used to?
Worse still, is the unexpected wrong number in the night that sends your heart racing and ends all hope of further sleep.
This post is for you, my precious fellow travelers.
❤ Melanie
Grief has a traveling companion: Anxiety. And it is relentless.
Before Dominic ran ahead to heaven I had no idea that along with sorrow, missing and heartache, I would have to battle a creeping sense of dread that could turn an ordinary day into a nightmare.
I’ve learned to plan ahead and minimize triggers I can identify, but sometimes I find myself suddenly overwhelmed with no easy means of escape.
School has started and folks like to pretend fall is on the way but we who have lived here long know that’s just a fantasy.
I always have mounds to do and it’s still too hot to really be motivated to do it.
So it’s probably not surprising that the combination of reminders, reality and regret roll over my heart and lead to exhaustion.
❤ Melanie
2016: Spent
This actually happened one day last week and I was too ashamed to post it. I’m better now. But it took three days to recover from that emotional, physical, psychological and spiritual low point.
It required that I extend the grace to myself I would extend to another.
That’s actually harder than it sounds for someone who prefers to think of herself as the “good girl” and the “strong one”.
There’s only so much a body can take in a day. And I’ve reached the limit.
Started out pretty good-up with the chickens and settled into my rocking chair with a cup of coffee and my journal.
I’ve written before about anxiety and child loss here. No matter the cause of death, the FACT of a child’s death seems to create the perfect conditions for a parent’s body and mind to experience anxiety, dis-ease, fear and often a sense of impending doom.
My world was rocked to its foundation the moment I heard the words, “He was killed in a motorcycle accident”.
I was reminded today how close fear sits to the door of my heart and to the door of the hearts of many bereaved parents.
Once again a mom shared an experience of not being able to get in touch with a surviving child and how that quickly spiraled downward to a frenzy of fear.
To some it may seem like an overreaction. But to those of us for whom the one thing you think won’t happen, HAS happened, it made perfect sense.
Grief has a traveling companion: Anxiety. And it is relentless.
Before Dominic ran ahead to heaven I had no idea that along with sorrow, missing and heartache, I would have to battle a creeping sense of dread that could turn an ordinary day into a nightmare.
I’ve learned to plan ahead and minimize triggers I can identify, but sometimes I find myself suddenly overwhelmed with no easy means of escape.
I no longer have to imagine the worst thing that could happen in the life of a mother-I know exactly how it feels.
And if I allow my heart to ponder that too often or too long, it consumes me.
So I am learning to take those anxious thoughts captive, learning to make them live in only a small corner of my mind instead of taking it over completely.
It takes effort and discipline, but it’s possible.
I don’t have to live the rest of my days a quivering mess…
thelifeididntchoose 