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?
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 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. ❤
Grief has worn away some of the sharp edges of my personality.
I’m still prone to impatience-especially when faced with incompetence or hateful behavior in others.
But I’m learning that walking gently through life is not only good for others, it’s good for ME.
Life IS short. ‘
Not just the life of a child or teen or young adult cut down by accident or disease.
But even if I live my “threescore and ten” the Bible talks about, it will STILL be short. Seventy, eighty, one hundred years set on the timeline of history or eternity is less than a pinpoint.
What do I want my legacy to be? What do I want to leave behind for others to remember, to ponder, to carry in their hearts attached to my memory?
That’s easy. I want my legacy to be love.
I want people to remember that I treated them with kindness, that I respected them as persons, that I reached out, reached down and never separated myself from them by false barriers, foolish divisions or fake measures of who is “better” and who is “worse”.
More than anything I want people to feel that I made their burden lighter, not heavier.
So much of life is hard.
So many things happen for which there is no remedy.
I can’t choose everything, but I can choose love.
Life is short and we have not much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark way with us. Oh, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.
– Henri Fredric Amiel
Oh, dear one who opened your eyes to the morning light carrying wounds so deep no one can see!
I am so, so sorry.
When things have gone terribly wrong it’s hard to get up and make merry.
I know.
Read the rest here: Christmas Morning Prayer for Hurting Hearts
I don’t know about you but I’ve never thought of hopelessness as something I wanted on my resume.
Hopelessness is typically tossed into the pile of “negative” feelings we all acknowledge but don’t want to experience and if we do, we try to minimize, rationalize or disguise them.
If I admit to it at all, I tend to look downward, whisper quickly and pray that no one takes much notice because it feels shameful.
But maybe hopelessness is the first step to truly celebrating Christmas.
Read the rest here: Qualified by Hopelessness: An Empty Heart Can Be Filled
I first shared this a few years ago when I really thought I should have reached a place in my grief journey where holidays weren’t as difficult as they were at first.
But what I realized then and what has been confirmed since is that every year has new and unique situations that make Christmas a fresh challenge each time.❤
As the eleventh Christmas without Dominic rapidly approaches, I am pondering the question: “Why, oh why, is Christmas so hard?”
I think I’ve figured out at least a few reasons why.
Read the rest here: Why, Oh Why, is Christmas So Hard???
Spending holidays with friends and family while grieving is hard. No one is really comfortable-neither the bereaved nor those hosting them.
But there are ways to welcome grief to your table, to pave the way for the broken and bruised to join you, if they are able.
Here’s something that’s been going around social media circles this holiday season and offers advice on hosting the bereaved this Christmas.
❤ Melanie
Holiday Host Etiquette by Sarah Nannen
(Emphasis and paragraphs added)
“If you’re inviting someone to your home and they’re grieving, be sure you’re inviting their grief to attend, too. It will be there, anyway.
Read the rest here: Inviting Grief to the Table: Holiday Host Etiquette
People say, “I can’t imagine.“
But then they do.
They think that missing a dead child is like missing your kid at college or on the mission field but harder and longer.
That’s not it at all.
Read the rest here: What Grieving Parents Want Others to Know
This is the eleventh Christmas without Dominic. There really are no words to describe the intersection of holiday cheer and another milestone in this journey of child loss.
I’m not sad all the time-far from it. Often I am very, very happy.
But I will never stop missing him, missing the family we used to be and missing our blissful ignorance of how quickly and utterly life can change in an instant.
And I will never outgrow the need to have others remember him as well, to encourage my heart and the hearts of my family members and to help us make it through another year, another Christmas.
Here are some great ways to do it: 25 Ways to Give Holiday Hope to the Grieving
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