Sticking with a friend whose life is hard and is going to continue to be hard is not for the faint of heart.
Not all wounds can be healed.
Not all problems have a resolution.
Not all relationships follow a path that leads to a happy ending.
Read the rest here: To The Friends Who Stay
I first shared this years ago when I was reflecting on half a decade of living without one of my children beside me. I’ve now had nearly another half decade to think about why or IF I’ll continue to write.
Every so often I take a day or two to consider whether I want to keep posting. I have to admit sometimes that I wonder if I bang the same drum for too long it will sound loud and obnoxious to some people’s ears.
But then I get a message or a comment from someone fresh on this journey and they feel seen, heard, validated and safe.
So I write on.
And I find that writing brings clarity and comfort to my soul. I still have things to say and I hope what I say still brings some small measure of light, love, life and hope to other hearts.
❤ Melanie
I was one of those people years ago who set her sights on starting and maintaining a blog.
I thought I would post a few times a week and share anecdotes about my family and critters, insight into daily living and inspiration from Scripture and interesting quotes.
No, not THIS blog-the other two I started and quickly abandoned to who-knows-where in cyberspace.
Trouble was that the subject matter, while near and dear to my heart, wasn’t personally compelling enough to keep me disciplined and actively writing.
If someone had said, “Pick any topic to write about”, child loss wouldn’t have been in the first million choices.
No one CHOOSES child loss (Thus the name of the blog: The Life I Didn’t Choose).
But untold numbers of parents EXPERIENCE it every year. This very day, parents somewhere got a knock on the door or a phone call or sat next to a hospital bed as life slipped slowly from their child’s tired body.
Since I was already journaling and had walked this Valley for nearly a year and a half, it dawned on me that the ramblings I’d put down might be helpful to another heart. So I started THIS blog in September, 2015.
And I’ve been here ever since.
I’m not in the raw, breathless place I once was. But grief and loss are part of every breath I take, part of every moment I experience.
I miss Dominic. I still consider death an enemy. Every day I hate what was stolen and long for what was. I mourn the changes grief has wrought in my family. I wish things were different. I discover new ways loss impacts my life and new ways of coping with it.
So I keep writing.
I don’t want anyone to feel alone in this journey. I don’t want anyone to think there’s no way to survive. I don’t want a single broken heart to doubt that God is here and that He will help you hold onto hope.
I’ll spill my heart out in words until the words are exhausted.
It helps me.
I pray it helps others too.
I remember walking down the grocery store aisle after Dom left us wondering if the face I smiled into was faking it like I was. I wondered if they were hiding behind pleasantries because they form a good shield.
I imagine, on some level, most were. Because nearly everyone has a secret wound.
Read the rest here: Broken Hearts Hiding Behind Small Courtesies
Holidays are hard on bereaved parents’ hearts.
Even though our children are always on our minds, holidays act as megaphones, amplifying the missing, sorrow, grief and lost opportunity to build more memories.
So it’s particularly helpful when friends and family step up and step in, showing extra support on and around those extra hard days.
Here are seven ways you can bless a bereaved dad this Father’s Day:
Read the rest here: Seven Ways to Support a Bereaved Dad on Father’s Day
If you’ve never been caught short in the midst of an unexpected downpour you might not know how important refuge under the boughs of a cedar or oak tree can be.
Living in the middle of woods, punctuated by open pastures, I’ve retreated more than once to the safety of thick boughs which limit the rain’s ability to soak me through.
I have memorized every safe haven between the road and the middle of my 34 acres.
Faithful friends are like those sheltering trees-offering respite to a weary heart, providing a safe space to take a breath, granting protection when we are pursued by the enemy of our souls.
Read the rest here: We All Need Sheltering Trees
There’s a kind of relational magic that happens when people who have experienced the same or similar struggle get together.
In an instant, their hearts are bound in mutual understanding as they look one to another and say, “Me too. I thought I was the only one.”
It was well into the second year after Dominic ran ahead to heaven that I found an online bereaved parent support group. After bearing this burden alone for so many months, it took awhile before I could open my heart to strangers and share more than the outline of my story.
But, oh, when I did! What relief! What beautiful support and affirmation that every. single. thing. that was happening to me and that I was feeling was normal!
Read the rest here: What I’m Learning From Other Bereaved Parents
Thankfully for most parents graduation isn’t really an end. It marks a transition and perhaps growing geographical distance, but the relationship will continue.
Your child may be harder to reach, but they are not utterly beyond your reach.
You might stand at the doorway of their empty room and wonder when they might come home for a visit and wake up under your roof again, but they WILL come home for a visit.
I’m not diminishing the very real sense of loss parents feel when the child they have nurtured begins a life apart.
But some of us face something harder.
My child is utterly unreachable.
Read the rest here: Please Be Patient With Me
I will share this post every Memorial Day without apology because there are so many parents who join our ranks whose child went to Heaven as a result of military service.
The percentage of the population who have one or more family members in the military grows smaller year after year and it is easy to forget that a relative few perform for the rest of us one of the most hazardous and challenging jobs there is.
I remember.
I hope when (or if) you celebrate with family the freedom we enjoy, you also take a moment to honor those who secure and protect it.❤
Today is a day when we honor those who gave the last full measure in service to our country and our country’s wars.
It is a day to remember and mark with solemn gratitude the sacrifice of a life poured out.
You don’t have to agree with the reasons for a war to grieve the individuals who died fighting it.
Read the rest here: Why Memorial Day Matters
Being a pastor doesn’t mean you come out of seminary with answers to everything.
It doesn’t even mean you emerge equipped for very many of the situations and conversations thrust upon you once you enter ministry.
But I know a lot of folks expect you to be a pillar of strength, a fountain of wisdom, a well-spring of comfort. I’m sure you try to be all those things but it takes years to develop the experience needed to know what to say and do and what NOT to say and do in the most sensitive and painful moments humans face.
So when a thoughtful and inquisitive fellow bereaved parent asked the question below, I found myself REALLY considering the essential advice I’d pass along to a pastor about the unique and uniquely challenging ministry to those whose children have run ahead to Heaven.It is most certainly NOT exhaustive, but hits the high points. It’s short, succinct and can go a long way toward promoting healing in shattered hearts.
I hope my pastor friends will read it and tuck it away in an easily accessible place. I promise you will need it one day.
I hope my fellow bereaved parents and others will pass it along to pastors they know.❤ Melanie
This is the question: What advice would you give a pastor to serve, encourage, and walk with a grieving parent? What would you tell them not to do?
I would tell a pastor to:
*Listen, listen and listen some more– without correcting or judging. This is not a teachable moment. Take off the theologian’s coat and put on human flesh.
*Acknowledge the depth of their loss- not compare it or try to identify with it (unless you have also lost a child) and absolutely not minimize it.
*Don’t toss Bible verses– especially those intended to “bright side” their experience.
*Don’t stop checking in even if they stop going to church. If your ministry ends at the door of the building, you’ll lose lots of sheep.
*It will take longer- probably by years-than you think it should for them to return to some semblance of “normal”. Be patient.
*Ask, but don’t pressure, parents who once served (or are serving at the time of loss) if they want to continue serving. Some do, some find it impossible.
*Do not engage in gossip and speculation about “how they’re handling” their grief.
*Educate your congregation on the devastation of grief in general and child loss in particular. (See the story of Jacob-how deeply he grieved when he thought Joseph was dead, what a mess his family was…)
*When appropriate, make space in yearly celebrations or traditions for recognition of those who are mourning and who want to have their child (or other loved one) remembered.
*As time goes on, ask specific questions (How is your grief today? What do you find to be a struggle right now? Could you share something about _____, I love to hear about him/her?) and then listen some more.
If you know them well, you will have many more opportunities to come alongside as a compassionate companion in their grief.
If you don’t know them well or you have a very large congregation, you can still use these general guidelines but also engage the help of someone who does know them and who may be better suited to companion them (with your help and support).
So many bereaved parents struggle with church and with their faith.
Each family and situation will be different.
Reaching out in a timely, encouraging, and understanding way helps them hold onto hope.
I wrote this a few years ago in response to post after post across social media of (mostly!) moms lamenting the fact their son or daughter would soon be moving away or off to college.
I get it!
When you are used to having your kid around it’s tough when he or she leaves the nest.
But there is a vast difference in having to work a little harder to stay in contact or arrange visits and never being able to speak to your child again.
It’s an adjustment to compare calendars to find a day your family can celebrate together but it’s heartbreaking to know that one chair will always be empty at every family gathering.
Read the rest here: Please Be Patient With Me
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