Palm Sunday 2021: What If I’m Not Rescued?

If you haven’t watched the body of someone you love lowered into the ground while holding your breath and praying, praying, praying that somehow, some way this isn’t real then maybe you can’t imagine what it feels like not to be spared.

Me? It doesn’t take but a single breath to go from “everything is alright” to “my world is shattered”. I feel every. single. death. added to the tally coronavirus or mass shooting or tornado destruction leaves behind.

So what do we do if we aren’t rescued? What do we cling to if our family isn’t spared?

What if all the prayers lifted on behalf of ones I love don’t stop death from claiming them?

When Jesus entered Jerusalem He was hailed as a hero. But when He didn’t perform as expected He was cast aside.

Will I choose to believe even when it’s hard?

So what if I’m not rescued?

What if my family isn’t spared?

What if all the faithful prayers lifted on behalf of ones I love don’t stop death from claiming them?

Will I still believe?

Will I still trust that God is a loving Father who is in control and working all things together for His glory and my good?

Read the rest here: Palm Sunday 2020: What If I’m Not Rescued?

Seeking Peace/Battling Anxiety: The End From The Beginning


Some people insist on reading the end of a book first.

They want to know if the characters they may grow to love end up well and happy.

Me? I start at the front and work my way through letting things unfold as the author intended.

I will admit though there are times when I’d kinda sorta like to have a heads up in real life.

Read the rest here: Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace: The End From The Beginning

Scripture Journal Challenge: Seeking Peace/Battling Anxiety

Friends, can I just say that I’m tired? I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of the parade of good news/bad news and give a little, take a lot.

I need to feed my soul with truth that helps my heart hold onto hope.

So I’m going to replay this short series from last spring when the world as we knew it largely disappeared.

The reason for our anxiety may have changed a bit (there IS a vaccine now) but I suspect that some of us are just as anxious.

And who doesn’t crave peace?

If your heart is worn and weary, come along precious one. I know exactly where we can find rest.

❤ Melanie

Remember last August when we did a Scripture Journal Challenge on grief?

Well, I don’t know about you, but I need another one.

Television, social media news feeds and online searches scream one frightening headline after another and I need to be reminded Who is in control and to Whom I belong.

So this time we will focus on Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace.

Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Battling Anxiety, Seeking Peace

Loss Is Relentless

This seeming never-ending funk that most of the world is walking through is familiar territory for me and my family.

We’ve opened our eyes to thousands of mornings knowing the one thing we would change if we could is outside our control.

That’s probably a new and very disturbing feeling for the majority of those waiting for this pandemic to end.

It WILL end though. Eventually scientists and policy makers and regular folks will figure out a way to manage the threat and return to normal(ish) life.

But some of us will emerge on the other side of this season carrying the new and unrelenting burden of loss.

And nothing will ever be normal again.

re·lent·less

adjective

opressively constant; incessant.

Read the rest here: Relentless

[Under] Motivated

Yesterday I finished a short video for a bereaved parents event that should have been completed a week (or two!) ago.

I just kept putting it off and putting it off for no good reason other than I didn’t want to do it.

It wasn’t hard, didn’t cover ground I haven’t already explored dozens of times and really only took about thirty minutes to complete including set up and recording.

But I just wasn’t feeling it.

I’ve been more than a little undermotivated these past few months and as I enter what I call my “season of sorrow” marking Dominic’s departure for Heaven, it’s gotten worse.

There have been a lot of changes and adjustments in the past twelve months-some associated with the larger pandemic story and impact and some peculiar to my family. All of those in addition to the usual ebb and flow of grief (yes, even after nearly seven years!) have contributed to a (not laudable) attitude of, “What difference does it make?”.

It’s kind of the emotional equivalent of stretchy pants. It’s easy to ignore a few extra pounds or inches as long as you can still fit in your clothes.

I’m weary of death.

Weary of daily social media posts pitting one “side” against the other as if there could possibly be any “winners” in this awful scenario where the virus is claiming lives and the attempt to limit death is claiming businesses, young folks’ college years and individuals’ mental health as they face isolation and devastation.

I’ve been weepy the past few days thinking of the parents who have had to bury children (whatever age) and spouses burying lifetime partners. I don’t have an answer for any of this except that I wish we would all be more compassionate and less territorial or political.

There is a very happy and exciting visit on the horizon that is lighting a fire under my backside. I hope I can overcome my lack of motivation and choose to lean in and work hard to get ready for it.

I want to, with all my heart.

I hope to, with as much energy as I can muster.

My default (in the past) has always been running wide open.

Let’s see if I can rekindle that flame.

Everyday Bravery

If we haven’t already we will soon surpass the total number of Americans killed in WW II (in four years) with the number of Americans killed by (or whose deaths were hastened by) COVID19 (in less than a year).

In addition to those grieving the death of a loved one are those grieving the death of financial security, jobs, dreams and freedom.

May I just tell you this?

You are not invisible. Your struggle matters. Your everyday bravery in opening eyes to an unchanged and devastating reality is laudable and noted.

❤ Melanie

Child loss is not the only devastating life circumstance that can make a person want to hide in bed.  

Every single day, broken hearts, broken bodies and limping spirits open their eyes to the dawn and choose to get up and get going.

Read the rest here: You are Braver than You Think

Solitude, Isolation? How Can I Tell The Difference?

I know these days so many of us are spending more time at home, more time alone.

For introverts or wounded hearts not having to turn down invitations can seem like a gift.

But it’s easy to slide from solitude (healthy, restorative alone time) into isolation (unhealthy, depleting separation). So I ask myself a few questions to help sort it out.

If you are feeling increasingly alone and forgotten, full of despair and abandoned, you might want to use this checklist too.

Even in this era of social (physical) distancing a heart can and absolutely should seek out community.

It’s what we were made for.

I’ve always loved my alone time.

As an introvert (who can, if pressed pretend not to be!) my energy is restored when I interact with one or two folks or no one at all.  A dream afternoon is writing while listening to nothing louder than the wind chimes outside my door.

I treasure solitude.

Since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I find I need even more alone time than before.

That quiet place is where I do my most effective grief work, undisturbed by interruptions and distractions.

But I need to be careful that solitude doesn’t shift into isolation. 

Read the rest here: Solitude or Isolation? Which is it?

New Year Reflections

This year has been challenging in ways I could never have imagined nor anticipated. It’s been that way for most of us I think.

Communal grief, pain and loss have wrapped themselves around the unique grief, pain and loss of hearts everywhere.

Definitely plenty to give a person pause.

And while I do believe it’s a good thing to reflect every so often I’m not certain it has to be on the same date every year.

But since the world seems to agree on this one, I’ll join in:

Turning a calendar page doesn’t guarantee a fresh start. Resolutions, affirmations, hopeful aspirations can’t erase the marks we bear from previous life experiences. I’m all for declaring boldly that tomorrow may be better but I’ve learned the hard way it might be worse. So I hold my hands open either way and adjust my stance to accept whichever it may be.

Attitude makes a difference. I despise silly little mantras that claim I can will my way out of every dark and desperate situation. Bad things happen. Sorrow and sadness are appropriate and reasonable reactions to hard times. Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but feel the feelings, let the tears fall and allow my heart to experience the pain. But I can choose to turn my attention to whatever may still be beautiful in my world. I can lift my eyes to tiny flickers of light on the horizon. I can embrace joy along with sorrow.

My worth is not tied to external accomplishments or society’s arbitrary markers of success. I refuse to listen to the enemy’s lies whispered in my ear, “You are less than. You are a failure. You only count if your ‘wins’ outweigh your ‘losses'”. A new year may feel like a new beginning but it can also be a stark reminder of last year’s list of resolutions that may or may not have yielded measurable progress. Striving for improvement is healthy. Beating myself up for not meeting every goal is not.

Things can be replaced, people can’t. I’m not making light of the very real and very painful loss so many people have suffered this year as businesses failed, income dwindled and hopes for financial progress dashed. It’s no small thing to come back to ashes where your home once stood. Standing in line at a community food bank for a box when you used to stand in line at the grocery store is humbling. But if my family is alive and (relatively) well at the end of the year, we can work the rest out together.

The only investment with a guaranteed return is love. Sure I try to plan for the future. I eat right, exercise, save money and maintain my home and car all in the hope that investing time, energy and effort today will pay off tomorrow. But truth is (as we’ve all learned this year!) outside and unseen forces can undo the best laid plans and preparation. But love is never wasted or destroyed. All the love I pour into others lasts forever.

This time last year I was hope-filled and looking forward to a less stressful, amazing twelve months.

That’s not how it turned out.

I’ve learned some things though.

So I’ll carry that wisdom into 2021-no lofty resolutions or proclamations-and settle for survival.

A New Year’s Prayer For Hurting Hearts

Some of us enter trembling through the door of a new year. 

This last year wasn’t so good and our hearts are broken.

What if the next year is worse?  How will we manage?  Where can we hide from bad news, bad outcomes, disastrous trauma?

Truth is, we can’t.  

So here we are, bravely marching in, hanging on to hope and begging God for mercy.  

Read the rest here: New Year’s Prayer for Hurting Hearts

So, So Tired of the “Moral High Ground”

Y’all-I’m exhausted.

I’m so, so tired of navigating social media, regular media and personal conversations where one person claims to be morally superior because he or she is wearing/not wearing a mask, taking/not taking the vaccine, traveling to be with family for the holidays or staying home.

I’m worn out with memes and odd glances and offhand comments that make judgements about another human being without knowing one. single. thing. about the other person they claim to understand.

How masks have appeared in art - BBC Culture

Here’s a warning: I’m often honest and open in this space but not often raw. I’m about to be very, very raw.

I wear a mask and am cautious about social exposure for extremely personal reasons.

My son died alone.

I was not there to hold his hand as he took his last breath. I have no way to know if he was frightened, comforted by angels or the Lord’s holy Presence. I don’t know if he called out for me or was senseless.

But all those questions haunt me every night before I finally fall asleep if I let them.

So the idea of being unable to be with a loved one when he or she leaves this world is more than my heart can bear. If something I can do, or they can do (like wear a mask or limit exposure or take a vaccine) means I won’t have to face that, I’m all for it!

My mother died from pneumonia following a stroke.

I wasn’t there but my father was and I heard his frantic voice on the other end of the phone line when I picked up in the middle of the night. We rushed to the hospital but it was too late.

So the idea of another loved one struggling for life-giving oxygen while nothing more can be done to give it to them breaks my heart. If wearing a mask or staying away or managing the number of social contacts is what it takes to minimize that risk, it’s a no brainer for me.

Mask answers No. 3: My face is breaking out, now what? | Novant Health |  Healthy Headlines

I’m not afraid of Covid.

I’m not afraid of death.

I’m afraid of loss.

I realize I fall squarely on the side of caution and you might fall on the other side.

I respect that.

All I ask is that you not judge me any more than I am judging you. Make space in your heart for someone who may, for very personal and very reasonable, reasons have come to a different conclusion.

Each of us walks in the world according to our experience and our convictions.

I promise not to impose mine on you.

And I promise not to make assumptions about yours.