Truest Friends

I totally get why some folks feel the need to pull back when a friend’s life gets hard.

They may be struggling themselves and the idea of even hanging around the edges of another disaster is utterly overwhelming.

But the truest friends bring their broken to our mutual table where we can talk, cry and work on it together.

I’m oh, so thankful for friends like this!

Walking the Valley: Trust After Loss

When this video popped up in my Facebook memories, I was tempted to skip it.

Three years ago I was in a very stressful season of life. My mother was seriously ill, my husband was working away from home and facing daunting challenges, my surviving children were in various stages of transition and I was just plain worn out.

But I stepped out in faith and accepted an invitation to share at a gathering for bereaved parents.

I was used to hiding behind my keyboard, having days to edit and refine what I would say; not opening my mouth and spilling thoughts without any opportunity to call them back.

It was truly frightening and I had no idea it would be recorded.

I don’t like the way I look. I don’t like the way I sound. But I love the message the Lord laid on my heart and enabled me to deliver that day.

So I’m being brave, being transparent, risking whatever judgement others might feel and some might voice to share it here.

{I’m no tech guru and have absolutely no idea how to edit the video so here it is in its entirety. If you’d rather skip the worship music segment, fast forward to the 30 minute mark.}

Three years later I STILL need to preach to myself. I STILL need to exhale my doubts and questions and pain and inhale the truth and grace of Jesus Christ.

I continue to circle round and round, revisiting questions and issues and feelings I thought I’d conquered.

And every single time He meets me there.

I am more convinced than ever that I am only able to stand in the strength and power of my Father God.

Every day I reach out and take hold of the hem of His garment.

And every day that is enough.

He said not ‘Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be dis-eased’; but He said, ‘Thou shalt not be overcome.’

Julian of Norwich

Grace for Today. That’s Enough.

After the sharp stab of loss, I think helplessness is the most frightening thing I have felt in this journey.

When I am overcome with the sense that I will never make it, that I can’t go on, that I am not going to be able to put one foot in front of the other for even one more hour, much less one more day-I cry out to Jesus and tell Him that.

I have never gotten an audible answer, or a miraculous phone call or a perfect note in the mailBUT I think in the moment of absolute surrender, the moment when I know with certainty that I can not do this without His supernatural grace, mercy and strength- HE gives it to me.

Read the rest here: Grace for Right Now

Words To Help A Wounded Heart

I’m a little tender today.

It’s my mother’s birthday-the first one she will celebrate in Heaven and the first we will mark in her absence.

So I’m turning again to quotes that help my wounded heart.

Reading reminds me I’m not the first soul to travel this way.

Others have been here before and left breadcrumbs.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/09/22/saved-bits-for-a-broken-heart/

I Would Not Cease Your Weeping

You’d think I’d know how valuable tears are by now.

But sometimes I forget.

Tears cleanse, they provide release for emotion too deep for words. They are precious.

And when you have someone who understands that, who sits silent in the sacred space where tears fall freely, that is a beautiful gift.

There is a sacredness in tears." - Washington Irving [1600x1067 ...

Let me come in where you are weeping, friend,

And let me take your hand.

I, who have known a sorrow such as yours,

Can understand.

Let me come in — I would be very still

Beside you in your grief;

I would not bid you cease your weeping, friend,

Tears can bring relief.

Let me come in — I would only breathe a prayer,

And hold your hand,

For I have known a sorrow such as yours,

And understand.

Grace Noll Crowell, To One in Sorrow

The Keepers

Those of you who have followed the blog for a bit know that I’ve said over and over and over: there is no limit to the heartache you may have to endure in this life.

The past three years have been the most difficult since the very first year after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven in 2014.

But this memory popped up in my Facebook timeline the other day and reminded me that along with all the hard, there have been some beautiful blessings.

Two years ago around this time I was listening to day after day after day of witnesses giving first one account and then another of events that happened three years prior trying to frame facts so that the twelve jurors would vote a certain way.

Only my friends and family from miles away helped me hold onto the thin thread of hope that truth would prevail.

It was brutal and not something I ever want to repeat.

If you ever wonder if a phone call, text, card or message make a difference, just ask me.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would not have made it without them. 

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Learning To Bear The Burden


I told the two children with me that morning that we were going to survive this awful blow.

And we have.

It has been hard and ugly and more painful than anything else we’ve ever had to do. 

But we’re still standing.

And I want to encourage the hearts that are just starting down this broken road:  You really CAN make it.

Some of you reading this are saying, “But I don’t want to make it.  I want to lie down and give up and be out of this pain.”  

I don’t blame you. 

Read the rest here: Shifting The Weight, Bearing the Burden

Repost: Tomorrow’s Not Guaranteed. Live Like It.

I shared this last year but think it’s especially appropriate for the times we’re living in right now.

Every day is a gift. I’ll say it again: Every. Day. Is. A. Gift.

Don’t waste this season wishing or complaining it away. Don’t toss these moments on the trash heap as worthless. This is your life. This is your family’s life.

Time is the only thing you can never spend twice. Use it wisely.

We say it often.

Usually after someone we know or someone we love or someone famous is suddenly and unexpectedly taken from this life to the next.

And for a few minutes or a few days or a few weeks we think more carefully about what we say, what we do and what we worry about.

Read the rest here: Tomorrow’s Not Guaranteed. Live Like It.

“I Know I Haven’t Lost A Child, But…”


I’m pretty sure that every single grieving parent I know has gotten at least one private message, text or phone call that starts like this,
 “I know that I haven’t lost a child, but…” and ends with some sort of advice that seeks to correct a perceived flaw in how the parent is grieving (in public) his or her missing child.

I know I did.  It was the genesis of this post.

But before you hit “send” on that well-meaning missive, you need to know this:  

You have NO CLUE.

None.

Truly.

No matter if you lost a spouse, parent, close friend or favorite pet-it’s not the same thing.

Read the rest here: Be Quick to Listen, Slow to Speak

Bereaved Parents Month Post: To The Friends I Haven’t Met Yet

I’m not blind to the danger social media poses to in-person friendship.

For lots of people with busy lives and messy houses it’s a no brainer to choose online companionship over face-to-face lunches, brunches or book clubs.

If I can curate my online presence to reflect only my brightest, funniest and most enviable moments (all from the comfort of home in my pajamas!), why not?

But social media isn’t all bad.

In fact, it can be very, very GOOD for lots of people.

It’s been a godsend for my heart.

Read the rest here: To The Friends I Haven’t Met Yet