Tag: encourgagement

Discerning Biblical Truth: A Conference for Bereaved Parents (and Those Who Want to Help)

I love that social media and online resources mean no bereaved parent has to feel alone or be alone.

But as we’ve learned from three long years of forced isolation, there’s really no substitute for a hug and an in-person smile. There is just something amazing that happens when someone literally comes alongside and says, “Me too.”

That’s why I am excited to be part of an upcoming conference offered by Our Hearts Are Home, an organization founded by fellow bereaved parents, Gary and Laura House.

Y’all know that I don’t do a lot of in-person retreats or conferences.

Even though I love the energy and connection, life has been so demanding and often chaotic for the past several years, I simply couldn’t commit to something weeks or months down the road. The stress of worrying about having to back out at the last minute was too much.

So when I pulled out my calendar and wrote (in ink!) that I would be part of this conference it was a BIG DEAL. It was also a leap of faith-faith in God giving me the words and faith in trusting someone else to shape a space where I could speak them.

I’m as vulnerable as the next bereaved parent.

Years of spilling my experience across the Internet haven’t really made it any easier to do it in person and in public. I’m much more comfortable writing in the quiet of my own home at the kitchen table where I get second chances and can edit what is ultimately shared with others.

Still, this opportunity was one I didn’t want to miss.

Along with sharing our stories, the parents participating in the panel of presenters will be sharing our hearts, our faith journeys and the words and practices that have helped us hold onto hope in the midst of life’s greatest heartache and challenge.

It will be a unique combination of authentic experience and exhortation from those who are living with child loss and who also love Jesus.

I understand if you are too early in this journey to even consider gathering in a room with others who have the same heartache.

It was a long time before I could do that. But may I encourage you to consider taking part online? Or, if you are just beginning to feel a tiny stir in your spirit that says, “Go ahead! It might do you good!” then sign up and join us face-to-face.

I can’t promise there won’t be tears but I CAN promise there will be joy and laughter. Some of the best, most life-affirming moments I’ve had since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven were in the company of others who are missing their Heaven-dwelling children too.

So if your aching heart and weary soul are searching for a safe space to be encouraged, uplifted and filled with honest answers along with biblical truth, please consider joining me for this event.

I’m confident you won’t be disappointed.

Here’s the link: https://ourheartsarehome.org/conference

P.S. If you are interested in “meeting” some of us who will be there, you can find several of our stories in the book published and edited by Gary and Laura here: https://www.amazon.com/Until-Then-Stories-Loss-Hope/dp/B0BFF2LVBL

I Would Love to Just Be Me

I first shared this post in 2018 when I was approaching the four year milestone of Dominic’s leaving for Heaven.

By that time most folks who knew me when he died had relegated that part of my story to some ancient past that surely I was over by now. I’d met others who had no clue my heart skipped a beat on a regular basis because one of my children was buried in the churchyard down the road.

And even the closest ones-the ones I thought would understand forever-were sometimes impatient with my ongoing refusal to leave Dominic behind and be “healed” of my grief.

I was reminded of it recently when several bereaved parents shared some painful grief attacks suffered around the holidays even though it has been years or even decades since their child ran ahead to Heaven.

Truth is, I will never be fully healed on earth from the awful wound of child loss. I continue to be subject to the sharp stab of missing and longing that drags my heart back to the first devastating moment.

And when that happens, I can’t fake it.

What I long for more than anything as the ninth anniversary of his departure draws near is simply this: Let me be me, whatever that looks like.

So please don’t try to fit my journey into your mold. 

❤ Melanie

Even in the very first hours after the news, my brain began instructing my heart, “Now, try to be brave.  Try not to disappoint people.  Try to say the right thing, do the right thing and be the example you should be.”

Whatever that meant.

Read the rest here: Can I Just Be Me?

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

Which Weighs More?

Remember the childhood riddle, “Which is heavier, a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers?”

feathers

It was great fun to catch someone giving the wrong answer.

Because, of course, a ton is a ton is a ton.  Weight is an absolute measure.

But it takes fewer bricks to reach that quota although it takes just as much strength to lift the burden.

weights-dumbbells

One thing I’m learning in my grief journey is that there are so many people carrying a load.

I find my compassion radar has been fine-tuned to hear even the faintest whisper of hurt in someone’s voice, to see the tiniest gleam of a tear, to notice the smallest stoop of shoulders or the beginning of a frown.

And while some of us have had our ton of pain and sorrow delivered via bricks-suddenly, forcefully and overwhelmingly dumped-others have acquired their ton over a lifetime of disappointment, struggle and testing.

They both weigh a ton.  

And they both require great strength to carry.

It’s a challenge to resist the urge to rank my experience on a continuum of pain.

Although I bridle when people compare their loss of a pet or job to my loss of a child (as I wrote about here), I do try to extend grace when others expose their own wounds.

I want to comfort other people with the comfort I have received.  Not only the comfort from Christ-which is the ultimate comfort-but also the comfort I’ve received from wise friends and caring sisters-in-loss.

I want to be a listening ear, a compassionate heart and an outstretched hand.

Reaching Out to Help Someone in Despair

I want to be a witness, a fellow traveler on the journey, an encourager.

Grief

is grief

is grief.

A ton is a ton is a ton.