family – Page 32 – thelifeididntchoose

All The Glory on the Ground

Fall doesn’t last long here in Alabama.

We have summer right through September most years and even into October on occasion.

This year was even shorter-hot, hot, hot, hot, cold!

But no matter how long or short the temperate days I have two or three trees I look for when the cold nights work their magic and the leaves turn bright.

I know I have to drink in their beauty as much as possible because it won’t last for more than a week. And that makes it all the more precious to me.

So I don’t rush by as I’m wont to other times of year. I slow down as I round the curve and gasp again at translucent gold lit bright against a pale blue sky.

One, two, three passes and then one day they’re gone.

A windy rain knocked every one to the earth.

All the glory on the ground.

And my heart notes once again that nothing in this life is forever.

Even the most beautiful and highly treasured things will fade and fall.

People too.

So don’t rush by.

Slow down and drink in the glory of family around the table, coffee with a friend, walks in your neighborhood, cuddles with the kids, hot chocolate around a campfire or the kitchen stove.

Nothing in this life is forever.

❤

Birthday Musings

Today I turn fifty-five.

Not old (not yet!) but hardly young.

My body sometimes tells me I’m older than dirt while my mind plays tricks and lures me into all kinds of childish pursuits.

Mornings I creak down the stairs, holding tightly to the handrail lest I step wrong and end up in a tumble at the bottom

Midday I’m out in the woods picking up interesting bits of nature that I bring inside and set on a shelf-I still ooh and aah over empty cicada shells and help stranded earthworms back into moist soil.

Mostly I kind of plod through time taking it moment by moment except when forced to look ahead and plan for the big things like holidays.

But some days I stop and take stock of the years gone by, the things I’ve done or not done and the things I wish were different.

Birthdays tend to make me do that. And since my birthday always falls near Thanksgiving, I usually add a list of things for which I’m grateful.

I will always be glad that I chose to pour my life into my family. All grown, we still weave our lives together across the miles and in spite of crazy schedules. I have never regretted for a single moment that the one great achievement that will outlive me is my children.

Except for the one I have outlived. And that is my heart’s greatest burden.

I am so thankful for a husband who has graciously provided for our family. I never wrangled a moment over grocery money or necessary homeschooling supplies. That is a gift! (And for his unending support for my crazy livestock lifestyle-here’s this year’s birthday present.)

I have the great privilege of the ongoing companionship of my own parents. We talk every. single. day. even though we are miles apart. These last months of health struggles and Hurricane Michael destruction have forged new links in the chain of love and compassion that bind us to one another.

I have a close circle of “I’ll come over in the middle of the night if you need me” friends. I remember being on the outside looking in for most of my high school years wondering if I would ever have a really, truly best friend. In these years since Dominic ran ahead, God has given me one of the desires of my heart and blessed me with just that kind of friendship.

I have a broader circle of parents that understand what it’s like to send a child ahead to Heaven. They are a safe place to offload comments and questions that the rest of the world would neither appreciate nor comprehend. So many have touched my heart with the right word at the right time. I am overwhelmed by the compassion, grace and kindness of this community.

I write. It helps my heart. And the truly amazing and surprising thing is it seems to help a few other hearts too. I am so thankful that three years ago I followed a prompting to compose that first timid and intimidating post. Now I can’t imagine a morning where I don’t get up in the wee hours to peck away at the keyboard.

Five years ago I celebrated my fiftieth birthday with all my children, my husband, parents and a crowd of friends.

Tonight the celebration will be a little quieter but very precious.

My fiftieth year was to be a jubilee of sorts-a culmination of so many dreams in our family and in my own life.

Instead it was the year we buried Dominic, in addition to the beautiful things we looked forward to.

I’ve stopped making predictions about what a year will bring. But I haven’t stopped looking forward to the good things I know are on the horizon.

This year our family will grow again and that is a great blessing.

So I wake and watch and wait.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Holidays and Grief: Having Hard Conversations

You don’t have to bury a child to know that changing long-standing family traditions around holidays is a hard, hard thing.

Just ask a parent trying to work out Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time after an adult child marries. Suddenly the way things have “always been” are no longer the way things are.

If you’ve decided to try to do things differently this year, you know that means telling other folks who might not like it.

And that’s really hard.

But the sooner you have those conversations, the better.

Because the only thing that makes it worse is procrastinating until it feels like an ambush to your extended family and friends.

Read the rest here: Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations

Grief and Holidays: Some Practical Ideas After Loss

I wish I had found some of these ideas before we headed into our first set of holidays after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

It would have helped so very much.

So I’m sending these out early enough so that someone else may be both validated and liberated in planning how to approach one of the most difficult times of year for bereaved parents.

I pray they reach the heart that needs them. ❤

It cannot be overstated: holidays are extremely hard after loss. Every family gathering highlights the hole where my son SHOULD be, but ISN’T.

There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to handle the holidays after losing a child.

For many, there is only survival-especially the very first year.

These days also stir great internal conflict: I want to enjoy and celebrate my living children and my family still here while missing my son that isn’t. Emotions run high and are, oh so difficult to manage.

Read the rest here: Practical Ideas for Dealing with the Holidays after Child Loss

What the Bereaved Need from Friends and Family (But Might Not Tell You)

I know it is hard. I know you don’t truly understand how I feel. You can’t. It wasn’t your child.

I know I may look and act like I’m “better”. I know that you would love for things to be like they were: BEFORE. But they aren’t.

I know my grief interferes with your plans. I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years. But I can’t help it. I didn’t ask for this to be my life.

I know that every year I seem to need something different. I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating. But I’m working this out as I go. I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son. It’s new for me every year too.

Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

Grief and Holidays: How Can I Make It Through?

The calendar is tricky for grieving hearts.

It’s not just a way to plan events or remember doctor appointments.

It’s full of milestone dates and commitments that loom large and awful like an oncoming train in a dark tunnel.

Sometimes I just want to fall asleep sometime around the end of October and wake up in January after all the hoopla is over.

But I can’t.

It’s not because I’m a Scrooge-I actually love making and giving gifts, I like baking cookies and breads, I enjoy cozy evenings with family in front of the fireplace.

What I don’t like is the busyness, the crowds, the push to be hap-hap-happy all the time and the crazy consumerism that crowds out the quiet peace of the promise of Light in the darkness.

I also struggle with meeting expectations-my own and those of others’-as well as enduring loud and slightly chaotic gatherings.

This will be the fifth set of holidays since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven and we have yet to settle on a pattern for how to approach them. Each year has been different and each year has presented new challenges.

I think the two things I’ve learned so far are this: (1) It’s OK to do things differently or to skip some things altogether; and (2) It’s important to communicate my needs and limitations to those around me.

Timing matters too.

I need to prepare family and friends NOW for the changes coming to holiday plans.

So for the next few days I’m going to repost some of the articles I’ve written about how to survive the holidays with a grieving heart.

They are not a “how-to” manual-just some observations and suggestions.

Take what is helpful and leave the rest.

In the end, each heart needs to find its own path.

I pray you find yours. ❤

Repost: Being There-No Substitute for Showing Up

I totally get it–we are ALL so busy.

Calendars crammed weeks and months in advance and no white space left over to pencil in lunch with a friend even though we desperately NEED it.

It seems impossible to make that call, write that note or stop by and visit a few minutes.

How can I meet my obligations if I use precious time doing the optional?

But when the unexpected, unimaginable and awful happens, suddenly that calendar and all those appointments don’t matter.

Balls drop everywhere and I don’t care.

Read the rest here: Being There: No Substitute For Showing Up

Free Seminar: Grief and Holidays

I’m hosting a seminar for bereaved moms October 18th. I’ve got it set up as an event on Facebook but I wanted to share it here to make sure no one misses out. ❤

It’s not going to be anything fancy but I hope it will help some of us gird our loins for the last two months of the year that prove challenging to all of us whose child has run ahead to Heaven.

A precious friend who is an amazing baker and caterer will be furnishing the food.

I will be sharing from some things I’ve written in the past and some new things I’ve learned about this year.

We’ll open things up so others who want to can share what has/hasn’t worked for them in the past and we’ll allow for questions and brainstorming.

So bring your appetite, bring a notebook and join us!

We *may* try to Facebook live my talk but don’t depend on that since internet connections out here in the woods aren’t always reliable or strong enough to stream anything.

It’s listed publicly as an event on my own Facebook page and on my public Heartache and Hope page so please go THERE and RSVP if interested.

Here are the important details:

Grief and Holidays Seminar and Supper for Bereaved Moms

Thursday, October 18

6:30-9:30 pm (don’t be thrown off by the length-we will stay and share up to that time, but if you need to leave sooner you certainly can)

Johntown Baptist Church

5201 Vance Road

West Blocton, AL 35184 (About 30/35 minutes from Tuscaloosa, AL and about 45-65 minutes from most Birmingham, AL locations)

There is plenty of space but we need a head count for food and handouts, so RSVP by Sunday, October 14th.

Grief: Why I Still Need Grace From Friends and Family

There have been a number of television shows lately centered around families and personal tragedy that simultaneously draws them closer and tears them apart.

Some of the writers and actors are doing a good job showing what it looks like to live through a nightmare.

Some, not so much.

But none of them will take it out to years and decades-the audience would lose interest, decide that story line needed refreshing or simply needed to GO.

For those living with child loss, it’s no story line. We don’t get to walk away, change the channel, find some new and more interesting or more comfortable screen to watch.

It’s our life.

And we need folks who will hang in and hang on while we live it out. ❤

You cannot possibly know that scented soap takes me back to my son’s apartment in an instant.

You weren’t there when I cleaned it for the last time, boxed up the contents under the sink and wiped the beautiful, greasy hand prints off the shower wall. He had worked on a friend’s car that night, jumped in to clean up and was off.

He never made it home.

So when I come out of the room red-eyed, teary and quiet, please don’t look at me like I’m a freak.

Please don’t corner me and ask, “What’s wrong?” Or worse-please, please, please don’t suggest I should be “over it by now”.

Read the rest here: Grief and Grace:What I Need from Friends and Family

Help! My Family Won’t Talk About My Missing Child.

At first everyone talked about him.

It’s what people do just after a person leaves this world and leaves behind only memories.

It comes natural before the unnatural fact of child loss settles in and begins to make everyone uncomfortable.

But at some point after the funeral and way before the tears dried up, people stopped feeling easy mentioning his name.

And when I mentioned him, they weren’t sure whether they should just let those words fall with a “thud!” between us or pick up the conversational ball and run with it.

It’s a bit easier to understand when friends do it.

But so, so many bereaved parents lament the fact that even family members stop saying their missing child’s name aloud.

They stop sharing memories and stop acknowledging the place he or she holds in a parent’s heart regardless of their permanent address.

It hurts. A LOT.

I realized after the first six months or so that most people (including my family) didn’t know HOW to talk about my missing son.

So I began modeling it for them: I spoke of memories in past tense as I would for anyone, I spoke of character traits in present tense– because he is still all that plus some in Heaven-and I refused to ignore the elephant in the room.

I told them it was impossible to make me sadder by mentioning Dominic but it was very possible to make my burden heavier by NOT mentioning him. They were not reminding me that he was gone, I breathe his absence in and out like oxygen all day long.

I know it seems unfair that we must simultaneously learn by (awful and heartbreaking!) experience and also educate those around us, but it is what it is.

If I’m honest, though, before Dominic ran ahead to heaven I didn’t really know how to talk about a young person who died. It’s natural to reminisce about Grandmama’s favorite recipe or the old-fashioned way she did her hair. It’s positively Unnatural to speak in past tense about a young, vibrant human being that you never expected to outlive.

There are always going to be some folks-even family-who cannot or will not speak about my child in Heaven.

I can’t force them to do it.

But I can encourage the ones who do by telling them what a beautiful gift it is to hear his name on their lips.

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