grief work – thelifeididntchoose

Child Loss and Self Care: Choosing to Rest

It’s hard sometimes to admit that I’ve reached the end of my physical strength.

I’m much more adept at finding the edges of my emotional limits. I’m even half-way good at understanding that my brain just isn’t what it used to be.

But giving up on getting up? That feels like defeat to me.

But it’s not.

I am a fragile human being and just like all human beings have limits. My body can only take so much. If I push too far past the boundary of exhaustion it will take more than rest to bring it back to working order.

So today, after months of stress, mental strain and travel, I’m resting.

Not just sitting down for a few minutes between chores but curling up with a book and glass of tea and not moving all day.

At least that’s my plan.

We’ll see how it goes.

I really need to rest.

I hope I can.

Child Loss and Holidays 2026: Forgiveness and Healthy Boundaries

Holidays definitely challenge boundaries, don’t they?

Even in healthy relationships it’s easy to feel manipulated into going places and doing things we are ordinarily able to resist.

Often someone may accuse us of “unforgiveness” when we choose to set a healthy boundary.

We can absolutely forgive someone and still decide there are limits.

I do not believe that in offering genuine forgiveness I am required to again submit myself to another person’s hurtful or sinful behavior.

I do believe that forgiveness releases that person from past offenses against me but it does not release them to continue to wound my heart.

And I will stand up any time, anywhere and defend my. right to create healthy boundaries between my heart and someone who has proven, time and again, that they intend to do just that.

What does this look like in real life?

It means that I can call, write or tell someone that I truly forgive them for whatever pain they have caused me in the past. That frees MY heart.

But if that person refuses to change his or her behavior, I am not obligated to allow them close enough to hurt me again.

It is NOT proof of an unforgiving heart to set up healthy boundaries.

It is wisdom.

So I don’t have to invite them to every event. I don’t have to allow them to corner me at gatherings where we both may attend. I don’t have to tell them all the news in my life or include them in my circle of closest comrades.

I can be polite. I will refuse to spread malicious gossip about them and not continue to talk about the old wounds for which I’ve forgiven them.

When my heart tries to resurrect the forgiven offenses, I will remind it that those are no longer relevant. I will not let bitterness overtake me.

There’s a compelling and beautiful anecdote about Corrie Ten Boom and forgiveness:

After WW II, Corrie traveled Europe speaking on the grace of God found even in Ravensbruck, the concentration camp where she was imprisoned and in which her sister died.

After one such talk, a German man came up to her and mentioned that he had been a guard at that camp. Corrie recognized him though he, of course, did not recognize her.

He thanked her for what she shared and put out his hand to shake hers. At that moment, she knew what she SHOULD do, but she did not want to do it. She did not want to touch this man’s hand and offer forgiveness for what many felt was utterly unforgivable.

But God convicted her heart and in obedience she extended her hand. She speaks of how she felt the Lord’s love and forgiveness wash over her and flow through her when she acted in obedience.

She never saw him again.

But for many of us, we continue to see and rub shoulders with the ones who have wounded us.

And if Corrie had again been forced into a concentration camp, she would not have been wrong to go kicking and screaming.

Forgiving that German guard did not excuse what he had done nor did it mean that if he was intent on repeating it that she (or anyone else) had to simply go along.

You do not have to allow another person to use you as a punching bag. You do not have to subject your heart to verbal or emotional abuse. You do not have to prove the sincerity of your forgiveness by enabling continued bad behavior.

That’s neither wise nor helpful.

Boundaries are OK.

They are necessary.

And they do not mean you haven’t forgiven someone.

Child Loss and Holidays 2026: What IS Forgiveness?

Part of preparing for the holidays is getting ready to face folks who we might have successfully avoided the rest of the year.

Many times we choose not to include them in daily life because they have wounded us in the past or are continuing to wound us in the present.

It’s hard to forgive someone who doesn’t want to change or who isn’t even remotely interested in having a conversation about how they have hurt our heart.

But the truth is, forgiveness frees ME from the tyranny of waiting for THEM to be different.

So, in the hopes of helping others who, like myself, sometimes struggle with feelings of unforgiveness, I’m sharing a few posts I’ve written on the topic.

It’s an area I have to work on often and especially this time of the year when I am forced to rub shoulders with those I prefer to keep at arm’s length.

A few years ago someone asked me for my definition of forgiveness.

It caught me off guard.

She had been sharing details of a very painful situation with someone who is clearly intent on making her life difficult “just because”.

I had to think about it.

After a few seconds I told her that at its most basic level, I thought forgiveness was completely releasing another from the debt of making things right, making amends or changing in their intentions or behavior toward me.

And then I realized it was precisely what I thought even though I’d never framed it exactly like that before.

I’ve sat with my words for a several days now and I have a few more thoughts.

My definition may lack precision in terms of theology but it is absolutely congruent with lived experience.

It bridges the gap I (and many others) feel between what feels like real forgiveness (releasing the debt) and also still not trusting a particular individual enough to allow them in my life.

I can’t imagine a single soul walking in this world for very long without having at least someone wound them deeply. And it’s no good just trying to ignore the pain or paper it over or distract yourself from it. I eventually find it gnaws a hole in my heart.

When that happens, it’s necessary (for my own mental, emotional and spiritual health) to face it and deal with it.

That’s when the choice to forgive can release the energy that will otherwise be expressed in bitterness or anger or sarcasm or avoidance or unfulfilling and often harmful choices.

If I forgive-release another from the debt of making things right or making amends or changing in their intentions or behavior toward me-then I am no longer held hostage to what they do or don’t do, say or don’t say.

It is real and freeing.

Doing that, I can more accurately evaluate whether the individual is a safe one whom I can allow back into my life:

Is their behavior consistent?
Are their intentions good and loving or hurtful and mean?
Can I trust them?

You do not have to allow them back in if they are not worthy of that privilege.

So, so many bereaved parents have been wounded in so, so many ways.

Sometimes by those they love. Sometimes by strangers who contributed to the death of their child. Sometimes by others who have made it difficult or impossible to do the work grief requires.

Those that inflict the wounds may be repentant or they may not.

That’s outside our control.

But we all have the opportunity to make the choice to release the debt and free ourselves of the ongoing burden of caring whether they are sorry or not.

And that is work well done.

Child Loss and Holidays: Practical Ideas for Dealing With the Holidays

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.

So I’m including some ideas from other bereaved parents on how they’ve handled the holidays. Many of these suggestions could be adapted for any “special” day of the year.

Not all will appeal to everyone nor will they be appropriate for every family. But they are a place to start.

If you have decided to make a Holiday Journal, consider printing these ideas to put inside or copying out the ones that might be helpful for you.

Skip it.

Sounds drastic and it is. But for some families (especially if there are no small children involved) it is absolutely possible (and sometimes healing) to ignore all traditions and trappings associated with Thanksgiving and Christmas.
You might choose to serve others on these days by volunteering with a local organization offering meals to the homeless or disadvantaged in your community.
Take a holiday meal to hospital workers, police officers or firemen in your area. You can do it anonymously or in the name of your child.

Consider traveling for the holidays.

On the first Thanksgiving after my son left us, we shared the weekend with our newly married son and his wife in another state. It was the first time in my life I hadn’t spent the holiday with my parents. It was still very hard, but helpful in a way.
Other families have chosen to rent a cabin or condo and have the same people involved but experience the season in another location. Most try to choose a place with a natural focus for activity that isn’t all about the holiday-like skiing in the mountains or near a lake or beach.

Change how you do meals.

If your family traditions always include the same foods in the same house, you might want to eat the holiday meal in a restaurant instead.
You could swap up the timing of a meal-evening instead of noon or vice-versa.
Change up the guest list-include a few close friends along with family members (friends that understand your grief). Sometimes it helps to have others not so affected by the loss in the mix.
If you have been the host but don’t feel like you can do it this year-definitely consider passing that to someone else. And don’t feel guilty about it.
Include the missing family members at the table in some way. One bereaved mom wrote: “My niece includes my son and mom at events hosted in her home. She sets a chair aside and places a photo in the seat and a commemorative bow on the chair back.”
Don’t make certain foods. I make giant plates of cookies but have not made shortbread cookies since my son left us. It was his favorite and one of the few things that tempted him from his strict weight-lifting diet
Make your child’s favorites and enjoy eating them and sharing memories around the table.

Let others do the planning/cooking/communicating.

Explain to your family that you aren’t up to being the one to plan this year’s holidays. Let someone else do it. Participate if and when you can.
Be kind, but stand your ground.

Make new traditions.

If you go around the table at Thanksgiving saying, “I’m thankful for…“-it might not be something you can do this year. That’s OK.
Light a candle for the missing child. You might want to have those present share a favorite memory or you might simply want to have the candle create a silent presence.
Some families can’t bring themselves to use the same Christmas tree they used before loss so they get a new and/or different one. Some don’t want a tree at all.
Some families have a separate tree full of ornaments or memorabilia for their missing child and use the main tree as usual for the rest of the family.
“I have a separate tree for Z. . It’s filled with ornaments that remind us of him. They range from glass ornaments with his favorite candy inside to a Thomas the tank engine ornament. Collecting more ornaments for him as I’m out shopping for others helps me during this very painful time.”
Some families don’t hang any stockings while others hang them all, including the missing child’s.
Another family asks family members and friends to write a note to their son or share a favorite memory of him. They place them in his stocking to be opened and read on Christmas Day.
“We asked everyone to do a random act of kindness in memory of our daughter and our friends’ son and to email it to us. We printed out all of the emails, put them in her stocking and read them as a family on Christmas morning. It was amazing to hear all of the lives touched as a result, and it took our focus off of our loss.”
My husband, children (all adults) and myself didn’t want to receive gifts from extended family the first year. We still gave them, but asked that others refrain or give a donation in our son’s name.
Some families buy gifts that would be appropriate for another child the same age as their missing child (or the age they would be) and give them to another child for Christmas.

Commemorate your child:

Some bereaved parents put a Christmas tree with solar powered or battery powered lights on their child’s resting place.
Some parents take family photos and include a large photo of their missing child or a special family memento (like a stuffed animal or symbol on a shirt) to represent that child in the pictures.
Some families give donations in their child’s name to organizations that purchase Christmas gifts for needy families or food for families at Thanksgiving.
In some communities there is a “Blue Christmas” ceremony on December 21st each year in which families gather to remember lost loved ones with music, candles and sometimes a devotional message. Some are sponsored by local chapters of The Compassionate Friends. If there is not one in your area, your church may be willing to host one.

Keep the same traditions:

For some families, keeping everything the same is the most comforting choice. Especially if there are young children involved, it may be the easiest way to go.
But feel free to ask for help. If you are not up to shopping for children in the family, make a list, let someone else do it and wrap the presents for you. Or use an online shopping service (many offer gift wrap).
Same goes for holiday outings-maybe a good family friend or an extended family member could take the children this year and document it with photos.

Whatever you choose to do or not do, know that there’s no wrong way or right way.

Be gentle with yourself-this is a hard road. And a long one.

Photo credit: State Farm via Visual hunt

Child Loss and Holidays 2026: What the Bereaved NEED From Family and Friends

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.

So I’m trying to make it easier on all of us.

I’m trying to be brave and think ahead and offer up what I can to help you understand.

I’m not asking you to stuff your feelings. But I am asking you to weigh your disappointment in things being different against my unfathomable sorrow in burying my child.

And this is what I need from YOU:

Acknowledge my loss. It doesn’t matter if it has been a few months, a few years or even decades-every single time the whole family gets together, the hole where my child SHOULD be is highlighted. Other people may have moved on, and I am stronger now than I was, but the missing is as hard today as it was the day he left. I need you to acknowledge that even if you don’t understand it.

Be flexible. Every day is different for me. And even if we did a certain thing last year, it may not be something I want to repeat. Life circumstances continue to evolve-living children grow and marry, grandchildren make their appearance, health issues may emerge and change physical capabilities-life keeps on regardless of loss. So this year is DIFFERENT than last year. For everyone. If we all embrace flexibility, there’s less opportunity for breakage. Rubber bounces. Glass shatters. I don’t want my loss to be the central focus, but it’s a huge part of my experience and I can’t ignore it. Help me, please.

Give me space. Grant space in the larger picture-don’t make showing up to every family event a “mandatory option”. Understand that even with planning and the best intentions, I may wake up and realize that I. just. can’t. do. it. Or I may come, but leave early. And grant space in the details-if I walk out of a room, let me go. It may be helpful for one person to check on me after a few minutes but don’t send the calvary to drag me back. I don’t always want to detract from a gathering and I may need to cry, or gather myself, or just sit silently remembering my son.

Give me time. Time by itself does not heal anything. But time is a critical component of healing. If this is the first holiday season after loss, don’t pressure me with artificial deadlines about what I want to do or whether or not I’m going to participate in this or that. And even if it’s not the first season, I still need time. It will be the third set of holidays after my son’s departure and I’m still feeling my way in the dark. Don’t force me to decide if I can’t. Just go on with your plans. If I can join in, I will. If I can’t, then I won’t. That’s the best I can do. It’s how I have to live every single day right now.

Grant mercy. I will mess up. I will say things in the passion of loss that I regret. Overlook it. Don’t lash out or hit back. My emotional tank is so empty sometimes that it’s a wonder I can still feel anything. I am truly trying. Grant mercy.

Extend grace. Grace is lavishing love on the unlovely. Forgiving when someone doesn’t ask for it. Doing something for someone and not expecting anything in return. Step up and step out in faith that loving me will help me heal. Even when you can’t see that it makes a difference. Don’t stop. Don’t withdraw.

Know that this is not what I would have chosen.

Child loss happened TO me.

It is out of my control.

And the calendar pages keep turning. Every holiday season means another year gone without the companionship of the child I miss.

I want to continue to embrace life, to enjoy my loved ones, to make new memories. But I need your help to make it happen.

Don’t abandon me now.

Child Loss and Holidays 2026: 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.

Holidays typically involve so many more people and family members than everyday get-togethers and each person brings expectations, emotions and personal history to the table.

So, that is why I decided to run this series of posts NOW. Because one of the things I have learned over the years is that giving people time to adjust to change is a good thing.

If you have made a Holiday Journal like I suggested, then use a page to list all the people that are typically part of your family’s holiday plans-you might want to make subheadings by holiday (and there may be other special get-togethers your family observes, so include those).

That list is a starting point for the people you may need to communicate with about the upcoming holidays.

Don’t feel like you have to include each individual in a unique communication-you can focus on those who are “in charge” of the gatherings/traditions and request that they pass it along.

Here are some specific tips for reaching out:

Understand that they DO NOT understand.

I know that unless someone has experienced child loss themselves, they really do not understand what it feels like. (You might choose to share this post to help them understand-just a bit:What Grieving Parents Want Others to Know)
No matter how much they may want to, they cannot really feel what I feel. I have to constantly remind myself of that.

Don’t wait.

The closer we get to those dates on the calendar the more likely that others will assume you are just going to continue the traditions.
Most people dislike change. And they hate it even more when it is a last minute change. So don’t delay in at least giving those affected by your plans a “heads up” that things won’t be the same this year.
On a practical note people may need time to change plans if they involve making travel arrangements.

Decide how you will communicate your message.

Do you want to speak to them (on the phone or in person)? This choice allows for subtle communication through tone and inflection but also requires immediate response. Very few people can say, “I need to think about this” before blurting an answer. Sometimes verbal exchanges can escalate quickly.
Do you want to write your message (text, message, email)? This choice allows for a delayed response, gives a record of what was communicated but leaves room for misinterpretation because tone and inflection are hard to indicate by written word. Let your heart and past experience with the person(s) be your guide. It may be that it’s best one way for some and another way for others.

Acknowledge their loss.

Regardless of the relationship of other family members to your missing child, they have lost something and someone too. They may not feel my pain precisely, but they feel the pain of losing a grandson, nephew, cousin and they feel the pain of losing who I was before burying my child.
They need space and permission to express their loss.

Use “I” statements.

Don’t accuse. Don’t bring up every bad memory from Thanksgiving and Christmas past. Start from today and say, “I feel like I cannot do all (or some or any) of these things for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year.”
Be as honest as you can be. Feelings are not wrong. What we do with them may be wrong or hurtful. But it’s OK to say, “I just can’t do this right now” or “I don’t know how to do this without my child”.

Expect resistance.

People naturally hate change. We develop relationship ruts and it takes a lot of energy to climb out of them. They may very well find great comfort in keeping things as “normal” as possible after your loss.
What is helpful for you may feel threatening to them.
Stand your ground without being combative. You can say something like, “I understand this is very hard on you, and I am sorry that this is painful, but it’s just how it needs to be for me and my family to continue to heal.”

If you can, offer an alternative.

In subsequent posts I’ll share some ways other bereaved parents have approached the holiday season. Maybe one of those ideas will appeal to you and you can offer it as an alternative to the way things were before loss.
You might suggest that extended family continue traditions they cherish and you join in for the part you feel you can endure.

Extend grace.

Assume the best. Assume that your extended family and friends are trying to understand and do not want to add to your burden or cause you pain. Re-read messages with an ear to what hearts are saying even when the words may fail to communicate that message.
Ask for clarification before you react. There is so much room for misunderstanding around holiday plans anyway and when you add loss to the mix, it can be a recipe for relational disaster.
Allow time before responding to something that hurts your feelings. It may very well have been unintentional.

I know that all these suggestions require additional emotional energy when we feel we are already tapped out. We are already carrying a load that can crush a spirit-it seems unfair that we have to initiate the conversation, offer alternatives and give grace.

But they do not understand.

And they may not know where to start.

We have to remain focused on the goal: Surviving the holidays.

If your family includes young children, how you approach this season is even more important. You are building memories for them, shaping their childhood experiences and helping them learn to cope with what will be a life-long challenge-living with grief.

Child

Child Loss and Holidays 2026: So Yeah…Here Come the Holidays

When I was forced into this life I didn’t choose, I had no model for how to navigate holidays post child loss. Not one Thanksgiving dinner nor Christmas morning of my life had been marred by the deep, dark MISSING that fills a bereaved parent’s heart.

So I muddled through, best I could, striving hard to embrace and accommodate my own and my family’s pain while managing expectations of those outside our immediate grief circle.

It was hard.

It was emotionally exhausting.

It still is, some days and seasons.

But if I’ve gained any wisdom from over a decade of holiday seasons spent without Dominic, it’s this: Better to face it and make a plan than to ignore it and let things unfold willy-nilly.

I’m praying for you. Now. In October.

❤ Melanie

I will confess: I’m no better at this than the first set of holidays after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

Every. Single. Year. has brought changes and challenges on top of the empty chairs round the family table.

Since Dominic left us we’ve had additions (two grandchildren and various significant others) and sadly, more subtractions (my mother joined Dom in 2019). We’ve dealt with distance, deployment, healthcare and retail work schedules, a pandemic and lots of other, less easily defined tensions and difficulties.

When I ran across this quote awhile back my heart screamed, “YES!!!”

Gathering an entire family (which may include teens and young adults) for any extended length of time is a feat of scheduling, negotiation, and preference management. International treaties have been worked out in fewer steps. The sheer number of details that have to line up is mind-boggling.

Elizabeth Spencer

There are the absolute parameters forced upon any family by distance and availability. Negotiating THOSE is truly a feat.

But when your family story includes profound loss, a mama often has additional hoops to jump through. Surviving siblings bring their own grief to the table and what that looks like can change over time. So something that worked one year might be rejected this season.

I wish I had some magical insight that could guide every wounded heart through these next, treacherous months.

I don’t.

What I can tell you is that it’s better to start earlier rather than later. Nothing falls into place without some planning. Old habits are hard to break and traditions are well-worn habits so don’t expect anyone to give them up easily.

No one can read your mind (are YOU telepathic?). Tell your friends and family what you need (even if it is that you have NO idea what you need!).

And then make space in your celebrations for times when you can grieve the absence of your child. It may be a shared moment or it may be you remember in solitude.

If you have surviving children, remember they are grieving too. They have lost a sibling, their innocence regarding death’s ability to steal even the young and the family they once knew.

Extend grace to others when you can.

Extend grace to yourself when you must.

Be honest and do the best you can.

Then remember that even these days are only twenty-four hours long. They will pass.

The sun will rise and you will, undoubtedly find out you survived.

Moving From Questions to Trust: Access the Truth

I wake before the morning light. Every. single. morning.

I get my coffee, sit in my chair and wait for sunrise.

I never worry that today it might not happen.

I’m never concerned that after all these years of faithfulness, this day may be the one where daylight fails to make an appearance.

There is no fear in this darkness because I know it will not last forever.

Morning is coming.

Morning. Is. Coming.

And that’s the hope I cling to in this longer darkness of the Valley of the Shadow of Death-no matter how many years it may be, the Valley has an end.

The same God Who keeps the earth in orbit around the sun has ordained that death will not have the last word.

Light will triumph.

Darkness will have to flee.

From Morning Is Coming, thelifeididntchoose.com

I have loved Scripture as long as I can remember. When I was in second grade I got the notion to read the whole Bible straight through-in the King James Version. I made it to Leviticus before I threw in the towel.

By the time my kids were grown I had read and studied Scripture for decades.

But three years before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I realized my reading had become rote-I felt like I “knew” all the stories. So I slowed my study to a crawl-only one chapter a day-and I usually copied the whole chapter plus my notes into a journal. I had just finished this time through the Bible in January before Dom was killed in April.

And all that truth stored in my mind and heart was what I “read” for months when my eyes were too full of tears to see print on a page.

Many verses stung-some still do-but I was committed to bathe my broken heart in what I knew was true. I would take it like medicine, even when it tasted awful. I knew-in the end-it was my only hope for help.

It’s easy when doubt creeps in to let my heart hold onto it-even in the face of Truth that puts the doubt to rest.

But if all I do is question, question, question and never still my soul to receive God’s answers or His comfort, then I will simply run out of oxygen and faith. I will lay prostrate with the enemy’s foot on my neck.

I will lose all hope and give up and give in.

I let my feelings, questions and doubts OUT, but I also choose to take the Word of God IN.

And when I can’t do anything else, I recite and cling to the names of God:

Jehovah-Roi-the God Who Sees Me. This is the name Hagar gave God in the desert. He didn’t change her circumstances but He assured her that she was seen, not overlooked and not abandoned.

Jehovah-Nissi–the LORD my Banner. God is the One I look to in the battle. He will not always save me from the fight, but He has guaranteed the victory.

Jehovah-Shalom-The LORD my Peace. Jesus is Sar Shalom-the Prince of Peace Who promises Himself to every heart that will turn in faith to Him. This peace is inner certainty that He is Lord over all, even when the evidence I can see is telling me that’s not true.

THE NAME OF THE LORD IS A MIGHTY TOWER. THE RIGHTEOUS RUN TO IT AND ARE SAVED.

I leaned hard on the Word stored in my heart. I was too broken (and some days still am too broken) to open my Bible.

God had prepared David for years as a shepherd to lean hard on Him. David’s Psalms don’t end with “Where are You, God?” they progress to a recitation of the character of the LORD, to an enumeration of His past faithfulness, to a true understanding that sometimes there’s NO understanding what He is doing.

And David leaned in, hung on and recited truth to his heart even when his head couldn’t figure out how what he was experiencing squared with what he knew to be true.

The whole book of Job is full of questions but it is also contains Job’s declaration he was firmly convinced that “as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and He will stand upon the earth at last.” (Job 19:25)

“You can’t hold your breath forever.

But when you first learn your child is dead you want to–oh, how you want to.

I don’t know if it was defiance or hope that made me certain that if I could just stop breathing, I could freeze time.

I could undo the truth.

I could stop the creeping terror that seized my heart.

But it was impossible. My body insisted that my lungs release the poison of carbon dioxide and refresh my oxygen supply.

There is a spiritual counterpart to the physical desire to stop breathing.

Most bereaved parents will tell you that at some point in their grief journey, whether they would describe themselves as “believers” or not, they have had to examine their notion of God.

They have to ask, “How am I to relate to this Person that controls the Universe–this Being that could have saved my child–but chose not to?”

I am a Christ follower. I believe in Jesus and I trust His Word.

But I will honestly confess that burying my child has made me reexamine just what that means and just Who He is.

Before my son was killed, I gave mental assent to the idea that “God is in control” but wasn’t forced to reconcile His control with my heart’s desire to guarantee my family’s safety.

But His existence, and His character does not depend on my understanding. And to be frank, a God I can comprehend wouldn’t be much of a God at all.

I could not will my body not to stop breathing.

And what I am learning in this grief journey is that I can’t hold my spiritual breath forever either.

The poison of doubt and the insistence that I be able to comprehend the fullness of God will suffocate my soul as surely as lack of oxygen will stop my heart.

So, “Hallelujah” is my exhale.

It is my letting go-my drawing in again the life-giving truth that God is God and I am not.

And acknowledging that while I cannot understand His ways, I can choose to trust His Father love.”

From Hallelujah is an Exhale

There is no easy answer for why children die-no sweet saying that can wash away the pain and the sorrow and the regret of burying your son.

But I know this: If my healing depends on me, I am lost.

If the God of heaven is not the god of all, then I have no hope.

If Jesus didn’t really come, and die and rise again, I have nothing to look forward to.

Ann Lamott recounts this tale in her book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith:

There is a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who alwasy told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your heart, and then when your hearts break, the holy words fall inside.”

My heart is already broken-burying my son did that.

Now I’m waiting

and trusting

that the holy words will fall inside.

Moving From Questions to Trust: Admit the Pain

I’m going to end this series of posts with another series I wrote after sharing at my first bereaved parents conference back in 2017.

I’ll be honest, I almost didn’t go because my mother had recently had a heart attack and I felt unprepared and overwhelmed.

Two online friends were committed to being there and so my daughter and I made the trek from Alabama to Arkansas and I will NEVER regret it.

The fellowship was lifegiving and the message the Lord gave me is one I return to again and again.

It’s HARD to trust God again after loss and with so many unanswered questions but I can testify that it is the path forward to a life that can once again be full of joy as well as pain.

❤ Melanie

Child loss is Unnatural-no way around it.

Out of order death is devastating.

When my perfectly healthy, strong and gifted son was killed instantly in a motorcycle accident on April 12. 2014 my world fell apart. My heart shattered into a million pieces. And after all these years, I’ve yet to even FIND all of those pieces much less put them back together.

So what does a heart do when that happens? Because, try as I might, I cannot stop time.

Even THAT awful day only lasted 24 hours.

When the sun rose again, the pain was still there. And behind that pain and mixed with it was something else-disappointment, disaffection, distrust.

Where were You, God???

God is sovereign-He rules.

God is good-He loves.

How do those two truths live together in a universe that includes child loss? How can I trust the rest of my life and my eternal future to a God who lets this happen?

It’s a process. And it takes time. It involves purposeful choices by me to place my heart where it can hear truth even when it doesn’t want to hear and doubts every word.

The first step toward trusting again is to ADMIT THE PAIN.

You may be thinking, “Are you crazy?”.

“Of course I know I’m hurting-my child is no longer here!”

But that’s the easy pain to recognize and own up to. For those of us who have swallowed the western church model of “Sunshine Christianity”*, we will have a much harder time admitting our dismay that as victors in Jesus we feel discouraged, defeated and disgusted.

And should we dare to whisper it aloud we may well be shouted down by voices afraid to hear what they themselves sometimes secretly think but never speak. So we convince our hearts these are phantom pains like those of a lost limb and try to ignore them.

But they will not be ignored.

The Bible is full of broken people bringing their hearts and their hurts to God.

He doesn’t despise my pain.
He doesn’t turn away from my tears.
He doesn’t hurry me through hearbreak.

Death is awful! We dare not make it small!

It was the penalty for sin and the price of salvation. To deny the presence of pain is to diminish the power of the cross.

I must admit my pain:

Own it.
Feel it.
Name it.
Speak it.

I’m not the first nor will I be the last to wonder about where God is and what He is doing. Nicolas Wolterstorff’s adult son was killed in a climbing accident and his little book, Lament for a Son, was one of the best I have read in grief.

It struck a chord with me both because of the similarity of our loss and his honesty in exploring the edges of pain and doubt.

He writes:

Will my eyes adjust to this darkness? Will I find you in the dark-not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness? Has anyone ever found you there? Did they love what they saw? Did they see love? And are there songs for singing when the light has gone dim? Or in the dark, is it best to wait in silence?

Noon has darkened. As fast as they could say, “He’s dead”, the light dimmed. And where are you in the darkness? I learned to spy you in the light. Here in this darkness, I cannot find you. If I had never looked for you, or looked but never found, I would not feel this pain of your absence. Or is it not your absence in which I dwell, but your elusive troubling presence?

Nicholas Wolterstorff, LAMENT FOR A SON

C.S. Lewis wrote A Grief Observed after the loss of his wife, Joy. And he also is honest and raw-asking aloud the questions that hide in our hearts, admitting the fear that the God we serve may not be the God we thought we knew.

Giants in faith-both men.

Yet they, like us, had to bring the shattered pieces of their broken hearts to the foot of the cross and beg God to put them back together.

Admit the pain.

God already knows.

*Sunshine Christianity is the notion that once one belongs to Jesus the road is smooth (God can make a way), the path clear of obstacles (if you have enough faith), and if I simply claim the promises of Scripture I have victory over every circumstance. It does not square with either Jesus’ own experience nor that of the 12 apostles.

Big Questions: What If I Never Get Answers?

We are a people who love a good mystery as long as it leads to a good ending-bad guys vanquished, questions answered, motives revealed and a tidy resolution.

But real life is rarely so neat and squared away.

Just consider your average doctor’s visit. Diagnosis is often a result of trial and error when a simple blood test or throat culture is unavailable to confirm or rule out a particular malady. Yet we blunder forward, trying this and that until something either works or the illness runs its course.

Relationships are even trickier. We stand toe-to-toe with others hoping we understand what they are saying or not saying, feeling or not feeling-all the while forced to act and react in the space between. It’s a wonder we aren’t all at war with one another.

And then there are the big “What ifs?” and “Whys?”

The cosmic questions that rock our world and threaten to undo us.

These are the questions that filled my mind and kept me awake at night after burying my son. Questions I was free to ignore before they took up residence in my soul and echoed in my head with every thump, thump, thump of my beating heart.

It took a very long time for me to learn to live with them unanswered. And there are still moments when I scream aloud and raise my fist to the sky, demanding an accounting.

But most days, I can rest in that space between the asking and the answer-if not exactly at peace-then at least in a state of suspended animation.

And that may really be all God expects of me this side of heaven.

Job never did get any answers.

He stood before God speechless and in awe.

That’s pretty much where I am right now.

I don’t have to like it.

I don’t have to understand it.

I only have to be willing to admit that He is God and I am not.

Job answered God:

“I’m convinced: You can do anything and everything.
    Nothing and no one can upset your plans.
You asked, ‘Who is this muddying the water,
    ignorantly confusing the issue, second-guessing my purposes?’
I admit it. I was the one. I babbled on about things far beyond me,
    made small talk about wonders way over my head.
You told me, ‘Listen, and let me do the talking.
    Let me ask the questions. You give the answers.’
I admit I once lived by rumors of you;
    now I have it all firsthand—from my own eyes and ears!
I’m sorry—forgive me. I’ll never do that again, I promise!
    I’ll never again live on crusts of hearsay, crumbs of rumor.”

Job 42:4-6 MSG

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