Tag: grief work

Making Space for Silence

It’s hard to sit silent in an age when most of us live with noise nearly 24/7.

Out where I live, surrounded by grass and trees and plenty of room between me and my nearest neighbor, I am used to the quiet.

But it makes many folks uncomfortable.

They hasten to fill any empty airspace with chatter or nervous laughter or music or television or just about anything that means they don’t have to listen to their own thoughts.

It can be tempting, when trying to do the work grief requires to chase away the sorrow and pain with noise.

But that’s unhelpful.

Because you can’t really chase grief anywhere.  It’s inside you, part of you, with you wherever you go.

Read the rest here: Silence is a Gift

It Slipped Up On Me: More Than Four Million Visits!

I have to be honest.

When I began writing in this space I thought I might reach family and friends I knew face-to-face (IRL for those of you familiar with social media speak).

I NEVER dreamt I’d reach people in other countries, on every continent, from such varied backgrounds.

But I shouldn’t be surprised.

A fuzzy photo of a map of every country in which at least one person logged onto thelifeididntchoose. From the tip of the world to the bottom, east to west, there are bereaved parents everywhere.


Child loss is (sadly) universal.

It doesn’t respect borders or socio-economic boundaries or age or race. It happens everywhere, every day to so, so many people.

What I’ve always tried to do is be honest and vulnerable.

I’ve exposed my heart and my helplessness. I promised myself and my readers I would not hide a thing.

And I haven’t.



I don’t keep close tabs on things like blog statistics because I don’t monetize it. So it crept up on me one day when I happened to glance at the little footnote on the sidebar there were over 4,000,000 folks who had visited the site.

I’m thankful for every one of you.

I’m thankful for the grief groups that choose to print the posts or share them electronically. I’m thankful for the comments and encouragement from other bereaved parents that fuel my continued resolve to show up and share how grief changes over time (and how it doesn’t).

I’m thankful for the friendships that have been forged over distance and time and the encouragement that flies back and forth in the comments.

I’m still learning so I plan to keep on sharing.

I hope you plan to join me.

Mirrors and Pictures are SO Hard. Still.

I hate mirrors.  Not because I’m ashamed of my wrinkles or my fat hips.  But because the face staring back at me now is not one I recognize.

I see someone who’s supposed to be me and can’t quite place her.

There’s a vague resemblance to the person that used to look me in the eye while I was brushing my teeth or fixing my hair.

But now, she is “other”, unfamiliar, strange in a “slightly off” kind of way.

Read the rest here:  No Mirrors, Please!

Anxiety is Really Awful!

I’ve written before about anxiety and child loss here.  No matter the cause of death, the FACT of a child’s death seems to create the perfect conditions for a parent’s body and mind to experience anxiety, dis-ease, fear and often a sense of impending doom.

My world was rocked to its foundation the moment I heard the words, “He was killed in a motorcycle accident”.  

The worst thing I could imagine had come true.  

There was no protection from it happening again, no guarantee that THIS unbearable pain would be the ONLY unbearable pain I would have to carry.

I think my body chemistry was instantly transformed that morning to include rapid heartbeats, shallow breathing and a horrible creepy tension that climbs my spine and clenches its claws tightly at the base of my skull.

Before Dominic left us for Heaven I was not an anxious person.

Read the rest here: Anxiety is Awful!

I Don’t Want to Cause Pain

I’m a kinder, gentler person than I was before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

It’s a high price to pay to learn to walk more grace-filled through this life.

I’ve come to find out that every heart has a story.  Every heart is carrying a burden.-perhaps not the same as mine, but a burden nonetheless.

And what causes the most pain in this life (next to the burden itself) is when another person runs over my heart without thinking about the burden it may hold inside.

So I have purposed not to do that to other people.

Read the rest here: Refuse to Cause Pain

Shining Light In Darkness, Sharing Hope With the Heartbroken:

When I first began sharing in this space I had absolutely NO IDEA that my words could reach so many hearts in so many places.

I was simply being as transparent as possible in the hopes that others who were walking this road would feel seen, heard and understood.

That was almost nine years ago!

To date, over four million people have visited the site and viewed at least one post.

I’ve gotten message after message from broken hearts who say essentially:

Thank you for telling the truth about child loss. Thank you for speaking honestly about your struggle with faith. Thank you for assuring me that light CAN shine again in darkness.

Sometime in January of this year, I felt the Lord was asking me to step out in faith and expand the ministry. I began prayerfully exploring what it might look like to form a non-profit corporation and seek 501(c)3 status so others could join me in blessing bereaved parents.

With fear and trembling, I filled out the paperwork and sent it into the ether, praying that every jot and tittle was correct.

If you would like to join with me in ministry to bereaved parents and their families, you can make a tax-deductible donation using this link: https://square.link/u/cNen14Q1


To my joy and great surprise, I received notification that Heartache and Hope was a really, truly recognized ministry. What I’d been doing for almost a decade was now official!

So what doors are opening in this new chapter?

I’ll be hosting monthly in-person bereaved parent gatherings at my sweet little home church in rural Bibb County, Alabama. It’s an underserved community on every level and when Dominic ran ahead to Heaven there wasn’t a single resource within thirty miles. Too often bereaved parents convince themselves they are alone in their pain. I want to change that for those in my area.

I’m hosting and facilitating some small, intimate retreats for bereaved mothers at our family’s homestead in the Florida Panhandle. The first one is in October and is filled. I’ll be announcing others soon when the website is up. I hope to do these four times a year.

I am already scheduled to share in some other in-person bereaved parent groups in January. If you’d like me to come share in yours, let me know and we can get it on the calendar. (The donations received make it possible for me to do this without asking for travel funds.)

A couple of podcasts have contacted me to set up on-air chats that should be available in the next few months.

I’m working on editing and publishing some of the blog material into booklets that are easy to read and helpful as handouts for the newly bereaved and the not-so-newly bereaved. I will be able to provide these at minimal cost or for a small donation.

I would love the opportunity to speak to pastor groups, healthcare providers, hospice workers, social workers and others who are likely to be the first folks who interact with parents after loss. Please contact me if you know of such a group or can facilitate a gathering.

I will continue to partner with other ministries like Our Hearts are Home by facilitating online book studies and speaking at yearly conferences.

I plan to keep writing.

I am, and will always be, devoted to sharing honestly about my journey and encouraging other hearts along the way.

*If you would like to donate, you may click on the following link:https://square.link/u/cNen14Q1

Dear Friend, I Would Not Cease Your Weeping…

I had a tearful day last week.

At more than ten years into this journey they don’t happen very often and when they do, it takes me by surprise-though it shouldn’t.

I finally had to simply go to bed, choose to call it a day, close my eyes and let sleep claim the sadness and grant blessed peace.❤

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

But sometimes I forget.

Read the rest here: I Would Not Cease Your Weeping

“It’s Alright to Be Little Bitty”

I was recently told by someone that my world was tiny.

It hurt my heart.

Not because it is factually inaccurate but because the person who said it implied that distance traveled from my front door equaled responsibility and influence. If I don’t wander hither and yon, then I’m inferior. If I don’t have paid employment then whatever I do doesn’t “really” count.

I know many bereaved parents have been forced to scale back commitments, maybe change jobs or retire early, and, like me, lead a smaller life than before.

I’m here to tell you that’s perfectly OK.

Read the rest here: It’s Alright To Be Little Bitty

Since sharing this for the first time years ago, I HAVE expanded my ministry a bit. I’ve established a federally recognized non-profit and will be able to offer my time and resources free of charge to bereaved parents and those who want to support them

If you would like to join with me in ministry to bereaved parents and their families, you can make a tax-deductible donation using this link:

https://square.link/u/cNen14Q1

Dear Heart, It’s OK to Mourn *Smaller* Losses.

When your scale of awful is off the charts, there’s a tendency to dismiss anything less as merely inconvenient or inconsequential.

But that’s just not how our hearts work.

You can be shattered by child loss and still feel the slings and arrows of everyday losses, disappointments, discomfort and sadness.

It’s OK to mourn the things that don’t measure up to the pain and despair of burying a child.

Read the rest here: You Are Absolutely Allowed To Mourn *Smaller* Losses

Life Isn’t Fair

One of the things I’m learning this side of burying my precious child is that there is no upper limit to the sorrow and pain I may have to carry in this life.  And it’s no use comparing my burden to that of another-begging God to consider the differing weights and to make adjustments to lighten my load because it is heavier than that of another.

I do not get a pass on daily stress and strain. 

I’m not guaranteed physical health. 

I am just as likely as anyone else to get the grumpy cashier, to drop a dish or lose my keys. Or worse.

Read the rest here: Life is Absolutely NOT Fair