I am always devastated when another parent discovers the heartache of child loss.
They are forced to join a club no one wants to join.
But I’m grateful when that parent has a platform because of fame, fortune or circumstances and decides to draw attention to the truth of this painful path.
The singer Toby Mac recently lost his son and has chosen to do just that. He wrote a song that puts words to the sorrow, words to the struggle and vividly shares the heart of a bereaved parent.
Read the rest here: TobyMac, “21 Years” and Child Loss
I used to be a lot better at answering every single comment on the blog, on Facebook pages and in closed groups.
I’m not keeping up at all these days.
And I am very sorry for that!
A recent private message reminded me that some folks may think a lack of response is disapproval or rejection. That made me very sad so I want to set the record straight.
These past few months have been…different.
My husband retired-which is a good thing. But for the past several years he was working out of town so not only am I adjusting to his being home every day, I’m adjusting to his being home at all.
We’ve worked out a schedule that accommodates his night owl habits and my farm girl hours so that’s going well.
The pandemic, wintry weather and the holidays have dampened my spirits a bit so motivation is a factor.
My recent hospital stay, wrist pain and realization that my hands are simply not going to get better make typing more difficult.
All that to say this: I’m really sorry for not being more attentive, more timely and more responsive to comments. I read every. single. one.
I’m going to try hard to catch up.
If you feel overlooked or are ever concerned there’s something else going on besides my own preoccupation, lack of diligence or oversight, PLEASE message me!
I never, ever want a single heart to feel sad or abandoned because of something I do or don’t do.
I promise you are important to me.
I know these days so many of us are spending more time at home, more time alone.
For introverts or wounded hearts not having to turn down invitations can seem like a gift.
But it’s easy to slide from solitude (healthy, restorative alone time) into isolation (unhealthy, depleting separation). So I ask myself a few questions to help sort it out.
If you are feeling increasingly alone and forgotten, full of despair and abandoned, you might want to use this checklist too.
Even in this era of social (physical) distancing a heart can and absolutely should seek out community.
It’s what we were made for. ❤
I’ve always loved my alone time.
As an introvert (who can, if pressed pretend not to be!) my energy is restored when I interact with one or two folks or no one at all. A dream afternoon is writing while listening to nothing louder than the wind chimes outside my door.
I treasure solitude.
Since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I find I need even more alone time than before.
That quiet place is where I do my most effective grief work, undisturbed by interruptions and distractions.
But I need to be careful that solitude doesn’t shift into isolation.
Read the rest here: Solitude or Isolation? Which is it?
I want to make perfectly clear that this is NOT a political post.
I don’t do that here.
It is, instead, a PSA for anyone who follows the blog and might feel the need to leave any or all social media platforms in light of recent events.
I don’t want folks who depend on these daily posts to be left out in the cold.
I have friends from across the political, socioeconomic, religious and ethnic spectrum. For most of us the uniting factor is a broken heart.
We have learned to walk graciously in our wounded condition and (generally) assume the best about others.
So I’m not going anywhere.
I will continue to post the blog on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest to make it as widely available to those who want to read it and share it as possible.
If you’ve been depending on those avenues for access and are deleting or deactivating your account, you can follow via email (look for the invitation on any post that says, “Follow Blog via Email” and put in your email address).
Each day’s post will be delivered to your inbox.
I appreciate every heart that gathers around this space.
I often feel like we are keeping company in my living room next to the fire.
I hope that if you find any good or any help in these posts you will choose to remain part of our community.
I was absolutely overwhelmed in those first days.
Cars, cars, cars filled my long driveway and front yard.
People spilling out like ants scrambling after the hill is disturbed.
Oh, our hill was disturbed-knocked wide open by that deputy’s visit. Phone calls to let others know. Phone calls from people who couldn’t get in touch with him and were just checking “in case something had happened”.
It had happened.
Read the rest here: Who Steps In? Who Walks Out?
When I decided to make my thoughts, experience and heart public in September 2015 I had no preconceived notions regarding who might read what I wrote or what impact it might have on anyone’s life but my own.
I think I simply felt like what I had inside of me just couldn’t be contained.
I had been writing in my journal since the morning Dominic left for Heaven but those pages were no longer large enough. So I ended up here.
I’ve been amazed at how gracious, how kind, how supportive and how encouraging the community of hearts that have gathered around these blog posts have proven to be-to me and to one another.
When I asked y’all if you thought a book might be a good idea I was blown away by the response.
Thank you for stepping up and giving me feedback.
So many of your comments touched my heart! I’m humbled that choosing to be transparent has been helpful to even one other grieving parent.
I think I will pursue a print compilation of what I’ve written in this space.
I doubt it will be available very soon as I intend to investigate various options.
I promise to keep you updated!
In the meantime, know that every comment, every share, every “like” encourages me.
It will soon be seven years since Dominic stepped into Heaven.
It’s really hard to write that and harder still to live it.
In those years I’ve spent a great deal of time dragging out what I thought I knew about God, about how He works in the world, about how we take Scripture and wrap it around preconceived notions to make us feel safer and more in control.
I’ve had bad days and better days. Days of doubt and days of faith.
But every day I’ve felt assured of this truth: Even when my grip on Jesus is slipping, He holds me fast. ❤
I’ve mentioned it before.
I’ve encouraged others not to resist.
But I want to be absolutely clear: Losing my son made me doubt EVERYTHING.
Read the rest here: He Will Hold Me Fast
I’ve had more than one person suggest I compile these blog posts into a print resource.
It would be a daunting task.
Much of what I write is meant to be a short, stand alone musing about one aspect of grief or another and I’m not sure how to weave individual posts into some sort of cohesive fabric or narrative that would be worth anyone’s time or effort to read.
So I have an honest question: Do you, faithful reader, think such a thing would be helpful?
Is it worth the time, energy, effort and seeking publisher permissions for quotes?
If you do think it’s a good idea, what format might be best? Short essays/posts collected by topic or a narrative of my journey punctuated by excerpts from blog entries?
This is NOT a vanity post, it’s a genuine question.
So let me hear from you.
I’m heading toward seven years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven (April 12th). And while I can mark many ways in which my heart has healed, I can list a dozen areas that are still tender.
I wish, wish, wish there was plan of action like physical therapy or a course of medication like antibiotics that could guarantee reliable progress if followed precisely.
But there isn’t.
All I can do is continue to place myself in the path of healing, do the next right thing and wait patiently for the pieces to fall back in place. ❤
I’ve lived with invisible chronic disease for over a decade.
From the outside looking in, you’d hardly know that I am often in great pain. I make daily choices about what I will do and what I won’t do based on what I can do and what my body refuses to do.
I take medication. I do all the things I’m supposed to do to help my body heal.
But I cannot MAKE the healing happen.
Read the rest here: Healing Comes In Its Own Time
For some of us life’s twists and turns include unfathomable pain, sorrow and loss. Broken hearts beating side by side in the dark often find it difficult to reach out across a chasm of grief.
Marriage is hard work under the best of circumstances. Child loss makes it harder.
But there are ways to create space for one another and to extend grace even in this Valley. ❤
It’s no secret that men and women are different.
It’s the subject of everything from romantic comedies to hundreds of books.
“Men are from Mars, women are from Venus” and all that.
So it shouldn’t surprise those of us walking this Valley that our spouse may be grieving very differently than we do. But it often does. Because everything is amplified when it echoes off the high mountains on either side.
And just when we need it most-for ourselves and for extending to others-grace is often in short supply.
Read the rest here: Grieving Differently: Growing Apart or Growing Stronger?