I totally get why some folks feel the need to pull back when a friend’s life gets hard.
They may be struggling themselves and the idea of even hanging around the edges of another disaster is utterly overwhelming.
But the truest friends bring their broken to our mutual table where we can talk, cry and work on it together.
I’m oh, so thankful for friends like this! ❤
It has taken me a lot of time and a lot of energy to do the work grief requires. There’s no short-circuiting the process. No way to rush through the painful and necessary steps.
For years I struggled with why, “Just think about the memories” didn’t comfort my heart. I treasured them. I tried hard to hold onto them. But that wasn’t enough.
And then I realized that a mother’s heart is not prepared to go on without the company of her child. I never, ever expected that it would be ME reminiscing about Dominic. I was sure it would be HIM thinking about me.
❤
I pull out the memories like treasures from a locked strongbox.
“Handle With Care” because they are all I have left.
But they are not enough.
They will never be enough to satisfy this mama’s heart.
We are supposed to have to remember our elders, our grandparents, even, maybe our spouse at some point-but not our children.
Read the rest here: Why, “Just Think About All The Good Memories,” Doesn’t Comfort My Heart
The world can make a heart panic, scrambling to pile up extra lest “the worst” befalls us and suddenly there’s not enough.
That’s what happened during the pandemic when, for some unknown reason, toilet paper became the currency of security.
But no matter how deep or full the pantry, stuff can’t keep us truly safe.
Ask me how I know.
Only faith and trust in the ever-faithful, never-lying Almighty God guides our hearts Home.
So in this season of thanksgiving, when gratitude is in style, I want to choose a bold strategy to challenge the world’s wrong direction and misapplied “wisdom”.
It’s not enough to pray thanksgiving over my family, my home, my safety net stockpile.
I want my life to be full of thanks AND of giving.
Because when I give I’m boldly declaring that I trust the Lord to give more. I’m leaning into the True Source of provision and leading other hearts to do the same.
A heart of gratitude is beautiful.
It’s what God wants from His children. But that’s only the half of it. A grateful heart that freely gives to others what has been freely given to it is even more beautiful.
God’s economy is one of bounty. I am unconcerned that my Heavenly Father may run out of blessing.
Everything I have, He has placed in my hands.
I am most like Jesus when I open my fists and share the gifts God entrusts to me with others.
My true treasure can’t be counted in dollars and cents.
My real reserve is love poured out and love returned.
We all have one you know.
A story.
Many of us think ours isn’t important because it feels so small. We can’t imagine our truth blazoned across a headline.
Your story matters.
Read the rest here: Tell Your Story
I first shared this post three years ago when our family was in the midst of hard circumstances and we all had frayed nerves.
This year is a different kind of hard because some of the plans we thought were coming together are falling apart. I imagine many folks probably feel the same way with the pandemic forcing changes to longstanding traditions. So I’m sharing again.
You’d think that writing something down would ink it in my brain but I forget too. I need this reminder to take a breath, take a sip of my favorite flavored whatever and savor the beauty of this season.
❤ Melanie
Here they come round the bend like a pack of dogs chasing that rabbit on a racetrack.
No way to slow them down, no way to step to the side and ward off the relentless message that Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming soon-so, so soon.
Internet ads scream, “You’ve got to buy it NOW! You’re running out of time!”
Read the rest here: Trying to Hold off the Holidays
It’s so easy to withdraw and hide.
It’s so easy to decide that since the world isn’t what I want it to be, I’ll just ignore the greater “out there” and create my own little corner filled with people and things that suit my preferences.
But that’s not who I’m called to be.
Jesus has called me as a conduit of His love, mercy, compassion, truth and grace to a hurting world.
I am inundated every day with comments or messages from struggling hearts. They are hungry to know that God sees, that God cares and that His people are willing to listen and minister His love to others.
So when God tells me to reach out- I DON’T resist.
I may be the only hope a hurting heart can hold onto.
If God is calling you to lend a hand, lend an ear or lend your time, DO IT.
Be the drop of His love in the ocean of another’s need.
Be the difference. ❤
There is so much work to do in grief!
So many chores that demand time, energy, effort and sheer determination.
Finding me again is one of them.
I think it’s hard for anyone whose family and close friend circle is complete to understand that I didn’t *just* lose Dominic when death claimed him, I lost the unique part of me that was reflected back from him. There is a “me” only he could draw out, make laugh a certain way, frustrate and tease over very specific issues.
Some memories were held between just the two of us. Now half the experience is buried with him. No matter how hard I try I can’t recall some of the details and even if I do they are only from my perspective.
Before child loss I was a mom who couldn’t imagine living without one of her children. Now I’m a mom who lives without one of her children. I still haven’t figured out all the ways that’s changed who I am and how I walk in the world.
Mirrors and photographs surprise me.
I know it’s my own face staring back but I barely recognize it.
I’m still searching for me.
Honesty is not inherently rude. Even when what’s spoken doesn’t sit well with the person listening to it.
It took awhile for me to figure that out on this journey.
Tone matters, facial expression matters, words matter. But I don’t have to stuff truth in service to the comfort of others.
❤ Melanie
I never ask anyone to adjust the thermostat in a car or at home unless I’m suffocating or shivering.
It’s a point of personal pride that I can tolerate a wider range of temperatures than most people.
And for awhile, I carried that same prideful disdain for “weaker folks” into my grief journey.
I was determined to endure whatever blows might come my way via comments, behavior, subtle and not-so-subtle attempts by others to circumscribe, dictate or otherwise influence my loss experience. I didn’t want to abandon pride in my own strength by admitting I wasn’t as strong as I wished I could be.
Then one day I realized that being honest was not the same as being rude. Telling the truth was not the same as acting selfishly.
Read the rest here: Hey Fellow Griever-Being Honest Is NOT Being Rude
Life has been crazy busy lately. Mostly in a good way.
But any way that shakes up my routine is hard for me to take.
Some folks live for the next adventure, the next exciting social opportunity or the next chance to get out of the house and do something different.
Not me.
I’m a rut lover. Like cows walking to water I’ll follow that same trail morning til night and never feel like I’m deprived of a single thing.
Life is changing on my little piece of ground. And some of the changes are here to stay. My husband is retired now and home all day.
Quiet space I used to command from morning until night is no longer mine alone. I rarely turn on the TV or listen to music. He loves background noise. I take phone calls the old-fashioned way. He always uses the speaker phone.
It’s an adjustment I haven’t yet figured out how to deal with. But I will.
And there are some good things too!
We don’t have to schedule visits with our children around his work schedule.
We can come and go when we want and stay as long as they will tolerate us.
I have help with heavy lifting.
When I want or need to talk, he’s available and willing to listen.
But writing requires a certain amount of solitude and a huge amount of free headspace to allow ideas to float around, merge, solidify and ultimately flow out onto the page.
All the busy-ness of the past weeks and months have robbed me of the daily rituals of quiet hours to read, to walk and simply think.
And as my faithful readers have noticed, I’ve been sharing old posts more frequently these past weeks. I could simply stop posting each day but I don’t want to do that. As long as I maintain the habit (even by the seat of my pants!) of queuing up something I am fighting to keep my creative juices flowing.
I’m sure that eventually all these new ways of being will work themselves into a routine that allows me time for writing again.
Until then, I appreciate your patience my friends.
Thanks for showing up.
❤ Melanie
I wrote this post four years ago when we were in the midst of a divisive political cycle.
I was both saddened and wearied by all the rancor and hateful speech on social media platforms. I was horrified that people who had been spared the awful pain of losing a close loved one to death were willing to sacrifice that same relationship over differing political positions.
I really didn’t think it could get worse but it has. So I’m sharing again.
Please, please, please people!!! There is only one thing sadder than suddenly and unexpectedly losing someone and that is losing them while you are estranged. Death is not kind. It comes for us all.
You cannot reconcile with someone who’s no longer here.
❤ Melanie
Do not hurt people in your life because you’ve hitched your wagon to a particular cause or candidate or party.
Don’t play politics with your personal relationships.
Don’t call people names that can’t be taken back, hurt feelings that may never heal or draw lines that make division permanent.
Read the rest here: Think Before You Speak, or Post, or Comment…
thelifeididntchoose 