In this journey of loss I have been blessed and wounded by words.
I have been encouraged and disheartened by stray comments. I’ve been thrown a lifeline and pushed under the raging waves of grief by friends, family and acquaintances who often had no clue they were doing either.
Our words matter.
Our tongues have the power of life and death.
Read the rest here: Bridle your Tongue
I went to see the movie “Christopher Robin” awhile back.
I’ll be honest-it’s pretty much stock-in-trade standard Disney fare where things turn out well in the end.
Of course, I know that things DON’T always turn out well.
In fact, they can turn out very, very badly.
Awful, in fact.
But Pooh helped Christopher remember what was really important.
And it’s not money or houses or anything else you can buy in a store or online.
It’s people.
Living souls are unique creations, singular blessings, unrepeatable gifts and they deserve my time and attention.
Because no matter how cherished or expensive, everything else can be replaced.
It’s all well and good when things are going just dandy to post a daily, “I’m thankful for [whatever]”.
It’s another thing entirely when the bottom has fallen out or your world is turned upside down or your heart is shattered and you can’t find even the tiniest spark of gratitude in your dark world.
Yet the Bible clearly states I am to “give thanks in all circumstances” (I Thessalonians 5:18)
REALLY?????
I am absolutely NOT thankful that my son is dead.
I am not thankful my family circle is broken and my living children have to carry the weight of sibling loss for a lifetime.
I am not thankful that there will always be an empty chair at every holiday gathering regardless of how many show up around the table.
But the verse doesn’t say I have to be thankful FOR all circumstances, but instead to be thankful IN them.
Even on the morning of the dreadful news, I was filled with gratitude for the knowledge that nothing can separate me from the love of God.
As I held the hands of two of my living children, I was oh, so thankful that they were there and that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we would walk through this together as a family.
When the sun came up, my heart reminded me that the world was still turning and God was still on the throne.
And while it was a long, long time before these feelings were more than faint whispers against a background of screaming pain, I could still hear them.
Now I have learned that thankfulness and brokenness can live side by side in a heart and in a life. One does not overshadow or negate the other.
I may not be thankful for what I’m going through (frankly, I’m not) but I am thankful I’m not going through it alone.
I can come into the Presence of my God any time I choose because Jesus has made a way. I can bring my petitions before the Throne of Grace because there is no longer any veil separating me from the Father.
And I am always, always thankful for that. 
I am the proud daughter of a military veteran.
I am the beaming mother of a son who served and the aunt of a nephew currently serving.
And while others argue about why and where we send troops and fight wars, I pray that wherever they go and whatever they do, they return home safely.
It’s fitting that we set aside a day to honor those who choose to place their lives on the line to fight for love and country and freedom.
Because they do, I can rest secure in my own bed under my own roof.
Growing up surrounded by (mostly) men in military uniform, I learned early the difference between an acceptable salute and a sloppy one, between “Attention!” and “At ease!”, between a captain and a colonel.
I still stand a little taller and walk a little straighter whenever I’m on base. Habits of a lifetime are hard to undo.
I will never, ever apologize for the life of service and sacrifice my father and son lived and my nephew is living regardless of whatever politics may scroll across our newsfeeds.
I will honor the living, honor the dead and honor the families that support them.
Don’t let this day pass by without considering the cost of the freedom we enjoy every single day and the men and women who fought and still fight to secure it.
Right, left, middle of the road-your first amendment rights are safe because they are willing to serve.
We mustn’t forget.
Every autumn I hear the geese overhead and I think about how all that honking serves only a single purpose: to remind the stragglers they are headed in the right direction.
It speaks courage to my own heart as I remember that not only does the leader call out to those behind, but that each bird takes a turn at the head of the line so that the others can rest a bit.
What beautiful picture of how life SHOULD be.
Read the rest here: Of Flying Geese and Calling Courage!
Living with child loss means I am already weighted down.
And when life adds more to THAT load, it isn’t long until I feel overwhelmed and anxious, frightened and weak.
Jesus invites me to give Him my burdens.
He wants me to let go of them and allow Him to do the heavy lifting because the truth is, He’s already doing it, I only have to realize it.
casting all your cares [all your anxieties, all your worries, and all your concerns, once and for all] on Him, for He cares about you [with deepest affection, and watches over you very carefully].
I Peter 5:7 AMP
I was just talking to another mom about this yesterday-the casting is for MY benefit.
Jesus is already carrying my burden,
When I try to take it back, all I do is create stress and heartache for myself.
Instead I need to lean into the truth that He is my burden-bearer, my ever present help in time of trouble.
He sees me,
loves me
and will never leave me. 
So what are you toting that you need to lay down?
I spent last weekend with eleven other bereaved moms.
And lest you think, “How sad!”, let me just tell you we had a beautiful time together.
Sure there were tears-how can there not be when talking about the precious children we miss-but there was fun too.
Of course we had somber moments.
Especially as we lit candles in honor of each child whose light lives on even as their physical presence is denied us.
In between Bible study sessions we ate, talked, walked outside and got to know one another.
A game of “Two Truths and a Lie” revealed all kinds of surprises that had us practically falling off our chairs with uproarious laughter.
Even though most of us had never met before, knowing we shared the heartache of child loss drew us together and opened the door to meaningful conversation.
For 72 hours we didn’t have to put our masks on or walk with one foot in the world of the spared and one foot in the world of the deeply wounded.
We were free-gloriously free-to be real and unguarded.
One of the fun things we did was have a Mary Kay consultant come and do facials and makeup. I think we kind of shocked her when she went around the circle asking, “So what are you primary make up concerns?” and over half of us said, “I don’t wear make up.”
Poor woman.
She had no idea that we had long passed the point of faking feelings or saying what someone expects just because they expect it.
I know it was a stretch for some of the moms to make their way to this place they’d never been to and walk into a room full of women they’d never met.
It was a stretch for me to facilitate discussions when I felt I had reached my limit for anything besides staying home for the rest of this year.
But it was worth it.
There is nothing as beautiful as broken hearts gathering together to love, uplift, encourage and listen to one another.
If you have the opportunity and are afraid, please step out.
Take a chance and link arms with fellow grievers.
I promise you will be glad you did.
I’ve always been quick to volunteer.
Often the “yes” flies out of my lips before my brain has engaged.
That lands me in all kinds of trouble.
But I’m trying to learn to bite my tongue until I can take stock of just how taking on another responsibility may push me over the edge.
I’m walking on a razor thin rim around the pit of despair-especially this time of year and it doesn’t take much for me to fall in.
I know that other people think, “Well it’s been nearly five years!” And I understand that to them, it seems like plenty of time to get my act together, to figure out how to live with child loss, to grow strong enough to shoulder whatever burden they think I have left and just get on with life.
But what they don’t understand is that this journey requires constant adjustments, has unending and new challenges and truly is uphill all the way.
There’s no coasting-it’s ALL hard.
Think for a minute how overwhelmed you are with all the activity, demands for baked goods, invitations, shopping, cooking, visiting, managing family responsibilities, hectic schedules and every thing else that the holidays entail.
Now multiply that times one hundred or a thousand.
That’s what it feels like for me and other wounded hearts trying to juggle ongoing pain and the holidays.
I want to participate. I want to be the old me that could say “yes” to every request. But I’m not that person anymore.
I will do what I can do.
I will say “no” to what I can’t do.
And I won’t feel guilty for preserving my energy and my sanity.
When coping with difficult disappointment or stress, it’s wise to let go of what you really, truly don’t need. Give some of your responsibilities, if you can, to someone else. Delegate what someone else can do. Say ‘no’ to new assignments or projects that aren’t absolutely necessary, and again, don’t feel bad about it. Don’t only accept help, ask for it — and be specific.
After all, when the storm has passed and you’re feeling stronger, you’ll be able to pick up those responsibilities again.
~Steven Earp, Storms of Life
It’s funny what can make my heart race and my eyes fill with tears.
Sometimes it’s obvious- I hear of another son killed in a motorcycle accident.
But sometimes it’s obscure- like when I see someone using a legal pad to take notes.
Either way, triggers take me back to ground zero. They rivet my mind’s attention and my heart’s focus to the very moment I first learned Dominic had left us.
Triggers can happen anywhere, any time. They are often unpredictable and surprising.
And there is not one. single. thing. I can do about them.
Even six plus years into this journey and I am as vulnerable today as I’ve ever been.
I try to limit my exposure. I try to have an escape route. I try to suck up the tears and stifle the sobs.
But sometimes no matter how hard I try, I’m overwhelmed and undone.
There’s part of me that wishes I could just move on and rejoin life and the human race calm and collected, regardless of what memories a sight, sound or smell taps into.
And then there’s part of me that wants the world to sit up and take notice of the ongoing pain and toll child loss inflicts on a parent’s heart.
I’ll be honest, as I’m writing this I still cannot wrap my mind around the fact that one of my children is dead.
Oh sure, I can relate the series of events, but in my heart of hearts it is as shocking today that Dominic isn’t coming home as it was on April 12, 2014.
I really can’t adequately convey the ongoing sense that this must be a mistake. There must be something someone has overlooked. Maybe it was all a dream and he will come walking through the door.
I’m not crazy.
I know that Dominic is dead. I saw his body in the casket. I saw the casket lowered into the ground. I visit his grave to change out the flowers.
But I will never, ever get used to it.
All it takes is a smell or a sound or any one of a thousand things that I associate with my third child and I’m transported to that awful morning.
So if you see me tear up, shut down or turn away- let me go.
I just need a few minutes to put my game face back on.
Every spring and every fall we dutifully make the rounds to our clocks and digital devices, putting them first forward an hour and then back in an attempt to make the days “longer”.
As if time was in our hands.
The sun rises and sets according to the Creator’s schedule, we can neither speed the world’s turning, nor slow it down.
We can only choose whether to be present in the moments He grants us.
Read the rest here: Time Change
thelifeididntchoose 