I just love this.
It’s simple, humorous, shareable and oh, so true.
“You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be present.”
Tag: grief
Help! My Family Won’t Talk About My Missing Child.
At first everyone talked about him.
It’s what people do just after a person leaves this world and leaves behind only memories.
It comes natural before the unnatural fact of child loss settles in and begins to make everyone uncomfortable.
But at some point after the funeral and way before the tears dried up, people stopped feeling easy mentioning his name.
And when I mentioned him, they weren’t sure whether they should just let those words fall with a “thud!” between us or pick up the conversational ball and run with it.
It’s a bit easier to understand when friends do it.
But so, so many bereaved parents lament the fact that even family members stop saying their missing child’s name aloud.
They stop sharing memories and stop acknowledging the place he or she holds in a parent’s heart regardless of their permanent address.
It hurts. A LOT.
I realized after the first six months or so that most people (including my family) didn’t know HOW to talk about my missing son.
So I began modeling it for them: I spoke of memories in past tense as I would for anyone, I spoke of character traits in present tense– because he is still all that plus some in Heaven-and I refused to ignore the elephant in the room.
I told them it was impossible to make me sadder by mentioning Dominic but it was very possible to make my burden heavier by NOT mentioning him. They were not reminding me that he was gone, I breathe his absence in and out like oxygen all day long.
I know it seems unfair that we must simultaneously learn by (awful and heartbreaking!) experience and also educate those around us, but it is what it is.
If I’m honest, though, before Dominic ran ahead to heaven I didn’t really know how to talk about a young person who died. It’s natural to reminisce about Grandmama’s favorite recipe or the old-fashioned way she did her hair. It’s positively Unnatural to speak in past tense about a young, vibrant human being that you never expected to outlive.
There are always going to be some folks-even family-who cannot or will not speak about my child in Heaven.
I can’t force them to do it.
But I can encourage the ones who do by telling them what a beautiful gift it is to hear his name on their lips.
Repost: Anger or Sadness? Or Both?
We live in an angry society.
Social media is full of rants about this and that. Television blares raised voices shouting over one another in what passes for news coverage. T-shirts are emblazoned with one-liners intended to provoke others.
We tolerate and even embrace anger as a legitimate emotion.
Yet we rarely make room for mourning. We hide our tears. We shame those who don’t hide theirs as “weak” and “soft” and “cowardly” or worse.
Read the rest here: Anger or Sadness? Or Both?
The Art of Listening
We’ve all experienced it and probably been guilty of it as well: listening with one ear while anxiously waiting to reply or to make a getaway.
I hate that.
What I LOVE is people who really listen.
I knew a woman once who made me feel as if whatever I was telling her at that moment was the most important thing in the world. She would look me in the eye, often take my hand, and never made even the slightest body movement to suggest she had things to do or people to see or anywhere else to go.
Even when we were talking about the most ordinary things.
I want to be like THAT.
I want to make every single heart that shares feel honored, loved, heard and safe.
Stick Around: Help Another Heart Hold Onto Hope
When grief was fresh, the pain was raw and my heart was oh, so tender, I desperately needed a safe space to talk about the nitty-gritty of child loss.
And I found it in online bereaved parents’ groups.
I’m so thankful that they exist, that they are maintained by people who give time and energy to keeping them safe and that-for the most part-participants are kind, compassionate and encouraging.
There is something I’ve noticed now that I’ve been here awhile. Many parents tend to drop out of active participation when they get a little further along in their journey.
I understand completely that time, plus the work grief requires, often means a heart has less need for these groups. It’s not that grief dissipates, it’s simply that we get stronger and learn to carry it a little better.
I also know that grief groups can become Echo Chambers and wear on a heart after a time.
We all need a break.
But can I take a moment to encourage those among us who have learned a little, lived a little and walked longer in the path of child loss to stick around?
Newly bereaved parents need to know that they CAN survive.
Your presence-even if you don’t have wonderful words of wisdom-speaks volumes.
When someone comments and shares that her loss was 5, 7, 10 years ago, it helps my heart hold onto hope.
Because if YOU can make it, maybe I can too.
Life Happens
I confess.
When I used to drive by an unkempt yard, a run down house or bumped into an untidy person, I would think, “Goodness! Don’t they care about their yard, home or appearance? They need to do better! I would NEVER let my (fill in the blank) look like that.”
I don’t do that anymore.
Because I’ve learned that there are all kinds of reasons a body may not be busy mowing a lawn, painting a porch or even putting on matching socks.
Life happens.
And when it does, it demands all my energy, effort and attention. I don’t have the time or luxury of worrying about things that aren’t absolutely necessary for survival.
When Dominic left for Heaven, my priorities were immediately shaken out, sifted and re-ordered. Not only the big ones-like spending more time with the people I loved-but also the smaller ones-like whether or not I swept the front porch before someone visited.
More than nine years later and I look around sometimes wishing I was better at keeping up with things, better able to tidy up, decorate for the seasons, mend the fences, stay on top of clutter, or put together decent outfits.
But then I pause, breathe and realize that while the outside looks messy and unorganized and not at all like I’d prefer, my inside is focused on the things that really matter.
I am spending most of my time caring (one way or another) for other hearts.
Now when I see someone’s home that needs attention or someone who isn’t put together, I think, “What battle are they facing? What life circumstance has swallowed up their time, energy, and emotional reserves?”
Because life happens.
Whether we are ready for it or not.
Repost: The Loudest Silence
No matter how busy or how noisy or how frantic, in the middle of my chest there is a quiet place that holds space for my missing child.
It was true last year in the craziness of my mother’s health crisis and it’s been so very, very true this past eight weeks full of anxiety, discomfort, challenge and unbelievable stress.
Read the rest here: The Loudest Silence
Let it Rain
In a hurry, in a hurry.
That describes most of us these days, doesn’t it?
Always looking for the fastest way around the clogged intersection, the highway construction or the long line waiting to get a coffee at Starbucks.
But there are some things we can’t rush along.
Grief is one of them.
There are no shortcuts, no detours in this Valley of the Shadow of Death.
We long for a way to hasten past the deep, dark nights of sorrow and pain.
We beg God and anyone who will listen to show us the quickest route out of the miry pit of misery and missing.
It doesn’t exist.
Grief, like love, takes time.
Repost: Today’s Gift
I wrote this less than six months after Dominic ran ahead to heaven.
My heart had not yet fully grasped his absence and there was a lovely moment each morning when my sleepy eyes opened to a world where he was still in it.
Read the rest here: Today’s Gift
If I Could Sing One Song This Would Be It: “Love the Broken”
I definitely don’t have a solo quality voice.
I can carry a tune but it’s best carried mixed in with others in a choir so the occasional missed note is barely noticeable.
But if I was granted the ability to belt out a single song and have it broadcast far and wide, this would be it: “Love the Broken”.
Not, “Love the Lovely” or “Love the Sexy” or even “Love the One Who Loves You Back”.
Nope.
It would definitely be, “Love the Broken”.
This is the song I’ve learned the hard way. It’s the song that’s been burned into my heart and mind and soul and spirit. It’s the song that resonates in any language, across time and across miles.
It’s the song every single heart can understand.
Because we have all been broken at one time or another.
And we have all desperately needed love at one time or another.
I’m really not that great at many things. I’m a decent cook, a mediocre housekeeper, a devoted but probably not up-to-the-highest-standards shepherd, a lazy gardener, and a wish-I-could-follow-directions-better crafter.
But I am a full on, all out, no-holds-barred lover.
I am unashamed to speak blessing over strangers in public places.
I will not be silenced by a sheepish glance when my kids wish I’d just stop telling them how very much they fill my heart with so many good things.
I hug. I give cheek kisses. I hold the hand of a person whose heart is breaking just so they know they are not alone.
I believe with my whole heart that at least one verse of the New Song we will sing in Heaven is “Love the Broken”.
Because isn’t that really what Christ came to do?
His ultimate act of sacrifice was to bring the broken and outcast into the Kingdom.
He is Hope for the hopeless, love for the unloved, peace for the war weary soul.
Truth is, I’m going to spend my life on something.
I want to spend it like Jesus.
thelifeididntchoose 