February, 1992 I came home from the hospital with our fourth baby and woke up the next morning to a house full of children ages infant to six.
I thought that would be the most stressful and challenging season of my life.
I was wrong.
Read the rest here: Surviving Christmas
No great wisdom today. No wonderful insight.
Just tears.
A day that was going pretty well ended in a conversation with someone who should have known better stomping all over my heart.
Someone who is very much aware of my loss acted like it hadn’t happened.
It really hurt.
After all this time I was surprised by how very much it hurt.
So I cried.
I cried because I miss Dominic.
I cried because a day that had felt victorious ended in defeat. I cried because it feels selfish to hold people to the standard of caring about my broken heart when they are so busy with their own lives.
I cried because it feels like even those who shouldn’t forget ARE forgetting–the son that walked beside me for almost 24 years has been set aside in less than three.
My heart hurts and I don’t think I can just suck this up. I’m not even sure that I should.
Where do I draw the line between extending grace and asking for it?
I just don’t know.
Years ago this verse made me cry-God’s Word pierced my heart and His Spirit spoke, “Genuine offerings COST something.”
David: No, I will buy these things from you. Name your price. I will not make an offering to the Eternal One, my True God, that has cost me nothing.
2 Samuel 24:24 VOICE
I. Had. No. Idea.
But now I do.
Worship is no longer just singing along to a hymn or praise song, getting in the groove or swaying to the beat.
Worship is a sacrifice.
It. Is. A. Sacrifice.
It costs me more than I ever thought it would…
And it cost the wise men something too: Costly Worship
As I continue to walk this Valley, my heart asks the question, “What does healing look like?”
Fewer tears? Check.
More laughter? Check.
Better able to function? Check.
I’m definitely not as fragile as I was in the days and weeks and first months after Dominic left us.
I can do what life requires without falling apart (most of the time).
If you run into me out and about, I make small talk and answer questions about my family without breaking down.
So, from the outside looking in it seems the gaping wound of loss has healed pretty well.
But if I lift the lid of my heart ever so slightly, I’m amazed at how much it still hurts. I’m astonished by the depth of pain and sorrow just under the facade of OK.
I cannot claim to have reached some higher plane of healing or restoration yet. I’m not sure I will this side of heaven.
And the pain of loss has tainted the joy I feel in what remains.
Instead of brilliant technicolor, my life is now lived in sepia tones that warn what joy I have could be stolen at any moment.
The lesson I’ve had stamped with fire on my heart is this: Love is the only thing that matters in the end.
Love God.
Love people.
So the path to healing means I lean in and love Him and love the people He has given me with everything I’ve got.
Because love endures forever.
I wake before the morning light. Every. single. morning.
I get my coffee, sit in my chair and wait for sunrise.
I never worry that today it might not happen.
I’m never concerned that after all these years of faithfulness, this day may be the one where daylight fails to make an appearance.
There is no fear in this darkness because I know it will not last forever.
Morning is coming.
Morning. Is. Coming.
And that’s the hope I cling to in this longer darkness of the Valley of the Shadow of Death-no matter how many years it may be, the Valley has an end.
The same God Who keeps the earth in orbit around the sun has ordained that death will not have the last word.
Light will triumph.
Darkness will have to flee.
I look forward to heaven, where everything that the enemy has stolen will be redeemed and restored.
I’ve been reading The Jesus Storybook Bible-it is a remarkable way to re-imagine and re-engage with God’s Story.
My very favorite part is a paraphrase of Revelation 21:4:
“And the King says, ‘Look! God and his children are together again. No more running away. Or hiding. No more crying or being lonely or afraid. No more being sick or dying. Because all those things are gone. Yes, they are gone forever. Everything sad has come untrue. And see-I have wiped every tear from every eye!’”
An eternal morning is coming.
Morning. Is. Coming.
Are you as desperate as I am for peace?
Do you long for even ten minutes where you don’t feel anxious, or out of control, or incompetent or “less-than”?
There was a time in my life when I thought that I could handle anything tossed my way.
I had no reason to suspect my energy, my strength or my mental capacity to handle change would be exhausted. So far, I’d managed to do all that was required of me, had managed to cope with every challenging situation, had overcome the hurdles, continued the race and not given up.
That’s not me anymore.
I’m not defeated–yet-but I recognize defeat is a possibility.
I cannot bring peace to my own heart in my own strength.
But I know Who can: His Name is Peace
I will never forget it.
Our family was driving through Washington, D.C. at rush hour (poor planning, I know!) and got lost.
Not utterly, hopelessly lost-but definitely turned around.
Multiple lanes of traffic, unfamiliar signs, lots and lots of cars traveling way. too. fast.
My husband was driving and I was trying to read the map-trying to make sense of where we were and where we needed to be but I couldn’t do it fast enough to make a difference.
As soon as I determined which lane we should be in, which exit we should take, we had passed it.
In frustration, my husband finally just stopped–in the middle of the road on a small patch of no-man’s-land between two diverging lanes. I was scared to death.
And then a police car pulled up behind us.
The officer got out and asked what was going on. We explained our dilemma and he led us out of the maze of confusing options to the right road and we were on our way.
So many days I feel just like I did those years ago-confused, frightened, trying desperately to figure out which way to go but never able to slow down enough to really get a good look at the map.
I feel like I’m trying to navigate strange streets going 90 MPH.
Hurry up!
Should I turn right or left?
Did I just miss my exit?
I have no idea.
The destination is sure: I will leave this place and join my son in Heaven. But the path is winding and challenging and hard to figure out.
I can’t get out of the car called “Life” and wait until I have a clear route marked before me.
Sometimes I manage to get where I want to go. Sometimes I don’t.
Some days and some events turn out resembling how I thought they should. Many don’t.
So I keep on keeping on.
I’m navigating with the tools at hand and hoping for the best.
A grainy picture is all I have left of that last Christmas together.
I first wrote this in 2013 before our circle was broken:
Eighteen days to ponder the coming of God’s great Gift.
We know the end of the story which can make us jaded and impatient.
If for a moment we can recapture the desperate hope that was in the heart of Israel longing for Messiah and then in the next remember that He has come, we will be forever changed.
I can’t characterize many things in this grief journey as “gifts”.
But there is ONE thing: I am desperately longing for the coming again of Jesus the Christ.
The longing hope Israel felt is so much stronger in my own heart.
I understand in a very real way how much Israel hoped for His first coming. I feel it in my bones.
I wake every morning thinking, “Is THIS the day?”
Hope is what I hold on to.
It’s my lifeline.
There are many days when I cannot talk myself out of sorrow. Moments when I can’t distract my heart from the pain of missing Dominic.
So I don’t try.
Instead I remind myself of the fact that I serve a Suffering Savior.
I follow a Gentle Shepherd. I can trust a Compassionate Father.
I turn to God’s Word to encourage my heart.
Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God’s way. Through the Word we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us.
2 Timothy 3:16-17 MSG
Jesus knows my suffering. He understands my pain.
Yet it was our suffering he carried, our pain and distress, our sick-to-the-soul-ness. We just figured that God had rejected him, that God was the reason he hurt so badly.
Isaiah 53:4 VOICE
God has promised blessing to mourners, He has promised comfort to hurting hearts.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Matthew 5:4 NIV
The LORD will heal my heart-if not here, then in Heaven.
He is the healer of the brokenhearted. He is the one who bandages their wounds.
Psalm 147:3 GW
God will comfort me so that I can comfort others.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble
2 Corinthians 1:3,4
Jesus will not abandon me in my despair. He will uphold me when my own strength is gone.
Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Don’t tremble with fear. I am your God. I will make you strong, as I protect you with my arm and give you victories.
Isaiah 41:10 CEV
My Shepherd is right here with me. He will not leave me alone.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me
Psalm 23:4 NKJV
My son is not dead. He is alive with Christ. And he will be raised in the final day.
And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don’t want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus.
I Thessalonians 4:13,14 MSG
Death has been swallowed up in victory.
The trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. … So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory’
1 Corinthians 15:52,54 NKJV
Every single thing the enemy has stolen, killed or destroyed will be redeemed and restored.
God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away
Revelations 21:4 NKJV
Moving into December on the heels of a late Thanksgiving has taken me by surprise.
I thought I was better prepared for this third year without Dominic’s warm smile and quirky sense of humor to nudge me past treacly sweet Christmas songs into a more authentic celebration of the birth of Christ.
I was wrong.
While our weeks-long drought was broken by a wonderful and much-needed rain, the clouds also serve to emphasize the darkness of this time of year. They hide even the fainter light of an early setting sun and rush me straight into night.
One moment I can see clearly and the next I’m fumbling about for the light switch.
It’s been a rough week.
I dragged the small tree I’ve used these past two years from the attic full of hopes of a brighter and fuller season. I even got out some boxes of ornaments that we had tucked away since the children were small thinking I’d try to open a treasure box of memories that might dull the pain of missing.
It ended badly.
I’m boxing them back up today.
I Just. Can’t. Do. It.
I can’t even hang the newly purchased ornaments I’ve used the last couple years because now, they too, are reminders of how my heart is hurting, how my life is different, how my love for one of my children can no longer be expressed through special gifts and favorite cookies.
I think I’ll leave the tree empty this year. Lights only or maybe some handmade ornaments with the Names of Jesus.
Because that is really all I can hold onto right now.
The hem of His garment.
The hope of His promise.
The light of His love.
The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; those that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them has the light shined.
Isaiah 9:2 JUB
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