Repost: Absolutely More Than I Can Handle

We’ve allowed a lot of common sayings to rise to the level of Scripture in everyday language and that’s unfortunate.

Because many of them are just plain wrong.

And some of them are dangerous.

One of those I consider dangerous is this:  “God will not give you more than you can handle”.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/12/26/absolutely-more-than-i-can-handle/

Nothing Tidy About That First Christmas

We’ve whitewashed everything about this scene:  beatific Mary gazing serenely at a cleaned up baby cozy in a cleaned up manger towered over by Joseph and surrounded by adoring shepherds and freshly groomed, sweet smelling animals.

It was nothing like that.

Birth is pain and sweat and effort.

And messy.  So, so messy.

I like to think more clearly about what that night was like.  It helps my heart to know that even while God was being birthed as a man into the world He created, He didn’t hide the hard.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/12/24/christmas-drama/

Repost: Why, Oh Why Is Christmas SO Hard???

As the [sixth] Christmas without Dominic rapidly approaches, I am pondering the question:  “Why, oh why, is Christmas so hard?” 

I think I’ve figured out at least a few reasons why.

For me, probably THE biggest reason Christmas is hard is because it throws off the routine I depend on to shepherd my heart through a day.  It’s easiest for me to manage when I have at least a couple of hours of quiet time each morning.  I need those silent moments to let my heart feel what it needs to feel, to cry if I must and to orient my thoughts after, once again, “remembering” that Dominic isn’t here.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/12/17/why-oh-why-is-christmas-so-hard/

And The Gap Grows

Today has not been a good day.

It’s not a grief anniversary or a holiday or a birthday or any other identifiable grief trigger.

But I have cried. A lot.

Life refuses to pause, to take a break, to stop plowing forward even though I’m worn out and begging for a moment to catch up, catch my breath, figure out how to keep going.

No matter how well I plead my case it seems there’s no reprieve.

The gap between how I wish things would go and how they actually proceed grows wider each day.

I’m not angry.

I’m defeated.

Tomorrow is another day and I look forward to new mercies with the sunrise.

Managing Expectations: Grief Makes Everything Harder

Trust me, I WANT to do all the things I used to be able to do.

I want to live up to every commitment, be at every event or celebration, make myself available and remain flexible and always say the right thing.

But I can’t.

I couldn’t before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven (although I had more energy to try) and I definitely can’t now.

Often I disappoint myself or those I love and I hate that.

No one can be as upset with me as I am with myself. No one can condemn me with a longer list than the list I keep in my own heart. No one can say anything to me that I haven’t already said to myself.

I have no illusion that I’m perfect. I don’t think I’m even close to perfect.

But I do have high expectations of myself and when I fall short, it’s a hard fall that ends with a THUD! and it takes days to mend.

I need to manage my expectations.

I need to be more realistic about what I can and can’t do.

Grief makes everything harder.

Even after five years.

None Of This Is Easy

It gets harder and harder to be honest the longer I walk this Valley.

Because it’s natural that those for whom Dom’s death was a moment in time, a short season of mourning, an unfortunate incident they sometimes look back on with sadness and regret but don’t live with daily move on.

The further we get in time from the actual moment of Dominic’s sudden departure, the larger the gap between my heart and theirs.

I understand that.

But that chasm is more and more difficult for me to bridge.

It requires energy and effort I don’t always have to reach out and reach across and try to help them understand me.

So sometimes I just don’t.

There is always going to be a blank space where Dominic SHOULD be, but isn’t.

There are always going to be places that aren’t colored in because that part of the canvas belongs to HIM.

There is always, always, always going to be pain when I line up for family photos, set the table for family dinners, go on family trips, wrap presents, send cards, list names on documents because HE IS NO LONGER HERE.

Others think the water fills in where the stone sank down.

But my mama heart knows exactly where those ripples ought to be.

So I quietly remember, quietly mourn, quietly mark that special spot-smiling on the outside.

No one the wiser.

No one the sadder.

No one but me anything at all.

Repost: Why is the Second Year SO Hard?

I remember very well the morning I woke on April 12, 2015-it was one year since I’d gotten the awful news; one year since the life I thought I was going to have turned into the life I didn’t choose.

I was horrified that my heart had continued to beat for 365 days when I was sure it wouldn’t make it through the first 24 hours. 

And I was terrified.

Read the rest here:  Why is the Second Year SO Hard?