healing – thelifeididntchoose

A Beautiful Moment: The Light Finally Gets Through

A few years ago, I had a grace-filled, heartwarming visit with another bereaved mama who came all the way from Maine just to hang out with me. And that was so, so good.

As she and I shared over coffee and tea, shopping and meals, lounging and walking we found so many ways in which our journeys have been similar even though the details are really very different.

One is this: There was a distinct moment along the way when each of us began to see light and color again in the midst of our darkness and pain and it was a turning point.

Read the rest here: There’s A Moment When The Light Makes It Through Again

Grieving a Child: Raw Emotions and Healing

I hid this post in my draft folder for months before I published it the first time.

It seemed too raw, too full of all the pain inside my mama heart to put out in the wide world for everyone to see.

And then it was time (like now) to change the flowers on the place where my son’s body rests and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “THIS IS NOT ALL THERE IS OF MY BOY!” I wanted to stop people on the street and make them listen to his story, to give away a piece of him for others to carry in their hearts.

Read the rest here: My Child Existed. He Matters.

Grief Work 2025: I Have to FEEL All The Things In Order to Heal

It’s so tempting to try to run or numb the pain of child loss!

Who willingly submits to 24/7 excruciating pain?

But the truth is, unless I face my feelings, give my heart and mind time to experience them and work toward processing them, I cannot even begin to heal.

One of the most difficult and time consuming aspects of grief work is setting aside space and giving myself grace to do just this. In the first couple of years I would venture to say that the majority of my waking hours-intentionally or unintentionally-were spent on this very thing.

Even eleven years later, I still spend some portion of every day (although now it may be fleeting) feeling, dealing and trying to work on healing part of my broken heart.

❤ Melanie

If I touch a hot stove my hand jerks away almost before my mind registers the searing pain. It’s reflex. Our bodies were designed to react to and protect us from things that cause pain.

Run away. Don’t go back. Set up barricades and warning signs so that others can be protected.

Most of the time, this reaction serves us well.

But sometimes those reflexes keep us from healing.

Anyone who’s had major surgery knows that when the nurses come in the next morning saying, “We’re going to get you out of bed today!”, the last thing you want to do is swing your legs over and stand up. It HURTS!

We want to avoid what hurts, not embrace it.

So it’s no surprise that when we suffer deep emotional wounds, our first response is to try to run away or bury them or ignore them. The last thing we want to do is face them.

But if I am to heal, I have to face them. I have to take hold of each place where the dagger of grief and sorrow and regret and anger has pierced my heart and examine it closely. I have to decide what to do with it, how to integrate it into my life after loss.

Grief is work! That is one of the reasons grievers need solitude as well as companionship on this journey. And that is why grief can’t be hurried along. It takes a great deal of time to do the work grief requires.

If instead of facing our pain, we try to run away or distract ourselves or numb ourselves with alcohol, food or drugs, we only prolong the process. Grief will not be ignored forever.

healing doesnt mean damage never existed

We must FEEL what we need to feel.

Then we must DEAL with those feelings-it might mean seeking a professional counselor or a trusted friend. Online or in-person grief support groups are a wonderful resource. Journaling can help too. But we have got to acknowledge and work through these feelings.

And then we can begin to HEAL Hearts that have embraced and made some sense of grief can begin to beat again. They can begin to love again and feel joy again. They can learn to carry both sorrow and happiness-to remember and honor the missing child while also honoring and loving family and friends still here.

It’s not a “once and done” exercise.

I have repeated these steps over and over in the soon to be [nine] years since Dominic ran ahead to heaven. New feelings show up at the door of my heart and I have to choose to feel them, to search for what they mean and why they are here and then allow them to be woven into the fabric of who I am NOW-this side of child loss.

It takes courage and stamina and determination, but it is the only way forward.

owning-our-story-and-loving-ourselves-through-the-process

Lament For Texas

It’s been hard listening to the news about the flooding and tragic loss of life in Texas.

I say “listening” on purpose-the images are too painful for this mama to see.

I don’t have to imagine what desperate hope was still burning in parents’ hearts in the early hours and days as they waited, waited, waited to find out upon which side of that awful line they would land.

Would they be the lucky ones who got to take their children home or would they be the forsaken, planning a funeral for a too-small body of their beloved whose life had only just begun?

Even before the count was tallied folks were weighing in with opinions and pointing fingers and posturing in front of their pet political or social position using these poor people as props without their permission.

Worse yet, in my view, are the outsiders offering what they undoubtedly believe, are “reasons” for the tragedy-trying to spin sense out of the senseless and urging those whose lives have literally been tossed upside down to adopt a philosophical view and find the blessing in the bruising.

I can’t tell you the hours I spend speaking with parents who have had to untangle the web of well-meaning but misguided advice and spiritual counsel after burying a child. Their hearts are not only burdened by loss but by other people’s ideas about how they should be processing it.

I understand that humans are wired for meaning making. I know people feel compelled to apologize for God, to speak for Him and to create an understandable narrative of what He may or may not be doing in the world.

But Scripture is clear:

My intentions are not always yours,
and I do not go about things as you do.
My thoughts and My ways are above and beyond you,
just as heaven is far from your reach here on earth.

Isaiah 55: 8-9 VOICE

So this is my offering as we mourn out loud for lives lost and for those who have, like us, been thrust into a life they did not choose:

LAMENT FOR TEXAS

O, LORD! Where were You when the waters rose in the dark? Why didn’t You send armies of angels to guide these little ones to safety? Why were children ripped from the arms of their parents as they struggled in the black night against forces too strong for even their determined grasp?

My heart is shattered.

My own grief and fear has broken out of the heavy-lidded chest where I’ve learned to keep it locked away so I can function in a world where things like this happen over and over and over.

I won’t pretend that this is good. I won’t plaster pretty words across devastation.

I can only lean into what I know is true. I can only hold on to the hope that has led my heart back to light and life after my own dark day of tragic loss.

You are God.

And though sin has marred your good, good creation,

You are still good.

In Your mercy and by Your power You will weave what the enemy intends for evil into the eternal story You are writing for the display of Your glory. The black threads of loss will be part of it.

Death is awful.

It is the last enemy to be conquered.

Until then, I wait for Your redemption.

I trust in Your love.

There Is NO Rush, Dear Heart. Take Your Time.

Time, by itself, does not heal all wounds.

But of all the factors that promote healing, there is NO SUBSTITUTE for time–not in the physical world of surgery and broken bones and deep wounds and not in the inner world of emotional pain and brokenness and sorrow.

Our bodies are made to be amazingly resilient.

Most people don’t really think of surgery as an assault on the body, but it is.

The surgeon knifes through layers of flesh and tissue that are designed to keep intruders out, mucks about inside, does what he or she came to do, and closes up–hopefully without introducing bacteria into the wound. Some medication may be prescribed to promote healing, control pain and reduce the risk of infection.

Then the patient goes home to recover.

But it is really TIME and the body’s own healing powers that do the lion’s share of the work.

Our hearts and minds can be resilient too.

Frequently, someone who suffers an assault on their emotions may not bear outward signs and symbols to mark what they’ve been through. And well-meaning friends and family can forget that healing has only begun and is far from complete.

Sometimes broken people feel pressured to put on a brave face and to stuff their feelings.

For the body, ignoring doctor’s orders to rest after surgery can mean another hospital stay due to complications that might have been avoided if the patient had been given sufficient time to recover.

Emotionally wounded people can end up with complications from pressure to rejoin regular activities and engage society in ways for which they are not yet ready.

It takes TIME to heal from burying a child or any other traumatic loss.

There is no way to rush the healing. It takes HOURS AND HOURS to think about, respond to and process the feelings that overwhelm anyone who is grieving or trying to cope with emotional upheaval of any kind.

So be patient with yourself.

Understand that there will be good days and bad days.
There will be forward movement and steps backward.
Sometimes it will be easy to do something or go somewhere and the next time it might be really hard.

And don’t be afraid to let others know you are still healing.

Deep emotional wounds require great care and an extended period of time to heal if the healing is to be sound and free from unnecessary complications.

You are not selfish to draw boundaries around what you can and can’t do, what you will and won’t allow and where and when you engage with others-you are being wise.

For those walking with the wounded: extend grace and be patient.

Thank God you are not bearing this burden and be mindful of placing demands or pressure on the wounded to heal according to a predetermined timetable.

Then support them in their effort to give themselves the TIME they need to heal.

Giving Tuesday: You Can Make a Difference

I’m a shepherd, not a promoter.

But one thing I’m learning in this new and sometimes scary world of “official” ministry is this: People don’t know what you don’t share with them.

So today, in honor of Giving Tuesday, I’m sharing again both how the Lord led me to expand what I’ve been doing for the past nearly ten years into something bigger, more far reaching and definitely more challenging AND how you can be part of it.

If you would like to join me in reaching bereaved parents with the light, love and life of Christ, you can do so through this link:

https://square.link/u/cNen14Q1

Thank you to those who have already encouraged my heart by giving.

Your choice to invest in spreading hope and light to hurting parents will have eternal consequences.

If you missed the original post introducing the ministry back in August, here it is:

It’s still dark here.

The days are getting perceptibly shorter for those of us tuned in to the turning of the earth and the passing of the seasons.

But the light is coming. It always does.

And that is what I have clung to in these more-than-ten years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. That’s what compels me to write.

I want every hurting heart to know that the night doesn’t last forever.

It’s also why today I have something exciting (and scary, if I’m honest!) to tell you: I’ve created an official ministry for the work I do here and on Facebook through Heartache and Hope (https://www.facebook.com/heartacheandhope/).

The Lord planted a vision in my heart awhile ago to expand into new territory.

I am a quiet person who longs only to stay (mostly) in my home and surrounding area. I once loved traveling but now only really enjoy it in the company of family to low-key destinations that afford plenty of space and natural beauty.

But I am stepping out into uncomfortable places and trusting my Shepherd King to provide the means and direction to journey on.

I’m not one to appropriate Old Testament verses to justify current choices but I do absolutely believe that He nudges us to spread out and to reach further than we might choose to do in our flesh.

So, like Jabez, I pray:

Oh that You would bless me indeed and enlarge my territory! Let Your hand be with me, and keep me from the evil one.”

And God granted his request.

I Chronicles 4: 9, 10

Read the rest here: Stepping Out in Trust: Heartache and Hope

Reflections on a Decade of Holidays After Child Loss

Fellow brave and bereaved, I don’t know how you feel coming off this late-in-the-month Thanksgiving headed straight for Christmas but I’m kind of tired.

Yesterday I shared about post-holiday blues but this is something different.

I love, love, love any time I get with my family and I want to be clear that THEY do not place demands on me I find burdensome.

But…I am no better prepared to trudge through all the holly-jolly THIS year than I was the second year after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. (I don’t even count the first year when shock overwhelmed my heart.)

This far along in my grief journey many folks I rub shoulders with are either unaware that child loss is part of my story or they’ve tucked that “incident” away in some rarely accessed section of their memory. And while I do not tote my loss around like a token demanding special attention, it absolutely continues to inform how I experience every day and especially how I experience holidays.

So I wanted to share a few thoughts about THIS year-the eleventh Christmas I will celebrate since Dom left us.

It’s still hard. It still takes 110% effort to show up, engage, maintain enthusiasm, DO all the things (or even my abbreviated list of things), not let my emotions overrun my desire to be polite and find time to sit silent in the circle of sacred sorrow that helps my heart hold on to hope.
I have to constantly revisit my own advice (which I will repost in the coming days) about giving myself permission to bow out of whatever I simply can not face.
Communication is key. It sometimes surprises me (but shouldn’t!) that other people can’t read my mind and most forget what I told them last year or the year before. Add to that things change from year-to-year and there’s no way around the need for at least a casual conversation about what THIS year is going to look like.
Grace greases the wheels of relationships. Grace for myself. Grace for family and friends. Grace for strangers-including the clerk at the grocery store-who are probably doing the best they can too.
Increased social interaction-whether a function of more planned activities or just the crowds of shoppers-means it’s harder for me to escape the pressure of social anxiety that has developed post loss. I try to choose carefully what I add to my calendar, graciously send regrets for the rest and then refuse to feel guilty about it.
I am more careful about hydrating and not over indulging in any foods that tend to send my body into overdrive. It’s less about the calories (although I need to be mindful of those!) than it is about the wild swings poor nutrition produces in my sense of physical well-being.
I must plan rest stops along the way. I can’t overschedule, overstimulate and overwork myself and still maintain a semblance of control over my emotional response to the grief waves and grief ambushes this season is sure to provide. I try to set aside at least a few minutes EVERY DAY and (if possible) one day PER WEEK that promises quiet solitude and the opportunity to unwind and unspool built up tension and anxiety.
I purpose to find joyful moments and beautiful memories when gathered with others and when doing all the things holidays require. I hold them close and cherish them.

Most importantly, I remind my heart that this season is only a season.

It doesn’t last forever.

I will survive this like I’ve survived every day since Dominic left us-one moment, one breath at a time.

Please Don’t Let the Outside Fool You

From the outside-very soon after all the formal visiting, meal bringing and memorial service or funeral-most bereaved parents look “fine”.

We have to.

The world doesn’t stop turning because our world imploded.

Work, life, family duties, household chores, and all the ordinary things determined by hours and calendars keep rolling along.

But on the inside, every bit of who we are, how we feel, what we think has been devastatingly poked, prodded, ripped apart and rearranged.

And just like there is no substitute for TIME in physical healing, there is no substitute for TIME in emotional, mental or spiritual healing either.

So if you are fresh on this path, new to the rigors of trying to “do life” while mourning your precious child, recognize that there is oh, so much damage where people can’t see.

Read the rest here: Don’t Let The Outside Fool You

You Are God’s Treasure, Dear One, Even When You are Broken

I have no idea why God’s plan includes me outliving my child but He has a purpose that is yet unfulfilled for my life.

What happens TO us doesn’t determine our worth-not even the awful and heart shattering experience of child loss.

You are loved by a Heavenly Father Who has a plan for your life.

He can bring beauty from ashes, even the ashes of child loss.

You are not alone-you have a community of bereaved parents who will listen, love and lift you.

Read the rest here: You are a Treasure

A Beautiful Moment When the Light Gets Through…