See, here’s the thing: to the outside world, my son’s death happened at a single point in time.
But to me, his death is a continuous event.
I must lift the cup of sorrow every day to parched lips. I must choose to take it to the One Who can help me lift it.
Jesus knows this cup.
He knows my pain: My Cup Overflows
Child loss for the believer in Jesus is a life of contradictions.
On the one hand I acknowledge, embrace and proclaim the awful truth of physical death. Every funeral declares that the world is not as God intended, every burial reminds me that sin demands payment and separates us from the perfect Presence of our Creator and guarantees that those who are sensitive to the Spirit walk in a Valley of Tears.
On the other hand, it draws my heart to the hope I have in Christ. It helps me hold onto my Shepherd King and creates longing for a Home I’ve never seen but am fully convinced is real.
Some days I lean one way and others I lean another.
It’s OK.
Because one day my faith will be made sight and there will no longer be any tension between the two.
Hallelujah! Amen.
❤ Melanie
In my neck of the woods, if you look close you can see tell-tale signs of old home places as you ride down country roads.
A few daffodils in rows emerge each spring to show where some housewife marked her path from front porch to mailbox. A crepe myrtle looks out of place in the woods but often has a twin if you know where to direct your gaze.
People always leave a trace…
Read the rest here: Overgrown
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.
Read the rest here: Feel and Deal to Heal
As a people-pleasing first born who hates conflict, giving in has always been easy for me. It’s only later that I wish I hadn’t.
So for most of my life, setting personal boundaries has been challenging.
But in the aftermath of child loss, healthy boundaries are no longer optional, they are necessary for survival.
So what are healthy boundaries?
Read the rest here: Healthy Boundaries in Grief
If yesterday’s verses were Paul’s closing arguments, these verses are his hallelujah!
When I am weak and weary and overwhelmed by the daily trudging uphill along the path of grief, my heart comes here.
Because truth is, over and over and over God has said in His Word, demonstrated by His actions and proved by His promises that love endures.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: NOTHING Can Separate Us From the Love of Christ
When Jesus claimed me as His child, I was liberated from darkness and made a prisoner of hope.
No matter how black the night, there is a pinhole of light. No matter how crushing the despair, there is a sliver of strength. When I want to stay under the covers, He beckons me to come out and I cannot resist.
I am a slave to the promise of Heaven.
Read the rest here: Prisoner Of Hope
Experiencing deep loss has a way of winnowing the frivolous from your life.
That doesn’t mean for one moment that (after those first years of heart wrenching, breath robbing pain) I don’t have fun.
I love to laugh!
But it does mean that I cut to the chase with daily decisions that aren’t going to make one whit of difference in five hours, much less five years.
Don’t have time for that nonsense!
I try hard to maintain relationships. I try hard to speak courage to the hearts around me. I try hard to be gracious (not always successful!) when others upset or disappoint me.
And I absolutely, positively insist that Scripture be taught in context.
Jesus is a gentle Shepherd. I want to be one too.
❤ Melanie
When I had a child, suddenly I cared about everything. When I lost a child, suddenly I cared about nothing.
~ a bereaved mother
When I read this comment, I thought about it for a moment to see if it was true for me.
And I realized that, yes, it WAS true at the very beginning.
Mind-numbing pain and soul-crushing agony pressed down so heavily that I couldn’t care about anything other than reminding myself to
Read the rest here: A Few of My Favorite Things
I’m a kinder, gentler person than I was before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
It’s a high price to pay to learn to walk more grace-filled through this life.
I’ve come to find out that every heart has a story. Every heart is carrying a burden.-perhaps not the same as mine, but a burden nonetheless.
And what causes the most pain in this life (next to the burden itself) is when another person runs over my heart without thinking about the burden it may hold inside.
So I have purposed not to do that to other people.
Read the rest here: Refuse to Cause Pain
Romans is a dense book full of quotable verses often taken out of context.
Today’s verses include some of the most hopeful and, frankly, hurtful verses tossed at broken hearts.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. ” (Romans 8: 28 NIV)
Often this verse is shared by well-meaning friends who want us to “look on the bright side”. They can’t comprehend that the darkness of child loss is so complete our hearts can’t imagine light still exists.
But when you see that verse and the ones that follow in context, a heart can find a foothold.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Not Everything IS Good
I don’t know about you but my face and my body tell the tale.
It’s a story of stress and strife and it’s not pretty.
I look at photos before and after and see grief written all over the pictures taken since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Read the rest here: Grief’s Physical Toll
I did NOT choose THIS life-the life of a bereaved mother-the life where my earthbound kids haul the legacy of burying their brother and losing the family they grew up with around.
But…BUT…there are still choices I can make within this life I didn’t choose.
I can choose to continue to invest the time, talent and energy I have in eternally significant ways.
I can choose not to hide my wounds, my scars, my fears, my questions and my struggles.
I can choose to be honest about the way grief continues to shape some aspects of how I walk in this world.
And I can choose to engage with the God who made me, who carries me and who will redeem, restore and resurrect everything and everyone the enemy has stolen.
❤ Melanie
It may not be this way around the country or around the world, but here in Alabama school has been in session for several weeks and the hot weather along with added commitments makes life a little harder.
After the excitement of posting “first day” photos wears off, routine sets in.
Carpools, music lessons, homework, getting everyone ready to rush out the door...it’s enough to wear anyone down.
That’s when it’s easy to lose sight of what’s important. That’s when the enemy whispers, “You don’t make a difference.”
He’s wrong.
You are shepherding eternal souls.
Don’t give up!
The tyranny of the urgent can push what’s important past the fringes of our attention.
Our vision can be so consumed with the day-to-day until there’s no space for long-term goals or ambitions.
But God has ordained that our children, eternal beings, be set in families.
Read the rest here: Sowing in Tears, Reaping in Joy
There are two ways to deal with the scars pain leaves behind: try to cover them up or display them boldly.
Hiding seems the easier way so many times-because the scars are tender and the last thing I want is to invite more pain. But it takes great effort and is rarely successful.
The edges peek out here and there and then I’m left awkwardly trying to explain how I got them and what they mean.
If I refuse to hide my scars and instead lay them open to the world, I am vulnerable, true. But I am also in a position to help others who are suffering the same pain that etched those scars in my heart.
Read the rest here: Choosing to Be a Lighthouse
We’ve all waited for something.
For those of us who carried a tiny life inside as it grew larger and larger and thought we might just burst open before he or she made an exit from the womb into the wide world, we know exactly how hard waiting can be.
We also know how fast waiting goes from “I’m not sure just when” to “it’s happening RIGHT NOW”.
Some of the most painful waiting is the hours of intense labor.
Before the blessed culmination, it hurts! A lot!
And then the beautiful fruit of all that pain, struggle and patience is in our arms.
Paul says that the whole creation (every single thing on the planet) is waiting in much the same way. Waiting, waiting, waiting for God’s perfect plan to reach fullness and be revealed in all its excellent glory.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: I’m Not The Only One Waiting
So I did something last week that was pretty big for me.
I went to the dentist-not once, but twice-AND I let him make some long-needed repairs to my neglected teeth.
For some folks this might seem like a silly bit of whiny sympathy seeking for the kind of every day healthcare I should be grateful for and not complain about.
But for me, it was HUGE.
I’ve never, ever liked having my mouth worked on.
Read the rest here: Everyday Brave
Child loss is often sibling loss.
It reshapes a life, a marriage and a family.
It makes it harder to absorb the blows life continues to throw.
My husband, myself and our earthbound children have learned to expect the worse and be delightfully surprised when it doesn’t come to pass.
❤ Melanie
I am always afraid that Dominic will be forgotten.
I’m afraid that as time passes, things change and lives move forward, his place in hearts will be squeezed smaller and smaller until only a speck remains.
Not in my heart, of course.
Or in the hearts of those closest to him, but in general-he will become less relevant.
But he is not the only one who can be forgotten. I am just as fearful that my living children will be forgotten.
Read the rest here: The Forgotten Ones: Grieving Siblings
![Gold Medal in Wrestling [Thoughts]](https://thelifeididntchoose.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/gold-medal.jpg?w=500)
I’m driving down the highway listening to the morning news brief. A quick mention that Paris is likely to get the bid for the 2024 Summer Olympics draws my attention.
I begin to do the math-when are the next Olympics? Oh, yes-2020. Three years away.
Double the time I’ve been without Dominic.
Read the rest here: Gold Medal in Wrestling [Thoughts]
My husband was sued for discrimination by a disgruntled employee. The whole thing started heating up just after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven in 2014. The suit was filed just before Christmas 2015.
We’ve been living with this awful thing hanging over our heads for nearly 3 years. Thankfully, the truth prevailed and my husband was exonerated.
But it took a huge toll on both of us and on our whole family.
I sat in a courtroom a few days ago feeling nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I was waiting for a verdict that had the potential to change the rest of my life but I could not muster a single feeling.
Because when you’ve watched your child’s body lowered beneath the ground, there’s really not much else the world can do to you.
Read the rest here: Here’s The Post I’ve Wanted To Write But Couldn’t Before Today
I realize not every parent enters child loss with the same reverence for Scripture and trust in the promises of God that I had when Dominic left us.
So it may be hard for your heart to believe the words we’ve been reading and studying this month. It may be near impossible for you to feel that God is a good Father, that He has not abandoned you and that He has a purpose and plan for your life, even here in this awful Valley.
If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know that while I still have faith, it’s a tested faith. I have dragged every single thing I believed before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, held it up and scrutinized it in the cold light of loss.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Your Word Revives Me
I’ve found that no matter how low I sink into the pit of despair, God always finds me.
My Shepherd King never leaves me without hope.
If I still my heart I can hear Him singing love, comfort, strength and grace over my wounded heart.
❤
Last week was hard. Partly due to missing Dominic and partly due to things that had no direct link to him, but were made harder because of grief.
I try to do two things when that happens: I withdraw as much as possible to create space for rest and renewal and I remind my heart of the truth:
Read the rest here: Preaching Gospel to Myself
It’s interesting how God gives a similar message to many in His family around the same time. My friend and fellow bereaved mom, Kathleen Duncan posted just yesterday Dear Momma Who’s Feeling Not Enough. She had no idea that I had this post lined up over a week ago for today. So maybe we should all take a moment to realize that we ARE enough-just us. Because of Christ, we ARE enough. ❤
It has taken me decades to internalize the message that I don’t have anything to prove.
It has taken many, many heartbreaking moments to realize that no matter how hard I try to please everyone and met each expectation held over my head, I will fail.
Read the rest here: I Am Enough Because HE is Enough
We use the word “hope” like a magic spell, an incantation, a lucky rabbit’s foot.
But hope is only as sure as the object of our hope.
My hope is based on the unchanging nature of the Lord Jesus Christ Who is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Because of that, I will not be ashamed.
Read the rest here: How To Hold On To Hope
It’s kind of counterintuitive really-that my initial response to Dominic’s death would be affirmation of my faith and my response weeks later would be doubt.
But it makes a lot of sense really.
When the unthinkable happens, if your heart is already turned in a particular direction the path of least resistance is to keep flowing downhill.
A bit later, when shock has worn off and your brain wakes up and you begin to do the “math” suddenly it’s not so easy to believe that God is good, He is sovereign and He has a perfect plan.
I wanted explanations!
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: In The Very Presence of God
One of the things I’m learning this side of burying my precious child is that there is no upper limit to the sorrow and pain I may have to carry in this life. And it’s no use comparing my burden to that of another-begging God to consider the differing weights and to make adjustments to lighten my load because it is heavier than that of another.
I do not get a pass on daily stress and strain.
I’m not guaranteed physical health.
I am just as likely as anyone else to get the grumpy cashier, to drop a dish or lose my keys. Or worse.
Read the rest here: Life is Absolutely NOT Fair
Grief has changed me in profound ways.
“Thoughtfulness” is one of them.
I was always (mostly!) outwardly thoughtful. I wrote thank you notes, brought hostess gifts, remembered birthdays, anniversaries and other important dates in the lives of friends and family.
But I wasn’t always as attentive to or aware of subtle and significant cues others might have been tossing in my direction.
Now I’m especially careful to pay attention and try to make space for things folks need or want to say, to be a safe person for the deposit of feelings or secrets that are too heavy to carry alone and I try, try, try to leave each heart better than how I found them.
I’ve had to examine so much in my own life and heart I never want to give the impression others aren’t free to do the same.
❤ Melanie
How many times have I chosen to ignore a friend’s need for companionship-brushing past importantly as I pursued the day’s tasks?
“I’ll get around to it when I have more time,” I think to myself.
And then one day there is no more time. The friend I kept putting off has left this world for the next and I can’t retrieve the missed opportunities.
Nothing stings like words unsaid, hugs not given or love left bound in a heart instead of set free to bless another.
Read the rest here: Priorities
Is faith always a never-faltering, wild “Hallelujah!”?
I don’t think so.
Read the rest here: What Does Faith Really Look Like?
Every morning I get up, make coffee, sit down and drink in the quiet with my caffeine. I listen for a bit and then write down what I hear my heart saying. It has been the most effective habit for helping me walk through this Valley in the four years since Dominic left us.
Silence is necessary for a heart to do the work grief requires.
Don’t fight it.
Read the rest here: Silence is a Gift
If someone asked me to describe Jesus I would say He’s the God who does not turn away.
He’s the God who comes near.
He’s the God who will always, always, always show up and bend down.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: The God Who Comes Near
This came across my Facebook newsfeed and I really liked it.
Concise, it also acknowledges that most bereaved parents understand folks generally mean well, even when they say something less than helpful.
Honestly, this is great advice for what not to say to anyone going through a tough patch.
Read the rest here: Helpful Advice on What Not to Say to a Grieving Parent
Today’s posts are pretty raw.
And that’s what I’ve tried to bring to this space again and again-an authentic and unfiltered portrayal of grief, grace, faltering and faith.
Five years ago I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair in an uncomfortable situation. I had NO idea how it would turn out.
But I’d had practice by then.
I’d learned to let the tears fall when they needed to, to plaster a smile on my face when I had to and to cling tightly to truth because, in the end, that was the only way I’d make it.
If you are hanging on to hope by the thinnest of threads, let me encourage you.
I won’t promise “light at the end of the tunnel” as if it will be OVER one day.
But I will promise light in the darkness if you refuse to let go.
“Follow Me,” Jesus said to the twelve.
“Follow Me,” Jesus said to me when I was just a child.
“Yes,” I replied-not knowing or counting the cost.
If it was a single commitment without opportunity for turning back then it would be easy.
But it’s not.
Read the rest here: Surrender
I belong to several online bereaved parents’ groups and they are truly a lifeline in so many ways.
I can speak my mind there without fear of rejection or correction or of hurting my non-bereaved friends and family. I learn from other parents farther along in this journey how they cope with birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and every day grief triggers.
Sadly, there are new members added daily. New parents are forced to join this “club” where the dues are higher than anyone would willingly pay.
Read the rest here: Grief Groups and Echo Chambers
I wish I could write openly about the things that are going on right now in my life, but I can’t.
So you’ll just have to trust me when I say these past months-really this past year-has been the most challenging since the first 365 days after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
I have cried more in the past three weeks than I have cried in the past three years.
Read the rest here: Transparent, Vulnerable, Scared
Before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I didn’t cry much.
Since April 12, 2014 I’ve cried a river-tears for breakfast, lunch, dinner and into my pillow at night when I tried to fall asleep.
When sorrow overtakes a heart, it’s hard to think about anything else.
There was a very real danger that sadness would drag me down in a pit so deep I would never be able to crawl back out.
And then the enemy of my soul would win.
But God.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Tears Won’t Last Forever
If you wonder if all these crazy emotions are normal in grief, the answer is a resounding, “Yes!”.
Grief is a ball of emotions any one of which may demand more or less of your attention on a given day. It’s not just sadness or missing or sorrow or even pain.
Read the rest here: Wondering If All These Crazy Emotions Are Normal In Grief? Yes. Absolutely.
I was recently told by someone that my world was tiny.
It hurt my heart.
Not because it is factually inaccurate but because the person who said it implied that distance traveled from my front door equaled responsibility and influence. If I don’t wander hither and yon, then I’m inferior. If I don’t have paid employment then whatever I do doesn’t “really” count.
I know many bereaved parents have been forced to scale back commitments, maybe change jobs or retire early, and, like me, lead a smaller life than before.
I’m here to tell you that’s perfectly OK.
Read the rest here: It’s Alright To Be Little Bitty
This life I didn’t choose requires that I walk with one foot in the here-and-now and one foot in forever.
It also forces me to forge a narrow path between what my mama heart longs for (my son’s physical presence) and what my faith in Jesus says I SHOULD long for (Heaven).
Some days I do a good job balancing it all and some days not so much.
These posts are a peek inside both kinds of days.
All the fears I thought I knew
All the what-ifs I pondered during inky nights-
None of them-none. of. them. prepared me for this reality.
Read the rest here: Unnatural
Can we talk about my missing son and quit pretending that just because he’s no longer present in the body, he’s not still part of my life?
Can we say his name without also looking down or away like his death is a shameful secret?
Can we share stories and memories and laughter and tears just as naturally about HIM as we do about anyone else?
Read the rest here: Can We Talk?
I have to talk to myself all the time.
Literally.
There are some mornings I open my eyes and would do just about anything to be able to stay in bed, hide under the covers and wish the day away.
But I can’t.
So I recite truth until my heart can hear it. I speak courage to my own spirit.
If you are feeling weak and weary today, may I share a few of my favorites?
Read the rest here: Something to Hold On To When You Feel Like Letting Go
I have been a shepherd for twenty years.
The longer I care for my sheep and goats, the more I understand why God put His leaders through this school of discipleship.
Many days it’s a thankless job-my charges often do foolish things that place them in peril, they work hard to tear down the fences I’ve erected for their safety and they wander away forcing me to chase after them and bring them home.
But I never give up on them.
A shepherd’s heart is revealed in how she (or he) takes care of the weakest animals.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: My Good Shepherd
I know, precious heart, as the months and years roll by and everyone else has moved forward and moved on, it’s easy to feel like no one sees your wounds, no one takes note of your sorrow, no one remembers your pain.
It can make you feel invisible.
But you are NOT invisible.
I see you and I will walk alongside for as long as it takes.
I am committed to continue to trust Jesus and to look to the Word of God for my hope and direction in this life and in the one to come.
I speak truth to my heart through Scripture, worship songs, testimonies of others who have gone before and remaining in community with other believers.
But I’ve yet to reach the place where I can plan on most days being better days rather than hard ones.
I’m trying.
And I’m working to tease out the influences that make a difference-both the ones that help and the ones that hurt.
So here’s the list so far:
Read the rest here: What Helps and What Hurts
Each day I am reminded by sights, smells, sounds and memories that Dominic is in Heaven and not here.
But there are moments and seasons when his absence is particularly strong-when I can’t breathe in without also breathing a prayer, “Father, let me make it through this minute, this hour, this day.”
And that’s when I need grace-from family, friends and strangers.
Read the rest here: A Little Extra Grace
I know, precious heart, as the months and years roll by and everyone else has moved forward and moved on, it’s easy to feel like no one sees your wounds, no one takes note of your sorrow, no one remembers your pain.
It can make you feel invisible.
You feel like a black and white pasteboard cutout in a world peopled by technicolor action figures.
But you are NOT invisible.
Read the rest here: You Are Not Invisible
I don’t know about you but I’m tired.
Not just physically tired-although there are plenty of days when chores done in the Alabama sun beat my body down.
I’m soul weary.
My heart cries out, “No more! I can’t carry a single other burden! I’m buckling under the load!”
Jesus understands.
He knows that this world is a harsh place for tender hearts. He recognizes that other people heap heavy weights on already laboring souls. He understands that work and worry and even well-doing wear us to a nub.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Worn Out and Weary? Jesus Understands.
Many of us pretty much skipped the holidays in 2020. That was actually kind of a nice break for some bereaved parents who were rescued from having to navigate family expectations while grieving the loss of a child.
This year looks like a lot of folks aren’t only embracing long-held traditions but also pulling out all the stops to make up for last year’s lackluster celebrations.
So I’d like to simply put this perspective out there.
While others feel liberated, the bereaved are still carrying the same load.
❤ Melanie
I know it is hard. I know you don’t truly understand how I feel. You can’t. It wasn’t your child.
I know I may look and act like I’m “better”. I know that you would love for things to be like they were: BEFORE. But they aren’t.
I know my grief interferes with your plans. I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years. But I can’t help it. I didn’t ask for this to be my life.
I know that every year I seem to need something different. I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating. But I’m working this out as I go. I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son. It’s new for me every year too.
Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays: What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family
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