Tag: love

An Old Familiar Ache

Sunday morning my sweet granddaughter, Holly, was gathered into the arms of Jesus.

Her little heart just couldn’t bear the weight of this earthly life.

I know her Uncle Dominic will love her well until we join them.

In the meantime I’m left with that old familiar ache-the heaviness sitting on my chest, threatening to squeeze the air from my lungs.

I recognized it immediately even though it’s been a long time since it felt so heavy.

We grieve because we love.

Tears, wails, laments are all reasonable responses to loss.

Death is the enemy. Don’t ever let anyone try to spiritualize that truth away.

God hates death.

Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb. His tears weren’t mere sentiment. They were proof that He longed for death to die.

I hate that my son and daughter-in-law now walk the path of child loss. I hate my grandsons will grow up wondering what their baby sister might “look like now”.

It’s another invitation into the deeper grace and greater love of a God who gave His only Son because He is unwilling for sin to win.

I’m thankful that because Jesus came, lived and gave HIS life, death does not have the last word.

“Living He loved me, Dying He saved me, Buried He carried my sins far away, Rising He justified, freely, forever, One day He’s coming-O Glorious Day!“

Glorious Day by Casting Crowns

Love is Writing a New and Better Ending

I shared most of this on my personal Facebook page yesterday,

It was written before out sweet girl was gathered in the arms of Jesus.

But honestly, whether she lived or died, the words are still true.

Love has the last word ❤️

Saturday I got to see my little granddaughter,Holly, for the first time and hold her tiny hand.  It’s heartbreaking to walk through double doors and down a hallway where alcove after alcove is filled with hopeful parents keeping watch over their precious children.   

Many people point to such suffering and ask, “Where is God?”. Or they assert that if there is a God, He is neither good nor loving.  Often believers rush to His defense and make things worse by offering weak and illogical arguments that only add confusion and more doubt.  

A lot of my time is spent with broken hearts walking broken paths and I know that for many circumstances in this life there are simply no answers.  Definitely no answers that will satisfy the deep ache left by profound suffering or loss.

So I don’t offer answers.  I don’t toss platitudes like confetti from the sideline as weary ones plod on in the marathon of a fiery trial.  

I don’t know why babies are born so very sick or born straight into the arms of Jesus.   I don’t understand why on the hall opposite the NICU there is a pediatric cancer ward.  I don’t have any idea why one despicable person wreaks havoc on a school full of defenseless children and another kind soul suffers some terrible disease.

I do know that the world is not as God intended or first made it.  Sin has wrought calamity from the beginning.  Atrophy is the goal of this broken place.  

But God…

The Story isn’t over yet.   From Genesis to Revelation, Love is writing a new and better ending.  

Knowing and trusting in that Truth does not make suffering less painful, it only makes it bearable.  

I have no idea how Holly’s life will be woven into the eternal story God is writing but I know she matters. Her beating heart and fragile fingers were created for a purpose.   Jesus loves her.

Yesterday she joined her Uncle Dominic in Heaven.

It is unbelievably hard and sad to feel afresh that familiar ache of sorrow.

But our family is choosing to live in that mysterious and supremely uncomfortable space between what we can know in this life and what we will never understand until Eternity.  ❤️

When It’s Anything BUT a Happy New Year

I don’t know how you have responded to the chipper “Happy New Year” messages flooding your social media and inboxes but they generally land painfully on my fragile heart even after all these years.

It didn’t take long for me to realize after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven that so much of what we say in casual conversation is not helpful to those going through a hard time.

Even asking, “How are you?, “if you aren’t prepared for an honest answer, is an affront to an aching soul begging for someone, anyone to help bear the load.

New Year’s Eve I exchanged texts with someone who is well aware of all our family is going through only to have her send back: “Happy New Year! I hope your year is full of blessings!”.

At first I wanted to throw up. But then I literally laughed out loud in the darkness of my son’s truck because she has. no. clue.

Right after Dom left us, I was a walking nerve. Everything that anyone said or did that hit me as less than compassionate felt like a punch in the gut. It was physically painful. I didn’t want to be around anyone for very long except those in my immediate grief circle.

But over time, by the grace of God and by doing the work grief requires, I grew stronger and better able to carry this load. It wasn’t any lighter. I didn’t miss my son any less or “move on from” or “get over” his death.

I was able to gain perspective, though.

I could accept that before it was ME, I was just as ignorant as those who were saying and doing what they thought was the right thing (or maybe just the easiest thing) yet were causing pain instead of bringing hope and light.

If you are early on this journey, you may have to set strong boundaries to protect your broken heart. That’s not only OK, it’s good. Don’t expose yourself any more than necessary to those who (especially!) demonstrate repeatedly that they are not willing to learn more about how to compassionately companion the bereaved.

But be willing to expand your world a little bit as you heart begins to heal.

I don’t believe we will ever be “healed” until eternity. Yet when we invite Jehovah Rapha to do what only He can do, He will bind up our wounds.

There will be scars and tender places. We will never be able to walk in the world as those who have no enduring pain. But we CAN learn to walk in the world again.

Happy anything just isn’t something I say to folks anymore.

Instead I wish them a gentle and peace filled whatever the holiday might be.

And that’s what I wish and pray for you, my dears.

May this year be one in which the Lord’s Presence is very real and in which you feel seen, loved and held.

New Year’s Eve 2025: Auld Lang Syne

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.  We plot and plan and hope and dream but in the end we have very little control over how our story ultimately plays out.

So we are left each New Year’s Eve with some good memories, some not so good ones and some we cling to like gold from a treasure chest because they are all we have.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?

Never. 

Read the rest here: New Year’s Eve and Auld Lang Syne

Holidays 2025: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend

I’ve been stretched this year in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

Everyone I love has needed me-often at the same time and in disparate geographical locations.

I’ve learned the ins and outs of caregiving for a previously independent parent, navigated our complex healthcare system and traveled miles and miles in a dirt covered car because there is absolutely NO time to get it washed.

I’ve shoved grief down into an iron chest and screwed the lid on tight because I knew if I ever let it sneak out, I wouldn’t be able to get it back in.

The thing is, life goes on after child loss, with or without our permission. All the roles we filled BEFORE must still be filled. And I want to fill them.

But some days it would be lovely to have a break.

❤ Melanie

It would be helpful if the world could just stop for a day or a week (or a year!) when your heart is shattered by the news that one of the children you birthed into this world has suddenly left it.

But it doesn’t.

And immediately all the roles I have played for decades are overlaid by a new role:  bereaved mother.  Except instead of being definitive or even descriptive, this role is more like a foggy blanket that obscures and disorients me as I struggle to fulfill all the roles to which I’ve become accustomed.

Read the rest here: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend

Christmas 2025: Christmas Morning Prayer for Hurting Hearts

Oh, dear one who opened your eyes to the morning light carrying wounds so deep no one can see!

I am so, so sorry.

When things have gone terribly wrong it’s hard to get up and make merry.

I know.

Read the rest here: Christmas Morning Prayer for Hurting Hearts

Advent: Right On Time

I admit it-patience is not my strong suit.

I’m a person of action rather than deliberation.

Sometimes that gets me into trouble. Almost always it makes me intolerant of delays.

So I have to be very, very careful not to apply my impatience to God’s timing.

Read the rest here: Advent: Right On Time

Advent 2025: An Empty Heart Can Be Filled

I don’t know about you but I’ve never thought of hopelessness as something I wanted on my resume.

Hopelessness is typically tossed into the pile of “negative” feelings we all acknowledge but don’t want to experience and if we do, we try to minimize, rationalize or disguise them.

If I admit to it at all, I tend to look downward, whisper quickly and pray that no one takes much notice because it feels shameful.

But maybe hopelessness is the first step to truly celebrating Christmas.

Read the rest here: Qualified by Hopelessness: An Empty Heart Can Be Filled

Advent 2025: The First Christmas Was Messy and So Is Mine

It’s tempting to line up our friends and acquaintances in columns under headings of “perfect family”, “good christian”, “struggling addict” or “hopeless case”.  

When I label someone I justify my response-good or bad-and let myself off the hook for sharing the extravagant, unrestrained love God has shown to me.

The longer I live, the more people I meet, the more certain I am that the neat little categories we like to use are not very helpful.

If I decide they are “doing well” then they don’t need my help.

And if I decide they are “beyond hope” then why waste my time or effort?

Either way, I’m wrong.

Christmas is the story of God come down-Emmanuel-of Love reaching down into a dark and lonely world. It was hardly tidy, it was a Messy Christmas

Christmas 2025: Grace Gifts of Grief

It was a long time before I wanted to believe that I received any gifts worth keeping from this life I didn’t choose.

I knew I had tears, pain, agonizing sorrow, loss, heartache, dashed hopes, empty arms.

If I could give those back and regain my son, I would do it in less than a heartbeat.

I can’t, so I’m left here to ponder what else I’ve received from burying a child.

And I am learning that I have been given some gifts I truly cherish, although the price was higher than I would have willingly paid.

Read the rest here: Grace Gifts of Grief