Oh, sometimes I think I’m clever enough to do it.
I edit my words, costume my body and fix my face so I can act the part. But truth is, I never manage to fool anyone who looks closer than my plastic smile.
I can’t hide my heart.
And I don’t know why I try-I don’t get points for pretending.
There’s no prize at the end of this long road for the one who makes it with fewest tears.
Read the rest here: Zero Points for Pretending: You Can’t Hide Your Heart
One of the things I learned quickly after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven was that other people were very uncomfortable around my brokenness.
For some, it was because they didn’t know what to say or do when tears leaked from my eyes.
Others found the presence of a bereaved mother simply too hard to take-if it happened to ME, it could happen to THEM.
A few were just too self-focused to allow anyone else’s pain to rain on their “perfect” parade.
But if I’ve learned anything from this life it is this: Christ loves the broken. It’s the broken and breathless who realize they need a Savior.
And when I make room for the brokenness of others in my life, I’m inviting His Holy Presence to dwell in our midst.
❤ Melanie
I used to position myself at the end of the pew, just in case someone I’m not too comfortable with might come along and try to sit down.
It saved us both that awkward conversation where they ask if they can join me and I say “yes” with my mouth but “no” with my body language.
Read the rest here: Move Over, Make Room for the Broken
When children are young and growing every birthday is a celebration. And it absolutely should be!
But when you’ve walked a few (0r more than a few!) years on this old world, birthdays begin to morph into something else.
They remind a heart that life is short, that not all of the people we love will enjoy fullness of years and even those that do seem to leave us way too soon.
Birthdays-after precious people have run ahead to Heaven-mark one more year without them.
Instead of cake and balloons, flowers and presents, we sit with silence and absence, memories and wishes for more time…❤
Today my heart hurts more than usual.
It’s my mama’s birthday-the fourth one we will celebrate without her here to blow out the candles.
It’s also the fourth anniversary (do you call it that?) of the day Papa had to call an ambulance to rush her to the hospital.
She never came home.
Read the rest here: Birthdays and Wakeful Nights
At first grief felt only like sorrow and longing and brokenness.
Then it felt like confusion and anxiety and despair.
A little further along this journey it mostly felt like apathy.
Now it feels like love.
Read the rest here: Grief-It’s Really Just Love
Seven (!) years ago today I shared my first post in this space.
It was a timid foray into the wider world just a year and a half after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
I was truly frightened that once I began sharing my intimate thoughts, good (and not-so-good) experiences and things I was learning in this Valley of the Shadow of Death I would either: (1) find out no one really cared and/or; (2) offend friends and family.
But what motivated me to overcome that fear was a sense that for all the information out there on grief in general, I couldn’t find nearly enough first-person experience written in bite-sized chunks on child loss in particular.
After Dom ran ahead, it was difficult for me to sit down and read a whole book. I needed bits I could read on a single computer screen.
I also needed someone to be upfront and honest about what it meant to continue to cling to faith even when it was hard and even when it meant acknowledging doubts and living with unanswered questions.
It’s difficult to believe now with the plethora of popular books (both secular and religious) on “open broken” but seven years ago, there weren’t many around.
So I decided I’d just say what I had to say and let it fall on the ears that might need to hear it regardless of who didn’t like it or chose to ignore it.
And here we are seven years later.
I don’t know how long I’ll keep writing-probably as long as I feel like I have something to say, people are listening and my fingers can still tap-tap-tap the keyboard.
For now, writing is what I do.
Even when life interrupts almost everything else I will find a few moments to jot down thoughts and hit “publish”.
I know some posts are much thinner than others-maybe just a meme or two and an encouraging word. Some are just reworked posts from years gone by.
But I want to show up in case THIS morning someone’s having an especially rotten one.
I want you to know that there IS life after child loss.
A very different life.
A harder life.
A life you didn’t want and wouldn’t ever choose, but life nonetheless.
And I appreciate every. single. heart. who joins me here and cheers me (and others!) along.
Grief is the price we pay for love.
Grief is an appropriate and proportionate response to the death (the end of earthly companionship) of someone we love.
If grief is small, what does that say about love?
It can’t be both ways.
Read the rest here: Can’t Have it Both Ways…
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 was challenged recently by a pastor’s sermon to evaluate how many times I put off the good I could do today until some future “tomorrow”.
It’s more often than I’d like to admit.
Even now, even though I’m oh, so aware tomorrow may never come I will make up an excuse why NOW is just. too. inconvenient.
❤ Melanie
Good is something you do, not something you talk about.
Gino Bartali
Some medals are pinned to your soul, not to your jacket.
Set aside the tweets and the memes
Set aside the scores and the football predictions
Set aside the latest greatest whatever.
Move it off the table of your heart
And create space for the truly important:
Read the rest here: Set it Aside
Labels and categories can be helpful. When cruising the grocery aisles I’m thankful for the signs that point the way to “vegetables” or “baking needs”.
But labels can be harmful when applied to people.
Read the rest here: Strong or Weak? How Labels Harm the Hurting
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
I always knew it deep in my spirit but until death walked across MY threshold I was able to ignore it: Death Matters.
Death-in every form-reminds me that this world is not as God intended.
It reminds me that Christ’s sacrifice was necessary.
I reminds me that earth is not my true home.
There are some days I hate the burden of knowing intimately how very much death matters.
❤ Melanie
This talk that death doesn’t matter, that the grave isn’t awful and that separation from the ones we love for the duration of our earthly sojourn is not all that bad in light of eternity upsets me.
Revisit the first three chapters of Genesis and you understand.
God’s original creation did not include death.
Read the rest here: Death Matters
I wrote this post 18 months ago after a number of incidents when friends and family members tried to tell me how long to grieve, what my grieving should look like and (most hurtful) how my son would want me to grieve.
I rejected that notion then, and I reject it now.
Most of us have taken a class or two in literature–we read other people’s writing and sit around discussing “what it really means”. My husband has always scoffed at the notion that anyone but the author knows that.
Me–I love books, plays and poetry so I’ve spent a lifetime reading and trying to interpret the meaning of others’ words.
But now I find I’m leaning more toward my husband’s point of view.
One of the challenges I face as a grieving parent is finding that other people want to interpret my experience for me.
Read the rest here: curating grief
It’s possible to stand frozen at the corner of good intentions and helpful action.
I’ve done it dozens of times.
And every time I’ve allowed myself to swallow “but I don’t know what to do” and done nothing I’ve regretted it.
Every. Single. Time.
So I’m here to tell you that when you get that urge, feel that itch, hear that still, small voice that says, “DO something“, then do it.
Read the rest here: Should I DO Something? Yes. Absolutely.
thelifeididntchoose 