Tag: love

Grief: Why I Still Need Grace From Friends and Family

There have been a number of television shows lately centered around families and personal tragedy that simultaneously draws them closer and tears them apart.  

Some of the writers and actors are doing a good job showing what it looks like to live through a nightmare. 

Some, not so much.  

But none of them will take it out to years and decades-the audience would lose interest, decide that story line needed refreshing or simply needed to GO. 

For those living with child loss, it’s no story line.  We don’t get to walk away, change the channel, find some new and more interesting or more comfortable screen to watch.  

It’s our life.

And we need folks who will hang in and hang on while we live it out.  ❤

You cannot possibly know that scented soap takes me back to my son’s apartment in an instant.

You weren’t there when I cleaned it for the last time, boxed up the contents under the sink and wiped the beautiful, greasy hand prints off the shower wall.  He had worked on a friend’s car that night, jumped in to clean up and was off.

He never made it home.

So when I come out of the room red-eyed, teary and quiet, please don’t look at me like I’m a freak.

Please don’t corner me and ask, “What’s wrong?” Or worse-please, please, please don’t suggest I should be “over it by now”. 

Read the rest here:  Grief and Grace:What I Need from Friends and Family

 

Keeping Short Accounts: What I’m Learning From My Son’s Sudden Death

This Sunday morning I had to extend and ask for forgiveness all within fifteen minutes.  

One person said something that unintentionally hurt my heart (he had no idea that what he said plunged a knife in it) and then I overstepped in making an event public before making sure it was definitely on the calendar.

It could have meant I walked away offended and upset. 

But I didn’t.  

Instead I was honest with the person who upset me about what he said and why it hurt.  He apologized immediately and I was quick to accept it.  And when I realized I had offended the other person, I asked for her forgiveness and she granted it too.

I find it’s easier for me to do both- ask for and extend forgiveness-this side of child loss for lots of reasons.  

First, I’m learning that I just don’t have the energy to maintain an offense. 

Offenses are like very fragile hot house plants-they need lots of tending, protection from the elements and so much time.  I used to be good at keeping an offense healthy and vibrant.  I would feed it often and refuse to subject it to the harsh winds of real life where it could be shown for what it was-not worth the energy or effort!

It’s so much easier to wipe the slate clean and begin again.  

Second, I’m learning that since grief wears me down in so many ways, I don’t have the resources to maintain my own mask, keep up my own pretense of always being in a good mood, smiling and having the right words to say.  So I make mistakes, step on toes and feelings with a fair degree of regularity and NEED forgiveness often myself.

I can hardly expect others to extend to me what I withhold from them!

Third,  I’m learning that the only thing worse than finding out someone I care about is beyond reach is hearing that news knowing I never made things right when it was within my power to do so.  

When you’re expecting your healthy, vibrant, youthful son to pop over on Saturday morning but instead get a knock on the door before sunrise, it changes everything.

Sometimes I don’t heed my own advice.

But when I’m paying attention, listening to my heart and really present, I work hard to keep short accounts with those I love and even those I don’t.  

Paul wrote: 

Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law.

~Romans 13:8

I don’t want to leave this world owing anybody anything except love.  

Love is never satisfied because hearts always need more.

And I am glad to pay it.

If we really want to love must leran to forgive

Making a Difference is Easier Than You Think

Some people’s passions lead them to headline making, world changing careers.  

Most of us spend our days in smaller ways. 

And we often feel like our tiny efforts create barely a ripple in the giant ocean of human experience.

But I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to be brilliant, rich, beautiful or perfect to make a difference in someone’s life.

All you have to do is care.

Compassionate companionship is a gift.  

Learning to sit with another heart in joy and sorrow, victory and pain, sunshine and darkness all the while assuring her you will not leave-no matter what–is priceless.

Think about it:  People pay thousands of dollars for a stranger to listen to their heart cries.

Sure, sometimes folks need a professional to help them untangle complex emotions, underlying mental health issues and substance abuse problems.  But often, at root, they are simply lonely with no trusted companion for life’s journey.

Who do you know that needs a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, a heart to affirm that his or her heart is worthy of love?

Choose to reach out.  

Be a friend.  

Make a difference.  

 

To-make-a-difference-in-someones-life flower elder hand younger hand

Repost: Not What I Had Planned

I don’t get to choose.

I don’t get to plan the way life is going to be.

Oh, I bring out the calendar and mark down the days:  birthdays, holidays, special events and obligations.

calender

But then one dark morning a knock stops the clock and makes the world spin faster all at once.

I’m suspended and plunged under in the same breath.

Read the rest here:  Not What I Had Planned

When You Feel Like You Can’t Breathe: Setting Living Children Free

A couple weeks ago I walked away from my son’s house, after kissing him goodbye and prayed under my breath that it won’t be the last time I see his bright eyes and lively smile.

Because when you’ve mistakenly waved a cheery “see you later” to your child, ignorant that it’s the LAST time, your heart never takes these moments for granted again.

I drink in the laugh lines around his 30 year old eyes, wondering if mine had laugh lines at that young age as well.

james 30 birthday

I make a mental record of the timbre of his voice, the set of his shoulders, the way he laughs.

I cannot get enough of him- like a parched woman in the desert-trying to quench a thirst that simply cannot be filled.

He’s off to an adventure and I refuse to squelch his enthusiasm.

james at pikes peak

I’ve buried one son and part of my heart begs me to set up barricades and safe zones around the rest of my children.

But the truth is, I can’t.  There is no way to guarantee safety in this world.  And if I try to circumscribe their lives, all I will gain is a false sense of control and a strained relationship.

So I open my hand.  

Open my heart.  

Take a deep breath.

Pray for grace and mercy.

And let go.  

james and me yellow shirt 2015

Care & Feeding of Your Grieving Person: “You Don’t Need to be Perfect, You Just Need to be Present”

I just love this.  

It’s simple, humorous, shareable and oh, so true.  

“You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be present.”

care and feeding of your grieving person

The Art of Listening

We’ve all experienced it and probably been guilty of it as well:  listening with one ear while anxiously waiting to reply or to make a getaway.  

I hate that.  

What I LOVE is people who really listen.  

I knew a woman once who made me feel as if whatever I was telling her at that moment was the most important thing in the world.  She would look me in the eye,  often take my hand, and never made even the slightest body movement to suggest she had things to do or people to see or anywhere else to go.

Even when we were talking about the most ordinary things.

I want to be like THAT.  

I want to make every single heart that shares feel honored, loved, heard and safe. 

speak so others listen listen so others speak

 

 

Life Happens

I confess. 

When I used to drive by an unkempt yard, a run down house or bumped into an untidy person, I would think, “Goodness!  Don’t they care about their yard, home or appearance?  They need to do better!  I would NEVER let my (fill in the blank) look like that.”

I don’t do that anymore.  

Because I’ve learned that there are all kinds of reasons a body may not be busy mowing a lawn,  painting a porch or even putting on matching socks.

Life happens.  

And when it does, it demands all my energy, effort and attention.  I don’t have the time or luxury of worrying about things that aren’t absolutely necessary for survival.

When Dominic left for Heaven, my priorities were immediately shaken out, sifted and re-ordered.  Not only the big ones-like spending more time with the people I loved-but also the smaller ones-like whether or not I swept the front porch before someone visited. 

More than nine years later and I look around sometimes wishing I was better at keeping up with things, better able to tidy up,  decorate for the seasons, mend the fences, stay on top of clutter, or put together decent outfits.

But then I pause, breathe and realize that while the outside looks messy and unorganized and not at all like I’d prefer, my inside is focused on the things that really matter.

I am spending most of my time caring (one way or another) for other hearts. 

Now when I see someone’s home that needs attention or someone who isn’t put together,  I think, “What battle are they facing?  What life circumstance has swallowed up their time, energy,  and emotional reserves?” 

Because life happens. 

Whether we are ready for it or not. 

everyone is fighting a battle

Repost: The Loudest Silence

No matter how busy or how noisy or how frantic, in the middle of my chest there is a quiet place that holds space for my missing child.

It was true last year in the craziness of my mother’s health crisis and it’s been so very, very true this past eight weeks full of anxiety, discomfort, challenge and unbelievable stress.  

Read the rest here:  The Loudest Silence

Let it Rain

In a hurry, in a hurry.

That describes most of us these days, doesn’t it?

Always looking for the fastest way around the clogged intersection, the highway construction or the long line waiting to get a coffee at Starbucks.

But there are some things we can’t rush along.

Grief is one of them.

no timetable for grief

There are no shortcuts, no detours in this Valley of the Shadow of Death.

We long for a way to hasten past the deep, dark nights of sorrow and pain. 

We beg God and anyone who will listen to show us the quickest route out of the miry pit of misery and missing.

It doesn’t exist.  

Grief, like love, takes time.  

let it rain