Some of us enter trembling through the door of a new year.
This last year wasn’t so good and our hearts are broken.
What if the next year is worse? How will we manage? Where can we hide from bad news, bad outcomes, disastrous trauma?
Truth is, we can’t.
So here we are, bravely marching in, hanging on to hope and begging God for mercy.
Read the rest here: New Year’s Prayer for Hurting Hearts
Just yesterday a fellow bereaved mom asked the question: What, exactly IS grief work?
We hear the term bandied around and while it means different things to different people, I use the phrase to encompass the mental, physical, psychological, emotional and relational work (and it is work!) a grieving heart must do in order to process and learn to carry sorrow and missing.
And while I won’t pretend to be an expert (except on my own experience) I do have a lot to say about what has helped, what has hurt and what I’ve learned over the nearly nine years since Dominic left us.
So the first topic I’m going to mine from old posts, from unfinished drafts and (hopefully!!) from hearing back from some of YOU is “Grief Work”.
I think it’s a good way to start a new year when our hearts are particularly tender from the holiday hoopla and all the internal discipline necessary to dwell among the uninitiated.
❤ Melanie
I have used the term for years and only recently has someone asked me to define it.
I guess I never realized that in all the writing about it, I’d never really explained what it meant.
So here goes.
Read the rest here: What, Exactly, IS “Grief Work”?
It’s kind of funny that a new calendar and a new year prompt folks who’ve been perfectly content to coast through the old one to make bold declarations of change.
I suppose it is the nature of humans to pause at the threshold and think crossing over means something more than a single footstep.
I’m tempted to join in from time to time myself.
The thing that stops me is a fundamental understanding that no matter what prayers, proclamations or promises we lift, declare or make to ourselves or others, time has a way of unraveling them all.
Still, when I began to see social media prompts to “pick a word” for 2024, I actually entertained it for a few seconds.
Instead of inspirational words like “perseverance”, “joy”, “presence”, “love”, etcetera, the only word that came to my mind was “boundaries”. Which sounds kind of selfish and not all that aspirational.
I think it probably springs from a place deep inside my soul.
A place I don’t often explore and even more rarely pay attention to. But a place I probably (definitely!) need to listen to and take seriously.
I have joked since turning sixty that if someone wants to mess with me “they picked the wrong decade!”.
Easier said than done.
A lifetime of bending over backwards (the name of my imaginary yoga studio) has bent my heart, life and personality toward giving in and giving up. Child loss took so much out of me that what was a tendency BEFORE is practically a policy AFTER.
Too often it’s too much trouble to try to explain why I need space, time, love, attention and just common courtesy. So I stuff, stuff, stuff and do whatever someone asks regardless of how much it costs in terms of time, effort or energy.
I’m trying to learn how to say (without being snarky) I don’t think I can meet a person’s expectations. I’m trying to learn how to take up space and quit shrinking into a corner.
I won’t lie.
It’s hard.
And I’ve been met with resistance.
But this year I’m determined to make it stick.
Some of us enter trembling through the door of a new year.
This last year wasn’t so good and our hearts are broken.
What if the next year is worse? How will we manage? Where can we hide from bad news, bad outcomes, disastrous trauma?
Truth is, we can’t.
So here we are, bravely marching in, hanging on to hope and begging God for mercy.
Read the rest here: New Year’s Prayer for Hurting Hearts
I saw a cute meme on social media that said, “No one claim 2023 as THEIR year”. It made me laugh. But I get it.
I begin every January thinking that THIS year things will be more manageable, things will be brighter, easier (even a little?), somehow more predictable and enjoyable instead of just survivable. But, sure enough, February comes along and knocks those fool notions right out of my head.
My life is not one disaster after another. In fact, on a global scale my life is quite lovely. But it’s consistently filled with challenges and more-than-challenges that force me to recalibrate and adjust my sails to meet the gale force winds.
I first shared this last year and find it just as appropriate for the first day of 2023. I’m not making broad predictions, proclamations or resolutions.
I just plan to take things one day at a time.
❤ Melanie
This year has been challenging in ways I could never have imagined nor anticipated. It’s been that way for many of us I think.
Communal grief, pain and loss have wrapped themselves around the unique grief, pain and loss of hearts everywhere.
Definitely plenty to give a person pause.
And while I do believe it’s a good thing to reflect every so often I’m not certain it has to be on the same date every year.
Read the rest here: New Year Reflections
This year has been challenging in ways I could never have imagined nor anticipated. It’s been that way for most of us I think.
Communal grief, pain and loss have wrapped themselves around the unique grief, pain and loss of hearts everywhere.
Definitely plenty to give a person pause.
And while I do believe it’s a good thing to reflect every so often I’m not certain it has to be on the same date every year.
But since the world seems to agree on this one, I’ll join in:
Turning a calendar page doesn’t guarantee a fresh start. Resolutions, affirmations, hopeful aspirations can’t erase the marks we bear from previous life experiences. I’m all for declaring boldly that tomorrow may be better but I’ve learned the hard way it might be worse. So I hold my hands open either way and adjust my stance to accept whichever it may be.
Attitude makes a difference. I despise silly little mantras that claim I can will my way out of every dark and desperate situation. Bad things happen. Sorrow and sadness are appropriate and reasonable reactions to hard times. Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but feel the feelings, let the tears fall and allow my heart to experience the pain. But I can choose to turn my attention to whatever may still be beautiful in my world. I can lift my eyes to tiny flickers of light on the horizon. I can embrace joy along with sorrow.
My worth is not tied to external accomplishments or society’s arbitrary markers of success. I refuse to listen to the enemy’s lies whispered in my ear, “You are less than. You are a failure. You only count if your ‘wins’ outweigh your ‘losses'”. A new year may feel like a new beginning but it can also be a stark reminder of last year’s list of resolutions that may or may not have yielded measurable progress. Striving for improvement is healthy. Beating myself up for not meeting every goal is not.
Things can be replaced, people can’t. I’m not making light of the very real and very painful loss so many people have suffered this year as businesses failed, income dwindled and hopes for financial progress dashed. It’s no small thing to come back to ashes where your home once stood. Standing in line at a community food bank for a box when you used to stand in line at the grocery store is humbling. But if my family is alive and (relatively) well at the end of the year, we can work the rest out together.
The only investment with a guaranteed return is love. Sure I try to plan for the future. I eat right, exercise, save money and maintain my home and car all in the hope that investing time, energy and effort today will pay off tomorrow. But truth is (as we’ve all learned this year!) outside and unseen forces can undo the best laid plans and preparation. But love is never wasted or destroyed. All the love I pour into others lasts forever.
This time last year I was hope-filled and looking forward to a less stressful, amazing twelve months.
That’s not how it turned out.
I’ve learned some things though.
So I’ll carry that wisdom into [2024]-no lofty resolutions or proclamations-and settle for survival. ❤
thelifeididntchoose 