There’s a lot of wisdom in this little poem.
Let the words sink in.
Read the rest here: A Rest Is Not Defeat
There’s a lot of wisdom in this little poem.
Let the words sink in.
Read the rest here: A Rest Is Not Defeat
I don’t know about you, but I find I can often white-knuckle through a holiday itself only to be spent and exhausted on the other side.
Staying busy in the kitchen, trying hard to be present and participate, enjoying extra folks in the house and around the table are great distractions.
I love being with my people!
Of course I’m constantly aware of the quiet tune that plays in the background, “Dom’s not here” but I genuinely appreciate every moment I have with the ones I love.
But…then comes the quiet.
A silent reminder of the hollow carved in my heart.
And I can’t ignore it.
So I have to take a day (or two or three) and rest.
It’s what I call a “holiday hangover” and it has nothing to do with over-indulging in spirits or food.
It’s OK if I don’t rush to tidy the house or start planning for the next get-together. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.
I can pause, take a breather, sit and read or do nothing at all.
You can too. ❤
I admit I’m an over achiever. I tend to think that if it needs to be done, I have to be the one to do it.
But you know what? I’m learning that the world won’t fall apart if I take a break.
And I’m tired right now.
Really, really tired.
So I’m going to rest today (and maybe tomorrow!) and the world will keep turning, the sun will rise again.
You can rest too.
I promise. ❤
I don’t know about you but “sure and fearless” doesn’t necessarily describe me these days.
I’m not sleeping particularly well.
I try to avoid all but the most needful news and instead fill my days with useful work and outdoor activity.
But I wouldn’t be honest if I said it was working.
In fact, the combination of time of year (I am rapidly approaching the sixth anniversary of Dominic’s death) and the utterly unbelievable changes in the world around us is more than working my nerves.
So I’m really, really depending on the truth I find in Scripture to counteract all the other messages I’m receiving from the media, from friends and from my own unhelpful thoughts.
That’s why I’m spending some quality time with the first three verses of Psalm 46.
God is our shelter and our strength.
When troubles seem near, God is nearer, and He’s ready to help.
So why run and hide?
2 No fear, no pacing, no biting fingernails.
When the earth spins out of control, we are sure and fearless.
When mountains crumble and the waters run wild, we are sure and fearless.
3 Even in heavy winds and huge waves,
or as mountains shake, we are sure and fearless.Psalm 46: 1-3 VOICE
The verses stand by themselves as a source of great encouragement, but I thought today I’d walk you through one way I appropriate the truth of God’s Word for my own heart.
I often copy out a verse and use a dictionary or thesaurus to expand key words so I get a richer understanding of their full meaning.
Sometimes I include parts of other verses or pertinent biblical concepts.
Doing that for Psalm 46: 1-3 looks like this:
VERSE 1: ” God is our shelter [sanctuary, refuge, safety, defense, hideaway] and our strength [courage, fortitude, stability, vitality, steadiness]. When troubles seem near, God is nearer [the Holy Spirit is our Paraclete or Advocate, Counselor; Jesus said He would never leave us nor forsake us] so why run and hide? [If God is for us, who could stand against us?]”
VERSE 2: “No fear, no pacing, no biting fingernails [what time I am afraid, I will trust in You]. When the earth spins out of control [the world is surely out of control right now!], we [those who trust in the LORD] are sure [confident, certain, convinced, free from doubt] and fearless [bold, confident, courageous, daring, assured, dauntless, lionhearted, indomitable].
When mountains crumble [when the very thing we believe will never be shaken IS shaken] and the waters run wild [when there’s no safe haven from a flood of circumstances], we [those who trust in the LORD] are sure [confident, certain, convinced, free from doubt] and fearless [bold, confident, courageous, daring, assured, dauntless, lionhearted, indomitable].”
VERSE 3: “Even in heavy winds and huge waves [even when the the storm is raging so violently there seems no possible way to survive it], we [those who trust in the LORD] are sure [resting absolutely in the certainty that God is who He says He is] and fearless [boldly and confidently waiting for the promised Presence of God in the midst of our storm].”
Rewriting it once again and personalizing it for myself looks like this:
God is my sanctuary and safe place and my courage. No matter what kind of trouble is lurking at my door, He’s already here, right beside me, ready to help. Why would I run away or try to hide when my Protector is unbeatable?
I refuse to worry. The world is definitely a strange and very fearful place right now but because I belong to Jesus I am confident and courageous. Even though all the things I depend on in the natural world are proving undependable, because I trust in the Lord, I am bold and dauntless.
The current economic, social, and political storm is the biggest I’ve ever seen-bigger than I could have ever imagined. Its destructive power is far-reaching and will leave debris in its wake for years.
But I will rest confidently in my Savior and will wait courageously for His promises to be fulfilled.
Then I turn it into a prayer:
Help me always to remember that You are my sanctuary and hiding place. You are as near as my breath, as steady as my heartbeat. No one and nothing sneaks up on You.
Whisper courage to my soul. Lord, sweep worry out of my mind. Even when every single thing I thought I could depend on proves undependable, teach me to rest securely in Your love, Your promises and Your sovereignty.
Redirect my gaze so that instead of looking at all that’s going wrong, my eyes focus on Your face.
Make my heart steadfast. Overwhelm me with Your mercy, grace and faithful love.
Death is winter.
Cold, hard, gray. Every lovely thing fallen and dry underfoot.
A season of rest-not chosen, unwelcome, resisted.
But rest just the same.
Yet the sun still shines and spreads warmth and light on even these bare branches.
Read the rest here:https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/01/30/winter-sunrise/
I used to do this every December 31st-sit down with my journal and write out goals for the coming year.
I’d spend an hour or two jotting down areas that needed attention and then formulate a plan for addressing them.
I grouped the goals under five headings: Spiritual, Personal, Family, Community, Farm/Home.
That was Day One in the journal and the rest was filled with successes, failures, reminders, prayers, lists of actions taken or revised goals based on a more realistic understanding of how the year was playing out.
I haven’t done that since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. I tried last year but quickly realized I was still in day-to-day survival mode and unable to look past the next week, much less a year!
So I resorted to my scraps of paper here and there with lists for the morning-happy to cross off regular chores and maybe churn out a small project or two.
I’m going to TRY again this year.
And I’m making it public so perhaps I’ll be a bit more committed to completion of these goals. But instead of all those old categories I’m focusing only on one: Self-care. I haven’t been especially good at that for most of my life and have been downright awful at it for the past six years.
My mind, body and soul are weary.
My ability to rebound is next to nothing.
So I’m going to take the advice I’d give anyone in my position and focus on what will rebuild and restore my strength, my passion and my reserves.
TWENTY SELF-CARE GOALS FOR 2020:
Spend 15 minutes each morning writing in my journal. Include something for which I’m grateful, something I need to get off my chest and something to look forward to that day. This will help me begin the day with a good attitude and without carry over from the day before. I sometimes spin my wheels trying to right something that went wrong yesterday instead of thinking about how to make today better.
Spend 15 minutes each morning doing gentle stretches. I need to get some range-of-motion back in the joints most affected by RA. I’ve always known consistency is key but I usually have something I HAVE to do and don’t take the time.
Drink 16 ounces of water along with my cup of coffee. We all probably need more water.
Light a candle. Both the act of lighting one and the gentle glow remind my heart that darkness doesn’t win.
Laugh every day. (Find a comic strip if I need to or watch a funny video.) Laughter is good medicine (not just a proverb, a scientific fact!). I know that on days when someone or something makes me laugh, endorphins flood my body and shift my mood for hours.
Copy Scripture daily. I’ve piddled at this in the past couple years. It used to be a daily (read NEVER missed a day no matter what) habit. Joint pain in my hands made it increasingly difficult and grief gave me the added excuse to drop it. But I miss it. Even when the particular verses don’t speak volumes to my heart, they never return void.
Reestablish a prayer journal. I kept a prayer journal for decades. And then Dominic left for Heaven. Along with other aspects of my faith, I reexamined what prayer is, why I should pray and how I wanted to pray. I’m ready to plunge back in with a new and slightly different understanding of what it will look like.
Complete one creative project each month. I’m a maker (from way back) and really need to have a creative outlet. It’s been hard to find the time (or set aside the time) for many years. Add to that ordinary life stuff and a shortened attention span since Dom left and I really haven’t made much in a long time. Creating beautiful things feeds my soul.
Walk for 30-60 minutes each day. Again, walked nearly every day for decades. All the physical and emotional difficulties of the past few years made it too easy to excuse one day and then another until I have fallen out of the habit. NO excuses in the coming year! Every day unless it’s pouring rain. (Somebody out there keep me accountable!).
Read for 30 minutes each night before bed. With screens everywhere it’s so easy to just scroll through “one more time” before drifting off to sleep. I used to read every single night but grief made focusing difficult and tiresome. I want to get back in that habit. I need the encouragement, mind-stretching exercise and relaxation of reading again.
Start a Grandmama journal for Ryker. I’ve learned the hard way that if I don’t purpose to write some things down NOW, I’ll never do it. So I think I’ll start a journal just for him (and any other grandchildren that might come along). I’m going to set an appointment with myself every two weeks to add to it. I want to include family activities, family lore, photos and funny stories.
Organize and preserve family photos and make copies for each child. Again-something I’ve learned the hard way-is that the longer I wait, the more enormous the task will be. And while this may not seem like self-care, it is. This has been hanging over my head since Dominic left us.
Gather family recipes. I think family food and the stories behind it is a beautiful and unique way to pass on family history. I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but this year I’m at least going to get all the recipes copied and in one place.
Make birthdays and holidays special. We’ve limped along long enough. I was the mom (way before Pinterest) that created themed birthday parties and set out hourly activities for New Year’s Eve. With grown children, the celebrations won’t look the same (no one wants a plastic sheriff badge!) but they can be celebrations just the same.
Watch the sunset. I see every sunrise because my chair faces the giant eastern window in my living room and I’m up before the sun each morning. But sunset takes effort. I want to stop at the end of each day and recognize I made it through with God’s strength and Presence. Practice the pause.
Spend time with my horses, start riding again. Another thing I enjoy that I’ve simply not pursued because there are always, always, always things that seem more important. But brushing the horses, working with them, smelling them and riding them bring joy. I need more joy.
Write old-fashioned letters once a week. I love writing letters but tend to forget that I love it. Old-fashioned mail is just as exciting to get in these digital days as it ever was. I want to send somebody some sunshine.
Pause for deep breathing three times a day. Resetting my body, mind and spirit gives me the opportunity to shake off any less than happy or satisfying moments earlier in the day and go forward from a new starting place. Many days can be redeemed. I don’t want to waste the days I’ve got left.
Say, “I’ll think about it” when asked to take on another responsibility instead of always answering, “yes”. Each new activity, responsibility or promise means that something else will have to go or be delayed. I need to learn to consider whether or not I have the capacity to add and/or the willingness to take away. I will not allow these self-care goals to be set aside for more busy work.
Have at least one day per week at home, without a long to-do list, and be lazy. I don’t do lazy well. Part personality, part upbringing and a whole lot of experience while raising children predisposes me to make the most of every moment. But everything doesn’t have to be done “now”.
Some of my goals may be so personal they aren’t helpful to anyone else. But I hope some of them spur you on to writing a list of your own.
Either way, I hope my readers will help hold me accountable. My plan is to write a monthly update on how I’m doing and what adjustments I might have made to the original goals.
I firmly believe that failure to plan is planning to fail.
And in spite of my very personal, very painful experience that plans don’t always make a difference, I refuse to give in to hopelessness.
So grab a pen, grab a notebook and decide for yourself where you will set your aim for 2020.
I promise that if you do, it’ll be a better year than if you don’t.
It’s a paradox really-that grieving hearts can be more anxious and more sorrowful BEFORE and AFTER a milestone day, birthday or holiday than on the day itself.
That’s not true for everyone, but it’s a frequent comment in our closed bereaved parent groups.
Fearful anticipation of how awful it MIGHT be can work me up into a frenzy.
The day of whatever it is usually passes quicker than I thought it could especially if there is a big meal involved and lots of people milling about.
Then everyone leaves and quiet darkness ushers in space and silence.
That’s the moment my heart recounts all the places Dominic should have been but wasn’t. That’s when I think of how his baritone voice was missing from the conversation, his laugh from the chorus of merry makers, his opinion from the slightly heated volley over politics or another current event.
I guess it’s kind of a holiday hangover without the booze.
But there’s no strange concoction I can drink to rid me of these symptoms.
Instead I have to give my heart permission to take out each feeling and FEEL it. I have to acknowledge that even when I spend the day laughing and enjoying family and friends, I still miss Dominic.
So I try to build a day (or two!) of recovery into my holiday planning.
And that’s OK.
Whenever possible that’s exactly what I do.
So you won’t find me rushing out to shop the day after Thanksgiving, Christmas or any of our own family’s unique grief anniversaries.
Instead I’ll wake slowly, drink coffee and watch the sunrise.
I might take a walk, read a book or write in my journal.
I will definitely find moments of solitude to acknowledge that once again I have survived what I thought I might not.
And for that, I’m grateful. ❤
My birthday is in a couple of weeks and my daughter has arranged for us to have a little getaway together this week.
She had no way to know when she made the reservations four months ago how badly we both would need it.
But God knew.
Nothing takes Him by surprise even when it blindsides me.
I often have to remind my heart of that truth.
Especially when blow after blow lands hard and knocks me off my feet. Especially when I feel that I might be crushed under the load. Especially when my mind is so full of fear and anxiety there’s no room for much else.
I’m thankful for a daughter who thinks ahead and a God who knows.
Some quiet time is precisely what our hearts are longing for this November. We will sleep and talk and walk and wander. We won’t have to answer to a clock or a phone.
It will be glorious.
Thank you for the outpouring of encouragement, kindness and prayers.
You’ve breathed new life into this old and weary soul.
I can’t really walk away. Writing is what I do, it’s how I process life-the good, the bad, the sweet and the bitter.
But crafting posts is more than stream of consciousness journaling not meant to be read by another soul. It’s sitting with an idea long enough to be able to present it to others in a form they can understand, appropriate and use in their own lives.
It takes time.
So for the next two weeks (maybe longer) I’m going to recycle old posts and give my heart space to do some of its own processing and healing.
For many of you, they will still feel new because you joined us recently.
For some of you, they will be old and tired and not worth your time. Feel free to skip them.
I promise to alert you when I’m writing new things again.
P.S. If anyone has ideas on which topics might be interesting to gather and repost all in a row, add them in the comments. I did this once with *Prayer* and folks enjoyed it.
I don’t like boxing.
While there are those who defend the sport as the ultimate test of one man’s strength, fortitude and endurance against another, all I see is a couple of guys beating each other to a pulp.
But I understand the heart of a fighter.
I know what it feels like to be down but refuse to stay down. I’ve lifted myself up and stumbled back into the center of the ring waiting for the next punch to land.
I’ve waved off the good advice of those in my own corner who say, “Take a breather. Rest a little. Sit awhile.”
But I’m throwing in the towel.
Not for good.
Just for today.
There’s been so much going on lately that I think I’m finally down for the count.
I don’t care that summer days mean sunshine until eight. I don’t care that I haven’t managed to complete half my list.
I’m going to bed, curling up with a good book and reading until I fall asleep.
I hope I don’t wake until sunrise.