Would I have chosen this broken path?
Absolutely not.
Will I embrace it as something God can use to make me more like Jesus?
I hope so-I’m certainly trying.
We are told our tears are so very precious to God that He keeps track of them in a bottle.
I often wonder if when we get to Heaven, or when God remakes the earth into its beautiful and perfect form, the bottles will be opened and every tear counted and redeemed.
Read the rest here: Holy Week Reflections: Sorrow Lifted as Sacrifice
One of the things I realized early on this journey was that I did not possess the vocabulary for the deep pain, unbearable sorrow and relentless longing I was experiencing.
So I sought out quotes, fellow travelers and groups of others who shared this awful path.
It helped.
It didn’t take away the pain but it gave me words to express it. It gave me courage to believe I could survive it.
I will never forget those who chose to come back with a torch in the dark and light the way.
❤
There are so many ways to describe grief.
So many ways individual hearts walk this path.
For many of us there’s a sense of being locked in time, stuck in space, unable to leave the moment one received the news or the few days before and after.
It’s maddening that the earth still turns, the sun still rises and people go on with life when in so many ways our world is frozen in place.
Read the rest here: Forest of Sorrow
Time, by itself, does not heal all wounds.
But of all the factors that promote healing, there is NO SUBSTITUTE for time–not in the physical world of surgery and broken bones and deep wounds and not in the inner world of emotional pain and brokenness and sorrow.
Read the rest here: No Rush
If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.
—James O’Barr
I grieve because I love.
My tears are a gift to the son I miss. My sorrow honors his memory. My broken heart gives evidence to the ones walking with me that my love is fierce and timeless.
Read the rest here: Love: The Reason I Grieve
I am always devastated when another parent discovers the heartache of child loss.
They are forced to join a club no one wants to join.
But I’m grateful when that parent has a platform because of fame, fortune or circumstances and decides to draw attention to the truth of this painful path.
The singer Toby Mac recently lost his son and has chosen to do just that. He wrote a song that puts words to the sorrow, words to the struggle and vividly shares the heart of a bereaved parent.
Read the rest here: TobyMac, “21 Years” and Child Loss
My son’s death is a point in time for people outside my immediate grief circle. It’s a date on a calendar. There is a period after his name.
But it is an ongoing experience for me and my family.
We don’t only remember on birthdays, holidays and anniversary days, we can never forget.
Yet often others do.
We are not the only ones living a life not of our own choosing. We are not the only ones that feel isolated in our grief.
You do too.
And I’m sorry that when you risk sharing your pain you are shut down by those who just don’t understand. ❤
I wrote this post a year ago after my mother joined Dominic in Heaven. Her passing reminded me once again (as if my heart needed reminding!) that there ain’t nothing easy about death.
One year later and I’m no more willing to pretend it’s anything but awful even as I’m resigned to admit there’s nothing I can do about it.
I miss you both so very much.
❤
I remember the moment I realized I was going to have to summarize my son’s life into a few, relatively short paragraphs to be read by friends, family and strangers.
It seemed impossible.
But as the designated author of our family I had to do it so I did.
Today I wrote my mama’s obituary and though her death was not as surprising as Dominic’s it was just as hard to swallow.
Read the rest here: Ain’t Nothing Easy About Death
I remember thinking in the early days, weeks and months of this journey that healing was impossible.
The wound was too great, too deep and too devastating to allow for that.
No amount of work or help or wishful thinking could undo the damage.
But I was wrong.
Little by little the shattered pieces of my heart began to reassemble themselves into a very fragile, not-quite-the-same, semblance of the old shape.
When life knocks me around (as it still does quite often) a bit falls off here and there and I have to begin again to put my heart back together.
It’s not simple.
It’s not a straight line.
It’s not a once and done thing.
But it’s possible.
Another bereaved mom wrote that she was better able to cope now than she had been a year ago.
And thanks to Facebook memories she had proof.
Several comments down a second mom wrote something that got me thinking-when, exactly, did Dominic’s loss move from the forefront to the background?
I’m not sure I can pinpoint a day or moment when I realized that sorrow was no longer ALL I feel and Dominic’s absence no longer ALL I see.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/03/07/background-music/
You’d think I’d know how valuable tears are by now.
But sometimes I forget.
Tears cleanse, they provide release for emotion too deep for words. They are precious.
And when you have someone who understands that, who sits silent in the sacred space where tears fall freely, that is a beautiful gift.
Let me come in where you are weeping, friend,
And let me take your hand.
I, who have known a sorrow such as yours,
Can understand.
Let me come in — I would be very still
Beside you in your grief;
I would not bid you cease your weeping, friend,
Tears can bring relief.
Let me come in — I would only breathe a prayer,
And hold your hand,
For I have known a sorrow such as yours,
And understand.
Grace Noll Crowell, To One in Sorrow
