Our culture consumes death like candy bars-video games, violent television series and gory movies. Halloween is one of the biggest “holidays” celebrated in America.
We are desensitized to news stories of destruction and devastation because we’ve “seen” it all.
Yet we are a society that shuns mourning.
Read the rest here: Lesson From the House of Mourning
Sometimes sadness is sanity. Tears are the reasonable response. Quickness to shush, shame or fix them, can reveal resistance to wisdom.
Zack Eswine
It wasn’t until I suffered the unbearable that I realized how very true this is: Sometimes sadness IS sanity.
Deep grief is the price we pay for great love.
But it’s easy to mosey through most of a life before you’re forced to come face to face with this truth.
Tears are an appropriate and proportional response to loss. Despair is a reasonable reaction to tragic and sudden death. Horror is perfectly understandable when disease ravages the body and steals the soul of someone you love.
So often those who haven’t experienced it want those of us who have to hold the knowledge close like a secret in hopes they won’t have to acknowledge it is true.
But sooner or later death visits all of us.
And when we choose to stand with those who have, through no fault of their own and without giving permission to the universe, been thrust head first into the unrelenting reality of loss, we not only encourage them, we enrich ourselves.
Life is a tenuous and fragile gift.
The quicker we understand and embrace that the wiser and more compassionate we will be.
I have lots and lots of questions.
And I don’t think ignoring them or shoving them in a chest and sitting on the lid is helpful.
But I’m far enough along in this journey to admit that if I let my heart and mind focus on the questions I’ll drown in sorrow and despair.
Read the rest here: A Reason Can’t Wipe Away Tears: A Modern Lament
I had a tearful day yesterday.
At seven years into this journey they don’t happen very often and when they do, it takes me by surprise-though it shouldn’t.
I finally had to simply go to bed, choose to call it a day, close my eyes and let sleep claim the sadness and grant blessed peace.
❤
You’d think I’d know how valuable tears are by now.
But sometimes I forget.
Read the rest here: I Would Not Cease Your Weeping
There is SO much pressure on grievers to pretend they are “OK” once the socially acceptable amount of time has passed since their loss.
And that is more than unfortunate because not only does it place an undue burden on broken hearts, it inhibits the very necessary work grief requires.
Sharing honestly and openly with safe people, giving voice to our feelings, letting the tears and words flow freely is the only way forward on this treacherous journey.
❤
It’s OK to not be OK.
If you are grieving, you are not responsible for making others feel better about YOUR pain.
You have suffered a great wound and you carry a heavy load.
You are allowed to express sorrow and longing. It’s what people do.
Read the rest here: You Don’t Have to Pretend
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
It’s nearly impossible for anyone who has not lost the earthly companionship of a child to know how desperately I long to hear Dominic’s name spoken aloud.
There are days I walk around my home and think silently and even whisper quietly, “You existed! You exist!” just to remind my heart he is real.
You may hesitate to bring him up because you fear my tears. But any tears his name might evoke will be tears of gratitude as well as those of longing.
Please say his name!
❤
I know you are afraid.
You think that speaking his name or sharing a memory or sending me a photo will add to my sorrow.
I understand.
But even when it costs me a split second of sharp pain, it is truly a gift to know that Dominic lives on in the hearts and minds of others.
Read the rest here: Loving Well: Just Say His Name
It’s funny what can make my heart race and my eyes fill with tears.
Sometimes it’s obvious- I hear of another son killed in a motorcycle accident.
But sometimes it’s obscure- like when I see someone using a legal pad to take notes.
Either way, triggers take me back to ground zero. They rivet my mind’s attention and my heart’s focus to the very moment I first learned Dominic had left us.
Read the rest here: Grief Triggers
Sometimes people ask, “How can you cling to Jesus when He could have saved your son, but didn’t?”
I give the same answer Peter gave, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
He is light and life in the Valley and on the hilltop, in the fire and in the flood.
He will redeem every tear and restore every thing the enemy has stolen.
My scars tell a story: Yes, I’m wounded but I’m still walking. I’ve been hurt but I’m healing.
There’s hope in every scar.
Suffering is but a moment.
This is not forever.
Jesus is.
Hallelujah!
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
thelifeididntchoose 