No Secret Path, No Magic, No Hidden Key

I was looking for it too, at first.

There had to be a secret path, a magic word, a hidden key that would make this awful child loss journey more manageable.

But there is none.

Read the rest here: No Magic

How Can Death and Life Inhabit the Same Frame?

I have been asked how I can believe in what I cannot see or touch. How I can trust a God Who allowed such pain in my life.

It is true that I can’t see God,  I can’t prove His existence.

But the fact that I’m still holding onto hope gives testimony to the life of Christ in me.

Read the rest here: Then and Now: How Can Death and Life Inhabit the Same Frame?

Resting In The Resurrection

I keep thinking I’ll write something new and profound for Resurrection Sunday. But I never do. Because there’s really nothing I can add to what I’ve written before: the Gospel IS the Good News.

It’s what makes the waiting possible and hope something more than wishful thinking.

Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.

Hallelujah! Amen.

“The worst conceivable thing has happened, and it has been mended…All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” ~Julian of Norwich

I’m not sure when I first read this quote, but it came to my mind that awful morning.   And I played it over and over in my head, reassuring my broken heart that indeed, the worst had already happened, and been mended.

Death had died.

Christ was risen-the firstfruits of many brethren.

Read the rest here: Resurrection: Reality and Reassurance

Holy Saturday: Living Between Pain And Promise

Yes, I live on the other side of the Resurrection-I know the end of the disciples’ vigil-I am convinced of the empty tomb, the ascended Lord and my Great High Priest’s intercession at the right hand of the Father.

But what I long for I cannot hold.  What I hope for I cannot touch.  What I know to be true I cannot see.

I live in the space between “it looks like everything has gone horribly wrong” and “Hallelujah!”.

It is painful.  It is hard.

 And it will last for a lifetime, not just a few days.

Read the rest here: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

Don’t Rush Past Good Friday

Bury a child and suddenly the death of Christ becomes oh, so personal. The image of Mary at the foot of the cross is too hard to bear.

I trusted Jesus at an early age and I have lived my life beneath the shadow of the wings of the Almighty God.

But I never-not really-grasped the horror of the crucifixion until I watched as my own son’s body was lowered in the ground.

Read the rest here: Remember: Why Good Friday Matters as Much as Resurrection Sunday

So, Did God TAKE My Child?

I’m sharing this again during Holy Week because if I’m honest this week presents lots of moments when I have to sort through my theology once again.

Dominic’s death is inextricably tied to the days between Palm Sunday and Resurrection Sunday. And my heart is twisted into all kinds of uncomfortable shapes every year around this time.

I’ve said before that what I write is as much (or more!) for myself as it may be for anyone else so I’m reminding my own heart that God did not snatch Dominic from my life.

His death is not a punishment nor a hammer nor a lesson.

This is a question that comes up all the time in bereaved parents’ groups:  Did God take my child?

Trust me, I’ve asked it myself.  

How you answer this question can mean the difference between giving up or going on, between turning away or trusting.

So this is MY answer.  The one I’ve worked out through study, prayer and many, many tears.  You may disagree.  That’s just fine.  I only offer it because it might be helpful to some struggling and sorrowful soul.

Read the rest here: Did God Take My Child?

Palm Sunday 2021: What If I’m Not Rescued?

If you haven’t watched the body of someone you love lowered into the ground while holding your breath and praying, praying, praying that somehow, some way this isn’t real then maybe you can’t imagine what it feels like not to be spared.

Me? It doesn’t take but a single breath to go from “everything is alright” to “my world is shattered”. I feel every. single. death. added to the tally coronavirus or mass shooting or tornado destruction leaves behind.

So what do we do if we aren’t rescued? What do we cling to if our family isn’t spared?

What if all the prayers lifted on behalf of ones I love don’t stop death from claiming them?

When Jesus entered Jerusalem He was hailed as a hero. But when He didn’t perform as expected He was cast aside.

Will I choose to believe even when it’s hard?

So what if I’m not rescued?

What if my family isn’t spared?

What if all the faithful prayers lifted on behalf of ones I love don’t stop death from claiming them?

Will I still believe?

Will I still trust that God is a loving Father who is in control and working all things together for His glory and my good?

Read the rest here: Palm Sunday 2020: What If I’m Not Rescued?

Seeking Peace/Battling Anxiety: The End From The Beginning


Some people insist on reading the end of a book first.

They want to know if the characters they may grow to love end up well and happy.

Me? I start at the front and work my way through letting things unfold as the author intended.

I will admit though there are times when I’d kinda sorta like to have a heads up in real life.

Read the rest here: Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace: The End From The Beginning

Seeking Peace/Battling Anxiety: Enduring Strength

When suffering is time-limited it is often more easily endured.

If I know six weeks of intensive though painful physical therapy will help me regain strength and use of a limb or joint, I can power through.

If restricting calories for a month helps me fit into that dress for a special event, I’m more likely to sacrifice for a short time so the pictures look good.

But if you tell me I’ll hobble around for the rest of my life because there’s nothing to be done about my bad back or crooked joints or you want me to change how I eat for good-well, that’s gonna take more strength than I have on my own.

When I realized-probably sometime near the end of the first year-that the sorrow and missing and pain of burying my son was going to be a burden I carried to my own grave, it was absolutely, utterly soul-crushing.

Read the rest here: Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace: Strength To Endure

Seeking Peace/Battling Anxiety: Sure and Fearless

A few lines of this post are dated-locked into that time before we really suspected what we were in for. But I won’t edit them out.

Because the truths are timeless and it’s more than good to remind my heart that God’s grace has been and will be sufficient.

So come with me if you still find you have sleepless nights or restless days. Fear is absolutely a liar. I know Who can shout him down.

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.

Read the rest here: Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace: Sure And Fearless