In our modern age of light switches and street lights it’s hard to imagine a world where the tiniest candle flame could lead a body to safety.
But for most of human history that was how people lived.
It’s how some still live.
So when John described Jesus as the “Light that bursts through gloom-the Light that darkness could not diminish” (John 1: 5 TPT) he’s really saying something.
This isn’t a tiny candle or smoky oil lamp barely pushing back the edges of inky night.
But one thing I’m learning in this new and sometimes scary world of “official” ministry is this: People don’t know what you don’t share with them.
So today, in honor of Giving Tuesday, I’m sharing again both how the Lord led me to expand what I’ve been doing for the past nearly ten years into something bigger, more far reaching and definitely more challenging AND how you can be part of it.
If you would like to join me in reaching bereaved parents with the light, love and life of Christ, you can do so through this link:
Thank you to those who have already encouraged my heart by giving.
Your choice to invest in spreading hope and light to hurting parents will have eternal consequences.
If you missed the original post introducing the ministry back in August, here it is:
It’s still dark here.
The days are getting perceptibly shorter for those of us tuned in to the turning of the earth and the passing of the seasons.
But the light is coming. It always does.
And that is what I have clung to in these more-than-ten years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.That’s what compels me to write.
I want every hurting heart to know that the night doesn’t last forever.
It’s also why today I have something exciting (and scary, if I’m honest!) to tell you: I’ve created an official ministry for the work I do here and on Facebook through Heartache and Hope (https://www.facebook.com/heartacheandhope/).
The Lord planted a vision in my heart awhile ago to expand into new territory.
I am a quiet person who longs only to stay (mostly) in my home and surrounding area. I once loved traveling but now only really enjoy it in the company of family to low-key destinations that afford plenty of space and natural beauty. But I am stepping out into uncomfortable places and trusting my Shepherd King to provide the means and direction to journey on.
I’m not one to appropriate Old Testament verses to justify current choices but I do absolutely believe that He nudges us to spread out and to reach further than we might choose to do in our flesh.
So, like Jabez, I pray:
Oh that You would bless me indeed and enlarge my territory! Let Your hand be with me, and keep me from the evil one.”
Waiting to grow up. Waiting to get married. Waiting to have children. Waiting for our children to grow up.
Always looking toward the next big thing.
Israel waited centuries for the Messiah. Generation after generation was born, lived, and died without seeing the fulfillment of God’s promise.
I have always loved the tradition of lighting a candle and reciting Scripture to build anticipation for celebrating the birth of Jesus.The ritual forces me to slow down in the rush of holiday preparation to ponder the coming of God’s great gift.
Celebrating Advent helps me recapture that desperate hope–Israel’s longing heart for her Savior.
Since Dominic went to heaven, Advent is no longer just a seasonal celebration–it’s an attitude of my heart.
I received the blessing of Christ’s first coming-His payment-in-full of sin’s penalty and freedom from the curse of the law. I know my eternity is secure.
But I live in this fallen world where death still intrudes to take the ones I love.
So now I’m waiting with greater desperation and hope for the complete redemption and restoration of the earth God created and the people for whom Jesus died.
Every time I light a candle to drive the dark from a room I remember the faithfulness of God and His promise that no matter how dark it gets, Light is coming.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who lived in a land of deep shadows— light! sunbursts of light! You repopulated the nation, you expanded its joy. Oh, they’re so glad in your presence! Festival joy! The joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings.
When I first began writing in this space, “lament” had only just come into vogue.
Now, it’s everywhere.
If the past few years have taught hearts a single thing, I hope it is there’s no use pretending life doesn’t hurt sometimes. We were not created to carry that kind of pain alone.
And thankfully, we don’t have to.
God, in Christ, invites me to speak it, to sing it, to release it as an exhale so His grace and strength can rush in to fill that empty space.
Sometimes, no matter how hard I try to “keep my chin up” or “remind myself of redemption”, my soul gets weary.
I’ve recently come off of several months of activity along with emotionally charged interactions and I. am. worn. out.
There’s not really a good or easy way to describe this kind of bone-deep tiredness to someone who has not walked the path we’ve walked so I usually settle for, “I’m tired”. That’s when they typically suggest I get more rest or take a nap.
But I know that won’t really help.
❤ Melanie
When I say to someone, “I’m so very tired!” they nearly always suggest a nap. Trust me, if a nap would erase this soul weariness, I’d take one every single day.
But it doesn’t, so I don’t.
Instead I go outside and breathe some fresh air, make a cup of hot tea and sit down with a good book, or just sit down and watch the Christmas lights or a candle with my cat in my lap.
From the outside-very soon after all the formal visiting, meal bringing and memorial service or funeral-most bereaved parents look “fine”.
We have to.
The world doesn’t stop turning because our world imploded.
Work, life, family duties, household chores, and all the ordinary things determined by hours and calendars keep rolling along.
But on the inside, every bit of who we are, how we feel, what we think has been devastatingly poked, prodded, ripped apart and rearranged.
And just like there is no substitute for TIMEin physical healing, there is no substitute forTIMEin emotional, mental or spiritual healing either.
So if you are fresh on this path, new to the rigors of trying to “do life” while mourning your precious child, recognize that there is oh, so much damage where people can’t see.
Rocking babies I never dreamed that one day my life would look like this.
I never imagined that one of those tiny bodies I held close to my mama heart would not outlive me.
Now I sit in the same rocking chair in the dark, thinking about how so many things I wouldn’t have written into my story are now part of it.
And if I’m honest, it can easily overwhelm my heart. It can carry me to a place of despair and desperation where there’s no room for thanksgiving-not the holiday OR the feeling.
Here we are-the eleventh year of holidays without Dominic-and I’m no better at it than I was at first.
thelifeididntchoose 