I don’t get to choose.
I don’t get to plan the way life is going to be.
Oh, I bring out the calendar and mark down the days: birthdays, holidays, special events and obligations.
But then one dark morning a knock stops the clock and makes the world spin faster all at once.
I’m suspended and plunged under in the same breath.
Read the rest here: Not What I Had Planned
Most of the time I’m just kind of rolling along.
There are things to do, places to go, people to see, animals to feed.
I get up, get going and get on with it.
But there are some days that are what I call “Hard Stops” on this journey. They are the days that force my heart to take special notice of the fact that Dominic isn’t here.
Sometimes they are milestone days like birthdays or holidays or the anniversary of that awful knock on the door.
Sometimes they are events where he should be there-like seeing his brother one more time before he deploys half-way around the world.
These days make my heart measure the time since I last hugged his neck, heard his voice, saw his strong, square hands reach across the table for the salt shaker-and I am overcome with how long it has been!
Then my heart shifts to the months and likely years I will have to live with this aching empty place where he should be but isn’t and I fear I just can’t do it!
Many days I’m able to distract myself from the sorrow and to live with the missing.
But these “hard stop” days force me to face it head on. and it is overwhelming.
Every. Time.
So what do I do?
When my heart is overwhelmed, I take it to the Rock that is higher than I.
I run to the Refuge of my Faithful Father.
I turn my eyes to my Savior Who will redeem and restore.
I put my hand firmly in the hand of my Shepherd Who will not leave me in this Valley of the Shadow of Death.
And I pray for myself-and every heart having a hard time holding onto hope today-that we will feel the Father’s loving arms around us and that He will give us strength to stand. ❤
In the South, we tend to pussyfoot around hard truths because most of us grew up with the admonition, “Now just be nice!”
And while that makes for charming dinner table conversation, it makes for lousy long-term relationships.
Because we all know the longer you live with, work with and love another body, the more things that should be said but aren’t add up.
Pretty soon the pile is so big it obscures the love or fun or shared interests that should be holding hearts together and instead they drift apart.
I haven’t been all that good at following the southern tradition of code words and cute phrases that mask true intent. But I used to be guilty of it from time to time.
These past years of heartache and hardship have pretty much stripped all the veneer that was left off my tongue.
I doubt you will find a soul that would call me a silver-tongued devil. They’re more likely to call me a brash something else.
But I have important things to say and I don’t want to waste time sugar-coating them. I don’t want the meat of my message hidden inside a puff pastry of silly words. I believe truth should be easy to swallow but not necessarily tasty.
Often the most efficacious medicine leaves a nasty aftertaste.
So I’m here to tell you: don’t drown your important relationships in unsaid words, unshared feelings, unacknowledged wounds.
All that does is guarantee distance grows between your hearts.
If you let the distance become too vast, or the pile of unsaid truth get too high, you might just find you can’t reach that far or that high to reconnect.
It takes a bit of brave to say what’s important and uncomfortable.
But it’s worth it.
And it’s really the only way to authentic and lasting relationships.
The body, the casket of this immortal jewel, is left for a season to the dishonors of the tomb. But it is only for a brief ‘night-watch.’ That dust is precious, because redeemed. Body as well as soul was purchased by the life-blood of Immanuel.
~George S. McGuinness, The Bow In the Cloud,
I have to pass the church cemetery where my son’s body waits every time I leave my home since it’s right down the road.
I always remind myself that he is facing east,
waiting for the trumpet,
and will rise, whole, healed and joy-filled. 
If you know that this is not the only world, the only body, the only life — that one day you will have a perfect life — you will be able to persevere through any type of adversity. There is hope on the other side, and there will be calm after the storm.
Paul writes: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Cor. 4:16-18).”
The resurrection gives us hope. It confirms that this life isn’t the end of our story
~Dave Furman, Kiss the Wave
I’ve often been the person who refused to go along with some group’s plan to ignore a real issue and try to talk around it.
I usually begin like this, “I know it’s hard to talk about, but let’s be honest and…”
I’m even more inclined in that direction now. If my son’s instant and untimely death has taught me anything, it’s taught me that there’s no use pretending.
So I’m not going to pretend: Western society doesn’t do grief well.
I’m not sure that was always the case but like so many other unpleasant, sad and/or uncomfortable aspects of life, we’ve sequestered grief to separate buildings and specialists. We’ve tried to clean it up and clear it away from the everyday.
Like they say, “Out of sight, out of mind.”
If we can hide it, we don’t have to deal with it.
But I’m here to tell you, you WILL have to deal with it. One day, one way or another, death will come knocking at YOUR door. No one gets out of here alive.
So let’s talk about the elephant in the room.
Let’s stop ignoring death and grief and how one person’s departure for Heaven leaves others behind trying to deal with the loss, the pain, and the hole that missing life leaves in their hearts.
I know it will take effort to learn the language of grief. It’s a lost language and it will feel strange on your tongue.
The more you use it, the more you will realize that it’s really just the language of love with a slight accent. There are a few more pauses between words, a bit more emphasis in some places and less in others.
And when you don’t know what to say, it’s fine to admit that.
Just say, “I don’t know what to say, but I want you to know I care.”
Because that means you see the elephant too.
I may risk offending some of my fellow believers in Jesus but I will take that risk.
While scripture is plain that God uses the events in our lives to help fashion our hearts, it is also equally plain that God does not act cruelly or spitefully or wantonly.
What Joseph’s brothers did to him was evil. God redeemed it.
What the crowd did to Stephen, the first Christian martyr, was evil. God redeemed it.
What Nero did to the early Christians was evil. God redeemed it.
Death is the ultimate evil, the last enemy. But Jesus overcame it and God will redeem it.
Yes, “all things work together for good for those that love the Lord” but not all things are good.
My son’s death is not a test, a lesson, a trial nor a hammer in the hand of God sent to pound me into the shape He desires for me.
It is an evil that He can and is using for good.
It will one day be absolutely, totally and irrevocably redeemed.
I can’t wait.
I have to talk to myself all the time.
Literally.
There are some mornings I open my eyes and would do just about anything to be able to stay in bed, hide under the covers and wish the day away.
But I can’t.
So I recite truth until my heart can hear it. I speak courage to my own spirit.
If you are feeling weak and weary today, may I share a few of my favorites?
I don’t have to arrive at the finish line cute and perky, I only have to complete the course even if I’m barely crawling or dragging myself the last few feet.
Endurance IS the victory and perseverance IS faith.
God’s grace is enough. Sometimes I don’t believe it but that doesn’t make it untrue. God promises to provide the strength I need when I need it. When I am weak, He is strong.
Even the very WORST day of my life only lasted 24 hours. All I have to do is live this moment, this hour and this day. Every morning is a new beginning with new mercy and sufficient grace. Every sunrise is a reminder that God is still on the throne and still in control.
What a precious promise that the King of the Universe, the Creator of all things, the God of Heaven is keeping track of MY tears! Not a single drop hits the ground but that He scoops it up and saves it. One day every one will be redeemed.
God isn’t finished with me yet. He is working in and through me to conform me to the likeness of Christ. That work is often painful. But He is going to use even this most awful, heartbreaking thing.
When all else fails and a day is full of tears and sorrow, I remember that there will be a Day-a glorious Day!-when every single tear will be wiped away and, in the words of the Jesus Storybook Bible, “Every bad thing will come untrue.”
Hallelujah!
Amen!
I know, precious heart, as the months and years roll by and everyone else has moved forward and moved on, it’s easy to feel like no one sees your wounds, no one takes note of your sorrow, no one remembers your pain.
It can make you feel invisible.
You feel like a black and white pasteboard cutout in a world peopled by technicolor action figures.
But you are NOT invisible.
The God of the Universe sees you.
He keeps track of every. single. tear.
He cares.
Even if you are still angry with Him.
Because His love is an everlasting love. He doesn’t give up on us just because we don’t have the strength to reach out to Him. He will bridge the gap between what we are capable of doing and what needs to be done.
Sit silent in His Presence and He will come to you.
Gentle, loving, quiet and peace-filled He will come.
No matter how many humans have written you off, your Faithful Father has not forgotten you.
He sees you.
He waits with open arms.
He wants to embrace your wounded heart and your broken life.
Come home. ❤
God is the father who watches and waits for his children, runs out to meet them, embraces them, pleads with them, begs and urges them to come home.
~Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal
We enter this world when we leave our mother’s womb.
That is the beginning.
But our lives never end. We are eternal beings, created in the image of God, destined to spend forever with Him-IF we receive the gift of redemption made possible by the blood of Christ Jesus.
Love is immortal-it stretches like a golden cord between those that remain and those that go before.
God Himself has guaranteed its supremacy.
Love wins.
Death is awful for those of us left to remember and miss and sorrow over the absence of a loved one.
But it is not the end.
Hallelujah.
Amen.
*Graphic by fellow Waiting Mom Jennifer Coleman*
One of the most devastating questions I had to face after Dominic ran ahead to heaven was, “What difference does prayer make?”
I had prayed-diligently prayed-for every one of my children since before they were born.
Even Dominic’s name, which means “belonging to God” was chosen carefully to reflect my heart’s desire that this child follow hard after Jesus.
Dominic had served Christ’s church with his time, talents and resources his whole life. Yet he was not quite 24 when he met Jesus face to face.
So why didn’t prayer “work”? Why did my son die in an accident when others live?
I thought I understood prayer.
I thought that if I followed the formula I’d been taught:
He would be obligated to grant them.
But I was wrong.
Prayer is not a vending machine-put something in and get something out.
I wrote this just a few months after he left us:
Did the mother whose son died pray less or with less faith than the mother whose son lives?
We must be careful to remember that God is sovereign and while we are commanded to pray, our words do not dictate His actions. He alone knows the end from the beginning. He alone is the Alpha and Omega.
I now understand that prayer is privileged communication with the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe.
It is an opportunity to align my heart with His.
It’s a way to tap into the Living Water that Jesus promised the Samaritan woman He met at the well.
It’s two-way conversation where I need to do as much listening as talking.
So I no longer come with a basket full of petitions, hoping they are granted.
Instead I kneel, hands outstretched. longing only for His touch, His Presence, His grace, mercy and sustaining strength.
I still pray but it is a simple prayer:
“Lord, I need You.”
❤
thelifeididntchoose 