". . . .When someone talks about the realities of grief to non-grieving people, it’s never too long before someone says, “well, yeah, but eventually you have to get back to life, right? You have to eventually get over it.”
Get back to life.
Have you heard that phrase from people outside of your grief? Even people who truly love and care about you might be pushing you to get back out in to the world, live your life. They may even tell you you have so much to live for.
The thing is, the people who often say these things actually do have a life to go back to. They may be deeply impacted by the death of the one you love, but if their family is intact, if there is no gaping hole in their daily life, they just aren’t going to be affected the same way you are.
I don’t necessarily mean that you had to live with the person you’ve lost in order to be the most impacted by their death. Not at all.
What I mean is that, for many of us, the people we’ve lost were such an integral part of every single day, every single facet of our lives, there really is no “normal life” without them.
There is no part of our universe, our daily lived existence, that they didn’t touch.
There truly is no life to “get back to.”
Eventually, perhaps, new things will begin to grow around the crater that has erupted in the center of your life. The hole itself will remain. I don’t mean that as a downer, either. I mean that a central loss, a loss that shifts the axis of the universe, is not something that simply shrinks over time.
Getting back to life can't always happen inside grief. Instead, we can come to ourselves, to each other, with kindness and respect for what cannot be resumed.
We – you, me, all of us – will not return to the life that was. That’s simply not possible. What we can do is bow to the damaged parts, the holes blown in our lives. We can wonder what parts of ourselves survived the blast. We can come to ourselves, and our irrevocably changed worlds, with kindness and respect.
That’s the real work of grief – to show up with kindness, every day, many times a day. Somehow, if we don’t see it as “fixing” your grief, or “getting back to life,” it makes all that just a little bit easier. . . ."
Adapted from ~ Refuge in Grief - Megan Devine ~
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Thursday, February 21, 2019
4 Things Christians Should Know About Grief
"Having lost a child and working in pastoral ministry for fifteen years, much of my personal and professional experience has involved coping with loss. I personally found that some of the hardest truths about grief prove to be the most helpful to mourning people in the long run. I wanted to share some of the hard truths, that a good friend would pass on, with the intent of giving you hope in
1. Don’t be discouraged if things get worse before they get better.
My son, Cameron, died suddenly and unexpectedly in 2013. He was a perfectly healthy three-year-old boy who just went to bed one night and never woke up. I figured that the first two weeks would be the worst and that the difficulty would gradually diminish as the weeks progressed. I was wrong.
I found that I was in shock the first month. With each day I began to gain increasing awareness of the immense magnitude of Cam’s death. I found that I actually was sadder in the third through sixth month than I was in the first.
Death is the ultimate expression of the Fall. Its emotional repercussions are immense. In the grief process, if you feel as if you’re getting sadder, you’re not failing or abnormal. You are tasting fully just how awful the Fall is. The pain eventually will start to subside.
2. It’s a godly thing to grieve.
For whatever reason, many Christians have the idea that happiness honors God and sadness constitutes spiritual failure. They think sadness tarnishes their witness. In reality, we see intense expressions of lamentation and grief throughout the Bible. The laments of the Psalms, the expressions of Job, the outrage of Jeremiah, and the questions of Habakkuk provide ample evidence of holy grief before God. Jesus grieves the death of Lazarus. God mourns the disobedience and defiance of Israel (Luke 13: 33-34). There is no shame in mourning your loss with a heart full of sadness.
3. There’s no way around it: if you’re going to get better, you’re going to have to taste the pain.
During the first year after my son died, I allowed myself to grieve. I made space for it and accepted the reality. After the one-year anniversary of his death, I subconsciously decided that I was done with being sad. I proceeded to fill my schedule and life with so much work and ambition that I couldn’t feel much of anything. Busyness functioned like a numbing drug for me until I started to crack.
If your knee is going to heal after a sports injury, you’re going to have to do the painful work of rehab. If you’re going to get stronger, you’re going to have to experience the soreness that comes from work outs. If a broken bone is going to heal, you’re going to have to endure the pain of setting the bone.
The same is true in grief. The way of the cross necessitates that pain precedes healing and restoration. God will give you the grace you need to withstand the tides of sadness. God will provide his presence in the depths of grief. You must allow yourself to feel the sadness and lament. With each tear you cry, you are moving closer to healing.
4. You cannot redeem yourself, but God can give you healing in time.
At times, I felt as if I needed to work a playbook. Go to the counselor. Journal. Talk about my loss. My occasionally rigid approach reflected a belief that I needed to heal myself. If I could take the right steps, then I could make myself less sad.
The healthiest and most helpful place I could ever go was to trust Jesus to heal me. God told Israel in Isaiah, “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength” (Is. 30:15). In the passive place of relying on God’s healing grace, we find hope, comfort, and strength. We cannot mend our hearts, but God certainly can. You will need to return continually to waiting patiently and expectantly for him to heal and remediate your wounds. In time, God can heal your heart.
God is a Healer and Redeemer. In all of the sorrow and confusion, our hope in grief resides in the reality that God can restore anything."
Cameron Cole
1. Don’t be discouraged if things get worse before they get better.
My son, Cameron, died suddenly and unexpectedly in 2013. He was a perfectly healthy three-year-old boy who just went to bed one night and never woke up. I figured that the first two weeks would be the worst and that the difficulty would gradually diminish as the weeks progressed. I was wrong.
I found that I was in shock the first month. With each day I began to gain increasing awareness of the immense magnitude of Cam’s death. I found that I actually was sadder in the third through sixth month than I was in the first.
Death is the ultimate expression of the Fall. Its emotional repercussions are immense. In the grief process, if you feel as if you’re getting sadder, you’re not failing or abnormal. You are tasting fully just how awful the Fall is. The pain eventually will start to subside.
2. It’s a godly thing to grieve.
For whatever reason, many Christians have the idea that happiness honors God and sadness constitutes spiritual failure. They think sadness tarnishes their witness. In reality, we see intense expressions of lamentation and grief throughout the Bible. The laments of the Psalms, the expressions of Job, the outrage of Jeremiah, and the questions of Habakkuk provide ample evidence of holy grief before God. Jesus grieves the death of Lazarus. God mourns the disobedience and defiance of Israel (Luke 13: 33-34). There is no shame in mourning your loss with a heart full of sadness.
3. There’s no way around it: if you’re going to get better, you’re going to have to taste the pain.
During the first year after my son died, I allowed myself to grieve. I made space for it and accepted the reality. After the one-year anniversary of his death, I subconsciously decided that I was done with being sad. I proceeded to fill my schedule and life with so much work and ambition that I couldn’t feel much of anything. Busyness functioned like a numbing drug for me until I started to crack.
If your knee is going to heal after a sports injury, you’re going to have to do the painful work of rehab. If you’re going to get stronger, you’re going to have to experience the soreness that comes from work outs. If a broken bone is going to heal, you’re going to have to endure the pain of setting the bone.
The same is true in grief. The way of the cross necessitates that pain precedes healing and restoration. God will give you the grace you need to withstand the tides of sadness. God will provide his presence in the depths of grief. You must allow yourself to feel the sadness and lament. With each tear you cry, you are moving closer to healing.
4. You cannot redeem yourself, but God can give you healing in time.
At times, I felt as if I needed to work a playbook. Go to the counselor. Journal. Talk about my loss. My occasionally rigid approach reflected a belief that I needed to heal myself. If I could take the right steps, then I could make myself less sad.
The healthiest and most helpful place I could ever go was to trust Jesus to heal me. God told Israel in Isaiah, “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength” (Is. 30:15). In the passive place of relying on God’s healing grace, we find hope, comfort, and strength. We cannot mend our hearts, but God certainly can. You will need to return continually to waiting patiently and expectantly for him to heal and remediate your wounds. In time, God can heal your heart.
God is a Healer and Redeemer. In all of the sorrow and confusion, our hope in grief resides in the reality that God can restore anything."
Cameron Cole
Monday, February 18, 2019
Precious Memories
Though remembering Austin may bring tears, it doesn't necessarily mean they are bad tears. There are some moments and days where we just need to cry, and that's OK!
A dear friend and fellow loss mom recently told me:
The loss of our child is now part of who we are. It colors EVERY aspect of our life.
Thoughts of Austin are NEVER far from the surface. A constant undercurrent in our every day life. Though he is no longer physically here with us, we still love him dearly, and he is still very much a part of our life through our memories of him.
Just because he is gone, doesn't mean our love for him has stopped. In fact I believe it has grown exponentially.
Remembering Austin truly is the way that we still love him. Not for his sake, because we know he experiences love unfathomable, but for us, for our mama and daddy hearts and brother and sister hearts that have this love for him that needs to be expressed.
We are expressing that love the only way we can, through our precious memories. 💗
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Pain Needs Space
We have learned that for us, it is healthy to talk about our grief, to remember Austin in many different ways. . . and that always putting on a "brave face" isn't the best way to go. . . . That stifled grief eventually comes out in the most ugly ways.
We aren't called to constantly put on a mask so that others feel better, but to honor our God in whatever we do. May He grant us the grace to strive towards His glory every moment of every day!
We aren't called to constantly put on a mask so that others feel better, but to honor our God in whatever we do. May He grant us the grace to strive towards His glory every moment of every day!
Saturday, February 2, 2019
Saturday, December 29, 2018
When You Think You Can’t Hold On
So many ways to be reminded of how hard it is to hold on in these days and weeks around Christmas.
If your heart is barely able to beat, the pressure to be “hap-hap-happy” can send you over the edge.
If your home is empty of cheerful voices, the constant barrage of commercials touting family togetherness can leave you feeling oh, so lonely.
Early sunsets and darker nights send feel-good hormones flying and leave a body aching for just a little relief from anxious and depressing thoughts.
When you think you can’t hold on, let go.
Let go of expectations-yours and other people’s.
Let go of traditions that no longer serve your heart or draw you closer to the Babe in the manger.
Let go of tons of baking or cooking or entertaining with perfect centerpieces and fragile china.
Let go of blasting Christmas music through the house.
Let go of shopping for the perfect gift or mailing all those cards.
Be still.
Light a candle in the darkness.
Sit quietly and see how even the faintest light can chase away the black of night.
And then hold your empty hands out to the God Who made you, the God Who loves you, the God Who longs to draw you to His heart and let Him fill you with hope.
There IS hope.
He came in the form of a Baby-weak and vulnerable just like us.
He KNOWS our pain.
He is not impressed with our busyness or our decorations or our presents piled high beneath the tree.
He sees the heart. He looks with mercy on a broken heart. He is the Healer of hearts.
He longs to heal yours.
~thelifeididntchoose.com~
If your heart is barely able to beat, the pressure to be “hap-hap-happy” can send you over the edge.
If your home is empty of cheerful voices, the constant barrage of commercials touting family togetherness can leave you feeling oh, so lonely.
Early sunsets and darker nights send feel-good hormones flying and leave a body aching for just a little relief from anxious and depressing thoughts.
When you think you can’t hold on, let go.
Let go of expectations-yours and other people’s.
Let go of traditions that no longer serve your heart or draw you closer to the Babe in the manger.
Let go of tons of baking or cooking or entertaining with perfect centerpieces and fragile china.
Let go of blasting Christmas music through the house.
Let go of shopping for the perfect gift or mailing all those cards.
Be still.
Light a candle in the darkness.
Sit quietly and see how even the faintest light can chase away the black of night.
And then hold your empty hands out to the God Who made you, the God Who loves you, the God Who longs to draw you to His heart and let Him fill you with hope.
There IS hope.
He came in the form of a Baby-weak and vulnerable just like us.
He KNOWS our pain.
He is not impressed with our busyness or our decorations or our presents piled high beneath the tree.
He sees the heart. He looks with mercy on a broken heart. He is the Healer of hearts.
He longs to heal yours.
~thelifeididntchoose.com~
Monday, December 10, 2018
An Answer
A response to anyone who wonders why we STILL talk about Austin, and why the holidays are STILL hard even though it's been 3 1/2 years . . . .
Very few of you have walked in our shoes, and we are thankful that those of you who haven't, don't know such pain as this.
That being said, we would like to caution you against judging a situation you know very little about. You have no idea the magnitude of circumstances that we have experienced in the last three years as a result of Austin's death and the toll these have taken on our mental and physical health.
It is truly ONLY by God's grace that we are still standing today.
We DO find much comfort in knowing that Austin is perfect in glory, however that DOESN'T make the pain go away.
One thing (out of many) that we have learned throughout this journey is that this pain will NEVER go away. As long as we are breathing, we will continue to ache for our son. It is only when we are brought to glory ourselves that the pain will be alleviated.
We have also learned that grief is as unique to a person as their fingerprint. No two people grieve exactly the same way, or in exactly the same time frame.
In light of that, we would like to encourage you to really think before making a hasty conclusion about the way it looks to you, and to take a moment to pray for us. Pray for us and for all who are missing their precious children. . . . because there are still so many times where we struggle to find the words to pray because the pain we feel is so deep.
We know you can't fix it, and we DON'T expect you to. The ONLY thing you can do for us, is to bring our needs before our Father in heaven. He ALONE can bring comfort to His hurting people.
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