Category: Grief

“I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.” -attributed to Helen Keller.

A few weeks ago, I liked a post by my sister about the joy of marriage on social media.  A few minutes later she messaged me a sweet message praying that it didn’t hurt for me to read it.

The reality is that hearing about new babies, weddings, happy marriages, perfect homes, healed relationships, and new jobs always makes me rejoice.  I am always going to cheer for the prayers that are answered.  I will cheer louder than anyone when I hear that your dreams are coming true.  I pray daily for dreams to come true in the lives of everyone I know! 

But at night when I climb into bed alone and reflect on the news of the day, there is always a twinge of sadness for all my dreams that did not come true.  An ache for what was lost.  Nine years has not made the ache of no more babies any easier.  Five years has not made the loss of Ben go away either.

I cried to friends a few weeks ago about not wanting my heart to hurt about these things anymore.  I told them I longed to be able to let the losses go and only rejoice in the good for others.  And they reminded me it is okay to be sad about the loss of those dreams.  Because they were BIG dreams.

I have spent a lot of time praying about that the last few weeks, and God has put people in my path who needed to be reminded that it is okay to grieve the losses if we don’t get stuck there.  But the reality is, this has always been so much easier for me to recognize in others.

For some reason when it comes to my own losses, I always feel like I should push through.  That enough time has passed that it should not hurt anymore. Like the secondary losses should not still cause pain 5 years later or even 9. 

A few weeks ago as I laid in bed reflecting on this, I realized that while I want the pain to lessen (and it has) I do not want it to go away completely.  To no longer feel a twinge of sadness that I didn’t get to have a 50+ year marriage like my grandparents, or a 25^th wedding anniversary to the first man that I loved, would make it seem like those losses didn’t matter!  And they do.  Without the pain of loss, we wouldn’t get to know the beauty of good things.

There is room for both pain and joy in the same breath.  There is room to be happy for one who is getting a baby while sad that your own dreams seem to be sitting silently by waiting for an answer.  Friend, I get it.  I may not have the same dream or desires as you, but I know what it is like to feel that your day will never come, that other people seem to be getting every good gift you thought would be yours…

But I believe that beautiful things are coming. That God will restore the years that the locust has eaten. And that the beauty to come is like nothing we could have ever imagined. I’m believing it for you, and I’m believing it for me. I’m cheering you on and praying that every dream you wish will come true!

New Year, Old Pain?

The new year always starts with a flood of emotions for me. Looking back at what was and forward to what may be is both encouraging and overwhelming.  Especially when we enter into a new year knowing that some of the past won’t be coming with us.

2022 was a long, hard, but fruitful year for me. I learned to let go of things I was holding on to too tightly.  And I ended the year anticipating the good that will come from living eyes wide open for Jesus.

But as we enter a week full of birthdays (four of them in 3 days), it is hard for me not to reflect on all we have lost.  This is the 6^th new year we have walked into without Ben here with us.   And even though we are happy, growing and moving forward, we cannot help but remember what is missing. 

Grief, loss, and life, in general, are not linear. There is an ebb and flow that goes along with just being human. We have our good days and our bad. We have the days when we can see how far we have come, and all that God is doing in us. And then we have days where we are wracked with reminders of everything we just can’t seem to get right.

One of the many things loss has taught me is that sometimes the good and bad walk hand and hand for a while.  And sometimes we must give into the tears and let it all out. The thing I have to remember is I don’t want to stay in that place… the distraught, overwhelmed, and struggling place of no hope. So, I shed the tears, I pull my kids close, and get up to walk forward.

For the last 7 or 8 years, I have started every new year planning to get out and run.  I start the year off slow—a half mile, a mile, then two. If I’m dedicated enough, I will work my way up to 5-6 by the end of the month.  But in the beginning, I must take it slow.  And sometimes my run isn’t much more than a crawl as I ease my way back in. 

I have found that during seasons of heavy grief, at times the most I can do is crawl forward.  And just like when I start back out running, every step is heavy and burdensome.  But the pain of each step when I am running is a reminder of the progress I am making. And I no longer let the pain convince me to sit still. 

New Year, New Goals… 

The last few years I have tried to set a purposeful life goal for myself: intention, hope, joy. But this year I struggled with what I want to see in my life in the year ahead. And in the wee hours of this morning it came to me. This year I want to keep moving forward.  It’s that simple.  I want to keep moving, keep living, keep growing. That is it. And if I am honest, I am praying that God will lead us to thrive. So if you too have struggled with a hard season and knowing what to embrace in the year ahead… I encourage you to join me in just choosing to move forward… (even if moving forward looks like a crawl right now).  Move forward, into the unknown, fully expectant of all that God has for us there.

Happy New Year!

Have you ever been so angry at yourself for your shortcomings that you could not get over yourself enough to overcome the problem you were faced with until you hit a breaking point?  I have found myself frequently in that place over the last few years. 

All summer my son was asking to go for a ride in Ben’s car.  At the start of August my girls had a day camp for a week. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for some time with my sweet boy.  Not surprisingly, the battery was dead, as I frequently forget to drive it so it doesn’t die. 

Since it is a reoccurring problem, I own a portable jumper box. I like to be able to take care of this problem without having to rely on others!  Of course I had locked the jumper box in the trunk of the car.  Getting it out was impossible, so I decided to be a big girl and jump it with my Suburban.  I opened the hood and had no idea where to put those black and red things without a visible battery. So I slammed the hood shut in a huff.    

I was angry at myself for so many reasons.  But most of all I was frustrated that even after five years, I still get upset about handling things I do not think should be my problem! 

Reaching That Breaking Point

I literally thought about the car in self-pity for about two weeks. I refused to ask for help and got angry at myself for not having what I needed to fix it on my own.  Because while I try to be independent and self-sufficient, there are times when grief overwhelms. I did not plan to live this life. And I did not want to carry this weight alone.

Then one Sunday a friend attempted to jump it with my Suburban for me and told me I needed to just replace the battery (AGAIN). Still annoyed, I said I would get around to it. 

That Tuesday night when I pulled into pick up the kids from class, my Suburban died in the parking lot.  Despite several attempts, I could not get it to start.  A nice gentlemen offered to jump it for me. And the next day a friend sent their husband to jump it again so I could take it to get replaced.

Y’all there is just something powerful about when I reach a breaking point and my frustration turns to stubbornness.  While waiting for my friend’s husband to jump the Suburban again, I went into the garage and tore that dead battery out of the Corvette to take with me.  I drove to Walmart and made them exchange it (while leaving the Suburban running). Then the kids and I drove to AutoZone where I insisted on watching the worker change the Suburban battery. I wanted to know exactly how everything works.

After that, the kids and I drove home. I hooked up the battery in the Vette; and spent an hour patting myself on the back for accomplishing something I should not have had to do.

Is Empowerment Wrong?

I have always thought of the word empowerment as being synonymous with being a control freak.  And while I have always loved being in control, I have tried desperately to avoid having that label put on me by others.  But my views of a lot of things have changed since losing Ben. They have especially changed since having to take on learning things that I still have no desire to know.

And in the last few months since that empowering day, I have heard countless people recount tales of friends (especially widows and single parents) who have had to embrace challenges to overcome something they never wanted to do.  And the sense of accomplishment felt by the overcomer in each of those situations is something to behold!

His Power is Perfect in Weakness…

2 Corinthians 12:9 & 10 says, “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

I would like to say that I learned a lesson from that experience and embrace every challenge as it comes. But I would be lying.  I spent the last week looking at our Christmas tree on the top shelf of the garage before finally psyching myself up enough to acknowledge that as long as everyone stood clear I could probably get it down on my own 😉.  Don’t worry, I did not get a big head from that achievement. This afternoon I replaced the door handle I knocked off when something went flying off a garage shelf.  And, of course, I need to jump that dead Vette battery again.  Nothing like balance to remind me I’m still human.  😉

Do you ever have those moments when you feel empowered and need to be reminded that you can do hard things?  What was your shining moment?  Feel free to share in the comments!