{All these years later ...}

Someone recently said, “You would think all these years later, it wouldn’t be so bad.” That’s true, until it’s not. Like today. This is the day Hailey died.

I will not likely forget that morning.  The moment is seared into my memory. Several of us were piled in a small room sleeping on the floor.  The hospital staff had graciously offered the space, and it was an improvement on the uncomfortable, unforgiving chairs and sofa in the waiting room. It was a tight squeeze, but I appreciated having people I loved dearly within arm’s reach. The door cracked open, and the light from the hallway cut through the room. It was so bright. It seemed intrusive. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, thinking that whoever had just opened the door might go away if I just pretend to be asleep. They didn’t go away.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in the cold hallway being told to scrub up. Things hadn’t gone well for Hailey during the night, and now I needed to go see her.

She was two days post-heart surgery. I couldn’t hold her. In fact, it seemed impossible to get to her at all through the jungle of wires and monitors. But I found her tiny hand. Her little body had been so traumatized by the surgery. She was swollen, and her skin was a strange shade of pasty white. I held her hand, stroked the bottoms of her tiny feet, and kissed the top of her head a hundred times, tears streaming down my face. I was so tired, and this was the moment it seemed to sink all the way in that she actually might not come home with me. She didn’t open her eyes that morning, but I stood with her for as long as I could before the monitors screamed and the nurses hurried me out of the room. She only lived a few more hours. And when the doctor delivered the news, I was utterly devastated.

All these years later…

I know it’s ok not to be ok. I also know I belong to a God who makes it His business to heal the broken-hearted and bind up wounds, even those that pierce us to the core. You know, the ones we think we won’t survive. Yeah, He sure does. He does a masterful job mending the things that are broken. God is so good at being God.

I know that you don’t get over these things. They mark you forever.  I also know that you can learn how to carry grief forward in a way that honors where you’ve been without keeping you from where God intends for you to go. You don’t have to get stuck. But, you also have to want to get well. I wallowed for a while, allowing resentment and bitterness to set in. But, I realize now that I’ve come to know and understand the redeeming power of God’s love in a way I might not have otherwise known BECAUSE this is part of my story. I’ve seen His goodness and faithfulness over and over again. I know He means it when He says He’s always with us, even in the valley of the shadow of death.

I know refusing to acknowledge pain and grief only leads to more pain and grief. If we have the courage to be honest with ourselves, our people, and God, then we can move through the pain and come out on the other side better for having suffered it. God can’t fully address things we refuse to acknowledge. And He cannot redeem the things we refuse to put in His hands. When standing in the middle of impossible situations, look up. Lock eyes with Jesus and let Him at your heart.

I know God weaves the strands of our lives together to make something good and beautiful. He uses all things — every moment, every tragedy, every tear, every failure, every success. God's lavish, extravagant love and power redeem and restore broken things; all things work together for good and His purpose because He loves us. That’s His promise. When you belong to Him, nothing is wasted and beyond His reach.

I know that one day He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and there will be no more pain, no more sickness, and no more death. And I know in the meantime, He holds us in the palm of His very strong hand. He is full of grace and patient, and kind beyond measure.

Be encouraged today, friends. He loves you so. If you let Him at your heart and invite Him into the broken places, into your disappointment, He will show just how much He loves you. And, it will absolutely blow your mind. There is no pain or brokenness worth holding on to compared to the treasure that He is. I had to open my hands and let go of all my stuff to grab hold of Him. There is nothing that matters more than knowing Him and loving Him. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. Unapologetically.

Because Jesus changes everything. He’s done that for me and can do it for you, too.

Valentine’s Day? I’d Rather Not.

Valentine’s Day?  I’d Rather Not.

Grief changes everything. Take Valentine's Day, for example. Chocolate candies, fresh flowers, sweet greeting cards, and candlelight dinners for two seem harmless enough. Who wouldn't want to celebrate love and romance, after all? But for grievers, holidays are challenging and, well, just hard. Maybe you can relate? Or, perhaps someone close to you can? 

Let's meet Sandra and James. Today, I want to tell you their story. 

Sandra was grieving her momma's death and sorting through a string of disappointments and heartache in an attempt to find someone, anyone, with whom to share her life. She was wrecked, exhausted by grief, and hanging on by a thread when James came along. Despite having decided she'd take a break from dating, she agreed to dinner and a movie with James. He was polite and kind, but Sandra was mostly unimpressed. She was unimpressed at least until realizing she actually missed him during the week following their date. After one more date, curiosity replaced disinterest. She found James to be kind, tender-hearted, and always giving of himself. He was carefully attentive to her heart. The romance and engagement were a bit of a whirlwind, but they just knew. They fit, and no one could argue! Because of James, Sandra finally understood what it meant to be fully and wholly loved, brokenness and all. This love was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love -- a gift from God, a treasure. 

But the story takes a sudden and unwanted twist two years after they were married. One morning, Sandra woke as James, lying next to her, suffered a massive heart attack. He died at the hospital. Sorrow landed on her with indescribable, heart-wrenching pain. And, so Sandra finds herself grieving on days when she should be celebrating. 

Today, Sandra bravely shared her heart with me in a conversation about love, loss, and moving through grief. Why? Because she hopes her story can offer a shred of hope to other grievers. 

Q: Do you find holidays like Valentine's Day particularly hard? Why or why not?

Sandra: I think holidays and memorable dates (anniversaries) are hard, although I don't always realize the impact until I'm in the moment or until after the day has passed. I feel like I have to work hard not to ruin other people's holidays/major events because I'm grieving. I work through significant dates by taking each moment, each day, each week, and leaning on God. 

Q: What are things other people do that you find most helpful when your grief swells up? What do you wish people wouldn't do?

Sandra: To be honest, support comes in different ways. I want friends and family to check on me; but, I also need them to understand when I need space. Don't avoid the topic. That doesn't make it hurt less. It's more helpful to the healing process when I'm able to talk about it if I need to. Let me feel my emotions and pain without trying to talk me out of it by saying things like, "James wouldn't want you to feel this way" or "You should be over this by now." Unsolicited advice and opinions are more hurtful than helpful. When people tell you where you should be in the process, that's hurtful. Sometimes support is just your presence (even if you're silent).

Q: What are some other things that have helped along the way? 

Sandra: In grief, it's hard to sort out what's real and what's not real. So, find an anchor. For me, it was God, my family, and the people in my church. I have friends who've experienced loss and understand it. So, they were able to help me when I needed it most. Also, finding a Christian counselor was important. When you bury a loved one, you bury hopes and dreams along with him or her, all the plans you've made. It's loss in a lot of different ways. I also have to pay attention to how my body is responding. Sometimes, I need more sleep, so I sleep, for example. 

Q: What might you say to someone else who is just starting their grief journey? What would you want them to know? 

Sandra: This is your journey and process, and people may not understand your pain and heartache. They may not be familiar with the longing left in your heart after such loss. People can't hear the conversations and see the moments you replay in your mind as you process a new reality. Grieve at your own pace. Most importantly, losing someone you love isn't something you GET OVER or forget. You move forward. Sometimes it doesn't hurt as bad, and other times the pain is as raw as the first day. Some days you feel like you're making progress, but then something takes you back. Those moments are not setbacks, but they are part of the process. Don't be afraid to set healthy boundaries for yourself. Seek counseling, accept help, and take your time grieving. God's everlasting love will bring healing and redemption. Just keep going.

There it is, friends. Just keep going. Healing is hard work, but there is hope. Sandra is living proof. Give yourself space and the grace to grieve. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You are not alone. 

James + Sandra on their wedding day, April 2011. James passed away in June 2013.

{Missing Someone? Yeah, me too.}

Today I was looking through old photos and videos of my sweet Mamaw. How beautiful and wonderful was she!? Goodness, I miss her so. There's something about sitting beneath the weight of significant loss. It can be cumbersome. But, the Lord is near and brings comfort and healing to our broken hearts. I could tell story after story about my Mamaw -- some of them would make you laugh. Others would make you cry. But every story points to a life well-lived and a woman who was dearly loved. She was lovely, and she was remarkable. 

My mamaw was kind and tender-hearted. She saw great heartache and loss over the course of her life, but it didn't stop her from loving BIG. I admire that about her. She was fiercely loyal. There were ladies in her life that she called a friend for more than 60 years. She had a knack for making the acquaintance of her neighbors and people in the community. When she was for you -- she was all in. 

Mamaw never missed a birthday or an anniversary. Celebrating special occasions and holidays with her people was one of her favorite things to do. Every year she made us a calendar packed full of pictures with each birthdate and anniversary marked. And, without fail, when a significant date or holiday rolled around, you could guarantee a homemade card would find it's way to your mailbox. 

Mamaw laughed, and her laugh was the sweetest. She was funny and a tiny bit feisty. She enjoyed hearing and telling a good story. She could laugh herself straight to tears, and that would make her laugh even more. I've heard that she pulled a prank or two back in the day. 

She was always off on a grand adventure aboard a cruise ship or tour bus. She loved to travel to far off places and to places just down the road. She enjoyed a good show or singing, as she'd call it. She also loved to shop. And, quilt. She was a whiz in the kitchen and hosted with such ease and grace. She taught me how to be a gracious hostess. She also modeled the importance of spending quality time with loved ones. I remember that very clearly even as a young girl. She always showed up. And, she was present. I don't, in fact, ever remember her NOT being there. If she was there, she was likely snapping photos, both candid and posed, because capturing the moments she cherished was essential to her. I am so thankful that she did that. 

But, one of my favorite things about Mamaw, the thing I  found to be SO remarkable was her generosity. She LOVED to give good things to the people for whom she cared. Her generosity was unmatched. She generously gave because she lavishly loved. Those two things combined mean that her life was a beautiful reflection of the love of God. People like my mamaw leave a mark on the lives of those of us who knew them. I'm betting that everyone who knew her could describe one way she made his life a bit brighter. If you were lucky, you'd have a long list of ways she did that. She lived a big life. A meaningful life. One that will not likely be forgotten. It is my privilege to honor her memory. And then there's this: even when we sit in death's shadow, heartbroken by such a significant loss, there's hope. I have the hope of seeing Mamaw again because of Jesus.  In the meantime, I am thankful to have known her and loved her. And, even more than that, to have been loved by her. 

If you are missing someone tonight, I pray that God will be near and bring comfort and healing to your broken heart. I pray He will help you find joy and encouragement in remembering your loved one. Above all, I pray that God will reveal something of Himself in your circumstance that takes your breath away. You know, the kind of thing that fills you with awe and gratitude because you know beyond doubt that He sees you and loves you. Look for Him, friends, even in the midst of your sadness. I promise He's there. Be filled with hope. Death does not have the final word. 

{Five Minute Friday | Accept}

It's Five Minute Friday. That means unplanned, unedited, straight-from-the-heart-to-the-paper writing. Yep, you just write whatever comes out based on a word you're given. If you have five minutes, you should give it a try!  Find out how here.

This week the prompt is {ACCEPT}.

Ready? Go.

This word stirs up all kinds of things in my mind. Perhaps, that's indicative of this season of life. There are lots of things swirling in my heart and mind. So many things. Today, I'm landing in a place where acceptance is part of loss. You suffer loss. You grieve. You accept it. 

During my life, I have known the weight of a grieving heart many times. I have grieved the loss of friends and community. I have mourned the loss of a marriage.  I have lamented the loss of two children. Grief is exhausting and cumbersome. When you are walking under the weightiness of it, it threatens to squeeze the life right out of you. I'm grieving a few things during this season, you know. And, I'm heartbroken. But, if I've learned anything at all, it's that grief doesn't have the final word. 

It can't. Because of Jesus. He is Hope and Truth. Jesus changes everything. 

I suppose to survive you accept what is in front of you. You adjust. You redefine. You find a new "normal. You realize nothing will ever be the same, not really. But, oh, sweet friends. Can I tell you something? Lean in a bit because this is important. HE remains. His perfect faithfulness and steadfast love on full display. Look for Him. Grab hold of Him. After all, in Him, all things hold together. Nothing -- not one tear, not one prayer, not one desperate cry for help -- escapes His attention. 

Be encouraged today. Accept that He loves you so, even on the worst of days. Grab hold of the truth of Scripture and let that truth be what informs every other thing in your life -- the good, the bad, and all the in-between. 

Because, Jesus. 

Stop. 

My Bottom Line

It's been a lot of years, but every year on Tyler's birthday and the anniversary of His death, I have to say something. If you've known me any length of time, you're at least familiar with my story, and maybe a little worn out with it. But, I can't forget to remember. And, I won't stop talking about it. See, the thing is, my story paints a picture of God’s relentless love and unfathomable grace and of the enduring hope that comes from surrendering my life to Him. That is a story worth telling again and again. Sunday I was having a hard time finding words, but they came.

The ebb and flow of grieving a loss is as constant as the ebb and flow of the ocean. It's always there, sometimes crashing against your heart and soul knocking you backwards and other times rolling in with ease. This year it was an unexpected crash. Yeah, sometimes that still happens.  When it does, it always, without fail, sends me back to the moment my world shattered into a million pieces. And then, I walk through it all one more time. But, God proves his perfect faithfulness in those moments, and I find myself overwhelmed by His grace and love. See, He never fails to whisper some truth to my aching soul. He gently goes to work peeling back yet another layer of my heart, mending and healing -- even all these years later. I love that. This year was no different. At the end of the day, one single truth emerged in my heart and soothed the ache in my soul. It's my bottom line. I need Him desperately. All of the time. And, He's there. All of the time. I mean it when I say, "had it not been for Jesus . . ."

Here's the thing: when I find myself in a moment, keenly aware of my desperate need for Him, then I am exactly where He wants me. Above all, He wants us to know Him and to belong to Him. He wants to be what we treasure most of all.

May I encourage you today, sweet friends? God sees you. When He says He will never leave us, He means that. He is telling the truth when He says He has a plan. When He calls us His sons and daughters, He means that, too. When He says He has us in the palm of His hand, He does. Lean in a bit, because this part is important. He. Loves. You. If you are standing in the middle of a million broken pieces, trying to answer questions that are unanswerable, grab hold of that truth and cling to it with all your might. You are not alone.

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