Tag: grieving

On the Edge of Two Worlds

Categories Christian Living, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , ,

I was casually listening to a sermon online, while doing some other stuff, when I heard the Pastor connect what he’d been speaking about to his own grief after losing his spouse. This always gets my attention. When someone has experienced a close loss, I always tune in to see what I can glean from their experience with grief. Anyway, his wife had also passed away from cancer, so that always connects my heart a little more, but he said something that resonated with me so strongly. He said that since his wife has passed he now feels like he’s living on the edge of two worlds. When I heard him say it, I looked at Chad and said “That’s it! That’s what we’re feeling!”

We can’t un-see what we’ve seen. We can’t ever go back to only thinking about the worldly, earthly, and temporary-not when such a big piece of our hearts has stepped across the threshold and now resides in the eternal. Honestly, I don’t want to.

Sure, grief sometimes clouds my earthly day to day thoughts and makes things “muddy,” but thank God that “grieving with hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13) makes the important things eternally clear. You’ve probably heard me say, or I have expressed even here, I am weird now. Well, I’ve always been a little weird, but even more so now. I spiritualize everything. Is that good? Is that bad? I don’t really know, but I know that there’s new lenses that have been placed on my eyes and I don’t think I could ever take them off. I choose to see it as a gift that has come with a great loss. Everywhere I look I see that Jesus is the answer to every problem.

There are so many things in nature, that point to the eternal. God is such a creative God, but He also seems to love patterns and He loves to reveal more of himself to us in the ordinary, that’s not so ordinary, when we dissect the complexity of what’s actually in front of our face. I recently read the social media post (please note, I haven’t done a lot of research) about YWHW, which is the Hebrew name of God, being encoded in our DNA. This may be old news?…I’m a little slow…Whether this is verified or not, the more we learn about science, the more we are unlocking the mystery of our Creator. That’s one reason why cancer is so evil. It’s an attack on a person’s DNA, which was created and written by God Himself. The enemy may have access here in this broken realm, but one day He no longer will.

Thank God that Jesus came and defeated death. Thank God that He’s promised and foretold to us through scripture that a New Earth is coming and until then-we get to be with Him in Heaven. Thank God that I see in my spirit-and in the eyes of my heart, our Sarah, surrounded by so many other’s that we love that have also gone before us. They’re in the most perfect place possible. I fully believe that the business of heaven is about Jesus and we know that He is in the business of restoring and redeeming all that is broken and lost.

So, I’ll reside here…in-between these worlds for as long as He allows. I’m determined to be a part of the business of heaven as much as possible though. It’s the only thing that offers any sort of fulfillment for my grieving heart. You’ll just have to put up with my weirdness. Lol!

The New Me

Categories Christian Living, , , , , , , ,

I was able to collect some beautiful seashells on a recent trip to Florida. I started out looking for the perfect shells and then sensed God telling me to pick up the broken ones…they’re beautiful too. I needed that reminder. Sometimes I miss the old me.  The person I was before Sarah’s diagnosis of cancer.  I started to write that I missed the person that I was before she died, but truth is, the day we walked into the children’s hospital and started fighting cancer, was the day that the old me died.  You know that girl, the one that was so carefree and lighthearted–the one that was oblivious to deep pain and disappointment.  Sure I had suffered some losses, but none like the loss that Sarah’s cancer caused…everything changed.  Pediatric cancer is such a giant that it takes all of your focus.  It required me to give up my job, some of my friends, some of my dreams, serving others at church, and other things that were once important to me.  In a lot of ways I had to put my marriage, my other daughter, and all the other things that once seemed so urgent to the side and focus on the fight.  What a fight it was: long hospital stays away from home; hours of stressful waiting and researching, so that you can advocate for your child; lack of sleep on an actual bed; lack of normal routine; or even healthy eating; little to no exercise; being exposed to witnessing your own child and also other children and families suffering horrible side effects and treatments just to give them a chance to survive; and feeling helpless the whole entire time.   Every single family fighting this battle becomes warriors and it changes you…just like the young person who signs up to serve in the military.  They’re always so naïve and innocent, until they experience active duty.  You can’t survive a battle and walk away without some wounds.  Those wounds can heal, but you’ll always have the scars. 

So, that’s me today.  With the deep wound of grief and other scars from the trauma of losing a daughter to pediatric cancer.  As one by one I’ve watched other warrior families lose their children or relapse, it causes deep sadness and always takes me back to those traumatic moments that we lived.  I’m not in any way implying that I don’t want to know about their journeys.  I do want to know, but I’ve come to accept that is just the way this works.  I can relate to their struggle on a whole other level than the “normal” person.  Just like the military veteran, who seeks out other veterans to connect with, there is definitely a connection with those other cancer warriors.  To be honest though, if it’s a newly diagnosed situation or someone that’s still in the “thick of it,” I wonder if my scars scare them?  I know that even being around me, or us (I’m speaking for Chad and Libby here too, I guess) is sometimes hard for others.  Especially, if you haven’t been around us very much.   Hopefully, if know us well, or are willing to hang out with us for a bit, you’re getting more use to the new me/us. 

Yeah, part of me is gone. Good or bad, there are some new things though that have been added to my personality.   There’s a quietness that I know will always be there.  There are deep and somber moments that just hit and I have no control over it.  There is also a deeper sense of purpose and determination to not chase after anything that isn’t truly important, even eternal.  There’s courage because honestly, I’m just not afraid of death.  There’s a deep sense of the spiritual that I know has only come because of the encounters I’ve had with Jesus through this journey.  Yeah, it’s probably made me weird and I’m OK with that.  Just like Psalms 23 promises, He has walked me through this “valley of the shadow of death.”  Actually, I think at times, He’s carrying me. 

What Would I Change?

Categories The First Year, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , 1 Comment on What Would I Change?

As the 1 year mark of Sarah’s entry to heaven is here, I’ve found myself reflecting a lot about our journey. I think it’s normal to question our decisions that we made, as they pertain to someone that we’ve lost. Honestly, when you’re grieving, thoughts of your loved one are never far, but I’ve been specifically taking a more detailed walk down memory lane. Sometimes that’s good and sometimes that’s not so good. All the hard memories are still so fresh and raw in my mind. I know that we’re through the worst of it and the important thing is that Sarah is healed and whole now. She is ok. However, I still found myself contemplating what should we have done differently, if we could go back in time?

Obviously, the first thing that I often wonder is if I should have taken her to the doctor earlier for her pain. There was nothing visible or any physical limitations that she was experiencing. She would take some Tylenol because her shoulder ached and then wouldn’t complain again for another couple of weeks. It was just so intermittent and never seemed that intense, until it was. That’s when we decided to go to Riley. Maybe it’s just me justifying my decision as a mom, but if we would have gone sooner, would it have changed anything? Maybe, I guess we’ll never know. What it would have changed, if we had gone earlier, is that she would have been pulled from school and the life that she knew. Some of her most favorite high school memories happened in the weeks before her diagnosis. She was a freshman in high school and finally gaining some independence from mom and dad. She attended the RYLA conference, an FFA retreat, FFA convention, which honestly I know gave her courage for what was about to happen. So, it’s very hard for me to imagine how different things might have been had she never had those experiences. She made some really special friends during those events and matured as a person.

Should we have sought treatment somewhere else? Sometimes families that are fighting pediatric cancer end of traveling very far to receive treatment. Sometimes they end up in New York, Texas, or at St Jude’s in Tennessee, or even other hospital’s across the nation. There were times when we questioned treatment options, but we also knew that Sarah’s Doctors were consulting with other doctors about her case in some of those very places. If we would have started treatment at another hospital, I feel like the strain on our family would have been even greater, especially during COVID. I know that the relationships that Sarah made at Riley were precious to her. She felt loved and cared for by her doctor and nurses. The protocol would have been the same at any other hospital- as they all follow a plan that is devised for all of the pediatric oncology units that are networked together. Again, we could always wonder if another drug or chemo combo would have worked against her tumor, but that same chemo could have made her life a living hell. What we tried, was tolerable, until it just wasn’t effective. I completely understand why sometimes cancer patients refuse treatment and just decide to live out their days. I feel like Sarah was still able to be herself and enjoy some quality of life, despite being so sick.

Should we have brought her home for her final days? I don’t think about this one very long. I absolutely feel like we did the right thing staying at Riley through the end of her life. Although the moment that Sarah went to heaven was very sacred, I am thankful that I don’t associate that memory with our home. That was just our preference for our family and for Sarah. Our immediate family was allowed to stay in her room 24/7 so that we could all be together. Sarah appreciated that. She just wanted the 4 of us to be together and we were. We knew that her pain medications and oxygen needs were going to change drastically. So remaining there meant that we had quicker access to the help that she needed. Even the greatest hospice provider can sometimes struggle to support families in rural areas and honestly, pediatric hospice care is quite unique. Her healthcare team went above and beyond to honor and care for her during her final days. They actually still do. Several of them attended her Celebration of Life and I still receive messages from some of them. I have so much respect for the whole Hem-Onc unit. After all, they fight the cancer beast for kids every day. It’s such a hard job, but thank God that they feel a calling to do what they do. I’ve honestly heard several of them say that they absolutely look forward to the day that their unit is no longer needed. However, until that day, they are there for “their” kids and the people who love them.

Maybe, the one regret that I have is not getting Sarah’s Make-A-Wish going sooner. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask for and COVID really slowed down the whole process. Also, we would have risked a delay in her treatment had we attempted to travel or even spend a day out of the hospital. Ultimately, she decided what she really wanted was to sing and hang out for a bit with the Elevation Worship team from South Carolina. We were in the process of trying to set-it all up, but we simply ran out of time. However, a few days before she passed, she actually received a couple of very special video messages from 2 of her favorite Elevation Worship Team members. She was so excited to know that they were praying for her and were inspired by her faith. It meant so much to her! God totally arranged for it all too because the Make-A-Wish had nothing to do with how she got the messages. He’s good like that. Actually, as I think about this wish of hers for the ultimate worship concert, I’m reminded that she is living out this wish for all eternity now. That makes me smile.

So, would I have changed anything? My answer is probably-no. It all played out like it was supposed to. I know that Sarah’s quality of life changed a lot with her cancer diagnosis, but she was still able to be herself and find joy in her relationships, new and old. I’m sure the “What if’s” will not completely go away and that’s ok. I just can’t let them dominate my thoughts. So, I’ll choose to replace the “What ifs” with the “What nows?” and just keep moving forward trying to do the next right thing to honor her and her memory, until we’re reunited some day.

Me, Without You

Categories Poems, The First Year, , , , , , , , ,

Some days I just can’t-

look at your pictures,

listen to your voice,

hold your things,

hear your songs…

Not because I don’t miss you,

but because I miss you so much.

Some days I can-

look in your eyes,

listen to your laugh,

smell your scent,

and sing along-

Because I miss you and

it seems like you’ve been gone so long.

Some days I just can’t

breathe

or even make myself move

the weight of missing you

sits on my chest like a giant rock

and won’t let me up until I sob.

It’s suddenly like we just lost you

and I can’t believe you’re gone.

Some days I can-

go with a friend for a while,

leave my house and shop in a store,

go outside and watch the clouds,

But, even when I do-

I’m always missing you.

Though your death isn’t new

It will never be normal.

The complexities of grief

have made me different.

Which version of me, without you,

will I be today?

high angle photo of person s feet

At His Feet

Categories Christian Living, , , , , ,

It was good to share with you again last week. I appreciate each and every one of you that takes the time to read what I write. Like any piece of art, it’s so personal. However, art is a personal expression that is meant to be shared. So thank you for letting me share with you! Sometimes I feel led to share things that I feel like God wants me to communicate to others and this time, I’m absolutely sure of that. Is this message for you? Or after reading it, is there someone that you know that this is for? Please share!

I’ve still been meditating a lot on the the story of Lazarus in the gospel of John. Even if you didn’t grow up in Sunday school, you may have heard of it. There’s actually a few stories of Jesus resurrecting other people, besides himself, from the dead. This is maybe the most famous one. Lazarus was the brother of Martha and Mary, which leads to another favorite story in The Bible. It’s found in Luke 10: 38-42. Martha and Mary are kind of famous sisters, who are so relatable to many of us ladies. Martha, is known as the busy body, who complained about Mary not helping her prepare for the guest, when Jesus was visiting. Jesus actually called Martha out for being distracted and worrying about many things that didn’t really matter…ouch. Mary is described as sitting at the feet of Jesus. Actually, throughout the gospels Mary seemed to always be at the feet of Jesus. You see she’s the same lady that poured her tears and extremely expensive perfume on Jesus feet and used her hair to wipe them. From one of those accounts, we learn that before Jesus, Mary had a bad reputation. However, she had experienced the transforming power of Jesus’s love and forgiveness. Her whole life was changed. She now had a family and was part of the “tribe,” if you will that followed Jesus. You can’t help but notice that Mary adored Jesus and she just wanted to be close to Him as much as possible.

So, while studying the story of the death of Lazarus,(John 11) I noticed a detail that so many of us can relate to and I want to share. Now, Mary and Martha had sent for Jesus to come help, when it was apparent that Lazarus was sick. However, Jesus purposely waited. Jesus knew that He was going to raise Lazarus from the dead, but he also taught us so much during those 4 days that Lazarus was in the tomb. I shared some of those things in my blog last week. Things specific to suffering. The thing that I want to share this week is about Mary. I think at times, as a lady, wife, and mom, it’s easy to relate to Martha. This time, I found myself relating to Mary. When Jesus finally came to help, Martha went to him alone, without Mary. Verse 20 tells us that Mary stayed home. Isn’t that interesting? Martha gets it right this time! The same Mary that was usually at his feet, suddenly doesn’t want to go to him. Mary was deep in grief and hurting badly. She was not acting like herself. What I love is that Martha came to her, as her sister, and told her to go to Jesus.(vs. 28) She actually told Mary that Jesus was asking for her. So, Mary went and scripture says she even went quickly. This is when true healing could begin. Mary actually fell back into her favorite spot, at the feet of Jesus. It’s here that one of the most beautiful passages of scriptures takes place. She weeps and shares her disappointment with The Savior and He cries with her. Scripture says that Jesus was deeply moved and even troubled. Jesus understands our pain! He doesn’t like it either. It’s only when we go to him with our real and honest emotions though that our healing can begin.

You know what I love about this?…It took Mary’s sister encouraging her to go to Jesus for all of this to happen. Martha reminded Mary of what was most important and that Jesus was waiting for Mary to come to Him. Oh sister, I’m here to tell you the same thing! Go to Him…He’s asking for you! What grief, pain, disappoint, or hurt do you need to let out to Him so that your true healing can begin? Can we give one another permission to remind each other to do that, when we see another sister in pain?

There’s another Bible story in Mark 10, where the disciples, who were brothers, James and John, ask Jesus for a favor. They ask Him if they can sit at his left and right in heaven. Jesus doesn’t give them the answer that they expect and uses it as an opportunity to teach them about servant leadership. After studying about the two sisters, I think the most prized place in heaven, will actually be at His feet. We don’t have to wait until heaven though. Right now, Jesus has room for you. He’s waiting, will you go to Him quickly?

Things I’m Learning…

Categories Christian Living, The First Year, Uncategorized, , , , , , , 1 Comment on Things I’m Learning…

I’ve been feeling quiet in my spirit. I know it’s because I’m processing so many things all at once: it’s almost been one year since Sarah’s death, trying to parent and support a 14 year old who is also dealing with grief and so much change. Changes in our church family, good friends moving away, and trying to discern what God is calling me to do next as a job, etc… In many ways I feel like I’m waiting. While I wait, I am enjoying the freedom to grieve as I need to. I’m not going to lie, the gut punches have been hitting me hard over the past couple weeks as I’ve been missing Sarah and reminded of where we were one year ago and our journey to the end of her life here with us. It’s been especially hard walking into her room, seeing her things, and thinking about the beginning of school and how she should be enjoying being a junior in high school. As grief continues to demand it’s own attention in my life, here are a few things that I’m learning a long the way:

  1. Not everyone will be comfortable around you like they used to be. Sometimes it can make conversations feel awkward as people are unsure how to approach you. Depending upon my particular mood for the day, some days it’s easier to approach others first and just act normal, but somedays I know that I shouldn’t. It’s hard knowing that when people see me, it makes them feel sad. It’s not anything that can be helped.
  2. You can laugh with anyone, but it’s only your best friends that you can cry with. We know that someone has reached a special place in our hearts when we’re comfortable letting out our deepest emotions. I’m thankful for friends that I can be real with, when I need to be.
  3. I look for “signs” from Sarah everywhere. There has been some really special ways that she has been with us lately…like the amazing “angel” figure in my vacation picture. I hope I never stop receiving them. I still haven’t had a real vivid dream with her. I still ask too, but God knows best about how to minister to my heart. So, I’m going to trust Him with it.
  4. When you’re grieving, it’s very easy to let feelings of jealousy and bitterness rule in your heart. I have to be honest, it’s hard not to compare what could have been, when I see FB posts about other kids hitting milestones. Sometimes, very negative thoughts cross my mind as I read comments from mom’s who are missing their children who have just moved away or when someone complains about something very trivial. That is totally normal for me, but it’s also not ok for me to NOT submit those thoughts to Jesus and let His Holy Spirit set me straight. It would be hurtful for me to not acknowledge those feelings, but it’s more hurtful to let those kinds of thoughts rule in my heart. I need to have grace for others. The reality of it is, that I wouldn’t wish this kind of grief on my worst enemy. So, it’s ok if others live in a space where they don’t have to consider the things that I do. I’m learning what posts to just scroll over and sometimes, I just need to stay off of Facebook for a bit.
  5. Sleep is such a precious thing. Lately, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night again. It’s so frustrating! I know that when it happens, the more I try to force myself to go back to sleep, the harder it becomes. So, I just try and find something good to meditate on; or I just bare my soul to Jesus, if I’m struggling with anxious thoughts or trauma.
  6. Worship still is the thing that connects me to Sarah more than anything and most importantly, Jesus. I know that when I worship, it’s like a little taste of heaven. As much as I miss Sarah, Jesus is the only thing that can fill the emptiness in my heart. He understands my grief, but he truly is the only one worthy of our worship. Worship while were suffering is life giving. It is the way to truly activate His strength in our weakness…which leads to my next point.
  7. I’m learning a lot about the biblical theology of suffering. Yeah, I know…that doesn’t sound very exciting. However, we know for those who do not believe, many times it’s because they can not accept that a loving God would allow for pain and suffering of those He loves. I’ve discovered an author, Rebecca McLaughlin, Confronting Christianity & 10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) About Christianity, who has some very helpful insights about this. First of all, if you’re looking for logical answers about theology, I highly recommend her books. The one directed towards teens is superb and actually quite helpful, even as an adult. She takes on almost every culturally relevant issue and has a fantastic way of explaining correct theology, with grace and love. Anyway, back to suffering. She uses the story of Lazarus to make some very keen points in regards to suffering in both books actually. My quotes will come from Confronting Christianity:
  • “Sometimes we call for Jesus and he does not come.”
  • However, “If Jesus had only come when he was called, no one would be crying.” and we wouldn’t have the verse: “Jesus wept.” John 11:35
  • “Jesus does not just feel sorry for us in our weakness and pain. He takes on that agony himself. ”

“He was was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain…Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering…”

Isaiah 53:3-4
  • In the story of Lazarus, “Jesus knows the resurrection is coming. And yet he cries out in his distress.” He bears the heartbreak of our suffering. “Pain is a place of special intimacy with him.” When we go to Him in our sorrow, we find understanding, comfort, and hope.
  • When Jesus does arrive, he doesn’t automatically fix Martha’s problem. Jesus looks into this grieving woman’s eyes and says: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11: 25-26) He wasn’t just talking about Lazarus to Martha. He was talking about Martha herself. It’s as if he was saying to her, as she was longing to have her brother back, “your greatest need is not to have your brother back again. It’s to have me…He himself is life: Life in the face of suffering, life in the face of death.”
  • Our suffering is never an indication that God does not love us or that we’re being punished. Time and time again, in the pages of The Bible, we see those who are “chosen and beloved suffering. When Jesus comes, we see that script played out on a cosmic stage: God’s beloved Son, the One who the Father is well pleased, comes expressly to suffer and to die out of love for his people. Indeed, our beliefs about God and suffering expose the fault lines between our natural assumptions and the biblical narrative.”

I have no affiliation with Amazon for sharing, but if you’re interested in reading Rebecca McLaughlin’s books, they are available on Amazon here. I highly recommend them!

Regarding Courage

Categories Poems, The First Year, , , , , , , , , ,

I know what courage is…

I’ve sat in a room and watched my 14 year old hear that she has cancer.

I know what courage is…

I’ve watched children sit still as they’ve been poked, examined, and had to endure hard procedures.

I know what courage is…

I’ve seen parents show up at appointments knowing they were about to be given bad news.

I know what courage is…

I’ve heard Doctors make phone calls to tell people that treatment wasn’t working.

I know what courage is…

I’ve seen nurses who carry the weight of knowing that death is coming, enter a patient’s room with so much compassion and love, and then have to leave to go take care of another patient, while acting like nothing’s wrong.

I know what courage is…

I’ve seen loved ones and friends show up to say their good-byes knowing that they’d probably never see our girl again

I know what courage is…

I’ve heard my own child tell me, she wasn’t worried about what would happen to her after she died, but she was more worried about me and the great sadness that I would feel.

I know what courage is…

I’ve stood beside her casket as it was about to be lowered in the ground and had to get in my car and leave.

I know what courage is…

I’ve walked into her bedroom and smelled her smell, seen her things, read her journal, and somehow managed to walk back out knowing she’d never be in that space with me again.

I know what courage is…

And what I’ve concluded is that dying takes a lot of courage, but living takes more. 

It would be easier to curl up and die with her, but I won’t. 

Courage can’t be ordered, shared, or given.

It’s dangled out in front of us like a choice

And it has to be chosen-in the moment.

Its counter-part is fear.

It screams louder and looks more appealing,

But its fake appeasement only brings with it more foes.

So, every day, I’ll choose courage. 

Courage to feel, deal, and be real- with my grief.

I know what courage is, but sometimes, I wish I didn’t have too.

Kim Taylor

7/9/2021

Inside My Head

Categories The First Year, Uncategorized, , , , , ,

I’ve been thinking about this post for a while. God has been prepping me, prodding me, and encouraging me to let go of any fears that I have about it. I’ve always said that aging people lose their “filters” because they are more comfortable with themselves and they just don’t care what other’s think about them anymore. I wish I could be more like that. I confess that I want people to like me and be comfortable around me so, that’s where the struggle has been. I don’t want anyone to think that I am “unstable.” I am ok. I am strong and feel very supported and hopeful. So, please do not read more into this than necessary. My goal in sharing is simply to raise awareness to the issue of grief and child loss. So therefore let me invite you into my head for a day in the life of a grieving mom…The thoughts inside my brain will be in quotations…

My brain slowly wakes my body as I realize, it’s time to get up and go to the bathroom. “What time is it?”…Then it hits me, “Sarah died.”…”Did I have a dream about her? I wish I could remember.” Stumbling through my morning routine…”Getting up will make me feel better”…contemplating the sick feeling in my tummy because I know she’s not sleeping in her room. I listen for Libby to see if she’s waking up on her own, if not, I go to her room to turn her lamp on and wake her. At some point during this routine, I say good-bye to Chad for the day. As he looks at me, I imagine that he’s wondering how my day will go and he’s thinking, “Is she ok? or is it going to be a hard day?”

As I pass by Sarah’s door, I have to look in there…”Maybe I can see her in there.” I want so desperately to see her as she is now, healed and whole. As I glance, my stomach turns over with grief and tears swell in my eyes, but they don’t always fall. “I just miss her Jesus!” I continue to head downstairs and on with my day and decide not to give into the grief. I enjoy my coffee, catch up on my FB feed, watch the news, help Libby stay on schedule with her morning routine, and tell her good-bye as she heads to school.

Then, it’s just me and Jesus. I read, listen to worship music, sometimes write this blog, and about every 5-10 minutes the thought that Sarah is no longer here enters my mind. It never stops through out my day. Sometimes when the thoughts come, physically my heart flutters or my stomach churns. Often times my knees get weak, but in time I’ve learned to push back the urge to fall and I just keep going on with the day. On the good days, I counter those thoughts, with the truths from scripture. Sometimes though the sadness wins and that’s ok. I need to let the emotions out.

Most of you know, Sarah played piano. She played very well and was a natural. At some point in the morning, my routine has been to sit at the piano and play. Sometimes I play for hours. Sometimes, it’s just one song. There’s a nearness to her and God that I feel when I play. I know she’s making music in heaven somehow. I’m thankful for the gift of music and how it connects us. It helps to know that through her memorial fund we’re going to be able to help other kids discover their gifts through music.

As I continue on with my day, I visit with family, friends, do chores, and other business, I laugh, I feel joy, and have my same sense of humor; but every few minutes, my brain reminds me that we’ve lost Sarah. It still stings. Even after 7 months it feels surreal. Some days if I’m going to town, I go by her grave. Some days if I’m going to town, I just can’t. Some days when I see her phone, I pick it up and scroll her photos, or watch her videos so that I can hear her voice and her laugh, but some days I can’t. It just hurts to much.

I have no expectations for what my days should be like. I’m doing the best that I can to minister to others through our pain because I feel very strongly that I’m suppose to. That’s the only thing that I’m sure of. God wants to use our grief journey, just as He used her cancer journey, to somehow strengthen other’s faith and give hope to those who are hurting. If you’re grieving, your days may be completely different than mine. If you’re grieving for a significant other, a child, or someone that you were extremely close to, I’m curious to know, how often your brain reminds you of their passing? For me, some days it’s more than others, but every day-it’s still a lot. I know there’s no right or wrong answer. The important thing is how I counter the negative with thoughts of hope. I discovered a verse again that has helped me:

But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet. 1 Thessalonians 5:8

I know, it’s that “hope” word again! This verse confirms that the hope of our salvation protects our minds. How cool is that? Our faith and love acts as shield for our hearts, but our minds are not without a defense. Oh, how I need protection right now as I’m in the trenches of grief.

I read a unique analogy of grief recently. I honestly don’t remember where it was, but it basically said that our grief is sort of like an infant at first. It requires a lot of nurturing and work at first. As it progresses and ages, much like a toddler and a child, it won’t require as much supervision, but it’s certainly still necessary to give it plenty of attention and care. Eventually, it matures. It will always be there and we can visit it and attend to it, but it’s no longer necessary to devote so much time to tending to it and caring for it.

I’d like to know if those of you who have been grieving for a while, agree with that analogy? I’m really curious to know how often your thoughts take you to your grief? Are you reminded often of your loss? If you’re comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Anchors A-Way

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So, if you’ve been following my blog for very long, then you’ll understand- for the past few days, 4:00am has been the new 3:00am.  Of course, Daylight Saving’s time has something to do with that, I’m sure.  For about a month, I’ve been sleeping much better.  I think it was probably because I had COVID in February and I was just so tired.  However, now I’ve shifted back into my old pattern of waking up again and when I look at the clock it’s almost exactly 4:00am.  When it usually happens, I have about 10 seconds of time before I remember.  Then, memories come flooding into my thoughts in this order, like scenes from a movie trailer almost:  Sarah’s death, scenes from the hospital, various scenes of our life since she’s been gone, and then my mind frantically searches for memories of her face before cancer.  I usually begin talking to Jesus and asking Him to help me see her now, even if it’s only an image that I’m imagining, based on what I know to be true about heaven.  After a few minutes of this battle in my mind, and realizing that I’m not falling back to sleep, I’ll continue to pray and talk to Jesus about the things and the people that are on my heart.  Sometimes, I’ll just go ahead and get up and turn on the coffee pot.  I’ve had some really beautiful and sacred moments with God in these times. 

This morning, as I was praying, the Holy Spirit gave me 2 words that I feel very strongly that I’m supposed to share.  I know that these words are for more than just me.  I didn’t hear them, I saw them as giant text that my mind actually had to read to digest.  It was this…CHOOSE HOPE.   That’s what I saw in all white colored and capital blocked font lettering.  Those “vision” kinds of things don’t usually happen to me.  Not that I haven’t desired it, but that’s just not how God usually speaks to me.  Without a doubt though, I know it was from Him and that I was supposed to share.

Is that message for you?  I can certainly relate to the message that was given.  I’ve written about the topic of Hope before.  The Bible tells us that Hope is the Anchor for our souls in Hebrews 6:19.  The thing about anchors though, is they have to be attached to something to work.  If an anchor’s rope has been severed it is useless and probably sitting at the bottom of the lake.  The vessel that it was once attached too, probably drifted or wandered into places that it didn’t want to go.  Is that happening to you?  Sometimes, our rope isn’t severed, but we can let our rope that’s attached to our anchor of hope get to long.  When we do that- we drift further away from the truth than we should.  Keeping the rope shorter, protects us and allows us to feel the tug, when we start to drift too far. 

Hebrews 6:19 is quoted and displayed often and rightly so, but there’s a second part to the verse that’s equally as beautiful when you understand the imagery. It actually flows right into verse 20 with a powerful truth.

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.  It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf.  He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.” Hebrews 6:19 NIV

This is one of those passages that I love to use the Bible App to read in all the different versions.  The verses translates the same, but different versions paint better images for us of what it means.  I encourage you to dig in and study it for yourself.  The way that I interpret this passage is that the anchor of Hope is placed in the very presence of God, where Jesus also is and because we are attached to that anchor, we are attached to Jesus who is acting on our behalf as our eternal High Priest or mediator.  Now in Biblical times, the High Priest was the only one worthy enough to enter the Holy of Holies and offer a blood sacrifice atonement for the forgiveness of sins.  So the significance here is about what Jesus did for us on the cross and how He enters into the presence of God on our behalf to atone for our sins and mediate for us with the Father.  It’s a beautiful picture of how He fulfilled Old Testament prophecy.  I love that it’s all attached to Hope.  That’s the thing that we must grab onto and not let go of to stay connected to the very presence of God. 

You see, God will never sever the rope.  We have to hold on to it though.  Let’s rewind a bit more and read what scripture says before verse 19:

“God also bound himself with an oath, so that those who received the promise could be perfectly sure that he would never change his mind.  So God has given both his promise and his oath.  These two things are unchangeable because it is impossible for God to lie.  Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us.” Hebrews 6: 17-18 NLT

The Message translation actually say’s “grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go.  It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline.”  Do you see the preface to the promise?  YOU have to grab on and not let go!  No matter how much it hurts, no matter how far away you get from the anchor, just please don’t let go.  This message isn’t just for the grieving, it’s for the living.  Although, I feel very strongly that AS I grieve, the hope that I have has changed HOW I grieve.  Grace In Grieving has grown out of a desire to share that hope and connect with others who are grieving.  It’s my prayer that together we would choose hope and keep encouraging one another to not let go.

So now I’m curious…who was my word vision for?  Would you be bold enough to let me know and claim it for your own?

Thanks for reading, sharing, commenting.  Every click helps support the message of hope!

When will I Ever Be Ready to…

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When will I ever be ready to…

…Unpack your bag that came home with us after you passed away at the hospital.? It’s sitting in my bedroom with your clothes and things that you used.  It’s just like we used to keep it packed for those emergency trips to Riley when you would spike a fever. I just can’t bring myself to move it and put the things inside “away.”

…Dump the trash that’s in the trash can in your room?  I mean, there’s dirty Kleenexes in there and crumpled up post it notes, etc….Things that contain your DNA.  I just can’t get rid of it.

…Remove your clothes from yours and Libby’s closet?  They’re still there.  I mean, she could use the space.  She doesn’t seem to mind sharing with you still.  Sometimes we borrow things for the day, just like we would if you were here.  It helps us feel your presence wrapped around us a bit I guess. 

…Throw away your popsicles and sherbet that’s in the freezer?  I mean it’s just taking up space, but they’re yours.  I’m sure they’re freezer burnt by now.  I still look at them every time I get in there. It’s so strange not needing to buy your favorite snacks. I’m so thankful that you enjoyed eating up until the very end.

…Unpack your school backpack?  We even kept it packed when you were going through treatment.  Everything you’d need if you were just a normal sophomore in high school is in there.  Your planner, your notebooks, your favorite pencils.  You were such a good student.  You became such a planner. 

…Throw out your make-up, hair-brush, deodorant, etc?…All of it touched you and you chose.  You were so particular about your beauty products. Never wanting to over-do it.  You were just a natural beauty.  Again, more of your DNA.  How can I toss it?

… To stop looking at your phone every night? I’m so thankful to have your pictures, videos, even thoughts about things right there in my hand, but I wonder sometimes, does it increase my sadness when I go there? Sometimes I just need to hear you say “I love you Mom.” So, I watch and I listen, sometimes with my eyes closed and the tears just begin to flow.

Sometimes it feels like you left us just yesterday.  Sometimes it feels like it’s been an eternity all ready. Every day we finish here is another day closer to being with you.

Do I keep these traces of you because I can’t accept that you’re gone and not coming back?  Do I keep them because it would hurt too much to just throw away what’s left of these pieces of your life?  Am I holding myself back from healing by holding on to these things?  I don’t know.