For the profound wounds of life, there are no quick fixes.  There is no easy healing. We endure because God through His Spirit lends us strength. We make it through because Jesus promises to redeem and restore. And because friends remind us with their presence that God is near.

Grief is the price we pay for love.   Grief is an appropriate and proportionate response to the death (the end of earthly companionship) of someone we love. If grief is small, what does that say about love? It can’t be both ways.   We cannot celebrate a mother’s love and then dismiss her grief.

It would be helpful if the world could just stop for a day or a week (or a year!) when your heart is shattered by the news that one of the children you birthed into this world has suddenly left it. But it doesn’t. Immediately all the roles I have played for decades are overlaid by a new role:  bereaved mother.  This role is more like a foggy blanket that obscures and disorients me as I struggle to fulfill all the roles to which I’ve become accustomed.

It cannot be overstated:  holidays are extremely hard after loss.  Every family gathering highlights the hole where my son SHOULD be, but ISN’T. There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to handle the holidays after losing a child. For many, there is only survival-especially the very first year. These days also stir great internal conflict:  I want to enjoy and celebrate my living children and my family still here while missing my son that isn’t. Emotions run high and are, oh

For grieving parents, it takes some thinking, some planning and some preparation to meet both extended family’s expectations and extra responsibilities at Thanksgiving and Christmas while carrying a load of sorrow and pain. One thing I am learning in this journey is that even though I wish someone else would blaze the trail for me, I’m going to have to do it myself.  And because every major milestone is overflowing with emotional booby-traps, I have to plan ahead.

Most parents feel a little stressed during the holidays. For bereaved parents, the rush toward the “Season of Joy” is doubly frightening. Constant reminders that this is the “most wonderful time of the year” make our broken hearts just that much more out of place.  Who cares what you get for Christmas when the one thing your heart desires–your child, alive and whole–is unavailable… Here are some practical ways family and friends can help grieving parents during the holida

Every time I tell the story of Dominic, it helps to keep him real.  Dom was always ready to create a funny and memorable photo! It reminds my heart that he lived, that he mattered, that he matters still. And in the telling, I am giving away a little bit of him for another heart to carry.  His light is passed to another soul that can pass it to another and another.

Because child loss is so devastating and painful, it’s easy to believe the only logical reason for this agony is that it’s punishment. It took me awhile to allow the Holy Spirit to lead me into the truth that it is not. All the punishment for sin was borne by Jesus.

One of the gifts grief has given me is that I just do not have the energy to keep my mask on straight. So I’ve decided to take it off. And I find that when I do, people aren’t horrified, they are relieved. Because that means they can take theirs off too.

I can go from tearful to joyful in a heartbeat too.  I am even more grateful for the children that walk the earth with me.  I try harder to be present, to listen, to lean in and love more fully. The broken me is a more compassionate woman who knows the value of a minute spent with someone you love.   I’ve learned to shift the weight of grief to one hip and make room for other things.   It’s hard.   It’s going to stay hard.  But with God’s help, I’m strong enoug

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.

Feeling a little nostalgic for what WAS is perfectly normal.  Most of us humans aren’t that fond of change. But children are ours for a season, not forever.   They are given to us as gifts, not possessions. For some mamas, like me, it really IS over.

I’ve discovered that self-control is not a limitless commodity.   Now before my Bible believing friends remind me that it is part of the fruit of the Spirit, I want to say this:  it sure is!  And because the Spirit of Jesus lives inside me I can promise you I am more self-controlled than I would otherwise be. BUT… When every single word, action, thought and feeling has to be reined in every waking moment, there is not enough self-control this side of heaven to do THA

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. So why didn’t prayer “work”?  Why did my son die in an accident when others live?

One thing burying my child is teaching me is this:  Every single person I meet is carrying a burden I know nothing about. And most are doing the very best they can to bear that load and still do life.

I've seen physical, mental and spiritual healing at every retreat.   Some moms have said they haven't slept this well since their child went to Heaven. One mom told me she never made the connection between her faith and grief until this weekend. Every mom has come away strengthened for the lifelong journey ahead of her and better equipped to share the light, love and life of Christ as a broken but beautiful vessel for the Lord.

The first time I shared this I was trying to distill years of walking the broken road of child loss into a relatively few, easy to think about, “lessons”. Since then I could add a dozen more but today I’ll only add one: Being a bereaved parent is not my IDENTITY but it impacts who I am in ways I’m still figuring out. Just as being married or being female or being from the southern United States informs how I walk in the world and interact with others so, too, does having bu

While I certainly had no real idea in the first hours or even weeks what losing a child entailed, I understood plainly that it meant I would not have Dominic to see, hold or talk to. I wouldn’t be able to hug his neck or telephone him.   He wouldn’t be sitting at my table any more. But the death of a child or other loved one has a ripple effect.  It impacts parts of life you might not expect.  As time went on, I was introduced to a whole list of losses commonly calle

I know Jesus is my Shepherd and I never doubt His companionship.  But if I’m honest, as much as I lean into that truth, it’s oh, so helpful to have a living, breathing human being walk with me. So when a friend reaches out and takes my trembling hand it calls courage to my heart. When we huddle together in the dark places, waiting out the storm of grief or doubt, it gives me strength to carry on. Never, never underestimate the power of presence.

I wish I could help those outside the child loss community understand just how much it takes for me and everyone like me to do what has to be done. We aren’t being lazy or overly emotional or “making too much of nothing”. We live in a different world than the rest of you.