Category: loss of child

I miss you sweet Brittany more than words can say, but this pretty much sums it up.

until next time,

m

Today at church the message was about the story of David, in particular what he wrote as his “song” or “poem” to God. I know that for me this message was so important for this moment because I have wanted to for some time now write about how I have seen God and what I believe He how I believe He manifested Himself to me during the last 3 years since my daughter died.

I have written from time to time on this blog about some incredible people who have come into and out of my life. The various ways they came into my life and how at first I wasn’t sure who they were and how they would impact my life. Some of those people were people I hadn’t seen or heard from in years and some were mere acquaintances that have become life-long friends.

So in our pastor’s message today we were asked to write our Psalm or our Song to God. And I have to be honest it wasn’t hard for me. I began to wonder if that would have been the case 3 years ago. In the moments after Brittany died. In the moments where I thought I couldn’t see or feel anything. And, I have to say “yes” – yes I would have been able to write my song.

In the days and weeks after my daughter died, I went to church seeking, longing desperately to see God. To hear from God. To know that He was hearing my cries of pain and anguish.  You see my daughter died on a Friday and her Celebration of Life was that Sunday. One week later I was at church.

Now understand, I was at church, but I wasn’t my usual spiritual self. I sat in the back instead of near the front. I tried to sing, yet the words were silent that came forth from my mouth. The tears flowed like blood from my heart as I heard the songs from Ken Reynolds and the choir that sounded like angels singing. I was asked how could I be at church so soon,  and my response was “I don’t know where else to go”. This is where I felt closest to God and to Brittany.

So my friends I know this one thing for sure – God heard me. He heard me loud and clear. He sent Himself in the most extraordinarily simple ways – through His church. What do I mean by His church? The people like you and me who faithfully believe that God is everywhere and God is all-knowing. He feels our pain and He is angered when we are hurt by others.

Not long ago I had a chance to say something to someone who was hurting. Someone who wasn’t able to see God; to feel God. They had felt He was out on the periphery and just out of their reach. My response was this “God is not some glowing cloud of mass that will fly down and be present in our face in times of trouble” “God makes Himself present and available through the people who are here – right now – in your life” “We are the extension of God’s hand – take it because that is what He wants”. Trust that God is all around in us and through us; which makes us the very extension of God.
Brittany said to one of her friends during a candid conversation about God “God is everywhere, He is in every snowflake that falls”. How profound to see that at such a young age. To be able to understand that in the most simplistic terms God is always right beside us even though we cannot perceive it.

In writing my Psalm to God or my Song of Praise I am reminded that God sent Himself to me in my time of grief and loneliness through some very special people. So this I dedicated to them and to my God.

“Lord you have reached down and pulled me up from the depths of despair. You have breathed the breath of life into my broken-heart. I sing praises to your Holy name. You are my rock, my refuge, my ever-present strength for always and forever. Amen” – Malissa Moss

until next time

m

As I was listening to a speaker recently I was reminded of a time back in my life when I thought my life was an accident or a “series of unfortunate events” so to speak. I mean really when your father leaves your family, a mother and 6 children and chooses not to be involved in their lives – well it changes the way you think about yourself.

That was at age 6. The first real memory I have of thinking my life wasn’t going well. My family’s life wasn’t going well. But we persevered, one of the traits my mother taught me over and over and over again. One that I learned very well. And it served me very well. But it also limited my life on so many levels.

You see perseverance is good when you have your head on straight. But when you have so much self-doubt and lack of self-confidence; perseverance can be a bad thing. The choices you make are usually not the best ones – but persevere you do. And you keep persevering all the while for the wrong reasons.

Why wouldn’t you – it was all you knew to do. It was all you felt you were worth. As it turned out – my mom’s strength was the very thing that catapulted me out of a huge series of unfortunate events that led me to moving away from my family and what I knew to be true.

But guess what – all that baggage – it comes with you. You drag it everywhere you go. Every place you move and you hand it over to everyone you meet. Imagine slugging around 5 pieces of luggage, your briefcase, your handbag and throw in for good measure a 12-lb bowling ball and bag – and there you go. A baggage-carrying heap of pain and sorrow.

So what does a person do with all that? Well I’ll go over that on part 2. In the meantime be thinking about all your baggage and imagine what it would feel like to set it all down and rest….

until next time

m

What does substance have to do with grief? For me substance looks like a measure of how meaningful my life has become. Does it fit well with how I see the world. My world. Does my life matter? Do I have a purpose?

As I look back over the past 3 years and pick out the parts of my life that I’d say have substance – I’d say it all focuses around my faith in God. For without God – I’d have no substance. All that I am is for God. I am made by God and I am constantly being renewed by God. The substance that exists within me is created by my faith that God is good.

Even though my life has been filled with grief and sorrow. I can still see the substance. The “meat and potatoes” if you will of my life. What makes me unique! Having substance creates a way for you to see the value of your existence. So by looking at my life over the years I can see how the substance waned at times; often to the point of such emptiness.

That emptiness kept me from experiencing God. God has and always will be right next to me. It has always been my choice to see Him – to feel Him – to know that He is God. Those times when I was at the lowest point is when God would send someone into my life that would direct me, nurture me, love me despite my pain.

A person who would walk with me during my battles. Those friendships are at the very core of my belief that God brings people in and out of your life for a reason and for a season. The hard part is letting go. Moving on. Forging ahead even when the path looks dark and scary.

I’ve had many people who have come along side of me during the past 3 years. Warriors we like to call them. God warriors. They do God’s work. Help build up His children. Then we in return become warriors for others. That is the way it works. It a cycle that needs to keep happening in our walk with God. Ever evolving into a life of substance.

A life that creates joy and love. Peace and harmony. Think about it in your own life. Ask yourself this question: – Do you have substance? What are you made of? Are you walking in love? Are you a God warrior?

until next time,

m

“Once I realized that the numbness I felt was an avoidance of dealing with the fear of moving on. I was able to see the wall in front of me begin to fade. And the path that revealed itself beyond the wall became inviting.”

So now as I enter the next phase of my life – I am working on the “believing” that there is a possibility that I can have a purpose. That there is a reason I’m here and that it matters that my energy exists. So where do we go from here.

That wall of fear I’ve talked about earlier and in the quote above has begun to crack. My view has become clearer about my future. I’m still unsure of what is to come, but the one thing I know is this: God is in control and I am just along for the ride.

Fear paralyzes us to the point of numbness and takes us to a place that no one should go. No one wants to go – but we go anyway.  It holds us down and keeps us from experiencing what life has to offer.  These things I know, these things I’ve experienced – yet it has been the biggest thing I’ve had to overcome. Understanding what fear can do to your progress when you are trying to find your way out of a very cloudy and dark place – a place called grief.

What I have come to understand is this – life is for the taking. You must stand up and dust yourself off and hold your head up high. Take control of what you can and give up what you cannot control. Know that it is not the disasters in your life that pull you down, but it is your response to them that can make or break you. You can’t always control what goes on around you, but you can control how you respond to what happens.

You see – life happens. The world goes on. And we grievers, we have to move on too. I’m not saying we forget – we just have to clutch to our heart the memories and the lessons our loved ones have taught us and take that first step into our next adventure. To move toward the life God intended for us to have. To make a difference in the world. No matter where we are or what we have – what matters is that we take action.

“Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.” ― Mother Teresa

One of the most if influential women of our time, Mother Teresa – she said it well – smile. It’s an action of love. Pay it forward my dear friends. Give a gift that we all have, but so often do not share – then and only then will you understand why you are here on this earth.

Until next time

M

“Until the moment when they said “her heart cannot take any more” while a PICU nurse was on top of my daughter performing CPR, looking in her eyes and knowing I was about to lose my daughter – at that moment I chose to believe.” – excerpt from Being Real – Part 2

In the months after my daughter’s death, I found myself wandering around in my life with a numbness that I just couldn’t seem to shake. My faith in God, my belief that God was going to get me through it was kept me going. It kept me alive. It was my decision to believe that saved my life.

Numbness

I wrote a blog post during this journey about hitting the wall. At some point in your journey you come to a point where it seems as though you are not moving forward. It’s as if you have it a wall that is so hard to move over it. No matter where you turn, no matter where you go that wall keeps you from moving forward.

At some point I began to realize that the numbness I was experiencing was the avoidance I was allowing to happen. I was afraid of moving on. What possibly could be good about moving on in a life without my daughter. None of it made any sense to me at all. It seriously felt as if I had a lump in my throat and I couldn’t get rid of it. That lump in my throat was fear.

“Facing this fear has to be the first step in the recovery of grief. I hit the Wall of Fear and I hit it hard. So this meant I had to do some hard work. In fact, I’m still a work in progress, but with God’s help and the help of many friends, I have come a long way. But I have a long way to go. For grief stays with you forever. My daughter’s memory will be with me forever. The memory of that night however, I’d like to bury along with my fear.”

Once I realized that the numbness I felt was an avoidance of dealing with the fear of moving on. I was able to see the wall in front of me begin to fade. And the path that revealed itself beyond the wall became inviting. It was something I so wanted to do, but there was this one little problem. I always kept looking back and if you know anything about moving forward, looking back…well it’s just not a good idea.

to be continued….

Until next time,

m

Getting real with your grief is a necessary truth that has to be revealed for the growth and healing to start to mold the new you. The exciting thing is that even through the midst of your grief, wherever you are, a vision of what can be is possible. You can believe it possible, you can dream it possible, but it’s in the everyday hard work at chipping away and getting real that creates that new version of who you will become. – exerpt from previous blog post.

When I wrote the first part of Being Real I wasn’t sure where the story might go. The places I’d go and drag you along kicking and screaming. I needed some time to think about it and I realized that the message of hope for the grieving parent or any person who has faced grief, is that it is hard work. There is no escaping it. It takes you by the throat and drags you around until one day when you say “enough”!

Sometimes it’s easier to give in and just be down and out. Because truly you have every right to be. I mean your world has been turned upside down. The life rug has been pulled out from underneath you. What was is now gone and it all happened within a blink of an eye. So again sometimes it’s just easier to be sad.

But what I’m asking you to do is think “I can see joy” or “I can have hope” or “I can be happy again”. Agreeing with me will be the easiest part of this journey that I’m taking us on. However believing it, well that will be up to you. So that is where we will start. Belief.

Belief

Belief comes from faith, having a real faith that all things will work out for the good of everyone. Belief creates a space for you to exercise your faith in God to make things right in your world. Belief also requires that you give it all to God and stop trying to figure it all out. I wrote a post a few years ago about trying to figure it all out. That thinking is what keeps you from moving forward.

In John 11:25 we are reminded of how important it is to believe. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies.” What I took from this scripture is that even though everything around us is gone – keep believing in God. That God will make all things right. He will heal the broken-hearted. He will wipe away every tear.

In the hours after my daughter’s death, I would just look at her and say I can’t believe you are gone. My sweet baby and then I would look up to God and say “why” “how” “what”. Then God would send me such a peace that I cannot explain it. I mean really who can have such a peace when their only child has just died and who just hours before was as lively as could be. Then the unthinkable, the unimaginable happens – a seizure.

After many hours of treatment and several attempts at resuscitation, we were told she would be fine and by morning she would be ready to go home. The ups and downs of the worst 12 hours of my life just kept coming. Just when I could breathe again, more bad news. Until the moment when they said “her heart cannot take any more” while a PICU nurse was on top of my daughter performing CPR, looking in her eyes and knowing I was about to lose my daughter – at that moment I chose to believe.

to be continued…..

until next time.

m