a Mother’s Day reflection
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“All five boys were together for the first time—but never where I had imagined. They ran around in circles on the cemetery grass, dashing in and out of headstones, their footprints sinking into the damp earth. The youngest two drove Matchbox cars along the top of the marker bearing their brother’s name.”
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While the calendar announces the change of season by the winter solstice two days prior, for me, December 23 will always be darker.
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Three ways to approach the holidays when gathering isn’t easy.
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A SHORT-BUT-TRUE STORY. The sky was dark, but not dark enough. I could see the weariness in my neighbor’s eyes as she told me about the breast cancer.
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“COMMUNION WITH GOD” Humanity didn’t need a quick fix, but a sacred communion with the Divine.
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Holding pain in the present is hard. There’s no formula for it. Sometimes all we can offer is our communal ache.
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What if what is hard is a pathway to grace? What if lurking in the suffering is something we didn’t know we needed—something that will make us whole?
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Happy birthday to my sweet Carter Benjamin.
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I can see it on the horizon. Billowing. Gray. Slowly inching closer and casting its shadow on the landscape. Not ominous or threatening, but returning faithfully like a dark cloud every year for the last nine years.
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When I stood in my white dress under a large oak tree and spoke my vows in front of our closest family and friends, I had no idea what our particular brand of “for better or for worse” would be. Not many of us do I suppose?
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I’d lobbed more than my fair share of questions and accusations at God, wondering why this natural thing that we wanted so badly was being kept from us. But that morning, all that emotion was crashing over me…
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The vacuum their absence created was hard to handle, adding more loss to my already complicated emotions. But if I could go back, if I could have helped my friends understand what it’s like to go home from the hospital without my baby, here’s what I wish I could have said.
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October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, and each week, I’m featuring a story from a mama who has walked the road of loss and has generously agreed to share her story. Today we hear from my real-life friend Kayla Ruhl.
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For weeks after my son’s death, I walked around in a haze. The funeral, and all the decisions surrounding it, occurred in a blur of grief. Neighbors and church friends dropped off casseroles and baked pasta at our home. My body didn’t feel hungry, it felt tired and heavy, like I was dragging a load of bricks.
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October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, so for the entire month of October, I’m making space on my website for stories—stories from women who have lost and who have seen God poke through their grief.
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The stories of others can help us glean faith when we’re lacking, understanding when we’re ignorant, and words to describe our experiences. Here are my top five book recommendations for anyone touched by child loss or looking for grace in hard places.
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No one has ever asked me directly. But over the last eight years since my son died, I have often contemplated whether I—if given the opportunity—would erase the pain.
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For six weeks, I carried our son Carter in my belly, knowing that his days were numbered.
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Grace doesn’t always come in pretty packages. Sometimes, it comes as a gift of brokenness.
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