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Glimpses From God and Subtle Reassurance

And there she appeared. Adorably dressed in a pale pink jumper with white tights-embroidered on the front pocket was a hot pink and blue birthday present. Her golden locks framed her round rosy cheeks amplifying that mischievous yet loving smile. It was Lydia!
The elation I felt when I picked her up and held her in my arms, squeezing her tightly, I cannot put into words. Overcome with warmth and happiness, I could feel my soul slowly being filled with joy, providing that elusive sense of wholeness.  It was absolutely indescribable yet complete bliss!

I tried to get her some drink water from the fountain.  She took a couple of sips. Somehow in my mind I believed if she drank, she would stay with me. Not wanting to let go, I ran my fingers through her beautiful hair, taking note of her sweet scent. Oh how I loved her so much.
Lydia grinned back at me so sweetly, saying “I love you,” and then, just like that she was gone.
Tossing and turning, I was slowly waking up trying to process my current reality from my perfect dream world.  I tried unsuccessfully for minutes to fall back asleep, desperate to grasp more time with my girl.  Hot tears fell down my face.  How could it have been ten years since my five year old left for heaven?

The wholeness I felt was incredible, even if only for a few minutes. To experience this sensation was a wonderful blessing.    And then I woke up to navigate this earthly world without my girl. Again. Another day, wondering why me?  The most difficult thing any of us grieving, do.

However, if my dream was any indication of what it will be like when we are reunited again it will be so worth it.  I was given a reminder that this world we are in is only temporary and that a life of eternity awaits.  A place where there is no sorrow or pain, only pure joy and happiness.  It’s really there waiting for us. There’s salve for our hearts, relief from this pain we endure.
Dreams and moments like these bring perspective. Little pieces of the puzzle are gradually coming together, yet that doesn’t diminish the pain. We still carry it. However, I’ve learned that no matter our temporary physical separation, Lydia was there, waiting for me. Talk about comforting! I am reminded of the horrific suffering Christ endured for us, so that one day we can all live in eternal glory together.

momentsof youquote
Rubbing my eyes, I awakened to the singing of birds outside my window and the glimmer of sunshine on the snow. The beauty of life surrounded me inside and out.  Inhaling deeply, I whispered, “Yes, I can do this.  One day at a time. “

Pulling back the covers, I heard little voices coming from the living room. It was early and surely they were not awake already on a Saturday.  A peek down the hall revealed six young eyes glued to the television, watching the movie Annie.  Ahhh… Lydia’s favorite.  A movie they haven’t watched in years. Oh my heart.  And there it came.  High pitched off tune adorable voices singing Tomorrow.

“Just thinkin’ about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
‘Til there’s none

 The sun’ll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
‘Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow, tomorrow
I love ya tomorrow
You’re always
A day
Away”

Songwriters: Charles Strouse / Martin Charnin

 

Remembering how Lydia used to sing this very song while brushing our beloved dog, my spirit was lifted refueling me with the strength to conquer whatever was to come my way.   I’m here to tell you, hang on until tomorrow.  Never forget that our hope is renewed every day, come what may. There is nothing we can’t handle when Christ is on our side.

 

10 And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.  1 Peter 5:10
Because maybe someone else needs to hear this. Maybe you are craving reassurance or are seeking a  flicker of hope for whatever difficult season you are traveling through. When things seem hopeless and the pain seems unbearable, remember He died for you. For me. For all of us. His love is never ending. His promises are worth more than any gold, possession, or social media following. At times of sorrow and pain, stand on His promises. Cling to them with all your might. You can do it.

 

 

 

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A Day in the Life of a Grieving Mother

I woke up this morning and sat up on my bed, legs dangling towards the floor.  The heaviness of my eyes was overwhelming. I was exhausted, yet weirdly refreshed and thankful to find that the stinging of my bloodshot eyes had subsided after a few hours sleep.

My mind didn’t waste any time reminding me of how I felt when I laid down those short few hours ago.

Sad. Heartbroken.

As I got up, the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of my heart that laid conspicuously on the pink flannel pillowcase. Black mascara decorated the top, providing me proof of the love that was shed. The fragile threads that mended my broken heart had torn apart, the years of love and sorrow finally freed. Again.

It had been a while, months since I had succumb to those persistent and pesky dog pile of emotions.

Yet they come, sure as the morning sun.  Learning to accept and live with them is difficult, yet over the years, I have learned to embrace these precious moments.

The ten years have passed by so fast. How can that be? Ten long years without my little girl.  Without hearing her giggle, tucking her in, and watching her grow.

What would she be doing today? Lounging around like most 16 year olds, getting her driver’s license, sleeping in on a warm summer morning? Arguing with her brother, or would she be tending to her lamb or eager to get to volleyball practice?

The pain is indescribable. But when I try, I can tell you that it feels so heavy and it’s difficult to breathe. When you want to talk with her, hold her, tell her you love her and all you can do is mutter the words and fall into your pillow sobbing in disbelief.

What triggered it this time? Was it that her birthday is tomorrow? Was it while we were out on a Saturday night and I overheard a mom say, “would you like this sis? Come sit down sissy.”

Ahhhh.

My sweet sissy.  I haven’t said that word in ten years.  The name that is etched in her headstone, Lydia’s nickname, “Sissy.”

Instantly, she flashed before me and I could see her strawberry blonde hair blowing in the wind as she twirled joyfully in her purple sundress giggling, looking like the picturesque poster of childhood.  So innocent and happy.

Holding my breath as my eyes welled up, I shook my head, turned and walked away.

How did this happen? Why did this happen to me?

I cry and cry. Why do we feel so much pain after all these years?

I just want to wrap my arms around her tightly, see her smile and tell her I love her.

One more time.

Five years, seven months, and 19 days just wasn’t long enough.

My mind finds it hard to fathom life without her now, attempting to piece together the two worlds in which I remain a permanent resident.

When I’m alone for the night while on a work trip or at home, what do I do?  I try to make sense of my life before and after and it’s almost predictable that tears will fall.

Silence and solidarity brings me to a place of reality.

My emotions overwhelm me. Being alone forces me to engage those pent up feelings, letting them run rampant without interruption, allowing me to be present in the moment.  So I weep and sob some more.

I talk to her and tell her I love her and how much I miss her.  How I miss her messy bedroom, boogers she left above her headboard, and her beautiful artwork that decorated the house.

I am immensely grateful current life yet still quietly yearn for my old life. I miss her being here, when life was simple, happy and free of heartbreak.  When I didn’t have to worry about grief, or her grave, or about all the years of events and triggers that seek to ravage my soul reminding me of what used to be.

Am I weak? No.

Shouldn’t I be over this by now, after all it’s been ten years?  Absolutely some would think so, but the real answer is no.  I will never get over it.

Am I strange? No.

Weird?  No.

When my faucet runs dry, I lay my head on the pillow, taking a deep breath and exhaling while clutching my bible.

Strangely I feel a bit better.  Over the years, I’ve learned that nothing or no one can comfort me like Jesus.

I am silently reminded that we are meant for so much more in this world that to hold onto heartbreak and pain.  Could I sit and wallow in my pain and loss for the distant future? Without a doubt. However, I know my sweet girl would not want this, nor does our amazing God.  Our time here is limited and our capacity to experience the complex feelings that come with deep love is a remarkable gift.

The hope we have been given shines light into those dark places of my soul.  I can rest in hope knowing that beauty will come from the tragedy of my daughter’s death and one day we will be reunited.  Until then, I wait faithfully with perseverance.

Romans 8:24-25: “In hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.”

 

 

 

Photo credit: Unsplash @davidwhitephotography

It Could Always Be Worse: The Power of Gratitude and Perspective

Hi everyone!  Life has been keeping me on my toes so I haven’t been nearly as attentive here as I would like. Life with four kiddos at home never brings much rest!    However, I am so excited to say that God has been speaking to me, flooding my thoughts with much needed guidance and direction. I felt like I had been at a standstill with my writing and just life in general for quote some time. Motivation was lacking as well as my creativity.  I had been praying during this time of waiting, a long time of waiting, to hear where He wanted me to be and craved the life He wanted me to have.

So the good news is that I’m back with a plethora of wonderful ideas and plans for the future.  I have a few books in progress and some bigger things simmering on the back burner.  I am thankful for God for giving me the wisdom to hear his calling.  So, if He can speak to me, He can speak to you.   I pray for all of you who are in this time of silence and waiting, that you receive the comfort, patience and guidance you’ve been anticipating.

For now, I leave you with this post I wrote on Tiny Budda.  A series of events that took place in my life not too long ago really impacted me and brought things into perspective. A reality check I needed.  I hope it resonates with you all.

http://tinybuddha.com/blog/power-gratitude-perspective/

~On the journey with you

Daphne