Love in Death

I’ll never forget the moment as a child when I realized my parents could die. I thought my heart would wrench itself from my rib cage. I couldn’t breathe. I was devastated. When I could no longer stand the night’s darkness and sadness alone, I ran down the hallway on my bare feet, and my parents wrapped their loving arms around me as I wept.

Tonight for my William and Abby, the trigger came surprisingly from the last chapter of a story we thought we knew well. We were all curled up throughout Abby’s room with special lovies, blankets, and pillows, as I read through the last pages. A few sentences caught me off guard myself, but I didn’t realize the depths of my children’s hearts they were reaching. Sweet loving babes.

William was the first. His face hidden in his pillow, he wept for his granddad and gripped the stuffed lion with the heart on its paw, the last gift from a sweet man who loved Valentine’s Day. Abby quickly followed. My steady Abby suddenly appeared downstairs. One minute she was thinking of puffy pink unicorns and the next she was unexplainably scared.

Their daddy hugged them, and I spoke gently, stroking their brows and holding them on my lap.

Our hearts with their great capacity to love can hurt so when that love feels lost, but we must remember that one of God’s greatest gifts is that death does not take that love away. It enables us to be with that love always. For if God who is always with us is love, and we love our loved ones so, then even when they go to be with God they are with us always in God’s love. We are so blessed to have the time to build many, many memories to carry with us in our hearts so that when we do feel that hurt our memories will remind us of our love and comfort us.

Death is not easy, but in it God’s greatest gift of love is revealed in its rawest form. Jesus reminds us of this.

Dear children, I love you so. Hurting does happen, but love does heal. May you find comfort in the love of your mommy and daddy, your grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and each other. You are surrounded by our love and God’s, always. Your hearts are so big. I love the way you love and care.

With love and light,

LT

Sticks and Stones

“Mommy,” she said to me, “’Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ is a lie.”

I paused. I looked up at her slowly, knowingly.

I said, “You’re right, Sweetpea. It is a lie, but it’s meant to try and make us feel better when they do.”

Eyes locked on mine, she nodded, and we went back to reading “A Secret Garden.”

Oh those words, those many painful words. How many have you endured? How many have you uttered?

Just today I struggled with a response to an email. Feeling justified in my response to what I thought was an unruly request, I typed with vigor. Breaking my father’s wise rule to wait a day before sending an emotionally laden written response, I at least paused and took out the snarky sentences that were hidden between the thoughtful ones. I pressed send feeling rather pleased with myself.

Alas, I did not anticipate the response. I thought surely I had executed a clear explanation of reason. It was not accepted, and I was sharply rebuked. Ouch. More emails. Oh, no…wait stop…more words.

Dear God, Help me use my pause button. I realize now that it has a twofold purpose, and I’m so thankful you gave it to me.

When people send me ugly words or say ugly things towards me, help me to pause. Help me breathe before the sting of their poison sinks in. Instead let me wrap myself in the shield of your love and protect myself from their mistaken choice of message. Let my response redirect them and bring about relationship verses confrontation.

And also, when tempted to speak or write first, please Lord, please help me to pause. Please help me to recognize the power of my words. Help me remember my sweetpea and her realization that words do hurt. Help me to choose them wisely and help me to understand what words to share with others and which words to keep to myself.

Forgive me. I know I will fail time and time again to live fully into these requests. But God, help me be strong in my attempt and send me those gentle (and not so gentle) reminders. I am ever thankful for your presence and guidance.

With love and light,
LT