broken.
from the bottom of my heart, i am so so sorry. i don't have words.— Ariana Grande (@ArianaGrande) May 23, 2017
Pre-Order So God Made a Mother
Waking up after the Ariana Grande concert terror attack is every parent’s worst fear. A family is still looking for their Olivia – she is missing, not answering her phone and gone without a trace in the middle of a disastrous world. The news accounts are horrible. Children scattered away from parents in the midst of chaos – the fear and terror resonates in every parent. Maybe this was a first concert, a long awaited Christmas present, a graduation gift – so many situations but in the end all the same result – children dead. Gone. We live in a fast paced crumbling society where we are still parents and our main job is still to keep our kids safe without smothering them. But how? This is a question no generation before this has had to fully face or answer like ours.
Summer is coming. There will be huge fun events that are the fabric of childhood. Carnivals, fairs, festivals, concerts – the big things that are the memories we remember twenty years later. It’s a new age. Never before have parents had to even think that taking their kid to that parade could potentially place them in a prime terror attack situation. This is a world wide epidemic that is crushing our souls.
My son is almost eleven and wants to walk around Walmart alone. He wants to ride his bike to the park. At almost eleven, only 20 years ago, we walked or rode bikes around our small safe middle class world. But not today – no way. Facebook is bombarded with stories of monsters trying to lure children away from their parents in Walmart and Targets all over the country. It’s like you can’t even look away for a second but how are we as parents supposed to look at four places at once? Where there was once villages of support has been replaced by monsters lurking and waiting.
My son told me a story of how a classmate saw her neighbor overdosing while walking to school. How a thirteen-year-old at the park has been arrested for trying to steal a car and possession of heroine. Heroine is terrible – but twenty years ago heroine was just heroine. This week I had to sit in my car and explain to my almost 11-year old that the world has changed and drugs are mixed with terrible things today that literally can kill you even if you just touch the bag or permanently alter your mind, to never ever return, if you are foolish enough to experiment. Monsters among us purposefully seek to harm for profit or fun.
How do we juggle letting kids be kids in this hurricane of hell. Be brave, independent, fearless, take chances but watch for monsters and evil at every turn. Look around, be prepared, but stay with me in the store in case God forbid someone comes in shooting – in that moment I need you to be here with me. Trust that people are good but know that some are not. That drink, that experimental “fun” pill, that house, those intentions may not be good. My intentions are not to smother you. I want more than anything for you to grow up to be independent and well rounded. Safe. I do not want you to be afraid or have anxiety. But, my dear not so little one, the world is a scary scary place full of real dangers and monsters that never existed before.
Oh, the inevitable, as we age into our mid to late 30s and beyond. The natural series of life states that losing a parent will become more commonplace as we, ourselves, continue to age, and I am beginning to see it among my circle of friends. More and more parents passing, and oh, my heart. My whole heart aches and fills with pain for my friends, having experienced this myself three years ago. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt more than you could expect. The leader of your pack, the glue, the one you turn to when you...
“Thao is with Jesus now,” we told her, barely choking out the whisper. Jesus. This invisible being we sing about. Jesus. The baby in the manger? Jesus. How can we explain Jesus and death and loss and grief to a 3-year-old? And now, how can we not? We live it, breathe it, and dwell in loss since the death of her brother, our son, Thao. Here we are living a life we never wanted or dreamed of. Here we are navigating loss and death in a way our Creator never intended. What words can I use to describe death to...
Don’t delete the picture—the one you look bad in. I said it. You heard me. Don’t delete the picture, that picture—you know the one, the one with the double chin or the bad angle. The picture that is not so flattering. The picture that accentuates your forehead lines or the one taken next to your skinny best friend. We are all so hard on ourselves. Many of us are striving for a better complexion or a thinner physique. Sometimes scrutinizing ourselves and zooming in on a picture—seeing things the world does not see. Don’t delete the picture. RELATED: Take the...
I am sadly no stranger to pregnancy loss. Out of seven pregnancies, I have been blessed with one beautiful boy on earth, one miracle currently growing inside of me, and five precious angels in Heaven. As a result, I have plenty of experience in dealing with the aftermath of miscarriage. During this period of intense grief and loss, I have had many well-meaning people tell me things they believed would make me feel better, but in reality, caused me pain. Additionally, I have had close friends pull away during this period of time, and later tell me it was because...
The international church service was vibrant with voices lifted up in songs of praise. Many clapped their hands and some even danced before God. But I wanted to be invisible. Joy felt like a land depicted in a fairy tale. I had returned from the hospital the day before—a surgery to remove the baby who had died in my womb. Watching this church buzz with happiness unearthed my fragileness. I slouched in my chair and closed my eyes. Tears trickled down my freckled face. My mind knew God was in control, but my heart ached as yet another thing I...
Rays of soft sunlight streamed through the curtain onto the hospital bed. I stepped to the edge of the bed, taking a moment to soak in his face before gently holding his hand. Eighty-nine years is a rich, full life, and each passing day revealed more convincingly it was time for him to go. Grief and relief shared the space in my heart as I carried the weight of understanding each visit held the opportunity to be my last. When he felt my hand, his eyes opened, and he gifted me a smile. Pop Pop always had a smile for...
I have sat here a million times over my life—on good days, on bad days, with friends, with family. I have celebrated my highest points and cried here at my lowest. I am drawn here, pulled in a way. When I have not been here in some time, the sea calls my soul home. My soul is at peace here. It has always been. Maybe it is the tranquility of the waves, or the sun shining on my face. Maybe it is the solitude I find here. I love her (the sea) in all seasons, when she is calm, when...
My first baby died. After a perfect full-term pregnancy, she was stillborn. That was 10 years ago. Ten years I’ve spent wondering who she would have been. Ten years I’ve spent missing someone I hoped to know but never got the chance to. In those ten years, I’ve learned so much about grief, love, and life. Grief is love. When they laid my stillborn daughter’s cold and lifeless body in my arms, my world was broken into before this nightmare began and after, where I was forever cursed to live with it. I thought I would never be the same...
That heart-wrenching moment when I received that phone call—the one that completely shattered life as I knew it. “He’s gone,” two words that brought me to my knees, screaming and crying. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t put into words what I was thinking or feeling, I was broken. Time slowed to a snail’s pace, it seemed like it took hours to arrive, and when we did, reality still didn’t sink in. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, we were supposed to have more time, way more time with him. I’m too young to lose my dad, my kids...
Life as a hospital mom is not a life for just anyone. You have no other choice, there is no get-out-free card you can just put down and say, “Nope, Lord, I do not want this, take it back.” My heart hurts 99 percent of the time. My heart hurts for my child and the pain he is suffering. A necessary evil to keep him on the side of Heaven’s gates. My heart hurts from the unknown of each day. Will he eat? Will he thrive today? What utter chaos will be thrown our way today? Will there be vomit...