Category: Grief and Loss

  • Do It Different

    Do It Different

    I didn’t expect to feel the downward spiral of sorrow in the days following Christmas this year. Even knowing the reason for my downcast soul didn’t help. I couldn’t fix it, and I just couldn’t shake it. I knew if Steve were still alive that his compassion and wisdom would lift much of my burden. If you relate, let me tell you what I did to stop the downward spiral.

    I did everything I didn’t want to do. I slogged through bike rides, joined friends for a walk or a meal, and connected (sort of) with God through reading Scripture. I said “yes” (with a dull spirit) to every invitation. I prayed … and waited. The result? More loss of sleep and lethargy. Until … those strategies began to put a spring in my step. I first noticed my sorrow had lifted as I filled my gas tank at Wawa yesterday. Mundane? Not so much! My perspective is still shifting upward with gratitude and with intentionality to keep my hand God’s. (See video and meet me on the Rimrocks in Montana.)

    The Treasure: I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand, and says to you, “Do not fear; I will help you.” (Isaiah 41:13 NIV)

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    Well hey there! Hello again from Montana. Today I’m up on the Rimrocks; it’s a beautiful spot overlooking the city of Billings. I just want to pipe in because I’m going home tomorrow and I want to share one last thought with you: Sometimes when we need to muster up courage to move beyond fear and loss in order to find a new sweet spot, it means that we need to do familiar things in a different way. So there are trails all around up here. Sometimes they’re hard to see, but the difference is sometimes we’ve walked a trail with our hand in someone hand that we love. And finding a new sweet spot beyond the fence can mean, instead of holding our friend’s hand, or our companion’s hand or our lover’s hand that we take the hand of God (we talked about that last time) and walk with Him. And I have experienced that in beautiful ways these two weeks. I’ve been to beautiful places, but instead of being with the person I love, I’ve been with God who loves me, and unexpected surprises of beauty and relationships and conversations with family. So I encourage you to take risk and do familiar things in different ways so that you don’t get stuck. I’m with you; I don’t want to get stuck either, so we can do this together. So long for now.

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  • A Pilgrim’s Christmas

    A Pilgrim’s Christmas

    I didn’t expect the empty feeling that came over me as Christmas approached two years ago. It was my second Christmas without Steve. I knew I wanted to stay in town in order to participate in holiday festivities with my family, friends, and faith community, but the “gray” feel of home inspired me to plan something different. So I reserved a campsite seven miles away to experience a “Pilgrim’s Christmas” in a primo spot on the river. Sorrow came with me, but the waterfront view combined with cozy warmth in my teardrop camper added a dimension of color that helped me breathe into the beauty of what Christmas means.

    Holidays can be both delightful and difficult. If you’re experiencing the pain of loss or the loneliness of unfulfilled dreams, perhaps a small change for the holidays can be helpful. In the two-year-old video (below) I changed my location and invited my heartier friends and family for hot chocolate and fireside chats. I ordered a box of books to give each one a gift. It wasn’t easy … until I got there. Then my new surroundings took my eyes off of myself and gave my heart a boost of joy, even though you’ll notice my “Merry Christmas” at the end sounds a bit dull.

    Whether your teardrop represents the image of a fun camper or the reality of sadness, I pray that God will be your comfort, make you aware of His presence, and bring unexpected blessing to you this holiday season.

    The Treasure: “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    Quite a beautiful spot for camping this Christmas. I found this branch down on a trail by the beach. My friend Cheryl and I decorated it. It’s looking pretty nice around here; I’m doing familiar things in different ways. Pilgrim’s quite a girl. Beautiful! There was a cold wind last night and I was as warm as could be. Yeah. It’s a beautiful spot on the river with a fire, a flag that says, “my happy place,” and a centerpiece my friend Marlene made. She’s the one who made the memory quilt with Steve’s shirts. This is a great place; I have friends coming down and bringing pizza for supper. I’m enjoying a nice spot. Last night I was not quite settled. But tonight I feel like my heart is settling into this kind of new experience. Looking forward to six more days. Merry Christmas everyone.

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  • A Pilgrim’s Blessing

    A Pilgrim’s Blessing

    You may remember from the video on my blog home page, that three years ago, Pilgrim and I had never ventured outside of the fence. The video you’re about to watch (below) took place during those early days when grief threatened to fill me with despair. My pastor, Travis Simone, came to give a blessing to me and the camper to help set our momentum. I admit the idea of blessing a camper sounded a bit strange at first, but I love what he said so much that I want to pass the blessing on to you. It’s for all of us. We all have a key of promise that frees us from giants that seek to imprison us in Doubting Castle. I felt as hot and haggard as I looked on that steamy summer day, but Travis’s words continue to give me courage when fear tempts me to despair. Please watch the five minute video and receive this powerful blessing as your own.

    The Treasure: “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” (Deuteronomy 33:27)

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  • Wild Serenity

    Wild Serenity

    When my husband Steve died, I looked out toward a vast, empty horizon. It was neither dark nor light—just empty and wide. I would come to realize that Steve’s death gave me the kind of freedom that I never wanted … but freedom nonetheless. And so, this summer I went to Montana for a whole month to be with my fast-growing Montana grands and their parents. I stayed half the time in a VRBO. It was a really great plan, except for the hard parts. If you are living in the aftermath of loss, you know that you can feel full of joy one moment, and hollowed out from loneliness the next. In Traveling Light, Eugene Peterson normalizes the “pain of being human” and those “moments of emptiness and waiting.” His words reassure me. He also inspires his readers to never “abandon the awesome silence of worship.” Alone in a Montana mountain town, I captured a moment of balance between the emptiness of solitude and the silent worship of God under His vast blue sky (see video).

    The Treasure: “Since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.” (Romans 1:20 NIV)

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    It’s a great way to start the day here at Red Lodge, Montana at Wild Bill’s Cabin in a hot tub on a 57degree crisp, cool morning. Beautiful blue sky. I’m remembering the introduction to my blog series, where Pilgrim and I are inside the fence and we haven’t gone anywhere because I’m afraid to go anywhere because everything’s changed in my life. And Pilgrim, the camper, represents courage to go beyond fear and loss so that we don’t shrink our lives. Well, when I was getting ready to come up here to Red Lodge, one hour and a half from my family’s home here in Montana, I felt really empty, saying to myself, “What the heck are you doing?” It was hard to come away. It was a little … not scary, but a little unsure. But oh my gosh, I have been on a hike, I’ve seen beautiful sights. When we do familiar things in different ways, there are treasures along the way. So, as you go along your way, maybe life has made a big change for you too … you may not be in a hot tub at Wild Bill’s Cabin, but there will be other things that you do where you take risk, so you don’t shrink your life either.

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  • Maybe It Ain’t So Bad

    Maybe It Ain’t So Bad

    I met a woman who lost everything. The tree took down an electrical line that set fire to her log home on a mountain lane. Only she and her pets escaped. I had the privilege of meeting this seventy-nine-year-old widow in a motel lobby where she works to rebuild her life.

    The resilience in her voice and her gratitude for the outpouring of comfort and support in her community made me take pause for the next hour and listen. Then she locked her eyes with mine and said, “Maybe starting all over ain’t so bad after all.”

    My new friend is choosing to find the riches within her suffering. Dr. Robert Grant writes:

    “All [victims] must come to accept that life involves a series of losses that have the potential to hollow them out [missing their inherent] riches … [becoming] detached critics rather than vital participants in life.”1

    We might not be able to say, “Maybe starting over ain’t so bad after all.” But God’s promise to watch over us and to never sleep (Psalm 121) can inspire us to participate fully in life (see video).

    1 Robert Grant PhD, The Way of the Wound, (Oakland: copyright by Robert Grant 1996),

      The Treasure:  Our help comes from the Maker of heaven and earth who never slumbers.

      If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

      The day is settling down; you can hear the birds, and I’m looking out to the mountains. I’m in Orange, Virginia and I’ll be picking up Pilgrim in the morning and taking her back home with her new air conditioner. It’s so beautiful here! I love the sky; I love what it means…such a great Creator that we have. And I love that He’s awake all the time. The sun may sleep and hopefully we sleep but I love that He never sleeps. Psalm 121 says, “I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip. Indeed, he who watches over you will not slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you.” It says, “He will watch over your life. He will watch over your coming and going both now and forever. That’s what I think of when I see the mountains … well, that’s not all I think of. Sometimes I think about how I want to be in them and walk trails in them. but for tonight I’m at this very economical hotel called Round Hill Inn, in Orange—$120.00 total for the night. It’s really a sweet spot. It’s time for a few laps in the pool. Wish you could be here with me, but there’s no one in the pool right now.

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    1. When Burdens Get Lost

      When Burdens Get Lost

      Pilgrims with courage to go beyond the fence open opportunity for adventure with God. On our faith pilgrimage in Ireland, we each picked up and carried two stones. One stone represented a burden we carry where we may need deeper trust, surrender, faith, or hope. We would throw this stone off the Cliffs of Moher.

       The other stone represented something we wish to receive from Jesus, like healing, grace, love, or forgiveness. We would lay this stone at the foot of the cross of Saint Brendan in Glendalough.

      St Brendan is remembered for his courage, his sense of adventure, and deep faith. His ability to trust and venture forth with God was grounded in prayer.

      A Prayer of St Brendan

      Help me to journey beyond the familiar and into the unknown.

      Give me the faith to leave old ways and break fresh ground with You.

      Christ of the mysteries, I trust You to be stronger than each storm within me.

      I will trust in the darkness and know that my times, even now, are in Your hand.

      Tune my spirit to the music of heaven, and somehow, make my obedience count for You.

      Amen

      Wouldn’t it be nice if our burden of fear to break fresh ground with God could just get lost? Check out my blooper video that became too profound to delete and continue on with the cleaned-up version of throwing my burden off the Cliffs of Moher. I hope the sound of footsteps will bring you more fully into the moment.

      The Treasure: Discern which burdens to put down and travel light to break fresh ground with God.

      If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

      Blooper portion: Whenever we cross a threshold, there’s probably some burdens to be put down. And I actually have … (laughter) … I can’t find my burden!

      Well, whenever we cross thresholds into new seasons, sometimes we bring burdens from what’s before. I know that’s true of me. And as I’m coming into a new season across my threshold, I have a rock that represents a burden I’m going to put down. I’m going to throw this rock over the Cliffs of Moher in just a moment. My burden that I’m going to lay down is the exhausting need, perceived need, to know what’s ahead—to know what the plan and the script is going to be. So, by throwing this burden out I’m going to be opening myself up to have an expectancy of what God is going to do next and to celebrate that with Him and lean fully into Him. So, I’m going to throw my burden out now … I’m imagining that I hear the sploosh way down there into the ocean.

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    2. The Hill of Slane

      The Hill of Slane

      I like quiet places. That’s why I said “yes” to a faith pilgrimage and crossed a threshold into the back countryside of Ireland. Celtic readings, reflection questions, and Scripture reminded us we were more than tourists; we were pilgrims.1

      Saint Patrick knew about crossing thresholds. Irish raiders had kidnapped the sixteen-year-old from Britain and sold him as a slave-shepherd. Seven years later he escaped, returned home, studied for his ordination, and returned to Ireland as their first missionary. On a place called Slane Hill, Patrick made a powerful and dangerous declaration that freed many to worship God.2

      Patrick’s courage on Slane Hill can inspire us to take treasures from the impossible parts of our stories, put words to them, and speak freedom into the lives of others.

      Our pilgrimage took us to Slane Hill. Sitting on the ruins of the Franciscan church and monastery (above photo) reminded me of the brevity of life and opened my heart to a world of opportunity. I felt joy on the Irish side of my threshold—great joy. But, as you know, joy and sorrow can be. close companions. They are for me, as I mark Steve’s departure from this life three years ago.

      Solitude in Irish beauty reminded me that the “ruins” of sorrow can be sacred if we honor them. We need not fear our tears. In time they can add vibrancy to our next burst of joy. Feel the winds of Ireland (in video) as you ponder your next threshold.

      1. Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press), 2000, 22.
      2. https://www.discoverboynevalley.ie/boyne-valley-drive/heritage-sites/hill-slane-coming-christianity

      The Treasure: When our strength is in God and our hearts are set on pilgrimage, valleys of weeping can become springs of replenishment for us and others (Psalm 84:5).

      If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

      In some ways I have stepped beyond a threshold. I’ve stepped beyond the fence, left Pilgrim at home. She has waved good-bye. I’m still a big part of her and she’s a part of me. But she’s not where I get my security; she’s not the main story. God has helped me move through a threshold, to step into a new season beyond deep sorrow and into new life and new joy. Sorrow will be a part of it.

      I am on the outskirts of Dublin at a place called, Slane Hill, where St. Patrick came to be missionary to the country where he was once a slave. I am really intrigued by his courage and by the power of God that happened as a result of his courage in the lives of many people. So thresholds are something we step over—step through a door—step into a new season of life. And the thing about thresholds is that sometimes you can never go back because you’ve changed; you’re different from the person you were once before. These are beautiful countryside places—quiet—to come away from the contamination of thoughts that can be so distracting. We’ll be talking more about thresholds in the future.

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    3. We Need Each Other

      We Need Each Other

      Pilgrim, the teardrop camper rests within the fence during most hot summer days, but last week was a great time to take her to the dealer for some repair. The Road Trip Camping parking lot, loaded with campers, reminded me that, although we are not made in the form of a teardrop camper, our personal teardrops help form us with wisdom and understanding to comfort and encourage one another. Where would we be without supportive people in our lives? Bio families, growing families of faith, and even strangers (angels unaware?) can help ease our journey. They:

      • Celebrate with us in good times
      • Companion us in times of loss
      • Offer wisdom for complex moments
      • Warn us of blind spots
      • Pray with us for supernatural vision
      • Laugh with us in times of play
      • Support us in times of tragedy
      • Worship with us and point to God

      When we companion pilgrims “beyond the fence” after fear and loss, we are able to comfort them “with the comfort we ourselves receive from God (2 Corinthians 1:4).”

      Pilgrim the camper has provided a sense of comfort for me. But today, even Pilgrim is learning the value of relationship with others (see video).

      The Treasure: Teardrops shared with “brothers and sisters” can ease the journey along our pilgrimage in this world.

      If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

      Pilgrim and I have come out from behind the fence. We are actually in Orange, Virginia at the dealer. We’ve come here, two and a half hours away; we’re at the dealer because… actually, Pilgrim is broken. She needs a new air conditioner, so she’s come here to get some help. Actually she’s kind of happy; she’s been alone for a long time behind the fence and sometimes we go out to campgrounds. But she’s found that she has brothers and sisters here—other campers.

      A lot them are different. Some of them are smaller; some of them are larger. They all do something kind of similar but their different. This one’s really small. You can probably only sleep in this one. And then there are some that are a little bigger. This one is similar size, but then there’s a 400 right here that’s a little bit bigger and is capable of holding more people and more things.

      But what occurs to me is that, as pilgrims in this life we all need brothers and sisters. We need people different from us—people who are sometimes more capable and some areas and sometimes they need our capabilities and our gifts to minister to them. But it’s so important to uh, just be so open to relationship and not stay behind the fence and isolate and be alone all the time. So, I’m going to leave Pilgrim here for a week or so and she can have some good socialization and some repair, and uh when I need repair, I’m glad that I can call on you and we can call on each other. It’s nice to be in relationship with all of you.

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    4. Surround Sound

      Surround Sound

      There are testimonies of God giving us grace after we lose someone we love. This is mine.

      Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash

      Worship for me had become stagnant in the outdoor chapel service—measured, rote, eyes cast to the ground. Looking at the sky opened up a chasm of awareness of the distance between Steve and me. It was as vast as the distance between the heavens where he was and earth where he left me. Even a quick glance upward choked my dry words of praise and silenced their vibrancy within my aching heart. Week after week, unexpressed grief mounted with the power of an approaching tsunami that unleashed on the Sunday morning we sang Steve’s favorite song.


      “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty.”


      I raised my face to the heavens and stood in silence as the words, music, and sun warmed me. Unstoppable tears flowed from under my sunglasses unchecked, and God gave me a glimpse of Steve in heaven, worshiping God to the same song, at the same tempo, and in the same key.


      “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty.”


      Surround sound of earth and heaven joined in vibrant praise and Steve turned, his compassionate eyes locking with mine in earth-life familiarity.

      “Dawn!” he called. “It’s worth it!” And then he was gone.

      His proclamation inspires me. There will be many valleys in this life. But Steve’s message was undeniable. “It’s worth it to walk with God through every one of them.

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