When Grief Invades the "Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

For those who have experienced a loss,  the holidays can so easily transform from being the most wonderful time of the year to being the most dreaded time of the year. But we do not have to dread the holidays after experiencing loss,  we can choose to find the joy that may seem so far out of reach but is not.  Here are some tips that I've discovered during my grief journey.  I pray they help you as your travel down your own path of loss.

Grief is Like the Ocean. 
When talking with students (and others I come in contact with) that are experiencing grief I often compare the grieving process to the ocean. Since we are so blessed to leave near the ocean,  this analogy provides a good visual for what I've learned grief is like. Some moments of the day at Edisto (my very favorite beach) the tide is low and chill and other moments of the day the tide is high and ruthless.  Some moments during the last 11 months as I have grieved the loss of Piece have felt so chill but others have been as ruthless as the wave that knocks you down and causes your to gasp for breath as you fight to conquer the current. Just like the tide at Edisto,  I don't think we can control the tides of grief,  we just have to accept that the waves will come. And that's OK.

Accept the Sadness.  
Do not feel guilty about your grief. Grief is natural and where there was great love there will be great grief. Someone commented in my GriefShare group that,  to them,  grief was just love with no place to go. It's OK to be sad because you miss someone who is gone this holiday season but you still have to ...

Open Your Heart to Joy.  
Thanksgiving was so hard for me. I knew it would be. Even last year when P was in the hospital,  I left our family Thanksgiving and went to hangout with him. I was so fearful of what our family Thanksgiving would look like without him. I had a choice - did I want to be bogged down in grief or did I want to choose joy? I knew that P would want me to choose joy. So,  that is exactly what I did. I played t-rex with my sweet nephew,  sat on the back porch where P and I would always sneak away to and blew bubbles (no shame,  y'all know bubbles are fun), and I offered up a prayer of thanksgiving to our Father who even in the waves of grief is still so good to us. Did I cry? Yes. As a matter of fact, I uglied cried into my mom's shoulder as we dried the last of the pots and pans. But did I laugh? So,  so much. I chose joy and I beg you to choose the same.

Transform Traditions.  
Pierce is gone (and there isn't a piece of me that doesn't wish he was here) but I am not gone. He would be so angry with me if I quit living. It isn't a secret that P loved our family recipe for TV Trash,  and even though a large part of me doesn't want to continue on with making this delicious treat - I know we must. It won't be the same and it will be sad but we can't let his favorite tradition die with him.  We have to keep that piece of him alive.

Cling to Jesus. 
This may be my last point,  but it is certainly the most important.  I keep Isaiah 41:10 taped right above my computer monitor at work. It says, "I’ve picked you. I haven’t dropped you.’ Don’t panic. I’m with you. There’s no need to fear for I’m your God. I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you. I’ll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you." When the waves of grief are taking you under,  know that He has a firm grip on you, and He will never let you go.

Have a blessed holiday season,  friend/s. Choose joy. Spread kindness. Expect miracles.

Hannah

When It Doesn't Feel 'Well With My Soul.'

I would be willing to bet the leftover plate of food sitting next to me (that technically belongs to my dear husband) that each of you have heard  the old hymn It Is Well With My Soul. While I was getting dressed this morning a song by Bethel titled It Is Well began streaming through my phone's speakers. The Bethel song has a very similar feel to the familiar hymn, and if I am being honest with you, this morning I wasn't feeling it. I wasn't feeling that song because life didn't feel 'well with my soul.' Waking up this morning knowing we would face our first Thanksgiving without Pierce didn't feel well. It felt empty, sad, frustrating ... but certainly not well.

Because God has a sense of humor, or maybe because He knows exactly what we need, a line from the faith-filled hymn has stayed in my head all day ..
"Whatever my lot, 
Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul."

I began to wonder what the writer was facing when he penned those words. What He needed to convince himself was indeed well with his soul. Thanks to Google, what I found turned my whole day around.

It Is Well With My Soul was written by Horatio Spafford in 1873. Spafford wrote the song while on a boat to England to meet his wife, Anna, after he learned of some very devastating news. The family (who were good friends with D.L. Moody) planned a vacaction to Europe, but Spafford had to tie up some loose ends for a work deal, so he sent his family ahead of him. Except when he did make it, he wasn't welcomed by his girls with welcoming hugs .. instead he was faced with a grieving wife. He lost all four of his girls in a boat accident.

As I finished reading Spafford's biography, I found myself amazed by this man's faith. I don't know what I would be doing during a boat ride to England knowing that my children were dead, but I don't think I would be writing about how it was "well with my soul." But you know what friends, he had it right. My dad often says that we must be like David in some seasons of our lives by TELLING our souls to bless the Lord. Some days we have to convince ourselves that no matter what we face, our God is still a good, good Father. He is working out each moment of this life for our good and His glory.

Do I wish Pierce was here? Every single day. Does it feel 'well with my soul'? Not in every moment BUT I do know that God is good and sometimes we just have to choose to open our eyes wider to see His goodness.

Choose to see His goodness, friends. It's all around.

Happy Thanksgiving!

And if not, He is still good.

Disclaimer: This blog is going to be raw, real and honest. I haven't shared anything I've written about Pierce in many, many months. I keep those journals personal for a few reasons, mostly because I am super self-conscious about being judged for not being "over it" by now. I'm not though, and that is OK, because it's in my brokeness that His strength is shown. 

One year ago, I shared a post that Pierce wrote. He was getting "news" and needed it to be good. Before I shared his status, I added to the end of my post that we were standing on 1 Peter 2:24. We were standing on a Scripture that tells of Jesus' stripes and the healing that each one of them has promised us. I scoffed (I told y'all this was going to be very raw) at my "on this day" posts this morning and thought to myself, "What do I have to stand on now?" 

Just like my sweet husband does when I spout of at the mouth without thinking (love you, shugga), the Holy Spirit gently  reminded me of something. He reminded me of my favorite Bible story to teach. I feel certain that each one of you reading this know the story of three guys with strange names (the true reason I love teaching this story is hearing my kiddos butchering these guys' names) that were tossed into a fiery furnace. Yeah? 

The story of is found in Daniel 3 .. 

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered King Nebuchadnezzar, “Your threat means nothing to us. If you throw us in the fire, the God we serve is able to rescue us from your roaring furnace and anything else you might cook up, O king. But even if He doesn’t, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference, O king. 

There are two phrases in this passage that gripped me when I read it during RockKids a few months ago. 

1) He is able. Take a breathe and let that sink in. He. Is. Able. In Daniel 3, we read about three men who are about to be tied up and tossed into flames. They were expected to not only die, but die in a way that I would definitely not consider appealing. And yet, they still trusted that He was able. 

2) Even if He didn't, it wouldn't make a bit of difference [He is still good]. Ah, the word "good." It seems to follow me. The Bible does say that goodness and mercy follow us, so I guess it is fitting (heh heh). I will never, ever forget the day that word changed forever for me. I was at Jashawn's funeral and when Rev. Jenkins got up and said a phrase to the congregation that I have heard hundreds of times from various pulpits. He said the phrase, "God is good." and, per usual, the congregation responded with "all the time." The next six words out of his mouth truly changed my life. The six words were - "and He is good RIGHT NOW." He is always good. In every moment, in every season, in moments of pure bliss and in the deep pit of grief - He is our good, good Father. 

I trusted on this day one year ago that He was able. I not only trusted, I was standing on it. Standing on something is true, pure trust. Have you ever stood on a chair? (Just fyi, chair standing at work is a no-no.) If the chair goes, you go. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego trusted that God was able to save them, but they also trusted His plan enough to know that if He did not save them, He was still God and (most importantly) that He is always good. 

We are so often told that God is good, but there are moments that I truly have to wonder WHERE His goodness is. Where is His goodness in the midst of financial hardships? Where is His goodness when you're looking at your dearest friend on their death bed? Where is His goodness in our broken places? 

I'm starting to discover where His goodness is. It's inside of me. Yes, friend, His goodness is inside of you, too. Because His goodness lies in our ability to trust. In our willingness to stand firm in our faith that His love for us is steadfast and will never fail. 

Those three pals in Judges 3 could have taken the easy way out. They could have bowed down. On days when we don't see His goodness, we can take the easy way out too. Bowing down in surrender to sadness and hopelessness would sure be much easier some days than looking deep inside of me for His goodness. I can't do that though, because just like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, I have to trust that even if He doesn't rescue me like MY plans say He should, He is still God, He is still good and He will ALWAYS be able. 

Be blessed, y'all. 

Hannah 

When Mother's Day Hurts, Let Jesus Hold You

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. A day that we celebrate the women in our lives who birthed us, cared for us as children, and have watched us bloom as adults. For so many though, Mother’s Day brings a bitter-sweet feeling. From the women who face the ugly monster of infertility, to those who have experienced infant or child loss, and others who have even lost their own mothers. Maybe your mother is still living, but the relationship you have with her is not what you wish for it to be. 

To those that can’t relate to anything in the previous sentence, today I ask you to cover those who can relate in prayer. To be there for the friend who may need a shoulder or a random text message reminding them of the wonderful person that they are.

To those who can relate, my heart aches for you. I’ve been in quiet prayer most of the day for you. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s because of how many people I know who are facing their first Mother’s Day without their mother, or my dear friends that have faced miscarriages this year, perhaps it’s even because of my endometriosis and the fear of infertility that it has planted deep within me. I’m honestly not sure why, but what I am sure of is that you are loved. You are loved by the Almighty. You are loved by the Creator, who gives life, and takes it away. You are loved by the One who has a greater plan for your life than any of us could imagine.

Natalie Grant is one of my very favorite singers. She sings a song called Held. The song was written for a broken mother who lost her baby at only two months old. She walked in her newborn's nursery one day, and discovered that her baby was lying in his crib lifeless. I can not even imagine the pure heartbreak she felt in that moment (and still feels even today). Natalie’s song is relatable to so much more though. So many more stories. So many more moments of loss. 

The chorus goes, “This is what it means to be held. How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life, and you survive. This is what  is to be loved, and to know that the promise was when everything fell – you’d be held.” For those of you with an aching heart this Mother’s Day, let Jesus hold you. Yes, the sacred has been torn from your life, but you have survived! 

I know,  dear friend, that it has not been easy. I know all too well the tearful nights you've experienced or the days that you didn't feel like you could face, but He has sustained you in those moments,  and He will continue to sustain you.  His promises are true, and when it feels like your life is falling apart, He won’t fail you. 

One thing I've learned this year is that choosing to surrender, and choosing to let Jesus hold you, is not always simple. Choosing to crawl into the arms of our good, good Father can feel much more difficult than crawling into the pit of grief. But, today, I beg you to choose His arms. To choose to focus more on His promises than your aching heart. To choose to let Jesus hold you. 

To all of the Proverbs 31 women in my life (whether you are a mother or not), I pray you have a fabulous Mother’s Day! After all, isn’t Mother’s Day about celebrating the women in our life who are fabulous? Yes, yes, it is!

Blessings,

Hannah

I wanna find You .. in every season.

The dictionary says that a season is a "division of the year." Most of us learned all about the four seasons in elementary school (although, I don't think South Carolina has 4 distinct seasons), but this is going to be about a different type of season. As I think back over the "division of the years" of my life, I think of being in school, falling in love with Haiti, finishing college, finding my "person", finishing graduate school, getting married, landing a great job ... all of these wonderful seasons that (of course) were not exactly perfect, but shaped me into who I am.

Right now, I am walking through a season that is not like any other season I have ever been through. I am walking through a season of grief. (Ok, honestly, walking may be an exaggeration because most days I feel like I am crawling through this season.) Most days I find myself going through the routines of life, yet I feel completely empty inside, like I will never be "me" again. Like I will never find my way out of this season. Like I will always be stuck in this "fog" of a dream that I am wishing I could wake up from.

Being a person with very, very deep-rooted faith, walking through the "valley of the shadow" has been extremely different than what I expect it to be. In a time when I should be clinging to my faith for life, I find myself feeling very disconnected from the source that I know is carrying me through each moment. I am going to be very truthful, because I don't feel like enough people are talking about this pain, and I don't know why. Well, yes, I guess I do, because part of me feels the fear that I would be willing to bet they have. The whole idea of need to be a "strong, good Christian," because if I am not, there won't be a good testimony is wrong. So wrong. Because, friends, the testimony in grief is not that we are "so strong in our faith" that it didn't overwhelm us, the testimony to be found in grief is being able to fully understand the promises of God. The promise that tells us that He will never leave us or forsake us. The promise that tells us He gives peace that passes all understanding. The promise that this life is temporary, and Heaven is our true home. The promise that even though we do not understand, He will reveal things to us in His timing. You see, if I wasn't walking through the "valley," then I would not be having the chance to experience those promises in such a deep, raw way.

God is our comforter. He provides us with "consolation after a loss or disappointment." Truthfully, during the past four weeks, I have experience both a loss and a disappointment. A loss in the death of my dear baby cousin, and also a disappointment that Pierce didn't receive his miracle. I haven't seen God in this. Not in any of it. But, friends, I also haven't looked. I wonder if God is frustrating-ly chuckling at me, as I sometimes do with Drew, when he absolutely can't find something, but probably can't find it because he hasn't taken proper time to look for it. Of course, in those moments "super wife" swoops in and finds whatever it is in two seconds. (Except the remotes, those things hide themselves, I tell you.)


As many of you know, growing up my favorite Bible verse was Jeremiah 29:11. For some reason, I stumbled across it tonight, and decided to keep reading. I don't know why, in the hundreds of times I have read this verse, I didn't read further down the chapter before. But, I know that God revealed this to me tonight, because I needed a fresh revelation of who He is and how He loves me. Jeremiah 29:11-13 (The Message) - ¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ¹² Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. ¹³ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. ¹⁴ I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.

I discovered in my grief group this week that God's comfort is always extended to us, but we have to choose to put ourselves in a place to receive it. When we pray for God's comfort, He won't leave us hanging, no, dear friends, He will come to us. Wherever we are, which is a good thing considering that I feel like I am in a dark pit, and He will bring us back from captivity (and this includes the imprisonment of deep, deep grief). I have chosen to not look for God in this season, because I find it impossible to think I could find Him in the midst of my loss and disappointment, but I have been doing it wrong. Because even in the moments when tears fill my eyes, overwhelming sadness invades my thoughts, and I feel like I will never find joy again, God has given me something to trust in. And that is Him.

Knowing God, and His comfort, may not take away the ache my heart feels, but it will support me during the process of grief. He is our comforter, and I need to put myself in a place (mentally and spiritually) to receive that comfort.  Honestly, right now, I am not sure how to do that, or when I will choose to, and that is OK, because I know that He will be there ready to meet me wherever I am. He is ready to meet you wherever you are, too. You just have to look.

Fourteen Lessons from Fourteen Days without You.

Two weeks ago at 4:10 a.m., my dearest friend left this earth for a greater place. If I am honest with you, waking up on that Sunday afternoon, I wasn’t sure that I would make it to this day. I had no clue how I could possibly continue on with life after being slapped in the face by the reality of cancer. The reality that meant my sweet Pierce was gone. I typed a note on my phone that afternoon, probably around this time, and have followed that same routine each day. I want to share them with you today, because in the days following Pierce’s death I have search and searched the internet for a “magic” lesson, Scripture or prayer to get me through this, and (mostly) came up empty handed. Grief is very personal, and there isn’t a simple fix to get through losing someone you love, but maybe, just maybe there is someone searching for that today and if so, I pray these lessons help you on your road to feeling “OK” again.

Grief is a deep, dark pit. When I think of grief, the first thing that comes to my mind is a pit dug in the ground. I feel like this pit is a place of surrender, but not the good type of surrender, the type of surrender that causes us to want to give up on life. I stayed for a while in that pit, but soon realized that … .

We can’t stay in the pit forever. This is going to be one of the most transparent things that I have ever written, and I guess this second lesson is a good place to start with that, because there are days that I want to stay in the pit. If you’ve experienced loss, I would be willing to bet that there are days when you’ve wanted to stay in the pit as well. The amazing thing about life though, is that it keeps going. I remember walking into Wal-Mart the first time after Piece died and being so confused by people living life around me, when mine had just fallen apart. I remember wanting to just sit on the floor on the linen aisle and surrender to the pit. But, we can’t. We can’t stay in the pit forever.

Praise gets us out of the pit. I am truly still working on this. Choosing to praise God with a broken heart feels absolutely impossible and silly. However, I know that even in the darkest moments of being in the pit, praise is my way out.

Memories are the best medicine. Thinking about Pierce, and all of our times together, brings me comfort. Comfort in knowing that even if his life was too short, and even though we lost him “out of time,” that the years we had together are full of some of my favorite memories.

Raisins in trash is a bad idea. One of Pierce and I’s favorite things to do together was to make TV Trash (similar to Chex Mix). We have spent many hours in our Aunt Peggy’s kitchen shaking, stirring, and (of course) sampling our “secret” family recipe. Neither of us helped make the Christmas batch of trash, and somehow raisins ended up in there. I didn’t eat any of it until the week after Piece died, and I literally laughed out loud thinking of what he would have said about our recipe being altered.

Pierce shines on me every day. I know that thought sounds very cliché (and if there is anything I have learned during this process, it is how much cliché things bother me), but I truly know that he does. Sometimes he shows up through my radio when the perfect song plays at exactly the right moment, or other times he show up in my office as a warm ray of sunshine. Most recently, he showed up during my evening walk as I looked down at the pavement and noticed many shimmering reflections as cars passed by with their lights on in the darkness.

It’s OK to just be quiet. For many visiting a cemetery brings sadness, but for me it brings comfort. You may have read another one of my blogs talking about the times that I have spent visiting where my grandmother is buried. I usually talk with her, but during the times that I have gone to sit with Pierce, I have just been quiet. I don’t know what to say yet, and that is OK.

Being surrounded by love brings healing. Through this process, beyond all of the nice words, just feeling loved has been the greatest blessing of all. There is such comfort to be found during a time of brokenness in just being with those that you love, and who love you.  Words can’t even to begin to express how thankful I am for those who have loved me during the past two weeks.

Life doesn’t make sense sometimes, and faith most certainly never makes sense. I don’t understand why Pierce died. I screamed my confusions towards the Heavens so many times. None of this make sense to me, and trusting (by faith) that there is a greater reason for the heartbreaks that we endure in life is not easy. Honestly, most days that is my greatest struggle – having faith and trusting that even though faith does not make things easy, it does make them possible. Walking through this dark valley has most certainly not been easy, but I know that each step is possible because …

I am not alone. The day of Pierce’s viewing I discovered a song that has truly been my go-to during this process. The song is Just Be Held by Casting Crowns. There are so many pieces of truth sprinkled through the lyrics, but what repeats in my head more than anything is – “You’re not alone, so stop holding on and just be held.”  Even though the moment that the nurse mouthed the words to me that Pierce was gone was the loneliest moment I have ever had in life, I know that I am not (and will never be) alone.

Hope is an anchor. Most of us are familiar with the Scripture that references hope as an anchor for our souls, and I have truly learned that it is. If you were at Pierce's funeral, you heard the influence that the song Hope In Front of Me has had for me during his entire battle with cancer, and more, now than ever, hope is what is holding me steady in life. Hope that this world is temporary, that God is still above it all, and hope that I will see Pierce again.

His love never fails. I feel horrible using these words, but if you’ve been where I am right now, I have a feeling that you’ve felt this way as well. The moment that Pierce died, I wondered if God loved me. I couldn’t understand (and in some moments, I still don’t) how God could choose not to heal Pierce here with us. How God could not give him a miracle so that he could stay here with me. The beauty of the love of God though is that it never fails us. It never gives up on us (even when we question Him, and it would be so easy for Him to walk away). But most importantly, it never runs out even when we are running away.

The enemy came to steal, kill and destroy, but I have come to give life. This thought was so gently whispered to me during church today. The enemy came to steal my joy, to kill my faith and destroy my hope for the future, but Jesus Christ came to give me life. Not just ordinary life, but abundant life, a life that is overflowing with joy, faith and hope.

I am not living without Pierce, I am living for Pierce. My heart feels hollow some days. Especially days when life feels crummy and I can’t just tell my best bud all about it. Pierce always brought great perspective to my life. No matter what I was going through, he had a way of just making it all seem like life would be OK. So, in honor of Pierce, I wake up every day and tell myself that I am going to be OK, because my new goal in this life is to live it with a greater passion – not just for me, but for P.

 Thank you again for all of your love and support as I have day-by-day found my way out of the pit and back on the path of abundant life

Blessings,

Hannah

Dear 2015.

Dear 2015,

Tonight while cooking dinner, I dropped a plate. It fell almost in slow motion. I knew it was going down, but there was nothing I could do to prevent the fall. As it hit the ground, I held my breath, waiting for the unavoidable crash. Sure enough, the plate broke into many pieces.  2015, I looked down at the broken pieces of glass on our kitchen floor and it occurred to me that you could best be summed up with a picture of this broken plate.

As broken as I felt this year –from a job layoff, death, emptiness like I can’t explain and watching my very best friend go to war with cancer- I can honestly say that I have never felt more close to God. My faith has been shaken, bent and bruised, but through every storm, there has been a peace. The Bible clearly tells us that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and because of you 2015, I believe that now more than ever.

Now, 2015, you have been full of some wonderful moments, too. Drew and I visited my most favorite place in the world twice (one of those times with a special princess and her daddy). I finished graduate school, and was blessed with several job offers. I gladly accepted a position that I had peace about, and even though most days feel very heavy, I am so thankful for the students (and coworkers) that have been placed in my path. They truly are one of my greatest blessings in life. I’ve successfully been a wife for an entire year, and even though I haven’t mastered laundry for two, I have become a pro at making my hubs a sandwich.

But back to my broken plate (thankfully, it wasn’t one that was a part of our “fancy” set).  It’s all cleaned up now, but as I was sweeping the fragments of this plate into our dustpan, I began to think of the brokenness all around me - from the students that I talk with on a daily basis, to the entire state of the world, and so much more.  But what I have learned, 2015, is that brokenness leads us to redemption. One meaning of redemption is to gain something back, and well, 2015, I feel like you took a lot from me.  But, this next year is going to be different; it is going to be my year of redemption.  

Goodbye, 2015.

 

Dear friend, if have felt the same brokenness that I have during 2015, I encourage you to allow 2016 to also be your year of redemption. Lauren Diagle, one of my favorite Christian artist, says it best in her song Power to Redeem.

"Rejoice oh child of God
Lift your eyes to see
With every morning light,
Again we are redeemed"

Wake up to tomorrow’s morning light, the first day of a brand new year, knowing that you are redeemed! Whatever was taken from you in 2015, you are gaining back in 2016. Gain it all back - joy, peace, prosperity, comfort, self-confidence, dreams that you thought were shattered. Take it all!

 

Happy New Year, y'all!