What is EMDR Therapy and Why I Tried It, Guest Writer: Whitney

When my beautiful friend Katie told me that light therapy had helped heal her trauma and related behaviors, I was more than a bit skeptical. You're telling me a shade of blue helped you overcome your trauma and pain??? I could hear the twilight theme song in my head...  ETT or Emotional Transformation Therapy (Vasquez, 1991) is a type of therapy that uses peripheral eye movement and hues of color to heal the fractures in the brain caused by traumatic somatic or interpersonal events.

Here is why I tried it…

I have seen those around me who I trust and who have served the same sentence of grief and loss as me, be transformed, find hope, and begin to trust they can have happiness without the looming fear of losing a loved one again. I wanted that, I wanted to be free from the chains of grief ignored.  I started on my journey about 4 years after my father's sudden death. I became desperate for relief from the growing anxiety and fear of losing everyone I loved. I had chosen to cope with apathy, and had been and still struggle with low grade depression and lack of motivation. Getting out of bed was now an obstacle and I felt subconsciously, what’s the point if we all meet our end? I cannot escape the painful knowledge that all those I love cannot avoid an end.  My anxiety began to bleed into parts of my life where I was completely safe, panicking at work, wanting to stay home instead of go out because of the “what ifs”. Thinking thoughts like,“what if me wanting to take this trip in the mountains makes something terrible happen to us, it would be my fault because I know the risk. If you are like me who is still working to overcome this, you may find hope in healing your brain through light.  I know, I know.. Hear me out.

A little Science…

Dr Steven Vasquez (1991) developed the ETT theory (Emotional Transformation Therapy) and model using various realms of science for example, neurobiology, quantum physics, and optometry (Good Therapy, 2016). Basically when the brain goes through a traumatic event to self preserve, it splits and compartmentalizes the pain to protect itself. This pain is often stored in different compartments of the brain (Vasques, 1991). This made sense to me considering I would see an animal commercial and feel grief or feel anger instead of sadness at an unexpected or unwanted ending of a movie made me feel emotions I was desperately trying to sleep through. I began to cut out whatever would make me feel so that I did not have those pesky “surprise” emotions or I would stop doing things I love so I would not feel anxiety. I began to numb out and escape, the joy of life fading with sleep and monotony. With almost 30 years of research there has been shown a very positive correlation with ETT and rapid healing from traumatic somatic or interpersonal events.

Bring it home..

I remember exactly where I was and how I started to drown in my emotions when I found out my dad had passed away.  It was sudden and he was gone before any of us even knew something happened to him. I was planning my wedding and was overwhelmed with what felt like a robbery of what was supposed to be mine. I was supposed  to have my dad walk me down the aisle. In more recent events, with the tragic and senseless murder or George Floyd, the global pandemic, and the daily stresses and fears of being a new mother, I have felt an overwhelming sense of depression. My dad was supposed to be there for the birth of my daughter. Before I was pregnant I had started receiving ETT therapy and it was apparent within moments of my first session that this method was a game changer. I felt hope not only that I could survive loss but that I could feel joy and start to risk again, that I could start to participate with my life and live again. I stopped while I was pregnant because I became severely sick until the end of my pregnancy but started again after to help battle the gloom of postpartum depression. Almost 8 months into my being a mother and I adore our Lydia but I have struggled deeply.  My fear of losing my daughter in any way choked the motivation of daily life right out of me. I began ETT and experienced immediate results for my struggles. I  am beginning to connect with my body and spirituality in a new and fresh way, I can feel God again, I can experience peace and Godly motivation. I can have trust again.  

A Word Of Caution:

This is my research (which I will link below) and my experience. I feel that ETT has completely changed my brain and life but therapy and therapists are like a pair of shoes, they must fit. Be aware that if you struggle with seizures, this may not be for you, I am not a therapist nor am I a doctor so always consult before you jump in.  Be aware it is ok for a type of therapy to not be “the one”. If you are dealing with the pain of loss, be gracious with yourself and give this a try, if not, healing is out there and our savior has it in store for you. 

We were not promised forever, or that everyday would be utopia, ice cream, and unicorns, but there is hope for a better day if you have struggled with loss like I have, I only wish you success and integration as we journey together toward true peace and wholeness. May we live after experiencing someone die. Reach out for more information and resources. With love and abundance,

-Whit Chrisman

B.A. in Transformational Ministry , M.A. in Psychology 

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Whitney Chrisman

Hi, I am Whitney and my passion is people and their behaviors. I have a side passion for decor and environmental mastery. I have the joy of being the mother of Lydia Marie and lover to my husband, the person who knows the deepest parts of my being. I look forward to mastering the art of being with you.

wtyler991@gmail.com

Good Therapy, 2016 : Emotional Transformation Therapy (ETT) retrieved from: https://www.goodtherapy.org/learn-about-therapy/types/emotional-transformation-therapy

A New Paradigm for PTSD Treatment: Emotional Transformation Therapy™ by Steven Vazquez, Ph.D. Retrieved from: https://ettia.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/A-New-Paradigm-for-PTSD-Treatment-ETT.pdf

Vazquez, S. R. (n.d.). Peripheral Light Stimulation for Rapid Emotional, Somatic and Transpersonal Regulation. Subtle Energies & Energy Medicine, 16(3). Retrieved from: https://journals.sfu.ca/seemj/index.php/seemj/article/viewFile/58/46

5 Lessons Learned From a Fatherless Daughter, Guest Writer: Jessica Itano

I want to preface this article with a disclaimer: I am making this all about me. Just hear me out. While it may seem like I say “I” one too many times, I feel inappropriate saying “you”. If you’re reading this article, it may be because you’ve lost your dad. I’ll be honest in saying, when I lost my dad, I didn’t want anyone’s advice. I rolled my eyes, scoffed, and even said the occasional curse word in my mind when people offered me their unsolicited opinions on how long it would take to feel better. “It just takes time,” “It’ll get easier,” “Trust me. It’ll be ok.”

I appreciate that everyone’s grief journey is different. So I’m not here to offer advice. I’m here simply just to share my story, and if you happen to benefit from any part of it, I’ve done my job.

My dad is a girl dad. Growing up, he was the only man in the house. A wife, two baby girls (one being me - hi, I’m Jess), and three girl cats. He made our lives effortless. He was our friend, math tutor, tech guy, softball coach, insect killer, car mechanic, plumber, personal chef, tax accountant, decision maker, gps, grocery shopper, and you bet, many times, our bank. He held many titles and claimed many responsibilities. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. 

In January of 2014, Dad passed away at the age of 54. He came down with the common flu which developed to pneumonia. He drove himself to the hospital for a casual checkup. He even posted a hilarious selfie in his hospital gown. That visit turned into an eight day stay in the intensive care unit. Never - not once - did I expect us to have to drive his car home without him.

My dad’s death was shocking. Unexpected. Life altering in a way I could have never even fathomed before that day. The eight days spent solely in the hospital was an emotional roller coaster, flowing between hopeful highs and terrifying lows, only to end in the worst case scenario. I felt like I was standing on a violent battlefield of emotional warfare.

The following weeks were numb. My mom, my sister, and I were going through motions: breaking the news, planning arrangements, accepting condolences, etc. I use the term “etcetera” because much of it is a blur. Once the initial phase of losing Dad passed, we were then left to navigate life without him.

I had one thought: how?

How is this a “normal” part of life that everyone has to experience? How do people live through this? Will I live through this? How do I take care of Mom and my family? As time moved on, the questions became more specific.

How do I get my oil changed - is it a synthetic blend or full synthetic? How do I fix my computer with this virus? How do I use a drill? How do I do my taxes? How am I going to kill this spider in my kitchen? How long do I cook salmon for? How to I fill nail holes in my apartment walls? How do I negotiate a new car lease?

Many times, these questions stopped me in my tracks. They knocked the wind out of me and brought me to tears. Now, six years later, sometimes they still do. But somehow, I’ve started to find joy in these moments. How?

1. I ALLOW THESE MOMENTS TO BRING MEMORIES.

Rather than feeling angry, sad, distressed, or upset, I’ve learned to live in the moment of what these situations bring me. For example: It is incredibly different not to roll my eyes and curse the world for its insensitivity when I walk by the Father’s Day cards at Target. Then I pause, take a deep cleansing breath, and remind myself of the loud singing cards we used to buy my dad every year. I get a giggle out of the fact that he genuinely enjoyed them.

2. I RECOGNIZE MY DAD’S PRESENCE.

At first, I told myself I was searching for signs. I now accept that my dad shows up in many ways. So when a hawk soars by, the lights spontaneously flicker, a man walks by that looks curiously like him, or I have a dream of him, I know Dad’s with me. These signs bring me comfort, peace of mind, and hope.

3. I PUT WORDS TO MY FEELINGS.

After years of claiming “therapy won’t change the fact that Dad is gone,” I finally started talking about my grief. Speaking of specific and horrific moments revokes their power over me. Being asked a question about my emotions allows me to decipher what triggers such feelings. Discussing the impact this loss has had on my life teaches me how to nurture myself. Explaining my nightmares has revealed their meaning. Therapy, journaling, women’s or moon circles, and talking with loved ones have all given me the chance to speak my mind.

4. I HOLD MY EMOTIONS GENTLY.

Sometimes I feel solid, and others I crumble. I can celebrate in my dad’s memory then suddenly be halted by a panic attack. There are moments that I am ready to grow, and others I welcome the sadness because it feels familiar. It’s comfortable. I often battle between two thoughts: I can’t be happy because that portrays that I’ve forgotten about my dad’s death, but on the other hand, my dad wouldn’t want me to be stuck in this constant state of sorrowful heartache. I feel a never-ending sense of conflict. And you know what? That’s ok. Grief is not linear. It comes and goes in waves. I try my best to feel and flow with the tides.

5. I EMBRACE THE LESSONS MY DAD TEACHES ME FROM HEAVEN.

Since my dad’s passing, I have learned how to comfortably (and fearlessly) travel by plane, live out of hotels for work, travel alone, use a drill, hang floating shelves, and make the family’s teriyaki chicken and sunomono recipe. I have negotiated a car lease, moved houses, killed a bug here and there, gotten my oil changed without being conned into six unnecessary services, and completed my taxes (more than once). I have finally learned when to stop before I’ve had one too many drinks, and actually acquired a taste for bloody mary’s. If it weren’t for my dad, I wouldn’t have had the foundational knowledge to accomplish any of these things. Like I said, Dad did things because he knew we could but felt like we shouldn’t have to, not because we couldn’t do it ourselves. With every new lesson I learn and task I accomplish, I am introduced to the strong, stable, and independent version of myself that my dad raised me to be.

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Jessica Itano

Hi, I’m Jess. I’ve always expressed myself best through writing, but the practice truly became healing after losing my dad. Outside of writing, many of my other interests also align with soul searching and personal development: yoga, meditation, reading, and creating art.

When You Ask Why After Loosing Someone To Suicide, Guest Writer: Grace Alonso

Faith and grief, to me at least, are inevitably intertwined. My story about losing my dad has everything to do with finding Jesus. And my testimony about accepting Jesus has everything to do with me growing up without my biological father. 

When I was three and a half years old, my father took his own life. I don’t remember much about him, other than a few insignificant memories of us that still make me smile. My family loves to tell me about the kind of man he was; strong, caring, hilarious, loving, and passionate about God. Growing up and hearing about his otherworldly character was always a hard experience. Why weren’t any of these attributes, even a love for God, enough to keep him here?

I didn’t find out it was suicide until I was 10, when I realized I actually didn’t know how he died. I was angry, shocked, and hurt. I had grown up thinking my dad died not of his own will and if he had had his way, he would still be here with me. This wasn’t the case. I felt as if everything I had known about him, about myself, was a lie. I wasn’t enough. Or at least that is the seed that was planted in my head. 

Throughout those pivotal middle school years, I struggled with the concept that my father had chosen to leave this earth, leave me. I believed suicide was a selfish act and he had done this selfishly, not truly considering or even loving me. I questioned everything. 

Growing up without him was strange. I have a wonderful “step”-dad (he has been around forever and for all intents and purposes is my dad) but there was still this hole that I couldn’t explain. That hole was ignited with a flame when I found out how my father had died. I grieved a man I had never known. I missed a man I knew I loved but never experienced. I couldn’t talk about him with anyone, or so it felt, because the details surrounding his death were still too painful for some. And so I bottled every single one of these feelings, and countless more, up inside me for all those years. 

The result of not processing, of not truly grieving, did a number on me. I wasn’t able to experience true relationship with people and constantly let the narrative of me not being good enough take over at some point. I was constantly striving to be what I thought people wanted from me, constantly distancing myself to extremely painful ends. High school was the most pivotal time for this process. I not only met Jesus as my best friend freshman year, but I let Him start the process of opening up the hole that had never really been closed anyway. 

It wasn’t until sophomore year, though, that I learned more details about my dad. Stuff I won’t share on here, because that is his story and one that I hold close to me, because it is one where I finally understood him. I was able to understand why he had chosen to kill himself, to take his life, to remove himself from this world—from me. It wasn’t a selfish act, in fact it was far from it. It was selfless. That is the thing I think people miss with suicide. The people that are struggling with this are convinced this world is a better place without them. It is our job, our duty, our responsibility, our privilege to show them otherwise. I am grateful for my dad’s story and for what God has taught me through it. I miss him every day and I believe he is in heaven waiting for me, enjoying the presence of our savior. 

So please. If anyone reaches out to you about depression, about these thoughts, just listen. Know it isn’t selfish. Know they would give anything to be feeling that there was another option. And show them their presence on this side of heaven matters. 

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Grace Alonso

Grace grew up in Ventura County, CA. She is currently working toward a bachelor of science in who knows what and doing an internship at her home church. Her absolute favorite thing right now is being a nanny to an autistic boy.

Knowing Your Role in Your Grieving Spouse's Healing Journey, Guest Writer: Kyle (My husband!)

When I’m getting to know a new person, and they ask me about myself, it generally doesn’t take too long before I start talking about my wife. As I share bits and pieces of her life, I’m often met with the response, “Wow, it sounds like she has such a crazy story.” To which I reply, ”Yeah, she wrote a book about it. You should check it out.”

If you have followed Ceci, and “Healing, Hope and Wholeness”, you are probably pretty familiar with her story. During her book writing process, and even now as she continues to share her grief journey, I have walked through her story dozens of times; proofreading, editing, formatting and processing the whole experience with her. I may know her story as well as I know my own!

They say when you marry a person, you marry their whole family. I believe when you marry someone you also marry their grief. I don’t mean that as a negative. In fact, it's one of my greatest honors to know and feel my wife’s sorrows. It’s every bit as sweet as sharing in her joy. It is all a part of the person that I love.

I never met Ceci’s mom, Cathy, but I came so close. For one day we were actually on the same tiny, college campus. In all likelihood, we were in the same room! If only I had known what the future would hold, I would have dropped everything to have just one conversation with her. A few months later, as I was just becoming friends with Ceci, Cathy passed away. After that school semester I moved away, and it would be two years before Ceci and I reconnected and started dating. As a new college friend, I had seen her from the outskirts during the season of fresh grief. As her new boyfriend, I began to learn what that season was truly like for her and what life and grief looked like for her now. Over the past 9 years since we first started dating, each momentous occasion has carried with it the weight of her mom’s absence. Our joys have been shared with sorrows and together we’ve learned to navigate that tension. I’m still learning.

For starters, I’ve learned that there is no correct method to support a grieving spouse. Grief ebbs and flows like the wind and the way we respond will vary too. It takes work and attentiveness. That being said, if you love someone who is grieving, have grace for yourself. Nothing you do or say will solve the problem and that’s not your job. Your job is to love them and the fact that they are married to you tells me you are on the right track.

90% of supporting a grieving spouse is listening. Really listening. If you are going to speak into their life, you need to know where they are in that moment. As my wife shares her heart with me, I can be tempted to start thinking about my response. I mean, I don’t want to say the wrong thing or be insensitive. But, I’ve found that when I’m able to tune that part of my brain out and focus on what she is saying, my responses are more loving and life giving. When I listen well, I’m able to interpret her needs, and use the remaining 10% of time to meet those needs.

Most of the time, I find that all she needs is to be understood and for her feelings to be validated. She needs to know she’s not alone. In this case my response is, almost always, simple. “It’s not fair.” “It’s ok to still be sad.” “You can always talk to me.” “I love you.” I try to always end by thanking her for sharing with me. Her vulnerability is a gift and I truly am thankful.

On occasion, I will dig deeper. If she shares a memory, I might pull on it a little for more detail and a better understanding of her and her mom. If she is struggling to understand why she’s feeling a certain way, I’ll ask questions and try to figure it out with her. It may be easier to just stick with the empathetic responses, but I believe that, as her husband, I’ve been given an opportunity to come alongside her and take an active part in her healing journey. Apart from Ceci herself, there’s no one who has a larger stake in the state of her heart than me. Our stories have melded into one over the years; different pasts but a shared future. I want to do what I can to fill that future with life and joy. 

Enjoy this poem written by Kyle Frost:

I wear it like a coat.

Heavy a times, but hanging on my shoulders at my own choosing.

Not that I chose it.

It was a gift from my love, but she didn’t know if I would want it.

Why shouldn’t I? It is so warm.

Filled with many memories.

Now and then I can feel the sharp point of one poking through.

I gently pull on it, watching it unfurl before me.

I cherish every one.

Each time, my coat becomes lighter. By a feather.

It will never become weightless, I know,

Nor do I want it to.

It’s weight reminds me of the giver.

• Kyle Frost

How to Create a Safe Space for Your Grieving Spouse, Guest Writer: Colleen Kuzma

 In 1994 my husband, a pastor, officiated his own brothers funeral. His brother, Leroy, was 33 at the time and left behind a wife and 4 daughters. Heartbreaking. I thought how strong my husband is that he could be the rock for his family and perform this gift for his brother. When the funeral was done and everyone was outside, he collapsed in a heap, crying uncontrollably behind the podium. I was grateful to witness this extreme emotion of humanity regarding such loss and love. 

  In 2015 we said so many heartbreaking goodbyes. In March, we left our home church  that my husband had been on staff for 29 years, so he could go to work with our Denomination. My sister in law unexpectedly passed in April leaving behind a husband and two little kids. My husband's mom passed in May due to cancer, and then we moved East in August. Within those first two years there would be a total of 8 funerals including both my husbands and 6 months later my best friend. 

     My husband was a wreck. He continued working but he had a very hard time processing so much loss.  I didn’t work right away, which was not by choice; now looking back, it was a gift to be home and be present for my husband and son. We would take weekend drives exploring the countryside in our new state, and attend local events. 

 As mentioned earlier, I received word that my best friend had passed away both suddenly and unexpectedly in September 2016. Her second daughter was to be married in her home state of Hawaii in just two months. 

     I started asking God questions, it was all too painful to think about or process…

How can this be? This is not possible, this is not fair. What will her daughter do? How will her family navigate this? God how could you let this happen? How can her daughter not have her mama present at her wedding when it is so close? 

      My husband stayed with me in our bed and just held me. He would clear his schedule where he could so he could be home with me. When he had to leave he checked in and called when he was returning home. He held me often over those next few weeks. He let me set the pace, he listened. His presence and his touch were so comforting.

 So how might one help a grieving spouse?

• Regardless of how strong they appear, be ready to assist them

• Non sexual personal touch

• Be present

• Listen, let the grieving spouse share their stories

• Ask, how can I help you?

• Check in by phone, text, email

• Let the grieving spouse set the pace

 Sometimes grief requires outside help ie. multiple sorrowful events, the inability to move forward in life, engaging in risky/detrimental behaviors. There is no shame in asking for help. Create an atmosphere for your spouse where they feel supported in expressing their grief and vulnerability.

Through my personal story of the multiple losses I’ve experienced I’ve learned:

• God is with us in our grief 

• God provides

• God is a light in our darkness

How to Support Your Grieving Spouse for the Long Hall, Guest Writer: Eric Nestor

When I first met Courtney I was initially drawn to her kindness and beautiful smile. As we became friends I realized that her smile didn’t come without pain.

Through social media I found out that her father had passed away because every Father’s Day, on her dad’s birthday and day of passing she would usually post something about it. I initially was saddened at the thought that someone whom I knew had lost a parent, something I know is tough for anyone to go through. When we began dating it was a topic that she wasn’t shy or hesitant to talk about however I didn’t know how to proceed when the subject came up. As time went on and we were further in our relationship I would casually ask questions about her dad. I’d ask what he was like, what his personality was like and what sport teams he liked (hoping she would say the dodgers when it came to baseball).

As we got engaged and married I would always stay quiet when she would speak about her dad because tears would ensue.  I know it was really difficult for her in the weeks and months leading up to our wedding because her dad wasn’t there to see us get married and walk her down the aisle. I simply didn’t know what to do or say in those moments so I didn’t say or do anything at all. I wanted to fix the situation but there was nothing to fix. 

I’ve learned a few things from dating, being engaged and now married to someone who has lost a father.

Here are a few:

-I’ve learned to ask questions, at the right moments. So I asked her if there was something she needed from me, which may sound silly but by asking we were both able to understand where we were each coming from.

-I explained that this was also new to me and I wasn’t sure what to do, if anything at all. My wife wanted me to listen and be there for her in moments where she remembered her father. She wanted me to hug her, cry with her, feel with her.  Like literally be physically and emotionally present in those moments, without saying anything but hugging her and listening to her remember her father.

I understand that everyone is different and others may desire something different from their spouse or partner to help grieve. Everyone grieves very differently and sometimes people on the out side can say and/or do the wrong things in an attempt to help. At times, to fill the awkwardness people say the wrong things and cause more damage than good.

If you know someone who has lost a loved one, instead of doing or saying something I’d encourage you to simply be there for them, hug them, cry with them, listen to them in that very moment when he or she is remembering their loved one. Then when the moment is right, ask appropriate questions.

A few questions that I’ve asked are:

• Though it’s painful, do you like when I ask about your dad and ask you to tell me what he was like?

• Is there something you want to do to remember your dad (especially on holidays)?

• What do you think your dad would’ve done in this situation?

I’ve learned that my wife does want to share about her father to me, her husband, though it may be difficult at times. I understand others may not want want to share as much or at all depending on the type of relationship they had with their parent. We never know how to proceed unless we ask. Asking key questions at the right moments can help those people in our lives who are grieving the loss of a parent. 

Now every year on her dad’s birthday and father’s day we do something special. We remember her father by eating good food because he loved to barbecue and getting pizookies because he loved desserts. I ask my wife to tell me stories about her father. I love being able to celebrate the life that my father in law lived through my wife. I hope this has been helpful for you. 

I have thought about my own grief journey with not having a father in law. It's difficult for me to put into words my feelings towards my own grief journey because coming into marriage I didn't have any specific expectations of my in-laws. What I can say is my grieving is done through my wife and what she feels. When we first met and I heard my wife's story of losing her father I was initially saddened on a level that I think anyone would feel who hears a story of loss. As our feelings grew for each other, we got engaged and married I was also grieving the loss of her father because I so deeply care for my wife. I never met her father and don't have a personal attachment to him but I do have an attachment and deep love for my wife so what makes her grieve makes me grieve. Of course I'm not saying I grieve to the level that my wife grieves, her and I don't grieve the same because we've had different experiences and we grieve very different in general. I grieve the loss of my wife's father because I see the pain that it has caused and still causes her. I grieve because the stories I hear my wife share about her dad makes me think about how great it would've been to meet him and have him be a part of our lives as a married couple. Things that my wife says her dad "loved" like sports, good food and coffee we do in remembrance of him which is how I also grieve along with my wife. I never thought grief could be "transferred" but I've experienced this for the first time. I love my wife dearly, therefore I grieve when she grieves.  

EN

Finding Beauty in the Barrenness, Guest Writer: Dora

I grew up taking care of all 6 of my younger siblings. I was the protector and nurturer for them in ways I didn’t even know how, yet I managed. Growing up, my parents where always working to provide for our family of 9. We were young and close in age, left alone to raise ourselves up during the most crucial times of a child's life. Never did I ever think that I wouldn’t be able to have kids of my own. After getting married at a young age, starting a family was no where close to the forefront of my mind. I still needed to finish high school first.

 Who would’ve thought that things would’ve taken a turn for the worst after a few months of marriage.  My body was changing and nothing could explain it. I had gained a significant amount of weight in a span of 3 months. Like 5-6 pant sizes. I lost my menstrual period & no doctor could explain why but default to putting me on the pill. My hair was thinning uncontrollably and it felt like a mental battle just trying to get out of bed. I sought out a couple of doctors that left me feeling confused when no one had answers for me. “I don’t know why you don’t have a period and why you can’t get pregnant,” they shrugged. After frustrating doctor appointments and ultrasounds, a fear that I’ve never had began to sink in, “What if I can’t ever have kids?”

I remember so vividly the day that I walked out of my infertility specialists office. I felt relieved finally being diagnosed with PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome) after years of trying to figure out what was going on with my body- yet also feeling so broken. On my way home, my mind began to flood with the questions and doubts I had about Gods plan for me. 

I always dreamt of being a mom someday but didn’t realize that there was a possibility of facing any hardships until that day when I was faced with reality. Who would’ve thought? I came from a family of 7 kids at the time now 8,  and my husband, a family of 7 as well. We never ever thought that  growing a family was going to be a battle. We didn’t know anyone at the time that had experience or shared in our emotions. We were wrecked with sadness & grief. I don’t remember how long after but I recall an exact moment when I felt God asking me to surrender. Surrender the idea of having a baby, the desire to be a mother, & the brokenness of my body. Quite honestly, I reacted with anger towards God. I plead with God asking Him why He would ever allow something like this to stop us in our path?

On the hardest days where I felt incomplete and broken as a whole woman, I could still cry out to God and remember the promises He’s left for me to meditate and cling to. Believing that He has a purpose and plan to all things whether I understood it or not. But if I wasn’t careful at that time, I would’ve fallen into the grips of being consumed by the vicious cycles of doing everything I could possibly think of to “make” myself pregnant. Then it made sense. I began to understand why He was asking me to surrender & let go of my desire for a child. If I wasn’t careful, I would’ve chased after all the skeptical treatments and medications and filled up my time with research and fall into an endless hole of disappointment & discontentment. Living with no purpose, hope, or joy. Idolizing motherhood & pregnancy.

In that moment of clarity, I made the hardest decision ever. I decided to give up and surrender my dream of becoming a mom. I chose Jesus instead. I grieved the idea of an un-conceived child. You could not understand the pain I felt as I walked toward the foot of the cross with my precious dream wrapped up in a bundle. Laying it before Him and fully giving Him the authority to do what He will with it. In my weakness, He is made strong. This is true. He has carried me through this journey of barrenness for 8 years now. And what I didn’t realize was that when I had chosen to give up my broken heart & dreams to the Lord, He traded it for joy & strength. 

There are still days where I find myself asking God again, “how much longer do I have to wait Lord?” Yet, He is faithful to remind me, “In due time My child. I have something special I’m birthing inside of you. Hold on.” 

Years later, I realized something that God was birthing in me: to speak up & share my story. To build community and encourage others. That was no easy task. Being bi-cultured, there was a crippling fear that enabled me to confidently share these revelations with the world for years. He provided opportunities for me to share with people who came through my life & eventually, the wound became a scar that could be shown for all to see. The Lord began to birth in me, a heart for women & couples who were also treading a similar journey as ours. This is where my blog was born. A safe space to share not just my story but hopefully someday, the stories that God has etched on everyones heart. Stories of suffering, waiting, hoping, & stories of miracles and healing.

If you’re in a season of waiting, whatever it may be, just know that God has something beautiful planned out for you. It’s going to take some time, but do not forget that great things do take time.

Only God can heal our aching hearts & fill the invisible empty spaces inside us. Through our hope in Jesus, we are made whole again. Restoration and healing will look differently for you than it does for me but it’s possible. He has given me a mother-like heart to now enable love, care, & nurture children in my community, around the world, and to every soul that walks into my life. He is making all things new in His time and teaching me to live with joy amidst my suffering. He wants to be the light that radiates through you unto others who’ve felt the same way. 

He is showing me the Beauty of Barrenness.

Getting too Comfortable in Grief and Needing More Color, Guest Writer: Whitney

Loss made me very comfortable.

It was August 24th, 2015 when I got the call from my brother informing me that my father was gone. I felt the sting of empty promises and no goodbye. My father had slipped away and all the while I was in a parallel universe on the west coast shopping for wedding venues and preparing for my wedding.

When I got the call, I knew he was gone from the tone of my brother’s voice. I told my fiance beforehand that I would like to be alone with him when I got the news. So there we waited, and then the call came and my world crashed in on me. Before I knew it I was on a plane, picking out flowers and a casket, back on a plane, and back to “normal”. But I wasn’t normal. I was shattered but I was pushed by the currents of life to move on. Grief is not an emotion to be left on its on own and shut behind closed doors, or it becomes fear, depression, and anger.

It’s been 3 years, and with time the pain did fade and I was able to return half-heartedly to what life was. I did move on and come back but the world was more dull. However, this past year I began to realize I don’t wonder at what I can be in the world anymore. I don’t feel like giving effort. I became very afraid to lose again which in turn made outings with friends less invigorating, purpose more illusive, and taking risks became more impossible. I realized my life had become very safe and comfortable. I didn’t feel like pushing but I also felt very unhappy. Getting up and participating with life became too difficult. I kept asking myself What is wrong with you? Try harder! but still would struggle with wanting to face the day much less care about personal creativity and active participation with exciting opportunities. I now realize that I was in avoidance and despair. Once I realized I needed to have grace with myself I began to thaw out my icy heart.

I realized I needed color back in my life. I needed risk to feel alive. I needed to trust in my divine to feel a sense of purpose. I had closed my heart and hands down to pursuing dreams because I understood what could be snatched away in seconds or before you even know it is gone. After three years of living in the hamster wheel of living to work and working to live, I began to grow discontent. I began to be drawn to the reckless God-inspired dreaming of my youth. I began to miss passion and sacrifice. I didn’t want to repeat 17 year Whitney moving across the country but I was ready to embark on the deep joy of what God has in store for me without looking over my shoulder for tragedy.

Based on an article called Coping With Loss by National Institute for Health, there is a “course for grief”. They are Numbness, Pining, Disorganisation and despair, Reorganisation (NIH, 1198). I often found myself numb this year, coping with watching social media but not contributing, backing away from relationships, and being too tired for opportunities to lead with strength. The article states that avoidance of grief leads to chronic grief which in turn wreaks havoc on the human body, mind, and soul. Which course of grief do you find yourself in today?

The key for walking through my course of grief has been solely the love of my community pushing me to see life in color again, to trust again, and my God, who has never left my side despite despair.

You love and you lose. Loss can be crippling but you can experience the full joy of life again without the fear of tragedy. You can do this by realizing you may be checking out and coping and also recognizing your course of grief, giving yourself grace, and surrounding yourself with a community that can walk through this phase with you. This is what I am trying to teach myself, it isn’t me or you, it’s us.

We are getting through loss together.

I am ready to come back to the world of adventure and risk.

I am ready to uniquely give what I was created to give to this world. I still have fear but I will live in courage, and life will have moments of terrible grief but also incredible heights of beauty. I want all that life can give to me.

I am ready to trust in God’s purpose for my life, that he is in control and that I am not spinning toward chaos but true purpose and eternity.

Have you ever felt the same? If so, let’s share together- let’s be community. As always live for today, and shine on for tomorrow’s world. I have linked the article referenced above, feel free to review and see the course of your grief!https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1112778/ 

Judgment Doesn't Relieve Pain but Kindness Helps, Guest Writer: Johanna

Even now, 14 years later, I still think back on the moment and cringe.It was 2005, and Hurricane Katrina had just ravaged its way through New Orleans and the Gulf Coast.The communities were collectively mourning the loss of life and the widespread destruction, and my best friend was lamenting the tragedies that occurred.In response, I made a flippant comment minimizing the devastating losses – as a Florida native I had seen lots of minor hurricanes.But I had never lived through a major storm, and I foolishly assumed the damages were similar. I didn’t understand the true grief the people were facing, and in my inexperience and ignorance, I discounted a pain that I did not understand.

I felt almost instant shame after my remark – but, that moment turned out to be an unexpected turning point in my life.For perhaps the first time, I realized the huge damage we do when we minimize pain that we do not understand.Attitudes like mine in response to Katrina – when you assume something can’t possibly be as bad as you hear because you have never personally experienced it – are so destructive.But it was a short moment in my life that kicked off a quest to learn, to grow, and to give kindness to hurting people, regardless of whether I not understand their pain.

In 2010, I felt loss in a very personal way when I miscarried my first pregnancy.I was the first of my friends to be pregnant, and the thrill of carrying life was all consuming and exciting.But then, the spotting started.When I walked into my ultrasound appointment at 10 weeks, I knew the news would not be good.The doctor kindly held my hand, walked me through my options, and told me there was no heartbeat.

And while I had learned to give empathy and gentleness to others around me, I had not yet learned the lesson of extended that same kindness to myself. On Friday, I spent 12 hours in a hospital bed, sobbing into my sheets.  On Saturday, I put on a pencil skirt and a brave face and attended an event.  On Sunday, I walked into church only to walk back out again at the sight of a baby dedication.  On Monday, I sat in my office, staring numbly at a computer screen.  Three days later on Thanksgiving, I cried sitting at a full table and staring at mashed potatoes and turkey.  My body didn't heal for months.  Probably because I gave it very little care.  My heart didn't heal for longer.  Probably because I gave it even less care.

When in 2015, my cousin and best friend (Denise) came to me with an idea to create a gift box company to care for hurting people, it was divine timing.At the time I was experiencing an intense personal struggle and giving kindness to myself and others were at the forefront of my mind.It is no coincidence that laurelbox grew during a bitter season of loss in my life.But this time, I gave myself grace during the struggle.

I can look back now and see how the journey to learn kindness for myself and others has so clearly prepared the path for laurelbox.Our gifts are guided by a main principle – remind others they are loved and not alone.Whether you are in the midst of a struggle, or you are navigating your respond to a friend who is in grief, let your response be marked by openness and grace.We do not have to understand someone’s loss to react kindly to them in their grief.As I have learned in my own life, judgement rarely relieves someone’s pain.

One of my favorite quotes by Gail Caldwell succinctly sums up this journey – “I now know that we never truly get over great losses.Instead they carve us into kinder, often more gentle creatures.”

The Things I Would Have Said in a Clearer Mind 10 Years Ago

What I wish I could have said 10 years ago with a clearer mind and more time,

When we knew we were losing you and we had to say goodbye,

While you sat there pouring out your heart, and I sat there falling fast apart,

You could see past the tears and into my future, knowing how much would change,

I couldn’t see past our holding hands, knowing all I wanted was to turn life’s page.

What I wish I could have said 10 years ago with a clearer mind a more time,

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Thank you for being an example of love, selflessness, joy, and bravery,

Thank you for teaching me about God, friendship, fitness, and health,

Thank you for giving me your squinty eyes, it’s an honor to be half of you,

Thank you for making me feel like I could pursue whatever and be whoever I wanted,

What you’ve given me is priceless and can’t fully be put into words.

But, what I wish I could have said 10 years ago with a clearer mind and more time,

When we knew we were losing you and we had to say goodbye,

I will miss you for the rest of my life and while It doesn't feel like we got you very long,

I am just lucky to have had you as my mom.  

Grieving the Death of Someone You Never Knew, Guest Writer: Lindsay

When it comes to death and grief, people often say to “think of the good times,” or “cherish the memories.” But what if you didn’t get the chance to know your loved one? What do you do when there aren’t any good times or memories to help you cope with your loss? How do you grieve a relationship you never got to have?

I’ve had to answer these questions myself because my mom was murdered when I was only one year old and unfortunately, I don’t remember her. Growing up without my mother was the hardest experience of my life but I also didn’t know any differently. Yet when I became an adult, I realized how much I missed her and what little right I’d thought I’d had to grieve compared to everyone else. Just because I wasn’t able to develop a relationship with her doesn’t mean my pain should hurt any less but that’s what I used to believe.

Given the tragic and traumatic circumstances of my mom’s death, it’s only natural I’d feel overwhelming anger and sadness. But I ignored and minimized my pain because I couldn’t understand let alone explain the intense yearning I felt for someone I never knew in the first place. Grief is tricky like that. There’s also this widely held belief that what you don’t know or can’t remember won’t affect you so I was afraid others would think I was too much to handle, too sensitive, or seeking attention if I brought it up. The times it did come up were just as challenging though because people would usually shut down or exploit the conversation like it was a soap opera.

For a long time, I acted like nothing was wrong when the truth is, it’s the strangest feeling to mourn someone you never shared your life with. It’s an infinite, massive hole of longing except you don’t even know what you’re pining for. Like wanting to hug or talk to them just one more time yet you can’t imagine what that would’ve been like in the first place. There are endless questions about who they were, what they were like, and what made them tick. At the same time, you’re never satisfied with any details you do get because frankly, you want the chance to know who they were without a third party filling in all the blanks.

In a lot of ways, I felt like an outsider too. Even though I carry the same weight as anyone else who’s lost someone they love, I don’t have the reference of before and after she died. I can’t remember struggling through those year of firsts without her. I can’t relate to the pain of what it’s like to pick up the phone from habit to call her after she’s gone. On the other hand, I know her death shattered me to my core and I’ll never know what life without grief looks like. There are so many things that I compared my unique experience too and it only made me feel more confused and alone.

As I got older, the more I struggled so I had to find ways to create meaning and connection with my mom’s memory to help me cope. I’d spent so much time justifying my pain that I began with giving myself permission to grieve on my own terms instead of believing what society said it should look like. Bereavement is different for all of us and it’s okay if you’re “still” grieving. Your experience is valid and your pain matters no matter how long it’s been.

I also started leaning in to the pain instead of trying to fix it or will it away. We’ve been taught to “do” something with grief but instead it’s about acknowledgement and letting yourself feel whatever comes without shaming yourself out of it. More and more, I’m learning that grief just needs to be seen and brought into the light but that can’t happen when you’re ignoring or judging your feelings. Healing can’t be forced by keeping your grief small.

Another thing that helped was engaging in positive outlets that remind me of my mom, like dragonflies {her spirit symbol}, roosters {she collected them}, and running {she ran races}. I even had my middle name Joy tattooed on my wrist in her handwriting. When I was little, I used to sift through her jewelry box for hours just to feel close to her and that inspired me to make remembrance keepsakes to help you honor your lost loved ones too. Now I get to help others who are suffering while also keeping her memory alive and it’s comforted me more than I could’ve hoped.

There are many meaningful ways to cope but if you don’t know where to start, I created some free resources like journal prompts, music playlists, and self-care reminders to help you connect with your loved one and manage the roller coaster that is life after death.

Very few people talk about bereavement, let alone all the complications that arise from sudden or tragic loss. Grief is lonely enough without thinking you’re not allowed to feel the way you do but as I’ve shared my story more, I realized how many others can relate and that I’m really not alone. Neither are you. 💛

Weaving In and Out of Grief for What Slowly Feels Like Forever

Something new and exciting happens and the words “I can’t wait to tell my mom” are on the tip of my tongue. But, it’s been a few years since she passed, I thought I’ve worked through this!

With no apparent reason, a childhood memory flashes across my mind and makes me smile while my eyes water. But, it’s been almost 7 years since she passed, where did that come from?

Our favorite song comes on while I’m driving and I so clearly picture her singing it. But, It’s been 10 years since she passed, pull yourself together! Can you relate to thinking “When will I stop getting caught of guard by grief?”

They come and go, the “missing them” moments. Right when you think you’ve looked at the picture of them long enough, ignored the pain long enough, or opened up enough to your trusted friends, the feelings come back like unpredictable weather. It often makes me feel like I am weak, dramatic, a mess, crazy, the negative words could go on. But what you lost was not your phone, a car key, or a debit card. What you lost was a HUMAN, on top of that a human you loved.

As I write these words to you, I am swallowing them as well. Don’t fight the moments you feel heavy due to missing them (I know it’s hard). Let it be, because the more you resist, I think, the more hurt will be done to the process of becoming your healthiest self and feeling hopeful. Yes it feels vulnerable and maybe daunting because you’re nervous of overwhelming and heavy feelings, but this healing thing is not a sprint. This is not a marathon. Sprints and marathons end, but healing will continue for the rest of your life.

So many times I think I can heal from the loss of my mom (who I had with me on earth for almost 19 years) the same way I work through other challenges…quickly. If you give me a task I am really good at getting it done as fast as possible. If I have a goal, it pretty much becomes my life. I’m an all in kind of gal. More and more I have realized that I am in this healing journey for the long haul, it is the rest of my life. Therefore I’ll be weaving in and out of grief as long as I am alive.

Like weaving, grief and life will be intertwined, combining elements of sadness and joy and ultimately making something new out of materials that you would have never had before.  

Music for the Grieving and the Heavy Heart

As a songwriter, melodies and words have been a powerful tool of healing and comfort to me. After my mom passed away, a friend gave me a CD with her favorite songs that brought comfort to her when her mom passed. That is when music carried me through my nights of grief. I’d play that CD on repeat, while waiting for daylight because there is something trying about the darkness while you’re struggling. Sometimes it felt like the writer knew what I was thinking but didn’t know how to say.Sometimes we need to be reminded of of truths we know deep down but are hard to believe in a moment of heaviness. Sometimes it feels like they are speaking directly to us, and we feel seen.To read more about music and psychology check out this article from Psychology Today.Here are some of my favorite songs for those who are grieving or who have a heavy heart:

• Satisfied in You- The Sing Team

• Shepherd of My Soul- Rivers & Robots

• Weep With Me- Rend Collective

• Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus-Lauren Daigle

• Rest In You-All Sons & Daughters

• Soft Gentle Brilliant-Corey Kilgannon

• As Long as I Have You I’m Home-Imaginary Future

• The Sun Will Rise-Jenny & Tyler

• Dear Mom- Becca and Ceci

• The Secret Place-Phil Wickham

• Doubter’s Prayer-Corey Kilgannon

• It is Well With My Soul-Phil Wickham

• Beauty for Ashes - Chris McClarney

• Stars-Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

If you use Spotify here is my playlist.To hear some of my own songs check them out in my shop.I'd love to hear what music moves you?You are not alone.

Photo credit: Sarah Jensen 

Creative Ways to Honor Your Deceased Loved One After Cremation

Your loved one just passed and maybe they requested to be cremated but they didn’t have any comments on what to do after with the ashes. First off, I am sorry for your loss. It is hard to say the least, and it can be challenging to make decisions right after.

On my mom’s 8 year mark of passing, my dad, my husband and I spread her ashes in the desert, on of her favorite places. I remember as I scooped her ashes over a dirt hillside on a sunny day, the feelings of vulnerability and closeness came over me. Physically, it feels like you can’t get closer than holding their ashes, after the loss of a loved one. It felt surreal. You may find yourself not ready to do anything with their ashes, for various reasons.

Maybe you feel like you’re letting them go, maybe you want the moment to be perfect, maybe it’s hard to come to a decisions because there are multiple people involved, or maybe you’re afraid of disappointing them. I believe there is something freeing and powerful when a physical action is done in response to an emotional occurrence. It’s like connecting your heart and head. Whether you honor them with their ashes 5, 10, 20 years later, or honor them in short ways over the course of time, I highly encourage you to step into that direction of healing. Remember, you are not alone.

Ashes remind us of what was, and what we no longer have. Ashes take what we used to know, physically, and challenge our mind to look at it differently.

Therefore, what we knew is not completely gone, it’s different. Ashes represent stories, moments, and life. While the topic is painful, I believe something can be made beautiful out of ashes. Here are some ideas of ways to respect and honor your loved one with their ashes:

• Create and order custom jewelry made of their ashes or that holds a tiny bit of their ashes:

  • Close by Me Jewelry, “Close by Me Jewelry is a unique, non-traditional, and beautiful way to remember the essence of a departed loved one. Whether you have lost a family member, friend or pet, designer Gina Murphy utilizes ashes (cremated remains) set in sterling silver and 14K gold to create an elegant keepsake that will last forever.”

  • Sugarberry Memorials, “I started making cremation jewelry in 2016, as I wanted something to hold the ashes of my daughter who passed away during my pregnancy in 2010. I work very hard to make sure that I have the most affordable, most unique, and easiest process available for those who are going through loss.”

  • Lovely Little Acorns, “My Etsy shop has always been centered around jewelry with meaning. I lost my father in early 2017, and much of that year was spent dealing with the complicated emotions that grief stirs up. I started making memorial jewelry in mid-2018, and I do like knowing that I can offer people something beautiful to honor a memory and perhaps ease the grieving process. My customers sometimes share stories and pictures with me, and I am touched that they have chosen me to be a small part of their journey."

• Scatter the ashes at a place that they loved:

  • Such as their favorite hike or desert, ocean, forest, etc..

  • Mark your location on your phone so you’ll always be able to re-vist the location

  • Use their ashes to create a new garden or add it to an already existing garden

  • Schedule a boat ride with friends to have a ceremony on the ocean while spreading their ashes into the sea

  • Create a box or urn yourself to hold the ashes before you bury them

While we try to figure out life after loss, can we be real?

We ultimately just want to feel better and not feel pain?

We feel the tension between wanting to never forget, and never losing them all while learning to live forward.

But the best gift we have is looking in the mirror and seeing them as a part of us, looking around and seeing their legacy, and looking back and seeing what they taught us.

Photocredit: Katie Long

How to Merge Traditions, Guest Writer: Jessica Reece Eichman

If you weren’t sure that Christmas was my mom’s favorite holiday, you would just need to cross the threshold of our door into her Winter Wonderland. In the Reece household, the traditions were as endless as the love the holidays brought.  We had at the very least; two beautiful trees covered in popsicle stick ornaments built with more love than glue, angels with my face on them, and lights that would brighten your day. Her China cabinet was emptied and filled with swirly rainbow lollipops, chocolate flowing out of crystal containers, and old fashioned Coca-Cola glasses filled with candy canes lovingly draped over the sides. The stocking were hung by the chimney with care, they had been with us since childhood and they sure showed their wear.  Her homemade hot chocolate would warm our hearts and the following candle light service would warm our souls.

Although she wasn’t much of a morning person, on Christmas she would wake us with a smile and didn’t try to hide that she was as excited as we were. We would sit around the living room in our Christmas pajamas and open up our gifts while Amy Grant or Randy Travis were drowned out by giggles and the crinkles of colorful paper. I can still see her huge smile and hear her contagious laughter as we would open the gifts that meant more to her than they did us. We would eventually find ourselves in the kitchen and devour tamales, eggs and my dad's “famous”  sausage balls. After we were nice and full, we would gather back in the living room to read one of my favorite bible stories, Luke 2:1-20.

Christmas with my mom was beyond magical. When my mom passed away eight years ago, my whole world was shaken. I didn’t want the magic to fade away and  I tried to keep her traditions alive. It was a way to feel close to her even though she was no longer here with me but time continues and seasons move on. I ended up marrying a man who is teetering on Scroogy and boardline Grinchy. It’s not that he didn’t have loving traditions as a child, but he didn’t bring them into adulthood. My husband is a talented musician and when I BEGGED him to learn a Christmas song for me, he begrudgingly sang ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.’

Stink. Stank. Stunk.

This year as I carefully unwrapped  my mom's decorations, I was finding myself longing for that magical Christmas again. Tears rolled down my face as I held the fragile ornaments in my hands. I was yearning for my mom's hot chocolate and missing her so much I almost couldn’t breathe. While I was hanging up my mom's stocking I realized I was not enjoying myself, I was only decorating because I felt obligated to. I thought that if I didn't do it exactly like my mom did, I was losing her. It was in that vulnerable moment I realized I was still living in the past. I was missing out on creating my own traditions with my husband, who had just walked in the door to find me as broken as the ornaments at the bottom of the box.

I was still enjoying Christmas but the magic I was missing was creating traditions with my own family. I realized I couldn’t live in the present if I was living in the past. I will always treasure the traditions and memories I made with my mom. Creating my own traditions doesn't mean I will lose or forget her. I now know that it is about merging  traditions of my past and mixing them with what my husband and I value and enjoy. We didn’t put up a Christmas tree this year for various reasons. Space being a big one but four smaller reasons that tend to see ornaments as toys (and sometimes food). Knowing that it was important to me, my thoughtful and supportive husband surprised me by creating a sparkly tree made of tinsel pinned to our wall, so far this seems to be pet proof.

As we blasted Jingle Bell Rock my tears subsided, I knew I found the magic again. We displayed all of HIS (I know right?) nutcrackers around our kitchen and on my baker's rack there is a magical candy shop displaying some familiar Coca-Cola bottles and Santa's. As I stood back and looked at all of our (her) decorations I realized I had found that good balance of the past and the present. My new traditions were now merging with my mothers.

I still miss my mom but instead of letting the heartache steal my joy, I'm creating a world where her traditions can live and the memories bring a smile to my face. If you let it, grief can steal the magic and joy of Christmas. In this journey I have realized that traditions are an important part of life because it’s important to keep living and laying the foundation for your very own candy shop. If you’re reading this, I’m praying that you have not walked through the pain of losing a loved one, but if you have, I hope you know that you’re not alone in the Christmas season. If you are struggling right now, hold on to hope and know that joy will follow. It’s okay to cry, to laugh and to re-decorate your china cabinet when you need something sweet.

Child-loss From a Mother's Heart, Guest Writer: Jessica Stewart

When my youngest child and only son, Joel, passed away God was there with us. After fighting such a long battle, I was jaded. Prayer felt pointless, Scripture sounded cliché. Only listening to worship kept the spark of love I have for God alive.

A few months ago, I heard the inaudible voice of the Lord tell me that I need to forgive Him. “But I was never mad at Him,” I thought. God brought to memory my heart’s position on Joel’s Home-going:

God knows more than me & brought Joel Home at this time for a reason I’m not going to grasp on this side of eternity. He LOVES Joel. He LOVES me. I know this with ALL of my heart.

Like parents, God makes His decisions based on what’s best for His children.

I held God responsible. He numbered Joel’s days. He did Not give Joel cancer. He mercifully and peacefully brought him Home.

My son is so happy. I am the one who is so sad.

In essence I believed & accepted God caused me the GREATEST PAIN OF MY LIFE.

And after a year, I forgave Him.

It was a HUGE moment for me. I tucked it into my heart, I had been missing Jesus so much. I couldn’t connect with Him for a year. We used to have an intimate, growing, close relationship. I thought something magical would follow, from this day forward I would feel close to the Lord again, crave the words in the Bible, sing songs of worship with ever fiber of my being, FEEL His presence.

But, it did not turn out to be that simple. It’s a process.

I had developed some bad habits over the year 

(disclaimer, I don’t do these unhealthy things in excess OR daily, but I did create a way of living that didn’t include Jesus):

*TV to drown out my thoughts & memories & very VIVID flashbacks

*Having a strong drink after a night of realistic nightmares sat on me like a suffocating weight through the following day. (I have recurring dreams of trying to save Joel from a variety of really bad things)

*Meds when I am overcome with anxiety & none of the techniques pastors & therapists have taught me are “working"

*Filling my time with people and projects, leaving no time for Jesus

*Believing I only have true joy when I’m playing with my grandson or eating chocolate.

Awareness is step one to CHANGE.

Joel, my sweet son, battled an UGLY chemo-resistant Acute Myeloid Leukemia from age 15 through 16, then went Home to a Loving, Merciful, Safe GOD. Joel is still part of my life. Every day I think of him. I watch videos of him when I need to hear his voice. I eat his favorite food on the monthly anniversary of his Home-going or when I go somewhere he loved going to. I watch sunsets like we loved to do when he was healthy, I watch the moon change nightly, like we did from his hospital room for months. I advocate for children with cancer, love on their moms, educate on Leukemia, and raise funds to bring fresh water to children who never had any (to continue Joel’s heart’s desire).

A parent never gets over or moves on from their child passing away. There will never be a normal or a new normal. I can live with that. My life is forever changed. I accept that.

I’m Jessica, mom of Jordan, Justine and Joel.  Wife of Aaron. Daughter of Christ. Granny to Charlie. Friend to anyone who will let me in. I’m loved by God. I’m growing & hurting & healing and Human. I’m just now able to hear Scripture on healing and miracles without cringing. And it’s okay. I walk slowly in God’s Grace, moving forward, imperfect, and probably looking forward to Heaven more than your average person.

Looking Back and Seeing More

It smells like fresh ground coffee, the lighting is not too bright to make the environment feel stark but not too dim to encourage me to curl up with a blanket and watch a movie. Where am I? At a coffee shop, sitting in a well used mid century brown leather chair with polished wooden arms. It is a visually pleasing environment, and busy, kind of like a Where’s Waldo puzzle. Every time you look at it you see something new, because there is so much going on. “Was that there before?” Or “Did someone change that?”

Kind of like music, when you listen to it over and over again.

Kind of like us, when we reflect on our story and think about the events of our life that have led us to the point we are at now.A

fter the death of my mom in March 2009, I’ve told the events of my life many times. I’ve told it personally and inwardly to myself while reflecting, or because it’s etched into my memory. I’ve told it through writing a book: Healing, Hope & Wholeness. Lastly I’ve told it verbally to others from a scale from one on one, to groups the size of a few hundred.

Every time it takes:

Energy - It can be physically draining.

Emotion - I have to allow myself to tell it with feeling. I never want to tell it with a sense of being so unattached as if I have grown numb.Every time it gives:

Energy - Spiritually I feel fulfilled because it’s a reminder of God’s healing, hope and wholeness in me.

Emotion - It gives me motivation to help others in their grief.BUT every time I learn something new about myself, the situation, or God.

Sometimes it is subtle things that turn into opportunities for more healing, hope and wholeness in my story. They are realizations that cause movement for growth and maturity. “Was that there before?” Or “Did someone change that?”……I wonder what it was like for my mom’’s longest friend to loose her best friend?I understand why my mom said certain things to me during her last week of life. Wow. I wish I could tell her ____.Her trust in the Lord was a huge example. It was so natural on her but it influenced the rest of my life without her, to keep going.

While it takes energy and emotion to reflect or share the events of your life, I promise you that it is worth it. It is worth it for you now, for your future, and for others that it could help.

We are never too old or too good for this intentionality.

Maybe there are more things that God wants to show you about your story.  Are you open?

Take your time.

Grab a journal.Bring a trustworthy friend into this journey.

Keep thinking and keep talking.

When you doubt that it is making a difference keep going.When you think you’ve learned all you could, keep going.

We are never a finished story, we are never finished being students of learning. 

Photo credit: Jordan Young

How to Keep Your Memories Alive, Guest Writer: Sandy Harris

I started my journey to create Sandra’s Heart Art with a quest to help others keep their memories alive and present in their everyday lives.  My journey was a long one.  Putting my dreams on hold to care for my handicapped daughter and then my elderly parents I never thought much about “memories”.  I was too busy being a caregiver - always thinking there would be a tomorrow.

After my mom passed, I was sitting in what was her living room and I was overcome by “the missing”.  I never look at death of a loved one as a loss – more a missing.  I know I will see her again, but at that moment, I felt so sad and missed her so much.  I looked around her living room and saw a shadow-box mirror that had many of her “trinkets” on displayed.  I knew that soon I would have to pack away those treasures of hers and tuck those memories away. That made me even sadder.

I gathered some of her treasures and added them to a heart box I had-thinking I would tuck it away and be able to look at it from time to time.  Then I thought why couldn’t I pick out some of her very special treasures and display them.  So I decorated the box and displayed my mom’s treasures in a vignette that reminded me of her.  By placing some of her favorite things in a display, I was able to put that heart box on a shelf at work or home and remember my mom with a smile instead of tears.  Looking at it just made me happy – the memories made the missing easier.

Many people asked me about the heart box and wanted one of their own.  Not just for a parent who had died but for a baby’s birth, weddings, anniversaries, and memorials (I even had the pleasure of creating a memorial for a wonderful woman who had lost both her dogs).  It is not always about loss – having “Heart Art” around is more of a way to keep any memory alive and present in our everyday life. 

Sandra.jpg

When the Pictures Run Out

"At first in your absence your presence feels close,

like a shadow always there and someone I know.

Your smile and laugh, I easily recall,

the memories are fresh, I remember them all.

At times I still felt like you'd knock on my door,

but really it's because I was missing you more.

The feeling of your hugs started to fade,

so I began to gather all that you gave.

The comforting shadow became more like a ghost,

because the radar of missing you was at its most.

Like holding on with slippery hands,

moments were running through my fingers like sand.

At last your presence feels close in a different way,

like the stars so far but there to stay.

I'll let your legacy guide my route,

when all of the pictures begin to run out."

Last March marked 9 years since my mom's passing. I was reminiscing in my head regarding photos of her that I could share with my support group, Hope Collective, but none came to mind that I hadn't already posted a handful of times.

The photos of her and I closer to the end of her life, had run out.It feels really symbolic to the grief journey. At first there are many recent pictures to rummage through, maybe you just took one together the week before. After some time of looking through the same photos they start to feel old, like a chapter you've read over and over again but you still read it. Then with no specific time line, all of a sudden you realize that the pictures have run out and there will not be new ones. Ever. You only have old ones to hold, to recall on, to spark your memory.

At first the memories are fresh, so the person still feels close even though they are gone. Then as holidays, birthdays, and a few years pass, the memories repeat themselves which is still comforting. But the initial feeling of their presence being close, is fading. Then memories, sounds such as laughter, specifics such as favorites, and other things about them feel like a different life. Did it even happen? You try to hold on as long and as tight as possible to who they were, what they meant to you, and what they were like.

HOLD. HOLD. HOLD.

It's something you don't really think about during the beginning of loss, pictures stopping, pictures running out. It's something that hits you later, it's a different season of grief because it's a new realization. Maybe it's the realization and the season of grief I am in.

How do you live, yet hang on to their story?

How do you move forward, without forgetting?

How do you handle sorrow and joy in the same heart?

18 Coping Skills to Help Ease the Waves of Grief

As a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist I see the effects of losing a loved one and the grief that washes over them, like waves of the ocean.  None of us choose to go through grief, it just lands on our doorstep, on an ordinary day and leaves sadness and sometimes hopelessness behind.

Grief is our natural response to losing a loved one and there are some basic stages we sometimes go through. These stages can include Bargaining, Denial, Anger, Depression and Acceptance. They come in no particular order and just when you think you have made it through a stage..bam the wave crashes again and you are back to where you started.

To ease the incoming waves of grief here are a few resources I’d like to share with you that can help you cope. They are in no way the fix for grief but may be helpful. Therapists call these coping skills and they are anything that gives you a moment of peace. A moment when you can breathe in and release a small bit of the grief. This is just the beginning of a list you can create for yourself. If you google “coping skills” you will find hundreds of ideas.  The coping skills I am listing have helped my clients to regain some peace in their lives.

1. Take a walk

2. Meet a friend for coffee or tea

3. Talk to a trusted friend

4. Pray

5. Rest

6. Eat healthy foods

7. Cry – tears are healing

8. Breathe

9. Be patient with yourself

10. Create Art – color, paint, draw, play with play dough

11. Attend grief counseling or a support group

12. Remember your loved one

13. Listen to music

14. Read your bible

15. Create a memory box

16. Sing your favorite song

17. Read your favorite magazine or book

18. Go to the beach or another favorite spot

There is no one way to grieve. Do what feels right for you. If you find yourself isolating or feeling depressed contact a therapist in your area.  You are not alone.  Give yourself time and the permission to grieve. Resources to help you cope with griefDebbie Ciulla LMFT #98887 – Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist(805)551-7957  therapydebb@gmail.com  www.ohanafamilycounseling.com