Skip to main content

One Grieving Mother To Another...Give Grace

Grace can be defined as "the love and mercy given to us by God because God desires us to have it, not because of anything we have done to deserve it."

As grieving mothers we are gifted with so much grace from others. 

We have husbands who hold us while we weep uncontrollably and hold us together when we feel like our lives have fallen apart.

We have parents who look at us and our loss is mirrored in their eyes. They remind you that we are strong and that they are proud of you...even when we don't deserve it. 

We have sisters who weep with us, who let us rage about how unfair life us, and who remind us that they miss their nephew too.

We have friends who commiserate with us, and try their hardest to understand and to be there for us. Friends who think life is unfair too. 

 We have ushers in our church who hug us as we're suddenly weeping in our seats because the sermon is about motherhood, reminding us that we will be reunited one day.

We have countless women who hug us and weep with us on Mother's Day. Women who know our pain and women who don't.

The world extends us grace. They forgive unreturned phone calls and texts. They listen to angry rants and love us. They acknowledge our loss and accept that it has changed us forever in so many ways. They give us grace.

We must extend grace to the world as well...

Because people say some pretty stupid things. People say some extremely thoughtless things. People even say some hurtful things. 
But they really don't mean to. They are just so confused and they are trying to grieve along with you. They are so desperately lost for words that they cannot comprehend that what they're saying is awful, hurtful, or just plain ridiculous.

The point is that they are trying to ease our pain. They are trying to give us hope. They are trying to love us. They are trying to grieve with us.

They don't know whether to laugh with you, or cry with you, or just be normal, because they want you to feel normal again too. 

They have not experienced exactly our loss but they are trying.

Do not get angry at them, do not become bitter because they cannot understand what you've been through. 

Give them grace, because they are trying the best they can. 

Give them grace, because they are grieving too.

Give them grace, because sometimes life is just unfair.

Give them grace, because we were extended grace when we did not deserve it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Adoption Hurts

  "Is adopting her harder than you thought it would be?"      I think, when I weighed the options back in 2021, before I brought my 12 year old daughter home, I knew how hard it could be. I accepted that it could be brutal. But, honestly, I hoped it wouldn't be. I hoped maybe, just maybe, trauma hadn't sunk deep into her bones and colored everything she did.  Some people may have different perceptions on how prepared I was, since I did jump into it pretty quickly. But I think that I did acknowledge, and accept, how hard it could be. But the reality of life is that there is no real way to know how hard anything actually is until you're living it. Meaning, I knew how hard it could be...but had no idea what that level of hard would actually feel like.  Because it hurts. Raising a broken teenager hurts. It hurts my daughter. It hurts me. It hurts our relationship. It just hurts.  But just because something hurts...does that mean we aren't called to do ...

Through Him

  I was raised by a Christian father who, though far from perfect, loved his family. I had a front row seat to his relationship with my mother and loved being his daughter. Through him I learned that I wanted to find a man like him in all the best ways. I married my first and only boyfriend when I was 19 and spent 13 years growing up with him. Through him I learned that I was a valued (and treasured) partner and that life is unbelievably special when you adventure together...and when you love unconditionally. A doctor met me one time and performed a dozen tests on my body. He was unkind and judgmental and his indifference made me cry in shame. Through him I learned that I might not ever be able to have children. My only son was born after years of infertility. He never took a breath and his death took my entire life by storm. Through him I learned that joy and grief can exist side by side...even when, or especially when, it is hard to find the joy. My father-in-law loved two childr...

I’m so sorry, John…

John, I know you’re probably busy living your very best life in Heaven. I can’t imagine that earthly happenings matter much to those who’ve left us.  But I want it to matter anyway. I want to imagine that you can still care.  I’m sorry that I stopped reaching for you in the middle of the night. It was a slow and painful process of retraining my brain and body. After 13 years you just weren’t there anymore. And I had to remind myself over and over and over again. “He’s dead, Katharine. Dead. You’ll never find him when you reach for him anymore…one day you’ll have to just stop reaching”. And one day I did. I can’t remember when it was. When muscle memory and instinct faded away. But suddenly I didn’t have to remind myself anymore…my body finally accepted that you’d never be there anymore.  I’m sorry I got rid of your things. Your books and projects and broken treasures. You had such plans and dreams for all these things in your garage. And I threw them away. I sobbed and ye...