At a recent get-together for grieving moms, we talked about what path we see ourselves on, at this point, in our journey of grief.

I offered several photos of different types of paths, and we passed around the pictures and several moms chose photos that depicted something of the path they are on with one another. This was a very revealing group experience.

I chose 4 photos that represented where I have been and where I am now . . .


1) A path leading into a dark and tree thickened woods - into the wilderness of grief.
2) A rock jetty leading out to sea - a time when I felt like I was on solid, but shaky ground surrounded by
    a sea of sorrow.  
3) A path that led through a beautiful garden, as God began to give and I was ready to receive "beauty for ashes."
4) A wide country path leading into an open space with the sun fully shining overhead, that path that depicts the
    time and season, when I was "walking in fullness of God's light" once again.

Grief naturally sets us on a path, and the idea that we are on a path making a journey through grief indicates movement. Sadly,some who are wounded deeply by grief get stuck on a path that keeps taking them back to the edge of the tomb, afraid to imagine a path rich with color, hope, beauty and healing.

For me, I have always believed that  life is intended by God to be a journey with Him behind, beside and before me. 
I also believe that in response to difficult times and losses in our lives, we have a choice . . . to either follow God's lead or go our own way. Hopefully, we walk on the path that God has chosen for us, which leads us toward JOY, LOVE and PEACE.

I found this posted on Facebook this week - it was very affirming and encouraging to me . . . 

THE PATH
My Dear Child,
Yes, the path I have chosen will take you through challenging times, but I will never leave or forsake you.
I have walked this path before you, I know the way, I know where I will take you.
The hardships you will face (if you will take my hand and my lead) will produce the most innocent JOY,
the purest LOVE and a PEACE beyond understanding.
And, in time (according to My time), you will see BEAUTY (just as I promise).
Stay on the path with Me.

With Faith, Hope and Love,
Angie "a mom like you"
amotherlikeme@gmail.com
www.amotherlikeme.info

"He gives beauty for ashes, joy for mourning and praise for the spirit of heaviness . . . " Isaiah 61:3

"Cast all your cares upon Him." I Peter 5:7

One of the first things that my husband and I did, when we moved to Colorado, was to take fly fishing lessons together.

"Women make the best fly-fishing anglers," said our instructor, as he watched me practice casting.  "Why is that?" asked my husband.  "Because, they seem to have a natural rythmn that fits perfectly with fly fishing techniques."

In fly fishing, the angler "presents" the artificial fly at the end of the line that floats on top of the water to the fish. Wearing polorized sunglasses makes the "presentation" more effective, because you can actually see the fish in the water through the polorized lenses, and so you know where to cast the line.

Wouldn't it be helpfull, if there were polorized glasses for seeing things in life that we present and/or give ourselves to before we throw ourselves out there? And, wouldn't it also be a blessing, if we developed the art of casting "all our cares upon Him."  

I see life the way I see fly fishing . . . I want to make sure that I have eyes that see through the "polorized" lenses of God's Word, before I present or give myself to anyone or anything. And, I am a natural at "casting all my cares upon Him," because I have had my share of "cares," and lots of practice casting them upon Him. 

Sad, but true, I have never caught a fish - never. I'm serious - not one, not ever.. My dad, grandmothers, grandads, aunts, uncles, cousins, sons and husband have all caught their fair share of fish, but I have never caught a fish, but it's not because I haven't tried.  And, as much as I would like to catch a fish one day, it's ok that I haven't, because for me, the fun of fishing is more about the casting and the gear (I love accessories). I like to imagine that the fish also know that I am just going to "catch and release," and so they say "Where's the fun in that, why bother with her?"

This is how I want to live my life - in such a way that the enemy doesn't bother with me, because He knows that I will
always give in to God's will and "cast all my cares upon Him" no matter my circumstances.

Just recently I had a bit of a scare, when a routine mammogram revealed a "shadow" in my left breast. After further testing and a surgical procedure, the surgeon found that it was a cyst, easily aspirated. Whew!  But, for a few days, I got some more "casting" practice. and I'm realizing that "practice certainly makes permanent" - not "perfect," but permanent.

Continuing to "cast" with Faith, Hope and Love,
Angie "a mom like you"
amotherikeme@gmail.com


 







 
 

The memory trees were bare. The bows that I had been hanging on the trees for years had blown away sometime ago, and I didn't have any to replace them.

Thankfully, a friend recently found some misplaced bows that I had made that she kept in her basement after she had helped me switch out the bows on the trees with holiday ones. I was happy that she had found these bows and was returning them to me now.

The "memory trees" are located in the area where my daughter landed after being struck by a distracted driver just around the corner from our home in 2008.  Wrapping these trees with ribbon and bows has been very important to me, since the loss of my girl, and I looked forward to lacing the now bare trees with the bows found by my friend.

So, my young daughter of 9 and I went to decorate the trees and as I carefully wrapped the ribbon up and down the trees and tied on the bows, I thought about and remembered my Erica who loved sunflowers and owls, so of course these are what I added to the bows. 

After the trees where decorated, my little one returned to the house. As I walked slowly behind her, I noticed a rock that I had not noticed on our way to the trees laying in front of me in the grass. I didn't see this rock before, had it been there all the time?  Looking closer at the rock, I leaned down to pick it up and found that it was perfectly broken in the shape of a heart. 

Since the death of my sweet, adoring Erica in 2008, I have been seeing and finding heart-shaped things regularly, including a foam-shaped heart in my latte, heart-shaped clouds and heart-shaped rocks. While on vacation with my family, I found 9 heart-shaped rocks - all colors, all sizes. When I find these hearts, I always feel like they are gifts from Erica, as they remind me that she is still a part of us and that surely she thinks of us, as we think of her.

This past week, I spoke to a group of city employees about the dangers of distracted driving. It is always difficult for me to share my story of loss, because it is another reminder that Erica is no longer here with us, it brings back very painful memories, but I must share our story with the hope that somehow something I share may encourage a driver to not use their cell phone while driving, which just may save a life.

As I think about the many "heart-gifts" that I have found over the years, I am reminded that though Erica is no longer here with us, she lives on in our hearts and memories. Finding these simple little gifts of the heart warms and comforts me, and I can't help but wonder, if these are gifts designed by Erica herself  to remind me of her never-ending love for me, her broken-hearted Mom.

Though this recent find wasn't a perfectly heart-shaped rock, for me it was the "perfectly broken rock," because it looks like a heart and there are parts that are smooth and polished and there are parts that are jagged and broken; a heart that I can efinitely relate to, since the loss of my beloved daughter.

When I got back home from the memory trees, I sat on the porch rubbing my fingers over the edges of the rock. This little rock is how I see my heart now; sometimes smooth and polished, yet jagged and broken. I am grateful that I found this "perfectly broken rock," because it's just like me.