Tag Archives | love and loss

Tag Archives | love and loss

mothers day weekend 2018

On Saturday morning I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do for Mother’s Day weekend.

I couldn’t think of anything I’d love more than staying home, doing whatever the world I pleased, without having a single time obligation.

That is exactly what I needed and wanted for Mother’s Day, and that’s exactly what I got.

After staying in my house dress for most of the day, making food for my family, getting to have an extra boy in my house (nephew Tage) to feed and love, we moseyed out on the town for some dinner.  Because I again wanted to give ZERO energy… we drove through to get the kids McDonalds and called in my favorite (Mad Pita – which Grae calls “Mada-Pita” so naturally we all call it that, too) and ate it in the car.

Then we headed to the nursery to pick up some flowers.  I requested flowers for my porch instead of my table this year, so everyone picked out a favorite for my pot and we came home and planted them.  Summer is my very favorite, and days like this are exactly why.

 

And then Sunday was a whole other story.  You win some, you lose some.  The first holidays without my sweet sis will sting a bit more than the rest, I guess.  Ang always made a deal about doing something fun on Mother’s Day, it made me miss her terribly.  But like everything else, where there is darkness there is also light.  I made a yummy batch of chili for my own little family, we delivered flowers to Angie’s grave.  I held my babies extra long at bedtime and went to bed with a full, albeit aching, heart.

I am so grateful for this good life I live, and so grateful to be able to celebrate so many amazing women in my life on mother’s day, including our own dear mothers who are loving grandmothers to our sweet babes.  I have a team of mothers (and not-yet mothers who bless me my children with their mothering natures anyway) that rally behind me and make it possible to live my life at the capacity I do.

I am also especially grateful that when I started this blog at the tippy tippy top of my mothering journey, you sweet women have checked in with me along the way, have written me, connected with me over motherhood, miscarriages, longing for children, having lost children.  We have prayed for each other, and your love has carried me through more than you’ll ever realize, and has helped me to fully embrace my own motherhood.  Thank you for loving and supporting me, and letting me share my heart with you over the years.

Happy Mothers Day to you from us here at Miller & Co!

 

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on doing hard things

I have felt reluctant to write, or talk much these past few weeks.  I am typically so focused on joy and all the many many good things life offers, and so it’s been strange and unsettling walking through such a dark time when joy and good feelings seem so far away.

But I am also learning and changing so quickly, I’m afraid if I don’t find the words now, they may escape me later when my heart is feeling lighter and more full of hope, and love, and goodness   .  My heart is still very much full of those things, but with the heaviness of grief poured over it.

This has been a time of deep reflection for me.  As much as I want to escape myself and what I’m feeling, the only way through that is to look deep down and be brave enough to feel all of the feelings, let them wash over me and let the light bring me back to my feet, time after time after time.  Get used to that pattern, and let it teach me and better me each passing time.

I am feeling lost and almost unrecognizable to myself as I walk through this grief, but I’ve also been able to extend myself love and grace to BE whatever I need to be in this time – easier than any other time.

A dear friend, who is farther down a similar path I’ve just started on, recently wrote me.  She said, “You will be met with darkness you couldn’t have ever imagined.. and the light will be equal in radiance to balance and overcome that darkness in every way.  I PROMISE YOU.”

Her words rang so true to me, because I have already experienced that.  This place of sorrow that must only closely resemble the feelings of hell; right there was God, also.  Literally holding me in His steady embrace.  Knowing the feelings I was having were too much to bear, and holding onto what I myself couldn’t.  I have felt the power of angels, on both sides of the veil, doing the Lord’s good and loving work in my  life.  I have been lifted — actually lifted by prayer, soothed by loving words, carried through by endless amounts of service – big and small.  I have seen how it works now, and that we all, at every single second, can be used for God’s greatest good.  What a beautiful new way I am seeing the world, through the shady glasses of my own despairing grief.  This world is beautiful, and our pain is used for our good and His glory.

I am writing to you from a place where I am unsure if I CAN DO HARD THINGS, but here I am being called to DO HARD THINGS anyway.  I pray that I can cling to faith, and pull through this gracefully.  Coming out the other side more whole and full of His love and light than ever before.

 

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grieving

So far grieving is just mostly really sad, and really weird.

The time frame my mind is in, and the time frame the rest of the world is in seems disconnected.

I am grateful that I have a good relationship of God, and have found so many tender mercies along the way that help me to know that I am not alone, that my sister is near in my heart, and that the turning time will continue to help and heal.

Those are all very important reminders, and I need them often.  Because if you have a sister, you can imagine the pain of losing her runs so deep sometimes it knocks the breath from my lungs.  We are not yet to the stage of it getting better each day, mostly it jumps around, or rather comes crashing over like a wave of indescribable agony in between moments that look and feel almost just like normal life.  I have found trouble sleeping, and also trouble doing anything other than sleeping.  I have experienced a whole set of physical symptoms I hadn’t expected, as well as the looming sadness and grief I had expected, even though it’s worse than I could have anticipated.  Mostly it’s hard to wrap my mind around it, because I hadn’t expected it.  Not her, not now.  Not ever, actually.

There are so many layers to grieving this loss.  The processing of what happened, accepting the loss, caring for what’s left, the memories intertwined in every single moment of my life, and the bleakness of looking forward without her physically here.  Plus juggling family dynamics, watching others I love mourn, feeling responsible, helpless, hopeless, peaceful, sad, full, empty.

It really is just a lot and that makes it really hard to talk about, or write about.. it’s a lot to process, it’s heavy, it’s sad, it’s something no one wants to hear about because it’s so awful.

But I also know this is an opportunity to use this trial to find deeper meaning in my own life,  let it allow me to love others more fully, and hopefully in time bless others with my offered wisdom as so many have blessed me with.

I have also experienced many sacred and special moments of understanding what it’s like to have a sister, who I am deeply connected to and love, in heaven.  It has put into perspective some things about my testimony, God, and heaven.  It has brought peace and understanding in ways I really appreciate and needed.  This has absolutely brought more compassion to my heart, and given me eyes for other’s good I don’t think I’d have any other way.

I know there are no words to offer, but truly, people reaching out and offering their love and prayers or whatever they have to offer has truly gotten us through so far.  I have felt lifted, and comforted by the prayers and fasting on my behalf, and I am so so grateful for that sincere kindness.  It means something, right now it means everything.

At the current moment,  I am doing my best.  At continuing to do things I love, like taking my dog for walks and mothering my children.  I am doing my best at allowing myself to feel sad, allowing myself to need space and quiet, trying to allow myself to ask for help when I need it (always working on that).  I am leaning into the love my family has endlessly offered me, and I am pouring out love as quickly as I can to those around me hurting as well.  It has been a beautiful, heartbreaking, bonding time for all of us, and I pray that we can lean into love as we continue to heal.

Thank you sincerely for the prayers, donations, meals, flowers, words, messages, drinks, thoughts, and time.

I truly have the best friends in the whole wide world, and I’ll never be able to repay what has been given to me these past weeks.

My heart keeps taking me to our family’s theme for this school year,

Keep loving. Keep tryingKeep trusting. Keep believing. Keep growing. Heaven is cheering you on today, tomorrow, and forever.” 

(Full talk HERE)

 

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under control

Today I woke up early enough to greet my kids up to get ready for school.  I let Mr. Miller sleep in as he has let me do so so many days these past couple of weeks.
The babies slept in with their dad, and I took the girls to school, sipped on my morning drink, and listened to my  audio book.
Not unlike I do every single morning.
But these mornings have been filled with immense grief, reflection, prayer, hope, and sadness these past couple weeks.
I am reminded again that God has us, He holds us in his tender care.
Everything is under control” my book reminds, a tender mercy from heaven.
After Mr. Miller reluctantly leaves for work, I get my hands busy tidying my house.
Boy does it need it’s normal,  functioning mother to run it.
It feels good to bless my family by getting my hands busy.
My heart is full of love and sadness, but the love helps hold the weight of grief from crashing down.
The grief rolls in in waves, in the little details and memories that come in so easily, and crash down so hard.
Everything is under control, I’m reminded.
I rock my baby extra long, just like I have been doing these past weeks.
My heart is healed by each session of singing lullabies together, snuggling, laughing, tickling, touching.
In the afternoon, Grae makes art while I plan out some outside landscape.
The spring air rolls in through the windows, the hope of summer tickling our noses.
Light fills the house, love swells, and the weight lessens.
Everything is under control.

 

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