unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.

"Broken" graphic, from
http://in-formatio.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/depressionslide3.png
Scripture graphic, thanks to
Welcome! I am Angie B. Prince, child of God, wife of Tommy, mother of 3, Grief and Trauma Life Coach, Psychotherapist, and Mother Grieving. On 8/2/2006, our precious 19-yr-old daughter Merry Katherine was killed along w/ 2 other teens via vehicular manslaughter. Here I share as we agonizingly process our grief and trauma. Email: MotherGrieving(at)gmail(dot)com. Coaching (Tommy or Angie): Call 865-548-4four3four / Counseling (Angie in TN) 865-604-9nine9two. I pray God will minister to you here.
Blessed Christmas! Spending Christmas without Merry There are no halls decked with holly There are no peop...
He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart.
Isaiah 40:11b
unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.



Saturday's Sayings
Facing the Heart of Grief
My soul is from elsewhere,
I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
~Rumi
*****
"You may hear their sounds and see them in the shadows. You will forget they are gone and then remember again, and your heart will break one more time."
"Grief takes just as long as it takes... it a process that may never truly end, but will always change."
~grief-remindersforhealing.com
*****
I put on a normal face to the world, but inside I am in between life & death. All I have is memories of a once very busy life. Now I stay home away from the world that is still living complaining about economy & weather. Things are different now. I am trying to come to terms with this grief but seems like it has gotten worse. All I can say, is that I am grateful for this website & the people who make me understand that we are not alone. Even if its 10 mins a day, I feel like Im not going as crazy as the rest of the world makes me think.
~R. C., Grieving Mother
*****
The mention of my child's name
...May bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring
Music to my ears.
If you are really my friend,
...Let me hear the beautiful music of his name.
It soothes my broken heart
And sings to my soul.
~Author unknown
(from Compassionate Friends website)
*****
"Giving is the secret of a healthy life...not necessarily money, but whatever a man has of encouragement and sympathy and understanding."
~John D. Rockefeller, Jr.
*****
Please mommy, dont cry, do not be sad.
Treasure the time how ever short we had.
I miss you too, but I can feel your love.
Even up here flying, like a little dove.
I know it seems scary, and you feel all alone.
No one can ever replace me, I was your own.
Your sadness means I was loved every day.
Though you cant see me, beside you I lay.
It takes so much courage, for you to go on.
I know our time together, wasnt very long.
But you now will be stronger for knowing me.
It will be okay some day mommy, you will soon see.
In the times that are hard, remember I am here.
Never far from you watching; always very near.
It isnt fair we have to live so far away.
But dont worry; I hear everything that you say.
I am with you with every step that you take.
Sending reminders I love you, for your sake.
Now forever in your heart I will stay.
~contributed by grieving mother, G. G. whose friend had shared it with her
*****
Sooner or later (or perhaps never) we let go of the hope the we will return to who we used to be, and that life will be like it used to be. How could it be? By letting go of this hope...we create an open space. That open space is the place we birth our new self. Gently, and with great courage, trust, and grace.
~Tom Zuba
*****
An affirmation to those who have lost
I believe there is no denying it.
It hurts to lose.
It hurts to lose a cherished relationship with another,
or a significant part of one's own self.
It can hurt to lose that which has united one with the past.
Or that which has beckoned one into the future.
It is painful to feel diminished or abandoned,
to be left behind or left alone.
Yet I believe there is more to losing than just the hurt and the pain.
For there are other experiences that loss can call forth.
I believe that courage often appears,
however quietly it is expressed.
However easily it goes unnoticed by others.
The courage to be strong enough to surrender,
The fortitude to be firm enough to be flexible.
The bravery to go where one has not gone before.
I believe a time of loss can be a time of learning unlike any other.
And, that it can teach some of life's most valuable lessons.
In the act of losing,
there is something to be found.
In the act of letting go,
there is something to be grasped.
In the act of saying "good-bye"...
there is a "hello" to be heard.
For I believe that living with loss is about beginnings
as well as endings.
And grieving is a matter of life more than of death.
And growing is a matter of mind and heart,
and soul more than of body.
And loving is a matter of eternity more than of time.
Finally, I believe in the promising paradoxes of loss.
In the midst of darkness,
there can come a great Light.
At the bottom of despair,
there can appear a great Hope.
And deep within loneliness,
there can dwell a great Love.
I believe these things because others have shown the way.
Others who have lost and then have grown through their losing.
Others who have suffered and then found new meaning.
So, I know I am Not alone.
I am accompanied,
day after night,
Night after day.
~Author Unknown
*****
As If
By Kristen Spexarth -
Somewhere along a lifetime most are broken
but we pretend we are not
taking up armor and masks
as if so doing we could fool the rest
as if a state of brokenness
was something to be ashamed of.
Contorted behind a smiling
and daily polished patina
we bend ourselves into pretzels for fear
a glimmer, warm and needing,
might shine through and blow our cool.
As if no one could read the details
running tickertape across our foreheads.
As if none could see our clumsy antics
tripping over bloated and rotting unattended business.
As if our single-minded hypocrisy
caused no pain.
As if we could hide from who we are,
as if who we are was hiding.
And still we are loved by those who see us
better than we see ourselves
love letting go of face forever and
taking up the heart of us
however broken.
Perhaps it is time to accept that broken is a part of place
that within these learning fields on earth
broken is a state of grace
wherein opportunity exists to learn the best
and the worst of it.
Perhaps it’s time to recognize
and embrace the way we feel
picking our broken pieces off the ground of being
learning to knit them together again
with compassion for ourselves
larger than we were before,
larger than we ever imagined,
building with a new awareness
that somehow broken opens a door
invisible before.
And with newfound wholeness, expansive,
that embraces the broken and the mending
we become alive to the possibility
of sharing our humanity.
Unbroken we can never know this.
So let go of fear of falling,
stubbing pride and dignity
embrace the lessons a lifetime brings
laughing and crying wholeheartedly.
To ride our time without a bump
in our imagined being
would be to live an epoxy bubble,
brittle, indifferent, and unmoved by beauty
untouched by an ocean of love surrounding
beckoning us to jump.
~Kristen Spexarth
Copyright © 2001
~Graciously permitted to share this poem with you by Grieving Mother, Kristen Spexarth.

Kristen Spexarth's website about her books of poems can be found at passingreflections.com ~ Thank you, Kristen!

Friday's Faith
The Haunted Eyes
We smile,
We greet family
We laugh at antics
We share stories
We take pictures...
Ah... There's the rub.
We look upon the pictures
And see...
The true story,
The story underneath the story
Of public graces and small talk.
We see
The eyes...
The face is smiling
But,
The eyes...
Are forever sad,
Not fitting into the graceful,
fun laughter
filling out the rest of our face.
The eyes are haunted...
though
Surrounded by family,
Surrounded by people,
Surrounded by love...
We are haunted
By the one who is NOT there...
Forever gone from our hearts
embrace
Forever gone from our playful
repartee
Forever gone from our reassuring
glances
Forever gone from our loving
hugs
Our eyes are haunted
As our eyes will never forget;
They are the window to our soul
And they will not lie.
We are haunted.
Our lives are destroyed
Our story has stopped
...Because you left us,
Or were taken...
And though we appear to "move on"
We never will.
Not really.
For our eyes tell us
Our world has stopped...
Even if no one around us
knows
nor accepts it,
We know:
It's over.
Our eyes tell us
What we try not to know:
Life is forever changed
With the heart amputated
from its chest walls
And the soul eviscerated
from its former happy perch
And the spirit trapped
between Heaven and earth
but no longer grounded
in this room with these people
In this here and now,
but firmly entrenched in
the Promise,
the Promise of
what is to come,
but still
the Promise...
of the
Not Yet.


Picture, thanks to Loss of an Adult or Young Adult Child Photos
Poem - The Haunted Eyes - Angie Bennett Prince - 9/8/2011
Picture of Heaven, thanks to Jill Compton
Friday's Faith
Fighting Grief…
Could God Use a Wounded Soul?
Ragamuffin, ragamuffin, do you
Stick out in this perfect crowd of people?
And wonder—how could God ever use you
When you are wounded, wasted, or feeble?
Yes, you may feel shattered, broken, rough-edged,
But who questions the Master Architect
When He chooses coal from the nasty dregs
To build His temple, despite dark defect?
Perhaps in hands of One skillful and wise,
You can be cut, polished to perfection,
Diamond-in-the-rough t’ reflect His glory;
You may try to hide, cover, or disguise
When He wants humility, submission
From you—choice rock, He picked from His quarry.
Rest yourself in His hands; let Him design;
Don’t hide who you are; to your grief resign.
To complete His plan, He may need your kind;
Surrender yourself; to Him be consigned.
The Master Architect plans His design;
It is ours to obey, yield, and resign.
Knowing in our lives He surely will shine,
We must trust the results to God Divine.
Don't be ashamed dwelling in Death's Darkness;
Love's Light hovers o'er, shining His Brightest...

Poem - Fighting Grief... Will God Use a Wounded Soul? - Angie Bennett Prince - 1/1/2009