There is a term that I need all of you to recognize before we go any further though.

Term:  TheySayers

Meaning:  Those that say the things.

So I found that most of the advice given is from these TheySayers.  For example: “They say that time heals all wounds”  ” They say that love lasts forever”  “They say that good things take time”  “They say if you love something, to set it free”  “They say that I’m crazy.”  Ok, that last one has only been said a few times.  But who are these TheySayers?! They must get tired… so much advice.

I say these things a bit facetiously, but I do understand the sentiments behind them when they are shared.  It’s the knowledge that there isn’t a perfect thing to say to someone who is picking up the pieces of their heart, who is battling cancer, who is struggling with depression, who is battling addiction, who has just lost the love of their life, who is feeling lost.  If I knew the words that could make me feel better on down days then I would have tattooed them on my face!

We’ve all adopted the TheySayers thoughts as go to’s in times of distress.  And I’m guilty too (raises hand)!  I have sat, hand in hand, with my dear friend hours after her husband died in an accident and not had one word in my mind that could possibly bring comfort or meaning to her.  I’ve sat with my 9 year old while he couldn’t sleep for nights after a traumatic loss and literally begged my brain to find the words! But once you have truly known that kind of grief, you know that the TheySayers had good intentions, but brought no comfort.

So how do we give comfort? How do we receive comfort?

We don’t put our expectations on them.

Let that soak in.  We don’t get to decide how they handle their situation.  We don’t get to decide when they should stop feeling bad.  We don’t get to judge who they want to talk to or don’t want to talk to.  We don’t get to feel bad that they didn’t take our advice.  And why?  Because every single situation is different.  It is never cut and dry.  One person’s walk through grief is explosive and angry and they are going to tell you about it, while another’s is silent and long and happens in waves and neither way is wrong.

But how do we know what to do for them, Bridget?! Good question.  I’m still working on that but the one tried and true method I have is doing two things.

1. Prayer/ Good thoughts/ Good vibes- whatever your choice is.  For me personally, I pray for God to surround them in love and comfort and provide them with the right people to help them through such a difficult time and if that’s me, then I am happy to serve.  Give them the love of your thoughts.  Don’t forget them.
2. Which leads to number two.  Has it been on your mind to call them, but maybe you haven’t because of the aforementioned, I have no clue what to say convo?  I get it.  Text them and say you just had them on your mind and you’re sending love.  It’s that simple.

To feel that you have not been forgotten, that your pain is not invisible, is a huge gift.  Don’t understand what someone else is going through? Take heart, they may not know exactly what they are going through either and may just need to know they aren’t alone.  Don’t forget them.  Their silence, while suffering, is not usually a choice.

Matthew 5:4 Says ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.’

Can we fix, can we change, can we talk it away? Probably not.  Can we comfort? Yes.  In the smallest ways anyone can bring comfort.  Never decide that what you can offer is not enough.  A text, a call, a milk shake on a random afternoon.

Let’s provide the comfort and let the TheySayers rest for a bit.

xoxo

Bridget

The post Who are “They”? appeared first on Windgate Lane.

One of my friends got a note from a girl that said do you like me, yes or no? I cringed a bit on the inside because as a girl, this sounded like a heartbreak waiting to happen.  I said what did he do with the note? Well I told him that he shouldn’t write back but he should talk to her tomorrow and ask if they could just be friends, just like you told me I should do if I ever got asked that.  This had turned into the most amazing drive home from school we had ever had!

As the only girl in our house, I have tried to be very aware of how men prefer to communicate and I’ve also tried to explain to them how it feels to be on the other side.  As my handsome young man has had some admirers before, and been embarrassed by it, we have had several conversations on what to do and say if this happens to protect both his heart and hers.  I’ve told him that it’s a very brave things to share with someone that you have feelings for them and that it shouldn’t be ignored but you also don’t have to return the same feelings.  We don’t answer notes because it’s not that simple.  It’s not a yes or no.  It’s a thank you, but I’d be happy if we could just be friends.  And it won’t be easy and you will have to be brave to go talk to her just like she was brave to ask you.

Oh my Angel, you made me so proud today.  You heard those conversations and took them to heart and then took it a step further and encouraged a brand new friend to be easy with another’s heart as well.  You won’t always take my advice and that’s fine, but this one warmed my heart so! You make me so proud and knowing that you have such a caring heart above all else, let’s me know that you are as much your grandmother as you are your grandfather.

I know you are hurting this week.  It’s a tough one.  This time last year our dear friend passed suddenly and your little heart was thrown and lost.  I prayed and prayed for your heart to heal and for you to let me help you navigate this horrible road of grief.  It wasn’t a road I wanted you to have to be on again in your short life time but we got through it.  It was months before I saw the light in your eyes again, as it had been, but it was pain that strengthened you and I know helped you to become the young man who isn’t afraid to show others how to care for broken hearts.

xoxo

Month of Thoughts and Prayers

First Entry

The post Healing Hearts appeared first on Windgate Lane.

I am in the waiting room.  I feel like I have been in the waiting room for 8 months.  It’s been a series of waiting rooms, each designed to test my faith and patience and I’m not convinced I’ve improved in either but I still see the lesson.  The first was waiting for my own surgery.  It had to be done and I had made every possible arrangement I could to ensure my family would be ok while I was out of commission.  The mom guilt was enough to want to just stay in pain.  But they would be ok, right? This felt different though because I knew I would be completely out of commission for at least two weeks.

As I waited in the waiting room with my husband, I suddenly felt panic that I had never had.  Panic that something would go wrong, that my boys would lose me as I had lost my Mom.  That waiting room will do funny things to you.  It will twist your thoughts, it will send your mind down worm holes that almost take the breath right out of you.  I ended up quickly writing letters to the four most precious people in my life.  Four men.  I wrote about the thoughts, the pain, and the heartache that they would feel and then to the strength and love that I knew would still surround them.  I wrote of individual moments and joy.  I wrote of my thankfulness.  My father, my husband, and my two sons, all waiting.

My husband sat in the waiting room without me for 9 hours that day.  Things went wrong.  The plan was changed.  I can only imagine his thoughts during that time.  But after the wait, it was time to wait some more.

The next waiting room was all internal.  I sat and I waited.  Waited to feel better, waited to feel normal, waited to see what good I could find in this huge curve ball thrown at my family.  But it wasn’t the worst waiting room to sit in.  That one was just around the corner.  The worst one was the one I never got to sit in.

The finality was deafening.  Our friend, our neighbor, the loudest laugh in our life, gone before anyone could wait or ask or pray or beg.  One phone call and all I heard was, “He’s in Heaven.”  His story is not for me to tell, but Heaven is a lucky place and I look forward to giving him a hard time again one day.

A different waiting room yet again. There is no end to this waiting room.  I’ve sat in this one before.  There are several different doors, but there is not a clear way out.  It’s grief.  It’s a weight that can’t be lifted.  My husband helped me into the viewing.  Afterwards we sat in our car both inconsolable, knowing that we had just said goodbye to not only a dear friend, but our boys had lost such a special man in their life.  So what do we wait for now? Do we wait to feel better? Do we wait to see if we can help our precious friend and her daughter out of the deepest pain they have ever known?  No, we wouldn’t wait, we would just do.  We swore right there that we would never stop helping them look for those doors out of the pain.  Even if it only gave them moments of relief.

This will be the first time on Windgate Lane that I will quote a Bible Verse.  “After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:9-10, KJV).  Thy will be done.  To me this means that I will get on my knees and relinquish what I believe should and shouldn’t be in my life. I will live in a way that waits, but doesn’t question.  How does that look? I don’t know.  It looks messy I guess.  It looks like tears, laughter, fighting exhaustion that feels unbeatable, and finding strength again and again.

Was there purpose in all this pain?  Yes.  The tears on the floor were wept in the greatest love that I have ever seen.  Because love doesn’t know bounds of life and death, it is one in the same.  Inexplicable gut wrenching beauty is seen while laying a soul to rest.  You will see every emotion mirrored by an opposite, because in that waiting room it is all the same.

So it wasn’t ever just a waiting room, it was sitting in the mirrors of emotions.  The family to my right learned that there mom’s surgery wasn’t as extensive as they had thought and would make a full recovery from her cancer.  In his overalls, this man, father, husband stood and embraced the doctor as tears fell.  He had no words.  Probably because he has sat here before.  He has sat in the uncertainty and gotten the news that didn’t bring on the same kind of tears.

The Asian family was spoken to softly and went back to see their loved one, the man was finally taken back, and then it was just me and his ring.  An hour longer than expected and the fear and thoughts started to creep in.  What would happen? What would change our plan? Would I figure it out? Would we be ok? But then I remembered… I can live in the wait… I can’t live in the question! Inevitably there isn’t a clear answer, and while we can all live in that frustration, we can also celebrate that there is never just one door to walk out of.

It was close to 4 hours that I sat silently holding his ring.  And then they opened the door and I got to cry my tears.  My tears of relief that he was ok, my tears of sadness that he would be entering a difficult recovery while I was still in one myself, and my tears of guilt that I would place the ring back on his finger and my husband was coming home when my dear friend’s didn’t.

Life is a waiting room.

The post The Waiting Room appeared first on Windgate Lane.

Paths collide and change in a heartbeat.  I had a week in my life 3 years ago that changed everything I thought would be, everything I imagined, everything I thought I was, and all I hoped to be.  I can’t say for certain that the changes were bad or good.  Grief makes it hard to tell.

The pain of loss has lessened for me and morphed into faint smiles instead of tears.  The dreams of reaching and reaching and trying to pull them back, trying to save what I couldn’t save, have stopped.  Time does heal some wounds.  It’s the empty that is hard to fill.  The space that was filled by that person, those words, that love that is reserved for that special person… our hearts are filled with those spaces and when it’s gone… it’s gone.

So you hold onto that person because the thought of physically losing a piece of your heart is unacceptable to your mind and body.  Until you aren’t strong enough to hold onto them… or you are strong enough to let go of them.  Grief is a nasty game of feeling the weakest you have ever felt and morphing it into the strongest person you will have to become.  Some days it is one in the same.  You fall to your knees in complete despair but are forced to stand moments later to raise your babies, to go to work, to fight to be the person you dreamed you were before…

But those dreams have changed.  Because without that piece of your heart, your thoughts have changed, your love has changed, the realities of life have forced thoughts and priorities that were once unimportant.

I’m quieter than I once was, my opinions have lessoned.  Not because I don’t have them or don’t care, I just don’t find it as important to try and convince.  The reality that people have their own story and their own truths has quieted me.  The fog of grief that I was initially in has lifted to see so many sides and angles to people, some good some bad, but all shaping and molding who they are both by choice and by chance.

I am flawed every single day.  But I am still trying to change my dreams to fit the new normal that grief has given me.  The extra weight I cary, the sad thoughts that creep into my mind, the bitterness and anger that decide to come out when I least expect it.   They will all be there but my hope is that I will release them easier as time plays it’s part and new dreams continue to form.

I can’t stop your hurt, but I can offer you this-  I am thinking of you and praying for your heart.  And for those who don’t know how to comfort others in these times of aching, sometimes acknowledgement of the pain is the greatest gift you can give.

Look for a smile today friends because you never know who needs it, and while you’re at it, give a few out!

xoxo

B

The post Dreams After Grief appeared first on Windgate Lane.

Hi! How are you today?

I’m good, thanks!

Such an answer.  The answer everyone gives.  The answer everyone accepts.  Was I good- no- was I going to elaborate- no.

But such is life! And in that moment, it made me pause and smile because I had answered good, when in fact, I had pneumonia, I was missing my Mom like she had just died yesterday, not over a year ago, and I felt like a fat lump.

Now don’t get me wrong, we really are in a world of over-sharers, me being one of them at times, and there really was no reason to share any of these details with these sweet people who were going to make my hair look like I didn’t have a care in the world.  But it got me thinking about their smiles and ‘I’m Goods’.

Are we all just one ‘Good’ away from a nervous breakdown? No body wants to hear a Debbie Downer.  I have worried about that ever since my Mom died.  I didn’t want to be ‘that’ person who bums everyone out, but frankly I have been bummed out!  So where can I take it? Where can I share it? Should I share it here? It will bum you out!

I’m not Debbie Downer 24hrs a day but with every rise and fall, there is a part of me that knows I would share those ups and downs with my Mom.  She is where all of the ‘Goods’ got to go.

She was where the good and bad fell.  The first call- the late call- the call.  Those lost calls have been building up in a way that is overwhelming.  Blessed, I know I was! I had her and had that soft place to land and an ear whenever I needed it.  But… yes, isn’t there always a but?  But I want her back! And it sounds so selfish but not just for what she gave me, but to feel the love of a mother.  It’s a tangible thing.  I know this now that I am a Mom.

I know how it can be the only thing to make you feel better and how it’s the biggest responsibility you can ever have.  Because there are those that don’t take the Mom Job to heart.  They don’t realize that every look, every response, every hug, every moment spent, can shape your child in a way that only a Mom can.

Was my Mom perfect, no.  Am I? God no.  But man I hope that I can be that place for my boys to fall.  That place for the ‘I’m Good’ to take a break and let the truth pour out.

So forgive me if my truth pours out in random moments- sometimes the distance between the ‘Good’ and the truth is wider than I wish it were.

xoxo

B

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