Our Wonderfully Made

Sharing Our Joy

It Feels Good to Share!

You know when you’re really excited about something, and itching to tell everyone around you? I remember waking up the morning after Branton and I got engaged and I literally could not wait to even get out of bed before calling all my closest friends to share the good news. I was so excited I could barely dial their phone number straight. And then going out in public – I would seriously hesitate at any cash register a few moments longer than necessary, waiting to see if this complete stranger across from me would notice my ring and ask if I was engaged. To which I would happily reply, “Why, yes I am! My fiance’s name is Branton, we are getting married in Mexico next year, let me tell you about our proposal story…” Even though I’m sure most people could not care less where or when we were getting married, most seemed genuinely happy to entertain me by allowing me to share my good news.

I believe we are drawn to people who are so passionate about what’s going on in their lives, that they can’t wait to share with you what’s on their heart. There’s an innate connection that happens, and we’re drawn to find out what it is that has got this person so wired; what is the good news? So we listen, intrigued, and a connection is formed. Sometimes it’s not just the exciting, good news that we are eager to share. Perhaps its a discovery made, like when I learned from a co-worker at Starbucks as a teenager, that chicken fingers and honey dill sauce are in fact, not a healthy choice (I’ve come a long way, you guys). Or the urge to share when you find a really good warehouse sale with markdowns 90%!

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Sharing Others’ News

“Did You Hear?”

And then there are times when we are wired to share when we hear of things that are not going so well, that everyone’s talking about: a school shooting, a couple gone missing while on vacation, the mother and father who have lost a child… We hear these stories on the news, or from a friend of a friend, and we feel the urge to share with our friends and family during our phone chat, or our coffee date. Our voices lower, and we whisper, “Did you hear what happened?”, “Yes, it’s terrible”. During these times I believe we feel the need to share and discuss this news, to try and make sense of it, and find comfort as it can be scary to hear of awful happenings close to home, whether in our country, our city, our church community, our neighbourhood, etc.

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When Shit Hits the Fan

Not So Lovely

But what happens when the bad stuff really hits home? What happens when it’s your story? It’s not so easy to share the tough stuff when it’s your tough stuff. It’s so much easier to share stories of excitement in your life, or stories of others hardships. It tends to get a little awkward, scary, uncertain, all of the above, when it comes to our own tough stories. I love how Brene Brown puts it in her book, Rising Strong:

“We’ve all fallen, and we have the skinned knees and bruised hearts to prove it.
But scars are easier to talk about than they are to show,
with all the remembered feelings laid bare.
And rarely do we see wounds that are in the process of healing.
I’m not sure if it’s because we feel too much shame to let anyone see a process
as intimate as overcoming hurt, or if it’s because even when we muster the courage
to share our still-incomplete healing, people reflexively look away.” 

― Brené Brown, Rising Strong

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To Shout or Not to Shout?

Our Journey

When we lost Lyric, I wrestled with whether to share our grief, or keep it bottled inside. A few thoughts were racing through my mind, putting fear in my heart, holding me back from sharing

1. I’ll look weak.
2. I’ll look like a failure.
3. People will pity me.
4. I’ll be seen as an attention-seeker.
5. There are others going through much worse in the world than me right now.

I vividly remember sitting in the Millennium Library as I contemplated clicking the “Share” button. Shortly following the list of fears, I then thought, “I’m being so full of myself! No one will even care what I’m going through anyways.” Which ironically, gave me some courage, because then I figured, well why do I care if they think those things I’m scared of, truly? This is who I am. This is what happened. This is real. It is now part of my story, and has forever changed me. There is no going back to erase the memory, nor do I want to erase this memory, as painful as it is. After I made the decision, with Branton’s blessing, to click “Share”, I was blown away by what happened next.

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Community is Awesome

People Really Do Care

People did care. Some cared a lot actually. And they didn’t care in a negative, “Oh my goodness, that is so awkward, can you believe she publicized that? She is so weak.” (Or at least if they did,  they kept it to themselves.) Hearts broke with ours, and we now had an army of support alongside us to help pick up the shattered pieces. Women (and men) – some friends, some acquaintances, and even some strangers – opened their hearts and shared with us their own stories of loss. Their own heartache. Some were a source (and still are) of mutual comfort, others brought encouragement, and still yet others brought stories of hope and miracles. It was SO powerful.

When I looked at these people who decided to pause and take time out of their day to reach out and connect with us, especially those who had been in similar dark places before, I immediately thought how STRONG these people were. Of how they were pictures not of failure, but of courage and strength. I didn’t pity them. Actually, all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around them, and thank them for sharing with me.

Those messages that came pouring in were a huge source of comfort and healing. I pasted each and every one into my Lyric journal, and still to this day I look back on them. When I’m feeling sad, overwhelmed by this journey, or exceptionally heartbroken missing our little ones, I’ll flip through the pages, and pick a few messages to read to lift me back up.

If you were one of those who took the time to send a message or share with me – my deepest thanks to you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am so glad that we decided to share this part of our life with you, along with the joys.

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The Love of Our Father

Hallelujah

In church Sunday morning, we sang one of my favourite songs (albeit a more upbeat version), by All Sons & Daughters, called “All the Poor and Powerless”.  This song make me happy cry, for the joy I feel knowing how much my wonderful God and Father loves and care for me, even more than anyone of those special people who shared with us! It’s hard to believe that He can love me more than that, especially as he knows all my sin and shortcomings. Yet He stll loves me so much. Even though I don’t always get it right (I’ve said before – more times than I’d like to admit, I don’t!!), I know my strength comes from Him alone.

Even through we once again wade the rough waters of miscarriage, I find I am feeling so much joy this past week. I know that would not be possible without those praying over us, and His love and grace for me. It’s truly incredible to feel this kind of peace and security through this heartache.

The chorus of this song always brings tears to my eyes, trying to wrap my head around how powerful He is:

Shout it
Go on and scream it from the mountains
Go on and tell it to the masses
That He is God

We will sing out
Hallelujah
And we will cry out
Hallelujah

You can listen to the song on Spotify here:

I find for the same reasons it is hard to share the hurt and pain in our life, especially as we are walking through it, it can also be hard to share our faith with others. How much greater is my God than the last sale I encountered, yet how much quicker am I to share that with more excitement? We are so held back when we live in fear of what others think of us, allowing their opinions to define us. I’d like to think that I’ve come a long way from being that girl who was defined by others, but I know there is always work to be done.

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International Bereaved Mothers Day

May 7, 2017

Yesterday was International Bereaved Mothers Day, allowing room for those moms with empty arms, to freely speak of their babies and share their story. A day to honouor moms who maybe don’t look like a mom walking down the street pushing a stoller, but inside are continuously thinking of their baby(ies). To honour those moms who have children at home, yet missing a baby in their family photos, even though they hold them dearly in their heart.

I think it is so wonderful to have a day to recognize bereaved mothers, as it often times can feel like a lonely journey. I hope we can get to the day were we are comfortable speaking of our angel babies without people “looking reflexively away”.

If you haven’t shared your story of loss and have a desire to, I encourage you to do so. Even if only with a close friend, maybe someone who has also gone through a loss of this nature (you may be surprised to hear which friends have).  Allow them to help you through the heartache. You don’t have to feel alone in this journey. It doesn’t have to be public, or a big announcement, either. All I know for sure is how grateful I am for the support we’ve been blessed with, and the people I have encountered along the way. I am so grateful for this journey for moulding me to who I am today, always growing, and especially for those special people now in my life, whom I likely would never have met otherwise. Community is magical!

Have you shared your story of loss? How did you feel when you shared with a friend?
How do you cope with Mother’s Day around the corner?
I’d love to connect with you further!