Thursday, October 14, 2010

Pray the Power of Love



Psalm 116:5-7

Gracious is the LORD, and righteous;
our God is merciful.

The LORD protects the simple;
when I was brought low, he saved me.

Return, O my soul, to your rest,
for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.


"Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent then the one derived from fear of punishment."
~Gandhi~

There is no power greater than Love. Let us come this week bringing, simply, our lowly hearts longing for the rest of prayer. In these, let us bring them to the power of Love. Let us come in our longing for its bonds of grace and mercy, the bounty of which is the only power which can truly save. Let us come praying that the powers of fear and castigation will, at long last, lose their fierce-some grip, and that the gentle grace and mercies of Love’s heart will return our hearts to their rest. Let us come in prayer hoping that our hearts might know such bounty of the eternal power that we might act in Love’s effect a thousand-and-one times more with every bit of power entrusted to our care. Amen.

Friday, October 1, 2010

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

Bereaved Parents Wish List



1. I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back.


2. I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you also.


3. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.


4. I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing his pictures, artwork, or other remembrances from your home.


5. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.


6. I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but, I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.


7. I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know those things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.


8. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.

9. I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that he is dead.


10. I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.


11. I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.


12. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.


13. When I say "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't "feel" okay and that I struggle daily.


14. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.


15. Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.


16. Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.


17. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.


18. I wish very much that you could understand; understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. BUT I pray daily that you will never understand.