Guest Post: Anne Payne

I asked my friend, Anne Payne, if I could share her poem on my blog today.  So glad she said I could.  Here is a guest post from her, including her beautiful flower photo.

~*~*~*~

Today, May 13th, marks the third anniversary of my oldest daughter, my firstborn, being ushered into her eternal home. I wrote this poem during the Writing the Heartache grief workshop by author Alice Wisler, a grieving mom herself. Writing has been instrumental in the grief process and I haven't shared much of it, but today I wanted to share this poem. Amy had delicate hands and she loved to have them held. And I loved to hold them. I miss that. I miss her.

hands

tiny and weak

your newborn hands,

cradled protectively

within my own,

sweet kisses from my lips

cover them in prayer.

slender and cool

your delicate hands,

entwined  gently

within my own,

hot tears and desperate kisses

blanket them in prayer.

warm and strong

your beautiful hands,

reaching out

enfolded safely,

for all eternity

held by Another.

creased and worn,

my cold hands

rest empty,

wet with tears

and

silent prayers.

 By Anne Payne

April 24^th 2013

Making It Real: An All-Day Writing Workshop

I love it when people ask when my next all-day writing workshop will be. These workshops produce so much wonderful discovery, spiritual growth, and encouraging fellowship between those who attend. We eat, share, write, cry, and drink lots of tea and coffee. The meeting room is a large conference room at the Hampton Inn in Raleigh/Cary, North Carolina.

So since there is an interest, now there will be a workshop!

This all-day workshop is open to anyone who wants to discover the benefits of writing from heartache. There are many sorrows in life; writing through them brings healing, health and hope! Join us if you are going through or have been through a rough season and want to find helpful ways to pen your anger, lessons learned, frustration, or even joy. Let's be authentic! Let's make it real.

Be sure to sign up today to get the Early Bird Special!

Making It Real:

An All-Day Workshop of

Writing From the Heart


Date: Saturday, August 8, 2015

Time: 9:00 AM to 4 PM

Location: Hampton Inn and Suites

111 Hampton Woods Lane, Raleigh, NC 27607

Phone:(919) 233-1798




Facilitated by Alice J. Wisler



Alice is a bereaved mother, author of six novels, one devotional, a cookbook compiler (in memory of children), freelance writer, social worker, and instructor of many writing through grief workshops. She travels the country presenting her workshops of healing, health and hope.





In addition to having plenty of time to freely write, we'll focus on the following:

*Emotions in writing and how to make them real in our work

*How to write realistic dialogue

*What to leave in, what to keep out of our writing

*Tips for self-critiquing our own work

* Learning from the Greats --- how to write better prose

* Discovering our unique voices in our writing

* How to help others through our tough seasons



A light breakfast and lunch, as well as snacks, will be provided and are included in your workshop fee.



What you need to bring:

*Your own notebook or journal

*A comfortable pen




Click here to: Sign up today!

Guest blogger: Connie Stevens

Today I welcome Connie Stevens to the Writing the Heartache Blog. Good to have you here, Connie.

~*~*~*



After my son died in 2006, my writing took a hiatus. I couldn’t find it within me to create anything, much less a happily-ever-after. So I fell back onto the profusion of Post-It notes stuck throughout my Bible on which I had scribbled down my thoughts, prayers, devotions, and those precious nuggets God gave me during the months of our cancer journey. These heart lessons became lifelines, pulling me from the depths of my grief, and for months I worked rewriting those notes. The compilation turned into a collection of devotionals that was rejected by every publishing house to which I submitted. Despite discouragement blending with my ongoing sorrow, I decided perhaps the writing of the devotionals was purely therapeutic—part of my own healing process. But I was still at loose ends, not only in regards to the direction for my writing, but also my own self-identity.

While I was comforted by God’s constant assurance that Jonathan was Home and safe and whole and cancer-free, there was a raw, gaping wound in my heart. Jonathan was healed, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t a mother anymore, I wasn’t a caregiver anymore, and it seemed I wasn’t a writer either.

The story I had begun at the time of my son’s illness languished in my files. When I pulled it up and looked over the storyline, it read as though someone else had written it—someone I didn’t know. The characters were strangers—Who were these people? Nothing about the synopsis felt familiar. I closed the file and stared at the blank screen.

I sought God’s face and asked, “Lord, where do I go from here? If You want me to continue to write, show me. How do I pick up the shattered brokenness of my heart and assemble the fragments back into a whole?”

Leaning on the Lord’s strength, I made myself pull that barely-started manuscript back out. If He was still calling me to write, He would give me the story and help me breathe life into the faceless characters. So I labored over the chapters, but no matter how long or hard I worked, there was still something missing.

Later that year I took my hollow story to a novelist retreat. One of the workshops, taught by the best-selling, award-winning author, DiAnn Mills, was about injecting more emotion into the opening scene. She started out by instructing everyone to take a sheet of paper, close their eyes and think of the worst thing that ever happened to them. Blindsided, I sat paralyzed for the space of several seconds. What could be worse than sitting at the bedside of my only child and watching him take his last breath? Then DiAnn did the unthinkable: she instructed us to write out the scene.

I stared at the blank paper. Could I actually craft the words to depict the events of that moment when I said my last goodbye? I had never considered writing it all out. Writing the devotionals had been different. They were kisses of truth God taught me during the darkest days of our cancer journey. But forming the words to spill my most heart-rending emotions onto the page—could I do that?

Oh God, how do I slice open my heart and lay it bare and vulnerable, throwing light on the hidden, secret places of my grief?

I pushed the pen across the paper and the words began to flow along with my tears. DiAnn stepped quietly to my side and gently whispered if the exercise was too hard, I didn’t have to do it. It was then I realized that, yes, I did have to do it. For more than three years since Jonathan’s Home-going, I had kept my deepest sorrow shuttered away when all the while God was patiently waiting for me to simply trust Him with my most private emotions.

Through the vehicle of putting words on paper—and some gentle prodding by a godly mentor—my imprisoned emotions found freedom. The scene spilled out, barely a trickle at first, but gaining momentum, until a waterfall cascaded forth. I wrote it all—the pain, the conflict, the bewilderment, the guilt, the anguish of my heart--until I was spent.

Then DiAnn told the class to use those same emotions and rewrite the opening scene of our stories, and give those emotions to our characters. For the first time, I saw my character breathe. Her pulse pounded in my ears, and her tears flowed down my cheeks. Her voice echoed from my heart when I infused her with those intimate emotions I’d kept sequestered for so long.

I had not considered my fiction writing as an outlet for the feelings I’d bound up. I had come to realize people didn’t understand the depth of my grief, and that was okay. I didn’t expect them to understand. I praised God they didn’t understand, and prayed they would never understand. But here was a way—cracking open the doorway to allow people to glimpse a shattered heart and perhaps in doing so, they could gain a new perspective into compassion.

2nd Corinthians 1:3-4 says, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. God does not comfort us to make us comfortable. He comforts us to make us comforters. If God can use my grief to minister to another heart, if He can use my writing to illustrate compassion, then I’m willing to let Him have all of me. He has made anew my perspective into the direction for my writing, and He didn’t waste a single one of my tears.

~ By Connie Stevens
Connie Stevens lives with her husband of forty-plus years in north Georgia, within sight of her beloved mountains. She and her husband are both active in a variety of ministries at their church. A lifelong reader, Connie began creating stories by the time she was ten. Her office manager and writing muse is a cat, but she’s never more than a phone call or email away from her critique partners. She enjoys gardening and quilting, but one of her favorite pastimes is browsing antique shops where story ideas often take root in her imagination. Connie has been a member of American Christian Fiction Writers since 2000. You can read more about her books at this Amazon link.

Connect with Connie:
Website & blog: www.conniestevenswrites.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ConnieStevensAuthor
Twitter: @AuthorConnie

Latest releases:
Threads of Time Also at Amazon
A Place of Refuge

Quotes on love and loss

Here are some quotes I find true about love and loss.

~*~*~*
Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson



When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. -Henri Nouwen


She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts. ~ George Eliot

I measure every grief I meet with narrow, probing eyes - I wonder if it weighs like mine - or has an easier size.
~ Emily Dickinson


We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. -- Kenji Miyazawa


The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion to death.- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross


While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil. ~ John Taylor

The Value of Sending Balloons Up to Heaven

[Post was first posted at Hub Pages 2012]


A balloon is not just a bunch of air contained in a casing and made to bob in the atmosphere. A colorful balloon can hold a deeper meaning. Balloons are significant for conveying messages and love up to Heaven.

When my four-year-old son died, I found a renewed beauty in balloons. By composing a message on a piece of paper, I could attach the paper onto the balloon string, tie a knot, and send the balloon into the air. What a way to convey my feelings to my son! And not only that, but by watching the balloon sail into the sky, up over the trees---where I could not go on my own---I felt comfort.

My messages always end with "I love and miss you, Daniel". Some parents write a message of apology or remorse, asking to be forgiven.

I like to go to the graveyard where my son is buried. Sometimes I hold a balloon memorial with friends and family on significant dates. On cue, we unleash a couple of balloons into the air. We shield our eyes from the sun and watch until the last balloon has disappeared from our sight.

Masses of helium balloons going into the air are both a profound and lovely sight. The volume of them lifting into the heavens speaks to the broken hearts remaining on earth.

Have you lost a loved one? Consider sending a balloon with a message into the sky. Watch your balloon soar and your spirits lift. Find the healing that comes with the release of a simple balloon of remembrance into the beyond.

Love lives on.

Book Review in The Christian Chronicle for Getting Out of Bed in the Morning

I haven't posted here in a long time. This year, I vow to give this blog just as much attention as I give my Patchwork Quilt Blog. Which isn't terribly much, but better than I have been taking care of this one.


Below is a book review I found today and wanted to share it. Not only does John Dobbs review my devotional, but other grief and loss books, too. For the full article at The Christian Chronicle, go here.

Alice J. Wisler. Abilene, Texas: Leafwood Publishers, 2013. 176 pages. $13.99. Order your copy here.

~*~*~* REVIEW

For those who desire a daily companion to encourage them along the journey of grief, "Getting Out of Bed in the Morning: Reflections of Comfort in Heartache" by Alice J. Wisler is a good choice. Wisler, a well-known Christian novelist, writes 15 years after the loss of her 4-year-old son, Daniel, to cancer. This book is written as a daily devotional and is divided into sections that accompany one along the path of loss and sorrow.

Each of the 40 devotionals offers Scripture, encouragement and prayer. At the end of each chapter is a thought to consider during a daily walk. The devotions speak to various familiar aspects of grief in a gentle but helpful manner.

This could easily become the book that friends may keep on hand to give to those who suffer losses. It has an excellent message, is easily read and contains practical suggestions for each day that will be a blessing to those who have suffered losses. I look forward to sharing it with others.


~ JOHN DOBBS is preaching minister for the Forsythe Avenue Church of Christ in Monroe, La. He and his wife, Margaret, have two children, one of whom died in 2008 at the age of 18. Dobbs travels and presents a Bible-based seminar, “Getting Acquainted with Grief.” Contact him via his blog, JohnDobbs.com, for more information.

Why Entering a New Year Can Be Tough

When the ball at Times Square drops, champagne corks pop. Ample hugs and kisses are dispensed all around.

A new year, new hope, new ventures, new possibilities. Wow, it’s all so exciting!

However, for the parent who has lost a child in the previous year, the dawning of a new calendar year can be rough. In fact, most of the time, it is.

Daniel died at age four in February 1997 and entering 1998 was hard. My mind was filled with questions like: What am I doing entering a new year without him? How can this be? Why do I get to live and he died?

I was overcome with the feeling that I was leaving him behind. Because there it was, a fresh untouched year and I knew that none of the 365 days in it would contain a hug from him. There would be no new memories, no sixth birthday to watch him blow out the candles. 1998 was the year he was to start first grade and be in school with his big sister.

How could I be excited about a new year?

Change isn’t easy for many of us. While most want to get rid of an old used year, and enter something new and hopeful, for the bereaved mother or father, that is not always the case. Many can say, “Good riddance to 2013; it was a lousy year.” But for others, that was the year their son or daughter died, and moving from it, means a parent is moving further from the last time he or she saw her/his child.

Bereaved parents have fragile hearts. They might look okay, wear matching socks, use the correct salad fork, and even smile, but deep down in the fibers of their heart, they are struggling. Life seems so normal for everybody else-----but them. They can think life is easy for others---but them. Getting out of bed can be a major accomplishment. Celebrating holidays can be consumed with sadness instead of happiness.

If you have a bereaved friend, help her/him by letting this year be a year where she/he can freely share stories about a deceased son or daughter. Let those in your lives with broken hearts speak of the memories etched in their minds. Let your friends know that you will not forget their children for however short or long these children lived.

So, it’s a new year. May we all strive to make it an empathetic 2014 where we learn richly from one another.

Three Workshops to Benefit YOU!

I will be facilitating three workshops this spring/summer on writing.

Write to Create will be held in Raleigh, NC at the Comfort Inn near
Crabtree Mall on June 15 and is for all writers who want to learn the nuts and bolts of not just the craft, but of the industry. We will be spending time talking about writing query letters that sell and proposals for non-fiction books as well as how to obtain an agent. If you are interested in self-publishing a book, we will learn the steps needed to take to do that. Read more here.


Writing to a Healthier You! will be held at the Hampton Inn in Norcross, GA on June 22. Fellow bereaved mom, author and counselor, Mary Jane Cronin, will be teaching this workshop on grief-writing with me. We'll share how effective writing can be and exercises to make your writing time beneficial. Register here.


Journey through Life's Losses will be on July 27 at the Hampton Inn in Raleigh, NC and will focus on writing through many of life's losses. We'll dive into the emotions that expand from grief and talk about how instrumental writing is for health, hope and healing as we create many works of prose and poetry.
Sign up today.

Join us!

Guest post: JoAnn Swearingen

Today I welcome fellow American Christian Fiction Writer, JoAnn Swearingen, to my blog.

~*~*~*

My husband and I bonded early on in our relationship. Needless-to-say, his loss over a year ago was devastating. After the funeral service, one of my daughters gave me the best gift I could have received-a journal with this inscription in the front, "Mom, this journal is just for you as you start anew."

I wrote almost daily, and my widow's walk took an unexpected turn. The chronicle became a way for me not only to explore my struggles but also the relationship my husband and I shared. This led to finding closure to a special chapter of my life and let it become a springboard toward wholeness. My purpose then became to let the story of the magic of our romance be a legacy to the children. To toggle in on and share with them why and how our relationship managed to remain strong through the years.

The journal is the story of how we built our life together one brick at a time. Sometimes we threw the bricks at each other, but that special something, our romance, kept us strong. I jotted down such things as how we met, even what songs were popular at the time because the tunes seemed to fit into our budding relationship. How at times he stepped out of his comfort zone to protect me, and how I had to learn not to let his feelings for me be his demise. And how we seemed to have a spiritual connection that had nothing to with outward physical appearance. A connection that was
always fresh and new and transcended age. How it took quite a while to reach that level, but once we did, it sustained us, gave us a zest for life.

One song in particular that has sustained me is "You'll Never Walk Alone," "When you walk through a storm, keep your head up high and you'll never walk alone."

Molly Fumia in Safe Passage writes, "Now that he is gone, never
hesitate to tell his story. He has left you behind with treasures to be
shared. When you remember, your memories are sent far into the future, a
sweet heritage for all those who will come after."


~ JoAnn Swearingen is the South Central Kansas area coordinator for ACFW, belongs to the SouthCentral chapter, is a member of Oil Painters of America, and Kansas Academy
of Oil Painters. Her life verse is "I will instruct you says the Lord and guide
you along the best pathway for your life; I will advise you and watch your
progress." Psalms 32:8 (The Living Bible)

Visit her websites:
http://www.joannswearingenauthor.com
http://www.joannswearingenfineart.com

Sandy Hook Comfort Project at Gifts With A Heart

I love events that come from the brainstormings of others. The staff at Gifts With A Heart have something special planned for Friday, January 25 from 6 to 9 PM. There will music by Converting Hearts, door prizes, refreshments and an opportunity to shop at this unique store. The evening is part of the Sandy Hook Comfort Project, a project that started in December 2012, shortly after the tragic shooting at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newton, CT. Some of Alice's friends suggested her new devotional, Getting Out of Bed in the Morning, be sent to the families who lost beloved children to death on 12/14/12. The Project has morphed into a large and wide-spread outpouring so that now books will be sent not just to the families, but to others in the Sandy Hook community who were affected by the horrible shooting (first responders, teachers, clergy, hospital staff, etc.).

GETTING OUT OF BED IN THE MORNING and Alice's son Daniel (8/25/92--2/2/97)


On January 25 you will have an opportunity to purchase a copy or two of Getting Out of Bed in the Morning for the Sandy Hook Comfort Project. Books will be shipped to the United Methodist Church in Sandy Hook for distribution by the end of this month. Each book will be autographed by Alice and sent with a letter, listing the names and cities of all the donors. The families who lost loved ones will have copies of their books personalized with the name of their child.

Join us for this meaningful time!


Gifts With A Heart
2889 Jones Franklin Road
Swift Creek Shopping Center
Raleigh, NC 27606


To read more about The Sandy Hook Comfort Project, head over to Alice's Patchwork Quilt Blog.

You can also read reviews for Getting Out of Bed in the Morning.

Hop over to see the merchandise at
Gifts With A Heart.

Time Heals? I Am Still Caught Off-guard (repost)

Here it comes . . .

After all these years, I didn't expect it to hit me. Hasn't time wiped away the surge of grief?

To another mother (one who gets grief because her son died, too) I wrote:

"The roller coaster ride is about to begin . . . Actually, it already has and for whatever reason, has caught me off-guard. Why do we think we can escape the memories of such sorrowful days? Why do we think that time takes care of restoring our eyes so that they will no longer shed tears? And oh, when other moms speak of trite scrapes and bruises their children have had, why do we still gasp at what we have endured?"

On a recent morning, seated among other moms, the conversation turned to kids and their childhood illnesses. I tried to listen, but when the comments were made of how bad one mom had had it, all I could think was: But your child was rescued. Your child lived.

Memories of Daniel's last days that led up to his death bombarded me as I tried to add to the topic without talking about his demise. I spoke of a time my husband and I got hepatitis A shortly after Daniel was born. How hard it had been to nurse him and hold him then. How weary it was to care for him and his older sister Rachel when my internal organs ached and I was the color of mustard left out in the sun.

But as I shared this bit of history, my heart was not fooled. My heart knew that story in comparison to Daniel's cancer-related death was a mere walk in the park.

Years ago I would have acknowleged my pain, making sure people knew of my son's death and the agony it brought. This day I didn't feel the need to. After all, these mothers knew of my loss. Surely, one of them would suddenly remember that I had watched my son breathe his last breath. Or even if they didn't mention it, that was okay.

I would be normal today. After nearly sixteen years since my child's death, couldn't I push the thoughts of rushing to the ER, of watching his bloated body aside? Couldn't I have a normal story to tell?

It didn't help that the day was drizzly. I drove home from the gathering with an acute awareness of the scar on my heart. I felt lonely, distant from those who knew not of the continual sorrow bereaved mothers face.

Yet, I was not lonely for long. Those who have also buried children gone too soon, were waiting to greet me in this wonderful world of cyberspace. Their virtual hugs and words of understanding gave me the consolation I needed.

And as I write in my new book, Getting Out of Bed in the Morning, "Bottled up grief can make our hearts heavy; sharing it with a friend, even the friend of a journal, can alleviate some of our confusion, frustration, or loneliness."

I am not a freak. I am not crazy. And I am not alone.

I am a mother who misses her Daniel.

Yes, even after all these long, long years.

And to me, that's what is perfectly normal.

~ Alice J. Wisler

To order a copy of Getting Out of Bed in the Morning, visit Amazon.

[This was first posted at my Patchwork Quilt Blog.]

Alice on the radio

Tune into my BlogTalkRadio show, Writing the Heartache, for a chance to win something this Friday at noon (EST)! I'll be talking about my newest book, Getting Out of Bed in the Morning.

Just click on this link to find out how to call into the show to listen in on Friday. Or wait for the podcast to be posted. Either way, listen to the segment by Sunday, the 9th, so that you will be eligible for the giveaway! (You have to listen to hear what the giveaway is.)

Getting Out of Bed in the Morning has forty chapters and on the show on Friday, I'll be talking about chapter seven, Rescue Me!

Join us!

Get ready for 2013: An all-day workshop for you!

I am excited to announce that one of my all-day writing workshops is just around the corner!

Join us for Journey Through Life's Losses, a workshop where we'll focus on writing from grief and loss. We'll write poetry, letters, from mementoes, and essays about our lives. We'll read from memoir writers like Mitch Albom and Rick Bragg.

This course is open to anyone; so sign up today.

Are you in the midst of troubling or sorrowful circumstances? Do you want to discover how writing from your pain can benefit you in a healthy and healing way?

A small group setting is an ideal place to learn the various tips and techninques to make your writing work for you, grow in your poetry and prose, and even pen words to reach others in sorrow.

Join us for this writing journey together!


WHEN: Saturday, January 19, 2013

TIME: 9 AM to 4 PM

WHERE: Abundant By Nature Wellness Center (a beautiful secluded campus)
781 Mt. Carmel Road
Chapel Hill, NC

INSTRUCTOR: Alice J. Wisler----author, speaker, bereaved mom, and grief-writing teacher

Alice is the author of five southern novels (Rain Song, How Sweet It Is, Hatteras Girl, A Wedding Invitation and Still Life in Shadows) and a new devotional, Getting Out of Bed in the Morning: Reflections of Comfort in Heartache, as well as a contributor to many magazines and websites.

Listen to Alice on her Writing the Heartache BlogTalkRadio show.

Light breakfast, catered lunch, snacks, and instructional materials provided for $110.00.

Sign up today!


Send check for $110.00 to Alice Wisler at:
201 Monticello Avenue
Durham, NC 27707

OR

use the PayPal button below.

Partial scholarships available. To be considered for one, contact Alice at info@alicewisler.com

The Arrival of Getting Out of Bed in the Morning

"You are a work of art in progress."

Yesterday, I was the happy recipient of a box of books titled Getting Out of Bed in the Morning. My two daughters (my son was at work) and husband were able to share in some of my excitement over the contents with me. My daughters breathed in the aroma of the pages, something I've taught them to do. There is nothing like the special scent of a newly-published book. Especially when your name is on the cover as the author.

Holding a copy of my devotional was a dream come true. I savored the feel of both the book and my heart. This book is compiled of forty devotions and a large piece of my broken heart.

In 1997 my son Daniel died after eight months of cancer treatments. He was four. I was thirty-six. I was angry with God for not healing him. The cancer hadn't killed him; it was the severe treatments that compromised his body. A staph infection took over and eventually his heart stopped. He died in my arms.

I was pregnant at the time. While my baby kicked inside the womb, my son gritted his teeth and left this earth. Three months to the day of his death, my fourth child, Elizabeth was born.

Getting out of bed each morning after Daniel's death was surreal. How could my son be gone? How could I still be alive? What was wrong with God? Why hadn't he saved my little boy from death? How would I live now? What was the point of going on?

I wrestled with questions, primarily to God. Why? How come? How could you? Why?

I wanted to die.

I didn't get to.

Instead, I put one foot in front of the other. And at the end of each day, I went to bed and woke to try again the next morning. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time. Deep breaths.

I would never ask God for anything again.

I knew too well that He could say, No.

Journaling was a lifeline. So was the support of the Wake County, North Carolina Compassionate Friends group. Some books helped. I wrote articles that made it into print magazines. I founded Daniel's House Publications and through it, compiled two cookbooks of recipes and memories in memory of children, who like my Daniel, had died way too soon. Slices of Sunlight came out in 1999 and two years later, Down the Cereal Aisle followed. I had an online newsletter.

I cried and missed my son. Birthdays came and I sent balloons up to him in Heaven. Christmases made me hollow and I was glad when the season ended.

I spoke at conferences. I taught on the benefits of writing through grief. I met some wonderful people---real people----the kind that know they are broken and that life is not for wimps.

I wanted to write a book on how God fit into my struggle. Believe me, I tried. I had agents and editors interested, but nothing stuck.

Until . . .

Last year, Leafwood Publishers said, Yes! This publisher took my fragile mother's heart and said, We believe in you. We read your words. You do have something to say.

I wrote Getting Out of Bed in the Morning to offer a morsel of hope to those without. I want to share with others that although they are weak and struggle, they aren't alone. God is the provider of the daily bread, the wisdom, the cup of cold water, the balm of healing, the hope of tomorrow. He has this awesome thing called sustaining grace. He supplies it. And He loves us, no matter how battered we might feel.

God is for the broken hearted.

God is for you.


To order an autographed copy of Getting Out of Bed in the Morning , head over to my Broken Psalms blog (join it, if you'd like) and visit the Rivers of Life Gift Shop.

[This post also appears on my Broken Psalms blog and my Writing the Heartache blog.]

Journaling from heartache

Journaling from heartache for clarity, freedom and hope


Do you journal? Or do you want to, but aren’t sure how to start? Perhaps your mind is muddled with all that life has thrown at you. The days are long, tedious, and your current heartache has brought you to a place of despair.

In all the murkiness, it’s hard to see the benefits that writing can have on your life. Yet, writing is a beautiful tool and used often, it can alleviate some of the confusion that plays in your mind and heart. By incorporating writing into your daily routine, you will see what a healthy life-sustaining activity it is. All you need is time, a pen and a journal.

First off, writing brings clarity. When you place a few lines about your situation or your emotions down on paper, you are then able to clarify what’s transpiring inside. While your thoughts might be a mass of uncertainty as you go about your day-to-day responsibilities, seeing your written words produces lucidity. From there you can ponder upon what is going on, how you feel and what you want to happen. Emotions can be bottled, but pouring them out onto paper unleashes them so that your journal can carry them for you. Sometimes reading your very words brings a better knowledge of what your real situation is about. Writing allows you to state your struggles black on white.

Writing produces freedom. If you can write with honesty (your mother or English teacher is not looking over your shoulder to censor what you want to say) and let your unfiltered words onto the page, there is freedom. I recall how freeing it was to set a time each day to write what I wanted. My four-year-old son had just died and there were days that putting one foot in front of the other was all I could do. Yet, my mind was a constant stage of emotions, anguish and yearning. Knowing that my journal greeted me at the end of each day was like meeting with an old friend. I wrote with abandonment, without editing and without worry that anyone would read my words. And yes, some of what I wrote was downright truthful and not nice, but it sure freed me.

Writing shares hope. As you see growth in your writing and in the situations you are dealing with, you can choose to let others know what you have learned. Much of our heartache is like bleeding on paper. Yet, in time, we might cultivate our thoughts and actually produce an article or poem to share. One person’s pain and what she has learned from her journal entries, can transform into an article about how to help someone else going through a divorce, death, illness or job loss. While journals are private, what we choose to share can profit the lives of others. Like leaves on a wet path, your journey can have portions of beauty others can glean from and claim as their own.

Let writing unveil its benefits to you as you embrace it as a tool for clarity, freedom and hope!

~ Alice J. Wisler would love for you to join her new wriitng course, Journey Through Life's Losses. Sign up today.

Guest post: Mary Jane Cronin

The Unthinkable has happened; you have just been told your child is dead.

For a mother, the emotions surrounding the loss of a child is like a child’s first day at a new school. Although people who may be nice and want to help you get through the experience surround you, you feel alone and isolated. I lost Jeremy two years ago, and yet it feels like it was just yesterday. During those first few weeks I must have heard from friends and family, “ How you are getting through such a horrible situation? I do not know if I could do it if I were you”. Comments such as this made me wonder how other mothers have learned to deal with the loss, and if they had experienced the sense of helplessness surrounding their lives that I had following the death of my son.

Grief is traditionally defined as the thoughts, feelings and outward actions of someone who is experiencing a loss in their lives. The loss can be anything from the loss of a friendship, parent, or even a divorced spouse, but nothing can surpass the emotions that engulf you following the loss of a child.

The natural order of life for most people begins when a man and woman meet, marry and begin raising a family. The children grow from infancy through the school years to begin dating themselves, and one day they meet someone and they, too, marry and begin to raise their own family. During the child-raising years a parent watches over the infant as they sleep, and learns the child’s patterns for sleeping and eating. Tasks for a parent include encouraging their school-aged child to learn, participate with others and grow as the beginning stages of separateness emerge, and parents begin to see that the child who will forever be emotionally and physiologically connected to them will one day unfold their wings and fly.

Fears for the parent regarding their child, that they might get hurt, kidnapped, or killed, begin immediately upon the arrival of the child and go on forever as the powerlessness of parenthood begins to emerge. No matter how much we love our children, nurture them, guide, support and believe in them, we must live with the powerlessness that we cannot protect them from the harms of the world, including death.

Parents are given the opportunity to administer direction and advice to their child, but even when this conversation takes place, it still leaves the parent powerless that their child will follow the warnings and instead use their own judgment. For, as every veteran parent knows, no matter what you say to a teenager, they still have their own judgment to counter and question what you say, and using that sixteen-year-old judgment is why my son is in heaven today.

Grief over the loss of a child, like any loss, is a personal expression in that it is a process of learning to live without, to live with the emptiness and deprivation, and to rejoin the world and go on differently. Searching for meaning in what has happened to them, parents often wish they could undo this, that “for what might have been”. Regardless of our religious and cultural beliefs - - a life has been taken, and cannot be returned. People around the grieving parent cannot comprehend the intensity of such a loss, for it is as if the parent has died as well. In a sense, the parent has died with the child, for the hopes and dreams of both the parent and child are gone forever; the loss of the future and the re-creation of themselves through the next generation is now gone.

Grieving family members are expected to mourn the loss, but are to do it appropriately and within a certain length of time. It is acceptable to cry, to sulk and withdraw from others, even to be angry…but only for an expected length of time. The mourning parent is then supposed to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps” and move on. Following this expected time frame they are to live again, return to work, tuck their pain and agony away and dry their tears – for it is too painful for others to see. But, as mentioned, for many parents the loss of a child means a part of themselves has died as well and no other person has a right to require recovery by their own agenda.

Grief is not a disease, a disorder, or an illness, but an indication of your connectedness to another person. Grief can make you feel like you are going crazy or losing control. One minute you are fine, and the next minute you are sobbing uncontrollably with no explanation as to why. Loss of sleep, loss of appetite, reoccurring painful thoughts and crying are outward expressions of the inward pain grief is causing you. Being forewarned by others who have been through such an ordeal that these feelings and emotions will come in waves, and that you will fine for a while and then “crash” into a sad episode, cannot prepare one for the experience when it truly does happen. In the following days you will have feelings that you are back in control of yourself, only to fall into a deep depressive crying stage, which gives one the feeling that they may not have accomplished much at all in those few good days.

Counselors, friends, and family members are all anxious to see you feeling better and not hurting, so they may additionally tell you that it will get easier with time. True - - the waves of sadness and helplessness become less intense, less frequent, and begin to not last so long, but to the question of “Does it get easier in time”? I would have to say No! Grief does not have a timetable that you can say, on a given day such as March 12th, you will begin to feel better and no longer grieve, for everyone suffers differently. Grieving for some parents is a way to stay connected to their child, for it keeps memories alive and retains a place in the family for the child. A parent’s grief is endless, but the intensity does diminish in time - - for the body could not endure the monumental emotions a parent feels immediately following the death of a child. It is during this time that a parent begins the journey of understanding and accepting the loss in a place with no rhyme or reason and many unanswered questions.

About Mary Jane Cronin
I am a bereaved mother, a licensed mental health counselor, writer, consultant, and public speaker. I have been specializing in the area of grief and loss for over ten years. Counseling in the Tampa Bay area of Florida since 2000, I have extensive experience in bereavement counseling of individuals and groups. I’ve lectured on grief and taught bereavement support skills to teenagers, incarcerated women, hospice patients and their families, hospice volunteers, and fellow health care professionals. Being employed by Suncoast Hospice as a bereavement counselor for the past six years has given me the opportunity to learn skills that allow me to continue to help others following a loss. I have presented at The Bereaved Parents of the USA conference in 2009 and The American Business Woman’s dinner earlier this year. Following the death of my son Jeremy, I wrote and published my first book, "November Mourning." November Mourning includes letters to my son in Heaven, my journey to find acceptance following his death, and stories about others faced with the loss of a child. Seeing there was a need to help others learn the benefits of journal writing I published my second book, "Writing Through Your Grief," earlier this year. You can view
my video and visit my website. My website is devoted to providing support and resources for individuals experiencing loss. (Ordering information for both books may be found on the website as well.)

Guest Post: Life after the loss of a child

How to Go on With Life After The Loss of A Child

Losing a child is the worst pain that a person can experience. Whether the
passing is expected or unexpected, no one should have to bury a child. When
you have experienced such a heart wrenching loss, you'll need to find ways
to go on with your life.

*Grieve Properly*
How can a person grieve "properly"? Essentially, this means you must grieve in a way appropriate for you. Perhaps you'll want to say casual prayers each night, or maybe you'll just spend time crying. Don't let people tell you to stop. Eventually, yes, you will want to pick up and move on. However, before you can do that, you have to allow yourself to react in the way that is natural for you.

*Be A Team*
Sometimes, when a child passes away, parents start to blame one another for the death. Remember though, death happens, and it is, unfortunately, a natural part of life. In many cases, it is no one's fault. You need to look to your spouse for a sense of strength during this difficult time. Be one another's biggest supports, and don't criticize the other person's way of handling the passing. You'll make this situation harder on one another. Grieve as a couple too. Create a memorial for your child, or attend weekly prayer services together to ensure your bond stays strong.

*Find Your Faith*
When times are difficult and life hands people unfair lots, they often turn toward God or to another higher power in which they believe. Doing so offers a sense of comfort because it lets the parents know that life goes on beyond this world. Talking to God or other spiritual beings can give parents a sense of how their child is doing in the beyond. Ultimately, you want to look toward the other comforts that faith can provide you. Depending upon the religion, you may be reassured that your child has been
rewarded in the Kingdom of Heaven, or you may come to believe that your little one has been reincarnated and is still very much alive.

*Communication*
In addition to working together through this time as a team, you need to be able to communicate. Sometimes, communication will come in the form of tears and sobs and not just words. That is fine. You also have to be willing to communicate with your other children. If they are very young, they will likely be quite confused as to what is happening. Have your little one participate in going to mass or visiting your deceased child's grave. Do not make up fake stories. Be honest about what happened, and be honest about what your religious and spiritual beliefs are. For example, you don't want your child to think that he or she is going to pass away every time he or she is ill.

Dealing with the loss of a child is a pain that no parent should have to bear. Unfortunately, this tragic situation sometimes occurs. You'll likely have a long road of grieving ahead of you, and you will never forget your precious child. However, you can start to find ways to continue on - trust me.

Martha Whimers is a contributing author at http://www.healthinsurancequotes.org.

Guest post: Mary Jane Cronin

Keeping Connection With a Deceased Son


When faced with the death of my son, I grieved inwardly and mourned openly to others that my life was forever changed. Wanting to create a legacy of the beautiful child I would never hug again, I began searching for the proper tribute. The magnitude of options was overwhelming and included plaques at the local zoo and starting a scholarship at a local school in his name.

Jeremy and his brothers used to go to a coffeehouse in a nearby town and talk, sing and of course, drink coffee. My guilt that he was not with me, that I did not protect him, and that ultimately he was murdered, led me to decide to open my own coffeehouse. Floor plans, ideas for decorations, and wondering what would the young people do when they were there filled my hours and fed my sadness. Returning to college to get a degree that would show investors I was serious resulted in not opening the coffeehouse, but deciding it was the wrong way for me to grieve. I wanted to show the world how much I missed my son, but should it be at the expense of his brothers? I would now be gone the hours I “thought” were the most vulnerable and be spending all my time away from them to focus on a memory.

Instead, I invested my time at home with the boys creating a memory photo collage. They selected pictures that showed good times they spent with Jeremy and I selected pictures that showed the serious and funny sides of his personality. Placed over the couch, many conversations were shared with house guests and each time we talked, we healed a little bit more. Friends and strangers who visited got to know my heavenly son through those pictures.

Writing in a journal gave me permission to yell in silence. At first, I was filled with rage that my son was gone. I would write about events he missed and how that felt to me. How we as a family struggled over those first holidays with an empty chair at the table. Over time the rational side of me emerged, and I was able to work towards a sense of acceptance that this was my new normal.

On Jeremy’s birthday the first year after he passed, we had a birthday party with a cake. Sharing our favorite stories produced tears, but also produced a warm feeling that his life was not for nothing. He had left an impression on many of his friends and well as our family.

Planting something living in memory of your loved one can be very healing. After the funeral we had many plants given to us and a few were planted in the yard as a visual remembrance. We also paid the city a fee to “buy” a tree at the local park. A nameplate was positioned at the base of the tree with his date of birth and date of death. A picnic table nearby provided opportunities to enjoy the day and food with the feeling Jeremy was with us.

Jeremy loved to sing and was in chorus most of his school years. Driving in my car, a song he liked plays on the radio and I smile, turn up the volume, and pretend I am singing a duet with Jeremy. I find those songs bring me comfort and I like to think those songs are sent from my son just for me.

About Mary Jane Cronin
I am a bereaved mother, a licensed mental health counselor, writer, consultant, and public speaker. I have been specializing in the area of grief and loss for over ten years. Counseling in the Tampa Bay area of Florida since 2000, I have extensive experience in bereavement counseling of individuals and groups. I’ve lectured on grief and taught bereavement support skills to teenagers, incarcerated women, hospice patients and their families, hospice volunteers, and fellow health care professionals. Being employed by Suncoast Hospice as a bereavement counselor for the past six years has given me the opportunity to learn skills that allow me to continue to help others following a loss. I have presented at The Bereaved Parents of the USA conference in 2009 and The American Business Woman’s dinner earlier this year. Following the death of my son Jeremy, I wrote and published my first book, November Mourning. November Mourning includes letters to my son in Heaven, my journey to find acceptance following his death, and stories about others faced with the loss of a child. Seeing there was a need to help others learn the benefits of journal writing I published my second book, Writing Through Your Grief, earlier this year. You can view
my video and visit my website. My website is devoted to providing support and resources for individuals experiencing loss. (Ordering information for both books may be found on the website as well.)

Guest post from Dave Roberts

The Armadillo


Inspiration and Intent
Since my 18–year-old daughter Jeannine’s death in 2003, I have embraced many sources of inspiration that have inspired me and changed how I view the world. I have learned that when we state our intent to become inspired, we eventually inspire others by exposing them to the lessons that we have learned.

Animal Medicine
I have discovered the benefit of Native American Animal Medicine during the last 22 months of my journey. One of the tools that I have consistently used is a book called Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams, a revered Native American teacher. The book comes with a set of Animal Medicine cards. The teachings inherent to each animal are outlined in a corresponding chapter of the book. I don't have a schedule for working with these cards, I simply let intuition, rather than the passage of time, be my guide.

Feeling Untethered
In early grief, it is not uncommon for many to feel disassociated from themselves, surroundings and others around them. We feel untethered and walk in a dreamlike state, detached from everything around us that once had significance in our lives.

After I filed for retirement from the State of New York in April of this year, I felt just as untethered as I had in early grief, following Jeannine's death. It was more stressful than I anticipated saying goodbye to several staff who touched my life and a routine that had been part of my identity for over 27 years.

My Protective Armor/Walking the Ethereal
In June of this year, I got the urge to work with Jamie Sams' Medicine Cards. I picked just one card: The Armadillo. In several previous sessions, I never picked the Armadillo. However, as with every card that I have chosen, the lesson was appropriate to my present reality.

According to Sams, the Armadillo "wears its armor on its back, its medicine a part of its body. Its boundaries of safety are a part of its total being." She goes on to write: "What a gift it is to set your boundaries so that harmful words or intentions just roll off. Your lesson is in setting up what you are willing to experience."(Sams, p 149)

I had a conversation about the Armadillo with a close friend and a valued spiritual mentor during the last 22 months of my journey. I told her about my feelings of disconnectedness from my workplace. I also told her that I was operating strictly from intuition. I have allowed my intuition or spirit to guide me, but have always being able to make connections between my spiritual experience and experience in the physical world. Due to what was going on with me at work, I struggled to maintain that important connection.

My friend told me that "walking the ethereal" without any sense of connection to the workplace was not necessarily a bad thing. She viewed my experience as a way to deal with leaving my job.

I eventually concluded that feeling untethered was the protective armor that helped me focus on the practical matters (i.e. packing my belongings, shredding materials that no longer applied to me) of leaving my job, while insulating me from the sadness of leaving those people who provided me with joy and validation during my career.

Redefining My Experience
Jamie Sams discusses a simple but powerful teaching about how we can best use Armadillo medicine in our daily lives. She suggests making a circle on a sheet of paper and to "see it as a medicine shield.” Sams further instructs us to write down within the circle, all the things that we desire to have, do or experience. She goes on to say that “this sets up boundaries that allow those chosen experiences to be a part of your life” (Sams, P.149).

I did this exercise and took it a step further. Outside the circle, I wrote down those things that I was not willing to experience or let penetrate my medicine shield. Doing this helped me feel less untethered as I got closer to my retirement date (July,11,2012).

We can define what it is that we truly want to experience in any transitions in our life... including our journeys after the death of our children. Armadillo medicine can help us represent our life experiences in ways that are true to who we are. In the journey after loss, what we are willing to experience or not experience may change depending on where we are emotionally, spiritually and psychologically. The road to enlightenment was not meant to be a static process. Enlightenment is about finding our truth while representing our experiences as authentically and genuinely as humanly possible.

Express your lives as a demonstration of your highest beliefs, rather than a denial of them. ~Neale Donald Walsch


David J. Roberts, LMSW, CASAC, became a parent who experienced the death of a child after his daughter Jeannine died of cancer on 3/1/03 at the age of 18. He is a retired addictions professional and is also an adjunct professor in the psychology and psychology-child life departments at Utica College, Utica, New York. Mr. Roberts also developed a topics course on Parental Bereavement issues, and has taught a Death, Dying and Bereavement course for Utica College. He is a volunteer for Hospice and Palliative Care, Inc, in New Hartford, New York and a member of the All Inclusive Care for Children Coalition.

Broken Psalms

Friends,

I've launched a new blog, Broken Psalms. Just click on this link and it'll take you to this new venture where we'll spend time focusing on grief and loss through the lens of the biblical psalms.