Never Apologize for Tears of Grief that Help you Heal

Never apologize for tears of grief that help you heal.

Tears are the first words in grief.

After Dan died, it’s like a valve was turned allowing my tears to tumble easily throughout the day.

I cried alone, I cried during my morning quiet time, I cried with my kids. I cried while running, I cried with friends, I cried in the car. I cried myself to sleep and cried in my dreams.

Sundays brought an overflow of tears. I usually made it through teaching with just a few tears and held them back when talking with friends.

But worship undid me. It seemed the song set was picked just for me helping me express deep groanings of my shattered heart. There, wrapped in the presence of God, tears came hot and steady, a messy mix of grief for who we’d lost and hope because of Who held us.

I never knew a person could cry so many tears.
I never knew a person could cry so many tears for so many months.

Never apologize for your tears.

God who created us also created our emotions and in his flawless design has given humans alone the unique gift of emotional tears.

It’s no wonder science keeps uncovering the incredible benefit of our tears.

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7 Lessons the Storms of Life can Teach Us

By Lisa Appelo 6 Comments

It’s been a week. When forecasters first spotted a hurricane that would likely hit Florida, the entire state went on high alert. It was billed as the largest hurricane on record in the Atlantic and while everyone in the state would be affected, it was uncertain precisely where it would hit.

We’ve seen some massive storms over the last few weeks. Irma left thousands with damage and without power. Texas and Louisiana are recovering from record floods after Hurricane Harvey. And western states have been fighting dozens of destructive wildfires.

As I write this, another hurricane is looming and remains a threat for the Eastern United States. Only time will tell whether we’ll need to prepare for another hit or it will spin off harmlessly into the Atlantic.

Truth is, none of us wants to go through a storm. Not just hurricanes, but storms in our finances, in our jobs and in our families. If only the days could be all sunshine and clear skies. Those are the kinds of days we pray for. And often the kinds of days we think we’re entitled to.

But storms are actually vital for us. God uses them not only to reveal himself but to shape us to become more like Christ.

It’s not just that storms teach. It’s that there are lessons we can only understand in a storm.

Lessons only storms teach us

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7 Ways Children Grieve

By Lisa Appelo 10 Comments

One of THE hardest things after my husband died was not only dealing with my grief, but watching my children try to grapple with theirs.

My youngest two kids were 4 and 6 years old; I had three coming-of-age boys (12, 14 and 16 years old) who needed their dad; a 17-year-old daughter who was her daddy’s girl through and through; and a just launched 19-year-old son.

I learned early on that children grieve differently.

Children grieve differently than adults.
Teens grieve differently than preschoolers.
Boys grieve differently than girls.

Even two kids the same age with the same loss can grieve differently because of personality, experience, their home environment or their relationship with the one who’s died.

Kids can suffer many kinds of loss – the death of a sibling, grandparent or parent; a chronic diagnosis for themselves or a family member; a devastating divorce; adoption loss; or even a move that takes them away from friends, school and the familiar.

As a parent navigating our kids through grief, discerning signs of our that grief can be difficult.

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Surrendering Our Children To God Means Surrending Their Entitled Life

By Lisa Appelo 17 Comments

It was by all accounts an idyllic day.

The sky arching over the ocean was clear cerulean blue after a week of heavy clouds and drenching afternoon downpours. Low tide provided a wide expanse of sand with warm pools edging the sandbars which stalled the tumbling shore breaks.

My two high school boys, backs turned to the sun, had fallen asleep on their towels after a morning deep-sea fishing and I sat in the shade of a large umbrella, alternately keeping tabs on the younger two in the water and the book downloaded to my phone.

Glancing up, I watched my youngest son carry a surf board up from the water. His dad’s surfboard. How many days had I watched his dad walking up this same beach, carrying that same board after a long surf session?

I lingered over this long-legged boy coming up the beach. He’ll be 13 next month. A coming of age without his dad.

Familiar regret colored my thoughts. His dad should have been here. He should have been here to teach him how to surf, to give pointers on throwing the perfect cast net, to help him move from boy to man.

This is not the good life I wanted for you, my heart grieved.

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Why Comparing Grief is Meaningless

By Lisa Appelo 9 Comments

You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought as I scrolled past the words on my feed.

My heart sunk as I scrolled the post on my feed. An aquaintance had posted a picture of her beloved family pet they had put down that morning. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever been through,” she wrote.

I don’t doubt it was hard or even the hardest thing she’d gone through yet. But her statement caught me short.

At once, I compared our loss to her.

I’d been reeling from the sudden death of my husband at 47 years old. Every dream and plan we’d had together had been buried with him. I’d not only walked through my excruciating grief but watched our seven children push through theirs.

I’d faced countless decisions on my own. I’d learned how to fix the washer and how to manage a rental house which was way outside my skillset. I’d parented tough seasons with my kids alone, begged God to help me raise them to adults and spent night after lonely night with the ache of missing.

It had taken God’s grace and everything in me to let go of the life we had and take hold of the new life that was.

I knew the death of a family pet was hard, but her words stung as I instinctively compared our hardest loss with hers.

Now before you think I’m a completely awful friend, my spirit immediately checked me (and I felt like a heel). I knew comparison was meaningless and my reaction was wrong.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been tempted to compare loss.

After my husband’s death, I heard many well-meaning offers of understanding. “I know what you’re feeling. My husband was deployed for 18 months.” Or “I went through this after my great-aunt died.”

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