Tag Archives: grief

6 Reasons to Be Grateful at a Funeral

I recently attended the funeral, actually, the celebration of life of a 23 year old daughter of a friend.

The uncanny timing of this particular event was not lost on me.  As I sat at this funeral, I was reminded of another that took place just one week shy of 11 years ago- in the same church- led by the same pastor.  It was a funeral I was very much a part of since the life being celebrated was my 15 year old daughter, Leisha. Continue reading 6 Reasons to Be Grateful at a Funeral

A Broken Thanksgiving

It is Thanksgiving Eve, though I have seldom heard it described in such a way, not like Christmas Eve or New Years Eve. But tonight it seems appropriate. It is the day before ‘the day’ set aside for thanks and gratitude.

Yet I sit huddled on my sofa, tears just boiling under the surface waiting to spill over. Emotions are all over the place and I wonder if I will ever again feel free to experience joy without a deep sense of sadness.

If all the conditions were right, Continue reading A Broken Thanksgiving

Thank you Professor Sittser

This past week, I have been working intently to finish up details for publishing the Lovely Traces of Hope book.  I had one of those moments  as I sat late into the night reading/ editing/ proofing yet again through my own story.  

For the umpteenth time, I was reading through Chapter 14, Turning East, which I have sent to many of you already. (Click here if you haven’t read it yet.) In that chapter, I share excerpts of Jerry Sittser’s book called A Grace Disguised. Jerry literally led me through much of my grief through the sharing of his own story.

Several months ago as I was reworking that chapter for the book, I sent Jerry a letter to thank him for being bold enough to share his story because of the influence it has had in mine. 

Here was his reply…

Continue reading Thank you Professor Sittser

Friend of Influence

20150321_162126Yesterday I shared a post called THAT’s INFLUENCE.

Today I want to share with you a friend of influence.  Her name is Pat.

Pat is has been a long time friend, though recent years have brought us together more purposefully.  She has been my coach as I launched into business.   I was her matron of honor a couple of years ago at her wedding.  She has listened to me through so many transitions of life – and I to her.

Our favorite thing to do is grab a table at Touches of the Heart in Glandorf for lunch and stay till they close.  Julie, the Touches host, knows when she sees us to put on another pot of coffee.  We will be there a while.   Pat and I are never at a loss of words to fill an afternoon.

I have spent that last few weeks struggling with finding energy to do life- but more significantly returning to the grief tunnel as I processed some of the chapters for the manuscript I am writing.  The more I tried to get deeper into my story, the less strength I had to do it. I had spent 10 weeks grappling with the emotions and wondering if I could actually write them down.

I felt so alone. No one can do that except me!

Then Pat called- she connects with me in one way or another nearly every week.  This time she called.  We talked about my health, rejoiced over our families, shared what we are learning about ourselves, about God.  Like I said, we rarely run out of words.

Then she asked about the book.  I told her I haven’t written much for 10 weeks.  We talked about how my health and lack of energy seemed directly connected to the book. She said, “Kathy, do I just need to come and sit with you while you write?”

Ah!  There it is!  So many days I had wished for someone to be with me in this journey.  I had not said anything because I know that I am the only one who can write my story.

But Pat saw me!

She invited herself into my pain.

She asks the questions others are afraid to ask.

She listens to my ramblings as I come to find my own answers.

No, I don’t need her to come write with me.  But I did need to know someone saw what I needed and was willing to be an answer to my need.

That’s influence.

Pat, I am filled with gratitude for the influence you have had on my life. And just so you know, I’ve completed 5 chapters and rethinking 3 more. Thanks for spurring me to finish what my heart must do!

Love you friend!

Lessons from #tribeconf

Before this weekend, I would have told you:

  • I never wanted to be a writer
  • I started writing about 6 months ago.
  • I am still struggling to find my voice.
  • I accepted the title of writer about 8 weeks ago.

But after the weekend at the first ever TRIBEWRITER’s Conference, (hence #tribeconf) I came to own I have been on this journey of writing most of my life.

Jeff Goins being Superman!
Jeff Goins being Superman!

Jeff Goins, founder and host of the TribeWriter Conference, (Superman in another life) spoke directly to me (though he doesn’t know it) on the very first session.

 

He challenged us to:

  • Let go: of expectations, of fear, of shame (feeling that we Should Have Always Mastered Everything).  Here we go again.  First thing he says and I’m already having to open my hands to what God might be wanting to do here.
  • Embrace the mess:  How did he know I woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat, wondering if I was going to show up and be shown up for the mess that I was?  He asked us to partner with the community regarding the issues we have.  I did! I found great encouragement and accountability in the process.
  • Become a more true version of yourself:
  1. Be you! Not someone else, even if you admire them.
  2. Believe in yourself.  Action follows belief.
  3. Try something new this weekend.  That was easy! Everything had some newness to it.

While the weekend was full of excellent speakers with very practical resources and action steps for us, I probably could have left after the first speaker and felt like I got what I needed.

I have struggled ever since Leisha died feeling like I need to write to finish her book, but have been in a battle to rediscover who I am really not just as a writer, but as a woman. All I thought about myself had been put into question when my daughter died.  I blogged a bit about this during the weekend. You can catch it here.

But Ally Vesterfelt, of Author Launch really spoke to this as she shared her father’s story as he was near death.  As a clinical psychologist and marriage counselor, he had worked with all kinds of people.  But his first article as he fought to live was “Dying is easy, Life is hard to do!”  Yes it is!  I can attest to that!  I never considered that Leisha had the easy road in dying.  The rest of us had to fight to live.

Ally was just getting started with her challenge to me.  Her next thoughts made me know I was going the right direction.

  • We find our voices when we are most likely losing them.
  • One of the most painful things is to lose the sound of your own voice.
  • FIGHT for the truth, the rawness, and the realness of your own voice.
  • Finding your voice starts with finding yourself.20150830_092547 (2)

Wow!  For her to speak directly to the  battle I mentioned earlier means she is familiar with the pain of it.  I have been there for the last 9 years.  Finding my voice by finding myself.  I can identify that it must be truth, it will be raw, and it must feel real or it feels disingenuous to the process of healing.

“More than likely you will find your voice on a path you least wanted to go down. Sometimes the sufferings, not the healings, are the source of greatest transformation of our life.”

She was right! I knew she was!

I was being changed through the sufferings.  I didn’t want to suffer.  I tried to avoid the suffering, but I knew  it when I embraced the ache and walked into the darkness that the greatest transformation occurred.

As I work to finish Leisha’s book, I reconnect with many layers of grief in order to share what I have learned from the last 9 years. That has been part of the mess I have felt recently. But I wouldn’t change the process.  I am much more aware of who I am and what I was meant to say!

I understand that I must find my own voice before I can truly help someone else find theirs. While I hope that the book will be used to change one person’s life in an effort to change the world,  I know that writing this book has and is changing me.

The story I’m getting ready to present to the world in a few months has been in process for most of my life.

I’m a writer! I have been a writer!  I need to write if just to change me!

How’s your story coming?

Jeff & KathyP.S. Thanks Jeff Goins! For letting go, embracing the mess and becoming a more true version of yourself. You have modeled for me and given me courage to do that same.

Thank you Ally Vesterfelt! For sharing out of the raw, real, truth of your own story. I am one who is changed because of it.

Just because I didn’t write life lessons from all the other speakers doesn’t mean I couldn’t have.  I am still just processing the first one.  Thanks to all of you for your time, availability and genuine support.

I’m already signed up for TribeWriter 2016.  Join me?

TW- 20151029- with Christine TW- 20151029-with Jo Higgins Michael TW 20151029-with Jo

Hope in the Midst of the Storm

Rennie Burrus was asked to share his Leisha story through loss to hope at Cable Road Alliance Church on Sunday, August 2. Ren asked me to share a bit of mine as well. You can listen in at the link.

Hope in the Midst of the Storm –
Podcast by Rennie and Kathy Burrus

Cable Road Alliance Church’s Podcast

BUZZSPROUT.COM

Words of Life or Death

The gift of a woman’s story is often what God uses to speak hope into the stories of others. My friend, Dr. Michelle Bengtson has told such a story.  It is my honor to share it with you today!

Feet (1)

Dr. Michelle Bengtson

We’ve all heard the childhood rhyme, “Sticks and stones may break by bones, but names will never hurt me.” I knew from a very young age that that was a lie. Even as I said them on the playground in response to a peer’s cruel taunts, I knew it wasn’t true.

Words hurt.

Scripture tells us that the tongue has the power of life and death (Proverbs 18:21), but do we teach our children that? Or do we perpetuate ignorance by reciting simple rhymes?

Having worked in the field of psychology for over 20 years, it’s evident to me that children don’t realize the long-term significance of what they say.  They behave toward others in the very same way that’s been modeled to them.

As an adult who has been wounded by the words of others since early childhood, I probably err on the side of not saying enough—not wanting to draw any more attention to myself or risk further rejection.

Only three years old when I was stricken with an undiagnosable and life threatening illness, I was left to deal with the physical and emotional ramifications the rest of my life. Continue reading Words of Life or Death

What do you do …?

Recently a new friend asked the common question, “What do you do for a living?”

I hesitated for a moment. Thoughts flashed through my head of the past couple of weeks.  Of conversations I’ve had with clients and friends.  I know what my job description is, but is it what I actually do?

I became a life coach because I got to help people, particularly women, identify where they are and where they want to go!  One of my favorite things to do is to partner with someone to create an action plan for their dream.

However, recently I’ve been more of a Psalm 77 coach than a life coach.  Have you never heard of a Psalm 77 coach?  Yeah, me neither. I just made it up!

Here’s why I use the title Psalm 77.

When I start working with a client, I often ask just two questions.

1) What do you want to talk about today?
2) What do you want to have to feel successful in this session?
If a client can answers those questions at the beginning of the session, we can make incredible progress.

However, what I find most often is before a woman can accomplish what she wants to be true of her, she has to grieve what isn’t!

Coaching (1)It sounds something like this! Continue reading What do you do …?

Living Open Handed: Dear Grief

I was challenged by my story partner friend to take Kate Motaung’s challenge to write a letter to grief. Since it ties in with my recent series on Living Open Handed, I choose to share this here also.

 

Dear Grief,

I don’t think I want to talk to you!

I’ve spent so many years struggling to survive your choke hold on my life!

I’ve crawled through your tunnel

Filled with muck- dark and slimy

So deep that with each step I sunk farther

O

Until it began to paralyze my legs

Then my torso and my arms

Finally my face

Silencing my voice

Blind folding my sight

Dulling my ability to hear as you filled my ears with your lies.

I could barely find my next breath

OH

let alone move.

Continue reading Living Open Handed: Dear Grief