Caden was born right after Easter so we put together an Easter basket for him and stored it in the closet to open with him after surgery. I remember coming home after he passed away and finding it. It almost brought me to my knees. My dad was still here and he said to me "You are going to find things that make you sad." Today was another one of those days.

I was out running errands and had to go to the baby store. When you lose your baby, one of the last places you want to go is the baby store. I remember walking around there picking things up for him when I was pregnant with so much hope for his little life. Going back there today brought waves of nausea and I had to choke back the tears the whole time. The deafening screams of "your baby is gone" were coming from every corner. Every crib I'd touched, every outfit he'd never wear, every high chair he'd never need. "Peace" I whispered to myself as I finished up and left.

In the car, I was scouring through A's diaper bag in search of something, I stumbled upon the straps I had to keep with me for Caden's non stress tests while I was pregnant. Yes, Dad, 2 months later and I still found a thing that made me sad. Every now and then those things pop up and it hits hard. I sat in the parking lot and cried for a few minutes and once again whispered "peace" to myself. It's a coping mechanism I developed after being a victim of a bombing while on a mission trip to Uganda. I was riddled with anxiety upon my return home and every ounce of my body craved peace so I began to remind myself that I WAS filled with peace. A peace that transcends all understanding.

Human peace is easily wrecked, but the peace of God is indestructible and incomprehensible. God does not give us a spirit of fear, fear comes to destroy, but He gives us a spirit of love and power and sound mind. He brings calmness because in Him is complete peace from our troubles. He holds the victory and no problem of this life can compete with the joy of eternity. During my pregnancy I remember feeling that peace wash over me again like a wave and I somehow knew that no matter how bad things got it would be ok. I left my cares at the cross and allowed that peace to flood my soul. It doesn't make sense that peace should be what I feel, but that is the peace of the Lord.

I often think of myself as Peter, frightened and unsure, as Jesus stands on the waters in front of me. He beckons me to come but I'm afraid, afraid of sinking in the middle of the storm that is my life while everyone on the boat watches. I think on my hurts, my fears, and my questions. The thoughts begin swirling in my mind and the weight begins to pull me down, but when I fix my eyes on Jesus, with his arms stretched wide, everything else fades. I begin to feel light and free. This is the peace. The storm around me settles and I am able to walk to Him in total abandon. My feet tread over my problems just as Peter's did over the water and I am calm again. I am home.

God is not a God of disorder, but of Peace. Which is why through the chaos I can still smile. My hope rests in Him. I question a lot of things, but one thing I know for sure is that He loves me deeply beyond my understanding. He's brought me through the wreckage before, saved me from impossible circumstances and this time is no different. When my eyes are fixed on Jesus my troubles seem so small in the light of eternity.

People say to me "You are so strong" but I'm not. I do not function out of my own strength. Sometimes it's a struggle just to get out of bed, but I am surviving on Agape Love. I am being filled with supernatural strength, hope, and joy that brings peace to my weary soul. So when my boat starts rocking and the storm is threatening to destroy me I quietly remind myself "peace" and though I am not strong my God is.

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The rain is pouring and you catch yourself from falling by grasping the counter staring as each drop fiercely pelts the ground. It's as if time has slowed around you and each drop is amplified, pounding the beat of your broken heart scattered all across the concrete. You stare, willing yourself to breath...inhale, exhale and repeat.What is normally an involuntary action now takes so much energy. You check for your pulse. Is your heart still beating? The emptiness feels like it's crushing your lungs. You never knew emptiness could be so heavy.Your thoughts circle like angry bees. The buzzing is almost deafening. "Did I make the right decisions? What could I have changed? Who would he be now? Can I even go on?" It takes every ounce of strength to merely hold your body up on that counter and you silently whisper, practically beg, "Hold it together. You have to breathe." A frail whimper exits your body and your chest convulses with sobs. One more inhale and an angry wipe of the hot tears you barely realized were soaking your face and you pull yourself up. This is grief.

It is a battle that most fight silently, but for those who spend our lives developing others, it's an angry internal war. The altruistic soul never wants to impose her grief on someone else. She would rather keep all of the pain inside and watch it eat her alive than to pass on that pain to another. She desires to help with her whole being. She wants to turn her pain into inspiration. She doesn't want them to see her break so she stands firm. Don't misread, she is strong. She isn't hiding. This is in her very nature, and often, she doesn't even realize that she's doing it. The problem is, an inner part of her soul is screaming "Someone notice me! I'm not ok. I'm broken. I'm shattered." It is begging for someone, anyone, to reach out and say "I see you and I'm here" but there she stands at the window weeping and no one will ever know how deeply she is hurting.

The problem is, the altruistic soul doesn't actually know how to ask for help. She types the message "Today is hard...." delete. "My soul is shattered...." delete. "Could you come sit with me?..." delete. She doesn't want to impose so she inhales deeply and moves on. And if she does open up to talk about her brokenness you can bet she won't dwell there for long so talk to her in that moment and remind her that she is helping herself and in turn helping others by expressing herself.

Here is what she wants you to know. It's hard. It's lonely and it's hard to hold all her grief in. She misses you. She misses the connections and interactions with people, but sometimes the weight is too much to bear. She's afraid, afraid that if she shares her grief she will scare someone or hurt someone. She is sorry, sorry she is no longer the friend you once knew. She's confused and trying to make the pieces of her life fit again. She's struggling. She feels inadequate to help others and that makes her hurt even worse because it is her entire existence, it's what she lives for. She questions everything.

Remind her that she's allowed to be broken and that she doesn't have to follow some unwritten rule book of grief because anyone who has experienced it knows there isn't one. Altruistic souls often feel the deep desire to please those around them. Remind her that the only way to please those who matter is to take care of herself. Remind her that she is a good mother, friend, teacher, helper, and that grief doesn't get to change that. Remind her that she does still have a purpose and that she can take her grief and create something beautiful. Remind her that she DOES have the strength to take all the tattered threads of her life and weave a brand new exquisite tapestry with more depth and meaning than the one before.

Check in on her. Don't give up on her. She may not respond, often she won't know what to say (again, afraid to hurt or disappoint you) but don't stop. To show her that you really care ask her about her heart. Let her be free to express her feelings. Check in on her when you notice she's quiet. It means the world to her that you notice her absence because she would notice yours. Remember the difficult days and let her know you remembered them. Don't be afraid to remind her because you're not. It's always on her mind. Ask her to share a memory or share one of your own and watch her eyes light up as she shares such beautiful times in her life with you.

And most importantly, tell her. Tell her how she's impacted your life. Tell her that her grief isn't for nothing. Share how her loved one touched you and changed you. It is music to an altruistic soul's ears to hear any words of how her story has inspired or improved your life. How were you made better by her sharing? How are you growing because of her choices? How are you choosing love and joy? Anytime you are thinking of her, tell her. There is nothing more meaningful to her.

All hope is not lost for the altruistic soul. The more she hears of how her story is touching lives, the more she will share. And the more she shares, the more she will heal. Altruistic souls may heal differently than other's but their healing is as beautiful as the slow opening of a new spring flower. The one you watched droop and almost die, but then slowly the stem grew stronger until it finally budded. Out bloomed the most vividly colored flower that was somehow even more beautiful because of the adversity. And just like the seeds of that flower so will the seeds of joy from the altruistic soul spread and bloom to create more vividly colored lives.

Watch her, as she sees how she can still love and help others through her grief the corners of her mouth with start to turn upward and a small twinkle will reappear in her eye. She will pick her head up and look out that window into the rainstorm only to spot the wildly vivid new flower that is being beaten by the drops but refuses to give in. It stands tall and shines like the brightest light in the greyest of days and she too will choose to bloom. Because of you, she will rise. She will be that flower in a rainstorm and choose joy over sorrow. That joy will know no bounds and her soul will slowly heal with each life that sparkles a little brighter because of it.

Walking in Peace (with free printables)

Grief for the altruistic soul

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