JUST A MOMENT: WHEN LOSS IS. . .
The month of October is NATIONAL PREGNANCY AND INFANT LOSS AWARENESS MONTH
This past Saturday I was asked to give a small meditation and prayer to a group of folks who were WALKING TO REMEMBER their own painful losses.
I average 20-25 Funerals/Memorial Services/Celebration of Lives but there is literally, not one thing, NOTHING, that compares to conducting a child’s service.
“WHAT DO YOU SAY?”
I’m often asked. . .It’s more what I don’t say. . .it’s more of a reminder that out of all of things that’s being felt and identified as “WHO YOU ARE,” there is one thing that’s absolutely not true: YOU ARE NOT ALONE
This past Saturday before the walk I shared something along the lines of:
Today, we walk among these graves carrying something no parent ever expects to carry: the memory of a child who died too soon.
Some of these children were held in loving arms for years. Others were held for only a few moments, or never had the chance to be held at all. But every one of them matters. Every life has a name, a story, and a place in the hearts of those who love them.
And we know that grief has no timetable. A child may be gone from our sight, but never from our hearts.
As we walk today, I want us to remember something important: Love is never measured by the length of a life, but by the depth of the connection.
An Object Lesson: A Small Stone
(Hold up a small, smooth stone.)
I brought a basket of little stones today. They aren’t very large, and aren’t particularly remarkable. But it has weight. You can feel it in your hand.
Grief is like that. Sometimes it feels heavy. Sometimes we carry it quietly, and sometimes it seems almost too much to bear.
But notice something else about this stone. It can be held.
Today, if you wish, you might pick up a small stone and carry it with you as we walk. Let it represent the child you remember, the love you continue to carry, or simply the grief for which you have no words.
And remember this: You do not have to carry your grief alone.
A Word of Hope
Jesus once said, “Let the little children come to me” (Mark 10:14).
Those words remind us of a love that welcomes the smallest among us, a love that makes room for every child and every grieving heart.
We may not have answers to the hardest questions. We may never understand why some lives are so brief. And today, we do not need to explain away the sadness or find a reason for it.
We simply come together.
We walk together.
We remember together.
And we trust that the love which holds us in our sorrow is greater than the sorrow itself.
So as we begin this memorial walk, may each step be a prayer, each name a sacred remembrance, and each moment a reminder that no life is too brief to matter, no child is forgotten, and no love is ever wasted.
