Our May Memorial service was held on Monday evening October 6th. It was raining all morning, but by afternoon it had turned to sunshine and warmed up. Other than being a bit windy the evening walk to the cemetery was not too bad. We had to use a few flashlights as it is dark by 7:30 pm. Our service was Beautiful Trees; Barren Trees. I wrote the reflections and will print it in this newsletter.
Beautiful Trees; Barren Trees by Lucy Cannon
Our bodies are much like the beautiful trees. They blossom out with so many changes during our pregnancies. We start out as small children, grow tall and strong and become Mothers. Our trees also start out small and become tall and strong, but as Winter comes, our trees become barren---to many of us the same thing happens with the loss of our babies---our bodies feel lost and barren. Our changes suddenly become less noticeable. We do not feel strong and beautiful any more. We feel weak and hopeless. Like the branches of the Winter trees without their leaves to protect them, their branches hang down much like our arms that feel so empty. How can we be so happy when we are expecting the wondrous little being and become so sad when our little one leaves us? The beauty of our love for our infant leaves us feeling lost and barren. Why oh why has this happened? Can there be a reason? Can we understand this tragedy? Can we ever put it out of our hearts and minds? Can we go on? Maybe the words of Brett Elliot, who wrote Autumn Leaves, can help:
Never weep, have no sorrow
Just pretend there is no tomorrow.
Leaves are slowly falling down,
Red, orange, green and brown.
Swiftly gliding in the air
Softly landing, leaving branches bare.
Never weep—have no sorrow,
Just pretend there is no tomorrow.
She is sad, with much grief
It feels as if there is no relief.
More leaves pass her by
She sadly watches as they fly.
Never weep, have no sorrow!
Just pretend there is no tomorrow.
One after another, days go by
Here is the woman, left to cry.
The leaves always tumble down
Falling softly to the ground.
YOU CAN WEEP, HAVE MUCH SORROW,
Just remember THERE IS TOMORROW!
This is the time of year when we begin to see the trees turn their brilliant array of oranges, browns and gold. For a few short weeks, it is breath-taking to watch the changes. Suddenly the leaves will fall from the trees and the trees are barren. In the spring they always become the beautiful greens again. We have hopes that the same will happen to us. We will again have the chance for a little one to enter our lives and brighten our spirits. Our baby gone from our arms, but not our hearts, will always be hidden in our branches of life, but we will go on and be stronger—and no longer feel the barrenness that our loss left us with.
A Tree: It’s Story by Rev. Rebecca Belt
A seed:
Full of potential,
Poking out of the ground
With hope of abounding
And the promise of life
Unfolding.
Inch by inch
It grows upward
Toward the golden warmth
And pitter-patter of rain,
Nourishing it’s
Essence deep within.
It reaches out
With many arms
And fingers;
Bursting with majesty,
Offering sanctuary,
And joy divine.
In time,
The flora turns from emerald
To sage, mustard,
Amber, crimson, and russet;
Showcasing its splendor.
Holding on,
Yet knowing the inevitable:
One by one the leaves
Waltz
Downward
To their burial.
The grandeur gone;
Bareness
Reveals the stark reality
Of finality,
Demise, and lament.
Yet, death
Is not the end;
Only the beginning
Of new life,
Germinating with
Hope unending.
Remember we are trying the monthly support group again. We will meet the first Tuesday of each month in the pastoral care conference room at 6:30 pm. Please RSVP if you plan to attend. I know there are lots of sites on the internet and there are other support groups around the area, however, many include all types of deaths, where our support group is about the loss of babies. You might find that meeting with other parents in a small group session might be just the thing you are looking for to help in your healing. Good Grief sponsored by Ministry Home Care is another type of support group. They meet at the First Presbyterian Church, 200 S. Lincoln Avenue, Marshfield—at 5:30 pm—Dates given upon registration. Call 715-387-7052 or 800-397-4216.
“Aren’t you better yet?” Is that what I heard you say?
No! a part of my heart aches and I’ll always feel some pain.
You think that silence is kind, but it hurts me even more.
I want to talk about my child who has gone through death’s door.
Don’t say these things to me, although you do mean well.
They do not take my pain away; I must go through this hell.
I will get better, slow but sure—and it helps to have you near,
But a simple “I’m sorry you lost your child” is all I need to hear. (Gail Fasolo)
REMEMBER THE HOLIDAYS ARE NEARING. WE WILL TALK MORE ABOUT THEM NEXT MONTH—BUT KEEP IN MIND, YOU DO WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU CONCERNING THE HOLIDAYS, NOT WHAT OTHERS WANT FROM YOU.