• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Mothering Spirit

everyday parenting as spiritual practice

  • About
    • About Laura
    • New Here?
    • Popular Posts
    • Contact Me
    • Privacy Policy
    • Insta-Links
    • My Newsletter
  • My Books
    • Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage
    • Prayers for Pregnancy & Birth
    • Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting
    • To Bless Our Callings: Prayers, Poems, and Hymns to Celebrate Vocation
    • Living Your Discipleship: 7 Ways to Express Your Deepest Calling
    • Little Rock Scripture Studies
  • After Loss
    • what to do when a friend loses a baby
    • what to do for kids when their sibling dies
  • prayers for pregnancy
    • The Complete E-Books
    • Trying to Conceive
    • Month One
    • Month Two
    • Month Three
    • Month Four
    • Month Five
    • Month Six
    • Month Seven
    • Month Eight
    • Month Nine
    • Infertility
    • Miscarriage
    • Morning Sickness
  • Prayers for Parenting
  • For You
    • favorite resources for parents
    • faith resources for ministers
  • Show Search
Hide Search

where faith lodges

10 Comments

We spent a weekend at Faith’s Lodge on a retreat for grieving families. A place of healing tucked in Wisconsin’s woods, built by one broken-hearted couple to share with others.

We canoed, painted, and played together. Laughed around the campfire. Hiked through hills and fields. Walked the labyrinth over and over.

What caught me were the stories. They were thick around this place. Tucked into crevices of trees. Left along the lines of the labyrinth. Grouped in clusters in the garden. Every heart held a child’s story, a family’s love, a legacy reaching beyond death.

Faith lodges in the stories.

The only thing I can read lately is Scripture. That makes me sound like a holy roller, but I feel the furthest thing from it. It’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other.

After our daughters died, I poured through more death-and-dying memoirs in six months than any sane person should safely read. (Short list of reviews? This is amazing. This is overrated. This is stark but well-written. This is funny but tiring. This is poetic perfection.) Then I tried a novel or two. But fiction can’t find me right now. Reality is enough on its own.

So I came back to Scripture. It’s the only word that makes sense.

I read the day’s readings. I wait till a word or phrase leaps off the page and catches in my throat. Then I know it is the one. I sit quietly and let it speak to me. (Lectio divina for the lost.)

I picture centuries of broken people bringing their stories to these stories, crying out in anguish “how can this life be?” and trying to find something – compassion and consolation, if not answers – in the words on the page.

The Word in the heart.

Maggie and Abby were born seven months ago tomorrow. This week we will make our monthly pilgrimage through the three days. Birth, death, death. Part of me dies each time we do this. Part of me is born.

Is it getting easier? Grief is more familiar. But not lighter to bear. For the rest of my life I will wince at unexpected tender moments, a sharp corner to a soft bruise.

“Were you disappointed when your last one was a boy?” a mom winks me at school pick-up, smiling in search of solidarity as she gathers her two boys into her minivan. I open my mouth to speak and cannot find a single word to start to explain.

“So are you trying again?” the dental hygienist probes after I calmly explain what happened after I was pregnant for my last checkup. I dig my nails into my palms and marvel at how humans cannot sit with pain for two seconds without lunging to fix it.

My life has leapt beyond small talk and simple sentences. It is a complicated story. A story that most people do not want to hear. A story of trauma and death, the kind of story that people declare “the worst,” shudder away with “I can’t imagine,” turn away from before they have to hear the end.

But this is my life. I had no choice in the matter.

So I go back to the only stories strong enough to bear my own.

Stay close to the stories. I heard this once, and I know it saved my life. It still is.

Because faith lodges in the stories. Like heart stones placed on holy ground, love notes to children from grieving parents, every single one a story.

All of them together could break your heart. Or build it into something stronger.

This is the power of stories, writing them and reading them. The possibility of creation. The whisper of redemption. The solidarity of suffering. The humility of mystery. The hope of salvation.

I see the stories everywhere now. Tucked into the corners of people’s mouths. Written into the wrinkles of their eyes. Held in the palms of their hands.

The whole human story is love + loss, staggering in its grief and goodness.

I find it here. And there. Everywhere. Stories are where faith lodges.

I can do nothing but keep reading, keep writing.

This is how you save – and live – a life.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)

Related

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Claire says

    26 September 2016 at 8:50 am

    That sounds like an amazing place. What a great idea. I’m so sorry about the hygenist asking you if you were going to try again. I’m sure her intentions were good, but it’s not like babies are interchangeable. Again, I apologize if I ever said “I can’t imagine” in response to your situation.

    Reply
    • motheringspirit says

      26 September 2016 at 10:06 am

      Claire, you’ve been one of my most faithful readers (and commenters!) from the start. You never need to apologize for anything! I continue to keep you and your family in my thoughts and prayers. I know you have suffered much, too.

      Reply
      • Claire says

        27 September 2016 at 7:10 am

        Thank you Laura. That means a lot.

        Reply
  2. Sara Kazlauskas says

    26 September 2016 at 6:53 pm

    Such a good place for heart and soul and family! I hesitate now when people ask “those” questions, because being truthful means being brave and living life deeply. Prayers for you, for healing and peace!

    Reply
  3. Julie says

    26 September 2016 at 8:42 pm

    When we lost our daughter, an acquaintance who had also suffered a loss told us, “Welcome to the club that no one wants to belong to.” She was right…but I’ve discovered that there are many, many people who belong to this club and strangely, beautifully, “grace” fully, God works there, at this club. You realize that you are not alone in your suffering. You are not alone in your sorrow. You are simply, not alone. So when you can’t feel God’s presence, He sends you someone to share in your grief, who can console with understanding and hugs and love, just so you remember, you are not alone. And then you can see, He IS there, every step of the way. May He continue to bless you with the strength and peace and grace and comfort and the love that you need.

    Reply
  4. Kate Gjerde says

    27 September 2016 at 9:00 am

    Thinking of you. How special you were able to be at Faith’s Lodge.

    Reply
  5. Becky Batchelder says

    27 September 2016 at 10:45 am

    It will be 4 yrs in Jan that we lost our 9 yr old special need son. We have been supporting them for three yrs by having fundraisers and donating different stuff to them,from toys to food. Faith Lodge is a nice place to go to and get away from people asking questions or telling you how sorry they are for your lost. It’s a place where families can go to to relax and the kids can have fun with other kids that have lost a sibling.
    Thank you Faith Lodge staff everything that you do to make it a little easier for families that are grieving.

    Reply
  6. Jay Jay says

    27 September 2016 at 2:41 pm

    I just found your blog and Facebook page. My son had a brain tumor at 7 that he survived, but left him with some disabilities. At age 26 he had another one he wouldn’t survive. It’s been two years, but grief is my constant companion. Trying to hang on to God and take a step at a time, but it’s been a very lonely journey. I wish I could relate to the post above about those that come alongside you.

    Thank you for your blog. I’m so sorry for your loss

    Reply
  7. Sarah Monnier says

    1 October 2016 at 8:57 pm

    Hey, I wanted to let you know how your blog has sustained me through the loss of my own pregnancy a little over a month ago and through a year of infertility before that. Your grief is unimaginable but you always have a real and Christian center to turn to. You don’t sugarcoat the pain in trite Scripture quotations or tie it all up in a neat little bow. I really appreciate your story.

    Reply
    • motheringspirit says

      2 October 2016 at 10:14 pm

      Sarah, this might be the best affirmation that anyone’s ever left here of what I try to write. Thank you for your words. And I am so deeply sorry to hear of the loss of your baby. Infertility & pregnancy loss are such hard burdens to bear. I will keep you in my prayers. The road is long and dark, but there are many of us here together. Peace to you tonight.

      Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Primary Sidebar

About Laura

I’m Laura Kelly Fanucci. Mother, writer, wonderer. This space is where I explore mothering through writing. It’s where I celebrate how God shows up in the chaos of raising children. It’s where I love to build community with readers like you. Read More…

Follow Laura

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
Laura Kelly Fanucci
Books by Laura Kelly Fanucci
e-books by Laura Kelly Fanucci

Mothering Spirit Newsletter

Henri Nouwen quote

From the Archives

Footer

Follow Me on Facebook

Follow Me on Facebook

Follow me on Twitter

Tweets by laurakfanucci

Follow Me on Instagram

thismessygrace

thismessygrace
Nearly 20 years ago (!) these crazy kids graduated Nearly 20 years ago (!) these crazy kids graduated from Notre Dame. Now we’re thick in the midst of life-with-kids, celebrating middle school & preschool & everything in between. 
 
Since June is a month for graduations & celebrations, I’m delighted to help you celebrate with @grottonetwork .

Grotto Network shares stories about life, work, faith, relationships, and more. Check out their videos, podcast, and articles to help you reflect on where you are in your journey.
 
Grotto Network has generously given 2-$100 gift cards to Bloomin’ Brands Restaurants (Outback, Carrabba’s, Bonefish Grill & more) to help you celebrate this month with friends & family! It’s a huge giveaway, because we all need to savor and celebrate whatever joy we can find these days.
 
To enter the giveaway, follow @grottonetwork and @thismessygrace and leave a comment below about what you’re celebrating this month. Tag a friend for extra entries (up to 3).
 
Rules: Open to the U.S. only. Entries will be accepted until 6/11/22 at 11:59 pm CT. The 2 winners will be chosen at random and announced on 6/12/22. Per Instagram rules, this promotion is in no way sponsored, administered, or associated with Instagram, Inc. By entering, entrants confirm that they are 13+ years of age, release Instagram of responsibility, and agree to Instagram's terms of use.
“How did you do this?” I want to ask her. “H “How did you do this?” I want to ask her. “How did you let your heart break a thousand times?”

I want to call my mother and ask her impossible questions, to probe her heart that held five children and let each of us go in the hardest ways. But I know what she will say, “It’s hard. But you’re doing a beautiful job.” She can’t give words to the deepest yearnings and groanings. None of us can.

I wish I could ask my grandmothers, each of them gone for decades now, each of them matriarchs who raised big broods of their own. I never got to know them as an adult, but I have heaps of questions: How did you do it? How did you not lose yourself or your way? Or did you, and that was precisely the point?

I want a whole book of answers to impossible questions, and none exists. So I send my thoughts to the mothers of faith whose short stories, mere snippets on pages, have sparked small lights to guide me along. To Sarah and Ruth, Hagar and Rachel, Mary and Elizabeth. Every unnamed anguish the holy ones carried, every treasure of love they held in their heart.

Is it any coincidence that birth often brings both cries and screams, laughter and joy?

We hold it all within us. We cannot give words to the enormity of what it means to mother.

I sit outside a coffee shop two blocks from my children’s school on a sunny afternoon, the last day of the year. I wipe away tears for the natural nostalgia, but I also feel the gutting grief welling up from my own wounds of motherhood to know a deeper truth: marking milestones with love and longing is nothing compared to the gaping loss of not having your child here to break your heart in a thousand tiny ways.

So I resolve again, a hundred times again, to let this vulnerability become the strength that keeps me fighting for all children to have what I want for my own: life, love, health, safety, support, opportunity, community, hope. This is how parenting asks us to change. To let the particulars of our lives stretch us to love more widely.

I once thought “to mother” meant to have and to hold.

Now I know it also means to let go.
Many of you asked me to save these suggestions I s Many of you asked me to save these suggestions I shared after the school shooting in Uvalde.

Remember: we can’t do everything, but we can each do something.

Just because we can’t eradicate evil overnight doesn’t mean we can’t take small strong steps toward change.

Any work for justice and peace is long and hard. But we can build this work into our daily lives in concrete ways.

Look at the children in your life. What would you do to keep them safe and alive?

Start there. Let your life and love lead you.
When women meet, the world changes. Today is the When women meet, the world changes.

Today is the Feast of the Visitation. A day when we remember the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth.

Two women pregnant with new life, blooming with prophetic power.
Two mothers called to change the world.

What would happen if we gathered together like this today?
How could the world change if we made Mary’s song our own?

“He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.”
(Luke 1:51-53)

Imagine if we stayed in this holy space—not for a moment’s meeting, but for months together—to gestate the dreams God was waiting to birth through us.

Imagine if we let ourselves be filled with the Holy Spirit to shout out with loud cries.
Imagine if we lifted our souls with prayers of justice and joy.

Imagine if we gave each other strength and service, courage and compassion, as we kept asking how to answer God’s call in our ordinary lives.

When women meet, the world changes.

If you want to know how to fight for justice for your children, for your people, for this world, look to the Visitation.

The mothers will show us the way. They already have.

(Image from the “Windsock Visitation” by Br. Mickey McGrath, OSFS, commissioned for the Monastery of the Visitation in north Minneapolis.)
Here’s what I wish I would have heard preached t Here’s what I wish I would have heard preached today on the Ascension.

Right now is a time to be prophetic and pastoral, a time for each of us to ask how God is calling us to act.
I am writing this to us next week. When our right I am writing this to us next week.

When our righteous anger will have quieted down. When the white-hot fury pulsing through our veins will have subsided. When the news cycle will have moved on.

Do not forget how we felt tonight.
Stay angry. Flip tables.

We cannot live like this. Literally—our children are dying. Our elders are being murdered. We have accepted violence as—a way of life? An unfortunate side effect of freedom? A helpless shrug?

No. I am not resigned.
Stay angry. Flip tables.

Remember how it felt today to hear the news and feel the world crack open—again, for we have heard it a hundred times now. Remember how you felt sick to your stomach. How the children around you glowed, alive and fragile, miraculous and vulnerable.

Remember how you wanted to do something, anything, how you wanted to act, how you wanted to stop and scream for it to end, how every cell in your body cried out that this was evil and unjust and horrific and cannot continue.

Press into that memory like a bruise.
Stay angry. Flip tables.

The only way anything changes is if we change. Change what we believe. Change who we support. Change how we vote. Change where we give. Change how we act. Change how we speak. Change how we pray.

There are no easy answers to terrible, complex problems—which is what gun violence in the US has become. But the lack of easy answers makes it all the more urgent and vital that we press into our righteous anger and say NO MORE.

Stay angry. Flip tables.

I am writing this for us, for tonight, for next week. And I never want to write it again.
Load More... Follow Laura on Instagram

Copyright © 2022 Laura Kelly Fanucci · site customizations by Jamie Jorczak

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. Please click "accept" to keep reading. You can opt-out if you wish.Accept Reject Read More
Privacy & Cookies Policy

Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary
Always Enabled
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Non-necessary
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
SAVE & ACCEPT