September, you are both a hard and a glorious month.

September, you remind me of new pencils, new books, new school shoes, football games, and chili simmering on the stove.

I first became a mom in September.

First born son Ryan born on a September day when I was 21 marked the day motherhood officially became the best job I ever had, and my favorite.

In September, when I was a young mother, the peach trees in the backyard became heavy with fruit that did not wait patiently for the for the harvest. When the peaches were ready, they were ready. They had to picked, processed, and preserved.

There was a time in September, when I would walk out onto the back deck of our home and I could smell the fall air rich with the smell of grapes ready to harvested.

The air had cooled, and the first light frost would have set the flavors in the grapes.
Now it was time to make grape juice and grape jelly.

The grapes had to heated and crushed to make the wonderful, sweet tasting juice.

Now, September brings me reminders of crushing grief.

September is Suicide Awareness Month.

Ten years ago, a verse was added to my September song that I didn't see coming.

I did not want this verse in my song.

This verse tells a story about a chapter in my life that I did not want included.

And, yet, because I have this verse in my song, I must raise my voice and sing, or speak, since I am not much of a singer.

The songs I knew by heart, the ones that had verses I would sing each September changed that terrible year when I experienced the death of my dearly beloved daughter Julie by suicide. Now, September reminds me that it is Suicide Awareness Month.

The first night I returned home after my daughter's suicide, I wondered how I would make it.

I no longer understood anything about my life.

My past made no sense.

My future...well, I couldn't even foresee a future because I was trying to make sense of the present. 

This quote spoke to me like little else I read after Julie’s death

I had experienced a major loss of my identity when I lost my daughter to suicide.

I didn't know who I was.
The script of my life had been altered.
A verse in my song had be thrust in that made every verse before it seem discordant and out of rhythm.

A dear friend, one the first ones I called to tell of Julie's death, came to Julie's funeral and gave me a book. It was called, My Beautiful Broken Shell. The title spoke to me. It was a picture book which was perfect because I really could not read books yet. I was too crushed. So this book was perfect for me at that time.

I read the book the first night I was home from spending a week with my family near the place where Julie had lived and died.  When I climbed into my bed that night I was too numb to  fathom how I would get up and live the next morning.

The narrator in the book tells of walking along the beach of an ocean. As most of us do at the beach, she begins to look for shells. She comes across a broken scallop shell, but leaves it search of a perfect shell.

Then, she see the broken shell as a metaphor for her broken heart. She also realizes that this shell had not been totally crushed by the pounding surf. She realizes she can learn from brokenness.
She also learns she will need

courage
 to remain on the beach,

courage
to live with the pain she is feeling,

courage
to not embrace
a vision of a perfect shell,

and she would need

courage
to embrace brokenness.


The message of the book spoke to me.
I knew with the Lord's help I could live with my broken heart.

The message of the book spoke to me. I knew with the Lord's help I could live with my broken heart.
Life was not perfect. It was never intended to be. Day by day, I would learn to live as a broken person in a broken world. I learned I could only do this by grace that was given me by the Lord who said He would be with me, the brokenhearted.

I reflected on the new verse of my September song,
the verse that speaks of loss, remembrance, and broken hearts.
This verse in my song now is sung every September when I am reminded that it is once again
Suicide Prevention Month.

Thankfully, this particular verse does not end in hopelessness.
It ends in hope and healing.

Despite the verse in my song that I did not want included,
there is a refrain that is repeated throughout the song of my life.
The refrain speaks of
joy,
hope,
healing,
and of the faithfulness of God,
who now holds my sweet Julie in His arms
and comforts me with His presence.
He sends me
people,
so many wonderful people,
who have loved and supported me and my family.

This is my September song.
It is a beautiful song because it speaks of love.
A mother's song always begins and ends with love.