Sons of the Shepherd

Grief Is a Marathon,  Not a Race       I recently had someone come up to me and say “Matt, I’m surprised you’re still grieving.”  There aren't many times in my life when I become speechless, but that was one of those times.  My immediate reaction was angry, frustration, and to be quite honest, a desire to yell and scream back.  Instead, I calmly and quietly stepped away, leaving the conversation entirely.  This is  a sentence many grieving people hear sooner or later. Sometimes it’s spoken gently, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes with impatience—but almost always with a misunderstanding beneath it. The assumption is the same: grief should be finished by now.   But grief doesn’t work that way, and those that think that grief does work that way haven't truly experienced grief.  Grief isn't a mountain that you climb or an ocean that you swim, it is a life that you are forced to live.       Scripture quietly affirms...

Goals, Not Resolutions       New Year's Eve and New Year's Day used to be some of my favorite days of the year.  New Year's Eve would be spent with family and friends, and lots of food.  Each year we would have so many different snack foods.  New Year's Day would be filled with Pork, sauerkraut, dumplings, and mashed potatoes.  It was a time of reflection and resolutions.  But all that changed January 1st of 2025.  I was entering my first new year without my wife, and my soul felt crushed.  A deep, dark, looming cloud of depression hung over my head.  I felt so defeated.  Grief had exhausted me, it torn my heart into so many small pieces.  It was a different New Years.  The new year typically had a way of arriving with noise.  There would be fireworks, noise makers, and for those of us in Pennsylvania people would shot a random shot into the air at midnight.  You would hear words like  “New year, new y...

Not Meant to Be Alone       There is a particular kind of loneliness that comes with grief.  The grief of losing a spouse is considered to be the worst human experience that a person can endure.  The scale of trauma and emotional ache is considered a 100 out of 100.  It is especially difficult for a younger person.  Losing someone when you are young steals your identity.  It is the worst identity theft that can be committed against you.  It exposes parts of you, it robs you of purpose.  It steals affection and human touch.  It is almost as if someone sets fire to your dreams and you are left with nothing to do but to watch it go up in smoke.  I cannot express to you the agony that my mind, body, heart, and soul have felt.  Grief doesn't just touch one area of your life, in invades each corner, leaving no area untouched.       If I were to pick the worst part of my grief journey thus far, it would be the ind...

  Twelve Drummers Drumming Your Heart Still Beats With Purpose       I vividly remember one of my favorite Christmas gifts as a child.  My grandmother bought me a drum set.  Not a small tiny drum set, but instead a huge drum set.  It seemed like a great idea until the sound of me pounding on the drums resounded through the house.  It was the 80's so needless to say I drummed to Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen.   I'm fairly confident that my parents hid the drum sticks from time to time.  I love drums to this day, though I have zero musical talent.  Drums keep rhythm.   They mark time.   They carry movement forward.   A steady beat reminds us of something simple and sacred:  life continues.   Not because everything is okay.   Not because grief is finished.   But because God is still sustaining you.   If you are breathing today, there is purpose in your b...

Eleven Pipers Piping When Worship Carries You       My youngest son just finished his Christmas concert.  I love elementary Christmas concerts.  There is something magical about seeing the little ones dressed in their reds and greens and singing songs about Christ's birth.  Some of us have some very fond memories of Christmas concerts as children.  Not all of them good memories.  One more negative memory is when the music teacher handed out recorders.....I hated that instrument almost as much as my parents did.  I would have rather rang instead of played the recorder.  That makes me think about the eleventh day of Christmas, pipers.  Pipers don’t speak.   They don’t explain.   They don’t fix anything.   They simply play.       And sometimes, in grief, words are exhausted.  I know that might sound strange coming from the lips of one of the most extroverted people you will ever meet...