By the second Sunday of Lent, the ashes have settled in. The sting of “remember you are dust” has softened into something quieter. We are no longer at the doorway of the season. We are inside it now. Walking it. And almost every year, right about here, I find myself holding a birthday. The birthday of my deceased son. It's a strange and holy practice of remembering. Ashes and light. Dust and glory. The world marked an ending. God marked a beginning.

It's the end of January, and I made it through the second set of holidays without my son Eli. I don't have all the words to express how hard it was. But, with God's help and the help of the resources He's put on my path, I was able to make room. For love, peace, hope and holiday preparations. And for grief, sadness, and longing for my son. I am not sure how it all fit in my heart and soul, but it did. And then came the New Year...

It isn't a Chicago winter and it isn't 36 years ago. But that's where I'm at right now, watching a blizzard as my newborn sleeps peacefully.

"If you ever get the chance to love a person who knows grief, do not let them go."

Collectively our hearts broke for our sister in sacred sorrow. As grieving mothers, we understand the terrible truth.

Once upon a time (and what seems like only just yesterday), I was wandering the china and crystal section of Marshall Field's in Chicago.

Those we have loved, though now beyond our view, live on, unfailingly feeding our hearts and minds and imaginations. (Morris Adler)

Looking back, I think we were afraid of what we might discover. My world and focus had narrowed, and I was restless, unable to take a breath

A comforting poem.

Five things that I wish another grieving mom would have told me that first Thanksgiving.

I've got lots of stories, but do I share "the story" when I don't know if those present have experienced what I have?

A beautiful poem by Jan Richardson Let us agree for now that we will not say the breaking makes us stronger or that it is better to have...

Enough with the questions already--not.

Each year I try to prepare myself spiritually and emotionally for the onslaught of continuous "holiday merriment."

In memory of all the souls who have gone before us, Sacred Sorrows prayerfully and respectfully posts one of the traditional prayers of...

Our recent "Mother's Love & Loss" retreat on the beautiful grounds of the Jesuit Retreat Center in Los Altos Hills deeply impacted the...

We grieve differently--and that is okay.

He discerns my going out and my lying down. But what about you? I wonder.

Sacred Sorrows introduces "Roberta," our newest contributing writer. Roberta Bazaldua resides in Arizona and fills her days servicing the...

What are you giving up for Lent?