Just another day...but not really

There are no words to describe the most horrible ache of missing your child.  11 months have passed like a breath. The boys and I have done so much this year. I think I have been trying to live for Jake in every outing, trip and gathering. I want so much for him to be able to experience this all with us. My mind refuses to accept the reality of death, instead I see him, as I believe he is, ALIVE. So very much alive, but just barely out of reach and just out of sight. Like he is waiting off stage for his next scene.
So, I sit on the floor in the kitchen, once again overcome with the most horrific ache that I fear will never fully leave until I see him again. I don't want to keep breathing and yet I continue to draw breathe. Everything feels so fucking hard and nothing, at least at this moment, feels easy. I want so badly for the pain to end, but at the same time I couldn't bear to not feel this because that might mean I've forgotten. I wish someone could take it for just a few minutes, but it's mine alone to bear. I would not wish this on anyone.

I feel naked and cut open, it might as well have been just 3 hours ago that he left instead it's 11 months, 3 hours and about 30 mins.  O God I miss him!

Not everyday is like this. This morning I started off the day like it was any other day, but it's not...

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

On what must have been the most spectacular starry night in all of history, a multitude of angels appeared to a handful of humble shepherds and over whelmed them with glory as they proclaimed, " Peace on earth and good will to men." Some thirty years later, Jesus, his eyes fixed on the cross, gathered his disciples for what would be his last instructions to them before his betrayal and ultimately his death.  In a quiet, candle-lit upper room he tells them as much as he knows they can bear about what is about to happen, knowing they haven't got a clue at that moment. He concludes it all by saying, "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)

 That is not the typical cheerful, baby Jesus, Christmas message we often hear, but sometimes Christmas sucks!  Sometimes the holidays are just another horrible and painful reminder that life is hard and full of trouble. I know I am not the only one feeling that way this Chritmas and as I was about to post a picture with those words attached to a simple Facebook post, I realized it was more than a simple post and felt another blog entry coming.

It's Christmas, well really it's Advent. That time on the church calendar after All Saints Day and before Christmas Eve, more or less anyway, I am by no means an expert. The season of advent has always been my favorite because it's also the time of year that we reflect on looking forward to Christ's second coming. Which even before Jake left, was my favorite thing to talk about at church and Bible study.  It's a time we reflect on the longing and expectation of  God's people before the very first Chritmas and Christ's first advent, coming, and when He will come again at His second advent. It's a season of rich tradition in the church I grew up in with advent wreaths and candles. Chrismon's on the tree at church and weekly soup suppers before mid-week Advent service. Also my favorite Christmas song, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel."  I have beautiful, rich memories of singing it over the years, in both public and private worship.

Susan and I were talking the other day and joking or rather trying to make light of the aweful circumstances of the last year for each of us. She joked that perhaps she somehow missed Joseph's personal instructions for storing up provisions in their 7 years of plenty for their now mid seven years of lean ( Genesis 41-43) and I joked that I felt as if I was enduring my own personal desert exile (Exodus 15-Joshua 3). We joke and make light, but it truely has been aweful. I would really like to be able to write about it more. Writing helps, blogging helps a lot.  It makes a difference knowing that my story is helping other people and touching other people's lives. It helps me too, to read other people's stories because in their struggle I know I am not alone.

The last 48 hours have been a nightmare, but I can't tell you why.  I live in a suburb of Houston that occupies a sliver of land bordered on two sides by a river, feeding into a lake that creates a natural boundary. We have 2 main roads in and out connecting to the highway the creates the third side of our  community. Most people who live here joke that we live in a little bubble. If you don't know someone, you probably know someone who does. It's a small town! After being a part of the community for more than 16 years now, it feels even smaller. That was a beautiful gift in the days immmeditely following Jake's death. The rally of support from the community was amazing! That being said it makes it impossible for me to write about some of the more personal events in our lives. I don't have the protection of aminimity. The last 48 hours have been pretty bad, but for the sake of those involved I remain silent on the details. I know, however, that I am not alone because in the last month alone, I have seen various other people in my life experience job-loss, miscarriage, a marriage coming to an end, the death of a 6-week old baby to SIDS, car accidents, personal failures, the anniversaries of death, illness and hospital admissions...I'm sure the list could go on.

Honestly, I would like nothing more than to lay in bed, with the covers over my head until it all goes away.  I was bearly holding it all together just dealing with this being the first Christmas without Jake and the first anniversary looming so close. So once again I find myself crying out, "how am I suppose to do this!?!" Along with a string of other not so nice words...

And so I hear again, " in this world you will have trouble..." To be perfectly honest I'd really like to say, could I please check that one off the list of lessons learned, God? Okay! I get it!!  Instead I find myself, in the wee hours of the morning, pressing in once again. Trying hard to understand, trying to allow God to work and explain. Trying hard to find something to hang onto...

Once again I find myself staring at the words from John 16:33, but this time my eyes drawn to the beginning of the verse, I somehow missed before. Jesus said, "I have told you these things so that IN ME you may have peace (because) in this world you will have trouble..." And elsewhere in John, I feel God pointing out, "The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life (John12:25).  As well the words of John 16:20-22, "...you will weep and mourn...you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.  So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will take away you joy."

So I sit and listen as wind and rain batter against my window, seeming to match the storms of my last couple days. Pushing in, an odd peace surrounds me as I hear the voice of my most beloved friend speaking those words personalized for me..."sweet friend, you will weep and mourn; you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; you know full well and you have seen it with your own eyes, that when her baby is born she forgets immediately the anguish because of her joy at seeing her baby placed on her chest.  Her tears of anguish turn at once to tears of joy! And so it is with you: now is the time of your grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will be able to take away your joy."

And once again my heart swells and I can sing, O Come, O Come Emmanuel

It's Different

This past weekend we were invited over to our close family friend’s house to decorate Christmas cookies and gingerbread houses. It's one of their traditions and last year Jake and Zach spent that day with them, so this year they invited me and the three boys to join them.  Nate was invited over to his friend’s house to hang out, play basketball and go to a movie. I can't imagine any 11 year old boy who wouldn't have chosen the same when faced with the option of decorating over basketball and a movie, so we were minus one...well minus two.

Our gingerbread houses were the pre-baked, assemble yourself kind. All except for Zach, who claimed the pre-assembled house and started decorating. The rest of us began the arduous process of getting the house assembled with nothing but frosting. I had been looking at Pinterest for days coming up with a plan and used three kits to make a mansion of a gingerbread house. It took about 45 mins for us to abandon the self-assembled house for the kids. They had them about a quarter to half decorated and one by one they all fell. My mansion was coming together well, so a paused in my decorating and ran to the grocery store for three more pre-assembled houses for the kids and a few more items for the mansion.

Another hour of work and all the houses looked fantastic. The winners determined, we began photographing our work. One by one we lined them up with the creator proudly standing behind their masterpiece. Then as a final photo we lined them all up for a group shot. My girlfriend's husband was called in from outside light-decorating to snap the group shot and as we were waiting for him, I noticed the center section of the mansion roof slowly sagging and beginning to cave it. We frantically posed for the picture, trying to capture the moment before it fell. The final moments of the mansions demise capture forever in our picture with "please hurry" smiles plastered to our faces.  It was truly a priceless moment, which my girlfriend joked would become a blog piece for sure!!

Yep...didn't snap the picture quite fast enough

 

Nothing has worked out quite right this year, despite our efforts to make things as normal as possible. Even making those gingerbread houses was bittersweet and terribly hard. Zach and Morgan, my friend’s oldest daughter, had a rough time. I think we were all going through the motions. If not for the awesome comic relief of toppling roofs, I think we would have had a much different feeling leaving that day. Thank God for falling roofs and laughter. 

Pie is usually my major contribution for Thanksgiving. Jake used to say my apple pie was like heaven on a plate. It was hard making it this year, but NOT making it would have been even harder. I had to work a full day on Wednesday, when I normally would have made pie, so I started the process that night and figure I would finish in the morning and have it ready fresh out of the oven the next afternoon. Because the apples were going to sit in the refrigerator overnight, I used a squeeze of lemon on them to help prevent browning. I must have over done it or something else went horribly wrong because the pie was terrible this year!!  It was embarrassing how bad it tasted.  Not heaven on a plate by any stretch of imagination!

Thanksgiving in general was difficult. It was the boys’ year to be with their dad, which meant I was most likely going to be alone. As it turned out, Ray (my boyfriend of now a year and a half) was able to spend most of the day with me and Zach wanted to stay home.  Thanksgiving morning there was a 5K Turkey Trot in our community hosted by another family who has recently lost their youngest to cancer. Jake and their daughter had been in church and school together since about kindergarten and Ben is friends with many of the kids who started the organization hosting the event.  Honestly the thought of our first Thanksgiving without Jake was very overwhelming and the thought of spending the morning with another family who understood that sounded oddly comforting.  I underestimated, however the impact of it being so many people from the old church and when we arrived that morning I felt very out of place and uncomfortable. To add insult to injury, Zach, Ray and I had a very tense encounter with one of the leaders from the old church. He came over and hugged the friend I was standing with, looked with distain at Zach, Ray and I and then turned and walked away without saying a word. I think my friend was embarrassed by his behavior and I was hurt to say the least. The morning wasn't quite what I had hoped but we finished the race running and it was nice to see and hug another mom who really does understand. 

Our house is decorated. The tree is up. Christmas has begun, but nothing is quite right. None of it. The boys and I decided to get away for Christmas this year. I had been a little worried that maybe we should stay here and do our normal things, but as time goes on, I'm so glad we decided to change things up. We need it to be different because it IS different. Nothing is quite right and it never will be again and denying that and pushing through can only carry us so far. 

The countdown has begun to the one year anniversary. I felt it right away in November, but the boys are feeling it now to. They don't verbalized it, but they are not making it though the school days well again and we are back to sleepless nights once more.   Unfortunately our last memories of Jake are of doing Christmas and New Year’s things. It's as if every activity has a "this time last year" attached to it. This time last year everything was still okay. He was here decorating gingerbread houses and hanging out with friends. Making THE hottest enchilada sauce I have ever tasted and getting ready to get his drivers permit. This time last year... it's the last time we will be able to say that. From here on out our memories and photos move on without him. He forever 15, when Ben and Nate were still shorter than me with round, baby faces. The countdown has begun and yet in the midst of that we are still able to enjoy new memories and laugh and for that I am thankful!  Christmas is very different but it's still Christmas.
I'm praying for snow on our vacation, enough to be able to go sledding and maybe build a snowman. The boys have never seen anything more than Texas snow and that hardly counts.  I'm looking forward to our different Christmas and thankful we are able to get away. I'm thankful for friends who invite us into their traditions and cards and encouraging comments, they really do help and mean a lot. I'm thankful for all the prayers...we still need them. In fact if you feel so lead please pray for the boys, for their teachers to be understanding, for clear thought and super natural wisdom during finals. Pray for safe travel, for moments of laughter and joy in the weeks to come, and for snow. 

My mansion before it's untimely demise

 

I'm Okay, Just Busy...

I haven't been able to write in a while. Not just for the blog, but even in my personal journal. I have been super busy. Busy with the new job, busy with the boys schedule, just busy!  Several people told me early on after Jake died that I needed to stay busy. Actually they didn't tell me that directly, but that was a prevailing theme in reading between lines and comments made to those close to me. "She just needs to get back to work, that will really help."  And to some degree it has. The busy doesn't leave time in the day to sit and cry and the busy mixed with grief makes me drop into bed every night exhausted...hence not much time for writing.

People are uncomfortable with grief. There is no immediate fix so they don't know what to say.  Getting back to work and keeping busy is comfortable because then you have "normal" things to talk about. That way when someone asks, "How's everything going?" you can give the "normal" response of, "oh, it's okay, just busy!"

What becomes challenging with that is that nothing is quite normal and glossing over the huge gaping hole of grief doesn't make it go away. It's doubly hard when you get busy. There is this tension between needing to participate in life and also leaving time to heal. 

Disclaimer for those of you who are squeamish about medical type things, I am a nurse and we talk about disgusting things over lunch, so forgive me.  The weekend before Jake died, I went alone on a hike at one of the state parks near our house. I had a very peaceful walk and spent time journaling and talking to God. I actually wrote a poem that day which I had no way of knowing would foreshadow the events about to unfold in my life. Somewhere along that walk I got a small splinter in my foot.  That splinter bothered me for a couple months before I realized it was not a splinter but a planter wart. By the time I made the realization, I was without health insurance and decided to just use over the counter methods to treat it on my own. By October it was causing quite a bit of pain and I decided I should probably just get it taken care of, so I made the appointment and went in. Because I had let it go so long, the root was deep and the hole made to remove it was quite deep. Being the self-treating nurse that I am, I carefully took care of my foot and the hole to make sure I kept it clean. It healed nicely, from my observation, but at about a month, the pain was still there and I worried that perhaps the wart was coming back. The pain was so bad I was having a hard time taking my shoe on and off, so once again, instead of heading straight to the doctor, began the process of self-diagnosis. The hole had scabbed over and looked to me like healthy skin, but it was tender to touch and slightly swollen. I soaked my foot in hot water, probed a little deeper and found that under a thin film of new skin, was infection. I'll spare you the details, but after another week of careful tending and a follow-up doctor appointment, my foot is much better.  Although the outside of my foot looked healed the inside was still doing it's healing work and needed a hole still present to release the excess fluid cells produce when they are in the healing mode.

Being busy is good. And God has blessed me with people who have allowed me to be a mess of grief in their presence. I still need to be a mess every once in a while.  I'm still doing the healing work of grief and that looks messy sometimes. As the calendar turned to November I felt like I was seeing a train wreak coming from a distance. Having Thanksgiving, Christmas and the one year anniversary all so close together is very overwhelming! Also my life is not pretty.  It's not always easy to filter out conflicts with my ex-husband and his family or the hurts from having my old church family no longer welcomes me. I find it challenging to write, knowing things may be painful to hear, but in order to do this healing work I need to release those things occasionally. I hope in doing so every so often, it may help me in my healing, but also help others who may have messy issues mixed with grief in their own lives. So going forward, please forgive me if there are times when it's hard to read or feels uncomfortable, I really don't intend to hurt anyone. 

I'll end this post with the poem God inspired me to write the Sunday before Jake left...

Stillness fills my soul
Sounds of creation break my solitude,
if only for a moment, reminders
I am not alone

Sunshine surrounds me like a comfy blanket,
warming my spirit
Though death and decay leave behind
their undeniable mark, life abounds

And the promise of Spring

(1/25/15)

 

It is Well

It’s been 6 ½ months without him.  That’s 188 days or 4,512 hours. I cry every day. Not every day is the deep sobs, but every day I think of him and tears fill my eyes.  And I’m okay with that.  I really wouldn’t want it any other way just yet.  I miss him more every day.  The ache to see him, to hear his voice, the sound of him moving through the house and to throw my arms around him remain.  As life continues to move forward, I am becoming more aware of my triggers and at times still caught off guard by memories and milestones that hit harder than expected.  A new school year starting and friends getting driving permits are just a few.  Laundry is one of my daily triggers.  Having 4 boys, they all end up wearing each others’ clothes, so a few of Jake’s things still come through the wash and I cry.  Oddly enough if none of his stuff comes through I cry anyway, so either way I stand at the opening of the dryer and cry.

This crying thing is really nothing new for me.  I’m one of those sentimental, hopeless-romantics that cry during Hallmark commercials.  Every sentimental moment in a movie the boys are eyeballing me to see if I’m wiping away tears. Yes! I’m a sap.  But really! Who doesn’t cry when “Johnny” sneaks in Christmas morning, finds his baby sister and together they turn on the coffee pot and wait to surprise the rest of the family  Yep, I cry at graduations, pastor’s ordinations, flag ceremonies, when babies are born, during songs at church, and sometimes from just watching an old couple hold hands.  That’s just who I am.  So multiply that by a lot and imagine me now.  The bad thing is I don’t really like to cry in front of people.  Don’t get me wrong a couple tears is okay, but not this mass-producing snot and drool cry of deep grief.  It truly amazes me and grosses me out, the amount of mucus produced.  As much as I hate to admit it, I need my good cries.  It really, really sucks being alone, feeling so incredibly broken, but I am beginning to understand that grief is, by its very nature, a lonely process.  Even married friends, who walk this path, have described it to me this way.  The grief journey is so very unique and particular to each person and relationship, no one has the exact same path.  I think that may be why so many relationships fail after the death of a child.  Expectations of comfort fail to meet the horrific ache inside.  As a Christian with a strong and deep personal relationship with Christ, I can honestly tell you that even that has failed to help ease the ache during those horrific sobs.  If Christ, himself, leaves me wanting in those moments, who could I possibly think could step in His place…absolutely no one.  It aches to the deepest part of my soul.

The irony is that, it’s in that deep ache, the place of extreme loneliness, where fear and gratitude collide to produce within me the healing balm that soothes my soul.  It make absolutely no sense to me, but I need this and to not cry every day, at least right now, would be so much worse.

Romans 4 talks about the faith of Abraham.  In verse 17 the author makes this statement, “He (Abraham) is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed- the God that gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were.” 

That verse has always intrigued me, but this morning as I was listening to music the song “It is Well.” came on and that verse came to mind.  “Though it all, though it all my eyes are on you. And though it all, it is well with me”.  I’d just like to say, it is NOT at all “well with me” right now.  I miss Jake, I want him here.  I don’t care about some grander purpose sometimes, I just want my kid. I want to see him drive and graduate and get married and have children!  BUT somehow in the midst of my raw, horrific ache, God calls calls things that are not as though they were and I am able, by faith, to speak to my soul and say “it is well.”

It’s Jake’s faith and the Blood of Christ that make this okay and well with my soul.  The wages of sin is death and Jake, even though he was an awesome kid, a kind friend, talented actor, and good student, he was not perfect!  On his own merits he does not meet the standard of the Righteous Judge and King.  If not for the Blood of Christ and the Cross, he would be lost forever.  BUT GOD! Loved the whole world that He sent His one and only son, that whomever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life!!  And that profound mystery is why I can say, that even though it is not now completely the case, it is in the process of being WELL WITH MY SOUL.

Ray’s cousin died suddenly and unexpectedly this week.  He’s traveling this weekend to attend her funeral tomorrow.  Jake’s sweet friend, Hannah lost her dad last month.  My heart aches knowing the path that lies before each of those families.  Death, I’m afraid is a part of life, this side of heaven.  It’s hard to say good-bye even if you know you will see them again.  It seems like such a long time and Heaven is so very far away.  Knowing that Jake is safe and that his faith was strong makes me overwhelmingly grateful.  I would have done anything to save him, both physically and spiritually, but in both I was powerless.  The gratitude I have for my own salvation pales in comparison to the overwhelming thankfulness I feel for Jake’s.  Because while it bring little comfort to the ache of missing him, it is the very breathe of life that allows me to continue.  The hope and promise that I will see him again is EVERYTHING!

With each death since Jake’s, I have this deep desire to ask those who go before me to take a message to Jake for me.  It feels weird asking, but there are no cell phones in Heaven, that I am aware of, so all I can do is ask.  Please, if you get there before I do, would you please give Jake a hug for me.  Tell him that I am so very proud to be his mom and that I miss him terribly. Tell him to save me a place under our tree ( he will know what I mean) and that I’ll be there as soon as I’m done here.

And please, sweet friend, if you have not yet put your trust and faith in Him, don’t wait.  Christ is an amazing friend and though the journey is sometimes harder than you could ever have imagined, He will never leave you completely alone.  He will give you a peace which passes all understanding so that in the midst of the deepest ache you can still say, it is well…

NO! I Am Not Okay.

NO! I’m not okay!!  Thanks for asking.  My baby is dead, I had him put in a box and into a fire.  They burned him to nothing but ash and now those ashes sit in a decorative box on the piano in my living room.  The reality of those words are so beyond comprehensible I can hardly bring myself to verbalize them.  To be blunt and vulgar, it’s completely fucked up.  The fact that I am living with that reality and still functioning as a productive mom, homeowner and professional is nothing short of a miracle in and of itself.

I think it’s safe to say I have reached the anger stage of grief.  You know that scene from the movie Steel Magnolias, after Shleby dies when her mom, Malinn, surrounded by her friends after the funeral, completely loses it?  I’m pretty sure that was me this past week.  I’m mad, angry, sad, overwhelmed, irritable, frustrated, the list goes on.  I want to scream and hit something or someone.  I’m trying as best I can to keep moving and adjust to life without him, but it’s really hard!  In the movie, Malinn, says “I just want to hit somebody until they hurt as bad as I do”, the Amy version of that this week was, “I’m so angry, I could kill someone with a spoon right now.”  My poor girlfriend who got that unloaded on her, busted out laughing, thank God.  I’m not sure everyone would have responded with such compassion.

I think what makes it worse is the fact that I’m beginning to sense an unspoken time limit given by the world in which it’s still appropriate to grieve.  No one would be so bold at to say it out loud to my face, but it’s there none the less.  My girlfriend, who lost a husband several years ago, warned me about it.  I don’t necessarily care what others think, but their judgement and not so thoughtful comments can flare my anger and that certainly isn’t helping at this stage of things.  I am at peace with where I am right now.  I know that it will not always be so raw and emotional, but at the same time, I also know that I will never “get over” losing Jake.  He took a piece of my heart with him when he left.  In addition, what kind of message would that send to my three other boys if I just moved on and “got over it.”  Mostly I would like to respond to those stupid comments with some nasty reply and someday I might.  Maybe I should have some business cards printed and ready to explain when I open my mouth and something like, “well my kid is dead and his ashes are sitting on my piano at home, so I win!” come flying out of my mouth without explanation.  Maybe I should just carry around spoons, at least then I could laugh at my passive-aggressive self.  Unfortunately then I would just feel bad for unloading on the poor unsuspecting soul, who is just not thinking.  Ah, the angry stage….hope it passes quickly!

The six month mark is a little more than a week away, his birthday was a week ago and I am a complete mess.  I still feel his presence in everything.  It feels like he ran to a friend’s house and I’m just waiting for him to get home.  Then reality hits again…it’s an awful reality.  I miss him and I’m afraid of forgetting.  I miss being silly with him and hanging out with his friends.  I get sad thinking about what he would be doing if he was here and the life he’s missing out on.

Last week we celebrated Jake’s birthday, by throwing a festival and huge community birthday party.  The plan was initially to have a big party and spend the day with his friends celebrating Jake’s life.  Zach came up with the idea as a way to spend the day not being sad.  We had also discussed starting a Memorial scholarship in his name, so the two ideas became combined and the event took on a life of its own.  It was an amazing night.  I once again got a greater understanding of the impact my son had on so many lives.  With the funds that we raised on his birthday, we are establishing The Jake Silva Memorial Fine Arts Scholarship.  Though bittersweet, I am excited to begin giving back to a community who has completely overwhelmed me with love and support and I am hopeful that through the kids that go on to their own careers in the Arts, that I might live vicariously through them and that Jake’s name will be remembered

The impact he made in his short 15 years still astounds me.  He is remembered as a sweet, caring, amazing friend, who wore his heart on his sleeve.  He was nice to people even if they were not nice to him.  He was a great listener, who shared Christ, unashamed and gave THE BEST HUGS!  His friends continue to write daily on his social media, which I do sometimes read.  We had over 175 volunteers at his party, not to mention those who came to just celebrate his life.  It’s amazing to me his impact.  “Just Jake”, the name we have adopted to describe him and his memorial has gone international…t-shirts spotted all over the US and in Mexico.  My blog has been viewed all across the globe…Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa and the Middle East.  In fact, as I type today, I am wrapped in a shawl made for me by a group of women in Australia, most of whom I have never met, who wanted to let me know how our story and the intersection of meeting my friend has impacted their life.  So in spite of being in the angry stage and feeling at times judged, God allows me respite in the knowing that there is a greater purpose and plan at work here.  He is still walking with me through every step and sending love from all over the world to let me know I’m not alone.  And “I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God” (Psalm 42:5)

The Spiritual Act of Worship

There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven:  a time to be born and to die, to plant, to uproot, to kill, to heal, to tear down, to build, to weep, to laugh, to mourn, to dance, to scatter stones and to gather them.  A time to embrace and a time to refrain, to search, to give up, a time to keep and throw away, to tear, to mend, to be silent, to speak up. A time to love, a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace...He has made everything beautiful in its time.

He has made everything beautiful in its time... I can certainly see beauty in some of the things in that preceding list, but I'm not sure I would have ascribed beauty to things like death, killing, mourning, war, giving up and hate...yet it says  He has made EVERYTHING beautiful in its time. (Ecclesiates 3:1-8)

When my boys were in preschool and early elementary school, I attended a ladies Bible study Tuesday mornings.  My friend, Susan, was the leader.  Our second born children are just about 2 month apart  and shared a baptism day, or maybe weekend, I can't remember  at this point.  At the time we were merely acquaintances in choir together, but over the years of choir and Bible study together, Susan became on of my dearest friends and sisters. She and our friend Karen, were the daring souls who went with us on our camping adventures.  They, and the 11 children we shared between the 3 of us, were frequently the topic of conversation at Tuesday morning Bible study.  Our conversations in and out of Bible study were seasoned with humor, the very best of sarcasm, love, grace, and sympathetic understanding as we traveled through life with first toddlers, then school-aged kiddos and onto the preteen and teenage years.

Susan's husband, Mark, is also a dear friend and mentor.  He was the worship leader at our church and I was blessed to lead with him from the platform for many years.  Mark has an incredible heart for worship and for people.  I learned so much from him about worship, leading music and true authentic friendship from both him and Susan.  They are one of those rare couples that I truly admire.  I pray for God to bless me with that type of marriage someday.

Mark and Susan moved away a few years ago, fortunately we are still able to see each other and stay connected through Facebook.  Susan was the one who stayed with me after Jake died.  She was an amazing blessing during that time. I am so tankful for them both.

I miss Susan.  I miss singing with Mark.  I miss my Tuesday morning Bible study ladies. I miss my old church, the way it use to be...  My whole world has been turned upside down in the last 3 years.  I lost the church in the divorce, I think that's how people say it,  I don't like to talk about it and I'm sensitive to say much because I still have friends there, but the truth of the matter is that I was more or less asked to leave when I filed for the divorce.  I'm not sure why people, especially pastors feel they need to choose sides, but they do.  To be honest it's challenging not to even in the best of circumstances.  Susan and Mark had already moved away, it already felt different, but I was wounded in the process.

When Jake died, I had not yet felt found a church home where I felt comfortable.  Jake and Zach had been going to a youth worship on Wednesday nights and we had been attending on Sundays for more than a year, but I still had not felt the call of God to make it home.  The response from the youth pastors and congregation following  Jake being admitted to the ICU was incredible and suddenly it felt like family where it had not before.  Nothing like being thrown into one of the most intimate moments of your life surrounded by strangers to make them instantaneously family.  I needed them, to help support my boys and all of Jake's friends and they answered the call of God to be His hands and feet.  At now, almost 5 months since Jake left us, the pastors and congregation continue to be there and walk with us through this season of grief.  I'm grateful and though I miss the intimacy that I had in worship with Mark, Susan and my other friends, I am realizing that God has indeed made everything beautiful in its time.  I don't like that time continues to march on, I really don't want to keep going.  I'd like to hit a pause button or maybe even a rewind. To go back and  soak in and enjoy those precious and cherished memories.

 I realize, of course, that is impossible and it does help me prioritize how I spend my time now.  I  recently joined a Bible study at the new church.  It was in Bible study that my friendship with Susan really blossomed, so I think at the core of it I want to a least try and put myself out there.  I chose one with a topic near and dear to my heart, "Deepening Your Worship."  I tried, this week to keep up with homework with not much success and Wednesday night when the time came to walk out the door, I was just not up for it.  The mommy guilt of being gone all day for my new job won and instead I went to the park with Ben and Nate.  We collected toads, played in the mud, spun on a tire swing and had fun for about 40 minutes until another round of rain from Tropical Storm Bill let lose in the skies.

That night, as I lay staring at the book on my night stand, "Deepening Your Worship with God; A Bible study on worshiping God extravagantly," I began to ponder that thought.  For many years I have understood worship to be so much more than just the songs we sing together on Sunday mornings. My public worship at church is often amazing, I miss terribly being able to see God's peoples arms raised in worship from the platform.  Mark taught me my role as a worship leader was much like an usher pointing they way to the Throne of Grace.  To be able to participate in that is extremely humbling.  In private I worship with song as well, because that is how I am wired, but I have also learned that worship is and can be so much more than music.  It is an attitude of praise no matter what the activity.  In this season I feel God teaching me even more about worship.

Thursdays are hard and this week was rough.  There are moments and days when I don't want to do anything, I don't really even want to keep breathing.  I am not by any means suicidal, please don't read it that way, it's just that if God decided it was my time, I'd be more than happy to leave.  It's overwhelming to think about how long it will be before I can see Jake again.  It's awful and very, very lonely.  It feels like this season may never end.  I resent the fact that the world continues to spin and time continues on.  It's in these moments and days when grief overwhelms me that I am learning yet another aspect of worship.  In those moments when grief takes my breath away and I find it hard to even find the desire to continue breathing, I hear God whisper the words of Acts 17:28, "For in Him we live and move and have our being." In this season of deep grief, God is teaching me that the mere choice to continue IS my worship.  Sitting here, taking in air, and being still before God is as about as much "worship" that I can manage sometimes and I am encouraged by the words I remember my friend sharing over the years, "Therefore, I urge you brother and sisters, in view of God's mercy to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God- This is your spiritual act of worship."

I pray that someday soon God will lead me to sing on a platform again, to be apart of a meaningful Bible study with a great group of women, and that the new church will continue to feel more and more like home.  Until that day, I will look for the beauty in this season and I  will continue to keep breathing, worshiping God with as much extravagance I can manage.

God Is Good

After walking out of the hospital on the evening I walked Jake home, friends drove me to get the other boys from where they were staying with close family friends.  They had said good-bye the night before and elected to not come down again.  We went home together, talked, held each other and managed to eat some dinner.  We slept all together in Zach's bed that night.  They boys slept soundly, or at least it seemed that way.  I don't think I slept much at all.  God and I had a long chat that night. He had a message for me the share and most of the night was spent with Him sharing that with me.  I got up early that morning, knowing I would speak at Jake's funeral. He told me there would be many wondering how a "good God" could do something like this and I was the only person who could answer that for them.  This is the message He gave me to share, which I did end up sharing at Jake's funeral.  God's goodness continues to overwhelm me and despite my wide range of emotions, including at times, anger, I will continue to proclaim His goodness and praise the ONE who gives and takes away...

One of Jake's favorite things to do was to go camping.  We went just about every Spring Break with friends.  It became our tradition.  He loved to be outside with his friends.  I think what he loved most about those trips was breakfast. Jake loves pancakes, chocolate chip pancake to be exact.  No butter, no syrup, no fork; bacon if you've got it, but really just pancakes, please!  He didn't particularly care for cereal, but as I was thinking about today and God began to put it on my heart that I was going to speak to all of you, I was thinking about one of my favorite breakfasts...Frosted Mini Wheats.  I love that perfect mixture of crunch mixed with the frosted sugar and the milk.  There is a balance there, timing is everything.  That time when the milk has absorbed just the right amount without the cereal becoming soggy.  God speaks to me in those types of word pictures, so as I began to sense God leading me to speak to you, that picture of pouring milk over the cereal; watching it expand and get bigger, lead me to thinking about how God is made bigger and magnified in our lives. That thought just sat on me for awhile and more on that began to come and I realized that this was something that was going to happen, I was going to stand up and talk to all of you.  And I know God placed it on my heart because I know so many of you are wondering why. He's 15! Why?  I doesn't make any sense!  And some of you are questioning, How could a "good" God take away somebody so young?  How could a "good" God do something like this?

I want you to listen to me very carefully...Just because God knew, before the foundation of the world really, that last Thursday was going to be the day He called Jake home, does not mean that God caused it to happen.  It's one of those great mysteries that we don't understand.  He knows things, but He doesn't necessarily do those bad things.

 We live in a fallen world. A world with germs and diseases, violence and accidents, sin and their natural consequences.  Jake was healthy and full of life.  The chances of him getting this particular bacteria to make the leap from the place it normally lives in the nose, to his ear and then his brain was as likely to happen as him being struck by lightening, but it did.  When Christ calls us to follow Him and we accept Him into our heart He does NOT promise us that we won't have trouble. He tells us in John 15 and 16 that we can't actually count on quite a bit of trouble.

The lie we fall into sometimes is that we think that when we take on Christ and we accept Him into our hearts that everything is going to be okay and that life is going to be okay. It's kind of life this "life enhancement" that we put on..."we have Christ and everything is good!"  I've heard it explained to me this way...  Imagine you are going on a trip and as you board the plane the flight attendant hands you a backpack and says, "wear this and your flight will be better."  So you take the backpack and you slip it on your back, she said wear it, not place it in the overhead baggage.  You take your seat and get buckled in.  For maybe a minute or two you may think, "Okay, this is good.  Somehow this thing is going to make my flight better."  For most of us it wouldn't take too long to get uncomfortable and even irritated with wearing the fight enhancing backpack.  It's uncomfortable, hard to sit, the seat belt is digging in.  The seat feels smaller. The tray table is hitting you in the wrong spot. Nothing about this backpack is making your flight feel better.  What if instead when the flight attendant handed you the backpack upon boarding she had told you, "wear this because at any moment this plane may crash and this is your parachute."  So now instead you put it on and you think, "Oh thank God" Now instead of focusing on the discomforts from wearing the backpack, you grip tight the straps and hold on because you know that at any moment this is going to be your life, your life line.  This is going to be the thing that saves you.

Jesus never promised us that this life would be easy. " In this world you will have trouble" and bad things are going to happen, but God does not leave us alone.  In that same section of John 15-16 Christ promises us the Holy Spirit.

John 15:26 says, "When the Counselor comes, whom I will send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who goes out from the Father, he will testify about me" and in 16:12 He reaffirms, " I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear.  But when HE, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth."

So back to my bowl of Mini-Wheats...When I pour milk over the mini-wheats, the milk is absorbed by the cereal and it begins to expand.  The milk pushes it's way into the spaces between the molecules of wheat and it gets bigger.

The gift of my God, I hope your God, is that in the midst of the bad things, though they don't make any sense at all and they seem unfair, God pours out His Holy Spirit on us. And the Holy Spirit begins to get absorbed into our lives and pushes out and into those spaces in between the cells and God is made bigger in our lives.  He is magnified.  That word magnified can take on two meanings.  It can mean that God is made bigger, but we can also use it as a magnifying glass.  We can take it and put it onto a situation and we can see God in ways we never would have before.  So when we choose Christ, that's the gift of God.  That's the gift. That even though we mourn, we can see the beautiful things that are happening.  The things that though it doesn't make sense, it makes it okay.

He has allowed me to see so many blessings over Jake's life, especially over this last year.  And even though it feels like my heart is shattered in a million pieces and it's hard even to breath, I can still stand here and tell you that GOD IS GOOD.  That He loves me, He loves my boys, He loves Jake and He loves you. And we are not without hope!  I KNOW, not doubt in my mind, that I'm going to see Jake again.  And I'm going to praise God until I do.


My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior - Luke 1:46-47

I delight greatly in the Lord.  My soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness. - Isaiah 61:10

Mother's Day...ugh!

It's Mother's Day. Three and a half months ago, the one who first made me a mom died. I have my three boys and I love them dearly, but not one of them replaces Jake and the hole his absence has created. To be honest I have never loved Mother's Day. My first Mother's Day might have been pretty good, but I don't really remember. Most of the Mother's Days that I do remember we're like every other day with 4 kids, 4 boys to be specific. I have very good children, I have been blessed beyond measure. They are healthy and well-behaved boys, but they are very much boys. They fight and bicker with each other.  They make huge messes and don't clean up after themselves. They have a never ending desire to "do something" because they are almost always bored. They are not especially thoughtful or appreciative, not to say that can't be, but certainly not often. None of that changes just because it's a day with a name attached to it. My expectations, however do change on this day. I'm not sure why I expect different behavior just because the day is labeled for me. Visions of sweet handmade gifts and breakfast in bed or perhaps an afternoon of peace and harmony as we eat out at my favorite restaurant have never really come to fruition at my house. Even as they have gotten older not much has changed. 

The week leading up to Mother's Day this year was rough. I knew today would be bad. I miss Jake. If any of them was the one to be thoughtful and remember the day, it was usually him.  Friends have sent cards and called to wish me Happy Mother's Day, but it's not quite the same as hearing it from your kids. 

This year, mostly it has just sucked, to be honest. I've search for some deep meaning or a God moment to help me through it, but I go nothing! And for some reason I think that is the point. Sometimes things just suck and nothing anyone says or does can change that. 

I miscarried my first pregnancy. I wasn't far enough along to know for sure if it was a boy or girl, but in my heart I knew I had a daughter. I named her Meghan. We lost another baby in between Jake and Zach and had an adoption fall through after Nate. I lost my niece, Rebekah as well. I was blessed to hold her and bathe her after she was born. With every loss I have grieved. I grieved not only the loss of my baby or niece, but also the future I had envisioned with them. That is so much harder now with Jake. Every first without him seems to accentuate the fact that my future is and will be different than the one I had dreamed about for him and me.  

I think it's fair to say I'm not a stranger to grief and loss. I know that I am not alone. Good friends have struggled with infertility and others have had years of struggle with children who have made bad choices and wait patiently for God to intervene. Others have lost babies through miscarriage, still-birth, cancer and suicide. This year along with my own grief, my heart is overwhelmed for all the mom's who are hurting. On a day when we celebrate moms, I grieve for those moms for whom this day stands as painful reminder of unmet expectations. I'd love to have something wonderful and poignant to say, but once again I've got nothing...sometimes it just sucks. Sometimes there is no promise that it's going to get any easier or that "this to shall pass." Sometimes it's a matter of putting on a nice dress and make-up and getting through the day as best you can. Sometimes you have to look hard for something to be thankful for. Sometimes you just have to let yourself cry and give yourself some grace. And if tomorrow it's not much better, just hold on until it is...and know you are not alone.

The Test With My Name On It

From Beth Moore's study, "The Patriarchs".

1.  Our tests have our names on them.  The Hebrew word for tested means " to test, try, prove...generally carries the idea of testing the quality of someone or something through stressful circumstances.

2.  Our hardest tests involve our dearest loves.

3.  We are not powerless in our tests.  How we take them is entirely up to us.

4.  Obedience is not the hardest part of our most trying tests.  Keeping the faith can be hardest of all.

5.  Like Abraham, we're likely to discover that the harder the test, the further reaching the ramifications.

As the clocked ticked closer to the time to say goodbye, I became less and less aware of the people and goings on around me.  Jake and I were alone in a little bubble.  Time slowed down and I began to both dread and cherish every second and every beat of his heart.  Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind and verse after verse of scripture and songs came and ministered to me one after another.  I am one of those people who underline and write in the margins of my Bible.  I know scripture not by chapter and verse as much as by their position on the page and by the notes I have made for myself over the years.

On the right hand margin of the page where Genesis 22 is situated in my Bible is the note, "Our test has our name on it".  Genesis 22:1 says, "Sometime later God tested Abraham..."  I wrote that note several years ago during Beth Moore's study "The Patriarchs".  As I sat with Jake that note came to mind, I could picture in my mind where it was on the page.  My first thought was how unfair it was that my test was so similar to that of Abraham and wishing to God that there could be a ram stuck in the thicket somewhere.  I knew, however, that was not to be.

I honestly can not describe or explain the clarity of thought and the peace that enveloped me,,,it was supernatural.  I'm sure there was a certain level of shock and crisis-nurse-mode allowing me to function, but there was also a "knowing" that I will never be able to fully explain.  For instance I knew early on that Jake was going to leave, that somehow it was going to be okay.  I knew Jake was with Christ and that he (Jake) wanted to go, or at least he didn't want to return.  On some level Jake made the choice to stay with Christ. I realized that my test was as much, if not more about how I was going to respond to his death as it was about being able to let him go.  Sitting there, holding Jake's hand, I knew this was my test.

I prayed, "Help me!" "Show me how!"  "How will I be able to walk out of this room and leave him here?" And in the midst of that prayer my words shifted, "Help me not fall apart! Help me be a woman of dignity and grace.  I want to be a woman the boys can be proud of.  A Proverbs 31 woman, whose children arise and call her blessed."

I am far from perfect, I am not a super mom.  I've made mistakes and given the boys plenty of material to tell Oprah when they are older.  I'm not always the most thoughtful friend, sister, daughter or mom.  My sins are many.  The one thing I have always tried to be is authentic and real...

I don't think I have ever, in my whole life, been more aware of being watched.  I had the feeling of being a fish in a fish bowl.  I was especially aware of it the first day at the hospital and to a lesser degree in the days and weeks following his death.  It's only natural, I suppose, and rooted in genuine care and love of family and friends, but I had many, many people "keeping an eye on me" and wondering how I was doing.  I'm uncomfortable admitting that I wondered and worried if I was "doing this right".  Was I grieving appropriately?  It did and does bother me that that was where my thoughts went.  It felt terribly self-centered.  Like it or not though people do watch to see how you respond in a crisis and pass their judgment, even if innocently or unknowingly.  "Have you seen so-and-so?  How's she doing?"  I've done it too.  We watch and we wonder how we would respond given the same circumstances.  It wasn't until I remembered the note "our test has our name on it" , that I began to see purpose in those thoughts.

As I was looking back on that moment and remembering the note, I pulled out the book, "The Patriarchs." It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for.  Along with the words of my original note, several other points stood out on the page to minister to me.  The first was the meaning of the word tested," to test, try, prove...generally carries the idea of testing the quality of someone or something through stressful circumstances. The other was that we are not powerless in our tests.  How we take them is entirely up to us.  The shame of feeling what I thought was self-centered evaporated. I began to slowly realize that my hyper-awareness of being on display was deeply rooted in my desire to hear the words "well done good and faithful servant." I want to pass this test and I want to be a woman of dignity and grace, one that Jake can be proud of.

I have learned so much about grief and grieving in the three month since Jake left.  I have learned that no situation is the same and that no one, NO ONE grieves the same.  I've learned there is no right or wrong way to grieve.  Many people will offer their suggestions or share their story, but only you can decide what path is right for you.  There are no steadfast rules for grief, which is probably just as well because I don't follow rules well anyway, just ask my friend Susan!

I continue to be overwhelmed by the love and grace of God.  Today is three months exactly an hour ago, as I type since I walked away from that hospital room.  I still occasionally wonder if I'm doing it right and I am still aware of caring and wondering eyes watching, including those of my boys.  I continue to pray to be a woman of dignity and grace and I long for the day that I see Jake again.  I miss him...  I joke with God that He will have to let me see Jake first, when I get there, otherwise I might run past Him to get to my boy.  He knows I'm only joking... well sort of.

Dangerous Words

All to Jesus, I surrender

All to Him, I freely give

I will ever love and trust Him

In His presence daily live

I surrender all, I surrender all

All to Thee, my blessed Savior

I surrender all

I was listening to music this morning, as I was getting ready for the day.  That is pretty much my routine every morning.  The boys' too. Sometimes it's a lyrical battle in the morning over shower time and breakfast.  I love the fact that either way it is normally some Christian artist setting the tune and tone of our family for the day.  This morning as I was making myself beautiful for a day of chorus and humming along, I stopped and pondered the words of the song that I was singing and tears began to gather. That is certainly not the first time I have done that, pondered the words nor had tears gather, but it did cause me pause to wonder how many times did I sing those words and not even think about them.  "I surrender ALL." Sometimes words are more powerful and dangerous than we realize.  I can't tell you how many songs I have sung in worship that now I'd like to go back and kick myself and say something like, "HEY!!! Do you really mean that, because one day God may actually take you up on those words!"

One of Jake's favorite songs is "Oceans" by Hillsong United.  It was a song they played a lot last summer and fall at church and Wednesday nights.  He sang it full voiced, arms raised, totally abandoned, sold out to his Savior.  I was so very proud of him.  I remember looking over at him this summer.  He was standing with a group of friends in the balcony, arms raised, worshiping with his whole heart.  As a worship leader and someone who uses music not only to worship, but as prayers, it melted my heart to see that.  A mother can really not ask for anything more than that.  To know that her child loves God and worships Him with their whole heart is what being a mom is all about, at least for me.

I remember driving in the car last summer when "Oceans" came on the radio, I felt so compelled to pray those words, I pulled over the car and scribbled them down in my journal and prayed them immediately, with tears in my eyes.
"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.  Let me walk upon the waters.  Wherever You would call me.  Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.  And my faith will be made stronger.  In the presence of my Savior"

At this moment I'd like to say, "I didn't mean it God!  I didn't understand what I was saying and I certainly didn't mean you could take Jake! I wasn't ready!  I want more time.  When I said ALL, I didn't mean this.  And when I said "lead me to where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters", THIS is NOT what I had in mind.  Another trip to Africa maybe.  Trusting you with my singleness, sure! But not this!"

I realize, however, that I don't have control over those things. The old saying "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" is a complete and total lie!  He does in fact do just that...He gives you way more than you can handle so that you can turn to Him and say, "I surrender!"  Because when I say "I surrender all", He takes me seriously and takes ALL my praise, my worship, my offerings, my sin, my pain, my sorrow, my hurt, my tears, my... ALL.  He takes it ALL and tells me, “Come to me, you who are struggling hard and carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest. Put on my yoke, and learn from me. I’m gentle and humble. And you will find rest for yourselves. My yoke is easy to bear, and my burden is light.”(Matthew 11 28-30)

Grief is a hard and heavy load, I break down and cry over big and small things daily.  Things as simple as ordering a sandwich or a chia latte from my favorite coffee place are hard.  Places and things bring back floods of sweet memories and I miss my kid!  I can't even get through this without having to wipe tears away so I can see the screen, but God...  I just can't be mad at that guy, you know, God...I love Him with my whole heart, He's everything to me.  And even though it hurts and I don't like it one bit, I do trust Him.  It was ME, after all, that prayed, "I surrender all" and asked Him to "take me deeper than my feet could ever wander", so I'll trust that He is working out the rest of that and He's taking me through this valley so that, "my faith will be made stronger, in the presence of my Savior."   And I'll continue to pray and sing those dangerous words, just with more awareness of what I'm actually saying. 

Everything I Need

Several years ago, I had a string of sleepless nights in a row.  I honestly could not tell you now what it was that was keeping me awake. It could have been any number of things at the time, but I do remember deciding that it must be God keeping me awake.  After a couple of nights in a row of not sleeping well, I invited God to use the time for His pleasure and purpose (might have been Him doing the inviting, but whatever)  I asked Him to bring to mind, during my sleeplessness, anyone that might need prayer and in return I asked that He multiply the rest that I got from the little sleep that I did get.  That was certainly not the beginning of my "chats" with God, I'm not sure I could pinpoint that time, but it was a marking point in my walk with God.  Since then I have had other bouts of sleeplessness mixed with long stretches of nights with restful slumber, but my 2 am wake-up calls from God remain fruitful when they happen and I always wake-up feeling rested when they do.  Last night was a good "chat" with God night, mixed with dreams of Jake and seeing his infectious smile.
His message to me, as always gentle, compassionate and revealing.

My life right now, as you might imagine, feels completely turned upside down.  Very little feels certain or sure.  Part of that is a result of losing Jake, but not completely.  Uncertainty has become a companion over the last couple years.  When I was younger I could kind of predict how things would go and more or less life would move in that direction, but since my divorce there is very little predicting how things will all work out.  My life has changed drastically, that's for sure.  Just four years ago, I was a married, home-schooling mom of four rambunctious boys, who worked part-time in labor and delivery and taught child birth classes once a month.  I feel silly now, remembering all the time I spent worrying about things like home-schooling through high school.  I had no idea all that would happen. That I would soon be a single mom of three not four, dealing with a whole new set of issues like how to grieve and still be a mom.  How to maintain a dating relationship and friendships in the midst of devastating loss.  And actively looking for a new job for the first time in my life, not because I have to, but because the current one no longer fits with all the other pieces of my otherwise shattered life. No, I could never have predicted this path and really, thank God!  If I had known before all that would happen, my goodness, the weight and burden of that!  We are not meant to know the future for a reason.

While I am tempted daily to allow the uncertainty of my near future to cause me anxiety, I am reminded of how much God has already provided.  In everything, and I do mean everything, He has met my every need and lavished on me blessing after blessing.  When Jake was admitted to the hospital, I had very little paid time off remaining.  Before the funeral, I had used up the bereavement time and quickly went through the PTO.  At the time I called into work after the funeral, I told my boss that I was taking a giant leap of faith and asked for 8 weeks personal leave.  I had no idea how long to expect it would take to get back to feeling somewhat normal, but felt God impressing on me 2 months.  It has been now almost 10 weeks, normal is a ways off for the boys and me, but in the meantime my bills are paid and we have food and provisions to keep us going. God has certainly used His people to provide for us in all sorts of ways.  It has been truly humbling.  At times I feel incredibly unworthy, it is difficult to be on the receiving end of things when you are so often the giver, but on the other hand I stand in awe of His church! His hands and feet! I am so profoundly thankful for everyone that has helped us!!

I have two interviews this week and I am certain God will again provide something in His time.  My position taking care of babies has been very graciously held for me despite the fact that there is no guarantee when taking a personal leave. I had not been in my new job quite a year so I did not qualify for family leave. I LOVE my job, my coworkers and the hospital that I work for, but I have been working night shifts and with Jake's death and the sleep deprivation that comes with not only my grief but that of my boys, it makes me nervous to return to nights.  I don't have a "normal" job.  Parents of precious newborns entrust me to provide the best care possible and I don't feel like that is possible on night shift right now.  Not to mention the 10 year old in my own home that regularly asks me to come rub his back until he falls asleep.  Interestingly there is not a day shift position to be had in all of women's services right now at either local hospital.  So uncertainty strikes again and it appears God has other plans for my professional future as well... I'm excited to see what He has in-store for me.

Through all of this I have been surrounded by friends and family.  I am abundantly blessed to have my "handlers". Honestly it is because of them that I have been able to do things like pay bills, stay organized, and function day to day.  Especially during those first few weeks, I was in a complete fog.  I didn't even feel safe driving.  For the first 2 weeks I had someone with me just about 24/7.  I had food, made and delivered, every night for 6 weeks by people in my community that I didn't even necessarily know.  My circle of friends has expanded exponentially and their love and support is astonishing! I thank God for them daily. I am so thankful to include among my friends, a really great guy, named Ray.  God brought him into my life last summer and although we are taking things slow, he has been an amazing addition to my life.  I feel blessed and lucky that he was able to meet and know Jake and that he was with me when I said good-bye for the last time.  You can imagine the stress and uncertainty of dating through an incredible loss like this one, but Ray has been there as a rock to keep me grounded and offered the arms and shoulder of a tender, caring companion when I needed him most.  I really could not ask for more right now.  My life and my future may be full of uncertainty, but full of blessing as well.

This morning, as l lay pondering all that God has blessed me with and reflecting on the "chat" God and I had had in the wee hours of the morning, Zach came downstairs with his music blaring.  The lyrics tugged at my heart, pressing deeper God's overnight message to me.  "I got everything I need and nothin' that I don't. (Homegrown- Zac Brown Band)  The truth of those words have sat on me all day.  Although uncertain, I truly have everything I need right now.  God is truly my ELShaddai, the All-Sufficient One.  Even in the dark places of deep sadness, loneliness and fear He protects and provides for me so that nothing and no one could step in and try to satisfy my soul as only He can.  I can hear Him speaking softly, "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness" or in other words (or blaring lyrics) "I got everything I need and nothin' that I don't."

The Hope of Easter

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.  For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him...for the The Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God and the dead in Christ will rise first. after that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the cloud to meet The Lord in the air.  And so we will be with The Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

The love Easter, I always have.  The resurrection and Christ's second coming is probably my most favorite thing to talk about and sing about.  Easter is what this whole Christian walk is all about.  It's where our human fraility meets our supernatural God.  That word, supernatural, sometimes scares church people, but no place more than Easter does that particular word more aptly describe God.  Webster's defines it this way:  departing from what is usual or normal, especially so as to appear to transcend the laws of nature.  Throughout the Bible, God gives us plenty of examples of this, creation, the flood, a talking donkey, parting of seas, fire from heaven, he even brought time to a stand still for a man named Joshua (Joshua 10:13) and turned back the clock for Hezekiah (2 King 20). Jesus turned water into wine, gave blind men sight, healed the sick, made the lame walk, and even raised people from the dead. He certainly "departed from what is usual or normal."  None more than at Easter do those supernatural acts of my supernatural God speak to my heart and all the more this year.  Everything, all my hope, hinges on that day, that event, that forever changed the sting and agony of death.
Losing Jake has been the hardest thing I have ever had to endure. It happened so very fast. One Sunday we were at church together and the next I was planning his funeral. The first month I was in a fog. I would not have gotten through without the help of my friends.  The nights remain the hardest.  Sobbing, alone into my pillow, there is very little comfort.  Nothing in life can prepare you for the lose of your child, it is not natural. It's the most horrific ache, deep down to the depths of your soul.  No words can soothe the pain.  Even knowing I will see Jake again, that he is safe in the arms of Christ does little to relieve the physical ache of missing him, hearing his voice, and seeing his infectious and contagious smile.  If not for Easter, I have no idea how I would go on.  I'm told by precious parents who have begun this journey ahead of me that the ache never goes away, but you learn to live with it.  That every moment is bittersweet, but laughter and happiness return.  I can already see glimmers of that even after only two months, so I believe them. Even on the hard days I still manage to find some joy.
A couple of years ago on Easter morning I sang with the choir at church the song "I Will Rise" by Chris Tomlin.  It was an amazing time of worship, one I will never forget.  Those words minister to me even more deeply now, as I can truly say, "there is a peace I've come to know, though my heart and flesh may fail.  There's an anchor for my soul, I can say it is well. Jesus has overcome and the grave is overwhelmed. The victory is won. He is risen from the dead. And I will rise when He calls my name. No more sorrow, no more pain. I will rise on eagles wings. Before my God fall on my knees. I will rise."
Another year I woke up early to have some quiet time before the chaos of having four little boys erupted. In the early morning hours of Easter, I was struck while reading the accounts of the resurrection that it was Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Solome, that were the first to encounter the empty tomb and to give testimony of the good news. I enjoyed all the more that year being able to share the words I have said on Easter's since I was a little girl, "He is risen!" Echoed back by "He is risen indeed, Hallelujah!"  It blesses my heart to see God's love for those women, for His provision and desire to comfort their broken hearts, to soothe the ache of their soul and give them the honor to be the first to witness His supernatural destruction and victory over death.  Women,especially moms, seem to empathize with one another over those deep loses.  I can imagine their conversations on the way to the tomb about how everyone was doing and feeling and then their eagerness to tell Jesus' family, especially His mother, that he was alive!
This year , added to my treasure box, are the words from Matthew 27:50-53.  "And when Jesus had cried out again, in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from the top to bottom.  The earth shook and the rocks split. The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life.  They came out of their tombs, and after Jesus's resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many people". I'm sure I have read and heard that section of scripture before, but having just witnessed so personally, death, those words seemed magnified to me.
Now that I have experienced and witnessed, first hand, that moment when the spirit and flesh separate, I stand in greater awe of this description of Jesus' death and the hope it embodies for all who believe and "sleep" in The Lord.  The amount of energy I felt as Jake's spirit separated from his body was tremendous.  My ear to his chest, I could hear the fibrillation of his heart and the surge of energy through his body as his spirit and flesh separated. I could physically feel his spirit leave.  I can only dared to imagine what that must have been like as the Spirit of God, himself, separated from the flesh and man of Jesus.  Fully God and fully man, enough force and power exerted to not only separate the two, but to course that energy down into the depths causing an earthquake powerful enough to tear the temple curtain in two, split rocks and shake the dead awake in their graves.  It hard to even fathom.
My hope does indeed hinge on the reality of Easter and the resurrection. "Where, O death is your victory?"  For those of us who live with the hope of Christ and who have endured loss from the death of a loved one, the victory of Christ is everything.  It is the hope and the promise that makes it possible for me to keep breathing in-spite of the pain. The sting of death will remain with me until that day that Christ calls me home and I can see Jake again. Sometime very soon, I believe, Christ will return and put an end to death once and for all. Until then I long for His coming and I look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.  The hope of Easter....He is risen, he is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

Broken

Last night I had the pleasure of meeting a women named Mary Beth. She was speaking at a women's conference that I attended. After the conference ended, I felt compelled to just go give her a hug. We share an unfortunate bond, we are both members of a club for which the price of membership is more than anyone would willingly pay.
I waited in line to speak with her and when my turn came I simply said I'd like you give you a hug. I told her I had also lost a child, mine just two months ago. She said she was sorry and asked for Jake's name.  I gave her a quick summary of the circumstances of his death and she echoed back words I have said  a lot lately, "there really are just no words."  After a moment of pause, she shared a quick story about her family.  She said after her family returned to their home, following the death of her daughter, Maria, they had decided, as an object lesson, to break a vase in order to glue the pieces back together.  They had hoped this would give them a picture of how God would work to put back together the shattered pieces of their lives following their loss.  She said they placed the vase in a bag and threw it to the ground.  With a wry smile she explained, "we must have thrown it a little too hard because it shattered into dust."  "We shook our head, shrugged and tossed it in the trash." We both laughed, hugged once more and then said good-bye.
I pondered that simple story today and felt God again speaking to my heart.  He so often uses lessons like that to speak truth into my life. The first thing He showed me in that shattered vase was that somethings only God can rebuild.  Maria, like Jake, is irreplaceable. Our families, like that vase was shattered. Not only shattered but missing an important piece. Mary Beth's family, along with mine will never again look the same this side of Heaven and only God can fix it.
Secondly, he showed me that like that vase shattered into dust, the pieces will never again shape into a vase even remotely resembling the original.  But God, the master builder and craftsman can take the dust and broken pieces and create something entirely new. Redesigned and repurposed according to His plan.  My family will never again look the same, but God is not finished with us. He is after all the master craftsman and He has a plan and a purpose for not only our current brokenness, but our future as well.
I have struggled over the last couple weeks with feelings of brokenness. My divorce two years ago coupled now with the loss of Jake has produced feelings of deep loneliness and a feeling of profound sadness.  It's hard to imagine much good coming from being in such a state, but I know God will prove otherwise.  I do not understand and I certainly would not have chosen this path, but I do trust Him to pick up the broken pieces, sweep up the dust and restore and repurpose me and my family.
As I struggled with the best way to end, this verse came to mind...God once again whispering to my heart.  "Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it in to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6)  Yes and Amen! He most certainly will.

Life Gift

Not long after arriving to Texas Children's Hospital one of the doctors came out to talk to us. The news was not good, his blood pressure was not stable, he was in shock, and his pupils were fixed and dilated. She said she was very concerned and could not give us any assurances. I knew the look and I understood, my baby was not going to be okay.  They took him down for an emergency CT scan and took a couple of hours to stabilize him and place the nessasary IV lines.  The wait was agonizing. When we finally were called back to see him, the news was not good.  The bacteria causing his meningitis is an aggressive, pus producing bacteria, that causes rapid and massive swelling.  The capacity of the skull is limited and the amount of swelling present had caused Jake's brain to herniated. Which meant that his skull was too small and his brain had begun to press out and down the natural opening at the base of the skull.  There was no way, at that point to relieve the pressure and worse it was likely that his brain would swell further before the antibiotics he was receiving would make any difference.

I knew what the answer was before I asked, but I asked anyway. "Is there any chance that I would ever get my Jake back?"  "No."

His dad and I exchanged glances and agreed that Jake would not want to stay if he was not able to do everything he was able to do before.  We made the desicion to let Jake go.  More testing would be done to determine if he had any brain function left, but I knew in my heart Jake was already walking with Jesus.

Nurse mode took over and I asked about Life Gift.  As a labor and delivery nurse I have several times contacted them, but none of my patients have ever been a candidate for organ donation.  I am a registered organ donor and I know what an impact that can be, but honestly at that point it was just a checkpoint on my list of nurse end of life procedures.  

We did not hear again about or from Life Gift until very late Wednesday night, well after we had determined that Jake was in fact brain dead.  By that time I had been awake for close to 24 hours, after only a few hours sleep Tuesday morning, having worked night shift Monday night.  To say I was tired and emotional would have been a huge understatement. 

I really did not understand prior to this experience with Jake, what a sacrifice organ donation is for the donor's family.  It is not as simple as saying okay.  There is lab work and many, many hours of evaluation that goes into the process.  Due to his illness, Jake was not a candidate for tissue donation, but he was eligible for full organ donation. The process, however would take at minimum 18 hours but up to 3 days. The sacrifice was more than I could bear.  We knew already at that point that Jake was brain dead, but the official test could not take place until he had been admitted for 24 hours, so the whole process for Life Gift could not even begin until 7 am Thursday morning. Sitting there holding Jake's hand, knowing he was gone, but still physically alive was heart-wrenching.  I could not  even fathom going through that agony for another 30 hours, let alone 3 more days.  

The Life Gift representative stepped out and my dear friend Stephanie talked with her further. I was given 20 minutes to sit with Jake before family and friends insisted that I take a nap.

I slept for about 3 hours and when I woke up, our friend Aaron came and explained that we had another option. It was possible for Jake to save up to three lives with his path and requires much less time, approximately 8 hours.  I felt that I had the strength to endure and we made the decision to proceed which that option.  Jake's liver and both kidneys would be taken allowing three others to live.

The process was not easy and to be very honest the time was excruciating.  After we left the hospital, I told my mom that although I am an organ donor, I leave that decision up to the family surrounding me at that time.  It was a tremendous sacrifice.

As I write this, about 6 weeks later, I would have made the same choice.  I am thankful for the time I had with Jake and I am sure God will, in His time, allow me to see the blessing and impact of our sacrifice and Jake's gift.

Life Goes On

"I'm not Jake, Mom."

Zach and I went to Washington DC for his 8th grade trip over Spring Break last week.  We both had a nice time. The trip was filled with history and moments of awe. Zach had the honor and privilege, along with his friend Walker, to lay a wreath at The Tomb of the Unknown at Arlington Cemetary, we toured the Capitol, Supreme Court building, many of the Smithsonian museums and monuments of great men and war remembrance. I enjoyed the time away with Zach, making memories and new friends.  I had been able to go with Jake to New York for his 8th grade trip, so it made it even more special to be able to do the same with Zach and I look forward to spending the time with Ben and Nate when it's their year for their 8th grade trips.

As it is the case with most things now that Jake is gone, there is an element of bittersweet in everything. I realized quickly on day 1 of our trip that it was going to be a very different trip from the one I had taken with Jake to New York, for multiple reasons really. Different city, different  nature of the trip, different  group of kids and adults, and most importantly, this was Zach's trip, not Jake's.

That would have been the case no matter what the circumstances. No one will ever replace Jake, nor would I want them to and as painful as that is, it's how it's suppose to be. I miss him so very much that it's physically painful and I don't see that changing anytime soon. At the same time I am overwhelmingly thankful for the time we had together and for all the beautiful and fun memories. All that being said, I have four sons, not just Jake.  Four different, amazing, talented, smart, funny and unique sons that I love dearly. Jake will always be missed, but I don't want his death to be the end. I intend to enjoy and cherish every moment, good or not so good, with each of my boys as long as I have them with me.

Zach told me on the first day of our DC trip, when I was trying to get him to take a goofy picture with  me, "I'm not Jake, Mom."  At first it made me a little sad, but then I let those words really sink in. No, you're not Jake, Zach. You are Zach and I love you to the moon and back again.

The gift of laughter

God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me. (Genesis 21:6)

I'm sure many of you moms can relate to this, but sometimes stress and business or in my case trying to do too many things at once, can cause me to act completely ridiculous.  Last summer I had all 4 boys in the car with me, when as usual I was trying to pack in as many errands as possible before I had to go to work for the night.  I pulled into the parking lot of our local grocery store during quite possibly the busiest time of the afternoon.  To make that slightly more hectic it was beginning to rain, one of those good afternoon, summertime Texas thunderstorms.  I had some Redbox movies that were late so my thought was that one of the boys could just jump out and return them, I could make a loop in the parking lot, come back and pick them up, completing one more thing on my list for the day....Wrong! I guess the well thoughtout plan in my head did not translate well when I hurriedly shouted it to my passengers, all of whom stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language.  Mind you there was now a line of cars behind me in the dinner-time rush of the grocery store parking lot and the light mist of rain had become large droplets coming with ever more frequency.  The stress, frustration, and panic of "could you just please listen and read my mind" that mothers so often get after a long day with 4 boys hit with full force and I began to exclaim "bad idea,bad idea!!!"
The boys sat silent as I laid on the excelerator giving up on the plan. No one dared say a word, mom had LOST it. And then I just busted out laughing!!!  After a quick glance at each other they all laughed too! I apologized to the boys for not being clear and rushing and most of all losing my temper over something so very silly. We all had a good laugh at my expense.  To this day we still laugh about it.  Jake was the worst at playfully mocking me by saying, "bad idea, bad idea" when I had other mom moments.  We had a lot of fun together.

I am positive Jake was laughing at me and saying "bad idea, bad idea" a couple of weeks ago when I had an encounter with the Waste Management recycle guys.  Another one of my "she's losing it moments."  

 Three weeks after Jake went home to heaven, the funeral home director called to let me know that his remains were ready.  Two dear friends arrived to take me, and as we were backing out of the driveway, the Waste Management Recycle guys stopped right behind us trying to back out of the driveway. To my shock they very rudely threw my neighbors' recycle bin in front of the car on my driveway. I was appalled at their rudeness. My stress level was high, needless-to-say considering where we were going, in addition to the fact that we were running just a little bit behind schedule.  Add to that some stressful phone calls I had just had to deal with. I decided this was too much and they needed to understand how rude they had been.  So I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door and proceeded to yell, no, more like scream, "I am on my way to pick up my son's ashes and that was just horribly rude!!!" And in case they didn't hear me, after grabbing my neighbors bin off of my driveway, I finished  it off with, "He died! He's dead! And YOU ARE RUDE!!!" (Make sure you picture all of that keeping in mind that I'm dressed in nice dress slacks and heels while waving the neighbors' recycle bin wildly over my head)

I got back in the car, calmly put on my seat belt, and said, "Well I told them!" Then busted out laughing, along with my friends. Yes, one of my finer moments!  I am so glad that I can laugh at myself!  

PS: Waste Management received a phone call that day from my friend, Jennifer Morris, who was in the car with me. Oh to be a fly on the wall for that conversation...