Beauty for ashes...

This past summer I had the amazing privilege of setting up a dorm room with a smart, beautiful young lady, who I pray I will one day call daughter.  We have gone shopping, had lunches, shared favorite Starbucks, gone to get nails done, tried on dresses at Dillard’s…and talk or text just about daily.  I have grown to love her with all my heart.  It escapes neither of us that she is less than a month older than Jake, that I am a mother missing a child and she is a child missing her mother. It would seem absurd to both of us to somehow wipe away the past, pretending it not there, and use each other as replacements.  She freely speaks to me about her loss, her mom, her sadness and I do the same. Having her in my life does not in any way replace Jake, it doesn’t make up for losing him or ease the ache of missing him.  At Christmas when Jake would have been helping me bake cookies and pies, having her there with me instead, will not in any way fill the gaping hole left by Jake’s absence.  In fact sometimes having her there accentuates the lose and later when I’m alone the tears fall harder.  I’m getting to share experiences with her that I will never be able to with Jake and I am also painfully aware of the grief and sadness that she must feel without having her mom present. It’s a position that neither of us wanted or asked for.  A club neither of us wanted to join.  In fact I told her the other day, “I feel so lucky to have you in my life.  I wish none of it had to happen, but since it did and we had no choice in the matter, I’m so thankful to get to be in your life.” I really am so very thankful.  It feels so good. And I love her, her sister, brother and of course her dad so very much.  I can’t imagine my life without them.  Our families just fit.

Saying all that about another child after losing one of your own is regarded as sweet and socially acceptable.  That’s not always the case when you talk about loving after losing a spouse and yet everything I've just described, I could say just as easily about her dad, Danny.  And I know it's how he feels about having me in his life. It's easy for me to see the parallel.  My love for Jake is not somehow instantly gone with the addition of 3 more children in my life. It’s not diminished in the least!  Neither then is a lifetime of love and devotion somehow cheapened or instantly gone for a widower who finds companionship in another.  In a similar way to the feeling of the infamous “they” thinking grief should some how have a time limit, there is also a public judgement of finding love too quickly.  It feels ridiculous that 2 grown people should feel that social pressure and give it any thought what so ever, but we do.  And it’s not just us.   A quick Google search results in multiple articles, memes and blogs on the subject.  I think it mostly stems from the uncomfortableness of death and dying.  In general, we don’t want to think about dying or losing our spouse or a child.  To think about it for too long is depressing.   Imagining life after lose is unthinkable.  Seeing someone else having to live their life after losing a loved one forces us to briefly look at that possible reality and we don’t like it.  It stirs up too many questions…. “how would I react”, “what would my husband do if I died”…the list goes on.

I can tell you with absolute certainty that nothing in your life will stay the same…nothing.  Everything! Every aspect of your life will be turned upside down and nothing will ever be the same. Most of your relationships will be permanently altered, some good, some shocking, but all of them changed.  People you thought would never leave, leave.  And sometimes the most least likely people surprise you by being there in ways you never knew you would need.

Losing Jake left me completely shattered and broken.  Being single at the time of his death, grieving his loss with the responsibility of still having to run a household and parent 3 boys also grieving their brother was overwhelmingly lonely.  It placed me in a position to have empathy and understanding for Danny.  We understand each other’s brokenness in ways few others can. In the same way that my love for all of them will never replace or diminish my love and grief for Jake, I will never replace or diminished their love for Kim.  Danny and his kids are not instantly relieved of their grief by our presence. We continued to grieve the lose of them both.  Their names are spoken freely, sometimes through laughter and fond affection and other times through tears. There are still days when grief strikes hard and feels all consuming and overwhelming.  BUT it’s also been incredible to see how God has moved 2 families together and is slowly bringing beauty from the ashes.

Isaiah 61 says of the Lord… He has come to “bind up the broken-hearted…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve… --to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

None of us wanted this. We didn’t ask for it, but since it did and we had no choice in the matter…. I am so incredibly thankful that God has chosen to bring beauty from it…

It's not okay again today...

No, I’m still not okay, but thanks for asking.  For the most part I’m doing really well.  I have weeks, sometimes months when I go about my days without tears or any outward sign of grief, but there are still bad days here and there.  The thing is though that when those bad days come they are really really bad.  In a instant I’m back in a hospital waiting room, the quiet hum of a small room with a vending machine and a few small tables,  a young doctor staring back at me with the unspoken words, “I’m so sorry” written into her expression so clearly there was no need to put voice to the words.  The details of the day plays over in my mind and my heart gives way to the emotions that follow.  Those same raw feelings with the same intensity that I experienced them in those first moments.  I have noticed over the last 2 and a half years that stuffing them or ignoring them doesn’t work well for me for any length of time.  Ignoring the intense grief and holding back and stuffing the tears only delays the visceral response that must ultimately be dealt with.  I’ve learned, also, over the last 2 and a half years that most other people don’t understand that visceral response at all.  It’s too raw, too real for them to think about let alone witness.  As a result those of us who grieve do so alone…in the car, the shower, a bathroom stall, into our pillow, anywhere where our raw, horrific pain won’t be seen by others.  Chest convulsing with sobs, face contorted with deep sadness, tears soaking any fabric available, and congestion filling nose, sinuses and ears. It’s hard to breathe and its utterly exhausting, but it must be done.  At least that’s my experience.  If I hold it in too long I feel sick, cranky and irritable.  It becomes hard to focus or to get anything done and just about anything over my normal routine makes me overwhelmed. So I’ve learned to hold it in until there is an “appropriate” time to let it all out, but also to not wait too long before I allow my self the time.

It’s been a hard couple days.  Part of it is kids getting ready to go back to school.  I’ve noticed that to be a hard event each year since Jake has gone.  It stirs up the “what would he be doing now” thoughts.  This year his classmates are beginning their senior year.  I’m so proud of them.  I’m so excited to see what the future has in store for them, his closest friends are so very precious to me.  It’s just also painful…for all of us.

Work has also been insane.  I love what I do, I like the people I work with, but we’ve been short staffed all summer and I’ve been working 50-60 hour work-weeks for too long.  I’m not handling the busyness well and the frantic pace doesn’t leave much time for grieving.

And then a phone call yesterday afternoon finished me off…  Life Gift called to say one of the recipients of Jake’s organ donation wrote us a letter. As with everything it’s bittersweet.  I’m grateful for a very sweet letter, but it stirred up a lot of emotion.

So today I’m sitting here on the couch writing when I should be working, tear-stained and exhausted not wanting to do anything but lay here.  According to my internal dialogue of the fictional “ people who just don’t get it”, I need to get up and go help train the new nurse that’s joined our team at work, but I don’t want to.  I’ll have to go eventually today. I’ll most likely put on some make-up, stuff my emotions for the afternoon, smile and get done what is absolutely necessary, but that will be about it.  No, I’m still not okay.  Some days, weeks and months are really, really good but then…well, then its not again.

A Sojourner In My Grief

A sojourner in my grief, that's what I prayed for. Someone on the same path that could come along side me in my grief. It felt like such an impossible request and I'm not sure I fully comprehended what I was asking for, but nevertheless the words were spoken and the request was made.

Grieving is such hard and lonely work. I can't imagine God ever intending for someone to do it completely alone. It's a thought I have clung to over the years actually...God, you said it is not good that man should be alone. But despite the promise of those words I do so very often, especially in my grief, feel completely and utterly alone. I realize, of course, that I am very rarely  completely alone. I have the boys, co workers, friends and family. My life is so full in fact, I very rarely have time when I'm completely alone. That being said grief has a way of making you feel alone in a crowded room of people. And so the prayer...please God send someone who could walk along side me in this, someone who is not afraid of tears, who understands that my missing Jake will last a lifetime, a sojourner in my grief...

One of my favorite books is The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis. I was listening to it yesterday and was struck by a dialog between Digory and Fletch. Digory had been sent on a quest by Aslan to retrieve an apple from his garden. It’s quite a bit farther away than either Digory or his companion, Fetch, realized and by evening having not yet reached their destination, they were both hungry.  Fletch, being a winged horse, begins to eat the grass but Digory has nothing to eat. After a humorous conversation explaining that boys can not eat grass, Digory says and I'm paraphrasing ..."you would have thought Aslan would have sent me with food for my journey." To which Fletch replies, " yes, but I get the impression that Aslan is the type that likes to be asked."

I love the way Lewis captures the truths of God's nature in the story. God indeed delights in our asking. Sometimes I feel like He has said, "I have been waiting so long for you to ask." Matthew 7 says it this way, " how much more will your Father in Heaven give good things to those who ask Him?"

Part of me doesn't even want to use that verse or talk about prayer and asking God for things, because there have been far too many times when the answers to my prayers have not been what I had hoped for. If I'm truthful I would have to admit that I've have a pretty bad attitude regarding prayer for a long time. I sometimes fall into despair and feel like my asking won't do any good anyway. I'm thankful for a children's story to remind me that the asking isn't so much about the answer, than it is about the relationship. He longs for us to share our hearts with Him and to keep coming back even when the answers aren't what we had hoped for. His love for me is no less abundantly lavished in the "no" than in the "yes".

Thankfully and so very unexpectedly He has answered my cries for a sojourner on my journey. I could never have expected how completely my prayers would be answered. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude and humbled to also be an answer to someone else's cries and prayers. There is no way I could express completely the relief of having someone to come along side me in my journey, who seeks the Lord as I do and has known the brokenness that results from hearing prayers answered with "no."
God has been so very tender with me and helped me understand that though He delights in bringing beauty from the ashes, He takes no delight in the ashes themselves. No price has been extracted from my loss to now have my prayers answered "yes". I feel it’s worth repeating that He abundantly lavishes His love on me with both the “no” and the “yes”and He delights over me regardless of my response.

I'll end with these words written to my by the one God has sent...

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."  I've read that another way to translate it is "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be brought near."  He comforts by drawing us near.  I love that translation, because He is nearer than ever.  There can be no greater blessing than to be in His presence.  To have Him near.  But we do not mourn to be blessed.  We are blessed because we mourn.  It's a promise.

Restored

2 years, 3 months...Heartbroken, life forever altered, struggling to adjust, missing Jake, but thankful.  I have become more and more in awe of the ability of authentic joy and complete heartbroken sadness to coexist and abide within me at the same time, but that is exactly what they do.  The word bittersweet falls short to describe the commingling of these two contrasting emotions.  Zach turned 16 and got his drivers license last month and today his dad bought him his first truck.  He beamed with pride as he got behind the wheel to drive it home.  His attire for the day...his "Just Jake" shirt.  He wore it the day he took his drivers test too.  No words were spoken, they didn't need to be.  He's doing things now Jake never had the opportunity to do and I see within him,as well, the mix of joy and sorrow.

The last month has been a complete whirlwind.  It has been 4 years of uncertainty post divorce, and I'm now seeing God work restoration in amazing and wonderful ways.  After 2 years of working contract type work and having weathered more than one storm on limited income, I felt God moving me toward finding full-time employment once again.  I began searching in  November, but found door after door closed and interviews that I felt were in the bag didn't lead to the amazing job offers I had hoped for.   The disappointment of those doors being closed mixed with the weariness of being a single parent began to weigh heavily on me and I felt sadness moving to despair a little more strongly than I feel comfortable admitting. Add to that Zach turning 16 and reaching milestones Jake never did I felt myself sinking.  Throughout these last years I have felt it vitally important to allow myself to feel every emotion as it comes no matter how difficult.  I have felt like our culture too quickly runs to medicate undesired emotions, as opposed to allowing them to do the healing work God intends for them to do.  But by the beginning of March this year I was struggling with the loneliness and deep sadness so much that I was beginning to feel perhaps it was time to consider whether or not it had crossed the line into depression.  I spoke with a close friend on similar path and once again visited my counselor, both of whom told me the same thing and giving me the affirmation and encouragement that I needed.  "Life is sometimes very, very hard and very lonely," but that I could trust myself and my self assessment.  I heard no profound message. I didn't feel much better after either of my conversations, but peace returned as I realized that it was God that I could trust even more than my own self assessment.

Mid March brought more death.  A very good friend's mother passed away after a long struggle with illness and another friend of many years lost her battle with breast cancer.  I attended both funerals within a week of each other, the firsts since losing Jake.  I held it together for my friend at the church and graveside at the first, but had to leave before the end feeling a panic attack coming on as they proceeded to the gravesite.  My friend's anguish overwhelmed me, feeling her pain as my own.  I cried the whole way home, deep wailing sobs of sorrow and gratitude. Grateful for the hope I have in Christ and the blessed assurance that I have knowing I will see Jake again.  The second service was in stark contrast to the first.  My friend had reached out to me about a month previously, knowing her time was near, and asked me to sing for her.  I had no idea how I would be able to do that, I had not often made it through singing at church without crying and I hadn't lead worship since leaving my old church almost 4 years ago, but I trusted God to help me through and I was honored that she asked.  Her service was beautiful and filled with the peace of that blessed assurance.  Singing and leading worship again filled me with such joy I felt a tinge of guilt feeling so good at a funeral.  The church and other worship leaders were so warm and welcoming and I felt God's restoring hand when after the service they asked me to join them in the future.

Bringing beauty from the ashes, God has worked in amazing and profound ways over this last month.  Within that same week  as the last funeral, I received a full-time offer from my current company that was far better than I dreamed possible and I was able to lead worship once again on Easter morning.  God has revealed Himself in new and astounding ways and my future seems less and less uncertain.  I see the beautiful mess of my life, the commingling of immense joy and profound sadness, being shaped into what He has planned and purposed for my future and I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

As I was finishing getting my thoughts out this morning God brought to mind 2 Corinthians 4 and it seems fitting to end this way... Therefore I do not lose heart. Though outwardly I am wasting away, yet inwardly I am being renewed day by day.  For my light and momentary troubles are achieving for me and eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So I fix my eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Stronger

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger….

As a rule, I have come to despise clichés.  Mostly I have found that people say these things when they are at a loss of words as an attempt to fill the awkward silence.  Rarely…in fact, NEVER, have I found those words helpful or comforting.  A local Christian radio station here runs a campaign over the holidays using the words, “I choose joy.”  They use James 1:2 as their reference, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of various kind”, and although far from a cliché it began to grate on my nerves by the end of the season.  I think it was the sing-song attitude or perhaps because what was implied referred to the hectic stress of the holidays and seems so very trivial compared to all that I have been through. 

Besides the painfully obvious hardship of losing Jake, I really have had my fair share of hard experiences throughout my life.  A laundry list of things gone wrong, complications and loss.  I know I am not alone.  In fact tonight alone I have spoken with 3 friends going through their own “trails of various kind.”  One echoed sentiment I have thought numerous times, “I’m just so tired of everything being so hard! Couldn’t one thing just be easy?”  As a type another friend’s text asked, “Why does this have to be so hard?”   I don’t know… I too struggle to ease the awkwardness of the silence that follows those words… there is no easy reply and no words to bring relief.  In her case and mine the struggle is far from over.

I don’t know why but what I do know is that everything that has happened, all the wrong turns, complications and loss has made me who I am today.  And I like who I have become.  I am stronger than I was and I have many experiences to draw from to help other people facing their own struggles.  So the old cliché seems true and is authenticated by James when he says “Count it all joy…because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” 

 I remember thinking back when my kids were babies that all the little random complications that happened to me throughout my pregnancies, births and breastfeeding were going to help me be a better nurse and at very least they did provide me some good experience and stories to share when I taught Lamaze classes.  I joked with one of my friends tonight, well at least we will have some good stories to tell when we are old.  As much as I joke, I know that at least in part that is the answer to the why…

Several years ago one of my dearest and closest friends made a comment that cut me to my core.  Her words hurt me deeply and despite a swift and sincere apology, I feared our friendship would never have the depth it had before.  I was right.  Our friendship now has fathomably more depth than I could ever thought possible.  She and I weathered that storm only to emerge stronger and more resilient, which not only positioned us to endure the coming hurricanes life would hurl at us, but also stand as a reminder that pain does not kill.  I could have easily let the pain of her words end our friendship forever but instead that experience has given our friendship a depth that has provided for both of us an anchor to weather the storms. She is my most precious friend.  I could not at the time count that wound as joy, but I do recognize the perseverance and joy it has produced.

James finishes that thought off with a promise.  “Blessed is the one who persevered under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.”

I have no idea why life seems to be so hard sometimes.  I don’t have any good answer to the troubles my friends are currently encountering.  I do know that even in the darkest moments of my life when I feel completely and totally broken I still have HOPE.  Sometimes it feels barely recognizable but it’s always there…

…we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And Hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit… (Romans 5)

And cliché aside…stronger.

 

So long 2016!

Well 2016 has come and gone.  January has hit with full force, as the two-year anniversary quickly approaches.  New Year’s Eve was the most difficult again, remembering a great evening with friends, spicy- beyond -belief enchiladas, campfire and parties.  It should come as no surprise how quickly the year rolled by, every year does, but as I look back on 2016 I am relieved that it’s over!  2016 was year 2 missing Jake and it sucked.  2015 was by no means better, but the fog of grief, being surrounded by friends and having been able to take time to grieve gave us the opportunity to make some really wonderful memories together.  2015 was a year of firsts but also a whole year packed full with love, friendship, and trips of remembrance.  As 2015 came to an end we were hit with another personal storm, the first anniversary and the realization that life was forcing us to move on.

2016 was not light or easy.  There were no big vacations to break up the routine and the second year without him so much harder.   2016 began with facing the reality of his death and followed quickly with, draining our savings account with lawyer and court cost to deal with the “storm”, drastic change in the rhythm and flow of weekends and schedules, and an injury leaving Zach with concussion headaches that have carried over to 2017.   Not to mention a job change, loss of friendships, starting and quitting Grad school in the same week, and yet another storm- forever changing the weekend schedule.  Thank God for dinner invitations, backyard gatherings, timely phone calls, and church beach retreats that gave sweet respite and relief throughout the year!!!!!  But seriously, SO LONG 2016!

I started this year with the listing of goals and writing out my life’s anthem, hoping that would put a fresh start to 2017.  It’s difficult to start a new year with the anniversary of Jake’s death, but as I sit and reflect on that more and more it feels right and appropriate. Genesis tells us that in the beginning darkness covered the earth and then there was light.  There was evening and then there was morning.  The cold, dark days of winter give way to spring.  So then beginning our year remembering his death is not only just part of our reality, but also a natural order to things.   There is not a day goes by that I don’t think about Jake or miss him, I wouldn’t want it any other way.  To not think about him would be forgetting and that is just not acceptable.  Beginning 2017 with his remembrance is good…hard, but good. 

I have no idea what 2017 will throw our way.  I really hope it includes a vacation or two!!! No matter what I know that we will be okay, spring is coming…

I’ll end with what I have decided to call my life’s anthem.   The words that despite my circumstances at any given moment might guide my thought as I navigate this life missing Jake…

My soul glorifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. I delight greatly in the Lord and my soul rejoices in my God, for He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness; a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Life Abundant

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.  (John 10:10)

About 5 years ago today, I was riding in an hour long commute back from our mission site in Jogoo, Kenya back to our hotel in Nakuru, sitting cheek to cheek with my friends, 4 of us on a seat designed to fit 3.  We had just finished our week of service to the people of Jogoo, sharing the Gospel and providing vision care and were looking forward to going on safari the next morning before we headed back to the main mission site in Nairobi and ultimately back home.  As we drove one last time down and out of the village on quite possibly the bumpiest road on the plant, we offered up our prayers of Thanksgiving for those we were able to serve in Jogoo.  I concluded the prayer with a request, “and as we go on safari tomorrow Lord, if it’s not too much to ask I would really like to see a lion; one would be awesome, two would be a blessing and three, Lord, would be abundance.” And as I have shared in previous posts you know that God indeed lavished abundance on us that day with 3 juvenile male lions all laying together in a clearing together.  I wept.  I cried because in that moment I felt the overwhelming love of God directed fully on me in a very deeply personal way as if God was saying, “No baby girl that’s not too much to ask because that is exactly how much I love you, abundantly!!

So much has happened since then it could easily feel like a lifetime ago.  I came home from that trip to an already crumbling marriage and within slightly more than 3 years my whole world would be turned upside down.  It would have been very easy for bitterness to have slipped into my heart, but I made a conscious decision after the divorce to not allow bitterness to take root. I did not want to be like Naomi, from the story of Ruth and rename myself Mara.  Instead, I frequently look back to that moment with the lions and I am reminded over and over again that despite all that I have been through that God loves me abundantly.  And in case I had any doubt that His feelings toward me had changed since then, God sent me another encounter with 3 dolphins last November to make sure I didn’t forget.

Missing Jake has not changed significantly over this last year.   It feels like yesterday and forever all at the same time and the intensity of the loss does not become any less over time.  It really, really sucks!!  It is very hard to explain because the intensity of missing him and the hurt seems to grow stronger with the passing of time but there is also a seasoned experience that comes along side of the tremendous hurt.  The seasoned experience coming alongside the hurt as if to say, “it hurts like hell, but this will not kill you and later you will be okay.”   This year has been challenging.  Life continues to deal harshly with us and we’ve had our fair share of trials and loss this year.  So much of what the kids and I have been dealt has been beyond our control, it would be very easy to let bitterness or anger sink in. Honestly, it’s a daily struggle at times, but something I feel strongly about.  I do not want that for me or my kids.  I refuse to be a bitter old woman!  I want that life that Christ speaks of in John 10:10, an abundant life.  I wish that “abundance” meant that nothing bad would happen to us anymore, I wish that in that abundance all our hurts would magically be gone, like a spiritual lottery suddenly all our problems solved, but I know that is not truth.  The truth is life is life and being a Christian doesn’t make me immune to it.  For me, life abundant is experiencing the love of God in the midst of the trial and the hurt and God has also been teaching me that life abundant is also allowing my heart to be open and vulnerable to the people He puts in my path.  That sounds like an easy thing to do, but when you have experienced profound loss that can be challenging.  The risk of opening up your heart is that you can get hurt deeply again.  After Jake died, I didn’t think I would ever be able to let someone new in my life.  A new “someone” would never have known Jake and that was unthinkable to me.  Tears flow freely even thinking about that now.  Jake is so much a part of who I am, how could  I share my life with someone who has never met him.  But God once again ever so gently reaches in and begins to unfold truth so that I might have that life abundant.  God makes a way where there seemed to be no way and I felt Jake speaking to me across time to say that in the realities of time and Heaven, he already knows the someone new.

 As Zach and I were talking about that possibility the other day he said he was afraid to get attached to anyone because they may not stay and I was faced with the reality of my own fear.  Opening up your heart to someone after losing a huge piece is terrifying.  Life is still life, loss will happen again.  It will hurt and there is no magic balm that will fix it, but I feel the Lord leading me in life abundant, I know He will not fail and I trust Him.