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.

The World We Do Not Share

Have you ever cried so hard that you felt your eyelids could turn inside out? Your ears and sinuses so full they no longer drain and you've saturated towels and sheets, soaked through with your tears.
In that moment you feel as though you will die, your heart broken beyond repair and you're not sure how you will survive to breath your next breathe.

Every cell in your body cries out missing him and the longing to have him near, to hear his voice and to touch him overwhelms your soul to the very point of death. In fact you long to die, just to be able to see him again. And nothing eases the ache. Not a single. solitary. thing.

Yet somehow. Quite miraculously you don't die. You rend your soul completely. Your body, spent from the horrific sobs, stills and your breathe settles again into a quiet easy pattern. The ache remains, but the intensity fades as sleep overtakes you.

You'll wake again ready to pick up where you were before the grief once again consumed you. Still broken. Still longing. But able to carry on...until the next time.

This is a price of love. This is the burden we carry. This is the world we do not share and pray you will never know.

Changed

It changed in a day. It's funny how life does that. You have plans, you see life headed in a general direction, assume it will continue and make plans according.  Then everything changes…

 Life changed completely and dramatically 18 months ago. 18 months ago on a Sunday afternoon I went for a hike on a beautiful sunny winter afternoon. Alone in my thoughts, contemplating the future and thankful for the journey. Everything changed on Monday, but I had no way of knowing at the time just how much!!

These last 18 months have been full of change. I was trying to describe that to someone not too long ago and the best I could come up with was that I felt like everything, and I do mean everything, in my life was turned upside down and tossed into a bucket. The bucket was shifted and mixed around, then dumped back out again. Since then it's being slowly rebuilt piece by piece. As I was thinking about that analogy, I remembered a movie that the boys watched a lot when they were little, called The Iron Giant. At the end of the movie to save his friend, Hogarth, the Iron Giant flies high up into the atmosphere to intercede a missile that threatens the town. The giant robot is blown apart and spread across the globe. Earlier in the movie, when the Iron Giant is injured, a beacon sounds from within himself and the broken pieces are called back together; reassemble to make him whole again.  After he sacrificed himself, Hogarth finds a large screw that was once a piece of his friend and brings it home to have something to remember him by. The movie ends when suddenly, in a day, as Hogarth is getting ready for bed the beacon begins to sound and the bolt leaves him to make its way back to once again make whole the Iron Giant.  I always loved that movie.  It was one I didn't mind watching over and over again, as you know kids like to do. The hope and promise of broken things being made new and love and friendship enduring beyond seemingly impossible separation always made me feel warm and nostalgic. The hopeless romantic in me I guess.

18 months has nearly passed since Jake left.   The pieces of my shattered life, though not completely reformed have begun to align themselves again. People have moved in and out of my life through this season and I have been extremely blessed. Not everything has turned out the way I thought it might, but that does not in any way diminish their significance in my journey. 

One of our first grief counseling sessions the boys and I went to, the counselor tried to explain what we could expect over the course of our grief journey. She showed us a bell curve type graph with different emotions descending down to the bottom and returning again to the baseline. She explained that though that was a general guideline, most people jumped around a bit and had set backs at various stages. She also explained that though the first year was generally considered the most difficult, most people said it was actually the 18 month point that was the worst. I've since heard that from multiple people. Instinctively I think I knew that would be the case because the 6 month point falls in the same month as his birthday.  So as the month of July began I was anxious but also now prepared for what might be a hard month. 

But! True to fashion, ever the rule breaker, and despite missing him terribly I feel as though my "beacon" has been activated and the pieces of my shattered life are slowly being reassembled. The hope and promise of broken things being made new and love and friendship enduring beyond seemingly impossible separation have renewed that warm and nostalgic feeling. I feel Jake's presence with me mixed with the promises of God and the Holy Spirit. And even though I can't see him, I know that Jake is still intimately apart of our everyday lives, a quite observer of God's promises being made real in our lives.  I feel the light of his infectious smile and his joy of watching our journey with the perspective of eternity.  

I'll never, ever, ever stop missing him and I know there will still be days when the tears will flow, but my heart is full, joy and laughter have returned and I can't stop smiling....

The Second Easter...so now what!?!

It's Easter...Resurrection Sunday. The day on which the Christian faith hinges.  "Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here!"  The tomb is empty. The grave clothes are folded and neatly left behind. He was dead, but not any more! HE. IS. ALIVE.

The One who was without sin, took the sin of EVERY man upon himself. He died a criminals death. Taking the sentence of death for you and for me, He was remanded to Hell, in our place. BUT death could not hold Him, the grave could not keep Him and Hell did not have the last word!! Christ has risen from the dead! Because He lives, everything has changed! Death has been overcome. The curse of sin no longer holds our destiny. The blood of He who has no sin has paid our debt forever!  And because He lives I can face tomorrow!

Because He lives, I know exactly where Jake is...Alive! He's not gone forever. He is not in purgatory or sentenced to Hell. He is not ashes in an urn sitting on my piano. Because Christ lives and because Jake  trusted in Him and in His promises, Jake also lives! And that is the sole reason I am still breathing. Without that blessed assurance, I have no idea how I would have continued.

Easter has always been meaningful and the Sunday I look forward to most. Peeps and chocolate bunnies aside, even from a young age I looked forward to loudly proclaiming, "He has Risen!! He has risen indeed!  Hallelujah!" every Easter morning at church. Trumpet fanfare and singing "Jesus Christ has risen today", "Crown Him with many Crowns", I loved to think about what it will be like to worship the Risen King together around his throne one day. Honestly that has always been my favorite thing to talk about, study and sing about!

I'm having a very hard time this Easter. I'm not sure I can fully put into words why that is. I'm not mad at God, my faith if anything has been made stronger, but my heart hurts and although I'm am not without hope, I am just so very sad. I am stuck in this gap between Heaven and Earth, one foot in each place, not really able to be completely present in either.  There is a line from the  Apostles Creed    that reads, "I look for the  resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come." That pretty much covers it for me. I'm trying so very hard to be present here and now, to live and enjoy this life, but my heart longs to be in Heaven. I'm balance in this place wondering how long can I possible sustain this and asking, "Ok God... Everything has been turned upside down, so now what!?!"

I can't help but think of the  disciples, having just witnessed Jesus' ascension into Heaven, standing there looking up at the clouds and wondering, well now what!  I wonder how many times they, like me, just wanted to be done and be with their Savior.  Heart-broken and uncertain. I wonder if they, like me, felt the future just a little daunting.

I think also about the children of Isreal, having come through their first Passover in the wilderness. No doubt the events of the previous year fresh in their mind, but facing an uncertain future following the cloud and pillar of fire through the desert. I thought a lot about them this week, this being my second Easter without Jake.  It's different this year than last year. Last year was still so very raw and his death so fresh in my mind. I found myself, last year, focusing on His death. This year I'm struggling with the gap of time, between now and when I can see Jake again. I have no idea how long that will be but with grandparents having lived well into their 90's, it will likely be awhile.  I feel a bit like those wanderers only 1 year into their 40 year trek.  I have to say I am  now much more understanding of their grumbling.  I can understand why they might have looked back to the comforts of Egypt. As I was thinking about this weekend and trying to make our plans for Easter, I too wished I could go back. I miss my church. I miss singing and worshiping with my friends. Having 4 baskets to plan for...Going back to the past is not an option, but it sure would be nice to have that comfort of "home" again. I can't remember at what point they realized it, but Moses and the adults who left Egypt never made it to the Promised Land. They left the comforts of Egypt to follow God and did not see their final destination here on Earth, their Promise Land awaited them in Heaven. I feel like that is my future. I am ever aware of God's presence and provision, but it will never be complete this side of Heaven.

I have struggled a lot this week. Just getting the baskets out was difficult. Missing him never gets easier and putting his basket next to his urn on the piano was just weird, but something I felt compelled to do. Nothing is right. Everything feels temporary and turned upside down. I couldn't even decide what we should do to recognize Easter this year, nothing felt right.

I am so thankful for friends and family, especially for Ray.  In the midst of indecision and tears this morning, he was able to help me find my anchor once again. He likened my journey to a ship in the middle of the ocean. "Going in circles, you will get no where," he said. I know he's right. Like the children wandering in the desert, it's easy to lose a sense of direction if you are constantly looking back from where you've come from. In a sense you will just ended up going in circles. Thankfully for them they had God's physical presence to guide them onward. I am thankful that just like he so often does, God spoke to me through Ray today to compel me forward. So instead of spending the day longing for the past, I began the process of setting some  new traditions. We made lunch and had friends over, broke confetti eggs on each other and emptied several cans of silly string.  And even though next year is sure to look completely different, we have set down small traditions to carry us into our future.

Hebrews 11 has the words "Hall of Faith" penciled into the margins of my Bible. It's a listing of those men and women throughout Bible history that stepped out in faith to follow God, blindly trusting in Him and his promises. The children of Isreal are included in that listing along with many others. Verse 39 says  this, "These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them recieved what had been promised."  So I am not alone, no doubt many of those listed in God's Hall of Faith have had their own "so now what" moments. Thankfully, like the cloud and pillar of fire in the desert, God gives a clear answer to that question. Hebrews 12:1 say, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..."

I have no idea what the future holds or how long I will be here balanced between here and Heaven. I feel certain that my life between now and then will be filled with many more bittersweet moments and missing Jake.  My race is not over, God has more for me to do and I'm sure there will be no lack of "so now what?" moments filling that time. But I also know that God will lead me every step of the way and for that I am thankful.

Happy Easter! HE HAS RISEN!

Miracles from Heaven

There is a new movie out called Miracles From Heaven. It looks like a great movie and the real-life story behind the movie is an amazing testimony, but I don't want to see it. It's a story of an impossible healing, a life saved and answered prayers. I can barely make it through hearing the commercials on the radio without crying and becoming just a little bit mad. I don't want to be mad or angry, but hearing about someone else's child that was healed and is still alive, hurts. Deep down even though I am beginning to accept this reality, I would still have given anything to see a miraculous healing in our story. It makes me wonder things like:  Why her and not Jake?  Why did that mom get her prayers answered? Was my faith some how found lacking and her's not?  Of course I know that is not the case. Her story is not my story and mine is not hers.  Her daughter was healed and got to stay with her family a little longer and Jake...

The problem I have with healing testimonies is that for as many of those amazing stories there are many more stories of loss and unanswered prayers. I have witnessed healing, I've seen it first hand. I believe that God is still in the business of miracles, big ones! The kind movies are made about and even some no one would dare to believe, including testimonies of people being raised from the dead. Unfortunately God gives no explanation to us about why some and not others. He is God and I don't really expect an explanation, but I have to admit it would be nice. A quick Google search of "why God heals some, but not others?" gives several explainations:  failure to ask, lack of faith, unconfessed sin, a higher purpose, God's glory and God's timing.  As a mom whose prayers were not answered the way I wanted, those explainations suck!! I asked! My boys asked! My family and friends asked!! Random strangers from around the country and globe asked!! My faith was unwavering! And frankly though I am far, far from perfect I do not believe for one second it was a result of any unconfessed sin on either my or Jake's part that blocked his healing. The truth of the matter is that it was God's sovereignty.  It was clear to me from the very beginning. In fact I remember when everyone was arriving at the hospital, that I was nervous that my dear friend Vicky might be upset with me for accepting so quickly that Jake was going to die. She has been blessed to witness some of those "big" healings that I mentioned before. In fact her own son was miraculously healed through prayer. I was relieved when Vicky also sensed God's sovereignty at work and as I mentioned in other posts, both Vicky and I believe that Jake was given the choice and it was Jake's choice to stay with his Savior.  It certainly doesn't answer all my questions and it doesn't make me want to go sit through that movie, but it does shift my thoughts.

Sometimes miracles from heaven are spectacular to view from this side of eternity. A horrific fall and blow to the head results in miraculously healing. A child in chronic pain, unable to eat is suddenly healed. Cancer once deemed terminal, now gone! Other times miracles from heaven are less  ostentatious in the here and now. Sometimes we have to look hard for the miracle. I'm positive that if you asked Jake, he would tell you he has gotten his miracle!! He was completely and totally miraculously healed. Restored the moment he passed from this life into the next. My youngest son, Nate, wrote in a note I found a few weeks after Jake died, that Jake WAS the miracle that we prayed for. And for me I have seen miracle after miracle since Jake left...none of them the one I prayer for specifically, but miracles from Heaven none the less.

  A dear, sweet woman I met last summer,  lost her first baby after she was born extremely premature. Adija and I became almost instant friends, understanding each other's pain and grief in a way few others can. I was her nurse and saw her weekly through her second pregnancy and celebrated with her the milestones of reaching viability and then reaching term and I rejoiced with her as she prepared blankets and clothes for his arrival. I don't have that type of bond with every patient, but this was different, it was deeper because of our mutual loss. I had planned to go visit her and the baby after they came back home, but before I had the chance her sweet baby passed away in her arms only a few weeks after coming home from the hospital. I was devastated to hear about her loss and angry that she was once again robbed of her miracle.  As I was preparing to write this post, I contacted her to ask permission to share her story and she reiterated what Nate had said and echoed that Baby Jack was her miracle. And while I believe that both Jake and Jack along with all children are miracles, in this case, I believe,  Adija is the miracle. She carries a burden few others can imagine every day. She and I, along with all the other moms who live with hearts here and in Heaven are miraculously still alive, functioning with missing pieces that threatened to undue us. I consider it a miracle that I am here and able to write coherent sentences. I am astounded daily at the mircalous ability God has given us to continue in spite of horrific loss and I am profoundly thankful for Adija and the other miracle moms that God has placed in my life. Miracles from Heaven are all around us every day. Sometimes they are huge and screenplay worthy and other times they look ordinary like a mom, who no one would blame if she stayed in bed for a year, but everyday instead is still choosing faith and life.

Missing Jake

It has been 1 year and 29 days without him. That is 394 days, 56 Thursdays. One school year has come and gone and another is about half over,  that's about 215 school days.  For the record, for most of that I had to do some math. However you mark the passing of time, that is  394 days in our home of day to day living; getting up in the morning, eating meals, keeping the house in order, participating in life, doing homework, completing projects, having friends over, getting ready for bed, sleeping, not sleeping, laughter...lots of laughter mixed with a fair amount of tears, all of it, missing Jake.  Every day is different and missing him takes on many forms, but there is not a day that goes by that the gapping hole in our family goes unnoticed.

The one year anniversary has come and gone. The days leading up to it were aweful and intense. Everyday I felt like I was reliving each moment again with Wednesday being the absolute worst, but by Wednesday evening that week, most of those intense feelings of panic and grief had passed for me and an odd but comforting peace carried me through that weekend. The experience was different for all of us and the boys struggled a little more on the actual day and my previous post of it being two different days for me proved less true for some of my boys. We spent Wednesday night in Galveston and went to our favorite place to eat and then tried, unsuccessfully, to release a fire lantern on the beach. The 29th we were surrounded by family and friends. The day ended with more laughter than tears but I think we were all relieved when it was over.  

It has been another 29 days since the anniversary. February is mostly over and we are doing alright. The fog that once again consumed us in the days surrounding and leading up to January 29th have subsided again.  We still have some bad days, mostly bad nights, here and there but for the most part I feel like we are doing well. 

It still baffles me that people are so ignorant about death and grieving.   More than once, I have found myself trying to explain or defend why we "still" have bad days. I'm not sure where it comes from exactly, but there is an overwhelming sense of pressure to hurry up our grieving; that a year is enough time and you can't continue to use his  death as an excuse for bad days.  I think it's even worse for my boys than for me. I have been able to make adjustments to my life and change jobs to better suit our needs, but the school calendar and those demands are not as forgiving. When I have a bad day, I can bring my make-up bag along in the car and freshen up between patient visits. If I have a hard moment I turn on the radio and allow myself to cry.  The boys are at school so on a bad day they have almost 8 hours of putting on a good face to maintain until they get home. Maintaining a good face and not breaking down is exhausting.  Explaining that to people is challenging.  

There are not as many bad days as there were even 3 months ago, but they still happen.  Triggers come out of no where and there is no way to really predict what will cause them or when they will hit.  Just as an example, last week I went to Orlando with Ray and his sister, Layla, to run in the Disney Princess weekend 5 K.  We had a wonderful time. I have never been to Disney and it's been a life long dream to go.  I was like a kid again as we ran (well truth be told, walked) through Epcot Center. There were Disney character scattered for photo ops throughout the park and we stopped frequently to take in the atmosphere. About three quarters of the way through the race, there was a young man dressed in a gigantic Sebastian, the crab from Little Mermaid, costume. I can't even tell you what it was about him, but he reminded me of Jake and I started to cry. It was just a couple tears and an aknowledgement that I was missing him, but in that moment, my mood began to shift. Usually when I go on vacation without the boys, I'm fine.  I don't want to sound like a bad mom, but I don't worry about them when I leave  and I don't miss them much.  I know they are in good hands and I love them more than words can say, but having a break is healthy and greatly needed some time.  I will usually bring back little gifts for them and this trip was the same. Except it wasn't... I was already missing Jake quite a bit when I started looking for the gifts to bring home and not buying him something too was overwhelming.  I was in the middle of Downtown Disney and it wasn't a good time for weeping.  By the time we made it to the airport several hours later, holding back the missing him and the tears was begining to make my head hurt and when we finally made it through the flight to Houston and back to the car to head home the tears could no longer be contained and were streaming down my face.  I usually save my sobs for behind the closed door of my bedroom when I am alone.  I have only broken down in front of someone else on a handful of occasions and it has never felt okay.  In that moment, with tears streaming uncontrollably, Ray looked over and I couldn't even speak to explain what was wrong.  Holding back sobs constricted my throat in such a way I couldn't even form speech. We made it home and I fell into bed too exhausted to do much more than just go to sleep.  Those day don't happen often.

On good days, and there are more of those than not, missing him is subtle. On good days it's little things like running into the store and thinking about what everyone might like for dinner, those mental lists moms make... "Maybe I'll just make pasta tonight- Nate will want straight noodles, Jake will want Alfredo sauce..." He is still included in those lists and on a good day, I may pause and sometimes a couple tears may escape, but I grab the tomato sauce, leave the Alfredo and move on. 

We have a lot of good days and I can't speak for Zach, Ben or Nate, but what I observe is that their missing Jake, though very unique to each of them, is similar to mine.  They have mostly good days.  Days filled with school, homework, friends and social lives, friend drama, and brothers being brothers. They move in and out of their days with thoughts of Jake that are unique to them and their missing him is mostly quiet, with occasional somber moments when I can tell they miss him more than what has become normal.  Other times their missing him is loud and comes with laughter as they remember out-loud and recall an event or story about him. And lately they have been tattling on him more and more, so I'm hearing stories I haven't heard before.  I've tried to explain to the boys that there are some stories moms are really never supposed to know, but they just laugh and continue with the tales.  I love that we can talk about him and laugh and that we have so many wonderful memories with him. I'm glad that only one year out from his death, we are able to laugh and remember the good stories, because that is not the case for every family who has lost a child. We really are doing exceptionally well. 

I am by no means an expert, but I think part of the reason we are doing well is because I have made time and allowed us to have bad days.  I took 4 complete months off of work and am still not back to full-time and the boys have missed more school days than some people would like. Though there is no handbook on how to handle being a divorced, single mom of 3 grieving sons, I am confident God is directing us through it and I have made a conscience decision to allow myself  and the boys to feel the horrific ache and talk about it.  I have given all of us permission to have bad days.  Holding it  together and putting on good face is appropriate at times and a skill we are all working on, but that is exhausting and will also take its toll if we ignore our grief and just push through.  Taking our time with grieving and allowing time for bad days now is moving us toward deeper healing.  One that will serve us well in the years of ups and downs that are sure to be in our future as we move through life missing Jake. 

My Get Out of Jail Free Card

I had another one of my truly sublime mother of the year moments yesterday.  The kind you have to later send an email for, apologizing for your behavior.  I finished work a little early and was able to get in for a much over due hair appointment before all the kids got out of school. I was just sitting up from my friend and hairdresser washing my hair, when the phone rang. It was the high school.

My girlfriend and I had just finished having a conversations about an issue she was having with her son's teacher, so my frame of mind was already agitated. The receptionist explained that Zach had lost his phone in class today and the teacher had to leave so it was available for pick up at the front desk until 3:30. I was annoyed! I heard he lost his phone and assumed that he had gotten his phone taken away from him and now he was up at the school staying after for tutoring and theater and I had no way to get ahold of him. It was 3:05, so I did the only "logical" thing I could do. I jumped up from the chair with the towel wrapped around my soaking-wet-dripping hair and ran (drove) around the corner to retrieve said phone. Did I mention I was annoyed and agitated??? 

I should have been annoyed with Zach for losing his phone, but instead at that moment that was not the receiving end of my crazy. Me and my towel- wrapped- soaking-head self marched up to the desk and with an attitude of a queen of sass loudly stated that I was here to gather my son's confiscated phone.  The next three events happened just about simultaneously: the three staff members sitting at the desk all stared at me dumbfounded and confused, the receptionist, who had stepped away returned to her desk and Zach's assistant principal, who I had spoken on the phone with many times, but never actually met, walked up.  To make sure you have this scene well imagined remember my hair is soaking wet, dripping down my face and wrapped in a towel, I am also agiatated...remember the poor Waste Management crew from a year ago...yeah, like that!

Poor Mr. Assistant Principal was trying to introduce himself while the receptionist was trying to explain that by lost she had not meant confiscated, but actually lost, like forgotten!  Oh...

What does one do in that moment other than look for the nearest hole to crawl into...and then send an email...

Well that was embarrassing!! Not my best moment!!

As I was recounting the story to a friend today, she of course laughed with me, but then gave me a lot of grace and reminded me that I still have a lot going on. That I was not expected to suddenly have all my stuff together. She joked that she had contemplated having some "get out of jail free" cards printed up for me. It's funny, but also not a bad idea.  I don't at all want to use my grief as a continued excuse, but at the same time I still do at times require a little extra grace. 

There are still a couple areas in which I would like the pass or " get out of jail free card".  Certainly for those towel-wrapped- crazy girl moments! There are also sometimes that by the end of the day I wish I could have the card for homework projects and paperwork for my job.  Church is also one of those challenging areas for me .  I have not been to church since November.  There are multiple reasons. For one this whole Monday to Friday gig is new to me, I'm used to working 3 days a week. Working 5 days is exhausting!! It's also really hard to get stuff done in the short amount of time of the weekend, especially as a single parent.  I have done a fair amount of traveling as well and we have been out of town for a few Sunday's. More than anything else though those things are just excuses for the fact that  I just don't want to go. 

My last good, healthy memory of Jake is him worshipping at church. He sat in the front row and  the guest pastor seemed to be speaking just to him. He told the story of how a 15 year old young lady was able to change legislation, allowing Bible Study in school. He encouraged the young people in the room to not let there age discourage them from doing something big for God. He worshipped that morning, like others before them with hands raised, surrounded by friends.  Sitting there now and singing the songs that Jake loved is painful. There are not words to decribe what it is like to sit steps away from where his coffin sat. I close my eyes and imagine him standing there with arms stretched wide worshipping and think about a time when I will once again be able to see him and worship Christ together.  My faith is strong. My love for Christ unwavering. But being there is hard. 

On top of all that there are people. People who I love. People I don't care for. And people I don't know and they don't know me.  Sometimes their words and actions hurt me.  I'd like to believe they don't realize that they hurt me, but my history tells me sometimes they know and they just don't care. 

Church people are very judgemental, I know because I'm one of them and I have been on the other end of judging someone before. I honestly didn't mean to be judgemental. I really believed that I was "speaking the truth in love". Unfortunatly I realize that while that may have been my intent, mostly I spoke arrogance in ignorance.  

I am still hurt and unfortunately the hurting is not just magically going to go away.  I know it's important to be involved in a larger body of believers, I know there is accountability and safety in the church body and that it's important for the boys to be connected as well. I know that "Satan prowls around like a lion seeking to devour..." But I also know that my relationship with Christ is secure and that my boys have a saving relationship with Him. I know that this is but one season out of a lifetime of seasons.  Healing will come, we just need a little more time, grace and understanding and that "get out of jail free" card...

Dear Recipient

One year ago your life was changed when my son saved yours.  One year ago, anxiously awaiting a phone call, you didn't know if you would live to see your next Christmas. On what was the longest and hardest day of my life, your phone rang.  No doubt your minded swirled with a mix of emotions. The joy of long awaited, answered prayers coming to fruition, mixed with the knowledge of what that meant for someone else's family. That family was mine. 

There are actually 3 of you...Jake saved 3 lives.  At 15 years old that was never something we even talked about and everything happened so very fast he had no way to give me any input, but I know my kid and had he been able to, he would have freely chosen it.  He was the type of person who was nice to everyone, he had a sweet, genuine, kind, warm spirit. He was that person who noticed someone sitting alone and went and invited them over to sit with him. He wanted to make sure everyone felt included and went out of his way to be a good friend.  If I had let him, I think we would have sheltered every stray animal in the area, he was even hit by a car once while rescuing our neighbors’ dog. Given the choice, I have no doubt, he would have chosen to help you. 

He didn't get that choice, by the time we realized how sick he actually was he was already incoherent. He woke me up around midnight with a horrendous headache and less than an hour later he could not tell me his name. By the time the transport team came to take us downtown to the pediatric ICU it was almost over. He went into shock on the ride down and by the time they got him settled, CT confirmed his brain had herniated. That was Wednesday morning.  It would take a couple more hours to confirm that he was in fact brain dead, but I knew.  In my heart I know that God gave Jake a choice to stay with Him or to return and I believe with all my heart that it was Jake's choice to stay with his Savior. Maybe you were on his mind when he made that choice. 

I'm a nurse, so it was by instinct that I asked about organ donation. You see nurses have a crisis mode when emergencies arise. We have check lists to help us stay focused so that we can remain on task when our hearts threaten to get lost in the emotions of what is going on around us. I was in nurse mode and Life Gift was a check point on my mental list. Now granted I had no experience with them or the process, but it was on the list and by golly I needed that list!!!

Talking to people and blogging have been a great source of healing for me, but not on this topic.  This has been very hard for me to talk about or even think about. It was by far the most painful part of his stay at the hospital. There are many reasons that is so. One of them being that ,as nurse I know some of the reasons why someone would need a liver or kidneys.  As much as I don't want to admit it, even knowing not every reason is self-neglect, I questioned you. Would you take care of yourself and recognize what you have been given?  Also just having the conversation about what Jake was eligible to donate and what all of that entailed was incredibly hard.  There is a hard and fine line when you talk about such things. It's incredibly difficult.  And to be very honest I didn't like the Life Gift Coordinator.  I'm not sure I could give a reasonable explanation.  I'm sure she is a nice person, but I didn't like the things she was saying, or how I felt when she said them and that colored the experience as well.  There are many reasons, but by far the hardest part was the waiting.  I had no idea how long the lab work and matching process would take. I had mentally prepared for everything to happen Thursday early morning, but by 3:30-4:00 in the afternoon and after hearing "just about 30 minutes more" for the fourth or fifth time I was about to lose it.  I really can't explain to you what it's like to know that your baby is gone, but is still with you, that there is no hope what so ever that he will ever open his eyes or smile even one more time. I was also terrified that he would code and my plan to hold him to the end would be taken away from me. It was really the only thing I had left. He didn't code and at about 5 pm I helped remove all the tubes and he was disconnected from the respirator and I put my ear to his chest. I held him and sang and listened as his heart slowed, he gave up his spirit and then it stopped. I stood up and kissed him before they rolled him away so he could save you.

It's hard for me to talk about, that’s  not likely to change anytime soon. I imagine it's hard for you too.  I can't imagine what you must have gone through.  Jake's gift to you was another chance at life but whether or not you realize it, you gave me a gift as well. You gave me time. Time, though extremely difficult, time, that I could never get back.  Precious time and moments that I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

Some day maybe we will meet, I'll hug your neck and you'll hug mine.  There will likely be a connection that neither of us will be able to put words to.  Until then, know that I don't regret a thing!  Nothing!  I am at peace with it all! It's not at all how I thought Jake's story would go ,but I am incredibly thankful for the time I had with him and so unbelievably proud to be his mom.  God has allowed me to see so much over this last year of the good He has worked from our agonizing loss and you are but a piece of that.   I pray that you are healing well, that you love deeply those in your life and hold them tight, that you are blessed with good health, that you have learned the value of every moment, as I have, and that you realize the gift you have given me. 

Most Sincerely,
Jake's Mom

It's Wednesday

What day is it for you? I had to ask that of Zach today because it is Wednesday, January 27, 2016 and that is 2 different days for me.   Grief is a funny thing, for me, it doesn't know a date, it remembers a day. At least that is what my experience has been so far this year.  It's Wednesday. Wednesdays are bad. Last year on Wednesday Jake woke me up around midnight and the longest and hardest day of my life began.  Wednesday morning my boys woke up to a tear stained face grandma, trying her best to hold it together.  Wednesday was prayer requests and phone call, ambulance rides, CT scans and horrible conformations. Wednesday was a tsunami of love crashing over us in a hospital waiting room, it was posters and cards plastered over our fence and filling our mailbox. For our friends and family, it was frantic driving and scrambling to arrange flights.  For my boys and many of Jake's friends it was a day of uncertainty ending in a good-bye they never anticipated having to say.

It's Wednesday. We have things to get accomplished today, patients to be seen, test to be taken, and school attendance to be counted, but it is Wednesday and we just can't...

Today is not a good day...

Today I want to die. Before you freak out and call for the straight-jacket or write and tell me I need medication, let me finish. I'm not suicidal nor do I have any plans for now or in the future to hurt myself. I just don't want to be here anymore. I would most prefer mass rapture that way no one would have to feel the pain of loss, but really I don't care, I just want to see Jake. It has been exactly 51 weeks since I was last able to hug my kid. It has been 360 days since I heard him say "I love you Mom."  I know exactly where he is, I just can't get there without dying, so I want to die.  I realize that is not currently the best or valid option. I REALLY do want to live, if not for myself, for my other boys, it's just the missing him hurts really, really badly today. 

I was right, fog-brain has returned. Panic attacks have reared their ugly head once more. The horrific wails of a broken heart once again keep me awake at night and I'm struggling not to go off on everyone who crosses my path. I'm irritated and angry. I feel horribly alone and empty.  Experience has shown me that this will not last. We are truly, incredibly designed by God to withstand more than anyone could fathom. Our brains absorb the trauma and although permanently changed, healing prevails.  Jake's favorite Bible verse is "I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made," and we are! I am amazed every day at what we have accomplished in a year, when 51 weeks ago I could barely fathom how we would make it one week. 

The horrible reality is that this will never end. I will never get over losing Jake and every year will present new challenges. 2015 was the year of firsts without him. 2016 will be Zach turning 15 and God willing, living out that entire year, completing things his brother was not able to. Ben and Nate will continue on in Jake and Zach's footsteps and 2016 will likely be the year when all my boys will be taller than me.  Friends will have birthdays and my would-be 16, going on 17 year old will not be there to see junior year and Prom or college visits. The weight of all that is too difficult, so instead I just breathe and look at my cluttered living room and wrestle with the thought of cleaning or just going back to bed...

This next week is just going to suck.  Like a toddler, I want to stomp my feet and throw a fit, but that won't keep the days from coming. So instead, like Dory, I'll just keep swimming. Doo-do-do-do-doo-doot-doot...and vacuum, maybe

                                                                                          

Wearing Black

When did the tradition of wearing all black while in mourning end? Why?  While I don't love the idea of wearing nothing but black for an extended period of time, I do think that perhaps it would be helpful to the outside world and the sensitivity of ignorant people.  I think the tradition of wearing black helped other people realize the wearer needed extra care and understanding. Even if that behavior wasn't always offered, the grief was at least recognized and acknowledged, and when in a moment of grief, the wearer overreacted to stress or an insensitive comment at least it was well known the reason behind the outburst.

As a population now we have very little tolerance for such things. We expect people to act a certain way and respond with pleasantries when greeted. In general we do not have time for other people's problem, we have more than enough ourselves!  Empathy? What's that??? We have lost the art and skill of caring for people. We don't even know what that is supposed to look like.  Our ability to put ourselves in someone else's shoes, as a population, has more or less become a thing of the past.  And we ask a lot of stupid questions!!! Someone recently actually asked me, why the holidays were hard.  And followed it up, " I mean was it just because your son died and wasn't there?"  My "wtf" face must have said it all.   

By far one of the stupidest question has got to be, "How are you?"  What reply other than, "oh good, and you?" do people actually expect?  I get it, it's something we say without even thinking about it, but that question puts those of us who are grieving in the very awkward position of either having to be real and make the conversation completely uncomfortable or give the fake response of "oh good and you?" and shove our grief away for your comfort. 

There is nothing comfortable about death or grieving. There are no words that will fix things; no pill to magically make pain leave.  Simply acknowledging that fact is okay. "It is so good to see you! I have no idea what words to say because I know how hard it must be, but it really is good to see you". Saying something like that gives acknowledgment to the grief, then if you have time to listen, you could ask, "how are you doing?" and if you don't, don't. 

One week away from the first anniversary, none of us are okay. We are all back to not sleeping well and being more irritable and sensitive than usual. The huge gaping hole of his absence offers a glaring and terrible reminder that life will never go back. The reality of life having moved on without him hits hard.  And if you think it is hard on me, imagine how hard it must be for my 14, 12 and 11 year old. I try to be okay for them, but sometimes I can't and the sobs come anyway. My strong, protective boys don't know what to do and I can't imagine how hard it must be for them to hear me soak my pillow with tears. 

My friend, Dianna, lost her son suddenly on New Year's Eve.  I do believe that if there was a limit to the amount of grief one person should have to deal with in a lifetime, she has met her quota!! She is in "the fog" right now. I remember that well. Your brain shuts down and damage is done. You literally cannot function normally. Anger flares can happen at any moment and your filter is either completely disabled or severely malfunctioning. You feel completely crushed and broken and it is hard to even imagine how you will keep breathing, let alone survive until the next hour. "The fog" does slowly ebb away and the broken pieces of your life begin to rearrange and life slowly but surely settles into a new routine. The deep aching pain that was once raw and all consuming, sinks just below the surface, always there, but not quite so raw. It becomes a faithful companion, your loved one's permanent place of remembrance. I'm beginning to see that we are likely going to be knocked back to those first foggy days for the anniversary, but I suspect that the healing steps we have taken to this point will carry us through and we will be doing better again after.  

I have come to know and understand that grieving mothers are THE strongest people in the world.  We have to be because otherwise we would die. We want to die and yet we continue to draw breathe.  Also, by and large our journey is one taken completely alone, even when there is support right next to you, you feel completely and totally alone, with no one or no- thing having the ability to give relief from the hurt.   The hurt we endure every day is unthinkable. With the latest storm in my life, I've had to interact with many new people. People who are there to do a job and have very little concern with emotions and little if any sympathy, let alone empathy. Someone one actually told me the other day, "you have to understand, no one is going to put themselves in your shoes." I know she is right, because mostly people just don't give a shit! But as I sit and ponder that I realize it really is more that no one wants to put themselves in my shoes because then they would have to feel the pain I endure. They would, if even for a moment have to feel the weight of a heart broken into a million pieces, desperately trying to stay together and continue beating.  I'm glad they don't know that pain and I wish I didn't, but it would sure be nice if they could at least acknowledge how hard every day must be, because it is. 

Our family is going through the motions of life, from the outside we look like we are doing okay, but by evening we are all exhausted from the work it takes holding it together. Hopefully by mid-February we will all once again be able to operate without quite so much effort again. Perhaps by then sleep will once again come more easily and keeping up a good face won't take so much work. Until then maybe we'll try wearing black...or not, people will just think we've gone goth!

Dear Jake

Dear Jake,

Well I did it! I signed up, waited 4 hours in the longest line I've ever seen and auditioned for The Voice. You know probably more than any of your brothers how much I love to sing. The bass amp and drums had you tapping your toes before you were even born. I rocked you and sang for hours every night, not to mention our daily dance and sing hour before dinner time. No wonder you loved music and theatre so much, you were bound to either love it or hate it I suppose.  Nate talked me into it, but I did it for you. Not that I didn't want to do it for myself, but it's an old dream for me. Your dream was to go to New York as soon as possible and earn your place.  I did it for you. Inspired by you. You had finally come to accept yourself for who you were and you were not afraid to put yourself out there. If you were afraid of failure or rejection, you didn't show it, even when I knew better.  That's one of the things that makes me so proud to be your mom!  You really LIVED. You were passionate about your friends, your acting, and perusing your dreams, not so much your grades or homework, but hey!  

I made friends in the line, just like you would have. We passed the time with our stories and discussed song selections and which coach we would choose if we could have our pick. I thought of you a lot and smiled a lot and I think you were there smiling too. I sang my heart out and nailed it in every way! I didn't even mind not advancing to call back. It wasn't really about that anyway... I did it for you, because I could and because I wanted to and because...well...why the heck not!!! 

Since you left I've done a lot!! I went indoor skydiving, I went to DC and sang with Ms. Fennel at one of the monuments, I went to Vegas and went sight-seeing and took some awesome pictures. We sat up close at the rodeo and saw Blake Shelton.  I changed jobs and stopped working night shifts forever.   We took Anna- Kate to New York with us and crammed as much in as we could, we saw 2 plays while we were there, we retraced our steps from our trip the year before and went to the Village  on the day the Supreme Court made a huge announcement with my friend Thomas. We had the biggest birthday party imaginable for you and even marched in the 4th of July parade.  We did a lot of ordinary things too like football games, plays and band concerts.  I got season tickets to TUTS in your honor and we took Hannah Bell with us to the first show of the season- Matilda.   Zach, Ray and I ran a 5K on Thanksgiving.  We went to Chicago and Milwaukee for Christmas we played games and hung out with family, even went to a hockey game!  Through all of it we took selfies, acted goofy and had  a lot of fun!  I know you were with us every step of the way too, because I know we all carry you with us, just like you carry us with you. It's not at all how I want it to be, but it's what we have and I'll take it. I miss you! I can't wait to see you again and hear all about what you are getting to do there.  It's ridiculously hard not having you here, but I promise to keep living until all my work here is done.

Hey bud, if you have any ideas on what we should do on the 29th, let me know. Zach and I are at a loss, nothing feels especially right.  He's not really the party planner like you are, so any help is appreciated! I love you!!

-Mom 

A Year of Storms

2015 has come and gone. Last year on New Year’s Eve, Jake had friends over for dinner, he cooked. Not wanting to wait for my help, he attempted to recreate chic-a-chic-a boom-boom sauce from our favorite restaurant. He boiled the peppers and put them into the blender, just like he had seen me do before, but neglected to seed the peppers first. In addition he added a couple extra Serrano peppers for good measure. The result was a sauce so hot it was practically not eatable. He and I spent about an hour adding cream cheese and whatever else I could think of to cut the spiciness so we could eat the enchiladas he had planned for our meal.  We laughed and had a great night with his friends before they left for another friend’s party. He rang in 2015 surrounded by friends new and old. Ray, me and the rest of my boys were at my house with a campfire, music and blowing up gingerbread houses with black cat firecrackers. It's really one of my last vivid memories of him, which made this New Year’s Eve so very painful. I could not have anticipated how hard the stroke of midnight would be for me this year. As much as you would think I would be ready for 2015 to be over I was not!  2015 will forever be the last of my memories which include Jake living life with us. The last of a year of "this time last year" with his name still attached to the memory. Midnight came with tears and stifled sobs as I reluctantly acknowledged the passing of the year.

I'm reminded of the Bible verse from Romans 8: For we know that in all things God for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purposes.  I was thinking a lot about this verse the other day as I was being battered by yet another storm that has recently hit our family. I know beyond any doubt that good will come from our current storm, just as it has from the one that took Jake, but sometimes in the midst of it that is not always easy to see. I thought of Joseph, rejected by his brothers, beaten and thrown into a cistern, brought out only to be sold into slavery and forced to travel on foot through the desert to Egypt. Once he was there things looked promising briefly until he caught the eye of his master’s wife and was falsely accused of having a relationship with her and promptly thrown back into a dark pit, this time a prison. Storm after storm Joseph endured his predicament. I have felt that way this year. It felt like just one thing after another would hit and I get knocked down all over again. And when it wasn't me enduring another storm it was my loved ones. It would be easy to fall into despair. I am tired and worn. The words of the Tenth Avenue North song feel fitting more often than I care to admit..."my heart is heavy from the work it takes to keep on breathing."

Lamentations 3:21-23 says, "Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lords great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is your faithfulness". And so at the cusp of despair, I am continually brought back by the reminders of all the good I have seen even in this past year.  As I reflect back on the year I am grateful for so many things. I have managed to not only to continue to draw breathe but to really live.  God was so very faithful even beginning in the hospital to show me moments of good and his abundant love, peace and faithfulness in everything.

In this year, we traveled more than we have in our entire lives taking 2 family trips and 1 school trip to DC, Zach had the honor of laying a wreath at the tomb of the unknown soldier, we went indoor skydiving, to the Houston Rodeo, saw a couple plays, made a couple trips to Galveston. Ray and I made it through what could possibly be the hardest test of any relationship, not without some bumps along the way, but we made it.  I am beyond blessed to have such a truly amazing, supportive and thoughtful man in my life! I prayed for God's best for me and I truly see that answered in Ray. My family and friends have been such a blessing! I can honestly say I have some amazing friends, without whom I would not have made it through. 

It's not been an easy process, it's not likely to get any easier any time soon.  The line of storms seem to be continuing into 2016. It's not been a great start to the year to be honest, but I know God has it under control. His faithfulness endures to all generations and I don't even have to look long to know that to be true.