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.

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...