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.

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.

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.