It's Different

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

My mansion before it's untimely demise

 

I'm Okay, Just Busy...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the promise of Spring

(1/25/15)

 

It is Well

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NO! I Am Not Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Spiritual Act of Worship

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God Is Good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Mother's Day...ugh!

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

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

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

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

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