There are no words to describe the most horrible ache of missing your child. 11 months have passed like a breath. The boys and I have done so much this year. I think I have been trying to live for Jake in every outing, trip and gathering. I want so much for him to be able to experience this all with us. My mind refuses to accept the reality of death, instead I see him, as I believe he is, ALIVE. So very much alive, but just barely out of reach and just out of sight. Like he is waiting off stage for his next scene.
So, I sit on the floor in the kitchen, once again overcome with the most horrific ache that I fear will never fully leave until I see him again. I don't want to keep breathing and yet I continue to draw breathe. Everything feels so fucking hard and nothing, at least at this moment, feels easy. I want so badly for the pain to end, but at the same time I couldn't bear to not feel this because that might mean I've forgotten. I wish someone could take it for just a few minutes, but it's mine alone to bear. I would not wish this on anyone.
I feel naked and cut open, it might as well have been just 3 hours ago that he left instead it's 11 months, 3 hours and about 30 mins. O God I miss him!
Not everyday is like this. This morning I started off the day like it was any other day, but it's not...
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Sunday, December 13, 2015
O Come, O Come Emmanuel
On what must have been the most spectacular starry night in all of history, a multitude of angels appeared to a handful of humble shepherds and over whelmed them with glory as they proclaimed, " Peace on earth and good will to men." Some thirty years later, Jesus, his eyes fixed on the cross, gathered his disciples for what would be his last instructions to them before his betrayal and ultimately his death. In a quiet, candle-lit upper room he tells them as much as he knows they can bear about what is about to happen, knowing they haven't got a clue at that moment. He concludes it all by saying, "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)
That is not the typical cheerful, baby Jesus, Christmas message we often hear, but sometimes Christmas sucks! Sometimes the holidays are just another horrible and painful reminder that life is hard and full of trouble. I know I am not the only one feeling that way this Chritmas and as I was about to post a picture with those words attached to a simple Facebook post, I realized it was more than a simple post and felt another blog entry coming.
It's Christmas, well really it's Advent. That time on the church calendar after All Saints Day and before Christmas Eve, more or less anyway, I am by no means an expert. The season of advent has always been my favorite because it's also the time of year that we reflect on looking forward to Christ's second coming. Which even before Jake left, was my favorite thing to talk about at church and Bible study. It's a time we reflect on the longing and expectation of God's people before the very first Chritmas and Christ's first advent, coming, and when He will come again at His second advent. It's a season of rich tradition in the church I grew up in with advent wreaths and candles. Chrismon's on the tree at church and weekly soup suppers before mid-week Advent service. Also my favorite Christmas song, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." I have beautiful, rich memories of singing it over the years, in both public and private worship.
Susan and I were talking the other day and joking or rather trying to make light of the aweful circumstances of the last year for each of us. She joked that perhaps she somehow missed Joseph's personal instructions for storing up provisions in their 7 years of plenty for their now mid seven years of lean ( Genesis 41-43) and I joked that I felt as if I was enduring my own personal desert exile (Exodus 15-Joshua 3). We joke and make light, but it truely has been aweful. I would really like to be able to write about it more. Writing helps, blogging helps a lot. It makes a difference knowing that my story is helping other people and touching other people's lives. It helps me too, to read other people's stories because in their struggle I know I am not alone.
The last 48 hours have been a nightmare, but I can't tell you why. I live in a suburb of Houston that occupies a sliver of land bordered on two sides by a river, feeding into a lake that creates a natural boundary. We have 2 main roads in and out connecting to the highway the creates the third side of our community. Most people who live here joke that we live in a little bubble. If you don't know someone, you probably know someone who does. It's a small town! After being a part of the community for more than 16 years now, it feels even smaller. That was a beautiful gift in the days immmeditely following Jake's death. The rally of support from the community was amazing! That being said it makes it impossible for me to write about some of the more personal events in our lives. I don't have the protection of aminimity. The last 48 hours have been pretty bad, but for the sake of those involved I remain silent on the details. I know, however, that I am not alone because in the last month alone, I have seen various other people in my life experience job-loss, miscarriage, a marriage coming to an end, the death of a 6-week old baby to SIDS, car accidents, personal failures, the anniversaries of death, illness and hospital admissions...I'm sure the list could go on.
Honestly, I would like nothing more than to lay in bed, with the covers over my head until it all goes away. I was bearly holding it all together just dealing with this being the first Christmas without Jake and the first anniversary looming so close. So once again I find myself crying out, "how am I suppose to do this!?!" Along with a string of other not so nice words...
And so I hear again, " in this world you will have trouble..." To be perfectly honest I'd really like to say, could I please check that one off the list of lessons learned, God? Okay! I get it!! Instead I find myself, in the wee hours of the morning, pressing in once again. Trying hard to understand, trying to allow God to work and explain. Trying hard to find something to hang onto...
Once again I find myself staring at the words from John 16:33, but this time my eyes drawn to the beginning of the verse, I somehow missed before. Jesus said, "I have told you these things so that IN ME you may have peace (because) in this world you will have trouble..." And elsewhere in John, I feel God pointing out, "The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life (John12:25). As well the words of John 16:20-22, "...you will weep and mourn...you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will take away you joy."
So I sit and listen as wind and rain batter against my window, seeming to match the storms of my last couple days. Pushing in, an odd peace surrounds me as I hear the voice of my most beloved friend speaking those words personalized for me..."sweet friend, you will weep and mourn; you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; you know full well and you have seen it with your own eyes, that when her baby is born she forgets immediately the anguish because of her joy at seeing her baby placed on her chest. Her tears of anguish turn at once to tears of joy! And so it is with you: now is the time of your grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will be able to take away your joy."
And once again my heart swells and I can sing, O Come, O Come Emmanuel
That is not the typical cheerful, baby Jesus, Christmas message we often hear, but sometimes Christmas sucks! Sometimes the holidays are just another horrible and painful reminder that life is hard and full of trouble. I know I am not the only one feeling that way this Chritmas and as I was about to post a picture with those words attached to a simple Facebook post, I realized it was more than a simple post and felt another blog entry coming.
It's Christmas, well really it's Advent. That time on the church calendar after All Saints Day and before Christmas Eve, more or less anyway, I am by no means an expert. The season of advent has always been my favorite because it's also the time of year that we reflect on looking forward to Christ's second coming. Which even before Jake left, was my favorite thing to talk about at church and Bible study. It's a time we reflect on the longing and expectation of God's people before the very first Chritmas and Christ's first advent, coming, and when He will come again at His second advent. It's a season of rich tradition in the church I grew up in with advent wreaths and candles. Chrismon's on the tree at church and weekly soup suppers before mid-week Advent service. Also my favorite Christmas song, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." I have beautiful, rich memories of singing it over the years, in both public and private worship.
Susan and I were talking the other day and joking or rather trying to make light of the aweful circumstances of the last year for each of us. She joked that perhaps she somehow missed Joseph's personal instructions for storing up provisions in their 7 years of plenty for their now mid seven years of lean ( Genesis 41-43) and I joked that I felt as if I was enduring my own personal desert exile (Exodus 15-Joshua 3). We joke and make light, but it truely has been aweful. I would really like to be able to write about it more. Writing helps, blogging helps a lot. It makes a difference knowing that my story is helping other people and touching other people's lives. It helps me too, to read other people's stories because in their struggle I know I am not alone.
The last 48 hours have been a nightmare, but I can't tell you why. I live in a suburb of Houston that occupies a sliver of land bordered on two sides by a river, feeding into a lake that creates a natural boundary. We have 2 main roads in and out connecting to the highway the creates the third side of our community. Most people who live here joke that we live in a little bubble. If you don't know someone, you probably know someone who does. It's a small town! After being a part of the community for more than 16 years now, it feels even smaller. That was a beautiful gift in the days immmeditely following Jake's death. The rally of support from the community was amazing! That being said it makes it impossible for me to write about some of the more personal events in our lives. I don't have the protection of aminimity. The last 48 hours have been pretty bad, but for the sake of those involved I remain silent on the details. I know, however, that I am not alone because in the last month alone, I have seen various other people in my life experience job-loss, miscarriage, a marriage coming to an end, the death of a 6-week old baby to SIDS, car accidents, personal failures, the anniversaries of death, illness and hospital admissions...I'm sure the list could go on.
Honestly, I would like nothing more than to lay in bed, with the covers over my head until it all goes away. I was bearly holding it all together just dealing with this being the first Christmas without Jake and the first anniversary looming so close. So once again I find myself crying out, "how am I suppose to do this!?!" Along with a string of other not so nice words...
And so I hear again, " in this world you will have trouble..." To be perfectly honest I'd really like to say, could I please check that one off the list of lessons learned, God? Okay! I get it!! Instead I find myself, in the wee hours of the morning, pressing in once again. Trying hard to understand, trying to allow God to work and explain. Trying hard to find something to hang onto...
Once again I find myself staring at the words from John 16:33, but this time my eyes drawn to the beginning of the verse, I somehow missed before. Jesus said, "I have told you these things so that IN ME you may have peace (because) in this world you will have trouble..." And elsewhere in John, I feel God pointing out, "The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life (John12:25). As well the words of John 16:20-22, "...you will weep and mourn...you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will take away you joy."
So I sit and listen as wind and rain batter against my window, seeming to match the storms of my last couple days. Pushing in, an odd peace surrounds me as I hear the voice of my most beloved friend speaking those words personalized for me..."sweet friend, you will weep and mourn; you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; you know full well and you have seen it with your own eyes, that when her baby is born she forgets immediately the anguish because of her joy at seeing her baby placed on her chest. Her tears of anguish turn at once to tears of joy! And so it is with you: now is the time of your grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will be able to take away your joy."
And once again my heart swells and I can sing, O Come, O Come Emmanuel
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
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.
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 |
Sunday, December 6, 2015
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 soulSounds 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)
Sunday, August 16, 2015
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…
Sunday, July 19, 2015
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)
Friday, June 19, 2015
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.
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.
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