Defining moments

Defining moments. Our life is now measured in the time before Jacob died and after Jacob died. That was a life changing moment. We use to define our lives by before children and after children. That was the biggest life changing moment we had. Life changes define us. They define who we are, who we will become, what we are made of or not made of. Life changing moments do not just happen and life goes on. There is true change that happens. Before children we had leisurely evenings, vacuumed every night, ate hot meals and went to the bathroom alone. After children that all changed. We grew as parents. We learned to balance several things at one time and eat in spurts while helping the children. We were not always effective but we grew and stretched ourselves. If change does not happen it is probably not a defining moment. I talk to many people who really haven't had much life change. Their lives rock along with out any problems. At times I envy them. How nice to not have those big moments. But at times I realize that God places those life changing moments in our paths to grow us. Here lately I have begun telling God maybe I need to slow down my growth process and allow my spirit to catch up. ha I jest here but today as I was walking on the beach I began thinking about that, about how many times when I am faced with a chance to grow I don't. I was walking on the beach looking for a sand dollar, one of God's amazing creation of nature. The sand dollar is a live creature and is dark colored when alive. What we know as the sand dollar is the skeleton remains which are washed up on the beach area. That is what I was looking for. I met a man who told me I wouldn't find them right out there on the beach laying on top of the sand. He said sand dollars live out on the sand bars in the ocean. When the seas get rough they wash them inland and you find them buried in the high clumps of grass up farther from the beach. He said you have to dig down to find them intact and in their perfect beautiful form. He moved on looking for shells and I began to think about that. You only find sand dollars when the seas are rough and they are washed ashore. You then have to dig very deep to find that true perfect beauty. I think our lives are like that. True beautiful life changing moments only happen when the seas are rough. As long as the seas are calm things really don't produce true change. And then to find the beauty of the life changing moment you have to go beyond the surface. You can't walk along the much beaten path and look at the surface of the beach to find the sand dollar. All you find there are broken shells. Which are still pretty but they are not the wondrous sand dollar. In order to find the beauty of the sea storm you have to get off the path and wander into the brush. Then you have to get dirty by digging deep into the sand. I think for the past two years I have been trying to find the direction, the lesson, the healing, the hope and the joy of Jacob's death by just looking on surface at the broken pieces. Digging deep takes a lot of energy and time which I haven't had. It can be messy and painful. I haven't wanted to go there. But I know that if I never get off the path and listen to God's voice and dig through all the feelings and pain I will never find the true healing and peace that God has promised He will provide. In death there is beauty to be found. Jacob is in a place of utter peace and beauty. He is so much happier there than he ever was here on planet earth. But to truly see that I have to accept his death. I have to dig deep within myself to find to that acceptance and peace. I pray that I have the strength to keep digging until I find the perfect sand dollar. I pray for you that you have life changing moments. Not death but positive life changing moments. If our lives are rocking along with no defining moments I think we have to ask if God is truly working in our lives. That doesn't mean you have to have bad things happen. Life changing can be good. Maybe God has given you an opportunity at work to move to someplace where you can bring Him glory. Did you keep your eyes on the broken shells of the beach mad because you were reassigned or did you dig deep to see where He wants you to go. I didn't find a sand dollar on the beach today but I will keep looking. I don't want another two years like these have been but I want God to constantly challenge me to grow and change and find more and more ways to glorify Him. And even though sometimes that growth will come through pain changing storms I know that deep inside me is a perfect sand dollar. When I truly seek God I will someday find it. Have you had a life changing moment? If so I pray you will get off the beaten path and seek God and someday find your sand dollar.

The year of seconds.

This is the year of seconds. The second Easter without Jacob. The second summer without Jacob. The second birthday without Jacob. The second Thanksgiving and Christmas without Jacob. I have always told people the second year is the hardest. The first year you are numb. The second year you realize it is for real, forever. They are not coming back. They are not just away. The cold harsh reality sets in. While everyone else has gone back to life you sit in the midst of living every day with the world still spinning and people still living their lives while your world has spun totally out of control. The sad fact is most people go on with an occasional thought of Jacob, but we the family have a giant elephant still sitting in our living room. Not sure he will ever go away. No matter if it is just Bart and I sitting here watching tv or the whole family gathered over the elephant is always there lurking, waiting to see if we will mention him. If we will ignore him or break down. The tension of waiting to see if he gets mentioned if anyone notices the tears forming in your eyes for no reason never ends. Everyday is a challenge. Getting out of bed is a momentous task. Before my eyes open I am praying for strength to go on another day. Strength to put on a smile and act like my life is fine. Yes, I look fine on the outside but the inside is melting. Falling away. I am afraid to feel. Afraid to touch the hurt for fear of falling very far away. I can not give into the pain or I am afraid I will cease to exist because it is so overwhelming. I know you think I should be over it by now. I should not be so consumed. I know I should choose joy everyday. But I want you to know it is a challenge everyday to breathe, walk, love and laugh. But I do it for my family. I do it through the strength of God. My every morning prayer. I do it through the strength of prayer interceded by you. Yes, it is so important for you to lift those people up everyday even if it has been months, years. A parent's pain never ends. That child was born a part of you and will continue to be a part of you no matter what. But I digress. The holidays. I am saddened at holidays because they continue on in spite of my pain. I know the world does not revolve around me but I look around the room at gatherings and since the big elephant is sitting there wondering if it will be mentioned. Everyone is afraid to mention it for fear the tears will start. We want a normal holiday. At first I think they don't remember. I go off into another room when the tears overflow from my eyes. I come back with reddened eyes and notice others eyes avoiding mine. I feel like the perpetual downer. I want to scream how can you be happy and eat when I want to vomit in my plate because I can't breathe. But then I look across the room and see my husband's eyes. They connect and we speak a thousand words in that look. He knows my pain. He is telling me to breathe. He is saying I miss him too. He is saying you can do this. Together we will be strong. I go on breathing. I look over and see my nephew, the sadness in his eyes. He is missing his best friend and cousin. Born 6 weeks apart, related by blood but friends by choice. He grieves so hard for his Jacob. I know looking at him what it cost him to come to my house. The pain of walking through the door and knowing Jacob will not be here. He sees the giant elephant but he came anyway. He is my hero. I look in his eyes and I know he knows. I know we see each other's pain. I know together we can do this. My heart breaks for him because I know for him that pain is always there too. I wish I could fix it but he too has to walk through it to get to the other side. But I seek solace in knowing I am not alone. I catch a glimpse of others staring off and I wonder are they too thinking about the enormous elephant which gets bigger with each passing moment? I look up and see my son staring at me. The compassion and hurt in his eyes. He too speaks so clearly with his eyes. Are you ok? What can I do? You can do this. Be strong. Then I look around the room and see through all the laughter and presents the eyes of all are clouded. There tooare volumes behind their eyes being spoken. We are here. We are in the same room feeling the same thing. The sadness. The brokenness. We grieve. We hurt but we must go on. We go on because we are family. Because we believe in each other and God. The room screams we all miss Jacob. But we must go on. So silently through the eyes of loved ones we speak about the elephant. We hug, silent tears slip through. We love on each other because we know what we have is so precious. The elephant got a little smaller. It is still there but smaller. I still wonder how people get up each day and go about their business when my world quit spinning Feb 20, 2010. Slowly, I know my world will come to focus again. But not yet. I am not done grieving and never will completely "be there". But I do have hope because I have God, family and friends. Somehow we will get through this season and move on to the year of thirds. But until then keep praying for us. Keep praying for all those other families that have an elephant in their living room. Know that whether it has been one year or fifteen years the pain is still as vivid as the first. Speak volumes with your eyes if you can't with your words. Let them know that you haven't forgotten. Look at your own elephants in the room. Is there resentment, a grudge, or grief in the room? We are not guaranteed another Christmas. We are not guaranteed another day. We have today to make an impact on someone, heal a wound, tell someone what they mean. Live with no regrets. I pray each one of you has a very Merry Christmas but even more importantly I pray that through all the gifts and festivities you realize that if Jesus had not come, died on the cross and resurrected on the third day we would have no hope. This would be it. But because of that tiny baby in the manager we have hope for tomorrow. Our God is great and mighty.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

I lay here unable to sleep this night before Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving a time to reflect and be thankful for all that we have. Thankful. I have been anything but thankful this past season. I have been totally focused on what I don't have. Consumed day and night being ungrateful for all I do have. I have so much. I have been blessed beyond imagination but I still focus on what I don't have, my son. I said last Feb that I was going to focus on where he is not where he is not. I have failed at that. I still wallow in self pity, I still cry throughout the day and night. I still long to hear his laughter and feel his arms giving me a giant hug. But tonight, I want to be thankful. I want to joyous for all I have. I want to be strong. I am thankful for my other children. They get so overshadowed because of my grief. They live in the shadow constantly But I am so thankful for them. I love who they have become and can't imagine anyone else I would rather spend time with besides Bart. I love my youngest, Kyler, for his unbelievable kind heart. He is the most giving young man I know. He thinks of others always before himself. I love the way he loves God. I love to watch him worship. He praises with every cell in his body. I love his maturity while still keeping his youthful sense of play. He is so much fun. I love my middle child, Zachary, for his sensitve loving heart. He sense the feelings and needs of others and reaches out without hesitation. I love how he calls every night just to check in. I love how he misses Oklahoma so much. I love his protectiveness of me. I love his deep deep thoughts and his love for learning. I love how he is never satisfied with pat answers but seeks his own answers. I love his sense of family and commitment to God always seeking to know more. I love my son that I did not give birth to but is truly my own. I share him with his mother and for that I am thankful. I love his true sense of family and the father he has become. I see so much of Bart in him. I love the random phone calls just to say hi and see how I am doing. I love his sense of humor and the way he loves his brothers so deeply. I love when faced with a problem he asks for advice and listens. I love my husband, Bart. This man has endured more than any man should. He loves me in spite of everything I do. He is patient, kind hearted, and works so hard to provide for us. I love that he puts me and the kids first. I love that he carries his Bible in his truck so he can study God's word. I love the Godly man he has become, the leader of our family. I love that this man gives me space or holds me close and knows when to do both. I love his unconditional love. I am thankful for the rest of my family who put up with my craziness and love to laugh. I am thankful for a strong sense of family that I have grown up with. The grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers, parents and parents in law all who have given me the love of family. I am thankful I grew up surrounded by a large family who instilled in me that family comes first. I am thankful for a God who loves me in spite of me. A God who had a plan for my life from the very beginning to the very end. A God who has very big shoulders for me to beat and cry on. A God who sent His son to die so I could live eternally. A God who gives me hope that some day I will see my son again. The son, my first born, who lived life to the fullest and love everyone. Who from the moment he could speak loved to entertain and laugh. A son who loved deep and felt deep. A son who would give you the shirt off his back. A son who judged not but loved all unconditionally. A son who loved his family and enjoyed vacations in the mountains, watching movies late at night, popcorn and dr pepper, all of this and more if he could only be with his family. A son who had an unbelievable love for his brothers. He was their hero and they were his. They were his best friends. I am thankful that someday we will all be together again. But until that time I will try to be thankful for what I have but know that a part of my heart will always be sad. A sadness that there is no cure for. Time will not heal, therapy will not heal, no one can touch it. A mother's pain is her own. I pray for the broken hearted mothers tomorrow as they go about preparing the holiday meal, seeking to be thankful for all they have been given. I pray for strength to carry on and see the beauty of life around you in spite of your broken heart.

Celebration or the day your world stopped spinning.

A celebration or a moment in time when the world stopped spinning.

A friend of mine celebrated the 2nd anniversary date of her son's death. Celebrated? That is a strange word we use to speak of once a year reliving the nightmare of that day. We celebrate birthdays or holidays but to celebrate the day your child died is wrong in so many ways. I think we use them to dull the reality of what that day is. To say today is the day my son died 2 years ago and my world was turned upside down is too harsh for most people. We want to soften the words. But the words are still there. Our children are dead. Dead. Those words are still so hard to print. I drive to the cemetery several times a week, some more. And no matter how many times I have been there, pulled up to the place my son is buried I still startle at seeing his name, his picture, his birth and death date. Everytime I go I shiver at seeing his name on that cold headstone. The reality that his body is in the ground. I know I should rejoice in the fact his soul is in Heaven but my own soul longs for his laughter, his giant hugs, the sound of his voice. So why do I go? Because it is a connection that I can not break. I go to see and force myself to the realization that today I wake up and he is still dead. It wasn't a dream, a nightmare. It is my reality. But it is much more. It is my husband and children's reality. The other day we had Kyler and Cheyanne's wedding shower. I wanted to be happy. I am happy but in the back of every waking moment is my sadness, my emptiness, my broken heart. Something simple as getting the mail will trigger a memory, a feeling, a longing. The family events trigger that hole even more so. I love my son, Kyler and his precious wife to be, Cheyanne. I do not want to take anything away fom the happiness of this joyous occassion and I try so hard to put the mask on and push the sadness from my every cell. I tried so hard that day and stayed so busy until I sat down and looked around. Everyone was laughing, everyone was in the moment. I have to leave the room so I can escape and let the tears come unchecked. I walk outside and take a deep breath. Please, God, help me get through the moment without the overflowing of sadness. Please don't let me mar Kyler's day. I walk around the corner of the house and see the most beautiful fully opened yellow rose. Our neighbor gave us this rosebush right after Jacob died. It has never blossomed very well. It would bud but never bloom. In front of my eyes Jacob's rosebush had one single beautiful fully bloomed rose. It was if he wanted to remind me of the beauty in our life. He wanted to tell me in that moment he too was happy. God gave me that very special private moment. He too wanted to remind me to look for the beauty in life to realize that sometimes the fully bloomed rose takes a while. I too will take a while to ever bloom again but it will happen. My day was brighter, I could breath and find some laughter in the day. I could find some joy if for just that moment. Thank you God. And thank you God for giving me Kyler who understands how much I love him and that I never want to take away from his happines but somedays the sadness is overwhelming. His day will be a celebration. A joyous occasion which we will celebrate every year for the rest of his life. Jacob's date is not a celebration but an occassion where we mark the end of the rest of his life.
My prayers go out to you my friend on the day your world stopped spinning.

Worry

I am a worrier. I think I was born a worrier. I have always worried. Before the time of cell phones years ago if my parents went someplace without letting me know and I couldn't find them I would call the local hospitals. I just knew they had a wreck and were in the hospitals. If my kids went to a friend's house that I didn't know well, I would drive up and down the street just to make sure everything was ok. I worried. I really tried to give up worrying and trust God. In fact, at one point, I turned Jacob completely over to God and claimed Jer 29:11 that God had great and mighty things in store for him and not things of destruction and fear. My worrying got better. Then Feb 20 happened. God did have great and mighty things in store for Jacob just not the way I wanted it to happen. But with Feb 20 the worrying came back. As a mom who has had a child die, our biggest nightmare has come true, I live in constant fear now. I feared that phone call before. Now that I have recieved it and know what it feels like I fear it even more.
Yesterday, Kyler and Cheyanne went to see Zachary in Nashville. Hard for me because I didn't even let Zachary make that drive by himself until he was 21. When Zachary does make the trip I call every hour just to check on him and make sure he is awake. An hour is all I can be brave and have to give in to my worry.
Yesterday, I was trying so hard not to call. It was noon and I still had't called. It was dinner time and I still hadn't called. Each minute that went by it grew harder and harder not to rip the phone from its cradle and call and make sure they are not dead in some ditch. But I try and try hard. I go to a movie to make the time go by faster. Thinking each second that goes by I am one step closer to hearing they are there safe and sound. Not really hearing the movie but knowing that I am marking time. That the call that I have feared all day will never happen. At 7:20 in the movie my phone rings. I whisper to Kyler, "In the movie. Where are you? Text me when you get there and I will call later."
They were an hour out. I could relax. I was not going to fall apart with worry. I begin to breathe and enjoy the movie.
We leave the movie at 9:30. The knot in my stomach begins to grow. Why hasn't he texted me. What if everything is not ok? I call. And I call. And there is no answer. The feeling is beginning to surface. When is my phone going to ring and it won't be Kyler. I can do this. Just breathe. Just pray. Just keep breathing. I call again. I call Cheyanne. I call Zachary. I call Katie. Why is no one answering their phone. What is wrong. The tears begin to fall. I call all four again. No answer. I call Nathan. I call Daniel. Why are six people at the same time not answering their phone. Flashbacks start to happen. I am driving to the hopsital and calling and calling Tara. Tara pick up and tell me Jacob is ok. Why won't she answer. Wait, I call Kyler again. This is different. My mind is shouting PICK UP. Tell me they are ok. I call Zachary and Cheyanne and Katie. I call Nathan and Daniel. I text. My crying is increasing. My body is racked by the shaking. I feel my phone and the incessent ringing and no one, no one is answering. I am back in that car Feb 20 calling and calling Tara wanting her to tell me everything is ok. I am at the hospital running in the door where they immediately open. I am running down the hall and screaming when I see the chaplain. I am in the truck crying hysterically, calling over and over shaking uncontrollably. My phone rings jolting me back to reality. It is Kyler. They had stopped to eat dinner and didn't hear their phone. It is Zachary texting to say they are in a play and will call in just a little bit. My world is slowly spinning back into place. Was it really only 15 minutes that have passed. Did I race back to that day when my world changed so quickly? Have I not grown any in the last 21 months? I thought I was truly getting better. When does the fear of experiencing a mother's worst nightmare go away? When do you get to breathe again that all is going to be ok? You don't. Once you have experienced that nightmare call you know. You know first hand the fear, the sorrow, the pain. You know how it can come at a moment's notice and change your life. One moment you are alive and careful free and the next you get the call that kills part of your soul. The call that means never again will all be right with the world. So you panic. You pray. You become hysterical. And children have to learn that their life will never be the same. Mom worried before but now she panics. She panics the call will come again. She panics that she is coming undone. The crying and fear will never stop. Each day comes a new day, a new attitude. Today, I tell myself I won't go back down that road. I won't panic. I won't live in fear. But by nightfall I feel myself slipping as the darkness covers the night. I lay in bed and worry. Worry.

Choosing the joy

I was sharing my blog link with my college students the other day and I thought, I have lost focus of my purpose in blogging. Yes, it was to vent and journal my feelings but it was to choose joy one day at a time. I haven't been choosing joy lately. I have been filled with sorrow, resentment and anger. Sorrow, resentment and anger because my son is dead. But that will not bring him back. I know this with my head but heart keeps trying. But my focus here was to also choose joy. There was a time when I thought choosing joy again in my life would never be possible. I thought I would never laugh or smile or have any joy in my life. A time when I thought I would never stop crying. Thought I would never live again.
But I did. It came in a very strange place. I was on a mission trip in Arlington with 22 other people sleeping on the floor of a two bedroom apartment. One morning I got up before the students. Two other ladies were in the kitchen making breakfast. I was on cleanup crew so I sat in the living room and did my morning devotion. It was from Jennifer Rothschild's book Choosing Joy. As I read it she said that even in the worst of times you had the choice to choose joy and be thankful for your situation. That God had a plan and was working in your life through your tragedy so find joy and be thankful. I closed the book with a slam and thought that is easy for you to say Jennifer Rothschild. Big deal you are blind so it is easy for you to choose joy and be thankful. I will never be thankful and find joy in my son's death. That is ridiculous. I just put the book away and thought she doesn't know the pain I have.
We went to opening session and had worship and the whole time I told God that Jennifer was wrong. Nothing good was going to come from Jacob dying and I would never be glad much less thankful. We had lunch and headed to our afternoon Rainbow Express. This is like Backyard Bible Club except at an apartment complex in a part of town with at risk kids and hurting adults. My job was to linger on the outside and speak with any teens or adults who were watching. To try to get them to either come join the kids or just befriend them and show them Jesus' love. This apartment complex didn't have many teens but had a Muslim family who came every day and stood watching. We had been visiting with them but really not doing a lot of talking about Jesus. I knew the grandmother's sons had died and when she spoke of them there was such distraught anguish. She wailed and pulled at her face and clothes. I was sitting this day on the steps of their apartment speaking with a young man and his sister. He dad stood close by listening. I asked him about his mother who had died. Finally, I got the courage to ask him if he would ever see her again? The dad spoke up and said, "No, she is gone, dead." I told him I knew she was dead but what did they believe happened when someone died. In his broken English he told me, "Gone, no more, nothing." Tears formed in my eyes and I shouted at him, "No, you are wrong. That is not what happens. You need to know my God. My God." I looked him straight in the eyes, which by this time were not looking that friendly towards me but I continued. I told him no, that my God was alive not dead like his and because my son had a personal relationship with my God then I would see him again. I would see him again in Heaven. You have to know my God. Please." He looked rather shocked and our pastor walked over wondering what was happening because I was talking loudly and pleading with these people to know my God. I asked them what how do they get to Heaven. The son spoke up and told me you had to do many things to get into Heaven. Certain requirements you had to fulfill. I asked him if had done them all. He laughed and said no one could do them all. What? You mean when you die you will go to Hell? He just stared at me and then nodded. I told him no, no that doesn't have to happen. You can have a personal relationship with my God, Jesus Christ and you didn't have to do anything, just believe and he could go to Heaven. He could live again. He dad said we do believe in Jesus Christ. I questioned him, You believe he existed or you believe He is the son of God and your personal Savior. Again, I could not believe I was talking this strongly to this Muslim man who has little value for women. He went inside and got his video called Jesus. He said, "See, we know your Jesus. He was a great teacher, we know him. My pastor at that time began explaining God's love and grace. The grown daughter was translating to her father now because we were talking so fast. As he explained how none of us deserve God's love, none of us can ever "do" anything to get His grace but He gives it because He loves us. All we have to do is have a personal relationship with Him. As the daughter translated she became very excited and began talking even faster to her father. She was getting it. She told us no one had ever explained it to her like this. Her grandmother, whose sons' had died walked up and the daughter began excitedly telling her grandmother about Jesus and His great love for us. She was getting it. The father was quiet and listening. The son was sitting at my feet. I looked at him and asked him if wanted to hear more about my God. The Living God. He said yes and I told him about the apartment church that met there weekly. I told him I would tell them about him and they would come find him so he too could go to Heaven and live forever. We planted seeds that day. We spoke courageously. I got in the car and we began our drive back. As I sat there I began to realize how boldly I had spoken to these people. Before I was afraid of offending them but because I couldn't stand the thought of them believing that death was it. That people died and then they were no more I had gotten out of my comfort zone and spoke to them with great honesty. I realized I would not have done that if Jacob hadn't died, if I hadn't felt so passionately about my God and Heaven. I said, "Oh my, I am so glad Jacob died so I had the courage to speak like that." WHAT? What did I just say? I was laughing and crying. I was thankful my son had died so I could witness with fervor and maybe plant seeds that would take. I had found joy in his death. Joy.
We got back to the worship center and they always have praise time. This day they were running late and only had time for one praise. I literally jumped out of my seat and said, "Then pick me. I have an unbelievable praise." The man laughed and said go ahead. I told them the story of the Muslim family. But I told the group that is not the whole praise. The rest is that today I found joy and thankfulness for the death of my son a month earlier. That God showed me He does have a plan and even though I do not like it and miss my son beyond comprehension I can find joy in knowing that good is going to come from it. That God is still in control. I laughed I cried I felt so at peace.
Now I tell you that not to say that I accepted my son's death that day or was never sad again. My grief today is still as strong as it was that horrible day in February. But I have a choice each day. I can be miserable or I can choose joy and know that even in tragedy God is in control and good will come from it. I know that I will have bad, horrible days and that is ok. I will try to find joy in even those days. Some days it is hard to find joy in anything. But it is my choice. Somedays, the only joy I can find is in the sun peeping through the clouds, or I got green lights all the way to work. I will find joy even if it is the smallest thing. Each day I will wake up and ask God to show me joy in the day. And He does.

I am Mad.

I am mad. Alright I have said it. I know the stages of grief and I know anger is part of it but I wanted to skip this part. I wanted to be the upbeat Christian woman who saw God's plan in it all but I am mad. And while I know that it is normal it doesn't feel good. I am a believer if you can say it you can handle it. Also I have promised on this blog to be honest. To give my perspective as a grieving mom straight forward whether it was pretty or not. So if you offend easily you might want to quit reading because unless you are a saint I am probably mad at you. Yes, you. Please don't take it personal but I am mad. I am mad that your life is wonderful and mine isn't. I am mad that you get to complain about your adult child and all I want to do is kick you in the mouth, I told you it wouldn't be pretty, and tell you to stop, at least he is here, you can hug him, talk to him, see his face. I am so mad you get to do that and I don't. I am mad that I will never plan his wedding or have sweet Tori as my daughter in law. I am mad that I will never get to hold his first child and see what a wonderful father he would have made. I am so mad I could scream right now. I am enraged. I want my son back and I am mad that God allowed it to happen. And yes, it is ok to mad at God. He will let me pound on his chest until I fall lifeless from exhaustion but God, I am so mad at you. Why didn't you save him. Why does my family have to go through this. Why???????
I am mad that life is going on and I am at a stand still. I am mad that today I found out my ovaries are all shriveled up and a young woman looked at me and said I am so glad I am not old like you and falling apart. I am mad that my body is falling apart. I am mad that I haven't died and I am mad I am dying daily from a broken heart. I am mad people treat their pets better than their children. I am mad I wasn't a better mom. I am mad that I am not a better wife or friend. I am consumed every waking moment with my pain and I am mad that I have to live this way. I am mad that you are tired of hearing my story. I am mad that I have to tell it or I will explode. I am mad that I make you uncomfortable because you don't know what to say. I am mad that I have to be so positive and upbeat all the time. I am mad that my sister lives 3 blocks from my mom but hasn't been to see her in 2 weeks. I am mad that the responsibility of taking care of her falls on me. I am mad that that makes me mad. I mad my dad died and left my mother alone and sad. I am mad my mother's health is failing and I don't have long with her. I am mad she can't do things with me. I am mad I can't crawl up in her lap and have her make it better. I am mad that I have to be a grown up and wear my big girl panties when all I want to do it lie in bed and cry. I am mad that I work three jobs and am so tired. I am mad I don't rest. I am mad that my children are grown and don't need me. I am mad that I am not the center of their world. I am mad that cancer robs small children of their life. I am mad my sister and her family can't stand me. I am mad their isn't a pill that makes this all better. I am mad that I cry so easily. I am mad that I hear the pain in my husband's voice when he calls and says have you been crying. I am mad I can't make it better for family. I am mad the life is just sometimes too painful. But most of all I am mad at Jacob. I am mad he didn't think clearer. I am mad at his friends for not stopping him. I am mad at Justin for selling his the pills. I am mad at Tara and Tyler for not calling an ambulance. I am mad that the chaplin met me in the hall and told me he was dead. I am mad the police were not called. I am mad that his friends go on with their lives and he won't. I am just so mad. I could scream, hit, kick or throw something. I want to wake up and it be over. I want my life back. I want my child back. I am so tired of the pain. I am so tired of the sadness. I want to choose joy again but sometimes it is just too hard.
I know this is negative but I also know it felt good to type with deep hard strokes to the keys. It felt good to say it is not all perfect here. I am not always happy, I am not always doing fine. But anger is a stage and with it comes acceptance. Acceptance that he is not coming back and learning to live with my new normal. I think maybe the anger will be easier.
I don't want to accept this new normal. I want to push it out of my mind.
Yesterday, at Bible Study at work, a friend said we need to be still and listen to God. I realized then how angry I really was. I think that is why I don't stop. I haven't truly stopped and listened for God's voice since I heard it the week before Jacob died. I thought God was preparing me for my mother's death. I cried and pleaded no please no God it has only been six months since my dad died. That Sat morning I thought to myself I must have heard you wrong God. And I did. It was Jacob not my mom. I haven't wanted to hear God's voice since then. But even though I haven't wanted to listen He has been here. And right now as I sit here so very very mad at Him and the rest of the world I know He is here and he is holding me gently saying it is ok my child. Cry it out. Scream it out. Get it all out of your system. And that is ok with Him. I am thank you God for letting me beat on your chest. I thank you for listening to my anger and letting me get it out. Letting me say for the very first time Yes, I am angry. Letting me pound away at the keys rather than a person. So if I have offended you I am sorry. But even little Christian girls can get mad. Holding it in and denying it worse. Thank you Elaine for helping me see how my angry was holding me back from experiencing true joy again. I know I won't experience it for a while but their is hope that while God lets me pound away he holds me ever so gently and cries with me.
I am not going to reread this for fear I will not send it. Because I think as a mom who is a part of this special group who have experienced such loss I speak for us all. We must go through the stages regardless of how much education or experience in grief we have. And we have to vent it somewhere either verbally, physically or spiritually. I would rather deal with the anger verbally. To my fellow moms please don't hold it in. Exploding on your friends might not be the best to do but let it out or it will begin to eat away at you. I didn't realize the how hard I was trying to keep the anger inside. Please love on my fellow moms out their. Let them explode and hold them close to you and whisper in their ears let it go, cry it out I will be right here. God, please hold them close to you today even if they are pushing you away or staying too busy to listen to your voice. Let them know you will still be there when they are finished and moving on to acceptance. Put people in their lives that will help them through this journey.

No words

There are no words to express my grief today on Jacob's birthday. I am silent.

Post It Notes

I have post it notes everywhere. By my backdoor right now there are numerous post it notes. Take mom to Sat luncheon. Check on Weezie. Make banana nut cake for Monday night. Take Maycie shopping for shoes Thursday.
At work my computer is covered in post it notes. Check on ______. Help Mrs _______ with test.
Call Mrs_______. Mentor meeting Monday. Follow up on attendance with ______. Pray for Molly.
Pray for C Thomas. Text SC students room change. And more.
You might think I am just forgetful. But the truth is I am busy so I have to remind myself to do simple things like pray, take someone shopping, go to luncheons. I stay busy. I do not like idle time. I do not like silence. Last night as I laid in bed I thought, Girl, you talk too much. I had gone to a wedding and talked my sweet friend, Theo's ears off. Then at the reception I talked to my co workers barely letting them get a word in. Then again precious Theo had to listen to me all the way home. I have always talked a lot but it seems more the last two years. I came to the conclusion, I don't like silence so my mouth never closes. I don't like the silence. I never have. When I come home from work the first thing I do is turn on the tv. I never sit down and watch it. I just turn it on for noise. When I get in the car I turn the radio on to Laugh USA. Sometimes I don't hear the jokes but I need the noise. I need the noise to keep the thoughts quiet in my head. No, not voices in my head but the thoughts. If I sit for any length of time my mind goes to Jacob. I think of him every minute but I don't like to dwell on my grief. I don't want to fill the pain of looking up in the sky and watching the clouds so beautifully formed and feel my heart breaking into a million pieces. I don't want to lie in bed in the silence of the night and cry myself to sleep because my arms ache to hold my precious baby boy. I don't want a lull in the conversation so my mind slips to that place that I can go to in flash where I can't control the tears. I can't catch my breath. I feel like my heart will explode. I want to run, run fast and far far away from this reality that my child no longer exist in this world. Where sitting in a restaurant enjoying a simple meal with friends and for a moment no one talks and I want to stand up screaming, How can you all sit there eating and laughing when my world has fallen apart. But no I talk. I talk so that there is no silence. There is no moment of letting those feelings fall into place. I turn on the tv, the radio, whatever can keep me from going there for fear of never returning.
No, I am not in denial. I know my son is dead. No, I am not suppressing my feelings. They are right there. I go to that place when I know I won't be needed by the world. When I can sit in my closet with the lights turned off and the door closed and cry my heart out. When I can let every fiber in my body feel the pain and emptiness. But the rest of the time I keep the silence out. I talk and talk and talk.

Welcome to my party.

Come on in and pull up a chair. I am having a party tonight, a pity party. I try so hard to be upbeat and positive but sometimes a girl just needs a good old fashioned pity party. So sit right down and stay a while.
Tonight when I was driving home I began to pray, God, I need you tonight. I need help. I miss my boys. Then I thought boys? Yes. Grieving is not just for the dead but for the living. I miss Jacob so very much but I miss my two other boys too. I miss being a mommy. I am a mom who is here to listen when they need an ear and do things for them but what I really miss is being a mommy. I miss them needing me. I miss being their everything. When did all this happen?
I know the day they were born we begin preparing for them to fly the coop but it went way too fast. Just yesterday I was tripping over them listening them to say, mom, mom, mom, listen to this, watch this, hey look what I can do.
Today, it is quiet. I get up in the morning and there are no longer any lanky boys with smelly feet sprawled all over my living room. There are no longer Dr Pepper cans and pretzel bags strewn throughout the house. I get up in the morning and the house is just like I left it when I went to bed. I go into the kitchen and the sink is empty and the stove is clean. Even the milk is the same. No one drank out of the carton. Isn't this what I longed for? To have my house my own again? To do laundry every three days not three loads a night? To wake up and the beds are all made and everything is in its place? Yes, I dreamed of the day I could sit in my own living room and watch what I wanted to watch on tv. But it is here and dad gum it I don't like it. Not one bit.
There I said it. I want my babies back. I want to go to bed with the sound of laughter and guitars playing down the hall. I want to go to sleep with the sound of Call of Duty blasting from the living room. I want to wake up to dishes in the sink and stinky boys everywhere. I want to be a mommy again. I want to be needed and loved on. I want to pick up after my boys. I even want to hear doors slam out of frustration because I asked them to shower and brush their teeth. I don't want to sit in my living room watching tv by myself. I want to fix dinner for a house full and sit at the table and argue and debate the world affairs for hours. I want to hear corny jokes and even some I can't repeat. I want to hear the words mommy I need you and watch their eyes light up when they believe I can do all. I miss being a mommy.
I am proud of who they have become and am grateful for the unbelievable years we had together as a family. But it went too fast. I am not ready to let them go. I am not finished being a mommy. I know I will get use to it but somehow I know my heart will always yearn to pick them up and kiss their boo boos. I will miss the nights when we were all under the same roof and thanking God for their precious hearts. I will always want to be mommy to them. And no matter how far they go or how grown up they get. They will always be my sweet baby boys.
Now, you go. I want to stay here for a short time and feel sorry for myself. I need a good cry. Tomorrow morning will be a new day and I will put my big girl panties on. But until then I think I will just sit here and wallow in my sorrow for just a little longer just because I can.
I miss being a mommy.

Remembering

The air feels crisp today. It reminds me of Jacob and how he loved to wear hoodies. But the weather could be hot today and it would remind me of Jacob and how he would start stripping off clothes when he would come through the door. It doesn't take anything to make me think of him. I think of him all day long, all night long whenever I am breathing.
The other day I was sitting in a meeting with the Sp Ed director, Assist Director and my Principal. I heard everything they said but in my mind I was thinking of Jacob and how funny he was as a child and how I miss his jokes. I don't know where that came from. They come all day long. I can be eating lunch and sniff a smell that somehow reminds me of him. I can be in Wal Mart and see a food which reminds me of Jacob. I can be driving down the street and be reminded of Jacob. Somedays those reminders are just too painful. Somedays they are comforting.
Whenever I am worshipping I try to focus on the image a friend, Cheri, gave me after the funeral. She told me during the final song she saw him sitting high on a wall watching us. He had on his blue and white stripped shirt that I loved with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of baggy jeans. He was so skinny his jeans never fit right and always showed his crack. He was barefoot and his hair was long and silky. She said he was smiling then said, "It is beautiful but I have to go." He had someplace even far more beautiful to be and he was off.
Sunday I was trying to focus on that image at church. The tears were flowing and I prayed, "God, hold me up to day. I so desperately need some comfort. Please God show me he is happy." I could feel a voice in my head saying it is ok mom. It is ok. About that time they began singing How Great Is Our God. This is the song at Jacob's funeral we all stood and sang at the end. The part where my friend saw Jacob smiling and said it was beautiful but he had to go to a place far more beautiful. With tears streaming down I thanked God for that reassurance that he is ok and that through it all God is Great.
I wish I could stop right here and tell you it is easier. The pain is better. But I won't lie to you. The pain is different but it isn't better. Sometimes I ache so hard to feel his hug or hear his voice. Somedays, I stand and think did this really happen? How could it be? Why did it happen to our family? I try so hard to remember those days and maybe just maybe I dreamed it. Maybe today I will wake up and he will be here. But those days are still so vivid I know it did happen.
I know several months ago I said I would get to the funeral but it is such a painful place. I don't remember a lot of it. When we got to the church after the burial I remember all the people who came and helped with the dinner. I worried about the dinner amidst all things. I have a very large family. Two years ago we changed churches and I worried how it would all be done with our small church family. But people came and brought food. People from work, friends, Trinity, our old church, SWC and our own church family. We were so blessed. I went from person to person thanking them for doing the dinner. I socialized with people who were there. Was I really going inside in just a few moments for the final celebration of my son's life. No, if I could just act normal then this would not be true. But Bart came and gently placed his arm on my shoulders and told me it was time. I put my head on him and begged him no, please no, lets just not do this. He stroked my hair and said we had to. This rock, this mere man who had so much strength during this time was still standing strong holding me up. I worried when would he break?
As we lined up the funeral director told us to look straight ahead and not to make eye contact with people or we would get stopped and it would stop the line. Did he not know these were my friends, my family? As we entered the foyer of Old Trinity, CCY, I noticed the people just standing there without seats. They had no place to sit but still wanted to stay. We entered the back of the church. Oh the memories of raising my children in here came flooding. Such happy happy memories. I saw the mass of people who filled the church to the brim. There was no place left to sit. The church was packed. This many people loved our son, our family. Don't let anyone tell you if you don't attend a funeral you won't be missed. You will. The importance of all those people willing to take off work, class or just take time from their life was huge.
We walked down that aisle. The aisle I had watched Jacob walk down to get saved. The aisle I walked down to sit behind him as a youth to make him be quiet. The aisle that I had always dreamed I would watch as Jacob and his bride got married. But instead we walked and walked. It seemed so long to the front. We saw his precious picture surrounded by flowers. We sat. No one tells you how to do this. How do you encompass all of your loved ones into your arms to protect them. I wanted my boys and Bart as close as they could get. I wanted my mom closer. She sat on the end in her wheelchair. I wanted them to touch me and let me know this was real.
I don't really remember much after that. His friends showed such courage in playing a song he had said when he died he wanted play. Hank did his eulogy. Clint preached his message. Then Zach got up. Bart had told me as we walked in that he had just found out that Zachary was going to speak. He waited to tell me so I wouldn't tell him no. No, that I couldn't watch this young man stand and speak with all the hurt and pain etched into his face. His shoulders which days before were square and straight had now fallen with such sorrow. As he got up, I shook my head no. Please don't let him feel this pain. But he continued on. This young man who is so incredibly shy he won't call to order pizza. This young man who feels so comfortable in his own silence was walking to the front to honor his brother. This is what he said.

Struggle.
Where the cold, relentless earth meets the fiery, human spirit, here is where my brother lived his life. He kicked and screamed the whole way down. But this struggle is not something to be ashamed of, it is what it is. It is the dirt under a young boy's fingernails, showing that he has lived life. It is the broken bones and battle scars that tell stories of a warrior's glory. Our struggles show that we have lived.
My brother's struggle consumed him to such a degree that it not only shaped him, but was him. He struggled with faith, with rules, with friends, with foes, with music and with his mind. But he struggled not to get by in the world, but to wring every last drop of truth and life out of this world that he could. Settling into a life someone planned for him had the tasted of drinking vinegar. So he struggled against what the world told him he had to be. Go to school. Get a job. Settle down. Remain the same, Remain mediocre. This didn't appeal to him for one minute. And so, he fought back. He was one of the few who thought, "I don't have to judge, I don't have to hate. I want to love. I want to relate, help and always be true.'
But this struggle didn't come without a cost. He fought so hard, that if the world ever won, part of his world would crumble. He would fight back however he could. He would question what was, and fight for what he wanted. My brother didn't always win the battles. And a lot of the time he lost. But he never gave up. And he never lost the will to fight for long, And in this fight , he was always true.
He struggled in a way that was more pure and true than a single thing I've done in mine.
That is why I ask you not to be sad. The life of my brother was cut, tragically, short. And his genius was not developed or conveyed, but in his life he left a legacy of ceasing turning our backs and running. Instead he asked us to stand and fight against what we've been told and been fed. The cards dealt to us are not what we have to play with. My brother's was true in his struggle, and peace, in death, belongs to those who fight rather than those who hide and survive.
His life was worthy of that title, something mine doesn't yet deserve. His existence was truly authentic and the way he struggled and coped was nothing to be ashamed of. He was a stand-up-sit-down casualty of the world. And no one thought this would ever happen.
My big brother doesn't get hurt. My big brother doesn't die. All he does is live, and he lives in every single one of us.
The hole left by my brother is not something to be filled, but something to see. And when we see this, let us remember how he lived. I could have told a funny story about my brother's life, but I think he would be ashamed if that's all his life meant to me. He was it.
Theology and Philosophy lived among the dirt and dirty. Listen to me when I tell you that, "If his death keeps you down, for very long, then you don't truly grasp his life."
Let us mourn his passing, but all the while remember that our lives can be the tools to change our world.
When we do this Jacob will have finally accomplished his goal. He will have changed the world to be more how it's supposed to be. So let us cry, and then laugh. Despair and then rejoice.
Let's crawl out of this mess and change the world and make a difference. Stay true, fight hard and struggle with everything you are, lest you lose your true life.
And don't ever give up. For my brother's sake and for our sakes. Don't ever give up.

I can say no more The tears have fallen hard today. The drain has been hard on my heart. It aches. I know I have to revisit these places but this is enough for today. Pray for me as the 13th approaches. The day my baby would have been 24 but will forever be 22.

A simple hug

I can't believe it has been a month since I posted. Sometimes we get so caught up in living we forget to live and do the small things that help us heal. Last night I got one of those simple little joys in life that healed a huge hole in my life. As I have told you before my body aches some days for a hug from Jacob. Jacob hugged like no one else I know. He hugged in a full bear hug and squeezed you like all of his life depended on it. He hugged you whether you wanted it or not. Many times I would be walking down the hall arms filled with dirty clothes heading to the laundry room and Jacob would jump out of the bathroom and grab me in a full hug. He would say mom just hug me back. With my arms full and busy with laundry I would say later, I am busy. What I would give for one of those hugs now.
Last night I got one. We were at my sister in love's house celebrating my mother in love's birthday. I am not theirs because of the law but because of their unconditional love towards me.
Everyone was there and busy talking and laughing. I struggle at these events because it is so obvious that Jacob is missing. I try to bring my crocheting so I can talk and keep my attention always focused off the elephant in the room, Jacob is gone. I had forgotten it so my eyes kept busy watching as Kyler stepped up and played with the grandchildren, again another reminder that he is gone. Jacob would lay right in the middle of the room in everyone's way to play with his nephews and niece. He loved them so much and they loved him.
I sat on the couch trying to keep the tears from falling, trying to make conversation about trivial things when my youngest grandchild, Noah, stopped his playing and walked over to me out of the blue and gave me the biggest bear hug. He stretched until his tiny arms wrapped completely around me and touched his own hands. He squeezed so hard and put his shoulder on my chest. He looked up at me and smiled then went back to playing.
It was as if Jacob had just given me a hug. Tears brimming I looked at my sister in love, Brenda and told her he hugs like Jacob. Trying to hold it together the rest of the night I kept replaying that moment in my head. Noah gave me a simple hug but it meant the world to me. I want to believe it was a gift from Jacob. The human touch that we all crave but so seldom get in this busy world. We side hug or air hug or pat on the back. But when is the last time you got that spontaneous full fledged hug from the heart. That person who just hugged you and you could feel the love down to your toes. I come from a family of huggers. Sometimes we have been know to hug each other when they just go to take out the trash. I love hugs. But honestly so many times even in my own family it is a sweet soft polite hug. Sometimes a person just needs more, a strong bear hug from the heart. How many people today will never feel human touch. We live in a society that texts, facebooks, tweets, calls but never has that face to face contact much less human touch. My mother some days goes all day long without seeing a live human face. I ask her does it bother her? She says no, but I can feel in her hugs when I come over the intense desire for human touch. So I challenge you from this day forward, hug. Don't be too busy when your children come up for a hug. Don't say goodbye to a loved one without a hug. Don't forget the people who live alone and need that special hug from you. And remember sometimes people need more than the soft sideways hug they need a full bear hug.
Little Noah, I thank you for the perfect hug in the middle of your play. But I also thank you for reminding me to reach out to people and give more than the barest of touch.

Sometimes a funeral can be inspiring.

I went to a funeral today. I didn't know the lady but she was the sister of my Aunt June so I went because of her. When you don't personally know the person you can really take in what they are saying. I know this because I have been to a funeral where I knew no one, but that is another story. But at today's funeral I didn't know the person being buried, Gladys. She would have been 90 years young this Fall. She was very sickly towards the end and Hospice had helped the family with the process of dying. And it is a process. Some people approach with fear, some with anxiety, some with welcome relief. Gladys I think from what I heard today approached it with some sadness because she would no longer be with her family. But I know she also approached it with open arms because she would be with her Lord.
But as I sat there and listened to the family and pastor speak about this wonderful woman I thought wow, I wish I had know her. She sounded like a really amazing person. She had traveled far and wide, she had raised her family then began a career, she was an avid reader and she loved her family deeply. She was my kind of person.
The family spoke of her smile. That no matter how she felt she said with a smile on her face she was fine. Throughout even the last days when she was in pain, couldn't walk, couldn't hear much and couldn't see much she still had such a positive attitude.
They told of how she never had a bad word to say about anyone. Anyone. Wow. She welcomed everyone as family even if they weren't. Part of her family lived overseas and when they would come home for 6 weeks she would let them take over her house, her car even her bed. She was flexible beyond words. She just enjoyed the fact they were there.
When she went overseas to visit it wasn't about show me a good time. She wanted to just enjoy being with them and living their everyday life.
She was never too busy to read to a child, or talk to a friend.
I began to wonder what would my kids have to say at my funeral. Would they say I had a positive attitude or negative one? Would they say they had never heard me speak a bad word about anyone? Would they say I enjoyed people just being there or was I more concerned about my house? Would they say I sat down and read a book or watched a movie with them or was I too busy cooking or cleaning? Would they say I was flexible or was I rigid? At this point I am glad it isn't my funeral because I am afraid the answer to most of those questions would not be yes. Instead, it would be I was a busy body who was negative and sometimes an angry person. That I cared more that my house was clean than about the people in it. I am afraid they would say I was often too busy for them. I can not change the past but I can change the future.
I want my words to be soft and positive. I have always wanted to be demure but I know that will never happen. I want to be flexible and enjoy the moment no matter how messy it may be. I want to sit and look them in the eyes and listen, really listen, to what they think and feel. I want to hug them often and kiss them right on the lips no matter how embarrassed they get. I want to be remembered as a Godly woman who loved her family and friends unconditionally.
I don't think it is morbid to think of these things. I think we all need a reality check every now and then. We get this one life to accomplish it all here on Earth. And our actions will speak volumes about who we truly were. I hope today, Gladys, you know you are helping to make me a better person. When I think about ironing instead of listening I will think of you.
When I think of speaking about someone I will remember your childrens' words. When I want to complain about how I feel I will put a smile on. So, thank you Gladys Petty for a life well lived and a legacy passed on. Sometimes it helps to go to a funeral and just remember how precious life is.

Birthdays

Today is the birthday of a dear friend's son. He died 4 months before my Jacob. I say my Jacob because his name is Jacob, Jake, too. I didn't know her except by name before my Jacob died. I remember the day she walked into my house. It was the day after Jacob died. When I saw her I thought I can do this. If Sandy was able to leave her home and come over to comfort me when this is bringing up so many feelings then I will be ok. Because at this point in my grieving, the day after, I wasn't sure I would ever leave my home again. Wasn't sure I would ever be able to do more than sit on my couch paralyzed by the pain and breathe. But here was this woman whose son had died 4 months ago and she was able to function. Little did I know how difficult for her it was to walk into my home. It brought up so many feelings that she had tried to put someplace deep inside her. It brought up her own day after grief. Something she had tried to get past. But she did it because she knew first hand a momma's grief. The grief of a momma is like no other. I know I will offend others because they will try to say how hard it is for the father and siblings and friends but a momma is different. She carried that child inside her for 9 months. She knows that child inside and out. He is with her every moment of every day. Not physically but emotionally. A father goes to work and does his job. A mother goes to work and thinks constantly about her children. Not thinks but worries and dreams of their future. She is emotionally and soulfully connected to this child.
I have told all of my children as they turn into young adults how hard a transition it is from being a mother whom is depended on for everything to a mother who is appreciated and loved but not really needed that much. As they entered high school and college I would stress to them that for the past upteen years they depended on me for basically everything. For much of that time I was their world. They were going to marry me when they grew up. Momma could do no wrong and everything she said was right. Then somewhere along the way they did grow up. No longer did I know everything. In fact, the older they became the dumber I grew. They could do things for themselves and no longer needed me as much. So at these times I would gently and sometimes not so gently tell them to throw me a bone every now and then to wean me off being number one in their lives. Every now and then tell me something about their thoughts, ask my opinion, ask for my help. Not every day but just every now and then make me feel needed. It is hard letting go and they need to let me go gently.
That would make our whole world easier and happier if every now and then they would throw me a bone.
So when that child dies a part of a momma dies too. I know the father and siblings and friends feel a part of them dies too. But soon their lives return and they are able to go longer and longer time between thoughts of that loved one. But for a momma I can tell you 17 months later I think of him 24/7. He is never away from my thoughts. Yes, I have happy times but he is there with me. The sadness of him missing out is there behind every smile every laugh.
So as I thought of my friend this morning and how we both are focusing on where they are not on where they were my heart breaks for her. I pray for her always as I know the pain is there with her every step she takes. I thank her for her bravery in coming to my house that day 17 months ago and giving me hope that I too could someday live again. God gave her to me. On the days she is down I am up and when I am up she is down.
I had the opportunity just 3 months after Jacob died to share that same gift with another family. A long time family friend's son died the same way Jacob did. I told Bart we had to go visit them. But I didn't want to. I was just then able to go several hours without tears. I didn't want to reopen my own wounds to help someone else. But I knew we had to. I knew the help and comfort of seeing Sandy that day. The strength she had given to me. So we went and loved on them and prayed for them. Yes, it was so hard and set me back. But mommas know how other mommas feel. They can see and feel the pain in their eyes like no other. So we have to give back to them. We have to go even if it hurts and look into their eyes and give them hope that yes, you will go on living. Yes, it will hurt every moment of every day for the rest of your life. No, your life will never be the same but you will find a new different life. One that is somewhat tolerable. But you have to lean on God and others. It is a walk that must be done alone for only you know your feelings but through leaning on God and others and letting them hold you up in prayer and give you strength someday you will breathe and live again.
So, to all the mommas whose children have died before my Jacob I say thank you for your strength in going on so that I can hope. And to all the mommas whose children have died after my Jacob I say keep breathing, take one step at a time and lean on God and friends. And focus today on where they are right now rather than where they were.
Thank you Sandy Meir for giving me strength to go on and for being there in the middle of the night when no one else could possibly understand my crazy thoughts. I am thankful for our facebook messages.
Happy Birthday Jake Meir.

  This morning I woke up thinking about Christmas.  I loved Christmas time before Jacob died.  I loved the reason for the season, the lights, the food, and the family time. If you don't already know I am a little OÇD ok maybe a little more than a little.  For years we had Christmas Eve at my church with our closet 50-60 family members.  We had a huge dinner,  played Dirty Santa and the little ones would reenact the Christmas Story.  It was amazing to be surrounded by family from the oldest to the youngest.  Then Christmas day a smaller gathering 30-40 would gather at my aunts for Christmas lunch.  I was fortunate to be able to both.  I always knew the time would come when my aunts and mother got too old to put on such a huge party but  dreaded it.  We downsized the food, the younger generation took over but the inevitable happened.  We had to put an end to the Christmas Eve party. For someone who was raised with holiday rituals and OCD this was the worst.  How could we have Christmas without the Miner Family gathering?  I went down kicking and vocal.  But Christmas did survive and other traditions were made.  We gathered Christmas Eve with my immediate family, not a small gathering either and just met on Christmas Day.
  Other families I know celebrate Christmas but not on the actual day because of family commitments but that was not an option for me.  Christmas Eve was December 24 and Christmas Day was Dec 25.  They had to be celebrated on the exact days.  So imagine my horror Christmas two years ago when we were blinded by a blizzard.  It was noon and I was having my nails done.  Yes, in a blizzard.  But I have lived in OK for way too many years to know that as quickly as the weather starts it ends.  It had never really snowed that much on Christmas.  So I went to have my nails done in preparation for the nights celebration.  The tvs were on blaring about the blizzards and roads closed. They were warning people to not get out unless necessary.  We all laughed at the nail shop.  What is a little snow in OK.
Finally, my nails were done.  I wished them all a safe and merry Christmas.  I struggled to open the door against the raging wind.  Finally, I lowered my head and pushed with all my might and finally made it to my car.  Now, I am a seasoned driver so driving on snow or ice does not faze me.  I am that person who has to get out of the house no matter what the weather does.  One year I shoveled a foot of snow off my drive so I could get out and get guacamole from Taco Bueno.  But this was different.  I couldn't see.  It was a white out.  It was already 1pm on Christmas Eve.  I had to get home so we could go to my moms. I called my mom before I left and she said we were cancelling Christmas Eve because of the weather.  I told her no that was ridiculous.  It would end soon and we could get there.  She was not spending Christmas Eve alone.  I was not spending Christmas Eve without all my family together.  When she told me we could still celebrate we would just do it another day.  I came unglued.  You can't do that mom.  We HAVE to celebrate tonight.  It was CHRISTMAS EVE.  She told me to get home and we would discuss it later.
I began to drive.  I couldn't see anything beyond the front of my car.  I could see lights on other cars if I really strained.  I was beginning to get scared.  I made it through the lights at Mustang Road and Reno.  I was coming up to the overpass on I-40.  I panicked.  How would I know where the road was or the barriers on the ramp?   I called Bart crying I was so scared.  He urged me on slowly.  By the time I made it home I was shaking.  I thought I was going to get stuck because of the snow piled up and then not be able to see how to walk home.  If I even could?  Once home the boys and I began praying for Bart to make it.  Lord, if you will just let him get home safely we won't get back out.   Wait, what was I saying? It was Christmas Eve.  How could we leave my mom home alone?  How could we celebrate just us? My world was getting shakey.  I called my mom who said even if Bart could get there she was not leaving her house.  She told me firmly it was just another night.  Christ's birth was not that exact day.  It was a day we had set aside to celebrate and the celebration could take place anytime.
I got off the phone and sat stunned.  For the first time in my long life we were not going to have Christmas.  Silence.
Bart made it home.  He assured me the world would not end if we didn't celebrate Christmas Eve today. That we should just be thankful all of our loved ones were safe and we, Bart, myself and the three boys were together.  We could have Christmas Eve just us.
Again, I sat stunned. I ambled to the refrigerator.  We had pies. That was what I was suppose to bring.  Hmmmmm I fixed some unrememberable meal and sat at the table and pouted.   We watched Christmas movies and I pouted.  We opened one gift and I pouted.   We went to bed and I pouted.  We got up the next morning and Santa had come and I pouted.  Christmas had been ruined.
We did celebrate Christmas two days later and the world did not end.  But I still pouted.
Looking back now I think God was preparing me for the next Christmas without Jacob.  After Jacob died we celebrated holidays but in a fog.   This 4th of July my sister in law reminded me how I banned sparklers last year because the idea of having sparklers without Jacob was too much.  How selfish I was to my grandkids.  I don't even remember doing it.
Thanksgiving, I made everyone sit some place different.  I took a xanex to keep me from screaming at everyone for smiling for going on with living without my Jacob.  But Christmas?  I just couldn't do it. The idea of setting out only two stockings and Santa gifts was too much.  The idea of waking up Christmas morning in our home in Yukon being a family of 4 instead of a family of 5 was paralyzing.  I know Christ tells us he will never leave us nor forsake us but I also knew I couldn't wake up in my own bed Christmas morning without Jacob.  Knowing his body lay in a cold deep grave but his soul was worshipping the one and only true God that Christmas morning was not comforting.  So I began to plan. I lay the idea of a family cruise out there to the boys and Bart's family.  We could all be together but it would be different.  Yes, we would notice Jacob, the son, brother, grandchild, cousin, nephew was not there but the scene would be so different I could do this.  I really didn't take into consideration how the others felt about leaving home for Christmas.  I knew I had to leave and I was taking them with me at whatever cost.
I know now God gave me the previous Christmas as a gift.  He let me see without all the grief and pain that Christmas was just a day.  The celebration could take place anytime anywhere.  Because of that I saw the world didn't end just because we had our celebration two days late.  He also gave me another gift that I did not embrace.  He gave me Jacob's last Christmas as a special blessing, just the five of us.  A chance to spend special quality of time just us.  But in my stubborness of knowing more than God I missed it.  I pouted.  Instead of embracing that we were all together and safe I pouted.  I missed one of God's greatest gift to me, my son's last Christmas.  I so wish I could have that night back together.
I cried in bed this morning knowing I missed it.  I missed so many other times that God had provided for me I am sure because I was too busy or was trying to do it my way.  I see now God does have a plan and I should embrace it.  When well made plans fall apart we should just look and see what is right before our face.  Jacob had so wanted to be out on his own by this time but finances and college and working part time kept him from doing it.  God gave us that time since it would be cut short.  Most people's children go off to college and they don't get to have evening dinners with them, or late night movies, or snow days together. We did.  I am thankful.
Yes, we did go on a cruise and I did survive Christmas.  We drove all of Christmas Day to Galveston.  Bart, the boys, Grandma Billye, Aunt Sharon, Aunt Brenda, Uncle Brett and cousins Riley and Parker.  Yes, it was still noticeable my precious baby boy, Jacob was not there.  But I didn't wake up in my bed in Yukon.  That helped.  As we walked onto the ship I cried.  Jacob had always wanted to go on a cruise and we were leaving him behind.  But he was having the best Christmas of them all, with Christ himself.
This Christmas we are looking at Tampa.  Our Katie lives there and it isn't Yukon.  Bart's family has to stay here this year and my mom says she can't leave.  So it will be waking up Christmas morning a family of four.  But it won't be Yukon.  Maybe some day we will stay home.  My boys hope so.  They miss being with their friends and rest of the family.  Come to find out they hated the cruise.  They don't like water that much.  They did it for me and they will do it again this year.  Because we are family.  I am thankful.

Not die from life but to die from the pain.

That night I did want to die.  Not to die from life but from the pain.  I wanted to no longer be able to feel.  To this day I can still see that image of my first born child lying in that coffin.  I must keep my mind busy at all times so I don't see that image.  I can be having a conversation with you or cooking dinner or worshipping God and if I am not careful that image comes to mind and world crashes.  But those times are now fewer and farther between.  This year I choose to focus on not where he was but where he is.  I try to focus on the beauty and wonder of God all around him.
But those first few days it was not possible.  Those first few days become a blur.  So many people came and went and I am so thankful for their presence.  Every morning I would get up, put on my makeup and stumble to my couch.  My haven.  The Olympics were on and curling became our fascination.  I would sit again with my eyes closed listening to the announcer while repeating everything in my head so I didn't have to think.  I became fixated on the tv.  It brought normalcy to my life.  Any time the boys or Bart would get out of my sight I would panic.  Several of my friends could see the panic and would rush to my side to tell me where they were.  They were going on about the business of picking pictures, getting clothes ready for the funeral, living life.  I was not ready to move from the couch.  I would fall asleep on the couch because I could hear life around me.  Teenage voices in the night moving around the house, watching tv, eating, laughing.  That is the normal I wanted around me.  To go to bed in the dark with no noise brought too many thoughts.  Thoughts I did not want.  So I stayed sitting on the couch.  Falling asleep with the world going on around me.
The morning of the funeral I lay in bed.  I could feel Bart beside me.  I was trying to cry silently so as not to wake him but he spoke.  He too was lying there silently crying so as not to wake me.  He said we have to get up and get ready for the funeral.  Get ready for the funeral.  So natural to say.  How many funerals have we gone to?  Gotten up and gotten ready as if it were such a normal day.  But while we were getting ready for those funerals did we think there was a momma and daddy lying there in the bed silently crying so as not to wake the other one.  We got o these funerals and we are sad for a moment and then go back to work.  But for the family life does not go on as normal.  Normal will never be the same.  Someday I will find a new normal but it will never be the same.
We dress in silence, eat in silence, hug in silence.  The house begins to fill with family and friends who have come in support and to comfort us as we go to the cemetery. These people are my rock.  These people I know are praying for each one of us.  I sit in the chair surrounded by these people and Bart tells me the cars are here and it is time to go.  I tell him to wait.  Up to this point I could do little. I was not able to even comfort my children.  At this point I have had faith but the pain overtook it.  I was not hopeless just helpless.  There is a big difference.  I knew that pain was mind numbing but I also knew through this all that God was still on His throne and still next to my side.  With 40 people gathered in my living room I needed I had to give that hope on to them.  I needed to let them know this was not the end. Our God is so much bigger than that.  For the non believer this was the end of the road.  But because I and Jacob knew our God died and rose again this was not the end.  It was just the beginning for him.  I would survive and my family would grow stronger because of it.  God had a plan. I didn't like the plan but He had one.
So I asked Bart to wait.  I had something I wanted to share with everyone.  With eyes on me I opened my Bible to Psalms 22

 ^1-2 God, God...my God! Why did you dump me
      miles from nowhere?
   Doubled up with pain, I call to God
      all the day long. No answer. Nothing.
   I keep at it all night, tossing and turning.

 ^3-5 And you! Are you indifferent, above it all,
      leaning back on the cushions of Israel's praise?
   We know you were there for our parents:
      they cried for your help and you gave it;
      they trusted and lived a good life.

 ^6-8 And here I am, a nothing—an earthworm,
      something to step on, to squash.
   Everyone pokes fun at me;
      they make faces at me, they shake their heads:
   "Let's see how God handles this one;
      since God likes him so much, let him help him!"

 ^9-11 And to think you were midwife at my birth,
      setting me at my mother's breasts!
   When I left the womb you cradled me;
      since the moment of birth you've been my God.
   Then you moved far away
      and trouble moved in next door.
   I need a neighbor.

 ^12-13 Herds of bulls come at me,
      the raging bulls stampede,
   Horns lowered, nostrils flaring,
      like a herd of buffalo on the move.

 ^14-15 I'm a bucket kicked over and spilled,
      every joint in my body has been pulled apart.
   My heart is a blob
      of melted wax in my gut.
   I'm dry as a bone,
      my tongue black and swollen.
   They have laid me out for burial
      in the dirt.

 ^16-18 Now packs of wild dogs come at me;
      thugs gang up on me.
   They pin me down hand and foot,
      and lock me in a cage—a bag
   Of bones in a cage, stared at
      by every passerby.
   They take my wallet and the shirt off my back,
      and then throw dice for my clothes.

 ^19-21 You, God—don't put off my rescue!
      Hurry and help me!
   Don't let them cut my throat;
      don't let those mongrels devour me.
   If you don't show up soon,
      I'm done for—gored by the bulls,
      meat for the lions.

 ^22-24 Here's the story I'll tell my friends when they come to worship,
      and punctuate it with Hallelujahs:
   Shout Hallelujah, you God-worshipers;
      give glory, you sons of Jacob;
      adore him, you daughters of Israel.
   He has never let you down,
      never looked the other way
      when you were being kicked around.
   He has never wandered off to do his own thing;
      he has been right there, listening.

 ^25-26 Here in this great gathering for worship
      I have discovered this praise-life.
   And I'll do what I promised right here
      in front of the God-worshipers.
   Down-and-outers sit at God's table
      and eat their fill.
   Everyone on the hunt for God
      is here, praising him.
   "Live it up, from head to toe.
      Don't ever quit!"

 ^27-28 From the four corners of the earth
      people are coming to their senses,
      are running back to God.
   Long-lost families
      are falling on their faces before him.
   God has taken charge;
      from now on he has the last word.

 ²⁹ All the power-mongers are before him
      —worshiping!
   All the poor and powerless, too
      —worshiping!
   Along with those who never got it together
      —worshiping!

 ^30-31 Our children and their children
      will get in on this
   As the word is passed along
      from parent to child.
   Babies not yet conceived
      will hear the good news—
      that God does what he says.

Normally people read 23 Psalms.  But God gave that chapter to me that morning and I just felt strength from it. I felt God had abandoned me but I knew and still know He was there and will be victorious even over death.   We prayed and everyone went to their cars.
Many years ago I went to a funeral of a friend where they had a private burial for the family and then the service.  I liked that idea.  The cemetery is the hardest part I think and is very private.  Then the service becomes a celebration of their life.  The casket is not there to be a reminder of the body but all emphasizes on where they are not on the empty shell.  So we drove to the cemetery. I use to work across from the cemetery and drove past it often in our small town.  My father had been buried there 6 months ago.  I came often to visit his grave sight but now it would hold a whole different meaning for me.
The beautiful wooden casket was already loaded on the lowering frame. The flowers looked so pretty.  Our family and a few close friends gathered around.  To be honest I don't remember a word said at that part of the service.  I just remember sitting there with my family held close and looking at the casket.  I remember praying for God to just surround us so we could get through this.  And God did. The service was over and it was time to leave.  How do you say good bye to your son and let them lower him into the ground?
I remember when the boys were all little.  Nanna Ruth had died and we just had graveside services.  The boys were enthralled.  They wanted to stay and watch as they lowered the casket into the ground.  Normally this is done after the family leaves but we had four little boys wanting to watch this happen so we did.  They were fascinated.  That morning the thought came to me and put a little smile on my face thinking about it.  Small children deal with death so much differently than we do.  I remember the first time I took Jacob to a funeral home.  We went as a family to view the body.  I can't remember if it was Nanna Ruth or possibly Bart's father, Dale.  It was a somber moment.  We walked in and I had tried to prepare Jacob for what he would see.  He had asked to go.  He walked right over to the casket and touched the body.  He yelled, "Hey, mom.  Come here and touch her/his hand.  Feel this.  Wow."  I didn't want to touch the body.  He was insistent.  I finally had to move him away so he would  quit telling me to feel it.  Children are very resilient.  It is we adults who have a more difficult time accepting it.
So as we sat there I remember those times and his fascination and wonder  But I still didn't want to say goodbye. It is so final.  I put my hand on the casket and wept.  I told my sweet boy I loved him and walked away.

The pain is so great I want to die.

I have put off writing for a while because I have come to a time in this story that I do not like visiting.  I have written about other things, I have ignored this blog, I have left town, I have even resorted to cleaning house.  But I have to visit this place.  I have to face my worst nightmare.  I have to come to grips with what happened so I can go forward.  I think we don't want to face our past, our fears, our nightmares but we must before we can ever go forward.  So pray for me today if you think of it.  Opening up old wounds sometimes causes pain and bleeding.  Sometimes I think my heart has bled dry and there are no more feelings but to go here to this place that I don't visit often I know it will bleed again.
Bart tells me the funeral home has called and we need to go view the body so others can come pay their respects.  View the body.  It sounds so cold.  But I know that is what it is.  A body.  He is not there.  It is a shell but it is a shell that I carried for 9 months, a shell that I loved and watched grow into a man.  It is my shell and I don't want this to be.  I cried out to God to make it not so but my prayers go unanswered.  Why can't God raise him from the dead like He did Lazarus.  Why can't I wake up and this be a dream?  Why can't my life just end right now and I don't have to go to the funeral home and view the body?
With family and friends gathered around we leave.  I sit numb in the truck not believing what I am doing.  I am riding with the world going on all around me to view my dead child.  It still makes no sense.  We arrive at the funeral home and I can't get out of the truck. I need to be strong for my children and Bart but I can't move.  Bart tells me I have to.  He comes around and makes me get out of the truck. The boys on the other side.  Why can't I be strong for my boys?  Why do they have to even do this?  My mind screams out and I fear everyone can hear my thoughts.  NO NO NO PLEASE GOD NO.  I look around and see the pain on the faces as we walk across the parking lot.  I see aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, father and brothers.  I am so mad at Jacob.  Why did this have to happen.  I told him this was my biggest fear.  I spent years trying to keep this from happening.
The doors open to the funeral home and I can't make my feet move.  I stop, a complete standstill.  My husband, Bart, ever so gentle tells me I have to go in.  He guides me across the door frame one step at a time.  Each step hurts stronger and stronger because I know what I am going to.  I tell him no I can not do this.  But he insists  I have to.  I need to.
We walk past the desk. The young girl smiles.  We walk into the outer area.   Everything looks so normal but my world is spinning.  A few more steps and I face reality.  Reality that this is truly real, no longer a nightmare or dream, but my child lies ahead dead in a coffin.
We enter the room and look left.  The breath goes out of me.  I feel my body being held up by Bart and my boys.  My boys, my two not three boys.  There he lies.  He looks asleep.  He looks like he could sit up at any moment and say this is a joke.  But it isn't.  We walk one step at a time forward.  Closer and closer so I can see that yes, it is Jacob.  Yes, he is lying there dead. I see his clothes that Bart, the boys and friends have picked out.  I see his grandpa's nose on his profile.  I see he needs a haircut.  I see anything but the fact that he is no longer alive.  I can't breath.  I can't look anymore.  This is too much to take in.  Bart and the boys move me to a couch where I hearing deep deep moaning.  It is coming from somewhere deep inside me.  Bart is stroking my hair,  telling me to breath, calm down.  I close my eyes. I tell him I will be ok.  Go be with the boys.  The are standing next to their brother.  Their shoulders close to each other racking with pain.  Go Bart be with them.  Go be with them because I can't.  I can't look, I can't breath, I can't go on.  I tell Bart please please let me die.  Let me die right now.  I don't want to go on living with my child dead.  My sister in law comes to sit with me and hold me.  I close my eyes tight. I don't want to ever open them again. Sight is too painful.  I rock back and forth with unbearable pain.  I think my heart is going to explode.  I hear the people around me, crying, speaking, comforting.  I want to die.

Timing is everything

Timing is everything and God's timing is perfect.  I was reminded of that today.  I have a friend, Weezie, who has pancreatitis.  She will be going along fine and then all of a sudden have an attack.  I thought she was going home on Tuesday but she didn't.  On Wednesday God began urging me to go visit her in the hospital.  I was busy getting ready for a trip and thought it is so far out to Mercy.  But I kept feeling God's urging.  So I got in the car and went to see her.  We had a wonderful visit.  During our time we went over why was this happening?  She kept saying it made no sense for her to be so sick.  She was feeling fine and then all of sudden it hit and she ends up in the hospital.  And why didn't she get to go home yesterday.  Finally, I prayed over her and said my goodbyes.  I went to the elevator and as the door was closing a young lady ran in.  I smiled at her and she made a comment about the elevators and spending so much time in the hospital.  I asked if her person had much longer to be there.  With tears forming in her eyes she said no.  She went on to tell me they were suppose to go home with hospice yesterday but her friend decided to stay in the hospital.  I asked how long they gave her friend ?  Her lower lip trembling she said hours, anytime.  She went on to tell me her friend, a 28 year old mom of two boys,had kidney cancer.  As we walked out of the elevator I stopped her and told her I didn't know if she was a believer but would she mind if I prayed for her and her friend?  She looked up with tears streaming down and said yes, please.  Right in the middle of the lobby at Mercy Hospital I wrapped my arms around this precious sister in Christ and prayed for her and her friend who laid upstairs dying.  Timing is everything.  If I hadn't listened to God's urging I would have missed this chance to minister to this young lady.  If I hadn't been thinking of all I had to do and missed my turn I would have missed this chance to minister to this young lady.  I would have gotten to the hospital and earlier and left earlier getting on a different elevator.  God had this all orchestrated.  Wow. We walked out to our cars and she continued to talk of her friend.  She said, "My friend has asked me if it will hurt."  I looked a little puzzled and she went on to explain her friend was scared dying might hurt.   We had a chance to talk about Heaven and how you get there and what it might like.  I told her my son had died a year and a half ago and how knowing he was in Heaven and what he was encountering helped me.   How he got to worship God himself every moment of every day somehow helped in my missing him.  She thanked me for praying and talking to her and we went our separate ways.  As I got in my car I thought this is why Weezie was in the hospital.  For this very moment.  I also wondered how many other opportunities had God orchestrated and I had missed them because I was too busy to listen to His urgings?  Or too busy on my phone to notice the young lady with tears in her eyes? Oh just too tired to talk to one more person?  I am thankful God gave me the chance to pray for that young lady.  And I hope if her friend is still alive tonight you will pray for her to be free of pain and fear.  And to pray that we all listen more to what God tells us and to open our eyes to the amazing opportunities He places before us. 
Oh, when I called to tell Weezie I knew why she was in pain and in the hospital she was thankful.  She said it was worth what she went through so this young lady could be ministered to.  What a lady.