Her name is Linda

I completely forgot my hair appointment. That was not a happy day. I book 6 weeks out just to get a coveted spot with my friend, Tracy. After the month I have had the gray was even worse than normal. So when Tracy called to see if something was wrong I fell apart. How could I get the wrong day? How could I forgot something so important that had been scheduled for 6 weeks. Today I walk in to get my nails done. I go at the wrong time. Not a problem it is later in the day at least. But I fall apart. This is my first free Saturday baring few exceptions in 4 years I have not gone to my mother's to run her errands, eat lunch or shop. Saturdays have always been my day to spend with my mom but after my father died it became essential. Today, I woke up and realized I had nothing to do. Yes, I had plenty to do but no one to take care of, to eat lunch with, to spend my time caring for and being cared by. I pulled the covers up. Being a former grief counselor I know this is all normal, the sensitivity to sound, last night I couldn't stay in the room while the tv blared out the Thunder game and had to go sit in a dark room with the tv down low. I work with little people who are loud sometimes and at times this week it has been like fingers shrieking across a black board slowly. I know that is normal. I know it is normal to forget things and be confused like when you automatically drive to your mom's on a Wednesday after teaching at UCO because that is what you have done every Wednesday for 4 years, like forgetting to pay the AT&T bill, or going back to check did I really put the garage door down? I know it is normal to lack motivation, the pile of to do papers for my mom's trust continues to grow, I would rather sit and stare off in space while Bart thinks I am watching Duck Dynasty with him. I know the exhaustion of falling asleep last night at 8pm and not waking up til 8am but still feeling completely worn out is normal. I know the nights when I can't fall asleep at all because the last moments of my mom's life keep flashing through my weary brain and keeps me from the bliss of oblivion which comes with rest. I know all this but when I went into the Avon store today and saw my mom's powder and reached for the phone to call to see if she needed any I fell apart. I miss my momma. I drove home in silence with huge crocodile tears streaming down my face over powder. When I reached Bart's side my silent cries turned to heaves. I have held the emotions, the feelings at bay while I returned to work and what appeared to be normalcy. But today the reality comes storming towards me, I have no sweet momma to care for, to love, to hold and have her hold me gently on those days when life is just too hard. And so I cried. I cried for myself. My son calls and I change my voice so he can't hear the hurt and sorrow in my hollow voice. But when the call ends it comes tumbling back. Wallowing in my self pity and grief I try to find solace in helping others. I ask Bart to take me to Wal Greens to buy cereal for Jacob's Cupboard which is on sale. I saw an ad for Captain Crunch and knew the small children would like that much better than plain Cheerios. So I dried the tears and wiped off the mascara which smeared my face and didn't even care if I had lipstick on because the pain was too much. I stood with Bart looking at candy bars to buy for our fund raiser at school when I heard a man scream, "Some one help." I raced out of the aisle and saw a man holding the cashier up by her arm screaming and no one moving. I ran behind the counter and eased her gently down while another kind soul jumped over the counter to help. She recognized the woman and began calling her daughter, another woman called 911 as I grabbed for the woman's wrist using her other limp arm with a watch to count the beats. Her skin was so clammy and so cold. Her pulse was erratic and her body lay still. People were shouting and trying to get help but all I could see was somebody's mother laying there lifeless, not moving and cold. I began patting her cheeks and screaming for her to stay with me. To breathe and hang on. She came around and mumbled, "What happened?" but just as quickly her eyes rolling back and struggling to breathe I felt like I was losing her. The one lady to my side screamed into the phone reaching her daughter and telling her to come quick, the other lady on the other side of the counter telling 911 to hurry she was bad. She began to make choking sounds so I pushed her head back and her mouth open trying desperately to remember my CPR training, frantically trying to find a pulse and a breath. I began to see a faint movement in her neck and a slight rising in her chest. I again began shouting at her to hang on her daughter was on the way. At last the medics arrived, as I began to rattle off statistics, heart rate 80 erratic, skin clammy and cold, slightly responsive at first, not diabetic, no pain, lost consciousness 1 1/2 minutes ago they brushed us aside and began their battle to save this woman's life. Her daughter rushed in we updated her and then stood back to pray. I walked over to my husband and said, "God sure has a way of putting things in perspective." Here I was crying over a mother who had lived a full life and so ready to be with Jesus and here lay a woman fighting for her life and a daughter shaking and questioning why? We all have our battles, our fears and our losses. We never know what lies ahead one moment before us. We never know when we are going to walk in a store looking for cereal on sale that doesn't start until tomorrow and be faced with life changing moments. My prayer today is not for myself but for this daughter and this woman. Linda. Her name is Linda. Pray.

Forgiveness

God is so faithful and I love when I get to witness His plans in actions. As you know my mother passed away last Thursday and my aunt passed away on Saturday. Yesterday we had graveside services for my aunt in McAlester where she was from. It was a very sweet service and then our entire family went to Giacomo's to eat. There was salad, rolls, spaghetti, ravioli, meatballs, steaks and lamb fries. Yes, lamb fries where the youngest of the family were introduced to this delicacy with mixed reaction. This was a favorite place of my families to eat and it seemed fitting we go there for lunch. As everyone hugged and promised to keep in touch we begin to go our separate ways. Not wanting to return home where reality lives and loss is constantly there my husband and I decided to stay overnight and go to First Baptist Stringtown where a friend is the pastor, Joey Lansdale. We called him around 9pm to make sure he would be preaching and to let him know we would be there. We have been there twice before once for me to speak about Jacob's death and Choosing Joy. Both times God was there and working mightily in this small church in Stringtown OK. As we entered the church we were greeted first by one then another as word got around that someone new was there. Soon Joey showed up and after big bear hugs he said he was so glad we were there and he had an idea. He went on to explain his sermon today was about the Prodigal Son. But he was talking about the older son, his bitterness and his lack of forgiveness for the Prodigal Son. How this bitterness kept him from receiving all the blessings he so richly deserved. He went to explain he had a video clip of Rick Warren and his wife speaking about forgiving the young man who had given their son the gun he later used to kill himself. He looked at us and said since we had spoken to his congregation about Jacob how much more personal it would be if Bart and I would share about how we forgave Justin. Justin. Justin the young man who on that Friday night sold my son pills that were lethal with alcohol and which later caused him to slowly die as his heart quit beating and his breath stopped completely. Justin. How we had forgiven him. I looked up at Joey with tears in my eyes and said, "We can't because we haven't forgiven him. For three years and 9 months I have hated him. I have blamed him and wished him prison because death would be too kind. Three years of bitterness and hatred. When I imagined him enjoying life, laughing, working, his heart beating and lungs breathing it was too much for me to handle. My hatred grew even larger. I have blamed him every moment since that phone call on February 20. And here I was having to look in the eyes of our sweet preacher friend and say no, I have not forgiven Justin. Why had we come this Sunday, why was Joey preaching on this? But I knew, I knew God had planned this out. It was not by accident we were in this service and confronting our unforgiveness. For the past three years every book I read dealt with forgiveness, every song I heard dealt with forgiveness, every Bible Study I taught dealt with forgiveness. I would apologize to my ladies for having to endure the chapter because it was solely for me. I knew God wanted me to forgive but I was not ready to let go of my anger. I wanted that blame that anger. Forgiveness would mean I would have to look at myself and the part I played in Jacob's death, the part Jacob played. It was much easier to hate Justin, blame him. But the past 3 months God has been dealing with my heart. And today I knew I could no longer run. Today, from out of nowhere we ended up at First Baptist Stringtown with the topic forgiveness and Joey was asking us to speak about ours. And so with tears streaming down my face I told him we couldn't because we hadn't forgiven Justin. It was so stark in my face. How could I witness to others and tell them the great things God had done in our lives since Jacob died when I couldn't even forgive this young man. My Savior died on the cross for everyone. He forgave us all of our sins, unconditionally and yet I couldn't forgive Justin. Joey went on to preach his sermon. It was as if there were only three people in the room, Joey, myself and God. God quietly whispering I forgave your sins. God had forgiven me of all my sins and yet I couldn't quit blaming Justin for my son's death when in reality Jacob made his own choice. Jacob was responsible for his own death. There I said it. I could no longer put the blame on someone else. I could no longer wallow in my hatred and bitterness. At the end of the sermon Joey looked at me and asked if I would like to speak. I stood in front of the congregation and told them of my struggles. I told them how much hatred I had towards this man but then I told them God had brought me there that morning knowing Joey was going to be preaching that very sermon and ask me point blank about my forgiveness. Broken in front of these precious people I told them how convicted I was of what I needed to do. Saying the words outloud made my determination stronger. I knew I no longer could hide from God my feelings. I knew that there was no turning back. My son died. He took the pills he drank the alcohol and he died. I thought about it the entire way home. How could I say the words. How could I ask Justin for forgiveness for the way I had felt towards him. Could I just say in my heart I forgive. No God wanted the words to be spoken. I don't know where Justin is today. But tonight in complete brokeness I wrote him a letter begging him for his forgiveness and telling him I would pray for him daily. The peace that came from that moment was freeing. Just last night in my Bible study the question was posed, What prayer do you feel God has been silent on? I wrote down, moving forward healing from Jacob's death. When Joey asked about our forgiving Justin I knew that was my answer. God wanted me to forgive so I could move on. So I could heal. Did God have this planned? You bet. For months He has been working on me. But I wasn't ready. But God took me to a little church in a small town in southern Oklahoma to hear His words and find peace. It was no coincident that we were there today. It was orchestrated by God Almighty. I am just glad I was able to witness God's plan in action. I am just glad I serve a mighty and powerful God. And I am glad for a preacher friend who is obedient to preach the word of God just like God told him weeks ago. Forgiveness

All is well

My mother passed away. This is an event I have literally dreaded since I can remember. When I was in college my parents would let me know if they had plans or were going anywhere because if I called they house and they didn't answer soon I was known to start calling the hospitals and police in search for what I knew must have been some sort of terrible accident killing both of my parents. Yes, vivid imagination. And this was before the invention of cell phones, text messages or Facebook so it was very hard for them to let me know they would be out of the house for an evening. But I lived in constant dread of losing my parents. I knew that if that happened I would not be able to survive. I would like to say over time this feeling of impending doom got better but no, not really. When my father died and my mother lived alone I installed a nanny cam. This way I could open an app on my phone and see if my mom was sitting in her chair or passed out dead. If she didn't answer her phone I would look then give her 5 minutes to get back from the bathroom before I would begin calling my sister to see if she had heard from mom, could she run over there and check on her or I would drive into OKC and then I would find she had been outside looking at the flowers or in art room painting and hadn't heard the phone. So when my mom recently became critical all my fears came crashing in. My mom was 79 years old, in constant pain from RA, respiratory problems and now ARDS. She longed for Heaven and to be reunited with my dad and Jacob. But I wasn't ready. I wanted more time, I could not survive. The last 48 hours of her life I sat with her around the clock leaving for a short 2 hour nap on the 2nd day. I sat holding her hand, watching the machines and telling her I loved her and would not leave her side. As they put her on the ventilator I knew there was no turning back. That day had come. I knew I was losing my fight to keep my mother alive. I panicked, I cried, I bargained, I pleaded for just one more I love you, one more patting my hand but I knew that would never happen. I got angry, why did she get to die, go to Heaven and be with my Jacob? It didn't seem fair. As the hour came to take her off the ventilator I dreaded each moment, each heart beat, each breath was taking us one step closer to her dying. Every second that ticked by was one second closer to death claiming my mother. I have been with death. I sat as my grandmother died. The family gathered around to wait for death and while no one was watching she left us. She silently quit breathing. Peaceful. I was with my uncle as he spastically coughed through his last breath as his cancer ridden lungs cease to breathe. I stood by my mother in law's side as her mother grimaced from pain then ceased to be. No more breathing. I watched as my uncle unexpectedly died catching the hospice and family off guard. I sat with my aunt's lifeless body because no one should have to be alone, cold in a room waiting for the hearse to come and fetch your body. I collapsed in the floor and ran from the room screaming as I witnessed my son's lifeless body lay on the gurney in the ER. Death and I were on a first name basis. But waiting for Death to enter the room while the slowly remove the ventilator is interminable. Waiting, while the machines are turned off and removed. Waiting as she continues to breath short little breaths, placing your fingers on her neck to feel her heart continue to beat then slowly very slowly is stops. One second it beats then it ceases-ceases to keep my precious mother alive. Death has entered the room. Death of my mother that moment in time I have lived a life dreading is here. It came so quietly, so silently slipped in the room as we waited and watched. No one noticed death take hold it just happened. And I continued to breathe, my heart continued to pump, I was still alive. My mother's words came ringing back to me. I would crawl up in her lap and tell her I couldn't imagine her dying and she would pat my check and tell me yes, I would be ok. I would make it without her and to not be sad but rejoice. As I lay there with my hands wrapped around hers, still warm but still I wondered if her words would come true. Would I be ok? My mother was dead, my best friend was dead, the woman I had worked so hard to keep alive for the past 4 years was dead. I wondered. Almost immediately a sense of peace and comfort came over me. I had cried so many tears in the 2 days building up to this moment that I had none left but there was no need. A calm reverent peace invaded my very being. Yes, I was sad but I was calm and comforted. The following days as we planned the service, which did not include a 40 minute song service by an overzealous music minister, I was calm. In the days after we buried my mother as I go to her house to get legal papers and check on things I am calm. Today, as I left UCO and for the first time in 4 years I did not turn south to go take care of my mother but went west, home, I am calm. I questioned my sanity. I know grief, I experienced and have lived it for 3 1/2 years. This was not the grief I was familiar with. Was I silently go mad? Did I not feel anymore? Was I dead on the inside to pain or feelings of any kind? Then I slowly felt the prayers as they had been covering me for the past week. A peace that can only come from one place, God. My mother is dead, in Heaven with God Almighty, walking the streets in high heels walking hand in hand with my daddy and Jacob. And that brings peace. Peace that even though I miss her and there will be lonely days peace in knowing she was ready she is pain free. Peace in knowing I will see her again. A peace that I have not felt for a long time. No longer fearing my mother dying but a peace in knowing all is well. I will miss you momma.

But I can't

I am so mad at you today. I am so mad that you are dead. I am so mad after 3 1/2 years when I pull up to the cemetery after going there 2-3 times a week and see your precious name on the Headstone that I still cry out to God WHY? Why did you have to die? Why must I endure every day consumed by how much I miss you? Still 3 1/2 years later why does it still hurt this bad. Why does my heart never heal? I try so hard to find someone who will hug me like you did. Who will walk up wrap their arms totally around me lift me off my feet hug me so hard I can barely breathe and say I love you. But I can't find anyone. I try so hard to find someone who will sit on my porch late at night and read with the porch light glaring down and as I walk out to tell them to lock up I can smell the cigarette odor which lets me know all is right with the world. But I can't find anyone. I try to find someone who will come running down the hall in the middle of the night jump into bed between Bart and myself and ask to sleep with us because they had just come from a haunted house and even though they are 22 want their momma and daddy to protect them. But I can't find anyone. I try so hard to find someone who will lay across the giant ottoman with their feet tripping me as I walk by telling me promising me that we will sure miss those boys when they move out because they aren't ever going to leave. They are going to live with us forever and take care of us in our old age because they have it too good here. I can't find anyone. I look and look for someone who wants me to sit with them in the middle of the day and watch a movie we have seen 10 times but just wants to spend time with me. But I can't. I want to find someone who will call me 5 times during the day to just see what I am doing because like me they can't stand the silence in the car while driving. But I can't. I want to find someone who looks, and smells and acts like you so I can pretend this nightmare is over. But I can't. I can't. I try so hard to make other people be like you but I can't I can't. All I can do is sit here and cry and stub my toe as I hit the wall again and again as I cry out. God, WHY? Just bring him back. Just make me wake up. Make the loneliness and the haunting dreams go away. Make my heart heal again. Make me want to keep breathing. I know tomorrow will be better but today I just want to be mad and miss you so much my arms ache to hold you and tell you how much I love you. I just want you back. But I can't.

Giving Up Facebook

Last night I had the most awesome experience of watching my only granddaughter be baptized. A year ago she accepted Jesus into her life as her personal Savior. Wow! Can I just say last night as I watched her be lowered into the crystal clear water and look up trustingly at her earthly father as he lowered her down and quickly brought her back up with water dripping down her face, her not caring, but jumping in the air with both fists pumping with the look of utter joy, a smile that was brilliant, brought the ultimate joy to my sometimes lukewarm heart. Knowing that not only are your own children going to be someday in the glorious Heaven existence with you but now your grandchild will right there by your side, worshiping the one and only God. Not that the act of baptism made her a child of God, that was decided a year ago when she committed her life to God. I thought to myself well, God is done speaking to me but I will sit and listen to the sermon. What more could I hear that would top this experience. I was wrong. As always with Craig Groschel, it is like he is speaking directly to me, seeing into the depths of my heart and telling me a personal message from God. I am not sure everyone else heard the same message I heard but I do know in that moment God was speaking to me. "We don't have to understand God's plans to be obedient" Are we truly living 100% for God? What would it look like if I said to God, " Here I am, take me. Let me have total reliance on You and live it out passionately." I am always asking God what He wants me to do? What He wants my ministry to look like? Am I doing God's will or what I say is God's but really just mine? I never really hear an answer. I have desires that I think are God's like write my book, or have a speaking ministry, quit my job and do just the Women's Ministry at my church. But is that what God is wanting me to do? So this morning as I mowed, yes I mowed again, I prayed that I would be completely obedient to whatever he tells me. Completely. That is a huge commitment. Partial obedience is complete disobedience so I prayed I was willing to do what God asked me. Hoping that it would be to quit my job and travel the world helping women who have gone through the devastation of a child dying. I waited. And I waited. Come on God, just lay it on me. I am ready. Then I heard in my heart, not a loud audible booming, which I much more would have appreciated, but God saying, "I have already told you." And then the battle began. Me telling God no I don't think that is what you are asking, I could do so much more, I could volunteer at a homeless shelter, I could take care of the elderly, read to the blind but please God don't ask me to do that. Now, I know you are expecting me to reveal God has asked me to abandon my home and go to the inner part of Africa and live among the tribes of people who are hostile to Christ Followers, but I am sorry to disappoint you. I would rather have done that then what God has been asking me all summer to do, give up Facebook. Facebook, God are you sure? I call it my ministry to others. I keep in touch with the hurt and the needy and my people. No, it kept coming back to that. Give up Facebook, spend more time with ME. I have listened to such calling by God before and even though I saw the benefits I wanted to argue with God that now wasn't the time. About eight years ago God told me one day to give up watching Soap Operas, All My Children, One Life To Live and General Hospital. I would watch them in the summer while I tended to my house or DVR them during the school year and watch them at night when I went to bed. As one of my children walked in the room one day I realized it was like soft porn, I had to be obedient. I had to quit cold turkey. I lived for these people's lives and that is what God was asking of me. To realize the lives portrayed there was not reality. I couldn't expect my husband to rent out a restaurant and have fireworks on the balcony at a moment's notice. I was finding myself unhappy with a husband that just worked hard all day and came home and helped with the kids and house. I wanted a husband who looked great all the time, didn't work so he could spend afternoons in delight, but yet showered me with expensive gifts. That was all make believe but when you watch it everyday you begin to believe that is what life truly should be. You become disappointed with the every day routines. My soaps also made adultery look so harmless and attractive. I know better than to go down that road but as my children would wander in and out of the room what was the message they were getting? Also the time. I was so addicted to my soaps I was missing out on a lot of face time with my children. So on that very day I quit my soaps and turned the tv off so to spend more time with them and my husband who I realized was so much better than any actor portraying an unrealistic character. So when God said give it up I bargained. Ok I will just check it twice a day. NO. Ok how about I just check my notifications? NO. Then I will just check my messages. But to give up Facebook, I mean what if someone needs me? NO. Partial obedience is total disobedience. All or nothing. I really wanted to say, then nothing. But, just like giving up soaps I knew God had a plan. Craig said last night, "We don't have to understand God's plan to be obedient." So I told God I would give up Facebook for 30 days and see what happens. God said no. You will give it up until I say it is enough. It may one week, it may be a month, it may be a lifetime. But use the time to get into God's word. To read books again, to have face time with actual human beings. To pray, to write letters of encouragement or to just simple sit and be still. Oh there we go. That bit about sit still and know He is God. God, you know I don't like silence and I don't like sitting still. But God nudged me on knowing that I can never know His will for my life if I don't sit still and quit talking. I have to listen. Now, giving up Facebook is not for everyone, just like when I quit smoking and drinking at 25, or quit soap operas or quit drinking Sonic, it was my calling on my life not yours. But I write this to make it more real, for you to hold me accountable, and to let you know what comes next in my journey with God. I can't wait to see what God is calling me to do. But I walk in blind faith knowing that no matter what He is with me, will lead me and give me the strength to carry on. So how will I keep up to date with my people, the activities, the pics, the illnesses like Hope For Gage or Holly Morris' little girl? I guess the old fashioned way, email, letters, or calls. So please keep in touch my email is Shelli.Selby@yukonps.com, phone is 684-1381, twitter(God didn't say stay away from it) shelliselby. I will continue to blog and post it on Facebook. I don't know what time period God is asking for I just know for today He is asking me to depend on Him not Facebook.

Pot Holes in my alley

Today I was mowing, I know it is sad that most of my inspiration comes from doing the mundane tasks of my existence, but as I said I was mowing. I was on the riding lawn mower with sweat pouring down my face. Not that glistening type that models have on their face as they take a picture for an outdoor furniture magazine ad but a full fledged sweat with grime mixed in and an odor which clearly let me know my 12 hour deodorant was clearly at hour 18. But I was full throttle mowing the grassy alley behind my house and my neighbors. Yes, we mow the alley way behind our home because I live in a neighborhood where everyone mows on the same day. I am not sure if it is out of a desire for beautification or a much needed desire to keep up the Jones' who don't even live on our street. But as I was saying I was mowing the two block strip at a top rate speed. As I approached the turn to make the second strip of my journey I continued with same vigor and renewal that Yes, I was getting the grass cut. But as I slowed to make the third turn I began to notice the grass was not noticeably shorter on the two previous strips. I pushed down hard on the brake to come to a complete stop and looked around. I looked behind me and beside me and in front of me. The grass was all the same. I had been so intent on getting the job done at break neck speed that I had failed to notice I had not engaged the blade. I had been mowing this entire time with the blade pulled up. I quickly looked around to make sure none of the cars stopped at the light in the road beside me had noticed my mindless blunder. They had not. I engaged the blade, went a few feet and looked back to see perfectly cut grass. As I continued on my mission I began to think that is how I live life. Not fully engaged. I do every task with great speed and little thought but realized I needed to stop and check my path. God wants us to be totally engaged in what we do whether it is sacking groceries at the local store, feeding our children a snack while they play or putting in our time doing our "church work". I get so wrapped up in "doing" life I forget to engage. I forget that I am working not for myself but for the CEO of the universe in everything I do. I can spend countless hours and miles mowing with the blade not engaged and no matter how many times I go over and over the same spot the grass doesn't change. But once I stop and notice what little I have accomplished I can engage "the blade" and quickly all my work is complete. I also noticed as I hit every dip in the alley and the concrete water meter, now please don't tell my husband about this. I have already been banned from most of his power tools already, but I as I went quickly through the grassy potholes of the alley that my blade was being nicked and tossed about. I needed to slow down and go around them or go through them with more care. God puts potholes in our lives not so we go banging through them while getting hurt but so we will slow down and re-evaluate our journey, maybe even get off the mower completely and fix the pothole. But I continue on so stubborn that I can do this if I just go fast enough and not caring if every little blade of grass gets cut. I have even been know to mow around the trash in the yard like the window air conditioner unit that is waiting to be moved to the trash. I vow I will move the trash later. Problem is when I move it later the grass will be dead under it making what I thought was a well groomed lawn look terrible. When I forgot to take the trash out of my life I notice that my prayer life is usually dead, making me look and feel like a less than capable servant for God. I need to get off the mower and get rid of the trash, the resentment, the jealousy, the bitterness and self pity, so that my prayer life is alive and healthy. I finally finished the lawn, dirty and hot but with a sense of accomplishment that it was a job well done. I hope that when I get to Heaven I hear those same words about my time spent here on earth, Job well done my child. Job well done.

If Tomorrow Never Comes

Tonight as I worked out in the yard and began to ponder the things of this world and greater things beyond my mind went to a family friend who we use to go to church with, Janet Lile. Janet is 61 years young has two children and spouses, 14 grandchildren and a husband who called her Rosebud, a beautiful woman inside and out. But yesterday she never woke up. She went to bed eager to face tomorrow and all it would bring but never woke up. For Janet, it is an answered prayer, to go to sleep and wake up in the arms of Jesus. But for those left behind a time of grieving. But as I prayed for the family I began to think just about Janet. Did she sense that would be her last night? Did she know? We always say we are not guaranteed tomorrow. But do we really realize how true that is? In Ecclesiastes 3 we are told,"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens a time to be born and a time to die...a time to weep and a time to laugh" But do we believe that? People die all the time. But do we truly realize that as the song goes, What if tomorrow never comes? What if? Have we lived enough? Loved enough? Done enough? What if tonight we go to sleep and tomorrow truly does not come for us? Are we ready? For me yes, I know I will wake up in the arms of Jesus and once again be with my precious son. But did I do enough? Was I ready? My regret will be for my children and the sadness that will come knowing a comforter, a cheerleader, a fighter, their mom would no longer be there. For my husband who will go through the motions of living but will always reach for me and I won't be there. But what worries me more is did I do enough? God has really worked on my heart recently how much time I spend working and trying to save a little extra for the golden years. But what if they never come? Would my time be better spent sipping tea with a dear friend who struggles with an aging parent too. Or quietly writing encouragements to people who have been beaten down. Or playing the park with grandchildren who are growing way too fast. Sitting in the backyard watching the rabbits hop around while birds sing and the clouds pass over slowly sitting still long enough to see the beauty around me and appreciate all that I have been given. Or sitting across from my sons and watching as their faces light up as they talk about their dreams and family. Or just spending time one on one with the Almighty God grasping the total picture of my place here on planet earth and what I need to be urgently doing for Him? What if I only have 24 hours to do all that needs to be done? Or what if I still have a lifetime? Will I waste it all being rushed by the need to organize, clean, create, work more, do more, be more and totally miss the journey I was intended for? Sweet Janet, I pray for your family, not for you as you are basking in the glory of God, but for your family who wishes for one more day, but I also pray for us all as we go through this life too busy pressing forward working for some lofty goal to understand why we are really here. I pray we open our eyes and see, glimpse, understand what really matters before Tomorrow Never Comes. In Memory of Janet Lile

Do Overs

I worked in the yard again today. Too much time to think and reflect and realize how wrong I got it all. If I was given the chance to do it over again here are some things I would never say, be quiet, don't hug so hard you are squeezing me, I love you but just don't like you right now, stop, no I don't have time to sit and watch a movie in the middle of the day, go to sleep, sit up, please don't embarrass me, comb your hair, brush your teeth, grow up, you have to do it my way, I'm too busy, hush, or give me some space. But if God Almighty, Lord of All, King of all Kings, Abba Father were to give me one more day with you, no just 8 hours with you or even one minute here is what I would say, I love you more than my own life, If I could take your doubts and fears completely away I would, The day you were born was the most amazing day and I thank God every day that I get to be your mother, You are the most amazing talented and gifted musician and song writer and no matter what type of music you are making I love just getting to sit and watch the beauty you are creating, Never stop hugging me because it feels me so with warmth, I love you beyond words, You have the kindest and most giving heart I have met, Your ideas and thoughts are brilliant and I could listen to you for hours because you are wise beyond your years, Please never stop hugging me and loving me, I am so proud of you, There is nothing you can ever do to make me embarrassed or stop loving you, Please don't die...I love you my sweet boy. Take the time now to be truly in the moment with your children or loved ones. We don't always get tomorrow or do overs.

We need more trash

As I drove down the street I noticed a neighbor having a garage sale. I had never met this neighbor and she had some interesting things so I slowed to a stop and emerged from the car. I quickly glanced over her books, pillows and clothing and decided there wasn't anything I just couldn't live without. As I started to walk away I spoke to the neighbor and told her I hoped her sale was good. She smiled and I told her I was a neighbor just down the street, second house from the dead end. She smiled and replied yes, you live next to the DeLongs. I agreed but said that had been a while a nice older man lived there now. She replied yes, yes, he does. You are the woman whose son died. I paused for a moment and rolled that around in my brain, The woman whose son died. It seemed so strange to hear those words. It has been three and half years so to be identified as that was just so unfamiliar to me. I lingered there for a moment longer while I noticed the woman still looking at me and quickly added, Yes, yes, I am. Jacob, his name is Jacob. She nodded and then moved on to a paying customer while I continued to ponder her words. As I stood there thinking, the woman whose son died, another woman walked up and said my name. As I struggled to think where I knew her from she quickly pointed out we had meet at a house show she had had for Kyler. You are his mom aren't you? Yes, yes I replied I am Kyler's mom. We talked about our children and then parted ways. A woman whose son died and Kyler's mom. I have always found so much of my self in my children. So who am I now? Yes, I am still their mom but they have left, each in their own way. So who am I? I continued to ponder this as I went home and began planting flowers I had bought. As I weeded and made way for their new home, I began to think. I detest weeding because I do not like sweat pouring down my face and my newly manicured nails filling with dirt and grime underneath. But the main reason is I allow myself to go to places I never venture anymore. I begin to think What? What would he be like if he were still alive? Would he be teaching at Yukon High School with a following of students who thought being a teacher and rapper were beyond belief? Would he be married to the love of his life, Torri. I still dream of her being my daughter in law. She loved being in our family even more sometimes than the boys did. I miss her. I miss him. Would they have children with freckles sprinkled across their noses with deep blue eyes and locks of golden hair. Would he visit often and ask for advice? Would he still come into the room and pick me up with his arms wrapped around me and say, "Just give me a big hug" as I tried to wiggle free? Would he... Then I pull myself from the thoughts that haunt me while I weed. I will never know. Those dreams died that day too. I slowly get up and take the empty pots to the trash when I realize the big green trash can is empty. I quickly begin to count back on my fingers how many days have passed since the trash men came. 1 2 3 4 5. 5 days since the can was sat back down completely empty. And then I begin to cry. An empty trash can, no sign of life. Our neighbor is an elderly man who lives alone. On the nights when I push his can to the street and it is so very light with one half bag full of trash my heart breaks. Ours is overflowing and I quietly take a couple of bags from ours and place them gently in his. No trash, no life. I don't want his can to be so empty when ours is overflowing. Our house full of laughter and people coming and going all hours all night. The can is full and life is abundant. But today our can was empty. Our lives feel so very empty. We need more trash. No more working til late night hours to avoid the quiet. No more eating a bowl of cereal instead of sitting at a table for 5 that feels over sized for a family of two. No more sitting at the tv to keep minds which once entertained free from the memories. No more. No more wishing and praying that times would return. We need more life we need more trash.

The Last Day

Today was the last day of school. Everyone was ready and excited. I watched as classroom of kids danced continuously in the dark with glow in the dark necklaces and bracelets to the Dance Dance Videos. Others played board games all over the room while some created masterpieces with chalk on the still damp sidewalk. I saw more sugar consumed today than at a country fair as they made snow cones and sundaes while eating cookies and cupcakes with extra high icing. The laughter streamed down the hall ways as everyone basked in the glory that summer was just around the corner. Veteran teachers who never shed a tear today dabbed gently at their eyes as they knew these precious little ones would never be theirs again. The remnants of the May 20th tornado still vivid in their minds. Then the bell rang. Kids poured out of the rooms with eager anticipation of a summer ready to start. I noticed a strange sight of a few. Boys who had been in trouble all year and said they hated school had their heads bowed as they walked and their tiny shoulders heaved up and down. I stopped one then another to ask what was wrong? As they lifted their head with sweat matted hair I saw the tears running down each chubby cheek. I will miss her Mrs. Selby. Who I inquired thinking some sweet little girl with golden blond pigtails. My teacher they would reply. I love her so much and don't want to leave. And then another round of tears would start to fall. I hugged each one and assured them they would see her again and next year they would fall just as deep in love with their new teacher. I patted their heads and told them we would miss them but to have a good summer and come back soon. Each boy would nod and wipe at the tear stained cheeks with the backs of their hands and began the trek to the bus or car. How strange that yesterday she nagged or was too mean but today when faced with a future without her she became the most important person. His first love besides mom. He will miss her and come back every year to visit and say Do you remember me? And as he grows tall and becomes a man she will always see him as the little boy who yes took so much extra time but how it was worth it to see the man he has become. Yes, that first love helped to shape his life. He owes so much to her. But for right now he is heartbroken and knows he will never have a teacher as good as she is. Soon the summer days will fade and he will head back to school, to a new room and for her a new group of kids. Each will smile fondly at each other when they pass in the hall. Soon the cycle starts over but for today he cries to leave her and she thanks God for his precious life as she packs her things and prepares to walk out the door. For each one of the teachers in my boys'lives. Thanks for shaping them and loving them even when they could be a little unlovable.

A balloon to Heaven

Our Ladies' Bible Study group is in the process of studying the book of Malachai by Lisa Harper. The book is about God's people fussing at Him and questioning His actions while He allows it and then shows His great love to us through His grace and mercy. Last week's lesson was on questioning God. I truly believe it is ok to ask God, What were You thinking? Because it is so cool when He later reveals the miracles that happen through that action. When I was moved from working with my passion, crisis counseling with secondary students to Pre K- 2nd grade I truly looked to the Heavens and shook my head asking God what was He thinking? 4 years later when Jacob died and I was surrounded by such compassionate family at work I understood. I returned to work soon after he died because I worked at a place where little people come up and hug and say they love me all day long. I got what He was doing. It was so amazing to see how God had orchestrated all that before long before Jacob died. He knew what I would need. So last Monday night when we were given the task of writing down what we wanted to question God about and attaching it to a helium balloon to send to the Heavens I knew exactly what I wanted to ask. I knew the pat answers to why Jacob had to die. People's lives were changed, families reunited, kids quit using, and souls were saved. But I wanted to know why. Why my son. Why did my son have to die for these things to happen? Why? Why couldn't someone else's son die. Why mine? So I wrote out the note and attached it to my balloon as the rest of the ladies did the same. As we released the balloons I shared with the ladies that although God's ways were not the same as ours He was always faithful. I prayed for us to be shown the answers to our prayers in the following weeks. Then the ladies left and I sat about cleaning up and thought no more about it. That night though I had a very vivid dream. Jacob had come back to life and at first everything was perfect but then he started using again and it got bad. I lived in constant fear of him dying again. The agony of watching it all in my dream was gut wrenching. I cried throughout the night as I dreamed on and on. That next morning I was exhausted from the dream. As I awoke I was filled with such sadness and I relieved the nightmare. Then as I was driving to work still thinking about the dream as clear as a bell God spoke to my heart His answer. Jacob had to die because it wasn't ever going to get any better. The only way for him to be healed was to die in the flesh. His prayer journal recorded the words, God, I want to be focused on you 24 hours a day and be free from my demons of addiction. God was telling me that his addiction was never going to be healed in this lifetime. Healing could only come through death and be reunited with God, his Father. And somehow that gave me such peace. I have focused on all that we are missing without him. I had never focused on how life would be for him if he had lived. How hard it was for him when he was here. The day fight for his life with the demons of addiction. How he would tell me mom I have to fight to get up each day because I want to use but know I can't. Now he is free and more alive than ever. I praised God that morning driving to school. Thanking Him for His complete healing in Jacob and for being so quick and faithful in letting me question Him then with His loving grace showing me a little bit of His ways. Do I still miss my precious son? Yes, and it is still every moment of every day but I rejoice in knowing that he is so alive today in Heaven. Thank you God for letting me fuss and question while still holding me close in your arms. Night sweet boy, love you.

A mother is the fiercest protector

I saw a mother hold her son's hand so very very tight as she maneuvered through the mass of cars in the after school parking lot. She griped it tightly and told him to stay close. She protected him like they were walking in a mine field. I thought back to those days when I too would grab those little hands even when no car was in sight just to make sure they were safe. I was a fierce protector of my children. I remember when they were little and we went to the rodeo at the Fair Grounds. They were pre teen boys who were too embarrassed to go in the women's with me and wanted to go into the men's. I let loose of those little pudgy hands and held their faces up to mine telling them with eyes pleading for them to listen, "Go straight to a stall, lock the door, do not make eye contact with anyone and if anyone speaks to you scream, scream loud." They promised over and over and with unwilling hearts as I let them walk through the door of the men's restroom which was filled with wanna be cowboys. With one foot in the door and asking loudly if they were ok, as each man entered I stared in their eyes and memorized their faces, letting them know I was Momma and I would be watching them. Soon my little ones came out with hands still dripping from washing. I hugged them as if they had been gone days and questioned them about their safety. As I looked them over from top to bottom and again stared down the men who came out I thanked God for keeping them safe and we returned to our rodeo seats. Those days are long gone where I can stand half in half out of the men's bathroom or walk them to school each day. I was reminded of this yesterday when my middle son called to tell me he was going to bed at 9pm because he didn't feel good. He began to tell me he was running 101 fever as I grabbed my coat and purse while pulling on my shoes telling Bart I would be back sometime I was driving to Nashville because my baby boy was sick when Zach reminded me he was adult and could take care of himself. An adult, could take care of himself? Oh dear boy, dear boy you may be 23 and you may have scarcely placed stubble on your face, you may be in grad school and have traveled and lived far away but dear boy, never ever will you be an adult and not need your mother. You are my cub and I am your fiercest protector. I will always be your momma who lies awake at night wondering if you have enough covers while you are sleeping in Nashville, and did you remember to take your vitamins and has anyone been mean to you today, and is there any food in your frig. I will travel in my mind when you are driving home every step of the way. I will fight all your battles in my sleep and you will win. And when you come back home to visit I will open the door ever so slightly just to hear you breathing. I will always be your Momma Bear. So as I put my coat away and sat down in the chair I bravely told him take a Tylenol and call me in the morning and let me know how he was feeling. I sat there as he hung up and prayed a short prayer knowing full well I would sit up all night waiting in case he called. So sweet boy you may be grown and you hands bigger but I still want to hold tight to those little pudgy hands and keep you close. I cheer on the momma in the parking lot and tell her keep him safe. And hope someday my little boys will reach out and hold my hand to steady me and keep me safe.

The dash in between

I heard it said that there are two important dates in your life, the day you are born and the day you die. I have heard someone else say those dates are not important. What is important is the dash in the middle, what you do in between life born and death. But I disagree. I believe it is that which you leave behind, your footprint on mankind, your legacy. We live in a society that says live big, live loud, live full. We are to pack as much into our day and lives as we can. We live for the moment, in the here and now. There is no time to think about the future, or if we do, we want to be remembered for something great. We want to have made a difference in the world while we are still living. It is much harder to make a difference after death. That means making such an impression while living on others that what you believed in, lived for, dreamed of is carried on through generations even though you have died. Still impacting people long after your body has returned to ashes. My son did that. Jacob's birth, 5 weeks premature, and death, far too early, was for a short period of time. His two important dates, September 13, 1987 to February 20, 2010. A very short time span. He lived life to the fullest and packed a lot into those years. His dash in life. But those days will be forgotten by many and never thought of again. But what he taught me and others will last far past. Jacob taught me to love all. To not judge based on their beliefs, their actions, their dress, or their culture but to look beyond that to their heart. To the fact that they are worthy of being loved just because they are another human being. They do not have to earn that love. They owe me nothing beyond the fact that they are a human being who is far more than their outward appearance or thoughts. He taught me to look beyond the physical and to look deep into the heart and to meet their needs. Why? Because that is the kind thing to do. It isn't about laws or rights. It is about being kind. Kind enough to put our needs aside to meet a fellow human being needs. He also taught me to do this without strings attached. To give, to not ask questions. They owe me nothing. They don't have to earn the right to be loved by me or for me to help them. I help because that is the kind thing to do. I help too because I as a child of God have been told do so. To be obedient. When Jacob told me he gave and how they used it was between them and God and he was just doing what God had told him to do, be kind and help out a fellow human being, be a little Jesus to them I truly thought I got it. But to put that belief into action is a lot harder. So every time someone calls and asks for help and I think, "if you would just get a job, or seriously do you know what causes pregnancy, if you would just manage your money a little better" Jacob gently reaches my soul and reminds me, "Mom, God has called us to reach out, no questions, no judgement, no strings attached. They do not owe you anything. It is between them and God. Mom, be obedient," he lives on teaching and reteaching me every day that I am no better than anyone. I have no right to live in a big home with fancy things. It is mine temporarily. I have been given my worldly things to be able to help others. Make an impact on their life. And in a moment everything I have can be taken and I could be that person standing there asking for help, trying to keep my dignity, trying to feed my family. Every time a bag of food is taken to a person in need my son's legacy is making an impact, sure on them, they are being fed, but on me, love unconditionally, no judgement, not strings. That is what is important. Leaving a mark so deep on another person's soul that you are constantly growing them, impacting, teaching, loving them well past this temporal life. Thank you my son for being born, for living a full life, for dying and now living the Dream in Heaven but still making an impact on my life and others. Jacob's Cupboard established Sept 13, 2010 nourishing souls one bite at a time. I love you my precious son. What impact will your life leave?