One day...

Another life changing day for a momma and dad. My cousin called to say a friend's 22 year old son had died the night before from an accidental drug overdose. How many will it take? How many senseless deaths before we wake up and realize the dangers of drugs? Maybe it is not getting worse I just notice it more now. Maybe every time I read an obituary for a young person my heart wonders if they died the same senseless death. Maybe I still cringe whenever I hear an ambulance wondering whose life will be changed by that one phone call. So in hearing this news I looked back over my pages, my rants, my cries for help, my seeking answers and wondered if it truly has gotten any better. Does a mother ever recover from this type of devastation? I noticed a reoccurring word in my writings, breathe. Breathe. Why was that so important then and now? Breathing is a involuntary action of your body. Even if you pass out and have no control of your functions your body automatically will continue breathing. Your heart will automatically keep beating. So why was I so concerned with continuing breathing? The pain is so great in the loss of a child that even involuntary functions of your body do not want to continue. I remember walking down that hall and seeing the chaplain. Immediately, my blood pressure dropped me to my knees. My heart contracted so hard I felt like I was dying and my ability to breathe was non existent. My body was in shock. It was shutting down and my brain was unable to signal it to keep working because the news that my son was dead short circuited all pathways. You are teetering back and forth between trying to grasp for air and giving in to the urge to die. To close your eyes and not fight. To cease breathing, to cease living all in that moment. But slowly, someone pulls you back. That day in the hallway of the hospital it was the chaplain who picked me up and made my body move, made my heart keep beating and my breath to gasp out painfully. Later when time and time again when my body screamed out enough, no more pain, quit breathing, heart quit beating Bart would pull me back. He would remind me to breathe. To move, to will my heart to keep beating even though it was broken to pieces. Even today when I go to that place of pain I feel my heart constrict and not want to release. I will sit for seconds on end not breathing making my self slowly take a breath. I will myself to keep functioning keep breathing and heart beating because even though the pain is still so intense I see hope. No the pieces of my heart will never fit neatly back together. No, I will never cease to have my son at the foremost of my thoughts. And yes, I will still fall apart, and yes, I will still have to be reminded to breathe. But I have hope that one day it will get a little easier. One day one day.

Don't Cry Momma

I looked up in the evening sky, that time when God gives you a little glimmer of how beautiful Heaven will be. I noticed the giant orange ball of fire setting with streaks of red and gold shooting up as if the sky will open up right there before you. As I stood for a moment looking at God's beauty I heard myself saying, "Sweet boy, do you miss me?" As I continued watching the setting sun I felt a small small whisper deep deep in my heart, Oh mamma yes I do. I miss your laughter, smile, warm comforting hugs. I miss the family at dinner saying our highlight of the day. I miss the warmth from my brothers and wisdom from my dad. Oh yes, mamma I miss you, but mamma it is so much more than we ever imagined. There aren't words to tell you of the beauty and joy. I feel like that wide eyed little 5 year old who so innocently asked Jesus into my heart not really knowing what was in store for me. It is so magnificent. I came that morning and the joy and warmth I felt was so immediate. I knew I had come home, my real home, momma. Jesus held me in His arms, Himself. He walked the entire way with me. Oh, momma, it so amazing. I know you miss me, mamma. Jesus watches as you cry and He hears each and every prayer. His heart breaks with you and you know those days when you just can't go on? Momma, He is right there with you, some days, carrying you each and every step. But please don't cry for me. I am so at peace. I am happy. I know what true love is. And please don't wish you were here right now. You have so much more to do. I know, I see. But remember though it may seem like a long time, but before you know it we will all be together. I can't wait until I see you and give you a giant bear hug. But until then keep working, keep praying, keep sharing, keep trying to bring people to Christ. I want them to see what I see, feel what I feel, and be where I am. So, yes, momma I miss you and can't wait to see you. I love you momma. Then as quickly as it came it went away and the sun set.

Another momma and daddy

Another momma and daddy are laying their heads down tonight with broken hearts and swollen eyes. This very morning a 21 year old man, David, laid in a bed attached to tubes but breathing, heart beating, body and soul still working. Then like a whisper of wind it is gone. Life. Heart seizes to beat, lungs empty out and life as we know it is no more. Quiet, empty. To watch someone die is unforgettable. One moment there is life and the next it is gone. How does that happen? But more importantly why? Why does it happen? Why does it happen to people so young, people who are someone's precious child? I know the politically correct thing to say is Why shouldn't it happen to me? Why not me? No, that is not the question we ask. Why our family? And in all the grieving and counseling and books there is no answer. And so tonight another family is broken, an empty space is left at the table, a bedroom door is left closed, hole is torn through the hearts of brothers and sisters and people quietly go in and out of the house trying to find the perfect words to mend the mess. But there are no perfect words. There is no soothing salve. There is just pain, raw pain. Tonight in the silence as the momma and daddy lie side by side not knowing what to say. Afraid to reach out and touch for fear of feeling. Numbness creeps in but still yet sleep will elude them. A cry will ring out as the total reality of what has happened settles in around them. No more will they see their precious child. No more. But tomorrow will come and as the momma and daddy get up the pain settles in their bones. They push wearily around the house as they struggle to put one foot in front of the other knowing this is their new life, their new shuffle. But hope is on the horizon that someday when they too draw their last breath and their heart slowly stops beating they will leave this place called home and enter into a kingdom where they will once again hold tight to that precious child and as Jesus comes to wrap His arms around them all He will show them the why, the beauty of what one life did for others, the entire picture and what was once darkness will become light. That is day they cling to. My prayers go out to David's family and may the peace and love of Jesus surround them as they lie there tonight, weeping.

Been through hail?

I saw several signs today as I was driving, Been through hail?, Have hail damage?, Get hail recovery. I got to thinking about that and realized those signs represent life too. All of us have been through hell, have hell damage, and need hell recovery. I know in my own life I have walked through the deep depths of hell. I have so many dents and broken parts to my life because of the hell damage. And I constantly need hell damage recovery. It is a part of life, everyone will at some time get hell damage. Some people put their cars in the garage to prevent hail damage they same way they try to prevent hell damage in their life. They live in fear and don't get out of their comfort zones but stay close to home so they don't ever run the risk of getting caught in hell. Problem is life happens and they get caught out in the downpour of life and go through hell totally unprotected. Others buy insurance for their car's eventual hail damage. We too try to buy insurance. We try to prepare our self for bad times. We put aside money, we stock up on drugs, surround ourselves with support. But when you go through hell money can't buy you out, drugs won't make it go away, and people tend to flee. Still others try to outrun the storm. But time catches up and the storm hits you full force while you are running hard. Then the damage is done. We walk around living life with dents and broken parts. Some people have little bitty pecks, others huge caverns and pieces of their life completely broken off. We can get the quick fix, the ones who pop out the small dents but the strength of metal is never the same. We can buffer and polish and try to make the outside look perfect again, but still it is never quite the same. We can try to buy new parts but the model is different and somehow it just doesn't fit right. Or we can accept our dents and broken pieces and go the Master who with will walk hand in hand with us as we go through our own private hell. He will hold the dents and bumps and broken pieces right along with us. And when the hell becomes so loud and damaging there seems no hope that anything can be salvaged He will hold us in His hands and see the beauty and worth of who we are not what we are. He will gently carry us when we can't go any farther because we are so broken down. Then He will bring out the sunshine so things look brighter and begin the hell damage recovery, one day at a time with Him. I hope your days are all sunny and bright but no one escapes hard times. You must walk through the shadow of hell and back at some point. When my storm hit I am so glad I had insurance. I am so glad I kept my car in the garage a lot. But when I was caught in the ultimate storm of life I was saved from my hell by Jesus, my comforter.

No place like home

I have always loved to travel but even more so now. I recently had the opportunity to explore Canada. I could hardly sleep the night before as mixed emotions ran through my head. Excitement to visit an unknown place, anxiety of leaving my loved ones, fear of flying. But morning finally arrived and I approached the journey ahead with much anticipation. The flight was uneventful and the landing even more so. So why this mixed feeling as I walked off the final flight? A fleeing feeling of leaving behind my broken life. An accepting feeling that I was moving towards a week of unreality. I was in Canada where I was me, Shelli Selby. I was free of the past and baggage that goes with it. I was Shelli Selby, wife of a loving husband, mother of four amazing sons, mother in love to two beautiful daughter in loves, the Princess Grandma to four precious grandchildren, daughter to an unbelievable mom and dad, and part of an incredible extended family. Me, that was me, and there walking down that ramp I could be all of those things. I could for a short time pretend that I walked like the rest of the world without a care, without any fears, without the burden of grief. I could pretend. I could laugh, play, and breathe as I did before. Yes, the pain was there but tucked safely away that week. I could pretend. I could pretend all was right in my world. It was wonderful. You can see in the pictures the relaxation on my face, the carefree spirit that had long been replaced with the tiredness of every day facing a life without my child. So began an adventure, I could be me. And while I longed to be home I dwelt on the thought of what if. What if I never returned home? What if I never had to face reality again? What if I could stay here and pretend my life was once again complete? Do I dare think this could happen? But as the days passed by and I began to long for home I knew that could never happen. Pretending is child's play and reality an adult's albatross. As I felt the plane descend into OKC I felt the heaviness return. I put away such childish thoughts and looked once again at my life. I walked that ramp and felt the pain return full blast. I held the tears at bay as I was face to face with the fact that my world was still the same. My child was still dead and pretending could never last. I walked the corridor and turned the corner to see my husband, my life line waiting for me with open arms and those eyes that have brought me through so many long long days. I am home. I am surrounded by his love and know that even though my little world is bent and dented beyond recognition I am home. I am back to the ones who love me and will get me through another day. I go by the cemetery to see, yes, it is still true. I am the mother of four amazing boys but one is no longer here. No longer able to hear his laughter, the playful hugs and thoughtful talks. No more pretending but back to the reality of my world. I shed a few tears, tell him I love him, pray to God to get me through the day and return to my house, my home, and just as Dorothy said, There is no place like home, it is true.

The sunshine

I would like to apologize fo the bleakness of yesterday's post but I won't. I promised to always be real and that was real. Grief is like that. You go along smoothly and then fall into a deep dark valley only to go through a tunnel and find sunshine and beauty on the other side. Today, I ecxperienced that beauty. As I sit here on the porch surrounded by the beauty that can only be found in the hills of Virginia I am reminded of God's expertise touch on even the smallest details of life. The birds speaking to each other from one tree to another, the richness of the vines and greeniery lapping at the foot of evey tree. The stillness, the quietness reminding that God is everywhere. Reminding me that I do not travel this journey alone. That He who placed every vine every branch every spider web which is crafted on the dew of the morning is too crafting in me a peace, an assurance that I am not alone and He is still on His throne. That while I may have dark and dreary days the sun/son is with me and so too the sunshine. This morning I am thanking God for years ago placing this family, the Stitelers, in our lives. When Zachary went away to college and was placed with Nathan as a roommate never did we dream how similar our paths would be and how God would design a morning like today in the hospitality of their home to find my way back to sunshine and beauty. That He would give me a night of rest I haven't experienced in months. Yes, God does have a plan and none of this ever catches Him by surprise. This morning, this evening the wedding was all planned before we were ever knitted in our mother's womb. God is so good.

The Abyss

I run to you today. I can't stop myself I run to you. I have to write it down get it out because I feel a chink in the armor. I know if I ever let a crack into it the walls will come tumbling down. I feel but I don't because feeling means I will lose control. Control is what keeps me together. I am not hopeless because I have hope, no assurance, that I will see Jacob again. But it is for today this moment that I feel helpless. I don't know how to be this person. It has been over two years and I still don't know how to do this. How to be the mother of a child who has died. Just saying the words is enough to push me over into that abyss of depression if I don't keep control. I live on the brink of falling deep deep into that abyss every moment of every day. Every cell in my body craves to go there. To just fall head first and stay surrounded by that depression. It would be so comforting. So isolated. So numbing. But instead I fight. I fight with every breath I have to keep that wall of armor up so I don't feel. Don't feel anything good or bad. Bad feelings like Why? What did I do? What could have been done? How do I live without you in my life? How do I keep breathing? That my life is incomplete? 4 not 5. 2 not 3. Emptiness everywhere I turn. But I fight and fight hard. I keep that armor up so I don't fall in. Then good feelings. How proud I am of Zachary for graduating. How amazed I am at Kyler's talent last night when he sang his heart out about that day. That sad sad day. I have so much but feel so lost. I am happy, proud, amazed, excited about my family and life but constantly it is there wanting to tell me no, you can't be happy, proud, amazed, excited. He is not here to celebrate and share and it is not FAIR. I pick up the phone to text you about your brothers' lives and you are not there. I look up anticipating you walking through the door and you aren't there. I turn onto our street looking for your car but it is gone. I wake in the middle of the night thinking it is a dream and have to relive every moment to believe. So I stay in control. I don't let you close. I don't let you near the pain, the fear, the anguish, because if I do I might break. I might lose control and fall deep deep into that abyss. I am not cold, uncaring, rude, or unfeeling. I am just teetering on the edge and don't want to fall in. So I dry those tears, put on a clean shirt and face, face the future as a person I don't want to be. The mom of child who has died.