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.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
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.
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.
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