Forgotten post

As Christmas and New Year approach, I feel a sensation slowly covering me from my head on down. A sensation of weakness that doesn't marry well with the ever growing list of things to do, and places to go.  Just to make a trip to the store with this cloak of anxiety, grief and lethargy is seemingly impossible.  The clock ticks, and grows louder as I stare blankly at the wall. In my mind is a checklist that was once so involuntary-- something I never gave thought to. " I have to brush my teeth, Have I showered?  What day is it?".  Little, tiny things that I never minded doing before our son passed away now seem so mundane, my routine was lost and strewed amid the ocean of loss.  Filled Calenders, to do lists, fancy hand towels in the bathroom, a sink void of dishes, and a smile ~ even if forced.  I've been asking myself, "does it really matter?"  Does all of this stuff matter? We live in a world where it's all about what's next and what if. Perhaps I fear what's next.  Maybe it's the 'what if?' that now plays a larger role in my anxiety than I've realized. What I am certain of is that I want more than ever to live in the now.  Just right now, not a few hours or days ahead because truly we know nothing about the next few hours, let alone tomorrow.  We can plan for things, and our intentions are wonderful, but it is in the hands of God where our future and destiny are kept. "" The heart of a man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps", Proverbs 16:9.  Here lies the Peace that I often rave about and praise God for.  It is in His hands where my anxiety can't touch me.  The sensation of weakness leaves me completely.  It is in His hands where I can escape the pressure to be or to grieve any certain way.  I can weep, and I can sing.  I can rest and I can soar.  I can just. Be. Still.  God tells me I don't have to "do" a thing to live a blessed life.  And that He simply wants my presence... that I am gift enough?!  I hear "Be still" more and more as I grow in the Lord.  This time of year is now not only sad for me because I'm missing part of my heart, but because I see how easy it is to lose sight of the true Purpose behind this magical season .  Jesus is the reason for the Season, and in God's eyes, WE are the reason for the Season... WOW.  It's a celebration of our Savior's birth, and all in one breath I can say that it has everything and nothing to do with me.  I'd like for this time of year to be molded differently in my mind and in my heart.  That my heart will involuntarily love what my mind knows and remains focused on those truths.  I'd like for any "to do" lists to be centered in Christ.  To remember that dishes can wait while I am busy making memories with my family.  And that some days-- the calender will only read; "Be still".  More than Christmas gatherings and presents under the tree, Jesus was born.  Our Savior Who was perfect for us.  Who Himself, needed rest, and knew what it was like to be overwhelmed... even to the point of death <3  There is no one like Him, and what His birth means is we are given an indescribable LOVE.  A love that we ought to consider giving to those around us, and to ourselves as well <3

Nervous to Pray...

At the risk of starting my post today with a question, here goes!  Have you ever been nervous to pray?  Over the past ten years I have been in the slow process of discovering and building my prayer life.  As a youngster it went something like this, "Grace", before dinner, and as I would climb into the warmth of my rainbow bright comforter, I would close my eyes and sing a little prayer song; "thank you for the food we eat, thank you for the world so sweet, thank you for the birds that sing, thank you God for everything".  And close.  This was good enough for me, for longer than I can recount.  Then God blessed me with what I believe to be the highest calling on my life, motherhood. It started with my oldest son Joel and I went on to give birth to Alyssa and shortly after, Jace my youngest.  With each child the list of who and what I was praying for became longer and more sincere.  I wasn't sure if there was some format I should be following or if there was to be some tonal importance placed on certain words.  In my younger years of motherhood my prayers sounded like this, " Dear God, would you please make sure I am doing this right??  I feel nervous and unsure at times.  Could you make sure I wake up if the baby cries, I know I'm a heavy sleeper...  As for Joel, could you help him with math?  I'm pretty terrible at it even though it's only 2nd grade math."  Looking back, it's almost comical~ but also sweet in it's timidity.  Was I nervous?  Or was it that I knew that there were and are no boundaries in talking to God?

Years would go by, sermons would grace my mind and heart, and I would listen to and be part of many beautiful, selfless prayers.  I'll never forget when our Pastor had called to check on our family during a time of financial struggle, and after talking a bit he said, "How about a prayer then".  I remember thinking how awesome it was that we were going to pray over the phone!  This was a first for me and as I closed my eyes to listen and join in prayer, I felt the nearness and dearness of our Lord.  How sweet, how sincere and how awesome that I now knew we could pray over the phone!  To be completely forthright, I no sooner hung up and comprised a list in my mind of who I could call and invite to pray with me!?  The time came when I was on the phone with a loved one, and the Holy Spirit nudged me to ask "Can I pray for you...right now?".  They sounded like I once did on the other end...excited and curious all at the same moment.  My voice shook, and I closed my eyes as I spoke from my heart in prayer.  I probably said the word 'just' a hundred times, and uttered God's name twice as much, BUT the purpose was achieved.  All Glory to God.  There was a certain peace that only Jesus brings as we closed and softly exchanged an amen.  It seemed as though the anxiety I was hearing in my loved ones voice had been lifted, and hope was restored.  After we hung up I meditated on the beautiful truths before me...that prayer is powerful.  And more than that~ God is powerful.  Praying for and with our loved ones and strangers alike is such a privilege...such a gift from above.  That we can invite God into the tiny details of our lives, and He not only accepts our prayers but answers them just makes my heart flutter.

Soon I was in various Bible studies where I was asked to lead in prayer...me, what?!  This wasn't over the phone, this was in person and with hands held kind of prayer.  Emotions and concern entered my being faster than the speed of light.  Feelings of inadequacy, low posture, doubt, excitement, more doubt, nervousness and BOOM! Time to pray.  So I opened my mouth and here was my first prayer aloud.  Never before had I been praying aloud while also having a separate prayer in my mind that went something like this; "God please speak for me, I don't want to sound like a fool".  I was also focused on the sweat that was indeed dripping from my palms into those of my sweet sisters on either side of me :-/  Nervous? yes.  This was the epitome of being nervous. This was me, in a moment of God using me to bring glory to Him, and radically changing me, maturing my faith.  The whole ride home from this Bible study I reflected on how nervous I felt but how well received the prayer I prayed truly was. I was so grateful for that and grew more comfortable in speaking life.

The prayer around our dinner table became an open forum.  I prayed aloud with my family, that God would bless this food to our bodies, and that through our health and well being He would use us in His Mighty Kingdom to accomplish His Holy Will.  At bed time I began to pray not only about my children, but for them, over them, out loud so that they could not only see, but hear my relationship with God.  I want them to know my love for them is much deeper than this world could ever allow me to define.  That their their lives here and in heaven both matter to me...equally and more than anything else.  I then climb into my bed, (no more rainbow bright) having prayed over my children and place my hand over my husband... He matters so much to me.  I love him so much and want the world for him.  I pray for his health, his strength and for his relationship with God.  I pray that I can be a wife who respects him at all times and who builds him up in our children's eyes; he deserves that, and I already think the world of him <3

The more I clutch my spoon and dig into God's Word, the more I resolve to be in a spirit of prayer at all times. Who can I pray for, what is going on outside of myself that I can lend my heart to?  After all, this life is so not about me... I've been so blessed to be surrounded by such amazing prayer warriors and I have learned so much from my Pastor and other brothers and sisters in Christ!   I've learned about the strength of being in prayer on my knees, this posture of humility and being small in our own sight.  A submissively sweet bow to our Father in Heaven <3  It represents to me a surrender of our time.  That our prayer life is worthy of taking a time out from the mundane and bringing it all to Jesus' feet <3  Now at bed time my daughter and I gather at the side of her bed and if she feels led, she begins or vice versa.  Sharing my prayer life with my children and watching their confidence in communicating with God blesses my so richly. I've now had the privilege and honor of praying in front of a large group, about 160 people.  It seems that with each new opportunity to pray comes a new level of nervousness.  A welcome change and growth in my heart.  It stirs up within me the desire to know God deeper and to explore all the ways in which  I can thank God, with my life, for the amazing opportunity of being a mouthpiece of love.  I thank Him for the most awesome blessing of lifting up the world and His children in prayer.  I imagine every prayer places each individual and matter into the safe and most secure palm of His hand <3  There is no better place and there is no other way <3

So as for my question earlier, Have you ever been nervous to pray?  I hope that whatever your answer is, you embrace it.  Let nervousness, excitement, curiosity and all other emotions be the springboard from which your prayer life grows.  Let praises and thanks of all kinds be lifted to Him who blesses us.  Hold on tightly to the very thing that stirs your soul, and that propels you into a deeper faith that you long to share with others.  Invite God to use you, and to give you words when you seem to have none :-)

"For it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you", Matthew 10:20 <3

There are more than we can imagine...

There are families being bereft of their children and siblings more often than I ever dared to realize.  Once you become a part of this awful "club", your eyes are opened wide and the ignorance we once knew is gone.  An urge comes over me to run to each family that loses a child within my reach... but with what?  There isn't anything I can say or do to make their pain lessen.  There isn't something I can buy or send them to fill this great void.  But what if??  What if I could just be there?  A silent witness to God's burning light of survival.  What if every hug I give could somehow communicate the truth that "I get it..."  and that "you are not alone".  Could perseverance in someway model itself through the way that I live my life after loss?  Might I be so blessed with the opportunity of handing out Hope for the weary?  One can only pray they be used in this way by our Father in Heaven.

There is a purpose in our pain.  I believe with my whole heart that digging for that purpose is imperative to our survival as parents having lost our whole world.  We know that the life we once knew was gathered up and buried in our hearts never to be recovered, but take heart because there is new land.  Let us get on our knees and break ground loved ones.  Let us pray as we search and sift, anticipating treasures of love, encouragement, strength and the gift of memories.  Not every day will be a rainbow day, oh but what is truly attainable once more is gladness of heart.  Though broken, we are held together by God's strong attributes.  His strength, grace and mercy to name just a few.  As tides of the peace that only Jesus can bring meets the shores of our pain, let us hold ever so tightly to the truth that we can, and we will survive.

                                              A Time for Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

  a time to be born and a time to die,
  a time to plant and a time to uproot,
  a time to kill and a time to heal,
  a time to tear down,
  and a time to build,
  a time to weep,
  and a time to laugh,
  a time to mourn,
  and a time to dance,
  a time to scatter stones,
  and a time to gather them,
  a time to embrace,
  and a time to refrain,
  a time to search,
  and a time to give up,
  a time to keep,
  and a time to throw away,
  a time to tear,
  and a time to mend,
  a time to be silent,
  and a time to speak,
  a time to love,
  and a time to hate,
  a time for war,
  and a time for peace.

~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 <3

Your time and what you fill it with is a choice.  Do what will glorify God and nurture your spirit.  Feel the very feelings that make us human because feeling is healing.  Cry when you need to and show strength when you can because everyone's "brave" is different and valuable.  There is a time for everything, but there is no limit on the time that you need throughout your journey.  Give your self grace and be gentle with yourself <3

~Forever Changed~

Slow...slow and very small moves are what bring me peace.  Each day starts quietly and I can't help but wonder if it is left entirely up to us just how noisy our day becomes?  As I open my eyes in the morning I feel at peace.  After the first minute the reality that one of our children is forever 16 sets in, and I wear that like a permanent robe...one I cannot take off.  Even so,at this point in our journey I am able to find joy in my day and do look very forward to what God has planned for me, so I thank Him as I rise.  All the way from my bedroom to the coffee pot, there is silence aside from my slippers softly dragging beneath me.  As I pour the hot coffee into my favorite mug, the aroma is something that I value as it has not changed.  Not very many things have remained as they once were in our lives~ but the small moments that have, these tiny scents and sounds or lack there of, make this new space comfortable. With coffee in hand I head to my Bible, another familiar part of my day, one that ushers in the peace I crave to maintain within.  Not to my surprise, my faith in God has changed in measure over the past year and ten months.  I've always believed in God, and I have always loved Him.  A quick read in my Bible here and there throughout the week, and that was enough for me.  Before losing our Son I was "comfortable" in my faith right where I was.  I see now that I was so afraid of the scrutiny I would face had I let out what my heart felt. Had I lived out my faith in such a way that set me apart from others...especially close friends and family.  There is a risk in everything but most risks I was taking before had little to no reward.  I was a cowardly. Arrested by fear of rejection and judgement, scared by but longing for the change I knew was to come...in my faith that is-- not our tragedy.

In a before and after sense; before February 18th, 2013 I was accepting worldly limits, not pushing or even questioning them.  I was suppressing my gifts, my talents and the call God placed on my life because of fear and secular seeds of weakness that somehow made it into my mind.  "So do not fear, for I Am with you; do not be dismayed, for I Am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand", Isaiah 41:10.  Oh that comfort and more than that, what a promise!  It's truth resounds within my very being and nestles into my soul.  After February 18th, 2013  I wanted nothing to do with anything that didn't involve a combination of both heaven and earth.  I have a great need, for what would be my earthly affection toward my beloved son to be elevated and shaped into a heavenly love.  Amidst all the pain and agony over losing Joel there was a light burning brighter than the brightest of stars from the very beginning of this "after".  If I could personify this light and give it a voice, it was saying "hold on to me, don't let go"..."IT", was God.  Not once have I cursed God for the reality that is now ours, I can't even imagine having suffered this tremendous loss without Him, much less grieve Him.  To some it may look like I am a reformed woman and mom and I am more than okay with that image.  In part because I've always truly longed for the promised reformation our Messiah brings.  A loss as great as this changes you.  I know that I am changed and yes, forever. The way I once smiled has been refined through the fire and it even took quite a while to recognize myself.  I cry more often than I ever have, even considering how sensitive I have always been.  My interests, conversations, and activities have been switched, changed, made new.  Slowly...gradually and woven tightly with both grace and mercy I walk...even carried here and there

In hindsight I can see that "before", I was bereft of a better life because I was too busy and too distracted to fully follow God. I then was bereft of my oldest son and frankly, I'll be damned if I settle for both.  I cannot change what happened, and believe me if I could have Joel back there is no question as to what length I wouldn't go but that just isn't real... that isn't a choice for me and our family.  I do however, have a choice in how I spend my time on this journey and in how I follow God.  Having a child in heaven changes everything. I believe that very change is part of God's Holy Will for our lives.  Having Joel away from us and in heaven is the driving force behind my dauntless faith.  I have never been so interested in what heaven is like in all my life. I've avoided reading the book of Revelation as long as I have owned a Bible until now. I have never been so drawn to the adornment of the angels wings down to the delicate diamonds and precious stones in place.  I am not just reading to learn that there are pearly gates, but that there are twelve pearls , each gate made of a single pearl!  I then study on to learn that our son Joel walks streets made of pure gold, so pure that it is like transparent glass.  The city of Heaven doesn't need the sun or the moon because the Glory of God is what gives them light...He gives us that light too-- will you choose to see it? Since we can't have him here with us, I can't think of any place more fitting for our son. One day we will all be together again, and one of the very last promises of the Bible will stand; "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them.  They will be His people and God Himself will be with them and be their God.  He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be NO MORE DEATH or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."  I am often sorry that it ever took a tragedy like ours to REALLY take hold of all the beautiful truths, promises and mercies that are awaiting each one of us.  So if it is up to me, I prefer to keep the noise of my day soft, slow and steady... small moves, echoes of Jesus, and measureless leaps of faith.  In low posture I hold a gratitude in my heart for all that God has restored to our family, and I hold onto the hope of Heaven. X's and O's to Heaven they go <3

What Could Have Been

  Oh the heavy heart of a mother who was already pretty sure she was messing her children up before the storm really ever ensued-- now what? Sibling rivalry within these four walls was something at one time I had prayed would "just stop!"  And now, I'd give anything in this life to hear it, between all three of my children--even just one more time.  For quite some time Joel had no one to contend with, and when his baby sister Alyssa made her debut, sibling love was forever set into motion. Her presence was soft and light throughout her infancy and most of her toddler years. I believe the only thing that may have bothered Joel is when she was napping. This meant no bouncing the basketball in the driveway of our humble abode, and no friends inside until she awoke from dreamland. As she turned five years old, he was turning fourteen... may I call it terrible fourteen?  This was when the yelling started, "Alyssa won't get out of my room!', or "What the Heck!  Alyssa ate all of my skittles!".  Alyssa's main complaint was "Joel won't let me in his room!"  followed by alligator tears and an incapability to understand that a teenage boy needs his space.  There were many times I had to use my mommy right to put myself into time-out!  Jace, our youngest son was born that year and by this time the rivalry was at it's peak because now there was a new sibling who needed mom 24/7, and I was less able to readily diffuse the quarrels of "who drank the last of the chocolate milk?!" And, "It's my turn to play X-box!" (tears were usually involved).  All in one moment you just might have been able to find me listening to the monitor, reading Joel's grades on the school website to be sure he handed in all assignments that week, and motioning a barbie in one hand as Alyssa had instructed.  This was me braving motherhood,  embracing the beautiful mess and hoping I wasn't messing up too bad along the way.

  Losing Joel in an accident was life changing, spirit crushing.  It was the most devastating time of my life; did I mess up?  What didn't I do?  What could I have done differently?  If only I had...(insert solution) , I've thought of it all.   There were so many things I was convinced I could go back and do, altering the past, changing the outcome.  I'm so thankful that God gave me such grace and endless mercy at a time when I could have continued to blame myself.  He surely is the river of life, sustaining us through all of life.  Over this past one year, seven months and six days, I have not only hurt for myself and for my husband. I have cried out to God in pain and agony over the loss my surviving children are also facing every day. I feel so inadequate in providing them comfort, so helpless and scared. My sweet daughter has so many questions, all I can say is that we face them head on together with God in our broken hearts. Many times as I listen to her I am simultaneously talking with God in silent prayer...proclaiming my need for His help. The toughest for me was when she asked me recently, "momma, how was Joel turned into ashes?" I sat there -- fighting back and swallowing the tears. Trying to table my own grief and be available to her is such a difficult but necessary practice.  I turned to her beautifully innocent soul and asked if she wanted to really know, because that is something I, at 9 years young don't believe I could have handled. But not my girl, she's so brave- my sage spirited and strong princess.  She told me she was ready and we had a talk about it...cremation.  I could literally feel my stomach turn, my lower lip quivered as each word required a deep breath behind it for deliverance.  Alyssa reached over and placed her tiny soft hand over mine to comfort ME!?  Aren't I suppose to be doing that for her?  Aren't I the one who ought to muster up some strength and show her my brave?  Perhaps not... after all, God uses our weakness in times that we feel we should be strong or suppress our all too real emotions.  "My Grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9  I so long in my heart to be having a different conversation with her, any conversation really, just not the one where her brother didn't make it.  Alyssa took what we had talked about and put it somewhere in that beautiful heart of hers...able to smile and move from the conversation with such grace and understanding. 

  Jace's first question was at Joel's funeral. We approached Joel's casket; Jace in my dad's arms as mine were completely stripped of any strength. Jace asked in his two year old voice: "Why's 'Jo' sleepin"...  How could I answer that other than with tears!  WHY was this really happening?  I was so angry alongside of my sadness as I thought of having to explain death to my two year old, and his own brother at that.  I couldn't even piece together how I would tell Joel's bubba that he wouldn't see his 'Jo' again here on earth.  I could hardly explain that to myself or accept it, let alone my little ones.  Over time, Jace has had quite the questions and beliefs.  At very first he understood it that Joel was "at Kevin's", which is what he interpreted when we would tell him Joel was 'in Heaven'.  Boy did I wish he was at someone named Kevin's house... He has shared that Joel is a "silver football player in Heaven", and " I saw Joel playing football with Jesus in the grass."  He has said to us a few times,"my brother crashed into a tree and died".  What a painful truth and even worse that his little bubba is growing up without his big brother because of that tragedy. And I am always making sure to remind Jace of just how very much his big brother loved and adored him.

  I hold onto the hope of Heaven.  I rely on God's promises daily, in each moment and even by the second.  I ask in prayer that our Great God would continue to guide me as a mom, that He would give me the answers when faced with the tough questions this sharp reality brings.  Since I can't take their pain away, I focus on letting my pain and weakness shine God's brilliant light.  I don't suppress my emotions because I want them to know that it's okay to not be okay~ that God will carry us for thousands of miles never once forsaking us or leaving us alone in our hurt.  Feeling is healing and in our home we feel together.  We share the questions that most are afraid to ask or even entertain.  We hold tight to each other, healthily realizing that we won't ever know all the answers but we do know the Who.  When I am overwhelmed as a mom and feel like I am messing up my kids, or that somehow I could have prevented the world of hurt we are in as a family, God reminds me of sweet Jesus.  The man who walked this earth Who can relate to my feelings of being overwhelmed and desperate...even to the point of death!  He was human and He is God, I can give this cup to Him, he encourages me in His Word to do so.  I can find comfort in Him as I cry oceans of tears over what could have been. I surrender and walk in His light.  He calls me to be brave, and of great courage.  Might I face each day with reckless abandon in my Faith, my LIFE SAVING FAITH.  I choose to breathe the breath of Heaven, the blessed assurance of a world with no more pain <3  

X's and O's to heaven they go <3 xoxo <3  

Amid the Noise...

Each night before I lie down to sleep I set my alarm for 7:01 am.  I do this because yes, I love sleep even one whole extra minute...  But a lot of times, I just wan't to stay there.  It's there that I feel safe.  It is as though nothing can be done or undone so long as I keep my feet off of the floor.  Could it be that my call to be brave is to get out of bed?  I suppose it is, perhaps being brave is more of a choice than I once understood.   

I left our home one evening, X-box turned up, my daughter reading aloud, my husband on a work call, and the television blaring.  I was heading across town to pick up dinner, by myself, excited for just a moment of calm--silence.  I ran into the restaurant and grabbed our dinner, got back in the car and again...silence.  Any mom can appreciate this word and all that it entails!  As I back out of my parking spot I stopped and became overwhelmed at what I was facing.  Right in front of me was the Orthodontic office where Joel and I had spent many afternoons after school.  Quite a few of those appointments were because of his love for skittles and bubble gum...brackets=0, candy=1.  For some reason the office was lit up this night, I could see the cappuccino machine, and the game room.  Tears began to fall from mine eyes as I could still see Joel pouring his 3rd cup of hot chocolate.  It became harder to breathe as I remembered him using the "magic wand" to relieve some of his pain from how fast his teeth were moving, he laughed the entire time, looking at me, shaking his head at my returned laughter and teasing.  My eyes closed and I remembered the treasure of him walking out of his last appointment.  He got in the car and with a very serious look on his face he said " I have to wait another 4 weeks to have them off".  For the first time he had fooled me!  I looked at him and said I was so sorry and to hang in there...he then burst into laughter and smiled that oh so handsome smile of his <3  That boy...That amazing son that I shared something beyond this world with... His request for two double cheeseburgers plain was made known, and we were off.  

There I sat, alone, sobbing in the parking lot.  If I would have cracked my window the noise of the world would surely pour in.  This noise of people living, rushing, conversing, seeking the next moment and what it holds.  Not only does my faith in God set me apart, but this loss too... I feel as though I am on an island most days.  A quiet island where the only noise is that of my reality.  The absence of our son is louder than any "noise" I've ever heard or even felt.  I pull myself together and drive home.  Warm food on my passenger seat, and the silence of my broken heart enveloping me.

Everything we do has an echo of our Joel, missing the way we once knew life to be.  Some people might assume that we're better now, or that we've got it figured out in some way--and I need to pray for them.  I need to ask God that He would give them a better understanding of just how life long this pain truly is.  I would never ask that they know this feeling of despair, but that they would just respect it's presence and how very real it is.  That the people we once were, has forever changed.  Change isn't always comfortable, and it can actually be such a great blessing in disguise.  My faith in God has changed in measure--I seek His face more and more, and recognize His strength in my frailty and weakness.  More importantly, others can see How strong our God is, through anything good they might see in me.  He shows me that there is still so much beauty ahead of me and that the ashes are a reminder of His resurrection and our Salvation.  So amid the noise, I am thankful for the silent moments...the silence that surrenders my pain and allows a space-- precious time for me to remember the many treasured moments I have spent with our son--memories that bring tears of both sadness and profound joy <3  Through it all, God is so good <3

Who could counsel this?

The time came about 6 months after our son Joel had died that I would find myself on the desperate edge of needing help.  In my mind and heart, I truly did not believe that any human could ever reallllly "counsel" me through this great loss.  I wondered if they could really tell me something about my pain that I didn't already know, and know much more deeply than they.  After some thought, and some prayer I decided that I truly stood to lose nothing, By the grace of God my mother in law, Joel's grandma, gathered some information about a local counselor for me to see.  She was in town from Seattle and could see that things at our home were so very different than they had ever been.  I spent most of my time on the couch, sleeping, crying, and with a genuine dis-interest in participating in life.  In hindsight I can see myself burrowing my head into grief's heavy cloak.  Two weeks of her stay had come to an end and we were on our way to the airport to drop her off.  I never want her to leave when she visits, but now I especially don't.  There is something so comforting about being surrounded by family that truly understand and accept your pain.  Not only do they understand and accept it, they see it for what it is, raw, painful and something that they can't fix.  Though given the opportunity to "fix" this I am sure anyone would.  When I arrived home that day from the airport, there was a list waiting for me on a desk that I once ran and organized our lives from.  As I sat down in a chair that I had avoided for many months, before me was the very first list I had looked at since our son went home to heaven.  The separation of time for me is black and white, before and after...divided by these words from the coroner ; "Your son didn't make it."  As my mind went back to that one sided conversation I stared blankly at the list before me...Number one: call this counselor, at this number, and here is the address.  I started sobbing.  Thoughts were racing through my head, "she saw what a mess I am ... She's so selfless....she did this research for me?! Does she think I am a bad mom? Noooo, I just don't know what to say! Does this mean I am going to get help?"....
I wiped the tears from my eyes and continued to number 2 and then 3 and so on. This list was comprised of love in it's purest form. My mother in law paid the kind of attention to me that God knew I needed.  I wasn't a bad mom, in fact my surviving children were loved, fed and bathed...back to basics so to speak.  But she knew the kind of mom I was before our tragedy.  She knew that the "old" me had so much more to give and that there was a fight in me... somewhere, I had just lost sight of that mom and woman amid the pain among us. So here began the motions of my heart and soul, to take hold of what Jesus died for me to have.  I picked up the phone and dialed the counselors number.  Each ring seemed to grow louder and louder in my ears...she answered.  I thought for a brief moment that I would just hang up and find another way.  Did my attempt at counseling propose that I didn't know Who my true counselor was?  Was I stepping out side of my faith for answers?  I answered back, with broken breaths, "my son died and I need help".                             

The phone call that I was terrified to make was somehow making Joel's death more real.  I was hyperventilating as I agreed to meet with her in an immediate opening that afternoon.   I was feeling divided, like part of me wanted to face my grief head on and the other half, by ignoring it, would somehow disprove my reality.  I showed up.  I showed up in my mess and in my weary walk, but I was present.  Most of what I had to say was filled with pauses for sobbing, but I was working through it, and she was listening...hearing me, allowing me to be this blubbering mess, I so needed to be.  For the first time in 6 months, I finished crying and actually felt like I was done crying for the day.  Every day preceding this counseling session, I often wondered when would I be able to stop crying , even if for a few hours! There was also a time where I tried to count the days between cries, almost like a challenge between my mind and heart.  I scheduled another session before I left, and I was on my way.  Heading home in my car that night I prayed.  I thanked God for using my loved ones around me to deliver me from the all consuming grief that laid atop me.  I thanked Him for the unbiased counselors of our time, who could offer the practical applications we need in our humanness. And then I praised Him.  I praised God for being my All Mighty Counselor.  His job is so infinite, and His love is so paternal. I felt cared for, I felt hope enter into my heart and take root.  I felt like my tears had been wiped away by the King who knows my pain and that the real healing would now commence.  I was able , in prayer, to realize that I had lost sight of some very powerful truths.  That I am a daughter of a Mighty King.  That He promises to wipe away all of my tears. And that He will take what is broken and make it whole again.  God's promises...the poetry that is woven into the very fabric of our lives.  This fabric, this cloak, is what I would much rather burrow my head and heart into. As I have said before, we have a choice.  We are given this free gift of salvation and redemption by God, or we can unknowingly remain under the spirit of grief .  Surely the enemy can have his way with our lives if we choose grief and lonliness.  "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy: I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10.   Jesus tells us to take heart!  The exclamation pointing to the victory we can have through Christ!   "And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."  ~ Isaiah 9:6 <3  You all have my heart and prayers <3 Love, Sarah    

                                                                                                 

Walk with me...

 

I write this with a heavy yet hopeful heart <3  I don't need to even know your very names to tell you already, how truly sorry I am for your loss'.  Among the many messages that have been delivered to you by way of others in your own communities, I am sure you have hear about "The Club".  It was one of the first messages I received after losing our son Joel at the all too young age of 16.  In an envelope from my sweet aunt, there was a message for me...One I am sure she wishes I would never had needed to hear.  That I am in this club now.  A club who's membership rates are too costly, and that I cannot un~join.  That we aren't accepting new members and so on.  I wrestled with the "why's", I screamed and kicked like a child more often than not.  I wanted to tear this club down to its very foundation and dismantle it brick by brick, as though it could change my painful reality.  Months of the hard work of grieving passed by.  "New normal" conversations resounded within our four walls, and tears spoke so very loudly for us as a family in great desperation. So desperate for the way things were BEFORE, and desperate to know what was to come in the AFTER.  I couldn't see outside of the very moment I was in for what seemed like forever.  My eyes had adapted to the permanent wall of tears that welled all hours of every day, perhaps this was my spirits protection from watching others lives just carry on as usual after things had "settled" around us.  What did settled mean anymore?  In fact, I felt as though all I was doing was settling.  Settling for the sharp and overwhelming fact that this indeed WAS our reality and that Joel was never going to come home.  This was certainly a time in my life when I needed to hear that I wasn't crazy or losing my mind because there were days that I truly did believe Joel would come walking through our front door.  That by a huge stretch of the imagination, this was all just a nightmare and I would soon wake up. Acceptance.  Never before did I ever ignore a word so much.  Accepting would mean living forward, letting go of this pain piece by piece along the way.  I had this fear that I would forget to miss him.  That all the love, and tears and prayers I had poured into Joel as I raised him wouldn't count for anything.  I have never been so glad to be so wrong.  It has been one year, eight months and 11 long days without my boy.  I have reached the seemingly impossible point where I can smile at our memories together...it's not to say that there aren't tears because there are many.  I haven't forgotten a thing, and I thank God for enabling me to still hear his laughter.  I thank God for giving me the gift of memory <3  These memories I consider the treasures of my very heart.

  "Not many people would ever intentionally stick their hand into a fire, but that's what we have to do, in order to begin to heal   '.  ~ A dear friend of mine who is also an angel mom said this to me while sharing our stories with one another. Those words are so profound, so heavy with meaning, so laced with  purpose.  We have a choice to make.  Every day is so different now, and I find it so important to take a day off from week to week.  Not a day off from work, but a day off from doing anything other than grieving.  I encourage you to make this choice <3   On my day off, I awake and let the flood gates open up.  All the suppressed tears, longings for my son, and the ugly cries must be let out.  I have to feel that pain so that I can table my grief at other times in order to be available to my other two beautiful children.  I also need to create space for my husband and children to come to me with their pain...oh this delicate balance.  There are rainbow days and not so rainbow days.  There are days where all four of us are in the valley and the lights go out...But God.  In all of His Glory He illuminates any darkness that exists.  To be held by God during a time that would otherwise steal your breath, never to return it, well that my dear loved ones is His Grace.  I have never read the poem footprints through tears of such grief and despair, and oh how those words saturate the page much differently at this time in my life.  I only see one set of footprints, and it is at Jesus' feet that I lay all of this.. I lay my brokenness down for Him to make whole, I know that only He can.  I cast my anxieties of losing our other children in the very palm of His hand because that fear alone might very well crush me.  I look to His promises each morning, and am a witness to His redemptive provision over my life.  "I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow."  Jeremiah 31:13  God can do this for all of us, There is no place we can fall where our Great God won't catch us, and give us beauty from the ashes <3
  Love, Sarah