Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matthew 5:4, NIV)
How contrary to the direction my prayers usually take. They often boil down to Lord, spare me and mine. Spare me grief, loss, disappointment. And when those losses and disappointments come--as they have, in abundance, this year--I throw a pity party.
I pity myself. In what way have I displeased God or failed my children that my precious daughter committed suicide? And I question God's goodness. Can't I even go to see my granddaughter? Will You deny me even that sliver of happiness?
Instead, God says I have given you a blessing.
Huh. I don't feel blessed.
But I do feel comforted. Tenets of faith which I have long held in my head I know hold in my heart. They have become real for me (they have always been real, of course). Some of those truths:
Jesus died to give us eternal life.
Jolene has eternal life because she placed her trust in Jesus.
Jolene is in heaven, tears and pain a thing of the past, watching the race I continue to run on earth.
I will see Jolene again.
Because God became man, He understands my pain and mourns with me.
Christmas is about more than traditions. It's about God's loving intervention with mankind.
I confess, I would still rather have avoided the "blessing" of grief. My pastor's words about trusting God comfort me (hey, there's that word "comfort" again. Hmm.)
Let me tell you a few things, fellow struggler: First, God knows you struggle. Second, He loves you, pilgrim. Third, if you ask Him, He'll give you the gasoline (in the Bible, gasoline is spelled g-r-a-c-e) to trust Him. Fourth, you see, whether you realize it or not yet, we can't do this Christian life by "our" hustle. It has to be by Him, of Him, through Him, and for Him." (from "One Parson's Opinion" by Dr. Jim Perkins, The Challenger, January 2009).
Amen.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Christmas Paradox
Sitting in church yesterday, listening to our pastor preach on "The Significance of Christmas," I realized something.
I'm having a difficult time because it's Christmas.
My lifeline to survive this time of year is the reality of Christmas.
The difficulties arise because of my personal traditions and memories surrounding Christmas. Americans put the emphasis on family. Well, my daughter is dead and my son has joined the Messianic tradition and no longer celebrates Christmas. That leaves Mom and me. Time after time, my mind scurries to Christmases past and things we did with Jolene. I ache. People keep wishing me a merry Christmas. I keep thinking (and sometimes saying), Lord, just let me survive.
But ... the hope I cling to? Emmanuel. God with us.
The far greater and longer lasting reality of Christmas is that God became man. The Bible says that because Jesus put on flesh, He can understand our frailties from the inside out. He has experienced everything we go through. In recent months, I have wondered if someone close to Jesus (other than Judas, of course) committed suicide.
The incarnation--the fancy word theologians use for the birth of Jesus Christ--is my ultimate lifeline. In that baby in the manger, I find hope, love, comfort--even, God willing, joy. Without that fact, the historical truth we celebrate at Christmas time, where would I turn as I struggle through this first year without Jolene?
Merry Christmas, everyone.
I'm having a difficult time because it's Christmas.
My lifeline to survive this time of year is the reality of Christmas.
The difficulties arise because of my personal traditions and memories surrounding Christmas. Americans put the emphasis on family. Well, my daughter is dead and my son has joined the Messianic tradition and no longer celebrates Christmas. That leaves Mom and me. Time after time, my mind scurries to Christmases past and things we did with Jolene. I ache. People keep wishing me a merry Christmas. I keep thinking (and sometimes saying), Lord, just let me survive.
But ... the hope I cling to? Emmanuel. God with us.
The far greater and longer lasting reality of Christmas is that God became man. The Bible says that because Jesus put on flesh, He can understand our frailties from the inside out. He has experienced everything we go through. In recent months, I have wondered if someone close to Jesus (other than Judas, of course) committed suicide.
The incarnation--the fancy word theologians use for the birth of Jesus Christ--is my ultimate lifeline. In that baby in the manger, I find hope, love, comfort--even, God willing, joy. Without that fact, the historical truth we celebrate at Christmas time, where would I turn as I struggle through this first year without Jolene?
Merry Christmas, everyone.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Christmas 1995
Of all my memories of Christmas with Jolene, the year 1995 has to stand out.
I was heavily involved with the music ministry at our church. Our leader, Ruth Bartel, invited me and another person to help her write the Christmas program. We came up with the idea of "Home for Christmas." Each of us wrote a skit about Christmas in different periods of history, accompanied by appropriate music. We scrounged for actors from our small congregation, and Jolene got to play a part. It was a simple story, about a person who received Christ at Christmas as a child, returned from war at Christmas, and went home to heaven also at Christmas.
I don't remember exactly what her character did. But participating in memorizing her lines, listening to the story and music, brought home the gospel message in a very personal way. She was ten at the time.
The following Saturday, she came running down the stairs at our house, frightened from a nightmare. "I don't want to go to hell!" She fell into my arms, sobbing.
(Now, I'm not sure what brought that fear on. Although I believe in a literal hell, neither the church nor I taught about salvation as fire insurance.)
Nevertheless, God was moving in Jolene's heart. We talked again about how Jesus came so no one had to go to hell. He paid the price for her sins on the cross, and all she had to do was believe in Him. She wanted to call the pastor.
Pastor Bob Moneypenny (who took part in her funeral service) led her to Christ. He told us how he had just returned from the bedside of an elderly saint who had just gone home to glory. Jolene always linked the two events; one person absent from the church on earth while another one was added. Her.
Jordan's birth feels the same way, of course. One person close to me absent from the earth; another added. I can see Jolene up in heaven, nodding her head and smiling.
Christmas was Jolene's new birthday, when she was born into God's family. I rejoice in that memory even while I grieve. Because Jolene made that choice, I know I will see her again.
On my first day back at work, I listened to a Christian music station. On the way to work, Mercy Me sang I Can Only Imagine. On the way home, someone sang a new song about coming home for Christmas. After that, I turned off the radio. Jolene is home, but she won't be at my home this year.
God has been meeting with me in ways large and small. Thank you for reaching out, for your continued prayers.
I was heavily involved with the music ministry at our church. Our leader, Ruth Bartel, invited me and another person to help her write the Christmas program. We came up with the idea of "Home for Christmas." Each of us wrote a skit about Christmas in different periods of history, accompanied by appropriate music. We scrounged for actors from our small congregation, and Jolene got to play a part. It was a simple story, about a person who received Christ at Christmas as a child, returned from war at Christmas, and went home to heaven also at Christmas.
I don't remember exactly what her character did. But participating in memorizing her lines, listening to the story and music, brought home the gospel message in a very personal way. She was ten at the time.
The following Saturday, she came running down the stairs at our house, frightened from a nightmare. "I don't want to go to hell!" She fell into my arms, sobbing.
(Now, I'm not sure what brought that fear on. Although I believe in a literal hell, neither the church nor I taught about salvation as fire insurance.)
Nevertheless, God was moving in Jolene's heart. We talked again about how Jesus came so no one had to go to hell. He paid the price for her sins on the cross, and all she had to do was believe in Him. She wanted to call the pastor.
Pastor Bob Moneypenny (who took part in her funeral service) led her to Christ. He told us how he had just returned from the bedside of an elderly saint who had just gone home to glory. Jolene always linked the two events; one person absent from the church on earth while another one was added. Her.
Jordan's birth feels the same way, of course. One person close to me absent from the earth; another added. I can see Jolene up in heaven, nodding her head and smiling.
Christmas was Jolene's new birthday, when she was born into God's family. I rejoice in that memory even while I grieve. Because Jolene made that choice, I know I will see her again.
On my first day back at work, I listened to a Christian music station. On the way to work, Mercy Me sang I Can Only Imagine. On the way home, someone sang a new song about coming home for Christmas. After that, I turned off the radio. Jolene is home, but she won't be at my home this year.
God has been meeting with me in ways large and small. Thank you for reaching out, for your continued prayers.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Dancing with Grief Plus Nine Months: The Holidays
Saturday marked nine months since the day Jolene took her life. My son called about four times--they brought Jordan home from the hospital, and he was full of updates like "she's had her first car ride" and "we're staying at Mimi's house."
After Mom reminded me of the date--the dreaded 13th--I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He hesitated, and said "I've given myself permission to stop noting the anniversary."
I wish I could.
This past month I have ridden a roller coaster of grief and despair. My employer's retraction of the week of Christmas leave----when I intended to fly to Oklahoma and spend time with my new grandchild--has ripped open the scabs.
Can I put the feelings into words? I can but try.
We knew about the baby about a month after Jolene's death. Out of death, life; a tremendous gift from God at a time when my heart had broken in a thousand mirror pieces, every one reflecting grief. We made our Christmas plans. When that most dreaded of holidays (for this year) arrived, we would be safe in the arms of family with the rejoicing of new life to sustain us. For eight months, I have said, "At least at Christmas I will get to see the baby." And I could smile and look forward to the future.
Now that hope has been stolen from me. And in an odd sense, I feel as though I have lost Jolene all over again.
And Mom and I are left with the question--what are we going to do for Christmas? I will explore the answers more fully as the day approaches. My main point today is that our coping strategy has been thrown out the window.
I remember Jolene's generosity with every ring of a Salvation Army bell. I stay at home rather than go see the lights which we did every year as the simplest of Christmas traditions. Forget sugar cookies; I cannot bear the sight or smell without Jolene to help me decorate them. Christmas decorations remain in their boxes. How could I stand to touch the purple ball with "Jolene" in gold letters or the delicate ornament marked "baby's first Christmas 1984?"
Next year, I hope I'm brave enough to revisit those memories. But not now. We had intended to form new memories with Jaran's family to add to our memories of Jolene. Now we can't.
Through the time of year when we celebrate the birth of our Savior, I choose to praise God for Emmanuel, God with Us. Otherwise we have no hope.
After Mom reminded me of the date--the dreaded 13th--I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He hesitated, and said "I've given myself permission to stop noting the anniversary."
I wish I could.
This past month I have ridden a roller coaster of grief and despair. My employer's retraction of the week of Christmas leave----when I intended to fly to Oklahoma and spend time with my new grandchild--has ripped open the scabs.
Can I put the feelings into words? I can but try.
We knew about the baby about a month after Jolene's death. Out of death, life; a tremendous gift from God at a time when my heart had broken in a thousand mirror pieces, every one reflecting grief. We made our Christmas plans. When that most dreaded of holidays (for this year) arrived, we would be safe in the arms of family with the rejoicing of new life to sustain us. For eight months, I have said, "At least at Christmas I will get to see the baby." And I could smile and look forward to the future.
Now that hope has been stolen from me. And in an odd sense, I feel as though I have lost Jolene all over again.
And Mom and I are left with the question--what are we going to do for Christmas? I will explore the answers more fully as the day approaches. My main point today is that our coping strategy has been thrown out the window.
I remember Jolene's generosity with every ring of a Salvation Army bell. I stay at home rather than go see the lights which we did every year as the simplest of Christmas traditions. Forget sugar cookies; I cannot bear the sight or smell without Jolene to help me decorate them. Christmas decorations remain in their boxes. How could I stand to touch the purple ball with "Jolene" in gold letters or the delicate ornament marked "baby's first Christmas 1984?"
Next year, I hope I'm brave enough to revisit those memories. But not now. We had intended to form new memories with Jaran's family to add to our memories of Jolene. Now we can't.
Through the time of year when we celebrate the birth of our Savior, I choose to praise God for Emmanuel, God with Us. Otherwise we have no hope.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Baby's Here
Jordan Elizabeth Franklin arrived approximately an hour and a half ago. My overly-excited son exclaims "She's so beautiful! She's so adorable! Tiny nose, tiny feet, perfectly manicured nails."
She has dark brown hair and black pools for eyes, continuing the Bremner family tradition of dark haired/dark eyed babies that goes back at least to my grandmother. My grandfather was a fair-complexioned Scot, and three of their children took after him. My mother inherited Grandma's dark hair and eyes, and so did I, my children and now, my grandchild.
I confess I am jealous. All of the other grandparents are there (including my ex. Grr.) I am stuck here, without even the reminder that "I'll be there soon enough. I chose to wait so Shelley would have some time to recover." (Because of work--double Grrr.)
The proud Papa says that after Jordan let out her cry and wiggled all over the place (I told him she hasn't had room to move for awhile), she settled down peacefully. Her blood sugar and temperature are a little low, so they have whisked her away to the nursery.
Okay, I can't figure out how to copy Jordan's picture into the blog. Stay tuned.
Jordan's arrival--and work's refusal to allow me to visit--have triggered a lot of feelings about the loss of Jolene. But I will save those thoughts for another day. Today is a day for rejoicing!
She has dark brown hair and black pools for eyes, continuing the Bremner family tradition of dark haired/dark eyed babies that goes back at least to my grandmother. My grandfather was a fair-complexioned Scot, and three of their children took after him. My mother inherited Grandma's dark hair and eyes, and so did I, my children and now, my grandchild.
I confess I am jealous. All of the other grandparents are there (including my ex. Grr.) I am stuck here, without even the reminder that "I'll be there soon enough. I chose to wait so Shelley would have some time to recover." (Because of work--double Grrr.)
The proud Papa says that after Jordan let out her cry and wiggled all over the place (I told him she hasn't had room to move for awhile), she settled down peacefully. Her blood sugar and temperature are a little low, so they have whisked her away to the nursery.
Okay, I can't figure out how to copy Jordan's picture into the blog. Stay tuned.
Jordan's arrival--and work's refusal to allow me to visit--have triggered a lot of feelings about the loss of Jolene. But I will save those thoughts for another day. Today is a day for rejoicing!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The X Factor
My employer has made its stance clear: I will return to work next Tuesday and work Christmas week (although I had arranged for a week's leave back in June, to see my new grandbaby--or lose my job. They feel that have accomodated me by allowing me to work 3 hours a day instead of 6. And, of course, that I can return to the same job.
Their position has caused me to consider my options. Jaran (my son) is encouraging me to "retire and write full time"--in Oklahoma, where the cost of living is easily a quarter lower than in Denver.
For those of you at Echostar, no, I'm not ready to turn in my resignation. LOL.
Five years ago, Mom took a huge leap of faith and moved from Maine to Colorado. I hate to ask her to uproot again to move elsewhere. At the time, we decided we wanted to be close, geographically, as she aged and her infirmities increased.
Then there was the x factor. I love Colorado. But an even greater consideration made me stay. Yes, you've got it. Jolene.
I mentioned that to Mom last night, and she said, "You didn't have to remind me."
Five years ago, Jolene was barely 19 and struggling to make it on her own. At least she was plugged in to all the services Colorado had to offer. I wondered what decision I would make as I aged; stay with Jolene, who would always be the needy one; or move closer to Jaran, who could help me.
Now Jolene is no longer a factor in my decisions.
How I wish that weren't so.
Their position has caused me to consider my options. Jaran (my son) is encouraging me to "retire and write full time"--in Oklahoma, where the cost of living is easily a quarter lower than in Denver.
For those of you at Echostar, no, I'm not ready to turn in my resignation. LOL.
Five years ago, Mom took a huge leap of faith and moved from Maine to Colorado. I hate to ask her to uproot again to move elsewhere. At the time, we decided we wanted to be close, geographically, as she aged and her infirmities increased.
Then there was the x factor. I love Colorado. But an even greater consideration made me stay. Yes, you've got it. Jolene.
I mentioned that to Mom last night, and she said, "You didn't have to remind me."
Five years ago, Jolene was barely 19 and struggling to make it on her own. At least she was plugged in to all the services Colorado had to offer. I wondered what decision I would make as I aged; stay with Jolene, who would always be the needy one; or move closer to Jaran, who could help me.
Now Jolene is no longer a factor in my decisions.
How I wish that weren't so.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Christmas Valentine
Tuesday was both the worst day in recent memory--and the best.
My employer informed me that in spite of the doctor's recommendation, if I did not return to work at least a few hours a day starting on December 16th, I might lose my job. Even worse, I had to make a decision that day. I panicked, screamed, cried. As a writer, a part of me felt like let them fire me. Then I can write full time like I want to. I was in that place where I couldn't see any options, and no one could say anything to improvoe my mood.
Then the social worker from the home health care agency came for her appointment, bearing three bags of food. She was one the few people who realized the impact of three months without income on my wallet, and made multiple suggestions for resources for help.
Mom and I sat down for supper--we ate the canned Spam she provided. I haven't had it for years, and I enjoyed every bite. We made up a shopping list, since Mom had the opportunity to get to the store on Wednesday.
We had just finished eating when the doorbell rang.
A lady who had joined our church the same week we did held a box full of food in her arms. She brought it in and dropped it on top of the freezer. "Don't lock the door," she warned. "There's more."
Three boxes later, Mom and I held each other and cried. Pat had seen the state of our refrigerator on Sunday (when she brought a Thanksgiving meal). She had developed a sense of what foods we enjoyed ... and went shopping on our behalf. She had purchased all but three items on our list, and so much more.
Even down to box of popcorn. The box started Mom crying again. "Jolene was the only one who ate popcorn." With her voice breaking, she continued. "I always made sure I had popcorn in the house."
Words cannot express our gratitude for this gift of love and God's grace. Mom kept saying, "What did we do to deserve this?"
I reminded her, "We don't deserve it. That's what grace means."
The food didn't provide a solution to my problems with work. But God used two different people to send us a gigantic "I love you!" note. My spirits lifted, and suddenly the problems with work didn't seem as significant.
Two days later, it looks like I will indeed be working three hours a day starting on the 16th. I'm at peace about it, although I know it will be difficult. I'll tell you all about my return to work later. My immediate need is to build up endurance; and to either return to driving (which means no more pain medication) or find a ride five days a week.
I am featured on two different blogs today, so stop by and say hello! I wrote an Advent devotional for http://faithwebbin.net/cbreviews/?p=1366 (click on the "advent calendar link.) Also, I was interviewed about Snowbound Colorado Christmas at http://ausjenny.blogspot.com.
Merry Christmas! God is with us!
My employer informed me that in spite of the doctor's recommendation, if I did not return to work at least a few hours a day starting on December 16th, I might lose my job. Even worse, I had to make a decision that day. I panicked, screamed, cried. As a writer, a part of me felt like let them fire me. Then I can write full time like I want to. I was in that place where I couldn't see any options, and no one could say anything to improvoe my mood.
Then the social worker from the home health care agency came for her appointment, bearing three bags of food. She was one the few people who realized the impact of three months without income on my wallet, and made multiple suggestions for resources for help.
Mom and I sat down for supper--we ate the canned Spam she provided. I haven't had it for years, and I enjoyed every bite. We made up a shopping list, since Mom had the opportunity to get to the store on Wednesday.
We had just finished eating when the doorbell rang.
A lady who had joined our church the same week we did held a box full of food in her arms. She brought it in and dropped it on top of the freezer. "Don't lock the door," she warned. "There's more."
Three boxes later, Mom and I held each other and cried. Pat had seen the state of our refrigerator on Sunday (when she brought a Thanksgiving meal). She had developed a sense of what foods we enjoyed ... and went shopping on our behalf. She had purchased all but three items on our list, and so much more.
Even down to box of popcorn. The box started Mom crying again. "Jolene was the only one who ate popcorn." With her voice breaking, she continued. "I always made sure I had popcorn in the house."
Words cannot express our gratitude for this gift of love and God's grace. Mom kept saying, "What did we do to deserve this?"
I reminded her, "We don't deserve it. That's what grace means."
The food didn't provide a solution to my problems with work. But God used two different people to send us a gigantic "I love you!" note. My spirits lifted, and suddenly the problems with work didn't seem as significant.
Two days later, it looks like I will indeed be working three hours a day starting on the 16th. I'm at peace about it, although I know it will be difficult. I'll tell you all about my return to work later. My immediate need is to build up endurance; and to either return to driving (which means no more pain medication) or find a ride five days a week.
I am featured on two different blogs today, so stop by and say hello! I wrote an Advent devotional for http://faithwebbin.net/cbreviews/?p=1366 (click on the "advent calendar link.) Also, I was interviewed about Snowbound Colorado Christmas at http://ausjenny.blogspot.com.
Merry Christmas! God is with us!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Six Degrees of Separation
In a recent blog interview (to be published this week at http://ausjenny.blogspot.com/), I mentioned that at least once during December I like to sit down at a piano and play and sing my way through the Christmas section of the hymnal.
God must have heard my request. The family that invited Mom and I over for Thanksgiving (an absolutely delightful time) had a piano. I begged for a few minutes at the piano. I played each and every Christmas carol, and Glenda (our host) and Mom sang right along with me. Thank You, God, for the gift of music.
I teared up when I sang "Silent Night." Jolene and I had to do all our Christmas shopping by bus for most of her life. By the time we finished shopping, our buses started running once an hour. We spent many cold, clear December nights waiting for the bus to come and singing every Christmas song we could remember. Something about Silent Night brought those evenings to mind.
But the shock to my system came on Saturday, when I went to Barnes & Noble for a booksigning. I was rushing in to speak with the manager but couldn't make it past the first row of books. Standing there, with her back to me with only her chin showing, stood Jolene's doppleganger.
I couldn't move. The young woman was Jolene's height and shared her body build. She wore jeans and a plain white polo shirt, like Jolene might wear. Her dark hair hung straight to the same chin length Jolene wore hers. And that chin--that nicely rounded chin--that broad nose ... I could have sworn I was looking at my daughter. Except I knew it was impossible. Until the stranger turned around and her facial features shattered the illusion.
I shook myself back to reality and found Colleen. Megan DiMaria and I held a joint booksigning event, and we met a number of new readers. One lady rushed past, saying she only buys "bestsellers." Too late, I thought, hey, Snowbound Colorado Christmas is on a couple of bestseller lists!
Snubbed or not, we had a wonderful time and even sold a few books.
Hey, my news today: I finished the rough draft of my third mystery! Woo-hoo!
God must have heard my request. The family that invited Mom and I over for Thanksgiving (an absolutely delightful time) had a piano. I begged for a few minutes at the piano. I played each and every Christmas carol, and Glenda (our host) and Mom sang right along with me. Thank You, God, for the gift of music.
I teared up when I sang "Silent Night." Jolene and I had to do all our Christmas shopping by bus for most of her life. By the time we finished shopping, our buses started running once an hour. We spent many cold, clear December nights waiting for the bus to come and singing every Christmas song we could remember. Something about Silent Night brought those evenings to mind.
But the shock to my system came on Saturday, when I went to Barnes & Noble for a booksigning. I was rushing in to speak with the manager but couldn't make it past the first row of books. Standing there, with her back to me with only her chin showing, stood Jolene's doppleganger.
I couldn't move. The young woman was Jolene's height and shared her body build. She wore jeans and a plain white polo shirt, like Jolene might wear. Her dark hair hung straight to the same chin length Jolene wore hers. And that chin--that nicely rounded chin--that broad nose ... I could have sworn I was looking at my daughter. Except I knew it was impossible. Until the stranger turned around and her facial features shattered the illusion.
I shook myself back to reality and found Colleen. Megan DiMaria and I held a joint booksigning event, and we met a number of new readers. One lady rushed past, saying she only buys "bestsellers." Too late, I thought, hey, Snowbound Colorado Christmas is on a couple of bestseller lists!
Snubbed or not, we had a wonderful time and even sold a few books.
Hey, my news today: I finished the rough draft of my third mystery! Woo-hoo!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving
Our church choir presented a musical called "Blessings" at the Sunday morning service. They interspersed praise songs, hymns, solos and anthems in a beautiful worship experience.
The first song started my tears flowing and they didn't stop. Because the first song we sang was "Blessed be the name of the Lord." Even before we reached the words "Blessed by Your name on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering," the tears had started. All I could do was to close my eyes and mouth the words "When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say: Blessed be the name of the Lord."
You give and take away. I don't blame God for "taking away" Jolene. She took herself away.
But on this day of Thanksgiving, I thank God for giving me Jolene for almost 24 years. More than 24, if you count the months she lived in my womb. He gave me an awesome, life changing gift, and for that I choose to say, blessed be the name of the Lord.
God has given me so much more this year. Love poured out on Mom and me from our church family, my writing family, my work family. It still has, during our recent surgery. Mom was blown away by the words of sympathy and comfort all the way from Australia, scant hours after we learned about Jolene's death. We have literally had an entire world of support.
God has given me more writing opportunities than I have ever had before--and the grace to meet those deadlines. Prayers still needed on that score: I have two manuscripts due by February 1st.
My daughter-in-law will give birth to my first biological grandchild on December 11th--two weeks from today. Tests indicate it's a baby girl. I am excited to see how excited my son is; and of course I'm thrilled. They are going to give their baby the same middle name as Jolene--Elizabeth--and that touches my heart deeply.
God has provided financially during the days and weeks I have been out of work. At the moment, I am accumulating a large scary debt, but I'm leaving that in God's hands.
Through my loss, I have been aware, more than ever before, of God's constant abiding presence and love. Wherever my grief takes me, He is there before me, with me, around me. He carries me when I cannot stand on my own.
My heart chooses to say--blessed be the name of the Lord.
The first song started my tears flowing and they didn't stop. Because the first song we sang was "Blessed be the name of the Lord." Even before we reached the words "Blessed by Your name on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering," the tears had started. All I could do was to close my eyes and mouth the words "When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say: Blessed be the name of the Lord."
You give and take away. I don't blame God for "taking away" Jolene. She took herself away.
But on this day of Thanksgiving, I thank God for giving me Jolene for almost 24 years. More than 24, if you count the months she lived in my womb. He gave me an awesome, life changing gift, and for that I choose to say, blessed be the name of the Lord.
God has given me so much more this year. Love poured out on Mom and me from our church family, my writing family, my work family. It still has, during our recent surgery. Mom was blown away by the words of sympathy and comfort all the way from Australia, scant hours after we learned about Jolene's death. We have literally had an entire world of support.
God has given me more writing opportunities than I have ever had before--and the grace to meet those deadlines. Prayers still needed on that score: I have two manuscripts due by February 1st.
My daughter-in-law will give birth to my first biological grandchild on December 11th--two weeks from today. Tests indicate it's a baby girl. I am excited to see how excited my son is; and of course I'm thrilled. They are going to give their baby the same middle name as Jolene--Elizabeth--and that touches my heart deeply.
God has provided financially during the days and weeks I have been out of work. At the moment, I am accumulating a large scary debt, but I'm leaving that in God's hands.
Through my loss, I have been aware, more than ever before, of God's constant abiding presence and love. Wherever my grief takes me, He is there before me, with me, around me. He carries me when I cannot stand on my own.
My heart chooses to say--blessed be the name of the Lord.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Home Again
I returned home from surgery and rehab last Thursday. Praise the Lord! Thanks to all of you who are praying for Mom and me through the illness. Long story short, the knee replacement is as painful as warned but I am moving so much better. I can walk again, a blessing after searching for the closest wheelchair for months.
Oh, the wonders of the electronic age, that allowed me to write posts ahead of time and set the time for them to appear.
Mom ended up at the same rehab facility where I went, and the good news is that she will also come home on Wednesday.
The night I arrived at rehab, I fell apart. The cause? A sign on the door to my room read "Family will do laundry." First panic seized me. What family? Grief overwhelmed the panic, and I cried. The only "family" who might have done the laundry (although I doubt it) was, of course, Jolene. I bawled.
God brought a special nurse to my side that night. I explained that my daughter had committed suicide and that I had no family to do my laundry. She patted my arm. "You don't have to say any more. My husband did the same thing, two months ago." She reached out to me in the midst of her pain. I felt understood and validated.
For the month before our surgeries, Mom and I were so wrapped up in pain and concern that Jolene had faded a little from our consciousness. The enforced inactivity and boredom of nursing home life allowed her to resurface. She was often on our minds, and both of us experienced bad spells. I am so thankful God allowed us to be together. To hold each other through the grief until we were ready to go on. I am so thankful God has spared Mom. And after the folks I met at the rehab/nursing facility, I am doubly grateful for her sharp mind and capacity for independent, full living.
There are more stories ... but I will save them for another day.
Pray for us. I am dreading Thursday. No one has invited us to share Thanksgiving with them. Our first major holiday since Jolene's death, and I feel isolated and deserted. Pray also that Mom will be well enough to travel to Oklahoma at Christmas as we had planned.
Oh, the wonders of the electronic age, that allowed me to write posts ahead of time and set the time for them to appear.
Mom ended up at the same rehab facility where I went, and the good news is that she will also come home on Wednesday.
The night I arrived at rehab, I fell apart. The cause? A sign on the door to my room read "Family will do laundry." First panic seized me. What family? Grief overwhelmed the panic, and I cried. The only "family" who might have done the laundry (although I doubt it) was, of course, Jolene. I bawled.
God brought a special nurse to my side that night. I explained that my daughter had committed suicide and that I had no family to do my laundry. She patted my arm. "You don't have to say any more. My husband did the same thing, two months ago." She reached out to me in the midst of her pain. I felt understood and validated.
For the month before our surgeries, Mom and I were so wrapped up in pain and concern that Jolene had faded a little from our consciousness. The enforced inactivity and boredom of nursing home life allowed her to resurface. She was often on our minds, and both of us experienced bad spells. I am so thankful God allowed us to be together. To hold each other through the grief until we were ready to go on. I am so thankful God has spared Mom. And after the folks I met at the rehab/nursing facility, I am doubly grateful for her sharp mind and capacity for independent, full living.
There are more stories ... but I will save them for another day.
Pray for us. I am dreading Thursday. No one has invited us to share Thanksgiving with them. Our first major holiday since Jolene's death, and I feel isolated and deserted. Pray also that Mom will be well enough to travel to Oklahoma at Christmas as we had planned.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Family Legend
My son Jaran called to tell me about going through Jolene's things his father had brought back from his recent trip through Colorado. He explained they had allowed the girls to choose one stuffed animal each.
"You'll never believe which one Shannon chose to keep." Jaran paused for dramatic effect. He was a drama major in high school.
"What was that?" Jolene had a lot of beautiful things.
"Snoopy!"
Snoopy. Oh, the memories.
Snoopy is a larger-than-life sized dog (yes, he looks like Peanuts' Snoopy) that has been in our family for 18 years.
How well I remember the day. We held a garage sale before we moved from Oklahoma to Colorado. The goal was to reduce the amount of things we needed to move.
Jaran, age ten at the time, proudly took the quarter he earned, went to another garage sale and came back with--you guessed it--Snoopy. For Jolene.
I was irritated. The gigantic stuffed dog didn't fit into my plans for reducing the move.
But Snoopy joined our family, and she loved him. He followed Jolene when she moved out on her own. By now, the stuffing in his neck has shifted and his head droops. He's well loved and worn, reminiscent of the Velveteen Rabbit.
This July, Snoopy returned to Oklahoma.
And without any knowledge of the history, nine-year-old Shannon chose to keep Snoopy.
The legend lives. Jolene's legacy continues on this, the eighth month anniversary of her death.
"You'll never believe which one Shannon chose to keep." Jaran paused for dramatic effect. He was a drama major in high school.
"What was that?" Jolene had a lot of beautiful things.
"Snoopy!"
Snoopy. Oh, the memories.
Snoopy is a larger-than-life sized dog (yes, he looks like Peanuts' Snoopy) that has been in our family for 18 years.
How well I remember the day. We held a garage sale before we moved from Oklahoma to Colorado. The goal was to reduce the amount of things we needed to move.
Jaran, age ten at the time, proudly took the quarter he earned, went to another garage sale and came back with--you guessed it--Snoopy. For Jolene.
I was irritated. The gigantic stuffed dog didn't fit into my plans for reducing the move.
But Snoopy joined our family, and she loved him. He followed Jolene when she moved out on her own. By now, the stuffing in his neck has shifted and his head droops. He's well loved and worn, reminiscent of the Velveteen Rabbit.
This July, Snoopy returned to Oklahoma.
And without any knowledge of the history, nine-year-old Shannon chose to keep Snoopy.
The legend lives. Jolene's legacy continues on this, the eighth month anniversary of her death.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Prayer is Like a Cat
The other morning during my quiet time, I watched our cat Talia stretching out on the floor and thought, That's what faith in God is like.
Her needs are simple. Food. Water. Fresh litter. Companionship. Occasional moments of play.
She tells us about those needs. Yesterday, she informed me repeatedly that her automatic feeder was getting low. She persists demands, confident that I will meet those needs. She doesn't worry. She doesn't try to open the bag of cat food by herself. She tells me about the need--repeatedly, if I don't respond immediately--but trusts me to take of her.
Remember Jesus' admonition to ask--seek--keep on knocking in prayer?
Talia models that persistence and trust.
Her needs are simple. Food. Water. Fresh litter. Companionship. Occasional moments of play.
She tells us about those needs. Yesterday, she informed me repeatedly that her automatic feeder was getting low. She persists demands, confident that I will meet those needs. She doesn't worry. She doesn't try to open the bag of cat food by herself. She tells me about the need--repeatedly, if I don't respond immediately--but trusts me to take of her.
Remember Jesus' admonition to ask--seek--keep on knocking in prayer?
Talia models that persistence and trust.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Election
I am writing this a week before the election. I have no idea who will win. Jolene would have been old enough to vote in her second presidential election. I don't think she voted even once.
For some reason the election process frightened Jolene. She didn't know what or who to believe, so she didn't make any choices. Besides, she was disillusioned by the continuing decrease of government funding for people with mental illness. Each and every cut hurt her individually. The one time she considered political action was a protest gathering at the state capitol.
The Democratic nomination was still undecided when she died. I was so excited that either a woman or a black American would be the nominee. (I'm still excited that whichever party wins, we'll have a historic "first.") She got tired of my rants. "When will someone with a mental illness get to lead?" She demanded.
I hope that Sarah Palin's passion for children with special needs extends to those who suffer from mental illness.
Not trying to make a political commentary here, just sharing memories of Jolene that the election stirs in me.
For some reason the election process frightened Jolene. She didn't know what or who to believe, so she didn't make any choices. Besides, she was disillusioned by the continuing decrease of government funding for people with mental illness. Each and every cut hurt her individually. The one time she considered political action was a protest gathering at the state capitol.
The Democratic nomination was still undecided when she died. I was so excited that either a woman or a black American would be the nominee. (I'm still excited that whichever party wins, we'll have a historic "first.") She got tired of my rants. "When will someone with a mental illness get to lead?" She demanded.
I hope that Sarah Palin's passion for children with special needs extends to those who suffer from mental illness.
Not trying to make a political commentary here, just sharing memories of Jolene that the election stirs in me.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Surgery's Coming
The surgery postponed from September 24th is now scheduled for Wednesday, October 29th.
Snapshots of the last week:
Jaran told me he felt his baby girl move. He's counting the days. (Delivery date by c-section: December 11th.)
Mom no longer needs oxygen. Her kidneys have been declared "healed." Praise the Lord! They still check her blood sugar on a regular basis. She just needs to exercise and regain strength. We are both dreading the weeks we will be separated because we'll be in different facilities.
I finished line edits for my next book, mystery #2, A String of Murders. (Pub date: March 2009, from Heartsong Presents Mysteries). So I have no writing projects looming while I am in rehab.
I am half a pound away from 45 pounds total weight loss. Another praise!
I am writing blogs to "post" while I am away. One a week for the next three weeks. By then I hope to be home. Don't let my blogs fool you. I'm not really here.
Talk to you again soon.
Snapshots of the last week:
Jaran told me he felt his baby girl move. He's counting the days. (Delivery date by c-section: December 11th.)
Mom no longer needs oxygen. Her kidneys have been declared "healed." Praise the Lord! They still check her blood sugar on a regular basis. She just needs to exercise and regain strength. We are both dreading the weeks we will be separated because we'll be in different facilities.
I finished line edits for my next book, mystery #2, A String of Murders. (Pub date: March 2009, from Heartsong Presents Mysteries). So I have no writing projects looming while I am in rehab.
I am half a pound away from 45 pounds total weight loss. Another praise!
I am writing blogs to "post" while I am away. One a week for the next three weeks. By then I hope to be home. Don't let my blogs fool you. I'm not really here.
Talk to you again soon.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Warming Trend
I write those words even as temperatures dip. (My own Colorado truism: You can count on cold/sleet/snow for Halloween. It doesn't matter if it's 70 degrees on the 30th.)
Last night my cat Talia's "foster mother" returned her home. It's amazing what having another live body who talks back does for my spirits.
I have missed Jolene fiercely this month. It's no coincidence that Mom has also been gone since October 2nd. I haven't even had Talia's company, and the days have been long and lonely.
Now Talia is back and that helps.
Guess who went out early this morning to buy cat litter? Talia didn't take advantage of the cornstarch I provided for her last night.
Please pray about the situation with Talia, though. She attacked her foster Mom's cat. I still have surgery next Wednesday and no one will be here for 3 weeks (our best guess). I need to find another home for Talia, fast.
I have been walking a tightrope to get things down before my surgery. Wanted to finish my next book. (Won't happen. I figure I'll get 5/7 of the way through.) Have to finish preparing and present a workshop on research for writers on Tuesday night (scheduled long before my surgery.) Have to pack. Have to finish the paperwork for medical leave from work. Want to get the house in a semblence of order. (For those of you who've seen my apartment, go ahead and laugh.) A dozen items on my "to do" list. VOTE if I get my absenteen ballot in time. (Are you getting as tired as I am of all the emails telling you how you should vote? Thus speaks a rare Democrat in a sea of Republican Christians.)
Now two major wrenches have been thrown into the works: Add to the problem with Talia this announcement from the rehab center yesterday: "someone from the family needs to wash her clothes." Obviously that's not going to happen. (I think we've worked that one out.)
Please pray with me that I will have wisdom to discern what has to be done and what can slide. And the strength and will to work when I can. Some days I hit it hard; other days, I struggle.
This blog is as scattered as my thoughts are right now.
Last night my cat Talia's "foster mother" returned her home. It's amazing what having another live body who talks back does for my spirits.
I have missed Jolene fiercely this month. It's no coincidence that Mom has also been gone since October 2nd. I haven't even had Talia's company, and the days have been long and lonely.
Now Talia is back and that helps.
Guess who went out early this morning to buy cat litter? Talia didn't take advantage of the cornstarch I provided for her last night.
Please pray about the situation with Talia, though. She attacked her foster Mom's cat. I still have surgery next Wednesday and no one will be here for 3 weeks (our best guess). I need to find another home for Talia, fast.
I have been walking a tightrope to get things down before my surgery. Wanted to finish my next book. (Won't happen. I figure I'll get 5/7 of the way through.) Have to finish preparing and present a workshop on research for writers on Tuesday night (scheduled long before my surgery.) Have to pack. Have to finish the paperwork for medical leave from work. Want to get the house in a semblence of order. (For those of you who've seen my apartment, go ahead and laugh.) A dozen items on my "to do" list. VOTE if I get my absenteen ballot in time. (Are you getting as tired as I am of all the emails telling you how you should vote? Thus speaks a rare Democrat in a sea of Republican Christians.)
Now two major wrenches have been thrown into the works: Add to the problem with Talia this announcement from the rehab center yesterday: "someone from the family needs to wash her clothes." Obviously that's not going to happen. (I think we've worked that one out.)
Please pray with me that I will have wisdom to discern what has to be done and what can slide. And the strength and will to work when I can. Some days I hit it hard; other days, I struggle.
This blog is as scattered as my thoughts are right now.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Tears
Yesterday was a difficult day. I kept crying all day.
Perhaps it started with the pastor's sermon on "Why Jesus Had to Die." The first reason he gave? To teach us about suffering. "God wanted us to know that no suffering is senseless." That is a ray of sunshine in the morass of grief that overwhelms me at times. I don't know what use God will make of this year, but I clung to that reassurance even as tears bunched behind my eyelids and leaked out.
The last reason he mentioned was to give us eternal life. Oh, Jolene, that promise holds me up even as it taunts me. You are there, but I am still here.
Then a friend drove me to the hospital to visit Mom by a different route. We drove past a coffee stand where a particularly memorable moment occurred. (It does not reflect well on my mother, so I won't repeat it.) A few minutes later, we passed a miniature golf course where the three of us had played. I had such a hard time walking around the course; Jolene got a little impatient. She was young, and enjoyed physical activities during our visits. I couldn't do nearly as much as she wanted. I didn't know, of course I didn't, that we would never play another game of miniature golf together.
The loss ... the permanence ... I don't want to accept it. But I must.
About Mom: She's moved into a rehab hospital, not the one we first expected, but one where they can continue to monitor her ongoing problems with diabetes and kidney failure. She is discouraged about the unexpected problems. Her heart appears to be healing well. Her surgeon said perhaps the diabetes/kidney problems were lurking.
Perhaps it started with the pastor's sermon on "Why Jesus Had to Die." The first reason he gave? To teach us about suffering. "God wanted us to know that no suffering is senseless." That is a ray of sunshine in the morass of grief that overwhelms me at times. I don't know what use God will make of this year, but I clung to that reassurance even as tears bunched behind my eyelids and leaked out.
The last reason he mentioned was to give us eternal life. Oh, Jolene, that promise holds me up even as it taunts me. You are there, but I am still here.
Then a friend drove me to the hospital to visit Mom by a different route. We drove past a coffee stand where a particularly memorable moment occurred. (It does not reflect well on my mother, so I won't repeat it.) A few minutes later, we passed a miniature golf course where the three of us had played. I had such a hard time walking around the course; Jolene got a little impatient. She was young, and enjoyed physical activities during our visits. I couldn't do nearly as much as she wanted. I didn't know, of course I didn't, that we would never play another game of miniature golf together.
The loss ... the permanence ... I don't want to accept it. But I must.
About Mom: She's moved into a rehab hospital, not the one we first expected, but one where they can continue to monitor her ongoing problems with diabetes and kidney failure. She is discouraged about the unexpected problems. Her heart appears to be healing well. Her surgeon said perhaps the diabetes/kidney problems were lurking.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Healing Hands
Monday, Mom was more depressed than I have ever seen her, and in a fragile mental state. She even talked about a DNR (Do Not Resucitate) order. She seemed to be giving up.
Tuesday, her eyes had brightened, and she worked with the nurses and therapists in her recovery--overnight transformation.
The difference?
"Several times I felt gentle hands touching me. I opened my eyes to see who was there--no one." She paused, and a beautiful smile broke out on her face. "I decided it was Jesus."
No instantaneous healing: Mom still has a mild infecton, and her body still holds on to too much fluid, and her kidneys still aren't working the way they should. (She
is off dialysis, praise the Lord!)
But with the healing hands of Jesus, Mom gained much-needed confidence that she will recover.
Amen.
Tuesday, her eyes had brightened, and she worked with the nurses and therapists in her recovery--overnight transformation.
The difference?
"Several times I felt gentle hands touching me. I opened my eyes to see who was there--no one." She paused, and a beautiful smile broke out on her face. "I decided it was Jesus."
No instantaneous healing: Mom still has a mild infecton, and her body still holds on to too much fluid, and her kidneys still aren't working the way they should. (She
is off dialysis, praise the Lord!)
But with the healing hands of Jesus, Mom gained much-needed confidence that she will recover.
Amen.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Dancing with Grief Plus Seven Months
Jolene took her own life seven months ago today. I'm feeling some anger at Jolene for the manner of her death. How could she? Why did she?
I can't say that last month I had healed from Jolene's death. I have learned that I may never "heal." That the seemingly callous statement of a stranger shortly after Jolene's death is nothing but the stark truth: I will never "get over" it. It will never be okay. A scar will form, and life goes on, but I will always miss her. I flit in and out of denial, a sense of impossibility that I will never see my girl again.
But the past four weeks have shaken me to the core once again. My own scare with the angiogram and possible heart blockage was bad enough. But Mom's surgery, and the subsequent complications, reminded me that someday I will lose her as well. Take her away as well as Jolene, especially now, and I will collapse like a proverbial house of cards. That is a blackness I cannot contemplate.
God is good. As of this morning, Mom is doing much better. The doctor is even talking about releasing her from the hospital tomorrow; that may be delayed since she now has a bladder infection. Her kidneys still aren't functioning properly, but otherwise she is making progressing. Yesterday she took a few steps and sat up for five hours.
I told one of the nurses at the hospital about Jolene last night. I also told her about the granddaughter on the way. She told me she had her daughter shortly after her grandmother died, and we both agreed that God sometimes works that way.
When Jolene shared her testimony, she always mentioned how a church member went home to be with the Lord at the same time she received Christ. She always felt like she came in to take his place. I wonder if up in heaven Jolene is awaiting the birth of Baby Franklin (as I call her) with the same anticipation.
Oh, Jolene, Jaran's baby can never take your place.
I can't say that last month I had healed from Jolene's death. I have learned that I may never "heal." That the seemingly callous statement of a stranger shortly after Jolene's death is nothing but the stark truth: I will never "get over" it. It will never be okay. A scar will form, and life goes on, but I will always miss her. I flit in and out of denial, a sense of impossibility that I will never see my girl again.
But the past four weeks have shaken me to the core once again. My own scare with the angiogram and possible heart blockage was bad enough. But Mom's surgery, and the subsequent complications, reminded me that someday I will lose her as well. Take her away as well as Jolene, especially now, and I will collapse like a proverbial house of cards. That is a blackness I cannot contemplate.
God is good. As of this morning, Mom is doing much better. The doctor is even talking about releasing her from the hospital tomorrow; that may be delayed since she now has a bladder infection. Her kidneys still aren't functioning properly, but otherwise she is making progressing. Yesterday she took a few steps and sat up for five hours.
I told one of the nurses at the hospital about Jolene last night. I also told her about the granddaughter on the way. She told me she had her daughter shortly after her grandmother died, and we both agreed that God sometimes works that way.
When Jolene shared her testimony, she always mentioned how a church member went home to be with the Lord at the same time she received Christ. She always felt like she came in to take his place. I wonder if up in heaven Jolene is awaiting the birth of Baby Franklin (as I call her) with the same anticipation.
Oh, Jolene, Jaran's baby can never take your place.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Doing Better
Thank you, one and all, who read, prayed and/or commented after my last blog.
The good news? Today Mom had the most energy since her surgery. She sat up without assistance and fed herself. She even cracked a joke or two. It was so good to have "mom" back.
Her primary problems haven't improved. She's had two dialysis treatments but her kidney level remains too high (meaning she will probably need further dialysis). And each dialysis drives down her blood pressure, meaning she has to continue medication to keep it up. Pneumonia remains a spectre (although not yet a reality, PTL!)
The original expectation was that Mom would spend a week in the hospital and a week in rehab and then home. Well, tomorrow marks a week and she's still in ICU. The surgeon said she may need 3-4 weeks in rehab.
So ... a slower, longer recovery than either of us hoped for.
Yet, although the facts haven't changed, I am in an entirely different place emotionally.
On a purely selfish level, I got a boost from the arrival of my box of books for my contributions to 365 Daily Whispers of Wisdom for Single Moms and for Busy Women. Nothing like holding my babies in my hands!
Another selfish--but very important--goal: I have kept my focus on losing weight. I will admit it publicly here for the first time. I joined Weight Watchers at the beginning of August and so far have lost 35.6 pounds. Monday was the first time I said "forget it" and ate what I wanted. But you know what? Food isn't going to solve the problem. I thank God that I realized that and figured out other options for the nights I'm too stressed out to plan and measure and count. A change in my attitude toward food comes from God and Him alone.
On an invisible level but no less real, the prayer surrounding and supporting us has made all the difference. Thanks to every one of you who is praying for both of us.
Thanks. And keep on praying. We're not through it yet.
The good news? Today Mom had the most energy since her surgery. She sat up without assistance and fed herself. She even cracked a joke or two. It was so good to have "mom" back.
Her primary problems haven't improved. She's had two dialysis treatments but her kidney level remains too high (meaning she will probably need further dialysis). And each dialysis drives down her blood pressure, meaning she has to continue medication to keep it up. Pneumonia remains a spectre (although not yet a reality, PTL!)
The original expectation was that Mom would spend a week in the hospital and a week in rehab and then home. Well, tomorrow marks a week and she's still in ICU. The surgeon said she may need 3-4 weeks in rehab.
So ... a slower, longer recovery than either of us hoped for.
Yet, although the facts haven't changed, I am in an entirely different place emotionally.
On a purely selfish level, I got a boost from the arrival of my box of books for my contributions to 365 Daily Whispers of Wisdom for Single Moms and for Busy Women. Nothing like holding my babies in my hands!
Another selfish--but very important--goal: I have kept my focus on losing weight. I will admit it publicly here for the first time. I joined Weight Watchers at the beginning of August and so far have lost 35.6 pounds. Monday was the first time I said "forget it" and ate what I wanted. But you know what? Food isn't going to solve the problem. I thank God that I realized that and figured out other options for the nights I'm too stressed out to plan and measure and count. A change in my attitude toward food comes from God and Him alone.
On an invisible level but no less real, the prayer surrounding and supporting us has made all the difference. Thanks to every one of you who is praying for both of us.
Thanks. And keep on praying. We're not through it yet.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Mom's had a downturn
What an awful week.
Mom had her heart valve replaced and had one bypass last Thursday. The surgeon reported that she did well coming out of surgery and 24 hours later her recovery looked pretty normal.
Since Saturday, though, things have gone poorly. Her blood pressure remained too low (although today it looks pretty stable.) Her oxygen was too low (okay today). Her blood sugar keeps jumping around. Sometimes it's fine, sometimes she needs insulin.
And after monitoring her urine output and her kidney function, they decided to put Mom on dialysis today. Also of concern: she hasn't had a bowel movement since her surgery and they're worried about obstruction. Her lungs also need help.
My friend and critique partner Susan Davis wrote "I'm praying for you. I remember how awful it feels when you realize the loved one may not get better." Her father died almost two years ago, so she knows. She knows.
I know she's not at death's door. I know there is a good chance she'll make a full recovery. I don't dare say "excellent" any more.
But ... yesterday was the first time it hit me. Mom could die.
I knew there was a slight risk of death from the procedure. But failure to do the procedure meant almost certain death, and Mom's quality of life was decreasing on a daily basis. I absolutely felt surgery was the right thing to do.
But as her systems shut down and they take appropriate steps to bring them back to full functioning, I face the possibility: This could be it.
I'll never want to lose my mother. Many people my age (mid-fifties) have already lost a parent, and I know I'm blessed to have her with me. But barring the Lord's return, that day will come.
But, oh, not this year. Not now. It's too soon. I can't bear to lose my daughter and my mother in the same year.
Mom had her heart valve replaced and had one bypass last Thursday. The surgeon reported that she did well coming out of surgery and 24 hours later her recovery looked pretty normal.
Since Saturday, though, things have gone poorly. Her blood pressure remained too low (although today it looks pretty stable.) Her oxygen was too low (okay today). Her blood sugar keeps jumping around. Sometimes it's fine, sometimes she needs insulin.
And after monitoring her urine output and her kidney function, they decided to put Mom on dialysis today. Also of concern: she hasn't had a bowel movement since her surgery and they're worried about obstruction. Her lungs also need help.
My friend and critique partner Susan Davis wrote "I'm praying for you. I remember how awful it feels when you realize the loved one may not get better." Her father died almost two years ago, so she knows. She knows.
I know she's not at death's door. I know there is a good chance she'll make a full recovery. I don't dare say "excellent" any more.
But ... yesterday was the first time it hit me. Mom could die.
I knew there was a slight risk of death from the procedure. But failure to do the procedure meant almost certain death, and Mom's quality of life was decreasing on a daily basis. I absolutely felt surgery was the right thing to do.
But as her systems shut down and they take appropriate steps to bring them back to full functioning, I face the possibility: This could be it.
I'll never want to lose my mother. Many people my age (mid-fifties) have already lost a parent, and I know I'm blessed to have her with me. But barring the Lord's return, that day will come.
But, oh, not this year. Not now. It's too soon. I can't bear to lose my daughter and my mother in the same year.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Missing Jaran/surgery update
After two rescheduled dates, Mom is having her heart valve replacement surgery this morning. Yay! She is fairly at peace, and prepared. A feat I doubted would happen only four hours ago.
My own angiogram revealed surprising and terrific news. My arteries are clear! Hallelujah! My hand and wrist (the site of the incision) are bruised, painful--and infected. I am taking antibiotics. My surgery has been rescheduled for October 29th. This has the advantage of allowing me to focus on Mom for 4 weeks after her surgery, and also allows me to fulfill a couple of speaking engagements. Phew. I only pray that the first snow fall waits until after I've undergone surgery.
Jaran and Jolene are never far from my thoughts. I miss Jaran terribly. I suspect I would, even if Jolene were still alive. He is a steady, dependable rock. And he is exactly where he needs to be, taking care of his wife and family in Oklahoma.
I told Mom that as hard as his decision to move to Oklahoma was for me, I couldn't help but admire him. At the time, he still expected Jolene to mature into a "normal" adult and be able to help me as I got older; he wanted to be in Oklahoma to do the same thing for his father. I respect his desire to honor his father.
But oh, I miss him, now more than ever.
My own angiogram revealed surprising and terrific news. My arteries are clear! Hallelujah! My hand and wrist (the site of the incision) are bruised, painful--and infected. I am taking antibiotics. My surgery has been rescheduled for October 29th. This has the advantage of allowing me to focus on Mom for 4 weeks after her surgery, and also allows me to fulfill a couple of speaking engagements. Phew. I only pray that the first snow fall waits until after I've undergone surgery.
Jaran and Jolene are never far from my thoughts. I miss Jaran terribly. I suspect I would, even if Jolene were still alive. He is a steady, dependable rock. And he is exactly where he needs to be, taking care of his wife and family in Oklahoma.
I told Mom that as hard as his decision to move to Oklahoma was for me, I couldn't help but admire him. At the time, he still expected Jolene to mature into a "normal" adult and be able to help me as I got older; he wanted to be in Oklahoma to do the same thing for his father. I respect his desire to honor his father.
But oh, I miss him, now more than ever.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Dreams
One night recently I had a nightmare. It wasn't scary; but I woke up heartbroken.
I don't remember many details, but this much I know:
I heard Jolene moving on the top bunk.
And I cried, "No!" Because I knew Jolene wasn't in the bunk, and my heart broke all over again. The sound seemed so real, a body stirring, turning over, like Jolene did everytime she spent the night.
I screamed "No! No! No!" until I finally woke myself up.
Perhaps even my subconscious has accepted the fact of Jolene's death.
I don't remember many details, but this much I know:
I heard Jolene moving on the top bunk.
And I cried, "No!" Because I knew Jolene wasn't in the bunk, and my heart broke all over again. The sound seemed so real, a body stirring, turning over, like Jolene did everytime she spent the night.
I screamed "No! No! No!" until I finally woke myself up.
Perhaps even my subconscious has accepted the fact of Jolene's death.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Surgery Postponed
I spent an anxious four days waiting for the results of Friday's stress test. The verdict? I have to delay my knee surgery. The test indicates possible blockage to my heart, so I am having an angiogram on Friday. They will do an angioplasty (repairing the narrowed arteries) if needed at the same time.
I will still have the knee surgery ... eventually. Mom is still scheduled for a heart valve replacement on Monday. The closer Monday approaches, the more nervous she becomes. Tonight she looked at the pictures of Jolene we have displayed, and broke into sobs. She keeps saying, "I'm not ready to join her yet. I want to stay here with you." She is seriously scared.
Pray for healing and for peace through these days. Pray that we will finish what must be done, and let go of the rest.
Even my ex-husband is praying for us. God's people are surrounding us with prayer. It means more than you know!
I will still have the knee surgery ... eventually. Mom is still scheduled for a heart valve replacement on Monday. The closer Monday approaches, the more nervous she becomes. Tonight she looked at the pictures of Jolene we have displayed, and broke into sobs. She keeps saying, "I'm not ready to join her yet. I want to stay here with you." She is seriously scared.
Pray for healing and for peace through these days. Pray that we will finish what must be done, and let go of the rest.
Even my ex-husband is praying for us. God's people are surrounding us with prayer. It means more than you know!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Singing in the Shadows
What a year this has been. Grief still weighs down Mom and me, and now we both face surgery (more about that later). So when God brought the following verses to my attention today, it spoke to me.
Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. (Psalm 63:7-8)
Bottom line through everything: God is my help. My soul does cling to Him in a new, desperate, childlike way, the rock in my storm. In Him, because of Him, I can still sing. From the shadow of His wings where He shelters me.
Music speaks to my inmost being. It always has; I felt called to a music ministry at the age of ten, and all these years later, involvement in church music still fulfills me in a way nothing else does.
So I will sing in the shadow of God's wings. I will sing of my Redeemer, who is my hope. My assurance of things to come, the hands that hold me.
Join me in that song.
Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. (Psalm 63:7-8)
Bottom line through everything: God is my help. My soul does cling to Him in a new, desperate, childlike way, the rock in my storm. In Him, because of Him, I can still sing. From the shadow of His wings where He shelters me.
Music speaks to my inmost being. It always has; I felt called to a music ministry at the age of ten, and all these years later, involvement in church music still fulfills me in a way nothing else does.
So I will sing in the shadow of God's wings. I will sing of my Redeemer, who is my hope. My assurance of things to come, the hands that hold me.
Join me in that song.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Dancing with Grief Plus Six Months
Six months. 183 days. Half a year. However I look at it, six months is a long time.
Six months ago I learned that Jolene had committed suicide. 183 days lived, a minute, an hour at a time, sometimes with a light heart, more often with a heavy heart.
Today God gave me this scripture on our daily calendar: "He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others." He comforts us. Amen! Without the truth of those words, I could not have survived the past half year.
What has happened in six months' time?
Two seasons: The height of spring passed into summer, which is now waning to fall. No seeing Jolene delight in buying smaller clothes or laughing at the way she bundled up at the first hint of cooler weather.
The baseball season. This year the Rockies will not repeat their amazing World Series run of a year ago. I'm glad I got to share that with Jolene.
Four holidays, my birthday, Marius' birthday. No straining to watch fireworks at a safe distance, no homemade decorations for my birthday, no one to watch Disney or superhero movies with.
My granddaughter growing steadily in my daughter-in-law's womb.
The more time passes, the more I realize the permanence of my loss. As Mom says, she's not gone on an extended trip. She won't return.
Hardly a day goes by without my crying.
Six months ago I learned that Jolene had committed suicide. 183 days lived, a minute, an hour at a time, sometimes with a light heart, more often with a heavy heart.
Today God gave me this scripture on our daily calendar: "He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others." He comforts us. Amen! Without the truth of those words, I could not have survived the past half year.
What has happened in six months' time?
Two seasons: The height of spring passed into summer, which is now waning to fall. No seeing Jolene delight in buying smaller clothes or laughing at the way she bundled up at the first hint of cooler weather.
The baseball season. This year the Rockies will not repeat their amazing World Series run of a year ago. I'm glad I got to share that with Jolene.
Four holidays, my birthday, Marius' birthday. No straining to watch fireworks at a safe distance, no homemade decorations for my birthday, no one to watch Disney or superhero movies with.
My granddaughter growing steadily in my daughter-in-law's womb.
The more time passes, the more I realize the permanence of my loss. As Mom says, she's not gone on an extended trip. She won't return.
Hardly a day goes by without my crying.
Monday, September 15, 2008
A Word from Jaran
This week is the 6 month anniversary of Jolene's death. I'll be writing more about that on Thursday.
It's on my son Jaran's mind as well. He sent us a beautiful card. White laser-cut tree branches over a red sun in an orange sky. He wrote a thoughtful note, and he's given me permission to share it with you.
Jaran is studying the Chinese language this semester, so that's the background for his comments.
Dear Mom & Grandma,
Just wanted to send you out a letter. This week will be a tough one as we hit all these aniversaries.
I thought this card was appropriate for the occasion. I have learned that the Chinese believe red is an expression of life. Red is characterized as such because it is reminiscent of flowing blood. White symbolizes death because it is the complexion of a corpse. In China, white is the traditional color worn at funerals.
In the foreground of this picture is an array of white. The white has texture and is tangible. But rising in the background is the red orb of the sun, warming the picture and reminding us that life is omnipresent and is much larger than anything else we may experience. To me this is a picture of hope, and I wanted to share it with you two.
Love,
Your (Grand)Son
Life shining in the midst of death. It is indeed a beautiful image.
It's on my son Jaran's mind as well. He sent us a beautiful card. White laser-cut tree branches over a red sun in an orange sky. He wrote a thoughtful note, and he's given me permission to share it with you.
Jaran is studying the Chinese language this semester, so that's the background for his comments.
Dear Mom & Grandma,
Just wanted to send you out a letter. This week will be a tough one as we hit all these aniversaries.
I thought this card was appropriate for the occasion. I have learned that the Chinese believe red is an expression of life. Red is characterized as such because it is reminiscent of flowing blood. White symbolizes death because it is the complexion of a corpse. In China, white is the traditional color worn at funerals.
In the foreground of this picture is an array of white. The white has texture and is tangible. But rising in the background is the red orb of the sun, warming the picture and reminding us that life is omnipresent and is much larger than anything else we may experience. To me this is a picture of hope, and I wanted to share it with you two.
Love,
Your (Grand)Son
Life shining in the midst of death. It is indeed a beautiful image.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Feeling Low
For some reason Jolene lays heavy on my mind this week. As Mom said in her response to my Monday post, she's an unseen guest at every meal. Yesterday I relived the night we learned about her death. The pain struck again, just as sharp, just as unbelievable. Grief has resurfaced and weighs me down.
Somehow, as time goes on, my grief becomes more real. I always accepted the fact of her death. What gains substance is the reality of spending the life without her. That I will never again see her or hear her and feel her (in this life).
Jolene and I lived alone for many years, after Jaran moved out on his own. Now there is no witness to large chunks of my life. I feel alone in the world, having lost the person closer to me than anyone else. Even after she moved out, we saw each other on a regular basis. Now ... that is gone. My son lives out of state. Thank God for my precious mother.
Add to the mixture physical pain from my knee and the time pressures of preparing for two surgeries and finishing a book contract, and I'm a physical and emotional wreck. This morning, I fell apart when I was trying to get ready for work. Mom stepped in and told me I was in no shape to head out the door. I took her advice and stayed home. I needed the rest, but can't say I feel much better tonight.
I know this is a gloomy post, but it's where I am tonight. People survive grief; I will survive this. In time, the burden will lift.
But for today, I am miserable.
Somehow, as time goes on, my grief becomes more real. I always accepted the fact of her death. What gains substance is the reality of spending the life without her. That I will never again see her or hear her and feel her (in this life).
Jolene and I lived alone for many years, after Jaran moved out on his own. Now there is no witness to large chunks of my life. I feel alone in the world, having lost the person closer to me than anyone else. Even after she moved out, we saw each other on a regular basis. Now ... that is gone. My son lives out of state. Thank God for my precious mother.
Add to the mixture physical pain from my knee and the time pressures of preparing for two surgeries and finishing a book contract, and I'm a physical and emotional wreck. This morning, I fell apart when I was trying to get ready for work. Mom stepped in and told me I was in no shape to head out the door. I took her advice and stayed home. I needed the rest, but can't say I feel much better tonight.
I know this is a gloomy post, but it's where I am tonight. People survive grief; I will survive this. In time, the burden will lift.
But for today, I am miserable.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Dining Out
First, some housekeeping: I have changed the settings on the blog so that you don't need a Google account to leave a comment. For those of you who have tried to post in the past and couldn't? Please try again!
Jolene remains right under our (Mom's and my) skin. Not a day goes by that we don't remember something that brings tears to our eyes. It's constant. Yesterday we ate at the Red Lobster for the first time since Jolene's death. Mom looked at her lobster tail and said "cockroach." I understood the reference and choked up. Because the last time we ate at the restaurant, Jolene was with us and she said the lobster's feet reminded her of a cockroach.
Mom said, "We should go back to Three Margaritas some time."
I thought about it. "We haven't been there since ..."
"No, we haven't," she agreed. The family ate there after Jolene's memorial service but not since.
Jolene loved Mexican food and Mom can tolerate very little; so we only went there when Jolene was with us. On some level, I am waiting for her to come back before we go again. I can't even write the words without crying. I suggested we dine there on the six month anniversary.
The 17th of this month will be six months. How can half a year have passed? Life goes on, and we are facing new challenges. But the loss is just as raw and the ache is so deep that only God can comfort us.
God gave me the promise of Psalm 18:32-33: God arms me with strength; he has made my way safe. He makes me as surefooted as a deer, leading me safely along the mountain heights.
I am trusting God that after my surgery, my legs will once again be strong and "surefooted as a deer." Maybe I will even hike through the mountains once again. Please claim this promise with me!
Jolene remains right under our (Mom's and my) skin. Not a day goes by that we don't remember something that brings tears to our eyes. It's constant. Yesterday we ate at the Red Lobster for the first time since Jolene's death. Mom looked at her lobster tail and said "cockroach." I understood the reference and choked up. Because the last time we ate at the restaurant, Jolene was with us and she said the lobster's feet reminded her of a cockroach.
Mom said, "We should go back to Three Margaritas some time."
I thought about it. "We haven't been there since ..."
"No, we haven't," she agreed. The family ate there after Jolene's memorial service but not since.
Jolene loved Mexican food and Mom can tolerate very little; so we only went there when Jolene was with us. On some level, I am waiting for her to come back before we go again. I can't even write the words without crying. I suggested we dine there on the six month anniversary.
The 17th of this month will be six months. How can half a year have passed? Life goes on, and we are facing new challenges. But the loss is just as raw and the ache is so deep that only God can comfort us.
God gave me the promise of Psalm 18:32-33: God arms me with strength; he has made my way safe. He makes me as surefooted as a deer, leading me safely along the mountain heights.
I am trusting God that after my surgery, my legs will once again be strong and "surefooted as a deer." Maybe I will even hike through the mountains once again. Please claim this promise with me!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Surgery's on
It's official. I will have knee replacement surgery on September 24th. Some time approximately 6 weeks later, Mom will have her surgery.
True to our natures, Mom and I are worried about different things. She wonders about how she'll manage, physically, after the surgery. She is also scared of the angiogram needed ahead of time. My worries center around money. Three months without a paycheck? It's easy to say "God will provide," but I've lost a car and a house in the past. God's provision doesn't always look like I expect it to.
This is one time I am glad Jolene is not here. She would feel very frightened and insecure with both of down us at once. Dear Jaran cannot help, because of his obvious and loving commitments to his own family unit.
So, in the next three weeks, I'll have pre-op checkups and I also need to finish my current manuscript (due to the editor on October 1st). Mom also has pre-surgery appointments.
Please pray for us, for our health, for the right timing, for the financial need.
True to our natures, Mom and I are worried about different things. She wonders about how she'll manage, physically, after the surgery. She is also scared of the angiogram needed ahead of time. My worries center around money. Three months without a paycheck? It's easy to say "God will provide," but I've lost a car and a house in the past. God's provision doesn't always look like I expect it to.
This is one time I am glad Jolene is not here. She would feel very frightened and insecure with both of down us at once. Dear Jaran cannot help, because of his obvious and loving commitments to his own family unit.
So, in the next three weeks, I'll have pre-op checkups and I also need to finish my current manuscript (due to the editor on October 1st). Mom also has pre-surgery appointments.
Please pray for us, for our health, for the right timing, for the financial need.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Thoughts on Jolene's father
This weekend is a triple-whammy for my ex-husband: he celebrated (or endured, if it was anything like mine) his birthday - and it was one of the biggies. Sixty. It's also yet another first holiday without Jolene, not that Labor Day ever meant a lot. He also recently lost a job, so it's been a difficult year.
I don't know how John is dealing with grief; we don't talk much. Perhaps he suffered through agonies of grief during the years after our divorce, when he was barred from seeing Jolene. Or perhaps that past loss echoes in his heart now, as if he has lost her twice.
Before she died, Jolene visited Oklahoma two separate times, to see her brother and her father. I am glad he has at least that memory to draw on.
God has done a work in my heart, that I can feel concern for my ex. My thoughts and prayers are with you, John. No parent should suffer this pain.
I don't know how John is dealing with grief; we don't talk much. Perhaps he suffered through agonies of grief during the years after our divorce, when he was barred from seeing Jolene. Or perhaps that past loss echoes in his heart now, as if he has lost her twice.
Before she died, Jolene visited Oklahoma two separate times, to see her brother and her father. I am glad he has at least that memory to draw on.
God has done a work in my heart, that I can feel concern for my ex. My thoughts and prayers are with you, John. No parent should suffer this pain.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Comfort and Compassion
Right now I 'm so busy that Jolene's death has taken a back seat--at least on the surface.
But it hovers underneath everything I do. It only takes a word or a touch to bring back the pain. A couple of days ago Mom commented on my last blog with tears in her voice. I started crying as well. Life has moved on and we are facing a number of major hurdles, but …. Not a day goes by without thinking of my daughter, my heart aching with the loss.
I am reading the book Prayer by Philip Yancey. Today he talked about unanswered prayers and he specifically mentioned young adults who commit suicide. I took notice. I came away with the feeling that prayer will seldom change the situation--but it changes my response. I trust God more, blindly at times, but resting in His sovereign love.
May your unfailing love be my comfort according to your promise to your servant. Let your compassion come to me that I may live, for your law is my delight. (Psalm 119:76-77)
Comfort and compassion--just what I need. Amen, Lord!
But it hovers underneath everything I do. It only takes a word or a touch to bring back the pain. A couple of days ago Mom commented on my last blog with tears in her voice. I started crying as well. Life has moved on and we are facing a number of major hurdles, but …. Not a day goes by without thinking of my daughter, my heart aching with the loss.
I am reading the book Prayer by Philip Yancey. Today he talked about unanswered prayers and he specifically mentioned young adults who commit suicide. I took notice. I came away with the feeling that prayer will seldom change the situation--but it changes my response. I trust God more, blindly at times, but resting in His sovereign love.
May your unfailing love be my comfort according to your promise to your servant. Let your compassion come to me that I may live, for your law is my delight. (Psalm 119:76-77)
Comfort and compassion--just what I need. Amen, Lord!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Announcement of Blog Tour
This is a freebie. My novella Dressed in Scarlet appears in Snowbound Colorado Christmas, a Christmas anthology. The book and my three co-authors are going on a blog tour this month. Check out the following sites and dates for information about the book and multiple chances for a free copy!
August 24 – Lena Nelson Dooley
http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com
September 1 – Janice Olson
www.JaniceOlson.com
September 5 - Brittanie A. Terrell
http://www.abookloverforever.blogspot.com
September 10 – Ronie Kendig
http://supernaturalcraving.blogspot.com
September 15 – Tiffany (Amber Miller) Stockton
www.ambermiller.com
September 16 – Tricia Goyer
http://triciagoyer.blogspot.com
September 23 – Lisa Buffaloe
www.ShoutLife.com/LisaBuffaloe
September 23 - Deborah Khuanghlawn
http://books-movies-chinesefood.blogspot.com/
September 30 – Linda Crow
http://www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com
August 24 – Lena Nelson Dooley
http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com
September 1 – Janice Olson
www.JaniceOlson.com
September 5 - Brittanie A. Terrell
http://www.abookloverforever.blogspot.com
September 10 – Ronie Kendig
http://supernaturalcraving.blogspot.com
September 15 – Tiffany (Amber Miller) Stockton
www.ambermiller.com
September 16 – Tricia Goyer
http://triciagoyer.blogspot.com
September 23 – Lisa Buffaloe
www.ShoutLife.com/LisaBuffaloe
September 23 - Deborah Khuanghlawn
http://books-movies-chinesefood.blogspot.com/
September 30 – Linda Crow
http://www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com
Wrapped in Love
Lately, lots of little reminders are causing the dull ache of grief to flare up. Last night Mom and I played a game of rummy. Mom covered her face and asked, "Do you remember how gleeful Jolene was when she went out and caught us with a bunch of cards in our hands?" Yes, Mom, I remembered.
This afternoon (on doctor's orders, no less), I took to bed. I crawled into the bottom of my bunk and clutched a teddy bear to my chest. I reached for my favorite blanket, a large throw with a picture of three cats perched on a fence. Jolene gave both the bear and the blanket to me.
I looked up at the top bunk where Jolene slept on her visits. If I let it, the nightly reminders could rob me of much needed rest.
Instead, I think of myself as wrapped and surrounded by Jolene's love. She loved me and showed me in every way she was capable of.
I may keep that blanket until it's as worn as a security blanket.
This afternoon (on doctor's orders, no less), I took to bed. I crawled into the bottom of my bunk and clutched a teddy bear to my chest. I reached for my favorite blanket, a large throw with a picture of three cats perched on a fence. Jolene gave both the bear and the blanket to me.
I looked up at the top bunk where Jolene slept on her visits. If I let it, the nightly reminders could rob me of much needed rest.
Instead, I think of myself as wrapped and surrounded by Jolene's love. She loved me and showed me in every way she was capable of.
I may keep that blanket until it's as worn as a security blanket.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Affirmation
God has sent me a love note this week, and affirmed it by expressing it three different ways.
First love note:
I sometimes wonder if my blog matters to anyone but me. A new friend posted here for the first time on Monday. I won't repeat her story, but she made it clear that what I have written changed her life. Wow. If I have only helped that one person ... it's worth it.
Second love note:
I have never met "Ausjenny" (who may be familiar to those of you involved with ACFW)in the flesh. She read Gunfight at Grace Gulch and contacted me for an interview. Earlier this week, she posted her review of my book (http://ausjenny.blogspot.com/2008/08/review-of-gunfight-at-grace-gulch-by.html). Wow! Her comments made my spirit dance. She said in part, "This story is way more than just a cozy Mystery (and a very good one at that), it deals with insecurities and self doubts and how we can learn from them and grew. I wanted to go to Grace Gulch and I want to visit Cici's store." What a blessing to know the story, not only the mystery, resonated with at least one reader.
Third love note:
My son called to thank me. Specifically, he praised me for working day in and day out, whatever had happened at home the night before, regardless of whether or not I liked the job. That the roof over our heads and the clothes on our backs came from my hard work. Then he said--in words that would make any mother cry--"I now see how much you loved us, to work like that."
Thank You, God, for Your love notes, at a time when I feel overwhelmed.
First love note:
I sometimes wonder if my blog matters to anyone but me. A new friend posted here for the first time on Monday. I won't repeat her story, but she made it clear that what I have written changed her life. Wow. If I have only helped that one person ... it's worth it.
Second love note:
I have never met "Ausjenny" (who may be familiar to those of you involved with ACFW)in the flesh. She read Gunfight at Grace Gulch and contacted me for an interview. Earlier this week, she posted her review of my book (http://ausjenny.blogspot.com/2008/08/review-of-gunfight-at-grace-gulch-by.html). Wow! Her comments made my spirit dance. She said in part, "This story is way more than just a cozy Mystery (and a very good one at that), it deals with insecurities and self doubts and how we can learn from them and grew. I wanted to go to Grace Gulch and I want to visit Cici's store." What a blessing to know the story, not only the mystery, resonated with at least one reader.
Third love note:
My son called to thank me. Specifically, he praised me for working day in and day out, whatever had happened at home the night before, regardless of whether or not I liked the job. That the roof over our heads and the clothes on our backs came from my hard work. Then he said--in words that would make any mother cry--"I now see how much you loved us, to work like that."
Thank You, God, for Your love notes, at a time when I feel overwhelmed.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Dancing with Grief Plus Five Months
This past month I have felt extremes. Late in July, I had a week or two of almost giddy normality. The first week of August, before my birthday, I was pathologically depressed and anxious. That passed, but we learned about Mom's upcoming surgery, and the fears of losing another person dear to me resurfaced.
All in all, I'm moving on. We no longer spend the weekends half expecting Jolene to walk through the door. We have taken care of most of the details concerning her death. At times, I can say her name or mention her death without crying.
And yet ...
Grief tears through me with simple reminders. Last night, we ate at Chili's. Every time we go there, we can almost see Jolene climbing on the giant stone peppers at the entrance. But the real stinger came with dessert.
Colorado restaurants have introduced a new wrinkle to their menu--"mini molten lava cakes." Three of them. When I saw the platter, my first thought was "one apiece." I choked up. We joked that although there are three cakes, we would have argued over who ate which flavor. I still cried.
This morning, I was making sweet talk to our cat, saying "You're a beautiful girl, yes, you are." The memory surfaced how I would tell Jolene "You are my girl, you are my pearl, although you have no curls." Tears, again. Mom held me. "It still doesn't seem possible," she said.
I didn't realize how much I loved Jolene until I lost her. Oh, my girl. I miss you so.
All in all, I'm moving on. We no longer spend the weekends half expecting Jolene to walk through the door. We have taken care of most of the details concerning her death. At times, I can say her name or mention her death without crying.
And yet ...
Grief tears through me with simple reminders. Last night, we ate at Chili's. Every time we go there, we can almost see Jolene climbing on the giant stone peppers at the entrance. But the real stinger came with dessert.
Colorado restaurants have introduced a new wrinkle to their menu--"mini molten lava cakes." Three of them. When I saw the platter, my first thought was "one apiece." I choked up. We joked that although there are three cakes, we would have argued over who ate which flavor. I still cried.
This morning, I was making sweet talk to our cat, saying "You're a beautiful girl, yes, you are." The memory surfaced how I would tell Jolene "You are my girl, you are my pearl, although you have no curls." Tears, again. Mom held me. "It still doesn't seem possible," she said.
I didn't realize how much I loved Jolene until I lost her. Oh, my girl. I miss you so.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Priorities
In the midst of wracking my brains on how to simplify my life for now, I've decide to cut back on my blog to twice a week. I will post on Mondays and Thursdays from now on.
See you then!
See you then!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Welcome Jude Urbanski
Today it is my privilege to welcome Jude Urbanski, a fellow romance writer. She shares her experiences of her loss when an accident turned her family's life upside down.
On the Subject of Loss
Grief is universal and evergreen, but the specific grief journey after the loss of a child by suicide requires more courage than most of us have. In these instances, only God’s outrageous grace enables and the tincture of time heals.
In my life, I don’t know why God has chosen loss so often to speak to me, but I am the woman I am because of these losses. I’ve learned that every experience in my life is God-filtered. My story is not unique; it’s just mine. Yours is yours. Grief is universal. Grief is evergreen.
Reading and, later on, writing were my passions even before I had significant loss, but my first published book stems from my most profound loss. The book, I Can’t Remember Me, was written as a way to heal from my daughter’s one-car accident in which her six year-old-son was killed and she was so injured from a traumatic brain injury that the young mother who finally returned to us was not the same woman. The story is long and dark, but God gave us light at the end of the journey. Our joint book captures our family’s journey of the grieving process in the roller coaster ride from despair to hope.
The major central truth I learned from this loss is that God was on the journey with me. This is my answer when people ask “Where was God when you were going through this?” At times it did not seem God was there, but I learned that when it became really dark, I could see the stars all shiny and bright overhead. The old Chinese proverb says it this way—“it’s better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” A writer friend puts it another way—“redemption shines brighter on a darker canvas.”
I probably do write to process my feelings. Especially when I journal, write prayers or poems or letters. With fiction, I write because I want to tell a story to entertain and for people to enjoy.
Jesus the man, Jesus my Savior, always resonates with me during loss. Sometimes He comes in almost unbelievable ways, but lets me know He’ll never leave. As far as authors whose works are memorable to me, I’d have to say Max Lucado’s works and Sarah Ban Breathnach’s Simple Abundance.
Our book is two years old, but we just sold 750 copies to a library distributor! I Can’t Remember Me can be found on our website (www.judeurbanski.com), from our publisher (LangMarc Publishing), from us personally, on Amazon and other on line market places or any bookstore can order it.
Both my daughter and I continue to write. My bent is inspirational romance, but I also do non fiction pieces. After a dreaded diagnosis three years ago, I made choices which would allow me to devote more time to writing. God has honored my desire.
If you’ve suffered loss, remember, we can become strong in our broken places.
Jude Urbanski 7/16/08 www.judeurbanski.com urbanski4u@aol.com
On the Subject of Loss
Grief is universal and evergreen, but the specific grief journey after the loss of a child by suicide requires more courage than most of us have. In these instances, only God’s outrageous grace enables and the tincture of time heals.
In my life, I don’t know why God has chosen loss so often to speak to me, but I am the woman I am because of these losses. I’ve learned that every experience in my life is God-filtered. My story is not unique; it’s just mine. Yours is yours. Grief is universal. Grief is evergreen.
Reading and, later on, writing were my passions even before I had significant loss, but my first published book stems from my most profound loss. The book, I Can’t Remember Me, was written as a way to heal from my daughter’s one-car accident in which her six year-old-son was killed and she was so injured from a traumatic brain injury that the young mother who finally returned to us was not the same woman. The story is long and dark, but God gave us light at the end of the journey. Our joint book captures our family’s journey of the grieving process in the roller coaster ride from despair to hope.
The major central truth I learned from this loss is that God was on the journey with me. This is my answer when people ask “Where was God when you were going through this?” At times it did not seem God was there, but I learned that when it became really dark, I could see the stars all shiny and bright overhead. The old Chinese proverb says it this way—“it’s better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” A writer friend puts it another way—“redemption shines brighter on a darker canvas.”
I probably do write to process my feelings. Especially when I journal, write prayers or poems or letters. With fiction, I write because I want to tell a story to entertain and for people to enjoy.
Jesus the man, Jesus my Savior, always resonates with me during loss. Sometimes He comes in almost unbelievable ways, but lets me know He’ll never leave. As far as authors whose works are memorable to me, I’d have to say Max Lucado’s works and Sarah Ban Breathnach’s Simple Abundance.
Our book is two years old, but we just sold 750 copies to a library distributor! I Can’t Remember Me can be found on our website (www.judeurbanski.com), from our publisher (LangMarc Publishing), from us personally, on Amazon and other on line market places or any bookstore can order it.
Both my daughter and I continue to write. My bent is inspirational romance, but I also do non fiction pieces. After a dreaded diagnosis three years ago, I made choices which would allow me to devote more time to writing. God has honored my desire.
If you’ve suffered loss, remember, we can become strong in our broken places.
Jude Urbanski 7/16/08 www.judeurbanski.com urbanski4u@aol.com
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Guilty Thoughts
Today I had a thought that made me feel guilty--at least in passing.
Between Mom's upcoming surgery, three books to finish before February, and numerous other factors, I am meeting myself coming and going.
Leaving work, I sighed, as I often do, "Oh, Jolene, I miss you so."
And then I thought--this would be so much harder if Jolene were here. Mom's illness would threaten her sense of security and she would do something to focus our attention on her.
I miss Jolene--my sweet, loving girl--but I will not miss the added pressure of helping her through this crisis.
Between Mom's upcoming surgery, three books to finish before February, and numerous other factors, I am meeting myself coming and going.
Leaving work, I sighed, as I often do, "Oh, Jolene, I miss you so."
And then I thought--this would be so much harder if Jolene were here. Mom's illness would threaten her sense of security and she would do something to focus our attention on her.
I miss Jolene--my sweet, loving girl--but I will not miss the added pressure of helping her through this crisis.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Marius Revisited
Marius' birthday is three days after mine, August 6th. We met for dinner and conversation and celebration last evening.
He's had a good month. At a hearing on Wednesday, he learned that he will be approved to receive SSI payments. That's a huge blessing. His parents took him out for his birthday. This, too, is a blessing, because he often feels shunned by his family.
For the first time, we got through the meal without crying. Even when Marius ordered lemon meringue pie for dessert, his favorite as well as Jolene's.
All three of us have moved forward from a month ago. We sense that life exists at the end of this dark tunnel. Marius nearly always dresses in black. Last night he wore a shirt marbled with black, brown and white. Color! And color in his voice and attitude. He is doing better.
Marius continues to beat himself for Jolene's death. Mom and I hate to see him blame himself. He needs to forgive himself, and to accept God's forgiveness. I don't want guilt to poison his future.
Next time, after Labor Day.
He's had a good month. At a hearing on Wednesday, he learned that he will be approved to receive SSI payments. That's a huge blessing. His parents took him out for his birthday. This, too, is a blessing, because he often feels shunned by his family.
For the first time, we got through the meal without crying. Even when Marius ordered lemon meringue pie for dessert, his favorite as well as Jolene's.
All three of us have moved forward from a month ago. We sense that life exists at the end of this dark tunnel. Marius nearly always dresses in black. Last night he wore a shirt marbled with black, brown and white. Color! And color in his voice and attitude. He is doing better.
Marius continues to beat himself for Jolene's death. Mom and I hate to see him blame himself. He needs to forgive himself, and to accept God's forgiveness. I don't want guilt to poison his future.
Next time, after Labor Day.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Mom Needs Surgery
"What are the risks of the surgery?" I tried to ask an intelligent question after the doctor casually said Mom needed to have her aorta replaced.
"Heart attack and stroke."
Mom blanched. But I persevered with the next question.
"What are the risks of not having the surgery?"
"An even greater risk of heart attack and stroke, as well as congestive heart failure."
"And the longer she waits ..." I let the statement dangle.
"The weaker she will get." Without his stating it directly, he implied she could reach a point where surgery would no longer be an option.
So easy to make the decision, once we had all the facts.
She goes back on August 29th. The surgery will be shortly after the ACFW conference in Minneapolis.
Mom is terrified. I am more hopeful. After surgery, I hope she will regain some of the energy she has lost in recent months; that she will feel better than she has in a long time. Still, it's a scary prospect.
Those of you who know my sweet Mom also know how anxious she gets about the littlest things. She is battling a desire to finish everything she ever wanted to do--in the next six weeks--in case this is the end. Pray for a balance between frantic activity and being immobilized by anxiety. Pray for me, too, that I will have the extra level of sensitivity and patience that I so often lack.
Thanks for staying with me--with us--through this difficult year.
"Heart attack and stroke."
Mom blanched. But I persevered with the next question.
"What are the risks of not having the surgery?"
"An even greater risk of heart attack and stroke, as well as congestive heart failure."
"And the longer she waits ..." I let the statement dangle.
"The weaker she will get." Without his stating it directly, he implied she could reach a point where surgery would no longer be an option.
So easy to make the decision, once we had all the facts.
She goes back on August 29th. The surgery will be shortly after the ACFW conference in Minneapolis.
Mom is terrified. I am more hopeful. After surgery, I hope she will regain some of the energy she has lost in recent months; that she will feel better than she has in a long time. Still, it's a scary prospect.
Those of you who know my sweet Mom also know how anxious she gets about the littlest things. She is battling a desire to finish everything she ever wanted to do--in the next six weeks--in case this is the end. Pray for a balance between frantic activity and being immobilized by anxiety. Pray for me, too, that I will have the extra level of sensitivity and patience that I so often lack.
Thanks for staying with me--with us--through this difficult year.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
A New Concern
Mom learned last week that she has "severe" stenosis, that is, a calcification and narrowing of her aorta. Tomorrow she goes to see a cardiologist.
This, only days after she learned that her bone density has decreased by 50%. It feels as if she has become frail overnight.
Mom moved here five years ago after a stroke. Aside from a mild weakness in her right leg, she's enjoyed good health. We have had the freedom to do many things together.
That may be changing. For now, she cannot drive. She hates loses her independence and being a burden on anyone. I am so glad she is here--that we are not separated by 2400 miles while she makes this transition. Yet it is a challenge for me as well, to honor her and care for her while continuing with my other routines.
When you think of us tomorrow, say a prayer.
This, only days after she learned that her bone density has decreased by 50%. It feels as if she has become frail overnight.
Mom moved here five years ago after a stroke. Aside from a mild weakness in her right leg, she's enjoyed good health. We have had the freedom to do many things together.
That may be changing. For now, she cannot drive. She hates loses her independence and being a burden on anyone. I am so glad she is here--that we are not separated by 2400 miles while she makes this transition. Yet it is a challenge for me as well, to honor her and care for her while continuing with my other routines.
When you think of us tomorrow, say a prayer.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Verse for the Year
I don't make a habit of choosing a life verse or yearly verse. But when God hands one to me on a platter, I pay attention.
Daniel 12:3 appeared on my scripture calendar last Friday. The same verse is imprinted on the Grandmother's Bible I received for my birthday.
And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever. (NIV)
To be honest, when I first read the verse last Friday, my reaction was "Well, I certainly messed that up this week. I have been anything BUT wise or shining." (I know it's not me in any case, it's God, but I wasn't letting Him do His work.)
Then God repeated the message. Now what?
Today a Christian friend at work sent me an email saying she wishes she could be strong like me. I responded than when her time of testing comes, God will give her the strength she needs--one minute at a time.
So I don't know if the verse is a glimpse into what God wants to do in my life this next year. Or a testimony to what He is already doing, even when I feel so weak and foolish and vulnerable.
But I will return to this verse many times. And see what God else has to tell me.
Any thoughts?
Daniel 12:3 appeared on my scripture calendar last Friday. The same verse is imprinted on the Grandmother's Bible I received for my birthday.
And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever. (NIV)
To be honest, when I first read the verse last Friday, my reaction was "Well, I certainly messed that up this week. I have been anything BUT wise or shining." (I know it's not me in any case, it's God, but I wasn't letting Him do His work.)
Then God repeated the message. Now what?
Today a Christian friend at work sent me an email saying she wishes she could be strong like me. I responded than when her time of testing comes, God will give her the strength she needs--one minute at a time.
So I don't know if the verse is a glimpse into what God wants to do in my life this next year. Or a testimony to what He is already doing, even when I feel so weak and foolish and vulnerable.
But I will return to this verse many times. And see what God else has to tell me.
Any thoughts?
Monday, August 4, 2008
A Birthday Journal
So many wonderful things have happened yesterday and today. Today I will give you details of the day itself.
Mom started off the morning with a card that had the perfect synergy between verse and design, and a present I wanted very much: The Grandmother Bible. She went whole hog and gave me a volume bound in lilac leather. Gorgeous. In addition to the expected 365 devotions, this Bible includes prayers specific to grandchildren, talk points on a wide variety of topics (supposing one of those granddaughters ever ask me for advice), and a variety of other helps. Oh, purple ink, too!
Plate-sized sunflowers adorned our table at Sunday school, with a note that read "Happy Birthday Darlene!" Nine people from our class joined me at Chili's for lunch. They each had a present or card to share. They saved one for the end--telling me that Jolene wouldn't want me to be sad on my birthday, and giving me a gift on her behalf. I cried.
We returned to my apartment for a cookie baking party. Amazing how quick work 6 women can make of 8 dozen cookies! I had prepared the dough on Saturday. We rolled and baked and bagged them to give away to shut ins and prospects.
After they left, I had just enough time to make it to the movie theater, where I watched Swing Vote. I loved it! Back home, phone call with my son, watched the end of Anne of Green Gables the Sequel.
Today my co-workers gave me another party--Streamers, balloons, card, cupcakes. Even the big bosses stopping by to wish me happy birthday--and everyone saying they wanted "to put a smile on my face." They succeeded.
God used so many people to embrace me with His love. Thank you all.
Mom started off the morning with a card that had the perfect synergy between verse and design, and a present I wanted very much: The Grandmother Bible. She went whole hog and gave me a volume bound in lilac leather. Gorgeous. In addition to the expected 365 devotions, this Bible includes prayers specific to grandchildren, talk points on a wide variety of topics (supposing one of those granddaughters ever ask me for advice), and a variety of other helps. Oh, purple ink, too!
Plate-sized sunflowers adorned our table at Sunday school, with a note that read "Happy Birthday Darlene!" Nine people from our class joined me at Chili's for lunch. They each had a present or card to share. They saved one for the end--telling me that Jolene wouldn't want me to be sad on my birthday, and giving me a gift on her behalf. I cried.
We returned to my apartment for a cookie baking party. Amazing how quick work 6 women can make of 8 dozen cookies! I had prepared the dough on Saturday. We rolled and baked and bagged them to give away to shut ins and prospects.
After they left, I had just enough time to make it to the movie theater, where I watched Swing Vote. I loved it! Back home, phone call with my son, watched the end of Anne of Green Gables the Sequel.
Today my co-workers gave me another party--Streamers, balloons, card, cupcakes. Even the big bosses stopping by to wish me happy birthday--and everyone saying they wanted "to put a smile on my face." They succeeded.
God used so many people to embrace me with His love. Thank you all.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
God's Special Birthday Gift
The day finally arrived. It was a wonderful day; I'll give you details tomorrow.
But it started off poorly, leaving for church half an hour late and running into red lights at every opportunity.
About half way to church, Mom said, half as joke, "That's enough, Satan!"
Do you know, we didn't hit another red light?
Starting with those green lights, God opened my eyes to a several unwrapped, unexpected gifts.
Colorado is in the midst of a record-breaking heat wave. I'm one of the few residents who would NOT welcome rain today; it rains almost every year on my birthday. Today it did NOT rain. I had that special treat, sunny skies all day.
We stayed for both Sunday school and the worship service for the first time in a month; Mom has been sick for the past three weeks. Now, there is a real reason to rejoice!
My granddaughter Savanna told me she loved me tonight. Jaran told me how rare that is, coming from a 12½ year old. And he's right. I remember those days! But she wished me a happy birthday and expressed her love.
Oh, and my beloved Rockies won, managing a split of their series with the Florida Marlins.
I'll give you details on the "planned" birthday activities tomorrow.
Thanks for all your love and caring. A computer crisis kept me from posting on Thursday night.
But it started off poorly, leaving for church half an hour late and running into red lights at every opportunity.
About half way to church, Mom said, half as joke, "That's enough, Satan!"
Do you know, we didn't hit another red light?
Starting with those green lights, God opened my eyes to a several unwrapped, unexpected gifts.
Colorado is in the midst of a record-breaking heat wave. I'm one of the few residents who would NOT welcome rain today; it rains almost every year on my birthday. Today it did NOT rain. I had that special treat, sunny skies all day.
We stayed for both Sunday school and the worship service for the first time in a month; Mom has been sick for the past three weeks. Now, there is a real reason to rejoice!
My granddaughter Savanna told me she loved me tonight. Jaran told me how rare that is, coming from a 12½ year old. And he's right. I remember those days! But she wished me a happy birthday and expressed her love.
Oh, and my beloved Rockies won, managing a split of their series with the Florida Marlins.
I'll give you details on the "planned" birthday activities tomorrow.
Thanks for all your love and caring. A computer crisis kept me from posting on Thursday night.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sign of the Times
Colorado is in the midst of a record-breaking heat wave.
Our annual visitors must not have checked the weather reports. Although it's still July, a flock of Canadian geese has returned. A reminder that although we're enduring day after day of 90+ degree weather, cooler weather will arrive and provide relief.
I'm holding on that image. This week soul-crushing grief has returned, reducing me to tears and even worse, whining. I knew pain would return; I didn't expect it to be so intense. Well, it is. And I'm ashamed of the things I've been thinking and feeling. Not the grief, but the selfishness that comes with it. (Did any of you see the animated movie where one of the characters said "It's all about me"? Jolene had a T-shirt with that slogan on it. Yet another reminder. Well, that's how I'm feeling these days.)
But just as the geese remind me that the heat can't last forever, I know this pain will also pass.
Our annual visitors must not have checked the weather reports. Although it's still July, a flock of Canadian geese has returned. A reminder that although we're enduring day after day of 90+ degree weather, cooler weather will arrive and provide relief.
I'm holding on that image. This week soul-crushing grief has returned, reducing me to tears and even worse, whining. I knew pain would return; I didn't expect it to be so intense. Well, it is. And I'm ashamed of the things I've been thinking and feeling. Not the grief, but the selfishness that comes with it. (Did any of you see the animated movie where one of the characters said "It's all about me"? Jolene had a T-shirt with that slogan on it. Yet another reminder. Well, that's how I'm feeling these days.)
But just as the geese remind me that the heat can't last forever, I know this pain will also pass.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Encouraging Words
God ministered to me powerfully today.
This morning, I continued my study of the Lord's prayer (in the book Secrets of the Kingdom by Jennifer Kennedy). This morning's lesson focused on the phrase "Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Kennedy connected the request with Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, and Paul's words in Romans 12 about God's "always good, perfect and pleasing will."
And I realized that while I don't believe God willed my daughter to die, I do believe that His will is "always good, perfect and pleasing" through the situation. I can--and do--trust Him to do what is good and perfect and best for me in all that is happening.
A second word came from a sister in Christ I have never met. Many people contacted me to encourage me, but one email comforted my heart so greatly that I asked the sender for permission to reprint it in my blog.
Here is what Connie Stevens said:
I have followed your posts since March, my heart aching for you. I, too, lost my child-my son, two and a half years ago. While I didn't experienced the same pain you did when your daughter committed suicide, the loss and grief aren't that much different when you've lost a child, regardless of how they died. (My son died of cancer).
I realize you are facing your birthday coming up in a few day, and not hers, but it's still one of those "special days" when the grief is a little sharper. My son's birthday was in June, and I posted a blog on my website, www.conniestevenswrites.com describing some of the pain and joy connected with such a milestone. The blog is entitled "Choosing A Birthday Gift".
Sometimes I get angry because people just don't understand. Grief makes people uncomfortable and they want you to "get over it" so they don't have to deal with it. But I finally realized that the only way they can understand is if they sit by their child's bedside and watch him take his last breath, or if they get the call from the police telling them the unthinkable has happened. If that is the only way they can understand, then I can forgive them for not understanding, and I pray they never understand. (italics mine)
But I understand, Darlene. The hurt won't ever go away-it just gets different. But the hurt is a testament to how much you loved her, and love her still.
Thank you, Connie, for sharing from your pain. Thank You, God, for lifting my heart out of the depths of despair.
This morning, I continued my study of the Lord's prayer (in the book Secrets of the Kingdom by Jennifer Kennedy). This morning's lesson focused on the phrase "Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Kennedy connected the request with Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, and Paul's words in Romans 12 about God's "always good, perfect and pleasing will."
And I realized that while I don't believe God willed my daughter to die, I do believe that His will is "always good, perfect and pleasing" through the situation. I can--and do--trust Him to do what is good and perfect and best for me in all that is happening.
A second word came from a sister in Christ I have never met. Many people contacted me to encourage me, but one email comforted my heart so greatly that I asked the sender for permission to reprint it in my blog.
Here is what Connie Stevens said:
I have followed your posts since March, my heart aching for you. I, too, lost my child-my son, two and a half years ago. While I didn't experienced the same pain you did when your daughter committed suicide, the loss and grief aren't that much different when you've lost a child, regardless of how they died. (My son died of cancer).
I realize you are facing your birthday coming up in a few day, and not hers, but it's still one of those "special days" when the grief is a little sharper. My son's birthday was in June, and I posted a blog on my website, www.conniestevenswrites.com describing some of the pain and joy connected with such a milestone. The blog is entitled "Choosing A Birthday Gift".
Sometimes I get angry because people just don't understand. Grief makes people uncomfortable and they want you to "get over it" so they don't have to deal with it. But I finally realized that the only way they can understand is if they sit by their child's bedside and watch him take his last breath, or if they get the call from the police telling them the unthinkable has happened. If that is the only way they can understand, then I can forgive them for not understanding, and I pray they never understand. (italics mine)
But I understand, Darlene. The hurt won't ever go away-it just gets different. But the hurt is a testament to how much you loved her, and love her still.
Thank you, Connie, for sharing from your pain. Thank You, God, for lifting my heart out of the depths of despair.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Birthday Blues
This week, the blues are back. (I knew the sunny feeling that dominated most of July wouldn't last forever.) I'm cycling back through deep grief.
Sunday will be the first birthday in thirty years I've celebrated without my daughter.
I will be 54. Jolene was 23 when she died. Another reminder that time has frozen for her. Not 29 years younger than I am (she would have turned 25 next March), not 30 years younger than I am (she would be 24 now)--but 31 years. An additional year that will stretch longer as time goes by.
Jolene and I both had birthdays on the same day of the week. A small thing that made us feel connected in some strange way, now broken.
This family holiday will be the hardest we've faced yet.
Sunday will be the first birthday in thirty years I've celebrated without my daughter.
I will be 54. Jolene was 23 when she died. Another reminder that time has frozen for her. Not 29 years younger than I am (she would have turned 25 next March), not 30 years younger than I am (she would be 24 now)--but 31 years. An additional year that will stretch longer as time goes by.
Jolene and I both had birthdays on the same day of the week. A small thing that made us feel connected in some strange way, now broken.
This family holiday will be the hardest we've faced yet.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Tonight's Tough
I've mentioned before that weekends are hard.
Friday and Saturday brought their share of good news, so I sailed through.
(Shameless self promotion): On Friday I received the contract for my next book, Paint Me a Puzzle, the third and final title in the Dressed for Death cozy mystery series. Yeah!
Then on Saturday, I finished the rough draft of Beacon of Love, a historical romance set during the "Great Gale of 1815" in Rhode Island. (They didn't call them hurricanes yet.) SUCH a relief.
But Mom did not feel well this morning; we arrived at Sunday school late and left before the worship service started. We are both missing the fellowship and the preaching of the Word. (Third week we've missed because Mom isn't doing well.)
And tonight, I am missing Jolene more than I have recently. Mom laid a pink doll blanket on the table. I held the soft cloth to my face and wanted to cry. Because, of course, it belonged to Jolene. It once wrapped a teensy baby doll that she laid in a equally small cradle. I want her back, I want her dressing her dolls, or saving them for her children, or even giving them away. I want more than something she once held.
I don't want her back. I wouldn't call her back from heaven. I want her never to have left.
Friday and Saturday brought their share of good news, so I sailed through.
(Shameless self promotion): On Friday I received the contract for my next book, Paint Me a Puzzle, the third and final title in the Dressed for Death cozy mystery series. Yeah!
Then on Saturday, I finished the rough draft of Beacon of Love, a historical romance set during the "Great Gale of 1815" in Rhode Island. (They didn't call them hurricanes yet.) SUCH a relief.
But Mom did not feel well this morning; we arrived at Sunday school late and left before the worship service started. We are both missing the fellowship and the preaching of the Word. (Third week we've missed because Mom isn't doing well.)
And tonight, I am missing Jolene more than I have recently. Mom laid a pink doll blanket on the table. I held the soft cloth to my face and wanted to cry. Because, of course, it belonged to Jolene. It once wrapped a teensy baby doll that she laid in a equally small cradle. I want her back, I want her dressing her dolls, or saving them for her children, or even giving them away. I want more than something she once held.
I don't want her back. I wouldn't call her back from heaven. I want her never to have left.
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