Here Again

Here Again


On Wednesday May 21st I had my 16 week check-up.  These check-ups always bring a certain level of anxiety for me until I get to hear that sweet baby heartbeat and then I know all is well.  The appointment started out as usual and then came that dreaded moment when the nurse practitioner started looking for the heartbeat.  I knew right away the result was going to be tragic as I had flashbacks of 5 years ago going through my head.

The doctor came in to give me an in-room ultrasound and on the monitor I saw my sweet lifeless baby.  Shock set in as I realized I was going through the nightmare again that rocked my world and still shapes me today.  The baby was 12 1/2 weeks, this is exactly what happened with Jerin but just a month earlier.

I sat in the room awaiting paperwork to sign for a DNC, something of which I had heard of but had no experience of.  I realized that the next day was my birthday and also the last day I would be pregnant. I also realized that all this really, really, really sucked.

I had two girls at home who would understand this in their own way, two beautiful pure souls that I didn't want to tarnish with anguish but knew there was no way around it.

As I sat in the parking lot waiting for Jerry to come get me I wondered how I was possibly going to do this again.  I still am.

Here's how I am doing......really:

The verse we as a family have adopted, secured and written on our wall is Philippians 4:8

Finally brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.

Right now I can't take it "a day at a time," so I take it minute by minute.  I seek the things from the above verse.  I am so relieved that sadness, anger, morning and grieving are "pure" and "true." And I also revel in the amazing gifts of my two precious and beautiful girls that I am so so blessed to have.  The amazing love and spirit in my husband is so evident right now.  The overwhelming support I have gotten from my friends, even acquaintances from Facebook and my church family (this is truly where the word family comes into reality). My family who has gone through so much with me these last 5 years are suiting up again for the next.  I could go on and on of these "lovely, honorable, and worthy of praise" gifts I have.

And I would be lying if I didn't feel, think or believe things that are not honorable, right, pure, lovely, etc.....I do.  I allow them to come, I'm thinking of getting a jar for those things because those too are real.  I want to think and feel them, write them down and then bind them up and give them to God to cast them out on my behalf.
Here's some specifics on what to pray for:

Mornings are the worst time for me.  I open my eyes and realize that this is really happening, it's true.  Pray for me in the morning.

Pray I find balance in caring for, protecting, and processing with my girls.  My first instinct is to protect them for this sadness of mine but I know they will learn so much from this authentic struggle.  I pray for guidance on this.

Pray for my husband as he is just remarkable but  also has had a loss.  Pray he too can process while taking care of me and the girls.

As this week brings the "normal" routine back into reality, the usual simple things are very difficult and emotionally exhausting.  Pray I can ask for help when needed and that  God would give me the strength to go about the day.

Pray for the three aspects in my life: physical, emotional, spiritual.  Pray I can rest in not feeling "normal" in these areas, that I would give myself time and patience (I'm not good at this usually so this is even more heightened).

Last of all I want to thank you.  I know you clicked on this link knowing you wouldn't be reading a happy story.  You probably knew you would cry and feel heartache with me.  It is such a blessing knowing you are willing to meet me where I'm at.  Those of you who have journeyed with me through this blog for 5 years, thank you for joining me on this path.  My prayer is somehow, someway God will make my suffering matter but most of all, my life even in sorrow would bring Him glory.  I pray that upon you as well.  Love to you all.

Stay tuned, I'm going to have a lot to say in the coming years.

The Other Side of the Computer Screen

Ten days after the 5th year of our son's death My husband and I were faced with the opportunity to share our "story" of Jerin. I was going to look people in the eye and share the depths of my heart to strangers. It was going to be the first time I would talking about this from the other side of my computer screen,

The strangers my husband and I would be sharing with were living at the OC Rescue Mission.  These people have a story to tell themselves, one of pain, despair, and desperation. Some have battled addiction and homelessness, and they knew, understood, and lived hopelessness.

As the day of sharing grew closer, I became more afraid.  I knew these poor unsuspecting bystanders would get side blinded by the rawness and realness of our son.  I feared their response, I feared my response.  Another thing that weighed tremendously heavy on my heart as time drew near was the responsibility of representing God and sharing about my tumultuous relationship with Him.  I wanted to be the perfect blend of sharing hope and the reality of being a suffering Christian.

Honestly it was impossible for me to know what exactly to share.  Thirty minutes to share five years of our life was just too overwhelming.  So I got on my knees and prayed. I prayed for those who were coming, I prayed that Jerry and I would meet each of them where they were at.  I prayed for the Holy Spirit to guide our story where it should go and I prayed for the enemy to be bound. That was it.  That was my preparation.

The 20 minute drive there was pretty silent as Jerry and I talked over a few details. I felt like I was driving to a funeral.  I had a true sense of "my audience" and I knew somehow, someway, these souls would relate to us.  I felt sad knowing we were going to join together in grief, in questioning, and in pain.

Once we arrived, we looked at each other and I said, "This may be the first and last time we ever do this, let's be as vulnerable as we can." We walked hand in hand inside. There were about 30 people (way more than I had expected), and the room was buzzing as they all chatted and laughed as they caught up.  I looked around and took a deep breath. Here we go.

After our introduction we got on stage and started.  What happened over the course of 40 minutes seems like another world and lifetime.  There were tears and nodding of heads.  There was gasps and open jaws.  As we shared the tragedy and as I shared my honest journey with Christ I wondered, "Am I going to far? Am I the only one who feels this way? Will they kick me out?"

Some of these students see both my husband and I on stage at church every Sunday.  I wasn't worried about them knowing our story.  I was also looking forward to have them see that even broken people can still love God. Even flawed, questioning, and suffering souls can still raise their hands in praise.  I saw the realization of this sink in to each person as we barred our souls.

After we shared there was a few minutes for a Q & A time. One question sank in and penetrated my inner being, it shook my core and reminded me why I have passion in sharing my story.  The question was, "Did you ever feel guilty having the feelings you did towards God?"  Yes. Yes. Yes.  This is it.  This confirmed why I feel so strongly about  being a suffering Christian.  It's why I sit behind this computer and why I'm willing to get on the other side of it.

My response to her was something like this, "Yes. Yes. Yes.  I'm still afraid to admit my true feelings sometimes.  But I've learned more than anything that God already knew and created my hidden feelings towards Him....good, bad, and ugly.  He is the safest place for me to share my innermost anguish with.  I felt as a Christian I needed to show strength at all times, but that bound me up.  I couldn't possibly share my true thoughts to another Christian!  However, taking off the perfection mask has freed me up in Christ for the first time.  Free to be my true self, free to question, free to kick and scream, free to be exactly who He made me to be."

I would say the hardest part of sharing was the end.  No one knew how to react. This kind of sharing isn't something you get a standing ovation for.  Several people came up to give us a hug, some left crying.  One man came up with tears streaming down his face as he admitted losing a child when he was 16....he never dealt with it.  So heartbreaking.  We prayed with a couple people before we left and we found ourselves standing alone with the group leaders.

Although my human self wanted to hear how awesome it was, I knew that this kind of story isn't going to get the usual accolades.  When reality hits, it is like a ton of bricks.  It needs to sink in. The reality is, I may never hear how it affected those who heard it.

But as I sit here and reflect, I am humbled, overwhelmed, and honored to be able to share how God graciously gave us moments with Jerin to change our lives forever. Looking people in the eye, meeting them where they are at, and trusting that I am not at work but God is was just......breathtaking.  I really and truly feel we all desire to be real and accepted.  My prayer is to live that and show it to others behind and in front of the computer screen.

Elephants: Five Years Later

 

This "elephants" series began at the first year anniversary of my son's death. I anxiously anticipated it with fear and trembling not knowing how I would handle re-living such a horrible time in my life. My counselor told me the story of elephants when I was speaking to her about my anxiety of this significant date. She told me elephants remember where their loved ones remains are and every year they go to the bones and cradle and caress them lovingly. It's as if they are remembering them with the sweetest of memories and all they meant to them. Never before did I think I could relate to the memory of an elephant. But on or around February 9th, I lovingly remember my boy.

Wow five years later.  I would have a five year old boy this year. I mean that's crazy.

I remember the funny things this year.  It seems odd to have anything funny related to this event but I remember looking at Jerry as the chaplain asked us all sorts of questions about whether or not we wanted to "bless" the body and if we wanted certain things that I didn't even know what they meant.  When she left I looked at him and asked, "Are we supposed to do that!?" And then we laughed.

I remember sweet things like my dad being in the room the entire 10 hours of labor until it was "time."  I remember watching "The Princess Bride" while in the hospital hoping that movie wouldn't be ruined forever after that night.  I remember ringing the delivery bell (a doorbell type button that rings through the hall signaling another baby was born) as I was wheeled away to the trauma floor knowing that I did deliver my sweet baby boy.  The hospital staff was just amazing and sensitive and caring.  Nurses cried with me and my doctor was overly attentive.

I remember the sad things like the rain falling outside my recovery window. I remember going to the funeral home to arrange his cremation. I remember that feeling so unnatural and wrong.  The attendant helping us gave us advice about losing a child. He said, "be kind to each other, you will grieve differently." Little did I know at the time how true that advice would be.  I remember falling to the floor in despair hearing the news that he was gone and waiting three days to deliver him.  I remember being afraid of holding him because I might die of heartbreak.  I remember being afraid of losing it at work, the grocery store, or just about anywhere.....I still am.

I remember who I was five years ago and the journey this day had started. The deepest revelations I've had is in my relationship with God.  From authentic feelings to the meaning of prayer, I have grappled with my faith like never before.  I am still learning so much but I am so open to this growth.  I find myself accepting, surrendering and living in the presence of God. I am living in a true relationship with Him rather than trying to live up to unrealistic expectations that I put on myself.  I'm excited about these realizations and the blessings that have come from the deepest of pains and suffering.  Some real light and clarity has come to me with God's help through this tragedy.

Looking back I remember this life being more like a roller coaster than anything else.  I'm noticing the repercussions I have from this day five years ago.  It's amazing how one tragic even can change you, from the good to bad.  I'm seeing that I see the world differently like never before. From anxiety, to trust issues, to PTSD, I am realizing I will never be the same and some things will be a constant battle.

But I also remember the moment when, through this event, I have developed a passion and a heart for those who suffer.  I'm remembering all of you who "understood" me yet have never gone through a loss like mine.  Those of you who walk this life, as I am, wondering how to be completely human yet love Christ at the same time.  We've come together in different circumstances because suffering happens and society doesn't know what to do with it.  I have a heart for us Christians who walk through life checking our relationship with God off of the obedient list instead of finding freedom in vulnerability.

Looking back has inspired me to look forward. Remembering my son and all he has brought to light also challenges me to continue growing in his memory.  I desire to be more vulnerable in sharing this story, to get behind the computer screen and share.  I hope to continue to help those suffering and searching for answers who, like me, wonder how God fits into all of the chaos.   I strive to never go back to who I was because that would be an easy life, but to have authenticity in every relationship and moment.

So I enter today with gratitude.  As I cradle and hold my sons' memory, I praise and thank God for the son He granted me and everything he has added to my life since then.  I spend the day looking at my daughters and realizing the miracle of birth and life.  I revel at the amazing husband I have been given and all the support he has given me since losing his only son too.  I bask in the hope that only God can give in this life and the suffering it brings.  And I take one step in front of the other, choosing to take this memory and use it to change hearts....changing hearts of fear, bitterness, and doubt.....to change hearts just like mine.  Thank you son, thank you Lord for the last five years of refinement, sifting, and metamorphosis.  May the next the next five years strengthen my wings to fly and soar in your presence.  

My Resolution to Fail

A new year is upon me. This presents itself as a time to reflect, a time to close the cover of a portion in time and open the cover of a new potential. It's a great time to set new goals and resolutions. However, year after year, this has always been a problem for me. I like the idea of resolutions, I support those that make them. I even make them....kind of.

The bottom line for me is I love setting goals but I hate failure.

A resolution is by definition is "a resolving to do something." Resolving means, "to make a firm decision about." When looking up the word "goal" it stated, "the purpose toward which an endeavor is directed; an objective." None of these definitions speak perfection to me. They don't state anything about actually being successful in your goal. It's a decision, an endeavor towards something. I love the word endeavor, it speaks adventure, high mountain tops and low valleys kind of adventures.

My other problem with these "goals" is I am entirely too unrealistic. I don't want to just work-out, I want to look like the people in the work-out video. I don't want to just eat right, I want to be unhealthy in how I go about it. I want to be a great mom but not just that, I want to be super mom. I want to make wholesome, organic, healthy meals every night. I want to have family and personal devotions. I want a daily exercise routine and to start juicing. I want quality time with my husband (that includes date nights), my kids, and myself. I want more time to write and read and .....and.....and..... all this with church rehearsals, dance for my girls, homework, and my full time job teaching (which I want to be fantastic at also).

To be honest, I'm exhausted, defeated, and discouraged before I have even gotten started. I don't know how to have goals without failure.

But as I looked up the word endeavor, I saw comparable words or phrases such as "try, attempt, seek, struggle, battle, and take pains with."

Yes, yes. I can attempt any one of these goals, I will struggle and battle. And most definitely I will "take pains" with not hitting the mark. Seek....I will search, search, and search.

Isn't the point of a resolution perfection or perseverance?  Isn't it about the journey, the chapter in our lives, and the lessons we will learn for trying?

So this year, 2014, although I have many "goals" I expect zero of them to be perfect. I expect many battles in which I lose. I expect highs and lows.

 Because of this I have two true resolutions. The first one I have is to be kind to myself. If I can do this,the rest will fall where it may. If I can do this, each success and failure will speak deep into my soul, helping me grow without self condemnation. It won't matter if I don't obtain the super hero status. Now that's a real goal worth fighting for.

The second one is to live in the moment. I want to live in the triumphs and trenches. I want to let go of the perception that I have control of my circumstances. I want to release these clenched moments to God.  I want to notice the sunsets, the snow capped mountains and the sparkle in my husbands' eyes. I want to freely giggle with my girls while chasing them around the house. I want to surrender, surrender, surrender. Surrender to my creator because He holds me so gently and diligently.  Surrender to the year and what it may hold.  Surrender to this chapter that has already been written.

So this year, I'm ready, I'm excited, I'm hopeful. Here's to you 2014....the great endeavor. Here's to not meeting my unrealistic expectations. Here's to loving and living life a little deeper.  Here's to crying harder and smiling bigger.  Here's to being k ind to myself and surrendering it all up......where my every day, every hour, and every second of this coming year belongs.

All Things Heathen and Santa III

It's that time of year again when I find myself standing in a ridiculously long Santa line with my 3 and 5 year old. My parents, brother and nephews joined to make it an extended family affair.  We all rotated in line and getting the kids dinner (that was a life-saver and I highly recommend it!).  I started to get annoyed at the 1-2 hour wait and then it dawned on me that I would be doing this for only another 3-5 years before they figure it out.  It was hard to believe that soon enough I would be looking at the line as I shopped with my teenagers, wishing I had little ones again. That thought helped my impatience a bit and finally it was our turn.  The girls sat and showed Santa all their wishes on their list and smiled really big for the camera.  My littlest finally sat on his lap and they truly had a magical time.  My oldest was surprised he talked! All she thought he said was "Ho Ho Ho!" And so commemorated another successful Santa trip.

This year as all of this has come around again, it dawned on me that there will be a time just as I have had where what is "real" becomes questioned.  I know they will figure out Santa has my writing and he looks different at every mall.  I know eventually they will smile and nod when I tell them this gift is from Santa.  They might hear from their school friends that he isn't real and wonder if this could be true.

What I also realized is that they will also do the same for their belief in God.  They will experience this life and wonder if He is who He says He is.  They will question His will and ways.  They will hear from their friends different beliefs or the lack thereof.  There will be a moment/moments when no matter how hard I try, all of what they know will have to be owned and truly believed by them.

You see they can get the foundation, the head knowledge, the stories.....but one day they will have to have their own relationship with God that I can't teach. My girls can watch and observe my relationship with God but I can't replicate it for them nor would I want to. This relationship, this moment where God is real to them is so personal, it's a fingerprint, a sacred secret that I can't wait for them to experience.

This world is cruel, heartless, and hard.  I can't protect them from this.  I know they will wrestle with how God fits into all of it, but another thing I know is He will always be there for them no matter what.

As I've struggled  with my own relationship with God amidst all the hurt, pain, and suffering; I have often felt weak.  Just when my questioning would get to a place of leaving the faith, I found myself surrendering to a deeper place.  Just when I realized, my God was a holy Santa I knew I was living a lie. And I had to dig, dig, dig.  I found amongst my rubble that there was a solid foundation of truth that couldn't be denied.  I may not have understood it at the time, but it was too great and obvious to walk away from.

So as my girls see the holiday magic fade away through the years, I know they will have the foundation of truth poured into their hearts.  As they question this Jesus Christ that they innocently grew to surrender to, I know in their rubble, He will be the foundation to rebuild on.  As they rebuild, I pray that they too will know and love Christ with a fierce authenticity that I am growing to love about my relationship.  I pray they understand that He is more than a wish list and that they can continually surrender to a relationship and not anything else.

So this season I will continue to stand in the Santa line, make their elaborate wish lists, and stuff their stockings.  I know this too will fade and I have a few more years of these kinds of holidays.  They might catch me touching the elf and realize my wrapping paper is the same as Santa's.  They will question how Santa can get down the chimney if there isn't one and how the elf only moves when they are sleeping.

I also know they will question how God can know everyone's thoughts, and care specifically for them and even a sparrow for that matter.  Or how He loves us despite our mistakes and lack of affection towards him.  Or how He dwells within us and in heaven. I could go on, in fact I could do this all day....

Although the month of December has its holiday magic, each day I will pour the truth of Christ into them.  I will continue to lay the foundation that will be there in their pain and struggle and I can't wait for the day that they become personal with Him through their questions and fears.  And although I can't create that relationship for them, I pray I can show them one that is vulnerable, honest, and authentic every day of every year.

Open Cabinets

While putting together a fantastic Pinterest recipe the other day, I opened the cabinets to get out the necessary spices.  After sprinkling the goodness into the pot I needed another saucepan out of the bottom cabinet.  As I read the next set of instructions, I realized I needed to get my serving spoon out of the dishwasher. Then another item out of the pantry, and another out of the silverware drawer.  As I finally finished my last touches on the meal and got it in the oven, I was exhausted.  Feeling accomplished I turned around and saw virtually every cabinet door in my kitchen open with every ingredient and utensil sprawled all over the place.  After all the work I had put into the meal, I had so much more work to do cleaning up the mess.

I realized something that day that I've never known about myself.....I hate putting things away.

I don't mind putting the clothes in the washer and dryer, washing the dishes in the dishwasher, making my favorite dinners, or going grocery shopping.  It's the aftermath of all these activities I naturally dislike.  I wasn't aware of my discontent until I discovered this pattern.  The laundry would stay in the dryer, a pile of hand-washed dishes would grow, and grocery bags would lay in the middle of my kitchen.

The task itself isn't bad, it's the extra effort it takes to follow it completely through that really gets me stuck.

And so it is my life.  I'm getting used to spilling my guts, being real and just letting it all out.  I've got everything laid out like a big fat mess all over the place.  The task of getting to this point has been difficult but now I am able to do it with ease.  Talking to "my people," getting vulnerable and authentic....dealing with my "ish" is starting to feel normal.

The recipe is complete, the hard work has been put into every detail in perfecting my meal but my cabinets are open and the messy counters are indicative of what is going on inside.

Ultimately I've become ok with the disheveled pantry and the unorganized tupperware shelf. I'm able to let my girls play with the utensils and throw them back in the drawer like a toy chest.  I'm accustomed to the chaos inside, but I've also been accustomed to hide it.

I don't want to hide my mess with closed cabinet doors because I know there is a place for everything I've put out on the table.  I almost feel like it's the home stretch, once I figure out a place to put all of my ish away, I will arrive.

But every time I clean out my cabinets, 3 months later the mess comes back, it just looks different. That's exactly how I feel.  I put things away just to find my cabinets open to a whole new mess less than a week later.  And so I become disheartened to come to the conclusion that I will always have a mess and be a mess.

Yet, as I pulled out the Pinterest masterpiece from the oven and took a warm bite of this piece of heaven I created I thought,"it was worth it".  It was worth my time and effort, my sore feet and all.  When I remember that bite of goodness I don't remember the mess I made or the clean-up I had to undertake.  I remember the experience of the final product and that made it worth every blood, sweat and tear I had endured In the creation process.

So every new chapter I face on this journey, every new discovery, post, or pain; it is a new masterpiece......a new mess.  I will take out the different ingredients the next recipe of life calls for and turn around to see the results of making it through.  Putting things away takes time and just when I put it all back where it belongs, it's time to start all over again.  So for every recipe that calls for pain, heartache, and frustration......I will look forward to saying, "it was worth it." Until then, clear the counters......I'm making a mess.

Don't Stay Strong

Don't stay strong

Recently a friend of mine had a tragic loss. After experiencing a miscarriage, was devastated and reached out to me so I could pray for her. She also admitted that several people had been telling her to "stay strong." I could tell that this stung, it slowly tore her down and saddened her inner being. She told me it brought her guilt because she knew she wasn't strong and she couldn't fix that. I completely understood.

Luckily I didn't get that wonderful (or not) nugget of advice when dealing with my own tragedy. Here's the truth, the little nugget I tell others who face hardship/trials/tragedy is "fall apart."  Make sure you cry, make sure you experience every emotion that comes. Fully embrace the anger, frustration, and pain.  Pray with it and through it. Pound the bed with clenches fists and scream in your pillow.  Cry until no more tears come, raise your fist to the ceiling, beg God for mercy. Don't be strong.

I forced myself to so this, I completely fell apart and was a shell of my former self. Screw being strong. There is no way. I would be fake and phony and a complete fraud. I.just.couldn't.

But I battled the "Christian me." I would never allow myself to fall apart. I was strong because I felt I had to be. I felt that I wouldn't be someone that completely relies on God. I really wanted to keep it together so that others would see how awesome God was in my life. I wanted to be a witness, a light....I wanted to be different.

But the grief was too heavy, the pain was too deep to uphold this standard I put upon myself. I completely fell apart and like my friend, I battled guilt for not being stronger. The only thing I was able to tell others was, "this is where the rubber meets the road. I believe what I do, or I don't."

The most amazing thing started to happen. It felt great to be weak. I didn't clench onto my life and rely on my actions, my advice, or my abilities. I wasn't able to be the poster Christian child. I just was.

I realized the selfishness that came with my efforts to "take control" and put on the front that I'm impermeable because I have God. I thought that I had God's job to do.....but He is so much bigger than me. I can imagine that He wouldn't want to build anything on the lie that I had it altogether.

It has been in these moments I have been the most mailable. I realize, it's not up to me to show others how amazing God is. It's up to God to show others how amazing He is. He may happen to use me, or not.

Falling apart has been so freeing. It's been so beautiful and awful. I'm living the "when I'm weak, He is strong." It is so great to know I don't have to be!

I think the best thing I can do, or be, is broken. Somehow, someway, someday God may even use me...the poster child of weak.