Dominoes

For those of you who are used to hearing from me through frequent posts on CaringBridge and now hoping to be able to keep up on what is happening with our family through this blog - I apologize for only posting a few new updates here over the past months. As I was thinking about everything this morning, I realized how much of life is like dominoes - at least my life is. It's been 2-1/2 months since Tom died, and I've had one event fall into the next in rapid succession ever since. I knew in advance that it would play out this way, but that hasn't made it any easier. As I was trying to prepare myself for the inevitability of his death, I was trying equally hard to find a way to celebrate the important life events that were to follow immediately after. Those of my readers who are closest to us will be familiar with the sequence, but for those of you a little more distanced, let me explain how the "dominoes" of our life have been lined up.

Tom died on March 12th. One week later, we had his Memorial Service. The following week, our youngest son, Peter, turned 13! Finally an official "teenager" - a momentous occasion in his life and one I wanted to make special and significant. Less than two weeks after that, I had my first birthday without my husband here to make it special. 10 days after my birthday, our son, Tim, turned 18! Another huge milestone in our children's lives, and so much anticipated in his - again - I wanted to make it a day where he was celebrated. Twelve days after his birthday, Tim had his Senior Prom; it was hard to help him prepare and celebrate with him without his dad. Then there was Mother's Day. Tom always went out of his way to honor me as the mother of his children and to make it a special day for me. This year, Matt & Melissa sent me beautiful flowers and Peter used some of the money he earned by selling his toys to a friend to buy me a very nice candle holder, but the actual experience of the day was hard. I tried to get the worst part of the yard cleaned up, mowed, raked, etc. before it rained again. In the process, our lawn tractor broke down (again) and we all ended up in the yard in the rain yelling at one another and crying and just having a general family "melt-down". It wasn't pretty. This past Monday, Tom's oldest son, Matthew celebrated his birthday - I know his dad would have called him first thing in the morning to sing "Happy Birthday" to him over the phone. I didn't. I could only message him birthday wishes on Facebook. Today, Tim will graduate high school. It's been a difficult 2 years for him as he transitioned from home school to his charter high school. Getting through the past 8 months since his father's diagnosis with brain cancer, has made it incredible that he's even going to "walk" up there tonight to receive that diploma! It may not be with "highest honors", but I give him my "highest honors"! I'm so proud of him and the young man he is becoming. But it will be hard to be there without his dad by my side.

A week from Sunday, we will have his graduation party at our home. I have been trying to have some huge repair, updating and remodeling done on the house and driveway in preparation for this event. So much of it has depended on us having dry weather - something that has not happened. Instead we've had record rainfalls and my clay driveway and yard are saturated, soft, and there is a lot of standing water. The city has imposed road restrictions on our gravel access roads so that the heavy cement and gravel trucks are unable to use them to deliver the materials. Somehow, we got the first load of cement in here unaware of the existing restriction, but could not get the second load or the gravel for the rest of the driveway. As of yesterday, the city doesn't intend to remove the restriction until after June 5th - the day of Tim's party! So, we are going ahead with our plans for the graduation party, but my dreams have been seriously tested and challenged and adjusted.

The day after Tim's graduation party would have been Tom's 60th birthday. Our family will be able to be together on that day, but I haven't been able to even think about how we will go about observing the day or remembering him. I want to begin something that will become our tradition to remember his birthday - I just don't know what that might be yet.

Three weeks after the graduation party, it will be our first Father's Day without Tom and we will be packing for our annual family vacation week at a camp in Northern Minnesota. We have been going there the same week every year for 10 years - half of the time Tom and I were married. It was the first question everyone asked when we first learned of Tom's cancer and the continual question from my kids as his illness progressed into hospice and finally his death - "will we still go to Camp Van Vac?" The answer was always - "yes". It was the one thing that we did for our family and the one thing we've all come to look forward to for many months before and talk about for months afterward. We will go. It will be the first time since Tom's death that we will be able to be just "us" in a place he loved and remember our many times together with him there. I know it will be "bittersweet".

At the end of our week of vacation, Stacy is expecting our second grandchild. We will probably come home, unpack and repack to visit her and her family and celebrate this joyous event! She has been so excited being the mommy of Charlotte and now this new baby - and we have not been able to be there for her in the way or to the degree that I would have wanted to be. So many important life events in so many people's lives. So many heartbreaking events in the lives of people I care about. I would have wanted to celebrate and anticipate and comfort and support them, too, if only I could have. I know everyone "understands", but I continue to feel that life is passing by so quickly, and I will never have these moments again to do over. More "dreams" that have died. More losses. If you have felt neglected, or forgotten by us, please forgive us. We have not forgotten you and your struggles and your celebrations. My thoughts and prayers have been with you and for you, too!

Once we are through all of this, it will be time to be looking ahead to a new school year. Peter will be changing schools and starting at the same school that Tim is graduating from. They are adding middle school grades in the fall, and he will be able to go there a year earlier than we had planned on. But, because it is out of our district for bussing, I will have to transport him both ways every day until he starts driving - 3 years from now! I will also have to be working and earning an income starting about the same time. I have not been a part of the "work force" for over 20 years, and in a tough economy, I don't know how that will work out. I have had the thought that I might be able to work for the school that he will be attending, as they are expanding, and would probably need additional support staff, but I've been too busy to check it out - until yesterday.

I called the school office yesterday to see if they might be looking to hire for the next school year. I was surprised to learn that they are currently advertising for two positions and I need to apply quickly. Please be in prayer for me in this as this would really be the best "fit" for Peter and I for the next 5 years!

Needless to say, we haven't had much time to "process" our loss and our grief. Also needless to say is that we are dealing every minute of every day with the emotional, spiritual and practical backwash of Tom's illness and death. One thing is important to say, though. We have continued to have an outpouring of love and support, both emotionally and practically, from so many people as we struggle to hold it all together and keep moving forward. So many times we've been at a breaking point, only to have someone step into the darkness and encourage us and give us a hand up out of the mire! For this I will be eternally grateful and I know you will be rewarded by the Lord!

So, it's time to move on today, and see where this domino falls! I'm so thankful that my God and Father knows the plans He has for me and assures me that they are not to harm me but are for my good - to give me a hope and a future!

The Redeemer

When I have so much emotion going on, so much to do and so little time and energy for any of it, why should I "reinvent the wheel"? I'm finding my heart's cry published already in so many songs like this one:

THE REDEEMER

Sometimes I just wanna start over

'Cause everything looks like a wreck

And I need the courage to carry on

'Cause I can't see what's ahead

And there are places I've wished I could be

Battles I've wanted to win

Dreams that have slipped through my hands

I may never get back again

But I'm still a dreamer, a believer

Oh, I lost my faith in so many things

But I still believe in You

'Cause You can make anything new

Sometimes I just wish we could say

All the things that are easy to hear

Ignore the injustice we see

And explain every unanswered prayer

But I'd rather speak honestly

And wear a tattered heart on my sleeve

'Cause in the middle of my broken dreams

Redemption is here

And I'm still a dreamer, a believer

Oh, I lost my faith in so many things

But I still believe in You

'Cause You are the answer, the Redeemer

Oh, I've given up on to many things

But I'm not giving up on You

'Cause You can make anything new

I don't have every answer in life

But I'm trusting You on day at a time

'Cause You can make a weak heart stay alive

Forever

And this is where heaven and earth collide

I lift my hands, I give my life

This is how my weary heart stays alive

Oh, I'm still a dreamer, still a believer

And You are the answer, the Redeemer

'Cause You can make anything new

Yeah, You can make anything new

(Sanctus Real, Pieces of a Broken Heart)

The Cross

Yesterday was Good Friday. It's a day to reflect on the cross of Jesus and it's significance in our lives. A month ago, I posted a blog called "At the Crossroads". It was written the day after Tom's memorial service when I was feeling like I didn't know what direction to move in now. Today marks 6weeks since Tom passed away. I haven't written much in those weeks, but I've had several thoughts that I need to share; and I need to do it today. The cross is a symbol of death. In the past six weeks, I've been thinking a lot about death... mostly Tom's... and what it has resulted in. I've been trying to take care of all of the "things" that need to be done while struggling to figure out how we go forward from here and living with the day-to-day demands of life and the constant emotional upheaval in the lives of my children and myself that affects how we communicate and function day by day. The cross has also become a symbol of "direction" in my life. We all know that a compass rose indicates 4 different directions. We use it to navigate from one place to another ... usually in a linear method (one step in front of the other). Lately, I've been seeing each day in terms of all four directions at once. Think of it this way: if the cross were laid on the floor and you were looking at it from the base, we start each day standing in the center at the place where the two beams cross. Our thoughts, prayers, and activities each day need to be directed in each of the four directions. The long "base" is our past. We need to spend some time reflecting on what is past, completing what is yet undone, learning its lessons, seeking forgiveness for our mistakes and sins, making amends and restitution, making "closure" a reality for what is over, etc. Then, we need to move to the right and to the left as we take care of the schedule and needs of the present day - work, errands, appointments, fulfill commitments, relationship needs, etc. And finally, we need to look ahead to the future - set goals, make plans, seek counsel, and take risks to move forward. To get "stuck" on any one of the 4 "arms" of the path of the cross is to lack balance and to be stunted in our growth.

Caring People

Grief Therapy #2 says:

"Be open to the pain of your

broken heart. God---and caring

people---will enter through its

brokenness."

While I'm very aware that God's presence is surrounding me, comforting me, insulating me, and providing for me, I feel separated, or "detached" from the intimacy of personal relationship with Him right now. I blame myself. I haven't devoted myself to seeking Him, I haven't been putting Him "first". I know. I have been absorbed with something overwhelming; it's true, but it's not an excuse. Relationships cannot be assumed or taken for granted. Sometimes I think I take my relationship with Jesus for granted - He's so much a part of me, and I of Him; but, like all neglected relationships, attention wanders to more "immediate" things and passion cools and eventually grows cold. The "other" moves on and suddenly you feel left behind. You begin to wonder what you need to do to catch up ... to restore relationship and intimacy.

In Revelation chapter 2, the Spirit addresses this when He says: "I know your deeds and your perseverance ... you have persevered and have endured hardships for my name and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first." That's where I find myself now: remembering the intimacy I had with the Lord, and desperately wanting to find that again. And He tells me how I can - do the things I did at first ... repent, believe, seek Him, trust Him, love Him. I've lost my husband. The Lord is my husband now. I need Him more now than ever. He will enter in through my brokenness.

And caring people ... so many caring people have and continue to enter in through our brokenness and pour out their love and concern! We are so thankful for all of those who have prayed, listened, and given of their time and talents to care for us!

Somedays ... everything hurts

"How are you?" "How are you doing today?" "Are you O.K.?" We all ask that many times every day. It's the kind of question that both complete strangers and close friends ask. It's meant to be friendly, kind, concerned. But for me right now, it's a question I don't know how to answer. What is "O.K."? And what kind of a scale do I use to measure "how" I am today? What words do you use to describe something for which there are no words? Or the words that accurately describe how I "am" are words I can't or choose not to use?

Some people don't ask. They just look at me with sadness or pity in their eyes. Some people just avoid me altogether, looking away, or pretending they didn't see me. I know that they don't know what to say either. I've been there; done that to others myself. I understand. I know they care - deeply - and that they just don't know what to say.

Today, one friend gave me a CD of songs that she put together - songs that minister to her pain as she walks through her own recent loss and heartache. I know she understands how much it hurts and how very impotent words are to help, but for some reason, words set to music can pour healing oil on the deepest wounds. Thank you, my friend!

Another friend gave me a little book called "Grief Therapy" by Karen Katafiasz. It's only 35 pages long and each page is a "lesson" about grief. I'm thinking about posting one a day ... kind of a "Thought for the Day". Here's Day #1:

"Respect the power of grief.

Know that it can affect you

psychologically, physically,

and spiritually in intense and

sometimes surprising ways.

Stay gentle with yourself."

Today, everything hurts. Every thought, every memory, every glance, every part of my body. I feel like I have the proverbial elephant sitting on my chest. I don't know whether to give in to it and just muddle around in the puddle of my thoughts and emotions, or to look for some distraction and escape.

I decided to give myself "permission" to withdraw a bit and spend time alone in my room for awhile. I'm following the advice to "stay gentle with myself". I won't feel bad or guilty about "wasting" the time to get done something that needs to be done today.

One Flesh Minus One/Half

In the book of Genesis, chapter 2, we read the story of the creation of the first woman. God took a rib from the man He had made and from it, He made woman and brought her to her mate, her husband. In verse 23, the man said, "this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called 'woman,' for she was taken out of man. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh." We've all heard these verses quoted at weddings. I spent a lot of my married life trying to understand what it meant to be "one flesh" (beyond the obvious, of course). I even wondered if we had actually become "one flesh". God says in another place, that He will take our hearts of stone and give us hearts of "flesh". Could it be that God, who looks at the heart rather than the outward "flesh", meant that He would make the man and the woman "one heart"?

So, now that my husband is gone, I've been asking the Lord this question: "Does that mean that I am now 'one-half flesh'? One-half of a living heart/spirit? Have you heard it said that a surviving spouse has died of "a broken heart"? I can understand how this could be true now. My head tells me that the question itself reflects the loss I feel, the emptiness, the sense of lost identity and direction. Today I read this:

"You are not exactly who you were. The person you lost was part of your identity. You were someone's mother or aunt or spouse or brother. You continue to be that person in your heart and memory, but there's a vacant place where your loved one stood. And the loss of this person has subtracted from you part of who you were. Eventually you will take steps to move from the old to the new identity." (Footnote: from Beyond Grief by Carol Staudacher) The author goes on to say, "This may be hard to grasp at this time, but someday...." - Experiencing Grief by H. Norman Wright.

Someday.... but not today.

Through the Shadows

In the weeks before Tom died, the Lord ministered to me from Psalm 23 about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. At first, I knew we were walking together, Tom and I, hand in hand. Death loomed over us on both sides and cast it's shadow on us, but the valley through which we walked was peaceful and quiet. As we neared the "end", I could see a great, warm light at the other side of the valley. It was the destination to which the valley led. A few days before he died, the Lord showed me that I needed to put Tom's hand in His for the rest of the journey and release him to his Shepherd. That was so hard to do, but he was so weak and so far "gone" that I wanted him to move on quickly and be free of that body of death; so I prayed and saw myself put his hand in Jesus', almost like a father hands over his daughter's hand to her betrothed. In Ezekial 47:1-12, Ezekial had a vision of a river coming out from the temple of God...the river of life. In verse 5, he says that "...the water had risen and was deep enough to swim in - a river that no one could cross." The Lord showed me that Tom had to cross that river and that I couldn't go with him; only the Shepherd Himself could lead him across into Life. And so, on March 12th, just after midnight, Tom and Jesus crossed over that river into Life and death no longer had any hold on him!

Psalm 23 is about going "through" the valley - implying a passage that is entered and exited. It hit me suddenly and hard that only Tom was going to pass "through" and come out the other side ... the kids and I would remain there - in the shadow of death - for quite some time. And so, here we stand in the shadows - our memories.

Last night, I began going through the many cards that others have sent or that were brought to the Memorial Service on Saturday. So many kind and comforting words, memories and sentiments were shared, and again, I was blessed by knowing how much Tom meant to so many people! The printed sentiment on one card, though, seemed to sum up this time and my experience of it. I'd like to share it with you today ...

"The time comes when those whom we have loved the longest and the best will travel far ahead into a place of joy and rest...

And we must walk a lonely path through the shadows for a while without a certain kindred voice, a dear, familiar smile ---

Yet each day brings us nearer to horizons yet unknown and even when the way is dark, we never walk alone,

For memories travel with us toward the happy destination where we will join our loved ones in eternal celebration."