Til The Season Comes Again/We Will Always Have Christmas

Dear Caleb,
The sunset was so vibrant. The sky was painted pink, and the sun like an orange, shone along the edge of the  plains in invitation to the celebration beyond sunset...as if heaven was right there - on the other side of the horizon.
So close.
If only it was that easy to drive to the edge of time to see you.

It was so beautiful.
To think you are living in the midst of perfect beauty is amazing.


You know I've been listening to Christmas carols.
Something we always enjoyed - even in the middle of July.
I can imagine you singing with all of heaven in the presence of the King we adore.
I know my limited imagination doesn't even touch on how wonderful it is.

There was this Christmas song on the radio about the time of the sunset.
I'd never heard it before, and the lyrics were so - us.
It touched my heart.
It was our song...our family.
It made me smile, and cry.

I'll share some of the lyrics -
"Come gather round the table, in the spirit of family and friends.
And we'll all join hands and remember this moment, til the season comes round again."

We all remember and cherish the moment - the time we shared last Christmas
when you were home.
Gathered round the table, laughing and talking and playing games, and eating.
Joining hands in prayer and thanksgiving for being together again, for the gift of Christmas.
It was epic.

Oh, and these lines - I know how much you loved taking pictures (smile.)
"Let's all smile for the picture, And we'll hold it as long as we can.
May it carry us through, should we ever get lonely til the season comes round again."

Yes, that smiley Christmas picture from last year is priceless.
Oh, the memories of Christmas with you.
All those pictures - I treasure them all, you know.
Remember the Santa hats, and all the times of trying to get us all in the picture
while the timer was ticking away on the camera.
I see last year's picture everyday (it's saved on my phone you know.)
It carries me through when I get lonely for your smile.
Ah, til the season comes round again.

I like these lines -
"One night, holy and bright, Shining with love from our hearts.
By a warm fire, let's lift our heads high and be thankful we're here
Til this time next year."

Last Christmas was holy and bright - I know the Lord blessed our time together.
It was such a wonderful time.
You've always kept the fire going - yes, in the fireplace, and in our hearts, too.
It was so special having you home - one more Christmas.
I never took our Christmases for granted...ever.
The most joyous time of the year.
Playing games, visiting and laughing and staying up late, snacking and feasting...
Christmas Eve services, reading the Christmas story and praying as a family.
All those moments live in my heart.
I'm so glad for every single moment we shared together.

Oh my dear son, I didn't know we wouldn't have time together this year as the song states, and yet
I know -
We will always have Christmas.
We will have Christmas together- even if we are apart.
We are together in Christ, in the spirit of his love.
Nothing can ever take that away.

We just didn't know we would have to wait for a season in the future to be together again -
beyond this life.

My dear son,
it is so hard not to have you here with us.
I long for your hug, your presence, your smile and laughter.

Yet, we know - you are in the best place of all.
You are celebrating Christmas everyday,
till we are together again.

I so anticipate that season
when we can all hold hands as a family, and laugh and smile together again...
and hug, and praise Jesus in person.

Till then-
sweet son of mine, know that we will make the best of the time we have here, like you did.
We will look forward to the new year - it brings us that much closer to being with you and Jesus.
Evidently, we still have work to do here (smile.)
So, we will live our lives to the fullest - like you did.
We will carry you with us in our hearts, remembering your witty wisdom, and tremendous example of a life well-lived.

Till then-
we will cherish the moment in time we had together with you, when we all held hands and laughed and loved.

When we get together this year as a family, I know you will be with us in spirit, in our hearts, and
on that night,
holy and bright, shining with love from our hearts,
by a warm fire,
we will lift our heads high and we will think of you -

We will pray and be thankful for Christmas, for Christ our Messiah.
and that you blessed us all so much while you were here.
We will rejoice because you live beyond this life, and you are here in our hearts -
And that one day,
one very fine day,
we will be together.

I can't wait!

Till then-
Til the season we're together again -

Merry Christmas my son.
I love you forever,
Mom


Here is the song-
Listen to this short but touching song.

Yes, we will all be together again.

 

When The Mountain Looks Too High Don't Look At The Potatoes

It's been a tough few days.
It's getting closer to Thanksgiving, and today is the nine month mark of when Caleb left this world.
My days have been in teary shambles as I've tried to keep going.
Last night I couldn't go anymore.
Everything was crashing in and the reality of the absence of my son was too evident.
I had been to the cemetery, and my insides sunk.
How could it be that the cemetery is part of my life now?
I rush out there some days, to check on things, put out new arrangements and make sure there are no tumbleweeds nesting near his spot.
I tossed some tumbleweeds away, and cleared off the pine needles. Seeing his name on the marker broke my heart.
I crumbled as I drove away.

I had told myself I could do Thanksgiving.
If I did a little bit at a time it would be all right.
My husband picked up a turkey while I was gone to Texas.
One thing out of the way.
When I got home I picked up a few things here and there.

But, yesterday did it.
It started with two bags of red potatoes, and a big bag of sweet potatoes.
I looked at them and imagined peeling and cooking all those potatoes - enough for a company of Marines is what it looked like to me at that moment.
The potatoes were as big as footballs.... a hundred pounds of them (reality-probably fifteen pounds.)

I tried not to think about them, but after I got home with a few more items (green beans that were each three feet long,) I melted.
My sweet TAPS friend called me (yes, I think of her as my friend even though we have never met. She is a gem and a godsend.) I told her I couldn't do it.
Thanksgiving was overwhelming.
The thought of all those potatoes and green beans and stuffing and bread and cranberries and pies was just too much for me to think of preparing....besides everything else.

"It's a huge mountain," I told her. "I can't climb it right now. It was those potatoes that did it...and the bags and bags of green beans."

We talked, cried and laughed (I cried, I don't think she did.)
By the time we hung up I felt better.
Still overwhelmed, but better.
I could see about getting some help...or a caterer.

This morning I woke up and thought I cannot do this.

"God, you have to be my strength. I don't have any. I am totally broken right now."

I visited with one of my sons. He may not know how much he blessed me.
We talked about Caleb, and heaven.
He talked about Jesus and all He went through for us.
It was good.

I took one step.
I made the stuffing.
Then I tackled those huge green beans.
I went to the grocery store.
Sometimes that is a major deal.
I really didn't want to go in.
I had no strength.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

I got the items I needed, visited with a few people.
Difficult days, and the tears just come.
Unannounced.
The sweet lady who told me she was praying for me may not know how much those words meant to me today.

I went back home.
Before I knew it, I had the sweet potatoes done, and had baked a cake.

God intervened when I accidentally hit the pan of boiling cranberries - boiling water flew toward me,
spilling on my hand.
But, you know what?
It didn't burn.
THAT was God taking care of me.

This afternoon I had a call from a Recon mom.
I also had a call from one of Caleb's Recon brothers.
Wonderful blessings.

Yes, it's been tough.
Very, very tough.
My heart feels like it is in shreds.
But, even so -
God is faithful.

He gets me through somehow.
He sends blessings like the phone calls, the visit with my son, and saving my hand from burns.

There are blessings in the valley.
When I look at the huge mountain before me
and it looks too high ....
I know now -
I shouldn't look at the potatoes.


PS. I have to share - added blessing - my bathroom that has been in the process since April was finished today! The plumber and the tile guys may not know how they blessed me when they said, "Finished!"

Tonight I say, Good night.
Indeed, my Lord is my strength, my light and my salvation.
Even in these difficult times it is well with my soul.
Selah.

Leaning On The Everlasting Ever Ready Arms

I am always His little girl, his daughter.
I'm never too old to let Him comfort me.
I am glad for that.
Tonight I need to lean on my Lord.

Father, I'm tired. I thank you for your strength that gets me through everyday. I praise you for your constant love, and care.
I thank you that you know how I feel, and it's ok.

This road is rough. I know I couldn't make it without you.
Some days there are tons of tears.
Some days I'm numb.
Today I am spent.
There is no energy left.
I am bewildered.
It is still so beyond my comprehension that I won't see my son again in this life.
If I think too hard, I start to panic.
So, I stop, and put it all in your hands.
You don't want me to look past today.
At this point I can't. It is too much to take in.
You know that.
One minute at a time I can make it through.
One step at a time, with you holding my hand.

Tonight I curl up on your lap, and rest my head against your shoulder.
I can cry here, and I know you will hold me.
I am tired.
I know things can't ever be the way they were, and it hurts.

It's hard because I know outwardly it looks like everything is ok, but everyday it's because of you that I move and have my being.
Everyday my heart breaks all over again.
I miss my son.
And yet, I know he lives in heaven with you.
I have that hope that I will see him again.
But, for now, it is a rugged road.

Thank you for being faithful.
For assuring me that you are there for me - always.

Ok. I will rest.
I will be still and know that you are God.
I will be still and put my hope in you, my Father.
I will rest and take no thought for tomorrow for you are already there.

Re: I Drive Your Truck, And Other SUVs and Cars Left Behind

                                 Eighty nine cents in the ashtray....
                          Dog Tags hanging from the rearview mirror....

                                 People's got their ways of coping.
                                         I've got mine....

                                I burn up every back road in this town.
                I find a field and tear it up, till all the pain's a cloud of dust.
                 Yes, sometimes I drive your truck.  ~ I Drive Your Truck

Wow.
Song of the year 2013, CMA Awards.
Taken from a true story - a son KIA in Afghanistan.
The truck he left behind.
The family who drives it.

Lyrics hit home to heartbroken families who have had to say good bye too soon-

My many friends who have their children's vehicles - I know.
We understand.

Remembering the day Caleb's belongings were delivered....
The back doors of the Mayflower swung open.
The first thing I saw was Caleb's vehicle.
The driver backed it down the ramp slowly, onto our driveway.
My son's Trail Blazer....
His name was written on a sheet of white paper, left on the dashboard.
The driver handed me the keys.
Caleb's name was written on a tag attached to the key ring.

This was it.
Reality.
My son wasn't driving it - ever again.

That morning I stood in the driveway and sobbed.

He found this SUV online in a dealership in Parker.
I was going to meet with my writer friends in Parker the next day, so we went together.
I dropped him off at the dealership, and he bought it.

It took him to California.
It was his other car...he really loved driving his Harley.


It's hard to put into words all I was feeling that day.
Flashbacks to when he first started driving.
How he teased me about putting a hole in the floor where I was stepping on invisible brakes.
Memories of when he left for Iraq and how I didn't want anyone to move his vehicle - a blue Dodge Dakota.
It needed to stay where he parked it.
I cried when my husband drove it.
It needed to stay where it was.
It didn't have to make sense.
It was how I felt.

Back to the Trail Blazer, and its' last journey home in a moving van.
It had been parked in a compound on base as I understand, for months -
waiting to make its' journey home.
It was the last thing to go into the Mayflower.



I ran my hand over the black exterior.
My son's ride.
Miles and adventures.
Now,
Caleb's vehicle wasn't going anywhere with him behind the wheel.
Hard to swallow.

His vehicle sat in the driveway for a while.
I didn't want it moved.
I couldn't stand the thought of it going anywhere.

Till one day... it needed to be started since the weather had been so cold.
It started right up.
I turned the radio on.
Of course, it was set for California stations, not Colorado.
But, it was on my favorite station.
I thought - that was so Caleb.
I whispered, 'Thank you,' as tears streamed down my face.
It was a small thing, but it touched my heart.

There are times when I drive his vehicle, and I feel so close to Caleb.
Other times it is too hard to think about driving it.

It is parked in the driveway.
Receipts remain where they were.
Keys stay in the console. I don't know what they're for, but it's ok.
The workout bar is in the back.
The horseshoe stays where it was.

It's just a vehicle.
I realize that.
But, it's a part of Caleb's life.
It helps me to see it, to clean it, to drive it.
It has a distinct smell that has not left.
A clean, fresh scent.
Like a new car.

Sometimes I sit in the driver's seat.
I just sit.
I soak up the thought of Caleb sitting there, his hands on the steering wheel,
jamming to the music, windows down, trucking down the freeway - free as the breeze.

Living his life.
It's how it should be.

Only it's not how it is.

Having his vehicle helps....
There are some things that just do.
It may or may not make sense.
It's just how it is.
I'm ok with that.


In case you didn't hear the song, I Drive Your Truck, here it is.

Some of you know exactly how it feels.
Some of you don't, and that's ok.

Through The Darkness

It's dark.
The stillness of early morning reaches in and quiets my thoughts.

Your peace fills my heart.

I'm taken back a few months ago to March in California
That early morning darkness on base, Camp Pendleton,
when I walked to the main building, listening to the silence of a world still asleep
Then, in the distance, I heard it -
the faint call of Marine cadence.
Though the world slept, there they were,
the disciplined, the few, the proud,
running to the time of duty requiring total sacrifice.

I'll never forget the peace that washed over me.
It was a familiar sound to my son who wasn't there.
It was sad but,
I felt at home.
I felt safe.
The cadence brought back Caleb's years of serving.
The love, the loyalty, the integrity.
The commitment, dedication, perseverance.
All the obstacles he had overcome.

Quiet confidence.
Caleb had that.
In all humility, he gave his all in everything he did.

Yes, that's it.
In this darkness,
there is quiet confidence.

Even though tears fall.
Even though the days are hard.
Even though in the morning when I wake the harsh reality hits again.
Even though.....

Yes, there, deep inside is unwavering confidence - in
 knowing that my God has been faithful in
getting me through each and every moment.

This morning it's there - that feeling.
the punch-in-the-stomach, I-miss-Caleb.

I know without a doubt where my son is.
He's having the everlasting time of his life.

But, I miss him.
I miss that his time here, is over.

In the silence sadness surrounds me, but so does peace.
I'm heartbroken without him.
I know where he is, and that we will be together again - .
I know I've said it before....
it's being here without him that's hard.

And yet, every time I think of Caleb
I have to smile.
I may be crying,
but I have to smile.
He always has that effect on me.
I don't ever want to lose that.
I don't ever want his smile and humor to grow dim.
Ever.

You know, I think God knows that.
I may not be able to see Caleb, but his life is so a part of mine
he will always be here
making me smile, making me laugh.

I really think so.
I have confidence in that.

Thank you Father for your word.
In quietness and confidence shall be my strength.
I believe.
Through tears and heartache,
I believe.

Making The Drive/ For Caleb

Friday, September 27.
I had to do it.
For Caleb.

I don't like driving in the mountains and refuse to drive over mountain passes.
The tiny railings that exist on the edge of steep drop offs on the side of mountains have never given me any sense of security.
Really? Like  those little things are going to stop a car from going over the edge.

Some mountain roads are narrow, two lane.
Think about that - especially if you're not the one driving against the mountain wall.

With those thoughts not in my mind, I told my husband I'd drive.
Nothing unusual about that.
I do that sometimes when we leave home on the plains - I have no problem driving on a four lane interstate with plenty of room - no steep descents in sight.
My husband usually gets to work on some paperwork for at least an hour....or he dozes.
At the end of an hour or two, he usually drives.

Not on Friday.
I drove.
One hour, two hours, and I kept on driving.
We got up into the high country, and it was beautiful.
I thought about Caleb.
I prayed.
I can do this.
I need to insert here, there are some four lanes in the mountains, too.
That helps a little - not much, but a little.
There are still those tiny little railings on the edge.

I drove through the mountains.
I drove over two passes (most of the second one.)
I drove through fog.
I drove through rain.
I drove through snow.
I kept saying, "This is so beautiful!"
"This is so fun!"

Laugh.
It's ok.
But, I meant it.
There was no fear.
There was no reason.
My son was courageous in the face of great dangers in his life.
His example has burned in my life like never before.
He trusted God with his every breath.

We got to Rabbit Ears Pass, and the weather was worse.
It was horrible.
Snow was falling like crazy.
Ice formed on the wipers making visibility difficult.
Trying to maintain control on the icy roads was like trying to walk in stocking feet across an ice arena.

Slow....
very slowly,
I drove.

At one point,
I found a place to pull over,
and my husband drove the twenty or so remaining miles.
I closed my eyes as we swerved on the icy roads.
I was thankful.
Not afraid (well, except for my husband's driving, maybe.)

There was peace.
I did it.
Thank you Caleb, for being such a brave son.
Your life impacts mine every single day.
I don't know if you knew this, but your life has been impacting our family for years.
Since you've been gone, the impact is even greater.
We are all reaching the mountain tops through this valley we are in.
We are all experiencing the challenges of life in a more positive way.

I know you are cheering us on.
We're getting it.
We really are.

Even though it's tough, we're risking life.

Thank you.
We love you.

Gold Stars and Fallen Heroes

I stepped into the hallway.
I wasn't expecting this....
I wanted to turn and walk away -
Maybe nobody'd notice.

It was overwhelming.

"Let's leave," I wanted to say to my husband.
I don't belong here.
We don't belong here.
No.

Rows and rows of pictures lined the tables....hundreds of pictures with small votive candles in front of each one.
Hundreds of beautiful faces, personalities beaming from each one - so many smiles - faces that said, "I love life. I love this adventure."
Faces that lived for today, and the tomorrow that never came.
Loving faces with moms, dads, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives and little children they held and kissed.

There would have been so much laughter if they would have all been standing there with us.
But, these were reminders of our fallen heroes...

Scanning the many rows of photos,
I found him.
There he was...
My son's picture.
My hero.
My fallen warrior.
It didn't seem right that his picture would be there.
It didn't seem right that any of them should...
They were all so young and full of life.

We walked into the banquet hall where many were already seated.
I really didn't want to be there either.
I felt removed from everything and everybody.
Knowing all these people were there because they had lost a son or daughter was overwhelming.
How is it that we are here?
It was a strange almost surreal feeling.
We sat down. The people were cordial and welcoming.
Yet, I couldn't engage in any kind of conversation, which is weird for me.
I listened for a little while, still surveying the huge room of parents,
got up and left.

I found a place in the hall, a tucked away place, and the tears came.
I bent over with the heartache - yes, I did belong there.
All these people hurt and were heartbroken, too.
Parents from all over Colorado - some from New Mexico and Utah.
Wow.

There was time for roll call for each hero represented.
We had a time to remember those who have been MIA/POW since the early nineteen hundreds to now...those did not/have not returned home. It all took on a different meaning.
We were blessed. We had closure.

As it turned out, I'm glad we came.
I met a facebook friend - we only knew each other through facebook, and knew we were Gold Star moms.
My husband and I met other parents with stories of their own. We shook hands, and hugged - we understood.

When I returned to the banquet hall, the speaker announced that we were ok, and were in good company. If we needed to leave the room, or cry, it was ok. If we felt overwhelmed, it was understandable.
Whew.

This journey is difficult.
No doubt about it.
All these families at this retreat are on the same journey.

This morning we ride the gondola to the top of the mountain for a prayer service.
I'm looking forward to it.
I look forward to spending time with the families we've met.
Now,
I'm not ready to leave.

My son was the most recent fallen hero represented here.
We are so new to this journey, but somehow I get the impression that this journey is always new.
Like the wonderful speaker we had last night said, "You don't get over it, but you get through it."



PS - Today is Gold Star Mother's Day - to all the moms I share this day with - you are brave and amazing. God bless you all.