Eating My Words

In my last blog I said the road isn't necessarily lonely, even though there are times we feel alone.
Let me quote -
"It's a private road, this road.
The only people on it are those who have no choice.
I'd say lonely, but it's not.
Not really.
Yet feeling alone is part of it, because sometimes the feelings are hard to express.
It hurts - a lot."




This morning I know lonely.


It is when there is a letter in the mail, an email, or a phone call pertaining to our child who is no longer with us.


When you feel your whole self being turned inside out, while it's being ripped apart -
when it seems the earth is opening up and the world is spinning.




One definition of lonely is - Sad because one has no friends or company
Another definition is - without companions, solitary. 
Yet another definition is - (of a place) unfrequented and remote.
I'm not lonely because I have no friends.
I'm not lonely because I'm in a remote area (although I am in a remote area geographically.)




The lonely I am experiencing is the last one - solitary, existing alone, and without companions.


It is a place where you want to cry out and call someone, have someone there, but even if you did you'd be alone in this place where life shakes you up.


It's where the pain you feel is yours alone to bear for the time.
There is no place to take it.
It's yours.


Well, today it's mine.
I don't even know if I can talk about it right now.
But, if you're on this road maybe you understand.
Just when you think you know all you can know, you have everything that is yours now,
you get a surprise.
And maybe it's not bad - what can be worse than the knock at the door, right?
It's just something else, something new.


Recently, someone who probably meant well (they all do, don't they?) said, "I would think you would have made peace with the situation by now."
I told this person there are days when it's just hard.
With the military it continues - it's never easy.
When another family is going to get that knock at the door, you dread it for them.
When you hear of another casualty, another young life gone, it hits your heart.
Sometimes there are just things that come up.
To that I was told, "That's just the devil."


When I am confounded by what people say, I'm slow to respond.
It takes me hours to think of what I should've said.
Instead, I say nothing.


Peace? There is peace knowing where my child is.
Other than that, I am not ok with him being gone.
The peace that I have goes beyond my understanding, and it's not something
I can conjure up and say, "Oh, it's ok. I'm fine with Caleb not being here."
No. That's not how it is.
But, again - there is peace that I don't understand.


Oh, and
things come up.
It's not the devil.
There may be something
in the mail. Or maybe it's a phone call or
a message. It's on the news or maybe it's something else.
It's something that takes you by surprise and scrapes against the
open, gaping wound.
It brings you to your knees and tears flow.


Times like this, when you'd like someone to just be there -
it wouldn't help, anyway.
It's just a hard spot on this road.


Maybe you have been there, or are there.
Maybe you'd like to share.
I'm open to listen.


It's tough, but what are you going to do?
There is no salve to put on this jab to an open wound.
It is painful, and yet -
I pray in the hardness, there is some comfort.


The hard part, is no matter what else there is to say about the death,
no matter what -
nothing will bring back our loved ones.
Nothing will bring back my son.


As hard as 'news' is, somehow it is welcome.
It has to do with my son.
It has something to do with his life.
It's crazy - and that's why 'lonely' is the isolated place.
There are no words.
It just is.
There are tears, and yet there are hugs to my heart.


Later, when I know more, I'll see how I respond.


Right now, the person I am thinks I should be strong, but it isn't working.
I am in  a  quiet whirlwind of thought, anticipation, and sadness all at the same time.
I am still.
I am waiting in the lonely, solitary place -
for now.

Till I See You Again

I see your face.
I see your smile.
I miss you more than I am able to express.
There are no words for this kind of missing.
Nothing can explain or compare to how missing you feels.


I still stop and gasp when the thought hits.
You're not here.
You're not coming home to us on this earth at any time.
I can't take that thought in.
It's too excruciating.
"Not ever again," is too final.


As much as I miss you,
as low as I can sink when it gets unbearable,
as much as I cry at times,
Still, I know.


I know I will see you again - face to face.
I know I will hear your laugh again with pure joy.
I know I will get to listen to your voice again.
I know that I know that I know.


Sure, I can hardly stand those times when the missing you punches me in the stomach.
This earth is not the same, and never will be, since you're not here in person.
It's dreadful hard.
No mistake about it.


I feel like I just have to see you - and I know I can't.
I feel like I just have to hear your voice again - and I know I won't.
I feel like I just have to hug you again - and I know my arms will reach into empty air.
I want to call you - and I know, yes I know.....
There are times I so much want to see you walk through the door, or have you lean on the kitchen counter and talk to me like you used to....


I tell you, it's the most painful thing to experience -
knowing that little baby you carried in your tummy,
that little boy whose life you bore, nurtured, loved and followed, that adult whose life was so amazing,
is just not here in this world, and you still are.


It's crazy and lopsided, inside out and backwards
that I, or any parent should be forced to accept this awful outcome of a child's life here, this unreal separation
because, don't you know - observing and being part of your children's lives is
the greatest of all gifts this life has to offer.


How does a parent find acceptance and resolution with such cacophony?


I have no answers.
It hurts.
And how would you expect someone to pack it all away and go on the merry-go-round of
life in a lackadaisical frenzy of meaningless guffaws, and song?
As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't happen that way.
All the pursuance of well-meaning,empty, good ol-boy slaps on the back
won't make it true.


So, I hang up my hat, and sit.
I sigh and fold my arms.
It's a private road, this road.
The only people on it are those who have no choice.
I'd say lonely, but it's not.
Not really.
Yet feeling alone is part of it, because sometimes the feelings are hard to express.
It hurts - a lot.
It's heartbreaking,
and yet somehow there is strength, a moment at a time.
"Somehow" is that inner strength that comes from heaven,
that comes from knowing every day is a day closer to the day when this road diverges and meets eternity.


Oh, Caleb -
because of your character, because of your life,
I look up.
I do.
As hard as it is now,
I know one day there will be only Sonshine, and the hardness of this time will melt away.


I'm proud of you.
I'm strengthened by the Love we share that lasts beyond this life.




I so look forward to see your smiling face again.
You know,
I will give you the biggest mom hug ever.
I can't wait!




I love you Caleb, my son.


Forever.

On Gilligan's Island.
That's where I'd like to go.
Get away from it all -
visit the wacky world of the island
only without the people.


Leave me with perfect weather, a well-stocked kitchen, a comfortable bed,
no bugs, and plenty of nature - with no dangerous animals....
days of sunshine, cool breezes and dips in the ocean
nights of sitting outside, listening to the ocean, star-gazing and relaxing
in quiet solitude.


I'd need some music - of course, but just uplifting lyrics please.
And a helicopter that would know when to come pick me up.
No, I don't want to stay there always, but for a time, it would be nice.


Social media, people in general (not my people, of course) can be draining.
I think I'm doing so much better on this journey and inevitably that is when I run into a surprise visit of words that shock and dismay, and totally take me off guard.


The cliché "I thought you'd be over it by now," has changed to "I'd think you'd have found peace by now...I'd think you'd have had closure by now- after  all, it's been four years."
Don't ask a Gold Star mom at the birthdate, the death date, or anytime in that time frame how we are doing.
Don't ask how we are during a patriotic event....Veteran's Day, the 4th of July, Memorial Day. Such days are hard.
Recently I was told if such days are difficult, then that's just the devil. Military deaths, disrespect for our flag, our freedoms - well, those shouldn't bother us either - that's just the devil.


Deep breath.


I always think if these people were handed that folded flag, sitting close to that loved one lying in a casket, for the last time - maybe words of pious wisdom wouldn't come flying out.

Just A Minute What's Going On Memorial Day

There are so many things given to "your own interpretation" these days.
Let's not put a clear definition on anything.
"I want to do everything my way."
"I want to decide."
It gets a bit tiring, if you know what I mean.


Here you go -


Sometimes, it doesn't matter what you think.




Some matters are not there for your own interpretation.
Some things are actually written, well defined with clarity, for  understanding.
By definition,  
Memorial Day is a federal holiday in the United States for remembering the people who died while serving in the country's armed forces.....
#rememberingpeoplewhodiedwhileservinginarmedforces


Not difficult to understand.



So, where do we get the idea that our own 'interpretation' of a clear definition is necessary?
Why should the definition change just because -
"Oh, I've decided it is a celebration. After all, those who died would want us to celebrate. I want everybody to celebrate, celebrate, celebrate."
You do know, don't you - there is a holiday just for that.
It is the 4th of July.




But,
Memorial Day?


The word in the definition is not celebration, it is 'remembering.'
Remembering -  to bring to one's mind an awareness of (someone or something that one has seen, known, or experienced in the past.)
For this particular holiday it is remembering those who died while serving in our country's armed forces.
Simple to understand.


And, "Happy Memorial Day" - really?
Someone wrote, "Saying Happy Memorial Day is like saying, congratulations at a funeral."
Some words just don't go together.
If you're thinking, lighten up... you're taking it too seriously,
in life there are things that are meant to be serious.
A respectful observance of Memorial Day is appropriate.
I know it's hard to think of a word to put before Memorial Day.
I know most people aren't trying to be disrespectful or flippant when
they say 'happy.' Please don't misinterpret what I'm saying.
For advertisement purposes, Memorial Day - Remember them, would work or -
Remembering on Memorial Day....








Moving along -
Oh, but I know - media is about commercialism (and so many other things) and we pay great heed to what we watch.
One of my favorites (not) is the "Big Memorial Day Mattress Sale!"
Then there is the, "Celebrate the beginning of summer! Memorial Day!"
Let's make a buck or ten off the remembrance of the dead.
In fact, let's forget all about them and push our own agenda.
After all, who will notice?


Memorial Day.
Ask a veteran.
Ask someone presently serving.






Honoring our veterans, our military men and women, is something we should  do every single day.
But, they will be the first to tell you, Memorial Day is not about them.
It is not about thanking them for their service in conjunction with remembering their fallen brothers, sisters.
How do I know this?
Because I hear from them.
I read what they write.
I listen to what they say.
Those are the ones I know.


Again, most veterans and those who are serving now will say, "Memorial Day is not about me."
There is a day set aside for the sole purpose of  honoring our veterans.
It is Veteran's Day - A public holiday held on the anniversary of the end of World War I (November 11) to honor US veterans and victims of all wars. (Ok, so Veteran's Day is for veterans and those who gave some or all.)
I'm not saying not to thank a veteran for his/her service, so don't misinterpret what I'm saying.
I'd be the last person to suggest NOT thanking them.
So, thank them - everyday.
Just don't make Memorial Day about them.
It is about their fallen brothers/sisters.






Memorial Day.
Ask a Gold Star mom, or dad.
Ask a Gold Star daughter or son.
Ask a Gold Star husband or wife.
Ask a Gold Star brother or sister.


We live Memorial Day every single day.
We think about our loved ones, our fallen heroes, on a regular basis.
We know the great price they paid.
It never goes unnoticed in our lives.




We know this, only too well.
That is why, to Gold Star families (I speak for Gold Star families I know)
and for those who served beside their now fallen brothers,
it is a shame, a great disservice
when Memorial Day is re-interpreted to meet the 'fluff' of life.
It is easier to avoid the seriousness of the day, to sidetrack taking time to remember, respect and honor those who sacrificed their lives so others are able go to the great mattress sales.


I'm not saying not to have family and friends over.
I'm not saying not to have a barbeque.
I am saying, take the time to consider the thousands who have died in our armed forces
for freedom.

What we desire more than anything, is that our loved ones be remembered.

It is one designated day a year.
Memorial Day.

Remember Caleb.

Remember Noah.

Remember Rob.

Remember Jamie.

Remember Derrick.

Remember Kale.

Remember Andrew.

Remember Bob.

Remember Jack.

Remember Jon.
Remember Ryan.
Remember Riley.
Remember Matthew.
Remember Tom.
Remember Kristoffer.

Remember - - -
There are so many.

If I continued to type the names of those I know of, I would be typing for a very long time.

What matters most to us is that you take the time to r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r -

Remember why you can have that barbeque.

Remember why you can water ski and have that family gathering.

Remember why you have the freedom to make choices for your life.
Remember why living here in this country is such a blessing, yes - even with all it's flaws.


On this Memorial Day.
Take the time.
Somebody who didn't even know you,
did,
and died.


Take a minute.

green pastures: A Mother's Dream

green pastures: A Mother's Dream: There is nothing quite like it. Nothing like hearing that first cry. Nothing like the first time you lay eyes on that sweet littl...

A Mother's Dream

There is nothing quite like it.

Nothing like hearing that first cry.

Nothing like the first time you lay eyes on that sweet little life.

Nothing like the first touch, the first second you hold that little bundle in your arms.

I remember each pregnancy and how overwhelmingly emotional it was to think there was a little life in my tummy - an actual human person!


My first thoughts were always -
This is so surreal.
I feel so unprepared.
What an awesome responsibility.
This was a life I was going to be entrusted with to love, raise, and mold.
To me that was huge.


Even when I could still fit in my skinny jeans (they were bell bottoms or parachute pants back in those days,)
I started talking to the little life I carried.
I would say things like, "I know we haven't met yet, but you are so special."
I would pat my tummy and tell that little one, "I love you so much."
With each pregnancy,
I would pray over their lives, and talk to my heavenly Father about them.


When it got closer to delivery, I was so uncomfortable, and yet - the thought of that little life
coming into this foreign, imperfect world was difficult.
Of course, I knew that little life couldn't live in my tummy forever (nor did I want that!) but
I knew they would face the challenges of life, the minute they wiggled free from that snug cocoon where they had lived for nine months.






For me, everything this life had to offer faded in comparison to the greatest calling of my life.
With the delivery of each little life, I wanted to be the best mom I could be.
There is nothing like the joy of holding my babies close, looking into those
trusting little eyes -
eyes that looked at me with all the trust and adoration in the world.


The cuddly, dependent years made way for other adventures in a mother's dream.




There were the toddler years...I refused to  call them the 'terrible' twos or threes...they were the terrific twos, the thrilling threes, the fantastic fours, the fabulous fives.
There was the crayon artwork on the walls, the floor covered with cocoa and flour (that's when I truly realized I really did have to put some things up higher) - those were the days of slobbery kisses and hugs. There were sticky hands, and "Mommy, I don't ever want to leave you when I grow up." I would say, "You don't have to." But, I knew the day would come when they would want to and would be ready to fly away.
There is nothing like the joy of watching a toddler waddle and wobble across a room - nothing like listening as coos, and babbles turn into fully understood sentences.
Nothing like hearing little voices say, "I love you Mommy."






Grade school, middle school and even high school were fun, and awkward years at times...for all of us.
We all wanted to grow up and do well - I think we all grew together. After all, parenting books cannot and do not answer all real life questions and situations.
I wanted to be a good mom. I wanted to set clear, healthy boundaries, but I wanted them to know I loved them so much, no matter what.
There were flashcards, and book reports, science fair projects - and there were pajama rides to Dairy Queen and picnics in the winter on a big blanket in the living room.
There were peewee wrestling matches with over-the-top screaming parents who scared me more than watching my little guys wrestle.
There were dance classes and gymnastics and band and choir and staying home on snow days.
Those years were the beginning of the crazy hamster wheel that wouldn't stop, with sports, and all activities that five children can be a part of in a small town.


We had wonderful teen-age years - wonderful memories overshadow any of the difficulties we had. Those were the busy, crazy, fun years of traveling far and wide for games, band contests/ski trips. There were plays, and play-offs, proms and all night after prom parties. There were cheerleading camps, football camps, basketball camps...then there were scholarship letters (except for Caleb) and college visits, (except for Caleb.) No matter what, I would always tell myself, "These years will be gone one day - enjoy every moment."
And I did. I may have been the over-the-top mom who went to everything, and was there for everything, but looking back, I wouldn't change a thing.
Oh, a mother's dream.
 




Something that remains important to me as a mom was/is to pray for my children. I prayed for them before they were born, I prayed for them every night when I tucked them in. We prayed together before we went out the door to school - or on the way to school. I read Bible stories to them, sang and taught them songs. They went to Awanas, church camps and yes, I remember the days we were in church every time the doors were open.
I stressed how God is a good God. People will let you down. Churches and pastors can let you down. But, those are people. God is not that way.




One by one, my five grew up and left home to find their way in the world I was so hesitant for them to have to experience.
Then, there was moving them to college...watching them develop into fine young adults.
I see them now, my adult children. I love them with all my heart, and know they love me.
That's a great gift.
Every mother's dream.






Something a mother never dreams, is to have to experience her sweet child's life  on earth, beginning to end - that child's life... that child you loved before he/she was born- that child you cared for when he/she was sick... the child you would go to bat for if someone was not treating him/her right.
A mother never dreams her child will leave life before she does.
She never thinks she will read the first to the last chapters of that child's life...
but, is it the last chapter?




Because Caleb is in heaven, I have seen his story unfold, I could say, in its entirety,
but that is not true.
His story is still unfolding, even though he isn't here in person.
I see dreams fulfilled beyond measure, in the lives he continues to impact.
I continue to hear stories of how Caleb's life is motivating and changing lives daily.
I know of babies who are named after him because of the impact he made on the parents' lives.






A mother's dream is never to have to outlive her child. It is devastatingly hard. It is heartbreaking.
It is difficult every day.
But, everyday I put one foot in front of the other and know that this broken road
brings joy.
Somehow, there is peace in the valley.




This mother's dream is to have the love of my children, to enjoy this family together - to be able to watch their lives unfold till I leave for Glory - and one fine day,
for us all to be together again with Caleb, with the One who created us.




I know I may not have the words, but He will know my heart.
I will bow in gratitude for the life I've had, for the children He blessed me with.
Because of His goodness, He entrusted me in all my humanness, with these five.
What a miracle.
What a blessing.
What a dream come true for this mom.






To all moms - have a blessed Mother's Day.






                                                   




                                                                  

At first I wasn't sure what the name of the melody was.
I listened as the pianist and violinist played.
It was beautiful.
Then, I remembered.
I had sung this song at my first wedding.
Words filled in the melody, and it was all I could do
to sit.
Tears threatened to escape my eyes,
and memories
and thoughts flooded my mind.


"In His time, He makes all things beautiful
in His time...."
I remembered that young, naïve bride.
I was sure God could and would fix any and everything.
Everything was going to be fine - always.
After all, He is Almighty and I - His child.


You know the saying, "If I knew then, what I know now....."
Actually, it's probably a good thing I didn't know then, what I know now.
It would have been unbearable.


All things haven't been or worked out so beautifully.
My first marriage was difficult, to say the least, and ended in divorce.
The 'd' word was worse than cussing back then.
I was outcast, told I was going to hell because I was divorced.
Little did people know the life we had been living.