Benched

 

 

Sometimes it's like being benched.

The only difference is,

I'm still doing things.

Going through the motions of life.

When deep inside I feel like a spectator

watching all the activity going on around me.

I'm on the team,

but not really

 a participant.

 

Yet, I know

Somehow,

even in this timeout

there is purpose.

 

I've talked about brokenness.

Some don't like that word.

'I'm not broken,' they say.

It's ok if they're not.

But, some don't think I should be broken

either.

I need to bounce back up.

Get back in the race.

Put on a happy face.

 

I can have a happy face.

I can have joy in my heart.

But, the brokenness is still there

in my heart.

 

In this timeout

I am learning everyday.

 

I know

I don't know anything much

apart from my Father.

I don't have answers, but I know He does.

He doesn't always share them with me, but it's all right.

It has to be.

Even if it isn't.

 

I don't know this me.

I'm not the same person.

Friends on this same journey have shared how it is true,

and it's normal.

 

Our lives do not return to 'normal.'

Life does not resume and continue like it was before.

It can't.

There is nothing about it that is the same.

Life is seen through different eyes.

 

Timeout.

Re-establish what is important.

I don't have the option of being elusive.

I don't have the energy to pretend.

Brokenness has shown me what I can embrace, and what to let go.

 

I'm still a toddler in this race.

Sometimes I get up, think I can do this, and fall back down.

A big, strong hand is always there to pick me up.

Hold me if I need it.

Balance me so I can stand.

I can't run this race without Him.

He looks me in the eye,

and encourages me

 to keep on going.

Keep on trusting.

Keep on believing.

 

It may look like I'm benched.

But I really am running.

The race is not mine alone.

He runs with me.

He's my coach, my mentor, my everything.

He ran it before me, and knows I can do this.

I've not taken the easy road.

But,  I really didn't have a choice.

The choice I have is whether to keep going-

To continue in the race,

or to withdraw.

I choose the race.

 

When I am in timeout,

 He is right there

coaching, reassuring, giving me pointers

to help me along.

Broken as I am

 I need him every minute of

every single day.

 

Benched?

That's the crazy thing about it.

It's like the guy who goes in,

plays with all his heart,

and the next thing you know he's on the bench again.

If you weren't watching you missed him.

 

Benched?

Maybe that's what it looks like,

even to me at times.

 

It may not look like I'm on the field, on the court,

standing guard, or making the plays.

 

It may not look like much,

But it's ok.

I know I'm suited up.

 

I will follow His lead

even if it's in timeout.

 

My coach knows the score.

He has no doubt.... 

and in the end -

We

win.

It's A Crazy World

 

It is a crazy world out there.
Therefore, today I will do cartwheels.
That's right, you heard me.
I'm going to flip through the day like a kid.

No worries.
No stress.
No conflict.

Lately, I've been introduced to trouble here, and torment there.
Criticism, and tears, and people wringing their hands, tearing out their hair because of
stuff.
No need to go into detail.
It's everywhere.
Misunderstanding.
 Slammed doors, and broken windows.

Wow.
The sad thing, it seems to be worse everyday.

There are lots of forces at work, this I know.
Visible, invisible...through words, actions.
Oh, sigh.

Ultimately, we are all broken people, somehow.
That's right.
There is not a single person who is so all together that he/she is perfection personified.
Sorry, if I burst your bubble.
Everybody has problems of some sort.
Everybody has some short-coming, and is dealing with something.

We are all trying to make it in this life.
Some are hurting worse than others.
So, after much ado,
I'm going to take a break from the dysfunction of the mouth,
from the noise that I can do nothing about.


What can I do?
Not a thing, about others.

But, I can back away.
I can take my troubles to the cross, and hide in the secret place where my Savior is.
He is the burden bearer.
He is the joy giver.
He is the One who makes it all worthwhile.

Sure, things in life can be difficult.
But, hey.
Today is a nice, cool, cloudy day.
The weather is calm - for right now.
The birds are singing.
I have a glass of water, an apple and peanut butter.
My roses are blooming, and happy old melodies play through my mind.
I have a honey of a husband out working cattle, and swathing hay.
I have five children, all accounted for, the treasures of my life - I love them, and they love me.

This ol' world can be like a merry-go-round.
We can get dizzy and sick from all of its  monkeying-merry-go-around 'stuff.'
We can also get off for a while.

I'm getting off for now.

Sit on a bench.
Sip some tea.
Enjoy a momentary lapse of memory about the troubles around.

I think I'll go play Frisbee with Griz.
The grass is wet, but I'm going to do cartwheels.
And,
I think I'll listen to some old happy music, too - like one of my favorite, the Monkees, 'Daydream Believer.'

P.S. Davy Jones can always make a girl smile. :)

 

Remembering To Hope

This morning I went to the cemetery to remove the flowers......


It is like I'm watching someone else, as I approach Caleb's spot.
The spot is beautiful with an array of flowers put there by family, friends, and
I don't know who else.
A solar flag stands behind the marker with Caleb's name.

This can't be my life...this can't be my son's name...
I pick up the wreath adorned with red, white and blue flowers.
A blue ribbon from the bow with the word "Hero," flutters in the wind reminding me of my reality.
I reach down and pick up an arrangement of flowers draped with a ribbon, printed with the word, "Hero."
That's my son.
"Hero."
How can this be?

The flags lining the site, dance in the wind -
the red, white and blue he honored, and gave his life for.
There are coins dropped at his spot, letting me know that visitors have paid respects to my fallen hero.
It's all beautiful, and takes my breath away as tears stream down my face.

I think I'm still in shock,
except the pain is searing and real.
I stand for a moment, thinking of my wonderful, amazing, hilarious son.
I can see his smiling face, hear his laughter ever so  clear in my heart.
How can it be, he is not here?
I want to turn back time, hug him again, tell him I love him, look at his smiling face,
and listen to his spontaneous wit, and wisdom.

This unwelcome reality is so hard....
The pain is so great I double over....
I breathe...
I brush away the tears, and take another deep breath.

I stand alone in the silence of the moment, as the wind whistles it's song.
Then,
Out of nowhere, a butterfly flies close to my face.
It flies past, and comes again.
I smile...                                                

My sign of hope.

I drive down the lane, leaving the cemetery.
This is my life.
I'm still in a daze
about this reality.


When I get home, I want to sleep and forget my reality for a while, but -
I mow our lawn instead.
A delivery man pulls up next door.
He waves as he approaches the neighbor's house.
He lost a son years ago.
An unspoken bond.

I continue to mow, deep in thought about a jumble of things...
Then, out of nowhere, like a stunt plane, right before my face,
a butterfly zooms past -
turns and comes back.
I step back in surprise.
There it comes again.
Like it's teasing me,
challenging me.
I smile.
Ok.                                                   
A sign.

I can do this.
Thank you God.
Thank you Caleb.

Selah.

Mailboxes And Broken Taillights

I ran into the mailbox this morning.
Smacked right into it.
It's Monday, only that doesn't matter.
Where was my head?
I don't know.
That doesn't matter, either.
I made sure I wasn't going to hit my vehicle as I backed down the driveway,
and totally forgot about the mailbox.
What made it all worse?
I was driving Caleb's SUV.
Oh,
I know he wouldn't be upset about that.
Making a dent in his vehicle?
Not a big deal.
It's how he was about things like that.
However, I know
he'd be making fun of me for hitting the mailbox mounted on a huge fence post.
The mailbox has only been there, like forever.
Yup, he probably had a good laugh as he watched me...and my inital reaction.

I didn't think it was funny.
My first words were not, "Oh my goodness," either.
I drove out to our friend's auto body shop, and he looked at it.
"That's not so bad," he said.
He was right.
But, it was the idea that I damaged Caleb's vehicle - and broke the taillight.
"We'll get it taken care of. It won't take much." He smiled.
I joked, wondering if there was an ordinance about mailboxes.
Maybe I'd move ours to the middle of the yard, now that I loosened the big post.
As I laughed, I brushed tears from my face.

Sometimes it just happens that way.
I may think I'm doing ok, then tears will come.
I felt bad about hurting the vehicle, but I know it's fixable - and yet,
I cried on my way home.

A friend told me she'd been watching birds struggle against the whipping, high winds we had here last week.
They'd try to fly a certain direction, and the wind would just blow them back.
They wouldn't give up
but, would try again and again.

Thinking about those birds
fighting against the wind...

The winds of life can be that way,
knocking us down, pushing us back, making it impossible to breathe -
making a wreck out of our order of things.

Somehow we get up every morning.
We brush ourselves off, pull our hair back - because styling is out of the question anyway,
and put one foot in front of the other.
Step by step.
Head down, pushing against the wind.
No, it's not easy.
But, we do it.

It's tough everyday, as I've said before.
Missing my son, and the huge hole in our lives without him...
there are no words.
I've met so many families on this same journey-
fighting against the turbulence of life, missing loved ones.

I'm thinking we all have mailbox days, where - Smack!
We run into some wall (or mailbox.)
We have a setback.
Maybe we break or damage something special,
and the tears fall.

Here we are, whipped but not beaten.
Yes, we are sad, but not destroyed.
Pushing ahead even though it may not look like it.

Through my tears today, I can see Caleb's smile, hear his laugh and the way he'd say,
"Ahhhh."

It's going to be ok.

The love lives on.

The Mailbox and Time Difference

So, I'm backing out the of the driveway and...
SMACK.
My first words were not, "Oh, my goodness."
I thought I'd drive Caleb's vehicle,
and was making sure I wasn't going to back into my Yukon.
However, I failed to watch out for the mailbox.

Our mailbox is heavy-duty...planted in the ground with a huge fence post, better known as part of a telephone pole.
No damage to the mailbox.

I drove out our friend's auto body shop right away.
It's Caleb's vehicle, and I'm feeling so bad.
Grant looked at the damage, and said, "Oh, that's not so bad."
I was so glad he thought so.
It helped because of course, to me, it was horrible.
Caleb's vehicle, and I had to do that.
I'm glad I could go somewhere to someone we know.
I know he'll do a good job.

He explained what he'd need to do,
and tears start rolling down my face.
I thank him, joke about hoping the city doesn't have an ordinance for mailboxes because I want to move ours to the middle of our yard.
When I drive away, tears flood my face, and I'm sobbing.

It's how it is.
You just don't know how things are going to affect you.

Oh, I realize some shake their heads with wonder.
After all, it's been over a year now. 'She really should so be over it. She really needs to move on, get a life, and get out more.'

I think of my friends on the east coast. They are on a different time zone.
No big deal.
California is an hour behind. Dallas is an hour ahead. Virginia Beach is two hours ahead.
Nobody questions that.

Since February 2013, I exist in a different time zone - completely.
It is how it is.
I know I've said it before, but time as I knew it before that day, doesn't exist anymore.
That's the best explanation I have.
The calendar changes, and I know only because my phone reminds me what day it is, what month it is.
Everything passes in a fog.

Only now, in this fog there is an ice storm.
If you've ever walked in an ice storm, those jagged pieces of ice sting your face, hands or anything exposed.
The frozen season of last year is thawing a little, and pieces of raw hurt surface, making for some difficult days.

Making it through, is what we do.
Someone told a friend of mine she needed to 'suck it up.'
Oh, but we do suck it up.
Everyday.
It's a choice, a conscious decision to get out of  bed.
We suck it up by going on day by day.

My confidence is in God, and His grace.
He keeps me going.
His grace is sufficient for me.

It's Friday

 

Dear Friends,

When I woke up this morning, tears flooded my face. The pain is worst in the morning. I could hardly bear the pain of missing my son.

I sat on the edge of the bed, witnessing a new day –

The sky is blue.

The sun is shining bright.

It’s Friday.

Good Friday.

With tears in my eyes, I thought of what my Savior, Jesus Christ, went through for me, for my broken self. The horrible beatings he took – for me.

The horrible death he experienced – for me.

Then, I thought of a blog I wrote years ago….on Good Friday.

I pulled it up and read it, and it gave me hope.

So, I share an excerpt here with you, my friends with broken lives – be blessed.

~

Friday.

Yes, Friday.

I thought about this story:

Years ago, a Baptist preacher in the inner city of Philadelphia gave an unforgettable sermon on Easter.

He said, "Mary, Jesus' mother is crying her eyes out. That's her son up on that cross. He's dying an agonizing death as a criminal."

“It's only Friday...... But, Sunday's a comin'!"

The Apostles are down and depressed. Jesus, their leader is being killed by evil men.

It's only Friday.....

But, Sunday's a comin'!

Mary Magdalene is out of her mind with grief. Jesus saved her life and set her free and now He's being killed.

It's only Friday.....

But Sunday's a comin'!

The Devil thought he won....'You thought you'd outwit me, but I've got you now.'

It's only Friday......

But Sunday's a comin'!

It's Friday. Evil has triumphed over over good.

Jesus is up there on the cross. The world is turned upside down.

This shouldn't be happening.

It's only Friday.

Yes, it's only Friday....

But....

Sunday's a comin'!

Yes, it's Friday.

We've experienced tremendous loss in our lives.

Our worlds have been turned upside down.

Yes, this is Friday, a dark, difficult day….

But, friends, Sunday's a comin'!

God said so.

Jesus confirmed it.

The Holy Spirit is here to be our comfort and strength.

Sunday's a comin.

We can count on it.

He is our blessed hope.

He will carry us through the storm, the darkness and

bring us through.

He brought Life to Sunday.

He was victorious over Friday.

Yes, it's Friday.

But,

Sunday’s comin’!

~~~~~~

On this Good Friday, as we remember what Christ did for us - the excruciating beatings, and death on the cross, may we remember that he did it all for us. He died - but he also rose and overcame death and the grave! We may be heartbroken today, but Sunday's a coming, and we will see our Lord face to face - and we will see our loved ones who are waiting for us in heaven. THAT IS OUR KNOWING HOPE.  Yes, Sunday's coming!

This Journey

I've gone through all the 'firsts' now.
The first year of my son being gone.
But, you know what?
It doesn't matter.
It hurts just the same or more...
It's still a 'first' every single day.
There are no repeated days in life.

Recently, I wrote in my journal.
"This morning I liken the pain to what it must feel like to be dragged
behind a truck on a rocky, gravel road.
Bumps, turns and twists, and unbelievable pain.
All the while being turned inside out with my heart torn to shreds."

This is the journey I'm on.
It's that part of Psalm 23 -
"...Though I walk through the darkest valley."
The shadow of this life is around me.
The sinking feeling of that reality -
My son is not here.

How do you get passed that?
I'll tell you.
I don't think you ever really do.

I hear many trite answers and solutions.
"Time heals all wounds," is a good one.
I don't agree.
This is not a 'time' sensitive wound.
This wound has to do with eternity.
The hole in my heart won't be gone until we are together in heaven.


Sure - I get up every morning.
I function.
I do things.
I visit, and laugh.
I'm sincere when I do, but inside my heart is broken.
When asked how I am,
I may answer I'm ok.
But, I'm really not.
Yet, I know I have to be ok with not being ok if that makes sense.
It's how it is.

I've heard "It will get better in time."
I can't say, because I'm not ten or twenty years into this journey, yet.
But from what I've witnessed -
that isn't entirely true either.

I'm not doubting what I've been told.
I can't speak for others.
I'm not where they are on their journey.
But, I have spoken to the mom who had to say good bye to her little one before she/he was even born.
Years later this mom still aches for that little life.
I've listened to parents who had to say good bye to their babies, toddlers, fifty-some years ago.
It still hurts.
They still miss those little ones.
I've met with many military parents - some sons, daughters gave their lives years ago - it is all still fresh.
Parents of teen-agers, young adults, like mine....not so long ago.
I've seen tears fall from every single face, as I've listened to stories about the children who are no longer here in this life.
A parent doesn't just forget about a child because he/she is not here anymore - no matter how much time passes.

So, back to time making things 'better.'
Maybe 'better' isn't the right word.
Maybe adapt would be a better word, if you must have a word.
In time you adapt...
I don't know.
You adapt to the hole in your heart?
You adapt to the sorrow that is always there because that loved isn't here?

Parents have continued on in life - after all, what are you gonna do?
You have to.
These parents have lives, careers, and outwardly you'd never know.
But, once you become a part of that club no one ever wants to join,
it is a whole different world.
People feel free to speak of the children waiting for them in heaven.
Recently, a parent told me, "You never get over it. It's always there. But, in time you tuck it away in a special place. That's where it always is."
He was talking about the pain, the sweet love for his son...for the life of his son who left this world over forty years ago.

I say we have no choice but to adjust...
not overnight, but in time -
not that it is ever just right again.
It can never be the normal we knew before.
I can't even call it a new normal right now.
I can't imagine anything being any kind of normal again -
There will always be that empty chair....the place where Caleb should be in our lives.
There will always be that place in life where we miss him - I can't imagine it being any other way.

It is a tough journey to travel.
So....
When I start my day
I speak God's Word to my broken self - it is only through Christ that I'm whole.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not lack -for strength, for comfort, for whatever I need.
Do I feel it?
A lot of times I don't -
But,
I believe his Word.

Tough?
You bet.
Everyday.
Yet, somehow I make it through another day.

There is comfort in the love of a friend.
There is closeness with those who are on this journey, too.
We're all taking a step at a time,
and everyday is one day closer
to eternity.

Yes, I'm still here.
Broken and all.
God knows and is fully aware.
He is still a good God.
He is faithful.
He has a plan.

So, broken I come.
He says when I am weak, he is strong.
I lean on his strength in these tough times.

Lord, you know the brokenness of my heart, of my life right now. You know the valley I walk through because you walk it with me. My victory is in you, and yet, right now there are many tears. You know that, too. You love me and comfort and encourage me with your great grace and mercy.
Thank you.
In all of this, I belong to you. You raise me up in your most holy love - that is how I make it through everyday.
Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for keeping me in the palm of your hand, and for carrying me through tough times.
Thank you for your gentleness.
I love you Jesus.
Amen.