Trying to Take Back Christmas: Grieving and Changing Traditions (Another U-Turn)

Every year when Christmas rolls around, it's like I'm on a zipline that's about to go off the cliff. I'm deathly afraid of heights, so it's not something I would do willingly. But that's just it, Christmas comes every year and every year I face the traumas around my daughter's death one week before Christmas. So here I am, strapped to this zipline at the top of the cliff and Time pushes me off and all I can do is close my eyes, hang on with all my might, and wait for it to be over. And just like every year, when it is over, I open my eyes to a mess of Christmas decorations that I get to tear down with all the bitterness of my heart. 

Believe it or not, Christmas used to be my favorite. I couldn't wait for Christmas to come. I decked my halls with a lot more than holly! Red and green colors would burst from every corner of the house. But the grieving journey has other plans for me. For whatever cosmic reason, I decided to change my color scheme that year to blue and white. The Christmas tree hung tons of blue and white balls and it was beautiful. It was one week before Christmas, we were at my mom's house putting together Christmas baskets with goodies. My daughter Sarah died during her nap in my mom's room that afternoon. After we got back from the hospital, without her, I spent the whole week in that very room, breathing in what was left of her spirit. The day after Christmas, we finally came home for the first time. Sarah's nickname was "blueberry" because of the blue hemangioma on her nose and our tree with all it's blue balled ornaments, looked like a blueberry bush. At that moment, I saw it as this beautiful message that "Sarah was still among us for Christmas." That was my beautiful reminder. For years, I would put all those blue ornaments on the tree, faithfully bringing her message back to us. It was comforting. 

But then something switched in me. I got really sick and extra sensitive to everything around me. I stopped celebrating her birthday the way I normal would. All the things I did over the years to help me cope with Sarah's absence were now incredibly hurtful. I had needed those things during those years, and now I didn't. I needed something else now. I'm still sorting through certain triggers around Christmas, but a big one this year were those damn blue ball ornaments on my tree that no longer made me feel her, they made me feel her absence all the more. They took me back to that awful day when we came home for the very first time with empty empty arms. Those balls reminded me now of my emptiness, that hole that no God can ever fill until I see her again. 

So after talking with my wonderful therapist, I decided to not only take them off of my tree, but to destroy them. Just me and my husband set out to destroy this awful trigger. I stood at the tree and bagged up all the blue balled ornaments of that awful day and started towards the back door. But I was stopped by my 12 year old son Isaiah. The only child that was actually here when we lost her.

"What are you doing with those?" He asked me, staring me down. 

"I'm taking them down and getting rid of them this year." I tried to be delicate with my voice. 

"No! No! No! Put them back! Put them back!" tears were welling up in his eyes. The desperateness in his voice broke my heart and I started crying with him.

I didn't even think about his feelings with these.  "I'm sorry sweetie, but I have to do this. They are too painful to keep. This is something I have to do." 

"Put them back, please, put them back!" He just kept repeating it through his tears. After that I took him to a private place so we could talk and it was decided, after both of us bawling, that we would put a mini tree up in his room and he can keep one single ball from the bag. As a mother who understands that he has his own unique journey of grief, I had to compromise in this.  

So with my heart now torn to shreds, I went to the garage with my husband who had a tarp down and ready and we smashed the shit out of those ornaments. They were not easy to break either, because they were plastic. Especially the ones that we more solid plastic. It made us angry that they weren't glass that would break easily. But that's just it, isn't it? It's not easy removing triggers from your life. I can smash these ornaments, but the traumatic memories they triggered will always be there. I felt like this was our ceremony of trying to "take back Christmas." This time of year will always be hard, but I want to love Christmas again. I can't promise that this will do it, but it will definitely help. And it's already easier to breathe without staring at those ornaments all day, every day. 

My encouragement to you, if you struggle with grief this holiday season, is don't let traditions prevail if they start hurting you. My husband even added, "Well, it's like we always kept putting those ornaments up for tradition so we don't offend ourselves." Allow things to change as you change. It's okay to give yourself permission to do so. Life changes us so much as we continue to grow and experience new things, new trials, and new victories. Let these traditions change with you as you need them to, in order to cope the only way you know how. 

~Love yourself enough to prove it. 

Open Letter to the Chronically Ill Parent: "There is no replacement for you!"

I am so honored to share my space here with a very good friend of mine Melissa Glennon. We knew each other from church years ago, but have recently reconnected since I've been chronically ill. She's married with a quiver full of children. She is so faithful, always asking me how I'm doing and praying for me. Her friendship has meant the world to me. The unique thing about her is that she grew up with a chronically ill parent, who still battles with it today. I've talked to many chronically ill people, and the common "woe" (besides the obvious pain and suffering) is our "mommy guilt" or "daddy guilt." The guilt that comes when we can't do certain things and our children also suffer the consequences.  I'd bring my "mommy guilt" cry to Melissa and she'd encourage me like no one else could. I found myself using her words to help me comfort others. Then I thought... "I should just have her write an open letter for me to share." And of course, she's amazing so she wrote this very sweet open letter to her dad, who suffers with chronic pain. I'm so thankful for her letter, it encourages me as I continue to raise my own children in the dynamic of chronic illness. My hope is that you find comfort in her unique perspective also.

Melissa writes:

"Dad,

  

   You carried me on your shoulders. I distinctly remember the flip flop my stomach made when you swung me into the air and placed me up to see the world. You took us fishing and always baited my hook. You played catch with me, you wrestled with us, and built us snow forts. You led our family to know, love, and trust in God. I was loved deeply and I knew it!

   As I reflect on my childhood and growing up with you having chronic pain the most striking revelation is that my memories aren't centered around pain. I don't remember many moments where I felt that my dad was different or our family life was affected by the pain. It was simply the way things were and I knew no different. We knew your limitations and lived our lives accordingly.

We all believed that your first back surgery would "fix" you. Your pain seemed less for awhile and we were all so happy! But then came another surgery and another and another... And your pain never got better. I don't remember you complaining about the pain but I also don't remember asking you how you were doing. I am sorry! I am sorry that I was selfish. I remember thinking at times, "He could do it if he really wanted to." Or "He doesn't feel that bad." I wouldn't be able to empathize with you until years and years later.

   I remember you going to the Mayo Clinic to take pain management classes and it being a defeating time for you. Living with the pain seemed like the only option left. I remember being sad that there seemed to be nothing left to fix you.

   Your faith in God never wavered. And if it did, I didn't see it.  I still look at you today as a man of strong faith and that is something that has comforted me my entire life.

   Fast forward, a decade or two, and I am pregnant with my fourth child. Unbeknownst to me, I have a rib out of place and I am in horrible pain. I am unable to turn my neck. Pain shoots down my arm and I can't sleep or eat. After three weeks of pain and stress, a heavenly chiropractor finds the problem and my pain is gone. It was the closest thing I had ever gone through to where I could relate to what you have dealt with for the past 25 years. There really are no words to describe the sadness I feel for your daily affliction. For years, I have prayed that God would heal you, completely, "Take away his pain." One day while praying this it hit me, "What if God's way of taking his pain away would be to take him to heaven?" It stopped me cold. I am not ready to lose my father, and the selfish part of me wanted you to stay... Even if that meant you lived in pain. Again, I am sorry for my selfishness but I love you.  I will continue to pray for complete healing and trust that God's will be done.

   Thank you for loving me, my mother and my siblings, so completely through all your pain. I know you feel bad that you can't do more for us, but I never saw it like that. You have always been more than enough for me. I love you Dad!

To all parents out there with chronic pain: Thank you for loving your children through your pain!! There is no need to feel guilty about what you think we are missing out on. We would rather have you in our lives than any thing else. There is no replacement for you. We love you!"


This was very sweet. I wanted to share her dad's response when she sent him this very letter. 

"Melissa,  I think this is an excellent letter and I hope other parents out there have a daughter like you!  After being injured in Vietnam I learned to deal with pain, so I had a lot of time to prepare me for what lay ahead for me.  You don't deal with chronic pain alone and I'm thankful for my prayer group at work, the Mayo Pain Clinic and of course your mom ( my best support person ), who knows better than any of you what chronic pain is all about without having it.  There is no need for you to ever feel guilty, after all life is what molds our character and I think we're all hanging in there as a family!  Thanks for taking the time & sharing your thoughts.  Love, Dad "

Look for the Silver Lining.

Gettin my nerd on. "I love you." in Gallifreyan. 

So I've been doing the "Betty Homemaker" thing (as my friends like to remind me) and making myself some couch pillow cases. I'm picky and cheap, so combine those two things and you have some DIY projects to get busy on.

Anywho. I had made previous pillow covers which I loved, but they got destroyed by um... chocolate hands and then the washer/dryer.... who knew they would fade and shrink? (Wups... I'm really bad about washing fabric before I use it..... lesson not learned.... ) Oh, and not to mention, typos ON THE PILLOWS that were found by my faithful friends who pointed it out to me. TWO TYPOS! All my hard work! Anywho, so long story short, I'm making new ones. Better ones. More durable ones. And I swear I'll be pleased, so help me!!

These pillow ideas were off of the exhilarating Pinterest. People are writing phrases on pillow cases. Loved it! I kept 3 phrases of the 4 pillows done, but needed a new forth. So where do I go? Oh, the most cherished person in my life's journals... my dad's. (written in before he died)

Oh why oh why did I do that?! That session turned into stealing an hour, hiding from the kids, reading his words. They are like painful rain drops. With each word, with each phrase, the sound was so soothing and yet it stings. I miss him so much. Reading his words from 14 years ago, took me back... 14 years ago. I could just hear his voice. I could see his expressions as he would say them. I could even hear his chuckle as he made himself laugh with his own jokes. (I have so inherited this wonderful gift)

I started crying, bawling in my hands as my body squeezed my heart the way that only grief can do. The rush of all those emotions spun me into a dark place that makes me demand for my father back.

But then there it was.... that phrase.... the phrase I was looking for... "Look for the silver lining." Something so simply put.

The darkness will always be a part of my life, but my focus needs to seek the silver lining. I haven't been doing that lately, but I need to get some kind of grip on myself. My glum outlook is bleeding into everything I do anymore. I struggle to encourage, to see the hope. I struggle to be kind when I open my mouth, giving the person the benefit of the doubt. I struggle for contentment when the storm just won't let up. I'm still finding my way around all of it, "hopeless wanderer" as Marcus Mumford puts it in his song.

Look for the silver lining. That can help me stay focused that there IS even a silver lining. The sun always remains. The rains always soothes. And the pain keeps it's wish that I never forget where I've come from.

So on the pillow case it goes!

 I know... it appears a little lame that I conclude my post with that, but truly. It'll be in my face all day, everyday. This little pillow on my couch will whisper his words...

"Look for the silver lining."

I'll post pics of my finished products! 

Staycation Turns into Staycrashstation... How Spontaneous Are You Feeling Today?

So my little family did a staycation.... meaning = we had no money, we have tons of children, hubby has some vacations days and viola! You have the ever so creative "staycation!" We decided to hit several parks here in Des Moines and picnic at each one. (and the added perk.... we sleep in our own beds... ahhh.... )

At first it was really really fun. The kids were having a blast going to all these places they've never been before (that are only like... 5-15 minutes away from home... I know... sad).  They LOVED the idea of picnicing at the parks. Most of the mornings... er... days... we wouldn't get out of the house till noon, but still, my children insisted on a picnic! Insisted!! So there I was, packing everything up so we could picnic. We even made it to the Capitol. They were in stars. I loved watching their faces light up at the awe of the place. Then later, a couple days in, came the interruptions and the tantrums... everything started caving in on our staycation; people finding us, work emergencies, and eventually my carefree staycation was put to a halt.

A good friend of mine messaged me while I was throwing an adult sized tantrum in the privacy of my own home and simply said, "How spontaneous are you feeling today?" Bless her heart, she had no idea I was throwing my fit, and she knows KNOWS I'm not your spontaneous person. Surprises are usually NOT a good thing. Romance can't even have at it. I'd be nervous the whole time thinking I need to be doing something or that I forgot something. Girls gotta mentally prepare, you know? Anywho.

I was taken back by her simple message. I looked at the hubs who was in a quiet state as I tried to collect myself and told him what the message said. "How spontaneous are you feeling today?" We both laughed about it. It was like... crazy laughter. I mean, how ironic is it that things like this happen when someone pops into your day and accidentally slaps you with a 'grace' stick or a 'get over yourself' stick, or in my case at that point, a 'calm the frick down' stick.

"How spontaneous are you feeling today?"

If fact, her spontaneous message was the spontaneity that I needed. I did inquire further as to what she meant and of course I had to slap her back with a big fat N.O. and she understood, but that phrase was still lingering in my heart. Resentment crept in with anyone that interrupted our little family staycation, even towards my own husband who couldn't help it, even towards our kids that made us feel even guiltier for plans not being carried out. I turned into one hot mess.

So while all that was simmering, we still had time to do one last little picnic. So as I stood at the counter in my kitchen, cutting away at meats and cheeses, my son comes to me and says, "Is there someone to blame?" oh geezz... here we go. (mind you, my husband is still quiet because he knows I'm still simmering)

I replied to my son, "That isn't the point. Life just sucks."
"Life sucks?"
"Yep, life just sucks."
My husband just walked passed us as I said that and gave me a quiet lecture on how I'm responding.
Ok, fine I'll try a little harder... "So things happen in life that suck all the time. Plans get changed, people change their minds, people die, disasters happen. There's nothing we can do about it, they just happen. All we can do is try to spin it for the better. We have to find ways that we can spread love even in the suckiness and then... maybe it won't suck so bad." Ugh.. yes. I know. I'm talking to myself too.

At that moment, my son started helping me without my needing to ask for it. He stopped complaining about the plans that got totally derailed and his countenance lifted. You could tell he was trying. Now it was my turn to mirror that.

"How spontaneous are you feeling today?"

So we tried to make the most of our day, and by that afternoon, I was kissing my husband good-bye. And trying not to kiss our staycation good-bye, we ate junkfood, watched "Honey I Shrunk The Kids" (their first time) and I beat them righteously at the game Othello. Over and over. :) We pulled the couch-bed out and passed out.

And repeat the next day.

And ya know? Even though it didn't turn out the way I wanted it too, there's some really great memories that will be brought up for years to come. Enjoy the pictures below, of just a few of the places we were!

This was an egg shaped structure in Clare and Miles Mill Rose Gardens. It was pretty neat. 

Isaiah working on a painting project. He picked his favorite roses to paint. 

Eve and Tesh are working on their paintings, while baby Ruth finds leaves most interesting. 

How could we NOT do this!!! :D During this moment our 4 yr old was behind us (you can't see her)
throwing a fit. Eve was trying to trying to calm the 2 yr old in the stroller, and the baby is eating more leaves. Our 9 year old took the picture :) 

Ah! All of them. How lovely! I actually got a better picture, I just thought this one was share worthy.
Who wants to look at all the nice ones, right? 

A playground with no plastic playground equipment at Sargent Park. Nature's playground! They loved this one!
Me? lots of hiding places. I told Josh that if we were teens, this would be a good make out spot. Ha! 

The Capitol Building! Isaiah's words, "This is the best day of my life!" 

Ahh... their eyes just sparkled with all sorts of wonder. :) 

Of course we hit up Granny's Sweet Freeze Shoppe to cap it off! 

One big surviving family! 

 How spontaneous are you feeling today?

Swinging with the Pendulum. Time to Modify.

I love having older friends. You know the kind that are just ahead of you in life that they are able to bestow the wisdom they have to you. They know the struggles you are going through because it's likely... so did they, and it's still a fresh memory. You watch them "do life" and start dreaming of the day that THAT will be you.

.... that's where it gets tricky. These friends of ours are gold. But even gold, in all it's beauty and wealth can make you ugly when envy sets in.

I love my babies. I loved having babies. But my mental state is "so over" having babies. I'm so eager to start the next chapter in life. You know... the next chapter that doesn't involve feed, awake, sleep schedules. One that doesn't involve diapers and tip toeing to bed to NOT wake the baby sleeping in her bassinet. Even down to the toddler stage, I'm over it. I'm over the incomprehensible conversations/whining out of the mouth that feels the need to lick everything. The potty training. Oh, the potty training!! Then there's the tantrums and the "No! Don't lick that!" "Don't bite her!" "Touch nicely!" (while I'm pulling my hair out, convinced that I'm screwing this up because I have the worst toddler/s)

Thanks to my 9 year old, I am aware of the heart issues that lie in the next chapter. I'm sure it's going to be a mentally taxing ride of my life dealing with all those 5 hearts that I helped create. But I can't help but look at most of my friends (where their youngest is around 7 or 8) and think.. "Gosh, I can't wait."

We took our little (big) family camping one weekend recently. I said no way, but my husband desperately wanted us to try it. And well... he knows where my "push over" button is. We have 5 kids at home, ranging from 6 months old to 9 years old. Yeah. I know! It. Is. Crazy! And it was! We went. It failed. It was, in my terms, a disaster. But now we now, that even though we love camping, we just need to wait a little bit (with all our little critters) to try camping again. Just as we had packed everything up, after one night of defeat, I cried. Well ok... I do get over emotional when I've had so little sleep, but I wanted something different. I wanted time to just speed the hell up so we could do these things that others could. (I know this is a shallow story, but bear with me) (Oh... and kudos to those that camp all the time with little children and babies. You're awesome. And I'm just not so awesome. And I'm ok with that.)

As I cried my pathetic tears, all these ugly emotions started to drip from me. Trapped with 5 faces staring at me, needing so much from me, and I'm tired. I'm getting so incredibly worn. I have this flame within me that wants to get out so bad; to write, to read, to paint, to go walking on and on, to get involved in various things without worrying about babies to carry around, but that flame needs my time, my energy, things I don't have a lot of right now.

So what do I do?

I modify.

I keep that flame within me, knowing I can sneak it out from time to time, but we have to modify. I have no choice. I can not make time go any faster, and I'm sure years and years down the road when my youngest is moving out, I'll be all like, "Where did my baby go? I want my baby back!"

But we must modify and keep baby proofing things and it'll be fine. I'll be fine. These precious formative years are so important. And I need to embrace all these little hands holding my face to kiss me smack on the lips, even with all their drool.

I'm convinced that time goes at it's pace for it's reasons. And even though my older friends are on to the next chapter, I'm not finished with mine. I've got more pages to write. Their stories are so unique and you know what? My unique story is important too.

It's ok to dream about the next chapter. But I need to pay close attention to the now. Because the now is the ground work for the point that which I call a dream. (counting on some curve balls in there, of course) And I'm sure after all... the next chapter isn't going to be anything like I thought it would be.

And that could be a good thing or a bad thing...

I'm gonna go with the both/and theory there. ;)

Happy Love/Hate Being a Mom Day!

It finally happened.

I was inside feeding the baby, toddler was asleep, 4 year old was going potty, and the neighbor girl (3 houses down across the street) was asking me all these questions about fish as she "oohh'd and aww'd" at my fish tank.

It had been all but 2 minutes, when I realized... where are my 2 older kids?? Last I knew they were playing in the yard. I had the neighbor girl check outside for them. When she reported back to me that they weren't out there, my heart sank. I put down the baby and went outside, shouting their names and no answer. I looked at the empty sidewalks, searching for them riding their bikes. They know their boundaries. My heart sank deeper. It didn't make sense. I sent the girl home to look for them there (not understanding why they would be there, but I had to cover all the bases)

My natural introverted bubble broke instantly. My determination to find them, automatically became relentless. I began shaking as I went to every potential neighbor's house, knocking on their doors asking for them. A few of them even stood outside with eyes peeled, keeping watch for me in case they showed up. One neighbor I didn't even know who happened to be outside, stopped what he was doing to keep watch. With each quick step, I was eliminating all the possible places they could've disappeared to and resolved myself that if they weren't at this last house (the girl's house) then I was going to call the cops. My imagination started streaming to all the bad places. The shaking in my body got worse. I was having trouble breathing.

The little girl came out of her house with a note from her mother, saying that my children were there. Relief rushed over me and anger set in strong. I got to the house and there they were, safely, eating snack with all her daycare kids, acting like nothing was wrong. I was furious with them. I even learned that they lied to the neighbor about the permission given for them to be there.

"Get up now!" I scolded them. With "oh crap" looks on their faces, they got up and we left.

We marched back to our house. I yelled to all the neighbors "I found them! I'm gonna give it to 'em, but I found them!" Of course all their replies were.... "Understandably!" .... good people.

As soon as I got into the house, the tears masked my face and I began to bawl profusely. I made them sit on their beds until I collected myself enough to think of a damn good punishment, but my heart was just torn to shreds. I had to call my husband to tell him what just happened so he could talk me down. Panic finally took it's toll on my nerves and the relief made it all flood out at once.

I love my children. I ache for them. I already died once when my daughter died. I can't go through it again. I even confided to a friend that I didn't want to be a mom anymore. I love them so much that I didn't want my job anymore. (yeah... I probably need counseling, I'm sure....)

Happy Mother's Day to me! My kids are going to be the death of me!

I've never had anything in my life take it's toll like this job does. A love so great comes with the worst pain possible.

I love being able to cuddle my babies. Being there when they have life's questions. Displaying my magical powers of kissing boo boos away. Watching them sing my songs. Sharing in our Doctor Who fandom.

But the stress, anxiety, and heartache they give me half the time makes me have moments when I want to be done with it. Having moments of throwing in the towel and desperately wanting to be released of this responsibility.

Not only is it therapeutic for me to write this out, but I know that I'm not the only mom that has a love/hate relationship with her job. We wouldn't trade our children for the world, we'd move mountains to bring them to safety, and yet at the same time, the burden just seems like too much to bear and we don't feel strong enough to continue on. So... I'm gonna leave you with a quote from my favorite author C.S. Lewis.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-- safe, dark, motionless, airless-- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

Kids and Their Obsession With Death

I've had several friends ask about kids dealing with the thought process of death recently, so here's my thoughts to any parent finding themselves in this type of situation.  

"What happens when people die?" "What happens to their body?" "What's a soul?"

The questions are endless from these little people. My son has been the main instigator of such questions in our house, ever since he was 2.

It's so hard watching your children be in pain as they process the loss of a loved one, but hold your hope, parent! This is a beautiful gateway that you don't want to take for granted. You have their attention. Some for only 2 minutes and some for an hour, but you have their attention. And not their attention about trucks or dolls, but they are genuinely curious about death and what happens. You have the opportunity to teach them about the bigger picture.

There's a number of children's books out there that help explain things to some degree, but when the book is over, there's usually more questions. How do you know what to say or how far to go with the answers?

I will tell you this. Every child is different in their level of maturity. Every parent is different on how they feel about the subject. There's no clear way to handle this process. There's no one right way. You'll need to use your discernment as a parent to determine how you want to handle this fragile subject as your child, the king/queen of questions, continues to ponder, trying to reason this intangible Truth.

I've listed (I know, it's weird that I'm doing a list, but thought it'd be more eye friendly and helpful) some tips that helped me and continue to help me as I parent children that are obsessed with death!

~ Reflect:
Take a moment and reflect on what you do believe about the subject. If you are unsure about how you feel, ask them if you can talk about it later that night (or the next day, if it's already night time) and take the afternoon, pray, study, and figure out how you feel about it for yourself. If they are old enough, let them study with you.

~ Answer the question with a question. 
This gets them thinking and it reveals to you what is already in their little hearts. "What do YOU think happens?" It's a great way to start an active discussion between you and your child.

~ Keep it simple (according to your discernment of their questions): 
If they are 2, obviously, you aren't going to get very far in theology. But if they are older or asking continuous questions and you can tell they want to dig deeper, then let that be a sign to lead how deep the discussion will go. Sometimes a simple answer will suffice, but sometimes, it won't and they want to talk about it more.

~ Make it tangible: 
Try using an example of a tangible object or something they understand to help them process it. For me, I like using "light". This is the general idea of how I explain it.
When we are made, God puts a light into us called our soul. We carry that light with us where ever we go and our bodies make it so we can take care of others and ourselves. When we die, God takes that light, our souls, and makes for us, new bodies. He takes us to a beautiful place with no more pain, and no more tears or sadness. People on earth say "Good-bye" to our old bodies and bury the old body into the ground. But the best part, is that we all get to see each other in the end, in our new bodies and we'll know who everyone is.

~Make time for the "why?": 
Sit your butt down with that child if he/she gets this far because this is the food they so desire. The "why?" is the best part of the conversation, but can be equally terrifying. I know some of you are thinking, "How could my kid even ask such deep questions?" But they are there, trust me. Some kids don't ask deeper questions until they are older, but some ask these questions at an incredible age. This doesn't make one kid better than the other, (because this is solely a temperament thing, I believe) but you want to embrace it whenever it comes. You are the one that is going to be the most influential in your child's life.
So I ask you, what is your "why?" This definitely forces you to think, but it's good for you. Again, this is a great time to ask your child what they think. But if the shrug comes, that ball passes to you. Here's a very true example of something I teach my children:
When Grandpa Joe was alive, he taught me that everyone has a job to do on Earth. When that job is done, that's when God chooses to take us home. If you are still living and breathing on this Earth, that means that God's not done with you and that you need to keep completing the work He has for you. 
Obviously, there are other "why?" questions that could be asked, but find those Truths either by study or reflection on what you know already in your heart.

~Validate their feelings, but don't give false hope: 
It's ok to let them cry if they are sad about someone in particular. Or if they cry because they are scared. Those are all acceptable reactions to emotions, so don't try to smother that. It's so hard to fight the urge to say, "but it probably won't happen. We'll all be really old and ready to go when it finally happens." just to calm their tears. Truth is, the world is not that way. In our family, it's very real that death hits us at young ages too. (which is probably why my kids are so obsessed most of the time) To give another example of how I handle these types of things is this:
I know you are sad. I know you are scared. I get sad and scared too. But the truth is, is we are not in control of these things. I wish we were, but we are not. Only God decides who is ready to go and who is not. And truly, we need to remember what it's like for those that die and are in heaven. They feel no more pain. And we all wait to see each other again.

~Don't be afraid of the rabbit trails: 
The rabbit trails are beautiful. It takes the conversation into places that you would've never thought to just bring up to your child. And truly, your child is curious enough, they will come back to the point of their conversation, whether it be within that sitting or at another time. (giving you a break to keep preparing yourself)

~Give them something to do: 
Because we are still living and breathing, we get to keep figuring out what God wants us to do. It's always nice to end a conversation like this with application. Think of things that can be done as well as something that gives them a true hope about their future. Encourage them.

~Move forward:
Some of us get a little long winded when trying to explain things to our children. By watching them in response and their attention span, you'll see pretty quickly if they need a break. That's ok! Let them go play. Let them chew on this piece of information you have shared with them. Allow their process the way they need to process.

~They always come back!: 
Have you met a child that just stopped asking questions?? I haven't. If you think you have, that just means they've stopped asking you questions. This is another reason why it's important to make time for your kids when they ask you questions, otherwise their questions will fall somewhere else. And that could be an ok thing or a bad thing, depending on where they fall. But truly, if you are open to those questions, they will come back. They always do.

Hope these things help! Hang in there, parent!

Edit note: I wanted to also add that sometimes that answer is "I don't know." And that OK too! We don't have all the answers and it's ok to show that vulnerable-ness to your child or anyone seeking answers from you about a given subject. None of us have this thing nailed. I'm simply sharing from my own toiling and experiences.

Satisfied: Last Dedication

Last Sunday, our family had our last babies dedicated. 

It was such a weird dynamic, standing together as our little family of 7 (secretly 8), in front of a body of believers that are still new to us. As we scrambled to gather our children to all stand nicely at our side so the church can concentrate on what was about to happen, I couldn't help but think of all we've been through as a family and all that we are presently going through. I kept thinking how this was the last dedication for our little unit.  

As I sit here and write about it, I'm remembering all the others. Isaiah's dedication was interesting because we were in a Lutheran church getting our baby dedicated and not baptized. Instead they anointed his head with oil and prayed over him. What a blessing he's been to us, having the mind and thought process that he has, all the theological discussions, I can't even count the times. He truly is a "man after God's own heart" (the meaning of Isaiah's name)

We didn't get a chance to dedicate Sarah before she died. But in a way, I don't grieve that part as much because her death was like the ultimate dedication. Of course, no where did I give my consent, but that's the beauty of it. The reminder that they are only on loan to us after all.  The way I am able to honor such a dedication is by sharing her story and giving that Love to people that need it with the utmost empathy only one that has gone through it can give.  What a "princess" she truly is. (the meaning of Sarah's name) 

Eve wouldn't let the pastor hold her during the prayer. She stayed in mommy's arms. Such raw emotions fighting the urge to hold her tight and never let her go, after losing Sarah. I had to commit to embracing God's control along with His Love at the same time. This little girl's arrival has stretched me in ways I didn't know I needed to be stretched, in ways I didn't see coming. But we were made new... again. We journeyed through our "new beginnings" with her arrival. (the meaning behind Eve's name) 

Teshura... oh Teshura. She let the pastor hold her, in all her fight and pain she went through, there is so much deep love inside of her, so deep, it's usually hard to tap into. ;) Again stretching me with my emotions, her trials only brought, and continue to bring, our young family that much closer together. What a true "gift of God" she really is. (the meaning of Teshura's name) 

Then there's Naomi and Ruth. They were dedicated together (last Sunday) and they have brought that much more healing to our family. I had certain emotional scars that these 2 surprises brought healing to. It will be interesting what they continue to bring to our family. Naomi lives up to her name, meaning "beautiful" and "pleasant" (most of the time). Of course, she looks exactly like me! Ha! And Ruth, there are several meanings to her name, but my favorites are "companion" and "friend". She is 2 months old now and I can't wait to see her personality blossom. But the ultimate favorite meaning of her name is "satisfied". 

For I am satisfied with all these babies that I have. I am overwhelmed with raising 5 of them, disciplining 5 of them, feeding 5 of them, schooling 5 of them, getting them to bed is almost comical as they each come with 5 hugs and 5 kisses and 5 drinks of water (assuming Ruth will follow suit when a little older). I know one day I will miss doing everything 5 times.  

When it comes to my babies, I am satisfied. 

the Wingdings