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 "

Mastery: Letting go of being free of your struggles

In a crazy cycle recently, (where my depression spirals because I rarely feel well, making me crumple in a fetal position, crying, wanting my life to be over because I feel so worthless) I came to a certain resolve. I wanted to be free. Free of the depression, free of the stress, of the health issues. I would plead to God to take it away, but still I struggled... every day... trying to find the reason why I want keep fighting, even though I don't feel well.

Can we ever really be free? Free of illness? Chronic illness? Free of mental issues? Depression? Anxiety? Anger? Debilitating conditions?

Scriptures say “we are free.” What the hell does that even mean? I mean, let’s talk spiritually speaking here. We are stuck in this world, this fallen world. Jesus came and said the words Himself, “if the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.” But in context, He was talking about sin though. We are free from the bondage of our own sin. (note to self: that doesn't mean the sin against us from others and obviously, this didn't stop the consequences of the physical fallen world, since we still get sick and die, BUT...) We are made spiritually new. (And when we rise, we will be made physically new) We will be found clean in the face of God when we meet Him, because of the freedom we have received from the Son. Does this give me hope? Yes.

But, but, but…..

What about today? What about now? I don’t mean to sound impatient, but not only have I been dealing with this illness, this depression for so long now but…. Where is the respite? I believe in miracles, but after watching Dad die of cancer, I learned that miracles come in different forms and not always the way you want them to happen.

I went through a serious bout of more depression recently that circled around that fact that I may never be free of this illness, this depression, this fatigue cycle. Once again, God was just a figure standing there with His back turned away from me. “Not this one. Not this time” was what I kept hearing in response for my pleading with God to release me from this struggle. I didn't understand why. I still don’t understand why. But something had to give. I wanted to give up but that’s where it got complicated. Can’t give up something that is in you, something that you are dealt, something that you've lost. Giving up was impossible, unless I was willing to kill myself. Sure. I thought about it. I thought about releasing my husband from a sick wife, releasing my kids from a sick mother. But then… I’m too much of a pansy and well… my babies are… babies. I couldn't even think about doing that to them. It was devastating losing my dad at 16, I didn't want to put them through something like that. No. I wanted to live… But I want to LIVE. Like really live, like tear up the yard because all my plans are ridiculous and so…. *Kailan*. Like paint and decorate weird things on my walls for company to find as they creep through our house. Like not only school the kids in just the basics of education, but really take them out and let them experience things to the fullest. Like actually play with them again. You know? LIVE!

But if I can’t be free…..where’s my hope in that? Sure, I may get better some day. I may not. But what I do know is that “today” I must.

I started reflecting on something then. God told Cain that he must master his anger. (I use this lesson a lot in parenting) Was Cain wrong to be angry about Abel’s offerings? (because Abel gave better than Cain) No. But he was angry at the wrong person. His anger was a trigger, given by God, something beautiful. But his first mistake was getting mad at the wrong person, second mistake was he didn't heed God’s advice. Third mistake…. He went ahead and killed Abel in his anger, permanently silencing him and permanently stirring his own demise…. All because he couldn't- wouldn't master it.

I found myself realizing that if I wasn't going to be free of depression, and maybe even this sickness, then I must learn to master it, before it kills me.

So the research went into hyper-drive. The first things Jesus did was help the physical. I needed to be my own Jesus. (is that sacrilege to say?) I needed to help myself physically. Things like getting my ass back into the doctors office and not giving up on that part of things. Eating healthier, drinking more water, and taking my vitamins. I don’t have a second head that’s going to do all this for me. (well... it seems I do have a second head, but she isn't very helpful) I have to stand up for myself and master as much as I can for my body’s sake. I’m still figuring all this out.

Then the emotional/mental; counseling and talking with intimate friends, people I trust. Letting them in. Doing things that fill me up. I’m an introvert, so my things are reading, writing, making music and art. An extrovert may want to get out and run with a bunch of people… (oh wait… my husband does that.) A big one here is forgiving my bad days and embracing my good ones. I’m still figuring all this out.

Then the spiritual: I’m on shaky grounds here. I question everything I knew. Sometimes I struggle in vain…. Heh… most times I do. I try to keep my head about me, but then lose it. I get mad at people when they start talking spiritual to me about my health issues. “You’re going through this for a reason.” (makes me feel like a puppet on a string) “God will never give you anything you can’t handle” (right. And that’s why Christians kill themselves…. Or are killed. And actually, that line is often misquoted, so boom.) “Can’t you just shake it off and keep moving?” (shake it off… without breaking out in song, I ****ing wish I could shake it off and move the body that has it’s own agenda…. Ah! Dang it. Now that dang song is struck in my head) But in all seriousness, I'm letting myself wrestle with my faith. I love God. He is awesome. I just don't always "feel" His awesomeness. And maybe that's ok?  I’m still figuring all this out.

I've made up my mind though. I’m going to master this.

I watched the movie “The Gabby Douglas Story” recently. (awesome movie on Netflix, btw) and as I watched this sweet girl’s young life unfold, I saw the struggle, the passion, the desperation, and the hope. I saw this extraordinary family come together around this girl with extraordinary talent, but ultimately, it was up to her to find her teacher, do the work, fall and rise, and master her skills. She killed it at the Olympics, by the way.

There’s going to be a lot of days when I fail, but this is my trying. Mastering this doesn't even mean that “all will be well”, it just means that I have a plan to discipline myself. On my good days, I’m going to play and laugh, get stuff done, make my weird "kailan" creations. On my bad days, I’m going to cry, not eat when I don’t want to, slow down, forgive myself, cuddle a lot (since that’s the main thing I’m able to still be good at) and go to bed early. Mastering this means I’m going to stop telling myself that I’m not worth it. Or that I’m not a good wife and that he could do better/ have better. Mastering this means I’m going to change that self-talk. I am valuable to Him. I am talented. I am really really good at cuddling no matter what state I’m in. I have a husband, my support system, who goes to the moon and back for me because he thinks I’m worth it. I have friends that love me and all my quirks.

Any time I want to simply be free of my depression and illness, I just get more depressed.

That only leaves me one logical living choice. I must master it.

And so far…. I’m starting to have real hope.

My "Lost" Girl

photo by Tesh, my 5 year old

I was doing some yard work this last weekend.... I know.... shocker.... anywho... it was finally nice outside and a lovely city animal helped itself to our trash can, breaking open a trash bag and making it rain trash all over the yard. While the hubs was gone running, I decided it would be good to get out of the house and pick up some trash! :D Yay!

Only 2 kids came outside with me. My 3 and 5 year old. They were having a blast! (and by blast I mean, bickering every 2 min. over the swings and something about where the umbrella was on the slide.... I quit listening to specifics after a while... anywho... ) As they played in the back yard, I was minding my own drama free business, with my gorgeous grocery sack in hand, picking up glorious amounts of trash around the yard. This animal must have been taking some anger out with all this trash. Good night! I walked around the house, slipping out of sight, looking for stragglers from the wind blown consequences and faithfully found more. I could hear the laughter and bickering and laughter and bickering coming from the backyard, all pleasant noises telling me exactly what they are doing, where they are in the yard, all that good stuff. I moved to the front, still being able to hear them and determined to get this yard clean. Thankfully, there wasn't too much in the front... how embarrassing right? (let's keep all that in the back... shall we? at least the animal had that much respect ;)

So I come around to the other side of the house, still out of sight, all the same playful bliss noise coming from the back. As I scrape across the driveway, inching my way back to the original crime scene where our garbage cans are I'm thinking, "Man! We use a lot of paper towels." Then I hear my 5 year old yelling,

"Mom? Mom?!.... Mom!! ... Mom!!" I stepped back into sight, "Hey sweetie! I'm here!"

"We were lost! We were lost and I couldn't find you. We were lost!" she exclaimed.

"You weren't lost, silly girl!" Yes, I chuckled, we have a small yard and there's no way to get lost. "You never were lost." I tried to explain, she cut me off -

"No, we were lost! We were!"

 "I knew where you were this whole time. I just went around the house. You couldn't see me, but I heard you the whole time, and came to you because I knew right where you were. That is not lost. You were just scared because you couldn't see me."

the "lost" girl

She finally conceded.... I think... she at least dropped the argument anyway. So when she's 16 and she tells the world that I "lost" her when she was 5, She is totally lying!!! ehem... misunderstood... moving on...

But that made me think. That whole encounter. Her brain fascinates me, but is it not true of us as adults when we think about God and whether or not He's absent based on our feelings/fears/confidence/etc.? I wonder if God chuckles when we argue are "lost-ness" or their lost-ness. (when I say my made up word "lost-ness", it reminds me of the Loch Ness monster which has nothing to do with this post.)

Why do we even use that word when speaking about such things?    "lost"

Maybe I'm arguing semantics but I know when I feel "lost", I'm swelled with fear and anxiety. I know God cares for me, and that He loves me and that I am His...But I can't "see" Him. I can't always feel Him....  But I do know He'll always know right where I am. He never does lose me.  

It's simply impossible. 

Dancing with December

O December

You never evade me.

My heart betrays me.

It’s a painful price to even look at you.

8 years passed.

In my head, she dies again…. Every time.

All treasonous senses so religiously remind me.

Time’s repetitious dance is my enemy.

If I could blot you out, I would.

Useless to pray you away.

My old love for you remembers better days.

Days filled with light passed, now clouded by darkness.

Days with joy and excitement passed, now knocks dread.

Warm family closeness wrestles isolation.

Why must I take your hand as you escort me through memories I wish I could forget?

Your swift movements lure me in, arms remain warm as the silent snow falls.

I feel your attempts to cover my eyes from the sight of her empty face, but it’s no use.

I hear your song, “Because of the One we celebrate this season, we have Hope…”

It’s not that I don’t take solace in those words. I do.

It’s just the measure of my heartache is that great.

And you know this. Every year you know this.

You are one of the precious few who know me this well.

So this ornament, made with my own careful hands, will whisper in my ear

"Just breathe." 






(In memory of Sarah Layne Wing 9/7/06 - 12/17/06)

Awake: Surviving Depression

It's been 3 months since I've written anything. There's good reason to my hesitancy in publishing anything within those months. I've been unwell. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months of laying on the couch, in so much pain and weakness, watching my children fall into routine of taking more responsibilities because I was unable. Headaches and fatigue ruled my life and my mind became captive to it. My thoughts had no clarity, in fact the only thing that I could make out were words that said, "You are a burden." Those words drove me to desire death, so that my loved ones could go on with someone else, someone new, someone able. I never attempted suicide, but dreamed that God would just take me somehow. I had already been in the thick of the headaches, and the Spirit of God gave me strength and an oasis to spend the time I did with my Uncle Bud before and during his death. I found myself jealous of my uncle's passing, wishing it had been me. Any logic that was left in me said, "GO TO THE DOCTOR!!"

 I gave up. I surrendered. I tried all my natural home remedies. Any time I brought God up in it all, I condemned myself or felt God being passive to my suffering. I was in a physical, mental, and spiritual fog. I had successfully isolated myself away from most of my family and friends (because I "was a burden" remember?) My husband, (who is the best husband in the world, by the way) would come home from his stressful job to all the housework at home, five little kids yearning for his attention, needing his referee-ing. Not knowing what to say to me, he just held me. Whenever I asked, he held me. I would cry guilty tears of not getting anything done around the house. He'd coach me saying, "This too shall pass" but those words were muffled to my ears. I was stuck in "the now." I was overwhelmed with the endless torment my body had apparently betrayed me with, waiting to die, wanting to die. My husband took me to my first appointment.

I remember sitting there in disbelief that it had gotten this bad. My health. My depression. They were spiraling together, sinking me down and tying me to the bottom. My bonds were just too tight. Out of boredom of waiting in the doctor's office, I surfed through my email and found an article titled, "You Are Not Alone." I took a deep breath.

The doctor found my thyroid issues, and we started the long trek of balancing that out. Then continued on more meds for my depression. I had started this unique therapy with my Uncle Ed (who is a gifted counselor) called "EMDR Therapy" and it has greatly improved my mental clarity. Two mentors, who are some of my best friends, never left me in the dark alone. They walked with me, listening to my anger and desperation, never judging, turning my face to the hope of tomorrow. I finally started feeling better and then sprained my ankle, making me bedridden once again. Another bond, another weight. I felt so defeated. I asked God why He wanted me this way? Why He isn't protecting me or healing me to be able to live the way He says He wants us to? But I continued to take my meds, do the therapy, allow my body to heal, talk to my mentors, and ask my husband to hold me.

I still have my bad days of headaches, but each week seems to get a little better. As the bonds fade, my mind becomes clearer. This is not some miraculously quick healing for me, but the miracle here is what I have become even more aware of during this process. I found my Beloved Lord again. Not as this passive God who just stood and watched me writhe in pain, nor as a condemning God for not being the wife/mom/friend that I needed to be. He was in the doctor who sat and heard my ailments and knew what would help me. He was in my Uncle who so gracefully counseled me in the safety of his love for me, with a therapy he knew would help me. He was in my mentor and friend that sat across from me til midnight every Tuesday night at that restaurant, relating to my struggles, reminding me that life is hard, but we can do life together and we'll get through this. And He was in another mentor that corresponded words of wisdom and understanding, challenging me to grow and to see beyond myself. And my favorite, was when He held me through the arms of my husband, "this too shall pass" "this is only a season" "I know you are hurting. I know. And I love you."  I had found myself again too. My notorious God-given "strong-will" that has gotten me, truly, this far in life and then... I didn't want to die anymore. (I mean, don't get me wrong, heaven is going to be awesome, but...) I wasn't so ready to leave right now.

I want to live. I see God everywhere.

In this slow healing, I am learning patience, grace, new appreciations, and new perspectives.

I finally made it to church this sunday, after months of being absent, and my pastor put it perfectly, teaching us (from the example of the Hebrews being freed and wandering the wilderness for so long) that you can be taken out of slavery, but it is through the wilderness, the slavery can be taken out of you.

God has, indeed, freed me from my bonds through Jesus Christ, but it was the bonds that were in me that I was feeling still. This world is the wilderness, for which I will learn how to live in this freedom from my bonds.

And every morning, I wake up, making it a point to say, "I am fine."

Oh The Thinks We Can Think: Heed, Allow, or Die.

When I was a teenager, there was this really bad snow storm. I was new to the driving world at the ripe age of 16. I had my 14 year old brothers in the car with me too. Everyone who knows me knows that I’m a timid driver. As a public service, I actually stay off the roads when it snows. However, this particular day, I had no choice. School wouldn’t cancel. I drove slowly that morning and got there safely. As the day progressed the storm got worse and schools finally started letting students out early. “Beautiful” I thought, “How caring of them to let us go home during the worst part of the storm!”

There is a main road just outside of the school. The speed limit was 55 but I went as slow as I desired. I couldn’t see all that well either with the wind blowing so hard. The stop light up ahead was shining red with a couple cars in front of me, so I started braking to slow down to a stop.

My car didn’t stop. I think it went faster. Within seconds, my eyes wide, I approached the car in front of me.

I slammed into that SUV with my little Dodge Shadow and the air bag slapped my cold face. I could taste that awful dust that was flying through the air as I tried to regain composure. I wanted to cry, but I looked at my scared brothers to see if they were ok so I tried to stay calm. I think I remember us arguing a little about what just happened.

A teacher jumped out of that SUV. “Oh great!” I thought. “I hit a teacher!”

As she marched over to me, I could see from behind me the cop car from the school security pulling over. Through the rear view mirror, I watched him step out of his car, slam the door shut, and slip on the ice. He held on to his car for support. That actually made me feel better. I wasn’t alone in the turmoils of this storm.

I finally got out of the car, carefully of course. There was still traffic trying to navigate it’s way through the intersection. We all stood on the other side of our cars, away from the road, while I retold my story about what happened. I was in shock as I looked at my car that was clearly totaled. 

Within minutes there was another car that started skidding on the ice towards the stop light. I remember seeing the driver who was this elderly lady with this desperate look on her face. At this point, my hearing went deaf and everything seemed to go in slow motion. I remember watching her try to regain control of her vehicle when a semi-truck started coming in from behind her. You could tell he was trying to slow down, trying not to hit her. As he tried to slow, he started to skid, bringing the back end cargo sliding closer to my car. I stood there. My jaw dropped and I froze. The cargo got closer and closer to me and then finally I realized people are screaming. But I didn’t know what they were screaming. I remained frozen, eyes fixed on the cargo, and my hearing remained muffled with shock. Then out of nowhere, the very teacher I hit with my car, grabbed me from behind and pulled me back several feet, “Get out of the way!” I could finally hear her clearly.

Thankfully, the cargo stopped just a couple feet away from my car. No one got hurt. They all sorted out and drove on. Crazy.

I don’t even remember details right after that. I don’t remember how I got home. I just know I got home with my brothers, safe and sound, my face still red from that airbag. And oh the stories we were telling Mom when we saw her. (this was, of course, before everyone had cell phones)


Have you ever had times in your life, when everything comes to an abrupt stop. It leaves you vulnerable. No one can tell what’s going on in your head. Are you ok? Are you hurt? Can you hear? See? Do you even know your own condition? The dominos could fall just right that could end you. Maybe you can hear the whispers of warning. Maybe not. Maybe then is when another person, another soul, comes and grabs you from behind in haste and pulls you away from danger, shouting your name.

That is humanity at it’s finest.

That is the hand of the Almighty working through the church.

But one of three things will happen in these scenarios:

1. You will heed the whispers and get help for yourself.

2. You will ignore the whispers, but allow the force of a friend (or many) to help you get help. And then you will look back and remember, “oh yeah… there were whispers….”

3. Death. Either physical or mental, but if mentally, the physical is always around the corner.

*If you are reading this and you have witnessed someone go down number 3, as I have witnessed many times, know that it’s not your fault. It is not your failure. You are not and have never been in control of another person. There is hope here still. There is always hope. The hope is they are now resting in His arms. You will always remember them, you will always feel the pain when you think of them, but it makes your force that much stronger.



I’ll have to ask my brothers how we got home that day. Cuz now it’s buggin me.

Tattooing Grace

I haven't been able to go to church in a while. Either because of sickness or because I have another headache, or simply because I don't feel like dragging all the kids out. I love the church we are at. It holds sweet and kind people in it. I don't think I've ever been to a place where there were so many thinkers, artists of all kinds, and introverts in one room! Good night! I love how the sermons are Love driven, giving us things to think about and the kind of church we need to be. The focus is grace in it's truest form.

But as I sit at home, missing out on it, sunday after sunday, small group after small group... I start to disconnect. And that's...... bad for me. Really bad. Insecurities creep in. My introverish behavior worsens and then I ultimately feel defeated. Displaced. Why?

I can only root it back to the pain. A pain that my heart has carried for a few years now about church. Some very specific moments, along with some very general perspectives. I've tried to come up with a million reasons why it got to me so bad and how things are so wrong, and how I need to "let that go". But you know? It's hard. To let go. (oh yes... Let It Go is now running through my head... dang it.) Anywho.

I had yet another set back recently that, as always, brought me to tears about these past hurts and I remember telling my husband this, "Why can't I just heal faster?!"

Have you ever felt such pain that you just want it to finally stop? You want it to leave you be? My guard is up so high right now, but at the same time, I'm so desperate for the fellowship. So desperate to smile at a stranger when we pass one another and make it a real smile. Desperate to know the people that surround me and laugh with them and cry with them. I've barely given them a chance. Such sweet people that have wronged me in no way and still fear remains in my heart, nudging me out the door.

I know the truth. I know we are all human and make mistakes. I know that I can't expect any kind of perfection out of anyone, especially myself, because the mess is what makes the fellowship that much more beautiful. Or as Momastery likes to put it, "brutiful".  

The church (in the global sense) is moving. I can feel it and have felt it for quite some time, but never has it been more evident to me as it is now. So many hurtful doctrines and leadership, creating a growing group of outcasts. The more people I talk to about this very concept, the more that come forward about how they've had a painful experience with church too. And a lot of it, if not all of it, screams legalism. Churches that take their rules and regs too far, to the letter of the law, and then preach about grace. I believe the church is dividing more and more, between legalism and grace (but I'll write about that some other time).

Now I admit I'm not a very graceful person. I'm working on it. But I tell you, with the pain I carry and then when reaching up for some kind of comfort, some kind of reasoning, some kind of answer..... Grace is the name I'm given.

Jesus gave Grace.

But it's not just about giving grace to those who hurt me, but it's also about wearing grace for those that I may hurt in the future if I don't. Giving grace because I know what it feels like to feel outcast. And I must not forget myself, giving myself grace enough to show up. With all my mess.... just show up. 

Finding these people that have been hurt too brings both hope and sadness. Because some have found the gems (churches) where they have found graceful fellowship again and that's a great thing! (Yes, they are out there!) But some... haven't been able to find it yet. Or they don't want to find it. And I have to allow them their process, just as I'm allowed mine.

I know the pain will stop in the end, but I'm not at the end and neither are you. I feel I will quite probably carry this pain with me everywhere I go. Like a scar. But I have my whole life to live and so do you. So what do I do with this pain and this scar?

See it as a "brutiful" tattoo and....

Look at it and Remember.

Remember Grace. 

Remember to give it AND to receive it. 

Because it's one of the most important things you can do for yourself and for others.

Pain forces us to remember where we've been, so then maybe we can find where we need to go from here.

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! 

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.

Drawing The Line: A Little Clearer... I'm Often Misunderstood. (i'm working on it)

I know that the last post may have seemed a little out of character for me.... to those that don't know me very well. Those that do know me, totally nailed my character...ehem.  However, even they were a little confused. After I stepped off my soapbox, I realize that I may have been a little too vague out of fear for slandering any names. What tipped me off was when people kept asking me what article I was even talking about.

I'm an avid article/post reader... so..... when I read an article... I just assume that everyone else has too. I'm not sorry for writing the previous post, however, here's some clarification.

A post that irked me ----> HERE

A post that didn't irk me ----> HERE

Now that you are up to speed, my post here will make a little more sense to you... hopefully.

We may all have to agree to disagree on this one, but I couldn't help but share my feelings on this as I watch various leaders of the church turn into modern day Pharisee's. So many boisterous claims as to who gets into heaven if they are this, or do this, or stop doing this.

I'm a firm believer that you need to accept Jesus' hand in order to live in paradise with Him. But that's just it. It's simple. And so many people make it such a complex thing all because of the journey one takes to truly feel redemption. Everyone is walking a different path. Some have the seemingly smallest milestones that turn into the very things that make them stumble. While others have gaping holes, or better yet, those cliff edges like in Indiana Jones where he had to step out into the air, hoping that he was right about the fact that there's a secret hidden bridge. Some feel stuck, while some are vigorously grabbing at each rock to get through the mountains. All are unstoppable, but only a few actually realize it.

Jesus, to me, is just so beautiful. He's that best friend that I know I can say anything to. But at the same time, He's the guy that makes me want to reach for those higher standards, no matter how many times I fall short.... in front of His face. I'm sure His forehead hurts just from my doing.

I'm not saying I've got it nailed. But I do know Love when I see it. I was just very disappointed at the stand certain leaders were taking, held with very strong heavy accusations. I know this happens often, but it was like one of those moments where everyone had a stone in their hands, ready to start throwing as soon as the leader gave the orders. .... and the leaders were pretty much giving the orders. That's what it felt like to me anyway.

Drawing The Line: Smack My Head and Call Me An Ice Cream Truck

I think it took me 3 hours to calm down enough to go to sleep after I read an article written by a pretty "famous" christian in retaliation to World Vision's decision. It had me so furious because these are the types of behaviors that (rightfully) give Christians a bad name (or better yet, it gives Jesus Himself a bad rep). Can the ones that just want to love on people be called Lovetians. Christloves. Nobullhornians. Giveusachancians. You get my point...

It would be against my better principles to drop names of who I'm talking about (who wrote the article) , but if you've already read the article, than you may know who I'm talking about. This one doesn't mind using his bullhorn. And yes, I write bullhorn whilst rolling my eyes. My forehead hurts from smacking my head. You get the picture.

So why my frustration? (Lord help me to say the right words)

Jesus Himself said, (Mark 12:30-31) (NASB)

"and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

 "Love God and Love others." period. There wasn't any clause in there that said, "love God, love others, but only if you guys agree on doctrinal views that almost have nothing to do with salvation, even if you think it may, let's just be safe and stay away from those people."

I understand that we all have our convictions of following the moral/spiritual laws of the Bible. But I truly am irritated with the words: tolerant and intolerant. I don't think those words are even in the Bible. I keep myself in check with my own personal convictions. I'll answer those that ask me how I feel about a particular subject. But to push my conviction on someone else, condemning them in the same breath and justifying it by calling it "intolerant of sin" or "I'm holding you accountable" just rubs me the wrong way. (unless I have asked a friend to hold me accountable, that's different)

I'm so sick of different doctrines dictating other's lifestyles. Condemnation instead of encouragement to serve in Love. Saying you're not enough because you are committing a particular sin instead of valuing a human being who is still ever so precious to God. Being so sure that they are going to bring down the masses, when ironically, your bullhorn may do just the trick on your end. (ok, that was jabby)

Mexico 2002

The picture above is me 10 years ago, in Mexico serving with a medical missions team. It's not World Vision, but it was the closest thing I could go back to, in my own experience, when I think of what World Vision does on the ground. Serving a community in need.

Allowing us to sponsor children, having as much of a relationship as we desire, helping a community thrive and grow so it can stand on it's own legs. My husband and I have invested in World Vision for years now. There was once a boy we sponsored in the Philippines. After 2 years, we got a letter from WV stating that his community no longer needed the support, that they were able to thrive on their own. What a blessing it was to see this one to the end.

I only share this to bring us back to the bigger picture. The bigger picture here is helping the poor. Giving these children a chance to be these future leaders in their community in a big way. Giving these adults the esteem to provide for their families.

Why are Christians getting caught up in the details of exactly who ought to be serving such needs? Why are we stepping in the way of mouths being fed and fruitful work being created? Who are we to stop anyone from doing what God has laid on their hearts to do? Who the hell do we truly think we are when we take stands against something or someone that is doing good, and insist that it is, "in fact" evil?

For what cause? To spread God's love?

I'm not feelin' it.



Edit Update for clarity:
Here's a post that irked me: HERE
And here's one that didn't irk me: HERE

Thou Shalt Be Healed...or Not... whatever.....

My dad and I :) 

Hunched forward in pain, a man I've known as far back as I can remember, moves one step at a time. He humbly admits, "I really think I only have 6 months left. I hope this isn't a reflection on my faith." 

~
Miraculous healing is hard to hear for someone who's been in my shoes. Sure, the bullets could have stopped when my cousin pulled the trigger. The cancer could have dissipated before it took my dad's life. Or better yet, we could have caught it in time to avoid the suffering. My daughter could have started breathing finally after all my desperate pleading. The rope could have torn. The car could have stopped.

But alas, these things didn't happen. Everyone has to die someday. It's just the facts. I have faith. But my faith did not cure the situations mentioned.

I believe in miracles.
But I also believe in claiming miracles wherever I see them. Claiming to the world that all you have to do is believe, a miracle WILL happen, you WILL be healed and live, has it's different interpretations.

Some interpret this to mean very literally, that your life will be spared on this earth if you believe (enough).

Yep. I snuck in that word, enough, because that's pretty much what they are saying.

Then there's my personal interpretation: I believe that miracles are performed everyday by God, and sometimes, we get to be a part of that. I also believe it's our faith that re-frames our eyes to see the miracles. Whether they be miracles of physical healing or heart healing (eternal healing).

To me, there's a big difference between physical and heart healing.

Physical healing is obvious. The cancer is gone! You've made a full recovery from your car accident! You can walk!

There was once a girl in our youth group, in a wheel chair, and her only way of communicating was through typing on her small device. She was the sweetest. I sat next to her and the leader told us to talk about miracles and what kind of miracles there are. So I turned to her and asked her that question. She slowly typed the words, "Do you ever think God could make me walk?" I didn't know how to answer her. At that point, my dad (who was strong in his faith) died of cancer a few years back, and frankly, I became bitter with "miracles". I knew they happened, but not to me. So I responded to this girl who locked her eyes on me the best she could, "Maybe some day. You never know." I forced a smile, but wanted to hang my head low.

Years passed and I sat at a graduation ceremony. The names were endlessly called and I began to drown it out. But then, out of nowhere, the crowd started roaring! The role calling had ceased for this moment, and there she was. With walker in hand, that precious girl from youth group, walking across that stage and took her own diploma. I get teary just thinking about it.

The heart healing goes so much deeper. This is where "the Body" really comes into play in my life. I've seen miracles, but I've also seen suffering and death. This kind of healing is life long. People are put into your life that give you Jesus' love. It's those moments when things didn't go your way, but they turned out to be a blessing. It's the times when you meet someone and they share with you a story that was so encouraging to you, and now you can walk more confident that you are, indeed, loved. It's those times when that woman who was abused and dehumanized, realizes that she is so very precious. It's when a piece of heaven is brought to earth and the Body coming together as it should. That's a miracle.

And God knows I can't wait to find that ultimate healing that comes in the end. As Marcus Mumford wrote in his song,
"And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but release your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there
with Grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."

Open your eyes to the miracles all around you. Embrace the now. Love on each other.
~
When I heard that once strong man say those words, I responded, "When Dad got sick, we prayed for 2 things: That he be healed. And that we would be prepared for the journey ahead. Our prayers were answered."
~
My dad is now healed as he sits in paradise. And we are still standing on our crippled legs. It's not a matter of having enough faith to be healed. It's a matter of having the faith that opens your eyes and reaches you further passed the physical healing into the heart healing. Both are real. Neither should be used against anyone, judging them on their own faith. Don't be defeated by any absence of physical healing, when heart healing is always happening.