Four years.
1460 days.
How is that even possible?
So much joy in four years...my babies are getting SO big! Zooey is talking so much and so well. Tennyson, well, you'd really love him. And Gideon! Oh, my! They are such a handful...just the kind of wild children you always loved. Just the kind you'd enjoy for a bit then happily hand back but be willing to take them on again later.
So many changes. So much stress and sadness. I'm so glad you don't have to see it or experience it. I think a lot of it would break your heart. I have gone a long time without almost calling you...probably about a year. That is, until the last 7 months or so. I've almost picked up that phone many times. Sometimes a girl just needs her mom. Lots of times lately.
I miss your voice. I miss your smile. I miss your prayers. I miss your empathy and concern, your comfort and deep understanding. I miss your wisdom. I miss my MOM.

31

Today was my birthday. If you've known me for a long time, you know that to me my birthday is usually a VERY! BIG! DEAL! I love it! It's really the only day that's all about you, right? I woke up this morning and was happy, thankful for my sweet friends and family who had already sent me birthday wishes, looking forward to going to lunch with a friend and dinner with my family. It felt like something was missing, and then it hit me...I hadn't received a call or text from my mom. My mom always made an effort to tell us "happy birthday" first thing in the morning on our birthdays, and adulthood was no different. If we hadn't anwered our phones, there was a message. So, I sat down at the kitchen table and thought about how much I miss her for a bit. This thought kind of stayed with me all day. My mom knew me from the very beginning, she knew she was pregnant before she even went to the doctor for a test. Just like I get so excited and am so thankful for Zooey on her birthday, my mom probably reflected on her children's lives and all that the future held, too. I missed her today. She was such a good job, and her example reminds me that it's not always even the big things we do as mothers that make the biggest impact. I don't remember most of the gifts, the parties, the cakes, the "extravaganza," but I do remember she made it a tradition to tell us happy birthday and she loved us on the morning of our birthdays. I hope to build some small and meaningful traditions with my children that I can even carry on into their adult lives. Something that lets them know they are loved and appreciated and how much they've blessed me. My mom did that; I appreciate her so much. I am thankful that the Lord helped shift my focus to thanksgiving for the blessing of having her for a mom instead of being depressed all day.

As mentioned earlier, I went to California Pizza Kitchen thanks to my wonderful friend Melissa and enjoyed a delicious, non-Paleo lunch, which included an amazing strawberry shortcake dessert. I also bought some dresses from Loft (courtesy of Ryan). I totally relaxed during Zooey's nap and read a book, then went out to dinner with Ryan, Zooey & my dad. It was a nice day. I had a lot of fun, and I realized once again how blessed I am by the family I have and the friends who I call family. I receieved so many wonderful birthday blessings that truly brightened my day!

A kick in the gut ~ 10 months

My mom's been gone ten months now. I still get kicked in the heart and gut by the grief. Like today, when I was preparing paperwork for my grandma's care and saw her writing on some old forms. There are fleeting moments where it still doesn't seem real. I miss her every day. Some days, like today, I miss her more than others. Last summer at this time she bought some toys for our backyard, so Zooey could have a "nice backyard to play in like (me) and Sarah did." When we went out to play this week, I couldn't help but think of her. I wonder what she's doing? I know heaven is a place with no suffering and pleasure, where she can talk to Jesus face to face. I wonder what it's like and how she spends her "time," since time really has no meaning there. I picture her on a beach with a dog in her lap. Or maybe she's playing with the toddlers and babies who are with Jesus, too. Maybe she even gets to meet some of my friend's babies who have gone before and let them know how much we prayed for them and how much their parents love them. Who knows...of course it's all a guess until we get there ourselves. I know those things brought her immense pleasure here. She was such a loving, courageous, amazing woman.

I've been thinking about how I always thought my mom had no pain tolerance and how she was scared of the pain of the cancer. I thought for certain that she'd complain or be wiped out a lot sooner than she was. She was, in the words of one of the nurses she had, stoic. At our July 4 celebration last year, we could see she was in pain and weak, but she continued to press on, only giving in when it got absolutely too unbearable. I think she was in a lot more pain than she ever let on. I'm so thankful she's not in pain now.

Joy & Sorrow

The last few days have been so joyful, and also hard for me in various ways. I woke up yesterday with the immediate thought to text my mom "Happy Mother's Day" before I remembered, yet again for the hundredth time last week, that she's no longer here to say that too. I went to church, a little perplexed about why Ryan never showed up but got my question answered when I returned home to lovely hanging pot of flowers on my front porch, roses and homemade crepes. Yum! We spent the day watching movies with Sarah & Rey (& even Zooey who sat still for most of "Winnie the Pooh!"). It was a nice day overall.

Tonight was the last night of BSF for the kids, which is always a rough night, but even more so since I will not be returning to the evening class next year, or to leadership. I have been with these women in this circle for the last five and a half years. They have obviously seen me through a lot, including most memorably my pregnancy & Zooey's arrival and the illness and loss of my mom. They are truly like family to me. It is a loss for sure; it is bittersweet...a grieving period that is also filled with hope because I will be attending BSF with Zooey! in the fall. As the Lord keeps telling me, she is SO worth it! God has also called me to some new ministries at church and in MOPS, and although I honestly fought with Him on it, because I am so passionate and love BSF so much, He's made it clear that He wants me to serve elsewhere. I told Him anytime He wants me to serve Him at BSF, I'm on it! LOL. :) I am sure that this week will be filled with tears...probably especially as I attend the leader's brunch and sharing night (always a tear-jerker of joy!) next week.

Another piece of joyful news announced at class tonight was that BSF is adding the study of Revelation! The study will be added in 2015, and I am SO excited that I can hardly contain myself! My first thought was to grab my cell and text my mom, who never thought they'd ever add that study, being that BSF is interdenominational. But once again, I realized she's not here to hear that news, and I was a little crushed.

I miss her. Grief is unexplainable and personal. I can't explain it other than she was my mom. Someone wise once told me right after my mom died that there's just something about knowing your mother's love is there, that unconditional love, and especially now being a mom, knowing the prayers that a mom prays for her child...that there is someone there praying that way for you - that is so special; no one can really prepare you for that "missing." I think that describes it well. Abraham Lincoln said, "I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life." Also, she was the person who kissed my boo-boos away when I was an infant and throughout my life...she knew just what to say. She shared in my joy in a unique way that only a mom can. I miss her so much.

One of my favorite things to study this year was in Thessalonians when we learned that the dead will rise first and will meet us in the air. I cannot wait to see my mom again. The Lord's precious promises mean so much to me. He is so sweet to include that little tidbit for us - that promise that we'll see our loved ones again. He is MORE than enough; seeing Him will fulfill me in EVERY way imaginable, but when our God gives, He gives in abundance and is also sweet enough to promise the joyful reunion with the saints who have gone before us. I love Him so incredibly!!

The title of the last lecture for this year was "Amazing Race: Sprint to the Finish." I want to sprint my life's race to God's glory...even when I am facing rocky, unknown territory as I am this upcoming year.

I miss you

You welcomed me
Kissed my cheek
Held me close
Embraced motherhood

You kept me safe
In a room of yellow
Rocked me
Sang sweetly to me

You saw me
And beamed with pride
Each first...
Roll, steps, word

You guided me
Into His arms
You prayed with me
He came in because you led me

You comforted me
Every boo boo
Every broken heart
Every "why"

You taught me
Manners and
Compassion and
Love and Faith

I said goodbye
Kissed your cheek
Held you close
Had to let go

He welcomed you
He keeps you safe
He freed you
He holds you now

 

I miss you every day.

How Deep the Father's Love for Us

God is so good. Seriously! Remember my last post? Pretty depressing, right? Well...after asking some friends to pray and praying myself, I got my "Our Daily Bread" devotional open on my phone to read this (see March 20th: http://odb.org/). How good is our God?! I love Him so much. Does He have to stoop down low and listen to my cries? No. But He chooses to love me despite ME. I love the passage that was given for today's reading. A reading I studied in BSF only two months ago...how quickly I forget, yet how GREAT of God to remind me.

¹³ "Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. ¹⁴ For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. ¹⁵ According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. ¹⁶ For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. ¹⁷ After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. ¹⁸ Therefore encourage one another with these words." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18.

Thank you, Jesus, for the sweet reminder that I will be reunited to my mom. Thank you for reminding me that Your plan spans eternity. Even though the last year has been a painful, seemingly looong time in my existence, You have reminded me that You are Omnipotent, You are Good and Fair and Just, and this pain is just a blip on the grand scale of Your plan for me. Lord, I am so thankful that You see me seated with You right now in the heavenly realms, even though I can't see that far yet. You are beyond Good, You are Perfect and Lovely. Thank you for choosing to love me. Thank you for enabling me to seek You out. Thank You that you mysteriously, amazingly somehow make the bitter times sweeter than I could have even imagined by drawing me nearer and nearer to You. I love You. Amen.

^"6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, ⁷ in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. ⁸ For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— ⁹ not by works, so that no one can boast. ¹⁰ For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Ephesians 2:6-10

I've been pretty down the last few days. I lay in bed before I go to sleep at night, and I think about my sweet mom. This time last year, she had undergone her final chemo treatments and decided not to continue them. They just made her too sick. I remember feeling sad about her decision, because I had so much hope that it would give her the maximum time we could have with her, but I was also so supportive, because who wants to spend the last 6-8 months of their life feeling nauseous and wanting to stay in bed all the time? While Ryan & I weren't open with many about this, we also tried briefly, maybe for about three months, to get pregnant this time last year. I so wanted the chance for my mom to meet our next child on this earth, but God knew her time was shorter than my human mind could hope for. What a protection that ultimately was, me not conceiving, because the stress wouldn't have been good for me or the baby, and I know my mom would've been stressed about my health, too. This time last year, we had returned from our last vacation with my mom to San Diego, and I remember looking at some Women of Faith Conferences, hoping maybe we could get one more trip together... So much that just wasn't meant to be.

Oh, how I miss her. I miss her in the little things, like when I watch a new show on TV, like I did this week, and I almost pick up the phone to ask her if she's seen it because I think she would've liked it. When I watch Zooey feed the ducks at the zoo, I remember how she used to buy me and Sarah the food, and watch us throw it in the pond, and I think how much she would have enjoyed seeing Zooey do it, how she would've shared in my pride. I pack Zooey's lunch for school and remember how she used to leave me little notes in my lunch box, "I love you" or "Have a good day" or "I'm praying for you." I put on her shirts that are now mine, and they don't smell like her at all anymore, even the ones that were in the bottom of the drawer that I haven't worn yet. I open the Bible she left me, and I see a highlighted passage, and sometimes I know, because we'd talked about it, how it encouraged her (& in turn encouraged me), and sometimes I wonder why she liked it so much. I rub Zooey's back and remember how I'd always ask her to rub mine, even in high school, and she always did. I miss her when I think about getting Zooey an Easter dress, and I remember how last year she was so tickled when Zooey walked down the hall showing my mom her new shoes.

I miss her in the big things. I miss her when I am hurt, and I just want to talk to my mom about it, the woman who kissed my boo-boos and touched my heart with her sweet, calming, reassuring voice. I miss talking over the big decisions in my life, even, or maybe especially, the hard ones. I miss her hugs and the sweet, clean smell that enveloped me when I hugged her back.

It isn't simply enough to say I miss her. It isn't. Those words don't describe the dull ache that creeps on me like it has the last week, leaving me feeling so sad. But at the same time, I miss her.

I hate that there are days when I struggle to find these good memories, because I am remembering her illness more than I am remembering her. I hate remembering her lying in that bed, semi-conscious and unable to speak. I hate that she had so much pain. I really wish I could move past thinking about that instead of all the millions of good memories. I know it's a lot for my brain to take in, so I need to process it bits at a time, but it's like a knife just slicing the same wound open again. I still struggle with the question why. I still ask God how I am supposed to go forward without my mom. It isn't that I don't have family whom I love and adore and friends. It isn't that my husband isn't my rock, the logical strong one who I turn to when I need advice or a big strong hug. There's just something about being a girl/woman and having a mom that you're close to - there isn't another type of bond like that, in my opinion. Just like a husband/wife or sisters or sister/brother or best friends or any other combination of people share a unique bond, the same is true of mother/daughter.

It is hard - SO HARD - sometimes to not let my emotions control me. There are moments when I want to curl up in a depressed fetal ball and not get up, when I just want to wallow in it. Thank and praise the Lord that He pulls me out of it, because I know I probably wouldn't be able to sometimes. But right when I'm probably about to collapse (because I have a tendency to shut things in for way too long), He comes along and gives me something I didn't even know I needed before He shows me. Like tonight, when I sat down and read Zooey her devotional at bed, and it said:

"The children are looking at the rainbow and the pretty clouds. They are thinking about heaven. Someday we will have new bodies that are even more amazing than the bodies we have now. When we go to heaven to live with Jesus, our bodies will be just like his. We won't get sick or hurt. And we'll never have to cry. We will have the best bodies ever! 'He will change our simple bodies and make them like his own glorious body. Christ can do this by his power.' (Philippians 3:21, ICB). Jesus, when I live with you, my body will be all brand-new." (The One Year Devotions for Preschoolers, Crystal Bowman, 2004. pg. March 17).

That about sums it up, right? My mom is in her new "best body," and she is not in pain. And someday, I'll see her again and not have to cry anymore.

Mom, around 1980

Six Months Gone

My mom has been gone from this earth for six months today.

I've been thinking about her a lot. Sometimes it's little things, like how I was remembering her love for "drama." I was reminiscing about the time there was an seemingly intoxicated person on one of the residential streets in our neighborhood who fell asleep on the side of the road. My mom called the police and waited until they came. We were with her in the car...I was probably about 15. Or the time my grandma's purse got snatched at the pool on my 12th birthday. After they found her purse in a dumpster, my mom, grandma, Sarah & I got all detective on the guy and basically started stalking the area looking for him. Probably not too safe, but we had fun. Other times I think about huge things she did for us, like pray for her family in detail and consistently ever since she became a Christian. Or how she stayed home to raise us and wanted nothing for us but that we know the Lord and follow Him well. Sarah and I both have had some separate issues in the last week that have just been overwhelming for each of us. She called me for her issue; I spoke to her about mine. We both agreed that it's just not the same as being able to pick up the phone and call our mom.

Half a year...who would've thought I'd make it this long? I sure didn't feel like it. I miss her so much.

I miss my mom today. I was driving home after lunch and glanced at the clock. "1:38," I thought, "I'll call Mom; she's probably at lunch." I shook my head and realized all in one moment that she's not here. Oh, how I long that she could've seen Zooey on Christmas. I wish I could've talked with her about the ways Zooey's grown in the last year, how she really gets how to open a gift now, how cute she was on her slide that Santa brought her. I wish I could upload the video of Christmas morning and show her and see her eyes light up and hear her laugh. I wish I could take her to the places I take Zooey to play and explore. I just miss sharing life with her. I wish I could hear her tell me funny stories, or sing her silly songs to her dogs, or hear her tell me what she learned on Charles Stanley. It's the little things, you know?

I realized while I was journaling today that it's hard to really be real with people. They ask how things are going, I give a brief sentence answer. I usually change the subject. Why? I don't know. Grief feels very private to me. I feel...confused...right now. I will go several days and be fine. I will go several days and be very sad and feel very alone in my grief. I will be fine in the morning and a wreck before bedtime. Or fine in the morning and have a rough drive in the car with my memories. I can feel very confident in the hope I'll see her in heaven, but other moments feel so sad that I'll never see her here again. One day I still feel like she's just on a trip, the next it feels very final. My emotions are really all over the place, so that's why it's hard to be real. That's why I think I change the subject and can't open up, even though there are times I desperately want to. I appreciate your prayers, though. Thank you so much for that!

I also realized today that I've been struggling being real with God. Which is kinda' funny to me, because I'm the one to always encourage people to be real with God, because He already knows everything, anyway. The thing is, I think I'm trying to hide. I think I want to pretend I'm ok sometimes, even when I feel Him prompting me to come to Him with my tears. I don't want to face it, so I ignore Him. Not the proper response. It was so freeing for me to come to Him today and be refreshed with the knowledge that He DOES know, He knows it all - my joys, my sorrows, my fears, my doubts and apprehensions. He knows I just want to be done with the hard stuff and move on. Unfortunately, that's not exactly how it works, so He encourages me to pick up my Bible, to bow my head to pray, even when it is hard. He wants to bind up my broken heart and heal my crushed spirit, but that kind of repair takes time. If surgeries can last 12 hours, why do I think God will fix me up in a mere 5 months from such damage? It's going to take time, but God is the author of time, so I can trust He has big plans for it. Even in the lowest points, even when it sucks worse than anything I've ever experienced, I can honestly say I'm excited to what He has for me on the other side.

I wish I could hear my mom's voice. I read a note from her today, and I could almost hear her saying the words. I'm scared I will forget her voice. I wish I could give her a big hug and breathe in her smell...that smell of fresh laundry, a hint of perfume, clinique makeup and "clean." I'm scared I will forget this, too. I remember her tucking me into bed when I was little, leaning over and giving me a kiss. I remember her smell and her saying "I love you." I remember her coming in my room in the morning to wake me up as I got older and singing "Good morning, good morning, good morning; it's time to rise & shine," and whipping the blinds open, letting the sun hit me in the face, then yanking my covers off me. (I'm not a morning person.) At the time that really made me mad, now it makes me smile. I remember her leading me to the Lord on my bedroom floor, holding my hands. I remember her stroking my hand with her thumb while she held it tightly in the car, while I watched raindrops slide down the windshield on the way to the mall one time. I remember her conspiring in the kitchen with me & Sarah, making my dad a cup of hot water and telling him it was coffee, because he told her that she made coffee too weak and it tasted like hot water. I remember when she was pregnant with Sarah, how I got to feel kicks as my mom lay on the couch, she held my hand against her belly. I remember going to see Sarah in the hospital and my mom looked so tired....but she still gave me a tight hug. I remember she used to let me & Sarah have "slumber parties" with her on some nights when my dad was out of town at the auction; I loved snuggling up with them in her bed. I remember laying my head on her lap on the couch at night while we watched TV, and she'd play with my hair. She used to do my hair for drill team and ROTC. She did my hair and makeup for almost every school dance, she helped me pick out a dress and she took lots of pictures. I used to call her every week after church or about my BSF lesson and talk to her about it. I miss her input; she was so wise. I loved my mom's laugh. It was contagious, full of joy, she really enjoyed humor. I remember even in the end, when I lay with her in bed, she still smelled like her. She whispered, "I love you." I know this post was a bunch of rambling, but I have to hold onto these memories. I have to be able to go back & reread them when I can't think of anything but the illness making her weaker. Otherwise, I feel like I'm losing my mind. I feel afraid that I won't remember anything good.

What's so hard, what's sometimes hardest of all, and if you're close to your mom, you'll get this - I wish I could call her and talk to her about my feelings. I wish I could tell her how crushed I am that, how the grief overwhelms me sometimes and leaves me feeling so sad and alone in the pain. She was my mom. She always knew just what to say or do...sometimes it was just an "I know," or "I love you." Sometimes she'd send me a card or call me the next morning to make sure I was ok after I faced heartbreak. When I went through my divorce, when I was crushed and betrayed, she drove up to CO to see me the very next day after it happened. She held me; that was enough. A mom is a mom, you know? No one and nothing can quite comfort you the same way. Maybe that doesn't make sense to everyone, but that loss of having her to talk to hurts so much. It wasn't just the bad stuff, but the good stuff, too. Like when Zooey does her little bouncy dance, or I want to send her a picture text of sleeping Zooey (those were some of her favorites), or when Zooey loved the smarties on Halloween, just like her grandma did...I can tell someone else, but it's just not the same.

I know my posts have been a little "down" lately, but please understand that writing is what helps me through when I feel this way. It helps to get this out...and just like I started this blog to work through all my pregnancy neurosis, I continue to write to work through my emotions. Thank you for running this race alongside me. Facebook is removing the capacity to automatically upload and sync my blog to FB, so if you've been following on FB and would like to continue following the blog, here is the link: http://souledoutgirl.blogspot.com/.

Wrestling with Grief

I feel like the process of grief is something like a mental & emotional wrestling match. One where my brain sees or hears something (a grandma with her grandchildren, a friend mentioning Thanksgiving plans with their mom, me & Sarah needing to do the Christmas shopping for my dad) and then does it's job and tries to process all the thoughts and emotions that go with it. Then I manage to wrestle all that yuckiness back down until it comes pouring out about once a week in a period of depression & tears.

C.S. Lewis wrote of grief in his book A Grief Observed, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me . . . An odd by-product of my loss is that I’m afraid of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet. At work, at the club, in the street, I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don’t . . . And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn’t seem worth starting anything. I can’t settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness . . ."

I relate. I've always been a bit ADD-ish or something, but lately I've been frustrated with my lack of focus and concentration. I've been especially frustrated when I sit down to read my Bible and I re-read the same lines over and over and over...and still have yet to take anything in. I was praying this week about why it's been so hard for me to focus lately. I realized then that it's because of this internal wrestling match, that in the quiet times I probably do need to do a little processing, yet I keep trying to ignore it. Why? Oh, I don't know...probably because like any other human being on the planet, I hate pain. I relate also to what he says about being around others. I want people to "say something about it," and yet, I don't. I want to cry, to have someone hug me and tell me it will all be ok, but I choke all this back inside, because I don't know how to talk about it and just cry around others. I want to share my grief with others, but it is also intensely private.

I know that to move on, though, I must cry. I must face it and stop wrestling with it. So, when I finally do submit to the emotions and the thoughts, I give it to Jesus. I crawl onto His lap and cry. "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit" - Psalm 34:18.

I kid you not, I seem to face my grief from Friday to Sunday every week. I used to think my "grief attacks" only happened on the weekends as something to oppose the work God has for me to do. I'm beginning to realize, however, that God is allowing me to be in His presence, just where He wants me to be, at my most vulnerable moments. The things He's taught me & the ways He's encouraged me over the last few weekends are a true testament to how personal & intimate He is. Two weeks ago, I was all teary eyed over something silly, like remembering how my mom enjoyed her coffee or something, and I kept asking God, "Do you see? Are you here?" I go to church to hear our pastor say, "God suffers with us. Jesus relates 100%. He loves us. No one understands like He does. God knows grief is great; He can be trusted. In the midst of waiting, we can trust God because of Christ's sacrifice." Last week, we were up in NC visiting some friends. The week before, I was struggling with heaven. I don't know why, but sometimes it's just hard for me to have faith in heaven's reality. Grief attack Sunday morning while getting ready. I sit down at church with Ryan & our friends, and the pastor begins his sermon entitled "What's Next?" a sermon about heaven from Rev.21: what will be there (JESUS, pleasure, answered questions, perfected relationships, indescribable beauty) and what will not be there (praise God! NO death, NO sorrow, NO crying, NO tears, NO pain - physical or emotional). God is so good to meet us right where we are. Jesus is real. He is God. He is present, alive and He cares about you.

An Eternal Perspective

I've never been falsely imprisoned. I've never been severely flogged with 40 lashes minus one, let alone been flogged five times. I've never been beaten with a rod, stoned, shipwrecked or spent the night tossed about in the sea. I've always had a home, have never been constantly on the move because of the threat of danger of people or land or sea. I've never gone naked or hungry or severely thirsty. I've never had to narrowly escape death through a hole in my city's wall.

2 Corinthians 11:23-12:12 reads:

"23 Are they servants of Christ? (I am out of my mind to talk like this.) I am more. I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again.24 Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one.25 Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea,26 I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers.27 I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.28 Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.


29 Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?


30 If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.31 The God and Father of the Lord Jesus, who is to be praised forever, knows that I am not lying.32 In Damascus the governor under King Aretas had the city of the Damascus guarded in order to arrest me.


33 But I was lowered in a basket from a window in the wall and slipped through his hands.


2 Corinthians 12


1 I must go on boasting. Although there is nothing to be gained, I will go on to visions and revelations from the Lord.2 I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know–God knows.3 And I know that this man–whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows–4 was caught up to paradise. He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell.5 I will boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses.

6 Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say.


7 To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.


10 That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

11 I have made a fool of myself, but you drove me to it. I ought to have been commended by you, for I am not in the least inferior to the “super‑apostles,” even though I am nothing.12 The things that mark an apostle–signs, wonders and miracles–were done among you with great perseverance."

Wow, right?!

I've been praying for an eternal perspective. God gave me a glimpse of that this morning as I studied this. I've never suffered like Paul has for the Gospel. I cannot even imagine that type of suffering, let alone being able to say I rejoice over it! I find myself instead complaining and questioning the things that I face that are not comfortable. My "thorn," which is my anxiety, is something I have questioned God about enduring many time over the last seven years, pleading Him to take it time and again and being upset over why He can't do just that. I've finally accepted that, but what amazing obedience Paul shows here - he says he pleaded with God three times to take his thorn from him. After Jesus told him that HIS grace is sufficient, Paul doesn't ask about it again, yet chooses instead to boast in his weakness. I continue to ask God for understanding about my mom's death. Even though I have many wonderful memories right up to the hour she died of my mom, I sometimes find myself focusing on the hard memories, like her illness and the moment she died. Like I heard someone say last week about Stephen & James being persecuted to death for the sake of Christ (Acts 7, Acts 12), God may not have delivered Stephen & James the way Peter was delivered in Acts 12 from prison (freed by an angel to continue doing God's work), but they were still delivered. And you know what? These men were delivered in a far better way that Peter or Paul from his sufferings he lists above - Stephen & James were delivered right into the arms of Jesus, just as my mom was. It is important that I keep an eternal perspective. God's got my mom now, and I can trust that I'll see her someday. Jesus will strengthen my faith and my ministry through the emotional and physical sufferings that I am now and inevitably will endure on this planet. In my weakness, however, He is strong. He is mighty. He is unstoppable. I want to be a part of His purpose. I want to look to Him, not everything around me. I want my mantra to be, "God use me, use this circumstance," rather than, "why God, why?." God is so good to answer our prayers in a mighty way; I've seen it time and again in His Word, the lives of others I know and in my own life. Although I may not ever see the answers to some of my prayers for understanding this side of heaven,  I know that (if I still even care when I get there) He will answer abundantly someday. God, will you please use me until then?

Something just doesn't feel right. That's how I feel a lot of the time, just that sense that something is off. Then I'll realize it's because my mom isn't here anymore. I can't explain it other than that...I wonder, sometimes, is there something wrong with me, because I don't cry as much as I thought I would be - as I think I should be? I think it's just that things hurt, and it never seems like a good time to let it all pour out. Sometimes it's a random beautiful, joyful moment that makes me almost pick up the phone, and I don't want to let the sadness overcome the joy, so I let it go for that time. Sometimes it's just that I'm too busy, or I'm driving...or something...and I can't cry right then. Other times, it's because I'm in the middle of a prayer, and oh, I still ask God "Why?" a lot, but I just want to go to sleep. Sounds a lot like denial now that I'm typing it out. I'm told by my counselor that I'll go through grief and think I'm done, then I'll probably have a big bout of depression, then I'll reach final acceptance. Tomorrow at 10:31am, my sweet girl turns 2. Wow, I don't think I even realized until right this moment how much it hurts that my mom isn't here. I mean, there were some moments at her birthday party, and of course I've been thinking about it, but it just hit me how much it hurts. When Zooey was born, my mom left the room to let me and Ryan have some time with her, but before she did, she leaned down and gave me a hug and a kiss and said, "You did so good. I'm so proud of you!" I miss her. I missed talking with her about what I was planning for the party and how when I asked Zooey how old she was going to be, she holds up her hand saying "4," because she can't quite do "2." I'm dreading the holidays this year, because I know Zooey's birthday is just the first of many firsts that I have to go through, and they are all going to hurt. How can it be almost 2 months? How is that possible? It's so weird, because it seems like yesterday and forever at the same time.

Hope

“Hope is the feeling we have that the feeling we have is not permanent” Mignon McLaughlin

I read this on a blog the other day, and I think it's beautiful. I've been missing my mom like crazy the past couple of days. Little things are making me cry..."The Best Day" by Taylor Swift on my iPod, Zooey saying all kinds of new words this week and not being able to tell her, Zooey eating a stick of gum - wrapper and all - and swallowing it and not hearing my dad retell the story to her, her laughter that would follow such a story. I wish she could see all the artwork Zooey's been bringing home from her outings. I missed calling her after BSF last Monday to tell her how the first class night went, how many students I had and what touched me from the lecture...or on Saturdays after leader's to chat; that was one of the times we always talked (if she wasn't at my house already babysitting Zooey). I caught a GI bug that Zooey and Ryan both had in the last two weeks. I also started my role as a MOPS discussion group leader...my stomach started really hurting right when I got to the church (can anyone say opposition?? but that's off topic). I SO wanted to call my mom and be a big baby and whine about how I'm not feeling good. I also wanted to tell her how MOPS went; I know if she was here she'd be excited to hear about it. No matter if she came over or not, my mom was, and still is, the one I want when I don't feel well. No one can quite care for you when you get sick the way your mom does, right? I have a voicemail from her saved on my phone from the last time I got sick - just calling to check on me. I miss her so much my heart aches. I cannot even tell you all the little times throughout my week when tears prick my eyes, because I just have an overwhelming sense of loss. Yes, my friends, the pain truly runs deep.

The quote above, however is so true. These feelings of grief are not permanent. While I'm sure some of them will be with me forever, at Christmas, graduations, weddings...funerals, I know that as I heal, these intense feelings will fade. Knowing this provides me with hope that I can get through. As I started our study of Acts at BSF this year, I know that this hope doesn't come from me, it comes from Jesus. His Holy Spirit is the One enabling me to work through all these tough feelings, to get up and do all that I need to do in my service to Him and, as silly as it sounds, to face my first bug without her here. He will enable me to get through this, and by His grace alone, I pray that He will glorify Himself through this. I hope and I pray that He will use this pain and this situation to His glory. I pray that others may come to know Christ. I pray that He will make me an effective witness for the gospel as Acts 1:8 says I'm commanded to do. You see, my ultimate, never-ending, consistent, beautful HOPE through this grieving process stems from Jesus' death on the Cross, and the gift of eternal life. I hope in the promise of Jesus that I will see my mom again someday. I know I'll still be shocked with these painful feelings in my life here on earth, but when I get to heaven and see Jesus face-to-face, when I get to embrace my mom and bow down with her before the throne of God, then these feelings will be permanently erased.

One Month

In eight minutes my mom will be gone one month.

I sit with the curser blinking, because, honestly...I don't know what to say. My mind seems unable to formulate what's going on inside me, how I'm thinking and feeling. I couldn't sleep and thought maybe journaling might help me sort it out.

Many memories come to mind when I think about the fact she's been gone a month. I think of her smile, her laugh, her faith, her love, her mannerisms, her joy over Zooey. I also think about stuff I don't want to think about, her illness consuming her, the meds we administered, the bad moments. All of these were part of her, and yet there was so, so much more to her. I'm still astonished that it went so fast. How long ago was it we went to lunch at the tea room, a place she loved, with Sarah and two of her friends from work? A month? A month and a half prior to her death? She still seemed ok. Was it only February when we went to San Diego, her favorite place in the whole world? Other things seem fast and slow at the same time, like the fact it's already been a month and a day since I heard her say "I love you," her last words spoken to me. That both seems like it was yesterday and also an eternity ago because I miss her voice so much.

I have the thought to call her often, usually a couple times a day, sometimes more. Just tonight I had a concern about Zooey, and I reached for the phone before I realized she's not here anymore. I can't explain it, but whatever part of my brain that wants to call her for some reason has to continue to be convinced that she's not coming back. I continue to ask myself how to "do life" without her...she was here for so much of it. Just knowing she was there gave me courage, knowing I had her love. Of course, my head knows I'll get through it, but when something cuts the heart, well, that just feels like it's never going to get any better.

I feel kind of numb tonight...I think I'm actually repressing some emotions and they'll probably come tomorrow, after I sort through them all. The only thing that keeps running through my mind is that I miss her; I miss her terribly and deeply and it hurts.

So, what can I do? I can look UP. I can sing God's praises, as one lady told me God told her to tell me at the end of BSF last year; in my darkest moments when I truly didn't know what else to do, she was right...singing has brought me through. Thank God that He's a God who gives us the faith we need for each and every situation we encounter. It is not my own doing, my own "strength," but it is Him giving me the faith and strength I need. I will choose, as I climb back into bed, to pray, even if I am only praying on knowledge of the Bible and my heart feels broken. I will pray, even if right this instant I wonder how we can be brought through certain things. I will do this, because my God has proven Himself faithful time and again to me, and I know He will prove Faithful again.

Last night I had a dream about my mom. I dreamt we were sitting in my living room having coffee and just talking about life. In my dream I knew she was dead, and as the conversation progressed, she started writing things down, so I'd remember them. Then all of the sudden, I was telling her I was so happy to have had this visit with her and when would she be back. She said she had to go, and she was gone. The dream was so real, so vivid...it felt like I was just having a normal moment with my mom, one of those moments I miss so much lately. It's so hard to put into words the emotions that I've been experiencing. I guess that's because words like "missing" and "sad" or don't come close. There truly are no words to describe one's own personal journey with grief, so we just try to come as close to possible in our explanation in hopes that we can purge a little bit of those emotions out of ourselves. I woke up and went to my "Thirty Days of Grief Prayers" brochure that my counselor gave me and copied down the prayer for today, "Today I feel weak, Lord. I know if I push away my weakness, I push you away as well. If I let myself feel my weakness, You are near with Your strength and Your comfort. Help me to trust." This prayer really summed it up for me. I awoke wishing I could push the memory of my dream and the emotions that came with waking far away and never think about them again. The thoughts and feelings that I was having, although painful, are something that God can use to draw me closer to Him. The painful stuff is stuff that He uses; He never wastes it, but He uses it to make me more beautiful before Him and to bring me closer to glory. I am so thankful that He keeps drawing me close, that He keeps whispering to me to trust Him and to lean on Him instead of my way of doing things. Without Him, I am nothing.

One Step at a Time

I've noticed through reading about others' journeys of grief that once "the event" has occured (be it death, divorce, betrayal, whatever), people start counting. One week, one month, first Christmas without them, their first birthday they're gone. On Saturday night, I thought a lot about how it was one week since she'd been gone, since I'd sat by her bedside and talked to her. I know that this process usually goes on pretty consistently for the first year, maybe two, then it's the bigger anniversaries that trigger it.

I hate that it's been over a week since I've seen her, talked to her, kissed her. I am beyond grateful that she's no longer in pain and with Jesus, and that does bring joy to my heart, but it's still very difficult. I feel cheated sometimes, which makes me feel angry. There are so many people who get to spend time with their parents and have them be a part of their lives for years, until they themselves are old and gray. I think of my own mom who had her mom beside her through raising children, and I don't get to have that. The fact of the matter is, if you're a woman and you're close to your mom, you just want her there - when you're sick, when you're happy and want someone to share in that happiness, when you're a mom-at-the-end-of-your-rope, when you're sad...there are so many moments that I'll face over the years that I know I'm going to wish she's here. One step at a time, right? This is one of those things I am sure I probably won't get to fully understand this side of heaven.

Today is my dad's birthday. He seemed ok earlier when I saw him, but I wonder how he feels today, deep down? My parents always did a silly card & a serious/sweet card for their birthdays. It breaks my heart he won't get that this year, not from the love of his life, anyway. They were so cute together!

Contentment

As I was doing my Bible study today, I got to a question about God's faithful servant Job. The book said, "Though Job was a very wealthy man, God allowed Satan to strip him of everything - people and possessions like - to prove Job's devotion to God. Despite utter devastation, Job remained faithful and was fully restored. List the people & earthly possessions you most treasure. Put yourself in Job's shoes. If you were stripped of all these people & possessions, could you, would you still praise God. Explain your answer." (Live Deeply, Lenya Heitzig, p. 191). I listed the people most important, followed by some possessions and got to the second question. My heart clenched at the thought of losing anyone else close to me, let alone all of them. My response was I hope I would still praise God, because He holds my life in His hands and shed His blood to save me. I pray He always gives me the faith I need. The study then listed the following verses and asked the reader to journal a pryaer to learn to be content whatever the circumstances.

"...For I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, an I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:11b-13

Contentment by definition is "the state of being contented; satisfaction; ease of mind." For some reason, when I think of being content, I think of a moment of bliss...a moment on a beach with your eyes closed, my baby asleep on my chest after a wonderful family day, opening my eyes after a good night's sleep. I don't automatically think of being content in a time of stress, grief, or even as Paul mentions, being hungry (um, have you ever seen me when I am hungry?!). I think the key to the Phil. passage is verse 13, "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Contentment in Christ is more than a "feeling." It is the satisfaction and ease of mind that come from knowing Christ, from knowing that at the end of time He is still in control and has His best in mind for me. It's knowing that even things hurt right this minute, He's holding my hand to accompany me out of the valley to the other side of the pain. It's knowing I don't have to be strong, because His strength is more than enough.

I am so thankful, as always, for God's perfect timing of my study today. As I entered into my time with Him today, I began by reading a brochure I got at the church the other day called "Losing Your Mom." I cried as I read through the many levels of grief that the loss of a mother can entail: loss of unconditional love, loss of family connector, loss of protection, loss of nurtering touch, loss of what we've taken for granted, loss of the person "whose story provides the beginning of our own, whose sense of self greatly impacts who we are." I have been thinking a lot the last few days how things just don't seem normal (duh!) and how things just really aren't the same when the whole family's gathered but she's not there. I have been feeling lonely in my grief, even amongst the people who have gathered lovingly around. It is so good of God to remind me that He's here; all I have to do is look up, and even though I feel sad, I have the hope of Glory, the true source of contentment.

Missing

This morning Zooey was talking away, saying "mo nana" (more banana) and "kitty cat" and "TaTa" (Tiny, our dog). She was smiley and happy as she always is in the morning, and I so wanted to text a picture to my mom. I wanted to call her and tell her how she said "mo nana." My mom always shared these little things with me at a level of enthusiasm that no one else did, not even Ryan sometimes. My heart aches with missing her today.

She gave me her chain reference Bible, which I've never seen before. I wanted to ask her to explain it to me, to share with me why she liked it so much, but she wasn't here to do that. I remember her telling me before she died that she wanted me to have it, because I'm in BSF and it helped her a lot when she was in BSF. Oh, I miss her.

The funeral on Thursday brought a real finality to the past week, to her death, but left me with a kind of "now what?" feeling. My sweet friend told me that now I have to learn to do the "new normal." I guess she's right, but it's uncharted territory. I talked to my mom everyday on the phone or in person. As my aunt said yesterday, moms are often the ones who kind of hold the family together. My mom certainly was the glue, and now we have to learn to share all that togetherness without her.