A Reason...

I read a friend's blog post today and she talks about noticing the blessings in our lives, rather than taking them for granted. About how for many people, it takes a life changing event to make us realize that we are taking those blessings for granted.

After reading her post... Mike and I went to run errands and we had to go to the post office. As I was walking in, I saw the most beautiful thing on the pillar in front of the post office. Most people were walking right by... completely oblivious. I was enthralled by it. A gift from God... right there outside the post office... and how many people weren't even taking the time to admire it?

Luckily I had my camera in the van (another blessing)... so I grabbed it and snapped a few pics.

How sad that so many people completely missed the chance to see God's beauty right before their eyes.

Good friends.

It sure doesn't seem like it's been SO long since my last post.

I spent this weekend at the home of one of my best friends in the world, Tammy. She and her husband own a good chunk of land and being in their backyard is like camping. They have a huge bonfire pit, quad trails, a sauna and lots of trees. Basically they are surrounded by forest and it's a great place to be.

This weekend was her son's open house. Blake and I went Friday evening and stayed until Sunday evening. We would have stayed until today but I try to support our town's Memorial Day parade that doesn't get much support. But that's another post.

We helped get things set up for the open house and then did some quadding. Saturday was the open house complete with good food, good friends and a bonfire. Blake and I did more quadding.

Tammy and I stayed up sitting by the fire talking until 3:45 AM! YIKES!

Shelley (my other BFF for those who don't know) was thinking about coming, but she ended up not making it up. We missed her.

Weekends like this just strengthen my appreciation for the good friends that I have.

I tried to give Tammy's husband money for gas for the quads since Blake and I did a LOT of riding. But he wouldn't take it. He said we barely used a gallon of gas... I told him I felt like I needed to contribute. He said, "Oh you HAVE contributed."

Nice. :)

My path to Jesus is paved with wonderful friends.

I feel blessed

I belong to a group at church called "Mom's Heart Ministry". We meet every Wednesday morning. Some weeks we have large group with guest speakers, or special activities. Other weeks we have small group where we get together with a select few from our small group and discuss a book we are all reading (that I had started to blog about and then I lost interest in blogging about it.)

Anyway... this week was a small group week. In our discussions we came to talking about relationships. One of the mom's was talking about how she and a friend started a bible study that has become more of a support group for 4 women, who started out as strangers and have become fast friends. She said that they are most vulnerable together, and others have attempted to join the group but it is too vulnerable for them. She said that the group has become her closest friends.

A couple of the other moms stated that they just don't *have* any best friends. One seemed saddened by this... another seemed OK with it. She has her husband and her family and she doesn't really mind not having a best friend.

I was quiet during most of the group. Partially because I was tired... partially because this is just a difficult time of year for me... partially for a reason better left unsaid. So they asked me my feelings on this subject.

I told them that I am EXTREMELY blessed to have two VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY best friends who would do anything for me. I told them how when my dad died, Tammy called me and asked who was watching my pets and I cried as I told her I hadn't gotten anyone. Her response? "I'm on my way to your house. Don't worry about them."

When I called Shelley to tell her the news, she said, "I will be at your mom and dad's house to stay with Blake so you can go to the funeral home and do whatever you need to do. Don't worry about him."

When we lost Lilly, Tammy and Shelley were here for me. They let me cry. They let me vent. They let me sit and just not talk.

Shelley and I met in college. On a wallyball court. We've known each other just short of 20 years. Can you IMAGINE? TWENTY years! That is a LONG time.

Tammy and I met when we were placed together as teachers in a Head Start classroom. It was the first time either of us had taught Head Start. She had subbed and volunteered... but this time it was "for real". This was 11 years ago. Again... a long time.

I'm not exactly sure when Shelley and Tammy met each other... or when the three of us became such GOOD friends together. But it works so well. We have a BLAST when we are together. We can be serious one second and laughing til we are crying the next.

I am so thankful that they are my friends. I honestly don't know what I have done to deserve them.

How do I thank them? How do I thank someone for giving me 20 or 11 years of their life? For loving me for who I am. For not judging me, even in my worst moments. For holding me up when I can't stand on my own. For loving my family as their own. For being honest with me, even when it wasn't easy. For allowing me to grow. For giving me space when I needed it. For giving me hugs when I needed them. For making me laugh. For letting me cry. For teaching me. For leading me, and for following me. For forgiving my mistakes... even when it hurt them deeply. For laughing with me. For crying with me. For welcoming me into their families. For accepting the decisions I make, even when they don't agree with them. For giving me the freedom to be me.

Words alone could never express how much I appreciate them. I don't think there is ANY way that I can express how much I appreciate them... how much I love them... how empty my life would be without them.

You know how you hear that question, "If you could be stranded on a desert island with one person, who would it be?" I have a VERY difficult time answering that. I NEED Shelley and Tammy. I don't think I could ever choose just ONE person. I want Mike to be there, and Blake, and Shell and Tam.

Is it enough to say that I truly, TRULY feel blessed to have them in my life? That I would not be who I am today if it weren't for Shelley and Tammy being my friends?

If you guys read this (seems this poor little blog is lost in cyber space) please know that I love you dearly and I thank God for you every day.

Thoughts

There was a guest speaker at church today... for Mom's group. We were told the topic was how to live happily.... using tips from this mom who finally figured it out after 20 years.

Her main point (which she reiterated several times) was that the most important thing you can do is read the Bible every day. She said that you should get to know the word of God so that you will be armed if you ever have to DEFEND the word of God.

I honestly think that the most importnat thing I can do for my child is to spend time with him. If we read the Bible, great. If he learns about God, wonderful. But if he learns that I love him unconditionally and that I think he is an amazing child and I am so SO lucky to have him... then I think THAT is better than reading the Bible.

I talked with another mom afterwards and she said that she doesn't feel she will ever get to the level of understanding God that the speaker is at.

But I think that is OK. I think God meets us right where we are... and I don't think He would chastise us for not being as God fearing as others. I think He loves us unconditionally... just like we love our own children.

I admit, I don't know the Bible well. And there are times I wish I knew it better... but I think that it is more important at this point in my life to know my husband and my son. I feel it is important to spend time as a family... to build those bonds.... to grow in God's love, by sharing our love.

Is there a power of prayer?

I have read several blogs lately... and heard stories from others... about how powerful prayer is.

A baby born in critical condition.... doctors don't think she'll make it through the night.... is going home from the hospital at 21 days old. Her mom thanks others profusely for all of their prayers.

Another blogger asks for prayers for guidance with a project. The project goes well (it's a big thing.. not just making a diarama or something). She thanks her readers for their prayers.

Someone having difficulty parenting...asking for prayers.

The next having trouble with marriage... asking for prayers.

I go to church and there is an entire binder full of prayer requests... pray for healing... pray for strength... pray for guidance... pray that so-and-so will find Jesus.... pray for more time... pray for the family....

Now, don't get me wrong... I DO pray... and I ask for prayer... and I have believed that prayer works.

But I have been quite contemplative lately (as I normally am this time of the year.. with Pop's and Lilly's angelversaries coming up). And I was thinking about how God has a plan. He knows how our lives are going to end before they even begin. He knows who will die before birth, and who will live to be 87. He knows exactly which steps we will take and what paths we will follow, before WE even know the choices exist.

So if that is the case... if God is all knowing... and if He sees our entire life laid out before him. How would praying change that? If God knew that baby was going to be born in critical condition, fight for her life, and go home happy and healthy at 21 days old before she was even born.... then how did prayer do anything?

I don't think God says, "OK, let's create a problem and see if these folks have enough prayer power to fix it. If they don't then oh well... but if they do then I'll perform a miracle."

I'm sure the Devil has a hand in it too. But, then that confuses me too... because if the Devil caused the problem... God still knew about it before hand.

I believe that the Devil is evil at it's purest. And I believe that God is truly saddened when His children choose to follow the Devil, and make choices for the Devil. And I wonder if God can do something... but chooses not to because we need to learn our own lessons.

But that's a whole different topic, isn't it?

Back to the power of prayer. What do you think? Why is it that sometimes hundreds of people pray for someone to be healed...and they are. Yet other times, hundreds of people pray for healing and the person dies anyway.

I don't think it's a "if you've accepted Jesus as your Savior then prayer works". Because I believe that God loves us just as we are...and right WHERE we are in our journey with Him. And I don't think He picks and chooses which prayers He's going to answer.

I wish more people read this blog... so I could get more responses. I'm really curious what people think about this.

Change is good. Right?

Today was a bittersweet day for us. For me. Today was the last day our Senior Pastor preached at our Sunday morning service.

He has been called to relocate to a different church. A church that very badly needs a new and wonderful leader. He will be that leader, I am sure of it.

Our history with this church goes back 4 years. We had been searching for a new church. Nothing seemed to fit our needs as a family. Mike and Blake are both Catholic. I was raised Methodist. So we were church shopping, if you will. A friend from work kept telling me we should check out her church.

So finally I said to Mike, "We should go check out J's church this Sunday" He said, "Sure, why not?" As soon as we walked in.. we felt like we were home.

The following Friday, we lost Lilly.

We didn't attend church for several weeks while I healed physically and we all healed emotionally.

We were anxious and nervous about going back after so long. We had nothing to worry about. We were welcomed in with open arms.

The history of this church is that it started out with just under 300 people in a small chapel. It has now grown to almost 1500 people and a new auditorium has been built to house all of us. We came in around the 1000 mark. Pastor Scott has been a huge part of that growth.

He initially turned down the offer to take the job at the other church. But agreed to be a consultant for them as they struggle to grow and change. In the months that he met with them, he began to feel called there by God. He grew excited about the possibilities of that church. It was then that he decided to make that his new church home.

I will tell you... he is an amazing man. He preaches with humor and humility. He preaches with honesty. He tells stories from the bible in ways that you "get it". He relates the oldest tales to our own lives and time.

In the 4 years that we have been attending we have not really been very involved with the church, other than going to worship and going to family faith nights that they host. Our son goes to Vacation Bible School. Last year was the first year Mike volunteered at VBS. I have tried volunteering in kidzone (sunday school)... but it just didn't seem to fit. I even tried in the baby room, but it was too difficult for me.

But every time Pastor Scott saw us... in church or in the community, he addressed us by name! By NAME! Out of over 1000 people that he led..... he knew our names.

I could go on. But I will stop here. And just say that I am sad to see Pastor Scott go. I will miss him deeply. But I pray that his journey will be smooth and that his new church family will welcome him, as he has welcomed so many into this family.

God Bless you Pastor Scott, Angie, Duncan, Connor and Grace.

Past and present

I was doing my daily blog checks today and saw this post by Jeannie. It is a list of tips for a better life.

Number 22 (Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.) really spoke to me.

If you know me, you know that my father died in 2005 and that my oldest sibling did not come to his funeral. He lived in Michigan. She lives in Arizona. Her reason for not coming was not because it was too far. Not because she couldn't afford it. But because her back "might" hurt and what would she do? (Because you know we don't have doctors in Michigan...let alone any that might know anything about backs).

Colleagues of mine from work drove 2 hours to come to the funeral home. My best friends were there (they all drove 1-3 hours). Shelley took time off from work to spend a couple of days with me and watch Blake so I could be at the funeral home helping with arrangements. Tammy left her family on their own so she could come stay at my house and take care of my animals. Friends from high school came. Tricia (a good friend from HS) and her husband came, asked if we had eaten and when we answered, "No" ordered pizzas and 2 liters to be delivered to the funeral home for us. A friend of my brother's came with meat and cheese trays and rolls. A military friend of Mike's came (and ended up playing taps at the funeral). Another friend of my brother's who worked at the funeral home insisted that HE be the one to drive the family limosine to the cemetery. And then, he gathered up all of the shells from the 21 gun salute and gave them to my brother. I'm sure there are more people who did things for us that I just am not recalling here tonight.

But my sibling... his own daughter... his first born child.... did not come.

The relationship I had in the past with this particular sibling is a very long and complicated story. But I will say that before Pop died, she got re-married and moved to AZ and completely cut herself off from the family. Blake has not seen her since he was about 24 months old. He has no idea who she even is. She was in MI a couple of years ago when Mom had surgery... but she didn't call or come to see me. Mom asked if I was going to drive the 2 hours to see her (the sib) but I told her I was too busy with classes (not a lie), working and studying for my capstone.

I have had the same email address for OVER 10 years now. No excuse. The entire family knows my telephone number and address. I sent letters to everyone in about October asking for a memory of Pop and I put my email, phone, and address on that letter. She didn't respond. No excuse.

Am I bitter? Hell yes. Am I pissed off? Not anymore. Do I forgive her? I don't think I ever could.

So, I am intrigued by the tip "Make peace with your past so that it won't spoil the present." Can I make peace if I cannot forgive?

I don't care that she doesn't keep in touch with the family. When she was married the first time, the only time we saw her was when we went to her house. She doesn't like to admit that she is from a middle class family. She wants to live the high life and she wants the world to think she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Whatever. She has been like that my entire life.

But the thing that really gets my knickers in a knot is that she couldn't even attend her OWN FATHER'S funeral! Not like they had an estranged relationship... for pete's sake she lived with them for many years (and told everyone she worked with that THEY lived with HER). If you knew my Pop, you'd know he was a very, VERY laid back and giving person. He would bend over backwards to make sure everyone had what they needed... that everyone was happy. As a matter of fact... 2 of the inlaws in the family said that was their most special memory of Pop...that he always made sure everyone was taken care of.

I am going to ponder this one. Make it a goal for 2009 maybe. Because, quite honestly, I do not dwell on it... but it is a part of my past that is less than peaceful.

Everything else I can live with.

The ugly cloud(?) of grief

Man grief sucks. Just when you think you are doing ok, this big, black, ugly cloud comes crashing down on you. I don't even know that cloud is a good word. Because it isn't soft and fluffy. It's more like a boulder.... it slams you down and then holds you there for what seems like an eternity.

The pissy part is...that nobody can see the damn boulder of grief. Others don't understand why, 3 years (or 10 or 15...) later, you still have moments where the tears just come out of nowhere and won't stop. They don't understand why a simple event or object can make you sad... a flower, a pregnant woman, a movie, etc.

At church about 2 years after we lost Lilly, some folks did a skit during service (not uncommon in our church). The skit was about a girl who was getting married and moving out of mom and dad's house. Mike and I sat there and bawled through the whole thing. Not because you always cry at weddings. Because we both were realizing that that was something we would never get to do with our daughter. I will never shop for a wedding gown with her, help her choose her flowers, and dresses and food and.... the list goes on and on. And he will never walk her down the aisle. Those opportunities have been lost forever.

So some days... just the thought of leaving the house and seeing a toddler is unbearable. Because I don't have my toddler. And as the days and weeks and months and years pass... I will NEVER have my daughter. And I will always see little girls... teenage girls... young women... ladies... mommies..... and know what I have missed. All the stages that I have to say, "She would have been.... " instead of, "She is...". She would have been 3. Not she IS 3.

And it's not just the loss of a child that causes this boulder to crush you. My friend Terri lost her husband in November 2008. In 2005, they lost their daughter shortly before she was born. They were still working on figuring out how to live again. Then Bryan (whom she calls Bear) was diagnosed with cancer. He fought a good fight. But in the end that damn cancer won.

Ter is now trying to deal with 2 boulders. One from the death of her daughter, and one from the death of her husband.

Each day is a battle. Right now, she is struggling with meal times. Since these were their "together times", she misses Bear indescribely (sp?) at meal times. Along with that is the struggle to find meals for one... after cooking for 2 for so long. And again... little things will make her cry.... a special ingredient or dish that Bear liked.... seeing his empty seat... just *thinking* about cooking his favorite meal.

I'm not sure the point of this long and rambling post. It has kind of gone all over the place... I apologize.

I guess I just hope that someone will read this and will understand a little better... will be a little more sympathetic... will be less quick to judge that mom who is "still crying after all these years". I remember going to a meeting with some co-workers and the discussion in the car was about another co-worker whose dad had died 10 years prior. She took the day (the anniversary of her father's death) off every year and she and her mom and sisters would go shopping and out to eat and to the cemetery. It was their way of coping, and remembering. It just so happened that the day of the meeting, was the anniversary of J's dad's death. One of the women in the car with me made mention of the fact that J wouldn't be there. Another asked why. And when the answer was, "Because of her dad" the reply was, "It's been 10 years, she needs to get over it."

*sigh*

THAT is the attitude I so desperately want to change.

That damn, huge, ugly, heavy, dark, dreary, boulder of grief is not something we can avoid. The person who is grieving will never... I repeat NEVER get over it. We may be able to avoid the boulder now and then. It may even get slightly smaller and not bowl us over quite as frequently.... but it will always ALWAYS be there.

So please, if you know someone who has had a loss....no matter how long ago it was. Be gentle with them. Let them know it is OK to cry (even if it's been 10 years). Hug them. Talk to them. Let them talk. Let them scream. Just BE THERE for them.

And don't be afraid to talk about the person who has died. Use their name if you know it. Ask their name if you don't know it.

Ok... I can't seem to come to a close here, so I will just end it.

Tears

I just watched a very touching video that a mommy posted on her blog. The video is of her daughter, Audrey, who died very shortly after birth.

As I watched, the tears began to flow. I could feel their pain. I have felt that pain. No parent should ever have to feel that pain.

And a small part of me was feeling jealous. I know... it sounds strange... feeling jealous while watching a video of a family spending the last precious moments with their daughter.

I'm not even sure if jealous is the right word really.

I am sad that I didn't get that with Lilly. I didn't get to meet her.. to hold her... to touch her fingers and toes and nose. To run my hand over her soft hair, or feel her breath on my cheek. I never got to kiss her. I never got to feel her.

But at the same time, I wonder if it was easier this way? If God knew that if I got to feel my baby girl wiggling inside of me...and got to hold her... and kiss her cheek... and feel her breath.... and then had to let her go, if that would have been too much for me? I know that He holds the master plan. And that He knows me better than anyone... including myself.

Maybe He knows I am not strong enough to have endured that. Maybe He knows I wouldn't have let her go.

I recently learned of a song by Beverley Mitchell called "Angel". I have fallen in love with the song. The chorus is, "Have you ever really loved an angel, Once you have you'll never be the same again, Have you ever had to let go of an angel, Say goodbye, let 'em fly, my angel, my best friend."

Perhaps God knows that I had to let my angel go before I got to meet her... but not before I fell in love with her.

I hate pity.

Tonight I took Blake to swim practice. A dad was chatting with me in the hallway afterwards (while we waited for our kids to get out of the locker rooms). He asked if Blake was our only child. I replied, "He's our only living child." His response was the classic look of shock, look away, look uncomfortable, search for words, say, "I'm sorry" and change the subject.

Why?

I would love for just once someone to ask about Lilly. For someone to not feel sorry for me because I've lost a child.

Dear God,

Please help other people understand that I don't share Lilly's death with them because I want their pity. But because I long for her memory to be kept alive. Because I want people to know that I have a daughter too. They can't see her. But if they would just give it a chance, I'm sure they would feel her Lord... and that they would feel You too. And speaking her name is such a rare and treasured thing.

Please help me to understand why people feel so uncomfortable talking about my baby girl. If she were living, they'd be oohing and aahing all over her, Lord. They'd be smiling as she toddled by and asking how old she is. I need guidance to understand why they feel the way they do, Lord. Give me the words and the wisdom.

Amen.