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.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, January 12, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, January 9, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
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.
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.
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