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Round and Round we go…

Grief is cyclical, I hear.
I still feel hopeful. Most of the time. Some of the time.
Yet I’ve cried on my way home from work two days in a row now.
I guess that beats crying on my way home from work everyday.

Work in the yard is good. I’m still sore from Saturday’s work.
We found salamanders (or skinks, depending on who you ask).
Once I got over the shock of surprising them, I saw how pretty they are.
Daffodils in the vase are pretty and I look forward to what else we may have one day.
I’ll need to find vases.

Taylor and I dig in the dirt and marvel at the worms and bugs we find.
Yes, I scream at lizard-type things and marvel at worms.
Worms don’t move as quickly as those little boogers did.
Wandering through the lawn & garden section and dreaming is nice.

I’d trade it all in a heartbeat to have him back.

March 1, 2011, 11:14 pm | 2 Comments »

Here comes the sun?

It feels weird but I’ve actually been feeling a little giddy the last couple of days. Giddy enough that I experimented in the kitchen again! We’ve had some good days, some bad days, some REALLY bad days. One Sunday, a friend told us that she had felt a really strong urge to pray for us “either Thursday or Friday” – she couldn’t remember – “Were Thursday or Friday bad for y’all?” Brian & I both said “Yes” (in other words, both were and it wasn’t an either/or thing in the least little bit).

I also had a realization earlier this month. One of my faculty had a meeting scheduled for the 22nd. I kept trying to write it down as November 22nd. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why I kept trying to put November instead of February. It wasn’t Keith’s death. I went back and looked at the calendar. It was the date of his funeral. This past weekend was 3 months. It feels so much longer ago than that sometimes.

I got to try my hand at silk flower arranging. I learned a valuable lesson too – scissors are not wire cutters. They did alright until the handle pinched the pad of my middle finger and I got a blood blister. The end result was well worth it, though!

I still miss him. There’s still a hole in my chest. I’m thankful for a loving and understanding church family who are more than happy to let us hold their babies when we need one. These last few days, though, feel almost hopeful.

February 25, 2011, 5:30 pm | 4 Comments »

I’m a sap – but he loves me anyway

While browsing a few sites today, I found onethousandgifts.com. I don’t remember how I found the book, but I did, then read the preview on amazon and bought it. From there I went to the author’s website.

She has a meme – Walk With Him Wednesdays. “Every Wednesday, we Walk with Him, posting a spiritual practice that draws us nearer to His heart.” Lately, it’s been the Practice of Marriage and, because I’m a sap, I decided to post.

This May will mark 12 years that Brian & I have been married. Twelve?? That number shocks me. No, not because it feels So. Much. Longer. Well, maybe sometimes it does (and I feel certain he’d second that… especially since I said it first. He’s a wise man – he’ll only make cracks like that when he knows I’m in a good mood or when I’ve already said it myself.)

We met in the early days of the internet. 1994 (17 years ago!). No Windows. No Internet Explorer. No http web addresses. No dsl connections. I had a 1200 baud modem. It was a BBS (bulletin board system) based out of Holland. He liked my handle – which at the risk of much ridicule, I’ll share: Freak of Nature. Over the summer, I had a co-worker friend who would tell me, “Liz, you’re a freak of nature…” and yes, from him, it was a term of endearment and I liked it. Brian liked it too and sent me a message saying so. We discovered everything we had in common and talked on every BBS we each frequented. One night, we were talking and lost connection. It was the dial-up network on my end, so I went to bed. I’m not sure how much longer it was, I do know it was wee hours of the morning, but my phone rang. It was him. He had gone through all the BBS’s we frequented, looking for one that I might not yet have deleted my contact information from. (When I first got onto these BBS’s, I put in my contact information because it said I should. Once I learned that I really shouldn’t – there weren’t many, but there were some true freaks out there – I deleted the information, but missed one). I was shocked. Then flattered. I don’t know how long we talked, but after getting to know each other online, we decided to meet in person. Over a break, I drove to Huntsville, AL. We met in the Toys R Us parking lot on University Drive and went from there (driving separately) to meet up with some of his friends at the mall. That was the beginning of a 2 year, long distance relationship.

Two years. Long distance. Communication is a MUST. After 17 years, you’d think we’d be really good at it. Not so much, but we’ve gotten better. I’m learning to let him be the head of the household. I’ve learned that letting him be the head of household does not mean I’m inferior to him or less capable than him. I’m the one who keeps the household running. I know what’s in our fridge, freezer, and pantry. I (usually) know Taylor’s schedule, our own schedule. I know what laundry is where and what needs to be done around the house (though getting it done is another story at times!). Anyone who’s honestly read Proverbs 31 knows that the wife is not subservient to the husband. I know, Ephesians 5 says for wives to submit to your husbands, but to submit does not mean that I’m “less than” him, nor does it give him permission to walk on me or treat me like a servant. For the record, Brian’s never treated me like any of those negative things I just said – those are purely examples of the stereotype associated with “submit”. If you read the rest of the passage in Ephesians, beyond wives submit, you’ll see that husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church. And I love the last verse: Eph 5:33, So again I say, each man must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband. (New Living Translation)

It’s a partnership – he’s the CEO of the company, I’m the COO. If we don’t communicate, the company falls. I’ve learned that that means communicating things even though I fear it’ll upset him, even though I could get myself in trouble, even though it may not be what he wants to hear. That’s been a hard lesson for me to learn. I fear rejection. Sometimes my news has upset him, but it wasn’t as bad as I had feared it would be. Sometimes I’ve gotten in trouble, but it wasn’t as bad as I had feared it would be. See the trend? That’s the thing about fear, it makes problems seem bigger than they really are. It can also put a wedge into a marriage because that fear can lead to keeping secrets. “No secrets” can be a scary concept, but I trust him and he trusts me. I love him and he loves me. So, what has happened when I’ve brought him bad news? Yeah, sometimes he fusses (when he does, trust me, it’s usually warranted) but once the initial shock is over, the questions are asked: “Now what?” “What do we need to do to fix it?” “What do we need to do to not be here again?” Communication. Partnership. Knowing our roles and knowing that neither is truly lesser than the other.

February 9, 2011, 8:15 pm | 3 Comments »

A Willing Spirit, A Contrite Heart

Lately, I’ve been getting the feeling that God is smacking me upside the head, shouting, “Enough of the anger!” I don’t recall what I was reading that talked about a willing spirit and a contrite heart, but I wondered what, exactly, it meant and Googled it. One place had sermon notes that said a willing spirit “leads to a new creation, in its truest form, it is an eye test. We have to have our eyes opened to God’s perspective if we are ever to become a new creation.” Remember the eye bit for later. Contrite Heart was found, coincidentally enough, at thecontriteheart.org. It’s “a heart that is repentant, it is a heart that is broken.”

I played Bible roulette Wed night (flip and point at random, sometimes meaningful, sometimes not. Read surrounding verses for context!) and landed in Jonah. He’s told to go to Nineveh and tell people to repent. He doesn’t want to so he gets on a boat going the other way, stormy seas, “throw me over”, swallowed by a big fish, prayed, fish spits him out after 3 days, he goes to Nineveh, they repent, the end. NOT the end! Jonah is TICKED that God didn’t destroy those wicked, wicked people. “I KNEW you’d go and have mercy on them! That’s why I ran!” He goes and sits (sulks) outside the city to see if anything’s going to happen. Nada. Destruction STILL doesn’t happen. “WTH, God?!” (yeah, I’m paraphrasing). God made a leafy plant grow – its broad leaves shaded Jonah from the sun and Jonah was grateful for the plant. God also sent a worm that ate the plant – by the next morning, the plant was gone. Jonah got ticked. Again. God asks him, “Is it right for you to be angry because the plant died?” Jonah thinks so. Verse 10-11… Then the Lord said, “You feel sorry about the plant, though you did nothing to put it there. It came quickly and died quickly. But Nineveh has more than 120,000 people living in spiritual darkness, not to mention all the animals. Shouldn’t I feel sorry for such a great city?”

I can SO see myself in Jonah. Yes, I did tend Keith and yes, I did have a part in putting him here, BUT… Is it right for me to be angry? Is there a bigger picture that, perhaps, I’m not seeing?

Sometime in December or January, I had started to read the book of Job and, honestly, I got really confused around chapters 2 or 3. Recently, I read a few commentaries and a synopsis then tried again. This time, I’m humbled.

After losing everything (family, servants, livestock), Job’s response was: “I came naked from my mother’s womb, and I will be naked when I leave. The Lord gave me what I had, and the Lord has taken it away. Praise the name of the Lord!” (Job 1:21 NLT) (Aside: I’ve mentioned this verse before but wasn’t ready to speak the words for myself.) Even when Job is struck with boils, he handles it in stride. His wife tells him to ditch his integrity – curse God and die. He says, “You talk like a foolish woman. Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?” So in all this, Job said nothing wrong.” (Job 2:10 NLT)

It’s after his friends show up that things go downhill. They’re accusing him of sinning, he’s denying any fault and eventually ends up questioning God – claiming the wicked get away with everything while the poor suffer. In chapter 9, he all but calls God a big bully and puppet master, then apparently God’s had enough. In chapters 38-41, He lets him have it. “Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorant words? Brace yourself like a man, because I have some questions for you, and you must answer them.” “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?” is just the beginning of a barrage of everything God does that we have absolutely no understanding of whatsoever. At the beginning of chapter 40, Job gets a chance to respond and he wisely says very little. And God continues on for two more chapters. At the end of it all, I can’t help but be as humbled as Job and I echo his response:

“I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. “You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.’ My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:1-6 NIV, emphasis added)

So. Willing spirit? Yep. I’ve heard of Him but now I’ve seen Him. Contrite heart? Yep. Definitely sufficiently humbled. Does this mean all is well and I can skip away merrily? I wish. Grief is a process. This is one step along the way. Supposedly, it’s a step I may return to (“They” say that can happen with all the stages), but it’s definitely a step in the right direction.

February 7, 2011, 3:17 pm | Comments Off

Be still and know — I’m trying

Yesterday afternoon, I felt like screaming. I’m not 100% sure why. I have at least an inkling that it has to do with grief, but my mood was pretty decent at the time. Or maybe the good mood was a thin mask and my true emotions were fighting to come out. But yeah, some of those psalms about wailing … my heart, my soul. Deep inside, I can feel it trying to come out. I can feel the tears wanting to flow. All this would happen if I let it. If I let it. No, I’m not bottling it in. Trust me, there. The hole in my chest that appeared when Keith died varies in size from day to day and, sometimes, moment to moment. Some days it’s a huge gaping hole. Some days it’s a pin-hole. Most days it’s somewhere in between.

I’m not sure why, but when I open my Bible App, it’s at Psalm 6. Most of it is very appropriate. Verses 2-7a. I don’t believe God’s angry at me, as in verse 1. I also don’t believe enemies are out to get me, as in verses 7b-10. I wish I could feel the confidence of verse 9, though. “The Lord has heard my plea; the Lord will answer my prayer.” He didn’t hear my plea or answer my prayer the night I asked Him to please not take my baby. A dear friend who shall remain nameless herein would argue that, yes, He did hear my plea and, yes, He did answer my prayer. He just didn’t answer it the way I wanted Him to. AND He didn’t take my baby.

1 O Lord, don’t rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your rage.
2 Have compassion on me, Lord, for I am weak.
Heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
3 I am sick at heart.
How long, O Lord, until you restore me?

4 Return, O Lord, and rescue me.
Save me because of your unfailing love.
5 For the dead do not remember you.
Who can praise you from the grave?

6 I am worn out from sobbing.
All night I flood my bed with weeping,
drenching it with my tears.
7 My vision is blurred by grief;
my eyes are worn out because of all my enemies.

8 Go away, all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
9 The Lord has heard my plea;
the Lord will answer my prayer.
10 May all my enemies be disgraced and terrified.
May they suddenly turn back in shame.

I just finished “Choosing to SEE.” It’s Mary Beth Chapman’s account of what happened to them in 2008 (their 6 yr old daughter, Maria, was hit by a vehicle being driven by her 16-17 yr old brother). I’m also going through my second reading of John Claypool’s “Tracks of a Fellow Struggler”. His 8-9 yr old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and died a little over a year later. Published in 1974, the book is made up of 4 sermons – after diagnosis, after first major relapse, after her death, and then a few years after she had died. I read both of these accounts and think, “Wow. I cannot imagine going through that!” Yes, my baby died. We have that in common, but I didn’t have to watch him die. I thank God for that, at least. I find it interesting that I hear others’ stories of loss and think, “I can’t imagine going through that,” but, in a way, I am going through that. It sucks.

Last night, I posted a YouTube link on my Facebook profile of a live performance of Steven Curtis Chapman’s “Beauty Will Rise”. It’s a beautiful song and some days I feel the hope it inspires. He’s an amazing artist, though. The opening notes – chords, rhythm, instrumentation – they’re all an incredibly accurate depiction of the feelings that are felt in that moment of panic. It was the day the world went wrong. And yet, “out of these ashes, beauty will rise and we will dance among the ruins, we will see Him with our own eyes… for we know, joy is coming in the morning.”

I’m closing with the YouTube of the song that came on while I was typing the first bit of this post.

February 3, 2011, 7:45 am | Comments Off