#Remember

I've been wasting time lately. I don't really have it to waste, but yet there I sit, crushing candy, guessing the phrase and trying to come up with the most points on words with friends.  The big surprise in my laziness is that lessons can be learned in such a back door fashion.

Guess that Phrase has the trending category #firstworldproblems. This category usually makes me laugh. Then there was a bombing at the Boston Marathon. Now it highlights so much more.

Our country seems to be having growing pains there are so many huge events, laws and movements gaining steam and drawing attention it's hard to keep up. The issues are polarizing and if you have an opinion, you tend to be labeled for it. Forever. It's on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and Istagram so it MUST be who you are. FOREVER. (Or at least for our 20 second attention span.)

We get frustrated because we have to wait in line, be on hold, our parents won't pay for a smart phone. We don't want to be inconvenienced and we are impatient to have what we want, when we want it. Want to try a new recipe? Let's jump in the car and go buy marzipan.

Hard times hit. They inevitably will. Our "easy" living intersects with searching for a deeper understanding of who we are and who we've become in light of the "event". We spend time trying to figure out how to assimilate who we were into who we (mostly involuntarily) are becoming. We stretch, (hopefully grow), and look for "something" to aid us in the discoveries we make about ourselves. We seek  and search for goodness to prevail and for life to become stagnant again.

I lean on God. I Run. I try to help others. I Pray. I Run. I Give my ideals over to what God wants me to do. I Run. I Pray while I Run.

Running is great. It's right out the door. Literally. It's healthier than drinking, drugs, binging on food, giving in to the anger that is sure to come with the involuntarily change. It's a chance to disconnect. It's a chance to work out the emotional pain, which is far greater than the physical pain from running.

Running provides camaraderie, service and a chance to accomplish something you never thought possible. It doesn't matter the distance, the time or if you have to take a walk break. It's YOUR accomplishment. It's about encouragement, and supporting each other. It's not always about when you cross the finish line, but why you did and who is there to share in that moment.

So I Run. I do the best I can in that moment. I Run to support a cause, to support a friend, to remember that Eric and  Ava never could make the energy so they could live.

4.15.2013 Tens of thousands of people who, just like me (with a lot more natural talent and sheer determination and drive), took their first steps onto the pavement for their own personal reasons. These people kept on trucking to their BQ and were, in that moment, experiencing their dream come true.

The bombs exploded and lives, countless lives were changed in a heartbeat.
The country is reeling. The FBI is searching. Families are crying in agony.

My heart is deeply wounded and bleeding for all who are affected. I can't comprehend the place you have to get to to think that violence is the answer.

I escape on my phone. My phrase is "I'm thirsty and I only have water."

We are Americans. We mostly fight against each other in opinion, law making and who is ultimately right. We are so blessed that the ever present threat of a bombing does not loom daily. We are so blessed that we had first responders and hospitals with in reach so those injured could have medical attention as quickly as possible. One life lost is devastating. Living in constant fear of the potential of something going wrong is debilitating.

While we groan and moan and feel entitled. Let's remember that in America we are blessed to worry about the miles we get in. We are blessed that we don't have to always worry about if a bomb will go off in our front yard. We are blessed to have a military full of men and women who are willing to lay down their lives and separate from their families so we can can live the way we do.

In America, we can get the water. We can run and we are free to worship. We do not need to be debilitated by fear of "what if".

I am ready. I am ready to step out of fear and dark shadows. I am ready to unite and take my steps out the door.

I will Pray. I will Follow Him. I will be Free. I will get my water from my race belt when I'm thirsty. I am grateful and I will  #RememberBoston.  I will RUN.

Why I Run

Frustration. Exhaustion. Apathy.

 I've been living here for a little while. It happens when life gets  busy enough that you can't look ahead with so much in front of you. I find the negative emotions are so intertwined and can sneak up on me and cause catastrophic thinking if I am not too careful. It always starts with benign thoughts of "I can't", "I shouldn't" and the seed is planted. Mix that with extra shifts at work, tummy sick kids x2 weeks, a literal mountain of laundry, homeschooling, a load of non profit work, a budding jewelry business with Premier Designs, and feeling "off". It's no wonder I'm about to crash and burn.

I've been struggling with my fitness for over a year now. I am sad to say that the defeatist attitude is winning the battle. It began with a stress fracture and now I am battling plantar's facitis. This PT stint has been going on now for 2 months. I am progressing and trying to be patient with it. But today, I hit a breaking point. Who knew that the inability to do a proper squat would be the catalyst for the release of a bunch of pent up, unidentifiable emotions. Yup. Squats.

I got home and decided that maybe I want to quit all of everything. Yup. All of it. PT, pretending to be a runner, work, homeschooling, jewelry, laundry. Why bother?

So I decided to try to deal with my frustration on the pavement. I ran walked a 5K last weekend with my Sister in law, my race wife and my hubby. It didn't reinjure me so I decided that I need to get out there. Downloaded the couch to 5k app on my phone so that I wouldn't get over zealous and do too much and off I went.

The first mile was uneventful and no more encouraging than the tears shed over the inability to so a proper squat. I rounded the cul-de-sac and was looking at the sky. There was a bird. Soaring. I'm always watching birds. Then I noticed a white head and tail. I kept watching and it flew right over my head. A Bald Eagle soaring over the cul-de-sac. I snapped a quick picture with my iPhone and burst into tears. Oh how I miss my sweet baby girl!

In that moment my run/walk transcended. The Eagle was gone as quickly as it appeared. God loves me enough to give me that moment. A single flash in the pan moment of power strength and majesty. He and only He knew what I needed to break down my barriers and my walls.

Our sweet baby girl was in pain and handled it with determination and poise. She was cradled in the hands of God and today she can "soar on the wings of an eagle." She can "run and not grow weary" and "walk and not grow faint."

So while I feel down and out I need to remember that I worship a God who loves little old grumpy me enough to show me through an Eagle in flight. He is the one who laid himself down and was beaten and nailed. He was the one who suffered. He was the one who rose so that I can live. In my walk I will suffer and bad things will always happen. No matter what, God can and will provide you a way to limp along in your muck. You have to open your eyes and be ready to see it, I suppose.

So I will take my emotionally raw self and see if I can turn off the water works. Once they are opened it's hard to stop them. Then I will stand firm in knowing that God took some time and showed me that He loves me and I took some time and saw that.

 Small dot taken with my iPhone.

I doubt many who read this post are feeling very "Christmassy" right now. How is it possible to feel what the carols declare- "It's the most wonderful time of the year"? There are families of 28 people who are taking steps put into the horrific world of grief. While I myself have never had to cope with tragic loss, I suspect that it is a depth of despair all of its own. The permanency and finality of death is quick, fierce and without warning in tragic loss. Allan and I often remark about how grateful we are that we were allowed some time to prepare and wrap our heads around the fact that our children were never going to get well. As if somehow that makes it all OK, right?

While I don't know much about tragedy, I know quite a bit about not feeling "Christmassy". The feelings of my youth and early adulthood of joyful anticipation that can't be helped when the downbeat of your favorite carol is heard is gone. The fa la la ing while we bust open the box of decorations after a year of being stored in the basement is tempered at best.

For me, those beats and decorations are a key to the lock box on the depth of my emotion. Bringing up those boxes, lights and setting up the play list are actions I take, each year, with the hope that I can find that frolicsome, exuberant joy I last felt 10 Christmases ago. It doesn't come. We trim the tree, deck the halls and blare the music- with an attempt to have fun (which we seriously do do). What doesn't come is that depth of joy that is in my soul. While I sing and try to "Rock Around the Christmas Tree" with my Bugs and husband, my blinders on, my head is down and my heart is braced. I hand out decorations for the tree and choose not to tell stories about how the ornament came to our home and to our tree. Most of our ornaments illustrate a gap in time. Here are the ones from my youth. Here are the ones when we got married. Oh look these came as a gift for Eric, and these came in his memory. These are for our surviving bugs. Oh wait, here are the ones for Ava and in her memory. It's just plain hard.

Emily and Alexa were 6 weeks old for their first Christmas. Allan would hold up each crying and squirming baby and say, "It's Christmastime, you have to be jolly." We've told each of our children the same thing every year while they are crying or arguing. As you can well imagine, this annoys them. (We hope it will provide a fun memory in their adulthood, however.)

You know what? I've discovered that you don't really have to be "jolly" at all. (Don't tell the Bugs, PLEASE). You can celebrate, decorate, dance in the kitchen and see the beauty in the twinkling lights. You can experience the wonder in the eyes of the children. You will always have to delete names off the Christmas list, remember those gone on. You will always have something in the season that reminds you of the time when your loved one was with you. That's just part of living.

For me as much as Christmas is a tough "time of year" and it's smells and decorations open up a flood of  memories I would just a soon not have to have, I have to celebrate. I have to step into our traditions and merry making no matter how dampened my soul feels.

Why?

Mary was greeted by an angel and was told she was to deliver the Son of God. This child is the reason that I can get out of bed everyday. This child is why I keep pressing on when I just can't take the overwhelming grief. This child is why there is anticipation in the Christmas season. This child is why there is hope in our future.

I doubt we will ever ever understand the  "whys?" and "how could God allow that to happens?" that we LOVE LOVE LOVE to wonder about. God does love and protect us. I know because I am living proof of being two seconds from the edge of the cliff. I also know that there is evil in the world. It was unleashed with that bite into that apple. There are people who have suffered such trauma and torment in their lives- whether at the hands of others or with struggles with mental health- who are so far removed from humanity that they can't, won't hear God.

Don't you think that when those shots were fired, God cried too? He doesn't want this for us. He is the only one that can ease the pain of death. How do I know? Because He does for me, daily.

It is OK to be happy and have a nice time when others are suffering. It is OK to pray for those whom you feel need it while you are enjoying your family. It is OK to not feel appropriately "Chistmassy" as those sleigh bells and jingle bells dictate. And while I have been there and tend to hover there, I do have joy and fun in the season and feel "Christmassy" in the eager expectation that God has all of our lives in His hands.

If you are looking for a way to help the families in Newtown, CT and those that you know suffer sadness, why don't you simply ask God be with them? Ask God to be with you and show you how you can influence one life in a positive way, in a way that He wants you to? If you have never tried and are wondering if it is worth it, I can assure you it never hurts to ask, and patiently listen for the answer.

The Tears are Different

Not only are the emotions in my soul different, the tears actually feel different. 9 and 3 years later I grieve for my babies in different ways. When Ava first died and a large percentage of the time since that day, my grief for her eclipses my grief for Eric. Not out of lack of sadness for him, but I had 6 years of getting used to him being gone before she passed.

But it's not only that. When Eric was born we were full of joy. We had our first child. My dreams of becoming a Mom came true. Everything was a first. His birth story is filled with excitement and joy. Filled with anticipation of the future.

For Ava the sweet memories are not as abundant and flowing. I was worried my whole pregnancy. I don't know if instinctively knew that there was something wrong. I don't know if I was freaked out at the prospect of having a 4th c-section and being the mom of 4 children under 5. Whatever the situation I found myself in the hospital the night before Ava's delivery on IV fluids trying to hold off for a day to get me to 35 weeks gestation. That night in the hospital was horrible. I came home, undelivered, looking and feeling like I was beaten up. After being home for a few more hours the contractions, while unproductive, kept coming one minute apart. At 2 I went in for my c-section. I will never forget how excited the Bugs were and how I felt the need to temper their excitement. I remember thinking "Am I ready for this...." with an air of imminence. There was not much room for sweet memories. I had a rough recovery and the hospitalization was not too great. The day we discharged is the day we learned Ava could not hear. It was on what would have been on Eric's 6th birthday.  I remember the witnessing the unabashed joy the Bugs had for Ava. The plans they would make for "When Ava is 1...5...etc". I remember trying to temper their exuberance without trying to squash their spirit in hopes to prepare them for what I feared what was around the corner.

These differences are playing out as we are faced with another birthday week. I feel freer to remember the sweet things about Eric. The sweet things about Ava are muddled with a sick pit of the stomach feeling. Busting through that to HER sweetness is not an easy road. It makes all that we were given and subsequently lost so much more poignant.

Then there is the birthday observances. We try to meet the Bugs' needs. This means that Allan and I have to do things that we don't necessarily want to do.  They are kids and they need the tangible, free expression of love. I suppose that is a good thing as sometimes it's easier to bury your head. So this year, on Ava's birthday we went to the grave and laid flowers for Eric and Ava. The store didn't have yellow roses, so we settled on pink and added some yellow baby's breath.

When I first saw this, I wanted to run away. It's too much to bear. But I've learned to bear the enormity of our grief. I am trying to focus on how each of these sweet babies were God's gift to us. Because, really that is exactly what they were. No matter how differently their stories and lives are etched in my memory.

I Miss Her

Well, I realize that it may seem I've fallen off the face of the planet. As life takes over time seems to get shorter and shorter. In my months of blogging silence I find that I've been worked and reworked and God is molding and forming me in ways that I am just now begining to uncover. The tricky part in the discovery is the unraveling of the knots inside your soul. It is just plain hard to take a good hard loook at yourself, and see what needs to be untied.

I have a massage therapist who has physcially helped me achieve what I train for. I would run and beat myself up. Then she would find the knots and methodically and compassionately work them through. The process can be painful, but the release from the tension and the renewed ability for my body to respond and function to the best of it's ability is such a relief. Sometimes the muscles tighten quickly and the feeling is gone in a flash. Sometimes it hangs on a little longer and I can breathe easier.

This is how God reworks your soul. You are numb and you can't tell the source of the pain and anguish. He lovingly, expertly massages the knot. As that area in your life bubbles to the surface it is a tough pill to swallow. Then you live with it for a bit. It becomes familiar and you see it from a different angle. Only then can you work on changing the behavior, the thought pattern or the activity. Then SNAP the old grabs hold of the new, the knot is tied again. You find yourself needing to dig deep again and find courage to face the ugliness that has been laid at your feet.

Your breath becomes shallow and you want to flee, throw it aside and never look back. The realization is ugly. The process is hard. Fire has to burn hot to make metal malleable. Walking through the fires in life need to be hotter than the basic nature of our stubborn, habitual natures.

Then one day, even though the sting is still there you see it and you can learn to handle it. For me it's been the disaray in our home and how I've been parenting the Bugs in the aftermath of the last 9 years of our lives. How does God bring it to the surface? For me it's with His Holy highlighter and a glimmer of the "Amy" that has so long been suppressed. Sometimes because life has burried her, sometimes because it's too painful to remember the "before".

I miss that "Amy". I am so grateful that there are components still there. Of course they will be as that is who God created. But being made is stagnant. We are meant for change. He did not just make me. He FORMS me, He MOLDS me. He BENDS me. As I walk through this life He pulls me closer to who He NEEDS me to be; to become the one He planned for me to become. So I know that the knots will come back, the massage will be painful, but not unbearable. I have to train my mind to not fight it and to relax through it. I need to allow myself to let Him work through me as I continue on my journey. I know that it will never be easy, but it will never be more than I can work through and handle.  Through my tears and my feeings of guilt I can press on.

It can be the same for you as you miss the "you" of your happy time. The process is actually pretty stinky while in the throes of it. But the result is beyond your hearts desire. Follow His plan that is made for you. Join me on the hard unpaved path. Work out the kinks and let go of the pain. The reward is glorious. the journey is courageous.

"My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus." Phillipians 4:19 (And who says VBS is for the kids?)

www.joyhopefoundation.com

Peaks and Valleys

Emily came up to me yesterday, tucked herself in the crook of my arm and told me that she misses Ava. I asked her if she had anything she regretted. Of course, I then had to describe what "regret" is to my 7 year old. She told me that she wished she could reach into her "Ava Book" and wrap her arms around her sister.

She's been really going through the fire lately. There is a new level of understanding and concept of loss that she is processing and trying to organize. With it comes a new level of pain and sorrow. Professionally, I know that as a child's ability to think on different levels expands, that child will have to grieve on a different level and in a new way all over again. As the mom of a child walking the walk it catches me off guard each time.

I realized that my sweet child is not afraid to miss her sister. She's not afraid to let her arms ache to hold her, to smell her, to remember how she was really here. Guess what? Through December and most of January I hit a wall. Early in December I got a stress fracture in my leg. I have yet to run since 12/2/12. I was in a great deal of pain until a couple weeks ago. I was trying to muddle through the "festivities" of the season. I was spent. I didn't want to do anything, my body hurt and my soul was broken and sad. For some reason the complexities of all that Allan and I personally LOST was all I could ruminate upon.

My daughters are amazing. They are allowing themselves to feel the loss. I have been afraid to allow that. I prefer to focus on what we've gained through the loss. It's easier that way. But we have to focus on the actual hole that Ava left in our lives. I think it's the only way to keep it from burrowing deeper into my soul.

After Eric died, I did FEEL the achy, empty arms, the loss of a future, the pain of dreams doused. With Ava...sometimes...I can't. It's just so hard to allow that feeling to develop and manifest itself. So there was the wall at Christmas. The black, painful pit. The one with the mud walls so there is nowhere to grasp. There was nowhere to hide. I couldn't pound out the thoughts in my mind through running. Instead, I had to sit still and let the pain in my leg become the precipitous to that which was trapped in my heart.

Sometimes, I think God allows you to feel that way so that you remember to cling to Him more. In throes of the bleak days I wonder where He really is. I know He is there, but I feel like I'm slipping. Really I think that He is helping me along. He allows me to feel the pain and ache so that I can reach a higher peak.

I get frustrated having to be "on" and guiding my children through this emotional maze they are trapped in. I am glad I can do it. But it gets old. Really really old. Then there is a sweet child, wriggling herself into the crook of my arm, seeking comfort. I then notice that she in fact helps me. I wish I could be as brave as she.

Fa la la la la?

If the truth be told, I am having a rotten time of it. I often said that the second year, in some ways, is harder than the first after a loved one dies. I don't think that it's as intense, so that part is past. During the first year you are numb, depressed, surviving from one moment to the next clutching your way through the day, the night and the drudgery that comes along with the long minutes of agony.

During the second year, a little of that black cloud lifts. There are longer periods of time between "normal" and bad days. It's not every minute. However, you are not as much on guard of your emotions. When the bad days come, they hit you like a ton of bricks. You feel more and with your guard down, you remember more.

I'm not saying that this is bad. It's just hard. It's a pain. And I don't want to go through it, AGAIN! I'm trying not to have a pity party over here. But I want to scream "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!!"

I get so annoyed with myself when I feel this way. I don't know what to do with myself, so I berate my thoughts. I hear of all of these wonderful things happening in the lives of my friends, co workers, family. I hear of struggles and trials through the same circles. Yet I find myself feeling, 'what about me?' 'Why can't I have that?' 'Why did they get to take their kid home?' 'Why couldn't my babies have something that medicine could heal?' There are miracles happening right around me as people I know and love struggle, suffer. I KNOW it's a miracle. I SEE it happening. I KNOW that there are friends out there whose children could have died, but didn't because we live in a place where medicine is easily accessible and curative. Don't get me wrong. I am grateful for all of these things. I am grateful for the blessings for these people. I'm just a little jealous that it didn't happen for us, twice.

There's been flash backs, memories. Feelings of guilt that we didn't do for them more than we did. It's nothing to solve. It just is. I always feel sad when I look at our surviving children and see their heartbreak. Emily is having memories of the night we told her her sister died. Alexa broke down when we donated her tricycle (at her original request) because she had a vision of having Ava ride it someday. Elaina hugs Ava's picture and simply states that she wishes that Ava could come down to us again. They want to hang a stocking for Ava and Eric. It kills me to do so. They play baby all day long. They are playing out their need to love a little one. They wish they could have a little sibling. We can't do that anymore. Little things that pierce my soul, some days more than others.

I look at our Christmas Decorations, I think about why we celebrate. I think about smiles on little faces. I feel removed from it x6. I was thinking about about how I am seeing a lot of social media about remembering those who have a hard time during the "holiday season". On my drive into work last night I realized that of course there are so many who have a tough time this time of year. As we age our lives move from the child like innocence and wonder to reality. Reality is that we live in a sinful world. We are sinners in the world. Sin is a bundle of bad choices, ugly thoughts and feelings, negative actions, even death. Part of our humanity wants to sweep it under the rug and 'be happy'. That's not how it works. We are all touched by a form of grief in our lives. So of course there are those who have a tough time around the significant markers on the calendar. The longer you live, the more people you love have endured suffering.

So what do you do? As a grown up you enter a quagmire of sadness. Living is hard. Do you try to keep on keeping on and show your children the joys of the season? Do you squelch the twinkle in their eyes as they gaze are the decorations, as they plan surprises for those they love? Do you try to ignore the festivities because your heart is heavy? I want to. But I can't. The Bugs have unbridled joy. I don't want to be the Mom who makes this season harder on them, because my heart is broken and I am suffering from my sinful thoughts.

There is a little thing called Grace. It comes from God. He gives you what you need, when you need it and you don't deserve it. It's how I keep moving on. I know that even though I feel a layer of film exists between me and the festivities, I can enjoy something. Sometimes it feels like the cloud will never go away. Then I see grey skies, and sometimes there's blue trying to peep through. I try to take delight in those little twinkly eyes. I try not to squelch that. They have a whole life to live and plenty of time to deal with whatever comes their way.

God gave us Jesus. I know that some of you don't understand that, or don't believe it, or don't get it. I struggle with that often. I struggle with how to get someone to understand the depth of joy and hope you can have, even in the dark and more sinful times, when you really really allow God to be the captain of your ship. I know that each person will have their own relationship with God, just as we relate to our family members in a different way. The operative word in that sentence is relationship. It's not a static thing. It's something that you work on every day. It changes and sometimes it's good and you are on a high. Sometimes its low and frustrating. But it's always there and always based on love.

We get mad if a loved one hurts us. We turn our backs and wonder how could that person love us if they did THAT to us. We push the person away. We want nothing to do with them anymore. But the problem is that when the anger subsides, a thought sneaks in. We still love the person on some level. So we make ourselves angry and fuel that feeling so that we don't have to actually FEEL the true feelings of the infraction. Walls walls walls go up and suddenly you look at your fortress and you are trapped. We do this with God too. But with Him you can't build an impenetrable fortress. He's the one who made you, me, my broken children, my healthy children. He created everyone on this earth. We are here for His purpose, whether we are born to what someone thinks is a "deserving" family or not. Each person born has a purpose and the capacity to love, themselves, each other, God.

You see, even though we are down right now. We know there will be an up point. We know that God loves us. We know that God loves us. We know it, but we need some Grace to feel it, to roll with it and to move to the next step. We need His strength to climb out of the pit we find ourselves in so that we can see the Blessings right in front of us. Those pits are deep sometimes. 'But His grace is sufficient for me, His strength is made perfect in weakness.'

I hate death. I love a death with hope.
I want 5 kids in my house. I am glad two are healed and no longer suffering.
I want "that big thing" that will make me feel better. I know that there may not be a 'big thing' that is tangible. But God loves me and hasn't forgotten about me. He will make me get to the next day, and the next, and the next.

For Christmas this year, won't you try to see how God loves you and Blesses you when you are down and don't feel in tune with Him? It's hard. I know. It's really hard. But I bet you will be surprised.