My guess is if you have ever grieved for anyone or anything you know that grief lingers like that friend who just won't leave. Sometimes it is more like a creeper that follows you around and says SURPRISE look I am here too. Here have some feelings you would rather not have and a most inconvenient time because I don't care what time is good for you.
This is what has happened to me this morning in a coffee shop. I work here one morning a week in an attempt to be out in the community. I always bring work with me for slow days. Today is slow, so I was clearing out my email inboxes. There it was from Amazon, Birthday Reminder for Donna. My eyes began to sting with a wave of grief. Donna should be celebrating her birthday the beginning of next week, she wouldn't even be 50 yet! My sister in law who left us suddenly and tragically in 2012, asked me just weeks before she died where we would live next, when we would have more babies for her to hold and spoil. She didn't make it to my seminary graduation or ordination, she didn't get to see me installed in our new home. I didn't get to hear her ask the way only she could, why on Earth would you move THERE? I don't get texts around Halloween asking about Christmas.
Donna was my sister in law for over 20 years because of how spread out we are, my brother got married when I was around 8 years old. She helped me and my friends survive our teenage years, planned my wedding with me, rejoiced at L's birth. She was a friend, a confidant, a second mom, and this awesome bonus person I got to have in my life. We didn't always see eye to eye but we loved each other deeply which is how it goes with family. We even lived together for nearly five years.
This morning being reminded that we should be celebrating her birthday in a few days broke my heart. I suppose I could go turn off that reminder and the one that will buzz on my phone in a few days. I mean it would make sense to avoid this lingering grief every year but I can't bring myself to do it. Next Tuesday in her honor we eat dessert first. Sometimes these little grief filled reminders, remind me not just of grief but of how fleeting life is, it reminds me I am alive. That I should be living this life and not merely existing because in a moment we can be gone.
Today I am grateful for all the time I got with this woman who loved me through the hardest times in my life. I am grateful for my aching heart because it means we loved well and made memories together and that she lives on in me.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Monday, February 15, 2016
Vulnerability and Compassion
Being vulnerable is not a strong point for me. I could go on and on about this and the reasons it is my current truth but frankly I need to cut to the chase because otherwise I might chicken out on being vulnerable in a new way on this blog. On January 5 while driving at dawn, I hit black ice on the high way, my vehicle spun out and rolled multiple times into a ditch, landing on the driver's side door. I was trapped inside for a few minutes before figuring out how to get my head out of the metal that was bent around it and my knee that was stuck between the door and the steering wheel. I have a fracture in my neck and in a rib. In the realm of neck fractures mine is mild, I had a few weeks in a soft brace. I am sore from time to time but mostly I am back to normal. Or I was until Friday morning.
Friday life required me to head an hour East to our closest big city. A drive I have done multiple times since the accident with out incident. I don't love doing it but I do. Friday was different for two reasons: my daughter was with me and there was blowing snow and a slippery road warning. The morning of my accident it was the wind that blew me onto the ice. As soon as I pulled out on to the highway I felt the wind blowing the car a bit. I immediately tensed up, I was already nervous about ice in the 10 degree temps and now wind and it snowed the day before. It was going to be a long drive, I had given myself three hours to make the typically 1 hour drive. (I made it in an hour and a half.)
Mostly because of my profession but partly because of my nature as a human being, I spend a lot of time compartmentalizing my own junk. An example: recently when I went to a nursing facility I saw one of my congregants struggling to eat, in a very similar way to my own father near the end. The tears welled up almost instantly as I walked up. Do you know what I had to do in that moment? I had to remind myself this is not about me and my junk. I can deal with my junk later (I had an ugly cry). I greeted the person and helped get them situated and advocated for the proper utensil. I walk with people and it is my call to show them compassion. Sometimes that means I cannot react how I would like to, it means I have to in a split second assess the conversation, hear what is said, what isn't said, what might be said with out words, and think about where that person is coming from. Sometimes I would like slap a person but I have to make this sort of assessment in an instant and respond with grace, love, and compassion. (I fall short, don't worry.) This spills over into all of my life, friendships, random encounters with strangers. It is a part of who I am.
From time to time I find I am really frustrated when people do not return this sort of understanding, even though I know it isn't typical. Friday morning was one of these times. As I pulled on to the highway and my new car wobbled in the wind and the snow began to blow I drove painfully slow. I am talking that annoying car that does 20 mph under the speed limit, which is 80 here. I am pretty sure every car I encountered was passing me, some getting blown toward me. The semi trucks were the worst because of how the wind effects them. Now listen I don't expect everyone to stay behind me... I just found myself wanting to scream, I was you, the person passing the slow cars five weeks ago, you don't know what happened. Car after car passed me. I had both hands on the wheel, squeezing so tight I had to stop at the half way point to rub my hands, they were hurting from my death grip. All the while trying to play it cool as to not freak out my kid.
Here is what I am asking you, the next time you fly past that slow moving car and get all frustrated think about who might be driving that car and what they may have faced recently. Maybe it is an older woman who never really drove but was recently widowed whose life has been turned upside down and she is trying to cope and find her new normal. Or maybe it is someone who got the worst phone call of their lives and they are in a daze as they try to drive to their loved ones. Maybe they are just a jerk hell bent on ruining your day.
Or they could be me. A woman who is doing something really hard and really brave albeit slowly. I drove my hands clenched, my jaw set, my heart racing, all while trying to keep a calm demeanor for the sake of my child. As I got with in 20 miles of the scene of my accident it was almost impossible for me to keep driving. Maybe that jerk you are passing, has hands that ache from the gripping the steering wheel so tight because a few weeks ago she was stuck in a ditch. Maybe she is quietly sobbing as the snow blows across the road and feels her vehicle wiggle in the wind. Maybe she can't let out all the emotion because her six year old is in the back seat and she doesn't want her to fear car trips. Maybe she knows if said six year old had been with her on the morning of her accident, her skull would have been crushed between the ceiling and the door. She knows this because the car seat was wedged there, she had to rip it out to prop a door open. Maybe she sees things she has never noticed before like how there are two story drops off the side of the road in certain places. Maybe she is highly aware of all the tire tracks going off the road. Maybe thanks to the frozen ground five weeks later she can still pick out her own tire tracks as she passes them. Maybe she is scared and full of anxiety but she is also strong and brave, everyday getting back behind the wheel even when she would rather not because she is only 35 and can't hang up her driving keys yet. Maybe she needs more time to process a very real traumatic event. Maybe she is worried about some upcoming long drives and how she is going to make them. Maybe she just wants to feel normal but as her anxiety ramps up her muscles tighten and she can feel the fracture in her neck. Maybe that person you are flying past is me, maybe I am doing OK, but I am not great.
After an accident on stairs that left my daughter's arm broken and needing surgery I started to have anxiety attacks, like really bad anxiety attacks that sent me to the ER three times in two weeks. They came again when we faced being with out a home last year. Since moving I have only had one, until the accident. These attacks range from feeling like I am dying to draining me of all ability to be productive. I often have to lay down and focus on breathing to make it through. My whole drive on Friday I was breathing through and fighting off this kind of paralyzing anxiety. I haven't told many people about this struggle but it feels like it is time. Friday morning sucked a lot! The drive home was much better because the wind had died down.
I say all of this to beg you the next time you encounter someone like me you might have compassion rather than rage. Maybe you could pray for that person instead of facebooking about how people shouldn't drive in bad weather if they can't handle it. Maybe the person who needs your compassion isn't driving but in your way somewhere else. Take a step back, take a breath, and for a moment try to understand where they might be coming from.
Today I am grateful for the people who I have been able to share this journey with so far even the hard, ugly, embarrassing parts.
Friday life required me to head an hour East to our closest big city. A drive I have done multiple times since the accident with out incident. I don't love doing it but I do. Friday was different for two reasons: my daughter was with me and there was blowing snow and a slippery road warning. The morning of my accident it was the wind that blew me onto the ice. As soon as I pulled out on to the highway I felt the wind blowing the car a bit. I immediately tensed up, I was already nervous about ice in the 10 degree temps and now wind and it snowed the day before. It was going to be a long drive, I had given myself three hours to make the typically 1 hour drive. (I made it in an hour and a half.)
Mostly because of my profession but partly because of my nature as a human being, I spend a lot of time compartmentalizing my own junk. An example: recently when I went to a nursing facility I saw one of my congregants struggling to eat, in a very similar way to my own father near the end. The tears welled up almost instantly as I walked up. Do you know what I had to do in that moment? I had to remind myself this is not about me and my junk. I can deal with my junk later (I had an ugly cry). I greeted the person and helped get them situated and advocated for the proper utensil. I walk with people and it is my call to show them compassion. Sometimes that means I cannot react how I would like to, it means I have to in a split second assess the conversation, hear what is said, what isn't said, what might be said with out words, and think about where that person is coming from. Sometimes I would like slap a person but I have to make this sort of assessment in an instant and respond with grace, love, and compassion. (I fall short, don't worry.) This spills over into all of my life, friendships, random encounters with strangers. It is a part of who I am.
From time to time I find I am really frustrated when people do not return this sort of understanding, even though I know it isn't typical. Friday morning was one of these times. As I pulled on to the highway and my new car wobbled in the wind and the snow began to blow I drove painfully slow. I am talking that annoying car that does 20 mph under the speed limit, which is 80 here. I am pretty sure every car I encountered was passing me, some getting blown toward me. The semi trucks were the worst because of how the wind effects them. Now listen I don't expect everyone to stay behind me... I just found myself wanting to scream, I was you, the person passing the slow cars five weeks ago, you don't know what happened. Car after car passed me. I had both hands on the wheel, squeezing so tight I had to stop at the half way point to rub my hands, they were hurting from my death grip. All the while trying to play it cool as to not freak out my kid.
Here is what I am asking you, the next time you fly past that slow moving car and get all frustrated think about who might be driving that car and what they may have faced recently. Maybe it is an older woman who never really drove but was recently widowed whose life has been turned upside down and she is trying to cope and find her new normal. Or maybe it is someone who got the worst phone call of their lives and they are in a daze as they try to drive to their loved ones. Maybe they are just a jerk hell bent on ruining your day.
Or they could be me. A woman who is doing something really hard and really brave albeit slowly. I drove my hands clenched, my jaw set, my heart racing, all while trying to keep a calm demeanor for the sake of my child. As I got with in 20 miles of the scene of my accident it was almost impossible for me to keep driving. Maybe that jerk you are passing, has hands that ache from the gripping the steering wheel so tight because a few weeks ago she was stuck in a ditch. Maybe she is quietly sobbing as the snow blows across the road and feels her vehicle wiggle in the wind. Maybe she can't let out all the emotion because her six year old is in the back seat and she doesn't want her to fear car trips. Maybe she knows if said six year old had been with her on the morning of her accident, her skull would have been crushed between the ceiling and the door. She knows this because the car seat was wedged there, she had to rip it out to prop a door open. Maybe she sees things she has never noticed before like how there are two story drops off the side of the road in certain places. Maybe she is highly aware of all the tire tracks going off the road. Maybe thanks to the frozen ground five weeks later she can still pick out her own tire tracks as she passes them. Maybe she is scared and full of anxiety but she is also strong and brave, everyday getting back behind the wheel even when she would rather not because she is only 35 and can't hang up her driving keys yet. Maybe she needs more time to process a very real traumatic event. Maybe she is worried about some upcoming long drives and how she is going to make them. Maybe she just wants to feel normal but as her anxiety ramps up her muscles tighten and she can feel the fracture in her neck. Maybe that person you are flying past is me, maybe I am doing OK, but I am not great.
After an accident on stairs that left my daughter's arm broken and needing surgery I started to have anxiety attacks, like really bad anxiety attacks that sent me to the ER three times in two weeks. They came again when we faced being with out a home last year. Since moving I have only had one, until the accident. These attacks range from feeling like I am dying to draining me of all ability to be productive. I often have to lay down and focus on breathing to make it through. My whole drive on Friday I was breathing through and fighting off this kind of paralyzing anxiety. I haven't told many people about this struggle but it feels like it is time. Friday morning sucked a lot! The drive home was much better because the wind had died down.
I say all of this to beg you the next time you encounter someone like me you might have compassion rather than rage. Maybe you could pray for that person instead of facebooking about how people shouldn't drive in bad weather if they can't handle it. Maybe the person who needs your compassion isn't driving but in your way somewhere else. Take a step back, take a breath, and for a moment try to understand where they might be coming from.
Today I am grateful for the people who I have been able to share this journey with so far even the hard, ugly, embarrassing parts.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Dust to Dust & Truth Telling
It used to be that Protestants did away with such things as Ash Wednesday but that is no longer the case. We will worship tonight to repent and to be reminded that we are all dying. From the moment of our first breath to our last we are in a continual state of dying. This will be new for my current congregation but it won't be new for me. Each person will come forward and I will mark them with burnt palm ashes saying, "you came from dust and to dust you will return". We will repent and prepare our hearts for the season of Lent before us, a season of fasting. I live with this truth everyday, I serve an older congregation and that means we are no strangers to death. The truth is though that being "old" (however you define it) is not a prerequisite for death. This a deeply meaningful practice for me. A reminder of what is at hand and what it is that might really matter in the world, in life, and even in death. I have known for a long time my days are numbered with a number I do not yet know. Most of us know this and we distract ourselves from this common everyday truth, we are mortal.
Tonight though, I will (if she so desires) impose the ashes on my own daughter with the solemn reminder of her return to dust. Chances are she won't understand it fully, no one ever does. It seems a cruel twist of the preacher's fate to have to remind their child they are mortal. A truth I pray I will only have to remember out loud once a year. The very idea of one's child being dead is enough to make even the most stoic among us shed a tear. But for me it is just an abstract. A thought. An idea. that doesn't sit well with me.
What about for my loved ones who have lost a child. Their truth is different, more tangible than my abstract idea of loss. I am left to wonder how this day is for them. Then I wonder for the rest of us how we might live differently if we had to see on a regular basis that our children out living us is not a given. That no matter how cute, how smart, how compassionate, no matter how much they changed you, made you better, made you yell... they too will one day be nothing more than the dust from which they were created.
To you as we stand in these moments of repentance and preparation for fasting, you are dust and to dust you shall return.
Today I am grateful even for the unpleasant reminders that help us remember we are human.
Tonight though, I will (if she so desires) impose the ashes on my own daughter with the solemn reminder of her return to dust. Chances are she won't understand it fully, no one ever does. It seems a cruel twist of the preacher's fate to have to remind their child they are mortal. A truth I pray I will only have to remember out loud once a year. The very idea of one's child being dead is enough to make even the most stoic among us shed a tear. But for me it is just an abstract. A thought. An idea. that doesn't sit well with me.
What about for my loved ones who have lost a child. Their truth is different, more tangible than my abstract idea of loss. I am left to wonder how this day is for them. Then I wonder for the rest of us how we might live differently if we had to see on a regular basis that our children out living us is not a given. That no matter how cute, how smart, how compassionate, no matter how much they changed you, made you better, made you yell... they too will one day be nothing more than the dust from which they were created.
To you as we stand in these moments of repentance and preparation for fasting, you are dust and to dust you shall return.
Today I am grateful even for the unpleasant reminders that help us remember we are human.
Friday, January 8, 2016
Tuesday Morning Part 1
Tuesday morning was a typical second day back from break for all of us. There was more enthusiasm than typical and I had to leave early to get to a meeting and the family was getting ready for dad to drop L off at school, a treat she totally loves. Things were going smoothly, there was a giant cup of water spilled all over clean clothes right as I was leaving but non the less crisis averted. I checked the weather and I checked it again it was going to be windy, but most days are windy on the plains. I listened to the radio no road condition warnings. My kiddo said, mommy I miss you and I hugged her and said I will be home tonight honey. Then I seriously thought to myself that is dumb to say what if I don't make it home, shrugged it off and was on my way. It was still pretty dark out, I made my way to the gas station and filled up. I was running 8 minutes late but figured I would either make up time because it never takes as long as the app says or big deal I am ten minutes late. The roads in town were wet but not too slick. I eased on to the high way and slowly felt out the roads. It was smooth sailing and we (me and my fellow drivers) were traveling at speed.
As I passed into my last county on that highway, county signs and grain elevators are my new land marks, the snow had started to blow on to the high way. (I was singing along with my new CD from Christmas about wanting to be closer to Jesus, in a blues souly sort of way.) It had been really windy and the car was getting blown around a lot which meant I had already slowed down. The snow blowing across the highway is actually pretty it makes beautiful little swirls. The wind, the snow, I knew I couldn't drive at speed anymore. I drove past a bunch of slower moving cars and thought hmmm that was a lot of slow cars I better cool it. It helps that my car does not like to go fast. The wind was picking up and visibility was reducing. I decided that maybe I should slow even more. Now I have to tell you I have been warned about the blowing snow and how dangerous it was. I had no idea that this meant crazy ice patches you can't see, I thought dangerous blowing snow meant that there was limited visibility making blizzard like conditions out of the already fallen snow. I noticed a lot of wobble under the over pass. Then out of now where it happened, the wind blew and the car gave this strange wobble I corrected and was back in my lane for a split second before I was in a full on spin, I was in the other lane, I was scared, I was peeing my pants (literally), I was slamming on the brakes as I tried to at least slow down the impact (I know better, don't hit the brakes when you start to slide it gets worse). And I knew, I would hit the ditch, and I knew it was steep enough that I was going to roll. I closed my eyes. Crunch of the metal coming down around my head, crunch of the snow outside, crunch of the windshield shattering. Thud. I am laying on my drivers door and I am stuck. The snow is coming in the now bent door and I reach up to turn the heat up because I am stuck and realize no I need to turn the car off. So I turn it off, and I am trying hard not to panic. It isn't working. So I throw things off of me, maps, a snow brush, a floor mat. I start beeping the horn, why isn't anyone there. I am in a full on panic I am stuck, I may be stuck for hours. My head is pinned between the door and the roof which has collapsed all around it. My left leg is bent almost to my chest and stuck between the door and the steering wheel. I CANNOT GET OUT! I start saying oh God oh God oh God. My limbs are ok. HELP ME! I can move my feet and my hands. HELP ME! I see CDs and a bumper sticker littering the window next to me. BREATHE BREATHE you have to BREATHE you cannot panic. I was able to get my head out of it's confinement. Ok I am Ok. The angel appeared them in the form of a snow plow driver who was ready to see what ever mess I was inside that car. He opened the now top door, passenger door with so much authority and I think was relieved to see I wasn't a bloody pulp. I told him I was ok but stuck.
Just the mere presence of another human being at this point calmed me down. I was able to get my leg out and then eventually stand up. He wanted me out of the car ASAP. He calmly kept encouraging me and I was terrified to try to get out and thinking dude I am a big girl you won't be able to pull me out. So he asked me for something hard to brace the door, and I grabbed my daughter's booster seat. IT IS PINNED BETWEEN THE ROOF AND THE DOOR AND THE SEAT. I WILL NOT LOOSE MY SHIT I WILL NOT LOOSE MY SHIT AS I THINK ABOUT HOW MY DAUGHTER WOULD BE DEAD. SEAT YOU ARE MINE! Yank and it is free. He gets the door secured and I say I have to call my husband. I look at my feet and I say if my sun glasses are there and this is there and that is there then my phone must be... here and I put my hand on it. I cannot tell you how I did that it defies all logic. I stand there in the car wondering why I am all wet, duh I peed myself, and I call my husband because he is not far behind me on the road and A. he does not know the roads are shit when you cross the county line and B. He is car guy even if he sees the undercarriage first he will know it's me in this ditch and he will crash because he panics first and then reacts. We cannot both be in the ditch. I put the phone in my pocket with my keys. And started figuring out how to get out.
I climbed the dented roof, the steering wheel and reclined the passenger seat so I could get out. I made it to the top of the car and I had to jump down. Mind you all this time I am injured and I don't realize it because of adrenaline. In another rash of irrational thought I am not worried that my knee is going to twist when I make the jump. So I get back wards and steady myself on the ledge for longer than I needed to. I have the bruises on my knees to prove it. And finally I jump down the driver pulls me toward him so I clear the roof . I am out. I am not trapped. I am freezing and covered in pee in a ditch, my car is totaled, and I feel like WONDER WOMAN.
I am alive and I am grateful.
As I passed into my last county on that highway, county signs and grain elevators are my new land marks, the snow had started to blow on to the high way. (I was singing along with my new CD from Christmas about wanting to be closer to Jesus, in a blues souly sort of way.) It had been really windy and the car was getting blown around a lot which meant I had already slowed down. The snow blowing across the highway is actually pretty it makes beautiful little swirls. The wind, the snow, I knew I couldn't drive at speed anymore. I drove past a bunch of slower moving cars and thought hmmm that was a lot of slow cars I better cool it. It helps that my car does not like to go fast. The wind was picking up and visibility was reducing. I decided that maybe I should slow even more. Now I have to tell you I have been warned about the blowing snow and how dangerous it was. I had no idea that this meant crazy ice patches you can't see, I thought dangerous blowing snow meant that there was limited visibility making blizzard like conditions out of the already fallen snow. I noticed a lot of wobble under the over pass. Then out of now where it happened, the wind blew and the car gave this strange wobble I corrected and was back in my lane for a split second before I was in a full on spin, I was in the other lane, I was scared, I was peeing my pants (literally), I was slamming on the brakes as I tried to at least slow down the impact (I know better, don't hit the brakes when you start to slide it gets worse). And I knew, I would hit the ditch, and I knew it was steep enough that I was going to roll. I closed my eyes. Crunch of the metal coming down around my head, crunch of the snow outside, crunch of the windshield shattering. Thud. I am laying on my drivers door and I am stuck. The snow is coming in the now bent door and I reach up to turn the heat up because I am stuck and realize no I need to turn the car off. So I turn it off, and I am trying hard not to panic. It isn't working. So I throw things off of me, maps, a snow brush, a floor mat. I start beeping the horn, why isn't anyone there. I am in a full on panic I am stuck, I may be stuck for hours. My head is pinned between the door and the roof which has collapsed all around it. My left leg is bent almost to my chest and stuck between the door and the steering wheel. I CANNOT GET OUT! I start saying oh God oh God oh God. My limbs are ok. HELP ME! I can move my feet and my hands. HELP ME! I see CDs and a bumper sticker littering the window next to me. BREATHE BREATHE you have to BREATHE you cannot panic. I was able to get my head out of it's confinement. Ok I am Ok. The angel appeared them in the form of a snow plow driver who was ready to see what ever mess I was inside that car. He opened the now top door, passenger door with so much authority and I think was relieved to see I wasn't a bloody pulp. I told him I was ok but stuck.
Just the mere presence of another human being at this point calmed me down. I was able to get my leg out and then eventually stand up. He wanted me out of the car ASAP. He calmly kept encouraging me and I was terrified to try to get out and thinking dude I am a big girl you won't be able to pull me out. So he asked me for something hard to brace the door, and I grabbed my daughter's booster seat. IT IS PINNED BETWEEN THE ROOF AND THE DOOR AND THE SEAT. I WILL NOT LOOSE MY SHIT I WILL NOT LOOSE MY SHIT AS I THINK ABOUT HOW MY DAUGHTER WOULD BE DEAD. SEAT YOU ARE MINE! Yank and it is free. He gets the door secured and I say I have to call my husband. I look at my feet and I say if my sun glasses are there and this is there and that is there then my phone must be... here and I put my hand on it. I cannot tell you how I did that it defies all logic. I stand there in the car wondering why I am all wet, duh I peed myself, and I call my husband because he is not far behind me on the road and A. he does not know the roads are shit when you cross the county line and B. He is car guy even if he sees the undercarriage first he will know it's me in this ditch and he will crash because he panics first and then reacts. We cannot both be in the ditch. I put the phone in my pocket with my keys. And started figuring out how to get out.
I climbed the dented roof, the steering wheel and reclined the passenger seat so I could get out. I made it to the top of the car and I had to jump down. Mind you all this time I am injured and I don't realize it because of adrenaline. In another rash of irrational thought I am not worried that my knee is going to twist when I make the jump. So I get back wards and steady myself on the ledge for longer than I needed to. I have the bruises on my knees to prove it. And finally I jump down the driver pulls me toward him so I clear the roof . I am out. I am not trapped. I am freezing and covered in pee in a ditch, my car is totaled, and I feel like WONDER WOMAN.
I am alive and I am grateful.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
"I don't have a dad, just a mom."
Fridays are my Sabbath Day. I am off and unless there is a
serious emergency, the day is mine. Of course this time of year that gets
difficult and I have been terrible at self care until yesterday. I was a total
lump on a log until I went over to the school to volunteer in my daughter's
kindergarten class. That may seem like work to some but I think it is one of
the best Sabbath practices. I get to be in the school, the class, and with L.
Of course when I go there, a public school, I ditch as much of the pastor role
as I possibly can. However my brain doesn't stop thinking in pastoral mode most
of the time.
I sat down at the table and started the task at hand,
decorating bags for gifts the students made for their parents. So the teacher
wrote down a few things they might want to write on the bag and off we went.
She also explained some may say I only live with my mom or dad. Just tell them
to write mom or dad then. It took approximately four minutes with the first
round of students before I saw a sad little face that said to me, "I don't
have a dad, just a mom". Now I don't know this little one's story and it is not my
place to ask. A million things ran through my head. As the other students
talked about how they have a mom and a dad. My heart sinking because my dad
wasn't around much because he was sick and I can remember how much those
moments can hurt. What can I say, what can I say, I can't ignore those sad
eyes. Earlier this week we got an email about a father daughter dance that also
made my heart break a little. So we can say I am a little sensitive in this
area. As a pastor, (other pastors does this happen to you?) I wanted to respond
with compassion. I didn't just want to pretend like they didn't say it.
I impulsively said the thing that made the most sense,
"I don't have a dad either, just a mom." There was a smile and we
moved on. The reasons me and this little one don't have a dad may be completely
different, mine died, I have no idea what is up with theirs. Luckily there were
no more questions about my dad because telling them he died might be awful for
an age group where death is hard to understand. We could argue that's all ages
I suppose.
It is my hope that being an adult without a dad normalized
it for this little friend at least for now. My little friend, chances of you
ever reading this are very slim, in a year's time you will likely forget L's
mom coming to school. If I could tell you anything though, I would tell you I
know not having your dad around well just plain sucks, a lot. I know people
will say things that hurt. I hope you know for whatever reason your dad isn't
around it is not your fault. My friend, you are going to be OK.
I totally get that the kid is probably long past this moment and that a lot of what I wrote here is
more about me than this kiddo. I just know it is a day later and still running around inside my head.
Today I am grateful
that I found some words to acknowledge a powerful statement from a small voice.
I hope that they helped. May we each see every opportunity to show compassion
and love.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Fertility, Hope, and Grief
For many people trying to have a baby is this very exiting event filled with hope and wonder. Early on that is how it was for me, exciting, dreaming of our family, wondering what life would bring. It is no secret at this point it took us a while to start our family. Not so little anymore L, took several months of "getting it on" on a strict every other day schedule. Eventually it worked, we made it through with a healthy baby. The reason it took this schedule is because I have Poly-cystic Ovaries, that's right many little cysts all over those little organs because my eggs start growing, they don't finish, and then they form cysts instead of dissolving as they should. We knew this just a few months after we were married because a problem of a feminine sort had come up and I landed in the doctor's office begging for help. Having babies would be hard but not totally impossible. We prayed and prayed not just for a baby but to understand God's will
and timing and not ours. We accepted that our family may start in a
variety of ways. We also decided a ton of intervention was not a route
we wanted to go. Five years later we were holding baby L.
That baby just turned six over the summer. She has started asking for a sister. In all honesty we haven't really prevented conception since she was born. We have even gone through periods of trying the "schedule" which is so much more difficult when there is already a kid in the house. Life is settling and I am not getting any younger, I have about a half of a decade before I am pretty sure this baby making shop will close. After spending six months on the job here, I went to a new doctor because moving makes us do that, and had a very frank conversation about wanting more children. After agreeing we weren't getting any younger we are trying the first line of intervention. A medication that is not hormone based but in theory can help level mine out, allowing an egg to mature. This is also a medication I have taken before to help with weight loss because it's all related to my ovaries, their sort of eggs, and hormone levels. The last time I took it I was so sick I had to stop. This time I am struggling with crazy hormone fluxes that have me shivering and sweating, dragging energy levels and just over all feeling crummy but trust me when I say this feels doable.
I have been really quiet about this because it feels so personal and posting it all over the internet may not help my negotiating a better maternity leave package cause. We are two months in on medication and a modified schedule. Many days I feel greedy because I have my one and I would be lying if I said there weren't days when I prayed please God just one. I feel bad because I have one and I know so many women who are struggling to have "just one" like me.
I know it takes time and two months isn't a whole lot of time. Yet every month a little more hope dies and a little more grief comes. So this week when Aunt Flow arrived early it took me to my emotional knees with grief and longing and a little self pity. Struggling with fertility means sometimes just common human experiences hurt, there are days when I will be out and encounter no less than 10 very pregnant women... or when I open social media and see the announcements or new baby pictures... or when I shop for a baby shower gift. The emotions come flying at me and they are diverse from jealousy, to anger, to sadness.
Yesterday, it wasn't social media, pregnant women, or newborns that got me. Nope it was a little cake plate in a party store with a little baby bee buzzing on it as I walked through the baby shower section to look for crowns for our Magi at Christmas. If no one would have seen me I might have just crumpled onto the floor and cried holding cake plates right there in the store. The grief was raw and real, everyday it feels like the chances of growing our family biologically are slipping away, and I am sad because I wasn't done yet. Even though we will very likely adopt in the future, even if we have more biological children, I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense that my body has failed me. Sometimes it is like I failed my body. None of it is rational. It just happens.
I think in that moment something pivotal happened. I started letting go of the dream of another pregnancy. The grief is tremendous. Almost unbearable this time of year, Christmas always makes me long to hold another miracle baby. As I read the familiar story this week and chose music for Advent I felt that familiar twinge of hope and wonder. I was reminded of the Christmas when only Paul and I knew L was on the inside, how beautiful and amazing it was. I longed for it to be true again and grieved that it wasn't.
The point of this writing is mostly catharsis I suppose. To just name all that I am feeling. If you are the praying kind we wouldn't mind a few, if you are the vibes into the universe kind we take those too. If you are one of my sisters that deal with this struggle to conceive and carry a baby, know that I am praying for you.
Amidst all this deep grief there is just the tiniest twinge of hope left and for that I am grateful, even if it makes it that much harder.
That baby just turned six over the summer. She has started asking for a sister. In all honesty we haven't really prevented conception since she was born. We have even gone through periods of trying the "schedule" which is so much more difficult when there is already a kid in the house. Life is settling and I am not getting any younger, I have about a half of a decade before I am pretty sure this baby making shop will close. After spending six months on the job here, I went to a new doctor because moving makes us do that, and had a very frank conversation about wanting more children. After agreeing we weren't getting any younger we are trying the first line of intervention. A medication that is not hormone based but in theory can help level mine out, allowing an egg to mature. This is also a medication I have taken before to help with weight loss because it's all related to my ovaries, their sort of eggs, and hormone levels. The last time I took it I was so sick I had to stop. This time I am struggling with crazy hormone fluxes that have me shivering and sweating, dragging energy levels and just over all feeling crummy but trust me when I say this feels doable.
I have been really quiet about this because it feels so personal and posting it all over the internet may not help my negotiating a better maternity leave package cause. We are two months in on medication and a modified schedule. Many days I feel greedy because I have my one and I would be lying if I said there weren't days when I prayed please God just one. I feel bad because I have one and I know so many women who are struggling to have "just one" like me.
I know it takes time and two months isn't a whole lot of time. Yet every month a little more hope dies and a little more grief comes. So this week when Aunt Flow arrived early it took me to my emotional knees with grief and longing and a little self pity. Struggling with fertility means sometimes just common human experiences hurt, there are days when I will be out and encounter no less than 10 very pregnant women... or when I open social media and see the announcements or new baby pictures... or when I shop for a baby shower gift. The emotions come flying at me and they are diverse from jealousy, to anger, to sadness.
Yesterday, it wasn't social media, pregnant women, or newborns that got me. Nope it was a little cake plate in a party store with a little baby bee buzzing on it as I walked through the baby shower section to look for crowns for our Magi at Christmas. If no one would have seen me I might have just crumpled onto the floor and cried holding cake plates right there in the store. The grief was raw and real, everyday it feels like the chances of growing our family biologically are slipping away, and I am sad because I wasn't done yet. Even though we will very likely adopt in the future, even if we have more biological children, I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense that my body has failed me. Sometimes it is like I failed my body. None of it is rational. It just happens.
I think in that moment something pivotal happened. I started letting go of the dream of another pregnancy. The grief is tremendous. Almost unbearable this time of year, Christmas always makes me long to hold another miracle baby. As I read the familiar story this week and chose music for Advent I felt that familiar twinge of hope and wonder. I was reminded of the Christmas when only Paul and I knew L was on the inside, how beautiful and amazing it was. I longed for it to be true again and grieved that it wasn't.
The point of this writing is mostly catharsis I suppose. To just name all that I am feeling. If you are the praying kind we wouldn't mind a few, if you are the vibes into the universe kind we take those too. If you are one of my sisters that deal with this struggle to conceive and carry a baby, know that I am praying for you.
Amidst all this deep grief there is just the tiniest twinge of hope left and for that I am grateful, even if it makes it that much harder.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
The Quiet
There is a large part of Christian spirituality or practice or religion that deals with the quiet. This manifests it self in many ways, contemplative prayer, silent meditation, silence in worship. One of the things I wrestle with regularly is maintaining my own regular spiritual practice. My mentor/friend/fellow sojourner (one of those relationships that defies definition) is huge on spending time in and with the quiet. I have ALWAYS for as long as I can remember resisted this idea. First off I am simply too busy to be quiet. Secondly do you know what kind of terrifying crap comes up in my head in the quiet? It's awful from what could go wrong, to my deepest fears, my biggest regrets, the baggage I carry from growing up, and more. Who would willingly want to go there? NOT ME! I had tried silent meditation and can I tell you what always happens... a long to do list that I will forget the minute I leave my quiet space. Or I fall asleep. I would get so frustrated and then I would judge myself. Then I would be breaking one of he cardinal rules of this type of meditation, do not judge your thoughts. I tried and I tried and I gave up. I was too darn busy anyway, who has that kind of time when the to do list is as long as my arm?
I don't know if it is the demands of ministry or that later this month I will reach yet another half decade in the age department but I find that it is getting easier to enter the silence. It isn't lost on me that it could merely be living in South Dakota because while I am in a city I don't have to go far to leave the sounds of human life behind. I have found in the past month or so that I am actually TOO BUSY TO NOT ENTER THE SILENCE! It is totally and completely counter intuitive for me but it is true. When my mentor from the relationship that can't be defined reads this he will likely smile to himself. The silence though it is like embracing the mystery and the truth all at once. Perhaps because those two things are so wrapped up together we can never even hope to separate them into neat little piles. In that space I can encounter God in new ways. I can encounter my own truth in new ways. I can accept the mysteries of faith and life as just that. I can accept truth can be found in mysteries with no ending. Entering into the silence these days means I have fuel to face the rest of my day that feels insane and choppy and dislocated.
My quiet time as of late consists of a few things, writing (because it is like air) for non work purposes for at least ten minutes, praying a psalm, writing prayers, reading, and of course finally or sometimes first silent meditation. It isn't always pretty. It isn't always perfect (hard for me to accept). Yet it always is something. Even when it feels rushed it has value. It still is unsettling at times but it also helps me to accept my own imperfection, my own humanity, and extend for just a moment the grace I can easily extend to another to myself.
This practice has also opened me up in new ways. I heard this week affirming words from a friend and heard in them truth rather than playing it off as "being nice". I have been able to tap deeper into my creativity which at times it is like trying to get the last drop of water from a dry well. Lately though poetry has been just flowing out of me and other forms of creative writing. I have not become an excellent or profound poet, heck I haven't even really shared it but none the less, the poetry has emerged again. Short stories are unfolding. Truths are being spoken and heard.
When I take those moments out of the break neck pace of the day I am the better for it. It allows my soul to dance a bit with the divine and that is life giving. It is what I am doing in this very moment, writing instead of working on the newsletter lay out because I know once I hit publish my focus will be better. I will be centered.
I am finally grateful for the quiet, for the silence.
I don't know if it is the demands of ministry or that later this month I will reach yet another half decade in the age department but I find that it is getting easier to enter the silence. It isn't lost on me that it could merely be living in South Dakota because while I am in a city I don't have to go far to leave the sounds of human life behind. I have found in the past month or so that I am actually TOO BUSY TO NOT ENTER THE SILENCE! It is totally and completely counter intuitive for me but it is true. When my mentor from the relationship that can't be defined reads this he will likely smile to himself. The silence though it is like embracing the mystery and the truth all at once. Perhaps because those two things are so wrapped up together we can never even hope to separate them into neat little piles. In that space I can encounter God in new ways. I can encounter my own truth in new ways. I can accept the mysteries of faith and life as just that. I can accept truth can be found in mysteries with no ending. Entering into the silence these days means I have fuel to face the rest of my day that feels insane and choppy and dislocated.
My quiet time as of late consists of a few things, writing (because it is like air) for non work purposes for at least ten minutes, praying a psalm, writing prayers, reading, and of course finally or sometimes first silent meditation. It isn't always pretty. It isn't always perfect (hard for me to accept). Yet it always is something. Even when it feels rushed it has value. It still is unsettling at times but it also helps me to accept my own imperfection, my own humanity, and extend for just a moment the grace I can easily extend to another to myself.
This practice has also opened me up in new ways. I heard this week affirming words from a friend and heard in them truth rather than playing it off as "being nice". I have been able to tap deeper into my creativity which at times it is like trying to get the last drop of water from a dry well. Lately though poetry has been just flowing out of me and other forms of creative writing. I have not become an excellent or profound poet, heck I haven't even really shared it but none the less, the poetry has emerged again. Short stories are unfolding. Truths are being spoken and heard.
When I take those moments out of the break neck pace of the day I am the better for it. It allows my soul to dance a bit with the divine and that is life giving. It is what I am doing in this very moment, writing instead of working on the newsletter lay out because I know once I hit publish my focus will be better. I will be centered.
I am finally grateful for the quiet, for the silence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)