What would it look like?

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Matthew 5: 4

This was the title of our sermon last weekend.  I was so happy that this lesson was being taught.  It's not a common lesson.  There are many people that have not learned it.  It's a lesson that I learned the hard way.

When someone is hurting

       RUN TO them

                      NOT FROM them

We spent so much of our first year mourning by ourselves.  It made a difficult process almost impossible.  People didn't want to be with us.  We were sad.  We were broken.  Why be with people like that when you can be with people that make you laugh and feel good about yourself?  I suppose that in our society, it's natural to be drawn to the good.  We found that it was only truly exceptional people that were willing and able to be our friends while we were stuck in our pit of grief. 

This past week I have been wondering what our world would look like if people would naturally flock to those who were hurting.  Not only to those that are physically hurting from disease but to those that are in true emotional pain. 

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  What would it look like if we chose to spend our time sending a kind email to a hurting friend instead of watching a funny clip on UTube? 
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  What would it look like if we picked up the phone and called a hurting friend instead of spending 10 minutes waiting in line at Starbucks for a coffee? 
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  What would it look like if every time we went to the grocery store we picked up a "I'm thinking about you" card instead of spending that money on a some sort of fattening, processed junk food item? 
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  What would it look like if once a month we invited our hurting friends over for dinner instead of calling our "fun" friends to hang out?
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  What would it look like if we presented ourselves with authenticity and honesty instead of falsely and superficially so that we were easier to relate to?
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  What would it look like if we spent an hour sitting on the couch wiping the tears of a hurting friend instead of watching a reality TV show?

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  What would it look like if we made cookies for a stranger in pain and left them on their door with a sweet note instead of eating them ourselves?

We all feel confined by a lack of time and resources.  People often say if I had more time, I would help others.  Or, if I had more money, I would do something nice for someone.  The truth is that for the most part, we spend our time and money on things that are important to us.  I hope that someday, we will consider the hurting to be important.

Ecclesiasties 7:2

Its is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.

touched

My heart was touched last week in a way that is hard to describe and I just had to share. 

A week ago, my kids were on break and I took them to Disneyland for the day.  My twins gymnastics coach also coordinates the parade at California Adventure Park.  She asked us to meet up with her just before the parade started.  As she welcomed all of my kids, she handed each of them a special Mickey ears hat.  But these weren't just regular hats.  She had each of the characters in the parade autograph them which made them extra special.  My kids were absolutely thrilled as she handed one to each of them. 

Then...something remarkable happened.  Something that I would have never imagined in my wildest dreams.  With a smile on her face, she turned to me and looked me directly in the eyes (something few people do -- especially under these circumstances).  While our eyes were connected, and with a smile on her face, she handed me the 5th hat from her hand.  As she handed it to me she said... "for Nate". 

I couldn't believe it.  That was the first time that someone had acknowledged Nate as BEING one of my 5 kids.  That was the first time that someone had given a gift TO him.  That was the first time that I really felt like someone recognized my son as being a "part" of our family (not part of our past).

As I looked at the hat, I noticed that it was from their "Year of a Million Dreams" promotion 2 years ago.  They were probably overstock that she found in a store room.  But, I don't believe that she found them on accident.  First of all, the background of the hat is blue sky which is meaningful to me.  Second, there are white clouds over the blue sky which is where my kids point to when they talk of their brother being in Heaven.  And finally, I turned the hat around and noticed the date:

2008 = Two Thousand andNate

I didn't have the words to tell her what her small gesture meant to me.  I tried to thank her but I was completely caught off guard.  She barely even knows our family and only knows Nate's basic story.  I was shocked that she would do something like this.  That she would touch my heart in such a profound way.

Before the parade started, she walked me and the kids over to a special viewing area where all of the parade characters gave us special attention as they passed by.  It was an experience that my kids will never forget and it was a gesture that I will never forget.

Going forward I don't expect people to treat Nate in the same way as my other kids.  I know that there is a difference and it would be awkward for people to start buying him gifts.  But for this moment, I felt honored to be the mother of 5.  For this moment, it didn't feel like someone was missing.  For this moment, my heart felt complete.  I can't imagine that there will ever be another gesture that touches my heart in such a deep and profound way.  Ever.

relief

Easter fun!

March is FINALLY over.  I am so incredibly relieved. 

We survived all of our 2nd anniversaries and even enjoyed ourselves quite a bit throughout the month.  We didn't have as many people helping us through the month of March as we did last year.  But that was okay.  We are stronger now and not as needy.  We are just so grateful for those that did volunteer to be our friends.  I wish that they could all get an award.  They deserve it!!!

Last week was the roughest.  It was the 2 year anniversary of Nate's death, the anniversary of his funeral and ... Easter.

Easter is a bittersweet holiday for us.  It's special because it's the one and only Holiday that Nate was with us and difficult because it's another "holiday".  I found myself reflecting a lot that day about how special our Easter was 2 years ago.  It was extremely difficult to be in the Hospital on a holiday.  However, Nate was off the ventilator and we got to hold him that day.  That is a memory that will be forever etched into my memory.  Easter and holding my sweet Nathan.  Those will always go hand in hand.

This Easter, I attended my first family gathering in 2 years (with the exception of my FIL's funeral).  We only stayed an hour and let's just say that I survived.  We planned some fun activities to help the time pass and the kids enjoyed themselves despite not knowing who most of the people were.  I am glad that I am who I am now.  I am glad that I am not the same person that I was.  Attending events like that serve as a good reality check.  I know that I am on the path that I want to be.  I just don't fully trust myself yet.  I want to be polite.  Just polite.  Nothing more and nothing less.

It's been a huge relief getting past last week and then Easter.   Now we're on Spring Break.  No homework, school schedules, sports (4 of them), and no early mornings - yipee!!!  We have been super busy going to Disneyland, the movies, Chuck E Cheese, ice skating and playing video games (them not me).  I had a bunch of free passes to these fun places and I think that we used them all!  It has been such a wonderful week.  I don't want it to end. I keep telling myself that Summers coming and I can't wait to do this everyday!!!

*** You may have noticed that Kyla has a cast on her arm in the above photo.  She fell off the swing 2 weeks ago and broke it (it was a crooked break and had to be "re-set" by a specialist).  She had just finished a 2 hour advanced gymnastics class where she was flipping all over the place and doing all kinds of dangerous stuff.  And then she falls off our backyard swing while eating a snack.  Crazy!  She's been a trooper though.  No complaining and it comes off in 2 more weeks!  Figures that we would have to deal with more medical drama during the month of March-ugh!!!

Support

http://butterflymommies.blogspot.com/

I am linking up with the beautiful Butterfly Mommy women for a McLinky.  Here's the question that they are asking:


What forms of support helped you the most during your time of loss and even now? How would you recommend other people support grieving mothers? (As we know, many times people who love us often don't know what to say or how to act.)

I thought about how to answer this for a while and then realized that the best way for people to support a grieving mother is for them to understand what it's like.  Last year, the first post that I ever wrote was my "Drowning" post.  Those words just poured out from my soul in an attempt to explain what it feels like when your child dies.  So, I am re-posting it.  I hope that my experience and my words will give others insight so that no Mommy has to grieve alone.

Drowning

This past year+ has been the worst experience that anyone could ever imagine. No one wants to walk through the nightmare of losing a child. Nothing else seems comparable. Losing Nate was horrific. But on top of losing our son, we also lost almost all of our friends and family. Almost everyone that we knew walked away from us during the first year and we felt all alone and like no one cared.

We've heard over and over and over again how people didn't know what to do so they didn't do anything. I don't want anyone else to have to go through this.





When someone experiences a tragedy, they need support-- A lot of support.



Though it's impossible to truly understand...I want people to have some concept of what losing a child is like. So, I've often explained it to others in the following ways:



It's like losing a leg. It's painful. It hurts. You are now an amputee. You used to have 2 legs like everyone else, but now you are different. You are never completely whole again. It takes a long time to get up and learn to walk. It's really, really hard work. Sometimes you fall down. Sometimes you can run. You learn to live without it but it never grows back. Your life moves forward but part of you is always missing.



Or...it's like playing in a football game. You're on the field battling. It's an endless battle. You're exhausted and out of fuel. Sometimes you have a good run and go forward a few yards. Sometimes you get sacked and you're flat on your back. There are many people in the stands cheering you on. They want you to succeed. They really do. But they're sitting comfortably in their seats, eating their hot dogs and drinking their sodas. You need people to help you strategize. You need people to bring you water. You need people to carry you to the 1st down marker. A few help coach you. But most people stay in their seats while you're fighting for your life on the field. You feel all alone.



But...I think that the best way to describe it is like you're drowning.

• If you saw someone drowning, would you jump in and help them?
  
• Would you risk being cold and uncomfortable?
  
• Would you risk getting pulled under water to save someone else?Most people would probably say of course they would jump in and rescue someone if they were drowning. We like to believe that we would be that type of person. But in reality, are we?
  
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  When Nate died it felt like someone dropped us off in the ocean 1000 miles from shore and said "swim back". In addition, we were attached to a flimsy raft where our other 4 scared and confused kids were clinging on . It was a heavy load and we were the weakest we had ever been. We never prepared for a swim like that and in fact just finished a marathon of 25 days fighting for Nate's life right before we were dropped off. We began a seemingly impossible journey exhausted.
  
  
  When we were initially dropped into the ocean, many people surrounded us with their boats. They decorated the water around us, helped us pay for our journey there and sent many notes of sympathy. It felt so good to be loved. We really appreciated that support. But after the first week or so, most of the boats sailed away into the sunset. We buried our son and then we found ourselves in the middle of the ocean all alone.
  
  We struggled to keep our heads above water. Some days we were stronger than others but most days we were drowning. We worked to make sure that our kids were safe. We worked to direct their raft where it needed to go. We tried to keep their heads above water. Many times it caused ours to go under.
  
  We could see the boats go by that were filled with people that we knew. They were enjoying the sun and rejoicing with their friends and families. It was hard for us to see what our lives used to be like. How we used to have fun with friends. How we used to laugh and rejoice in our many blessings. We couldn't relate to that anymore. We were so far removed from that joy and happiness, it was hard to be around it. We couldn't ever imagine being happy or joyful again.
  
  
  We also saw many party boats cruising by filled with family members. We had asked for previously planned events to be postponed given that our family was grieving -- but they weren't. As the party boats sailed by, we saw them laughing and smiling and having a wonderful time. We never saw them look our way to see if our heads were above water -- often times they weren't. Maybe that's why they didn't see us. We didn't understand how they could plan celebrations while we were 1000 miles from land and struggling to survive. We wondered if they missed our presence or if they would even notice if we just let go and sank into the abyss. We were so tired and drained. I couldn't imagine living like this forever. We were so far away from shore that we couldn't even see it. I was tempted to just let go.
  
  Many boats would drop us some food. We needed food and were too far from shore to get it ourselves so that was really, really helpful. We were so incredibly thankful for that. But we had to tread water while we were eating. Because we were so exhausted, it was hard to catch our breath. From above the water we appeared somewhat normal. But under the water our bodies were constantly flailing about -- working hard to keep from sinking. We were running on empty.
  
  
  
  Sometimes, a boat would stop by and let us climb on board to rest for a while. Occasionally, a boat would give us some direction on where we needed to go or how we could tread water more effectively. But most of the time, they would just speed on by. The wake the boats made would cause us to ingest water and sometimes start to sink. We would have to fight even harder to stay afloat.
  
  A couple of our favorite boats invited us onto their houseboats. That was huge. We needed to regain some strength before we continued our swim. We needed to feel supported. It was a relief to be carried for a while.
  
  To our surprise, a few boats going by that were filled with people we barely knew or complete strangers would jump in and tread water with us from time to time. We couldn't believe that people who didn't even know us would be willing to be wet and uncomfortable. It was nice to have the company and helped get us through many long and exhausting days.
  
  
  But most of the time... we were alone. We sent out many "maydays" and flares to tell people that we were drowning and needed help. So many that we can't even count. It took a lot of energy to send those signals. So much energy that it would cause us to go under for a while. But we needed to risk it. We needed rescuing.
  
  Many boats would confirm our signal but would continue on with their voyage. Most would say that they would be there to help us but then, we never heard from them again. Some seemed to hear our call for help but didn't understand the message so they would just throw us a rubber ducky. It was a nice gesture but it wasn't helpful.
  
  Some of them replied with apologies for not being there and acknowledged their own failures. A few stopped by to tell us that we weren't doing "it" the "right way". We couldn't believe that people would criticize us when we were drowning but there were several that did. A couple family members replied with a personal attack. We were so vulnerable and weak. We just didn't have the strength to overcome the rejection.
  
  Others would say that they would be there at 2pm. We would think that all we had to do was make it until 2 and then we could rest for a while. We would countdown the minutes. But then 2 would come and go. 3 would come and go. And by the time they arrived at 4, we had ingested so much water, the rest wasn't beneficial.
  

There was almost always a reason why people weren't able to help us. Perhaps it's because they thought that we were strong and could swim alone. I don't know how anyone could be expected to swim 1000 miles alone. Perhaps some can but we couldn't. Or, maybe it's because they didn't want to get their comfortable, dry clothes wet. Wet clothes are uncomfortable and why be uncomfortable when you don't have to be.


In the last few months, we've gained strength from some wonderful people that have allowed us to rest on their boats, jumped in and swam with us and have continued to encourage us on. Surprisingly, almost all of those people were people that we barely knew or complete strangers a year ago. We never would have expected that they would have been the ones to rescue us. It's been hard on them. Because we didn't have a lot of support, we sadly wore some of them out. The ones that remain will always have a special place in our heart. We couldn't have continued swimming without their help. Honestly, I believe that we would still be drowning if they didn't jump in and help us.


At present, we are still swimming. We have developed a good stroke and are no longer treading water or going under. Most days the sky's are blue and the sun is shining. There are days when storms roll by and the sea's are very rough. Sometimes we are tussled around in the waves or swept off course by the current. Some days we are pushed under water by people or circumstances. It's still hard to get back to the surface when that happens.

We can see the shore now. It's under the blue sky. We're headed towards it. It will take us thousands of strokes to get there. We have a few lighthouses directing us and a few tugboats pulling us along. It's such a huge relief to finally know where we need to go and to have people that are helping us swim. We are lucky. We still have quite a journey ahead of us but we have the peace of knowing where we're going. When we arrive, we will be tired but stronger. We will never be the same.

When someone is hurting

RUN TO THEM not from them!