And If Not

I’ve been sitting on these 3 small, seemingly insignificant tittles of our English language for quite some time. Continued notions zoom by as I have played them over and over intertwining them with the plaguing unanswered questions that seem to be on constant replay.

I have noted myself to be a person of contrast, sometimes gullible and easily swayed, yet firmly grounded in what I have found to be truth.

My parents taught me about prayer at a young age, a gift I cherish and enjoy to this day. They showed me God’s personal side, and his love for us, his beautiful creation, and how very much He pays attention to the small details in our lives.

As I have grown older, I find myself somewhat callous and honestly, at times, questioning. Do my prayers matter? Is God really who he says he is? Is Heaven real?

The heavy load of grief has saddled many a dear soul close to me, including my own.

Sometimes I find myself wondering why we even pray for healing, financial miracles or restoration of a marriage.

Did I just say that out loud?

Recently though I was reminded of the why we do exactly that.

A sweet friend recently lost her husband to a brutal brain tumor. On the post announcing his passing, the one line caught my eye. Through my tears, I have gone back to it several times. “although our hearts are broken, we rejoice with him that our prayers for complete healing were answered…”

God did not close his ears to the prayers of healing for this man, he just answered them in a different way then hoped.

Heaven is perfection, complete healing. Whereas staying here presents the reality of continued pressures, problems and pain.

While seasons may bring us to different places in our thought processes, the reality of our foundation is God’s faithfulness and knowledge of what we truly need most.

He invites us to ask the most difficult questions with the assurance that his shoulders are big enough to handle them.

His call to us is simple yet profound.

In Matthew 17 he says, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

He, sweet friend, is bigger and more capable then the what we see as unanswered prayers and every “and if not” moment we face.

All I Want For Christmas

This past year I enrolled in a fabulous writing course which has opened up a whole new world for me. As I have hungrily devoured each lesson, repetitive encouragement has been to “find my voice”. As I have started to find bits and pieces of that answer, fear has intimidated my inner soul.

What if people don’t like “my” voice?

What if my story is not unique enough to make a difference?

What if I am not able to be true to the calling God has etched in my heart?

The past 2.5 years have seemed to play out on repeat. As I peruse the stuff I’ve penned in that time much of it has similar tones of questioning, sickness and pain. But in the masses of words, I also see the promises of a better tomorrow and of God’s faithfulness.

We are in a season.

Since grief came, I sometimes wonder if the seasons of hard stuff will ever cycle around and bring happier times again? According to the Bible it’s got to. Ecclesiastics says “to everything there is a time and a season…”

The past weeks have had me wondering if the season of sickness for me will ever end. For the 3rd year in a row, my illness is preventing our Christmas trip to see my family in the sunny south.

Day after day I continue to feel poorly, fight fevers and infection and miss out on things I really want to be apart of. It’s made me quite grumpy really. Ask my family.

As I think about finding my voice and ultimately honoring God with my life, I keep coming face to face with the compelling reality of speaking about God and his love for me, even when the season is long and hard and boring. After all it’s not my words that need saying, but His. And His words will not go out void.

So as I pen out my thoughts, I must align them with His. Instead of wallowing in self pity, I must instead reflect on His blessings. This thought process changes my perceived needs.

While I could write a list a mile long of all the things I think I want and even need, I will chose simple instead.

Help me to cherish the moments.

Help me to be truly thankful.

Help me to be smack dab in the center of your perfect plan for me.

5 Tips For Cultivating Gratitude

In a study noted at Harvard, psychologists found that giving thanks can actually make you happier. They also found gratitude helpful for people focusing on what they had, instead of what they lacked. 

As fall turns to winter, shorter amounts of daylight breed depression for many.

Instead of succumbing to the negative, why not try gratitude instead?

#5. Write a thankyou note to someone who has made a difference in your life.  

A real honest to goodness stamped envelope or postcard in the mailbox is an extra treat in a society bombarded with instant everything. 

Thank your hairstylist for the great cut you get each month.  Compliment your pastor for the time he spent on last week’s sermon. Tell your child’s teacher how much you appreciate the extra time they spent helping Johnny with a harder concept.  Look up someone from your childhood who made a difference for you during those tough preteen/teen years. Your parents, spouse, children and friends are excellent choices as well.

#4. Thank God (out loud) for the green light and the open parking spot.

Our children hear us loud and clear.  The vocal grumping at the slow poke driver in the fast lane needs to be balanced by thanks for the non irritating parts of the day.  Or, you could try thanking God for the slow poke. 

#3. Keep A Prayer Journal.

Sometimes writing out requests helps our focus become less selfish.  Charting answers to prayer can provide a faith boost. The Harvard study also stated that people who pray and meditate are more grateful. 

#2. Start a “3 Things” Tradition with your family. 

At the end of each day, whether at dinner or at bedtime, have each family member name 3 things they are grateful for.   It can be the good supper mom made, or the play date with a best friend. We live in a warm house and our shoes don’t have holes in them. You get the idea. 

#1. Be intentional.

After Abby died, I found it a chore to get out of bed each day. 

My sweet friend Sara introduced me to the idea of taking pictures and making an Instagram post each morning about 1 thing that brought me joy or that I was thankful for. What started as a 30 day challenge, ended up being a year plus of daily posts.   Even though the time included hospitalization with a scary illness, there was still always something good if I chose to look for it. Being intentional takes work but is so rewarding!

Psalms 9:1 says,  “ I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.” He has blessed us indeed.  The least we can do is live with a heart of gratitude!

What are you most thankful for today? I’d love to hear your list!

Magnificent Adversity ~ Finding Purpose in Pain

His face seemed sad as he sat quietly beside me. I could tell he wanted to chat, to tell me the thoughts currently plaguing his mind.  

I struggled knowing the right questions to ask, though I could guess exactly what was coming.  

I had urged him to go to an overnight multi church event, telling him it would be fun. 

He’d been hesitant, but agreed to go. 

Since his little sister died 5 years ago, sleep has been an issue, so I obtained permission for him to bring his audio book and a noise machine our family has found to be helpful, pushing back the worry that it may be another way to set him apart. 

Sure enough.  

I watched my son, with tears in his eyes, explain how he had been the object of jokes and how the other boys had told him in plain english that he just wasn’t cool enough to be with them.  

Ugh.

I’ve thought as he’s grown, that boys are so much less drama than girls.  

How incorrect my assumption!   

I know my son is different.  

He’s left handed, dislexic, and big for his age.  

He prefers entertaining younger children over playing games with his peers and still, at age 12,  loves Thomas the Tank engine. 

He’s never been into playing ball or sports of any kind, thought we’ve offered to get him involved. 

Despite the list of things he’s not, he is a mastermind at fixing things. 

He is my troubleshooter, fixing anything from my broken food processor to the tv remote. 

Reading the hard copy of a book is not his strength but he has devoured close to a hundred full length, age/grade appropriate audio books in the past few months. 

Parenting has had many surprising twists and turns. 

I did not anticipate the sheer amount of drama that presents its ugly self each day. 

I remember some drama as a kid but the stuff my kids have experienced makes me contemplate moving the family to a deserted island. 

Just kidding of course.  

In all seriousness though, I long to protect them and just make things be ok. I wish life would treat them kindly.  Not that we need a pass for doses of extra kindness, but from my vantage point, grief pretty much made their playing field uneven, rough at the edges.  

I pray for Godly, kind friendships for each of my children and that they could be kind as God is kind, loving the unlovely and the unpopular. 

Mostly, I hope that I am not making them into feeble, frail persons who as adults will embrace a victim mentality, holding on tightly to every hurtful situation.  

As I continue to observe their stories unfolding, I am made painfully aware of how much I am just like them, insecure, awkward, unsure of who exactly God made me to be. 

This past year has been a real exercise in reminding myself almost daily that I am not the sum of what people have said and surmised me to be.

The pain of being labeled and defined by one’s weakness and past can squeeze the very life out of a hurting soul. 

It’s especially difficult when the most hateful of actions and words come from those professing the name of Christ. 

My teenage daughter spoke complete truth from one of our family’s lowest points this past summer stating simply that if the actions we have seen represent Christianity, she wants nothing of it, no part!

What then is the basis of living like Jesus, learning what God is trying to teach us and finding the good in our adversities?  

1 Thessalonians 5:11 says very simply “Encourage one another and build each other up”….

How do we do that?

The start may simply be understanding that God created each and everyone of us with meaning and purpose and treating those around us with that awareness. 

I recently sat through a super fun, community class where the main focus was studying personality differences.  We looked at our own strengths, weaknesses, joys and needs and then evaluated which other natures we get along with the easiest and how very important it is to remember the need for each and every personality God created. 

While some of the hard times in life revolve around more than simple personality differences, evaluating the reactions of others based on how God created them may help us extend grace much more freely. 

Maybe our focus is key?  

I am hoping that my children will see me work through my own pain, insecurity and awkwardness in healthy ways and that they will find the courage to seek and find God’s unique purpose for each of them and offer that grace to others. 

Living Deliberately

Today my sweet friend buries her mother.

As I sat and chatted with her a few weeks back, she shared how she had helped her mom pick out the dress and jewelry she would be buried in. As I stood at the casket admiring the sparkle of the fabric and the beauty of the necklace, my mind of course went back to another time and another casket and the thoughts of those moments swirling in my brain.

Each death I observe seems to have that jarring effect.

My mom lost her first sibling a few months back, a brother just younger then her. They were close. My siblings and I are close to his kids. Watching them grieve has made me think about life in that sobering, change your thinking kind of way. Again.

After Abby died, I thought for sure I would never slip back into my old complacency and the lack of living intentionally. Sadly, I all to easily find myself there.

I don’t know if I will ever come to the place where guilt does not plague the thoughts of my last moments with her.

I was busy, to busy to stop and enjoy the moments.

As much as I know guilt is not the place to live, I struggle with the muddle at that very thin line between feeling sadly and living in peace.

Relationships and life in general can be intense and exhausting. Watching my friend and my cousins cope with the reality of sickness and death has reminded me much how the effort of multiple weekend trips or the time for the phone call are to soon memories and the only tokens left of the life of someone who was a deep integral part of our very foundation.

As I wrote much on my facebook grief page, I often ended with “mamas, GO hug your babies”.

That hug, smile or kind words may be the last moments we get to share.

We don’t know.

We aren’t promised tomorrow.

All we have are the moments right in front of us right now.

For me that means putting down my device or the work I think will never end and listening to my sweet daughters who both still love to talk to me, sometimes incessantly. It means hugging my touch loving son multiple times a day. It’s about calling my own sweet mama for our daily chat.

It boils down to cherishing the good, the bad and the ugly and embracing a life of intentional love.

5 years

The darker the night, the brighter the stars, the deeper the grief, the closer is God…

Fyoder Dostoevsky

I often wondered how I might feel as this date approaches. 5 years. 5 long years. 5 years since God decided it was time for one of his gifts to come back to Him. I had thought prior to this part of our journey, that I would not be able to physically bear the loss. But I have survived. We have survived through God and his strength alone.

It’s hard to know how and when grief will present itself again and crush you into a crumbled heap reliving the nightmare that never ends. I have not cried as I did on a daily basis for quite sometime, until today. It feels only natural to go back through the detail of the memories of the event and the days surrounding it.

One day our life was normal. We walked along together.

Then grief came and we experienced death and our lives were overturned, upset forever.

I was always one who stayed as far away from death as possible. I thought people who took pictures of death were the oddest creatures alive. (deceased in casket etc) But on this side of death and grief, it looks different. And though the pictures were the hardest to look at for the first while, they are strangely comforting now. **warning: stop reading here if you are like I used to be…pics to follow. Several different persons took the photos in this blog. Evonda Marner, Janice Marner, Shawna Riche, Alaynna Schwartz, Natalie Yutzy….

This is the hardest to look at. I can still feel deeply the inability to breathe. I can remember the people around and family and friends singing “Safe In the Arms of Jesus” as the last machine was unplugged. How quickly her little body grew stiff, is a sensation I wish I could erase. And then we had to sign the hundreds of papers ok-ing donation of her eyes, her tissue, which never happened due to infection. Janice stayed with her as she got cleaned up and got all the wires taken off. Then it was time for final goodbyes before she was taken for autopsy.

Then there was the walk from the hospital to our van. I kept feeling lost. So lost. I only had 3 children with me and I often said that feeling is like stepping out the door and realizing you have no clothes on or leaving for town and forgetting your purse….

Funeral planning. Ahhh that part. It’s not natural. Children plan their parent’s funeral. Not vice versa. It’s seriously the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Thankfully Janice and friend Karma did a lot of thinking and planning for us. Thinking about capturing her memory added a lot of flavors to the week and to the actual funeral service. Pink and red toe nails, bare feet, minnie mouse and tidbits from Frozen brought bits of reprieve to the nonstop tears. And the friends and family who came from everywhere. Though my memory is a bit clouded the beauty of the love and care we were surrounded with shown through the pictures is a tribute to family and friends.

The autopsy drug out the time and made us wait several days for the funeral. My 93 year old old order amish grandfather insisted on coming which was so special. He and his sister Rachel were among the few left from their generation. We saw well over a thousand people at the visitation, which took it’s toll on my body and I remember little of the later hours, except my uncle Ira telling people to move aside so they could wheel me out in a wheel chair because the world was spinning and black.

My 93 year old Grandpa

Then it was time for the funeral and the longest, hardest walk no mama should ever have to take.

I never noticed how my sister Janice and I look like one person here. But that woman did my breathing for me during the darkest part.

Some of us sat barefoot for the service. Someone brought a recliner in for Grandpa.

The service was filled with special tributes including my brother and sister’s beautiful rendition of Jesus Loves me. Not sure how to put it in here correctly but click on link to here it….

https://www.facebook.com/dorothy.miller.142/videos/vb.1751572627/4338775884869/?type=3

Then it was time to say our final goodbyes.

We ended the day with the release of a bunch of red balloons.

Life has gone on. God has walked with us. With each passing day we are adapting to our new normal forever remembering the zesty 3 almost 4 year old who will forever be a part of our favorite memories.

Abby Marie 9/14/10 ~ 7/15/14

It’s grief week…

Well folks, the time is here.
That time of year when Dorothy gets all sappy and posts a million things more in addition to her usual blather.
Grief week ~ year number 3.
I had made big plans this year to have everything be more normal, more low key.
Then death and terminal illness reared their ugly heads around me.  And due to my process, I have learned those to be trigger hot spots for my emotions.
So I sit to write the splattering of jumble bumbling around in my brain which should be comfortably asleep. 
Nope, the lovely PTSD is sending the old images crashing through the back corners of my mind.
Tonight I waited to go to bed till I was good and tired.  I took a long soak, talked to God a while and thought happy thoughts.  I was relaxed till the first second I laid my head on that pillow. I close my eyes and there she is scampering out the door in her purple 3 sizes to small swimsuit, tittering on her tippy toes cause the suit is still wet…and I am to busy to do what my gut says.

 

 

 
Regret on top of the flashbacks sits me straight up in bed, gasping for air, tight bands constricting my chest.
I pray. 
I know HE is there, but so is the horror. 
So I resign myself to going where there is light to chase the dark away and where I can safely voice my inner struggle.  Here I write. More prayer and a good glass of bubbly are my aids.
 
 
We have tried many coping mechanisms. 
Some of them work. 
Some of them don’t. 
I internalize people’s words. 
I am sure much of what has caused much brooding was not so intended.
It’s that people pleasing part of me that does not always do me well.
A conversation last week which left me feeling like a squished bug,  firmed up the plan to “move on along” and “get on with life”.  It bothered me when it was so spoken, but man! has it eaten at me ever since.  I wish I wouldn’t have been so complacent in my response. On one hand I wanted to punch the broad and yell that she had never faced this type of loss and that she should sit quietly by hoping that she never would, instead of issuing such branded statements.  But I sat there, smiled and agreed, even trying to point out ways we are moving along.
Now don’t get me wrong, moving along is all good and well and necessary. 
But grief is unpredictable.
The 100 miles we got ahead yesterday may be meaningless in the 101 we got set back today.
 
 
I feel we are relatively healthy emotionally for where we are and for where we have been.
Our counselor told me recently that our lives will most likely always be laced with PTSD as well as the happy now untouchable memories. It’s not the greatest of outlooks, but it’s ours so it’ll have to do.
 
We talk of death now as we would food and drink and other parts of daily life.
Some friends of ours had a miscarriage this week at 18 weeks along.  We talked of another sweet girl up with Abby.
Today we chatted about that family fun day we had with Thomas the tank engine just months before Abby died and how she acted that day. She was the only one not afraid of Sir Topham Hat. (yes…”Sir Topham hat was cross…”)  It made us all giggle. 
I think that’s the one thing I miss the most is her giggle.  Sometimes I fear it is fading so that I will not remember.  But her loud, rambunctious spirit came through in her laugh. Her smile really did light up a place.
 
 
 



 
I miss holding her and how after seemingly endless years, I was suddenly not mommy to a preschooler, just in the blink of an eye.
 
It hit me this week how odd it is to not sign cards from our family with her name.
 
I still feel lost and incomplete at times when we are all in the car, like I am there in just my under ware or that my purse is still inside on the counter. 
She is not there. Life is upside down.  We long for Heaven and Jesus and the day all will be upright once more..
 
I need to re do the bows on the fence where we feel she met her amazing Creator. They are tattered and torn.  They aren’t really all that sentimental but are from the first Abby memorial event we did. I was mowing close by the other day and almost couldn’t continue when I got close….Maybe this week I will have the energy.
 
Kali is heading to her first Bible camp and first week away from home.  We are both a tad nervous and I am sure that is not all that helpful for the process of trying to “feel” calm in this season.  She has openly asked us if she will die at camp.  Of course the question always takes me off guard and leaves me with that kick in the gut feeling.  I think we have handled it ok….
While it is a tough feeling I know she will thrive and have the time of her life this week. I know we have to encourage her to spread her wings. I know she can not “stay” with us forever. 
In the same breath I also know we are not guaranteed tomorrow.
I have thought a zillion times about how I made Abby stay at vacation Bible school just a few weeks before she died. It was good for her and she ended up loving it and after the first night or two of loud screeching and hiding behind my legs.  I wonder if I had known I was down to just a few more weeks with her if I had not chosen to block off the calendar and spend every single possible moment with her?
I know I have to come to grips with the anxiety that “normal” parents probably face too and balance that with my grief infused life and then turn the whole lump over to the one who has faithfully provided sustenance and hope in this awful journey.
But let me tell you, It ain’t easy.
As I sit contemplating the week ahead, I know we will continue actively walking the grief road.
I know we have progressed and made choices that are our families best yes in the yucky. I know we have a wonderful support network who won’t forget. (You have no idea the gift that remembering her is to us…)  I know we will most likely shed a few tears as we remember. And I know God is not tired of our tears and continues to give breath when we don’t always know where the next one is gonna come from.
For this I am so grateful.
 
And I am grateful to each of you for continuing to walk this painful journey with us.  Your love and support means more then words can say….
 
 
Abby Marie Miller
9/14/10 ~ 7/15/14
 
 
 
 
 

What if…

The past 2 1/2 years have been filled with lots of different questions and a million different emotions. 
I had thought that by this point in the journey that my emotional process may be different and that in some miraculous way the urges to flee from the suffocating stages of grief may have diminished.
They have some what. 
Time has a way. 
Somehow though the bubble I put around myself popped this week and the crash hasn’t been all that pretty. 
On lookers may miss it. 
Even those I am close to can’t necessarily see my inner soul (unless of course I blatter on publicly on social media)
Only God can.
While I know this to be truth and find it comforting mostly, I also know that my broken record reminders of clinging to Him in the eye of the storm are reality.  
BUT this doesn’t mean the questions stop. 
And yes, I’m writing from that place. That broken place where the tears stain the keyboard and my stomach is in knots…the place and time where I long to just wrap up in my covers and stay put..the anti social place which my normal self disdains.
Those questions are endless as are the flashbacks (hello PTSD..)
What if I’d been not so busy and would have followed her out to the pool as my gut suggested?
What if we hadn’t filled the pool more full then usual?
What if I’d been more on top of water safety?
and the Whys…
Why oh why did I have to endure the many years of infertility only to lose a part of my soul just when the tiresome, exhaustion of 4 very young ones was becoming just a tad bit easier?
Why did we have to be chosen to be parents who have lost?
I have the tendency to beat my self up over my need to know the what if and the why’s answers.
However the longer I walk this journey, the more I realize in deeper ways how the God of the universe has shoulders big enough to handle my pidley and sometimes angry questions.
I am also seeing the many parallels to David’s up and downs.  He is known as a man after God’s own heart.  How much closer to God can you get then that? To know God’s heart…
Psalms is full of emotions much like mine.  
Some days were good for David and he danced in the streets.  
Others were not so good and David moaned and groaned to his creator.  Ps 119:25 says “I am laid low in the dust. Preserve my life according to your word.”  Definitely some depression going on and a not so dancing in the street day.
This week this has meant that in order to keep on with life I may need to change my what ifs and whys up a bit.
What if the bigger picture is much more beautiful then I can fathom?
What if the lessons make me better?
What if the horrid grief can be a tool to reach others?

I have a list of questions for God that I’d love to sit down and discuss with Him but I wonder if when we actually get up there to that glorious city, if they’ll be all that important to me?

So for now I will continue to wrestle, to keep the faith, to get out of bed, to paste on the sometimes fake smile and remember that He is big enough to handle all my what ifs.

And of course we continually remember…Facebook has been throwing memories at me left and right. This is todays…

2 years….Grieving Abby – Lessons I am learning in the process

Ahhh. Here I am once more.  
I have been contemplating this post for some time and what I would share during this grief week, our time of remembering.
Because of my private fb grief blog, some of my thoughts have already been stated. There are those however that were just waiting to be spelled out here and now.
I can hardly believe we are at the 2 year mark already.  2 years of life being completely and totally turned upside down….     

For you who are new here, here are a few links that I may refer to as I go.  You should be able to click on them and be directed to the correct spot. 
Abby’s story which was viewed nearly 35,000 times and gave me a platform I never could have had other wise to share God’s care of us, shares the details of our precious 3 year old’s end of life which happened abruptly but in God’s perfect timing on July 15, 2014.
My face book grief blog is located here.  Some days I just refer to it as my personal wining space.  LOL.  You may ask to join at any time. There I share our family’s journey and some of the daily response to the effects of grief and how we continue trying to live…

Now on to the lessons grief has been teaching me.  (ha, I’m not some expert or anything) 

Lesson #1: Pain can produce positive.

Some days I have begged God to just write the lesson I need to learn in the big blue sky, so I can be done with the pain and crappy details that compose the current story of our life.  
But as I continue on the path, I am realizing that learning is not always peachy and how pain is indeed a precursor for positive change in my life. Duh.  You already knew that right?  I guess I’m just a slow learner.


“My grace is sufficient for you for my strength is made perfect in weakness”

Lesson #2: Theology can be twisted. 


I have ranted, huffed and puffed much about the things that well meaning souls have said that have been so painful in the midst of the deepest heart wrenching pain. 
 The statements that go something like this,  “There must not have been enough faith to heal her…”  and “this is God’s chastisement”  and ” there must be hidden sin in your life”.
Sigh.
I wonder sometimes why we as people (Christians especially) tend to show up in other’s times of pain with our pat answers,  judgement and critical spirits. While I do believe God does discipline us as his Kidos,  I also am beginning to grasp a deeper sense of the real truth that sometimes (well probably more like most of the time) pain and grief are not at all related to our misbehavior, mess-ups or failures.  Like, really. It ain’t about us at all.  It’s about HIM.
If we truly believe the scriptures, we see that sin entered the world right at the start and the consequences of that sin bring all the crappy stuff  (man! I use the word crappy a lot.) we know as pain, grief, sadness. 
Grief or any other crisis we may see is not the time to use the Bible as a tool for condemnation and judgement.
  Instead it is a time to watch for God’s glory and beauty to be displayed in the midst of the ugly.
I love the story in John where Jesus answers questions about why the blind man was blind from birth.  Jesus’s answer is simple, yet so profound. “It was NOT because of his sins or his parent’s sins Jesus answered. This happened so the power of God might be displayed in him.”


Lesson #3:  There is no grief time table or chart to mark off in the journey. There is no wrong way to grieve…..

Another duh. But here again, I’m amazed at all the places grief surprises me.  I had once heard said that the 2 year mark is a toughy.  I thought at the time that nothing could surpass the pain of the first weeks, months, year.  Who ever told me about this milestone was correct. At least that’s how it’s playing out for our family. 
 I’m amazed at the many different grief styles I have met. Some are so polished in their grief.  So put together.  Not the blubbering mess that I seem to be.  
I spent a great deal of last week on the couch.  Tears glistened at the surface at all times.  I cried openly at Costco. At church. While I was making supper.  In the process I felt a strange drawing to the corner of the attic where her tote sits.  Full to over flowing with all the pieces of her.  Her special clothes we all remember.  Her red Minnie Mouse dress, her fruit night gown, her 10 sizes to small purple swimsuit that I helped her into those few moments before she left for Heaven.  As I sat neatly folding and caressing each piece, the sobs shook my body in a way I hadn’t done for so long.  Sometimes a real good cry is all it takes. Suddenly, I felt ok.  Odd though it seemed. But that’s my grief.  Personal and real to me.  
And while I wish that I could follow a checklist and be done, I am learning to embrace the roar of grief instead and finding my peace in the process. 

“And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus”

Lesson #4: My pain is not the only pain our there.

Sometimes when I’m tempted to wallow I’m instead reminded to look around.    My friend Sara has been instrumental in helping me adjust my focus.  She’s never judgmental but shares positivity, joy and encouraging love. She challenged me to join #100daysofhappy where we document simple blessings via a photo each day.  I have so enjoyed the effect on my spirit that I didn’t stop at 100.  I am on day 108 currently.  
While I still have really down times, I feel more equipped to pop out of them quicker.  

“The joy of the Lord is my strength….”

Lesson #5:  Find your passion.

I am still learning about this one.  Sometimes I wonder which of the current experiences I live are grief related or simply facts of life and related to the age I’m at. You get my drift?
I have never been big about fundraising for any cause.  It was not my cup of tea.  But then my daughter died.  Suddenly instead of celebrating her birthdays and other milestones, we could only celebrate our memories. 
Ugh. 
Out of that the “Remembering Abby, Light up the Night” Memorial was born.  Each year on her birthday we remember the things that made her unique.  It gives us a format to honor her memory and the impact her short life made. And I am finding joy and passion in planning,  the excitement, and all the little details. It occupies our time for several months each year. Plus each year we can pick an organization that is making a difference in the world, our world! Our recipient this year will be the same as last, Amanda the Panda Family grief center. This organization is near and dear to hearts and has been an integral part of healthy grief for our family.  (You can read all about our grief camp weekend here.)
 We had hoped to raise $100 or maybe $1,000 but God saw fit to shine his blessings on last year and we were able to raise over $10,000!  That provides grief support to 10 families for a whole year. (The Des Moines Register did a beautiful write up  about the event and our family, complete with a video in the middle! )
The tremendous out pouring of love and support is huge in driving my passion for remembering her.
Each of us respond differently to pain.  For some passion may be played out in a much quieter way but can be equally helpful in the healing process. 
For more info on this years event which will be held September 17 visit our group fb page  2016 Remembering Abby – Light up the night

Lesson #6:   Prayer Rocks!

If there is one single thing that has been so very helpful for our family, it is this:  the prayers of the saints.  
Grief is uncharted and endless. The journey is hard. 
Many times I have felt the prayers as they rise, giving strength to my weary bones.  
It has changed my perspective on it’s importance and effectiveness.
So don’t ever say “well I can’t do anything else, so I will just pray”. That “just praying” is powerful stuff.


“And pray in the spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests with this in mind.  Be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”

                                          —————

I don’t know what the rest of our story looks like.  
I do know we are starting to dream again.

I don’t know how the grief will continue to affect us.
I do know it will and that this life is our “new normal”.

I don’t know, some days,  how we will continue to survive and flourish.
I do know God will continue to hold us in the palm of his compassionate, loving hand in the process.

                                             —————

As the week continues, we will continue on the path grief has taken us on.  We will probably release her favorite red balloons and some chinese lanterns at some point as they will always represent her to us.  
You may see creepy “dead” photos of us holding her as she took her last breaths.  I never would’ve have ever thought those pics would be treasures.  They represent pain in the deepest sense but also represent her flying away where she is forever safe and resting with Jesus.  So thankful my sis had the mindset to take them…
I may continue down the sappy, weepy trail I’ve become so familiar with. Or joy may continue edging it’s way in.
Either way, I know I have a network, faithful friends, family and support from people who share compassion with us as we trudge along.

Thank you all for walking this journey along side us.



In memory of our little sparkling piece of heaven. 
Abby Marie
September 14, 2010 ~ July 15, 2014





Faithfulness

Great is the Faithfulness O God my Father…

My 3rd child is 7 today. Alexia Magdalene.  Named after my mother. 
 I can not browse through the photos of her birth and the time surrounding with out a teensy bit of sad seeping through the cracks and crevices.  

 2008-2009…That was a hard time. The hardest I had known then.

 Lowell & I had just experienced loss in huge ways….our business, home and our marriage were broken, falling apart at the seams.  
At 8 months pregnant I went to stay with my parents under the pretense of wanting to give birth in one of those fabulous free standing birthing centers (that was the truth…) But I was hurting, beaten down and with out hope.  I spent most of the time carrying her in tears.  I wonder if that is part of her personality and brooding nature now. Even though God was at work, it was hard to see at times in those long 11 months we were apart. I didn’t know if God was going to do a miracle and save our marriage which lay in shambles. BUT, God was close.  Closer then I had experienced and I grew tremendously in Him that year. He has that habit…sneaking into the bad places where He seems the furthermost away and doing his redemptive work. 

We were in the minority of couples that are able to reconcile and continued on life’s road. Our reconciliation produced instant proof of God’s mercies when Abby was born 9 months after we got back together. Her name Father’s Joy was proof of God’s power and redemptive favor and joy in us and our growing little family.

As we have lived through the grief of losing Abby, we have seen time and time again how God’s faithfulness shines through. 
Alexia has been traumatized immensely in the loss of her younger sister and built in playmate and near twin (not quite 18 months separated them)
 Despite the grief she is a spunky darling bundle and brings much joy to our home even through her spots of melancholy. 


She is growing into quite the young lady.  She loves to spend time following me about, baking and cooking. She loves fairy tales and all things princess.
 She is silly and giggles and love.




So as we celebrate another year of the beautiful gift of her, we marvel again at the story that is being woven with her life and how God’s faithfulness is obvious.  
He truly is good and amazing in gifting us with the preciousness.
Happy Birthday Princess!