Time flies, and some other revelations

Wow - has it really been nearly two months since I last bothered to post on this blog?!?  Why, yes it has...

Someone recently asked me if I'll ever post again and it occurred to me that it's easier to stay quiet when you lose your voice for a time.  Breaking my silence of the past couple of months is hard - kinda like finding lost momentum.  But, because at least one person misses my writing, and yet another major life transition is just around the corner (after all, that is why I'm blogging in the first place!), here goes.

I suppose I should begin by catching you up to speed with the unpredictable and downright zany cluster of events that I call my life.  Along with the hustle and bustle normally accompanying the "holiday season", my family and I have had some added stressors requiring considerable processing (spoken like a true counselor - my professors would be so proud).  The processing has essentially taken over for me, hence my lack of writing (I'm pretty sure that isn't how this is supposed to work...).

Now that I feel like I have a better handle on what is going on, I can find the courage to share with you.  (Are you on the edge of your seat, yet?!?)

It seems that our time in the desert is quickly coming to an end and we will be moving to another state, another climate, and another home in June.  There.  I said it.

'What?', you say, 'another move?  Didn't you JUST move??'  Why, yes, we did.  2 moves in exactly 2 years is a lot to wrap my head around, yet that is exactly what we're being led to do.

My hubby's job is transferring him to, of all places, South Dakota.  So, in a few short months, we'll be packing up (again) and saying goodbye to the warm desert and moving to the frontier of the Black Hills.  (Is my lack of enthusiasm and otherwise poor attitude about this new adventure showing?!?  I'm working on this, for the record.) 

To say that I'm not thrilled about this new locale is quite possibly the understatement of the year.  I'm just getting my groove here in the desert - meeting great people and developing strong friendships, soaking in the weather here (I'm so totally a warm weather girl), and reveling in the shopping and amenities that come from city life... and now God has chosen to move me to a small (itsy, bitsy, teeny, tiny) town, with no Starbucks or Target stores, and where snow happens.  A lot.  (I don't even kinda like snow.)  We'll be the new kids in town (again) with no connection.  Starting over (again).  Is it just me, or are you sensing a pattern here??

And while I'm tempted (a lot) to wallow in self pity, I'm also determined to not lose sight of the fact that there must be some good reason for all of this. 'For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' (Jer 29:11)  These words are as true today as they were two years ago when loss after loss after loss were being hurled in our direction at a breakneck pace.  And they will be true when things finally settle down and we can see some glimpse of His good plan.

There is great wisdom in the counsel I've recently sought that reassures me that God is doing a great work, even though it is hard for us to see just how it will all come together in the temporal.

Do you ever think, like I'm beginning to think, that He allows intense difficulty in our lives to wear us down to the point that we are forced to take a good, hard, long look at the things we're doing (or not doing) and know, beyond any doubt that we have to change?  Because we then know that there is no more justification or excuses or getting by with the status quo.  No - He has called us to something greater.  And He's patient, which means if we don't get it this time around, He'll give us another shot... 

Sometimes I just wish I could be like Jane Doe - simply flying under the radar and getting on with my life and hopes and dreams - the way I would have scripted things.  Living where I want to live, spending my days doing the work I want to do.  But, I'm keenly aware in the face of just about all that I'd planned being diverted and morphed into something unrecognizable and most definitely NOT what I would have chosen, that He knows better.

Just some things I'm pondering.  Please pray that I get it this time.  I'm ready to really get this now.

Full Circle

My last post was all about how time has changed my circumstances and how I can now see past some of the flames that were engulfing me during the season of last year.   In the midst of those struggles, I was blessed to be able to lean on some of my dear friends who, in so many ways, helped me stand during what was undoubtedly the most trying time I've ever been through.  There were days that I could not put one foot in front of the other without their support, and I was (and still am) so thankful for them.

A few months ago, and then again this week, I learned of two separate friends who suffered miscarriages.  Three weeks ago, I learned that a woman in my church and MOPS group is battling cancer again, and this time it is back with a vengeance.  Four weeks ago, and again two days ago, I learned that two separate friends had an abnormal mass and the second is currently awaiting the results of her ultrasound.  It feels like people all around me are going through their own refining fires, and I want to be useful in helping them stand.  As a friend said to me in my time of need when I asked her for her help, "I feel like if God had me walk down this path, the least I can do is hold your hand while you walk it, too."  (Love you, Laura!)

Maybe you are facing a trial in your life, too.  It is my hope and prayer that this video will provide a tiny bit of comfort and strength to you or someone in your life who needs it.

Remembering today

Today marks one year since we lost our third baby to miscarriage. Throughout the time since this unspeakable tragedy in our lives, I've been amazed at the number of women I've met who have suffered this silent grief - and blessed by their strength and support, and that of all of my wonderful friends. Thank you, to all of you who've been my rock and soft place in the tough times.

Like all grief, it is a process, and healing is happening. I found this song, and it really speaks what's in my heart - for my own lost baby, and for all of us who have been through the pain of losing a child before they were born. I know one day I'll meet our little one, when I go home. For now, I'll have to be content to know the perfect arms of our Saviour hold our baby, until we can.

Persist

So, after what has been a VERY trying last several weeks, I have found myself (once again!) stuck. Stuck pitying myself and my situation, stuck wishing for something that I cannot have, stuck asking God "why me?" at every turn.

I got a phone call from a dear friend this morning because she sensed that I needed to talk. She called me despite being in a very trying situation herself, but she wasn't focused on herself. She was focused on me and how I was doing, and I was touched and humbled. We spent some time talking about our circumstances, how they are the same, yet different. She told me about how God has made Himself very real to her in her own struggles lately and how He appears on the faces of people in her life. Now she is actively looking for Him in faces all around her, and she's finding Him.

If I pay attention, I can see Him, too. I saw Him last night in my 8 year old, who, for no apparent reason, suddenly came over to me and gave me a big hug. I saw Him in my friend who called today out of the blue. I saw Him in the very kind girl behind the counter at Fuddrucker's (where Denali and I had lunch) when she offered me Denali's lunch for free because of some promotion they are starting this evening (well after lunch is over). And, when I was driving around this afternoon, running some errands, I saw Him in a license plate. I quickly snapped a picture of it when we were stopped at a light.

I'm going to persist. I have it on very good authority that it will all be worth it someday.

Transformation

There has been alot of change at our home over the past month. Our neighbors are traveling much of this month, and I have wondered what they'll think when they return and see all the differences in our house! I even drove up to our home after a long day (granted my head was elsewhere) and thought for just a moment, as I turned into our driveway, "oops! I'm at the wrong house!" Seeing those decks off the back threw me off.

There are other things around our house, too, that are completely different than the way I've grown accustomed to over the past several years. I repainted the front door, from a deep purple (which I loved!), to a burnt reddish/orange color. I repainted the fireplace in our great room, from the same deep purple as the front door, to a neutral gray color (note this picture was taken mid-transformation!). I've taken down all our family pictures at the request of my realtor. All sorts of changes are happening to make our home less ours and look more like anyone could live here.

Something interesting is happening in me, emotionally, too. As I complete each of the things on my check off list, and take my signature off of our home, I'm noticing that I'm becoming less attached as well. The other day, I had a thought that stopped me in my tracks (figuratively, not literally!). What I thought was less important than what it made me realize. It occurred to me for the very first time that all of my emotional instability, while a normal part of the grieving process, was due largely to my grief over losing our house. I was shocked to know that that was what most of this was all about. I was unnaturally coveting our home - way more than I knew. After recovering from the embarrassment of that realization, I've also come to understand more about the meaning of what is happening in a way that has brought me incredible freedom and joy about the future.

This is a chance for me to change my ways - I've blogged about that before. This is also a chance for me to avoid setting myself up to repeat the same mistakes - to make it easier for myself to keep anything from coming between me and my Heavenly Father, who wants my undivided attention. He doesn't want to compete with a house, a job, a car, a hobby, a commitment, or anything else with which I might keep Him at arm's length. Even when I don't have a clue that I'm doing it - He does.

We'll still need to live in a house when we move, and there will be new commitments and things that will tie up our time, but the point for me is to remember. Remember the hole I dug myself into here. Remember the intensity and incredible elation of having Him present with me during the darkest moments. Remember to keep my eyes and heart focused on the things in life that really matter, and not on those things that just don't. Somehow I know that things will fall into place as long as I don't forget.

And so goes the ongoing transformation. Thanks for reading.

What a week!

A week ago today, I knew that the next seven days would be crazy busy and tough to get through, but as I look back on the week, I'm amazed at all we got done. Here's a play by play so you'll understand why I've not been blogging as much lately:

Kyle feverishly worked all week long on building our two back decks - first sawing out the existing concrete patio to make room for deep holes (which he also dug, painstakingly), then pouring more concrete to make the piers for the posts of the decks. He then hired a crew to build the frames of the decks (smart man!). Finally, a friend came for two days to help him put the decking and rails on the decks. They are wonderful, and it is such an injustice that he won't be here for the next several weeks to enjoy the fruit of his labor. The girls and I will have to enjoy them double for him. Here are a couple shots.

The one at the far end of the picture is off our master bedroom, and all but the rails is finished - Kyle's friend is coming back next week to complete that deck in his absence. I'm so excited to eat a few meals, drink a few cups of coffee out there, and spend some time marveling at the tree house our back yard has become now!

While Kyle was working away at the deck projects, I was busily gathering things around our home for our garage sale that we either do not need anymore, or simply do not want to move all the way to Nevada and organizing them in the garage.

On Thursday night, a friend surprised me with a dinner with some other women who I've been privileged to serve with in our local MOPS group. She took me to Chic Fil A because she knew that I'd miss that particular restaurant when we move (can you believe there are none in the whole state of Nevada?!?). While not a glamorous meal at a fancy restaurant, the thoughtfulness she put into the evening was SO touching and such a blessing. I was presented with a photo of all of us together, in a frame, with a matte on which each of them wrote a special message for me. I was humbled at the knowledge that they went to all that trouble to honor me. What a gift.

After dinner, a few women had to get back to their families, but three of us stayed behind to spend some time together. We decided "on the fly" to have some fun by trying on prom dresses! So out of character for me (I'm always so serious...), so I was a little uneasy about the whole idea, but I didn't have a better one, so we went for it. It was so much fun - turns out letting loose a little bit and doing something silly is actually a really good time! The best part was the time with friends that will be such a great memory!

After all that excitement, it was back to the work of putting together the garage sale, which I did all day Friday. Saturday was the big day, and people showed up early (I knew they'd do that, but I was SO not ready). We hurredly got everything put out, eventually, and the day was a huge success. We now have much less to move, helped some people out with some great bargains, and made a little money in the process. A friend of mine stopped by early in the morning to drop off a few things she wanted to sell, and ended up staying all day long to help me out. Isn't it amazing how God takes care of us through our friends?? So neat - I was so thankful for all her hard work and don't know how I would have done it all without her.

Kyle and I finally sat down with the kids to a really healthy meal of buffalo chicken wings and fried mushrooms (yum!) last night around 8:30 pm (yes, that is way past their bedtimes). We then collapsed into bed with little energy to spare.

This morning, Bri and Kyle made blueberry pancakes and sausages for me for Mother's day. They surprised me with an incredible book Kyle made on Blurb.com with pictures of the last several years of our lives - some from when Kyle and I were newly married, some chronicalling Aubrielle from her newborn days to now, and the same for Denali. I was so touched, (and so fried from the exhausting week past) that I burst into tears. I had to assure Bri that these were "happy tears" - she was looking a little worried (she had been so excited all week for me to open this gift). I couldn't think of a better Mother's Day gift than a priceless book that I can thumb through whenever I want to swim in some very happy memories of our lives together. It made me feel so loved, and so lucky.

Today has been so bittersweet. The craziness of the garage sale is behind me, I have two long-awaited and gorgeous decks to enjoy for the next few weeks, I have been honored and loved by my husband and children. But, today is the day that Kyle also has to leave us for the next three weeks to work in Las Vegas.

He left a few hours ago, and I spent much of this afternoon crying and sniffling. Telling myself that it is only temporary, that it will go by before I know it (with all the things I still have left to do), and that my last pair of contacts are going to go fuzzy if I don't stop, didn't seem to be working. Emotions! They have a mind of their own. A week ago, I could only imagine all the things that are different today and next week will likely be the same with so much going on this month. My challenge is to not get lost in the busyness of life right now and keep looking around so I don't miss anything important!

Whew! I'm so tired. I think I'll go lay in front of the television with the kids for awhile and have some of the chocolate cake that's in the fridge for dinner. :)

Turning A Corner, part 2

Now that you have a little more context to the muck in which I'm currently swimming (see Turning A Corner, part 1), I want to share what has been brewing in me for a little while. It all came to a head yesterday, when I suddenly realized that I need to wake up and get up from the blows I've been dealt one by one. What a pity party I've been throwing! I didn't know it, because it's been a gradual process, but I've been checked out for some time. I thought I was doing better in my grief process (and I still do, for the most part), but I didn't see that instead of getting up and walking through this valley, I had simply sat up - only looking around, but not really going anywhere.

I had allowed the cumulative grief to pin me down, and I only realized it after having one of those "where did THAT come from?" moments recently - I had a very strong emotional reaction when I did not expect it. On the surface, I was doing just fine. It was what was underneath that I was ignoring. But, grief must be attended to.

I've opened my eyes and realized yesterday (well, I REALLY realized it) that I have gained some weight and completely let go of my previously healthy and very active lifestyle, rationalizing that I deserved to eat dessert whenever I wanted and another glass of wine wouldn't really be a big deal - after all, it's been a tough several months. My parenting has been a little more yelling, a little less rational. My marriage has been hit or miss, we have been caught up in the busyness that moving has created. Little by little, I was burying myself in a deep pit - like the frog in the pot of lukewarm water - never realizing eventually the water had come to a boil. (yes, I'm comparing myself to a frog...)

This time last year, I was training for my third triathlon and had already done one of three half marathons in 9 months). I was in the best shape of my adult life and feeling pretty optimistic in general. I was feeling like I was growing more in my faith than ever before in my life (at least that hasn't changed!), and we were finishing up a "Love and Logic" parenting class in an effort to be more intentional with our kids. Hopes were high for our new business, and we were just rolling along.

I have a choice. I can wallow in my self pity, allowing life to pass me by and let down the people who love me and depend on me. OR, I can take a step, then another, then another, until I'm walking and eventually running again. I know this isn't what I was created for. I know I have more purpose than that. I want to be running again - not just literally, but in the race of life. I want to run in such a way as to get the prize (1 Cor 9:24).

Last night, in my new found realization of where I have landed, I emailed my best running buddy and told her I need her motivation and help. She responded, as I knew she would, lovingly but firmly telling me I need to run 3 miles between now and Saturday, when we'll meet for a spinning class. I thank God for her friendship, and her willingness to push me. I'm thrilled to report that I did run 3.25 miles this morning, and I'm on the path I want to be on once again.

I know there will be bumps in the road. I know it won't be an easy journey. I guess I just need to get it all out and rally the accountability troops. I'm now accountable for what I've shared and what I do next. I'm hoping you'll join me in keeping me accountable!

Thanks, again, for reading. :) Here's to the future and to hope!

Turning A Corner, part 1

This is a hard post to write, but it is important for me to do. I'm writing in two parts, because it made the most sense to me in organizing my thoughts, because I want to literally turn a corner on part two, and because it would be just too long to put all together! I want to apologize, in advance, for what may seem like a little of a rant and a little of an extended whine, but bear with me - I'm sharing it because I have a hunch that it's going to end up OK (and thank you, in advance, for reading).

Ok, taking a deep breath...

photo under creative commons license by Pensiero

Many of you know that this past year for me has been a tough one. I feel like there has been loss after loss after loss, and there is no end in sight - or at least for quite some time, there hasn't seemed to be. I know that there are so many others who have faced way more devastation and heartache than I have, but I'm living MY life, and that is all I can speak to with any authority. I heard a talk yesterday on the radio, and the speaker was convinced that if we simply took the time to share our experiences, people could be spared unecessary pain - the reality, according to this man, is that most of us go to our graves with our collective wisdom, never sharing it for the good of others. I don't know if what I've been through brings any profound revelations to anyone but me, but part of my reasoning for this blog is to create a breadcrumb trail of where I've been, so, if only just for me, I'm going to record my journey. I'm hopeful that when I look back at this in a year or five from now, I'll feel a sense of strength - knowing where I came from.

It all started last June, when during a mundane summer morning my darling little three year old came running into the living room where I was to tell me that "it was accidentally, mom, I flushed your ring down the toilet." It took a few seconds for what she was saying to register, I followed her to our bathroom, where she again pointed to our toilet to tell me that she'd accidentally flushed my ring (as I look back, I'm sure she was fascinated by the marvel of modern plumbing - how you can see something in the toilet one minute, and it is whisked away the next - when you think about it, it really IS amazing!). After frantically searching all the usual spots where I might have set my wedding rings and finding them nowhere, it began to set in that, after 14 years of marriage, my rings were gone. We called a plumber to disassemble the toilet and he announced it was "clean as a whistle." (While normally words that would make me swell with pride over my superior housecleaning abilities, under the circumstances, it was confirmation of the loss.) I am relieved to say that, while I was so very sad about never being able to see my cherished wedding rings again, Denali survived the incident - I heard a small still voice in my ear that day telling me to forgive her, she did not know what she'd done.

I know rings are just "stuff," but the symbolism of the loss has been hard for me to come to terms with - I promised my life to my husband wearing those rings, we bought our first house while I wore them, they were on my finger when I gave birth to both of our girls - all the milestones of the past 14 years were represented. To this day, I now wear cubic zirconia rings that I ordered online because I can't fathom not honoring my marriage by leaving my ring finger bare. Someday, we'll have the money to replace these "fakes," and that gives me something to look forward to.

Another blow came when, throughout the summer, Kyle's home building business that he'd taken the risk of quitting his job to start in November the year before, was beginning to reflect signs of the economic slow down. The beautiful home he'd built to showcase his incredible abilities as a builder was finished, but because of a slow market, there were no buyers. On top of that, funding for his salary was quickly being depleted, and it became clear that we were going to have to make some decisions so that we could provide for our family. The result was a loss of his dream to build homes independently, a very difficult split with his business partner and our friends, and our need to face a hard, cold reality that what we had hoped and planned for was not going to come to pass. At least for now. All of these events, including a last ditch effort to buy a foreclosed home to fix up and sell (which still hasn't sold), started us down a path that eventually brought us to the place where we are today, planning to move from our home in Colorado to pursue an alternate career opportunity in Las Vegas.

While I have written extensively about my own sense of loss as we prepare to leave, I am also just beginning to understand the enormity of loss that my husband has been bearing through this whole ordeal (even though he's tried valiantly to be brave and positive for his family). As I write this, with tears streaming down my face, I'm just so very sad for him and mourning right along with him. I'm trying to hear that small still voice now, the one that has, all along, told me we were going to get through this just fine - I don't know how we will, but I know it is true.

As the drama of Kyle's business was unfolding, in October, Kyle and I were surprised and shocked to find out that we were expecting our third child. I had hoped and prayed for another baby, but we weren't "trying", so I felt so blessed to find out that my prayer was answered and remember thinking that this baby was obviously meant to be. I was ecstatic.

Weeks went by, and my belly began to swell slightly - enough for me to notice. I had a strange sense to keep my pregnancy a secret from most everyone (call it a small still voice), only telling one good friend (because I needed to explain to her why I wasn't able to run with her as strenuously as normal). My plan was to reveal our good news to the world after our first ultrasound, which was scheduled at nine weeks.

Unfortunately, the news that I ended up sharing was not quite what I expected. The day before my nine week doctor's appointment, I woke up and found that I was bleeding. I knew that something was not right, I just knew. I made arrangements to see my midwife and drove the 45 minutes to her office where I had an ultrasound. It was there, as I looked up at the monitor to see the little tiny form of my baby inside, that I realized it was lifeless. There was no heartbeat, and I was told the bleeding was my body recognizing the loss and the beginning of a miscarriage. I delivered our third child the next evening, and we buried him (or her) in a surreally tiny casket Kyle lovingly made with a single yellow rose inside and a piece of fleece as a blanket. I'm struck at odd times with the thought of how big and obviously pregnant I'd be today, how I'd only be about two months from delivery (I was due in June), and how I miss that little life that was once, ever so briefly, growing inside me. Grief is tough that way, it comes in waves, sometimes when you're least expecting it.

A very dear friend, who was instrumental in my putting one foot in front of the other at that very hard time, told me how grief waits for us, demanding to be attended to, never leaving our side until we face it. I've found that to be true. I've also found a secret sisterhood of other women who've been through the excruciating pain of losing a child, too, and I'm so very thankful for each of them in my own journey through this valley. I'm also so incredibly grateful and humbled at the small still voice, who, at that time, told me "Everything is going to be OK" and took my breath away when I heard it. My Savior was stopping to be with me, in my bedroom, to feel my pain, and I heard Him promise me there would be joy again. What a gift.

So, that's the last 10 months in a nutshell. Maybe this will give you a little more perspective on why I feel like I'm at a crossroads in my life right now. As we anticipate the events of the next 6 weeks, to include a move to a new state, change in schedules, change in work for my husband (and possibly for me), and the upcoming due date of our third child that didn't make it, I'm uncertain about the future. I'm desperate to understand the lessons that I need to learn, if for no other selfish reason than to never have to repeat them again. (I'm just going to be brutally honest, here.)

What I can say, without hesitation or reservation, is that I know that these trials have been not only the most challenging in my life, but also the most fertile for character growth and spiritual enrichment. I've never felt quite so close or so far away from my Creator than I have over the roller coaster that has been our last year. But, I know that one day I'll see the reasons, and that brings me hope. As I sit here today, I have no doubt that what He's promised me is going to come to pass. That He has plans for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me. He promises me hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) I'm banking on it.

Mourn with those who mourn

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15)

Grief. No other emotion can bring us to our knees with such force as grief. So universal, so devastating. The past several months, I've been hit with so many trials that have caused deep and long lasting grief and mourning. I'm tired, and I know I'm not the only one.

Yesterday, I got an urgent email from a friend asking for prayer for another friend who had been admitted to the hospital just a little bit earlier in the day. She is a fellow MOPS mom (Mothers of Preschoolers), with several young children. She was in critical condition and it was very touch and go. After a long, hard day, and many complications, she went home to be with the Lord just before midnight. It all happened within the window of less than a day.

I was not really close to her, she was a friend of a friend (of several other friends, actually), although I had just spoken with her two weeks ago by phone. She was graciously bringing my family the order of beef we'd just placed with her father, who owns a ranch, and we were making the arrangements. This was the second time she'd delivered beef right to our door, and the second time I'd be away from the house, leaving my husband to meet her. I jokingly said to her that someday we would actually meet in person. Now I know that that day will come when I join her in heaven after I'm called home. My heart aches for her children and her husband and her family as they are just trying to wrap their minds around this incredible loss.

It's cold here this morning. A fitting day for the morning after such tragedy for this family. As I drove my daughter to school I was struck by the faces in the cars I passed, most of them peacefully unaware of the devastation that death has brought overnight, and I don't blame them for that - they don't know. I was just thinking about how life inevitably goes on, and it is good that it does. But sometimes we get stuck.

Try as I might, at times like this I still feel stuck in my grief. Grief over this mother that won't be allowed to raise her small children along with her husband and see where their lives take them. Grief over a child of a friend and coworker who was tragically born still. Grief for my many friends who have known the pain of miscarriage (some of them more than once). Grief over my own child who didn't make it past the first trimester. Grief over our impending move. And I'm sad, and angry, and like a child I want to go home where everything is going to be ok. It's not ok here, and I want off this ride. (Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything irrational.)

Why does this have to be so hard? Why don't our prayers get answered? I try to look at it from God's point of view (in my infinitely limited ability to understand the Mind of God), and I am reminded of my own children. I don't always say 'yes' to their requests - mostly because I know that having candy for dinner or watching another movie wouldn't be good for them. I have to trust that God knows better for me, and when He tells us 'no' He is doing it for our own good. It doesn't make me like the answer any more than my own babies do, but it gives me perspective.

This morning, I revelled in the sweet smell of my daughters' hair as I kissed them good morning. I felt privileged to serve them another glass of orange juice and help them get dressed for their days. I'm trying to take nothing for granted, because none of us know what this day holds. That is the legacy of this sweet, young mother who now knows no more pain or grief. Thank you, S.B. Until we meet in heaven,

Because this song speaks to me in my own grief, and I hope it will speak to you, I'm closing this post with it. It's by Jars of Clay, called "The Valley". Grab some tissue, and then go love the people in your life: