Thursday, January 2, 2014
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
January
With going days without having something to say (I know, that's so unlike me!) I thought that the January Photo-a-Day Challenege that My 1/2 Dozen Daily is following from The Idea Room sounded like a good idea. I'll try to post a photo each day corresponding to the subject of the day.
Today is a goal and I kind of had to copy Carla, just because it is the only goal I set for myself this year. Daily devotionals.
This Hope in the Mourning Bible is fantastic for someone dealing with grief. My goal is to make it a part of my morning ritual.
Today is a goal and I kind of had to copy Carla, just because it is the only goal I set for myself this year. Daily devotionals.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Happy New Year?
I'm conflicted.
Am I happy that this year is coming to an end? It was the hardest year of my life.
Am I wanting to hold on to it just a bit longer? It's the last day that I can say Jacob was with us this year.
Starting a new year with one less child seems unspeakable. It's not a happy new year. It seems more like an ending than a new beginning.
Missing a loved one is such an isolating emotion. No matter how much you are surrounded with love, the ever present absence of that person can only be felt by those within your household. The empty couch. The Star Wars toys and books left unplayed with. Five toothbrushes instead of six. Too much food made for meals, instead of just the right amount. No more key lime pie yogurt in the fridge. Three little pairs of shoes lined up instead of four. Everything is an hourly, if not minutely, reminder.
Grief is depressing. No matter how happy I am to know that Jacob is healed and whole, basking in the presence of our Lord, the emptiness that he left in his wake is real. It's a recognizable void that just can't be filled. While I can thank God for his blessings, which I still see all around me, that doesn't make this all better. That doesn't take away the heartache.
We will trudge on. We will recreate a new normal. But starting out a whole new year without Jacob is not something I am looking forward to.
Am I happy that this year is coming to an end? It was the hardest year of my life.
Am I wanting to hold on to it just a bit longer? It's the last day that I can say Jacob was with us this year.
Starting a new year with one less child seems unspeakable. It's not a happy new year. It seems more like an ending than a new beginning.
Grief is depressing. No matter how happy I am to know that Jacob is healed and whole, basking in the presence of our Lord, the emptiness that he left in his wake is real. It's a recognizable void that just can't be filled. While I can thank God for his blessings, which I still see all around me, that doesn't make this all better. That doesn't take away the heartache.
We will trudge on. We will recreate a new normal. But starting out a whole new year without Jacob is not something I am looking forward to.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Christmas Angels
The whole month of December I dreaded Christmas.
It involved too many decisions (from the stockings to the Christmas cards to the baked goods - all of which I avoided altogether).
It involved shopping for three children instead of four (and all I ran across were presents that Jacob would have loved - so I bought them anyway and gave them to the rest of us).
I wanted Christmas over with. With everyone wishing others a Merry Christmas and a joyous season I wanted to crawl under a rock. No one wants to think about loss during such a happy season. No one wants to feel the grief of a family missing their shining star. Grief is so uncomfortable for others.
A few weeks before Christmas, on an especially difficult day, we received in the mail two cards with no return address. Inside were cards and gifts, one signed from a Secret Santa and one from a Christmas Angel. They were like hugs arriving in the mail.
A local woman, who had seen an article about Jacob in the paper this past summer, called and told me her church puts together baskets each Christmas for people experiencing hardships that year and that she would like to drop one off for us. She arrived on a morning when I was out shoveling snow. The flakes drifted around me and I was reminded of that day that Jacob was diagnosed with cancer. When I was out shoveling to take my mind off my fear. When she gave me a hug and started to talk about her own son, whom she lost 15 years ago, I knew that God had directed her to me that day. I invited her inside and we spoke of both our sons. Both mothers, both desperate to talk about the boys who are gone. Both wanting to tell their stories and say their names. Both understanding the pain.
I received a letter from another mother who had also lost a child. A card from a friend mentioning buying a floral arrangement for their church in memory of Jacob. A movie basket from a friend. A huge box of clothes for Amy. A floral arrangement on the morning of Christmas Eve. A photo I had never seen of Jacob before arriving in the mail from an aunt. A package with little wrapped gifts for each of the females in my family and notes for each of them. Which turned out to be Origami Owl lockets in honor of Jacob. With "Faith" and angel wings.
My brother making a car decal in memory of Jacob. My mom making notecards and stamps with the picture of the cloud that means so much to me.
Some moments were harder than I expected. Some moments found me sobbing on the floor, or in the shower, or on the couch. The sadness was overwhelming.
But I had angels around me. Surrounding our family with love. With prayers. And most of all, with remembrance. Jacob is a little boy that can never be forgotten.
It involved too many decisions (from the stockings to the Christmas cards to the baked goods - all of which I avoided altogether).
It involved shopping for three children instead of four (and all I ran across were presents that Jacob would have loved - so I bought them anyway and gave them to the rest of us).
I wanted Christmas over with. With everyone wishing others a Merry Christmas and a joyous season I wanted to crawl under a rock. No one wants to think about loss during such a happy season. No one wants to feel the grief of a family missing their shining star. Grief is so uncomfortable for others.
A few weeks before Christmas, on an especially difficult day, we received in the mail two cards with no return address. Inside were cards and gifts, one signed from a Secret Santa and one from a Christmas Angel. They were like hugs arriving in the mail.
A local woman, who had seen an article about Jacob in the paper this past summer, called and told me her church puts together baskets each Christmas for people experiencing hardships that year and that she would like to drop one off for us. She arrived on a morning when I was out shoveling snow. The flakes drifted around me and I was reminded of that day that Jacob was diagnosed with cancer. When I was out shoveling to take my mind off my fear. When she gave me a hug and started to talk about her own son, whom she lost 15 years ago, I knew that God had directed her to me that day. I invited her inside and we spoke of both our sons. Both mothers, both desperate to talk about the boys who are gone. Both wanting to tell their stories and say their names. Both understanding the pain.
I received a letter from another mother who had also lost a child. A card from a friend mentioning buying a floral arrangement for their church in memory of Jacob. A movie basket from a friend. A huge box of clothes for Amy. A floral arrangement on the morning of Christmas Eve. A photo I had never seen of Jacob before arriving in the mail from an aunt. A package with little wrapped gifts for each of the females in my family and notes for each of them. Which turned out to be Origami Owl lockets in honor of Jacob. With "Faith" and angel wings.
All of a sudden we were feeling the embrace of angels around us. Not in the material items themselves, but in the love that came with them. The thoughtfulness.
Christmas Eve my sister presented us with a drawing of Jacob. She took one of my favorite photos of Jacob and captured it beautifully. It's a priceless gift.
My brother making a car decal in memory of Jacob. My mom making notecards and stamps with the picture of the cloud that means so much to me.
Some moments were harder than I expected. Some moments found me sobbing on the floor, or in the shower, or on the couch. The sadness was overwhelming.
But I had angels around me. Surrounding our family with love. With prayers. And most of all, with remembrance. Jacob is a little boy that can never be forgotten.
Friday, December 27, 2013
10 Days Without
Basically, Daniel started a blog and profiled several different 10 day challenges on the blog in order to raise awareness/money for different causes. For example, going without shoes for 10 days in order to raise money to buy shoes for children in other countries.
The challenges in the book made me think about issues that I probably otherwise wouldn't. Being disabled, not having shoes, being an orphan. Many of us never stop to think how different our lives really could be and how blessed we are. This book brings up all those thoughts and feelings.
Within these pages we have instructions on how to do our own 10 day challenges. I think it would be a great idea for teen youth groups and even families to implement (much like my $1,200 challenge a few years ago).
I just think this book could have delved deeper into the actual challenges that Daniel took part in. Maybe his blog does that, but I don't want to buy a book and then have to search on a blog to get the whole story. There wasn't enough of people's reactions, the real challenges that he faced throughout these self-imposed challenges. For example, did these challenges get easier throughout the 10 days? Harder? Where there pros or was it all cons? The book really seemed to gloss over the daily details of these challenges.
I still enjoyed reading it, I just wish it went deeper into the experiment.
Disclaimer: This book was given to me by Blogging for Books in exchange for an honest review.
Monday, December 16, 2013
3 Years
December 16, 2010 - Exactly three years ago today our world changed forever when Jacob was diagnosed with cancer. 4 days later he had an 8 hour surgery to remove his left kidney, nodules in the lungs, and install a port in his chest. He then underwent 11 days of radiation and 8 months of chemotherapy. Only to repeat the process 6 months later and end with a 40 day hospital stay while receiving a stem cell transplant. 6 months later he relapsed again and he passed away 8 months later. He went through so, so much but always kept a smile on his face. Our little boy will never have pain again as he plays in Heaven forever.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Keeping It Real
Friday I went shopping at our local Walmart for stocking stuffers. Well, more like pile stuffers as I can't fathom the thought of getting out my boxes of Christmas decorations and digging through our stockings and running across Jacob's. So I'll probably just pile the "stocking" stuffers under the tree this year.
Every. Little. Thing. stirs up hard decisions. If I were to bring the stockings out would I leave Jacob's in the box? Would I put his up along with ours? Would I leave it empty as a hourly reminder that there is an empty spot in our family? Would I buy something to put in it...and then do what with the gift?
It's so much easier not to decide any of that at all and just forgo the stockings this year.
While roaming the toy aisle at Walmart I walked through the LEGO aisle and wanted to burst out crying and run out of the store. The last time I was in that aisle was with Jacob. He was in a wheelchair, hooked up to oxygen, and tired of being at home so his daddy and I took him for a quick jaunt to pick out a LEGO set. He didn't find what he wanted but we bought him a soda on the way out of the store and drove home to the Hospice workers who were watching our other children for us.
Those memories hurt. Doing something as simple as buying stocking stuffers, for only three of my four children, hurts.
It's no wonder I wish I could just skip this month. I'm tired. I'm sad. And I have children who have been through so much these past few years that I feel like everything has to be extra special. That, in itself, is exhausting.
No Christmas cards. No baking. Minimal decorating. It's all I can handle this year. And really, that's okay.
But it's mommy blogs like this that make any normal human feel inferior. Who has time/money/resources to do this?
Luckily, blogs like this bring us back to reality. What you see isn't usually what you get on the internet, just snips and pieces of someone's life.
To keep it real - this month is hard. This month hurts.
This is our reality.
Every. Little. Thing. stirs up hard decisions. If I were to bring the stockings out would I leave Jacob's in the box? Would I put his up along with ours? Would I leave it empty as a hourly reminder that there is an empty spot in our family? Would I buy something to put in it...and then do what with the gift?
It's so much easier not to decide any of that at all and just forgo the stockings this year.
While roaming the toy aisle at Walmart I walked through the LEGO aisle and wanted to burst out crying and run out of the store. The last time I was in that aisle was with Jacob. He was in a wheelchair, hooked up to oxygen, and tired of being at home so his daddy and I took him for a quick jaunt to pick out a LEGO set. He didn't find what he wanted but we bought him a soda on the way out of the store and drove home to the Hospice workers who were watching our other children for us.
Those memories hurt. Doing something as simple as buying stocking stuffers, for only three of my four children, hurts.
It's no wonder I wish I could just skip this month. I'm tired. I'm sad. And I have children who have been through so much these past few years that I feel like everything has to be extra special. That, in itself, is exhausting.
No Christmas cards. No baking. Minimal decorating. It's all I can handle this year. And really, that's okay.
But it's mommy blogs like this that make any normal human feel inferior. Who has time/money/resources to do this?
Luckily, blogs like this bring us back to reality. What you see isn't usually what you get on the internet, just snips and pieces of someone's life.
To keep it real - this month is hard. This month hurts.
This is our reality.
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