Finding joy in the everyday grief

I've realized something this week.  All the numbness is gone.  The shock and disbelief of losing Amanda is no longer there to help buffer the pain.  At all.  Reality has sunk in to the deepest, innermost part of my being.  This summer, the remembrance of exactly what we were doing at this time last year is more vivid for me than I would like it to be.  Every day.  Last year, we were preparing for her MRI that would give us the results of how the chemo treatment plan worked and we were swimming almost daily:

June 26, 2014
"I am trying to keep the MRI in it's proper place as Monday gets closer.  I'm trying not to allow myself to get anxious, but instead stay focused on how well Amanda is clinically doing and anticipate a great report.  We can't do anything about the MRI, one way or another.  What we can do is pray.   In my head I know all the right answers and all the right ways to handle the stress and emotions.  But seriously, sometimes the truth of what we are facing and dealing with simply crashes over me and feels so big." 

Two years ago, in 2013, we were preparing to start chemo cycle two, attending revival each night at Lawler and overall, trying to get the right medication combination to keep her from getting so ill during her week of chemo meds. 

Never would I have thought that I would give anything to be back in those challenging days, but I find myself yearning for those drives to Dell, hours in the infusion room, cuddles in bed when she didn't feel good, schedules made around doctor appointments and medications and spending each and every day soaking up our family time.

At Dell, anytime her port was accessed we all had to wear masks.

These were taken in June of 2013.  I adore them.

I've been thinking about how up and down life has been as we have maneuvered the past ten months. I'm not sure that it is very different from those seventeen months we were fighting cancer every day.  

Despite the extremely challenging time this summer is, I am incredibly grateful for the ways God brings light and laughter in my life.  The emotional roller coaster of smiles, laughter, memories, tears, panic and back to smiles is exhausting, but please know this - God still gives me joy. 

I get up each day and pray that it will be a good day.  I love to laugh. I love to smile; even with the hurt and pain so quick to surface through tears that I no longer try to stop.  I'm incredibly blessed with amazing family and friends that continue to walk right beside me in the deep pits of grief and along the hills of joy and peace.

One of the craziest challenges is the fact that I feel like I am still daily trying to figure out who the "new" me is: mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister.   Those roles were there before Amanda's diagnosis, yet it seems almost like I have become a different person through the time of her illness and death.  It is at times a fumbling, awkward, hurtful, and exhausting task.  I have changed.  How could I not? But God is good and His plans are perfect.  Knowing He works all things for good reminds me to try to give myself grace instead of  beating myself up if I don't seem to get things right.

My God has not changed.  He is the same today as He was yesterday and as He will be tomorrow.  That brings comfort.  That brings stability.  That brings hope.  That is how I am able to get up each day, doing my best at forgetting the pain and mistakes from the day before and facing the new day with a fresh outlook; and each day I am thankful for all that I am blessed with.

Life is messy. And hard. And painful. And joyful. And fulfilling.  But we are here for a purpose.

2 Corinthians 12:8-10
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

This week, I opened up Facebook and it had a "memory post" waiting for me.  Five years ago I posted a picture of Amanda and her beautiful face looking up at me beaming with pride over a pulled tooth. As I first saw the picture, completely unexpected and unprepared for it, the absolute shock of seeing her took my breath away and brought on the tears.  It was like a friend commented "Her way of saying, "Hi mom!"  

Feels like I could just reach down and touch that sweet face....

I am incredibly grateful for these small, unexpected ways Amanda shows up in my day.

Now, a Brandon and Annie update!  Brandon and Annie are doing great.  She is incredibly sweet and crazy smart - much to our challenge sometimes.  However, in her short month with us, she has come a long way and is already doing great with obedience training.  Brandon is doing an amazing job taking care of her and training her.  I am so proud of his dedication and patience with a very spunky puppy.  She keeps him on his toes! :) 

Love these guys.  They sent this to me while I was at a recent conference.

James 1:17
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Another's journey through grief, and how true it is

This post was written earlier in the week.....I know that today is Father's Day, but honestly, I am not ready to face the day yet, so I'll save that post for an upcoming day. (and will attempt to articulate why this day is so hard for me...)

"What bereaved parents want you to know (but may not say)" is a blog that has been showing up on Facebook quite often.  A friend sent me the link a few weeks ago before I saw it on Facebook.  I'm glad she did, it gave me the opportunity to digest and prepare my heart for the repeat appearances.

While I have written a similar blog to this one, Walk Beside Me, I appreciate how Kathleen Duncan articulates some of the feelings that grieving parents have, yet are so hard to say.  Each path of grief is different, each person feels it, deals with it and expresses it differently.  However, there were a few points she made that I really could identify with.  So from the blog, My Journey Through Grief into Grace, a few nuggets of truth:

People of faith who have lost a child are often seen as brave and strong.
We have been through something that no parent wants to experience: the death of a child.
We are not strong or brave. We endure because we must; we have no choice. We have other family members that need us. We have “good works which God prepared in advance for us to do”. We have jobs and homes to care for. We cannot just give up, find a hole to crawl in, and quit living — though we sometimes wish we could.

We are walking through life because that is what we do – we go on. We live. We breathe. We work. And we attend church and school functions because we must. We know that God called our child Home and left us here on earth for His purpose. We know we must persevere and trust Him to help us and to heal us. We do not go on because we are tough or brave or strong. Because the truth is that we are none of those things.  We are most often weak, and tired, and broken.

Our reality is often different than what we show our friends, our coworkers, and the public around us.
We rarely show others the true depth of our pain. It is too personal and too raw to show others who have not experienced it themselves; we know that people cannot understand the sorrow of losing a child unless they have walked this path. And we hope and pray that none of our friends ever go through what we have experienced.

We know that our pain also makes you feel helpless – there is nothing that you or anyone else can do to change our situation. Our child is gone. We will not see him again until our great reunion in Heaven.

We also don’t want to “lose it” because it is so hard to get control once the tears start flowing.
At first, the tears of a bereaved parent are not “healing tears”. They are tears of a deep, intense sorrow like none other. They are exhausting and embarrassing. We have had friends try to comfort us and tell us it will be okay. It will not be okay! Our child is dead! As time goes on, and if we do the right kinds of “soul care” to help us heal, the tears change to healing tears. But it takes a long time.

We are afraid, sometimes, that if the tears start, they won’t stop. So we try hard not to let them start.

And the tears remind us of that horrible physical grief-pain that lasted so long.  We are reminded of waking up to realize this is not some terrible nightmare. It is our reality now. We are bereaved parents.  (At times, my pain still feels so new that this paragraph, these words are me...)

So we hide our pain.
We smile and laugh and go on living. We thank you when you tell us again how sorry you are and how much you miss our kid. We tell you we are doing well and that God is good.

God IS good. He IS faithful. He IS healing our broken hearts. We DO have joy and peace.  We DO have moments of happiness and fun-filled laughter. We will be healed and go on living.  But our life has changed and we will never be quite the same as we were before burying our child.

As I read the following point she made, I wanted to start talking to my computer saying, "YES! That is exactly how I feel every single Sunday.  The difference is that some days I am able to hold it together better than others.....

Church is particularly difficult.  We may not know why, but we tend to get emotional at church. Even those of us who never cried at church before often cry now.  It is not that we are sad in church. It is just that being in worship, singing, and being in His presence bring the emotions to the surface.  For us, the reality of Heaven, Hell and life after death is more pronounced.  We are often overwhelmed by God’s love and greatness.  By His omnipotence.  By His grace and love that caused Him to send His only Son to die for me.  The reality of all of this is so…well, REAL!  If we cry at church, don’t try to comfort us and tell us it’s going to be okay or that you understand.  Just let us cry.   (Tears in Church, Tears in Church Part Two)  

Amen!  So true...

As we continue through this painful time of approaching the first year mark, I know that we will find our hope and strength to take each new step in our faith in Christ Jesus.  The heartbreaking thing is that I know there are parents that have not reached that point.  There are parents that don't have the hope to hold on to knowing they will spend eternity with their child like Tom and I have.  There are parents that are still in the dark depths of pain and grief and don't know which way is up.

If I am honest with you, I sometimes still have those days myself.  However, I know that beyond the pain and heartbreak, God has called us to this life for a purpose.  Even in those dark days, I will continue to say my God is good.  Knowing that Amanda will not have to deal with the sin in this world and is in perfect glory with our Lord and Savior doesn't erase the pain, but it always gives me a hope and a peace to remember - even in the darkness.

My 20 Year High School Reunion....

Imagine this conversation:
"It's so good to see you! You haven't changed one bit."
"Thank you! Great to see you as well."
"So tell me, what have you been up to these past 20 years?"
Breathless pause........"Well, I still live in Georgetown.  I've been married for 17 years to a wonderful man and we have two beautiful children."........and then I pause again........
"Brandon will be 14 next month and our daughter Amanda is 10. We lost her to brain cancer last summer." 

Brandon and Amanda - 2013

This past weekend for the first time,  I was put in a position to make the decision on whether or not I should share our story with someone that had no idea of what the the past two years of my life has been like.  Honestly, it was not really even worth questioning - I mean, how could I not share about my children? I had to - and I did......over and over and over throughout the evening...

This past weekend was my 20 year high school reunion.  I graduated with a pretty amazing group of people. I didn't make my 10 year or 15 year reunion.   But even after little contact over the last 20 years, I was incredibly touched that so many classmates stepped up and showed support and encouragement during Amanda's battle with cancer and as we have journeyed through the grief in these past ten months since she died. I knew I wanted to be at the reunion to hug their necks and thank them through more than just text and email.

Somehow, I failed to think about those people that would not know our story. To be honest, I'm a little frustrated with myself for not seeing that coming.  I didn't think about those people who live far away, or the ones that I am not friends with on Facebook or those who aren't even on Facebook. (Yes, there are still people like that out there! I'm married to one!)  They would not have heard that our daughter, Amanda, battled brain cancer for 17 months before that heartbreaking yet blessed day last August when we said "not good bye, but see ya later alligator" to our beautiful, kind, spunky red-headed daughter as she passed from this life to more life. (A friend pointed that phrase out from Pastor Joy William's sermon she preached on Easter morning as she told a bit of Amanda's story. I like that phrase - carries so much meaning and truth!)  It was a swirled combination of pain, grief and joy. 

To say I am feeling the emotional drain from the weekend is an understatement. The tears and panic are never far from the surface over these past few weeks and the reunion has most certainly intensified it.  Having been through many firsts, I know that this too shall pass and I tell myself that repeatedly.

In a very uncharacteristic "me" moment, however, I did have a "Life is not fair" breakdown last night as I couldn't stop the tears.   As I cried, Tom held my hand, let me grieve and reminded me of how, even though life is incredibly unfair and painful, because of God's goodness and grace we still have so much to be thankful for.  And he is right, I know that. It still felt very therapeutic to let the tears fall. The pain and hurt bleeds off and often lessens through the tears and then the exhaustion that comes afterwards brings a deep sleep that I need to regain my emotional footing.

Thomas, Brandon and I were blessed for almost eleven years with a daughter and sister that had a sweet soul beyond her years. The promise of seeing Amanda again one day is a promise we hold tight to.

If you haven't read the post about the day Amanda died and how God poured out His mercy and grace on our family, please take a moment and do so.

Any doubts about where I will spend eternity were put to rest that day.  I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for that blessing, even though it was the most painful day of my life.  Answered prayers

So, to my classmates from the Georgetown High School Class of 1995, I'd like to say "thank you." Thank you for your show of support and encouragement since Amanda's diagnosis and passing, along with the heartfelt condolences on Saturday night that were shared.  I wish I had thought to thank you in person during one of my "MC" moments on Saturday evening. (Come on now, y'all know I have never shied away from a microphone!) 

Friends, until the next time, perhaps 10 years down the road at the next reunion, #EFND!  
(Eagle Fight Never Dies)

Psalm 5:11-12
But let all who take refuge in you be glad;
    let them ever sing for joy.
Spread your protection over them,
    that those who love your name may rejoice in you.

Surely, Lord, you bless the righteous;
    you surround them with your favor as with a shield.

Kelley, Jennifer and I working the registration table.

Jackie, Kelley and I - laughter and silliness is a good thing.

My high school best friend - Kelley.  Some friendships never lose the ability to stay comfortable, no matter how long you are apart.

I looked back to 2013 and found a note from Amanda...

So as I sat down to write today's blog, I went back two years.  To be honest, I am trying not to think too much about last summer.  It is just too hard.  I thought that instead, I would go back and see what we were up to at this time in 2013....that wasn't much better.

Here is a portion from June 11, 2013 from CaringBridge:

Amanda’s Blog:
Today was not my favorite day. I had to for the first time get my port accessed. I was very happy on how everything went. We sat in the big room while the meds went through.  It was a really long time. Love you all and miss you all AMANDA

Mom’s Blog:
Our day started very early this morning and as anticipated, Amanda was a little apprehensive
about the day before us.  I was very grateful that we did not sit in the waiting room long this morning but instead was called back quickly.  Before going to an exam room, the first thing they do is check Amanda’s weight, blood pressure and temperature.  She has lost four pounds this past week, but with surgery last week, we figured it had to do with two days of not eating anything.  Plus, her appetite has changed and very rarely does she eat breakfast anymore. While it was a little concerning to me, that is something we can focus on during this time when there is so much that is out of our control. 

As for Amanda, she had a great day.  She did wonderful with the port and she felt good all day.  After our long day in the clinic, we came home and played a couple of hands of Nerds together before Dad had to go to work then we watched a movie, took Ginger for a short walk before bed and stayed up a little too late.  I am praying for many, many more days like this one.

Today, Tom was able to look at the MRI’s again while the kids and I stayed in the transfusion room.  (Be sure to look at the pictures I posted-we were definitely comfortable, which is a good thing considering how long we were there!)  Again he was told what a good scan it was in regard to how the tumor responded to the radiation.  I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing that encouraging report.

 As we sat in the exam room at the beginning of today, waiting to start this next round of treatment, I turned to Tom and said, “I just feel so thankful right now.”   It was good to be there, with the positive MRI behind us and the road ahead of us filled with hope.  

Turns out today, two years ago, was the first day of her chemotherapy treatment.  So much for avoiding reading an emotional entry.

Please don't think I walk around, ready to shatter if I'm looked at funny or if Amanda is brought up. But the memories are right there, quicker to surface and more painful than they have been in a long time. And it is so intense, at times it is actually a physical pain.  

As the days go on, I will continue like we have every other day for the past two years. Take it one day at a time. Trust in God's sovereignty. And above all, I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity and blessing to be the mom of such a beautiful girl. 

Never forgotten, always remembered and forever loved. 

Psalm 46:10

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

Summer, and my gaping wound....

It was incredibly hard to foresee how much this past week was going to hurt..  For me, it was the first official week of summer.  This time last year we were swimming and starting cycle twelve of Amanda's chemo treatment with incredibly high hopes.

Once again, another painful first and finding myself surprised at how long a year ago feels.

This week, a year ago:

This was her dancing in the kitchen with Ginger after she took her last chemo pill.

At my niece's graduation.

Start of chemo cycle twelve!

A visit from some cousins to welcome her home and celebrate the start of her last treatment!

A puppy - who doesn't love a visit from a puppy?

As this week hit me hard, I found myself returning to my last blog and really considering all that I said.  As I thought about the wound, and how slowly a deep, painful wound heals....another thought hit me.  We've all seen those wounds that were ignored, not properly cared for and because of that they scar over in a not so aesthetic way.  All the while, the wound takes an extreme amount of time to heal because of improper care.  No matter how painful it is, it is incredibly important to make sure wounds are scoured clean of any debris or necrotic tissue that could cause infection.  The wound must also be kept covered and medicated to keep it moist so it can take the time to slowly heal, at it's own pace, allowing a neat and clean closure.

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

And it hit me.  That's me, to a certain degree.

• This wound, this pain is so deep, I have to be cautious to not allow it to heal with an ugly scar.  I must also allow it the time and care it requires in order to properly heal.

For if I don't, it will come back time and time again with a need for scrubbing and bleeding as I clean out the all the pent up pain I haven't faced.

• I must baby it, carefully keeping it covered and moist to allow proper healing. 

In my case, that means staying deep in the Word, solid footing on my foundation, and surrounded by people who love me and are willing to face this life long journey with me.  I must protect myself from certain situations that I know will cause undo pain,  When I absolutely must face something, I must be sure to be covered with prayer and sustained by caring, strong people that will keep me protected as I crawl my way through the pain.

Oh how I love how the scriptures continue to speak to you days after something hits you so profoundly.  Areas are constantly being brought into the light that I must deal with, confess, and move forward, leaving any baggage behind and trusting God's future for me.

As we approach these last months leading up to the anniversary of Amanda's death, the pain is so incredibly raw it is painful to even think about.  All that we did, and all that Amanda worked so hard at being a part of are sweet memories, yet now I see them in a different light.  The signs that we thought were merely weakness from chemo was actually the tumor impacting all that she did.  That fact alone - the fact that I missed it even though it was so blatantly in front of me; can completely shatter me if I dwell on it.

So I don't.  The moment those thoughts begin to surface, I battle back against it with hope and truth.

Psalm 91:1-4

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Surely he will save you
    from the fowler’s snare
    and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
    and under his wings you will find refuge;
    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

And then, and only then, do I find refuge and peace.  I'll be honest, it doesn't always come right away, it may take minutes, hours, even days - but praise God, it does come.  

So no matter the anxieties and hurts ahead of me these next few months, I'll keep the battle going. 

To quote one of my dearest friends that likes to remind me how big my God is,  (who happens to quote Veggie Tales, but hey, she is a kindergarten teacher. I love the simplicity...), "God is bigger than the boogeyman...."  

And some days, that's all the reminder I need to get my focus back where it should be.  Isn't life a strange thing....

Brokenhearted and wounded....

Psalm 147:1-5

Praise the Lord! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting. The Lord builds up Jerusalem; he gathers the outcasts of Israel. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names. Great is our Lord, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure. 

I have often heard "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." but it has never really been one of those verses that spoke to me. Until this weekend. 

Both of my boys were gone and I was spending a little quiet time alone, struggling with missing Amanda.  I was simply missing her companionship. Nothing particular that triggered it, unless you count the complete absence of her as a trigger, and I was really feeling low.  

So with my coffee and bible, I opened to the Psalms. Since I had no particular plan, I just started at the end of the book of Psalms, reading and thinking over the chapters as I went. I started at chapter 150 and when got to 147, I came to verse three and stopped. For the first time - it was as if God said, "Pay attention!"

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

I certainly get the brokenhearted part. That has always been the easy part to understand....but for some reason the "binds up their wounds" has just always slid past me. That day, however, it clicked. 

What happens when you don't properly bind a wound? Several things are possible:

• It could get infected. 

I could focus on anger, bitterness and blame God. 

• It could heal improperly.

I could stuff my grief and ignore it, only to have it surface in unhealthy ways. 

• A wound takes longer to heal when not properly taken care of. 

By not taking proper care of myself as I deal with the loss and death of Amanda, it impacts everyone around me. Biblical Counseling, quiet time, rest, surrounding myself with loving and supportive friends and family are some ways I continue to try and take care of myself. 

• The wound hurts more when not cared for properly. 

Trying to maneuver this thing called grief without trusting the sovereignty of God is inconceivable. 

• An uncared-for wound affects my entire being, both physically and mentally. 

If I am so overwhelmed with trying to care for myself by my own strength power, not only would I fail miserably, but how could I be of any help to my husband, son and others placed in my life?

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

I already comprehend and cling to the truth that God heals the brokenhearted, and now I am grateful for the understanding of how imperative it is that I allow God to bind up my wounds. 

“The only way,” replied George Mueller, a patriarch of faith, “to learn strong faith is to endure great trials. I have learned my faith by standing firm amid severe testings.” This is very true. The time to trust is when all else fails. - A.B. Simpson, Streams in the Desert 

Losing Amanda feels like an amputation.  A part of me is gone, and I still find myself  looking for her.....often.  Only through His healing and "binding of my wounds" will I be able to make it through each day without her, for the rest of my life.  

God has time and time again proven faithful and good, and He continues to provide me opportunities to share that with others in the most unexpected ways.  

My wound is still deep and painful, but I know that I am in good hands.  God, without me even realizing it, has already started the process of binding my wounds and healing my heart.   

Oh how deep is the Father's love for us...

 
Ephesians 3:18-19
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Tom and I found some purple roses and couldn't help but take them to Amanda's grave.

Look what is growing right next to her grave.....grapevines.

With clusters of green grapes....

June 1 is Grammy and Grampy's anniversary, so we took a spring bouquet in memory of a beautiful marriage.  They were married in 1941.

And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:2-4 

My sweet babies....love remembering those days.