Ambulance

In the past week, I have found myself driving over the bridge many times.  Many miles, many hours on the road.....all to get my people where they want to be.  Driving out of love I suppose.

So while driving one day (actually happened three times), I see an ambulance coming up the inside lane, lights flashing and trying to work its way through traffic.  I have always been aware and have moved out of the way for our first-responders.  It's the law and I would never want to be the delay.  Lately, I find myself so highly sensitized when this happens.  I am telling the other cars where they should go, not that they hear me.  I am imagining what scene may be happening inside. 

I think about the family who has been called to meet them at the hospital.  I wonder if children's lives are about to be forever changed.  I think about the spouse that might be launched into an altered reality. 

In the past, I moved out of the way and then just proceeded on my journey.  Now, I grieve for what might be happening.  I wish, my mind saw positive outcomes, but usually not.

I pray.  I pray that the outcome is not what all I imagine.  I pray for the workers.  I pray for the families.  I pray for the hospital staff on the receiving end who either has to get to work or share the most awful reality with someone.

When you see those lights......move and pray.  You will never know the story.

Feels Good to be Back

Hey there.  So two things brought me back to this place.

The first, one day when my daughter was playing online she found this blog.  She loved it.  She was so happy to see my thoughts and feelings.  She shared it with her siblings who were equally grateful.  That made the think of all the things that have happened along the way to bring us to this place of being ok to reflect.  I may share some back stories or perhaps just move forward.  At the time I was doing something therapeutic for me, but now I see it is a gift that keeps on giving.

Second, I have a friend walking in similar shoes.  She is a friend of sorts.  More of an acquaintance through our firstborns.  Like me, she is not a young mom but a mom of young children.  Like me, a heart attack changed her forever and her children's life stories.  Like me, she doesn't have many local to rally for her and will be depending on the understanding and generosity of others.  I am trying to help her navigate, while respecting that this is her journey and one day her story to tell.  In doing those things, I found myself back here reading.  And crying.  Remembering and being so thankful for where we are now.

I will never say it is easy since that would just be a lie, but I will say that I am learning to trust myself more.  I have found the people who love me for me.  I have cut off a lot of people that became baggage I didn't need to lug around.  I have come to peace with God and know that one day I will be reunited with Rocky and will either not care anymore or will get the answers, either one is ok with me.  I am proud of my kids and who each one is becoming.  I am accepting that we are all growing the way we are supposed to (not that this pre-teen/teen thing isn't crazy).  I am getting to know me again.  What I like, what my dream are and I am kinda liking me.  I am a pretty cool person to hang around if I do say so myself:)  If you don't agree, I am ok with that too...….see all that progress?  Anyway, I will share the journey more.  For my kids.  For anyone that cares.  For me.

Feels good to be back!

Telling the Kids

So all I can think about at the hospital is how am I going to tell the kids.  I decided that I did not want to be alone.  I asked Jonathan Blackmon, the children’s pastor and Ron Douglas, the Royal Ranger Commander to be with me.  We came up with a plan to have the kids meet us at the house.  When I arrived at the house, there were lots of people there.  I remember having to ask them to leave.  Some I’m not sure I even knew.

It was probably 7:00 at night.  The kids had been picked up from school by a friend and had no idea what was going on.  I paced around the house trying to find the best location to tell them.  Does location even matter?  In my mind, somehow it did.  I ended up choosing the dinner room table.  The kids came in.  They could sense something was very wrong.   How do I speak?  Oh Holy Spirit give me the words.  We sat down and they all looked at me.  Jonathan and Ron were around the table too.  I don’t remember my exact words but I remember being fairly direct.  Something like

Your father had a heart attack.  He loved you very much but I am sorry.  He did not make it.  Your father is dead.

Let that sit there a minute.

Your father is dead.

What else can you say?  What can you do?  What a blow.  Flashback to the day Mrs. Engle, my parent’s friend, picked me up at work and told me that my father was dead.  Time stops.  Is it real?

Back to the present……How do I help them?  Who is going to help me?  What are we going to do next?

• Samuel immediately began to cry and Ron began speaking to him.

• Micah zipped his jacket up over his head and sat in silence.

• Phoebe ran to her room crying.

• Lucas crawled under the table.  Probably not understanding but knowing this was big.

• Isaiah sat at the table, looked around and began crying.  His tears, I believe, were more about the tears his siblings were crying than the news itself.  Only 5.  So young.
• I sat there, feeling completely hopeless.  Numb.  Telling them made it more read than seeing him in the hospital.  This was the reality of it.  This is the path being laid before me.  Jesus help me.

We tried to comfort them.  We told them their dad loved them.  We told them God had us.  We told them so many things.  Honestly, there is nothing to say.  That moment in time was the single hardest thing I have ever experienced.  I lost my husband.  They lost their daddy.  The ball coach.  Their Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy.  They lost their dreams.  They lost something so special that it can never be replaced.  How am I going to do this?  How will I raise them alone?

I knew then that I would do whatever I needed to make my kids’ lives happy.  This kind of pain is unfair.  This future isn’t fair.  Who will walk Phoebe down the aisle?  Who will intimidate the dates?  Who will love them like he did?  He was a father that gave it all for his kids.  Lord, I pray they know this.  Above all, they were so loved by their daddy.

Every Minute Counts

Mornings happen.  Every single day.  Some days we get to sleep in and take mornings slowly.  Most mornings we hit the ground running.

I have been feeling a lot of stress lately.  Back hurting, brain spinning, over the top stress.  Nothing specific, yet everything stresses me out.

I guess it is the 5 kid thing.  It is hard.

My Phoebe has been trying really hard lately to de stress me.  Lots of hugs, kisses and words of affirmation are coming from her.  I am sure it is the calm before the teenage storm, but I’ll take it.

This morning, like every morning.  Everything is happening at once.  In the midst of it, Phoebe comes and says, “Do you have time to braid my hair?”

What!?  No, do you see the chaos abounding.  Her sweet smile.  Of course, we have 7 minutes until we have to pull out.  I can do this!

We are in the bathroom.  I am braiding.  Two minutes in and the yelling starts.  I hear a “stop it”, a “shut up” and crying.  I continue braiding.  I try to tune it out.  I feel the blood pressure rising.  I am going to finish this dang braid if it kills me.  They will not win!

3 minutes later, with 2 more to spare.  I finish the braid (not my best work but completion under pressure is important here).  I go out to address the other stuff happening.  I yell, I remind that no means no, I announce it is time to go.

Wait, where are my shoes?  My leg hurts.  So and so is being mean. 

Get in the car!!

We start driving.  I am practicing my breathing techniques.  I watch the clock.  If I make all the lights green, we might make it.

I watch the clock for the next 20 minutes for each drop off and pick up of children.  I am racing the clock.  Everyday… I race the clock.  Everyday… I lose the race.  Every minute counts in the morning.

Do I lose, or is it ok?  My boss is a saint who extends me so much grace, my daughter’s hair looks cute, my kids are all alive and well and off to learn.  When I calm myself and reflect……It is a good life.  I am blessed.

Just need my people to understand that in the morning things would go smoother if they just understood every minute counts.

It is a journey.  It is a challenge.  It is my life.  At the end of the day I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Two Years

So, here we are at two years post lost and I know one thing for sure; we did not die on this day two years ago.  A huge part of us did, but we are living.  Our living has taken new form.  Our day to day has changed.  Our routines have evolved.  We are living differently.  Our lens on the world has changed.  The people we depend on are new.  Much from the past was lost that day two years ago.  My children are left with a grand canyon of a hole in their lives.  All of the firsts to come that he will not experience, but they are living and will experience them non the less.  We have faced challenges and struggles we couldn't imagine.  They have become a part of us.  We have evolved.  If you stayed for the journey, you have seen the changes and we thank you for your patience with us.  To those that joined us along the way, we thank God for sending you.  For those who moved on, we understand and thank God you were once here.  In many ways we are lost and disconnected but we are working to figure it out.  The future is unknown.  We are heading boldly in its direction. We are living.  We know pain.  We know sorrow.  We know hope.  We know joy.  We are alive!

Happy New Year?

So, today is January first.  I have been reading peoples status on Facebook and wondered if I should write something.  Just like I always wonder if I should post things.  Who cares where I have been?  Who cares where I go?  Why do people feel a need to share?  Why do I struggle with sharing or not?  I wonder what peoples motives for sharing are?  What are my motives?  Why do I think so much?

Here are some thoughts......2015

Was it the worst year?  No
Was it the best year? No
Was it a roller coaster?  Yes........but I think that is true of every year for every one.  Why?  Life is a roller coaster.  It has its ups and downs and how we choose to live it or look at it is entirely up to us. We can let the ride terrify us or we can laugh at our own fears.  I think of the roller coaster I rode just the other night.  You go into this dark room and it stops.  You wonder, what is going on?  Then, the thing just drops.  I mean free fall straight down.  Before you know it you are flying on another track.  Isn't that how life is?  You fall onto another track and speed forward wondering what curves my lie ahead.  Just like on a roller coaster there are a few people traveling with you.  They yell to hold on and laugh with you at the fear of the whole thing. 

That sums up my year.  Many people tell me I am strong.  I am just holding on.  If they took time to talk to me they would know that I would really love to jump out of the long line just to get on the ride.  This year, few people have shown me that they will ride with me and yell to hold on.  Those people will wait in the line with me because they know I lack patience.  Those people know the hidden pains and damage.  Those people see the victories.  Those people are the ones I will resolve to invest in more this year.  I have learned that the greatest investment you can make is in the people who are willing to ride the coaster with you, no matter what lies ahead.  .

Happy New Year to my friends from the past, the present and those that will be sent to bless my future!

A great mom and a horrible dad

I was riding in the car with Micah.  It was one of those how in the heck do we do it kind of days.  I went to a training at work.  Left the training picked the kids up for dentist appointments, left there for counseling, dropped Phoebe off at the barn and was finally heading home.  Decided I was spent and stopped for some KFC for dinner.  If you ever go to KFC in Salisbury, you know it is the slowest fast food on the planet.  So we had plenty of time to wait.  In that time, the sheer exhaustion came out and I said that I was not doing this single parent thing very well.  Micah questioned me.  I went on one of my dialogues that I am not sure anyone listens to and more pitifully, I am not sure I care.  Eventually I made a proclamation.

I am not failing at parenting.
I am a really great mom.  I nurture, I love, I am there for my kids.
I am a terrible dad.  I can't follow through on punishments.  I am inconsistent.  I am not firm, but erratic.

Micah looked at me.  It was quiet for a minute as we both pondered what I had just said.  All of a sudden he is crying.  I am looking at him.  Whoa......this one never shows any emotion other than anger.  He says, "The last thing I said was I'll see you after school".  I said, "me too".  He then said something that hit me so deep down.  He said, "You and dad used to fight."  I told him that we did and that couples do that some times.  He told me that at one point he thought we were going to get divorced. 

I was speechless.

Rocky and I didn't fight often but when we did, we did it well.  And apparently loud.

Micah and I talked.  I told him that our move to Gumboro was really stressful.  I shared that I have had to deal with the stress the move put on our family at the time he died.  That it was something I had to process and deal with.  I told him that couples fight and I am so sorry that he ever thought we wouldn't stay together.  I told him that his father and I loved each other and were committed to make it work.  I told him that his father loved him.  And that I loved him very much.

He said, "Can you order tacos with that chicken?"  And like that the moment was gone and he had moved on.

Told you the KFC was slow.

I am thankful for that moment.  I am thankful that he shared.  I am thankful that I understand.

I am not a bad parent.  I am a great mom.  I am not so good at being dad.  I am learning to be both.