Saturday, December 22, 2012

For today.

 I want so much to write about the gift Daniel is in my life and how today was just another beautiful testimony to his life, but today just wasn't the case at all. Today was imperfectly, humanly, insanely {ab}normal. Today, I just can't be that positive, half-full-in-the-face-of-tragedy kind of person. I woke up angry that Ryan had to work today. That I was marking Daniel's second birthday away from me. That to try and picture a five year old Daniel's face is beyond something I can imagine. That today, more then anything, I just wanted to crawl away from reality. 
Death and loss and pain and emptiness has been in the forefront of my mind this week. Sandy Hook and those kids and families. Mary-as in Jesus' mother.  The story we all share. Wondering what it all means. My mind and heart are working on something, but I just need to be right now. I know once I am outside of this storm, I truly will have appreciated the lesson being formed from my thoughts, but for now, I just want to awknowledge that I am a mother missing her oldest. That on a fifth birthday, I put balloons (two initially but then Andrew got ahold of one; I'll smile at that later) on a grave. I made cookies instead of a birthday cake. I cleaned a house and did a million loads of laundry. I separated two fighting brothers and wished so badly they would get why my heart just wasn't in to much today. That every so often, I would glance at the time and remember five years ago, what Ryan and I were doing as a new family of three. And then wishing my family of five didn't have such a huge ethereal rip in it.  That to celebrate a birthday where Daniel wasn't present was too much for me this year.
I miss him. Plain and simple. And today was just a reminder that I have so many more birthdays to work through until I can see him again. 
I am breaking down walls and building stronger ones in the wake of all of this. But, for today, I just need to let them crumble.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Friday afternoon I purposely stayed away from media outlets, including Facebook, because the thought of seeing the opinions and controversies and arguments of could have/should have/should do/shouldn't dos was turning my stomach. It's horrible enough to find out at work what happened and not be able to fully digest all the information and then have a patient ask how I would feel in a Mother's shoes over a death of a child by gun, and then go home to read people's reactions. I simply went about my day and that evening, while wrestling sitting with my children at bath time, I really let the story sink in.
Maybe it's still sinking in.
To me, it isn't about a gun control issue, a mental illness issue, a breech of security issue (although, I understand this is a multifaceted issue that can-and is- touching all of those topics) but really, my thoughts were with those babies, their families, the faculty and the EMS team.
So quickly the media raced out to leech upon the news story, to count the number of casualties and measure this shooting up to others, to seek out those-kids-who were there at the scene to get a story, to speculate and rub their grubby paws all over and muck up a very private mourning session. Shame. Such shame. Life is no longer sacred. Money and fame is our treasure. In increasingly growing amounts.
One of my older patients really got me thinking. In my 27 years of age, this does feel like the worst of the worst, but she so soberly reminded me that in her 77 years of age, she's lived thru bad stuff. 50 years sets us apart, and bad stuff is still happening.
We, as a race, are not learning. We're stuck in such a bad place and we're reaping what we're sowing. I'm not the brightest, smartest, most educated on politics/theology/amendment rights, but I can see that whatever it is we're trying to argue and prove, is lacking. When does it stop? How does it stop?
I called out to my God last night in tears, hurting for this country, this world, those families, myself, hurting for Him who grieves as we do. We're letting one another down in a big way. When will our scales be removed from our eyes to see what is being created?

Photos from the phone

Thursday, December 6, 2012

I am only a witness

It started last week. Well, it probably started long before I can even comprehend, but I started to feel tugs at my conscious last week.  I read John 1 1:5 and there was something about those verses that stayed with me. Sunday in church ignited me. This evening humbled me. 
I am but a witness to His love.
I wouldn't have ever chosen this outlet to show His grace, but God knew where my heart lay and that was in my children. He gave me Daniel to teach me far more then just being a Mother; he gave me Daniel to stretch myself and my man made boundaries, to challenge my heart and my spirit, and to find the courage to speak out about Him and death and love and loss.
I was so nervous starting a collection in honor of Daniel for CHS. Stepping out and taking charge isn't something I do. I'm a behind the scenes kind of girl. I felt so vulnerable even suggesting my idea because I was nervous I wouldn't get a response. And scared.  I almost backed out exclaiming to God, "this isn't me, can't I remember Daniel from the safety of my home?" But my journey is so much bigger then me and me lowly personal struggles, so much bigger then Daniel's birthday alone. This collection, this blog, this life, this story is but a witness to the miracle.
Yeah. Miracle.
The miracle of His love, His grace, His light, His promise. The very notion that He is in every bit of our lives.  I see that plainly with the huge response to my call for donations to CHS. Your help, my step up to His call, Daniel's life has all been orchestrated by something far bigger then things needed. He is linking and connecting each of us to one another is such a way that is beautiful and merciful and giving. 
I am but a witness to the joy He can bring out of a struggle. 
And  I write this all tonight because of a knock on the door at 8:30. I bore my heart to start a collection in honor of Daniel, left my cloak of contentment behind, made myself vulnerable to critique and put myself out there. And a woman and her children show up with cookies and a note that they were thinking of us and Daniel this season. I stepped out afraid and feeling naked by bearing my heart's desire for my son, and these people, whom I don't even know, give me so much back. I don't think they even know what they just did for me. I, my family, was placed on their hearts. By celebrating Daniel's life and thinking his legacy could help others in need, God linked me up to bear some of that help. I received more then cookies tonight, I received the strength to continue my journey and bear witness that no matter where I am in the journey, from crying in a heap on my bed to stepping out and bearing my soul, He will always stand by me and support me. Tonight, it came in the form of Knowing You Ministries.

I hope this even makes sense. I went a little maniac typing because this feeling is so powerful. I miss that boy so much. But in all of this, I know my reunion with him is going to be so much sweeter because my heart will be so much stronger.

And completely humbled that my post about collecting for CHS has the all time highest views on my blog. 

Photos from the phone Friday

My favorite Mason :)

Jake took this picture :) Im sure Andrew was on his way to put an ornament in his mouth

The boy child has always cuddled right after a bath.

St Nick's night