Hopes were high. We felt the need to rush. My sister, Mel, my husband and I were on our way to Chicago to catch a flight to Seattle, Washington for my cousin's son's funeral. It's about a 3 hour drive to where a different cousin has offered to let us park the truck. Then we planned to walk to the subway and ride for about an hour to the airport. We left at 4:00am after about two and a half hours of sleep. We had dropped our children off at Grandpa and Grandma's house the night before and didn't get back until late, then we wanted to shower so we wouldn't have to in the morning.
We called my sister when we left our house to pick her up. No answer. When we arrived at her house it was dark. We called again, no answer. I tried the door. Locked. Shortly she came to the door and let me in. She had just woken up. It didn't take her long to get ready and we were on our way.
This was when things started getting silly. Early that morning, before we had slept for our two and a half hours, Eric was headed to his office in the basement, so trying to save some time, I asked if he could drop a couple things in the washer on the way. I had started the load earlier, but had stopped it before it finished the cycle so I could add the clothes I wanted to wear to the airport. He was willing to help and left with the clothes. I continued to dry my hair and get ready for bed. When it was time to switch the load to the dryer, I realized the clothes were still on the floor by the washer. I started the load. Later Eric came up and wondered why I wasn't going to bed. I told him I was waiting to put the clothes in the dryer. He commented, "You should have started that earlier, that wasn't very good planning, was it?" For some reason, as we told Mel our story at 4 something in the morning we thought this was hilarious. In fact with so little sleep, we pretty much thought everything was funny.
The roads were clear and we made good time. Just as we were parking our truck in Chicago, Mel's cousin came out of her house on her way to an early morning swim and offered us a ride to the subway. It wasn't a far walk, but this would save us some time and we were grateful for the help and amazed that we had arrived at almost the exact time that she was leaving her house. Sometimes it seems like God works things together and smooths the way for us. It sure seemed that way with the airline tickets. We had looked into the prices for flying, and had eventually decided to drive because flying was too expensive for us. I was not looking forward to 70 plus hours of driving in 4 days. Then one of our friends who works for an airline offered us 3 standby tickets. All we had to pay was some taxes. He said he's never had anyone not get a flight. They might miss the first one, but then get on the next. We were shocked, and so thankful.
The first of our airport troubles began as we checked the kiosk for our tickets and attempted to print. We were informed we needed to see a flight representative for assistance. Our flight had been canceled. And not only our flight, but also a flight last night to Portland, Oregon. Now there were about 400 passengers on standby who wanted to reach the west coast.
We moved from concourse to concourse, gate to gate, hoping for an empty seat. We would expectantly watch the screen where the passenger information was displayed. Each flight hoping that we would get on -- even though the standby list was long! At one time we were standby passengers 53 through 55, I think. And yet we still hoped? I guess hope can defy logic. After the passengers had boarded for each flight we would hear the attendant make that so familiar announcement -- "The standby list will be transferred to the next available flight." And so we waited. We waited until after the last flight that day. Then decided to find a cheap hotel to sleep for a few hours before we tried again the next day. Then we waited some more for the hotel shuttle. And we waited, and we waited. The driver eventually showed and gave some explanation which I didn't believe. Then we sat in the van and waited and waited some more. Ten more minutes, he told us. He said he was waiting for someone. The ten turned into twenty, or was it thirty? Eventually he drove us away, and continued telling stories. He reminded me of my 4 year old son, Shiloh, -- "...And we were walking on the ocean and we said 'ocean, turn into a house' and it did, and then we flew to the sky with a shark..." You get the picture.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Musings on "Lament" -- Last One
I hate to think of my son's body rotting in his casket. I use to treat graves as sacred, maybe I still should; I would walk around people's plots reading the headstones, but in a sense it has become common. I do not mind if someone walks over my son's grave. It is just grass. It is just a white box. It is not him. And yet it is him. It's not much, but it's what I have. Rotting.
Truly terrible is the mystery of death.
I lament at the sight of the beauty
created for us in the image of God
which lies now in the grave
without shape, without glory, without consideration.
-- John of Damascus
But...
We have seen a great mystery:
We shall all be changed.
We shall be raised in Christ
as we were buried in Christ.
Death is swallowed up in victory.
-- I Cor. 15
Behold, I am making all things new.
I am the Alpha and the Omega,
the beginning and the end.
-- Revelation 21
(Excerpts taken from Requiem: Eric Wolterstorff in Memoriam)
Truly terrible is the mystery of death.
I lament at the sight of the beauty
created for us in the image of God
which lies now in the grave
without shape, without glory, without consideration.
-- John of Damascus
But...
We have seen a great mystery:
We shall all be changed.
We shall be raised in Christ
as we were buried in Christ.
Death is swallowed up in victory.
-- I Cor. 15
Behold, I am making all things new.
I am the Alpha and the Omega,
the beginning and the end.
-- Revelation 21
(Excerpts taken from Requiem: Eric Wolterstorff in Memoriam)
Musings on "Lament" -- One More After This
Without sin there would be no suffering, but what about love? Perhaps without love there would be no suffering. If we didn't love others, we wouldn't be bothered by their pain. If we didn't love ourselves we wouldn't be bothered by that pain either. And if we love God, we cannot help but be bothered by suffering. God is just, to love Him is to hate injustice. God is holy, to love Him is to hate sin. God is love, and to love Him is to be loving. But if God is love and He loves us, then He must suffer? And if He suffers, why prolong His suffering? Why not come back now? He is long-suffering that many would come to repentance. He asks us to know Him in the fellowship of His suffering. Do we wait in this world of suffering for love of many that still have not seen Christ and His glory?
And then the thought that the suffering itself can become a blessing. Now life gets even more confusing. As Wolterstorff questions, "How do I tell my blessings? For what do I give thanks and for what do I lament?... How do I sustain my 'No' to my son's early death while accepting with gratitude the opportunity offered of becoming what otherwise i could never be?"
And then the thought that the suffering itself can become a blessing. Now life gets even more confusing. As Wolterstorff questions, "How do I tell my blessings? For what do I give thanks and for what do I lament?... How do I sustain my 'No' to my son's early death while accepting with gratitude the opportunity offered of becoming what otherwise i could never be?"
Blessed are the Mourners
Jesus says, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."
What does He mean? Blessed because God is close to the broken-hearted? Blessed because God will bring comfort?
Nicholas Wolterstorff sheds an interesting light, "Mourners are aching visionaries...Mourners are those who have caught a glimpse of God's new day, who ache with all their being for that day's coming, and who break out into tears when confronted with its absence."
I cannot say it as well as him, so I will continue with his words.
"They are the ones who realize that in God's realm of peace there is no one blind and who ache whenever they see someone unseeing. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one hungry and who ache whenever they see someone starving. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one falsely accused and who ache whenever they see someone imprisoned unjustly. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one who fails to see God and who ache whenever they see someone unbelieving. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one who suffers oppression and who ache whenever they see someone beat down. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one without dignity and who ache whenever they see someone treated with indignity. There are the ones who realize that in God's realm of peace there is neither death nor tears and who ache whenever they see someone crying tears over death."
Even so come quickly Lord Jesus! Come bring your Kingdom. Come and bring comfort.
What does He mean? Blessed because God is close to the broken-hearted? Blessed because God will bring comfort?
Nicholas Wolterstorff sheds an interesting light, "Mourners are aching visionaries...Mourners are those who have caught a glimpse of God's new day, who ache with all their being for that day's coming, and who break out into tears when confronted with its absence."
I cannot say it as well as him, so I will continue with his words.
"They are the ones who realize that in God's realm of peace there is no one blind and who ache whenever they see someone unseeing. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one hungry and who ache whenever they see someone starving. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one falsely accused and who ache whenever they see someone imprisoned unjustly. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one who fails to see God and who ache whenever they see someone unbelieving. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one who suffers oppression and who ache whenever they see someone beat down. They are the ones who realize that in God's realm there is no one without dignity and who ache whenever they see someone treated with indignity. There are the ones who realize that in God's realm of peace there is neither death nor tears and who ache whenever they see someone crying tears over death."
Even so come quickly Lord Jesus! Come bring your Kingdom. Come and bring comfort.
Musings on "Lament" -- Almost Done
Nicholas Wolterstorff felt like he couldn't cry. That crying was for women. Maybe that is why I feel like I am expected to cry. Sometimes the tears don't come. Sometimes they come at unexpected times. Sometimes you have to put it on hold because someone needs you.
Grief is a strange thing. You carry it with you all the time. Not that you are never happy, just that a heaviness has settled. People may ask, "How are you?" and if I say "good" suspect me of not answering honestly or being open and real (as some like to say). But that is not it. Besides the fact that I am still redeemed and because of Jesus I really am good; it's just that this state of pain is my new normal. The heaviness does not lift. As Wolterstorff says, "Sorrow is no longer the island, but the sea." In the midst of happiness, there is still a pulling inside.
"What consolation can there be other than having him back?" -- N.W. It is not consolation to think that his life has affected someone else in a positive way. A good thing that comes from a bad thing does not make the bad thing good. God makes beauty from ashes. But does God make the ashes beautiful or does beauty grow from the ashes?
Life goes on. It has to really, there is no other way. Sometimes I wish it would stop. I remember after our baby died we went to get some food, and I was struck by how normal a day it was for everyone. The twist of that is, their day could also have been shattering and I never knew.
It's hard to believe someone has really died. Even if you see and touch the one that has died. It's hard to know the tricks my sister's mind must play on her because she didn't even see our brother laying in the hospital -- just his ashes. The phone rang on Sunday and I thought it was my brother calling again. It was about a month after Ian died that fresh pain set in again. I realized that this wasn't a joke, that death is final, that we really weren't going to have a baby. There is nothing that can be done. You are completely helpless, and that is one thing that makes death so horrible. It is final. I know because of Jesus we will see those who believe again, but it is the now that hurts. The now that you will never hold them or talk to them or play with them. It is the now that is so hard and so long.
It hurts to have dreams die. All the dreams we had for our child -- gone. The dream of seeing his first step, of hearing his little giggle, of seeing him ride a bike, of learning to read, of graduating, of getting married perhaps, of helping others and being a wise man. Living children can destroy our dreams for them too, but there is always hope that they will turn and do what is right. Life is just so hard.
Then there are the dreams we have while we sleep. Strange. Twisting facts and people. Sometimes the one we love is whole again, sometimes the dream is frighteningly real. For about the first month, between my husband and I, we dreamed every night of our son.
I want to tell people that I have five boys. But I can't. I feel robbed somehow, gipped. One day I was in a grocery store and a lady was commenting on all my boys. She said, "We had all boys too, oh, but we had five." So did I. So did I. My heart yearns to be heard. But I don't have five. Someone stole one of them. The hard thing is that the Someone is God. I do not understand. As Wolterstorff states, "It is not your absence in which I dwell, but Your elusive troubling presence." Did God cause death? God came to destroy death. The last enemy to be destroy is death. But isn't God love? Isn't God all-powerful? Perhaps you cannot say, "God caused his death", but how can you not say "God could have stopped his death." And then I wonder what is the difference? If He allowed it to happen, He could have stopped it. I cannot reconcile this in my mind. I have heard others present their reasoning and theology. Sometimes I can see what they are saying, but still I do not understand God. The questions come up again. But underneath or through it all I believe that God is still good and still cares for me. At times I feel like a dog that keeps running to its owner who kicks him away, but undaunted keeps running back, only to be kick again, but he runs back. Crazy? Yes, I am. I have felt like a fool to believe, but a fool to give up believing.
And yet, faith continues. Faith is refined. Faith grows through lament. But would I choose faith, if given a choice? Or would I choose to have the one I love back? I have to believe that God's mercy doesn't give me a choice because I think I would choose a life of ease and miss the True Treasure.
Grief is a strange thing. You carry it with you all the time. Not that you are never happy, just that a heaviness has settled. People may ask, "How are you?" and if I say "good" suspect me of not answering honestly or being open and real (as some like to say). But that is not it. Besides the fact that I am still redeemed and because of Jesus I really am good; it's just that this state of pain is my new normal. The heaviness does not lift. As Wolterstorff says, "Sorrow is no longer the island, but the sea." In the midst of happiness, there is still a pulling inside.
"What consolation can there be other than having him back?" -- N.W. It is not consolation to think that his life has affected someone else in a positive way. A good thing that comes from a bad thing does not make the bad thing good. God makes beauty from ashes. But does God make the ashes beautiful or does beauty grow from the ashes?
Life goes on. It has to really, there is no other way. Sometimes I wish it would stop. I remember after our baby died we went to get some food, and I was struck by how normal a day it was for everyone. The twist of that is, their day could also have been shattering and I never knew.
It's hard to believe someone has really died. Even if you see and touch the one that has died. It's hard to know the tricks my sister's mind must play on her because she didn't even see our brother laying in the hospital -- just his ashes. The phone rang on Sunday and I thought it was my brother calling again. It was about a month after Ian died that fresh pain set in again. I realized that this wasn't a joke, that death is final, that we really weren't going to have a baby. There is nothing that can be done. You are completely helpless, and that is one thing that makes death so horrible. It is final. I know because of Jesus we will see those who believe again, but it is the now that hurts. The now that you will never hold them or talk to them or play with them. It is the now that is so hard and so long.
It hurts to have dreams die. All the dreams we had for our child -- gone. The dream of seeing his first step, of hearing his little giggle, of seeing him ride a bike, of learning to read, of graduating, of getting married perhaps, of helping others and being a wise man. Living children can destroy our dreams for them too, but there is always hope that they will turn and do what is right. Life is just so hard.
Then there are the dreams we have while we sleep. Strange. Twisting facts and people. Sometimes the one we love is whole again, sometimes the dream is frighteningly real. For about the first month, between my husband and I, we dreamed every night of our son.
I want to tell people that I have five boys. But I can't. I feel robbed somehow, gipped. One day I was in a grocery store and a lady was commenting on all my boys. She said, "We had all boys too, oh, but we had five." So did I. So did I. My heart yearns to be heard. But I don't have five. Someone stole one of them. The hard thing is that the Someone is God. I do not understand. As Wolterstorff states, "It is not your absence in which I dwell, but Your elusive troubling presence." Did God cause death? God came to destroy death. The last enemy to be destroy is death. But isn't God love? Isn't God all-powerful? Perhaps you cannot say, "God caused his death", but how can you not say "God could have stopped his death." And then I wonder what is the difference? If He allowed it to happen, He could have stopped it. I cannot reconcile this in my mind. I have heard others present their reasoning and theology. Sometimes I can see what they are saying, but still I do not understand God. The questions come up again. But underneath or through it all I believe that God is still good and still cares for me. At times I feel like a dog that keeps running to its owner who kicks him away, but undaunted keeps running back, only to be kick again, but he runs back. Crazy? Yes, I am. I have felt like a fool to believe, but a fool to give up believing.
And yet, faith continues. Faith is refined. Faith grows through lament. But would I choose faith, if given a choice? Or would I choose to have the one I love back? I have to believe that God's mercy doesn't give me a choice because I think I would choose a life of ease and miss the True Treasure.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Miracles
My husband and I watched a movie that said -- The prerequisite for a miracle is an impossibility.
What are the impossibilities in my life? Or even more simply -- what miracles am I praying for? I am reminded of literature I read in college. The man had access to magic and he asked for a bowl of grapes. I think -- Grapes? You could have asked for anything? But maybe that is what I do with God. Not that He is a magician, but am I asking?
Our pastor challenged us last year and this year again to pick one specific thing to ask God for this year. Last year I prayed for salvation for our boys -- I do think at least one of them genuinely believes -- I am still praying. This year I am praying that God will pay off our debt by the end of the year. My faith is small. My husband lost his job.
So many prayer requests are on-going. Things that could begin this year, but take years to complete. For example; that I will have wise boys, that God will strengthen our marriage.
Then there are the things I know I should be praying for God to change in my own heart, but I just don't want to surrender. And then I do. And then I don't.
Emotions change with bad pizza. Why don't I just do what is right.
I am tired.
What are the impossibilities in my life? Or even more simply -- what miracles am I praying for? I am reminded of literature I read in college. The man had access to magic and he asked for a bowl of grapes. I think -- Grapes? You could have asked for anything? But maybe that is what I do with God. Not that He is a magician, but am I asking?
Our pastor challenged us last year and this year again to pick one specific thing to ask God for this year. Last year I prayed for salvation for our boys -- I do think at least one of them genuinely believes -- I am still praying. This year I am praying that God will pay off our debt by the end of the year. My faith is small. My husband lost his job.
So many prayer requests are on-going. Things that could begin this year, but take years to complete. For example; that I will have wise boys, that God will strengthen our marriage.
Then there are the things I know I should be praying for God to change in my own heart, but I just don't want to surrender. And then I do. And then I don't.
Emotions change with bad pizza. Why don't I just do what is right.
I am tired.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Temptation
Eric read some tips on blogs and it said to never write about your spouse, your kids, or your pets. Good thing I'm not trying to get a following.
So on that note, here's a thought about my husband.
I really want to clean my wedding ring with my husband's sonic powered toothbrush. The bristles are soft, the sound waves could beat away at stubborn dirt. But I keep thinking -- Love others as you love yourself -- and I think that would be gross if someone did that to my toothbrush.
Still... I am so tempted.
So on that note, here's a thought about my husband.
I really want to clean my wedding ring with my husband's sonic powered toothbrush. The bristles are soft, the sound waves could beat away at stubborn dirt. But I keep thinking -- Love others as you love yourself -- and I think that would be gross if someone did that to my toothbrush.
Still... I am so tempted.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Hair Clipping
Tonight my mom had me cut her hair. I may have just assigned my sister as the new permanent hair stylist. My mom may never let me cut her hair again. She was afraid. I told her not to worry -- if I messed it up there was still time for the good daughter to come and fix it.
Well, this is kind of boring, oh well.
Well, this is kind of boring, oh well.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Bike Trip
Recently we went garage saling and replaced our boys' stolen bikes. So today I rode to the park with my boys -- their first trip on the new bikes. I am so worn out! I was behind the entire time, pedaling, pedaling, thinking in my head -- Slow Down! When the light turned red and they had to wait I was excited. Now I can rest. Now I can catch up.
At one point I tried to pedal in sync with Zac. (Micah was even farther ahead of me.) His little legs kept going and going. I thought, doesn't he ever need to take a break? Do his legs ever stop moving? Old commercials of the Energizer Bunny barge into my mind.
Now before I am labeled a complete weeny, I do have a lot in my defense. My tires were a little flat and I was pulling a trailer with two children in it.
I fought the impulse throughout the evening to tell Eric about our trip and how hard I worked. I want him to find out for himself. Next bike ride he will have the trailer and the two younger boys. Oh, poor Eric.
At one point I tried to pedal in sync with Zac. (Micah was even farther ahead of me.) His little legs kept going and going. I thought, doesn't he ever need to take a break? Do his legs ever stop moving? Old commercials of the Energizer Bunny barge into my mind.
Now before I am labeled a complete weeny, I do have a lot in my defense. My tires were a little flat and I was pulling a trailer with two children in it.
I fought the impulse throughout the evening to tell Eric about our trip and how hard I worked. I want him to find out for himself. Next bike ride he will have the trailer and the two younger boys. Oh, poor Eric.
Rip the Coupons!
I am so tired of couponing! I am tired of checking blogs for deals and freebies. I am tired of printing coupons and cutting coupons. I do not want to go to Meijer and spend 10 minutes trying to scan all my coupons, waiting for assistance as the light above the scanner flashes.
I do enjoy sales. I am excited by a good deal, but today I am tired. In the mail today we received two granola bars and one small tube of toothpaste. They were free samples. Shouldn't that inspire me?
I have been trying to spend ten dollars per person per week on supplies and food. It feels a little tight sometimes -- like tonight. We have succeeded for about two months now I think. Even as I write this I am reminded of people that spend about that much per month instead of per week and I wonder, what is the point of my feeble attempts?
So this week I am searching through Taste of Home magazines. I am feasting on the beautiful pictures. Enticed by grilling sensations, summer salads, and warm breads. This week I will not use one coupon. Oh, can I really do it? Can I let the deals slip by? Yes, I must be strong. I will try new recipes. I will grill. I will have fun.
I do enjoy sales. I am excited by a good deal, but today I am tired. In the mail today we received two granola bars and one small tube of toothpaste. They were free samples. Shouldn't that inspire me?
I have been trying to spend ten dollars per person per week on supplies and food. It feels a little tight sometimes -- like tonight. We have succeeded for about two months now I think. Even as I write this I am reminded of people that spend about that much per month instead of per week and I wonder, what is the point of my feeble attempts?
So this week I am searching through Taste of Home magazines. I am feasting on the beautiful pictures. Enticed by grilling sensations, summer salads, and warm breads. This week I will not use one coupon. Oh, can I really do it? Can I let the deals slip by? Yes, I must be strong. I will try new recipes. I will grill. I will have fun.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
"Lament" -- Part 5
I suppose these death commentaries are getting long, but it's hard to read a book and not say something. Reading others' thoughts makes me want to write my thoughts too.
Why? That is the question we ask. Not that we really want an answer.
"Is there no one who can slow it down, make it stop, turn it back?... It keeps on going, unforgiving, unrelenting."
Life just keeps going. We want it to stop. We want everyone to stay in this earth-stopping moment. But it wasn't earth-stopping. Because life does not slow. Back to work. Back to church. Back to school. Back to raising kids.
Some may be puzzled at how a person keeps going. It may seem they are not in pain, but really they have no choice. Everything must go on. Those moments of grief where there is nothing to focus on but the memories and the pain, become precious. Life is unrelenting. No mercy. It keeps hurting and pressing and not giving up. No break.
"Must we all be swept forever on...until the measure of our losses has been filled?"
Why? That is the question we ask. Not that we really want an answer.
"Is there no one who can slow it down, make it stop, turn it back?... It keeps on going, unforgiving, unrelenting."
Life just keeps going. We want it to stop. We want everyone to stay in this earth-stopping moment. But it wasn't earth-stopping. Because life does not slow. Back to work. Back to church. Back to school. Back to raising kids.
Some may be puzzled at how a person keeps going. It may seem they are not in pain, but really they have no choice. Everything must go on. Those moments of grief where there is nothing to focus on but the memories and the pain, become precious. Life is unrelenting. No mercy. It keeps hurting and pressing and not giving up. No break.
"Must we all be swept forever on...until the measure of our losses has been filled?"
"Lament" -- Part 4
"It's so wrong, so profoundly wrong, for a child to die before its parents. It's hard enough to bury our parents. But that we expect. Our parents belong to our past, our children belong to our future. We do not visual our future without them. How can I bury my son, my future, one of the next in line? He was meant to bury me!"
My thoughts exactly. As my husband tossed shovelfuls of dirt over the tiny white casket, I inwardly screamed -- NO! Perhaps if there where not so many people around I would have totally snapped and started digging up the coffin and ripping it open like I wanted to. But what would that leave me with? A broken, dead body, and a pile of dirt.
My thoughts exactly. As my husband tossed shovelfuls of dirt over the tiny white casket, I inwardly screamed -- NO! Perhaps if there where not so many people around I would have totally snapped and started digging up the coffin and ripping it open like I wanted to. But what would that leave me with? A broken, dead body, and a pile of dirt.
Musings on "Lament" Continued
"It's the neverness that is so painful." How true.
"Never again to be here with us -- never to sit with us at the table, never to travel with us, never to laugh with us, never to cry with us..."
There is no pain that I have experienced like death. Other pain is painful. I might even choose death over something else, if it weren't for the pain of the "neverness".
It goes on and on. There is nothing you can do to bring someone back. There is no hope of ever seeing or talking to them again on this earth. You are completely helpless. It is so final.
"Only our death can stop the pain of his death. A month, a year, five years -- with that I could live. But not this forever."
It is true that this is not the forever and we will be together in Heaven which is the true forever, but the pain, the longing continues.
"Never again to be here with us -- never to sit with us at the table, never to travel with us, never to laugh with us, never to cry with us..."
There is no pain that I have experienced like death. Other pain is painful. I might even choose death over something else, if it weren't for the pain of the "neverness".
It goes on and on. There is nothing you can do to bring someone back. There is no hope of ever seeing or talking to them again on this earth. You are completely helpless. It is so final.
"Only our death can stop the pain of his death. A month, a year, five years -- with that I could live. But not this forever."
It is true that this is not the forever and we will be together in Heaven which is the true forever, but the pain, the longing continues.
Musings on "Lament"
"Born on a snowy night in New Haven, he died twenty-five years later on a snowy slope of the Kaisergebirger."
Strange how death makes us think of the beginning again.
"When we gather now, there's always someone missing"
Exactly. Always someone missing. People will tell me I have a big family. That I have a lot of boys. But it feels so small to me. I think I might just be starting to know how many children are in our family. Usually if I am asked, I actually have to stop and think and count. The numbers just don't seem right.
Strange how death makes us think of the beginning again.
"When we gather now, there's always someone missing"
Exactly. Always someone missing. People will tell me I have a big family. That I have a lot of boys. But it feels so small to me. I think I might just be starting to know how many children are in our family. Usually if I am asked, I actually have to stop and think and count. The numbers just don't seem right.
Musings on "Lament for a Son" by Nicholas Wolterstorff
Loss becomes part of who you are.
As Nicholas Wolterstorff says, "If someone ask, 'Who are you, tell me about yourself,' I say -- not immediately, but shortly -- I am one who lost a son."
In a way I envy him. I wish that was something I could say about myself. Recently I was talking with two ladies who had lost their sons. One was my mother and she was talking about my brother, the other was a friend whose son died when he was sixteen. Death is a part of their lives, as it is a part of Nicholas Wolterstorff's life. But what they don't realize is that death is also a part of my life. Our friend was talking about a locket she found for herself and her daughters with a special poem to help bring comfort when they were especially missing their son/brother.
My mom was interested and so was I, but my mom thought I might want one for my brother.
I wear a locket almost every day with a picture of my son Ian. He was part of me. He still is. It connects me to him in some strange way. A way for me to remember even though the world cannot see him. A way to keep him with me. I may hold the locket, hurting, remembering, sometimes opening it, sometimes it's enough to just know it's there. I do not need that for my brother. Not that I do not miss him. Not that it does not hurt. That day, talking with those ladies, I felt like I was standing there as a woman who had also lost a son, but it was only in my mind.
I cannot tell people that my son died, because a stillborn child (even at nine months) is not considered a real child.
But they are wrong. My son has died. In the words of Wolterstorff -- I am one who has lost a son. It is part of who I am.
As Nicholas Wolterstorff says, "If someone ask, 'Who are you, tell me about yourself,' I say -- not immediately, but shortly -- I am one who lost a son."
In a way I envy him. I wish that was something I could say about myself. Recently I was talking with two ladies who had lost their sons. One was my mother and she was talking about my brother, the other was a friend whose son died when he was sixteen. Death is a part of their lives, as it is a part of Nicholas Wolterstorff's life. But what they don't realize is that death is also a part of my life. Our friend was talking about a locket she found for herself and her daughters with a special poem to help bring comfort when they were especially missing their son/brother.
My mom was interested and so was I, but my mom thought I might want one for my brother.
I wear a locket almost every day with a picture of my son Ian. He was part of me. He still is. It connects me to him in some strange way. A way for me to remember even though the world cannot see him. A way to keep him with me. I may hold the locket, hurting, remembering, sometimes opening it, sometimes it's enough to just know it's there. I do not need that for my brother. Not that I do not miss him. Not that it does not hurt. That day, talking with those ladies, I felt like I was standing there as a woman who had also lost a son, but it was only in my mind.
I cannot tell people that my son died, because a stillborn child (even at nine months) is not considered a real child.
But they are wrong. My son has died. In the words of Wolterstorff -- I am one who has lost a son. It is part of who I am.
The Camping Trip -- Part 7
The sun came out the day we left. I finally took my coat off and put it in the back of the truck. Later it flew out and got caught under a vehicle. We stopped to look for it. We found it a mile or two down the road, oily, ripped with fluff pouring out.
Now we are home, and the funny thing is, we want to go on another camping trip.
Now we are home, and the funny thing is, we want to go on another camping trip.
The Camping Trip -- Part 6
It was warm when we kept moving. We hiked a mile out to the beach. The boys actually played in the water. BRRRR. We climbed the 110 foot Dune Climb and ran down. Even Caden came. Eric carried him up. Eric was warm. We did see the sun for a few minutes at the top of the dunes. We buried all the boys in the sand. Lake Michigan was absolutely beautiful! We drove the scenic Pierce Stocking Hwy. and stopped to walk and see the Sleeping Bear and the panoramic view of Lake Michigan. It was incredible. Rolling tree-covered hills, next to white dunes, and sharp cliffs dropping to the huge Lake with white surf, tossed by the wind. Glen Lakes glistened in the distance.
We tried to find the fish hatchery, but to no avail.
We tried to find a place to pick cherries. It was the cherry capital during the cherry festival, so I thought there would be some. But after driving for 2 hours with directions and a map, we gave up on that. I read to the boys some while we drove.
Our tent only leaked the first night. My cell phone seemed to have gotten wet. I hope it will work again when it dries out.
We tried to find the fish hatchery, but to no avail.
We tried to find a place to pick cherries. It was the cherry capital during the cherry festival, so I thought there would be some. But after driving for 2 hours with directions and a map, we gave up on that. I read to the boys some while we drove.
Our tent only leaked the first night. My cell phone seemed to have gotten wet. I hope it will work again when it dries out.
The Camping Trip -- Part 5
It was still cold. The air mattress quickly lost air. Shiloh woke up three times crying because he needed to use the potty. We couldn't get the tent unzipped. It was too late.
I didn't want to change into my pajamas because it was so cold I didn't want to take anything off even for a brief moment.
I slept in my jeans and wore them everyday for three days. When I finally took them off at home, I noticed my toenails were painted. That surprised me, somehow painted toenails just didn't belong.
Shiloh and I were the first ones up. It was still cold and rainy. We walked the 300 yards back to the parking lot where there was a restroom with running water.
We used the hand drier to feel warm for a little. Shiloh stood with his head right under it. His hair went flying straight out to the sides.
Finally I decided we should go back and try to light a fire.
Success! We actually started a blazing fire! We did have tin foil, so it was time to be creative and start cooking. We wrapped vegetables, cheese, and shredded ham into a tin foil packet and put it in the fire. It was quite good.
Our other cooking experiments -- We formed a pan with the tin foil, melted some butter and scrambled some eggs. We roasted mushrooms with BBQ sauce. We cut up potatoes and threw them in the fire, also wrapped in tin foil.
It was kind of fun looking in the cooler to see what we could find and trying to decide how we would cook it.
I didn't want to change into my pajamas because it was so cold I didn't want to take anything off even for a brief moment.
I slept in my jeans and wore them everyday for three days. When I finally took them off at home, I noticed my toenails were painted. That surprised me, somehow painted toenails just didn't belong.
Shiloh and I were the first ones up. It was still cold and rainy. We walked the 300 yards back to the parking lot where there was a restroom with running water.
We used the hand drier to feel warm for a little. Shiloh stood with his head right under it. His hair went flying straight out to the sides.
Finally I decided we should go back and try to light a fire.
Success! We actually started a blazing fire! We did have tin foil, so it was time to be creative and start cooking. We wrapped vegetables, cheese, and shredded ham into a tin foil packet and put it in the fire. It was quite good.
Our other cooking experiments -- We formed a pan with the tin foil, melted some butter and scrambled some eggs. We roasted mushrooms with BBQ sauce. We cut up potatoes and threw them in the fire, also wrapped in tin foil.
It was kind of fun looking in the cooler to see what we could find and trying to decide how we would cook it.
The Camping Trip -- Part 4
Well we didn't run out of gas -- just a dead battery. Eric jumped it in the rain.
My mom had packed most of the food in the coolers in the back of our pickup, just in case we decided to stay somewhere on the way home. Eric had made a spot in the front seat for me. He just had two boys share one seat belt. I was glad. I was a little traumatized by the earlier ride. The sinking feeling every time I got in the truck slowly disappeared.
It was still cold and rainy, but when we stopped on the other side of the Mackinac Bridge it was just cold. Still cloudy though, but we thought we'd chance it and find a place to camp. This was rather spur of the moment, so although we did have the food from my mom, we didn't have a campsite or any pans to cook our food.
While the boys played in the park we had stopped at, we searched the internet using Eric's phone for a campground. I thought we could head to Sleeping Bear Dunes area, but I didn't realize that was still three hours away.
We decided to go anyway, because we knew there were things in the area that would be fun to do.
Three hours somehow turned into many more. We did see the sun once while we were driving.
It was late when we arrived. We were hungry and tired. Earlier we had searched for the crackers my sister said she had put in our truck. Eric kept saying they just weren't in there. I kept insisting they must be somewhere -- my sister said she put them in. We never did find the crackers.
They had walk-in sites available. If you are not familiar with walk-in sites, it's pretty easy to figure out -- it means you walk in! No vehicles. Our site was 300 yards through the woods up and down the hills. 300 yards! That's 3 football fields!
We carried the food, the cooler, the tent, suitcases, pillows, the sleeping bags, the camp chairs, even Caden's playpen -- everything. Yes, we are crazy.
We roasted hot dogs that night. The wood wasn't burning well, so we finally tired of smoke and burning eyes, and sought warmth in our sleeping bags instead.
My mom had packed most of the food in the coolers in the back of our pickup, just in case we decided to stay somewhere on the way home. Eric had made a spot in the front seat for me. He just had two boys share one seat belt. I was glad. I was a little traumatized by the earlier ride. The sinking feeling every time I got in the truck slowly disappeared.
It was still cold and rainy, but when we stopped on the other side of the Mackinac Bridge it was just cold. Still cloudy though, but we thought we'd chance it and find a place to camp. This was rather spur of the moment, so although we did have the food from my mom, we didn't have a campsite or any pans to cook our food.
While the boys played in the park we had stopped at, we searched the internet using Eric's phone for a campground. I thought we could head to Sleeping Bear Dunes area, but I didn't realize that was still three hours away.
We decided to go anyway, because we knew there were things in the area that would be fun to do.
Three hours somehow turned into many more. We did see the sun once while we were driving.
It was late when we arrived. We were hungry and tired. Earlier we had searched for the crackers my sister said she had put in our truck. Eric kept saying they just weren't in there. I kept insisting they must be somewhere -- my sister said she put them in. We never did find the crackers.
They had walk-in sites available. If you are not familiar with walk-in sites, it's pretty easy to figure out -- it means you walk in! No vehicles. Our site was 300 yards through the woods up and down the hills. 300 yards! That's 3 football fields!
We carried the food, the cooler, the tent, suitcases, pillows, the sleeping bags, the camp chairs, even Caden's playpen -- everything. Yes, we are crazy.
We roasted hot dogs that night. The wood wasn't burning well, so we finally tired of smoke and burning eyes, and sought warmth in our sleeping bags instead.
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Camping Trip -- Part 3
It was cheap driving the truck. Later talking with my sister I discovered that they used a full tank more than us, just on the way up, and we still needed to return and drive around sight-seeing.
My sister and brother-in-law were kind to set up our tent before we arrived, so we didn't need to set it up at 2am.
But then the storm came. No problem really, because the tent was next to the house that my mom and uncle rented, so we just moved inside.
The bed was so soft. It felt great to stretch out!
It was still raining in the morning. We tried to venture out and see Pictured Rocks and some waterfalls. It was too foggy to see the rocks, but we did have a nice hike through the rain to Horseshoe Falls. We fed some starving fish in the fish pond along the way. That was almost scary -- they were so aggressive.
We returned to the cottage to eat our picnic lunch, and spent most of the rest of the day playing games inside.
The next day I decided that even though it was windy, rainy, and cold, I was going outside. (And taking any others I could persuade with me.)
The kids had so much fun. We played many group games, rode bikes, climbed trees, and went out on the canoe.
My mom was worried that I was taking the boat out on the lake in the current weather, but mothers do tend to forget that their children are now adults. But when my Grandpa came rushing out of the house, without a coat, I started to question my decision. (We joke that my Grandpa wears long johns almost all year long, so to have no coat really caught my attention.)
Eric came with me and I think that made people feel better, although it probably shouldn't have. He purposely tried to scare me, making the boat rock.
All in all it was an enjoyable trip -- I spent time with my family, I read a good book, ate lots of good food, and didn't have to clean. (Except when it was time to leave.)
I did break our camera though. :( It fell out of my pocket while I was riding Micah's bike.
I do feel bad for my mom also, because she had so many plans that were ruined. Sight-seeing that we couldn't see. Campfires that were too wet. Grills that were broken. Outside activities that only the crazy ventured out to do -- braving the wind, cold, and mosquitoes.
My sister and brother-in-law were kind to set up our tent before we arrived, so we didn't need to set it up at 2am.
But then the storm came. No problem really, because the tent was next to the house that my mom and uncle rented, so we just moved inside.
The bed was so soft. It felt great to stretch out!
It was still raining in the morning. We tried to venture out and see Pictured Rocks and some waterfalls. It was too foggy to see the rocks, but we did have a nice hike through the rain to Horseshoe Falls. We fed some starving fish in the fish pond along the way. That was almost scary -- they were so aggressive.
We returned to the cottage to eat our picnic lunch, and spent most of the rest of the day playing games inside.
The next day I decided that even though it was windy, rainy, and cold, I was going outside. (And taking any others I could persuade with me.)
The kids had so much fun. We played many group games, rode bikes, climbed trees, and went out on the canoe.
My mom was worried that I was taking the boat out on the lake in the current weather, but mothers do tend to forget that their children are now adults. But when my Grandpa came rushing out of the house, without a coat, I started to question my decision. (We joke that my Grandpa wears long johns almost all year long, so to have no coat really caught my attention.)
Eric came with me and I think that made people feel better, although it probably shouldn't have. He purposely tried to scare me, making the boat rock.
All in all it was an enjoyable trip -- I spent time with my family, I read a good book, ate lots of good food, and didn't have to clean. (Except when it was time to leave.)
I did break our camera though. :( It fell out of my pocket while I was riding Micah's bike.
I do feel bad for my mom also, because she had so many plans that were ruined. Sight-seeing that we couldn't see. Campfires that were too wet. Grills that were broken. Outside activities that only the crazy ventured out to do -- braving the wind, cold, and mosquitoes.
The Camping Trip -- Part 2
We left as soon as we could after church on Sunday. Because we are crazy (and cheap) we decided to take our little Toyota pickup. It has a tiny extended cab with two seat belts. There are 3 seat belts in the front. Two plus three is only five and since there are six of us, we were short one seat belt. Not a problem exactly, because if you are over sixteen you don't have to wear a seat belt in the back seat, and I am over sixteen. That put me in the back. I sat on a pillow, because there isn't really even a seat in the middle in the back. My knees were close to the front seat and the boys crowded me from the sides.
We were excited about leaving. It's amazing the discomfort you can put up with when you are excited. But since it was a six hour drive and we left at 8pm, we began to become tired. We restlessly squirmed about trying to find a place for heads and feet and legs. Eventually I ended up on the floor. This was a very tight squeeze! Parts of my body kept falling asleep. Feet were pushing me, a child was on top of me at one point. I tried to shift, so a new part of my body could fall asleep. I started thinking about the Jews jammed into boxcars during WWII. Pure torture.
But we made it...
We were excited about leaving. It's amazing the discomfort you can put up with when you are excited. But since it was a six hour drive and we left at 8pm, we began to become tired. We restlessly squirmed about trying to find a place for heads and feet and legs. Eventually I ended up on the floor. This was a very tight squeeze! Parts of my body kept falling asleep. Feet were pushing me, a child was on top of me at one point. I tried to shift, so a new part of my body could fall asleep. I started thinking about the Jews jammed into boxcars during WWII. Pure torture.
But we made it...
The Camping Trip -- Part 1
On Friday before we left I was sitting in the living room with my boys, and I asked them if there was anything they would like me to pray for them. Micah wanted me to pray that we would have a good trip, so I asked him what would make it a good trip. He replied that he would not like rain or running out of gas. We talked about how something that seems bad can actually be good, depending on how you look at it. We don't know everything that God is planning. (Referring also to my previous comment that I don't want God to just give me what I think I want, but what is good for me. I don't want to be a spoiled 3 year old, but a trusting one.)
So later that day we went to Walmart to pick up some glue to patch our raft and some batteries. After we parked I removed the keys from the ignition and put them in the pocket beside the door. Micah saw that I took the keys out and assumed that I put them in my pocket. Logical really. He proceeded to lock all the doors on the truck and the back window. He told me, but it was already too late. I remember -- not just what I want, but what I need. Bad things could be good..... In the store I reminded my boys about what we talked about that morning, knowing that we were going to have a hands-on-example in just a few minutes. The few minutes turned into a lot of minutes as I wandered around the store looking for glue. I could not find it. Even with help from store personnel I still had trouble finding it. But finally we left the store.
At the truck, the boys realized our fate. I must say that by this time I was able to have a good attitude about walking home, even with 3 little boys, although I still fought it. Especially when Shiloh started crying and crying, because he didn't want to walk anymore and his feet hurt. Turned out he had blisters on both his heels by the time we arrived home.
It begins....
So later that day we went to Walmart to pick up some glue to patch our raft and some batteries. After we parked I removed the keys from the ignition and put them in the pocket beside the door. Micah saw that I took the keys out and assumed that I put them in my pocket. Logical really. He proceeded to lock all the doors on the truck and the back window. He told me, but it was already too late. I remember -- not just what I want, but what I need. Bad things could be good..... In the store I reminded my boys about what we talked about that morning, knowing that we were going to have a hands-on-example in just a few minutes. The few minutes turned into a lot of minutes as I wandered around the store looking for glue. I could not find it. Even with help from store personnel I still had trouble finding it. But finally we left the store.
At the truck, the boys realized our fate. I must say that by this time I was able to have a good attitude about walking home, even with 3 little boys, although I still fought it. Especially when Shiloh started crying and crying, because he didn't want to walk anymore and his feet hurt. Turned out he had blisters on both his heels by the time we arrived home.
It begins....
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