On my darkest, loneliest days – Charlie never leaves me – my spirit animal lifts me up – just by curling up next to me (and snoring a little)
Sometimes, I feel like I am in love with a porcupine, a very cute porcupine. This porcupine has some very, VERY good qualities and a good heart. But it is covered in sharp, painful quills. It just seems like every time I let down my guard and get close – OUCH!!
I want to trust the porcupine – OUCH!! I get stabbed by the LIE Quills.
I want to believe things will change – OUCH!! The addiction quills!!
But I still love the porcupine.
Is it his fault for hurting me, or is he just being what he is?
Is it my fault for trying to love a porcupine?
Or do I just need some sleep?
The Israelites spent 40 years going around and around – I get that.
I feel like I am going around and around the same mountain, and I just can’t get it right.
The same demons keep cropping up – so around I go, making another trip.
I cannot stop a loved one’s addictive behavior. I cannot make the outcome different – so what I am failing to learn?
I see the train wreck down the line, but what don’t I see? Should I just get out of the way and refuse to be collateral damage again?
What about compassion and forgiveness and responsibility and commitment?
Sometimes, I just drop to my knees and ask GOD, how broken do I need to be?
Where is the line? Strong people break too.
My mind is rambling today – I just miss my son so much – it is hard to rein in the thoughts. So I am just going to let them run.
When my son was 11 years, he was diagnosed with a condition called mid-aortic syndrome. This is a very rare, dangerous condition that required a complicated and dangerous aortic implant. He was in surgery for over 16 hours and my husband and I spent this time on our knees or pacing about. Unfortunately, there as a problem with the implant and after only a few hours in recovery, Jay was rushed back to surgery for another 4 hours.
I wanted to call my prayer group and tell them to pray harder, but I was out of coins for the phone. Yes, this was back in 92, and I needed coins.
A custodian walked by, busy going about his duties, yet he stopped to notice my tears and care. Without a word, he stuffed a handful of quarters into my hand. I tried to thank him, but he just gave me a hug and a bright smile and strolled off. I did call my prayer team and they did pray harder and my son began to grow stronger. Today I am grateful for the 24 additional years we enjoyed together, and for the act of kindness.
I do not know the kind gentleman’s name and I did not see him again – but he is always in my heart. His small act of kindness is burned indelibly into my memory. There is power in kindness! Just like the loving woman who washed Jesus’ feet, the kindness is remembered.
Today, my husband and I are letting the grief take over – we are just letting it flow. As we do – my mind rambles about. When we first learned we would be parents, we were filled with joy. When we first held our son, we were filled with love. When we lost him, we were filled with pain and sorrow. But, broken as I am, I know I still have value. I can still serve a loving GOD by being kind. Even if it is just some small gesture, a quick smile – I know kindness has power, lifting power that touches everyone, even those who just witness the kindness.
We need the power of kindness in this world today, more than ever – more kindness to all living things.
We have a new family member, Hector the Mule! He is such a sweet boy who has been a hard working mule for many, many, many years. Now, it is his turn to relax and enjoy love and treats. My red mares are NOT thrilled with Hector, but hopefully, everyone will settle in soon. I have never had a mule before, so I welcome any helpful advice.
It was a very emotional day. I rode my WildFire on the beach, even a few steps into the Atlantic Ocean. I missed my son so much. He loved the ocean. Our last days together, were spent by the ocean. I wanted to call him, to text him photos – to hear his laugh – instead, I searched the sky for signs. I believe he was there with me.
I am afraid I do not know the name of this purple flower, but I love the colorful blooms. It is a hardy, tall fellow – standing up to Virginia drout and sun. My husband and I sat on our “memory” bench and enjoyed the last of them
Now there is a huge dragon fly in our living room. I believe this is a powerful, positive blessing and we will help guide our little visitor safely outdoors.
Holidays and Parties – for me – are definitely on the casualty list. I used to love parties and family gatherings. In the fall, we would always build a huge bond fire and invite family and friends to the farm. We would eat my husband’s chili, roast hots dogs and marshmallows – just enjoy.
I have not hosted or attended a party since losing my son – I just struggle being around groups of people. Truthfully, I cannot get “in the mood” to host a party and I don’t want to attend some one else’s party and bring down their mood.
Has anyone else experienced the awkwardness of the grief journey? The isolation? When I encounter people, acquaintances who either do not KNOW or I do not see on a regular basis – there is an awkwardness in our interaction. I can tell it is on their mind and they feel uncomfortable – and I feel uncomfortable. Conversation just feels “forced”.
Holidays and party days are ahead – AGAIN. If I muster the courage to accept invitations, will I would be socializing with people I have not seen since my son’s memorial service? Will they feel uncomfortable? Will I be a dark cloud on the party?
I cry privately. I grieve privately. I work to always maintain my composure in any public situation. I do not want to burden others. What to do? Go? Say no?
I have always loved the Book of Ruth – beginning way back in my childhood (about a million years ago). It was like a fairy tale to me. Ruth was beautiful and loving and kind. She did not abandoned Naomi in her pain and grief. In the end, Ruth and Boaz fell in love – and in my mind “live happily ever after”. I was so absorbed in Ruth’s story, I never really considered Naomi’s.
Now, I am living Naomi’s story!! Suddenly, I read Ruth from a whole different perspective. Naomi lost both her sons. I lost my only son. I know her pain. I feel her pain. Naomi had a loving daughter-in-law. So do I. I cherish her.
In Ruth Chapter 1, Naomi tells everyone not to call her Naomi anymore. That name meant pleasant. Instead, Naomi wanted to be call Mara which is bitter. Yeah, I am bitter too – I understand. Sometimes the bitterness is all-consuming. But I am trying, everyday trying – not to be bitter. I am trying to remember the end of the story where Naomi is blessed by Ruth’s love and ultimately, her relationship with Boaz. GOD saw her pain and grief and heard her sobs.
So, the loss of Naomi’s sons was not the end of her story.
Maybe this is not the end of my story.