I still remember it as if it were yesterday. That mind picture will never leave me. I boxed it with bows and put it in my heart.
We have a chair in our kitchen. All our children have
used it. Yesterday Anna finally decided that she is too big for it now.
The chair is taller than a kitchen chair, and is meant to be used to aid
in reaching higher places.
The chair was in the
middle of the kitchen; I didn't know what to do with it. I figured if I
suggested to Brent that he use it, he wouldn't. A minute later I found
him gleefully pushing his chair into the middle of the room and putting
the other one at his place at the table. I was delighted, mostly because
it has sides and he can't escape it very easily.
But seeing Brent on the chair triggered my memory. He looks more
like Kira than any of the other children. His hair is a little darker
and not highlighted in blonde. His eyes are not quite so big. And, of
course, his temperament is the most similar to Kira's. Naughty but quick
to forgive. Ferocious but soft.
But it's the hair that got me. When she sat on the chair in the
morning at our other house, the sunshine would stream into the window on
her hair. I see her there in my mind...grinning from ear to ear,
waiting for her pancakes.
Love that girl!
Marylu
Friday, February 22, 2013
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Wounded Trust
Wounded Trust is scheduled to be released in May 2012. A link on our website at www.OldeHomesteadSuites.com will direct anyone interested to a purchase site. Wounded Trust will also be available on Amazon and bookstores.
Our prayer is that Wounded Trust will draw you to the Heavenly Father who is the Healer of wounds.
I plan to keep posting periodically on Kira's blog. You can also check out woundedtrust.blogspot.com for more writings if you desire.
The postings on Kira's blog will continue to be sentimental, reflections of her life, things that stir up memories.
The postings on Wounded Trust will be more about me and daily ventures of living with a scar. My desire is to be an encouragement, reminder of the power of the cross, and bring praise to God.
Our prayer is that Wounded Trust will draw you to the Heavenly Father who is the Healer of wounds.
I plan to keep posting periodically on Kira's blog. You can also check out woundedtrust.blogspot.com for more writings if you desire.
The postings on Kira's blog will continue to be sentimental, reflections of her life, things that stir up memories.
The postings on Wounded Trust will be more about me and daily ventures of living with a scar. My desire is to be an encouragement, reminder of the power of the cross, and bring praise to God.
Monday, February 27, 2012
The Act of Pretending
To pretend means to give a false appearance of being, possessing, or performing.
It is three years, one more year than last year, and one more year of life without Kira. One year closer to heaven for me. Frankly, for me three years means the amount of time I was blessed with her presence and the amount of time I have not been are now equal. If I were to weigh in a balance the three years...the sunshine on the right side is full of happiness and crazy times. The monster of grief on the other side is way down and feels dark and sad. Ironically though, the right side wins because it is up, even if unbalanced. Up is drawing, pulling, inviting. We envision ourselves going up to heaven. Jesus ascended upward. I want to continue to go up out of this grief, of muddling in this pit.
"Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 1 Peter 1:13
Girding up the loins refers to the Roman people when they were about to run a race or work really hard. They tucked up their long flowing garments around them, removing any impediments to running or the tendency to trip. The final act was drawing the garment together at the waist and knotting it.
Girding up the mind is very essential in the grieving process. The balance of feeling the grief still three years later (which I am told is not very long but feels like eons) and not letting it trip up my mind is easier said than done, literally. Some days feeling grief really gets me. The way to the pit is easy...all one must do is think this is so hard. Other days I just feel sarcastic. Some days the temptation to pretend she is still here is strong. Maybe I just can't see her. As true as that may be, that thought is just a form of escape from grief. These loins of the mind: can they really be wound around my mind and tied together to help run this race?
Yes, I feel sarcastic. Could this knot take place tomorrow? I could use lots of other words to describe the frustration I feel inside, but instead I will stick with the mere word "sarcastic."
The Bible also talks about "running the race" with patience. Patience does not describe the word sarcastic, or happening tomorrow, or the temptation to use lots of other words. I am told and have experienced the desperate need for patience in the grieving process. But why does this have to be a race? And why does it have to be in the end that we see the revelation of the grace of Jesus Christ? On a more positive note I am fascinated that more grace is to be revealed in the end. God has given me immeasurable grace in the last three years.
So why do I have to pretend that is doesn't hurt anymore? Why does it matter if some days I like to pretend that she is here and I just can't see her. The fact that we pretend Kira now has her own room in our new house should really not bother me. We even pretended that Kira was here for her birthday party. Maybe I should say I did. If it is all fake, who am I to say? And if I really believe that there is more grace then God will meet me there in my sarcastic pretending too. Why pretend when God can take care of grief if we just remember to ask and admit we cannot do this on our own.
But really if this is a race, pretending has got to flee. A race requires intentional behavior. Racing requires hours of intensive training, dedication to the goal, but mostly a belief that participation will be worthwhile. If the race isn't worthwhile, why would I bother? The mystery of this fascinates me. This race we are running is largely unspoken, except for three strong defining factors. These factors have been a very strong part of my life in this race of grief. The Holy Spirit, the Bible, and the people around me. Without these three I would still be back at the graveside in total denial.
I believe all these things with my whole heart. Unfortunately I am still human and would actually like to pretend that it never happened, which would definitely erase the pain issue, and also my need for God. How boring is a life that I could run single-handedly?
As for the pretending, I simply feel a bit disconnected. My surroundings have changed and the former surroundings stimulated my thinking. These surroundings do not contain memories of Kira. In desperation to keep her memories alive my brain pretends things. Some of it is partly true; she might be doing this or that, or look this way or that way. But the honest-to-goodness ugly truth is that I do not know. I can only surmise and pretend. A child that doubles its age changes alot. Even when she would be 26, her life here stopped at three years and the rest is left to wonder.
So pretending might not really be wrong, just painfully unreal.
Marylu
It is three years, one more year than last year, and one more year of life without Kira. One year closer to heaven for me. Frankly, for me three years means the amount of time I was blessed with her presence and the amount of time I have not been are now equal. If I were to weigh in a balance the three years...the sunshine on the right side is full of happiness and crazy times. The monster of grief on the other side is way down and feels dark and sad. Ironically though, the right side wins because it is up, even if unbalanced. Up is drawing, pulling, inviting. We envision ourselves going up to heaven. Jesus ascended upward. I want to continue to go up out of this grief, of muddling in this pit.
"Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 1 Peter 1:13
Girding up the loins refers to the Roman people when they were about to run a race or work really hard. They tucked up their long flowing garments around them, removing any impediments to running or the tendency to trip. The final act was drawing the garment together at the waist and knotting it.
Girding up the mind is very essential in the grieving process. The balance of feeling the grief still three years later (which I am told is not very long but feels like eons) and not letting it trip up my mind is easier said than done, literally. Some days feeling grief really gets me. The way to the pit is easy...all one must do is think this is so hard. Other days I just feel sarcastic. Some days the temptation to pretend she is still here is strong. Maybe I just can't see her. As true as that may be, that thought is just a form of escape from grief. These loins of the mind: can they really be wound around my mind and tied together to help run this race?
Yes, I feel sarcastic. Could this knot take place tomorrow? I could use lots of other words to describe the frustration I feel inside, but instead I will stick with the mere word "sarcastic."
The Bible also talks about "running the race" with patience. Patience does not describe the word sarcastic, or happening tomorrow, or the temptation to use lots of other words. I am told and have experienced the desperate need for patience in the grieving process. But why does this have to be a race? And why does it have to be in the end that we see the revelation of the grace of Jesus Christ? On a more positive note I am fascinated that more grace is to be revealed in the end. God has given me immeasurable grace in the last three years.
So why do I have to pretend that is doesn't hurt anymore? Why does it matter if some days I like to pretend that she is here and I just can't see her. The fact that we pretend Kira now has her own room in our new house should really not bother me. We even pretended that Kira was here for her birthday party. Maybe I should say I did. If it is all fake, who am I to say? And if I really believe that there is more grace then God will meet me there in my sarcastic pretending too. Why pretend when God can take care of grief if we just remember to ask and admit we cannot do this on our own.
But really if this is a race, pretending has got to flee. A race requires intentional behavior. Racing requires hours of intensive training, dedication to the goal, but mostly a belief that participation will be worthwhile. If the race isn't worthwhile, why would I bother? The mystery of this fascinates me. This race we are running is largely unspoken, except for three strong defining factors. These factors have been a very strong part of my life in this race of grief. The Holy Spirit, the Bible, and the people around me. Without these three I would still be back at the graveside in total denial.
I believe all these things with my whole heart. Unfortunately I am still human and would actually like to pretend that it never happened, which would definitely erase the pain issue, and also my need for God. How boring is a life that I could run single-handedly?
As for the pretending, I simply feel a bit disconnected. My surroundings have changed and the former surroundings stimulated my thinking. These surroundings do not contain memories of Kira. In desperation to keep her memories alive my brain pretends things. Some of it is partly true; she might be doing this or that, or look this way or that way. But the honest-to-goodness ugly truth is that I do not know. I can only surmise and pretend. A child that doubles its age changes alot. Even when she would be 26, her life here stopped at three years and the rest is left to wonder.
So pretending might not really be wrong, just painfully unreal.
Marylu
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Day to Day
So, what happened to me? Why did I stop blogging, you might ask. The truth is that life continues. You eat, sleep, and work, and the world goes on. I can truthfully say after the trauma in my life in the last years I am starting to feel marginally normal. On the other hand, as soon as something is happening out of the ordinary I jump back into trauma mode, certain that a catastrophe is about to strike. Living like that is scary. My nerves have a lot of retraining to experience yet. In the past weeks I actually started thinking about things like going for a jog and got rather excited. Unfortunately, getting into that condition will take some work. Somewhere in the muddle of summer I broke my foot, the little toe metatarsal on the outside of my foot. So I spent the last four weeks dragging around a boot. Walking like that has a way of confining a mother to just simple daily tasks, nothing else. I have been blessed to be able to accomplish even that.
But really truthfully, what happened to blogging? Well, the baby is high maintenance, and seems to be fairly demanding about quality time with his mother. And the boy thing, wow, people told me they eat all the time. In his case it is really true. I should have known,since he's a chip off the old block. Kudos to my mother-in-law who raised four of this gender. They are definitely consumers. The other day my little eleven month old son was on the kitchen floor whimpering with his head between his knees. Goodness, must be bad! All that was wrong was that he was hungry. It had been an hour!
Truthfully, where have I been? I am running an inn. Truthfully, is that all? No, not all. I have been raising two girls. Clothing, feeding, and training them to be women.
Okay, it's hard for me to admit the truth because it involves so many changes. We are building a house, rather, my husband is building the house. I am holding down the fort.
So, back to the question "What have I been doing?" I could continue to weave around this one but I will just be out with it. Nothing I dreamed of doing, nothing I would have come close to attempting three years ago, but sometime in the next approximately two months you will see a new arrival in the book world. "Wounded Trust" will make it's appearance. Yes, I became an author. You might say "How in the world?" Basically, it was God. You might say I don't want to read a book about death. Yes, it is about death because Kira did die. But more than that it is about life in God. Hope beyond this world. The grace of God. Maybe even more than that, yet it is about the dare to embrace life no matter what your plate may hold, and to keep on trusting. The main core of the book started with the blog entries. They have been restructured, some have more reality in them, and then much more.
As I wrote the last chapter to "Wounded Trust" I felt myself being okay with my life, the happenings of the last two years. They have become part of being shaped into a woman who loves Jesus more. No, there is not so much pain there anymore, and yet just yesterday I found those crazy pelican socks I had bought for her weeks before her death. They are purple with black, white, and red penquins. I cried. I miss her just like the yesterday of February 18, 2009. I realize more than ever that this pain will stay with me for life. In 20 years when I look at these socks I will still get a lump in my throat. The pain is just going to be here. It is still mine to look at every day I live on this imperfect earth.
Marylu, Merlin, the girls, and a boy
But really truthfully, what happened to blogging? Well, the baby is high maintenance, and seems to be fairly demanding about quality time with his mother. And the boy thing, wow, people told me they eat all the time. In his case it is really true. I should have known,since he's a chip off the old block. Kudos to my mother-in-law who raised four of this gender. They are definitely consumers. The other day my little eleven month old son was on the kitchen floor whimpering with his head between his knees. Goodness, must be bad! All that was wrong was that he was hungry. It had been an hour!
Truthfully, where have I been? I am running an inn. Truthfully, is that all? No, not all. I have been raising two girls. Clothing, feeding, and training them to be women.
Okay, it's hard for me to admit the truth because it involves so many changes. We are building a house, rather, my husband is building the house. I am holding down the fort.
So, back to the question "What have I been doing?" I could continue to weave around this one but I will just be out with it. Nothing I dreamed of doing, nothing I would have come close to attempting three years ago, but sometime in the next approximately two months you will see a new arrival in the book world. "Wounded Trust" will make it's appearance. Yes, I became an author. You might say "How in the world?" Basically, it was God. You might say I don't want to read a book about death. Yes, it is about death because Kira did die. But more than that it is about life in God. Hope beyond this world. The grace of God. Maybe even more than that, yet it is about the dare to embrace life no matter what your plate may hold, and to keep on trusting. The main core of the book started with the blog entries. They have been restructured, some have more reality in them, and then much more.
As I wrote the last chapter to "Wounded Trust" I felt myself being okay with my life, the happenings of the last two years. They have become part of being shaped into a woman who loves Jesus more. No, there is not so much pain there anymore, and yet just yesterday I found those crazy pelican socks I had bought for her weeks before her death. They are purple with black, white, and red penquins. I cried. I miss her just like the yesterday of February 18, 2009. I realize more than ever that this pain will stay with me for life. In 20 years when I look at these socks I will still get a lump in my throat. The pain is just going to be here. It is still mine to look at every day I live on this imperfect earth.
Marylu, Merlin, the girls, and a boy
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Mountain Top
Without the valley-there would be no mountain. It's the view from the top that makes the valley look beautiful.
Two years ago today our three-year-old lost her breath in front of me.... right here in this room. I watched, horrified - as I realized that she was not going to start breathing on her own. Panic threatened to overtake me as I frantically tried to remember how to start CPR. Seconds later I was on the bathroom floor yelling at the 911 operator to help me remember what to do and how. That horrific moment - among others - still stands out in my mind. That was only the beginning of the valley. Minutes later my neighbor (and EMT) rushed in and together we worked to revive Kira. The ambulance crew soon arrived and took over attempting to stabilize her. As I reached for the phone and called my sister I could feel my panic and adrenaline being replaced with fear as I yelled into the phone "Kira is dying". The words seemed to rush out of my mouth and chill everything around. What seemed like hours (in reality, eight minutes) later I watched through blurred eyes as the ambulance sped out of our drive and up the road with Kira in the back and her daddy in the front. Time seemed to stop as I tried to collect myself and go to the hospital. Life became a mad cycle of running to the hospital and juggling feeding the baby as I tried to stay collected the next five days. My fears became valid and I confronted them as the fifth day came and we said good bye to Kira as she peacefully slipped from this world into the next... And then this journey of relearning my trust in God.
A year ago we had a party. A celebration party of Kira's life here and in heaven. Somehow I felt God was calling me to celebrate with my whole heart. Even harder was the call to celebrate other people's children amidst the pain of losing my own. The past year had been very difficult for us and I was starting to feel like we were coming out of the gutter. Merlin had been sick for months. In August Anna sprained her ankle and I had a miscarriage. It was only the start of my downward journey. I was simply worn out. Also in August, Marlea had poison ivy and fought it off and on until finally it became systemic and her whole body reacted to it. She too was worn down physically. I was rescued from my coming crash (better interpreted a nervous breakdown) by our doctor, although I will say that the drugs are still in the cabinet - unopened. I keep them there to remind myself how close I was to an emotional breakdown. By February and the year mark we were all on the healing road. The party was good - it felt okay to celebrate Kira's heaven date. Plus the amazing support we felt from everyone that came to celebrate with us was also very healing. In the weeks that followed I continued to feel healing and a release of my own will.
Weeks later we were pleasantly surprised to realize that we were expecting a baby. We simply did not expect it. Not opposed, we both really wanted another child. Especially Marlea who had prayed fervently every day since Kira's death. The pictures on her door strongly alluded to her heart's desire. The next months were difficult for me as I grappled with grieving and being joyful about the baby. Joy and sadness seem to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. I wasn't quite up to it physically. That combined with the hot summer had me pretty much exhausted most days.
So it happened that on November 11, 2010 we welcomed Brent Jaxon into the world. It was a calm, fairly uneventful delivery (as much as childbirth can be:). Minutes later as I lay holding our son I suddenly realized that I am lying in a hospital bed holding a baby. My mind flashed back to the night at Hershey holding Kira as her heart beat it's last. Instinctively in my head I compared it to now - holding a new baby. Amazement filled my heart. Earlier the nurse had been asking about our family and I had shared a little about Kira. Now they were asking more questions. I suddenly realized I was lying in this bed all this time and didn't even think about the bed similarity until now. As I talked with them more, they shared my grief with tears and more questions. But strangely I wasn't crying. A feeling rose up inside of me, a feeling of being okay with everything. Yes, here I was - I was okay. It seemed like part of my life - a life that was mine. Weeks earlier God had told me that I would have an experience through Brent's birth that would be a mountaintop. This was my mountaintop. I could feel it, I literally felt on the top - even viewing the valley from the top. Praise filled me for the faithfulness of God. Yes, that valley; yes, this mountaintop. But it would not be a mountaintop without the valley. I gazed in gratefulness at our son, Brent - whose name means "mountaintop."
No, we didn't try to name him that because of thinking it's going to be a mountaintop. When Kira was in the womb we thought she might be a boy. To be safe, we found a boy name we liked. Obviously we didn't need it. When Anna was born we kept it on the back shelf again just in case. When we found out that this baby was to be a boy, we somewhat automatically named him Brent. We didn't even realize that the name meant mountaintop. We just liked the name.
The power of that experience carried me through the next weeks. I missed Kira tremendously. The combination of adjusting to a baby - hormonal changes that come with birth, and the Christmas season - proved to be a terrible combination for me. Merlin was also dealing with the changes except that men tend to retreat, which only made my pain worse. Many days I felt as if I could hardly go on... then the realness of my mountaintop experience would come back. It wouldn't bring me out of my sorrow, but it did convince me that sometime I will be okay again. It was the taste of the "feeling" that kept my head up.
When Brent was three weeks old he was having breathing difficulty.
I took him to the doctor and then for a chest x-ray; his chest was clear. A few nights later I awakened to the sensation that something was wrong. I jumped out of bed-paranoid. His head was cold but he was still breathing although labored. I was just downright scared. Fear came crawling into my heart that God would give us a son and then take him away again. He was better after his feeding but I held him the rest of the night. And yes, one could have guessed; it was the weekend so into the ER we went. I couldn't believe it. Us, here again. It's like God just wants us to be okay with going there and facing our fears. I wasn't too surprised with the whole ordeal. God had told me a while ago that something will happen with Brent that I will learn to trust Him more. I pretended it was my imagination...but then I knew I had heard it. Yes, I did learn to trust Him more through it. But in a different way than with all the other episodes. I felt like God was simply calling me to face my fear - maybe even confront my feeling of helplessness. I learned a lot more about conquering my fear simply because there was something to do. Kira's death left me with a terrible feeling that there is nothing to do. God showed me through the experience with Brent that often just a simple something takes care of the problem; it's not always a drastic complicated outcome. In his case all it took was a nebulizer treatment. We did it at home for a few weeks afterward and he has been fine since. He just couldn't move the mucous. Or maybe God just wants us to walk into the ER so often until we don't even think it strange anymore?
Christmas came and went. Lots of feelings again - mostly sad. Strangely Marlea was sick for about two weeks again right before Christmas. Sorta added to my loss of sanity. I can't say I do really well with all of the above on a pile. The one day, I took Marlea for a doctor appointment; I made the appointment at one place and went to another location. They looked at me as if I might be a little shady. I just smiled and said "Well, I guess I am still post-partum." I was glad for the excuse. "Here - give my daughter a fix so I can get my sanity back again" is what I was thinking. It was nice to look back on Christmas day and feel the difference between last Christmas and this Christmas. This past one was definitely easier for all of us. I still keenly felt the desire to be joyful on Christmas but it is so difficult when not everyone is there and you know someone will never be again on this earth. We tried to distract ourselves but I can't say it really worked really well. At midnight after I had finally convinced Brent to settle down - I was exhausted, worn out emotionally and physically. I cried and cried, then went to bed and slept. The next day I awoke and it was not Christmas any more and the world looked brighter. In fact, ever since that the world has been looking brighter again. I feel like I am finally accepting Kira's death.
In turn I am blessed with a peace unknown to me before. I feel real joy. Some of it comes out of feeling hypocritical. I was raised in a Christian home and taught to be obedient to God and His will. Not accepting Kira's death to me felt so disobedient. I knew I had to fight through it because I couldn't deny the obvious, neither ignore the grief cycle if I wanted to heal. To not accept it took patience and trust that my wounded heart would heal and I would feel peaceful again. I feel it coming. I've been told I look happy again. I am amazed how much better I am feeling physically. The muscle bunchies leave me the whole way some days and I have a lot more energy. It just takes lots of energy to grieve!
A few observations from the last three months
What do you do with a little girl who thinks turning three will make her die? She doesn't want to go to Jesus, she says.
I look at Brent - he will never know Kira on earth. That seems wrong because they are both part of our family.
We have lived two years without Kira. Next year it will be as long without her as with her.
It takes wisdom and thoughtfulness as a mother to remember to ask the seven-year-old every several days what she is thinking and to purposely spend time with her, reflecting on her feelings about Kira and her death. Unfortunately though I am her mother; I am human and not perfect.
Men and women still grieve differently two years later
Anna turns three in April. Her actions and antics somewhat remind me of Kira and how much I was enjoying her. After she turns three - I will be reminded constantly of what I lost with Kira.
I fear still someone I loved being taken from me...then I am reminded of the definition of "mine"
God has unique ways of making me stronger
God's timing is always right
God gave us a visible sign to help us remember the mountaintop
Brent is God's sign to Marlea that He heard her prayer. She wanted Kira to live; she died. Then God gave us Brent!
Life and death are so opposite. Likewise the feelings that go with them.
I live in awe of a God who gives and a God who takes away. In times of doubt - I am learning to trust
When Anna was born, Kira was simply overbearing. I have many pictures of her bending over Anna; and Anna is screaming "bloody murder." We have the same scenario again. Only this time Anna is overbearing and Brent is screaming. Why don't babies like two-year-olds? It must be that fear of the unknown.
Rejoice with us for the gift of life God gave in Brent and how we are learning more about God through his birth. Also for the healing and joy we feel in our hearts, and for the valley and mountaintop.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna, and Brent
Two years ago today our three-year-old lost her breath in front of me.... right here in this room. I watched, horrified - as I realized that she was not going to start breathing on her own. Panic threatened to overtake me as I frantically tried to remember how to start CPR. Seconds later I was on the bathroom floor yelling at the 911 operator to help me remember what to do and how. That horrific moment - among others - still stands out in my mind. That was only the beginning of the valley. Minutes later my neighbor (and EMT) rushed in and together we worked to revive Kira. The ambulance crew soon arrived and took over attempting to stabilize her. As I reached for the phone and called my sister I could feel my panic and adrenaline being replaced with fear as I yelled into the phone "Kira is dying". The words seemed to rush out of my mouth and chill everything around. What seemed like hours (in reality, eight minutes) later I watched through blurred eyes as the ambulance sped out of our drive and up the road with Kira in the back and her daddy in the front. Time seemed to stop as I tried to collect myself and go to the hospital. Life became a mad cycle of running to the hospital and juggling feeding the baby as I tried to stay collected the next five days. My fears became valid and I confronted them as the fifth day came and we said good bye to Kira as she peacefully slipped from this world into the next... And then this journey of relearning my trust in God.
A year ago we had a party. A celebration party of Kira's life here and in heaven. Somehow I felt God was calling me to celebrate with my whole heart. Even harder was the call to celebrate other people's children amidst the pain of losing my own. The past year had been very difficult for us and I was starting to feel like we were coming out of the gutter. Merlin had been sick for months. In August Anna sprained her ankle and I had a miscarriage. It was only the start of my downward journey. I was simply worn out. Also in August, Marlea had poison ivy and fought it off and on until finally it became systemic and her whole body reacted to it. She too was worn down physically. I was rescued from my coming crash (better interpreted a nervous breakdown) by our doctor, although I will say that the drugs are still in the cabinet - unopened. I keep them there to remind myself how close I was to an emotional breakdown. By February and the year mark we were all on the healing road. The party was good - it felt okay to celebrate Kira's heaven date. Plus the amazing support we felt from everyone that came to celebrate with us was also very healing. In the weeks that followed I continued to feel healing and a release of my own will.
Weeks later we were pleasantly surprised to realize that we were expecting a baby. We simply did not expect it. Not opposed, we both really wanted another child. Especially Marlea who had prayed fervently every day since Kira's death. The pictures on her door strongly alluded to her heart's desire. The next months were difficult for me as I grappled with grieving and being joyful about the baby. Joy and sadness seem to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. I wasn't quite up to it physically. That combined with the hot summer had me pretty much exhausted most days.
So it happened that on November 11, 2010 we welcomed Brent Jaxon into the world. It was a calm, fairly uneventful delivery (as much as childbirth can be:). Minutes later as I lay holding our son I suddenly realized that I am lying in a hospital bed holding a baby. My mind flashed back to the night at Hershey holding Kira as her heart beat it's last. Instinctively in my head I compared it to now - holding a new baby. Amazement filled my heart. Earlier the nurse had been asking about our family and I had shared a little about Kira. Now they were asking more questions. I suddenly realized I was lying in this bed all this time and didn't even think about the bed similarity until now. As I talked with them more, they shared my grief with tears and more questions. But strangely I wasn't crying. A feeling rose up inside of me, a feeling of being okay with everything. Yes, here I was - I was okay. It seemed like part of my life - a life that was mine. Weeks earlier God had told me that I would have an experience through Brent's birth that would be a mountaintop. This was my mountaintop. I could feel it, I literally felt on the top - even viewing the valley from the top. Praise filled me for the faithfulness of God. Yes, that valley; yes, this mountaintop. But it would not be a mountaintop without the valley. I gazed in gratefulness at our son, Brent - whose name means "mountaintop."
No, we didn't try to name him that because of thinking it's going to be a mountaintop. When Kira was in the womb we thought she might be a boy. To be safe, we found a boy name we liked. Obviously we didn't need it. When Anna was born we kept it on the back shelf again just in case. When we found out that this baby was to be a boy, we somewhat automatically named him Brent. We didn't even realize that the name meant mountaintop. We just liked the name.
The power of that experience carried me through the next weeks. I missed Kira tremendously. The combination of adjusting to a baby - hormonal changes that come with birth, and the Christmas season - proved to be a terrible combination for me. Merlin was also dealing with the changes except that men tend to retreat, which only made my pain worse. Many days I felt as if I could hardly go on... then the realness of my mountaintop experience would come back. It wouldn't bring me out of my sorrow, but it did convince me that sometime I will be okay again. It was the taste of the "feeling" that kept my head up.
When Brent was three weeks old he was having breathing difficulty.
I took him to the doctor and then for a chest x-ray; his chest was clear. A few nights later I awakened to the sensation that something was wrong. I jumped out of bed-paranoid. His head was cold but he was still breathing although labored. I was just downright scared. Fear came crawling into my heart that God would give us a son and then take him away again. He was better after his feeding but I held him the rest of the night. And yes, one could have guessed; it was the weekend so into the ER we went. I couldn't believe it. Us, here again. It's like God just wants us to be okay with going there and facing our fears. I wasn't too surprised with the whole ordeal. God had told me a while ago that something will happen with Brent that I will learn to trust Him more. I pretended it was my imagination...but then I knew I had heard it. Yes, I did learn to trust Him more through it. But in a different way than with all the other episodes. I felt like God was simply calling me to face my fear - maybe even confront my feeling of helplessness. I learned a lot more about conquering my fear simply because there was something to do. Kira's death left me with a terrible feeling that there is nothing to do. God showed me through the experience with Brent that often just a simple something takes care of the problem; it's not always a drastic complicated outcome. In his case all it took was a nebulizer treatment. We did it at home for a few weeks afterward and he has been fine since. He just couldn't move the mucous. Or maybe God just wants us to walk into the ER so often until we don't even think it strange anymore?
Christmas came and went. Lots of feelings again - mostly sad. Strangely Marlea was sick for about two weeks again right before Christmas. Sorta added to my loss of sanity. I can't say I do really well with all of the above on a pile. The one day, I took Marlea for a doctor appointment; I made the appointment at one place and went to another location. They looked at me as if I might be a little shady. I just smiled and said "Well, I guess I am still post-partum." I was glad for the excuse. "Here - give my daughter a fix so I can get my sanity back again" is what I was thinking. It was nice to look back on Christmas day and feel the difference between last Christmas and this Christmas. This past one was definitely easier for all of us. I still keenly felt the desire to be joyful on Christmas but it is so difficult when not everyone is there and you know someone will never be again on this earth. We tried to distract ourselves but I can't say it really worked really well. At midnight after I had finally convinced Brent to settle down - I was exhausted, worn out emotionally and physically. I cried and cried, then went to bed and slept. The next day I awoke and it was not Christmas any more and the world looked brighter. In fact, ever since that the world has been looking brighter again. I feel like I am finally accepting Kira's death.
In turn I am blessed with a peace unknown to me before. I feel real joy. Some of it comes out of feeling hypocritical. I was raised in a Christian home and taught to be obedient to God and His will. Not accepting Kira's death to me felt so disobedient. I knew I had to fight through it because I couldn't deny the obvious, neither ignore the grief cycle if I wanted to heal. To not accept it took patience and trust that my wounded heart would heal and I would feel peaceful again. I feel it coming. I've been told I look happy again. I am amazed how much better I am feeling physically. The muscle bunchies leave me the whole way some days and I have a lot more energy. It just takes lots of energy to grieve!
A few observations from the last three months
What do you do with a little girl who thinks turning three will make her die? She doesn't want to go to Jesus, she says.
I look at Brent - he will never know Kira on earth. That seems wrong because they are both part of our family.
We have lived two years without Kira. Next year it will be as long without her as with her.
It takes wisdom and thoughtfulness as a mother to remember to ask the seven-year-old every several days what she is thinking and to purposely spend time with her, reflecting on her feelings about Kira and her death. Unfortunately though I am her mother; I am human and not perfect.
Men and women still grieve differently two years later
Anna turns three in April. Her actions and antics somewhat remind me of Kira and how much I was enjoying her. After she turns three - I will be reminded constantly of what I lost with Kira.
I fear still someone I loved being taken from me...then I am reminded of the definition of "mine"
God has unique ways of making me stronger
God's timing is always right
God gave us a visible sign to help us remember the mountaintop
Brent is God's sign to Marlea that He heard her prayer. She wanted Kira to live; she died. Then God gave us Brent!
Life and death are so opposite. Likewise the feelings that go with them.
I live in awe of a God who gives and a God who takes away. In times of doubt - I am learning to trust
When Anna was born, Kira was simply overbearing. I have many pictures of her bending over Anna; and Anna is screaming "bloody murder." We have the same scenario again. Only this time Anna is overbearing and Brent is screaming. Why don't babies like two-year-olds? It must be that fear of the unknown.
Rejoice with us for the gift of life God gave in Brent and how we are learning more about God through his birth. Also for the healing and joy we feel in our hearts, and for the valley and mountaintop.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna, and Brent
Friday, October 29, 2010
Reactions
Reactions-we all have them. Reactions to people, circumstances, or something that just really sets us off. We are all different so we all react in our own unique way. We even get demanding about needing space while we react. We spend time thinking of excuses for ourselves, or try to explain our way out of our own human-ness.
A few weeks ago in this house we all had our own reactions. The tombstone made its arrival by way of Merlin's truck. Marlea and Anna thought it was great to go with Daddy to pick up Kira's tombstone. I grimaced and my stomach turned at the thought of it being great to go pick up your sister's tombstone. I reacted by living out my sullen angry feelings. They were excited and proud of it-I was not. They tried to persuade me to go out and look at it in the truck-I did not want to see it in Merlin's truck. To me, the taste of death stinks and that is what the tombstone felt to me that day. Later Merlin took it to the graveyard and laid it on the grave because he didn't have the correct material to put it in place. Finally on Sunday after church I could no longer deny that it belongs to me. I went and looked at it-sullenly of course. I found Marlea lying on the stone with a smile on her face-I took only one glance and muttered that it's nice. Merlin was very gracious to me, giving me the space I needed to react to my feelings. He designed the tombstone himself so it would have been nice to be receiving compliments instead of grimaces from his wife. He too was having his own reactions only being a man it was the thing to do to put up the tombstone. Marlea kept asking me if I like it. "Yes", I replied, just not there! More like I wanted to yell "I hate it!" It could have been the most unique tombstone available on the face of the earth and I would still be grimacing and mad.
So I left and my family followed me to the van. I managed to tell Merlin that it is very nice. Anna had her own two year old reaction by screaming life-threatening screams as we drove down the road. To her the tombstone was part of our family, something we should take along - not leave in the graveyard. Why would we leave it in the graveyard after picking it up in Daddy's truck? She wanted to bring it home to our house. When we arrived home I was thinking on these things when Marlea came into the kitchen carrying her beloved "Bowl Hat". I was sure she was going to say that she is going to use it again. Like I had written two months ago, it was under the bed. She handed it to me. "I don't need this anymore" she said. Words were trying to come out of my gaping mouth as I stared at her. Alas I had no words for such a change. I had not expected to ever receive that bowl back. And here she was giving it to me after lying in the graveyard with her head on her deceased sister's tombstone. I took it, but was totally confused by the series of events. So that was the last thing for her - putting the tombstone over Kira's grave? To me the action brought reactions - nasty, ugly, sullen, angry ones. To my daughter it brought closure, peace, and acceptance. I felt slapped in the face.
So I thought about it, tried to talk about it with my friends, let myself be angry again. My mind played the "what if" games again as I struggled with God about giving back my daughter before I thought it was time. In the end I decided to accept the tombstone. After all, if I didn't I would have to face my daughters questions and probes for the next fifty years. Maybe acceptance was the easy way out but it surely does brings more peace. The next Sunday I went to the graveyard again. Two of my friends went with me along with a bunch of Marlea's and Anna's friends. This time it was set upright in place and Marlea was riding it full of grins. It was easier this time and we all shed some tears. It makes it easier to accept when I realize that it is not only painful for me to look at it, but also for others. As I gazed at it I realized that it is a really nice tombstone. It has her picture engraved, the Jesus "Rock of Ages" symbol from the picture on her blog, and her name. As I stared at it I also realized that we had forgotten to put daughter of on. But I don't really care. At least my name isn't there with hers. Somehow it eased the pain and I breathed a sigh of relief. The next Sunday I went again. Now it's less bitter. I feel okay about it. I still can't say that I like it, but I do say it's a nice tombstone if there ever was such a thing.
I seem to have had numerous other reactions. Anna is growing and is now two and a half. She and Marlea are starting to actually play things that make sense together. Once again I hear little feet trotting after each other, someone hollering "Mia", and a little voice singing God is Great at the table before meals. It's nice but I find myself being afraid of it. It reminds me too much of "how it used to be." I attempt to face the fear and remind myself that it's not a valid fear. The actual fear is simply the fear of Anna also being taken to heaven. I need not fear it because God is in control. If I really trust Him like I say I do then it should not be a fear. But alas, I am human. My fear does not keep me from enjoying her antics and play. I smile and thank God for the healing that we have experienced. Even if it means not thinking about the "hole" so much. I thank God also for Anna's vast vocabulary and how that makes it so much easier for her and Marlea to play and communicate.
I am also reacting to upcoming changes in our family. Baby four is due in several days. Changes - good ones but it makes me miss the "Sunshine" girl who played such a vital part in our family. I realize that she would be helping me a lot with the baby especially when Marlea is at school. She would also be playing with Anna. Instead Anna is making baby noises and screams in preparation for baby four's arrival. A few days ago I decided that there is no other way to make room for baby four without putting some of Kira's clothes away. It was terribly hard to do, and still feels like betrayal almost two years later. Memories are still fresh in my mind. Anna reacted by standing in a corner and screaming. She made big bold statements like "Kira doesn't need this anymore because she is up in heaven". Or-"Kira won't mind if I wear this because she is in heaven". It added to my pain but the bluntness and truth she spoke also helped me keep in focus that it is simply the truth. Some of her clothes fit Anna so I didn't need to put them all away. I freely admit that there are some clothes in Anna's drawer that are quite oversized for her little self. Until Anna grows into them, they still belong to Kira.
Pray for us in the changes that are coming. Pray that we will enjoy and embrace now and it's joy fully. It seems possible for this baby to bring more healing for all of us. Our God is mysterious!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, and Anna
A few weeks ago in this house we all had our own reactions. The tombstone made its arrival by way of Merlin's truck. Marlea and Anna thought it was great to go with Daddy to pick up Kira's tombstone. I grimaced and my stomach turned at the thought of it being great to go pick up your sister's tombstone. I reacted by living out my sullen angry feelings. They were excited and proud of it-I was not. They tried to persuade me to go out and look at it in the truck-I did not want to see it in Merlin's truck. To me, the taste of death stinks and that is what the tombstone felt to me that day. Later Merlin took it to the graveyard and laid it on the grave because he didn't have the correct material to put it in place. Finally on Sunday after church I could no longer deny that it belongs to me. I went and looked at it-sullenly of course. I found Marlea lying on the stone with a smile on her face-I took only one glance and muttered that it's nice. Merlin was very gracious to me, giving me the space I needed to react to my feelings. He designed the tombstone himself so it would have been nice to be receiving compliments instead of grimaces from his wife. He too was having his own reactions only being a man it was the thing to do to put up the tombstone. Marlea kept asking me if I like it. "Yes", I replied, just not there! More like I wanted to yell "I hate it!" It could have been the most unique tombstone available on the face of the earth and I would still be grimacing and mad.
So I left and my family followed me to the van. I managed to tell Merlin that it is very nice. Anna had her own two year old reaction by screaming life-threatening screams as we drove down the road. To her the tombstone was part of our family, something we should take along - not leave in the graveyard. Why would we leave it in the graveyard after picking it up in Daddy's truck? She wanted to bring it home to our house. When we arrived home I was thinking on these things when Marlea came into the kitchen carrying her beloved "Bowl Hat". I was sure she was going to say that she is going to use it again. Like I had written two months ago, it was under the bed. She handed it to me. "I don't need this anymore" she said. Words were trying to come out of my gaping mouth as I stared at her. Alas I had no words for such a change. I had not expected to ever receive that bowl back. And here she was giving it to me after lying in the graveyard with her head on her deceased sister's tombstone. I took it, but was totally confused by the series of events. So that was the last thing for her - putting the tombstone over Kira's grave? To me the action brought reactions - nasty, ugly, sullen, angry ones. To my daughter it brought closure, peace, and acceptance. I felt slapped in the face.
So I thought about it, tried to talk about it with my friends, let myself be angry again. My mind played the "what if" games again as I struggled with God about giving back my daughter before I thought it was time. In the end I decided to accept the tombstone. After all, if I didn't I would have to face my daughters questions and probes for the next fifty years. Maybe acceptance was the easy way out but it surely does brings more peace. The next Sunday I went to the graveyard again. Two of my friends went with me along with a bunch of Marlea's and Anna's friends. This time it was set upright in place and Marlea was riding it full of grins. It was easier this time and we all shed some tears. It makes it easier to accept when I realize that it is not only painful for me to look at it, but also for others. As I gazed at it I realized that it is a really nice tombstone. It has her picture engraved, the Jesus "Rock of Ages" symbol from the picture on her blog, and her name. As I stared at it I also realized that we had forgotten to put daughter of on. But I don't really care. At least my name isn't there with hers. Somehow it eased the pain and I breathed a sigh of relief. The next Sunday I went again. Now it's less bitter. I feel okay about it. I still can't say that I like it, but I do say it's a nice tombstone if there ever was such a thing.
I seem to have had numerous other reactions. Anna is growing and is now two and a half. She and Marlea are starting to actually play things that make sense together. Once again I hear little feet trotting after each other, someone hollering "Mia", and a little voice singing God is Great at the table before meals. It's nice but I find myself being afraid of it. It reminds me too much of "how it used to be." I attempt to face the fear and remind myself that it's not a valid fear. The actual fear is simply the fear of Anna also being taken to heaven. I need not fear it because God is in control. If I really trust Him like I say I do then it should not be a fear. But alas, I am human. My fear does not keep me from enjoying her antics and play. I smile and thank God for the healing that we have experienced. Even if it means not thinking about the "hole" so much. I thank God also for Anna's vast vocabulary and how that makes it so much easier for her and Marlea to play and communicate.
I am also reacting to upcoming changes in our family. Baby four is due in several days. Changes - good ones but it makes me miss the "Sunshine" girl who played such a vital part in our family. I realize that she would be helping me a lot with the baby especially when Marlea is at school. She would also be playing with Anna. Instead Anna is making baby noises and screams in preparation for baby four's arrival. A few days ago I decided that there is no other way to make room for baby four without putting some of Kira's clothes away. It was terribly hard to do, and still feels like betrayal almost two years later. Memories are still fresh in my mind. Anna reacted by standing in a corner and screaming. She made big bold statements like "Kira doesn't need this anymore because she is up in heaven". Or-"Kira won't mind if I wear this because she is in heaven". It added to my pain but the bluntness and truth she spoke also helped me keep in focus that it is simply the truth. Some of her clothes fit Anna so I didn't need to put them all away. I freely admit that there are some clothes in Anna's drawer that are quite oversized for her little self. Until Anna grows into them, they still belong to Kira.
Pray for us in the changes that are coming. Pray that we will enjoy and embrace now and it's joy fully. It seems possible for this baby to bring more healing for all of us. Our God is mysterious!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, and Anna
Friday, September 3, 2010
Perspective
I have become different. I cannot detour around that truth. Grief and pain have changed me and my perspectives on life. A few weeks ago, my cousin was killed in Afghanistan. He and nine others were part of a mobile eye clinic in a remote part of the country. They were ambushed, robbed and killed. A week and a half later we attended his memorial service. During that time I found myself unable to properly grieve and mourn his death. In fact, I was thoroughly confused. Sunday at his memorial service I was finally able to cry. Then the tears came in torrents and I was out of control. Days later I decided I still haven't really mourned his death. My longing to enter heaven has stolen and replaced what would have been my feelings of grief for the loss of his life. Yes, that envy has stolen my ability to grieve. Why would I grieve my own loss when he is experiencing heaven? I want to go there...not that I want to leave my loved ones, but my desire for heaven is burning. The small taste God gave me the night Kira died will stay with me forever. The peace heaven gives and the feeling of everything being perfect: no more worries, cares, strife, war, arguments, or different opinions about life. My perspective on death has changed. I always grieved for my loss of connection with that person. I still do to some extent. Now-my grief is more associated with the living and the pain they will endure until heaven can be real for them. My tears at the memorial service were for my aunt, uncle and their family. I still have some balancing to do; I am still partially confused.
God also showed me in a funny way that other people's perspectives are different than mine. It broadened my horizon and allowed me to be more okay with however they would like to perceive me. Last week we were walking out of a restaurant. Marlea and Anna were ahead of me. I must have looked tired. A kind looking middle-aged couple was outside eating ice cream. The man was watching the girls. He looked at me and said "I bet they are a handful". The words were already coming out of my mouth to inform him that no they really are not but when there were three of them I was busy. I bit my tongue, smiled and replied "Yes they are." For the first time since Kira's death, I felt myself allow a person's perspective on our family to remain as it appears. In turn I felt God showing me that my perspective on death has changed and that is okay. But that is for me to feel and not everyone else. Each person grieves differently and for different reasons. My respect of those different reasons along with my respect for the Christian body of believers is growing.
Anna is learning to ride a bike with training wheels. She can barely reach the petals now. Her eyes glisten with pride as I try to help her. They remind me so much of the same pride I saw in her sister as she learned to ride the bike. In Kira's eyes she became Marlea's equal because she could ride bike also. For Anna, she is simply being proud of turning the petals. I miss that fierce competition between Marlea and Kira. It made for crazy times....
Praise God for the ability to feel, choose, and express our emotions. Also for good health!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
God also showed me in a funny way that other people's perspectives are different than mine. It broadened my horizon and allowed me to be more okay with however they would like to perceive me. Last week we were walking out of a restaurant. Marlea and Anna were ahead of me. I must have looked tired. A kind looking middle-aged couple was outside eating ice cream. The man was watching the girls. He looked at me and said "I bet they are a handful". The words were already coming out of my mouth to inform him that no they really are not but when there were three of them I was busy. I bit my tongue, smiled and replied "Yes they are." For the first time since Kira's death, I felt myself allow a person's perspective on our family to remain as it appears. In turn I felt God showing me that my perspective on death has changed and that is okay. But that is for me to feel and not everyone else. Each person grieves differently and for different reasons. My respect of those different reasons along with my respect for the Christian body of believers is growing.
Anna is learning to ride a bike with training wheels. She can barely reach the petals now. Her eyes glisten with pride as I try to help her. They remind me so much of the same pride I saw in her sister as she learned to ride the bike. In Kira's eyes she became Marlea's equal because she could ride bike also. For Anna, she is simply being proud of turning the petals. I miss that fierce competition between Marlea and Kira. It made for crazy times....
Praise God for the ability to feel, choose, and express our emotions. Also for good health!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Bowl Hat
In the winter of 2009 we had the flu bug. Instead of buckets we use bowls to catch the "you know what." Marlea and Kira had matching bowls, one bigger than the other. Over the time of Kira's death, Marlea became fiercely attached to her bowl. She named it "Bowl Hat". The days visiting in the hospital she always brought it along-often on her head. In the days, weeks, and months that followed, she and "bowl hat" were inseparable. It slept beside her at night, was carried around during the day, went to Grandma's house, and even went everywhere in the van. She would have even taken it into church if we would have allowed her to do so. Convincing her to go to kindergarten without it was a chore. I relented several days and allowed the hat to ride along in the backpack. It went with us to El Salvador, to Ohio at Christmas, and to Ohio again in May. I would try to make her leave it at home but it was wasted energy. She was determined, so eventually I accepted it as part of our family for however long it wanted to stay. I also soon learned that "bowl hat" was wanted for a reason and her stomach did seriously hurt. I have learned that stress does that to little ones. Often the bowl was used for its intended purpose and saved me from making a wild dash for something else handy to grab. About eight months ago we found reasons for the stomach issues for Marlea. Daily enzymes decreased the need for repeated use of the "bowl hat". However, it was still a very important object. I became really tired of looking at that thing all over our apartment so I started sticking it under the bed at opportune moments. Always it would come back out again and as a reward I would receive glares for my actions. A few months ago it started staying under the bed but it still went along on vacation. Last weekend we went on a trip; we left on Saturday and came home on Tuesday. We took a camper to distract us from the fact of our first family vacation that didn't include extended family. It proved to be a good distraction. On Monday I was thinking that something was missing. I couldn't pinpoint it. As I was cleaning up the camper it suddenly struck me. "Bowl hat" was missing. It was still under the bed at home! Tears filled my eyes as I grasp what is happening in my daughter's heart. To heal means freedom from nerves -which in turn heals the stomach - which eliminates the need for "bowl hat". I kept quiet and sure enough we returned home and "bowl hat" is still under the bed. It might need to come out again sometimes and I am okay with that. I might even like to see it sometimes. But mostly I choose to embrace the fact of a little heart that is healing, nerves that calm down, and a stomach that doesn't heave.
Our last family vacation we spent in Louisville, Kentucky visiting the Horse Park. The girls loved it and so did their parents. This shot of Kira reminds me of the white horses she is freely riding in heaven.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Friday, July 30, 2010
Raindrops
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Something mysterious is happening to me. I feel myself coming out of the clouds and emerging into light. It has been a gradual process since passing the year mark of Kira's death. The past couple weeks the feeling has grown stronger, partly due to an experience one of my close friends is having. It's a friend I love dearly who as a child befriended me with cute loving notes that encouraged me despite the ten-year age difference between us. As the years went by our friendship became stronger and we spent some time together each month. After she graduated from high school she worked for me for several years. Last year when Kira lost consciousness here at home, she was working here and was the first one to come into the house. She gathered up Marlea and Anna and took them out of the apartment. Her presence that day was a great relief to me and yet I felt so badly that she had to see that amount of pain. On the other hand, she felt as if she were giving to me a gift that was unmeasurable. Now, she is having a difficult experience. I feel a fervor rising up inside of me to give...it's the kind of giving that it close to my heart. It's a gift that simply requires time and words of empathy, encouragement. Strangely it's the very one that I wanted to shield from my pain now listens to my words of encouragement. It takes no explaining that I know how it is to be desperate and out of control; she knows, she saw me. I was thinking all these things after visiting her. It was raining and I was sad. Partly sad too because my next stop was at Hershey hospital to visit another friend whose child had meningitis. The raindrops fell faster along with my tears as I turned my van toward Hershey on 322. I was nervous and angry at the same time. I didn't want to go back there. I was by myself; I had no cushion on which to lean and I was going to have to walk in there all alone. The sun briefly came out and I wished for a rainbow. "God maybe then I could see and know again that you love me" I thought to myself. I arrived at Hershey with my heart still pounding and my anger still simmering. Why does God let some children die and others live anyhow? I pondered as I dove into a parking spot far away from the main entrance. I decided to walk off my feelings. Alas, I reached the door and I was still in shambles. The lady at the registration told me the child was on the seventh floor. Yes, unfortunately I would have to walk down that forbidden hallway. I wanted to scream "God I can't do this. I have to have someone to walk with me. My memories of this hallway are"....my mind reverted back months ago. I see us,the heartbroken parents stumbling down that hallway for the last time. It was almost midnight when we left the hospital that night of the 24th of February. We were more tired than words could ever say. But our broken hearts dreaded the next days and what we knew lay ahead of us. We also knew our little girl would be wheeled out this hallway with the undertaker. We in turn would go out to our van to her empty car seat. The grief that hallway holds in our memories - and now God was asking me to walk down it alone and visit a child who was going to live? I stepped off the elevator and signed in at the desk. Tears blurred my eyes as I wrote down my name. Step by step I force myself to walk down the hall. This must be called facing one's fears, my mind tells me. I reach the patient's door way and yes, she is sitting up in bed smiling. My heart flip flops. In a way it's nice to know children can recover from meningitis, viral - I learn as we talk. By the time our visit was over, my happiness for them outweighed my anger and nervousness. I left the room feeling like I had done the right thing by visiting. I turned and walked down the hall again. Thoughts went through my head like "God please just don't let any of my children ever need to be here again." But it does look like not everyone dies that comes here. I felt as if I had accomplished something as I opened my car door. It was raining again but this time I was thinking "Somewhere in all this pain and grief there are answers. Maybe even beauty. Maybe I am and will become a more true example of God. Maybe God is using my own pain to enable me to understand other's pain more. Yes, I do care more. Admitting that simple fact finally made sense to me. I do care more, I do understand more. Suffering has deepened my understanding of the cross like never before. Grasping the possibility that I can be more like Jesus through all this? As I reached the highway rain was falling again. My mind said it could be no other way driving away from Hershey. I passed a sign that seems to me to read mockingly "Hershey-the sweetest place on earth." I grimace, humpf - maybe to some. Really I felt like stopping and tearing down the sign. Fortunately my mother taught me to not always do what I feel. As I drive on through the rain my mind reverts again to the power of Christ in me and living redemptively. Suddenly the clouds break and the sun shines through the rain. I look around anxiously for my rainbow and there is none to find. Just raindrops, sun, and clouds. Selfishly I ask God why He can't give me a rainbow when I think I need one. About five minutes later I think I see some color. No, I must be imagining things. But no, it really is! There in front of me emerged a most beautiful rainbow. I sat humbly swallowing all my selfish thoughts and in turn became amazed at God. Okay God, I get it. I am actually as small and ugly as a raindrop. It's through Your Light in my life that I can become beautiful. You can even use the back part of my raindrop; the ugly painful experiences I have had; the grief filled days; the heartbreaking, agonizing minutes to bend a second time and create more color. Maybe sometime I will even see another double rainbow in my life. That will have to wait because for now I only see a single one in front of me. The rain might continue to fall but God's light in my life will still make beautiful color. I savored the rainbow; soon I noticed people braking. The traffic came to a halt and for the next ten minutes God left the rainbow for me see. I had lots of time to soak in the love of God.
I enjoyed these explanations:
Rainbows appear when raindrops (similar to a prism) reflect sunlight, thus breaking white sunlight into colors.
How is light reflected to create rainbows?
As light enters a water droplet, the different wavelength colors bend at slightly separate angles. Some of this light reflects off the back of the droplet and is bent a second time as the droplet emerges from the light beam. Drops at different angles send distinctively different colors to the eye.
If light is hitting raindrops at a proper angle, a secondary, larger rainbow will appear outside of the main rainbow. This secondary rainbow is fainter in color than the main one because the light has been reflected twice by each raindrop. This double reflection also reverses the colors in the secondary rainbow.
To see a rainbow, an observer must have one's back to the sun and rain must be falling in some part of the sky. Since each raindrop is lit by the white light of the sun, a spectrum of colors is produced.
No two observers will ever witness exactly the same rainbow because each will view a different set of drops at a slightly different angle. Also, each color seen is from different raindrops.
When Kira was five months old she wiggled around on the floor like a fish. One day I was doing beans outside and left the door open a bit. Before I knew it she had wiggled out onto the porch and down over the threshold. I was a bit astounded. That was one of her first moves that proved to us that she loved the outside.
Going back to Hershey always brings difficult feelings for me. Pray that with time and patience God can also beautify this part of my pain.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Something mysterious is happening to me. I feel myself coming out of the clouds and emerging into light. It has been a gradual process since passing the year mark of Kira's death. The past couple weeks the feeling has grown stronger, partly due to an experience one of my close friends is having. It's a friend I love dearly who as a child befriended me with cute loving notes that encouraged me despite the ten-year age difference between us. As the years went by our friendship became stronger and we spent some time together each month. After she graduated from high school she worked for me for several years. Last year when Kira lost consciousness here at home, she was working here and was the first one to come into the house. She gathered up Marlea and Anna and took them out of the apartment. Her presence that day was a great relief to me and yet I felt so badly that she had to see that amount of pain. On the other hand, she felt as if she were giving to me a gift that was unmeasurable. Now, she is having a difficult experience. I feel a fervor rising up inside of me to give...it's the kind of giving that it close to my heart. It's a gift that simply requires time and words of empathy, encouragement. Strangely it's the very one that I wanted to shield from my pain now listens to my words of encouragement. It takes no explaining that I know how it is to be desperate and out of control; she knows, she saw me. I was thinking all these things after visiting her. It was raining and I was sad. Partly sad too because my next stop was at Hershey hospital to visit another friend whose child had meningitis. The raindrops fell faster along with my tears as I turned my van toward Hershey on 322. I was nervous and angry at the same time. I didn't want to go back there. I was by myself; I had no cushion on which to lean and I was going to have to walk in there all alone. The sun briefly came out and I wished for a rainbow. "God maybe then I could see and know again that you love me" I thought to myself. I arrived at Hershey with my heart still pounding and my anger still simmering. Why does God let some children die and others live anyhow? I pondered as I dove into a parking spot far away from the main entrance. I decided to walk off my feelings. Alas, I reached the door and I was still in shambles. The lady at the registration told me the child was on the seventh floor. Yes, unfortunately I would have to walk down that forbidden hallway. I wanted to scream "God I can't do this. I have to have someone to walk with me. My memories of this hallway are"....my mind reverted back months ago. I see us,the heartbroken parents stumbling down that hallway for the last time. It was almost midnight when we left the hospital that night of the 24th of February. We were more tired than words could ever say. But our broken hearts dreaded the next days and what we knew lay ahead of us. We also knew our little girl would be wheeled out this hallway with the undertaker. We in turn would go out to our van to her empty car seat. The grief that hallway holds in our memories - and now God was asking me to walk down it alone and visit a child who was going to live? I stepped off the elevator and signed in at the desk. Tears blurred my eyes as I wrote down my name. Step by step I force myself to walk down the hall. This must be called facing one's fears, my mind tells me. I reach the patient's door way and yes, she is sitting up in bed smiling. My heart flip flops. In a way it's nice to know children can recover from meningitis, viral - I learn as we talk. By the time our visit was over, my happiness for them outweighed my anger and nervousness. I left the room feeling like I had done the right thing by visiting. I turned and walked down the hall again. Thoughts went through my head like "God please just don't let any of my children ever need to be here again." But it does look like not everyone dies that comes here. I felt as if I had accomplished something as I opened my car door. It was raining again but this time I was thinking "Somewhere in all this pain and grief there are answers. Maybe even beauty. Maybe I am and will become a more true example of God. Maybe God is using my own pain to enable me to understand other's pain more. Yes, I do care more. Admitting that simple fact finally made sense to me. I do care more, I do understand more. Suffering has deepened my understanding of the cross like never before. Grasping the possibility that I can be more like Jesus through all this? As I reached the highway rain was falling again. My mind said it could be no other way driving away from Hershey. I passed a sign that seems to me to read mockingly "Hershey-the sweetest place on earth." I grimace, humpf - maybe to some. Really I felt like stopping and tearing down the sign. Fortunately my mother taught me to not always do what I feel. As I drive on through the rain my mind reverts again to the power of Christ in me and living redemptively. Suddenly the clouds break and the sun shines through the rain. I look around anxiously for my rainbow and there is none to find. Just raindrops, sun, and clouds. Selfishly I ask God why He can't give me a rainbow when I think I need one. About five minutes later I think I see some color. No, I must be imagining things. But no, it really is! There in front of me emerged a most beautiful rainbow. I sat humbly swallowing all my selfish thoughts and in turn became amazed at God. Okay God, I get it. I am actually as small and ugly as a raindrop. It's through Your Light in my life that I can become beautiful. You can even use the back part of my raindrop; the ugly painful experiences I have had; the grief filled days; the heartbreaking, agonizing minutes to bend a second time and create more color. Maybe sometime I will even see another double rainbow in my life. That will have to wait because for now I only see a single one in front of me. The rain might continue to fall but God's light in my life will still make beautiful color. I savored the rainbow; soon I noticed people braking. The traffic came to a halt and for the next ten minutes God left the rainbow for me see. I had lots of time to soak in the love of God.
I enjoyed these explanations:
Rainbows appear when raindrops (similar to a prism) reflect sunlight, thus breaking white sunlight into colors.
How is light reflected to create rainbows?
As light enters a water droplet, the different wavelength colors bend at slightly separate angles. Some of this light reflects off the back of the droplet and is bent a second time as the droplet emerges from the light beam. Drops at different angles send distinctively different colors to the eye.
If light is hitting raindrops at a proper angle, a secondary, larger rainbow will appear outside of the main rainbow. This secondary rainbow is fainter in color than the main one because the light has been reflected twice by each raindrop. This double reflection also reverses the colors in the secondary rainbow.
To see a rainbow, an observer must have one's back to the sun and rain must be falling in some part of the sky. Since each raindrop is lit by the white light of the sun, a spectrum of colors is produced.
No two observers will ever witness exactly the same rainbow because each will view a different set of drops at a slightly different angle. Also, each color seen is from different raindrops.
When Kira was five months old she wiggled around on the floor like a fish. One day I was doing beans outside and left the door open a bit. Before I knew it she had wiggled out onto the porch and down over the threshold. I was a bit astounded. That was one of her first moves that proved to us that she loved the outside.
Going back to Hershey always brings difficult feelings for me. Pray that with time and patience God can also beautify this part of my pain.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Too Many Items
Too many items, such as dresses, berets, bands, shoes, socks, tights, sweaters, sippie cups, flip-flops, toys, pj's, and dolls. I am trying to clean up the apartment. I have this problem that started a year an a half ago; I have all these items that no one wears and yet I don't want to put them away. The tempting thought of giving them away is soon shut down when I realize I am attached to these items. I can't give these items away nor can I pack them. But the fact remains that they are in the way. Not because I can't find room for them, but because no one that I can see uses them. Their owner is gone from this earth. She will never use them again... and so I look at them. I move them around while convincing myself not to put them away and that our house has enough room for them. Today I cleaned up the hair drawer. It was full of clips and bands that haven't been used since February 19. I was relieved to not find any dark hairs this time. No one uses those clips. Anna doesn't like them nor does she have much hair. Marlea has lots of hair. The bands are too big for Anna and too small for Marlea. So I look at them again and organize them back into their space. Oh well, maybe sometime Anna will use them. I shrug as I feel the tears in my heart. Last week I cleaned up the drawers in their room. One drawer was full of dearly loved clothes. Too big for Anna, yet too small for Marlea. No one needs them but I carefully retrieved the ones that will soon fit Anna and stuffed the rest back in. Anna picked out the pair of ugliest pj's and claimed them proudly as her "balloons" since they have balloons printed on the fabric. The shoe drawer was tough because Kira loved shoes. I left the boots and some flip-flops, and put the rest away. It will be a long time yet until size ten fits Anna even though she is just nine months away from being as old as Kira was. I skimmed over the sock-and-tights drawer; too many memories to face, and too many tights without an owner. Did she really wear all of these? I organized the sweaters and put several away. She also had a lot of them. Kira was a particular dresser at her age, and her sweaters carried some weight in her mind. But again, it will be a long time until little Anna can wear 4T. What was Kira doing wearing 4T at age 2 anyhow I wonder? I go in the laundry where I keep the girls dresses and just sigh. It's hopeless. I can't bear to touch them. Anna should have her dresses there instead of the little closet but - oh well, it will do for now. The pain of moving the ones in the laundry is too great, so I proceed to make the little closet more usable. Will these dresses ever fit Anna? Seems light-years away. 5T and 6T? It will be years if they ever will correctly fit Anna. Too little for Marlea, too big for Anna, yet they stay there. They remind me of the life that used to be...of the person I miss. I will let myself hang onto them - to the memories I treasure in my heart. Forget it, I am also leaving the toys out that aren't used. I will just move around them and smile, wishing someone would play with them and I would have to pick them up. Some of the dolls were banished to the basement, but the ones she played with the most still float uselessly around the house. Some days they are played with and some days they are not. No one is really dedicated to their care, but I like to pick them up and put them away. Forget the stuffed animals too and the extra pillow in the bed. They can just stay there!
Kira loved to be combed but she hated having her hair in pony tails - if that makes any sense. She had this disobedient circle of hair to the side of her hairline. On the other side was a swath of hair that was equally disobedient. It was too short for the pony tails, too short for braids, and too fine for clips. It was just long enough to hang in her eyes, and of course, in her food. So I would sometimes clip it back with two clips. She was great at losing them. We still found one this year in the yard. That disobedient swath of hair now resides in Merlin's suit coat pocket. Maybe it will always stay there. I am not in a hurry to get it out.
Time can bring healing - hard as that is for me to admit. Pray that we will learn it graciously - both the pain and the healing, and accept it as part of our lives.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Kira loved to be combed but she hated having her hair in pony tails - if that makes any sense. She had this disobedient circle of hair to the side of her hairline. On the other side was a swath of hair that was equally disobedient. It was too short for the pony tails, too short for braids, and too fine for clips. It was just long enough to hang in her eyes, and of course, in her food. So I would sometimes clip it back with two clips. She was great at losing them. We still found one this year in the yard. That disobedient swath of hair now resides in Merlin's suit coat pocket. Maybe it will always stay there. I am not in a hurry to get it out.
Time can bring healing - hard as that is for me to admit. Pray that we will learn it graciously - both the pain and the healing, and accept it as part of our lives.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Friday, July 2, 2010
Traveling with Stuff
We packed up our stuff - literally "stuff" stuffed into a truck and tied onto the back. It's that time again..time for family vacations. It's the time when happy families go spend time with each other. Time to discover nieces' and nephews' latest antics; time to catch up on the last six months of family living out of state; time to welcome the latest additions to the family. As we drive with our "stuff" and two children my mind drifts. Where would Kira be sitting amidst this "stuff?" What would she be saying? I feel myself sinking as I realize that my brothers' and sisters' families will be complete this weekend and ours will not. I will again be faced with choices. I can choose to ignore any child close to Kira's age or choose to be okay with them and embrace the pain caused by the "hole" in our family. I feel thankful that it is not last year and that we are driving to a different cabin. After two hours of driving we arrive at our destination. Up a winding hilly lane to a beautiful clearing and a cabin that would better be termed a new age type of "cabin." Of course the first little people I spot are the bouncing four-year-olds waiting for their next adventure. There are two boys six months older than Kira and one girl six months younger then Kira in our extended family. My eyes linger over them wishing for a four-year-old of my own. All weekend I watched them and all weekend I wondered what Kira would be doing. I concluded sometimes she would have been with them and other times with the "older" girls and Marlea. Wanderings that will never be satisfied; thoughts that will remain unknown to me; longings that will never be filled. This life of incompleteness is an art to live. I must realize that this earth is imperfect, that wanderings will continue to be only wanderings, and that longings will only be filled to perfection in heaven.
Two years ago when we were at the mountains I got this great shot of Kira. Every mother tries to train their child not to do this and I was trying hard. You can see about how far I was getting.....
Thank you God for heaven where life will be perfect! May You continue to intensify my longing for heaven until I get there.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Around the Corner
I never visited a funeral home before last Saturday. I really had no idea what everything looks like. Those of you that were at the viewing and funeral for Kira will remember the funeral directors, Jeff and Debbie Naugle. They are longtime friends of ours, dating back to eleven years ago. They also frequently stay here with us at Olde Homestead Suites. About four months before Kira died we visited them. Our purpose was to check out the "creepy house" they had on some property on which they were planning to build a new funeral home. The house was going to be demolished and Merlin wanted some lumber out of it. So we toured the "creepy house" with them. The girls loved it and both found some treasures to bring home. A few weeks later Merlin and Barry went and ripped out a bit of lumber which is being turned into flooring. Last Saturday they invited us to come tour the new funeral home. I fought with God on the way there. I wanted to go back to how life was before. I didn't want to know the pain of a funeral home, I didn't want to drive on those roads without Kira, I didn't want to even go past the restaurant where we had eaten supper that night. I struggled with the lonely feeling...the kind where I drive down the road looking at people's faces wondering if they know what pain is like or if it's just me. I felt angry at the fact that what should be three little girls riding our van was only two visible ones. So we drive into the lane. The remnants of the "creepy house" are now buried under the parking lot. Jeff and Debbie meet us as we enter. I am still feeling overwhelmed and angry. As we go down the hallway and around the corner I stopped short. There on the wall is a beautiful, large picture of the little girl I am missing so badly today. My anger melts to tears as I realize the care and love of the people walking beside me. I am not alone; others feel this pain too. They too want to remember her, to honor her, to make her live on in people's hearts. On the bottom of the picture are words to this extent: Kira Mary Yutzy; our children's room is dedicated in her honor. The next doorway past this picture is a playroom for children. My mind continues to race as I realize again the gift they gave us in caring for Kira after she died. I will remain grateful the rest of my life. God again showed me his everlasting love for me through them. Things like this don't just happen because others make them happen. Things like this come out of a pure love for God. To feel God's love through other people is a powerful effect of a Christian's life.
That first night when we went out for supper with Jeff and Debbie holds one of those memories I won't forget. I was busy with Anna and Merlin was busy with Marlea so Jeff was holding Kira. I don't remember that she had much to say to him or he to her but the picture remains imbedded in my mind. I often think of it when I think of them caring for Kira after she died. It causes me to realize that someday everything will be perfect again.
May the love of God grow more and more in our hearts.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
That first night when we went out for supper with Jeff and Debbie holds one of those memories I won't forget. I was busy with Anna and Merlin was busy with Marlea so Jeff was holding Kira. I don't remember that she had much to say to him or he to her but the picture remains imbedded in my mind. I often think of it when I think of them caring for Kira after she died. It causes me to realize that someday everything will be perfect again.
May the love of God grow more and more in our hearts.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Third Dress
I have been sewing. These dresses I made took way too much time and were too much work. As usual - I got carried away and made too many mistakes; ripped open too many seams, and pulled the thread out of the needle too many times. I found myself quite frustrated at times. Many interruptions and lots of help that I didn't request (once I caught Anna headed toward her dress with scissors.) My dream of finishing with them in one day proved too lofty a goal for me and instead turned into weeks. Amid all these feelings I am stifling the urge to make a third one. I wish so badly there would be someone to wear it. She would look so cute in it....my mind wanders trying to imagine what she would look like by now - how tall she would be - how she would act. Would her hair still be brown or would they be more reddish by now? How much smaller would her dress be than Marlea's? Marlea always dances and prances around-would Kira dance and prance with her? My mind is cut off by the pain introduced by these thoughts. It feels the pain of reality - the pain of never knowing these things - the pain of it only being imaginations. I turn back to reality and my sewing problems don't seem so big any longer. It really didn't even take that long to make two dresses. I didn't mind picking out those seams; in fact it would have been nice to pick out seams on a third dress. I would have enjoyed entertaining a third little girl while I tried to "sew." I would have liked to solve the fights that would have been my "interruptions" in the other life. The joy of sewing the third dress will remain untouchable - only a dream. The joy that comes from a happy little girl in a new dress will never be mine to experience. But, I will treasure the two that I have to sew...my pain will not steal my joy.
By our door on the wall is the last dress I sewed for Kira. It was the first dress I sewed with my new serger. She was extremely happy with it and Marlea was very jealous. After all Kira was the only one that had a black dress like mommy. She only wore it two or three times...it will remain a treasure to me.
Please pray that we could stay healthy physically - we haven't been. Also intercede that emotionally we can be positive and joyful.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
By our door on the wall is the last dress I sewed for Kira. It was the first dress I sewed with my new serger. She was extremely happy with it and Marlea was very jealous. After all Kira was the only one that had a black dress like mommy. She only wore it two or three times...it will remain a treasure to me.
Please pray that we could stay healthy physically - we haven't been. Also intercede that emotionally we can be positive and joyful.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Puddles
When waves crash puddles form between the rocks. What happens to the water? When the waves come again at high tide the next day do they take all the water back out again? Is it mirky and miry? Is it stagnant? Do mosquitoes live in it? Maybe tarantulas? What happens to my puddles? While I am in the puddle is the water getting yucky? My water feels a bit mirky still. I would like to keep it clean, pest-free, and fresh. I would like it to not become salty there. I want the sand underneath me to stay pliable. The tide actually keeps my water clean. These waves, this tide, this grief journey is cleansing my life, and keeping my sand soft. As I let the waves wash out my muddled puddle I can face life again. In the daily hum of life it's easy for me to just live. To try to forget the grief that is around me every day. But letting the grief come it constantly refocuses my life and I accept the hole left behind Kira. I repeatedly tell God "I am confused, I am hurt, I am full of grief, but I will still trust you." When I do not allow the waves to come I grow salty; grouchy and very temperamental. For now I am in the puddle. Maybe sometime I will jump up and stay on the rocks. I jump out every once in a while just to remember what it's like on the rock. Psalm 40:2 reads "He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay; And He set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings."
I recently remembered fter New Year's Day 2009 we spent the night at Merlin's brother's house in OH. Kira was still really proud of her suitcase she had received for Christmas. That morning when we were packing, she packed neatly and promptly. I can still see her wheeling her suitcase out to the doorway for her daddy to load in the truck. The pride was written all over her face. After all she was the first one to have her suitcase there from a family of five. I am human...I wish......
Please pray that we would stay focused on Jesus while the waves continue to cleanse us.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
I recently remembered fter New Year's Day 2009 we spent the night at Merlin's brother's house in OH. Kira was still really proud of her suitcase she had received for Christmas. That morning when we were packing, she packed neatly and promptly. I can still see her wheeling her suitcase out to the doorway for her daddy to load in the truck. The pride was written all over her face. After all she was the first one to have her suitcase there from a family of five. I am human...I wish......
Please pray that we would stay focused on Jesus while the waves continue to cleanse us.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Waves
I have heard someone say that grief comes in waves. My mind pictures the ocean. Last fall we were in El Salvador and spent two nights on the beach by the Pacific Ocean. There the waves crash onto rocky shore. In between the rocks are soft puddles of sand. At night the tide comes way up and the waves crash mighty crashes all night long that spray water into the air and up over the concrete walls, often giving water to plants on the other side. I have never been there in a storm but I think the power of the waves would frighten me. Likewise, in my life these waves of grief crash onto rocky shore. They make puddles between the rocks. Puddles that with God's help I am trying to keep impressionable. Sometimes the waves crash, the pain is great and the water splashes on those around me. People see my pain with their eyes because it's obvious that Kira is not here. They can hear my pain with their ears when I speak. I pray that the splashes of water they receive from me will help them grow. My heart is not stormy anymore. I can feel the storm ending. But the waves don't leave. Maybe as time goes on they will be more like low tide waves leaving only soft puddles in the sand. Right now I think they are pretty much still like high tide waves at least in portions of the day. Currents in my life trigger big waves...Yesterday one gripped me as I looked at Kira's clothes. Today one gripped me as Marlea told me how much she misses Kira especially when she looks at pictures of how it used to be. On Mother's Day it gripped me as I looked out the window at my nieces and nephews playing. Anna told me she saw Kira out there and I felt the wave go through me. Kira's friend sat with me in church and I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like with three little girls. The wave washed over me as I realized that I will never experience a six year old, four year old, and two year old at the same time. Not with the names Marlea, Kira, and Anna. The ocean seems to be okay with the tides. Someday will I be? My longing for heaven grows stronger...a place with no waves. Only peace.
All little girls like to dress up. There is no story about it. It just is natural. This picture is worth a lots of words. I will spare the words and just share the picture.
Thanks so much for still remembering us and caring for us. Continue to pray that we would be able to balance our lives in the waves, puddles, and sprays.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Choices
This past year I have made lots of choices. One of the first ones I made was to care more about Kira's happiness than about her recovery. That was a hard one; I wanted her to live very badly but God called us strongly to that choice. Another one I made was to embrace grief and not run away. Choosing grief brought buckets of tears, valleys of disappointment, and heartache as I had never know to be possible for a body to endure. I can understand slightly how dying of a broken heart can be possible. A lot of the time I felt as if I were swimming with only my nose above water. Later on I made the choice to remove anger from the circle of emotions. That was a partial success; one I am still addressing. It pushed me closer to reconciling my trust in God. When Christmas came I made the choice to try to enjoy it... a choice that proved very difficult to do given the circumstances. On Kira's birthday I ate the bitter cake for days; I partially had to choose to enjoy it. As the year came around we chose to celebrate - especially children - by having a party, some activities, and lots of good conversations with people who freely embraced our grief with us. Many more of you have done so also that weren't here, and we feel that deeply as well. Again it was a choice to not run away from the pain of it being a year. The choice to be alright with healing seems to follow me these days. Just like I found pain around the corners, in the closet, running after me - I now feel healing along with it. And it feels confusing. I want it - I want to make that choice but I have discovered that along with the choice comes more pain. I still don't like pain. I struggle to be okay with what happened. I struggle to accept the last memories of Kira here in our home... Little things still set off my memory. Yet strongly and urgently healing calls me to accept it as part of what is shaping my life to be the person God must think I can be.
I have been digging in the dirt. It reminds me so much of Kira. She loved the dirt so much I even caught her eating it sometimes. Today we were mulching. I remembered Kira two years ago bringing her little bucket to fill with mulch to help her mommy. Anna was born at the end of April two years ago and it's always more fun to help mommy when she is helpless. Or maybe then they feel really needed? She was so sweet about it and such a diligent worker!
Please pray that we can discern following God's plan of healing in our lives.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
I have been digging in the dirt. It reminds me so much of Kira. She loved the dirt so much I even caught her eating it sometimes. Today we were mulching. I remembered Kira two years ago bringing her little bucket to fill with mulch to help her mommy. Anna was born at the end of April two years ago and it's always more fun to help mommy when she is helpless. Or maybe then they feel really needed? She was so sweet about it and such a diligent worker!
Please pray that we can discern following God's plan of healing in our lives.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
New Dimension
I feel something new coming; my desire is growing stronger. When I am wounded, I feel pain. It's good to feel pain because it means my heart can feel. If I feel-I can heal. A certain saying reads "No pain, no gain". When Jesus healed the lame man he rose up and walked, praising Jesus. Is that what healing is? Will I actually be able to praise God for this pain-for this healing? After Kira died and the grief came I had no idea what to expect. I felt so out of my comfort zone because life was unpredictable and my feelings were on a hypothetical rollercoaster. God ministered to me every day. I had no idea what the next day would be like. I soon learned that God does and He sent me people every day that ministered to me and were tangible pieces of God. He gave me thoughts through the Bible that helped me understand Him. He provided the correct circumstances for me to learn to rely on Him. He gave me the courage to allow myself to grieve and feel the pain. My trust in God has been gradually strengthened and has slowly become a vital part of my life again. Likewise I have no idea how healing will happen. I feel totally out of my comfort zone just as much as I did with the grief. Jesus calls me to live out of the new life in Him. A part of me would like to be stagnant and needy forever. It's not a God-inspired feeling. It's the feeling of Satan wanting to keep me in one place and in that way paralyze me. It's a battle, one that I refuse again to believe his lies and choose to continue to embrace the cross and it's healing power in my life. As for how the healing will happen...I decided I to stay along for the ride!
Kira and Marlea went through a stage where they were very bandaid-happy. We would go through boxes of bandaids; bandaids healed everything. Kira always has a scrape or a banged-up toe. When she was finished with hers she would stick them anywhere she found cenvenient. I found them on chairs, I scraped them off the floors, on her toys, dolls, or whatever she thought needed one. Bandaids made them so happy that I decided the fun was worth the several dollars' expense. Eventually bandaid use got to be ridiculous so we just didn't buy any more. Then the someone indeed started to bleed, alas - there was none to be had.
We greatly appreciate your continuing prayers!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Kira and Marlea went through a stage where they were very bandaid-happy. We would go through boxes of bandaids; bandaids healed everything. Kira always has a scrape or a banged-up toe. When she was finished with hers she would stick them anywhere she found cenvenient. I found them on chairs, I scraped them off the floors, on her toys, dolls, or whatever she thought needed one. Bandaids made them so happy that I decided the fun was worth the several dollars' expense. Eventually bandaid use got to be ridiculous so we just didn't buy any more. Then the someone indeed started to bleed, alas - there was none to be had.
We greatly appreciate your continuing prayers!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
God's Pleasure
God continues to remain a mystery to me. I like mysteries, so it works well for me. When Kira was in the hospital and also over the time of her funeral, my brother and his wife basically moved into our "house" and took over Anna's care. It was a gift to us that we appreciated immensely. Anna was doted on, and lavished with love and attention those days. She strongly attached herself to them and as the days went by would even choose my sister in law, Martha rather than me. I didn't mind because I was stressed and busy and it was so nice to watch Anna enjoying them and they her. John and Martha love children but never had any of their own. When the time came for me to reclaim Anna it was heart-wrenching for me to watch them encourage her to rebond to me. They did it so well and were willing to step back and be aunt and uncle again. Anna had mother confusion for a little while. Probably over the next three months every time we would see them she would look somewhat confused and react a bit although it soon became less and less. I knew I could never repay them but I pleaded with God to give them one of their own. Tuesday their wish was granted. They are now a family of three after having given birth to a little girl. Martha and Kira almost shared a birthday-one day apart. My due date was on Martha's birthday but Kira decided to be a day ahead of time. Tuesday was Merlin's birthday. To us it feels like a gift from God to them; one that God planned to be on Merlin's birthday just to give us an extra encouragement to celebrate new life and good things that happen to people we love. It feels like a mystery-one for which I have no explanation besides the boundless joy in my heart. My joy comes from their embracing Anna so selflessly and then giving her back again. I had always wanted them to experience parenting but my fervor and desire for them intensified so much after watching them with Anna. My joy also comes from the shared birthday! One that will always be a reminder to us of the mystery of God!
Kira was crazy and had great tactics of pestering. One of her favorite things to do while I "tried" to sew was to stand behind me on the chair. Any one that sews knows that doesn't work too well. I am constantly reminded of it when I wear some of my dresses. The topstitching seams on some of them are just simply crooked. She would always manage to give me a good bump right in the middle of the waist or somewhere very noticeable. I got tired of taking them out so they are just crooked. I kinda like them like that now.
Please pray that we will know how to embrace healing and God's ways.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Kira was crazy and had great tactics of pestering. One of her favorite things to do while I "tried" to sew was to stand behind me on the chair. Any one that sews knows that doesn't work too well. I am constantly reminded of it when I wear some of my dresses. The topstitching seams on some of them are just simply crooked. She would always manage to give me a good bump right in the middle of the waist or somewhere very noticeable. I got tired of taking them out so they are just crooked. I kinda like them like that now.
Please pray that we will know how to embrace healing and God's ways.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A Day of Remembrance
Last Saturday we attended a ceremony at Hershey for children that have passed away in the last year or more. Everything about me rebelled against the pain of going. To begin with - it was just extremely difficult to drive there. Marlea even put on the cd that we had in the van that week, which added to my misery. I could feel my muscles stiffening, my heart bleeding, and my eyes starting to tear. Then it was seeing people again that I haven't seen for six months to a year; important people who were part of my journey to God. Merlin and I took the workshops offered on grief while the children were entertained or played with - whatever happened. My fist one was on "self-Care strategies." It overwhelmed me; I was so tense just from coming there that to try to relax and enjoy the music and wisdom on journaling etc. just brought the tears. Strangely enough though, I look around and everyone else is struggling too. Oh, that's right I remember, they are in the same situation as me. I divided the feeling of common ground into three categories: a third felt good to be with people that understood without words, a third of me felt angry that we have to know how this feels, and a third of me felt totally overwhelmed by all the pain. My heart felt so ripped open again. My eyes refused to stop shedding tears. The one eye cried the whole time, the other eye only some of the time. That made me feel even more confused - that just my one eye wouldn't listen when I told it to stop. I felt so out of control. Maybe that is how God will tell me to heal by letting my one eye cry and not the other? The second session I took was "grief spiral" and the speaker talked about different age groups and how each one deals with grief. In the afternoon we had a ceremony and a slide show of children that have died. Kira was almost the last one because it was in alphabetical order. It was just tough to see her picture with others that have died. It was like admitting again that it happened to see her picture up there. I am getting used to it but it was so real that she is not here; she is in heaven and we can't enjoy her here anymore. That was the end and we came home again to a house with only pictures and memories of her. I am still unwinding.
Before Kira had enough hair to comb, every morning she would get so mad at Marlea because Marlea had hair. She would try to push Marlea off the hair-combing stool and would scream and holler. The day finally came when I could comb her hair without it hurting her and she was so happy. Now Anna does it to Marlea and I smile knowing Anna's day will come too.
Thanks for praying!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Before Kira had enough hair to comb, every morning she would get so mad at Marlea because Marlea had hair. She would try to push Marlea off the hair-combing stool and would scream and holler. The day finally came when I could comb her hair without it hurting her and she was so happy. Now Anna does it to Marlea and I smile knowing Anna's day will come too.
Thanks for praying!
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Take Me by the Hand
The Bible says "A little child shall lead them." As adults, we tend to make life quite complicated. I love to remember that following Jesus is simple; and that all we need to have is the faith of a little child to comprehend what He has done for us. Marlea took me by the hand today again. Well, maybe I should say - took my heart by the hand. She is in kindergarten at school and has struggled immensely adjusting to the school idea. Ever since last August, she has had a health problem of some kind. First she had poison oak, then hives, and then poison again. In the midst of it she mysteriously started throwing up at unpredictable times. We struggled to figure it out. Finally late last fall after another round of systemic poison, we did numerous tests. As a result, she is on digestive enzymes for her stomach. We had a beautiful reward of a happy little girl again but still there seemed to be shadows. We could make her stomach behave, but we couldn't take away the grief she was experiencing. All along she refused to play at recess with her classmates. She would not be convinced, bribed, or forced. She didn't want to play. Once last summer she told me "I don't want to play with children that are happy". End of discussion. There was no other explanation. A few weeks ago she had a nagging cough and ended up with walking pneumonia. I became quite anxious. What next was going to plague her? It had been one thing after the other for eight months. It was hard enough for me to relax and not try to predict what she would get next. Still, she wouldn't play at recess. A few more weeks have gone by; the sun is out again and it has been a year since her playmate left her. The last few times she was at school seemed much easier for her. We gave her a challenge. Get up ten school mornings in a row without being dragged out of bed and you will get a pink alarm clock (it's always better with "pink" in front of it.) Now she is jumping out of bed. The last few times her dresses were a bit more dirty and I was suspicious she is playing games with the other children. Today was the ultimate. She was so excited. They played kickball and she was playing! She was right out with it. I looked at her in astonishment and said "You mean you were playing a game?" She freely admitted to it. I shed a tear and thanked God for the gift of healing. And so I feel led by the hand. If it's okay for Marlea to play games again...it feels like God is calling me too to be okay with healing. I've tried to stuff it because it makes it seem so long ago that I held Kira, touched her, cared for her. To heal means to move on. It means time has taken place and life is beginning to feel okay again. It means emerging from feeling needy and being able to give again. Healing means embracing the Cross and the joy that takes place in our lives when we surrender our will to God's.
Anna is hitting the two year old realm. Somehow our girls have all had a terrible habit of talking out loud in church. Anna is a pro at it her speech is very well refined for a two year old. On Sunday at church I was busy. It felt good again. I will never forget the embarrassment and humbling Kira put me through in church. We sit segregated and I could hear exactly what she was saying from wherever she sat with Merlin. If she couldn't say it she just settled it with a loud scream that made lots of heads turn. The feeling of "wow, who's child it that?" type of thing. I can't say I care to repeat those scenarios but I am thankful for the humility it brought to my life!
Pray that we would have the courage to embrace the healing God is bringing us.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
Anna is hitting the two year old realm. Somehow our girls have all had a terrible habit of talking out loud in church. Anna is a pro at it her speech is very well refined for a two year old. On Sunday at church I was busy. It felt good again. I will never forget the embarrassment and humbling Kira put me through in church. We sit segregated and I could hear exactly what she was saying from wherever she sat with Merlin. If she couldn't say it she just settled it with a loud scream that made lots of heads turn. The feeling of "wow, who's child it that?" type of thing. I can't say I care to repeat those scenarios but I am thankful for the humility it brought to my life!
Pray that we would have the courage to embrace the healing God is bringing us.
Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna
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