Eye on the Prize

I was supposed to run the Williams Route 66 Half Marathon today.  I didn’t though.  At some point, way back when it was totally unrealistic for me to think of it, I made some sort of goal and commitment to myself to run a half marathon before 2015 was over, then my son died, and that goal has been one of the few reasons I got out of bed.  I’ve trained for months, hundreds of miles.  I set my eye on this and made it a prize. 

Turns out, less than 36 hours before the race, I caught the nasty intestinal virus that has attacked what seems like every home in the county.  From a shameful distance, I watched several close friends and their families get taken down for a week at a time and I prayed, “Please, God, do not let me catch this bug before my race, I beg, please!”

Friday started out like any other day, but by that afternoon I knew something was wrong.  And by 6 pm, I was forcefully succumbed.  I remember thinking, as I wretched, feeling like my ribs were going to break, that I would rather be in labor.  That lasted on into the wee hours of Saturday morning.

Paul watched me agonize all day Saturday over the decision to attempt to race or not.  He watched me desperately try to will myself well only to fall back on the couch feeling miserable again.  He knows better than to try and reason with me.

Since the race was several hours out of town, I really had to make the call by early afternoon; otherwise we wouldn’t make it in time to pick up my race packet.  When the deadline hour came, I surrendered.  I would not race.

I knew that I could.  I could race.  I could cross the finish line; even if I had to walk it, even if it was so ugly…I could.  I come by that dogma from a father that served as a career Marine Master Sergeant.  But, I didn’t have peace about that.  My pride and flesh wanted to, so bad.  But there were risks.  I could be sidelined for days or even weeks from pushing myself to run 13 miles in below freezing temps while my body was fighting a virus.  And I just didn’t want to take that risk.  I need those steady, daily endorphins.

 

On a daily basis my emotions swing hard and heavy and most days the one thing that grounds me is fitness; the 5 am spin classes, a quick 3 mile run, a long two hour run…it brings me back to center.  Fitness steadies the boat being tossed by violent waves of the deepest pain.  And the risk of not being able to tap into that, because of my pride, just was not worth it to me.    It was one of the hardest judgment calls I’ve made.

 
I’ve heard and I’ve quoted (but of late have struggled to comprehend) that God can turn the ugly, the difficult, the challenging into good.   Today as I watched (on social media) my friends and peers excitedly line up and run the race, I wanted to be a little disappointed and maybe a little jealous, but God revealed the blessings he heaped upon me instead.

I spent Saturday in bed an on the couch.  Paul waited on me hand and foot; ice chips, jello, tea, chicken noodle soup and crackers, warm blankets, a toasty fire, the whole enchilada.  He corralled the toddler and sat close to me while I watched disgraceful amounts of Netflix.  And just as I was thinking it was a terrible time to catch the stomach bug I was also thinking that being nurtured by my husband could not have come at a better time; because if I were being honest, I spent the previous week being very hard to love.  Marriage is hard as it is and losing your baby adds its own unique set of challenges to that.  While I was most vulnerable, my husband ministered to me, even though I did not deserve such tender graces.  Humbling.

Since we originally were going to be out of town over night, the older children had arrangements to sleep over at Granny’s.  So we woke up Sunday morning with fewer children and no agenda.  That might not sound like a big deal but it is.  We are the kind of family that wakes up dressed.  Divide and conquer is how we manage life and being busy is how we cope.  Sundays are also particularly hard for us since Asa died. 

This Sunday, when I was supposed to be running the race I had worked so hard for, Paul and I ended up sitting in our pajamas, holding each other, watching home videos of our beloved son, and crying.  And when we were exhausted from crying, we turned on old hymns and cried some more.

 

As I thanked God for the sweet release I realized yet another blessing.   I ran the Fayetteville half two weeks ago.  On a whim, I signed up, showed up, and ran it without a single butterfly.  I did well and, best of all, I ran a half in 2015!

Furthermore, since I was preparing for the run today, I spent the last two weeks taking it a little easier than usual.  Typically, I wouldn’t be able to do that without beating myself up emotionally for it.  Honestly, I think my body needed a bit of a break.  Going at it hard for a while now and I think the rest was good for me—especially the mental break. 

So today I was supposed to run the Route 66 half marathon, but I didn’t.  And I’m glad.  

Jar Salads

Finally getting around to putting this together!

I am absolutely certain that someone has done this a lot better than me and it's available to you all...but, I'm doing it anyway.

I have a few mottoes in my health journey and "Progress not Perfection" is one of them.  It's so easy to be very, very overwhelmed by exercise programs, food choices, eating "styles", etc.  Personally, if I'm overwhelmed, I just sit down in the floor and throw a toddler tantrum.  I have to start small, easy, one step at a time...

I started doing jar salads because I knew I liked to eat salad, but disliked preparing a good salad.  Preparing a good salad is time consuming!  I know my personality and my lifestyle--if it takes a lot of time to prepare something healthy to eat, I will go for the easy, fast, less healthy option almost every time.

To prevent the latter, I shop and prepare salads once a week, jar them up, and enjoy one daily.  It takes me about half an hour to prepare--doable.  I like to prepare them on Sunday afternoons because that's a convenient time for me.  As for the ingredients--well, whatever is locally available, on sale, already in my home, and works in my budget--that's what I use.  It looks a little different every week.

So, start with whatever produce you want, prefer, can afford, have on hand, etc.

This week that looks like diced roma tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower.  I actually prefer cherry tomatoes (because they are delicious and you don't have to dice them adding moisture to your jars.)  But if you can believe, our tiny grocery store out here in the middle of nowhere doesn't stock them.  You do what you have to.

You prepare jar salads "upside down".  Whatever you typically want on top of your salad, put in first.  Also, put in any items with a lot of moisture in very first.  In this week's salads, my diced tomatoes and diced cucumbers go in very first and are on the bottom.  My veggies usually take up about 60% of my jar.  It looks like there will be no room for greens.  When you top your jars with the greens (I prefer a mix between baby spinach and a romaine mix), you'll be surprised at how much room you still have in there.

I may have mentioned this, but I'm a fan in using whatever you have available, what works for your schedule, lifestyle, budget, etc.  In this case, uhm, leftover pickle jars do the job very well.

Once you've finished your jars, store them upright in your fridge. Mine have been known to stay fresh for up to a week.

And now on to the good stuff!

Personally, what makes a good salad for me is produce, protein, and pop! :)

Once a week I might grill up several chicken breast, dice them up, and store them in the fridge.  I add them at time of serving.  If I haven't managed to grill up some, I buy the pre-cooked stuff (gasp, I know).  Also, maybe some diced ham, or tuna (they have those seasoned tuna packs that are really good) Same for bacon.  I might bake a ton of bacon, crumble it up, and save until serving time, or I might have the pre-packaged stuff depending on my life that week.

I keep a basket or a shelf in the pantry (nice and handy)  full of toppings for my salad:  almonds, sunflower seeds, peanuts, cashews, walnuts, crasins, raisins, bacon, croutons, etc.  (I seriously have to have some crunch on my salad).

I also love avocado, mandarin oranges, strawberries, and other fruits on my salad but don't add them until serving time.

So, I pull out my beautiful, convenient, healthy jar of produce and dump in on a plate, top with some protein, sprinkle with something crunchy, add fruit...and dig in!

Sometimes a plate just doesn't hold it all so I have to dump it in my huge salad bowl! :)

This bowl is way bigger than the picture makes it look.

And every time, as soon as you sit down to eat, your little one will request a snack as well!
(don't know how to fix the rotation. Sorry)

Let me be real honest, while I enjoy the fresh greens, I'm really after the goodness at the bottom of the bowl.

All that crunchy, flavorful, pop!

And that's a wrap ya'll! I decided I would spare you the picture of the shamelessly licked clean bowl. Your welcome.

P.S. for dressings--use whatever you want.  Some cool people make their own.  I don't really have time or energy for all that.  I'm a fan of some Newman's Own, a good vinaigrette, plain ole olive oil with vinegar, etc.  

Supporting Bereaved Families - Long Term

Long Term Support

This has been on my heart to share for a long time.  But, out of fear it would seem like a desperate call for help, or even worse—come across as ungrateful for everything we’ve been blessed with, I’ve avoided it. 

But I can’t help to think that someone out there wants to read this.  And at some point (even if it’s not in our family’s grief) this may help someone.  So, here goes nothing. 

In the first days and weeks after a terrible tragedy it’s easy (or should I say easier) to fulfill the needs of a grieving family.  There is nothing too small or too great.  It’s all so needed.    Boundaries are temporarily broken down and it’s socially acceptable to complete intimate tasks for a family in mourning.  But, then the dust settles (about a month after tragedy).  And all the boundaries of life fall back into their usual place.  This leaves well-meaning and loving people not sure where to stand, what to say, or how to do it.  They want to help.  They wish they could.  They don’t know how.  Sometimes they even ask.  But the bereaved family is still barely coping and honestly cannot express needs—not because of pride—but truly the inability to even recognize a need.  And, bereaved parents are especially terrible communicators.  (I once touted myself an excellent communicator—now, it’s hard to type a text to closest friends)  Please forgive us. 

I thought I’d make some suggestions of things that I think are great for long-term support of families coping with loss (specifically loss of a child)

I think the first and greatest gift you can give a grieving mother and father is “Date Nights”

Marriage is hard.  Intentional, healthy relationship is challenging.  Add the loss of a child and the stats on a marriage surviving that are profoundly discouraging.  The mother and father are grieving alone in the same home all day long.  They are busy caring for the other children, dividing and conquering, working, managing the home, etc.   But the truth is—no two people loved their child like they did together.  Giving them a time and space to grieve together is incredibly healing and powerful.  They are too overwhelmed to plan this out for themselves, they feel guilty to ask friends, it’s expensive, and they may not even really feel like they want to go on a date.   But, they NEED to.  They need to get alone.  They need to miss their baby together.  They need to cry together.  They need to breakdown together.  They need to laugh together.  And if mom and dad can grieve healthily together, the children in the home only reap the benefits of this as they lead them down their personal grief journeys.  It’s foundational.

Tangible ways to help:

• ·       Make a reoccurring calendar date for them.  Tell them that every (or every other) Thursday evening at 6 p.m. you will be at their house to feed/bath/watch the children while they go out for two hours.
• ·       Supply the couple with gift cards to local restaurants or attractions they like
• ·       Make  a date night basket for them full of board games, wine, idea jars, tissues, etc. (you get the idea here and can be creative)

The next thing I can think of is “Taking the Pressure off the Family”

Everything feels overwhelming to a grieving parent.  Just breathing feels overwhelming.  Add running a home, managing children’s schedules, obligations, etc. and it’s nearly enough to make the whole thing crumble.

We know we have to move forward, even if it is just one step at a time.  But, it is like walking in concrete.  And while the bereaved family is ready to get on to a new normal, it’s still so hard.  Some days are heavier than others.

Tangible ways to help:

• ·       Offer to do the grocery shopping.  If the family makes a weekly meal plan, pick up their list and debit card, grab the groceries, and drop them off for the family. Going to the grocery store is one of my current least favorite things to do. 
• ·       If there are multiple children in the home that are involved in activities with your children, make a standing offer to take them and/or pick them up for practice, class, games, etc. We want our children to move forward and participate in healthy outlets—but the mental planning, the effort to get them there and back is often crippling.
• ·       Speaking of children—bereaved parents are struggling to connect with anyone, even their own children.  Invest in them.  Take them to weekly park dates, or library visits, ice cream or Sonic Happy Hour every Tuesday.
• ·       One meal a week to the family is a big deal.  Even if it’s hot dogs.  It means mom doesn’t have to think about it—which is the hardest part.
• ·       Find a chore around the home that you can do, even if no one is home, but especially if they are home.  (water plants, vacuum, dust, etc.)  Just one...just a 30 minute chore that doesn’t require anything from the family.
• ·       Do the leg work for the family

o   For example—I have a stack of envelopes from the providers of Asa’s care that I can’t open.  I’d give anything for someone to sit down at my computer and just let me sit next to them while they did all the major work. 

o   We need a grief support group, specifically for bereaved parents.  Ask me if I have sat down and even attempted to find one?  Nope.  But if someone simply took me by the shoulders, pointed me north and said walk ten blocks and you’ll be there—I’d do it. 

Well, there it is.  Just some ways I’ve thought would be good, long-term support to families that are grieving. 

I recognize that my personal love language is Acts of Service and this list has a lot of acts on it.  My prayer is that these are some universal needs and they’d be found helpful to any family. My fear is that people would feel like I don't appreciate all the ways we are being loved.  Please know, we do. 

I’d like to share some examples of what have been the big blessings in hopes that someone else can carry these on in another tragedy.

·       Asa Sundays

o   A friend made a point to post videos and pictures of Asa every Sunday.  It reminds us that we are loved.  That our child is loved.  That they recognize our pain.  The best part is, she didn’t even ask (to my recollection).  She just did it. 

·       Cards in the mail

o   This act is so simple.  I don’t quite grasp its power.  But it is so encouraging to receive kind words in the mail.  One friend sends a card weekly, addressed from God. 

·       Leg Work for Grief Seminar

o   A friend heard of a healing retreat for bereaved parents.  She did all of the leg work.  All the paper work.  All the fine details.  Just sent us the dates of our engagement.   

Thanks for letting me share.  I pray that this is helpful and encouraging.  We are eternally grateful for the army of angels in our community loving us. 

             

If I Had to Choose

If I had to choose it all over again, I would.  If I could change absolutely nothing—not one tiny detail, I’d still choose you.  I would choose Every. Single. Nanosecond. over and over again. 

I would choose one heart breaking negative pregnancy test after another.  I would choose endless days of my most uncomfortable pregnancy, over and over.  I would choose anxiety ridden days of postpartum struggles.  I would choose being held hostage for months upon months because you absolutely hated the car seat.  I would choose staring bewilderedly at a positive pregnancy test, thinking I’ll never survive, while you sat, ten months old, screaming at my feet.  I would choose exhausting days of pregnancy chasing you—the busiest and most demanding toddler. 

If I had to choose it all over again, I would.  If I could change absolutely nothing…I’d still choose you.  If I had to choose the very last day, knowing exactly what was going to happen.  If I didn’t have the power, if I couldn’t change a single thing, I’d still choose you. 

If I had to choose that moment, THE moment, the sound of terror in your father’s voice screaming out to me.  I would.  If I had to chose falling to my knees and pleading with God, over and over again…I would.  If I had to hold your broken vessel while the angels carried you away…Every time, I would.  Every single time.  I’d choose you. 

I’d choose all the pain…over and over and over again.  Just for more of you. 

Asa's Celebration Service Speech

First, I want to say thank you.  Thank you for being here.  Thank you for sharing your time with us.  Thank you for bringing your families.  We are honored that you would sacrifice part of your day to come and be with us.  It truly means more than we could ever express. 

I am in awe and deeply humbled by the love, support, and encouragement of our wonderful community.  There are so many people that we want to thank.  The magnitude of your outpouring is immeasurable.  I believe God gives us all a purpose and special gifts to fulfill that purpose while we are traveling on this earth.  I want you to know that your words, deeds, meals, gifts, support, encouragement, prayers….none of it goes unnoticed. We feel it all in big ways.  And we are humbled.  This is just a glimpse of what heaven looks like.  A bit of Kingdom on Earth.  Thank you for loving us. Thank you for using your gifts.

This tragedy is the ugly, broken, painful part of life.  I want to encourage us to all be praying for one another.  This pain—we are all experiencing it.  I ask that you would please lift up, not just our family, our children…but our closest friends who have been intimately walking and carrying us through this.  Pray that they would be comforted.  I also want to ask us to lift up the first responders, emt’s, paramedics, and the hospital staff.  These people see more tragedy than we can imagine and God gave them the special gift of compassion.  If you are a member of public service community, first responder, emt, paramedic, hospital staff, etc, would you please stand (even if you weren’t directly involved in our tragedy).  Can we take a moment to minister to these people?  Thank you from the deepest places of our hearts for your dedication, your passion, your compassion.  Bless you for your burden.  Thank you

I’d like to share a bit of our Asa story.  We wanted Asa.  We prayed for Asa.  We desired Asa.  So bad, that Paul joked he would have to give me an allowance for pregnancy tests.  But pretty much from the first (of ten) positive tests, he was a challenge.  He was my most uncomfortable pregnancy and we waited 42 weeks for him….42 weeks is a LOOOONG time to wait for a baby! And when he got here,  being my 4^th child, I assumed myself a seasoned mom.  This was going to be a walk in the park, a piece of cake.   But I was so wrong.  His first 6 months, he held us hostage!  He hated the car seat.  No one went anywhere alone with Asa.  We went in teams.  Trips were as short as possible.  We learned the he loved the songs: The Ants Go Marching and 10,000 Reasons….We all sang them together…and sang them so much, we even sang them in our sleep.  And he sang them before his 1^st birthday.  We joked, but not really, that it took us ALL to raise Asa.  I was told by the wise women, the sages, that he would one day be our joy.  And I remember looking at them thinking, “Lady, I might not survive today!”  But they were right.  He did.  He became all of our joy.  You sitting here—is a testament to that.  He was brilliant, charismatic, alive, tenacious.  But he was also kind, loving, and gentle.  He challenged us to become better parents, better individuals—more patient, more generous, more gracious. 

Though my heart breaks, my world is shattered, the picture I once saw of my life in 5, 10 years, what the life of my children would look like, is broken…I am still thankful.  And I still praise him.  I can stand here today and tell you that as I look back, I can see that God was preparing us, me, for this moment for a very long time. 

 

God in his infinite wisdom and glory, gave us the tools and time to be with Asa.  Right before I found out I was pregnant, Paul timidly approached me about staying home.  I say timidly because he knew how hard it would be for me.  Frankly, I looked straight at him after he said it, looked blankly at him, turned and walked away.  It wasn’t until weeks later that the spirit softened me enough for us to start that dialogue.  I gave my notice at work and the very next day, found out we were pregnant.  I left work to come home, and we were going to live off of ¼ of our income.  On paper, it was impossible…but we trusted that God would provide.  And, he did.  In his infinite wisdom and glory, God slay my pride and independence, and gave me over two years as a stay at home mom for the first time, with Asa. 

 Paul and I can look back at our parenting of Asa and say we have no regrets.  There is no room to say, I wish I would have sang one more song, or played more,  or taken more videos, or more pictures, or lost my patience less. Asa was born into our arms in peace, slept in our arms every night, woke up in our arms every morning…we truly have the joy of not saying, “But, I wish…..we would have…” And I praise God for that.

I have the honor of calling 4 women friends, and those women are unique, because not only have they  said goodbye to a baby, they’ve said goodbye to their sons.  They know this pain.  They have walked this road.  And I am blessed they call me friend.  Just last week, before tragedy hit our family, I was with one of these strong-mama friends.  Wishing them off for a trip out of town.  As she was hustling about to get on the road with all her babies, she handed me a book.  It was a book that she has ministered to me from through her own grief journey of losing a son.  I would often ask her the name of it and tell myself to grab a copy—but of course—never had.  But last week, just days before my own grief began, she handed it to me with a hug and kiss.  I breathed it in deep and my cup overfilled. 

So you see, though he may slain us to bind us up again, I will praise him.  I will thank Him that he did not allow us to come to this place of pain and brokenness alone.  That he went before us and he left love notes for us to find our way. 

We will never understand, this side of eternity, the why of all this, but one day, when our eyes look upon the lord, the lamb that was slain, that is seated at the right hand of God, all our tears will be worth it and we will be singing, it is well with my soul. 

Asa's Slideshow

Grief...where some days are hard and others are harder

Today is a hard day.

Really they are all so hard.  Just some days are harder than others.  But on the easier days, there is a slight reprieve from the pain.  The hard days feel like a constrictor is wrapped around you as tight as can be. When an easy day comes--the gripping is still there, but it has loosened up enough to get a few deeps breaths in.

But, after a day or two of reprieve, of the easi(er)--you almost feel guilty for the breaths and the hard is welcomed--the pain, the gripping..the heavy...the tears.

This morning, on my run, I felt the lies gripping me.  The evil one, hurling at me, "It's your fault.  You should have known better.  What were you thinking?  What kind of mother are you?"

At first, I wore it, I put on the heavy, I bore it willingly.  "Yes, yes, how could I have...Yes, yes, I should have...Yes, if only..."

Then, I began to pray that God would cover me in His truth.  That I would be cloaked and hidden in His Word.

God reminded me that His plan for Asa's life was created long before we ever met him. His plan is for an eternal glory.

"Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them" - Psalm 139:16

And, I will cling to this verse...

"Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS." - Phil 4:8