Stained Tears

 

I let the boy get his things and go. He doesn't need me to walk him in on the first day anymore. He is in seventh grade this year. He is twelve. One year and one month older

than his sister was the way she left.

He is taller than she, now. His muscles are stronger, shoulders broader.

He is brave, like his sister. And, handsome as well.

He is a boy. A button pusher. A fun giver.

His heart is loving, it is broken...and tender.

He's too big to kiss in public now, but lets me steal kisses at home.

He serves his maker.

He is my son.

 

The bigger of the littles, she is strength wrapped in a tiny package.

Holding her fears captive, she went to school today.

She is a third grade girl this year. She is eight.

Next year is forth grade. The last one her sister completed before heaven.

I wonder what strength a big sister at her side would be?

she looks like her sister. both sisters, really.

she looks like heaven to me. or maybe just a taste of it.

She has energy and drive. she will obtain her goals.

she knows what she wants 

She has strength and inner beauty. She is so much older than she aught to be.

she knows truths that other little girls wonder about.

she is courage.

she is mine.

 

 

The smallest one. She went to kindergarten today. All day.

She is five now.

She speaks her mind of truths and of love.

She is kind, and loving. She is Grace.

God's Grace. His riches at Christ's expense. I can not deny this about God!

Every day that is spent with this child.

She is a busy one, filled with ideas and pours out her kisses and love.

my kitchen countertops will miss her through the day when I cook!

her heart resembles her biggest sister.

She is my baby. my joy. my last kindergartner.

she is Grace

 

She is the crown of my motherhood.

She is the joy of my heart.

Hers was my first day of kindergarten, and of third, but not of seventh grade.

Her last was of fourth.

I would have dropped her off today. She would have walked in with her brother,

her friend.

They always were quite the pair!

It would be our first year of high school. Ninth grade. Fifteen.

I can not imagine now.

Her skin would be dark from the sun of the summer. Her hair would be long and medium brown. Or maybe she would have chosen it short. Her legs long and lanky, I can just see them now.

We would have shopped for her shoes and her stuff that she needed to start.

I'm left to wonder what she would have picked.

She was beauty. She was strength, but also tender as little girls are.

She loved her Jesus. She loves him now.

She is radiant. Kind. loving. perfect in every way.

she is still mine.

 

My tears are stained as I walk away.

Each child is seated in the chairs and ready for the new year.

and, yet I feel so incomplete.

They are not all there. I'm missing one. As I always am.

it is a feeling I rarely can get used to.

Mommies are always counting. I always come up short.

I hold my tears in till I get to the car when they come flowing down my cheeks. It has been four years. And, so another school year marks the beginning of the fifth.

she is still eleven and eight days old.  She never began fifth grade.

I am the mommy who left school today, and went to the grave.

It is a once foreign place, that I have come to know.

a quiet place. a horrid place. an empty place.

it is not mine.

Ashley, is mine. Heaven is mine. The pain, the tears....they are mine.

The new joy of life, the blessings in each day.....

The broken in my heart.

They are all mine.

 

I will soon pick them up. I will hear of their day. I am their mommy.

I am not the woman I used to be.

At times I miss her dearly. 

I ask God to dress me with strength for this year.

He will.

Because He is mine. 

letting go of something

I am sitting here today with silence in my soul.

I desire something, yet I don't know what it is...Could it be that I need someone to listen to me?

Do I need to cry? I feel like I do, but I can't seem to get the tears out.

I cleaned the bathroom because it was filthy, but sat down now because I don't feel like doing anything else.

I want to do nothing, I think.

I hear the sounds of summer in my ear. The crescendo of the cicada's song,

I hear the wind making music as it gently tosses the wind chimes.

The breeze is cool today, but the sun it warm. It feels and smells like the end of summer.

The stalks of corn in the fields are beginning to brown from the bottom up.

It is tall corn. A good year for farmers.

My garden is getting tired. The cucumbers and tomatoes are sparse.

The bounty of the summer fills my soul.

I can hear my little girls playing outside. They are happy.

One big girl is missing.

I miss her today.....a whole lot.

I wonder what heaven is like today. Is it summer there too? Did she climb a tree?

Did she lay in the grass and read a book under the sky?

Did she run through the fields with her feet free of shoes?

Did she fill her day till it overflows? Did she kiss her Father?

I long for her.

Did she dig potatoes in heaven's garden like we are digging ours now?

Do the butterflies visit the flowers that stand taller than the rest?

The ones who's flower is too heavy to hold  so they lean toward the ground?

I wonder.

Today I can feel the summer slipping away.

It is hard to let go of the summer.

I love it so.

and yet, I wonder how I love it so, when it hurts so bad.

the boy said I can't control the coming and going of summer.

he is right, I think.

That is true with more things than just summer.

it's so hard to let go.

Summer came, and it will go, and soon fall will come....

and I have nothing to do with that.

I can only just capture them in their moments of splendor and bounty.

And, then they too will be gone.

Heaven will not be like this, I think.

No! It will not. I will enjoy all of it all of the time.

My tears are flowing now. I suppose this key pad and letters on a screen were what I needed.



His Hell day.

As I cleaned my house this morning, I began to dust over the things that I dust each week. Every time I do this, I feel sickened as I continue to dust over those same photos of my daughter. The photos that are frozen in time. They will never be replaced with new ones of her as she grows older. The darkness of this reality began to sink it's way deep into my soul. It felt like a Saturday today, until I realized that it was only Friday. Friday. Good Friday. He died today. Today is the day that God's son died. My Ashley died on a Friday too. I wondered what God wanted me to know about this day. As a parent of a child who died, I desired to see this day as such...the day God's son died. I wanted to respect this sacred day for God.

The first thing I realized that was different about the day that Ashley died and the day that Jesus died was that on that day, God gave his son willingly. God knew he was going to die, actually, he sent Jesus here for that reason. He created his son to die. Jesus, being God in human form knew this too. Yet in his human likeness, he desired to escape the snare of death. He agonized over the very thing he came to do, but because he was God and a man, he could indeed choose to die for the sake of the ones he came to save. I could not do this. I could not have chosen to give my child. I would choose to keep her. I wouldn't send my child willingly to die for someone else. But, God knew how much he loved me, how much he loved his children. He knew how imperfect we were.....He knew that our sins could not go unpunished, so he took them. He covered himself in my sin. His perfect, flawless self became all that I am. God looked at his son dressed in my sin and cast the fullness of His wrath on him. He scorned him and turned his face from him. Jesus died alone. I loved my little girl to the very end. Never once did I have to turn my face in disgust. She died that day, and I was left in the agony of earthly pain and suffering, yet rested in the assurance that Ashley did not die alone. She was met by God, and he carried her home.

Each year that Ashley's day comes around marking the passage of yet another year, we have begun to call that day her "Heaven day." The sound of "death day" was so horrifying, I couldn't bear to call it that. Pondering this day as God's son's "heaven day" as I know it, I realized that today all those many years ago, Jesus didn't just die alone in shame. He was ushered into Hell. This was the day Jesus went to hell. How can such a perfect man go there? He didn't deserve it. I did. I deserve hell. But, he LOVED me.....as I loved my Ashley. I still love her and my only comfort in her death is knowing the life with her that awaits.

I am selfish. But, God in his selflessness....placed my sin upon his perfect son, because he loved me, then went to hell in my place. He did this so that I wouldn't have to suffer for my sin, but also because He couldn't bear to be apart from me forever. He paid for my sin. It didn't stop there. He wanted to give me more. He wanted me to have all that was his. So, on the third day....he conquered death and hell. He became alive again erasing my sins, dressed me in His righteousness and presented me with the gift of heaven. It is because of him that I will see Ashley again. It is because of him that I will never die alone.

This day, was the day that Jesus went to Hell. In MY place.

When I Don't Feel Like Being Mommy

It's the week before Easter. Today we have finally gotten snow after a long winter of no snow. After I have planted pansies, hung sheets on the wash line two days ago, and have put away all of the winter snow clothes, it snows. The kids have no school today. It's a snow day. They are thrilled and are currently playing together outside. There are mounds of snow, little foot prints, shovels and sleds everywhere outside.

I am glad they can't see me inside crying. Why does today hurt so bad? Why does a snow in March hurt so bad? Maybe it's just the day....maybe it's just one of those days that come and go. Maybe it has nothing to do with the snow. I want to see four kids outside today. I want to make four cups of hot chocolate. I want to have the energy I used to have....to don my hat and boots and go play with my kids in the snow. For some reason, today, I just can't do it. My tears would turn to snow today. How can it be that four years later, it can hurt like it was yesterday?

Do my kids know that they aren't getting what they used to get from Mommy? Do they know that I used to be fun and full of child-like energy? Do they know that I desperately wish I could be who I used to be? Will they ever understand the windows and walls that trap me inside? I pray not. I do not wish for them to ever understand because the only way they can is by losing a child themselves, and that, I do not wish for anyone!

I guess I need to find things to be thankful for today. Things like a day off from school, and that my kids are actually playing nicely together. (something that doesn't happen all that often anymore) I should be thankful that they got a snow day this year, even if it came late. I am thankful for my tears, even though they place me in a room of windows. I am thankful that my tears have not gone....they are proof that my child will always hold such a place in my soul that will never be taken by time.

As Grace pops inside to let mommy know she is going sledding, I only stand amazed by her name, which continues to remind me of "God's Riches At Christ's Expense" Grace is what keeps me going each day. God's grace, as represented by my little bundle of riches dressed in snow pants today, reminding me she is there, and urging me onward. Pushing my next foot forward. Despite the things I'm thankful for today, I'm still stuck in my room of windows.....I suppose that's where I'm supposed to be today. Tears are my snow day.

How do I help Them????

This will be my 4th Christmas without Ashley. The first year, we were alone...in the sense that we were the most recent ones (in our circle) to begin the walk on this road called grief and loss. It was a hard year, that first year of learning how to live again, learning how to go forward empty.
The more time has passed, the farther down the road we travel, others have begun to follow. Many of them are dear to me. Parents have buried their children, Men have buried their wives. Those of us who walk the same road, we understand, we remember. For the ones who have lost, time stopped. For those around them, life continues. For the ones who hurt, confusion sets in as they watch time pass in front of them, but feel like they stand still. The ones who hurt....they don't know what they need. The ones who watch, wonder how they can help.

My cousin recently lost his young and vibrant wife and mother of three. In an instant life changed forever. She entered glory and left behind those who must struggle to survive. Desperately wishing I could change the past or even fast forward into the future, even I wondered how I could help him. Was I crazy? I have been there myself. I tried to remember  what helped us. Being lost in each moment, I listened to all the offers of help...."just call", they said. My memory bank was full, how would I know who to call? "What do you need?" "How can I help?" I don't know what I need, I don't know how you could help me. I realized that I didn't even know what I needed. Some days I would pray ( and still do ). I would tell God...."I don't know what I need today, but I don't feel right, I know I need something. Could you please supply what I need, since I don't know what to ask for?" Some days I was in dire need of help but was too "paralyzed" in my pain to be able to seek help. I needed God to seek it for me...and others to listen to His small voice prompting them.

There were days that I never even prayed, but God sent someone or something at just the right time. I didn't always willingly accept it, but soon realized that it was indeed what I needed. If God knows what I need, and he supplies all of my needs, then He will let others know how to help me. God wants to use me and my needs to bring others to HIM! I encouraged others to pray. Not only to pray, but to really listen. Hear what God wants from you, and DO it. Don't just do it, but do it for God! Don't expect anything in return....not even affirmation, or thanks, or a response of any kind. It is about God! NOT you! I encouraged my cousin to tell others to pray and listen and respond.

As I read a blog today of a friend who started on this ugly road of grief only in July, she so beautifully and perfectly painted in words the very thing I am writing about. I desire to share her words, so as to help others to understand the hurting, to give them grace, forgiveness, and help, the kind of help that comes from being the hands and feet of our father. These are her words...slightly altered to protect her privacy...

right now...

we don't have much to give to each other...

let alone to anyone else...

So we apologize for not meeting your expectations

and for holding too high expectations

for you...

We can't see past our emotions,

We can't see past our great loss

We are blind

groping the walls

seeking light

life

the way out

reaching and begging and pleading

for help

for salvation....

from this lot.

But God thought us worthy of this lot

so we bear it.

mind you...

we may not bear it silently as Jesus did....

we may bear it....

completely recklessly

and inappropriately

while screaming,

laughing,

crying,

while silent,

pious or angry,

thrashing against it all....

or numbing our way through it all

but we will bear it

we have no choice

 

God is faithful to do what He says He will doregardless of how we feel
 

or how we act

or what we believe

or what we doubt....

but it sure doesn't help

when we don't see

or feel

or hear....

God.

It feels very very lonely

It is very very lonely

It feels like rejection

like punishment

like the wilderness...

 

Sometimes we get a glimmer of God,

when He sends someone...

when He calls out to them...

and they answer Him with a

"Yes, Lord- I am willing."

He has called out to many

but few answer His call

few answer THIS CALL-

He sends that still small voice to their heart and says... 

 

I want you to call them and just listen-

they may never pick up the phone.

Stop by their house-

they may close the door.

Send a note-

you may never get a response.

Call them again-

pat them on the back

hug them

even if they resist hugging you back

don't take it personal

this is not about you

this is about Me

text them a song, or a poem

send them a picture

write them a memory

let them know you miss her too

talk about her

even if it makes you uncomfortable

pray for them...

read scripture over their family

really pray for them

Stop telling them what to do

just listen

 

I am calling you

They need you

Are you willing?

They have NOTHING to give you back.

They will drain you,

....but I want you to help them....

are you willing?

You will never get praise

or rewards on this side of Heaven

No one will know you are helping them but Me."

 

Being where I am today, having walked this road for some time, knowing I still feel this way at times, many times, I am also able to look back and remember. I am able to encourage others to remember these people who are not too far away from all the hustle and bustle. They sit silently in the shadows. They are hurting. Take time to pray for them. Ask God how you can help them. Listen to him. Answer his prompting, no matter what earthly response you get. Tell no one of your deeds....give God the glory, and allow yourself to be blessed in serving Christ.

 

Standing on Promises

It is July again. Three years later. I can hardly believe it has been three years, it seems like yesterday and forever at the same time. I remember sitting on my porch in the days to follow Ashley's death. My friend wished she could pick me up and move me three years into the future. She said that it would get better. She knew because she had been where I was 16 years before me. I listened, but couldn't possibly imagine making it through three years. I could barely survive each moment. In my heart I truly believed that I would not have to make it for three years. God would come before then. Surely this must be the end. My world had fallen to pieces. My world had ended. I waited every day for Him to come. Each morning I begged of him that today would be the day. Every night I begged him to let me wake up in His presence. My bags were packed. I was ready to go. I had no attachment to this world. Nothing meant anything to me anymore.

No one could promise me anything. I wanted people to tell me how to make it. I wanted instructions. I wanted assurance. No one would promise me anything. I tried to make promises to myself. I became angry by the promises people make to others. Promises to pray for them, when they wouldn't really pray. Promises to stand by someone no matter what, and then forget with time, or give up when the going got tough. I did not promise to pray for anyone, knowing that I would fail them. I couldn't sing songs because I couldn't say the words and not mean them.

Last night, as I put my little girls to bed, Grace asked me once again, "when will God come to take us home?" I tell her I don't know when, but I do know that He WILL come. He promised us that he will come. I know that God always keeps his promises. He can not break a promise. As I lay there I thought about the other ways I answer my kids difficult questions and fears. I usually answer them with promises, God's promises. "He will never leave you, nor forsake you." "He will be with you wherever you go." "He will provide all of your needs according to His riches in glory." "He loves you." "He will never let you go." A song began to sing itself to me. "Standing, standing, standing on the promises of God, my savior, Standing, standing, I'm standing on the promises of God!"

I have been giving my children, and so also myself, the only promises that I know will be true. The old hymn reminded me that I am standing on His promises each day. But what if I am not sure if they are true? What about my doubt, my unbelief? I tell my children these things, these promises, but what if they are not true? They believe without a doubt. What about my unbelief? The second verse says "Standing on the promises that cannot fail, when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail, by the living Word of God I shall prevail, standing on the promises of God." Even in my doubt and unbelief, His word is Living and Will prevail! It will not fail. I will choose to stand, even blindly, on His word, His promises, because I have nothing else to stand on! I am teaching my children to be faithful to God's word, faith, void of myself, but walking forward blindly.

As I read more on the old hymn, Kenneth Osbeck in his book "Amazing Grace" writes: "Bible scholars have pointed out that the phrase "fear not" appears in the Bible 365 times - a reassuring promise for each day of the year. A daily dependence upon the divine promises is the only real remedy for our human fears." (Amazing Grace, pg. 85) Growing up in a church that filled each Sunday service with the hymns of old, I often wondered why we had to sing these old songs. I loved to sing them, and I knew them well. As I page through my hymnals I am amazed by how many of them I know, not only the words, but the music in several different harmonies. In my deepest, darkest moments the words and music of those old hymns fill my soul. They force me to sing, to remember the words that have been impressed upon my heart. Those words, all these years later, are now teaching me about my faith. They are reminding me of the truths found in the gospel. They have often been my only comfort, like a gentle rocking for my soul.

I am standing on the promises of God, my savior today. Every day. I will continue to tell my children of the promises I know, and trust that God will impress them on their hearts forever.

"Standing on the Promises" by R. Kelso Carter

1. Standing on the promises of Christ my King, thru eternal ages let His praises ring; glory in the highest I will shout and sing, standing on the promises of God.

2. Standing on the promises that cannot fail, when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail, by the living Word of God I shall prevail, standing on the promises of God.

3.Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord, bound to Him eternally by love's strong cord, overcoming daily with the Spirit's sword, standing on the promises of God.

4. Standing on the promises I now can see perfect, present cleansing in the blood for me; standing in the liberty where Christ makes free, standing on the promises of God,

5. Standing on the promises I cannot fall, list'ning ev'ry moment to the Spirit's call, resting in my Savior as my all in all, standing of the promises of God.

When Mommy Says a Prayer

Every night at bedtime my children wait until I pray. The prayer is often the same old prayer, but they can't sleep without it. They want me to pray for angels to keep them safe at night, to watch over them each day. I want them to hear me ask God for them to always love Him, to always serve Him, and to love Him and others the way He loves us. I thank Him for the strength He gave us for that day, and ask Him for more of it tomorrow. I am amazed by the comfort it brings my children by my simple little prayers.

Because it is Mother's Day, I want to reflect on my Mother, rather than the fact that I am a mother. I still go to my mommy when I need a prayer. I always know she will pray. Prayer is often the only thing I ask for these days. No one can give me what I need, but God. No one can fix my pain each day. No one can give me strength. No one can comfort me. God can. Sometimes I can't pray, but Mom can. What a blessing it is to have a Mom that prays!

When Ashley died, I crumbled. My mom was there but couldn't pick up the pieces. She wasn't enough. As my mother and my friend, she decided to equip herself with the "tools" she needed to help me best. She wanted to know what my life would be like, she wanted to catch a glimpse of the journey I was about to embark on. My mother began to read. She read books about heaven, she read books about one mother's journey through loosing her son. She read about the darkness. Much of it was for her own comfort and desires, but it was because of me that she read. She was preparing herself to meet my needs, she was searching for ways to pray. I am so proud of my mom for caring so much. When she felt helpless, she did not quit. She equipped herself, and went to God, asking Him what I needed.

When I tell her nothing, she prays. I believe she asks God what to pray for. There have been days that I have called in tears. I have been desperate for strength, not knowing how I would face another second. I would ask for her to pray. It is rare that we pray aloud together. Praying is so often done in private. It is something that is not seen, and rarely is recognized in public. We can't take credit for our prayers. They are between us and God. We can rejoice in answered prayer. We can weep when our prayers seem to go unanswered.


It was my last mother's Day. (that was three years ago) Because our business is busiest over Mother's day, I don't usually plan for much! I wanted to do something special for my mom. One thing my mom always wishes for is to have her children with her in church on a Sunday morning. She craves this especially because only one of her children lives close by. Two of us live far away, along with all of her grandchildren. I knew it would be a treat for us to come to church. Since my husband had to care for flowers in our greenhouse that day, I packed up my four kids, drove 2 hours north and showed up on the pew benches of my parents church. I can still remember my mother's face when she realized it was us sitting there. We had a lovely day that day.


Mom, I wish I could give you that surprise today. I do not have the strength. I am so very tired. My heart is so broken. I wanted to do something special for you today. Something that will make you shine. I want to rise and call you blessed. Remember when I was little? Do you remember when I entered that competition in the local newspaper? I had to write a small paragraph about my mom. I wrote about you, and me. That little paragraph won the prize and was published in the paper for Mother's Day. So, today I decided to write this blog about you. You are a wonderful mom. You have been and continue to be my best friend. You give all you can give, and when there is nothing to give but prayer, you just Pray. Thank you, Mom, for saying a prayer for me. I love you! I always will.