A soft heart

My husband, though he isn't an affectionate person by nature and didn't grow up in an overly affectionate household, isn't one to hold his feelings back. He's not a "man up," "keep a stiff upper lip" kind of guy. He doesn't subscribe to the "men don't cry" theory. And I thank God for that because I need someone who is real, who is honest, about their feelings. He's shown our kids that it's o.k. to cry, especially for our boys. He models a biblical example of grief. Grief that expresses emotion. Grief that allows tears and accommodates real expression of feelings.

Father's Day is tough for him just as Mother's Day is tough for me. It's a day when we rejoice in the children we still have, yet grieve for the one who isn't here with us. It's not easy navigating holidays because they typically incorporate celebration. But grief complicates things. It's always an unwelcome visitor to the party. My husband and I have fought for joy, fought to keep hope on these special days. We don't want the death of our son to harden our hearts.

Instead, we look for hope. We grieve with hope. I wrote more on this on the Grieving With Hope Facebook page. (You are invited to "like" the page, as well.) Hope is always there. It's what we crave. (Just as the lyrics read to For King and Country's song, "Crave.") I am thankful for a man who knows the truth, the truth that fathers do weep. Fathers do grieve. And more importantly, we have a heavenly Father who weeps with us, who grieves with us, who gives us hope, who is our hope.

And speaking of fathers, I was all too happy to run across this post today: http://wearethatfamily.com/2015/06/fathers-are-not-idiots/. Whether your Father's Day contains sorrow or not, may it hold gratefulness for our fathers, those here and those we wait to rejoin in eternity, and gratefulness for the privilege of being a father, to those here and to those we wait to rejoin in eternity.

Father's Day

Anyone who has experienced the loss of a child can tell you that grieving is hard, painful, and exhausting. Watching my husband grieve has been (and is) heart-wrenching. I don't know where or how our society got the idea that men aren't supposed to cry, or that tears are a sign of weakness, because it simply isn't true. I am so thankful for the Bible, for the examples it shows of how to grieve and how to respond to loss.

The honest cries and laments of David fill the pages of the book of Psalms. The commingling of Job's worship and grief is displayed like the neon lettering of a billboard. The disappointment, the anger, and the questioning of the Almighty from God-fearing men, fill the pages of the Bible from beginning to end.

I have seen my husband grieve these past 22 1/2 months, all the while giving his sorrow to the only One who can bring healing. A strong man is a man who allows himself to grieve. My husband is a man of strength. God's strength.

To all the fathers who have outlived their children, I pray God's peace and strength to you on Father's Day. May it be blessed with His love, filled with His comfort, and overflowing with His joy.   

Weekend recap

SATURDAY
I am anxiously awaiting child number 2,3,4,&5 to come back home. They've been gone for a week now visiting their cousins. It's been quite different without them. Frankly, I don't like it. However, I know they've been entertained beyond reason. :) Being left with the two youngest was challenging. And quiet. And challenging. You get the idea.

I wasn't surprised at the low levels of laundry, but found myself completely lacking motivation to even cook. Which is nothing new, but, I mean, seriously, why go to all that effort for a 3 and 5 year old who eat like birds? If they were happy with waffles for supper, then so be it. Dh and I haven't really had much interest in food, anyway, since Matt died.

However, if you had asked me about food on Thursday, that would have been a different story. Thursday was prep day for my colonoscopy on Friday. The torture of colonoscopy preparation is beyond description and I will spare myself and my readers from re-living its details. All I can say is the procedure itself is like a mini-vacation compared to the hell of the preparation. Of course, narcotics and "conscious" sedation (quite the oxymoron!) are good buddies you enthusiastically welcome along for the ride.

Unfortunately, the surgery results weren't as good as last time. The Dr. did inform me that I have diverticulitis and also removed one polyp. Whatever. I'm still blaming every health issue I have on grief. Since losing my son, I have dealt with health issues I have never had before, things like a kidney stone, anemia, and sciatic nerve pain, just to name a few.

Anyway - back to the good. I'm looking forward to seeing the kids. I've missed them, and I've missed my busy household.

SUNDAY
Father's Day. Needless to say, the holiday isn't the same when blended with sorrow. There's no denying that one of my children is missing. It's like an amputee trying to ignore the fact that one of their limbs is missing. I can smile at the things my other children do and say, but always, in the recesses of my heart, I am cognizant of the fact that all of them aren't here.


We don't usually do anything on Sundays, but tonight was "Faith and Family" night at the local baseball field with our favorite team and we joined a large group of church friends in attending. It was fun and entertaining with a special appearance by the Zooperstars. It's always good when your team wins, too, as ours did!

I'm just so happy to have the rest of the kids back home. It was a long week without them. Having them back actually motivated me to plan the menu for the week, too! Now that it's planned, I can reward myself with some reading. I found a new author I am highly impressed with (Ray Blackston). I found his book, "Flabbergasted," to be highly entertaining and incredibly well-written, so I was thrilled when I saw he had a sequel of sorts in "A Delirious Summer." It's been years since I've read a book good enough that I had to exercise self-control in reading! (Self-control because books that I can't put down, means that nothing else gets done!) Off to read. :)