Asking "Why?"

Cried driving to the bank today thinking of Matt, asking again, "Why?" Then I got home and saw the daily Griefshare email in my inbox, which is normally there every morning, but wasn't today (yet).

What to Do With the Whys?

"What do you do with the whys?" asks Kay Arthur after her husband committed suicide. She answers, "You have to lay them at the feet of Omniscience and, by faith, leave them there and say, 'If You want to show me why, God, fine. If not, I'm going to cling to who You are and what You promise.' When you're asking why, and you're in the dark, and you don't have any reasons, you are to cling to Him in hope. He is the God of all hope. The thing that you have to realize is you are here for a much larger purpose than you realize."

Hope in God, knowing that your questions may not be answered. Each day make a point to look beyond your situation to the all-knowing God of truth, who will not leave you nor fail you. Learn about His attributes and cling to them in hope. The path of life that you travel is different from what you expected, but He will guide you.

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them" (Isaiah 42:16).

Lord, I am truly in the dark, and it scares me. In my fear, I lash out wildly. Shine Your light in my heart. Lead me along this new path. Amen.

Valentine's Day

**Last Wednesday, Tim's dad passed away. We headed back to ND on Friday and just got back this evening, Wed., the 15th.**


We spent the day at Grandma Pat's today (Tues.) going through condolence cards and visiting w/ relatives. Tim's dad's funeral was yesterday. The visitation on Sunday evening was bittersweet. There were many stories told, almost all with accompanying laughter. Laudie was a hard-working man with a gregarious laugh and an ever-present smile. His humor and simple wisdom were remembered by many. Others remembered being chewed out being on the receiving end of his stern lectures after they screwed up improperly performed farm chores or work.

I took a few pictures during the burial at the cemetery, also. It was a moving ceremony. The color guard performed a six-gun salute, followed by an officer playing taps on the bugle, and then having the American flag being presented to Grandma in appreciation for Grandpa's service to our country during the Korean War. We had a good time of visiting with relatives all weekend. As I've said before, thankfully, the visiting was possible because of all the prayers offered up on our behalf praying for our health.

We had thought we would spend this evening, Valentine's day, at a Jason Gray concert, but discovered the newspaper had made an error in the date. It was disappointing, but it did leave more time for visiting. Tim and his siblings and mom spent time going through old photo albums. I saw one of Grandpa and Matt together and broke down crying. Later, I took advantage of Tim's brother Dave's internet connection and hopped on the computer. I was checking my FB when I saw the FB sidebar random status updates. I don't usually pay attention to them, so I was taken aback when I saw that one of them was Cake Boss and that Matt Cherney “liked” it. The amazing thing is this: Just about a half hour earlier, the kids and I had been watching Cake Boss on Grandma's television. Wow. That's what I call a “God-cidence.” I really feel it was God's way of bringing me comfort on this day, reminding me that Matt (and heaven) is not so far away. And even more special that it was on Valentine's day.

Grief and Sickness

Before Matt died, I was completely ignorant on how powerfully grief affected one's immune system. In fact, I might have even thought that the extent of grief physically was that it made one very sad, and maybe depressed. Little did I know how extremely hard a hit one's body takes when it suffers the loss of a loved one.

Our family has been sick with various illnesses off and on for the past six months. Exactly one week after the visitation, we were all hit with the flu, with the exception of Tim. The flu was followed by various colds and coughs, which remained for several weeks. Right on the heels of that, the three boys came down with the chicken pox. Shortly after recovering from the pox, a few of us ended up with strep throat. On top of all of this, there has been the constant lack of sleep.

Most recently, just when we were finally getting a break and sleep patterns were returning to “normal,” Sweet Stuff got strep throat for the third time, and I noticed blood in my urine. A week and a half after that, Uncle Flu returned and Miss T.T. got a nasty case of hives. But lest it all be about sickness, I must add that Dh's wallet was stolen (or misplaced) last Wednesday.

February barely begun, we received a call on Thursday that Tim's dad was not doing well and were advised to say our goodbyes. We packed up on Friday and headed out on the road. We left much later than we usually do, after noon, but still anticipated arriving before 8pm. Drama boy had just gotten over the flu and was doing well, so I was thankful not to have to worry about that while driving. Mr. Monkey had gotten the flu first and so was fine. I had been praying fervently that no one else would get it. All was well until about 4 1/2hrs. into the drive when I realized that the nagging pain in my back on the left side had suddenly become excruciating. I think for an hour or two before that, I was in denial, thinking that I was just imagining the pain in my side. Feeling a bit of nausea, I told Dh that I wasn't going to make it to Fargo. I wanted an E.R. and I wanted it now.

Thankfully, Fergus Falls was 10min. away and I was seen immediately. Long story short, I had a 6mm kidney stone, an infection (most likely bladder or urinary tract), and am anemic. The Dr. wanted to admit me, but after explaining our situation and promising with my life to follow up with my own doctor on Tuesday, they discharged me with four prescriptions and iron pills.

No sooner had we left the hospital and gotten on the road when we quickly realized it was going to be slow going. The roads were covered in dense fog and visibility was poor. After only about twenty miles, the fog had increased and was now joined by freezing rain. It was after 10:00pm and we decided it wasn't worth driving another hour and a half in those poor conditions. We found a hotel and, luckily, got adjoining rooms.

Just when I thought the drama was over, however, morning came, and with it, Miss T.T. puking. The hotel was gracious enough to consent to our taking an ice bucket and even gave us several bags to line it with. I was beginning to think this was the trip from hell. I called a few friends and asked for prayer and had a prayer chain sent out via email throughout our church.

We finally arrived Saturday afternoon at the nursing home where they had transferred Dad back to. Unfortunately, he had the flu and was quarantined. Any visitors were under strict orders to suit up with shoes covers, face masks, gowns, and gloves before entering. And children were strongly discouraged. Grandpa had been unresponsive the night before, but began talking Saturday morning. When Tim, Grandma, and I entered the room, he stayed talkative for about an hour. He even gave the kids a thumbs up sign from his bed to out in the hallway where they were standing.

After seeing grandpa, we went to grandma's apartment where several of the relatives were visiting. Tim returned to the nursing home later that evening, but grandpa was unresponsive again and hasn't spoken since Saturday afternoon.

Anticipating grandma's apartment being full, we had planned on staying at the farm, so we headed out there. Miss T.T. was still feeling ill, but by the time we got to the farm, she was doing great and even wanted to eat supper. I have no doubt it was due to the prayers on our behalf.

We were able to attend our “church away from home” on Sunday morning and were blessed with a wonderful time of worship and praise. After church, we went back to the nursing home one last time. This time, we let the kids decide on whether they wanted to suit up and go in to see grandpa. Three of them suited up. Grandpa wasn't responsive, but we will be forever grateful we got the chance to say goodbye.

We are on the road headed home right now and I haven't had any pain since Friday evening and all the children are doing well health-wise. We are being carried by the prayers of so many. We don't know how soon it will be for our return trip, but are trusting God in the details.

This perseverence and endurance thing

Frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't like it. But what choice do I have? A life of bitterness and regret? I cry every day. I battle constantly with the flesh, trying not to think of what I have lost, of all the moments and memories that will never be. I see pictures of Matt's best friends getting all dressed up, going on dates, and proud parents posting the momentous occasion on Facebook. I honestly wish them well, but it. is. painful. It is then that I have to remind myself once again that Matt is alive and I will see him again. But this business of persevering and enduring. OH! How it is difficult. On days like this, I again am amazed we survive such loss.

Joy and Grief

We spent last weekend in Wisconsin Dells with Tim's sister and family. It was great fun for the kids. Part of the incentive for going was because of a generous, anonymous gift of money with instructions to spoil the kids. We would never have considered something like this before. We don't usually do vacations because we tend to be very practical. So this last weekend was extravagant by our definition.

It was a long, exhausting weekend, both emotionally and physically. The Dells is not a restful vacation, btw!!! :) Dh and I had deep joy watching the kids have fun, knowing that these are wonderful memories for them. But every moment of joy for us was, and is, fused with grief. Grief that Matt wasn't there with us. Bittersweet in seeing Matt's cousin, only a year younger, playing with our two youngest boys, and wishing it was Matt playing with them.

We had to drive through Rochester on the way to the Dells, too, and that was excruciating. We hadn't been there since July 29, the day Matt died. There were many tears and the wrenching pain in our hearts was intense.

I am still so perplexed as to how joy and grief can coexist. I am reminded of a saying a friend from our GriefShare group shared about experiences after grief. She said, "The highs aren't as high and the lows aren't as low." I'm finding that to be true.

But for all the sorrow we have experienced, God has been good. We were delighted to see a cardinal at a rest stop on the way. It was rather funny, however, because it took us a few seconds to realize it wasn't real. It was a wood painted one propped in a tree. But we felt it was God's little way of reassuring us of His love and telling us that Matt was near. The cardinal has become our comfort "sign" since the beginning. It was such a blessing to be able to spend the weekend with family, too. Our time in the Dells wouldn't have been nearly as fun without them!

We got home Monday evening and took Tuesday off to catch up on cleaning and laundry. While going through the mail, I came across a brochure for Trout Lake camp. Matt loved going to Trout Lake. When we received his paychecks from Pioneer in August, we decided to put them in a fund for Trout Lake camp for the rest of the kids to eventually attend.

One of the "tips" from GriefShare was to plan for significant dates so that you're not ambushed by grief. In doing so, you'll certainly still have sorrow, but at least not be ambushed by it. I have been struggling for several weeks with what to do in May for Matt's birthday. I had already checked with one retreat center up north about staying there the first week of May, but was disappointed to learn that they wouldn't extend stays outside of their scheduled dates. When I saw the brochure for Trout Lake, I checked the dates, but was disheartened to see there were none scheduled for the first week of May. However, I figured it couldn't hurt to ask, so I emailed them to inquire of the possibility of staying there. I wasn't too hopeful, so when I opened the reply email, I was overcome with emotion when I read that yes, they would accommodate us. I spent the next several hours crying. Crying with gratitude to God. It is so perfect. It is God. He is so good. Again, I am awestruck at how grief can be melded with joy. The LORD is near and continues to bring healing. (Psalm 34:18, 147:3)

Treasures in Heaven

Matthew 6:20 "But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal."

I have been ruminating for days on a blog post. And then I ran across this woman's blog. She pretty much wrote my post. I couldn't believe it. In fact, I almost checked the signature at the bottom of her post to make sure my name wasn't there. I had read the exact same New Year's post this gal refers to, and I, too, had the same exact thoughts. Only she beat me to the keyboard. 

http://momastery.com/blog/2012/01/02/everything/
 ***The following is an excerpt from the blog link above. This is not the post in it's entirety.***

A few days ago I read a New Year’s post written by one of my favorite writers, Kelle Hampton. If you’re like me, and you dabble in self pity and ennui daily, I’d bookmark Kelle this year. After I read her posts, I’m re-inspired and invigorated and awake for at least twenty minutes. She’s better than three Red Bulls and a kale smoothie.

Kelle wrote a wonderful list of what she’d learned in 2011 and I found myself nodding, yes, yes, yes along with her inspired words- as I always do. But then I got to one which read:  “Family is everything, everything, everything.”

And something forced me to pause and stop reading. Inside that pause I realized that after living through 2011, I don’t think that’s true.

2011 Lesson #1 – Family is not everything.

It can’t be. Because sometimes beloved sons die. And husbands leave. And daughters lose their minds for decades. And beloved babies are broken by broken men behind the wheel.  And fathers abuse and mothers neglect and sisters and brothers betray. And friends walk away.

Family cannot be everything, everything, everything. Because if it is, then everything can be taken away in the blink of an eye. Or maybe never offered at all.

If family is everything, everything, everything, then it follows that if my family was taken from me, I would have and be nothing. And because if family is everything, then I would need to parent my kids and love my parents and Sister and husband in a state of constant fear. And fear taints love. Fear makes the lover hyperventilate and the beloved suffocate. Fear makes love a cage.

Down past the terrified, ridiculous part of me that believes something terrible will happen if I acknowledge this- I know that family is not everything. It’s a lot. It’s a whole damn lot. If my family were taken from me, or never given to me in the first place, I would feel shattered. But I would still be something. I would still have something. I would still have the most important part of me, as a matter of fact.

And this is something I’ve learned only this year. At the start of 2011, I definitely would have told you that family is everything.

But a few weeks ago I sat with my friend Anna, who lost her Jack this year. She is suffering  through excruciating pain that I’m afraid might just morph and never ease. But listen- when I looked at Anna- I was not looking at a woman with nothing. And it wasn’t just because she has Tim and Margaret left on this side. What I mean is that I was in the presence of a woman who has the entire world in her hands.

Anna is a woman who has power to heal -herself and others. Because Anna has choices. She could curse God and die, and we would all understand. But she doesn’t. She’s alive. Anna’s decision to write, to stay open, to invite us in when she’s most vulnerable, to get out of bed each morning, to keep choosing hope and love and life and to face the horrifically painful truth instead of hiding – her determination that THERE WILL STILL BE JOY, DAMNIT – these choices are healing and awakening her family, friends and readers. A teeny, teeny bit at a time. And since the worst has already happened, Anna is a woman who, at the moment, is loving and living without fear. And that is something.

I know she’d trade all this in a hot second to get her Jack back. But the fact remains that she is still Anna. She is a new Anna. A very, very different Anna. 

 

 Matt's death has changed me forever. And I struggle daily with the choice to cling to my pain and sorrow or give it to God, to let Him bind up my wound, and to trust Him with my future. Tim and I went to a church service tonight at a friend's church and heard a very powerful, healing message. It was titled, "Deadly Wounds." In a nutshell, Satan would like nothing more than to deliver a deadly blow. That's his goal. The good news is that Christ comes to deliver life. God can and does heal. But let's not be naive. A wound leaves a scar. Jesus Christ had scars. And he wasn't ashamed to show them, either. I could go on, but honestly, you'd need to just listen to the sermon for yourself. :) 

Thinking of what Christ did for me, the scars he bears, are because of what He did for me, taking my sins upon the cross. Is it any wonder that I should bear some scars as well, since I belong to Him? Anyway - all this to say that it got me thinking of Scripture. I've seen some verses in a whole new light. Especially the one above, at the top of my post. "Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven..." I think I can honestly say now that I have a treasure in heaven. My son. Waiting for me. Something to think about.

A new year

Starting off a new year was much more difficult than I had anticipated. I really struggled with leaving 2011 behind. I felt like I was leaving Matt behind. It hurt so terribly thinking about a new year. And, of course, the whole world (or so it seemed) was only too happy, almost giddy, in fact, to bring in a new one. I wasn't happy, and I wasn't looking forward to a new one.

Dh and I kept going back and forth about our plans for New Year's Eve, too. Our family has traditionally hosted a New Year's Eve party at our house. This year, obviously, we weren't up to it. However, we didn't want to disappoint the rest of the kids, so we switched it up and ended up having a New Year's Eve Game Night at church. It was fun, though, to be sure, there were moments of grief. My heart hurt terribly when I saw Matt's best friends together, going off without him to play his favorite game, Halo. I certainly don't begrudge them their friendship or fun. It just hurts. It is what it is. *sigh* I am trying to remind myself in moments like those that Matt IS alive. He is alive in heaven. The hope of eternity for myself and trusting in God's character are what hold me firm.

It was a fun evening of games with a good turnout. The weather got a tad crazy even, and we ended up with a bit of everything; rain, thunder, lightening, and snow! The kids had a blast, however, throwing snowballs and then vowing to go back outside at exactly midnight, which they did.

We also took a difficult step and had our pictures taken. Dh and I couldn't bear to do a whole family photo, but we did individual pictures of the children as well as individual poses with each parent. We made it through and we got the proofs today. They turned out excellent, and I now know why we paid through the nose for them! :)

It's been a very emotional few days, but God has reminded me of many things. He continues to comfort us and speak His truths in our hearts. I am surviving...and trusting God to give me strength for the days (and year) to come.