Category: writing my wrestling

our nest is empty…

This past Monday we moved our son, Owen, to college for his junior year. Friday we moved our daughter, Jenna, to college to begin her freshman year. Just like that, our nest is empty. Six years before it was supposed to be. The rooms in our house will never be lived in the same way again. One room in our house will never be lived in again at all.

In September 2003, I joined a moms’ Bible study. I had just suffered my 4th miscarriage in under a year and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to carry a pregnancy past eight weeks.

The first week of Bible study, our leader brought a bird’s nest. Inside the nest were two empty eggs and one that had never hatched. She talked about how motherhood can look so many different ways. It made an impact on me because my “nest” to that point had four eggs that would never be baby birds.

When Bible study ended that next May, I was 7 months pregnant with Owen. I remember on the last day sharing how much that nest analogy meant to me. When I started that year, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be a mom. What I realized is that I was already a mom, my nest just looked different than I had hoped and dreamed.

A lot of times motherhood has been different than I imagined. Sometimes it has been better and sometimes it has been worse. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and have needed to grow just as much as my children, if not more.

I always knew being a mom would be hard. I knew that when I brought them home I would one day have to let them go. I never thought letting them go would be easy, but I never dreamed (or considered the nightmare) one of them would never fly.

My nest has never been perfect. I never expected it to be. But I never thought it would be this hard. I never dreamed it would be empty at this point. And I NEVER imagined my baby would be gone forever.

I was supposed to protect them. It was my job to cherish them, feed them and teach them. It was my job to launch them. But, the truth is they were never mine to begin with. God blessed me with them, but ultimately they are His. And even thought Paxton never got to fly, he is now in the safest, most peaceful home he will ever have. As long as the days seem without him, I’m one day closer to being with him for eternity.

the nest

built with care

piece by piece

ready to

love

protect

nurture

now sits empty

I’m thankful for

the ones that have flown

while aching for

the one not grown

heart breaking

even thought I know

he was never really my own

the Creator who cares for sparrows

and lilies in the field

embraced my broken, baby bird

and took him home

completely healed

I was supposed to live

the rest of my life with him

instead

he got to live

the rest of his life with me

I’m so grateful for the hope of heaven

and promise of eternity

the three Ws…part 3

***the first two Ws are posted under writing my wrestling***

writhing…wrestling…WORSHIP

worship (noun)

to honor or show reverence for God

I’ve been a musician most of my life.  I started piano at a very young age, took classical lessons and theory for 13 years, and performed in multiple competitions and recitals.  I  sang my first solo at the age of 5 and have been a member of multiple choirs, ensembles and worship teams.  So, it was no surprise when I started pursuing a relationship with Jesus, I connected most deeply with Him through worship.

Since Paxton left, church, especially worship,  has been hard for me. Early on, it was difficult to just get out of bed. The few times I did go, I had to walk out because of baby dedications, a kids’ choir or just being overwhelmed with sorrow.  It took almost a year for me to return to church consistently.  Even then, I would find myself completely drained after service and I wasn’t sure why.

I finally realized why Sundays are the hardest days of the week for me…and the reasons tie into the first two Ws.  There is rarely a Sunday service that doesn’t involve writhing at some point, and every Sunday morning is a wrestling match for me.  There are no undercards, just the featured main event…a primetime bout between my flesh and my faith that repeats every week.

flesh – tears of sorrow that my son is not singing beside me

vs

faith – tears of joy that he is singing beside our Savior

flesh – questioning why God let this happen

vs

faith – remembering the ways God has shown me that He loves me and Paxton more than I could ever imagine

flesh – the struggle of standing in the place where Paxton’s memorial service was held

vs

faith – the sweetness of standing in the place and with the people that have been the hands and feet of Jesus to us

flesh – not feeling that the words being sung are true

vs

faith – trusting that God is good even when it feels like He isn’t

flesh – the hard of living on a broken Earth

vs

faith – the hope of living in eternity

While I have been able to start going to church again on a regular basis, it is still a struggle. I’ve always loved to sing and worship is the way I connect most deeply with God. While I believe every word of the songs, sometimes it still hurts too much to sing them.  I know you can worship through more ways than music…you can worship with your giving and your time.  But, my worship has become so much more.  Sometimes it’s singing and sometimes it’s silence.  Sometimes it’s beautiful and sometimes it’s broken.  Sometimes it’s making it to church and sometimes it’s making it out of bed. Worship is bringing whatever you have, even if it’s almost nothing, to the foot of the cross.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how do I worship 

when my heart is breaking

how do I dance when my soul is aching

how do I praise 

when I feel You’ve forsaken me

how do I trust when everything is shaken

how do I rest when my world was taken

how do I follow when I can barely make myself stand

I’ll worship in silence

when I can’t sing the words

when I don’t have the strength

to make my voice heard

I’ll worship with singing

even if it’s in a minor key

a broken melody

the only thing I have to bring

I’ll worship through lament

by bringing you my grief

and trusting that my King

is with me in my suffering

even when I don’t feel it I’ll

dance in the darkness

rejoice in the rain

trust in the trials

praise in the pain

worship in the waiting

until I see my son again 

it will NEVER be good…

My son’s death was not good.

Chad had to face another Father’s Day without all of his kids…that is not good.

Since Paxton left, two other people very close to me have had to bury their sons…that is not good.

Have you ever taken Scripture out of context or not understood its meaning? I’ve done it many times. When I was younger, I remember reading Proverbs 17:17 which says “a friend loves at all times and a brother is born for adversity”. I never felt more validated…that’s why my brother was mean to me…he was born to be! Let’s be honest…I was just as mean to him and that is not what that verse means.😁

Jeremiah 29:11 is another verse that isn’t fully understood…at least I didn’t understand the meaning. It says “for I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”.  Doesn’t that sound so warm and fuzzy…like God wants us to be happy and comfortable? The danger of taking a verse out of context is making it fit into our narrative.  Jeremiah is writing this letter to Isrealites that are being held captive in Babylon.  Many of them would die in captivity.  That’s not warm, fuzzy, happy, comfortable or good.

That brings me to Romans 8:28.  It says “and we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him”.  It is a beautiful verse, full of comfort and hope.  It reminds me that God is good and He is working.  It brings comfort to me by assuring me that God can bring good out of anything.  What it DOES NOT say (or mean) is everything is good.

A lot of times, we think because God is working all things for good that means we have to be okay with everything…that bad things become good.  That is not true!  Jesus gives us a perfect example in the story of Lazarus.  When he saw Mary weeping over the loss of her brother (John 11), it says Jesus was deeply moved.  If you look at the original Greek, it literally means He snorted in anger!  He knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead.  He knew that awful thing would be used for good, but He was still angry at death because death was not good.

Our church has been preaching through the book of Romans.  A good friend of ours, who also happens to be one of our teaching pastors, asked us if we’d be willing to do a video about how Romans 8:28 applies to trauma and grief.  We agreed with the understanding that we would be talking about our grief journey and the wrestling we’re going through.  We were allowed to finish the video without wrapping it up in a pretty little bow, because there are things that will never be wrapped up this side of heaven.  They graciously allowed us to share our story, our heart and our lament.  (I’ll post the video and the sermon below.)

So friends, God is good, but suffering is not and it needs to be acknowledged.  You can have hope without having a happy face.  You can have joy without justifying the hard.  You can have peace without putting a positive spin on everything.  If you are suffering, if you are wrestling, if you are facing things that aren’t good (which we all are), it’s okay.  The ultimate good God is working is eternal.  There are things that will never be good this side of eternity…but we have a good God who will redeem those things in heaven.

God is good.  He has brought good from Paxton’s death and I pray and believe He will continue to do so.  But…

Paxton’s death was not good…

Paxton’s death is not good…

Paxton’s death WILL NEVER BE GOOD.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

not everything that happens is good 

death was not your original plan 

perfection, paradise in Eden

shattered by woman and man 

chaos, pain and sickness began

You can bring good out of anything

You can take our suffering

and use it for Your glory 

but it doesn’t take away the sting

it doesn’t make the story

easy to read

and You can bring

beauty from ashes

but that doesn’t mean

the ashes are gone or

the beauty will be seen

this side of eternity

what it does mean

is I can reach for my King

Man of Sorrows

acquainted with my grief 

I can bring

my hurt

my questions 

my wrestling 

I can look to You for strength

I can trust that one day

all will be redeemed

it’s complicated

One of the things that has surprised me about grief, especially child loss, is even simple things have become complicated.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Is it? Is it really that simple? Is it really as easy as the cards, flowers and celebration our society inundates us with?

What about the mom who no longer has a mother? What about the mom who has a strained relationship or difficult history with her mother or child? What about the mom that has suffered a miscarriage…the hopeful mom that is walking through infertility?  What about the mom that relinquished her child? What about the mom who has buried a child or children?

It’s complicated. 

Simple questions are now confusing mazes littered with landmines.

~How many kids do you have? How old are they?

How do I answer that? Do I say three? Do I say Paxton is 10 or 13? Do I say two on Earth and one in heaven? Do I open myself up to the follow up question of what happened? Is the person asking safe? Should I invite them into my grief garden? Will they see me and honor that sacred space or will they trample on my heart and pain? Am I dishonoring my son if I don’t share his story?

It’s complicated.

~How are you?

Do you really want to know? Are you prepared to hear the truth? Would it shock you if I said there are days I’m disappointed that I didn’t wake up in Heaven? Are you asking to be polite or are you open to embracing the answer, even if it’s not pretty?

It’s complicated.

~Are you sad your youngest is going off to college?

Isn’t the goal of parenting launching your child? Do you know what a true “last” really is? Do you know that you will experience the last of a certain stage but I am living the life of no new stages ever again?

It’s complicated.

~Should I turn on the radio or listen to music, knowing I might hear one of Paxton’s favorite songs or a song from his memorial service?

~Should I watch tv, knowing I might be blindsided by a scene that shows the sickness, injury or death of a child? Or even worse, a commercial like Life360 that has a mother glibly singing about the ways her child could die? 

~Should I never go to Walmart again, knowing that an aisle, toy or snack could cause a wave of sorrow to flood my heart?

~Should I look at pictures and watch videos, knowing they could either bring me joy or heighten the loss of what will never be?

It’s complicated. I wish there were easy questions with easy answers. I wish I didn’t have to view life through the glasses of grief. I wish I didn’t have to think about purchasing spots at the cemetery to make sure we’re by our son. I wish I could yell Happy Mother’s Day to every mom I see and not worry if they really are happy.

It’s complicated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

what I used to think was hard

was really a walk in the park

even the blackest night

wasn’t really that dark

and I hadn’t really suffered a broken heart

until I started this journey of grief

walking through life without you beside me

no more lasts

just never again

longing for easy

living in complicated 

grief gauntlet

Usually, my grief is like an ocean wave. Sometimes it softly laps at my feet, touching me with gentle sadness. Other times, it’s like an angry surf, knocking me off my feet, taking my breath away and pulling me back into the undertow of sorrow. Often, I never see the wave coming or know the intensity it holds until it hits me.

As I look toward the next few weeks, the ocean has disappeared and a grief gauntlet has taken its place. This time, I see it coming. There’s a pit in my stomach and I’m wearing a heaviness that I can’t shake. I don’t want to face the gauntlet, but I have no choice…it’s there, challenging me head on.

Tuesday, April 29 is Paxton’s 13th birthday…his 3rd birthday in heaven. Wednesday is academic signing day for our daughter Jenna, who is graduating high school next month. Friday is a tradition at our school…a day where all of the seniors are celebrated. A day when they participate in our “Warrior Walk”. The seniors line up and walk around campus, through the mass of all the other students cheering them on. I am so exited for Jenna and cannot wait to celebrate her, but I hate that her little brother will not be there to yell for (or at😜) her.

Sunday, May 4 is Senior Sunday at our church. It’s also Bereaved Mother’s Day. Two extremes in one day…the joy of honoring Jenna as she graduates and launches, and the agony she is my last senior and wasn’t supposed to be.

I have to face Mother’s Day as the last challenge in the gauntlet. I am still a mom…I’m still Owen’s and Jenna’s mom. I’m still Paxton’s mom. But, I’m not the same mom I was three years ago. I am bruised and bloodied from battle. I am weary and scarred. My faith is deeper, I hope I am more gracious, and I am learning how to carry both joy and sorrow.

There are days when I can tuck sorrow away and embrace the joy God sets before me. There are days sorrow pushes joy aside and makes me sit in and with it. There are days they have learned to coexist, but they are both my companions now…always there even when they’re not seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the gauntlet

joy

sorrow

which one will be louder today?

will i be able to keep the tears at bay?

will my heart feel the sunshine

or drown in the pouring rain?

bracing for what’s ahead

moment by moment

step by step

approaching the gauntlet

trying to catch my breath

i can’t go around

i have to go through

ready to get it over with

unable to move

carrying the pain of missing you

the silence of saturday

I have been thinking a lot this week about the meaning and importance of Easter…

Good Friday is grieving what our sin cost.

Easter Sunday is being grateful for our Savior’s cross.

Good Friday is feeling the forsakenness of the Son.

Easter Sunday is embracing the significance of what He’s done.

Good Friday is sorrow over the Savior’s suffering.

Easter is rejoicing over the resurrection of our eternal King.

Good Friday we feel the devastation of His final breath.

Easter Sunday we see His ultimate victory claimed over death.

But, I’ve never really thought about the silence of Saturday.

I wonder what Mary was thinking and feeling that Saturday.  I know she fully believed her son was the Messiah.  She watched Him grow, loved Him well and trusted God’s plan.  However, she still had to watch her son die.  She still mourned His death.  She still had to bury His body.  The silence of that Saturday had to be the loudest sound she’d ever heard.

His silence did not mean absence, it was sin’s required severance.  He chose separation from relationship with His Father so our relationship with God could be restored.  Without the silence, Good Friday wouldn’t have mattered and Easter Sunday would not be possible. 

I believe with all of my heart that Jesus died  and was resurrected, and because of that, I’ll see Paxton again.  However, I still had to watch my son die. I still have to mourn his death. I still had to bury his body.  I trust God’s plan, but Easter now hits differently for me. I am grieving the need for Jesus’s death.  I am hopeful for His return.  But for now, I am sitting in the silence of Saturday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the cross taken down

one last look at his face

the stone put in place

the sacrifice made

as the Messiah laid

in that cold, dark grave

 tears flowing freely

quiet descended

a perfect life ended

relationship mended

the Son rejected 

payment for my sin

hoping for Sunday

hating the wait

immeasurable pain

unwavering faith

grieving death

grateful for grace

learning to embrace

the silence of Saturday 

spring (heart) break

It’s the last day of spring break. I have a love/hate relationship with spring break. Prior to 2023, I loved that we didn’t have to get up and be anywhere, but I dreaded the inevitable sibling arguments, complaints of “I’m bored”, and incessant requests to go and do. An ideal spring break would consist of quiet, rest and relaxation, but anyone who has young children knows that those moments are few and far between. Since Paxton left, my love/hate relationship with spring break has changed. I still love not having to get up and be anywhere but I hate the silence.

I have never liked silence. Don’t get me wrong, I love quiet and stillness, but I need white noise, music or some other noise in the background. Silence may be the absence of physical noise, but when it’s completely silent, my mental noise volume becomes deafening. It’s in the silence that the doubts, guilt, questions and his loss become unbearable.

I tried to embrace the silence Friday, but the sound was overwhelming. All I could hear was…why didn’t I do more? what did I miss? was he scared? The loudest thought that occupied my mind, and one that has been on my mind a lot lately, is that Paxton is missing out on so many things.

I’ve been so sad thinking about all of the firsts Paxton will never experience. He’ll never have a first kiss…not that we know of anyway. I would not be surprised at all to discover he not only had a first kiss, but multiple. 😂 He never got to drive, will never go to high school, will never fall in love or have kids..he was robbed of so many things! But, the reality is, those things are nothing compared to the joy of heaven. He can’t miss out because he’s in the most perfect, beautiful, peaceful place and he is living the fullest life possible.

So I realized that my sadness is not really about what he’s missing out on…I’m sad because the world is missing out on him. As difficult as he was at times, Paxton was an amazing kid and taught me to look at and embrace life differently. He lived more life in ten years than some people will live their entire lifetime. I wish everyone could know the boy I knew…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~missing out~

I never knew silence

could be louder than sound

but that’s what I’ve found

since you’ve been gone

I long for chaos

unending noise

the sweetness of your voice

there’s so much

you’re missing out on

all of your firsts

that makes my heart hurt

then I realize it’s the world

that’s missing out on you

and that hurts worse

the joy and fun you brought to life

you’re beautiful smile

the sparkle in your eyes

why did I waste so much time?

what is a God kiss?

From the beginning of this unwanted journey, there were specific things that happened, words that were said and sweet reassurances given that showed us we were loved and not alone. The picture that came to mind is of a father holding his hurt child in his lap and placing a gentle kiss on their forehead. The kiss may not take the hurt away, but it reminds the child that they are precious and held steady in their father’s arms. Any time these sweet gifts were given to us, I felt my Heavenly Father holding me tightly and comforting me with a kiss. I realized that these gifts aren’t just given in the midst of tragedy, they can be seen throughout my life if I look for them. I call these moments God kisses.

I wrote this poem in honor of my sweet boy, and I read it at his memorial service.

the God kiss (written Jan 2023)

a precious little boy, who was not ours from the start,
although the first time I saw him I wanted him to be,
sitting in my car in the DHS parking lot,
wondering why God was asking this of me

as he grew every day, his personality started to shine,
and I fell more in love with each smile,
I marveled (and still do) at God’s perfect design
of that silly, beautiful child

he kept us on our toes over the years,
with his love for adventure and fearless heart,
but he taught us so much through laughter and tears
I don’t even know where to start

from dirt bikes to roller coasters, and climbing the highest tree
his energy never ran out
and at night when he slowed down and cuddled with me
his sweetness made my heart want to shout

the mischievous twinkle in his eye was oh so cute
but could make me a little bit scared,
seeing his vibrant, joyful attitude
he embraced life like no one else dared

his laughter was contagious, so beautiful and free,
and one smile from him could brighten my day
I cherish the 10 years he was here on earth with me
but I’m thankful he’s with Jesus to stay

our hearts are broken, we may never understand,
and our tears will continue to fall,
but as I look back on this journey and the son God placed in our hands,
I realize Paxton was the biggest God kiss of all

sadness

December 11, 2022 was the last “normal” night in our family’s life. It’s surreal that it has been two years since our lives imploded. It’s excruciating that it’s been two years since Paxton’s accident. Last year, reaching all of the first milestones was hard. This year is hard too, but this year I’m overwhelmingly sad.

Since Paxton left, it’s been comforting for me to look at pictures and watch videos of my boy. Recently, that has changed and been a new facet of my grief. When I think about the fun things we did as a family, like going to Great Wolf Lodge, Disney World or Cedar Point, the memory of our smiling, carefree family is now tainted. It’s like I’m watching a horror movie…I can see the tragedy approaching in slow motion and there is nothing I can do.

I wish I could go back and tell that family to soak it in. I wish I could wrap that family in a bubble, freeze them in time and keep them in the wonder, fun and excitement of water slides, roller coasters and togetherness. I wish I could protect them from the chaos and heartbreak that will gut them in a few short years. I wish I could have just one more moment with Paxton.

I’m sad…more sad than I’ve been in a long time. I miss my boy so much. I miss his silliness, his mischievousness and his smile. I miss holding his hand and being wrapped in one of his bear hugs. I miss the person I was. I miss the person he was. I miss the person he would now be.

Two years seems like a lifetime and an instant at the same time. Our grief is different, but it is no less deep, heavy or painful. God has given us sweet gifts the past few years…things that probably wouldn’t have happened if Paxton hadn’t left. We are grateful for those glimpses of joy, but we miss our sweet boy with everything in us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

like fog

heavy and dense

sadness is settling in

a familiar

but unwelcome friend

taking me back

to the day when

chaos

devastation and

heartbreak began

my arms ache for your hugs

my ears long for your laugh

my eyes drown with tears

how has it already been two years

since I’ve seen your smile

heard your voice

held your hand in mine

I wish I could

turn back time to have

just one more day

one more hour

one more moment

to feel your warmth

to hear your heart beating

in your chest

on more chance to say

I love you

you’re my best

the three Ws…part 2

writhing…WRESTLING…worship

wrestle (verb)

struggle with a difficulty or problem

During our six weeks in the hospital, there were so many moments God specifically showed us He was with us in the valley, and He was caring for us and Paxton. So when Paxton was suddenly gone without medical explanation, I had to wrestle with God and the way He wrote Paxton’s story.

I’m still wrestling. I have not lost my faith, but Paxton’s death has caused me to get in the ring with God and wrestle about what faith truly is. It has caused me to question if God really was there, if He still is, and if I truly believe He is good.

I feel sometimes, as Christians, we think having faith means everything is wrapped up in a tidy bow because God is sovereign. We feel like questioning God and wrestling with Him is wrong and diminishes our faith. We think because God is good, and works all things together for good, tragedy should be filtered through the lens of glorifying God which means we can’t question, sorrow, wail, rage or struggle with Him.

Chad said he realized the amount of sorrow we feel and experience does not correlate to our depth of faith or lack thereof. Wrestling with God does not mean I’m losing my faith. In fact, I would say my willingness to wrestle with Him actually strengthens my faith. You can only wrestle with someone if you are face to face with them.

So I wrestle…and I will wrestle with this the rest of my life. There are days when I’m wrestling as hard as I can and there are days when I can barely whisper “why?”. Paxton’s death did not diminish God’s goodness. Paxton’s death can and will be used for good, But, for me, Paxton’s death was not and never will be good.

Throughout the past 664 days, God has remained faithful. He has embraced me in my wrestling and continued to show me He was really there, He is with me now, and He IS good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have to tell myself

over and over again

this is hard

but You are good

my heart is broken

but You are good

I feel forsaken

but You are good

I don’t understand

but You are good

why did you let him die?

You are good

death is not good

but You ARE good

I believe You’re good

I know You’re good

so why does this feel so bad?

why is it so hard to trust?

why does this seem so unjust?

this doesn’t feel like love

my heart is wrestling

locked arm in arm

standing face to face

with grace

You accept my anger

and rage

never letting go

holding me in place

bearing the weight of my pain

capturing my tears in a bottle

wrapping me in your embrace

giving me strength to wait