Finality

    

Two years ago today. 

I vividly remember taking these photos. I vividly remember the conversations that took place in the airport coffee shop just before snapping them. Mom and I held hands and cried. We had just come to the end of an incredible 12 days together. She had to leave, but neither of us wanted her to go. We vowed to remember that even if this was our last time to part ways, we would say, "see you later," because as members of God's kingdom, there are no permanent goodbyes. 

No finality. 

As I spend time here in my passport country, sorting through her clothes and belongings, there are times I forget the 'no finality' part. It just hurts. The wounds feel fresh. The grief is grueling. The photo reminder that it's just been 2 years since I was in her physical presence hit a little harder today. 

I pray that she never wondered, even for one second, whether I loved her. I pray she never questioned how much she meant to me. I pray that she never felt used, abused, or belittled by me. I pray there was never a day she felt afraid in my presence. I pray after her long life of feeling all of that regularly, that she felt a peace, a comfort, a 'home' with me. She said so, and I trust that it was genuine. 

Above all, there is great joy in knowing that she is now in the presence of pure love, pure truth, pure peace. There are moments when my longing for her feels so heavy I fear it will crush me, and it would if I did not give it to the Lord.  

Isaiah 53:4a "Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows..." 

Mom has joined that great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1), and though I don't see her with my eyes, she is still with me. (Half of my DNA is hers!) We will meet again in the new heaven and earth.

Revelation 21:4 "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, not pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." 

[This is true finality.] 

See you later, mom. I love you MOST.

Through the Eyes of a Child

Through the Eyes of a Child

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus, Philippians 2:5

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Colossians 3:12

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. Colossians 3:13

When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. Proverbs 11:2

...to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and always to be gentle toward everyone. Titus 3:2

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. Ephesians 4:3

Here I am in my passport country. I made it. I have been stateside 16 days now. To say the adjustment has been challenging is a vast understatement. My first couple days was very busy, which helped flip my body clock's sense of day and night. Everything (yes I mean EVERYTHING) feels like an assault to my senses. 

I was low-key interrogated in customs; it took over an hour to get through. The air is crisp and fresh--and COLD (I live on the equator). I hear one (no-accent) language being spoken, and I understand every word. I can read all the signs and billboards. I recognize roads, landmarks, places. So it should feel like "home," right? 

No. The price of a pizza here is equivalent to a monthly electric bill where I live--and that's IF I use the AC all day, every day. People here waste more food in one day than some families I know hope to eat in one week. There is a lot of traffic...but drivers show no courtesy, plus they are on the opposite [wrong] side of the road. I can go into a church, sit through the service, the "greet each other" time, and walk out afterward without a single person speaking to me. But aren't I happy to be "home?"     

No. I had my days roughly planned out to ensure I would spend plenty of time with my grandsons, while just resting and adjusting. My typical day to day involves a lot of online work, a lot of interacting in a different language, and with mainly adults. The only child I interact with regularly is just now beginning to say words. Spending time with my three, precious grands is so wonderful. However, my introvert is majorly overloaded. They talk a LOT. They talk FAST. They are speaking English, but sometimes I still have to strain to understand what they are saying. I know my "concentration" face appears to be a "mad" face, so I am trying to set aside any stress or lack of understanding that may be clouding my facial expression. It is hard work!

I have been staying in (what used to be) my mom's apartment. There is a scent that reminds me of her and our sweet fur baby, Cleopatra. That is all that is left of her there. Everything has been rearranged, changed, piled up in storage. She, and everything about her has been all but erased from the space. There's a poster-size photo of her from her memorial, some artwork she loved, and her ashes in a box on a shelf. No mom. No Cleo. No warmth. "Home?" 

No. I have observed my grandsons interactions with each other through the lens of seeing the world "as a child." Jesus said the Kingdom of Heaven belongs those who would be as children. The photos above show my youngest's quick sketch of me. What does he see? My head, glasses, hair, eyes, mouth, and necklace. Those are the parts he saw and considered important to draw. Does the sketch look like me? Actually, yes it does. I'm not sure it would pass as one to be used in a line-up, but yes!

Along with all of the above, I have had some extremely challenging emotions to process since I've been stateside. Here are just the major ones:  

1. Re-entry (regardless how brief it will be)

2. Grief (Mom's only been gone 1.5 years, she was my 'person,' and I'm sleeping in the [VERY much changed] space where she [AND our fur baby] lived and died.

3. My 4th day stateside, my Nanna died (Mom's mom).

4. My grands shared their virus with me, and I have been quite sick for 1/2 the time I've been here.

5. I exist here under the incredibly heavy expectation to be basically normal, healthy. 

I am barely over 2 weeks in. I have what feels like a LONG time to go. While I know that no place on earth will feel like home--especially since mom went to Jesus--I do have the privilege of spending the next week in a different place. I have felt more at home since I arrived in this house than during the entirety of my time stateside. The calm and peace is overwhelming. This will be an ideal location for my prayer/fasting time. He always provides!   

I want to see the most important things. I want to view this entire experience "Through the Eyes of a Child." I want to be that child, sitting at the feet of Jesus, listening to His wisdom. Deeply soaking in His grace. His mercy. His kindness. His SPIRIT. I just want to clearly see what, in all of this, does He find important? How can I make sense of this to sketch it out? What lessons does He want me to learn? How is He stretching and growing me? 

I will trust His timing. I have the next 7 days slated for prayer, fasting, and asking Him to guard my soul.

 God is sheer mercy and grace;

not easily angered, he’s rich in love.

He doesn’t endlessly nag and scold

nor hold grudges forever.

He doesn’t treat us as our sins deserve

nor pay us back in full for our wrongs.

As high as heaven is over the earth

so strong is his love to those who fear him.

And as far as sunrise is from sunset

he has separated us from our sins.

As parents feel for their children

God feels for those who fear him.

Psalm 103: 8-13

  

My True Haven

 "But our citizenship is in heaven and we eagerly await a 

Savior from there, The Lord Jesus Christ." 

When I left my birth country to move overseas, I knew I was saying, "See you later," to my tiny inner circle (a handful of adults + 3 littles). What I did not know, however, was that I would never again tryly feel like I belong. Anywhere. With anyone. 

Naturally, since I live outside the country where I was born and grew up, I am an outsider. My instinctive world view is different. I look different. I talk different. I am learning, but still speak the new language at about a grade school level. Some days, piling my extreme introversion on top of being an outsider makes life's most basic activities feel like a daunting mountain of tasks. I often battle the urge to crank my AC, grab a coffee, and curl up in my fuzzy blanket with a good book. My own little haven of escape. 

I returned to my birth country briefly in the Summer of 2023 when my mom suddenly passed away. I can't honestly say I ever felt like I belonged there either, but after losing her that feeling became overbearingly intense. I often told her, "Home is wherever you are." A quick scan back through my life reinforces the consistent theme that I have never really belonged anywhere, with anyone. With one exception. From the time I was born, the longest I ever lived in a. home was 11 years, and that was the most recent years before I moved overseas. Incidentally, mom lived with me that entire time. That home felt like a haven.

I am currently preparing to return my birth country for a few months. While I am looking forward to seeing friends there, I am keenly aware that I will be as much of an outsider there as I am here. Perhaps even more so. People ask me, "Are you excited to go home?" I don't know how to respond to that. My internal response is, "Where, exactly, is home?" 

I have often said that my life with all its drama, trauma, and frequent moving + goodbyes was God's way of preparing me for this season. I recognize the truth in that now more than ever. The feeling of not having a true haven here keeps me from sinking my roots too deeply into this world's soil. 

Paul reminded us in Philippians 3:20 that "Our citizenship is in heaven." 

Jesus prayed in John 17 15-16, 18, "I do not pray that You should take them out of this world, but that you should keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. As you sent Me into the world, I have also sent them into the world." 

Again, Paul reminds us of Whose we are in Romans 1:5-6, "Through Him we have received grace and apostleship for obedience to the faith among all nations for His name, among whom you are also the called of Jesus Christ." 

God created me to belong. To his global body but, more importantly, to HIM. He created me with the desire...the urgency to belong. He also led me to and walked with me through circumstances that would refine me, building the grit and resilience required for each new season. 

My sovereign, gracious Father created me to be HIS. He knows every inch of me, every thought, every word, every move. He went before me, blesses me, and will come behind me (Psalm 139:1-5). 

I certainly do belong. Adopted as a precious daughter into his family, his kingdom. I belong to HIM. 

He is home. 

He is my True Haven.

When it Hurts the Most

 I am seeing a trend where I only show up here when my cup full of emotions is overflowing and there is not a soul on earth I am willing to verbally process with. 

What does that say about me? 

My inner circle is very small....or perhaps non-existent.

Self preservation has led me to be extremely cautious about who I "let in." Through the years, occasionally I have let my guard down and invited someone inside. Inevitably their actions and/or inactions, words and/or silence, blatant and/or intentional lack of consideration rips me apart. My heart actually, physically aches. This has been my entire life's theme. 

Yet, in the center of my rough & tough exterior is a big wad of mushy, very intense feelings. Every perceived offense, intentioned or absentminded, leads me to want to strengthen that exterior until it's impermeable. 

Do I realize that is not healthy? Of course. 

Does that change my knee-jerk desire to do it? No. 

Does that knowledge decrease the amount of pain I feel? Not one bit. 

However, self-awareness is important. This is the first step to "taking every thought captive to obey Christ." As I have been striving to 'think about what I'm thinking about,' I realize that, at times, my thoughts and feelings are taking me captive instead. I am too swift to react rather than to contemplate and respond. This is particularly evident when I am feeling a lot. 

Among my unregulated, knee-jerk reactions: 1) complete silence, 2) biting sarcasm, 3) distancing from the perceived offender, and 4) over analyzing. In addition to the previously mentioned actual, physical heart pain, I often end up with an intractable migraine + vomiting.

In writing this, it strikes me that people who don't know me might have the impression that I am a wildly reactive, feeler. No. That is not accurate. In fact, those folks are the bane of my existence. At the very least, they are a great puzzle to me. Perhaps that is among the reasons I have endeavored to avoid becoming one. 

Which came first? Repetitive emotional trauma or a distaste for dramatic reactions to things I consider petty? Only God knows. 

To be continued....

The First Mother's Day

(Translation: Happy Mother's Day) 

Yes. Where I live, today is Mother's Day.

I was driving with a friend to a government office to get my car licensed on May 14th this year - Mother's Day in the U.S..  I said, "Today is Mother's day where I'm from!" She told me in this country there is no Father's day, but since Moms are so special, there is a Mother's day; it's December 21. I told her, "So that just means I get to celebrate my Mom twice a year!" 

I had no idea that would be the last time I'd ever get to tell my Mom how much I cherished her on a day made just for Moms. 

I've read that all the "firsts" are tough. That proved true when I was at Changi airport again. When I went back to Benan. When I passed the "Welcome to Batam" sign. When I crossed Barelang bridge again. Went back to Grand Mall. When I zombie-walked through Thanksgiving. When I joined friends for a "Thanksmas" celebration. My heart is still not ready to "celebrate" anything. 

So, today is another first without her. Mother's day here. In four days, it will be my first Christmas since she left this earth. Five years ago, she and I traveled to Cancun for Christmas. We had so, so much fun traveling together. She was my best travel buddy. The next trip we were planning together is coming up in January - just a couple weeks. I will have to take that trip without her; though she holds a huge space in my heart and I will always carry her with me. Obviously, it is not the same.

Me & Mom Cancun-4-Christmas 2018

Dearest Mom, 

Happy Mother's Day in Paradise! Oh how I wish I could video call you and see your beautiful face, hear your sweet voice, talk to Cleo while she ignores me, and tell you that I love you second most. My heart aches for you. 

What keeps me sane is knowing that our Lord is loving you so much better than I ever could. He truly does love you most, and He just couldn't wait another day to hold you in His loving arms. I will do my best to get through these holidays with some smiles. 

Oh how I miss you. 

Always ~ Ang 

Magnificent Maria and Lucky

 

Magnificent Maria

I have the privilege of taking a 6 week sabbatical over the holidays this year. Of that time, I chose to spend a couple weeks with the Lord in Thailand. A place where I don't speak the language, and I don't know anyone at all. It's perfect. 

I have been here 6 days now. Days full of prayer, rest in the Lord, exploration, and marveling at His incredible creation. I have been following along in my Advent devotionals, I've read 2 books (The Grieving Brain by Mary-Frances O'Conner, and The Wild Edge of Sorrow by Frances Weller), and I spent much of today looking at Jesus' ministry in the first 22 Chapters of Matthew...I will finish it tomorrow. 

Thus far, something I have noticed about myself is that I need time to settle into a place before I can manage to focus deeply on anything. Perhaps that is my personality, perhaps it is a flaw in the same. My purpose for this trip is to seek God and be released from the immensely strong grip of sorrow and grief. To lay it at His feet. I feel there is an expectation for me to be further along in the process. If I was just a stronger Christian, surely I would be making more "progress." The more I read about grief and loss, the more I realize how utterly ridiculous it is for people to expect that of me (or anyone else). 

I am also coming to a deep realization that I have put way too much weight on others' ideals and expectations of me. The only One whose expectations matter is Jesus and He calls me His masterpiece. He knows my heart, my struggle, my devotion to Him, my shortcomings--ALL of it, and He would never look at me with disappointed, patronizing eyes. He compassionately loves me just the way I am. 

My Lord is here, patiently waiting for me to lay it down. I am trying. Perhaps a bit too hard. I am almost...afraid? to let myself enter back into that deeply painful well of emotion, but I know that if I want to release it, I must first welcome its presence. It is part of me and will forever be. I just need to embrace the courage only God can grant me and let Him refine me through the pain. He will walk through it with me when I'm ready. I do feel an overwhelming peace that I know could only be from Him. He is patient. He is so, so good. 

One highlight of the week was meeting Maria, the magnificent creature in the photo above. I rode an elephant once at the zoo with my son when he was about 2, and I feel terrible about that now. These poor creatures are so mistreated and are not made to be ridden like that. I met Maria in an 'ethical sanctuary' where they rescue these amazing animals from abusive situations, like riding camps, the circus, zoos, and the like. I am happy they are in an ethical place, but still could feel their sadness--especially when we were walking with them in the jungle. They wanted to be free. The sanctuary staff made a sound that signaled them to "stay" or to go where they were told, and I could see the look in their eyes. They were reluctant to go back to being contained. 

Sadness. 

There were 4 elephants at this sanctuary. Maria was the biggest and had been there longest. There was Angie(56y/o) rescued 6 months ago, and Lucky(4y/o) rescued just 4 months ago. Lucky became an orphan when his mom died just 4 months ago (like me!). He liked to play and tumble, but the only elephant that likes him is Maria. The other 2 want nothing to do with him. So these two "strangers" have bonded. They look for each other and don't like being separated. They have found family in this sanctuary. I will be happy for the time they get to spend together, and pray that they are not ever mistreated again. 

 

Maria and Lucky in their happy place

On This Day 15 Years Ago

On This Day 15 years ago...

I knew I had made quite a detailed post about the things I was feeling the day I got that dreadful call about my Dad. So here I am today, just 127 days after the Lord took my Mom. 

I anticipated this anniversary date would be extra challenging, and it has definitely begun that way. I booked a 2-week sabbatical to deeply grieve my new status as an orphan. It doesn't matter how old you are when you become an orphan, if your parents are gone--you are an orphan and you feel it. God took Dad 2 weeks before Christmas, and he took Mom the day after my birthday. I won't pretend to understand His timing, but I do trust that it is perfect, and He is sovereign. 

Mom was there and helped me through the initial couple weeks, then a few years later she moved in with me for 11 years. Kory was by my side throughout the first year before he went off to college/marriage. 

This go around, I'm in a foreign country, alone. 

Perhaps soon, I will also be able to write about Mom...but for now, on this 15th anniversary of my first gut wrenching loss, I will just re-post my detailed description here. Those old wounds have opened up again. 

A Phone Call

Today is the 2nd (now 15th) anniversary of the day I received the most life changing news I'd ever received. One days before one of the most painful and worst days of my life. I'm at work and the phone rings....

Linda (crying): "Ang, I've got something to tell you, and it's not good news honey."

Me (mind racing): "What is it? Tell me!"

Linda: "It's your Dad honey...something happened..."

Me: "No! No it can't be...is he okay?"

Linda: "I'm afraid not honey, he's had a stroke...a bleed in his head and it's bad Ang, really bad. They don't think he can pull through."

Me: "I.....I.....don't know what to say. I'll be there as quickly as I can."

 A Frenzy

I'm immediately on the phone. I call the airlines and book a flight for me and Kory for noon that day. I tell my boss I'm going to have to go. I'm crying so hard I can't call Randy (my husband at the time) to come pick me up so my boss calls him for me.

A Trip

The next week is like a surreal dream. One I wish I could wake up from, but never did. Kory left school, I left work...we packed in a frenzy & were driven to the airport by a resentful man (because of the $ spent on the plane tickets) and we were on our way. A full day of flying. 6 hours of actual air time. It was so difficult to be 'social' with the happy people around me while my insides were screaming "Wipe the smile off your faces! Don't you understand?!?!" I ordered a glass of wine on the plane, hoping that it would calm my nerves just a bit. FAIL What can calm you at a time like this? When we arrived in Spokane, Mom picked us up from the airport (alone, thankfully...story for another day) and drove us straight to the ICU at Sacred Heart where Dad and the rest of the family was.

A Realization

I can not describe to this day the flood of emotions I felt when I saw him laying there in his hospital bed. Ventilator breathing for him. EKG leads hooked up to his chest. As an ICU nurse, this should have been at least a tiny bit manageable, right? WRONG. My knees buckled & Mom & Kory were there for me to grab for support. I thought, "Maybe if I walk over and touch his hand, he will respond somehow. There will surely be something left there.....surely" Once I composed myself and felt that my legs would actually hold me up to walk over to him...I went, slowly. I stood next to him and stared. I pulled up an eyelid to see if there was any hint of life in that beautiful blue eye. Nothing. It was as glazed over and empty as the hundreds I'd seen up until this point. I knew it was over for him. Had been over for him well before I arrived. They were gracious enough to keep the 'life support' going until I could be there to watch his few, remaining, involuntary system functions shut down. It didn't take but just a few minutes for me to start barking demands. "Turn it OFF!! Unplug it! He's gone, can't you see that? PLEASE! Get it off of him!" Immediately as they turned the ventilator off, my anger kicked in. The nurses didn't know what to do with me as I was ripping the monitor leads off his chest & fingers, pulling out the IVs. It was mere moments after they turned the machines off before I felt his heart stop beating. His body never tried to take another breath. He was really gone. My hero, my apostle Paul, my Dad was really gone.

A Fog

The next few days were a series of making arrangements for the funeral, his attire for the casket, who would ride with whom, what time to meet for this and that, the post funeral gathering where you 'make nice' with all the people who are there to pay condolences, blah blah blah. It was a fog. I walked through a faith shaking fog of despair and disbelief. I made attempts to socialize with my step sisters & step Mom (Linda), my Mom and her husband, my Nana...and anyone else who was present at the time, but I was in such a state I'm not sure I can describe or even understand myself the way I felt. Unsocial is an understatement. I did not want to talk to anyone about anything. I wanted Kory in the room with me, and nothing else. I tried to lean on Mom, and she tried (but was prevented by her ever so needy husband), to console me at one point after we left the hospital on that dreadful day. (It was then that I had to leave Mom and go stay at Nana's house until after the funeral because I was in no position to properly deal with this man.) Nana is a quiet woman, and she has been around the block, so she was very sensitive to me and my need to be silent. The way I was able to sleep was by drinking wine until I absolutely could not stay upright any longer, and even then the sleep was short lived. Yeah, there was a tear in my (beer) wine. Not the best way to deal with a crisis, but it's what I did.

A Gift 

For me, honestly, the best thing about the entire experience was the fact that I had an unbelieveably mature son by my side every second of the day who helped me hold myself together. I'm sure I would have made it through somehow, but he lightened my load so much just by being himself and simply being present. A true gift from God.

**Side note regarding this: Kory has not ever been one who can handle people being too touchy feely with him. He gives a quick hug, kiss on the cheek or forehead, but don't expect any cuddling or holding hands, etc. It's just not in his personality.

The entire trip, Kory was right next to me. It was almost as if he was trying to protect me from my feelings and the horror of the entire thing. He sat next to me with his hand on my shoulder. He let me hold on to him when I just couldn't take it anymore and I was breaking down. He didn't leave the room I was in except for bathroom breaks. He encouraged me to hang up the phone when my ex was hounding me about the cost of this trip. He was my sounding board. He let me sleep next to him on the queen sized hide-a-bed at Nana's house and he forfeited the double bed at Mom's house to sleep in the recliner next to Mom's couch, where I slept. He simply was my rock. He was just 17 years old, and he was my stronghold. He is so much like my Dad, that I guess I should have expected it, and many times I know I've taken him for granted, but he proved to me in this experience the stellar young man he was, and he continues to do so even today.

A Funeral

The day of the funeral (December 17th, 2008) was the day the snow began. Not just a little snow...a blizzard. While in Spokane, I was afforded the privelage of driving my Dad's Dodge Ram. I'm not a Dodge fan, but it was perfect for the task of maneuvering through the snow packed city. In the back window of Dad's truck in huge letters it said, "If you were tried in court today for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?" Yes, my apostle Paul. I need not go into the background of Phillip Eugene Queen to explain the fact that his existence on earth truly parallelled Paul's. At the funeral, we (my step sisters and myself) were given the opportunity to give a eulogy on Dad's behalf. My step-sister, Amy got up first and she read a passage from the Bible....the very same passage I had intended to read.

2 Timothy 2

1. I charge thee therefore before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom;

2. Preach the work; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long suffering and doctrine. 

3. For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; 

4. and they shall turn away their ears fro the truth and shall be turned into fables. 

5 But watch thou in all things, endure afflictions, do the work of an evangelist, make full proof of thy ministry.

6 For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 

7 I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:

8 Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.

Amazing how two people who knew Dad in different ways would choose the exact same passage out of the Bible for his eulogy. It says much about the man he had grown to become. The man he was. The man I loved. My Dad.

A New Day 

After the funeral, Kory and I spent a couple days with Linda. We tried to console Larry (Dad's companion and devout Phil Queen fan, an African Grey Parrot.) Larry actually sat on my leg and puffed himself up to snooze...Linda said this was something Larry only did with Dad, and since that horrible day, he would not even do that with her. Larry sensed the connection. We helped shovel the snow that continued to fall throughout the next several days. We decided that he died exactly when he did just to get out of having to shovel. :) I know that Dad never would have actually done that, but it was a bit of much needed comic relief after a very grueling several days. Since the airports were closed due to the blizzard, we spent a couple days at Mom's after it was all over. We went sledding down the hill behind Mom's house, we went to 49 Degrees North and went skiing. We made the most out of the rest of the visit. Kory was literally waist deep in snow out in 9 mile where Mom lived at the time. It snowed ALOT! I love snow and had not seen any real snow for years (being stuck in Arkansas) so it was a blessing from God to give me something I truly loved to go along with the worst experience of my life.

A Thought

I know I'm not the only person to ever lose someone so close to me. I don't think there is really an 'appropriate' way to act or feel when it happens to you. I'm sure that things could have been done differently...(yes, it's me, the WAY over-analyzer) but we made it through. Yes, it's been 2 years now. I don't know when or if this pain will go away, but it is strong and steady still today. There's not a day that goes by in which I don't think about him. I will pick up my phone (in which his contact name & number remains...I can't delete it) sometimes and want to call and tell him something extraordinary, or pick his brain about a Biblical topic...I have to believe that somehow he still helps me out in whatever way a spirit can help us here...and I have to believe that he's in Christ's bosom, comforted.

I miss you every day Dad.

I know we'll see each other again on the other side!



Desperately Seeking...

 

Recently I saw this bouquet on a friend's coffee table. Initially, the bright colors drew me in. On close inspection, as you can see, it is made of something like legos. It's not real. From a distance, it looks as if it might genuinely be a freshly cut bouquet. The closer you get, the more clear it is that its flowers are artificial. 

That is what my world feels like since mom left this earth. I have been desperately seeking something real. Something solid I can hold onto. Yes, my faith is strong. Yes, I KNOW the Lord God is my Anchor and I am tethered to Him. That does not change the fact that I long for something. 

Of course, it makes sense that I just want my mom back. She was the one person who could listen to me think out loud, vent, verbally process my feelings--logic displaced or even absent--she could not have cared less. She was just there with open arms to listen. She patiently accepted me with all my flaws. She loved me agape-style. She told me every time we talked that she loved me and was proud of me. That I was "her person." 

And she was mine. 

"You don't know what you've got until it's gone" right? I did know though. I knew to my core what I had and I cherished it. I deeply cherished her while she was here. 

My encounters with people are...interesting. There is a clear expectation for me to function with the same level of logic, tolerance, and clear mindedness (None of which were top notch pre-loss, mind you). I should not, but I do attempt to communicate and function "normally" anyway. I fail. Essentially every time. 

I set boundaries, mainly to keep from subjecting others to my persistent grief state; my jumbled thoughts, emotions and M.I.A. ability to process. Then I fail to honor my own boundaries. Guess who would have just rolled with it? Who would never expect me to have a clear mind right now? Who would not tell me I have changed, I don't make any sense at all, I'm not joyful enough, I seem "down," I am illogical, I am ________________, or I am not____________? 

❤ MOM ❤

Do I expect special treatment? No. I suppose I am just desperately seeking a safe place...or person. Thus far, the nearest I've found is a Facebook group with hundreds of women who have lost their moms. I particularly recognize the ones whose relationships with their mom was as close as mine. They "get me." I could have written any of their thousands of posts. I could pour my heart out there, as many of those women do. They are real people, but I don't personally know them. I have yet to meet a "safe" person who understands. 

I will not downplay anyone's grief. Loss is brutal. I have experienced several profound losses (deaths) in my life-grandparents, relatives, dear friends....even my dad. I know grief is personal and excruciating in any case. However, nothing compares to this. Nothing. My grief counselor confirmed that people describe losing a same-sex parent as the deepest loss they've experienced. I was broken when I lost dad, but this has shattered me. 

It almost irritates me when people (especially women) who still have their moms expect me to be rationally processing life events. When people tell me I'm not making sense. Well guess what? Nothing makes sense right now! It has been 3 1/2 months since I lost my mother. My "Ride or Die." My best travel buddy. My first and best friend. 

My person. 

Remember that artificial bouquet? That is what my world looks like right now. A whole lot of words, packaged to (look) sound genuine, but if I drill down a bit--they are not. How can they be? People say they understand--and they may even believe it--but until they're in my shoes, they can not. It's simply impossible. 

One tidbit of advice from me after being just 3 1/2 months into the grief process: 

If you know someone who's lost their same sex parent, please do not expect them to be rational in their thoughts, speech, problem-solving ability, or anything else that requires a clear head. If you still have your parents, don't tell them you understand them. You do not. You can not. Regardless of how desperately you or they wish you could. 

It is lonely in this place. The only thing that holds me together is my relationship with Jesus. My Anchor...my Rock...my salvation...my hope. 

Lord Jesus, Bread of Life, I praise You with all that I am. Living Water, I feel parched. I need You to fill me. Pour Your Spirit into me until I am overflowing, Lord. Let my overflow bring Your name glory. I am nothing without You Lord. An empty shell, fragile and cracked. Fortify me with Your Sprit Lord. Make me like You. Precious Jesus, I surrender all to You. I am desperately seeking Your face. 

100 Days

Dearest Mom, 

In about an hour, it will be the 100th day since you went home to Jesus. You know, it's also Milton's birthday...and the day before Norvin's. We are just a family full of one-offs! 

Here, where I live, people have a big celebration on the 100th day after someone leaves the earth. The thought of celebrating turns my stomach. When I see other people doing all the "fun" things...it's almost irritating. It's not that I want anyone to suffer. It just feels like when you left, my joy disappeared and hasn't come back yet. It's hard mom. Sometimes the pain overwhelms every ounce of me. There is so much tension between being beyond happy for you because you're in the arms of Jesus, yet also feeling the deepest devastation of knowing that I won't have another earthly moment beside you. 

I know you are in Paradise. I know that you are whole and pain free. I know you are in His presence. 

I know that is a reason to celebrate, but....

How can I when I also know....

No more road trips...or travel of any type together. 

No more holding hands. 

No more 3am phone calls.

No more hugs. 

No more kisses. 

No more of your playful little pinches. 

No more playing games. 

No more sharing fresh coconuts. 

I will lament, mom. 

If He wakes me up again tomorrow, I will praise our faithful Father and ask Him to let me feel a bit of joy on your 100th day with Him. 

Oh mom, I miss you so. 

 

86 Days

My best travel buddy

I can't believe it's November 1st already. 86 days since mom went to be with Jesus. I used to make "thankful" posts on social media for each day in November. Today, my Facebook memories brought up my post from 11/1/2017, 

"I am grateful to have my wonderful & loving mom close by 💚

#day1

#joinmeinbeingthankful" 

And she commented, "And I am thankful to have YOU"

Today, I will be thankful for her sweet, tender heart and the memory of her beautiful smile. 

I miss her. 

💔