Snow days are good days to ponder. Or at least, I've determined that shoveling snow is a good time for me to ponder--a chance for me to be alone in the cold air without kids tugging on me.
As I used my snow blower (with poor skill, I might add), I pondered on the blessings the boys and I have received. I pondered on the gratitude for the many men and many hours they have spent in shoveling my snow. While I shoveled our snow many times while Adam was around, it was the big snow storms (like last night's blizzard) that he would shovel. The photos I have of him shoveling piles of snow in the winter before his death are reminders to me of his love for us.
I feel lately as though I'm shoveling and plowing in my life. I feel sort of like I'm just moving snow around but not coming to any sort of certain conclusions. I realize the need for a more stable job situation. I realize the need for space for my boys. And as I picked at the ice chunks that were left behind at the end of our driveway by the snowplow, I realized the necessity for me to figure out where is logical for us to live. I knew as I shoveled that I can't continue living like this here in Nebraska without a husband for any length of time. It is illogical. But then I get back to the question of "how long" do I wait this place out before determining where and when to go.
I spend a lot of time "what-if"ing things. What if my job offered better benefits and pay, would that change my mind. What if I had a maid come clean toilets twice a month to offset the lack of time to clean house. What if I paid for someone to clear my snow after the snow plow comes through so I don't have to pick at snow. What if I found the perfect house here in Omaha with the best schools and with the right set of circumstances. If if if.
Everyone has ifs. And no one solves ALL their ifs. At least I'd like to think we're all sort of in the same boat in that aspect.
It was my and Adam's 13th wedding anniversary on Monday. So I carried on our tradition of going to the temple on Saturday and participated in sealings. There isn't a feeling on earth that describes the feeling I feel during that ordinance. Linking families for not only time but eternity--families who have passed away and so desire that linkage, well, it is simply a blessing to be able to participate. While there I met a woman who asked where my husband was. When I explained, she said how humbled she felt to hear of what I going through. She said that it made her struggles and trials feel so small in comparison. Then she told me of her husband being ill and the possibility of them losing their business that they own because of her husband being ill. She has a lot on her plate. In that moment, I did not want to trade places with her, and I told her of my sympathy for her unique trials. Then we both remarked how interesting it is that we all endure hardships, unique trials that are very different, yet essential for our learning and growth. I still find it fascinating because we ALL do. And heartbreaking at times to hear of what others endure, of course. But I still think everything we go through causes us to learn--if we choose to let experience teach us. There is a lot of humility that goes a long with that. I wish I could say that I'm a good learner, but many times I'm too stubborn to let go of my pride so that I can learn more fully.
Just when I have been at one of my lowest points (I really have been at my wits end with a whole lot), I was given a gift this week. I had a dream that made me awaken in the morning with an assurance that Adam had been in my dream for a purpose and for a sense of relief of burdens I had been carrying. It was very clear to me--I have no question in my mind that it was him and that it was a very purposeful dream. I don't think I've had such assurance for a long time, and it was much appreciated. It was one of those dreams where I wish I could have such a dream every night.
I think sometimes it is difficult for us to decipher the difference between inspiration and revelation, and the workings of the Holy Ghost. I reread a talk tonight that confirmed some of the teachings I have felt from the spirit lately. I was reminded once again of the great blessing of apostles and prophets and their use in our lives. As Christ established His church on the earth, He too had apostles to aid Him in leading, guiding, and teaching. The patterns He set out continue today, and I am grateful to feel the calm assurance in my heart that teaches me that these words are true.
How to Obtain Revelation and Inspiration for Your Personal Life by Elder Richard G. Scott
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Acceptance-- The Why Not
It hit me tonight. I finally can put a finger on why I feel unsettled right now. It isn't because my would-be 13th wedding anniversary is next Monday, not because Christmas is around the corner, not because my dreaded 33rd birthday is around the corner (the age that I have Adam frozen in time in my mind that will be MY age in a matter of weeks). It isn't because Spencer is really struggling, which in turn means I am too.
It is all the things that I'm not willing to accept. I started making a mental list of my unacceptables tonight.
I am not willing to accept that I may not ever be pregnant again.
I am not willing to accept that I may never make love again.
I am not willing to accept that I may sleep alone for the rest of my life.
I am not willing to accept that my family provider is now me.
I am not willing to accept that this life I live is IT.
I am not willing to accept that I will parent my children alone for the rest of my life.
I am not willing to accept that I am the sole responsible person for three BOYS.
I am not willing to accept that this is IT.
That is the source of my discomfort. My angst. My anger. My frustration. My madness. My yelling. My sadness.
It is a paradox. A part of me doesn't know if I am really supposed to accept those things because maybe this ISN'T all to my life. But the panicky untrusting side of me says what it if it IS? And if it IS, then I reject all of it. All. I cannot accept it. I am starting to believe I never will.
As a couple men from church came over the other night to help me with some manly stuff around my house, I knew that they probably saw things in and around my house that exhibited this angst. Will I just let Adam die already? No. I guess I don't know how to. I can't completely shut out my past and I suppose I don't know if I'm supposed to or if I HAVE TO. I mean, maybe to some extent I do? There is no right or wrong answer to any of this. That is the frustration.
Some days I wish there was a real "right" answer--that way I would know what to do or not to do.
On my ring: I love diamonds. Pure and simple. My ring doesn't symbolize marriage. In truth, the only ring that symbolizes my marriage I haven't worn for 10 years...or more. That ring doesn't even fit my pinkie finger. I wore a different ring on my "wedding ring finger" even before I married Adam, from the time I turned 16. And interestingly enough, for as much as Adam was completely oblivious, he asked me about that ring on our first date and why I wore it on my ring finger. Hmm. So I still haven't decided on my diamond wedding rings...I don't know what the "real" right answer for me is. I don't really know if anyone notices or cares--or if they should...or if I should. But on the days that I feel like I need it or simply want it, I wear it.
On owning widowhood: I guess I have accepted that term. I've accepted what it is and why I'm here. Still, I will remain Mrs. Smith. It has been an interesting thing to establish in my work environment. For the first time in my entire life, Miss, Ms. or Mrs. actually matters. And so I claim etiquette rules and will be Mrs. for the rest of my life--remarried or not.
On being a working-outside-the-home-mom: I do NOT believe women can "have it all." I believe those who think otherwise are fooling themselves. That whole blurb about "quality time" versus "quantity of time." It is impossible to have quality without quantity. So I would argue that any woman who works full time had better trust those who care for her children--because they are raising her children for a good portion of the day--and of her child's life. These people may be teachers. Or they may be childcare providers. But the reality is, THEY are raising her children. This is one of the realities of working women. I don't really accept this reality--because it makes me mad that I have to divide myself. I don't feel like a complete mother for this reason.
On sex: I struggle with this 'acceptance' for lots of reasons. I will say that stemming from my religious beliefs, this topic is not only taboo, but it is blurred in my mind. Let me rephrase. There are very clear lines in the belief system of my church regarding sexual relations--that are absolutely NOT blurred. Sexual relations are appropriate and sacred and only to be between a legally and lawfully man and a woman. Period. That said, this leaves me in a strange place. I know exactly what I am missing. And the eternal nature of my belief system leaves me a bit conflicted--partially due to the judgements of others, and partially due to my own mental conflict on the subject. Does this state that I am in--a very legally UNmarried woman--put me back at square one, not to think about sex or not to think about what was right and pure and sacred between me and my deceased spouse? Am I really supposed to accept that it is all dead and gone? How do I come to terms with my nature as a woman--by nature, a sexual being? I'm not really sure. I still feel very much conflicted on this. Is it wrong for me to want what I had--or more specifically, to hope that I have such a relationship again? I hope not. But I don't know.
On parenting: I simply do not joy in parenthood the way I once did. I relished the funny things that my kids said or did--because I had someone else by my side enjoying them too. I don't know how to accept single parenting. I do not enjoy my children in the same way now. Period. This makes me sad.
So the thing about acceptance is, am I supposed to "just do it" and "let it go" just BECAUSE I'm "supposed to?" Is it really not about liking my current state and just sort of giving up and waving a white flag to it all? That seems more like apathy than active acceptance. But I most assuredly do not accept this.
As I have listened to other widowed people who talk about how they've "accepted" their current state, I often think to myself (sometimes in jealousy, and sometimes just in disbelief), have they really accepted all the stuff that I drag my feet on? Many of those who seem to have "accepted" these things are in other relationships and so a part of me wonders if they didn't really HAVE TO accept these things. Or sometimes it is an age thing--maybe due to my age and not feeling complete in certain aspects of life, that is what holds me back?
I don't know how to get through these issues. They weigh on my mind. They make me feel guilty, as though I'm doing something wrong and that there's a reason I can't accept all of this. Yet I know that true guilt can only come due to sin or offense to God. I don't feel that way in regards to these issues, that I feel guilt for those reasons. So it is simply Satan causing my angst? I'm not completely sure, but that is the logical explanation.
There is no easy answer. There's not really even a tough answer to these issues. The answer is that there is NO answer. It is that I have to just wade through this until I can be at peace I guess. And I know where peace comes from. I just don't know that I trust that I will ever get an answer and experience complete peace.
Or maybe there is more. And that more will help heal my heart.
Or not.
Ok. I'm done for tonight. It feels good to get this out of my head and on paper, er, a computer screen.
Sometimes a week away to a psych ward doesn't sound half bad. No dishes. No laundry. No cooking. No working. No breaking up kid fights. A nap. No single parenting for a week. Hmmm. That would be a good way to continue to avoid acceptance!
It is all the things that I'm not willing to accept. I started making a mental list of my unacceptables tonight.
I am not willing to accept that I may not ever be pregnant again.
I am not willing to accept that I may never make love again.
I am not willing to accept that I may sleep alone for the rest of my life.
I am not willing to accept that my family provider is now me.
I am not willing to accept that this life I live is IT.
I am not willing to accept that I will parent my children alone for the rest of my life.
I am not willing to accept that I am the sole responsible person for three BOYS.
I am not willing to accept that this is IT.
That is the source of my discomfort. My angst. My anger. My frustration. My madness. My yelling. My sadness.
It is a paradox. A part of me doesn't know if I am really supposed to accept those things because maybe this ISN'T all to my life. But the panicky untrusting side of me says what it if it IS? And if it IS, then I reject all of it. All. I cannot accept it. I am starting to believe I never will.
As a couple men from church came over the other night to help me with some manly stuff around my house, I knew that they probably saw things in and around my house that exhibited this angst. Will I just let Adam die already? No. I guess I don't know how to. I can't completely shut out my past and I suppose I don't know if I'm supposed to or if I HAVE TO. I mean, maybe to some extent I do? There is no right or wrong answer to any of this. That is the frustration.
Some days I wish there was a real "right" answer--that way I would know what to do or not to do.
On my ring: I love diamonds. Pure and simple. My ring doesn't symbolize marriage. In truth, the only ring that symbolizes my marriage I haven't worn for 10 years...or more. That ring doesn't even fit my pinkie finger. I wore a different ring on my "wedding ring finger" even before I married Adam, from the time I turned 16. And interestingly enough, for as much as Adam was completely oblivious, he asked me about that ring on our first date and why I wore it on my ring finger. Hmm. So I still haven't decided on my diamond wedding rings...I don't know what the "real" right answer for me is. I don't really know if anyone notices or cares--or if they should...or if I should. But on the days that I feel like I need it or simply want it, I wear it.
On owning widowhood: I guess I have accepted that term. I've accepted what it is and why I'm here. Still, I will remain Mrs. Smith. It has been an interesting thing to establish in my work environment. For the first time in my entire life, Miss, Ms. or Mrs. actually matters. And so I claim etiquette rules and will be Mrs. for the rest of my life--remarried or not.
On being a working-outside-the-home-mom: I do NOT believe women can "have it all." I believe those who think otherwise are fooling themselves. That whole blurb about "quality time" versus "quantity of time." It is impossible to have quality without quantity. So I would argue that any woman who works full time had better trust those who care for her children--because they are raising her children for a good portion of the day--and of her child's life. These people may be teachers. Or they may be childcare providers. But the reality is, THEY are raising her children. This is one of the realities of working women. I don't really accept this reality--because it makes me mad that I have to divide myself. I don't feel like a complete mother for this reason.
On sex: I struggle with this 'acceptance' for lots of reasons. I will say that stemming from my religious beliefs, this topic is not only taboo, but it is blurred in my mind. Let me rephrase. There are very clear lines in the belief system of my church regarding sexual relations--that are absolutely NOT blurred. Sexual relations are appropriate and sacred and only to be between a legally and lawfully man and a woman. Period. That said, this leaves me in a strange place. I know exactly what I am missing. And the eternal nature of my belief system leaves me a bit conflicted--partially due to the judgements of others, and partially due to my own mental conflict on the subject. Does this state that I am in--a very legally UNmarried woman--put me back at square one, not to think about sex or not to think about what was right and pure and sacred between me and my deceased spouse? Am I really supposed to accept that it is all dead and gone? How do I come to terms with my nature as a woman--by nature, a sexual being? I'm not really sure. I still feel very much conflicted on this. Is it wrong for me to want what I had--or more specifically, to hope that I have such a relationship again? I hope not. But I don't know.
On parenting: I simply do not joy in parenthood the way I once did. I relished the funny things that my kids said or did--because I had someone else by my side enjoying them too. I don't know how to accept single parenting. I do not enjoy my children in the same way now. Period. This makes me sad.
So the thing about acceptance is, am I supposed to "just do it" and "let it go" just BECAUSE I'm "supposed to?" Is it really not about liking my current state and just sort of giving up and waving a white flag to it all? That seems more like apathy than active acceptance. But I most assuredly do not accept this.
As I have listened to other widowed people who talk about how they've "accepted" their current state, I often think to myself (sometimes in jealousy, and sometimes just in disbelief), have they really accepted all the stuff that I drag my feet on? Many of those who seem to have "accepted" these things are in other relationships and so a part of me wonders if they didn't really HAVE TO accept these things. Or sometimes it is an age thing--maybe due to my age and not feeling complete in certain aspects of life, that is what holds me back?
I don't know how to get through these issues. They weigh on my mind. They make me feel guilty, as though I'm doing something wrong and that there's a reason I can't accept all of this. Yet I know that true guilt can only come due to sin or offense to God. I don't feel that way in regards to these issues, that I feel guilt for those reasons. So it is simply Satan causing my angst? I'm not completely sure, but that is the logical explanation.
There is no easy answer. There's not really even a tough answer to these issues. The answer is that there is NO answer. It is that I have to just wade through this until I can be at peace I guess. And I know where peace comes from. I just don't know that I trust that I will ever get an answer and experience complete peace.
Or maybe there is more. And that more will help heal my heart.
Or not.
Ok. I'm done for tonight. It feels good to get this out of my head and on paper, er, a computer screen.
Sometimes a week away to a psych ward doesn't sound half bad. No dishes. No laundry. No cooking. No working. No breaking up kid fights. A nap. No single parenting for a week. Hmmm. That would be a good way to continue to avoid acceptance!
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Holiday Psychology
Like many, I have been pondering on the blessings that my family and I have received. It has been a busy week. One that I was half dreading and half looking forward to I suppose. After much debate, my parents came to see us for Thanksgiving. They helped take care of my boys while I worked since the boys got the day before Thanksgiving off of school and I did not. I was grateful for their help and for my dad's handyman skills. It really is a blessing to have such a wonderful dad and mom.
I haven't felt very holiday-y. I think I have just sort of tromped my way through the other years of holidays, and I truly just wanted to sleep for four days with this Turkey Day. But I realize in hindsight how good it is to have family to keep me going when I don't feel like it at all.
My parents were fine with going out to eat Thanksgiving dinner somewhere. While some probably think that's a sin, with little ones who don't like everything Thanksgivingish in the first place, it made more sense in my mind. In the end, the hassle of taking the boys out to eat exhausted my brain too. We simplified Thanksgiving and bought rotisserie chicken and fixed only the must-have sides...and bought everything else. It was the easiest Thanksgiving ever, and as long as it is my job to do Thanksgiving, I will do it that way again.
My mom helped me with something that has been plaguing my brain for a long while--she helped me clean my basement. It is now gorgeous--as good as an unfinished basement can be. I have been making my own sort of woman-cave down there and so I took a huge visit to Goodwill today and got rid of a lot of things. Lots. And it feels so very good.
As we worked in the basement, it was interesting the things that I still can't give up. I am still not ready to go through "the box" of stuff from the crash. I've tried several times and I just can't do it. I'm getting closer though, I can feel it. Among other things, I still can't give up a certain few infant-baby items in the basement. It feels too final to get rid of things, things that I still so desperately want. I've given myself a three year timeline. I figure, I won't be having more kids after age 36 no matter what so it'll have to go at that point. But for now, I just am not able to accept the fact that this is it. It doesn't feel right.
A lot of the things we sorted were things that Adam was in the midst of helping me sort. Kids toys. Stuff I haven't wanted to part with. Boxes that hadn't been sorted since long before Adam's death. Purely psychological.
At one point, my mom said, "You don't really want me to DO anything, do you. You really just want me here to be here in the room while you work." Yes. ABSOLUTELY. That is the story of much of my life. I think a lot of the things I feel stuck in are not necessarily about physical help. Well, I mean, some ARE. But for day to day tasks that I just can't bring myself to do, it is only a matter of having someone--an ADULT someone--to talk to. Who will just chat with me while I work. Adam was that someone. He would sit at the kitchen table after work while I cooked or washed dinner dishes. He would sit in the living room while I paid bills. He'd sit on the bed in our room while I worked in our bedroom, or in the family room while I sorted dirty clothes...or folded clean ones. It's not to say that he didn't do anything, because he did A LOT. But for me to focus sometimes simply required me to have a 'real' reason to work. I suppose my kids give me a real reason to work out of the home now...but not really in our home. Psychology is so stupid.
I gave my brother my--our--old Christmas tree. After my parents' visit, they loaded up their car with stuff I wanted to get rid of (that hopefully will be useful to them) and took it to them. I was glad they took my Christmas tree. Like many things that I've gotten rid of, that tree had many reasons for needing a vacay from my house. We bought that tree the year after our first Christmas together, 12 years ago. It was a pain to put up, sticking each branch into the metal 'trunk' and then messing with the lights. But like many things, it became a focus of many traditions. We put it up for what was to be our last time the last Christmas we had with Adam, and then it wasn't the last time. And that bugged me the last two years in a row as I've put it up. I saw the perfect sized tree when I was shopping the other week, saw that it was pre-lit, and knew it was the one. It took me less than 10 minutes to put it up yesterday. It is perfect. Although that is the extent to my Christmas spirit at this point. I like going into the living room and admiring the lights--with no ornaments. Apparently the kids do too. I keep having to shoo them upstairs to bed after they've snuck downstairs. It secretly makes me smile, even though I have to put on my mean mom face (that is around most of the time these days, it seems).
Why are traditions so darn hard? Why did we have so many of them? It's not just about family traditions, but traditions as a couple. I haven't been able to get to a good place with any of them, they just simply make me sad. Very.
I'm tired of being sad. I'm ready for something new and happy and exciting in my life. It's like, I want so much to have something to look forward to, and yet I feel sort of defeated, like it isn't really possible. Is it a lack of faith, or more of disillusionment. Maybe both. But I still feel the nagging phrase of "prepare" come to my mind a lot. Maybe it gives me a little hope, like there may really be something for which to prepare.
I sure hope so.
I'm sort of hoping that lucky #13 will be a year of good things to come for me and the boys.
Our 13th anniversary is around the corner.
I haven't felt very holiday-y. I think I have just sort of tromped my way through the other years of holidays, and I truly just wanted to sleep for four days with this Turkey Day. But I realize in hindsight how good it is to have family to keep me going when I don't feel like it at all.
My parents were fine with going out to eat Thanksgiving dinner somewhere. While some probably think that's a sin, with little ones who don't like everything Thanksgivingish in the first place, it made more sense in my mind. In the end, the hassle of taking the boys out to eat exhausted my brain too. We simplified Thanksgiving and bought rotisserie chicken and fixed only the must-have sides...and bought everything else. It was the easiest Thanksgiving ever, and as long as it is my job to do Thanksgiving, I will do it that way again.
My mom helped me with something that has been plaguing my brain for a long while--she helped me clean my basement. It is now gorgeous--as good as an unfinished basement can be. I have been making my own sort of woman-cave down there and so I took a huge visit to Goodwill today and got rid of a lot of things. Lots. And it feels so very good.
As we worked in the basement, it was interesting the things that I still can't give up. I am still not ready to go through "the box" of stuff from the crash. I've tried several times and I just can't do it. I'm getting closer though, I can feel it. Among other things, I still can't give up a certain few infant-baby items in the basement. It feels too final to get rid of things, things that I still so desperately want. I've given myself a three year timeline. I figure, I won't be having more kids after age 36 no matter what so it'll have to go at that point. But for now, I just am not able to accept the fact that this is it. It doesn't feel right.
A lot of the things we sorted were things that Adam was in the midst of helping me sort. Kids toys. Stuff I haven't wanted to part with. Boxes that hadn't been sorted since long before Adam's death. Purely psychological.
At one point, my mom said, "You don't really want me to DO anything, do you. You really just want me here to be here in the room while you work." Yes. ABSOLUTELY. That is the story of much of my life. I think a lot of the things I feel stuck in are not necessarily about physical help. Well, I mean, some ARE. But for day to day tasks that I just can't bring myself to do, it is only a matter of having someone--an ADULT someone--to talk to. Who will just chat with me while I work. Adam was that someone. He would sit at the kitchen table after work while I cooked or washed dinner dishes. He would sit in the living room while I paid bills. He'd sit on the bed in our room while I worked in our bedroom, or in the family room while I sorted dirty clothes...or folded clean ones. It's not to say that he didn't do anything, because he did A LOT. But for me to focus sometimes simply required me to have a 'real' reason to work. I suppose my kids give me a real reason to work out of the home now...but not really in our home. Psychology is so stupid.
I gave my brother my--our--old Christmas tree. After my parents' visit, they loaded up their car with stuff I wanted to get rid of (that hopefully will be useful to them) and took it to them. I was glad they took my Christmas tree. Like many things that I've gotten rid of, that tree had many reasons for needing a vacay from my house. We bought that tree the year after our first Christmas together, 12 years ago. It was a pain to put up, sticking each branch into the metal 'trunk' and then messing with the lights. But like many things, it became a focus of many traditions. We put it up for what was to be our last time the last Christmas we had with Adam, and then it wasn't the last time. And that bugged me the last two years in a row as I've put it up. I saw the perfect sized tree when I was shopping the other week, saw that it was pre-lit, and knew it was the one. It took me less than 10 minutes to put it up yesterday. It is perfect. Although that is the extent to my Christmas spirit at this point. I like going into the living room and admiring the lights--with no ornaments. Apparently the kids do too. I keep having to shoo them upstairs to bed after they've snuck downstairs. It secretly makes me smile, even though I have to put on my mean mom face (that is around most of the time these days, it seems).
Why are traditions so darn hard? Why did we have so many of them? It's not just about family traditions, but traditions as a couple. I haven't been able to get to a good place with any of them, they just simply make me sad. Very.
I'm tired of being sad. I'm ready for something new and happy and exciting in my life. It's like, I want so much to have something to look forward to, and yet I feel sort of defeated, like it isn't really possible. Is it a lack of faith, or more of disillusionment. Maybe both. But I still feel the nagging phrase of "prepare" come to my mind a lot. Maybe it gives me a little hope, like there may really be something for which to prepare.
I sure hope so.
I'm sort of hoping that lucky #13 will be a year of good things to come for me and the boys.
Our 13th anniversary is around the corner.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Morning Ramblings
Carson woke up in what I 'thought' was the middle of the night. I was so dazed and exhausted that I just wanted his crying to stop and his request for a drink to be fulfilled. I scooped him up and put him in my bed and grabbed the empty sippy cup off of my nightstand and filled it with water in my bathroom. You see, in the one-parent infant/toddler exhaustion, there have been a few things I've learned to attempt to maximize my sleep. Sippy cup preparedness is one of them. I guess I've been conditioned by my kids. Oh yeah. It was only midnight when this whole adding of a 2 year old to my bed business happened.
As it has been one of the worst nights' sleep in a while, I pondered on this. Carson likes to cuddle. Like, no amount of scooting the kid over to the other side of the bed keeps him there. He MUST touch me somehow. I think it's because I'm warm and because he refuses to wear pjs. Every night I put him in pajamas and every night I come in after he's fallen asleep and he's taken them off. Crazy kid.
I don't sleep well with kids in my bed. Like, AT ALL.
And it got me thinking. Could I be married again and have someone sleep in my bed? I'm not so sure.
Not that that matters exactly right now. Just been thinking. I'm definitely at the point where I need to decide. Am I going to be stubborn and 'wait' for Adam. DO this whole alone-single-mom stuff alone, and be OK with it?
I realize that I'm not getting any younger. The kids are only getting older. Any change to where we live needs to happen soon if it's going to happen. Like, after this school year soon.
I've looked at options. Do I move near my parents in Nashville since I know this is likely their final move around the country. Do I stay. Do I go to Utah. Do I find some place new to start over fresh.
Note, there aren't question marks after any of those questions. I feel like they're all statements in my head that I'm weighing carefully. I feel like none of those decisions makes complete sense nor is one decision better than the other.
I like my job, but I am well aware that this won't be a permanent "forever" job, due to some of its limitations.
I still like the idea of going back to school. Maybe once all the boys are in school.
In the meantime, I know that the boys need more space. To live in a climate where they can be outside more than only a couple months out of the year. They are BOYS. They need the chance to be boys.
I suppose that line of thinking makes me think, yet again, that I do need to remarry.
Argh. It's amazing how certain thoughts are still circular, even after 27 months. I guess I was mistaken in thinking that if I started working, I would seem to have life figured out. Guess not!
I love my job. It is a good fit right now. Especially the hours. Being done at 3pm and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn is perfect for my sleep regimen.
I have a thankful heart. For my friends who watch my boys and make this work thing 'work' for our family. For those who still stand by us. For those who understand that while much healing has taken place, the scars of what we have been through and my heart that is still broken for what we have lost....who still have understanding that we aren't 'over it.' We'll never be.
As usual. I'm just trying to cope, day by day. And many times, simply minute by minute.
As it has been one of the worst nights' sleep in a while, I pondered on this. Carson likes to cuddle. Like, no amount of scooting the kid over to the other side of the bed keeps him there. He MUST touch me somehow. I think it's because I'm warm and because he refuses to wear pjs. Every night I put him in pajamas and every night I come in after he's fallen asleep and he's taken them off. Crazy kid.
I don't sleep well with kids in my bed. Like, AT ALL.
And it got me thinking. Could I be married again and have someone sleep in my bed? I'm not so sure.
Not that that matters exactly right now. Just been thinking. I'm definitely at the point where I need to decide. Am I going to be stubborn and 'wait' for Adam. DO this whole alone-single-mom stuff alone, and be OK with it?
I realize that I'm not getting any younger. The kids are only getting older. Any change to where we live needs to happen soon if it's going to happen. Like, after this school year soon.
I've looked at options. Do I move near my parents in Nashville since I know this is likely their final move around the country. Do I stay. Do I go to Utah. Do I find some place new to start over fresh.
Note, there aren't question marks after any of those questions. I feel like they're all statements in my head that I'm weighing carefully. I feel like none of those decisions makes complete sense nor is one decision better than the other.
I like my job, but I am well aware that this won't be a permanent "forever" job, due to some of its limitations.
I still like the idea of going back to school. Maybe once all the boys are in school.
In the meantime, I know that the boys need more space. To live in a climate where they can be outside more than only a couple months out of the year. They are BOYS. They need the chance to be boys.
I suppose that line of thinking makes me think, yet again, that I do need to remarry.
Argh. It's amazing how certain thoughts are still circular, even after 27 months. I guess I was mistaken in thinking that if I started working, I would seem to have life figured out. Guess not!
I love my job. It is a good fit right now. Especially the hours. Being done at 3pm and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn is perfect for my sleep regimen.
I have a thankful heart. For my friends who watch my boys and make this work thing 'work' for our family. For those who still stand by us. For those who understand that while much healing has taken place, the scars of what we have been through and my heart that is still broken for what we have lost....who still have understanding that we aren't 'over it.' We'll never be.
As usual. I'm just trying to cope, day by day. And many times, simply minute by minute.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Ode to George
Since this song came on tonight as I was driving in the car, I decided I should post it. I don't know why there's something about this song that brings my grief into perspective, it makes me laugh and shakes me from my funk. Maybe it is because I remember when Adam and I watched this movie together. Multiple times. Maybe it's George. Maybe it's because I liked the book "The Odyssey." Maybe it was because I was driving my Odyssey. Or because I simply really like "O Brother Where Are Thou" and how they could turn the book into a movie that was so perfectly the book, but VERY NOT. Anyway. Ode to Clooney....
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
When You Say Nothing At All
Today my phone decided to break. Ugh. So frustrating to text people and find that it isn't sending me return text messages. Oh well. So for most of the day I was sure that my phone had deleted all 600+ photos from my phone and all hundreds of music files. But tonight after an evening with widowed friends, suddenly everything reappeared. I'm grateful. Now if they'll just stay until I can get to the store to get it saved during the next couple days.
I checked my music files and was so happy to see all my missing music suddenly back where it belonged. The song that showed up was Allison Krauss's "When You Say Nothing At All." It is still interesting to me how certain lines from music somehow connect me with Adam. I can feel him with me. I can't really explain that feeling.
I have gone through a weird period where I somehow feel lately like it makes more sense for me to stay single than otherwise. I don't know whether that is just a feeling I need to be comfortable with before I can even begin to have someone else in my life...or if I really do need to wait this whole life out on my own. I can't explain that feeling I guess.
Then there's still the moments like I had at work today where I know Adam is there. As I was sifting through literally hundreds of papers today, I found a form I was looking for and was strangely annoyed at its lack of completeness, and then let my eyes scroll to a particular doctor's signature. Instantly it was as though Adam was saying, "See. I told you." As he always thought this particular doc was...less than complete. And now I had work to clean up. So strange how it is like Adam follows me around sometimes. I know it probably sounds bizarre.
It feels good. Yet not. A coworker asked me today if I dream about Adam. I told her yes. I explained how sometimes it is comforting and other times it is like I just want to tell him to leave me alone and let me get on with life. I know he'll never totally leave me. I guess that's ok for today. I still need him to pop in periodically. We shall see when my mind changes about that.
I checked my music files and was so happy to see all my missing music suddenly back where it belonged. The song that showed up was Allison Krauss's "When You Say Nothing At All." It is still interesting to me how certain lines from music somehow connect me with Adam. I can feel him with me. I can't really explain that feeling.
I have gone through a weird period where I somehow feel lately like it makes more sense for me to stay single than otherwise. I don't know whether that is just a feeling I need to be comfortable with before I can even begin to have someone else in my life...or if I really do need to wait this whole life out on my own. I can't explain that feeling I guess.
Then there's still the moments like I had at work today where I know Adam is there. As I was sifting through literally hundreds of papers today, I found a form I was looking for and was strangely annoyed at its lack of completeness, and then let my eyes scroll to a particular doctor's signature. Instantly it was as though Adam was saying, "See. I told you." As he always thought this particular doc was...less than complete. And now I had work to clean up. So strange how it is like Adam follows me around sometimes. I know it probably sounds bizarre.
It feels good. Yet not. A coworker asked me today if I dream about Adam. I told her yes. I explained how sometimes it is comforting and other times it is like I just want to tell him to leave me alone and let me get on with life. I know he'll never totally leave me. I guess that's ok for today. I still need him to pop in periodically. We shall see when my mind changes about that.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Buh Bye Rad
I did it. After over two years, I finally had the guts to list Adam's radiology books (many of which he had bought in the weeks before he died) on Amazon. They've been sitting in the corner of my room, just bothering me. They SO needed to go, but it has been purely psychological for me...I just couldn't do it. Til now. Hopefully they'll be bought. And soon. Man, that was one of the most difficult things I've done in a really long time.
Monday, October 1, 2012
New Job
Today was an interesting day. I felt like there were so many things combining to make today's transition difficult--it was like I knew Satan himself was standing beside me, trying to make the very correct decision that was confirmed to me...go awry. But I did it anyway.
I started a job today. THE job. I haven't worked outside the home this many hours since before Justin was born--more than 10 years ago. To say that I'm nervous is an understatement. To think that I'm going to be doing all the mom and dad jobs and somehow work...well. It is daunting and I try not to think about it. But I know God will make it possible. And the blessings He has shown me in making this possible, I just know it will work, somehow.
I interviewed a week ago today. The interview went well. I was also the last person to interview for this position. I asked my boss today when we ate lunch together and she told me that 15 people interviewed. This might not sound like all that many people, but to me that was a lot of people to sift through to pick me. And then I started today. One week later. The first job that I interviewed for. Come to think of it, I guess I've never interviewed for a job that I didn't get. Wow. The miracle of that just hit me.
I've decided it was a good thing to just "do it" so to speak and not have to wait weeks and weeks to get going between accepting a job and starting work. I think I would've wallowed a bit too much in the "this is the last day I will be home with Carson..." blah blah blah. I am glad I really didn't have time to do that. I think it may've changed my mind and made me second guess the prompting I felt to take this job.
Somehow the child care aspect has come together, which has been my main concern. My go-to list is increasing for all those plan B or C days that occur for illnesses and such. In fact, Justin was ill yesterday with a high fever, and even had some mental status changes that freaked me out (it's amazing how quick that level-headed nurse thinking goes out the window when it's my own child) and when he couldn't tell me his name and spoke to me in garbled language and had strange behavior, I went straight to the worst case scenario and took him to the urgent care. While I still don't know if he had a seizure or if it was actually simply febrile induced delirium, I somehow feel comforted that all will be ok.
I feel a great big boulder removed from my shoulders, like this is the ideal job. It isn't perfect, but at this place in time in my life, I think this job is the best possible solution. To have weekends and holidays and snow days and summers off....it is JUST what every single mom needs. And as we toured the hospital today in general orientation, it confirmed to me that I need to be at a place other than a hospital right now. Somehow, I just know this is right.
I am grateful and feel very humbled at the opportunity to learn a new aspect of nursing care and to use my brain in a different way. It feels so good to have something else to think about. I'm so very grateful for this blessing.
I started a job today. THE job. I haven't worked outside the home this many hours since before Justin was born--more than 10 years ago. To say that I'm nervous is an understatement. To think that I'm going to be doing all the mom and dad jobs and somehow work...well. It is daunting and I try not to think about it. But I know God will make it possible. And the blessings He has shown me in making this possible, I just know it will work, somehow.
I interviewed a week ago today. The interview went well. I was also the last person to interview for this position. I asked my boss today when we ate lunch together and she told me that 15 people interviewed. This might not sound like all that many people, but to me that was a lot of people to sift through to pick me. And then I started today. One week later. The first job that I interviewed for. Come to think of it, I guess I've never interviewed for a job that I didn't get. Wow. The miracle of that just hit me.
I've decided it was a good thing to just "do it" so to speak and not have to wait weeks and weeks to get going between accepting a job and starting work. I think I would've wallowed a bit too much in the "this is the last day I will be home with Carson..." blah blah blah. I am glad I really didn't have time to do that. I think it may've changed my mind and made me second guess the prompting I felt to take this job.
Somehow the child care aspect has come together, which has been my main concern. My go-to list is increasing for all those plan B or C days that occur for illnesses and such. In fact, Justin was ill yesterday with a high fever, and even had some mental status changes that freaked me out (it's amazing how quick that level-headed nurse thinking goes out the window when it's my own child) and when he couldn't tell me his name and spoke to me in garbled language and had strange behavior, I went straight to the worst case scenario and took him to the urgent care. While I still don't know if he had a seizure or if it was actually simply febrile induced delirium, I somehow feel comforted that all will be ok.
I feel a great big boulder removed from my shoulders, like this is the ideal job. It isn't perfect, but at this place in time in my life, I think this job is the best possible solution. To have weekends and holidays and snow days and summers off....it is JUST what every single mom needs. And as we toured the hospital today in general orientation, it confirmed to me that I need to be at a place other than a hospital right now. Somehow, I just know this is right.
I am grateful and feel very humbled at the opportunity to learn a new aspect of nursing care and to use my brain in a different way. It feels so good to have something else to think about. I'm so very grateful for this blessing.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Flight Home
Just when I think I have things together, it is interesting how the grief bug just comes and smacks me.
This past weekend I went to my semiannual widows and widowers conference in Utah. It was a wonderful trip, as every one of those trips is. I always just NEED that trip away to clear my head, to not have kids hanging on me and to be with other adults for a bit. I really didn't cry at all this trip. I was just glad to laugh with other widow(er)s this trip and it felt really good. I think it has to do with time and the healing that has taken place. Plus I have made some amazing friends. Friends are wonderful.
On my flight home, I contemplated a list. Making a list of triggers so that I can be a bit more prepared on how to deal with the obvious triggers that come my way. Still.
And just like that, I was reminded once again that there isn't logic to grief. And a list just doesn't cut it.
For an entire flight, I had been sitting across the aisle from this cute little elderly couple. The wife had needed a walker to get on the plane. And her husband sat in the aisle seat across from my aisle seat. They were quiet, and I was getting some good reading done. I wasn't paying much attention to them. I did notice a couple times that the husband touched the sleeve of the guy in front of him, giving that mad a bit of a startle...as though the elderly man wasn't exactly aware of his surroundings. I didn't think a whole lot of it. I mean, he was a bit age-ed. After our plane landed, I heard his wife mutter, "Oh NO. You aren't supposed to do THAT." I looked over and the old man had taken off his shoe and sort of held it up, like it was normal to take off a shoe when a plane lands, when all passengers are darting to the aisle, hoping to get off the place quickly. I was about to lean over and help but quickly realized that this was a moment that she needed to take care of. She was not very happy that he took off his shoe. It is difficult to lean over and move things around by one's feet in an airplane, but combine that with age and weakened agility--not a good thing. I had to look away as I started sobbing silently. In that moment, I pictured old Adam sitting next to me. Having dementia like this older gentleman and ME having to be that wife taking care him as he would do crazy, unintentionally obnoxious things. It was in this moment that I could so easily picture this future that will never be. I cried and thought about how it will just NEVER BE. I'm sure it sounds a little crazy to want a little crazy in my life like this older woman had, but sometimes I just long for those things that would've been our life.
I sense that these little triggers will continue as long as I live. There isn't anything I can do to prepare for them or avoid them. They will simply happen. I think the only thing I can do is hope and pray to fill my life with things that make me feel like my life is mine--all mine--and do all that I can to continue building my new life. It'll happen in time.
This past weekend I went to my semiannual widows and widowers conference in Utah. It was a wonderful trip, as every one of those trips is. I always just NEED that trip away to clear my head, to not have kids hanging on me and to be with other adults for a bit. I really didn't cry at all this trip. I was just glad to laugh with other widow(er)s this trip and it felt really good. I think it has to do with time and the healing that has taken place. Plus I have made some amazing friends. Friends are wonderful.
On my flight home, I contemplated a list. Making a list of triggers so that I can be a bit more prepared on how to deal with the obvious triggers that come my way. Still.
And just like that, I was reminded once again that there isn't logic to grief. And a list just doesn't cut it.
For an entire flight, I had been sitting across the aisle from this cute little elderly couple. The wife had needed a walker to get on the plane. And her husband sat in the aisle seat across from my aisle seat. They were quiet, and I was getting some good reading done. I wasn't paying much attention to them. I did notice a couple times that the husband touched the sleeve of the guy in front of him, giving that mad a bit of a startle...as though the elderly man wasn't exactly aware of his surroundings. I didn't think a whole lot of it. I mean, he was a bit age-ed. After our plane landed, I heard his wife mutter, "Oh NO. You aren't supposed to do THAT." I looked over and the old man had taken off his shoe and sort of held it up, like it was normal to take off a shoe when a plane lands, when all passengers are darting to the aisle, hoping to get off the place quickly. I was about to lean over and help but quickly realized that this was a moment that she needed to take care of. She was not very happy that he took off his shoe. It is difficult to lean over and move things around by one's feet in an airplane, but combine that with age and weakened agility--not a good thing. I had to look away as I started sobbing silently. In that moment, I pictured old Adam sitting next to me. Having dementia like this older gentleman and ME having to be that wife taking care him as he would do crazy, unintentionally obnoxious things. It was in this moment that I could so easily picture this future that will never be. I cried and thought about how it will just NEVER BE. I'm sure it sounds a little crazy to want a little crazy in my life like this older woman had, but sometimes I just long for those things that would've been our life.
I sense that these little triggers will continue as long as I live. There isn't anything I can do to prepare for them or avoid them. They will simply happen. I think the only thing I can do is hope and pray to fill my life with things that make me feel like my life is mine--all mine--and do all that I can to continue building my new life. It'll happen in time.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Shoes, 'Tude, and Mercy
My brain has been a few different places the past few days. Excited to leave town soon and get a mini break. Finally lost in a book that I should've read two years ago and just haven't been able to finish it because I was reading it when Adam died. Still trying to finish up preparing apples for freezing that we picked two weeks ago.
Tonight at dinner, 2 out of 3 boys started complaining about their very worn shoes. Little boys seem to wear out shoes SO FAST. And I let them. Til they are good and worn! So tonight we took a little jaunt to Target. Shopping (with all 3) has turned into an un-fun necessity of life. Shoe shopping has to top that list though. As Spencer whined about styles of shoes that I had him try on and Justin refused to adequately tie the shoes that he was trying on, I found myself muttering, "How did I GET HERE?" I think I utter that a lot these days actually. As we were checking out I was giving my usual pep talk to the boys ("No, I'm not buying you chocolate tonight. No, we don't need anything from the dollar aisle. No. No. NO. I felt like the mom from the "No David" books!). Then the cashier (who I recognized as a mom of someone I know, but she didn't know that I know who she was), says to me (jokingly) "Don't you wish you had another one?" Even though I was exasperated with the boys (Ha, what else is new these days!), the only response that I could think to utter was, "Well, THAT isn't an option right now." In the back of my mind, I wondered if she knew who I was or what I meant by that. But I knew she must not have. I looked pretty awfully frumpy--unrecognizable probably. Not appropriate for a Target shopping trip. But I guess I sort of don't care these days. Don't need to impress myself or anyone else it seems? Yes. Bad attitude.
I realize that my attitude is in the toilet. I think I am so very filled with guilt with how un-fun motherhood seems right now that it makes me wonder how I would feel if Adam were around to bear some of this burden that I feel. Is it just the stage of my kids? Or am I just totally single-mom'd exhausted? There is definitely a marked difference psychologically, knowing that one will get a break for a few minutes at certain moments of the day. I've determined that has been one of the hardest things about single parenting. Trying to be the good cop and the bad cop. Feeling that pull to be everything to everyone. And feeling like a failure a good portion of the time. Snapping at people who don't deserve to be snapped at (ok, does anyone *deserve* it?...). Constantly worrying that someone will take what I said the wrong way and get offended and I worry about potentially burning bridges. Argh.
I've started applying for jobs. Only jobs that seem ultra ideal for me. I know that they're far fetched...probably out of reach. But I think it's a step anyway. It's giving me practice, if anything. It is strange. Yet I can see myself working now. It's starting to come into focus. I still don't really know completely how it'll work, but my mind is wrapping around the idea a bit better.
There is a friend that I used to work with who has my "wouldda" life. Right down to her doctor husband doing a fellowship in Houston. It is interesting to take a peek into her life. It is beautiful. And I'm realizing that even though mine isn't picture-perfect-ideal (what I thought it would be), it is up to me to change my attitude and make my life beautiful in its own way. No, we won't have the luxuries that life has to offer some and my life won't be "that"--like I always thought it would be. But "that" doesn't matter. I know I am blessed. Blessed that my children are alive to rally around me and to keep me busy. Blessed to have good people around me that hopefully will continue to stick by me through thick and thin. Blessed to know that God is there and that His Son provides mercy--even to ME.
I have been studying mercy the past couple weeks. I've had some very important moments in these couple weeks where the scriptures have taught me important things about mercy. I knew it was the right timing for me to learn this because then Justin came home from church and said his primary lesson was on the same thing and his take away message--what HE paid attention to--was the scripture on mercy. Out of everything in the Sermon on the Mount, that's what he heard.
As I attended the temple the other week, I had some time to sit and read the scriptures. I flipped open to 3 Nephi chapter 12, it was where someone had placed the bookmark. In this, the Savior is teaching the people in the Americas about the Sermon on the Mount. I learned a lot of different nuggets of knowledge, but the scripture in verse 7 just stuck out that night and has kept me thinking. "And blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." I got to thinking about how the Savior promises these blessings and how much do I trust that He will do what He says? And of course, am I doing what I'm supposed to to fulfill my end? Am I being merciful and forgiving to others so that I can obtain the much needed mercy from my sins and shortcomings from the Lord. And further, do I trust that I can and will be comforted, as one who mourns. That struck a chord with me. I think as a covenant people, we are supposed to trust that if we are keeping our covenants that the Lord will hold up His end. I think I haven't always translated that into other promises that we are given in the scriptures. That He WILL provide.
So I will keep on trekking. There's more applesauce cooking tonight. Hopefully the last batch!
Tonight at dinner, 2 out of 3 boys started complaining about their very worn shoes. Little boys seem to wear out shoes SO FAST. And I let them. Til they are good and worn! So tonight we took a little jaunt to Target. Shopping (with all 3) has turned into an un-fun necessity of life. Shoe shopping has to top that list though. As Spencer whined about styles of shoes that I had him try on and Justin refused to adequately tie the shoes that he was trying on, I found myself muttering, "How did I GET HERE?" I think I utter that a lot these days actually. As we were checking out I was giving my usual pep talk to the boys ("No, I'm not buying you chocolate tonight. No, we don't need anything from the dollar aisle. No. No. NO. I felt like the mom from the "No David" books!). Then the cashier (who I recognized as a mom of someone I know, but she didn't know that I know who she was), says to me (jokingly) "Don't you wish you had another one?" Even though I was exasperated with the boys (Ha, what else is new these days!), the only response that I could think to utter was, "Well, THAT isn't an option right now." In the back of my mind, I wondered if she knew who I was or what I meant by that. But I knew she must not have. I looked pretty awfully frumpy--unrecognizable probably. Not appropriate for a Target shopping trip. But I guess I sort of don't care these days. Don't need to impress myself or anyone else it seems? Yes. Bad attitude.
I realize that my attitude is in the toilet. I think I am so very filled with guilt with how un-fun motherhood seems right now that it makes me wonder how I would feel if Adam were around to bear some of this burden that I feel. Is it just the stage of my kids? Or am I just totally single-mom'd exhausted? There is definitely a marked difference psychologically, knowing that one will get a break for a few minutes at certain moments of the day. I've determined that has been one of the hardest things about single parenting. Trying to be the good cop and the bad cop. Feeling that pull to be everything to everyone. And feeling like a failure a good portion of the time. Snapping at people who don't deserve to be snapped at (ok, does anyone *deserve* it?...). Constantly worrying that someone will take what I said the wrong way and get offended and I worry about potentially burning bridges. Argh.
I've started applying for jobs. Only jobs that seem ultra ideal for me. I know that they're far fetched...probably out of reach. But I think it's a step anyway. It's giving me practice, if anything. It is strange. Yet I can see myself working now. It's starting to come into focus. I still don't really know completely how it'll work, but my mind is wrapping around the idea a bit better.
There is a friend that I used to work with who has my "wouldda" life. Right down to her doctor husband doing a fellowship in Houston. It is interesting to take a peek into her life. It is beautiful. And I'm realizing that even though mine isn't picture-perfect-ideal (what I thought it would be), it is up to me to change my attitude and make my life beautiful in its own way. No, we won't have the luxuries that life has to offer some and my life won't be "that"--like I always thought it would be. But "that" doesn't matter. I know I am blessed. Blessed that my children are alive to rally around me and to keep me busy. Blessed to have good people around me that hopefully will continue to stick by me through thick and thin. Blessed to know that God is there and that His Son provides mercy--even to ME.
I have been studying mercy the past couple weeks. I've had some very important moments in these couple weeks where the scriptures have taught me important things about mercy. I knew it was the right timing for me to learn this because then Justin came home from church and said his primary lesson was on the same thing and his take away message--what HE paid attention to--was the scripture on mercy. Out of everything in the Sermon on the Mount, that's what he heard.
As I attended the temple the other week, I had some time to sit and read the scriptures. I flipped open to 3 Nephi chapter 12, it was where someone had placed the bookmark. In this, the Savior is teaching the people in the Americas about the Sermon on the Mount. I learned a lot of different nuggets of knowledge, but the scripture in verse 7 just stuck out that night and has kept me thinking. "And blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." I got to thinking about how the Savior promises these blessings and how much do I trust that He will do what He says? And of course, am I doing what I'm supposed to to fulfill my end? Am I being merciful and forgiving to others so that I can obtain the much needed mercy from my sins and shortcomings from the Lord. And further, do I trust that I can and will be comforted, as one who mourns. That struck a chord with me. I think as a covenant people, we are supposed to trust that if we are keeping our covenants that the Lord will hold up His end. I think I haven't always translated that into other promises that we are given in the scriptures. That He WILL provide.
So I will keep on trekking. There's more applesauce cooking tonight. Hopefully the last batch!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Applesauce is Cooking.
Tonight I'm sort of amused with my multitasking. Listening to Fox News in the background, waiting for applesauce to be done (round 3 with apple cooking/preparing), doing CEUs for my RN license renewal, and listening to night 2 of the boys sleeping in the same room. I figured, things couldn't possibly be getting any worse with their sleep, so why not stick 'em all in the same room together so I can attempt to organize one of their bedrooms? We shall see if that was a good idea. I'm not too terribly convinced. At least they were asleep by 10. Last night was worse. Tonight they each keep talking in their sleep. And I was still up with middle of the night kid awakenings last night. This darn house. If it had a flat backyard and one extra bedroom, I could stay here forever. I know I should be grateful. But practicality takes precedence right now.
I wish I could say I've made some sort of progress. I wish I could say I know when and where life is going to take me, but I still don't. I sometimes see glimmers of hope, but I've come to determine that I'm generally grasping at straws. I know I need to appreciate the moments more than I do. I cried and cried this morning (ashamedly) about being a mom, that this is NOT where I wanted to be at this point in my life. Single parenting three boys is just SO HARD. And yet no one can help it. Not a soul. Darn you Adam. I'm so mad at you today for leaving me. I know it isn't his fault. I know it. But it doesn't make me any less mad at him for being gone. Since I know all widows get mad at some point at their dead spouses, I can't hide this very real emotion. I get mad that he wanted to eat donuts. It's dumb and irrational, but he wouldn't be dead if he didn't go eat donuts with the boys that day. Ugh.
This really is an ugly period of widowhood I've been going through. Come to think of it, I don't know how much of the ugly I've been actually posting....I don't think I've posted much of it, so that's good. It hasn't been pretty. There seems to never really be a check off list for different emotions and feelings related to Adam's death--it's like a roller coaster with highs and lows that resurface I suppose. It's sort of like just when I think I've covered and worked through one issue, something else comes in its place or something else triggers an old issue. I often wonder what it would be like to be widowed without children. Not that it's "easier" because it isn't, but it probably would be very different to not have different parenting issues that come up (in my case, x three) to pull one or more family members right back into the mix of ugly mode.
I think I just feel guilty for hating motherhood today. I think having only Carson home right now has made me feel very guilty for not appreciating how good I had it when it was just Justin at home for those years. I didn't have very long with just him at home and no other work and school responsibilities, and now I guess I just feel a bit of regret. I mean, I couldn't have done anything different. But I didn't realize how much easier life was with just one. Simple. Even with all of his special issues that we encountered when he was little. And right now I'm struggling to enjoy the little joys that occur in motherhood. There is a deep dark shadow over the good in my life and I really have to strain to remember the good. Live and learn.
As usual, I'm just trying to strike a balance. Balance being a mom. A woman. Getting household chores done. And simply trying to not go bonkers. I so miss the time in the evenings when Adam would be home. Or our text messages when he'd be gone on call. Or my middle of the night calls to him when I really wanted to chat and knew he was awake working. I just don't understand why this is required of me. And I know I never really will. I am tired of living alone though. I need a companion. But I'm not sure I will ever feel good enough to be what someone else needs of a companion. I feel so very, very broken.
At least the house smells like homemade applesauce.
I wish I could say I've made some sort of progress. I wish I could say I know when and where life is going to take me, but I still don't. I sometimes see glimmers of hope, but I've come to determine that I'm generally grasping at straws. I know I need to appreciate the moments more than I do. I cried and cried this morning (ashamedly) about being a mom, that this is NOT where I wanted to be at this point in my life. Single parenting three boys is just SO HARD. And yet no one can help it. Not a soul. Darn you Adam. I'm so mad at you today for leaving me. I know it isn't his fault. I know it. But it doesn't make me any less mad at him for being gone. Since I know all widows get mad at some point at their dead spouses, I can't hide this very real emotion. I get mad that he wanted to eat donuts. It's dumb and irrational, but he wouldn't be dead if he didn't go eat donuts with the boys that day. Ugh.
This really is an ugly period of widowhood I've been going through. Come to think of it, I don't know how much of the ugly I've been actually posting....I don't think I've posted much of it, so that's good. It hasn't been pretty. There seems to never really be a check off list for different emotions and feelings related to Adam's death--it's like a roller coaster with highs and lows that resurface I suppose. It's sort of like just when I think I've covered and worked through one issue, something else comes in its place or something else triggers an old issue. I often wonder what it would be like to be widowed without children. Not that it's "easier" because it isn't, but it probably would be very different to not have different parenting issues that come up (in my case, x three) to pull one or more family members right back into the mix of ugly mode.
I think I just feel guilty for hating motherhood today. I think having only Carson home right now has made me feel very guilty for not appreciating how good I had it when it was just Justin at home for those years. I didn't have very long with just him at home and no other work and school responsibilities, and now I guess I just feel a bit of regret. I mean, I couldn't have done anything different. But I didn't realize how much easier life was with just one. Simple. Even with all of his special issues that we encountered when he was little. And right now I'm struggling to enjoy the little joys that occur in motherhood. There is a deep dark shadow over the good in my life and I really have to strain to remember the good. Live and learn.
As usual, I'm just trying to strike a balance. Balance being a mom. A woman. Getting household chores done. And simply trying to not go bonkers. I so miss the time in the evenings when Adam would be home. Or our text messages when he'd be gone on call. Or my middle of the night calls to him when I really wanted to chat and knew he was awake working. I just don't understand why this is required of me. And I know I never really will. I am tired of living alone though. I need a companion. But I'm not sure I will ever feel good enough to be what someone else needs of a companion. I feel so very, very broken.
At least the house smells like homemade applesauce.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Apples
Last night we did something dreamy. Maybe it was just the way I watched my kids have the ability to have space to run around or maybe it is just because it was a fall-like activity. Or maybe it is because having a home and land like that has always been a dream of mine.
Last night we went apple picking. The little boys chased chickens and dogs, I picked apples and soaked in the scenery of a beautiful home and acreage with mature trees. We used an apple press to make homemade apple cider that was out-of-this-world delicious. I seriously love this evening we had, even if it was a bit warm and my allergies (that I've just discovered) are having a bit of a fit. THIS is the life, my ideal. And THIS is yet one more something special about Nebraska that I don't think I could experience in any other way or place. It almost seals the deal for me, wanting to live here forever.
It's interesting how these experiences make me realize once again how much we love it here. A mix of city and country, amazingly generous, loving people in the Midwest. I just love it. I long for the day I can retire and live on a plot of land and tend it, with orchards and all. So. So. Dreamy.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Trust
"Trust that you are capable [of doing] what is required of you."
That bit of advice was helpful tonight. I think it is the most difficult thing to trust, to wait until I know that I'm doing the right thing, and to be patient.
How long must I wait? How to keep my chin up? How do I keep the faith? How. How do I gain mental and physical energy that seems to be slipping away?
Trust. Argh. So tired. I wish there were an easy button.
That bit of advice was helpful tonight. I think it is the most difficult thing to trust, to wait until I know that I'm doing the right thing, and to be patient.
How long must I wait? How to keep my chin up? How do I keep the faith? How. How do I gain mental and physical energy that seems to be slipping away?
Trust. Argh. So tired. I wish there were an easy button.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Of Cherry Trees and Headstones
Fall is almost in the air, I can nearly taste it. The windows are open, cooler evenings are upon us, ahh. I love this time of year. One of my favorite things about this place. Vala's is around the corner.
Tonight I decided to get to work on a project that has been upon us for a couple weeks.
When I decided to bury Adam in California, I knew it would be tough psychologically to have his body out of state. Particularly for our boys. I knew that developmentally, it was easier to understand death with visits to the cemetery on special dates. So I tried to figure out the best way for them to feel 'Adam' here. Of course I have pictures and the various ways he is integrated in our home and life, but the finality of death makes more sense to have a grave or something to represent death for children to visit. A space for them to be able to "go" to separate their grief. Once I began work designing Adam's headstone, I realized I had just what I wanted. It made so much sense.
At the cemetery where Adam is buried, they place temporary cement markers on graves. Those temporary markers stay in the ground until a permanent headstone is placed. For some, that temporary marker is the "permanent" marker, as it is up to the family whether to place another headstone. When I chatted with the headstone owner about the whole process, she explained that I could keep the temporary marker when they went to place his permanent headstone. I knew just what I would do with this marker.
I can't find the post I had written previously, which was adapted from my friend Teigan's explanation (she does a much better job of this), but hopefully this will make sense....
Teigan's parents were in Japan when the 2011 tsunami hit--the one that caused much havoc and destruction. She explained (as they were there long after the tsunami) that many months later, even amidst piles of debris and cars piled on top of one another, that the cherry blossoms on the cherry trees (one of Japan's trademarks) still bloomed. The beautiful cherry trees survived the aftermath and still bloomed.
I have loved this imagery. Teigan sent me a beautiful picture of cherry blossoms that I have hanging in my room to remind me that even amidst destruction, pain, heartache, and misery, there is hope, there is life, survival--and the ability to thrive again.
I knew that placing Adam's 'temporary' headstone in our backyard, underneath a beautiful flowering cherry tree was very fitting. My dad helped plant three trees in our backyard last summer. Tonight, after much work in getting the 25 pound piece of cement all the way from California to Nebraska, it has a nice place under the cherry tree.
After I was done placing the stone, I went and got a blanket and placed it next to the tree, on the slope of our grass. I lay there for a few minutes. The boys, of course, would have nothing of my relaxing by the tree. "Mom. I want to lay next to Dad's headstone." "Mom, I want to snuggle with you on the blanket." "MOM. MOM." It was sort of amusing. So we sat and I retold the cherry tree story to the boys. I told them that this space in the backyard could always be a place where they could go and chat with Adam, away from the rest of us. That even though we know he isn't buried in our backyard, that he is with us just as much as we need him to be. I firmly believe he is by my side helping do whatever he can on his side of the veil to help me in raising our boys. The boys liked this. In fact, when I took this picture, Spencer said how he wanted to help keep daddy's headstone clean. We laughed about the crickets and grasshoppers that were around trying to hop on us. One landed on Carson's face while we were all lying on the blanket. And somehow I knew Adam would find that funny. As though he would have a hand in doing such a thing.
It feels good to do some of the things that I've intended to do for a long time in regards to Adam. It's like, litle by little, I'm finding where his place is in our family and our life as we know it now.
Just like the cherry trees, we will blossom again. Life will get better. Life does go on. And we will thrive again.
I found the trailer for this movie that I found fascinating (disclaimer, I haven't seen this movie). It brought me to tears and sort of encompasses my feelings, just like my dear friend explained, about the cherry blossoms.
Tonight I decided to get to work on a project that has been upon us for a couple weeks.
When I decided to bury Adam in California, I knew it would be tough psychologically to have his body out of state. Particularly for our boys. I knew that developmentally, it was easier to understand death with visits to the cemetery on special dates. So I tried to figure out the best way for them to feel 'Adam' here. Of course I have pictures and the various ways he is integrated in our home and life, but the finality of death makes more sense to have a grave or something to represent death for children to visit. A space for them to be able to "go" to separate their grief. Once I began work designing Adam's headstone, I realized I had just what I wanted. It made so much sense.
At the cemetery where Adam is buried, they place temporary cement markers on graves. Those temporary markers stay in the ground until a permanent headstone is placed. For some, that temporary marker is the "permanent" marker, as it is up to the family whether to place another headstone. When I chatted with the headstone owner about the whole process, she explained that I could keep the temporary marker when they went to place his permanent headstone. I knew just what I would do with this marker.
I can't find the post I had written previously, which was adapted from my friend Teigan's explanation (she does a much better job of this), but hopefully this will make sense....
Teigan's parents were in Japan when the 2011 tsunami hit--the one that caused much havoc and destruction. She explained (as they were there long after the tsunami) that many months later, even amidst piles of debris and cars piled on top of one another, that the cherry blossoms on the cherry trees (one of Japan's trademarks) still bloomed. The beautiful cherry trees survived the aftermath and still bloomed.
I have loved this imagery. Teigan sent me a beautiful picture of cherry blossoms that I have hanging in my room to remind me that even amidst destruction, pain, heartache, and misery, there is hope, there is life, survival--and the ability to thrive again.
I knew that placing Adam's 'temporary' headstone in our backyard, underneath a beautiful flowering cherry tree was very fitting. My dad helped plant three trees in our backyard last summer. Tonight, after much work in getting the 25 pound piece of cement all the way from California to Nebraska, it has a nice place under the cherry tree.
After I was done placing the stone, I went and got a blanket and placed it next to the tree, on the slope of our grass. I lay there for a few minutes. The boys, of course, would have nothing of my relaxing by the tree. "Mom. I want to lay next to Dad's headstone." "Mom, I want to snuggle with you on the blanket." "MOM. MOM." It was sort of amusing. So we sat and I retold the cherry tree story to the boys. I told them that this space in the backyard could always be a place where they could go and chat with Adam, away from the rest of us. That even though we know he isn't buried in our backyard, that he is with us just as much as we need him to be. I firmly believe he is by my side helping do whatever he can on his side of the veil to help me in raising our boys. The boys liked this. In fact, when I took this picture, Spencer said how he wanted to help keep daddy's headstone clean. We laughed about the crickets and grasshoppers that were around trying to hop on us. One landed on Carson's face while we were all lying on the blanket. And somehow I knew Adam would find that funny. As though he would have a hand in doing such a thing.
It feels good to do some of the things that I've intended to do for a long time in regards to Adam. It's like, litle by little, I'm finding where his place is in our family and our life as we know it now.
Just like the cherry trees, we will blossom again. Life will get better. Life does go on. And we will thrive again.
I found the trailer for this movie that I found fascinating (disclaimer, I haven't seen this movie). It brought me to tears and sort of encompasses my feelings, just like my dear friend explained, about the cherry blossoms.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Blubber
I'm a blubbery mess. I sent the boys off to school. I rounded the bend in the road and looked at the spot where Adam's life was taken on the first day of school two years ago. Ugh. I did it. I survived this morning. Whew.
It is times like this that I am grateful to be here. That probably sounds strange. When we got to school and I helped the boys line up outside with their teachers, one of Justin's early childhood special ed home-based teachers saw me and asked how I was doing. I burst into tears and she gave me a big big. She did this last year too (I burst into tears last year too). Having known our family for the past 9 years (since Justin was 1 1/2), she has been around for a lot. Since she doesn't have a class full of kids to tame on the first day of school, she usually hangs out by the preschool classes on the first day of school so we chatted a bit.
The boys' school really is wonderful. It is yet another reason we stay put here. On the first day of school, all the teachers wear their school t-shirts, and the school turns the morning into a party. Long red carpets are rolled out at the entrance of the school, Cool and the Gang's "Celebration" plays on a stereo, and the kids and teachers cheer and clap as the kids go, class by class, into the school. It really is a sight to see. Nearly all the kids are super happy to be there, with the exception of the few kindergarden and preschool kids who are adapting to a new routine. It is on these days that I am humbled to know so many teachers at this school, who have been with us through thick and thin and are sensitive to this day for our family. For many of them who were stuck in traffic or had to drive near the crash site that day, this day was traumatic for them too.
It is quiet at our house this morning. I must say, while it IS strange, it is a good transition. I am grateful for this time with Carson, and to be a house mom. It is in moments like this that I wish I could sit here and cuddle up with Carson forever. Being a stay at home home really is a luxury, one I completely took for granted. I know that this isn't for everyone, but there is a peace for me in my heart when I can be home like this. I feel like I can be organized and that I can tackle the world. Mostly because there is time to get things done at home without all three kids dismantling everything simultaneously. The hum of the washer, dryer, and dishwasher are going. I have time to exercise and process all the workings of our home. Ahh. I do know how grateful I am to be allowed this time. I have needed it.
It is times like this that I am grateful to be here. That probably sounds strange. When we got to school and I helped the boys line up outside with their teachers, one of Justin's early childhood special ed home-based teachers saw me and asked how I was doing. I burst into tears and she gave me a big big. She did this last year too (I burst into tears last year too). Having known our family for the past 9 years (since Justin was 1 1/2), she has been around for a lot. Since she doesn't have a class full of kids to tame on the first day of school, she usually hangs out by the preschool classes on the first day of school so we chatted a bit.
The boys' school really is wonderful. It is yet another reason we stay put here. On the first day of school, all the teachers wear their school t-shirts, and the school turns the morning into a party. Long red carpets are rolled out at the entrance of the school, Cool and the Gang's "Celebration" plays on a stereo, and the kids and teachers cheer and clap as the kids go, class by class, into the school. It really is a sight to see. Nearly all the kids are super happy to be there, with the exception of the few kindergarden and preschool kids who are adapting to a new routine. It is on these days that I am humbled to know so many teachers at this school, who have been with us through thick and thin and are sensitive to this day for our family. For many of them who were stuck in traffic or had to drive near the crash site that day, this day was traumatic for them too.
It is quiet at our house this morning. I must say, while it IS strange, it is a good transition. I am grateful for this time with Carson, and to be a house mom. It is in moments like this that I wish I could sit here and cuddle up with Carson forever. Being a stay at home home really is a luxury, one I completely took for granted. I know that this isn't for everyone, but there is a peace for me in my heart when I can be home like this. I feel like I can be organized and that I can tackle the world. Mostly because there is time to get things done at home without all three kids dismantling everything simultaneously. The hum of the washer, dryer, and dishwasher are going. I have time to exercise and process all the workings of our home. Ahh. I do know how grateful I am to be allowed this time. I have needed it.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Heaven Day #2
On this 2nd Heaven Day, we remember the fun times we had with Adam, and also our recent visit to his grave.
The kids did just what I expected--and what they need to feel connected to and understand Adam's grave.
We sang Adam a song. (Well...defining "song" could be a little too technical!) Ah-em. We tooted whistles near his grave! :)
We ate slurpees (Adam's fav) and we wrote him letters...
The boys picked out pinwheels and items to decorate his grave. The boys picked out a little fake corn-on-the-cob to add to our flowers. They thought he needed something from home to have at his grave. And then we tried to get a family picture.
We love you Daddy!
For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
--1 Corinthians 15:22
We sang Adam a song. (Well...defining "song" could be a little too technical!) Ah-em. We tooted whistles near his grave! :)
We ate slurpees (Adam's fav) and we wrote him letters...
The boys picked out pinwheels and items to decorate his grave. The boys picked out a little fake corn-on-the-cob to add to our flowers. They thought he needed something from home to have at his grave. And then we tried to get a family picture.
We love you Daddy!
For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
--1 Corinthians 15:22
Friday, August 10, 2012
Lasts. Evaluations. Acceptance.
I imagine that every year at this time I will go through a period of deep reflection. I did this last year and I think I will probably always do this. It is, in part, what makes this time of year hard for me. But like all things grief related, I must go through it--even if I don't really want to.
I lay in bed this morning and think about the things that never will be, and the lasts. There are lots of lasts. Some lasts I think about a lot and try my best to hang on to, and yet they're just gone. As his voice fades in my mind, it is very frustrating. It isn't easy to recall what his kiss felt like. His touch. His voice. His every breath. His smell. His laugh. And I just reflect on all the last things we did and long for those moments again. Would I have appreciated them more if I knew they were the lasts? Most certainly.
The day of Adam's death was filled with a lot of trauma. It is interesting to me how much hasn't been blocked out from that day, how much is still so vivid, how much I wish I could forget. The sirens. The phone calls. The car ride. The hospital. Certain people who were so present that day. Our hurt, scared babies. And the screaming of Adam's name by Spencer. I wish desperately that I could forget that. It will always be my battle wound, I fear. Like a soldier coming home from war, there are certain things that just can't be blocked out.
It is amazing what two years brings though. Year one was just survival mode. Year two was even uglier on many fronts, which I think is probably shocking to many--particularly shocking for those who experience grief, I don't think we are warned enough about year two. I think the reason year two seemed more difficult for me is that year two is when I really started to understand my grief--I could feel it more, as I wasn't just going through the motions--I was trying to come out of the fog but the fog was so thick. It is more difficult to hide emotions, the deep ones, during year two. And year two is when the boys' grief came out. In our case, with the boys injured during the first year, this caused a delay in them expressing their grief.
In addition to reliving and feeling all of those last moments that I had with Adam, I'm compelled to evaluate where I was two years ago and where I am now. I've learned more than I can possibly summarize during these two years. I understand gospel principles on a different level now. And I suppose that scares me a bit because I feel more responsible now, that I have been entrusted with this knowledge and so it is up to me what I will do with it. Where much is given, much is required? Yes. I have been given so much from so many. I never could've wrapped my head around the amount of service and support rendered to my family. I can't describe a more humble feeling in my body. I never thought I would be the one to be on the receiving end of service--because I would much rather give service. So to be the one receiving such an outpouring, it is beyond humbling. It is humbling to know that there isn't any "paying back" that I can even attempt for what we've been given.
At the same time, it makes me think. Have I done my best these past two years? I know with some things, yes, with others, NO. I know I've complained too much and probably not kept my mouth shut enough. In trying to find a balance--a husband substitute--it it tricky to figure out who to trust, who is is 'ok' to vent to, and when it isn't ok to vent. So tough, and there isn't always a clear cut answer. Nevertheless, I know I've whined more than anyone needed to hear. I also know that I probably could've learned more had I not whined as much. I have learned that we can't listen well if our mouth is moving too.
Acceptance. I have barely scratched the surface on this, I know. I have accepted the reality of Adam's death. He is not coming back. He will never again be able to do and say the things I want him to do and say. He will never parent again in this life with his physical hands. I am a single parent. I am not married. These things I have accepted...dragging my feet while doing so, yes. But accepted.
But. I still love my ring and wear it occasionally. The reasons I wear it are not the same as they once were when I was married. I still cling to the "was" in my life--what it was like to be married, what it was like to have the relationship that we did, and everything that was our life.
I still think about things--memories--of good times in order to help myself sleep, or in order to actually get in my bed and make myself sleep at night. I know that I have to let go of those memories in order to progress, and I'm just not there yet.
I suppose the part of "acceptance" that I won't accept is that I can't accept that THIS is my life--that this is what is "left" of my life. I'm not content with life as it is. Maybe that's bad, maybe that's good. If we are content with status quo that can be a bad thing because then we become stagnant, not desiring to progress. I recognize the good in my life, for there are a billion blessings--more literally. So that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that I refuse to accept that I will remain alone, that I will endure parenting alone, and being ALONE. I refuse to believe that I won't ever have nightly pillow talk again or a companion to debate political and social isms. I want--no, I YEARN for something MORE. I recognize the hand of the Lord in my life. There are many ways that I was very much prepared for this life, yet I know that I have a lot of love left to give, to receive, and to grow.
I will not accept that this is what is left of my life--because I know there's more. I will continue on this quest to find more good to fill my life as I enter year three. I still have mountains to learn. Give me this mountain.
I lay in bed this morning and think about the things that never will be, and the lasts. There are lots of lasts. Some lasts I think about a lot and try my best to hang on to, and yet they're just gone. As his voice fades in my mind, it is very frustrating. It isn't easy to recall what his kiss felt like. His touch. His voice. His every breath. His smell. His laugh. And I just reflect on all the last things we did and long for those moments again. Would I have appreciated them more if I knew they were the lasts? Most certainly.
The day of Adam's death was filled with a lot of trauma. It is interesting to me how much hasn't been blocked out from that day, how much is still so vivid, how much I wish I could forget. The sirens. The phone calls. The car ride. The hospital. Certain people who were so present that day. Our hurt, scared babies. And the screaming of Adam's name by Spencer. I wish desperately that I could forget that. It will always be my battle wound, I fear. Like a soldier coming home from war, there are certain things that just can't be blocked out.
It is amazing what two years brings though. Year one was just survival mode. Year two was even uglier on many fronts, which I think is probably shocking to many--particularly shocking for those who experience grief, I don't think we are warned enough about year two. I think the reason year two seemed more difficult for me is that year two is when I really started to understand my grief--I could feel it more, as I wasn't just going through the motions--I was trying to come out of the fog but the fog was so thick. It is more difficult to hide emotions, the deep ones, during year two. And year two is when the boys' grief came out. In our case, with the boys injured during the first year, this caused a delay in them expressing their grief.
In addition to reliving and feeling all of those last moments that I had with Adam, I'm compelled to evaluate where I was two years ago and where I am now. I've learned more than I can possibly summarize during these two years. I understand gospel principles on a different level now. And I suppose that scares me a bit because I feel more responsible now, that I have been entrusted with this knowledge and so it is up to me what I will do with it. Where much is given, much is required? Yes. I have been given so much from so many. I never could've wrapped my head around the amount of service and support rendered to my family. I can't describe a more humble feeling in my body. I never thought I would be the one to be on the receiving end of service--because I would much rather give service. So to be the one receiving such an outpouring, it is beyond humbling. It is humbling to know that there isn't any "paying back" that I can even attempt for what we've been given.
At the same time, it makes me think. Have I done my best these past two years? I know with some things, yes, with others, NO. I know I've complained too much and probably not kept my mouth shut enough. In trying to find a balance--a husband substitute--it it tricky to figure out who to trust, who is is 'ok' to vent to, and when it isn't ok to vent. So tough, and there isn't always a clear cut answer. Nevertheless, I know I've whined more than anyone needed to hear. I also know that I probably could've learned more had I not whined as much. I have learned that we can't listen well if our mouth is moving too.
Acceptance. I have barely scratched the surface on this, I know. I have accepted the reality of Adam's death. He is not coming back. He will never again be able to do and say the things I want him to do and say. He will never parent again in this life with his physical hands. I am a single parent. I am not married. These things I have accepted...dragging my feet while doing so, yes. But accepted.
But. I still love my ring and wear it occasionally. The reasons I wear it are not the same as they once were when I was married. I still cling to the "was" in my life--what it was like to be married, what it was like to have the relationship that we did, and everything that was our life.
I still think about things--memories--of good times in order to help myself sleep, or in order to actually get in my bed and make myself sleep at night. I know that I have to let go of those memories in order to progress, and I'm just not there yet.
I suppose the part of "acceptance" that I won't accept is that I can't accept that THIS is my life--that this is what is "left" of my life. I'm not content with life as it is. Maybe that's bad, maybe that's good. If we are content with status quo that can be a bad thing because then we become stagnant, not desiring to progress. I recognize the good in my life, for there are a billion blessings--more literally. So that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that I refuse to accept that I will remain alone, that I will endure parenting alone, and being ALONE. I refuse to believe that I won't ever have nightly pillow talk again or a companion to debate political and social isms. I want--no, I YEARN for something MORE. I recognize the hand of the Lord in my life. There are many ways that I was very much prepared for this life, yet I know that I have a lot of love left to give, to receive, and to grow.
I will not accept that this is what is left of my life--because I know there's more. I will continue on this quest to find more good to fill my life as I enter year three. I still have mountains to learn. Give me this mountain.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
Quote for Today
I've always loved this quote and I saw it again tonight. A good reminder:
"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old time rail journey...delays...sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”
-Gordon B. Hinckley
"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old time rail journey...delays...sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”
-Gordon B. Hinckley
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Today.
Today's widowhood musings:
1. Trying to keep my three boys from dismantling a quilt store while I attempted to learn to 'really' quilt with some of my old work buddies proved not so successful. But I'm so excited to finally learn to quilt the right way. School starts soon for my boys....
2. A $25 massage school massage is still fabulous. And was overdue. I realized in this massage that I feel like I don't even know my body anymore--I didn't realize what actually ached the most until what I thought ached the most...didn't.
3. The Cheescake Factory will give a table of 1 as much bread as a table of 2.
4. It is assumed that a party of 1 will want to sit at the bar.
5. Judging by the very good looking obviously single man sitting by himself and also NOT drinking anything but water, I may've chosen wrong by sitting at a table.
6. I am so grateful for MB for watching my kids. I needed these 4 hours to myself SO BAD. I'm one grateful woman.
1. Trying to keep my three boys from dismantling a quilt store while I attempted to learn to 'really' quilt with some of my old work buddies proved not so successful. But I'm so excited to finally learn to quilt the right way. School starts soon for my boys....
2. A $25 massage school massage is still fabulous. And was overdue. I realized in this massage that I feel like I don't even know my body anymore--I didn't realize what actually ached the most until what I thought ached the most...didn't.
3. The Cheescake Factory will give a table of 1 as much bread as a table of 2.
4. It is assumed that a party of 1 will want to sit at the bar.
5. Judging by the very good looking obviously single man sitting by himself and also NOT drinking anything but water, I may've chosen wrong by sitting at a table.
6. I am so grateful for MB for watching my kids. I needed these 4 hours to myself SO BAD. I'm one grateful woman.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Stay The Course
I have felt this phrase in my mind over and over the past few days, so I know it is what I'm supposed to do. I guess I'm now determining what course I'm on exactly, and what it means to "stay" on it. There is a careful daily balance between what I want to do, what I should be doing, what I am doing and what I need to do. What I want to do is live in a little utopia of perfection where I can shelter my family from all the bad and evil of the world, for them to grow up in the manner that I consider is ideal. What I need to do is provide the means to help them obtain the physical, emotional, and spiritual tools to learn to be productive men. What I should do is more in certain areas of my life so that I am capable of loving them and others more fully, thereby showing more love through my actions. It's like the answers are seemingly so simple, yet totally and completely complex. I know I need to develop more patience yet with every opportunity to prove I've learned that attribute, I totally blow it and show just how little I've learned. Is it bad that I'm tired of learning? Is it bad that with each passing day I feel more prideful, as though I 'know' I've already learned something or things....Yes. It is bad. I think I still don't know how to get from behind the "widow" label and instead 'just' be a woman and mother, and a woman who wants to be a wife again. Balance. It feels like I'm holding up a stack of plates. China. Very expensive China plates that are carefully balanced and with any slightly wrong move, the whole stack will come crashing down. The plates feel overwhelmingly heavy most days.
I was told one time to write down my dreams. I feel like my dreams have been counterproductive lately. Always of Adam, always of better times, and always very, very married dreams. I'm tired of it. I either want him back (which I know I can't have) or I want to put him on a shelf, most literally. If I'm truly going to go this alone until I die, I want to know that that's what is in store for me, and then I suppose I will keep those dreams around. But if not, he needs to leave me alone. I can't continue in this state of limbo. It feels awful. I want happiness. I want to love and be loved. And I'm tired of the rest of the world having these life experiences and I feel like I'm in the wrong place in time. Me with my little kids. A minivan mom. It just feels all wrong, out of whack.
I will stay the course. But I need to know what this course is all about, because this train is runnning out of steam.
I was told one time to write down my dreams. I feel like my dreams have been counterproductive lately. Always of Adam, always of better times, and always very, very married dreams. I'm tired of it. I either want him back (which I know I can't have) or I want to put him on a shelf, most literally. If I'm truly going to go this alone until I die, I want to know that that's what is in store for me, and then I suppose I will keep those dreams around. But if not, he needs to leave me alone. I can't continue in this state of limbo. It feels awful. I want happiness. I want to love and be loved. And I'm tired of the rest of the world having these life experiences and I feel like I'm in the wrong place in time. Me with my little kids. A minivan mom. It just feels all wrong, out of whack.
I will stay the course. But I need to know what this course is all about, because this train is runnning out of steam.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
And the doctor ordered...
A good scream. Scream I sure did. My throat is hoarse. I hate that certain triggers I simply can't avoid, even though I wish and pray that I could avoid them. Argh, I hate it. Hate. I needed the kids to go in another room and let me scream and freak out, and good ol' Justin, he let me. There are times like that that I wish I could confront certain people about my frustrations and just be done with it. But it is the realization that some people just don't 'get' it and my letting my tongue loose won't help. It. Drives. Me. Batty. Thankfully my mom let me let loose my frustrations and didn't even make a comment when I said some words she doesn't like. I had no other vocabulary for it, it was that simple. I will take some deep breaths and try to do some more difficult things.
I think the bottom line is, we need to respect the wishes of one another. Always. It has always been the issue and probably always will be.
I may need to go scream again. I wonder if my neighbors can hear when I scream....
I think the bottom line is, we need to respect the wishes of one another. Always. It has always been the issue and probably always will be.
I may need to go scream again. I wonder if my neighbors can hear when I scream....
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Parent(s)
I was hoping that sleeping it off, I would feel better. Instead I had a weird dream about the day of Adam's death. A nonsensical dream, it was very vivid with the people in my dream, but it was set somewhere totally different and didn't make any sense whatsoever. I don't get it.
Still, the dumbest stuff sets me off. At pack meeting for cub scouts, Justin was called up to get some awards that have been due him for quite some time. With one of the new den leaders being new and with pretty much all of the awards given before Justin's as rank awards, she probably assumed that parents come up to the front with their scouts with every award, which they don't normally do. So she went to have Justin come up. Then she said (she doesn't know us), "Does Justin have any parents?" I sat there, frozen, stone faced. I wanted to yell "NO. He doesn't have parentS. He has a mother." Of course I didn't. I very reluctantly went up, knowing Justin didn't need me up there to receive his arrow points and belt loops. I couldn't smile, I could frown. I was completely numb. It bugs me that stuff like this gets to me.
I read a quote the other day that I found interesting. Of course, all situations are a tad more complex than this, but the point of the quote was sort of empowering--it talked about the fact that each of us has the power to do whatever it is we want to do. That if we don't like our lives, then we get to make our lives something that we like. I think it was a good reminder for me not to whine. If I wanted to go back to school, I could, if I wanted to escape from my children, yes I 'could' go to work full time (that realization was a bit sad, I must say). The bottom line is, life is what we make it. I choose my own happiness. I--and only I--have to make life happen.
Today, I'm going to make life happen instead of wallowing. I want to be able to go to sleep at night and not feel regret for the unacccomplished tasks or dissatisfaction with my life. Off to the gym, off to continue organizing, and off to work on making my bedroom my safe haven. It is time for Adam to go.
Still, the dumbest stuff sets me off. At pack meeting for cub scouts, Justin was called up to get some awards that have been due him for quite some time. With one of the new den leaders being new and with pretty much all of the awards given before Justin's as rank awards, she probably assumed that parents come up to the front with their scouts with every award, which they don't normally do. So she went to have Justin come up. Then she said (she doesn't know us), "Does Justin have any parents?" I sat there, frozen, stone faced. I wanted to yell "NO. He doesn't have parentS. He has a mother." Of course I didn't. I very reluctantly went up, knowing Justin didn't need me up there to receive his arrow points and belt loops. I couldn't smile, I could frown. I was completely numb. It bugs me that stuff like this gets to me.
I read a quote the other day that I found interesting. Of course, all situations are a tad more complex than this, but the point of the quote was sort of empowering--it talked about the fact that each of us has the power to do whatever it is we want to do. That if we don't like our lives, then we get to make our lives something that we like. I think it was a good reminder for me not to whine. If I wanted to go back to school, I could, if I wanted to escape from my children, yes I 'could' go to work full time (that realization was a bit sad, I must say). The bottom line is, life is what we make it. I choose my own happiness. I--and only I--have to make life happen.
Today, I'm going to make life happen instead of wallowing. I want to be able to go to sleep at night and not feel regret for the unacccomplished tasks or dissatisfaction with my life. Off to the gym, off to continue organizing, and off to work on making my bedroom my safe haven. It is time for Adam to go.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Corelle Dishes Break
I got a reminder today. And it wasn't Carson that was throwing his bowl on the floor (I've learned my lesson the hard way a couple of times). Today it was Justin while getting down some cereal bowls. I still have ingrained in my head the commercial Corelle used to have on TV years ago about how those dishes don't break. Well, they lied. Big time. Millions of teeny tiny pieces of dishes everywhere. I knew that would start today off on a yucky foot. I was NOT happy.
I've been on a quest to figure out how to keep one room a day in our house clean. I think the only way to make that happen is to get rid of lots of things, lots of toys, and lots of books. I can't part with books. Argh.
Sister Kunz dropped off a sweet picture that she took of me and the boys at Vala's in the fall. I love it, love the cute frame. Especially since we really don't have many pictures of all 4 of us. I can't believe they're leaving. It's always weird this time of year when we usually have people moving out of our ward. It doesn't matter how many years I've been in our ward, this sort of change is never something I get used to. She told me something today that made me think the rest of the afternoon. She said that this is home now and it will be a very different thing to move back home. I think that all the time, that I can't imagine being anywhere else. I sort of wonder if that is what makes me stay, if it is just easier to stay comfortable rather than move on to life elsewhere. This has become home. The magic question remains, can this place stay "home" when I'm working? Will I be able to swing it all? Can I make it on a nurse's salary and raise three kids? I don't know. Something tells me it'll work out. I just don't know how exactly. Logically, I don't get it.
I punched/kicked out my morning frustrations at the gym. I have realized how much time and energy it takes to commit to consistent exercise--something that I never used to do. Thankfully I have been able to dedicate that time over the past few months consistently. I realize now how much time I could've used through the years in such a worthy pursuit, it sort of bums be out that I didn't grasp hold of this when it would've been easier to do so with Adam around. A friend and I have talked about how it really is "the life" to be able to 'just' go to the gym and get pedicures all the time. I think I wish that I had grasped hold of exercise when Adam did years ago, when he realized that the gym was what was keeping his sanity, keeping certain areas of his life in check. Oh well. Live and learn.
I thought about the blessings my family and receive and have received and I think it boggles my mind, for I feel like we don't deserve the outpouring of support, kindness and generosity. I think I always worry that people don't think I'm grateful enough. I worry that I have forgotten to thank someone for something, whether verbally or in a note. I know it has happened because it has been impossible for me to keep up on all the things people do for us--and especially as I reflect on when I was stuck in that dark first-year-fog. Yet I thank Heavenly Father daily for the many people in our lives who have literally been angels on earth for us. I pray that others will be blessed for their efforts and kindness, for in my mind they deserve all the best. I wish there were something I could do to show my love for those in our lives. It is a humbling thing to know that I can only pray for them.
I've been on a quest to figure out how to keep one room a day in our house clean. I think the only way to make that happen is to get rid of lots of things, lots of toys, and lots of books. I can't part with books. Argh.
Sister Kunz dropped off a sweet picture that she took of me and the boys at Vala's in the fall. I love it, love the cute frame. Especially since we really don't have many pictures of all 4 of us. I can't believe they're leaving. It's always weird this time of year when we usually have people moving out of our ward. It doesn't matter how many years I've been in our ward, this sort of change is never something I get used to. She told me something today that made me think the rest of the afternoon. She said that this is home now and it will be a very different thing to move back home. I think that all the time, that I can't imagine being anywhere else. I sort of wonder if that is what makes me stay, if it is just easier to stay comfortable rather than move on to life elsewhere. This has become home. The magic question remains, can this place stay "home" when I'm working? Will I be able to swing it all? Can I make it on a nurse's salary and raise three kids? I don't know. Something tells me it'll work out. I just don't know how exactly. Logically, I don't get it.
I punched/kicked out my morning frustrations at the gym. I have realized how much time and energy it takes to commit to consistent exercise--something that I never used to do. Thankfully I have been able to dedicate that time over the past few months consistently. I realize now how much time I could've used through the years in such a worthy pursuit, it sort of bums be out that I didn't grasp hold of this when it would've been easier to do so with Adam around. A friend and I have talked about how it really is "the life" to be able to 'just' go to the gym and get pedicures all the time. I think I wish that I had grasped hold of exercise when Adam did years ago, when he realized that the gym was what was keeping his sanity, keeping certain areas of his life in check. Oh well. Live and learn.
I thought about the blessings my family and receive and have received and I think it boggles my mind, for I feel like we don't deserve the outpouring of support, kindness and generosity. I think I always worry that people don't think I'm grateful enough. I worry that I have forgotten to thank someone for something, whether verbally or in a note. I know it has happened because it has been impossible for me to keep up on all the things people do for us--and especially as I reflect on when I was stuck in that dark first-year-fog. Yet I thank Heavenly Father daily for the many people in our lives who have literally been angels on earth for us. I pray that others will be blessed for their efforts and kindness, for in my mind they deserve all the best. I wish there were something I could do to show my love for those in our lives. It is a humbling thing to know that I can only pray for them.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Therapeutic Reflections
This little ol' blog is good therapy. I was reading over some of my older posts and while I know what I write on here isn't all happy-feeley-niceness, it has been good therapy. I have thought about the mechanism of going to see a therapist regularly and since I have so many emotions over the course of the day, I think just straight writing them down has made the most difference in my grief processing. I have hand written journals, online word processing files, and other online blog posts that never feel right to post for all to see. And of course there's my very patient friends who listen to me and accept me for me. I think that has been what I have needed, therapy-wise. I'm glad I clued into this early on.
The past couple days have been a roller coaster. After a couple weeks of having Carson in his new-to-him big boy bed (the one we could NEVER get Spencer to sleep in, so it has sat in our basement for two years), I finally decided I needed to stop staring at the crib in my room--where Carson slept. It was a little creepy without the mattress in it. So I took it apart yesterday. I cried and cried. It's totally illogical to want another child with the stresses of what I do on my own daily, I DO realize. But that crib represented so much. It represented how I feel as a woman, as a mother, it represented sex (lack thereof), and a million emotions tied to the various roles in my life. I was so, so sad to take that crib down, knowing it will most likely never go back up again. Argh.
Thankfully I didn't have time to wallow. Life had other plans yesterday.
I changed the little blocks on my mantle that I make up sayings depending on the season or birthdays, or holidays. I dusted the room and then debated what to say about the 4th of July on these blocks. Having only letters on these little blocks (no numbers) I decided that I would write out "Happy Independence Day." But somehow I didn't like the word "Day" in this saying, it just stretched out too long on the mantle. I wrote "Happy Independence." And then I pondered the rest of the day on what that term means to me.
I'll admit, I'm terrible with history. I can't remember what years which wars happened to save my life. And I understand what it meant for the US to be a free and independent nation, but it's something I can't give a dissertation on, I suppose. We use this term "Happy Independence Day" to celebrate our freedoms. But I got to thinking how amazing it is that we can be independent human beings with freedoms of all kinds--and that I, as a woman, have these same freedoms as men. What an interesting thing it would've been for me to raise 3 little boys as a widow if I had lived in an era where women didn't have the freedoms that we enjoy today. Amazing. I feel very blessed.
Yesterday's baby blahs turned into happy blahs at the end of the day as I got to go help a friend out on a project (hopefully I didn't ruin your house, H! :)). I will say that it is true, helping out friends and neighbors and getting our minds on someone other than ourselves really does turn attitudes and mentality upside down--for the better. I'm so glad my friend let me come over. Since it seems that my rendering service doesn't happen as I would like it to (mostly because if I serve, then someone is likely having to serve me by watching my kiddos!) it feels good to get out of my self absorbed bubble.
This afternoon I started looking up the cost (the worth) of these brand new medical books that have been sitting around the house that are Adam's. I haven't had the mental strength for the past 22 months to stick them on Amazon. And really, they just bug me that they are brand new--he had just bought all of his books for the whole last year of residency, right before he died. But summer de-junking is upon me and it is time. I've held onto these books for too long. I'm debating what I should buy myself with the couple hundred dollars worth of books. It should be a TV. Because that would be the ultimate in irony for my dear Adam. Sweet Adam. I hope you will appreciate my smile--my mental freedom--when I rid the house of these books.
The past couple days have been a roller coaster. After a couple weeks of having Carson in his new-to-him big boy bed (the one we could NEVER get Spencer to sleep in, so it has sat in our basement for two years), I finally decided I needed to stop staring at the crib in my room--where Carson slept. It was a little creepy without the mattress in it. So I took it apart yesterday. I cried and cried. It's totally illogical to want another child with the stresses of what I do on my own daily, I DO realize. But that crib represented so much. It represented how I feel as a woman, as a mother, it represented sex (lack thereof), and a million emotions tied to the various roles in my life. I was so, so sad to take that crib down, knowing it will most likely never go back up again. Argh.
Thankfully I didn't have time to wallow. Life had other plans yesterday.
I changed the little blocks on my mantle that I make up sayings depending on the season or birthdays, or holidays. I dusted the room and then debated what to say about the 4th of July on these blocks. Having only letters on these little blocks (no numbers) I decided that I would write out "Happy Independence Day." But somehow I didn't like the word "Day" in this saying, it just stretched out too long on the mantle. I wrote "Happy Independence." And then I pondered the rest of the day on what that term means to me.
I'll admit, I'm terrible with history. I can't remember what years which wars happened to save my life. And I understand what it meant for the US to be a free and independent nation, but it's something I can't give a dissertation on, I suppose. We use this term "Happy Independence Day" to celebrate our freedoms. But I got to thinking how amazing it is that we can be independent human beings with freedoms of all kinds--and that I, as a woman, have these same freedoms as men. What an interesting thing it would've been for me to raise 3 little boys as a widow if I had lived in an era where women didn't have the freedoms that we enjoy today. Amazing. I feel very blessed.
Yesterday's baby blahs turned into happy blahs at the end of the day as I got to go help a friend out on a project (hopefully I didn't ruin your house, H! :)). I will say that it is true, helping out friends and neighbors and getting our minds on someone other than ourselves really does turn attitudes and mentality upside down--for the better. I'm so glad my friend let me come over. Since it seems that my rendering service doesn't happen as I would like it to (mostly because if I serve, then someone is likely having to serve me by watching my kiddos!) it feels good to get out of my self absorbed bubble.
This afternoon I started looking up the cost (the worth) of these brand new medical books that have been sitting around the house that are Adam's. I haven't had the mental strength for the past 22 months to stick them on Amazon. And really, they just bug me that they are brand new--he had just bought all of his books for the whole last year of residency, right before he died. But summer de-junking is upon me and it is time. I've held onto these books for too long. I'm debating what I should buy myself with the couple hundred dollars worth of books. It should be a TV. Because that would be the ultimate in irony for my dear Adam. Sweet Adam. I hope you will appreciate my smile--my mental freedom--when I rid the house of these books.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Touching the Temple on Father's Day
We had a good day. Until I change my mind otherwise, attending church on Father's Day is just something we won't be doing. I refused to feel tortured (or torturing my children) with having my children join the other children in singing songs like "I'm So Glad When Daddy Comes Home." So we did our own Father's Day churchy activities instead.
What better than a trip to go visit the temple grounds, pioneer cemetery, and neighboring Mormon Trail Center. We dressed up and took pictures and it was perfect. Unless the kids want to go to church next year on Father's Day, I plan to continue this tradition as long as we live in Omaha.
For a long while now, I have wanted to take pictures with my boys touching the handle of the temple. A smart primary president took my brother Jonathan and my sister Kara (and a gaggle of other primary kiddos) to the Oakland temple one time for this exact purpose. The kids got to go to the visitor's center there and take pictures. I always thought it was such a sweet picture that my siblings had of this special trip. So that's what we did today. With the temple closed on Sundays, it was the perfect time to go and get pictures without people coming and going.
I had heard several people quote this idea of "touching the temple" and wanted to find out which prophet said it, so I went on a hunt this afternoon. I found a couple quotes, but this one I particularly liked:
"During one year, the Primary organization conducted an effort to have the children become better acquainted with the holy temples of God. This frequently entailed a visit to the temple grounds. The laughter of small children, the joy of unfettered youth, and the exuberance of energy displayed by them gladdened the heart of this observer. As a loving teacher guided a boy or girl to the large door of the Salt Lake Temple and the little one reached out and up to touch the temple, I could almost see the Master welcoming the little children to His side and could almost hear His comforting words: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” Thomas S. Monson, "Finding Peace," Liahona: March 2004
As I read this talk, I knew it wasn't a coincidence that I found this talk today. Several portions spoke to my heart today. This final part that I will quote here is something that I will reflect on in the future. This sweet letter from a husband to his wife spoke to me today. I loved the following last section of this talk. So grateful for my wonderful father, and I'm so grateful for the good father of my children. I am eternally one lucky lady.
Thomas S. Monson (continued):
"Look heavenward. As we do, we find it comforting and satisfying to communicate with our Heavenly Father through prayer, that path to spiritual power—even a passport to peace. We are reminded of His Beloved Son, the Prince of Peace, that pioneer who literally showed the way for others to follow. His divine plan can save us from the Babylons of sin, complacency, and error. His example points the way. When faced with temptation, He shunned it. When offered the world, He declined it. When asked for His life, He gave it.
On one significant occasion, Jesus took a text from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound” 11 —a clear pronouncement of the peace that passeth all understanding.
Frequently, death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and its gaiety. Death lays its heavy hand upon those dear to us and, at times, leaves us baffled and wondering. In certain situations, as in great suffering and illness, death comes as an angel of mercy. But to those bereaved, the Master’s promise of peace is the comforting balm which heals: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” 12 “I go to prepare a place for you … ; that where I am, there ye may be also.” 13
How I pray that all who have loved then lost might know the reality of the Resurrection and have the unshakable knowledge that families can be forever. One such was a Major Sullivan Ballou, who, during the time of the American Civil War, wrote a touching letter to his wife—just one week before he was killed in the Battle of Bull Run. With me, feel the love of his soul, his trust in God, his courage, his faith.
“July 14, 1861
“Camp Clark, Washington
“My very dear Sarah:
“The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. …
“I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. … I am … perfectly willing … to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government. …
“Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.
“The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive [me] my … faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness. …
“But, O Sarah! if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights … always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.” 14
Our Message of Peace
The darkness of death can ever be dispelled by the light of revealed truth. “I am the resurrection, and the life,” spoke the Master. “He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” 15
Added to His own words are those of the angel, spoken to the weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord: “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen.” 16
Such is our message. He lives! And because He lives all shall indeed live again. This knowledge provides the peace for loved ones of those whose graves are hallowed resting places in Flanders fields, where the poppies blow in springtime, and for those who rest in countless other locations, including the depths of the sea. “Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives: ‘I know that my Redeemer lives!’” 17
What better than a trip to go visit the temple grounds, pioneer cemetery, and neighboring Mormon Trail Center. We dressed up and took pictures and it was perfect. Unless the kids want to go to church next year on Father's Day, I plan to continue this tradition as long as we live in Omaha.
For a long while now, I have wanted to take pictures with my boys touching the handle of the temple. A smart primary president took my brother Jonathan and my sister Kara (and a gaggle of other primary kiddos) to the Oakland temple one time for this exact purpose. The kids got to go to the visitor's center there and take pictures. I always thought it was such a sweet picture that my siblings had of this special trip. So that's what we did today. With the temple closed on Sundays, it was the perfect time to go and get pictures without people coming and going.
I had heard several people quote this idea of "touching the temple" and wanted to find out which prophet said it, so I went on a hunt this afternoon. I found a couple quotes, but this one I particularly liked:
"During one year, the Primary organization conducted an effort to have the children become better acquainted with the holy temples of God. This frequently entailed a visit to the temple grounds. The laughter of small children, the joy of unfettered youth, and the exuberance of energy displayed by them gladdened the heart of this observer. As a loving teacher guided a boy or girl to the large door of the Salt Lake Temple and the little one reached out and up to touch the temple, I could almost see the Master welcoming the little children to His side and could almost hear His comforting words: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” Thomas S. Monson, "Finding Peace," Liahona: March 2004
As I read this talk, I knew it wasn't a coincidence that I found this talk today. Several portions spoke to my heart today. This final part that I will quote here is something that I will reflect on in the future. This sweet letter from a husband to his wife spoke to me today. I loved the following last section of this talk. So grateful for my wonderful father, and I'm so grateful for the good father of my children. I am eternally one lucky lady.
Thomas S. Monson (continued):
"Look heavenward. As we do, we find it comforting and satisfying to communicate with our Heavenly Father through prayer, that path to spiritual power—even a passport to peace. We are reminded of His Beloved Son, the Prince of Peace, that pioneer who literally showed the way for others to follow. His divine plan can save us from the Babylons of sin, complacency, and error. His example points the way. When faced with temptation, He shunned it. When offered the world, He declined it. When asked for His life, He gave it.
On one significant occasion, Jesus took a text from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound” 11 —a clear pronouncement of the peace that passeth all understanding.
Frequently, death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and its gaiety. Death lays its heavy hand upon those dear to us and, at times, leaves us baffled and wondering. In certain situations, as in great suffering and illness, death comes as an angel of mercy. But to those bereaved, the Master’s promise of peace is the comforting balm which heals: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” 12 “I go to prepare a place for you … ; that where I am, there ye may be also.” 13
How I pray that all who have loved then lost might know the reality of the Resurrection and have the unshakable knowledge that families can be forever. One such was a Major Sullivan Ballou, who, during the time of the American Civil War, wrote a touching letter to his wife—just one week before he was killed in the Battle of Bull Run. With me, feel the love of his soul, his trust in God, his courage, his faith.
“July 14, 1861
“Camp Clark, Washington
“My very dear Sarah:
“The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. …
“I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. … I am … perfectly willing … to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government. …
“Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.
“The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive [me] my … faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness. …
“But, O Sarah! if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights … always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.” 14
Our Message of Peace
The darkness of death can ever be dispelled by the light of revealed truth. “I am the resurrection, and the life,” spoke the Master. “He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” 15
Added to His own words are those of the angel, spoken to the weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord: “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen.” 16
Such is our message. He lives! And because He lives all shall indeed live again. This knowledge provides the peace for loved ones of those whose graves are hallowed resting places in Flanders fields, where the poppies blow in springtime, and for those who rest in countless other locations, including the depths of the sea. “Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives: ‘I know that my Redeemer lives!’” 17
Camp, ASCO, A BBQ, and Father's Day
It was a good weekend. Maybe in order to gear up for tomorrow I needed a good weekend? I don't know. I hate holidays. And while I love my father dearly, I really hate Father's Day now--the day is forever tainted for me. Am I always going to detest holidays so much? I don't know. I don't WANT to. They're just so darn tough.
Friday a friend watched the kiddos so I could go to Girl's Camp to volunteer as the nurse. It was fun to be able to teach them first aid for 4 hours (4 different sessions of 4 groups of girls) and to be able to help with the minor injuries and sicknesses that happen at such a camp. I felt particularly grateful to be able to put a face to a name with some very good sisters, and to get to know them. It was nice. And it was BEAUTIFUL at camp. I think my California snobbiness always thought that camp needed to be among thick pine trees and in the mountains. The camp they chose down by Nebraska City was neat--it was in a gorgeous forest! And actually, I realized as I was driving down that I had been within 100 yards of this camp before and just didn't know it because it was tucked away in the trees. I remembered going to the apple festival with Adam on one of our scenic drives and we took Justin to the neighboring apple orchard that was less than a football field away from this camp. So strange when I have these deja vu moments. Particularly when it was something so random, in such a rural place away from home. Anyway, it was a lovely place and I was glad to be able to serve. I wished I could've been able to be there all week, but maybe next year.
Today I went to the ASCO Review. I was dead tired so it was a bit rough to stay awake. The kids slept over at a friends house since I knew I wouldn't get home from camp until midnight, and that was a wise thing. I then turned around to leave my house at 7am for the long day of sitting and listening to cancer research. I was struck with something again as I listened to these experts. With the ease of technology and information at our finger tips, I think sometimes we take for granted the way we obtain information, and we sometimes don't refer to experts as "experts." I think there is a tendency with things medical (and in other subjects) to read and then think we "know" something without actually studying it out thoroughly. As I listened to the MANY MANY studies discussed at this years' ASCO, I realized again the complex nature of medicine, of our bodies, and why doctors do deserve so much respect for thoroughly understanding the cellular and microbiological intricacies of the workings of our bodies and drugs. It really was fascinating to listen to, to hear the nitty gritty details of medical studies. The blanket thoughts of just thinking that research is all about money--listening to this type of 6 hour lecture makes one realize that it is much deeper than money as a goal for curing/improving these different types of cancer and disease processes.
Then tonight. I went to a mid singles activity/BBQ. I (admittedly) dread these things, but, knowing that faith requires action...I go anyway. And they aren't all that bad, I mainly just have to get there and then I'm ok. There are some very sweet people who attend these activities that I enjoy very much. I'm reminded that 90% of life is more about our attitude and what we do about it than the 10% of what actually happens to us. So tonight there was a good turnout. We ate, we chatted, we played with fire (uh...ate s'mores from their backyard fire pit). I met some new people, I felt a bond. It always interests me to find those who are in a totally different place in life, with completely different life experience, and to find that they aren't really all that different. I love that. I think most people (yes...this is a BIG generalization, I realize) just want to be happy. Most people want to be married. Most people want to have a family. And it isn't necessarily easy to have all of those things. So I'm coming to realize that supporting each other in these worthy endeavors is more important than casting judgement. It's hard. We ALL JUDGE. We all have opinions on everything. Some of us don't always keep them to ourselves all of the time (yes, I'm smiling at that comment. I'm one of those...). And some don't share enough when they should. But we are all just striving to do the right thing and find joy in our lives.
I think the best summary about what I feel on this topic came from Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
"So many people today are waiting for their own golden ticket—the ticket that they believe holds the key to the happiness they have always dreamed about. For some, the golden ticket may be a perfect marriage; for others, a magazine-cover home or perhaps freedom from stress or worry.
There is nothing wrong with righteous yearnings—we hope and seek after things that are “virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy.” The problem comes when we put our happiness on hold as we wait for some future event—our golden ticket—to appear."
So my question for tonight is, how do we set achievable goals, worthy endeavors, while enjoying the moments in life--instead of always thinking "Well, when ____ happens THEN I'll be happy." Or "I can't wait for _____ to happen. Then things will be good." There is a careful balance between looking forward to the future with hope, and losing the moments of joy in everyday happenings. I looked at Carson tonight and realized how he has grown. I have tried to enjoy his stages more than I did when the other boys are little, but I know I've missed a lot. There is always this element of "I can't wait until he sleeps through the night" or "when he starts talking...." or "when he starts walking...." Somehow life seems to have passed me by in so many areas of life. I need to heed President Uchtdorf's counsel to "Forget not to be happy NOW." That is tough. I'll keep working on it.
Friday a friend watched the kiddos so I could go to Girl's Camp to volunteer as the nurse. It was fun to be able to teach them first aid for 4 hours (4 different sessions of 4 groups of girls) and to be able to help with the minor injuries and sicknesses that happen at such a camp. I felt particularly grateful to be able to put a face to a name with some very good sisters, and to get to know them. It was nice. And it was BEAUTIFUL at camp. I think my California snobbiness always thought that camp needed to be among thick pine trees and in the mountains. The camp they chose down by Nebraska City was neat--it was in a gorgeous forest! And actually, I realized as I was driving down that I had been within 100 yards of this camp before and just didn't know it because it was tucked away in the trees. I remembered going to the apple festival with Adam on one of our scenic drives and we took Justin to the neighboring apple orchard that was less than a football field away from this camp. So strange when I have these deja vu moments. Particularly when it was something so random, in such a rural place away from home. Anyway, it was a lovely place and I was glad to be able to serve. I wished I could've been able to be there all week, but maybe next year.
Today I went to the ASCO Review. I was dead tired so it was a bit rough to stay awake. The kids slept over at a friends house since I knew I wouldn't get home from camp until midnight, and that was a wise thing. I then turned around to leave my house at 7am for the long day of sitting and listening to cancer research. I was struck with something again as I listened to these experts. With the ease of technology and information at our finger tips, I think sometimes we take for granted the way we obtain information, and we sometimes don't refer to experts as "experts." I think there is a tendency with things medical (and in other subjects) to read and then think we "know" something without actually studying it out thoroughly. As I listened to the MANY MANY studies discussed at this years' ASCO, I realized again the complex nature of medicine, of our bodies, and why doctors do deserve so much respect for thoroughly understanding the cellular and microbiological intricacies of the workings of our bodies and drugs. It really was fascinating to listen to, to hear the nitty gritty details of medical studies. The blanket thoughts of just thinking that research is all about money--listening to this type of 6 hour lecture makes one realize that it is much deeper than money as a goal for curing/improving these different types of cancer and disease processes.
Then tonight. I went to a mid singles activity/BBQ. I (admittedly) dread these things, but, knowing that faith requires action...I go anyway. And they aren't all that bad, I mainly just have to get there and then I'm ok. There are some very sweet people who attend these activities that I enjoy very much. I'm reminded that 90% of life is more about our attitude and what we do about it than the 10% of what actually happens to us. So tonight there was a good turnout. We ate, we chatted, we played with fire (uh...ate s'mores from their backyard fire pit). I met some new people, I felt a bond. It always interests me to find those who are in a totally different place in life, with completely different life experience, and to find that they aren't really all that different. I love that. I think most people (yes...this is a BIG generalization, I realize) just want to be happy. Most people want to be married. Most people want to have a family. And it isn't necessarily easy to have all of those things. So I'm coming to realize that supporting each other in these worthy endeavors is more important than casting judgement. It's hard. We ALL JUDGE. We all have opinions on everything. Some of us don't always keep them to ourselves all of the time (yes, I'm smiling at that comment. I'm one of those...). And some don't share enough when they should. But we are all just striving to do the right thing and find joy in our lives.
I think the best summary about what I feel on this topic came from Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
"So many people today are waiting for their own golden ticket—the ticket that they believe holds the key to the happiness they have always dreamed about. For some, the golden ticket may be a perfect marriage; for others, a magazine-cover home or perhaps freedom from stress or worry.
There is nothing wrong with righteous yearnings—we hope and seek after things that are “virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy.” The problem comes when we put our happiness on hold as we wait for some future event—our golden ticket—to appear."
So my question for tonight is, how do we set achievable goals, worthy endeavors, while enjoying the moments in life--instead of always thinking "Well, when ____ happens THEN I'll be happy." Or "I can't wait for _____ to happen. Then things will be good." There is a careful balance between looking forward to the future with hope, and losing the moments of joy in everyday happenings. I looked at Carson tonight and realized how he has grown. I have tried to enjoy his stages more than I did when the other boys are little, but I know I've missed a lot. There is always this element of "I can't wait until he sleeps through the night" or "when he starts talking...." or "when he starts walking...." Somehow life seems to have passed me by in so many areas of life. I need to heed President Uchtdorf's counsel to "Forget not to be happy NOW." That is tough. I'll keep working on it.
