Bueller...Bueller?

Lately I catch myself staring blankly into space. I don't know what I'm looking at or what I'm thinking...I'm merely existing. I find it extremely hard to focus on anything. I consider this week a success because I've worn real people clothes and made it out of my bed two days in a row. It takes so much more effort these days to fake a smile and pretend that I'm alright with the way life has panned out. I don't really want to see people or spend time with anyone. I enjoy being alone. When I'm alone I can talk to my mom. It may seem strange, but I lay on my bed or my floor with my face up to the ceiling. I just lay there and talk. Sometimes I cry, but mainly I just talk about my life and ask for advice. I know my mom's there because I feel her all around me, but there's nothing worse than hearing silence after a question I really need answered. I don't know what it is, but 10 different people could tell me the same piece of advice and it will never have the same weight as it does coming from a mom. When mom tells you something, you believe it or you do it; you do whatever you can to make her proud because usually she's right. My heart has been so heavy with so many unanswered questions. There's a permanent hole that will never be filled - nothing and nobody will ever replace a parent. I know that things get easier over time, but it's been 9 days since she passed. I've been grieving for 7 months and 15 days, but this is a different kind of grieving now. At least before there was a little glimmer of hope - some miracle might happen and she might be healed. Now, the fight is over and there's nothing I can do to bring her back.

I don't know how my mom cared for so many people all the time. I don't know how she was sharp as a tack about everything. I don't know how you can run in a million different circles and never lose your breath. I'm learning that I can't fix and do everything. I have no more adrenaline left. While my mom was sick the house was spotless, laundry promptly done and dishes were sparkling like they do in a Cascade Ad. Now that she's gone, I've lost my motivation for cleanliness. My room looks like an explosion occurred at Banana Republic and I honestly can't tell you the last time I brushed my hair. I'm learning that I've got to come first sometimes. I can't help others and do good things if I can't even take care of myself. You see it all the time on TV shows like "What Not to Wear" or "10 Years Younger" - moms who care so much about other people - their friends, family members - and they just care for themselves. I never thought I'd be one of those people. I looked to the Bible tonight for some comfort - spoiler alert, I fond some. 1 Corinthians 3:16 says "do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's spirit dwells in you?". I found this phrase to be so true. So often we forget that our bodies are a gift. So often we forget that we deserve to cherish our ability to walk, run, feel, touch and exist. So often we put our bodies through the worst because we forget that they're a gift from God. My body is a temple and should be protected and honored and treated as such. Would you drop a Bible into a big muddy puddle on purpose? No, or at least your answer should be no. The Bible will deteriorate and the word of God will be destroyed. Your body is the same way - you can't let it purposefully deteriorate because that is not pleasing to God. So often I forget that I'm alive and in this world because God created me to be. For some reason I'm needed here - everyone reading this blog tonight is here for a specific purpose. We need to use our bodies to proclaim the Good News and honor God for giving us life and the ability to live it. 

Another passage I read comforted me and caused me to shake my head. It was something I needed to see. The passage comes from Romans 12:1-2, "I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect". The part of the passage that says "do not be conformed to this world" continues to repeat in my mind - almost kind of like an echo. Over the last seven months I've conformed to everything everyone has thrown at me. I've become very good at keeping the peace and being agreeable. But I think there's more to life than being everyone's buddy all the time. The Bible says "be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God". This is the kind of reassurance I have been desperately searching for! Through trial and error I can discern what my will on this Earth is or what it can be. I am confident I will make mistakes, hurt feelings and betray God but that is how I learn and that is how I grow. I need to use my mind to transform my sorrow and grief into a positive message to share with the world. I can not conform with society and grieve for the rest of my life - I have to set the example. I need to cherish my body and treat it well. I need to use my mind to perform God's will, doing what is perfect and acceptable to Him. I think the most important two words in this passage though are "living sacrifice". Show of hands, who thought of themselves as a living sacrifice? Bueller...Bueller? Exactly. I never did - in fact, I had to read the passage a couple times before I understood it was talking about me.  God created us, in His image, to do His will. We are here and we are called to do what He asks of us. At my mom's funeral we sang "Here I am Lord" during communion. That song plays continuously in my heart. I often wonder when it will be my turn for Him to call on me? Has He already called? Did I send Him to voicemail or am I doing His will? How do you know? So often I forget that this life is much bigger than the image of isolation and loneliness I have trapped inside my skull. I guess that's why we have the word of God written down - so that all may know His good works and promises. 

Dear God, 

Help us continue to live wonderfully in your name. Help us learn to give our worries and concerns up to you. Help us focus on solely the things we can control. Be with us while we grieve the loss of my mom. Please continue to hug her so so tightly. Thank you for my body. Thank you for the gifts you've given me to share in your name. Be with me as I sin boldly and search for your peace. Amen.

Signs

It's Sunday night. I should be doing homework and preparing for the week ahead. Instead, I am sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor eating only the red starbursts. I'm wearing my dad's beat-up and faded Myrtle Beach sweatshirt and my mom's old yoga pants. I just don't feel like doing anything. These last 6 days have been cruel. I'd argue that the time after death is actually worse than the death itself, because your world is frozen in time and everyone else is continuing like nothing ever happened. I don't understand how people are going to work or writing papers or shopping or dancing the night away. I don't understand how people are functioning...don't they know my mom is gone?! My mother was completely at peace, surrounded by her siblings and spouse, when she accepted God's invitation to come to Heaven. I wouldn't have denied the invite either. In that moment I was filled with mixed emotions - I was so thankful she wasn't hurting anymore and so excited for her to see her mother and be with God. But I was also pissed that cancer had won and scared because in that moment, she was officially gone forever and I wasn't ready for her to leave me. I walked into the room to see my mother lying still in the hospital bed and burst into a hysterical fit of tears and anxiety. Everything I'd kept in for the last seven months was finally surfacing. I was looking at my mom, but she wasn't there - talk about a difficult concept to grasp.

Tonight we began the process of purging. Normally, I love cleaning - there's something therapeutic about getting rid of things you don't need or want anymore. In this case, it's just painful. We are only doing little pieces at a time and we stop when it becomes too much. I started to go through my mom's closet. Some articles of clothing I was so happy to throw away - my mom's definitely scolding me from Heaven because she LOVED some of the things I tossed...but I've been wanting to do that for a long time (sorry mom). There were many things I pulled out of the closet and hugged because I remembered her wearing and loving me in it. All of her clothes carried her scent - a scent I didn't realize she had until tonight. I didn't realize how much I would miss that smell. I went to pull out a garment and noticed that the two hangers were tangled on the closet bar. I put my hand on the back wall to steady myself while I unhooked the hangers and saw something attached to the wall. I moved the clothes aside and began to cry. There was a poem I had written from December 2006, for my mom. I'm not sure why she taped it to the back wall of her closet, but this is what it said,

" You're so special to me and you're always there,
Regardless of whether or not you seem to care.
Through all the junk I went through last year,
You were the one to lend an ear.
You gave me advice when I was feeling low,
And gave me the strength to get up and go.
We have many more tantrums and fights to get through,
But in the end I know I'll always have you.
I tell you everything and have trust in you,
Because that's just what best friends do.
I couldn't make it without you this I know,
In other words I'm simply never letting you go.
I love you very much I must say,
In just about each and every way."

I read this poem over and over again. I don't remember writing it or giving it to her but I'm so glad I did. She was my best friend and always knew what to do or say. The part that upsets me most is, "I couldn't make it without you this I know, in other words I'm simply never letting you go". I'm gonna have to make it without her and I did let her go. Moments before my mom passed away I was praying to God. I was praying for her to be at peace and to stop fighting. She had fought long and hard and I knew I had to let her go. In this state there was no more she could do. Ironically enough I was wearing a necklace my mom had given me years ago. It is in the shape of a circle - beginning and ending in the same place. I was rubbing it and praying. I looked down at the necklace and realized there were words. I'm sure when my mom originally gave it to me I knew it had words, but I had forgotten what they said - "All the strength you need is right there inside you". In that moment I knew we would be okay. I knew my mom had given us the tools we needed to continue this live without her. A few minutes later my dad came into the waiting room and announced that she was gone.

While I was cleaning the closet tonight I found an old package of pictures behind the door. I opened the Costco envelope and pulled out a stack of about 50 pictures. I immediately got chill-bumps when I noticed that the picture on top was of the big beautiful gate at the Botanical Gardens. Normally I wouldn't think anything of it, but Pastor Goeres preached about that gate and how it could very well resemble the gates of Heaven. What are the odds that would be the very first picture in this stack?! I started to think that maybe my mom was trying to communicate with me. I pushed the photos aside and moved on to dealing with her mountain of shoes when I heard a gasp from the other room. I called to Caroline to see if she was okay. Caroline came into the room with a stunned deer-in-the-headlights kind of expression. It looked like she had just seen a giant flying monkey in her room. She held up a pair of cowboy boot earrings and said "look what I found in mom's jewelry". We both were wide eyed and speechless. Caroline has been asking for these specific cowboy boot earrings for almost a year. They are from Acredale Sadelry and are usually never in stock. My mom must have bought them a long time ago and forgotten about them...but that wasn't like her. She only started to slip the last two weeks before her diagnosis. In that moment, I definitely think my mom was communicating with us.

I pretend to be strong most of the time, but I hurt so badly. I just have so much love for my mom and I'm really not sure I can handle all the curve balls ahead without her. I often wish I was kinder and showed more love...but she showed me today in the old poem I'd written that she knew. She knew how much I loved her. And she showed me she cared - she saved that poem for years and even though the construction paper backing was faded and yucky, I'm sure that piece of paper would have remained there forever. I now have it in my room on my desk, to look at whenever I miss her. She showed me the picture of the gate to prove that she was with God. I have no doubt she's in Heaven, but sometimes it's nice to be reassured and she knows I desperately need that. The words written on the inside of my necklace could not have come at a better time...moments before he passing. That was my mom speaking to me and saying "you're stronger than you think, and all that strength is inside you". She raised me to be strong and independent and she surrendered to the disease moments after I realized I could do this without her. I don't know how to explain the earrings. It was almost like she left us gifts because she knew we'd struggle terribly with her passing. Yet again, she's still being thoughtful ever after she's gone.

Saturday morning we celebrated my mom's life. It was an amazing tribute to the best woman I've ever known and will ever know. The church was packed with so many wonderful and familiar faces. It was the most up-beat funeral I've ever been to and I am so thankful that everything worked out perfectly. Pastor Goeres preached about understanding and the lack thereof. I don't know why this happened to my family or my mom - I hate that it did. But sometimes we don't need to understand. I have a huge problem with this notion. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths." At my weakest moments I find passages that touch my heart and comfort my soul. I will never understand why my mother left this world and as hard as it is to admit...I don't really need to know why. I need to trust in the Lord because He has provided food, family, friends and comfort over the last seven months. He has provided unconditional love and guidance even when I refused to listen or confide in him. I'd like to think that He allowed my mom to communicate with us the day she passed, during her funeral and tonight as we purged. Something about that passage restores my soul and encourages me to think happy thoughts. There is nothing wrong with grieving, but I deserve to smile and be alive. My mom didn't give me life so that I could mope around and feel sorry for myself - she gave me life so that I could live it to the fullest. I will be very busy for the rest of my life living out her legacy and creating my own.

"Giving"

Today I found myself lost in thought. My thoughts and other people's thoughts. Needless to say, it's a dangerous place to reside. I found myself slumped down in the chair next to my mother's bed, alone and inquisitive. I began to notice her irregular breathing patterns and couldn't help but giggle whenever she snored loudly. I am thankful she is at peace and resting. But it also makes things much harder to witness and understand. I began to ask her rhetorical questions like  "how did you always know what to say?" and the million dollar question, "why are you leaving me?". Whenever I was lost, confused or upset, I would turn to my mom. I guess that wasn't exactly fair of me, but she always knew the perfect words to say - whatever I NEEDED to hear and never what I actually wanted to hear. At the time, I'd be even more upset or angry, but as I cooled down I'd realize she was right and be thankful. These days my eyes are swollen, my throat has a permanent lump and I feel nauseous all the time because I'm faced with decisions I've never had to make alone.

What is a priority and how do you know what yours are? I'm learning that my priorities are different than most people my age. I have a couple priorities these days - sharing love, spending time with my family and being the best friend/person/companion I can be to others I encounter in this life. I do believe that priorities change with age and circumstance, but I'd like to think these priorities are universal. Unfortunately I'm finding that I would do much more for others than they would do for me and it's disappointing. I was standing in our front yard yesterday afternoon with a few neighborhood kids. We were waiting for someone to drop off a meal for dinner. These two particular people that provided our meal are some of my favorite people in the entire world. They emerged from their car and devoured us in a series of never-ending hugs and kisses. As we stood there gabbing about life, hugging it out and praising my mother's name she said a couple things that really resonated with me. She said "life is for giving - we give so that we may live". I found this interesting because the American way is to receive and hoard so that we have enough for ourselves. She rejected that notion and talked about the importance of giving and helping others. She certainly practiced what she preached because she brought us enough food for a small militia, but most people don't think about giving anything to others. "Giving" is a word used around holidays and in times of need, but is often forgotten the other couple days of the year.

Today, my dad and I were talking about my mom's condition and how it spiraled out of control. I maintain that we made the best decisions we could at the time and did everything we could to help her fight this battle. Dealing with a terminal form of cancer can be easily equated to the use and maintenance of a roadway. As cars, trucks and bikes use the roadway it deteriorates over time. Drastic and frequent changes in the temperature add to the deterioration and create pot holes the size of Texas in the road. Private and public companies often come to repair the roads, but somehow the pot hole always finds a way of reappearing and being worse than the first time it was repaired. Covering a pot hole is like covering a booboo with a band-aid, but until you repave the road or the booboo heals, covering it up is the only solution. With my mom's cancer we were constantly covering pot holes with band aids and having to face the fact that the brain tumor was the root of all of these problems. Now she is at peace and will eventually pass on and live in a world where there are no pot holes or booboos. It's a world we're only capable of dreaming about.

I consulted my bible tonight desperately searching for words of comfort. I found them in Acts 20:35, "In everything I showed you that by working hard in this manner you must help the weak and remember the  words of the Lord Jesus, that He Himself said, 'it is more blessed to give than to receive'". Not only is this exactly what someone told me yesterday afternoon in my front yard, but it's something my mother has instilled in me during her time on Earth. This passage extends far beyond making meals for others or remembering to give a giftcard to someone on their birthday. We give advice, share wisdom and spread love and kindness every day. It's important we continue to do those things because God expects us to - He wants us to encourage others and give them the tools they need to succeed. I think it's fine to accept gifts, but we shouldn't hoard our gifts and possessions - we should share them with others because that's what we're made to do. God gave me my mother and even though I will continue to ask Him why she's leaving me and be really grumpy and angry with him...I can't hoard her and physically keep her as my own. Unfortunately, I've got to give her back to Him because He needs her for a greater purpose. I need to learn to give the greatest gift I've ever received. It's not easy and it's certainly not fair, but God is one person I'm okay sharing with. I encourage you to pay for the person's Starbucks behind you, let a car merge into your lane or give an honest opinion (when asked) in a dressing room. Whatever you do, remember that God has given us the ultimate gift of life and the least we can do is offer our gifts to each other in His name.

Final 15

What can you do in fifteen minutes? I can mail a package, drive to TCC, run a mile and eat an entire foot-long sub sandwich. What can you do in that amount of time? How long is fifteen minutes exactly?  It’s a quarter of an hour and 900 seconds. I spent about 900 seconds today saying goodbye to my mother. Those fifteen minutes were the most horrible and most rewarding minutes of my entire life. Yesterday we were told by medical personnel that she had less than two months left to live. Today we were told by medical personnel that she had an hour, a day or a week. We’ve switched from the hope of recovery to the reality of needing pain control. These are the final hours of my biggest advocate, my best friend, my hero and my mom’s life.  

What do you say when you have no words left? Where do you begin when you have so much to say? I began talking to my mom about a sin I committed in the fifth grade. We had just bought a swiffer wet-jet and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. My mom was busy making beds and I asked if I could help her clean! She said yes but that I wasn’t allowed to use the swiffer until she showed me how to properly use it. So naturally, I ran downstairs and began swiffering the kitchen. I just wanted my mom to be proud of my swiffering ability. Unfortunately, I was swiffering a little too closely to my mom’s favorite blue delft plate and backed into it with the swiffer. The plate fell to the ground and broke into a million little pieces. I heard “Katie, are you okay”? I fled the scene immediately because I knew my mom was going to kill me for 1. Not listening and 2. Breaking one of her prize possessions. I ran into the living room and hid behind the sofa. When my mom finally found me she hugged me so tightly and asked if I was okay. I remember crying and feeling an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach because I had disappointed my mother. I remember her wiping my tears and saying “Katie, that plate is replaceable, you’re not”. Today I apologized to my mom, again, about breaking that plate. She didn’t remember the plate or how I broke it or what happened. But for whatever reason, it was important for me to apologize again.

I began to apologize for not always being nice or listening the first time she asked me to do things. I apologized for never wanting lasagna, manicotti or quiche. I apologized for complaining about everything that wasn’t 100% perfect. I apologized for never asking her how she felt or caring about anyone other than myself. I apologized for seeing life as a glass half empty. I vowed to do better. I told her the cancer had changed my perspective of life and that I was becoming a much better person. I explained that I wanted to be more like her. She turned her head in my direction and said “you’re the bestest in the northest, southest, eastest and westest”. That directional phrase was a corky saying my mom had adopted over the years. At that moment my tears turned from grief and despair to that of comfort and strength. In that moment I knew she was ready. In that moment I knew we’d be okay. In that moment I knew I’d made her proud and that she loved me more than I could ever understand.

We bailed Michael out of school early today because we wanted to make sure he had the chance to say whatever he needed to say. Doctors can predict timelines all they want, but they're seldom correct; sometimes you've gotta take matters into your own hands and be proactive. As you can imagine, Michael was very upset and left the room pretty quickly. I followed him over to a bench overlooking the water and the landing pad for the Nightingale. We were talking about how sometimes we don’t understand why things happen and that it completely and utterly sucks. Michael turned to me and said “sometimes God just needs to know the reason because we won’t understand or we don’t need to know right now”. I held the tears back as long as I could and replied with “I think you’re right”. He turned to look out the window and said “I think God needs mom in Heaven so that she can welcome granddaddy and be with her mom”. Michael was right. God needs backup in Heaven – someone to teach a course in hospitality, kindness, generosity, truth, praise and appreciation. He’s picked the perfect teacher. In those 900 seconds I found myself alternating sentences with one particular phrase. She didn’t respond to all of my apologizes or comments, but she always responded to one particular phrase: I love you. I must have told her a million bajillion times that I loved her. Every single time she would respond saying the same thing back. No matter what happens, whether she lives 300 more years or 3 more hours, I’ll never have heard “I love you” enough.

After those 900 seconds, I am at peace with my mother – I’ve apologized and expressed my gratitude, love and idolization for her and she knows she’s the best. The only regret I have is not saying “I love you” more, not just to her, but to anyone who ever deserved to hear it. Thankfully, I’m 22 and I can learn from this and address my lack of verbal affection. She’s taught me so many wonderful things and given me so many gifts to use and share with the world – I’d like to think she’s ready to watch me grow with a front row seat. She’s going to have the best time watching over all of her loved ones because she’ll finally get to be a part of everything – she can make it to Michael’s karate class, encourage me through taking a test and chill in Caroline’s JMU dorm room as often as she likes. She’s with us everywhere and more importantly, her spirit lives in us. We’ve been blessed by an angel that is about to earn her wings – she’s brought so much grace and love to this world and all we can do is celebrate her life and be thankful we were a part of it.

2 Kings 2:2 “As surely as the Lord lives and as you live, I will not leave you”.  

America's Game.

There's something I really like about baseball. In fact, I wish life were more like a baseball game. Baseball has specific rules that must be followed to ensure fun, safety and fairness. When you're at bat, the goal is to hit the ball. You don't wanna just hit it though, you wanna knock it outta the park so you can ensure a home-run. Everyone wants to get the game winning home-run. With that being said, games would be pretty boring if the same batter swung until he hit a home-run, so there is this thing called the three strikes rule. Basically, you get 3 mess ups and then you're out - done - no more turns. The game is much more complex but for the sake of what I'm trying to say, this explanation will suffice. If this is all you know about baseball - get the "At Bat" App on your iPhone, Go Padres! Sometimes I wish everything in life came with the three strikes rule: people and tragedies, more specifically.

If people participated in the three strikes rule, they would just walk around with tallies on their forehead for the world to see. Part of me thinks it would force people to behave in ways that are appropriate because everyone could see how many strikes they had. Wouldn't it be nice to know if someone had cheated before? Wouldn't it be nice to know if someone has ever intentionally used words to hurt another? Wouldn't it be nice to know if someone was lying? I've had my share of "friends" that weren't actually very friend-like and I've had my share of boyfriends that gave a whole new meaning to the word "jerk". I've been burned so many times over the years by people I thought deserved second or third or fourth chances at friendships and relationships. I finally understand that you can't force people to like you and you can't just wait around like a bump on a log to be noticed and adored. Sometimes I think that people need to be out - done - with no more chances.

I wish tragedies happened in three strikes too. My mom's cancer is insanely painful for my family and I wish I could trade places with her every day. I want Michael to grow up with a mom and I don't want to know what it'll be like without mine. But if this was my family's third strike...I'd be able to sleep a little easier tonight. If this was our third strike, my family wouldn't have to experience any more heartache or loss after this cancer. Having your heart broken once is tough, twice is unfair and three times is hopelessly cruel. I don't think anyone deserves to have their heart broken ever, but definitely no more than three times. On a lighter note, I've recently become addicted to this game on my phone - Jelly Splash. It looks easy and fun...until you die and have to wait 30 minutes for a new life. You'd be surprised how long 30 minutes actually is...it feels like forever. The game is so dumb. It's not worth waiting 30 minutes. Every time I die I threaten to delete the app. However, I always find myself desperately waiting for the game to reload and vowing that this time will be different.

What do batters think when they take to the field? I don't actually know, but they're probably thinking that this time will be different too. This time they have the opportunity to knock the ball outta the park. They have many more chances and three strikes to get the job done. Even if they struck out in the first five innings, there's a possibility they'll hit it in the sixth. I don't think this is an uncommon frame of mind. I often think "he didn't mean to say that" or "maybe he's changed" or "maybe she can't convey her feelings with the best words". I give people extra chances because I keep thinking they'll change their mind or improve on their perspective. I keep thinking that everyone deserves another chance at redemption. And until now, I haven't been entirely sure as to why?

God gives us multiple chances and opportunities...knowing and understanding that we're going to fail and disappoint him. I disappoint God all the time. I deliberately avoid talking and listening to Him frankly because I'm pissed my life is turning out this way. What if God had given us a three strikes rule...pretty sure I wouldn't have made it past the age of 4 if after three mess ups I was out - done - with no more chances. Disappointment happens every single day. Most of my disappointments come from risks - trusting someone with a secret, sharing feelings that should have been shared weeks ago and spending time with people you think are important. The risk is that sometimes you shouldn't share secrets or trust the people you want to...but I find that with risking disappointment there's the potential to find excellence and happiness. If we didn't give multiple chances there would never be any home runs. If we don't know a person's past we can't write-them-off unnecessarily or know if they'll be any different. If we don't share our feelings we miss out on a friendship or relationship that could last a lifetime.

So how do you know when enough is enough? How do you know when someone doesn't deserve another chance? This is when life isn't actually like a baseball game. You can't honestly give people three strikes and say "peace out" when they mess up three times. I mean you could, but you'd live a lonely life. I don't have the answer, but God does. In Matthew 18: 21-22 we learn how many chances we are to give others; "Then Peter came up and said to him, 'Lord how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times? Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven'". That's a lot of times we're allowed to mess up and be forgiven by God. If we were created in God's image...that means that we should allow people seventy times seven chances to mess up too. Basically, it means we should give people an endless amount of new opportunities and rid the world of grudges and hatred. As hard as it is to move on and forgive, we've been designed to do so and give that person or group of people another chance. I maintain that the three strikes rule would bring more accountability to our lives, but I understand that we're so much more than our mistakes. The next time you're at a crossroads and you're not sure whether to delete a Facebook friend or apologize? I encourage you to follow God's strike rule and give endless amounts of forgiveness and love.

Struggle

Lately I've struggled a lot with what to write in this blog. Is it possible I've run out of words to share and say? I've just lost a lot of my motivation. I'm disappointed in God. There I said it - I'm completely disappointed in his lack of support, guidance and comfort. I get so mad sometimes that I can feel crazy eyes bulging out of my face. I cry violently and yell at God. Once I calm down I think about how it really isn't his fault. He wouldn't have wanted any of this to happen to my mom or my family. But then I remember that he's the only person who could fix it...who could turn this all around and provide a miracle. But he hasn't...and that makes me really mad. The whole cycle begins to repeat.

I don't think I'm a crazy person though because I deal with these emotions, adversities and small tragedies every day. I deal with more crap than the average person my age. Some people realize that and other's really don't. I have to make choices every single day about where and how I'm going to spend my time. I'll be honest, these past three weeks have been some of the worst in my whole life. My mom's health is deteriorating rapidly - to the point where I haven't even been able to see her. I saw her for the first time in two weeks yesterday. We were encouraged to wear robes, masks and gloves when entering the room because the risk of multi-drug resistance (MDR) is high. That's just scary. She sleeps all day and when she's awake she either cries or moans in pain. It's not a pleasant situation. As a little kid I remember older relatives of mind passing away - I remember them in their awful, painful and sickly state. If I really push past that and think about their life, I can remember multiple fun occasions that would have been different without their presence. But it's those really hard memories that sit in the forefront of your brain - why that is I don't know. I just know that I never want to remember my mom in this way, so I resort to sorting through old photo albums and retelling fun stories from the past to anyone that will listen. I don't know how my dad sits there day in and day out - I guess he lives for the moments she's at peace sleeping. We all live for those moments...it's just hard to be there to witness them.

I can handle my dad being away from home 24/7 because I would want him by my bedside too if this ever happened to me...but it's hard for Michael to understand or think that way. Yesterday my dad called from the hospital and asked me to make a grocery list. Right before I hung up, Michael came running through the house screaming for the phone. I handed him the phone thinking "what could possibly be so important"? Michael got on the phone and said "Dad, it's me. I just wanted to tell you I love you". What was funny - Michael didn't even wait for my dad to respond - he said what he needed to say and threw the phone back at me to hang up. I asked Michael why he didn't wait for a response and he said "it's more important he hears it from me". He ran off to build something with legos and I stood there in the kitchen staring at the iphone in my hand. Of all the people to teach me a lesson about showing affection and love it would come from my 9 year old brother - typical. I talk to my dad on the phone probably more than anyone does these days because I'm confused about something he's asked me to do or I'm getting the 'okay' to order take out or making sure that the dishes in the dishwasher are dirty...I never think to call without a purpose, just to tell him he's a great dad and that I love him. I guess even that phone call has a purpose though - might even be a little more important than eating off dirty dishes too.

The devotion for today is from Ecclesiastes 4:9-12. We weren't created to be alone, but to be with other people - because together we are strong. The passage reads "two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken". Most of the time I feel alone, desperate for attention and affection. I forget that you have to give to receive. I typically don't call people to tell them I love them...I just don't. But maybe I should. Michael's right, sometimes it's more important that you give love rather than receive it. It might be more important to spread love to others rather than hoard it for yourself. I live in a world without the promise of tomorrow - I live in a world where it's easy for demons to dwell. I have to remember that God is present - whether He shows Himself or not - and expects me to love unconditionally and believe that maybe tomorrow will be better. He wants me to reach out and help my dad cope. He wants me to not be a coward when it comes to my feelings. He wants me to live a life filled with other people and not one of tears and isolation. This is no easy task and I have no doubt that I'll continue to make mistakes and doubt.

I think of faith sorta like riding a bike. Nobody in the history of bike riding was able to ride all the way to the end of the street the first time they started riding. First you learn to peddle, then you push off the ground yourself and then you figure out how to balance your weight so you don't topple over. If you were anything like me, you probably crashed your bike into the lone pine tree at Lakewood Park. My dad pulled all the pine needles out of my blonde hair, sat me back on that bike and pushed me off again. I don't remember if I wanted to try to ride again or not, but my dad knew it was important I learn. Eventually, with practice, riding a bike becomes second nature and is an enjoyable leisure time activity. Faith is something you have to work at - it's not something you can immediate perfect in a short amount of time, or ever. We need people to help pick us up when we're down. God gives us the people we need...but it's up to us to ask for the help. Nobody can read our minds and know exactly what to say - It'd be super nice if they could. Until that day comes we've gotta make those "I love you" phone calls and wait by the bedside for a miracle, no matter how hard it may be.