Christmas...A New Understanding

Christmas…

It’s always been my favorite time of the year.

When my parents were blessed with their house, one of my childhood dreams was fulfilled: A fireplace! With the fireplace crackling, and the snow falling outside of the picture window, every Christmas imagination I’d ever had, came true…We had an enormous Christmas tree full of sparkling things, and the world was absolutely perfect.

Christmas with my family is a gift from God.

I remember the first Christmas after Hannah died; as much as it hurts me to think about those memories, it serves to put Christmas in the light it’s meant to be seen through.  Jesus, the Son of Man…the Man Who wept at Lazarus’ grave…

His arms were around me that day, and I know He cried, too…

I cried myself to sleep that day, as my family helplessly stood by…

So many tears were shed in that first…second…third year…

I spent as many nights as possible in our family room, just staring at the fireplace, wishing I were anywhere but in the life that I had. 

David and I had nothing left…

Of course, we had a family that loved us; we had a roof over our heads, and I had a job. The lights stayed on, the cars stayed running, and life carried on

With a huge, missing chunk and an ugly hole in our hearts…

Time keeps ticking, though, and the years have gone by.  I’ve never forgotten that Christmas, though-the Christmas where the grief was so tangible, where the feeling of being abandoned, but of being held, was so strong…It’s very easy for me to go back to that place, and to remember that intensity.

If I could go back to that grieving mother…to that grieving family…and say anything

I don’t think I would.

We were all shaped that Christmas; we were all molded. From the grandmother that felt as if she were watching her children in a burning building of pain; to the mother that felt like her heart had been ripped out; to the father who didn’t know how to handle his wife or his own grief, and only knew to be strong arms; to the sister who saw it all spin helplessly out of control; to the grandfather who had let down his walls to fall in love with a tiny baby, only to see her fly away…

We were all molded and shaped.

We’re all missing that little puzzle piece.

The greatest gift, and the worst gift, I received that Christmas was a pair of earrings that said “#1 Mom.” I literally buried them in my jewelry box.

I wore them on Mother’s Day this year for what I believe is the first time.

Why would I bring this up?

Just as the snow is falling; just as the trees are being lit?

Why would I reintroduce such a sad memory?

Because it’s with me every Christmas.

Not a Christmas will go by that I don’t appreciate.

Not a Christmas will go by that I don’t compare to the most heartbreaking Christmas of my life;

Every time I do, I will rejoice and be thankful that those are days I never have to go through, again.

Every time I think about the Worst Christmas, I will celebrate The Best Christmases of My Life…which is pretty much every one I’ll have from this point, on.

I reminded my mom of my Best Christmas Ever: I was incredibly sick; I’d been sick in my bedroom, and I was miserable. I came down our stairs to find an enormous Sylvester, and a full set of furniture for my dolls. I grabbed Sylvester (and Tweety, naturally); curled up on the couch, and went to sleep.

The site of those amazing toys made me so happy; I still remember the intensity of that emotion, even though it had to be almost 30 years ago.  I can jump right back into that memory, and it still makes me smile….

Because of the hardest Christmas ever, I am afraid to hope for this Christmas. I’m afraid that once I verbalize my dream, it will be snatched away. It’s a struggle I’ve had since before Bug was born. Although I’ve not held back any emotion or love from him, it’s made me not want to verbalize my hopes and dreams for certain things. It’s also made me stomp my foot, stand my ground, and make myself say it anyways. I don’t know how long he has; I don’t know how long I have. I’m increasingly aware that we’re all on a countdown, and God alone knows when it stops. Rather than hide under the fear that keeps us from declaring and from going forward, I’d rather set my face and take my chances…even when I’m scared to death to put my heart out there.

I want to embrace the excitement.

What does he think of this season? I want to see it how he sees it…He laughs as we drive home in the dark, when we pass the houses with all of their lights. He’s fascinated by the sequined tree skirt, by how it catches the light. He wants to touch everything, to feel the textures…and of course, he wants to put EVERYTHING in his mouth.

He’s incredibly active, crawling, touching, standing, picking up, reaching, smacking, slobbering, and the sweetest of all—he’s hugging. The days when I pick him up at the babysitter’s are when it hits me the most, how much he’s grown: He crawls toward me with a big smile, clapping to see my face. This week, he grabbed my ears and pulled my face close to his, so he could bite my nose.

It’s the most beautiful moment of my day.

How could I hold back?

How could I let fear stop me from embracing these moments?

From hoping for a future?

From believing for His plan, for His hope, for His destiny for me? For my child?

How could I let the fear and pain of Christmases past, cloud any of the joy in Christmas today?

I can’t.

I won’t.

I will celebrate this Christmas; I will embrace this season…I AM embracing this season.

I’m finding that like last Christmas (only amplified), that songs about The Child are affecting me deeply. I can’t imagine what Mary went through—no clean hospital, no knowledgeable staff or medications; no ERs or nurses, or even her mother to hold her hand…no sterilization, no clean towels…

Not even a bed, to lay her Newborn in.

“Away in a Manger” has never made me cry before…I can’t even listen to it this year.

How could He bring Himself into this world? “No crib for a bed?”

My son relies on my husband and I for everything—food, shelter, water, love…clean diapers, toys, health.

The Son of God needed someone to change His diaper, to rock Him to sleep…

Did she understand?

He had to learn to walk…to fall down, and bump His head…

To cry…

To be hungry…

To be broken…

How great is our salvation?

I think about my son, and I think about The Son, and I’m stunned…why, oh why, did He do that? How could He? How can He see us as worthy?

How can He see our broken hearts, and our broken messes in life, yet find us worthy of such sacrifice? How can He see our pain, and cry with us? How can He see our joy (compared to what He knows), and laugh with us? How, and why, can He love us?

He became like us…one of us…He knows us from the inside out, and still redeems us…He still gives us hope. He still has faith in us, which is amazing…

It’s the time of year when the whole world sparkles; it’s a season of hope, yet our news is full of people in pain and in sadness.  Celebrating the season doesn’t make the darkness go away…it does remind people of family and tradition, of stories and of imagination, even in the secular world.

For me, it reminds me of childhood…of deep and painful memories…of healing, and most of all, of hope…

My son will most likely not remember his first Christmas.

I, for one, will never, ever forget it…

I have never been more thankful for my Savior, than when I see Him reflected in my own child…I have never appreciated His sacrifice like I do in this moment. This Christmas feels like MY first Christmas…it feels like I’m seeing it through a completely different set of lenses. The emotion of this season is overwhelming…I want to shake people, to ask them if THEY GET IT. Do they SEE it? Do they feel it? When they hear “a Child, a Child, shivers in the cold; let us bring Him silver and gold,” do their hearts break for a King that became helpless? For a King Who cried when He needed His mother’s touch?

He became we…

I know this blog is long…I know I’ve gone on for a long time, but I’m entrenched in this…

It’s not just about Christmas…

It’s about motherhood…about being His Child…about seeing Him in my child…about seeing Him with new eyes, and with a new heart….It’s about realizing His true humility, and the reality of what He did at the beginning of His story on earth…

It’s about rediscovering joy in the midst of heartache, about finding the new with respect to the old…

It’s about believing in the possibility of the unexpected…about declaring that the formerly-impossible is happening.

It’s about the gift of the present…the Presence…

It’s about the celebration of the Sacrifice…how it gives us such Hope, Peace, Joy, Happiness…

Christ is Christmas…no amount of pain or joy can change that.

May this season be one of eyes being opened to the Truth of the holiday…of hearts being broken for Him, and repaired by His love…of Hope for the future, and of Destiny in His grace…May you celebrate The Child and the Sacrifice with true understanding…

May you have the ultimate Joy this season…

Thankful...('Tis the Season?)

Oh, the "thankfulness" trend that strikes Facebook every November! It's almost as if to say, "I'll find something to be thankful for this month...but the other 11 months of the year, I'm using Facebook as my personal barf bag of whine."
(Cynical, Cass? Sheesh, that's sarcastic even for me!)
I'm kidding...mostly! I've been listening to the Bobby Bones show on The Bull, in the morning. It's hilarious-it's a far cry from the political garbage I had been assaulting my brain with, and it keeps me entertained while I'm on the long drive. This morning, he was talking about weird things that people whine about on Facebook, and I so understood!
Disclaimer: I have bronchitis, and I was griping about it yesterday on Facebook. So, I'm totally guilty of this from time-to-time. I'm willing to admit that I will occasionally use Facebook as a soapbox in my pity party. I'm sorry, and I will try to do better.
Bobby Bones talked about how he blocks the chronic complainers, and I had to wonder if that's me? How often do I complain on social media? Even if it's a little bit, it needs to change, right? Especially as a Christian:  "Yeah, everybody! Find Jesus like I did--isn't my life AWESOME?!?!?"
Um, NO.
Fail.
This doesn't mean I'm relinquishing my love of Grumpy Cat...but it definitely means I will be rethinking my posts even more than I already do. And he has me thinking about blocking the feed of the chronic complainers that I know on Facebook...You know, the ones who never say anything good or happy...the ones that criticize everything...the ones that rain on everyone else's parade? It's too awkward to unfriend them, because I know they'd know...So, thanks to Mr. Bones, I'm going to start blocking people that I find depressing. And I'm going to determine more than ever to be the opposite of that. You should WANT to be my friend on Facebook. You should find me uplifting, amusing, and some kind of a testimony, no matter how broken I am. Even broken things can be used as vessels for something.
I usually try to keep it humorous on Facebook, as a rule, because no matter what, life is funny. There's ALWAYS something to laugh at....you just have to look really, really hard to find it, sometimes.
In this season of thankfulness, though, I wanted to jump on the bandwagon. You see, this just might be my favorite holiday (besides Christmas) in spite of the sad memories that go along with it. Thanksgiving, 11/28, marks 7 years since my beautiful princess Hannah passed away. It's been 7 years since we said goodbye, and those memories are never far from my brain.
This Thanksgiving will be the first truly Happy Thanksgiving we've had ever since, and I am so excited to celebrate it. My in-laws throw the conventional celebration (with the best stuffing and Fried Turkey that you could EVER dream of), with too many people in too small of a house...with paper plates, and loud noises, and lots of family. It will be crowded, sweaty, and fun, and I will be chasing my little guy all over the place (he's mobile, and there are stairs).
My  mother will serve an incredible, beautiful feast of Lord-only-knows what. I'm always both shocked and impressed at what makes its way onto her Thanksgiving table...It might be her super-cheesy broccoli noodles, or Hawaiian bread, or Chinese cole slaw--who knows? What stays the same every year is that it is a lovely gathering of the ones who I hold most dear in my life...And I will be chasing my little guy all over the place, in a much larger house that offers many more shiny things for him to crawl toward.
I can't wait to make these memories. I'm so thankful for my families...for my Mom, who takes care of my little guy several days a week...who always takes care of me...who drives me crazy in the best and worst of ways, and who always points me to Jesus...who has taught me more about serving than anyone on this planet...I'm thankful for my Dad, and for his gruffness...for teaching me to stand up for myself, and that you can do anything you set your mind to, if you have the right tools (what are those?!?). I'm thankful for my in-laws, and for their kindness in helping us through difficult financial times...for their willingness to share their blessings with all of their kids, and for never shaming us when we've had to ask for help.
I'm looking forward to this Thanksgiving with such hope and such happiness...there is more to be thankful for in this season than most people know. David and I are changing directions in how we look at need....what do we really "need," and what do we we really "want?" It's a frustrating transition, but it's a necessary one. I'm thankful to have our needs met, and that our wants are honestly, few. We have each other; we have our little miracle guy. We have electricity, running water, and a refrigerator that's full.
Most of all, we have a Lord that has blessed us with His love...with His grace, which is so sufficient. He's blessed us with things like forgiveness, for when we take our griping to a public forum--of course we should do the same (and more often!) with our thankfulness!
I'm so thankful for my family. I'm thankful for the time I get to spend with all of them, and for a little bit of time off of work.
I'm thankful that we are creating new, happy memories to offset some very sad ones...but even those very sad memories have moments of brightness that I still recall, and that I'm grateful for.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all...I am grateful for my friends who remind me, one way or another, that every day deserves a laugh...
Proverbs 31: "She can laugh at the days to come."
That's true....but sometimes I think there's just as much value in being able to laugh at the days past...

Croup.

I’m totally drowning in ADD today, which should serve as your warning to NOT expect cohesive thoughts in this blog. In fact, I think I’m writing this strictly because I need to get linear.

We had our first illness with JD this week.

For all of the haters out there that expected me to fall apart at the first sign of illness, take a leap. I did just fine. I didn’t overreact and rush my son to the ER; I didn’t hyperventilate or start a prayer chain at 2:00 am. I didn’t even really have too much of an issue with flashbacks.

I’m kind of proud of myself—I embraced the grace, and got it done. I did my “Mom” thing (with a LOT of help from my Mom, who is officially The Wizard).

He started wheezing at 10; I asked David if we should do something. “What would we do?!? Go to bed,” was the groggy response. By midnight, my son was making this horrible, cat-like cry with a barking gasp for air.

Croup.

I googled it at first, because it’s what I thought it was; I took him outside, praying all the while that the cool, night air would help. Nope.

I called the doctor’s exchange, and was connected to the nurse hotline. A very kind, compassionate nurse could hear my poor boy over the phone, and dispatched us to the Emergency Room, where the official diagnosis was given, followed by breathing treatments and steroids. I texted my mother; she and my dad drove the 45 minutes to meet us at the hospital.

I think my parents saved our lives; at the least, they saved our sanity, because we needed them. Everything was starting to feel reminiscent—the ER, the mask, the horrible breathing—my thoughts were becoming attackers, and I needed my mom and dad to reground me.

JD was there for over 4 hours, for observation (they had to watch for reactions to the medication); he was released around 6 am, and we all went back to my house to grab some sleep.

I had my own medical plans for the day; as my appointment that afternoon drew closer, I noticed that Bug’s breathing was starting to sound bad again, so I called the pediatrician. They recommended us to Cardinal Glennon…and that’s where I lost it. Totally.

David was at work; my mom was napping, and it was just me and Dad in the living room. One mention of “Cardinal Glennon,” and my fragile psyche crumbled. I pulled it together when nurse said I could take him to a different hospital that was closer—that was fine; I could handle that. After a second round of a stronger steroid, JD responded incredibly well, and we came home to baby that was much more like my little guy.  He’s still raspy; we have 5 days before this virus gets out of his system. But, he’s playing, eating, and doing what he’s supposed to do, so I’m happy with that…

Anyway, while my mom stayed with us a few days, he did really well; last night, I think he had a bad night, and it took me hours to get him back to sleep. As I write this from my sleep-deprived-and-Starbucks-fueled brain, I can’t help but reflect on the sheer panic that went through me at the mention of Glennon. I mean, it wasn’t even rational; it was a total flashback/PTSD moment that was crippling. Seeing your child so miserable really does rip your heart out. It’s a terrible, horrible feeling of helpless hell.

I know we aren’t guaranteed a perfect life. We will encounter illness, owies, bumps, bruises, and potentially, breaks (with a boy, that’s pretty much guaranteed). I don’t think that JD is the one who’s going to need to toughen up…

Pretty sure that’s going to be me.

Christmas Catalogs and Margaritas...

This blog started as a reflection of how I spent my late daughter’s birthday, but as I started to write it, it transitioned. 

I’m not going to lie—I’ve been struggling lately. Church is the last place I want to be, even though I really like it. I don’t want to hug, or smile, or act like I’m fine; in fact, if you want the God-honest truth, what I really want is a night out with some girlfriends and some margaritas (and a cab). It’s not like me to want a drink…okay, multiple drinks…But lately, it’s not too far from my mind. I’m feeling overwhelmed, and a little misunderstood by those closest to me. It’s okay—they don’t have to understand me. I feel more alone than I should, but that’s because I’m not telling key people how I really feel. And it’s not like I want to dissolve into tears or anything (I can neither confirm nor deny that’s happened over the past few days) I don’t WANT to share how I feel…I want to hide in a corner—but I can’t, and that’s a good thing.

I have work to do…

And I have smiles waiting for me when I get home, that make me get my game face on and do what needs to be done.

After all—I’m a woman. Isn’t that what we always do?

The world can fall apart, but we will put our makeup on, and put our high heels forward. Our backs hurt; our feet hurt, and our head is splitting, but darn it, our kids are clean, the laundry’s done, and there’s money in the checking account (although Lord knows it’s not there for long). 

I have so much respect for my mother—she did it all, and she had to feel like she was stuck in the middle of a tornado.

I know I do.

How it’s possible, to have such joy co-habitating in my heart with such temporary sadness, I don’t know. I know that I don’t focus on the sad parts too much; going to the cemetery on Hannah’s birthday was certainly a help, but it’s not easy.

There is more in this world that tells you you’re a terrible parent, than tells you you’re a wonderful parent…which just means there’s more in this world for me to ignore, because I’m doing my best.

Looking at the toy catalogs for this this year, I looked at Bug and shook my head: How in the world can I possibly give him his best life, when I know good and darn well that he’s going to grow up on Aldis and Target?!?

For just a few minutes, the room started to spin; then my Mama put me back in my place.

No, I can’t afford the fancy diapers or the name-brand formula.

Yes, I have mostly-second-hand cloth diapers that I use in conjunction with off-brand diapers and off-brand formula on my child that is dressed in clothes from Goodwill (as am I).

Yes, I drive a 15-year old car that has more cosmetic damage than I do.

No, I don’t go to fancy restaurants or even to the movies.

No, I don’t have cable.

My child will not be growing up with a Playstation or his own smartphone.  Our world is not one of organic, grass-fed Whole Foods steaks…Our world is one of Wal-Mart discounts and coupons, and maybe if you’re lucky, breakfast at Bread Co. or lunch at Crazy Bowls ($6! Yeah!).

As much as I want to give my son the world on a silver platter, it’s going to be a simple life..  

He’s not the only one that has to be happy with that—I have to be happy with that. Not only do I have to be happy with that; I have to be at peace with knowing that I am a good parent even though my child doesn’t have his own iPad (Heck, I don’t even have my own iPad! Full disclaimer: I have a Nook.). I’m not giving a toddler a $600 piece of electronic equipment to call his own, and I am not afraid to sit here and call that foolishness. JD is going to have to be happy with the toys that he has, and I am going to have to be happy believing that it’s not the toys that help him learn; it’s my interaction with him.

My fear is that our not buying him the coolest electronic toys will cause him to not be as technologically advanced as other kids his age, when he starts school…but I have to think that those kids that are exposed to that level of neuro-affecting electronics are probably at a higher risk of ADHD, so I’m probably on the right track.

I have to take every fear I have—even the silly ones—and give them to the Lord. I have to counter the fears and falsehoods with His truth and His reality. I have to take the sad moments, the moments when I look at our life with JD, and wonder how Hannah would have changed it, and I have to give those moments to Him before they wreck my world. I can’t sit here and dwell on them, because then I will become just as stuck as Lot’s wife.

I have to trust God.

I have to trust Him with everything from our dwindling bank accounts, to JD’s education and future, to my marriage, my car, and my job. I have to do what I do for Him, because I trust Him to take it and make it into something beautiful.

This is not the life I planned for me, but this is the life that I have.

And this is the life that I love.

I’m in a rough patch (man, those margaritas sound awesome), and even at its worst, I know it’s only temporary. I’ll be on the other side of it soon.

But even if it takes me a while to cross through, I know it will be okay.

God is still God; I am still not; and the world is so much better for that…

When I walk in my front door, I know that a few things will happen, no matter how awful the moment/day/week: JD will smile his beautiful, teething grin when he sees me. The dog will bounce and wag her tail, in a showing of total happiness.

The roof will still be over our heads, and the lights will still be on; there will still be food in the refrigerator, and the fact that it’s not name-brand organic food will not stop it from being delicious.

My son will drink his non-name-brand formula, and my dog will eat her name-brand dog food; I will wear my 5 year-old nightgown and drink water instead of wine.

We’ll watch Netflix  instead of cable, and we’ll enjoy one of the few expenses we  haven’t cut: wi-fi. We’ll talk about our day, and we’ll chase our son, and when we go to bed, we’ll thank the Lord that we’ve survived another work week.

And in my home that will never keep up with the Jones,’ we will fall asleep in a house that is rooted in Christ, and is full of love.

That, my friends, is happiness.

10 #Random Things...

So many thoughts are currently swirling around my sleep-deprived brain, that I decided to make a list. Maybe this way, I can excise 10 things OUT of my brain, and can focus on a few more things that are probably more important:

• 1.       Your co-workers may only “pretend” to like you…but if you bring them chocolate, the feeling will be genuine for the 5 minutes it takes for them to eat it.
• 2.       Grief hits you at the most bizarre moments. I was standing at the fax machine, and suddenly realized that my daughter’s birthday is in exactly 1 week. For that brief moment, I wanted to sit on the floor of the office and cry. It was a fleeting moment; no one around knew anything different. But for me, I had to stop and catch my breath before I could continue…for just that moment.
• 3.       Waxing your own eyebrows while trying to have a conversation with your husband and keep an eye on a mobile child will undoubtedly result in half of your eyebrow suddenly going missing. Don’t look too closely at my face for at least 2 weeks.
• 4.       The more I listen to conservative radio, the angrier I get at the “Affordable” Care Act. If the government would have handled their first run at insurance in a cost-effective, efficient way (Medicare/Medicaid), then I wouldn’t mind. But the facts don’t lie: Medicare and Medicaid are a poorly monitored, overtly-abused mess that is enabling/entitling people. Medicare/Medicaid cost us billions, yet the same government wants to run our healthcare? Bad idea, guys. Let healthcare providers handle healthcare. The government messes up every single program they get their hands into. Healthcare CAN NOT be dependent on boneheads who simply will not get along! After a week of listening to conservative radio (why in the WORLD does Dave Glover play some stupid song about "Chimpanzees Riding on a Segway?!?"), I finally feel like I've caught up in the world of politics. I don't know if that's a good thing. I've become very familiar with Glenn Beck and Dana Loesch, and I'm genuinely surprised at how much I like their shows. We don't always agree, but I'm always entertained and educated...
• 5.       I see a lot of Facebook posts that insult people on welfare. I used to post those things, too, until a friend of mine made me realize how brutal it sounded. There are so many people who are abusing the system, that it’s made us forget that there are people who genuinely want to get off of it. They want a better life; they don’t want to be on welfare, or be attached to that stigma. They’re doing the best they can. You can’t post something anti-welfare and expect it to make an impact on the people who are milking the system. All you’re going to do is hurt the feelings of the people who need that system. And really, the bottom line? If the church did what Jesus called us to do, there would be no need for the welfare system. I get it—there’s nothing more annoying to me, then seeing someone with expensive acrylic nails swipe a food stamp card. That pisses me off. But I’ve been the mom who cries in her car because she has to get WIC and she’s mortified (we were both unemployed for most of my pregnancy with Hannah). I was so ashamed, and I’ve never forgotten it. You don’t know who is in what position, so stop the mean posts. It could be you (I certainly never thought it would be me).
• 6.       My son is mobile. He’s scootching forward (yes, “scootching” is a word) when he hits tile, and he’s into everything. He really, really likes cords, so I think I’d like to hire some magician to come into my house, and figure out how to keep everything running, but hide the cords. Any takers? Watching him try to figure out how to get something he wants is an object lesson everyone should see. I think he may have a determined streak like his Auntie..
• 7.  I'm not entirely sure who the baseball geniuses are that scheduled the games, but every home game is on a night that I don't have to drive downtown. I'd like to kiss the scheduler! #GoCards #WorldSeries (Speaking of, I'll never forget listening to the World Series while I was in the hospital waiting to have Hannah. It was a really fun time at MoBap! And I guess my children will both have baseball ties; JD was born on the day of Stan Musial's funeral.)
• 8.       If I hear the weatherman say “Alberta Clipper” one more time, I’m going to smack him. I have no idea why I find that phrase so annoying, but I do. #BlameCanada
• 9.       I just realized that there are a LOT of things from Canada that totally annoy me: Justin Bieber. Anne Murray. Avril Lavigne. Nickelba…can’t even type their name. People who say “eh.”  I’m sure there are more things, but I can’t think of them right now.
• 10.  I'm teaching a poetry workshop on Saturday at GHOP. I'm excited, nervous, and praying that I don't stick my foot into my mouth. I'm hoping that God pours an extra measure of grace on my brain, because although this is something I've always wanted to do, I've never done it, and I feel sorely underqualified!  I'm gathering my materials, and I hope I have a strong presentation for my first run...

And THAT is my list of 10 Random Things Swirling Around in My Brain! #GoCards