My Beautiful Mess

This day started with this:
“This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

Somewhere in the middle, came this:

“Love other people as well as you do yourself. You can’t go wrong when you love others. When you add up everything in the law code, the sum total is love.” Romans 13:8

Also came the understanding that I am who I am for a reason, for His purpose. My passions and giftings are needed. I no longer want to feel bad about that nor do I want to defend it. Doubts still tend to come, but not until recently have I felt the freedom to be completely who I am without regret. I’m sure this sounds like a dramatization but, on this day, for me it is a realization.

A new chapter in my life is on the horizon. A clear picture is not yet available. And sometimes in the waiting comes the doubts. Blessedly, I have people who believe in me. They encourage me to see the possibilities, to believe in my worth. More than that, I have the dawning of the truth that my worth lies in being His creation.

And so on this day, the sun sets with this:

^16-20Because of this decision we don’t evaluate people by what they have or how they look. We looked at the Messiah that way once and got it all wrong, as you know. We certainly don’t look at him that way anymore. Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! Look at it! All this comes from the God who settled the relationship between us and him, and then called us to settle our relationships with each other. God put the world square with himself through the Messiah, giving the world a fresh start by offering forgiveness of sins. God has given us the task of telling everyone what he is doing. We’re Christ’s representatives. God uses us to persuade men and women to drop their differences and enter into God’s work of making things right between them. We’re speaking for Christ himself now: Become friends with God; he’s already a friend with you. (1 Corinthians 5, from The Message)

And physically appeared like this:

Sometimes, I come home after facilitating one of my parenting groups at the non-profit where I work (part-time), completely drained. Sometimes it takes all I have to not break down and sob for my clients. Sometimes I do sob for my clients. Sometimes it is hard to merge the goodness I see daily in my own personal life with the darkness my clients see daily in their personal lives. Sometimes I want to shake my clients and scream “What were you thinking???!!” Sometimes they completely amaze me. Sometimes they get it. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I want to rescue them. Sometimes I want to slap them silly. Sometimes their pain burdens me deeply.

Not everyday do I feel this way….but I do sometimes….

But never do I stop and ask “Why am I doing this kind of work?” Never. I never doubt that I am doing exactly what I am suppose to be doing. This is my part, my part in the work of The Kingdom. Sometimes I don’t feel capable of doing this work, but never do I question why I continue to do it. But sometimes, like tonight, I just want to lay down on my bed and lay their pain down at His feet. Sometimes I intercede in prayer…but at all times, He is there - for me and for them.

My youngest is his own man. Some would call him “strong-willed”…his dad and I like to say “he has fire.” From the time he came out of the womb, he has always let you know exactly where he stands…on everything. You never have to guess - you ask him a question, you better be prepared for a straight answer. This can obviously be good and bad. I’m kind of a straight-forward-kind-a-gal myself so that works for me…until it doesn’t. Until it is Halloween and he tells our neighbors as he trick-or-treats at their doors “I don’t like that kind of candy; do you have anything else?.” Just tell them “no thank you”, sweetie. Until I ask him the name of the boy sitting next to him at school and he says “That’s so-and-so. He’s not my friend; he doesn’t make good choices.” We need to show love to everyone, sweetie.

But he really is so full of love! Both of them are. Lately, Little Man has taken to giving random hugs to people he hardly knows. And I just now received my nightly “night-night kisses.” He is so in tune with others emotions; he doesn’t miss much, even if you think he isn’t listening. After we were home from Texas, after Dad’s funeral, Little Man prayed that night at dinner “…and please make a new Papa for Mimi (my dad’s wife).” He was so worried about Mimi being by herself. Just last week he told me, “Mom, I saw a star outside and thought of Papa.” Childlike love - there’s nothing like it. They are so fresh from heaven, so in tune with His love.

And then when you bundle up that little love of yours in all of his snow gear so that he can sled down the icy driveway, you see that subtle balance of a little boy and a big kid. I feel so honored to be a witness of this journey from little boy to big kid and then - oh heaven help me - beyond. Motherhood really is walking around the world wearing your heart outside your body, isn’t it. Oh how I love this boy!

I’m sitting by myself this morning in one of my favorite little places, sipping coffee by myself. I unofficially decided last week that Friday mornings were going to become my time. A time to be still. Not a time to clean the house, not a time to run a bunch of errands. But a time to do something I want to do that I normally wouldn’t be able to do if I was with someone else. Make sense?

Last Friday worked out great because there was a Dad’s Celebration that morning at the boys’ school. My husband took the boys early to go get donuts which was of course more of a bonus. I didn’t even have to shower until 10am! So I crawled back in bed and read a book…for an hour and a half! It was awesome! I even resisted the urge to turn on the tv or radio as I got ready to pick-up the Little Man. It was completely silent in my house. And I was O.K. It is amazing how much you can hear from God if you turn off all the noise…though the “noise” it my head is sometimes harder to turn off.

Today, I’m feeling really cool as I sit with my laptop at a little table by myself, hooked up to the free wifi. Maybe I’ll even Twitter in a minute because…well, that is what cool people do. I may even pull out my book again …because….well….um…I’ve become addicted to these books. I have to admit that when I first heard about people reading these I thought, I am not reading about vampires - how dumb! Well, look who is dumb now! But maybe the laptop will still make me cool!

Happy Friday, Everyone!

Last week was a rough one. I find it harder to write here during weeks when the grief is heavy. I was caught off-guard last week, more than once, by the physical and subtle emotional qualities of grief - especially when they became not quite so subtle. It began on Monday.

I had an acquaintance come over to help me organize the photos that sit in my closet and in my computer (something I had hoped to not ever do!). While flipping through an album with her, I came upon pictures of Dad…and I stopped breathing. I actually had to tell myself Breathe, Jenn. Take a breath. It was only momentary but it jolted me. I have photos of Dad around the house…why did these photos do this to me?

My mom is a counselor, working on her LPC (Licensed Professional Counselor) and she volunteers as a group facilitator at a grief center. Ironic, huh. She said, “Jenn, the photos around the house are planned. The others weren’t.” Makes sense, but yet I was surprised at myself. [Note: Mom and Dad had been divorced for 12 years. Though I know she has some grief too since they were married for 25 years, she is able to separate some of that out, bless her.]

Then on Tuesday, I had a frustrating day at work. Because I am part-time and because the agency is going through a re-model, I have no permanent place to do work. Last week, I had to float from computer to computer to complete my work. Now, even on a good day that would frustrate my very AR/Type-A personality. But this was not a good day. It was all I could do to stay the 4 hours I was to work. Immediately upon leaving, I call my precious husband (bless him too!) and completely fall apart. I am sobbing uncontrollably. And I feel like a freak. What is happening to me?

Because it’s not like I can’t function on some level. I don’t go around thinking about Dad all day or thinking about how sad I am. I do the cooking and cleaning. I go to were I need to go. I have even been exercising. But it all takes…so…much…energy. I am so stinkin’ tired all of the time.

Today, my precious mom again gave me a saving grace. She emailed me a hand-out she had in her “grief file”. The title of it is YOUR ARE NOT GOING CRAZY. This is what it says, along with my thoughts:

Normal grief involves a variety of characteristics that are common after a death.  Most people who suffer the loss of a loved one experience one or more of the following:

Feel as though the loss isn’t real.  May feel numb or feel that this has not really happened. (I’m not really doing this one. But I do have moments that I feel numb or that I just don’t care about anything.)

Experience bodily distress of some type.  Tightness in the throat or heaviness in the chest.  Empty feeling in the stomach and loss of appetite.  Tired all of the time.  Difficulty sleeping. (yes to almost all of those.)

Lack of ability to function as before the death.  Feel their mood change over the slightest things, cry unexpectedly and at unexpected times.  Forget or don’t finish things they start.  Feel restless and look for activity.  Find it hard to concentrate.  Lack of organization. (this is so me - all of it. again, really messes with my normal Type-A self.)

Be preoccupied with the life of the deceased.  Need to tell and retell the experience of the loved one’s death. (sometimes - depends on the who I am with)

Be preoccupied with the image of the deceased.  May sense the loved one’s presence, hear their voice, or see their face.  Find themselves expecting the person to walk in the door, etc.  Dream of them frequently. (I have had one bizarre dream with Dad in it. But otherwise, I don’t do much of this - I think because he lived in Texas and I didn’t see him all of the time.)

Feel anger, guilt or hostility which may be directed toward the deceased, themselves, family members, friends, God, medical professionals, or the circumstances of the death itself. (I am not filled with anger but I do feel very cheated - we were suppose to have 4-6 months, not 2 weeks.)

Feel as though they need to take care of other people around them by politely not mentioning their feelings of loss. (yes, I do this.)

Today is a new week. I hope it is not quite as rough. Maybe it helps to know that this might be my temporary new “normal”. I know it won’t last forever. And I know, overall, I am O.K. But I am also acutely aware that grief is a process; this is something I have to go through. I know He is with me. I know He is my Hope and my Comfort. And I know that I miss my dad. All at the same time.

I guess it is time to tell some more of Dad’s story…something about the fog and drizzle…and the fact that I am worn out….makes me feel sad today.

It was a weird feeling, waiting for his surgery. On one hand, you want time to hurry up so we can just get “this” over with. On the other hand, if the news is going to be bad, you want time to stop, or to even go backwards. Back to before things felt scary and uncertain. Back to Daddy being healthy.

I talked to Dad every day on the phone - but with Dad, it is hard for him to have emotional conversations. So we talked about other stuff - the kids, the weather, how he was feeling today, etc. He was the only one during this waiting period that did not get on the internet and google “pancreatic cancer.” I think even that would have been too much for him - it was almost too much for the rest of us. Because you read things like “This year, approximately 37,680 Americans will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Statistically, 75% of them (28,260 people) will die within a year of their diagnosis. Within five years, only 5% will still be alive – a mere 1,884 people – and most of these will have a recurrence and eventually succumb to the disease.” And then you try to go to sleep. Don’t do things like that, O.K.

I remember that I ran errands one day by myself over that weekend. As I was coming home, the song Something Heavenly, sung by Sanctus Real, played on the radio. I had already loved this song but, that day, I was overcome by The Spirit. I felt again, that God was saying, Hold on, sweetheart, this is going to be rough. Trust that I am at work, that I am truly up to something Heavenly. And that I love you.

By the time I entered the house, I was sobbing. My precious husband looked at me and asked What is wrong? I begged him to promise me that God was up to something Heavenly. Because this feels like total chaos. Promise me that this is something bigger than me. Because otherwise, this ain’t worth it.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 33. She found the lump herself, over 20 years ago. She had a mastectomy, some radiation, and then eventually reconstruction surgery. Glory to The Most High, she has never had a problem since then.

But because of that history, I have already begun to have mammograms, and yesterday was my yearly appointment. Actually, I go on their “high risk” clinic days so I have a mammogram and then 6 months later they do an ultrasound on me. Have you had a mammogram yet? Let me, tell ya, sister - they ain’t fun. My sis-in-law and I have actually decided that they might be worse than your yearly pap! No wonder they have not made me the spokeswoman for early detection awareness, huh! Yet, I do advise you - get one - every year. Please.

So when I check in, they have me review my “Patient Information and History” forms. I am struck with a question that completely took my breath away: Has anyone in your family been diagnosed with ovarian, breast, or pancreatic cancer since your last visit?

WHAT?? Pancreatic?? Why is that in there?

Due to my mom’s young age at diagnosis and other factors about my medical history, they have calculated my risk of having breast cancer sometime in my life at 20.8%. The average woman’s risk is somewhere around 3-6%. So what in the world, I am thinking half-dressed with a stupid drape over me, will this pancreatic thing to do that risk?

A sweet, young genetics nurse comes in to see me, and does explain that an association has been found to exist between breast cancer and pancreatic cancer - something I knew nothing about. However, she explains, because on my mom’s side there is breast cancer and on my dad’s side there is pancreatic, this does not change my risk factors. If both had been on one side of the family, then that would make a difference. And yet, I found myself in a complete state of non-stop tears with this young gal who I had never met.

But guess what? She had lost her brother suddenly a few years ago due to a brain aneurysm. And the other nurse who runs the high risk clinic who I have seen during all of my previous appointments comes in, and she had lost her brother in September. So they knew. They knew grief. They used some of the same words I have been using to describe my current state of life. In short, they said to me “Me too.”

And I am hear to tell ya, shared grief is not so heavy.

So by Wednesday evening, Dad and my step-mom had talked with the GI doc who was planning on doing an endoscopy the next day to try to unblock a bile duct. This blockage was what was causing the jaundice and the weight loss. No bile to your stomach means no “juice” to digest your food properly and so then the bile goes into your system, turning you yellow (just fyi, jaundice in newborns is totally different). And, yes, there was discussion as to “what” might be blocking this duct, but of course we all remained hopeful that it would be a quick and easy procedure.

The next day was my youngest son’s birthday, and a work-day for me. But Dad was constantly on my mind. If I am remembering right, the procedure was to be done at 1:00 pm so I was expecting to hear from my step-mom shortly after 2:00 pm. When 5:00 pm began to approach and my little family was preparing to go celebrate birthday, I called my step-mom.

Hey, it’s Jenn, I say. Amidst tears is the reply, I know.

The GI doc had run into a hard mass and couldn’t even get to the bile duct. He said that 9 times out of 10, this was pancreatic cancer.

The next step was to talk to a surgeon. One thing I still don’t get is that they were going to have to totally open Dad up to get a complete picture of what was going on - was it cancer, had it spread, what organs were involved - we would know none of that until they opened him up.  The best surgeon to do the procedure (a whipple) would do surgery on November 5th. So on Halloween, they sent him home. I told Dad that the jaundice at least made for a good Halloween costume!!

You have to laugh - or you’ll just end up in sobbing heap on the floor.

On Wednesday mornings, I can normally be found volunteering at my sons’ school. And so I was on this particular morning when my cell phone rang. I get horrible cell reception inside the school so my phone rang twice and then stopped. I looked at the caller ID which said “Dad”. I though to myself I’ll call him after I leave the school. Dad (who lives in Texas) and I frequently talk on the phone each week so I thought he was just calling to say “hey.” But then my phone rings again and it says “Dad” again - when it finally dawns on me - it says “Dad” not “Dad Work” which meant that he was at home. So I decided I should go outside to try to call him back. And so the story begins….

Dad begins to tell me that he has been “yellow” (jaundiced) since the weekend. He had gone to his doctor yesterday and had blood work done. Today, he tells me, the doctor called me back. He says he had a gastroenterologist look at my bloodwork in Amarillo and thinks I better come check myself into the hospital so they can see what is going on…oh, and I’ve lost 17 pounds.

Dad had prostrate cancer almost 3 years ago. He had a big surgery to remove his prostrate in December of 2005 and has been fine since then. Since then…..

As I cried in front of the school, The Spirit told me then, Hold on. This is going to be rough.

I have been on a significant journey for over a month now. I think I am ready to write about some things  - about our story. A story that has been messy yet with moments that are beautiful. I don’t know if anyone will read this - not many read this blog previously - but as usual, I find myself blogging for myself. I have a need for expression. A need for this “digital journal/scrapbook of my life.” But I do hope that if anyone can relate to my story, this would be a place were someone will say to you, “Me too.” Two of the most powerful words in the human language, in my opinion. So I will begin chronicle my story - though I may interrupt it occassionally with the current happenings of life. Because though at times I would like life to just stop so I can process the recent past, it does not - life goes on. And so does this blog…