Hanging On and Letting Go

In writing that last post (and in searching through boxes of Christmas stuff for a bone-shaped stocking for Max), I thought about all the decorations that remain in their boxes downstairs. In over 20 years of marriage, we've accumulated a lot of Christmas things!  As I thought about what I pulled out to display and what I left in boxes in the laundry room, I discovered something...

I'm hanging on tightly to what's important and letting a lot of the "fluff" go.  I don't know that I even realized it until just now, but from Christmas decorations to relationships to how I spend my time--that's what I've been doing.  Hanging on to what's important and letting go of the fluff.

Maybe that's a speck of beauty from the ashes of the last 16 months...the realization that some things (both tangible and intangible) are important and need to be hung onto, while others are just fluff and can--and should--be let go.

Trust me, there's still more "fluff" in my life than I'd like, but suddenly, I have some clarity regarding what to do with it.

O, Christmas Tree

and the memories of Christmases past...

In 2008, I remember spending hours sitting near the Christmas tree, staring into the lovely multi-colored lights that lined its branches.  I had been so sick with my third pregnancy, I hadn't had the energy to put up the tree.  My Emily, however, was eager to show me how "big" she was by doing it herself.  (This is the same child that, as a toddler, would climb back down out of the van before I got her strapped into her seat just so she could climb in by herself!)

As I directed her on how the tree went together and shared my special "trick" for putting the lights on as you go, she was so pleased to see the final result as it stood in our living room.  We added our very favorite ornaments, each one with its own place in our family story.  From ornaments we received as wedding gifts to "Baby's 1st Christmas" ornaments for both Emily and Grace to sweet homemade ornaments made with little handprints to little bells and tiny stockings knit by my great-aunt, we had a tree covered with a story.

I spent many hours praying as I lost myself in the branches of that tree.  I prayed my baby would be okay.  I prayed for strength to make it through all the uncertainties.  I often wept as I prayed, my tears conveying what I could not find the words to express.  We hadn't planned on this baby.  The timing was undeniably God's.  He just had to make things right, didn't He?

After Christmas, I was excited to find some red plaid flannel pajamas for Emily and Grace--in sizes that would surely work the next Christmas.  Amid visions of an adorable Christmas picture of my big girls with their new baby brother or sister, I tucked those pajamas away, having no idea of the emotions that would one day be tied to red plaid flannel.

The details of Christmas 2009 aren't so clear.  I muddled my way through it, still in a such a state of sorrow, shock and disbelief.  I was engulfed in wonder at how this could now be my life...how I could go from safely delivering a beautiful baby girl in May to losing her in the last moments of lung surgery in August.

I remember not wanting to put up the tree and not wanting anyone else to put it up, either.  I didn't want to hang the stockings.  I didn't want to "do" Christmas.  Deciding that it wasn't fair to my family to ignore the holiday, I asked Will to find us an "easy" tree...one that wouldn't take up so much of the living room, one that already had lights on it, one that wasn't covered in memories.

He and Emily brought home as perfect a tree as could be found in our small town.  Its branches had white lights already attached and became home for the memorial ornaments we had received.  I had some ornaments made, too, using photos of each one of us with Kristen.  The girls and I strung popcorn to hang as garland.  I bought some new red ornaments that were a beautiful complement to the white lights.  Like my life, it was very different.

And now, faced with another December, I've had to consciously make decisions about how we will celebrate Christmas 2010.  Our Advent wreath adorns the dining table.  The girls still love to light those candles.  I love that it keeps us all focused on the right things...the hope, the love, the joy and the peace of Christmas.

This year, we have not one, but three Christmas trees!  Upstairs, we have the old one I love. 

Downstairs, we have "Kristen's Christmas Tree" (the "easy" tree Will bought last year). 

There's certainly nothing "easy" about what it represents, but what began last year as an attempt to have a little bit of Christmas continues as a new tradition.  Even though Kristen isn't here with us, and she never got to be a part of our old Christmas traditions, she's become a part of our new ones. 

The third tree is a little 4-foot pre-lit Walgreens special (formerly our classroom Jesse tree) that I let the girls decorate with some of their own special ornaments.

Each of those trees tells its own story. 
Certain chapters bring smiles and warm feelings.  Others bring tears. 
Yet others sing with the promise of hope!

I can't say that anything this Christmas season has been easy...because it hasn't.  I've had to be very intentional about many things.  I can't say that I've not wanted to just crawl into bed and stay there with the covers over my head until January...because I have.  But, I also can't say that I haven't felt the true meaning of Christmas more deeply this year than in years past...because I have.  And I can't say that I don't know what it's like to be held by my heavenly Father...because I do.  He continues to carry me day by day.

Thanksgiving

I had another post I'd been working on, but this one bubbled its way to the surface first.

Our Thanksgiving last year is a bit of a blur to me. Our losses were still so very fresh, and my heart was broken. The baby who was supposed to be with us, wasn't. And I hadn't even begun to process my mom's death at that time. The one thing that jumps out at me, however, when I think back to last Thanksgiving is that I never heard Kristen's name.

We spent the holiday with family, yet no one mentioned our daughter's name. Our tragic loss was the elephant in the room that no one was willing to acknowledge. Conversation, like electricity, seemed to follow the path of least resistance. I was very deeply hurt. I let that hurt fester into anger, and I've held onto that anger. Oh, I've "worked" on it, but not seriously. I've given it over to God (many times), only to take it back (many times).

I'm making steps in the right direction. And I will continue. Tonight, in the midst of preparing pumpkin pies, cranberry sauce and homemade rolls, I had a thought. I'd love to be able to share some scripture and a few words of thanksgiving with all who gather around our table tomorrow. I know, however, that my emotions would get the better of me...they always do. So I will share in a different way, acknowledging the losses of those who gather with us, but more importantly, giving thanks to the God who sustains us.  I created and framed the following, which will sit out for all to see:

 

Have a meaningful Thanksgiving.

He Giveth More Grace

After cleaning up the kitchen tonight, I sat down at the computer and found myself looking through the bookmarked sites on my web browser.  Though I may look for a specific bookmark fairly often, I don't just look through them all on a regular basis (though based on the number I have out there, I probably should!).  I found a few that I didn't need anymore (and I deleted them), and I found a couple of really good ones that I was glad to see again.  As I continued to peruse the very long list, I found one that didn't look familiar, one titled "He Giveth More Grace."  When I clicked on the bookmark, I found a beautiful poem written by Annie J. Flint:

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

As I said, I have a lot of sites bookmarked, but I don't remember ever seeing this before, nor have I heard the hymn.  The fact that I can't explain how these beautiful words made their way in front of me tonight makes them even more meaningful.  And timely (it's been a rough week).  I need to be reminded of the amazing grace I receive daily.  I need to be reminded that when I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, God is waiting there for me.  I need to be reminded that His grace, His mercy, His peace are there when the trials and afflictions come.  Through His limitless power and love, I received tonight the gift of that beautiful reminder...and more grace.

Hard Things

I read recently that life is a series of losses.  The losses we experience over our lifetime are not only the result of physical death; they include less tangible disappointments as well (missed promotions, loved ones moving away, lost opportunities).

Each successive loss can complicate things.  A new loss, whatever its nature, will often dredge up old feelings or intensify fresher hurts. And when they seem to happen in rapid succession, they can be completely overwhelming.

Last week was a week full of hard things.  I'm still a little emotionally tuckered out.

My husband's uncle was killed in a car accident a week and a half ago.  The shock of that brought back some feelings.  I remember that wonder of how I had come face to face with tragedy.  And I thought of the aunt and cousins who were now faced with the same wonder.  And I hurt for them.  I hurt for me.

Kristen's gravestone was finally installed this past week.  I had a picture in my mind of what it would look like...her beautiful face etched on a piece of black granite.  But I have to say that I was not prepared for actually seeing it at her spot.  Her eyes seemed to look right through me (that artist did an AMAZING job on the etching), and that made me miss her even more.  As I sprinkled flower petals around her spot, I felt the feelings of that hot, windy August afternoon last year wash over me.  Then, as I focused on that stone there in the cemetery, it somehow all seemed more final.

In the midst of all this, I received word that my grandmother is nearing the end of a long battle with her failing heart.  I spent some beautiful moments with her on Sunday, holding her hand, listening to her talk.  For a time, I was 12 years old again, snuggled up next to her, staring at the ceiling and just talking.  We talked about my granddad (her husband who died when I was in high school), we talked about Kristen, we talked about my mom (her ex-daughter-in-law).  She's ready to go, whenever the Lord takes her.  And as hard as it was to leave, I'm grateful for the beautiful moments I had with her that day.  I love you, Grandma.♥

September 2009

Those things are hard things.  But, as always, God sprinkled a few blessings in among them.

• A sweet aunt told me as she clasped her hands over her heart, "I keep Kristen in here."
• Another aunt lovingly made a beautiful shadow box of photos to remember Kristen.  I never knew.
• Despite the tears that I couldn't keep from falling, I got to hold my cousin's sweet little baby girl.
• The continued support of my husband's parents reminded me that I have the best in-laws ever.

Yes, there are hard things.  Yes, they hurt.  Sometimes they hurt a lot.  But God is always good and always there.  How blessed am I!

Remembering

Last year on October 15th, a friend brought by a candle for me to light in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  I was grateful, not only for the candle, but for her thoughtfulness.  She remembered me as I remembered Kristen.  

As this day of remembrance is here again, I remember that friend, who has suffered her own pregnancy loss.  I barely knew her when she experienced her loss, but as I light that beautiful candle today, I remember her and the sweet baby she never got to hold.

I also contemplate the moms that know the pain of losing a child.  Some never got to hold their child.  Others did, but had to say goodbye much too soon.  May God shower you with His grace and mercy this day.  Whether it's been a few weeks, a few months or even decades since you had to say goodbye, I remember you this day. 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. -John 14:27

An Elephant in the Back Yard?

Today is the anniversary of the day we found out that I was pregnant with Kristen.  The weeks that led up to October 10, 2008 found me generally not feeling well and having hot flashes ("personal summers" as a good friend of mine calls them).  I won't go into all the reasons why, but I truly believed that I was experiencing early menopause.  That's what led me to make an appointment with my OB/GYN.  Imagine my surprise to find that I was not going through any kind of menopause, but was pregnant!

Will had called me at lunch that day, knowing that my appointment had been that morning.  I didn't want to tell him this unexpected news over the phone and tried very hard to put him off until he got home that evening.  I could sense the worry growing in his voice, however, so I said, "I didn't want to tell you like this, but I'm pregnant."  (There was a long pause on the other end of the phone...)

At this point we already had two daughters who were well past the stage of relying on us for everything.  They could do most things by themselves, and we had all grown very accustomed to that level of independence.  The girls helped with chores around the house and were capable of conversations beyond their years (my dear sister-in-law has said many times that her talks with Emily, even when Emily was only 6 years old, were far more intellectual than many conversations with her friends!).  The thought of starting all over with a little one was a 180 degrees from where either of us thought we were headed.  We were perfectly content with our family of four.

After the initial shock wore off, we shared the news with the girls over supper.  I'm not even sure exactly what day it was, but I do remember going through our traditional goofy question ritual.  I'll explain.  Most evenings when Will arrived home from work, the girls would meet him at the door with hugs and squeals of delight at seeing their daddy.  Grace often continued the welcome with, "Guess what, Daddy!"  It became a game of Daddy coming up with silly guesses and generally concluded with a comment of "There's an elephant in the back yard!"  (By this time, Grace had often forgotten what she wanted to tell him in the first place.)  That night, over our chicken and noodles (with mashed potatoes, of course), we told the girls that we had some news to share with them.  The guesses began!  Grace thought we were moving, and was relieved to find out that we weren't.  Amid laughter after hearing the obligatory "There's an elephant in the back yard," Emily shouted, "Mom's going to have a baby!"

Will and I exchanged surprised looks across the table and then told them, that yes, we were going to have a baby.  That was such a special time, one that we have a hard time remembering together, even now.  The joy that was shared around the dinner table that night seems to be overshadowed by the great sadness that has taken up residence here.  I pray that there will come a day when we can share in that memory as a family and smile, even laugh...perhaps over chicken and noodles with mashed potatoes.