Bears & Blessings

If you've looked around this blog at all, you probably know a little something about the bears I began knitting after Kristen died. The knitting itself was very therapeutic for me, and I wanted to turn it into something that could reach out to others. My initial plan was to make bears to send to the chaplain at Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, who would in turn send them to newly bereaved parents. I found, however, that the list of bereaved parents that fall within (or near) my own circle of friends and acquaintances is sadly much longer than I ever imagined. I’ve sent out some bears on my own (and have a few more that I need to send), but I still haven’t sent a single bear to CMH. As sweet and simple as these bears are, they do take time to make!

Emily and I began a discussion after Kristen’s birthday last year about how we could honor Kristen’s memory and reach out to others at the same time. As a way to do just that, I invited several friends to join us in making bears!

We are meeting as a group one Saturday each month (January to April) to knit and assemble as many bears as we can. We will then box up all the bears and deliver them to CMH in time for Kristen’s 3rd birthday on May 7, 2012.

Our first session was a week ago, and I have to say that I was completely overwhelmed with the wonderful response.  Two dozen people gave up part of their Saturday to help with making bears.  A few were already knitters and went right to work on knitting bear parts.  Those who don't knit jumped in with rolling skeins of yarn into center-pull balls.  Still others learned how to seam garter stitch and stuffed arms, legs and bear bodies.  Some worked on scarves of all colors and styles.  One even offered to sew gift bags!  The group ranged in age from 2 to 79.  

I'd like to share a story about that 2 year-old.

Little "Miss M" has a special place in my heart.  She shares Kristen's birthday.  In fact, the girls were born within a couple hours of each other to moms who went to high school together (and who both know the pain of losing a child).  While I almost always think of Kristen as a baby, this special little friend gives me a glimpse of how big Kristen might be if she were still here.  It's a difficult thing to explain, yet another example of where joy and sorrow coexist.

I took a few pictures during our first bear-making session, but the scene I didn't capture with my camera is forever etched in my mind:  I watched this sweet 2 year-old poke stuffing into a bear as her momma held it for her.  She would quietly ask me if the bear needed more stuffing.  I'd tell her, "just a little more," and she would add some, then we'd check it again.  Precious, precious stuff.

Watching moms and daughters working alongside one another, enjoying the wonderful fellowship of dear friends, and knowing that Kristen was being remembered so sweetly most certainly blessed me that day, and continues to do so.

He Makes All Things New

I found this short excerpt from our family devotions book tonight rather interesting:

"God doesn't say he is making all new things.  He is making all things new--in other words, he's making things better, fresher, brighter and stronger." (from One Year of Dinner Table Devotions and Discussion Starters: 365 Opportunities to Grow Closer to God as a Family by Nancy Guthrie)

The holiday season of 2011 didn't come with the dread that accompanied those of 2009 and 2010.  Oh, there were moments of sadness and tears, but nothing like I had experienced throughout the months of November and December the past couple of years.  The emotional numbness this year was something of a gift of protection for a time, so I didn't realize the sadness that was welling up inside.

Maybe it's the attention placed on a new year...new beginnings, fresh starts.  All that "out with the old and in with the new" stuff is especially hard for a momma who continues to struggle with feeling like her youngest daughter's been forgotten.  I've found myself feeling very blue these last few days.  I can't help but think of the new beginnings that were cut so short in our own lives.  Having to learn to function again in a world that still feels a little foreign is a fresh start I'd just as soon not have to face.

My heart absolutely aches for the little girl who left my arms way too soon.  I suspect it always will, but I know that God has a purpose for my aching heart.  He wants to make it new, not in the sense of replacing something old, but rather in transforming it.  He wants to make it better, fresher, brighter, stronger.

He's got my attention, and I'm actually beginning to look forward to what He has in store for the year ahead.

What does He want to make new in your life?

His Feathers

As the weather grew colder in the first months after Kristen died, a sweet friend wrote to me that she wanted to get me a down blanket as a reminder of Psalm 91:4:

He will cover you with his feathers,
   and under his wings you will find refuge;
   his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

There's a comfort in that verse that has become more real to me this year.  It is only through God's faithfulness that I am still standing.  He's been my strength when I have had absolutely none of my own.  The very verse that was shared with me in such love inspired something that I've been able to share with others, from those who have attended our local GriefShare: Surviving the Holidays seminars to friends who themselves have had to face the pain of saying goodbye to a loved one all too soon.

If you are in that place of wishing that it was January already; if these last weeks of holiday hubbub have left you with a feeling of dread rather than thankfulness or anticipation, I understand.  This prayer is for you:

Dear Heavenly Father,
     Please let each one who needs it feel the comfort of your feathers, the warmth of You around their shoulders.  Allow them to know the protection of your wings as You envelop them in your mighty and merciful way.  Help them to allow your faithfulness to bolster them to withstand the storms.  Calm their spirits and give them peace, Lord, the peace that only You can give.
     In Your Son's precious name,
          Amen.

 

The Happy Day Project {Part 2}

Despite good intentions, our last week didn't go quite as planned. Consequently, we only took part in the first three days of "The Happy Day Project." And you know what? That's okay! We brought smiles to some faces and reached out in ways we haven't before. And that makes me happy. :)

Day #1 - Treats to a Neighbor
The chocolate chip cookie dough I mixed up Monday looked good...tasted great...but resulted in some of the flattest cookies I have seen in a while.  So, we kept it for cookie sundaes and delivered some warm pumpkin chocolate chip cookies to a couple of neighbors this afternoon.  One was especially thrilled, and after asking Grace exactly why she had brought her these treats, happily exclaimed, "I love it!'

Day #2 - Handwritten Note Day
I pray that our handwritten notes to the Horn family bring smiles to their faces.  We don't know them, but continue to pray for them daily.

Day #3 - Giftcard to Homeless
We are fortunate to live in a community where the homeless are not just everywhere.  I'm sure they are there, but we just don't normally see them.  On occasion, we do see a family parked near the main drag through town holding a sign indicating that they are in need of work.  We've always just driven by, wanting to do something, but unsure of how best to help.  We are now ready to help as God leads.  The glove box holds close at hand a couple of Braum's gift cards (for either groceries or a hot meal).

This project has definitely given me some ideas of how we might celebrate Kristen's birthday next year.  Perhaps more importantly, it has sparked some wonderful conversations with my two older daughters, both about reaching out to others and about their baby sister.

Grace blessed me so much last week by sharing (completely unprompted) her memories of the last time she saw Kristen.  She smiled as she talked of taking pictures of her little sister as Kristen slept.  She spoke of waving goodbye to us as she and Emily drove away with their grandparents the day before we left for Kristen's surgery.

It seems this "Happy Day Project" resulted in some happiness I didn't expect.  I am ever so grateful for it.

The Happy Day Project

I came across "The Happy Day Project" today and wanted to share it here.

 

Several months ago, as Emily and I sipped on frozen strawberry lemonades at McDonalds, we talked about ways we could remember Kristen's birthday.  We had just "celebrated" her 2nd heavenly birthday with a family day trip.  Keeping it simple and within our immediate family was what seemed right this year, but Emily and I both felt like we wanted to do something different next year.

We didn't come up with anything specific, but we knew that we wanted it to involve more than just our immediate family.  We knew that we wanted to reach out to help someone else.  Participating in something like "The Happy Day Project" and inviting our friends and family to join us is certainly a worthy candidate!

Whether we do this (or something like it) next year for Kristen's birthday or not, I invite you to join us this week in "The Happy Day Project."  I can think of no better way to usher in the upcoming holiday season.

Now I see

I've experienced such a "light bulb moment!"  

In response to a question I posed to a friend (from the Anchored by Hope online Bible study I joined last fall) regarding what to do about grief-strained relationships, she related to me a situation of her own lost friendship.  Her friend had been by her side, very literally, through the loss of her daughter.  Because of that, so much of her daughter was tied into that friendship.  Consequently, when the friendship ended, she felt that she had lost a piece of her daughter's memory.

For the last couple of months, I've been thinking (and re-thinking) about the hurt I experienced when I felt that two of my closest friends had forgotten my awful week of anniversaries in August.  My feelings about the situation have run the gamut, from sorrow to anger and just about everything in between.  I won't go into further detail about the situation, but suffice it to say that one side of it has gotten increasingly more complicated.

I've wondered if I was being unreasonable in feeling hurt that these individuals did nothing to acknowledge that week in August.  Anything would have been gratefully accepted...something as simple as a short e-mail, a text message, a facebook comment.  But there was only silence, a silence that spoke volumes to me.  

I've bounced back and forth from thinking that I must be a complete heel for having such expectations to feeling very justified in my disappointment.  I've been mad...at others and at myself.  I've held my tongue when I really wanted to lash out.  I've had stomach aches over the repercussions of it all, lost sleep and shed tears of frustration.  It was only after my Bible study friend put words to the anguish in my heart that I realized WHY this whole situation was so deeply troubling.

In different ways, both of these friends were very much tied to Kristen...through my pregnancy, Kristen's birth, her surgery, her death and the aftermath I faced as my world seemed to crumble around me.  These people are a part of her story, and their silence felt like part of that story had been ripped away.  As I was remembering the loss of my daughter, I seemed to be losing (two different) parts of my connection to her.

I fully believe God brought these friends into my life years ago.  Is He now guiding the paths that once moved in tandem to places that are no longer meant to be together?  Or is He simply using the situation as it's come to be to show me what I need to work on in my own life?  I honestly don't have an answer right now.  But I'm still listening, still seeking.

The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed,
   a stronghold in times of trouble.
Those who know your name trust in you,
   for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.

-Psalm 9:9-10

Changes

There are changes we just expect.  They come around again and again, signalling to us new growth, a new season.

Changes you don't anticipate, however, can certainly throw you a curve ball.  Three years ago (nearly to the day), my life began to fill with changes I never expected...like finding out I was expecting baby #3.  That news was completely unexpected, but such a beautiful, beautiful blessing.  It set in motion many changes around our house...preparing our hearts to be a family of five...remodeling to make the best use of the space in our home.  The anticipation, excitement and joy in the conversations with our older daughters was absolutely magical.

Unfortunately, unexpected changes aren't always happy ones.

Hearing the news from my doctor that there was something wrong with my unborn child's right lung was one of those changes. Visits to out-of-town specialists...weekly sonograms to measure the mass on her lung...conflicting reports about those measurements...such a roller coaster ride of a pregnancy.

Believing that the mass was gone after her birth, only to find that it wasn't, was not what we had expected or hoped for.  Being thrust into a world of scheduling CT scans and surgeries was a change for which I was not prepared.

When I handed my 3-month old daughter in her tiny Looney Tunes hospital gown off to a nurse in the hallway that Friday, I had no idea that it would be the last time I would experience Kristen's beautiful eyes looking back at me.  That change was unexpected.  Unwanted.  Un-everything.

Even today, the changes continue.  Kristen's room has changed.  The look of much of the house has changed (we've been doing some much-needed painting).  Even the side of the bed I sleep on has changed.  I knew that our schedule and routines around here would change with the addition of a baby to our family.  I knew that a 4-month old was going to change the way we home schooled.  Sadly, the changes to our school schedule were not even close to what I had envisioned.  Instead of working out how to teach my older girls while caring for an infant, I found myself working out how to teach while grieving not only the loss of my daughter, but of my mother as well.  Thankfully, a dear friend very graciously opened her homeschool to my girls for 2 months.  It kept us from having to school through the following summer and allowed me some time alone to begin to process the many unexpected changes that I faced.

My world has not stopped since my daughter died.  It certainly headed in a different direction than I anticipated, but it hasn't stopped.  Changes.  They're all around.  Some are happy; others are heart-breaking.   Thankfully, I have an unchangeable God.  He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.  Even when I don't understand the changes in my life, I know He is constant.

Most of the time, that's a comfort.  In all honesty, however, there are times that knowing that just doesn't cut it for me.  They don't happen all the time, but they are there...the occasional moments that are just utterly and overwhelmingly sad.  More head and heart stuff.  The knowing and the feeling just don't always mesh.  Even so, He's still there, extending to me the grace to grow through the changes that continue to come.  Thank you, unchangeable Father.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. -James 1:17