Author: Judy

What I used to REALLY think . . .

 

In Isaiah 39 Hezekiah was warned that there were bad times coming when he would lose his possessions; there would be nothing left.  Even his sons would be taken into exile.  To this news,  “8Hezekiah replied to Isaiah, ‘Good. If God says so, it’s good.'” I have found that in response of Christopher death that there are people who would say what Hezekiah said, “Good.  If God says so, it’s good.”  I would have to confess that I might have felt that way, but I am here to testify that when it is you that is in the midst of the reality of losing that which you hold most dear, you find that the view is significantly different.

That is when we discover that we really believe.  Isaiah 29:8 goes on to tell us what Hezekiah really believed when it says, “Within himself he was thinking, ‘But surely nothing bad will happen in my lifetime. I’ll enjoy peace and stability as long as I live.'” 

As parents we know that our children are just gifts to us; we often say that they are on loan because they belong to God.  That is true.  I really thought that I believed.  But words are easy.  When the reality of letting go comes, the view is totally different.

A dear friend, who I have know since she was a little girl promoted me yesterday.  She no longer thinks of me as a family friend of someone she knows from church, but I am a friend.  What a precious gift.  The truth is that with any gift, there is risk.  I will someday, perhaps, lose her, but I will enjoy her friendship to until that time may come.

I think that we need to consciously remind ourselves of this reality each and every day.  We don’t ever know if we believe it until we are faced with the implications and God, in his loving sovereignty, decides to take back that which we knew all along was his.  That is when the rubber meets the road.

Throughout the grieving process I have had to confess.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Christopher far more than most parents enjoyed their children; I have no regrets on that front.  What I have realized, is that I took him for granted.  Not him, as much as the God who gave him to me.  I thought he was mine and I missed the gift of the Giver who shared him with me.

I pray people will consider this and learn from me.  Enjoy the gift, but always, always be reminded of the love of the Giver who shared a precious child of His with you.

Amen.


Mixed Emotions

 

This has been a good week.  I feel like back on spring break, I made significant progress in moving forward (sorry, can’t put those details here).  People noticed a change and I feel so much better.  Last night, I was even silly at bridget lessons in a way that I have not felt like since Christopher died.  It was just an overall good week.

Then, before I went to bed last night, I thought and prayed about how unreal it is that Christopher is no longer with me.  I miss him so very much.
I slept a full night, thanks to medications, but I woke up totally drained.  Later, I realized that all night I was dreaming about Christopher.  It has made for a long day.  I even overslept for my evening class, sleeping through about 30 minutes of my cell phone’s alarm.
I can move forward and I will.  I can enjoy life (and I think that Christopher expects me to) and I will, but I don’t think that I’ll ever get over this.  There is always something that is going to be missing.  I love Christopher.  I enjoyed him.  I looked forward to seeing him grow into an amazing, Godly man who would certainly have had a family of his own.  I would have so enjoyed watching him be who I believe he would have been.
I miss him so very much, but I believe that Christopher would want me to be happy.  He loved me so very much.  I miss being loved.  I know that I wouldn’t have always been first in his life – truthfully, I probably already wasn’t – but I was mom; he loved me and knew that I loved him.  I miss that.  I miss that nobody checks in with me to let me know what they are doing and ask me about my day.  I miss being an integral part of someone’s life.
Christopher wasn’t perfect, but he was special and I really liked him.  I really miss him and yet, I am going to move forward.  I am going to have a full life and let myself enjoy what all is ahead of me.
But I’ll always miss him and that’s okay.

I’ve got to be me, but how?

 

I am struggling with all I’ve lost. December 7/8, 2007, I lost my entire family~not my family of origin, but my family. I really liked who I was with Christopher; he brought out a lot of the best in me.

It had to have been in me for Christopher have brought it out of me, right? It must still be there, but I don’t know how to get at that part of me all alone. I miss who I was with Christopher and I want her back. I’ve never been that person alone. I see glimpses of her when I am with other people, but when I am home alone, she seems miles away.
That really bothers me, but I don’t know what to do about it. I am not really sure that before Christopher, I was ever really happy with myself and now that he is gone, I don’t know how to be the me that Chrsitopher brought out.

Beginning Again

 

I Tim. 6:12 – Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses.


I am so ready to take hold of the eternal life to which I have been called.  I don’t think that this is something that everybody can do simply because we are eternal beings.  I believe that this is part of the promises that those who are in Christ can enjoy.  It is for today because “the old has gone, the new has come!” is the promise found in 2 Cor. 5:17.

I have a lot of “old” of which I need to let go and there is a lot of “new” that I have yet to discover.  I pray that God would give me the strength to pursue the “new” so that I, through Him, have strength to resist the tug back to that which, though painful, is comfortable.  There is a long time adage that says that old habits die hard.  For me, the hardest habits to kick have been of thought processes rather than actions.

My experience is that thought patterns are much more difficult to deal with because they are so easily concealed.  You’ve heard of closet alcoholics, but we must know about them to have labeled them.  Ultimately, there is evidence to be found of such damaging habits.  I believe this to be true of the habits that I have within my mind.  You may never see them directly, but lately I have had a lot of true friends point out how damaging this way of thinking has become.

I am holding myself back from being who God has called me to be; who He has created me to be.  I got a taste of the potential in Christ in my years with Christopher.  Since his death, I have allowed myself to be vaulted back to some old “stinkin’ thinkin'”  Dear friends have told me that they missed the Judy that they had seen for many years now.  I realized that I was allowing who Christopher helped me to allow myself to be lost in the wave of my grief.  

This would be so disappointing to Christopher and even more so, very dishonoring to God.  It is God that has done the good work in my life; He may have used Christopher, but it was His work.  I need to let him do that work again, getting out of his way.  My over-thinking, self-centered thinking, has taken my attention away from the future that God has for me.

Father, I confess that I have not believed who you have declared me to be;  I pray that you would continue to help me see and feel Your love, making it impossible to be overtaken by my wayward ways of thinking.  I need You and I thank You that You are my refuge.  May I find rest in You and You alone.

Amen.


The Real Issue . . . . Trust . . . . Faith

 

In ways that I have tended to minimize, I have fallen victim to people who were in positions where they were supposed to care for me and help me through the turmoil of growing up.  Some of those people failed me; they violated my trust.  That reality, that I once minimized, I now realize has impacted my how outlook.

And now, there is a part of me who is facing the same violation of trust, this time, however, I am struggling with God.  I put my faith in Christ as my Savior and Lord over 25 years ago.  I am found God to be totally trustworthy (as if I needed to experience it to make it true).  I would never even have mentioned it because this was a given in my heart of faith.
And then, Christopher died.  I am having a hard time imagining a restored relationship with my Heavenly Father who allowed my son to die.  I really thought that I had trusted him all along and this has been a huge violation of that trust.
Life has taught me that insanity is to continue to do the same thing, expecting different results.  What does that say about trusting people or a God who appears to have proven themselves to be not trustworthy.  Of course I realize that this may be a reliable mode of operation when it comes to people, but what about God.
The problem here is that I believe all I know about God.  I know that He loves me and that this is all for His Glory and my good.  I even believe that in my head, but my heart is lagging behind in this process.  Trust is not an issue of the intellect, it is an issue of the heart.  I don’t trust God right now and I can’t seem to convince myself to trust Him.  This makes it an issue of faith.  Faith, too, is a heart issue.  Faith is also a gift from God, not something that I can manufacture.
Some have supposed that this has been more of a challenge for me because I am generally a very competent and independent person.  I can work through things on my own, generally with much success.  I like being autonomous.  The lose of Christopher is not something that I have been able to resolve to my satisfaction;  I understand it, but I can’t fix my heart.  The pain is bigger than what I can work through alone.
I have been so blessed by so very many friends who have been supportive through this process, but I have avoided the One who has the power to restore my faith.  I am certain it is because I can’t trust Him and therefore am not sure that I want my faith restored.  I am not sure He can be trusted
The problem here is that I believe in the Gospel; I am confident and secure in my destination based on the finished work of Christ.  I know that I will see Christopher once again.  It is the years between now and then that worry me.  I can’t live with this pain, but I don’t feel like I can trust God and He is the only One who can bring healing.

This is a Big Deal – Still.

 

One of my biggest challenges with this grief process is that I don’t like it and think that it should be over.  I think that the issue is that I tend to be apologetic for what I perceive to be a prolonged process.  I think that my biggest fear is that I’ll let someone in on my grief who will tell me that it is time to get over it; like I often tell myself.

The reality is that I am not sure that I am still able to fully appreciate the magnitude of my loss.  I instinctively discount it because I am afraid that my feelings aren’t valid.  Stupid, I know, because the truth is there is no reason for me to care what “you” think.  If someone wants to tell me that they could handle this better than me, I say, in spite of your arrogance, this is my one life experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
Unless you have walked in my shoes, you speak from ignorance.  Because I know that, I forgive you.  Now I just need to forgive myself.  I know that this is a big deal, but I won’t let me be where I am.  I just want to escape the rest of this process.  I know that this is a big deal . . . still.  
Still.  It has just been over 14 months and it feels like an eternity and it feels like it could have been last weekend.  I worry about people thinking that I have let this carry on long enough and the enemy is really me.  I just want relief.
I’ve been told that I beat myself up.  I probably do, but I am justified.  I want what I know about God and my status as His child to invade my life in such a way that I can let this go.
I don’t think that there is necessarily a connection between my faith and my pain.  Pain does not reflect a lack of faith, it reflects the reality of a love that was G0d-breathed.  I believe God and I hurt.  I need to let those two things co-exist.
At the same time, I need to remind myself that the pain does not define me; my loss doesn’t define me.  It has changed me forever, but it doesn’t have to define me.  God has changed me forever; He defines me.
This isn’t just about the grief and pain; it is about so much more.  I just need to remind myself on a daily basis that I am am beloved child of God.  He has adopted me willingly, just as I did Christopher.  I know how much I wanted Christopher to accept is position in my life.  I believe that God wants the same for me.
We’re just talking about believing the truth.  If God gave me faith unto salvation 26 years ago, he can certainly give me faith to move forward, with or without pain.  I believe that He forgives and understands my struggle to believe.
Thanks be to God, my Father.

When will this feel real?

 

A week ago today, the son of a neighbor in my old neighborhood (where my mom lives now) died after a 28 year fight against cystic fybrosis. He was a remarkable young man as I knew him. I have to confess that I have failed to really stay in touch after we moved, but I have been able to stay remotely connected through friends.

Thursday, I stopped by to see Mary as I was not going to be able to attend the memorial service that night. After the usual greetings (we had already talked earlier in the week), we sat down. The first thing I remember her saying was, “When will this feel real, Judy?” To which I responded, “I’ll let you know.”

I think that has been one of the more difficult aspects for me about Christopher’s death. Of course, the biggest challenge has been the deep, deep pain of missing him on a daily basis; I was really able to enjoy who he was and who I saw him becoming. After that, however, the challenge for me has been to understand and endure this process. I have always been very analytical and logic. What I have found so frustrating is that this horific grief process defies any logic at all.

Of course, I know that Christopher has left this world, but I still look at his pictures in utter and total disbelief. I know that he would want me to live life fully, not letting his passing have any negative effect. I know that God is good and that He loves me; He has more than proven that through Jesus. I know . . . I know . . . I know and yet, it doesn’t feel real. None of it feels real. That he is gone doesn’t feel real. That I can go one and live a fullfilled life doesn’t seem possible. That God loves me and that this is the best for me is simply unfathomable.

A friend told me that “words really don’t work, it is really all about the heart and mind.” The trouble is that this defies the logic of my mind and I have no clue of how to reach my heart except through my understanding.

I think I’m in trouble.

I want MY family back.

 

To a great extent, Christopher’s death has had the effect of throwing me back to a life I haven’t known for nearly 15 years, maybe more if you consider the time I spent as a foster parent.  A friend described my love for Christopher as a force that pulled me into another world.  When he died, like a stretched rubber band that breaks, I was catapulted back into an old, now unfamiliar world.

You would think that having spent almost as much of my adult life in this world, it would be familiar.  The problem is that I am not the same person that I was 15 years ago.  Having loved and been loved changed all that.  The before Christopher world is longer appealing, but it feels like what I am stuck with.  But is it?
I feel like an alien in my own life these days.  I know all the people around me, but my purpose of functioning in their midst has changed.  Until 14 months ago, it was all about helping Christopher grown into a self-sufficient, independent, yet caring man.  I used to say that I was determined to raise him to be the man I never found;  I earnestly expected my daughter-in-law to thank me.  That was a lofty goal, admittedly, but it was my motivation.
Then the rubber band broke and I have been thrust back into this life the purpose of which does not feel familiar.  I realize that from a Christian’s perspective nothing has changed (if I was doing the Christian thing right then and now), but let’s be honest here.  Regardless of what we know to be our greater purpose or calling, we all get wrapped up in the day-to-day, personal story which is our little piece of His-tory.  Ultimately, it is all about God’s purposes, but on any given day, it was all about seeing to Christopher’s needs.  That is the way His-story manifested itself in my life.
Now there feels to be a gap.  My story doesn’t seem to fulfill any meaningful part in His-story.  I don’t see from where my legacy will now come.  I envisioned a daughter-in-law and grandchildren through which I would have a legacy for Christ.  This world is not designed to bestow meaning on the individual.  And I agree that the family is the most important sphere of influence.  And, when I had my family, I took my responsibility very seriously.
You see, children are what make family.  So with the loss of Christopher, I lost my family.  Yes, I still had my family of origin and, though, I love them, they are not where I fit anymore.  I had the privilege of spending 14 years in a different family and as they say, you can’t go home.
I have found this to be so true.  I care deeply for and about my family, but having been in a different family for 14 years, they simply don’t know me as I was known by my Christopher.  Children know so much more than we realize and it was becoming quite fun to hear his insights to that which I thought he was unaware.  He had amazing insight.
I miss being loved and known as only Christopher has ever loved and known me.  I so looked forward to watching him become the earthly head of a family.  He knew what real love is and gave freely of himself.
I miss him desperately.

I need rules

 

My son died just 13 months ago.  Even as I say that, I can’t believe it is true.  I don’t know how I am supposed to get through this.  There are no rules.  I like rules.  That way, I have a way to know if I am doing okay; no way to know if I am doing it right.

There is no one who will ever understand this even those who have been through it.  They didn’t lose Christopher.  I am sure that whoever they lost was special to them, but it wasn’t my Christopher.  
People say that I am doing so well.  I don’t know what that means.  I am dying inside trying to do “good”.  I do believe that God is sovereign and that He knows what is best, but I hate this pain.  I hate missing Christopher so very much.  I never knew that I had the capacity to love like this and now I never knew I had the capacity to hurt like this.  I have no idea how long I can endure this.
Add to that that I have no idea what “relief” would look like since I am totally aware of the fact that Christopher isn’t coming back.  I don’t now how you ever get “over” this and go forward.  I don’t know what that even means.  I am not going to get over this.  I don’t want to get over it, because to me that means that I have to stop loving him.  To love him and not be able to watch him live his life is so very painful. 
I can’t see this pain ever ending because the love I never hoped to have will never end.

Accountability

 

The other night in class, in a kind of ice breaker (remember, these are social work classes), one of the questions presented to the group (there are only 8 of us in the class) was to whom did we feel accountable.  I gave the usual Christian response – God – and then added, “to my son’s memory.”  Not surprisingly, this is the part of my answer about which I was questioned.

When asked to explain what I meant, I realized that I feel a great obligation to Christopher and as a result, very accountable to his memory.  Christopher brought so much to my life.  I feel like I owe it to him to ensure that is his most significant contribution to my life is his life, and not his death.  
I feel compelled to do something with my life that reflects the wonder of all he added to my life.  To let his death detract from that would be to do a disservice to who Christopher was in my life.  I simply cannot let his death detract from all be brought to my life.
I believe this with my whole heart, but there are obstacles.  It is a very difficult balance.  I am so determined to keep on in spite of losing Christopher; I owe it to him.  At the same time, there is a part of me that feels that to live fully having lost him risks people thinking that I am over it.  
People just don’t understand that I will never be over it.  I will never be the same; how could I be.  If I am able to move forward in “exciting” new directions it is in spite of his death, not because of it.  
I don’t want to live a new life, I have to.  I have no choice in that, but I do have a choice as to what that new life is.  I could choose to live the life of a woman who has lost her primary purpose in life just 13 months ago.  Alternatively, I am choosing to look ahead and believe that God has something for me.
I’ll leave that for another day.