Happy Birthday, Christopher

This is the text of the words that I shared on September 6, 2008, Christopher’s 18th birthday, at the dedication of the playground at the Tallahassee Campus of the Florida Baptist Children’s Homes.

I decided that I would take this opportunity to share with you a little insight to Christopher and I as a family. I got this idea from my Family Counseling class where my first assignment is to do a Family History/Analysis Paper. Using the outline that is provided for this assignment, let me tell you about our family ~ it was a great 13 years!

Family Structure – Household(s) composition, roles, hierarchies, family rules, etc.

Of course, as you know, our family is comprised of just Christopher and I. There was not dad, which baffled a lot of his classmates in early elementary school. When kids pushed the issue, Christopher, hiding his frustration with their ignorance, simply explained that his mom adopted him and she is single. It was like “Duh”

For the most part, the roles were clearly defined. I was the mom and he was to do what I told him to do (or so I thought).

When we was young and he didn’t respond to something that I told him to do, I would say, ‘and the answer is . .” to which he was to say, “yes ma’am.” There was a point in time where I would try to get him to say, “what is yes ma’am”, but he didn’t really “get it.” By the time that he got it, there was no way that he would do it!

Our relationship evolved considerably as he got into his teens, as you might can imagine. It became particularly challenging for me when he grew to over 6 feet tall! I had to be courageous in parenting as I knew that he could certainly “take me” if it came to that!

Our family had few rules, but the one that we most enjoyed was how to vacation. We had some great vacations. I soon learned that vacations were about the memory, not the experience. I can remember that I had to make him go out and look at “Old Faithful”. We got better at vacations as I began to embrace the reality that nobody did nothing better than us!

Life Events and Family Functioning – Impact of life transitions, major events, and/or traumas

I am thankful to say that beyond the trauma of Christopher’s life before his adoption, we experienced few traumas. We were around others who did and I am so proud of Christopher’s response to the hurt that other’s experienced.

Lynn and Elaine “from across the street” could tell you several stories about the heart, but I’ll share one that most amazed me.

I was out of town and the head of the Immanuel Baptist Day Care was retiring. I knew that one of the speakers was going to tell Christopher’s story as evidence of how Miss Edna loved the children. I had asked Christopher to go. He faithful reported to me that he had, in fact, gone and Ms. Fagan saw him. He seemed to act as if he needed a witness so I just assumed that he had shown up and made a quick exit. I later learned Christopher not only showed up, but he had dressed for the occasion and actually when up to Miss Edna expressing his love and appreciation. I hear that it was the first thing that Miss Edna commented about as she reflected on the evening!

Relational Patterns – Triangles, coalitions, alliances, communication patterns, boundaries etc.

The interesting thing about a single parent family of an only child is that it is hard to have relational triangles. I can remember times, however when I wished that there was a dad in the house that would say, “You will not talk to your mother that way”, but I have had many people tell me that it really wouldn’t have helped! I think that this really reflected a communication pattern that I let develop.

I wanted Christopher to be able to express himself and boy did he. Sometimes we went over the boundary, but generally he was soon remorseful and was willing and able to express that.

During any difficult time (and there were many), I think Christopher always knew that I was his greatest ally even if I didn’t feel compelled to relieve him of the consequences.

Ethnic and Cultural Environment – Messages about ethnicity, culture, heritage

It always kind of bothered Christopher that he didn’t know his ethnic heritage. Somewhere along the line, he decided that he was Italian. I never saw it, but how could I argue. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that he loved Italian food!

Sexuality and Gender Identity – Messages about sexuality, gender roles, etc.
Christopher was all boy from the first day I met him. The first time that he came to my house, I was surprised to see him outside. Then I realized that he had found the Doggie Door!

To see my garage, you can see a plethora of car parts strewn about. He thought he could fix anything. He did, at times, get in over his head. I can remember driving across Tallahassee for a new a new exhaust system for the truck. Christopher had taken a saws-all to it and later realized that he had taken it off past the catalytic converter which is a no-no.

He also had some of the more “typical” male characteristics. For example, he never like the way that I cut the front yard. Similarly, I am very good mechanically, but you’d never known it by the way Christopher would talk about me. I did find it handy when he was determined to be “the man” when there were bugs or critters to be dealt with; Now I call Daniel!

Summary
This day is all about celebrating who Christopher was and what he meant to us. I have and will continue to learn from him and for that I am truly thankful!

Peacemaking

“Blessed are the peacemakers . . . “.  


Today in church, the pastor talked about this passage from within Matthew 5 – the Beatitudes.    He spent a considerable amount of time contrasting peacekeepers as compared to peacemakers.  I have to confess, I tend to be a peacekeeper.  That is, I tend to go with the flow, try to appease people, avoid conflict.  In contrast, a peacemaker is honest and true to herself.

It is interesting that sometimes I try to convince myself that my willingness to avoid conflict is being selfless, but that is a lie.  I am simply trying to make my life easy.  I so want to avoid conflict that challenging the status quo would bring.

I think that my issue is that sometimes I feel like I am just insisting on getting my own way; as if it is all about me.  That is clearly wrong.  I need to be willing to meet people halfway; I don’t always have to get my way.  I guess what I am learning is that there are some times that it is okay for me to insist on my way; there are times that it is appropriate to take a stand.  Often, I am reluctant in even these cases.  

My grief process is a good example.  In the process of grief, it really is okay to be about me.  There is nobody who has suffered a greater loss when it comes to Christopher’s death.  My grief process is uniquely mine; there are no rules, there is no way that it “should be” done.  There is no book.   This is my first life experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I find it odd that so many people tell me that they don’t know how they would deal the loss of a child and they are right; nobody knows until they have to experience it.  At the same time, however, I am often left feeling judged for the way that I am dealing with it, as if somehow I am doing it wrong.  I know that they don’t mean it that way (and perhaps I am just particularly sensitive in this area since I don’t know if I am doing it “right.”), but if they listened to themselves, I think that they would be surprised or maybe even embarrassed.  
I have come to believe that this is a process without end.  There will never be a day in my life that I don’t wish that Christopher were there; a day when I don’t miss him.  This is a good thing because it reflects how much he is loved.  Grief is something that I simply need to learn to live with.  I trust that it will change, that the pain will not be so intense on a daily basis, but it will always be there.

I pity the first person who tells me that it is time to “get over it.”

Drawn back under

There are charges pending in the accident that took Christopher’s life. People have different feelings about this which I won’t adress. Today, I got a call from my designated victim advocate, Helene. She is very kind, but the simple act of calling me throws me back to that night in December that forever changed my life.

In today’s conversation, she told me that a trial date was set for November 17, adding that it would not be a surprised if it changed. As a matter of fact, there will be an appearance on October 27 at which they will decide if they are ready to go to trial. She also explained that she was waiting to hear from the prosecutor in the case to find out when he would be ready to meet with me.
I had known that once discovery in the case progressed that I would have an opportunity to learn the details from that night, but I didn’t realize that they might want to meet with me. Apparently, he would want to hear from me and to get to know me and, through me, I assume, Christopher. I had done this already several months back with another staff member.
I am so ready to move forward, but this legal process pulls me back; pulls me under, when you consider trying to float down a river. I want to keep moving, but I am like a dog with a chain and I was just jerked back. It totally drained me of my energy for the day, which was already lacking.
I am still trying to decide what I want to know about that night. I’ve thought that I wanted to see pictures, but I have been advised that it is not necessary nor would it be wise. I feel like I might be the kind of person who would go talk to kids about the reality that I discovered: speed kills. I can’t do that without pictures. Further, if this goes to trial, there is the chance that pictures could be made public. I would hate to see pictures in the paper that i have not previously seen.
The good thing about the legal process is that I have no control in anything, except that if there is a plea deal, they will ask my thoughts. Alternatively, if it gets to trial and sentencing, they will ask my thoughts. I have no idea what my thoughts might be at that point.
How could I as I don’t know my thoughts today.

Patience

Patience is not one of my strengths and the grief process has been no exception.  I don’t know what I am waiting for.  I guess I just know that I don’t like my current state and I want it to end.

The problem is that I am being told that this is a good process; a process ordained by God.  Grief reflects the gift of the love that I had for Christopher.  This love is something that certainly exceeded my expectations.  I have said from early on that had I known that I was going to go through this loss, I would have still adopted Christopher.  I’d go through this willingly to not have lost the joy of those thirteen years.
I just admitted to a friend that when I adopted Christopher, I didn’t realize that to love came with such big risks.  There is a saying that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.  I’d agree with that, but I am not sure that if I really had understood the risk of the overwhelming sorrow that I would have taken the chance.  That is not because of the pain of the loss, but because of the mystery of the love.  As much as I have been overwhelmed by the loss, I have been equally overwhelmed to consider the depth of the love that I experienced through Christopher.
So I guess that I am patiently waiting to see what God will do through this painful process.  I don’t know that I am waiting for the process to end as I have been challenged to consider that the end of the sorrow will only come with the end of the love and memory of Christopher; I certainly don’t want that to happen.
I have often said that I don’t understand how people deal with this without a relationship with God; apart from believing that this experience is in the hands of the God of the universe who loves me and loves Christopher, I don’t know that I could deal with it.  I need to know that this is a part of a bigger plan.
As I consider this, I feel like this is not unlike difficult days as Christopher was growing up; in spite of the pain that love brought in the midst of difficult circumstances, I was confident that God would do something big though Christopher’s life.  It takes a lot of patience for a parent to believe and wait to see God’s plan unfold. 
I am still a parent, living with the pain that reflects my love for my son; a parent who is waiting to see God’s plan unfold.  
I suspect that this may require a lifetime of patience.

Weary . . . just come . . .

Yesterday I got the news that my cousin, Linda, had a son killed while riding his 2007 Harley on Thursday night. He was hit by a repeat drunk driver who was talking on his cell phone. Such a waste. Sadly, I felt very comfortable talking to Linda yesterday, knowing that she knew that I understood. As she said when I first got her on the phone, “This is not something that we wanted to have in common.”

Interestingly, after my last entry where I complained about what I feel are unrealistic expectations, I have continued to come across scripture that gives me “permission” to be weary. Good thing, because, like I said, it isn’t exactly a choice; it is just the way it is right now and for the foreseeable future.

  • “I am weary with my sighing; Every night I make my bed swim, I dissolve my couch with my tears. My eye has wasted away with grief” (Psalm 6:6-7 NASB).
  • “Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? Turn, O LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love” (Psalm 6:2-4).

Then in Matthew 11:28 Jesus says, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” (NASB). Okay, maybe I am a little slow, but I just realized that this verse assumes that some of us are weary. In response to people being weary, Jesus’ only command is “come.”

I can do that.

Do I have another choice?

I recently subscribed to a daily e-mail from the GriefShare folks. Today was my first of 365 installments (I wonder if they think that I’ll be over it in a year ~ may be a good thing that I waited nine months to start because that gives me a total of 21 months.) This being a Christian organization, they had to include a scripture quote. Today’s was, “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

I am not sure how I feel about this verse in this context. I can tell you that I am growing weary and that doesn’t meant that my hope isn’t in the Lord. As a matter of fact, I kind of resent the implication. I feel like people, especially church-people, expect this truth to be reflected in the lives of beleivers every day, but I have not found that to be the case.

I was talking to my pastor this morning and he was commenting on one of the points from last Sunday’s sermon where he cautioned against trying to live in two realities – the faith and the world. I used to do that and the truth is that to reconcile these two, I had to change how I lived in the church. How I lived in the world was much more genuine to who I was than how I “played church.”

So now, if anyone asks how I am, they may not like the answer; I am grieving and I don’t like it. I have to make a conscious decision to focus on the things that I know to be true rather than my loss. Do these truths make me feel better? Sometimes, but it takes a lot of effort and that is why I have grown weary. I am just tired of the whole thing.

Do I still hope in the Lord? I thankfully can say yes, but I’m still tired and weary. Does this mean that I don’t “claim” this verse. No, it doesn’t, but I understand it in the context of a much bigger journey.

If I’ve learned anything about the last 8+ months it is that things are much bigger than I can see and it isn’t all about me, today.

Do I want to “run and not grow weary . . . walk and not be faint”? You bet I do, but that is not for me today. Today, I grieve and I am tired and there isn’t a darn thing that I can do about it, but wait. . .

I am waiting for God to renew me, reunite me with Christopher, accomplish His purposes through this season. I can’t move ahead of Him; I’d be dishonest to deny the depth of my pain. I am sorry to those who are uncomfortable with my reality.

Right now, I don’t feel like I have another choice but to wait. I can’t fix this.

What is normal, anyways?

Yesterday was a very down day. As I wrote to a friend, I was looking for any words of encouragement that he could offer to someone whose son should have started his senior year of high school this week and should be looking forward to his 18th birthday in just three weeks.

As I was talking to another friend about all these feelings, he kept commenting that my way of describing how I felt was “totally normal.” I suppose that is supposed to be comforting (and it would be if I let it), but this is one area where I don’t want to be normal. There is nothing normal about what I am dealing with.

I guess, the real issue is that there is nothing natural about losing a child. It simply isn’t supposed to be this way. I am so surprised that there is still (almost nine months after his death) a part of me that simply can’t believe that Christopher has died; it almost surprises me every time that I hear the words. I’m told that this is normal. When I catch myself having fun and not thinking about the loss, I realize a fear that I will someday live like he was never here. I’m told that this is normal. As time passes, the whole memory of Christopher and I together almost feels surreal, as if it was just an illusion of some sort (although, I have to admit that there were a lot of people in on it!). This too, I’m told is normal.

I guess I am stuck on how my reaction to something so unnatural could ever be normal.

My What a Different Hope Makes


Today, I went and visited a friend of mine (from work) whose 4-year-old daughter died on July 11 in a fire at her day care. I had anticipated a very emotional time, but, oh, what a difference hope makes. Let me explain.

About a month after Christopher’s accident, another teenage boy from Tallahassee died in a motorcycle accident. I suspect that he know Christopher as they were in the same Thursday night car club. After this boy’s death, I wrote a note to his parents and offered anything that I might be able to do. They called the night that they received my note asking me to come over to their home. As invited, I went to their home on the following Sunday morning. I ended up spending 5 hours with them and came away totally drained. It was hard for me as they seemed to have so many regrets and really had no hope in the midst of their grief.

Today, less than a month after her daughter’s death, I visited another grieving mother. She and I spoke of the possibilities of our children knowing each other in heaven. Kind of a cool thought. We spoke of the reality that they aren’t wishing that they were here. We talked about her daughter watching her soon-to-be-born brother growing up (she was so excited by her brother who is due to enter this world in September).

Soon after Christopher’s death, dear friends had recommended the book by Randy Alcorn, Heaven. They even gave it to me, but I haven’t read it. Today, this mom and I talked about encouraging each other by reading it and getting together to respond. How exciting that in the midst of our grief, we can share hope as well.

I pray that God will bless our time together that we can be filled with the hope of the reality of all we have in Christ!

Another Lesson From my Dog


As I was sitting reading this morning, I need to reach for my laptop (not to write this blog as the inspiration hadn’t yet come). I told her that I knew that this would scare her – there were cords and wires and mice, so of which needed to be detached. I was trying to do it in the least disruptive manner. Then, unexpectedly, an empty yogurt container (just from this morning so don’t get carried away with the visual) dropped down to the floor, making a (apparently) terrible noise. Next thing I know, Teddi is scurrying behind me to the other arm of the chair which was occupied by Grizzly. You would have thought that an entire bookcase was about to fall down on her and she had to run for cover since we know I wouldn’t protect her.

To put this in context, I had just red Hebrews 1-2 (The Message) in which, speaking of Jesus, it says, “You’re God, and on the throne for good; your rule makes everything right. You love it when things are right; you hate it when things are wrong . . . “

(You should see the look of great concern – aka, terror – on Teddi’s face as I try to manage the laptop and my Bible!)

Teddi has been with us for almost 12 years; she was Christopher’s 6th birthday present. Except for the first day we got her, when Christopher accidentally dropped her on the concrete, she has had a really good life and I have always protected her. By now you would think that she would know that on her behalf, I “love it when things are right; hate it when things are wrong.”, but she doesn’t remember it when she sees things another way.

That is my problem with Christopher’s death. I know that God loves me and that He loved Christopher more than I ever could. I believed that when I adopted him and when I though I wouldn’t be able to adopt him. I believe it today. The problem is that I don’t often (of late especially) look like I believe it because as far as I am concerned it falls in the the category of “things are wrong” and Jesus is supposed to hate that. I know that Jesus is on the throne for my good, but I am not yet convinced (nor at this point do I think that I will ever be) that this the best way to handle whatever it was that God is accomplishing through Christopher’s death.

Several years ago, Christopher painted two walls of his room deep red. (the deal was that he would repaint it before he moved out; he didn’t keep that promise so friends repainted while I was in South Africa) In the process, he spilled a bunch of paint on the relatively new carpet. Concerned about how I would respond (that’s a nice way to say it), he sought out his own solution and proceeded to clean it up with bleach. Needless to say, this was not the best solution.

When I discovered this, must to both of our surprise, I didn’t react out of anger. I told him that this is a good example of where he could have told me about his problem (red paint on the carpet, in this case) and perhaps I could have helped him come up with a different/better solution.

I look at God lately and find myself wanting to tell Him the same thing. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish when you thought that Christopher needed to die, but if you had asked me, I am sure that we could have worked together to come up with a better solution.”

That’s not the way it works, nor would I want it to be, but it is still my honest reaction. There just has to have been a better way.

The Need for Balance

I don’t remember who said it, but I once heard that if anybody appears balanced, they are probably on their way from one side to another. I am not sure that I have stopped at “balanced” in the last eight months. I keep running the extremes; I want so much to be done with this process and yet I want to let myself feel it as I go.

I’ve decided that nobody should have to go through this. It is just a terrible experience. A friend has said that there is no bigger loss. I can’t speak to that, but I can said that I have never had a bigger loss nor can imagine anything that presents a risk for a bigger loss.

I am sure that I have commented about this before, but I just don’t understand how the mind processes such a loss. (I guess to say it that way presumes that my mind is representative of “the” mind.) I was at the hospital that night when the doctors told me that Christopher had died; I worked with the guy at the funeral home to make plans; I attended the visitation, ever so briefly seeing Christopher’s body is the casket; I greeted a lot of people who seemed to know that Christopher had died; I attended the memorial service as did many people, all of whom knew why we were there; I left a casket at the cemetery to be buried and now there is a marker with Christopher D. Hefren at that same spot. I know that he has died, but I am always kind of surprised when I think about the fact that I won’t see him again this side of heaven. I mean, there is a reasonable chance that I won’t see Christopher in the next 40 years!

Today was my first Sunday back at church since my trip (yes, I took last Sunday off). I generally do some scripture reading during the service. Pastor Joe and I just make eye contact to make sure that I’m ready to read that Sunday and we are good to go. (There were several Sunday’s in the past eight months where I could not be relied upon to be at church or I was in no condition to try to read during the service.) Today’s readings included the following:

Psalm 126:5-6 – Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying see to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him

John 16:20, 22 – I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. . . . Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice and no one will take away your joy.

I fully understand that this verse in John is Jesus talking about the fact that “in a little while” the disciples “will see me no more and then after a little while you will see me.” He is talking about the crucifixion and the resurrection. I know that Christopher isn’t Jesus and this isn’t the same thing. Having said that, God spoke to me through this passage.

I have wept (and will no doubt weep some more) and I do mourn while the world goes on around me. I do grieve but it will turn to joy as I am reunited with Christopher in heaven. Now is my time of grief, but I will see Christopher again and I will rejoice and at that point, no one can touch my joy.

I can’t wait to have untouchable joy – that is the kind of balance I long for.

No more pendulum swing.