April 18, 2015
I want to remember this.
So much. Today is just so much. I am deeply thankful for all the
messages, notes, texts, cards, and hugs received last night and today. A
dear friend told me today that words escape her. And that's ok, they do
me too. I try and fail to find the right words to express what's in me.
How things are very different, and yet so much the same. How terribly I
still miss him. How his absence is still a presence in itself. And yet
how I feel very much like he is with me everyday. How It
feels like It was just yesterday, and at the same time like it's been
forever. Yes. Words escape me. The moment he took his last breath, my
world changed forever. Things can be good and happy again. And at the
same time they can still be very sad. It has surprised me how seamlessly
joy and sorrow can coexist, yet they do. They are woven together now in
a way that is difficult to explain or describe. Yes, words fail me too.
"In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky. And in my
heart there will always be a place for you for all my life. I'll keep a
part of you with me, and everywhere I am, there you'll be."
"A scarred hand grasps both his and mine, so we'll never really part......"
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Thursday, April 17, 2014
GOOD?
Five years. It's been five years. I struggle, not only to come to some kind of terms with that, but also to express what it means, what it feels like, how it still hurts. And as you've probably noticed, this year, five years falls on Good Friday. Five years. Good Friday. Five? Good? Really?
Growing up, I used to wonder why on earth we called this day "GOOD Friday." I mean, yeah, the end result was good....more than. But for all the horror of that day, it seems a little strange to label it good and name the day that. What I'd overlooked were the "tiny" details. The things that happened that only get a sentence in the story, but are HUGELY significant when you take a closer look. Like, "And the curtain of the temple was torn in two." (Luke 23:45b) It's not even a whole verse. But it's so much. Because the curtain meant so much. It meant separation. Separation between us and God. Big, dark, and heavy. And Jesus, by His death, tore that curtain in two. No more separation, from that moment forward. Forever. By His own words, it was finished. Such a tiny blip for such a monumental change.
Interestingly enough, separation is one thing I'm really torn up about on this anniversary. Because five years feels like such a gulf of separation. Like an immense abyss with no end in sight. It's unbelievable. Inconceivable. It just feels so dominant. But then there is this tiny little nugget of a partial verse.....a soothing reminder for my heart and soul. If the veil is torn, and there is no longer separation, and I have Jesus and Jesus has me, and Jesus has Braeden.....are we really so far apart?
I'm reminded of a song, a Christmas song, that goes, "We're not that far from Bethlehem, where all our hope and joy began. And if our hearts still Cherish Him, we're not that far from Bethlehem." We're not. The source of our hope and joy is so close--right here! And my heart.....my heart still cherishes Jesus, and still cherishes my son. They are not far. They're here. Cherished. They always will be. Forever.
I guess that is pretty good. :)
Growing up, I used to wonder why on earth we called this day "GOOD Friday." I mean, yeah, the end result was good....more than. But for all the horror of that day, it seems a little strange to label it good and name the day that. What I'd overlooked were the "tiny" details. The things that happened that only get a sentence in the story, but are HUGELY significant when you take a closer look. Like, "And the curtain of the temple was torn in two." (Luke 23:45b) It's not even a whole verse. But it's so much. Because the curtain meant so much. It meant separation. Separation between us and God. Big, dark, and heavy. And Jesus, by His death, tore that curtain in two. No more separation, from that moment forward. Forever. By His own words, it was finished. Such a tiny blip for such a monumental change.
Interestingly enough, separation is one thing I'm really torn up about on this anniversary. Because five years feels like such a gulf of separation. Like an immense abyss with no end in sight. It's unbelievable. Inconceivable. It just feels so dominant. But then there is this tiny little nugget of a partial verse.....a soothing reminder for my heart and soul. If the veil is torn, and there is no longer separation, and I have Jesus and Jesus has me, and Jesus has Braeden.....are we really so far apart?
"A scarred hand grasps both his and mine, so we'll never really part."This was the gentle and loving reminder my spirit so needed this time around. Why I believe that this year, God drew me to that tiny mention of the curtain. Because my heart feels so far away from Braeden, separated by a sea of time and space. But it's not, not really. It is in reality, a distance of only a few hands, and only a short amount of time when compared to the eternity that's before us. And that's so easy to forget in the hurt and longing.
~our sweet nurse and friend Kelli, who wrote Braeden's memorial poem
I'm reminded of a song, a Christmas song, that goes, "We're not that far from Bethlehem, where all our hope and joy began. And if our hearts still Cherish Him, we're not that far from Bethlehem." We're not. The source of our hope and joy is so close--right here! And my heart.....my heart still cherishes Jesus, and still cherishes my son. They are not far. They're here. Cherished. They always will be. Forever.
I guess that is pretty good. :)
Friday, December 27, 2013
Before You Post...
Deep breath..... sometimes things just build up. They pile on and then one day it's like Elaine from Seinfeld, in the airplane coming back from Europe with Puddy...."That's *IT* I cannot TAKE this anymore!!" Minus the anger. Because this really isn't an angry outburst, it's hopefully just my thought-provoking perspective.
The first year Kevin and I attended the CNCF conference after Braeden had died, we heard it. A parent, sharing a brief introduction to their story, concluding with their child's survival as "proof in the power of prayer." We kinda froze. Oooookay. It's been over four years since Braeden's death from neuroblastoma. Because we're still very much "in" the childhood cancer world, we know a lot of other kids who have, or have had, cancer. So we know many kids who are doing well through their treatment, many who are doing well after their treatment. And also, because we're Christians, it probably isn't too hard to figure that at least some of our friends are too. Because of both of those things, we see a lot of references to faith, hope, believing, God's faithfulness, answered prayer, and on and on and on. Sometimes they go like the first comment I mentioned, other times they are more subtle references that leave me perplexed and wondering if I should ask for clarification. I haven't yet. So maybe this is my less-confrontational way of doing so now.
Because I really mean this isn't an angry outburst, and because I don't want come off as "finger-pointing," I'm not going to list more specific examples, I'll just share my perspective and perhaps, hopefully, some insight.
What I often want to say is, "do you know how that sounds?" Because Braeden did not die because we didn't have enough hope, didn't believe enough, didn't "think positively enough," didn't pray "powerful" prayers. He didn't die because our faith was inadequate. He died because he had cancer, and because we live in a fallen world, and because bad things happen. You are not blessed just because your child survived, and conversely we are not NOT blessed because ours did not. Being blessed is not about getting the "answer to prayer" that we wanted, being blessed is about God being with us IN all of that, regardless of the outcome. Our child's lives are not rewards for our faith....nor are their deaths a punishment for our lack of faith.
Please understand, I know, I really do know, what you mean. And I know, too, that it's more than a little likely I never would have thought about these things had Bub survived. Perspective. That's why it's so hard sometimes to admit that what you say hurts. Because I know you're thankful for the gift you have been given and deeply desire to thank God for your child's health and life. But....in doing so, please remember that some of us are still thankful, and still faithful, without the same outcome, and that we prayed hard too...
The first year Kevin and I attended the CNCF conference after Braeden had died, we heard it. A parent, sharing a brief introduction to their story, concluding with their child's survival as "proof in the power of prayer." We kinda froze. Oooookay. It's been over four years since Braeden's death from neuroblastoma. Because we're still very much "in" the childhood cancer world, we know a lot of other kids who have, or have had, cancer. So we know many kids who are doing well through their treatment, many who are doing well after their treatment. And also, because we're Christians, it probably isn't too hard to figure that at least some of our friends are too. Because of both of those things, we see a lot of references to faith, hope, believing, God's faithfulness, answered prayer, and on and on and on. Sometimes they go like the first comment I mentioned, other times they are more subtle references that leave me perplexed and wondering if I should ask for clarification. I haven't yet. So maybe this is my less-confrontational way of doing so now.
Because I really mean this isn't an angry outburst, and because I don't want come off as "finger-pointing," I'm not going to list more specific examples, I'll just share my perspective and perhaps, hopefully, some insight.
What I often want to say is, "do you know how that sounds?" Because Braeden did not die because we didn't have enough hope, didn't believe enough, didn't "think positively enough," didn't pray "powerful" prayers. He didn't die because our faith was inadequate. He died because he had cancer, and because we live in a fallen world, and because bad things happen. You are not blessed just because your child survived, and conversely we are not NOT blessed because ours did not. Being blessed is not about getting the "answer to prayer" that we wanted, being blessed is about God being with us IN all of that, regardless of the outcome. Our child's lives are not rewards for our faith....nor are their deaths a punishment for our lack of faith.
Please understand, I know, I really do know, what you mean. And I know, too, that it's more than a little likely I never would have thought about these things had Bub survived. Perspective. That's why it's so hard sometimes to admit that what you say hurts. Because I know you're thankful for the gift you have been given and deeply desire to thank God for your child's health and life. But....in doing so, please remember that some of us are still thankful, and still faithful, without the same outcome, and that we prayed hard too...
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