Take Offs and Landings!

I just returned from a wonderful holiday in San Francisco. I had never been there before and fell in love with the magical city immediately. Flying is NOT one of my preferred methods of transportation. However driving to California from Illinois was not an option and I am stubborn enough to not let a little fear keep me from enjoying life. I especially hate take-offs. It is the moment of adrenaline induced stress that doesn’t subside until we are in the air and flying safely. When taking off from the Bloomington airport I couldn’t help but make the connection to how my life has been the past two years. There have been too many “take-offs”—a time of high anxiety because I am unsure of what the future holds. Not unlike my flying experience, I feel anxious until I am securely comfortable with the “new normal” of the moment.

Landings are another story. I love landing. I like to hear the sound of the landing gear hitting the run way and the jerk of the breaks as the plane slows to a stop, safe and sound. In life I anticipate landings, but have had only a few lately. My life “landings” would incorporate the completion of buying and selling a house, becoming comfortable doing “couple things” by myself, remaining poised through Chad’s graduation and finishing my second master’s degree.

For the most part, I feel I am in mid-air flight. I have taken off safely (and proud of that), but I haven’t had many life “landings”. I look forward to those times when I am safety through what life has thrown in my direction and can reflect with integrity and honor.

This I know for sure...

A Father's Day Surprise

Sitting in the pew on Father’s Day took as much courage as I had left. My initial intention was to stay home, even run away for the day, but I wanted to pay tribute to my own father. During the service, fathers were honored reminding me of what we have lost in earthly terms. As our pastor began his message “What Makes a Man a Great Father?” my state of mind changed from one of sorrow and self-pity to one of gratefulness beyond reason. I was thankful, for I realized that my children and I were blessed to have had a father which met the requirements mentioned in the sermon:

A great father…

…has a relationship with God.

…is willing to obey God.

…directs their family in the way of the Lord.

…has a wise and giving spirit.

…lives in the presence of God’s blessing.

Abraham was referenced as a great example of a Godly father. Pastor Crump explained that though Abraham was a servant, he never was able to actually see all that God had promised him. Some of those blessings came after his death, just as Don’s. Don may not have been on earth to see his son donned with the title of “Prom King”: he may not have been able to see (in temporal terms) his son graduate from high school or hit his first homerun in little league; however, Don’s legacy, just like Abraham’s, will continue to live on through his children.

So I willingly celebrate Father’s Day. I honor my own father for being the Godly beacon to my brothers and me, but I also honor the father of my children for the lasting heritage of love he left for the boys to grasp and claim as their own living legacy. Though Don is not present in the earthly sense, he lives on in the lives of those he touched.

This I know for sure….

Divine Providence Via Earthly Forms

In the front yard of the house my husband and I called home for 10 years, sat the most magnificent birch tree you have ever seen. If you know anything about birch trees, you should know that they are a bit finicky, not terribly sturdy, but absolutely breathtaking when in full foliage. They are notable for their distinctive white-bark characteristic and easily identifiable. These trees normally have a short life (in tree years) lasting 15 to 20 years at best. This tree was planted by the original owners of the home and was well past its 15 year life span when we bought the house.

This special tree was one of the reasons we fell in love with the house in the first place. Many of our fondest family memories were photographed in front of this tree. The first day of school, homecoming, prom, school dances, birthdays, and visits by relatives were often chronicled with the birch tree background. Don took tremendous care of the tree pruning it when necessary and supplying the tender loving care such a special tree required.

After selling the house, the new owners apparently had an aversion to anything arborous. All of the grand trees landscaping the yard were relentlessly cut down, including the special birch tree in the front yard. It was heartbreaking to drive by the property and see it stripped of its distinctive backdrop. To be honest I have, most likely, driven by the house for the last time.

Before I continue this story I need to let it be known that I am a believer in divine providence; that Godly intervention does exist in our lives and when it is so blatantly presented to us we should claim it. I am claiming that the God who made me is also present in my everyday life; constantly providing courage and solace via earthly forms. Here is just such an example.

Tonight at my youngest son’s baseball game, I met the previous owners of our new home purchased after Don’s death. We introduced ourselves and began discussing the many life decisions which led to them to selling the house to me, then moving to Canada and now moving back to our small town. I narrated the story of how we came to buy the home from him. I complemented the beautiful landscaping of the yard and how it was a real selling point to us. I also explained the difficulty I experienced driving by our old home without the birch tree and the significance of the tree in our lives. My eldest son was present and mentioned the fact that his favorite part of our new home was the weeping willow tree in the backyard.

I noticed the gentleman getting a bit of a tear in his eye as he paused a moment and then explained, “I have to tell you the story of that weeping willow tree. I just realized that it may very well be the replacement tree for the one you lost.”

As he began his story I sensed that this was a difficult issue for him to discuss, yet he had an urgency to do so. It seems this man and his wife lost a child before they moved to the house I am currently living in. They planted a weeping willow tree in their yard as a remembrance. When they moved they carefully uprooted the tree and replanted it into what is now my backyard. With emotion the man said that he now believes that the weeping willow tree was a replacement for the birch tree we no longer could even visit.

I am constantly amazed at the providence of God—the way he holds us and endlessly provides us with avenues in which healing is possible. The boys and I have always acknowledged that this tree in our backyard was special. We had an impression of its importance in our lives long before we had this man’s story as an assurance. Since we have moved into this house the beautiful weeping willow tree has become the new photo backdrop which chronicles our lives. It will stand as a memorial of the past, as well as a symbol of hope the future will bring.

This I know for sure.

Milestones, Memories, Aging and Peace

I realize my age will be showing with this post, but I have lived these 44 years and am not sure I want to be any other age, so I don’t really mind. Bare with me here:

Flashback to 1980:
I was graduating from high school, ready to leave for college, in love and into music. The Doobie Brothers was my band of choice and specifically the album “Minute by Minute”. Michael McDonald was the lead singer with an undeniably original voice and when he would bang those piano keys he stole my heart. I probably played that album over and over and over until the grooves wore out.

Flash forward to June 2007:
I received a call from a good friend on Friday telling me he had tickets to a semi-private concert given in Missouri by Michael McDonald. Seems he had extra tickets and wanted to know if I wanted to go. Are you kidding? I couldn’t pass up this chance to see and perhaps meet my musical idol. I made arrangements for the kids and was off. A fabulous black tie reception kicked off the evening. Upon entering the small auditorium, my heart actually began to race like some capricious teenager. Michael was introduced and as he strolled across the stage I thought - WAIT—who is that though somewhat sexy---old, overweight guy? For a split second I must have had a very perplexed look on my face, but when the music began my heart melted. I immediately recognized that familiar Michael McDonald style and was caught up in it for the next two hours. The reality is that we all age, but our inner spirit and gifts remain the same.

He began the concert with a song I had never heard—yes, it surprised me that there was actually a Michael McDonald song I hadn’t heard. Apparently he has a Christmas album and recorded on it is a song entitled “Peace”. He opens his concert with this song as a prayer for our country. Here is the chorus—such beautiful prose.

Love won't compromise
It's a gift, it's a sacrifice
My soul renewed, and my heart released
In you I'll find my peace

It is amazing how music marks milestone and memories within our lives. My life is especially this way. I loved the television show “Ally McBeal” because when Ally faced different life situations or different people within her life she would hear a theme song. I find I can chronicle my life in a similar fashion. When I think of past memories specific songs come to mind and I hear them in my head, or when I hear certain songs they immediately bring back reminiscences. Music has the amazing ability to mark our life, to bridge the past to the present and to create within us memories to hold close to our hearts.

This I know for sure.

Recouperating, Television and Contentment

For the last three weeks I have been recuperating from surgery which means I have watched way too much television. What have I learned? I have discovered that if you watch more than 12 episodes of “What NOT to Wear” you don’t become more stylish---you become more critical. I have also watched so many installments of “Flip This House” that I am actually thinking I can do this myself—stop laughing. Of course I would need the help of my brother-in-law and the financial backing of Donald Trump. Another skill I have acquired is that I could tell you just what to do to get your house ready to sell. Are you aware of the number of shows on television dealing with this topic? I actually got more decorating tips watching these programs than I did watching decorating-themed shows.

This extensive television therapy has made me realize that we, as Americans, seem to be obsessed with making things “better” – our bodies, our stuff, our kids, our relationships. This is a good thing—to a point. But when do we choose to be content with what we have, who we are and what we may become? When do we, as Paul, find contentment no matter what: “…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” (Philippians 4:11) Perhaps learning the meaning of contentment is what our journey here on earth is all about. I hope I am striving in the right direction. I long to embrace happiness and become content with not only who I am at this point, but with what I now possess and in the eternal plan for the future.

This I know for sure…

Why I Write

I have begun to depend on writing. Not only to release emotion, but to work through the “issues” of life. I am changing my career to cater to this “writing addiction”. I will be teaching writing all day long starting August 2007. Yes, it will be educating middle school children, but I really am passionate about the power of writing and couldn’t be more excited to influence young people to write. Please bear with me as I, once again, quote Henri Nouwen:

“Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be "redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and sometimes for others too.”

Wish I had some words of my own to express my obsession with writing, but Nouwen’s words simply express it much better than I could ever imagine. Life makes much more sense when put into words.

When I look back to my writings at the beginning of my grief journey, it is so apparent that my feelings were raw and uncontrolled. It is through writing that I am made aware of growth I have experienced. Without this narrative, I would be inclined to forget—to put aside those initial feelings as being to difficult to comprehend. Since they are documented I can actually realize that I have continued to grow and learn through my journey.

Writing is powerful. I challenge each of you to keep a printed record of your life journey.

This I know for sure.

Graduation, Parties, Weddings, Musings and Other Things…

This weekend my son graduated from high school. I attended this event held in our small town high school gymnasium with conflicting emotions. I am proud that my son is graduating and embarking in a new chapter of his life, but a bit sad at how quickly time has passed. The ceremony itself was the shortest graduation I have ever been to—45 minutes! These were the kids Chad had grown up with for the last 10 years and terrrific examples of bright young people who will lead our country in the future.

Saturday was Chad's graduation party. We planned the party with him in mind, yet we wanted to make it special for our guests. I was fortunate to have the mother of my son’s closest friend offer to assist me with the planning and accomplishing such a task. Her gift was to not only make some of the wonderful sweets offered to our guest, but to also be there “behind the scenes” at the actual party so that Chad and I could enjoy our guest. I can’t find the words to tell you what an amazing gift this was to us. I will always treasure the fact that I was able to relax and appreciate these folks who came to honor my son's accomplishments.

When I looked around the room I was astonished at the cross section of people represented. This cross-section could characterize the way our lives have woven within the fabric of others. Family was represented, both my family as well as Don’s. Friends were represented, including Chad’s and mine. Young and older individuals mingled as they often do in life. Some in attendance knew us through church, others through school, some through civic organizations and some through loss. I believe all had a nice time and Chad especially enjoyed being the person of honor.

Sunday, I attended the wedding of a very dear widow friend. Trish married Brad in Monticello and it was magical. The ceremony was special and the reception simply a blast. It was good to see my widow friends from Chicago and spend some time with them. What an inspirational example that there is “life after death”!

Well, this most anticipated, activity-packed weekend is over. I am tired, but have wonderful memories shared by many family and friends. It is within these moments that I feel most greatly blessed and loved.

This I know for sure.

Entitlement!

I had a difficult weekend. I posted what happened on the widow board and, as usual received some great advice. I didn’t like what I was feeling, but couldn’t stop it. I think many of us feel this way---a sense of entitlement. I have had to come to grips with the fact that the person (male figure) who had my son’s best interest at heart is no longer around and what is more---I shouldn’t even expect anyone else to take up the slack.

After Don died there were so many promises of men who would “stand in for Don”, well it just hasn’t happened. However, there has been one person who has taken interest in my son and has sacrificed his own personal time to spend time with my child. This person is my pastor. PT lives across the street and I can always count on him to include my son when he is playing basketball or Play Station. My youngest son has appreciated this male-bonding. He loves visiting PT and talks about it for hours after returning home. In turn they have a special relationship. Chandler loves to kid PT and his face lights up whenever he sees PT. He just needs to have someone think it is important to spend time with him. It seems so simple to me.

There are men in my family, but they have families, jobs and lives of their own and it is quite selfish of me to think they would have my kid’s interest in mind when they have their own. The difficult part is that my head comprehends this notion, but my heart can’t seem to reconcile the reality.

Why do I feel like my kids have some entitlement to sharing in male-bonding experiences with my brother, dad, uncle etc…? No one has an “obligation” to my children, but I do KNOW if Don were here my kids would be included in many of the activities they are excluded from now. I truly hate feeling this way. I know that I feel like my boys are short changed in the male-activity department and that mom is simply NOT an adequate stand-in for a male role-model. I really do HATE the these emotions I am having. I have tried for HOURS to reason this out and “get over it”, but to NO avail--tears still flow; feelings are slow to change-which isn't at all like me. Perhaps that is the part that distresses me.

I WILL get over it…..
I just HATE that I have to and that this is just another thing to add to the list. Someone tell me I am NOT the most selfish being on the planet for feeling this way!

But for now---seems I am still a participant in my own“pity party”

This I know for sure…and am not particularly proud of it.

Healing

I had surgery ten days ago. As surgeries go, it was considered major. As recoveries go, it has been very smooth. Today I overdid it. I needed some new clothes for several graduation parties I am to attend in the next few weeks, so I did a little shopping. I met my dad for lunch, some friends for coffee after school, my best friend and her husband for dinner and then to a graduation party at a nearby golf course. Tonight, I am paying the price. I am exhausted and in more pain than I have been in since the day of the surgery.

This is a bit like when we experience emotional pain. When the pain first hits we are careful to take care of ourselves. We surround ourselves with supportive people; we seek solace in faith and even take more time for “us”. As we think we are beginning to heal we step away from the support. We try to go it alone and then “bam” the pain hits us again and we are made greatly aware that we still need the support---that is our emotional pain medicine.

This I know for sure.

In a Holding Pattern

I haven’t flown much the past few years, but remember well a trip to Colorado when our plane, waiting to land, was in a holding pattern over the city. The anticipation of landing filled the cabin as passengers grew more and more anxious. Then I glanced across the aisle at a small child as he looked out of the airplane windows, amazed at the beauty and wonder of the mountains; with excitement pointing and talking a mile a minute to his mother. He was oblivious to the impatience of the other passengers.

I feel as if my life is in a similar “holding pattern”. I am hovering over my life, both past and present, taking stock and preparing to “land” at the appropriate moment. This is not a futile place to be, but actually a chance to evaluate my life, gain energy and outlook then proceed with more confidence and conviction.

While in this moment of waiting I have been reading Proverbs 2. It tells me that while I am in this place I can not just sit stifled. Here is the caveat if I am to be prepared for a “perfect landing”:

“IF you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and

IF you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and

IF you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure” (vs 1-4)

So what I am doing now is crying out for understanding and looking for it as I would something I value beyond anything else. What does that look like? I think it looks like that little boy in the airplane as he looked out onto the beauty below. He was content to take in the splendor while the other passengers restlessly waiting to land, missed the beauty of the journey. For me it means slowing down, getting my life in order and becoming contented with my circumstances. This simply takes time.

When will I know I am ready for the landing? I don’t have to wonder, there is a promise for searching diligently. Verse 5-10 lays it out clearly:

Then you will understand ..and find the knowledge of God. For the LORD gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. He holds victory in store for the upright, he is a shield to those whose walk is blameless, for he guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones. Then you will understand what is right and just and fair—every good path. For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.

While I am in this holding pattern I plan to enjoy the beauty of the journey, to take the time needed to accomplish it so that the landing is effortless and even enjoyable.

This I know for sure.

A Tribute to My Mother

Her children arise and call her blessed; Proverbs 31:28

As tributes go, I couldn’t possible write one worthy of my mother. She is one remarkable woman. She is the matriarch of our family. She is the spiritual glue which holds us together. At 65 years old she still teaches kindergarten in an inner city school. She is their hero as well as mine.

Throughout her life, my mother has given to others. As a pastor’s wife she represented Christ to her parishioners. She has always been held in high regard by those who know her. I will never forget the time I had a social gathering at my house and one of the ladies from the church said, “Your mother would be proud.” It made me feel great to know that I, in some way, had emulated her. It wasn’t about my culinary skill; it was about the ability to make other’s feel at ease, even comfortable. Hospitality is another of my mother’s many gifts.

God has chosen to bless this part of my life with the honor of having my mother close by. For years my parents lived far from us. I didn’t realize how much I missed having my mother around until they moved back to town several years ago. When my darkest hour hit, my mother was there, not only hold me, but to help me begin to put the pieces back together again. I treasure the fact that I can call her at any time and know that she will drop everything to have coffee with me, pray with me or simply let me know that she is present.

What I know of parenting, I have learned from my mother. I know that Mentholadum, when applied to most anything (except feelings), heals almost instantaneously. I have learned the power of prayer is mightier that anything else in the lives of our children. I have learned that a mother’s love is unconditional, absolute and definitive.

So on this day, I rise up and call my mother, blessed.
This I know for sure.

Feeling Fragmented

Ever feel like there are times in your life when nothing fits together completely; like your life is simply a patchwork of fragmented pieces that don’t work together in any ordered manner? This is where I reside tonight.

It has been almost 20 months since Don’s death. I have grown, the kids have grown, I have even begun to rebuild my life; yet, I seem to miss his presence more than ever. My son was crowned prom king last week, I had major surgery, my oldest graduates from high school in two weeks and I know these milestones have triggered this rush of sentiment, but the feelings are still genuine and are mine to discern. Someone on the YWBB board posted about the fact that they miss the one person who understood them “best of all”. I understand fully that void and wonder if there will ever be someone who “gets me” like that or if I have the energy to reveal that much of myself to someone else.

I am taking on a new teaching post next year. I began my teaching career in middle school English. I taught middle school for 7 years and have spent the last 14 in the intermediate grades. I have decided to travel full circle back to middle school English next year. Though I am excited about the change, I wonder what I was thinking—making yet ANOTHER major change in my life at this point.

As a mother, I am exhausted—yes—I admit it. Single parenting is not something I signed up for. Being “mom and dad” is called being “spread thin”. So, I wonder if either job is being completed adequately. I do pray that in the end, my kids won’t suffer too much from the strain of only having one parent who is, at times, less than sufficient.

And I question…..

pretty much everything. My confidence has diminished. I am even questioning this post since I am only two days out from surgery and realize emotions are on edge. I am consoled by the fact that I know there are many of you out there who feel the same way as I do-those who feel fragmented or disjointed; yet, who continue each day because you also “eagerly desire the greater gifts” (I Cor. 12:31) and have been promised to be shown the “most excellent way.”

So tonight I put to rest some of these fragmented sections of my life, or at least I give them over to the One who can create a beautiful “life” quilt from my disjointed pieces.

This I know for sure…

Prom King!

What I know for sure is that my son has always been a king in my eyes, and today---he is a King in the eyes of others. You will have to bear with my "proud mama moment".

A Man of Integrity

By his light I walked through darkness! Job 29:3

I must confess that my reflection time has been nonexistent the past few weeks and my life can tell the tale. I need time alone to study, pray and consider what is going on in my life. I make much better life decisions when I have taken the time to truly contemplate the decisions I must make. My pastor spoke on Job last Sunday and as my ADHD set in, I began to read Job’s story (yes during the sermon) and finished it throughout the week. I have heard this story over and over throughout my life, but Job became more relevant to me as I connected his story to that of my own (in teacher-ease that is called a "text-to-self" connection).

Job fascinates me. I am not sure if this story actually took place, or if it was divinely placed in the Bible to teach us, but that really matters little in the face of the lessons that can be discovered from Job’s life. Here is a man who endured more than his share of adversity. His family, livelihood, home, friends and life in general were stripped from him, yet he kept his faith. Now, he didn’t go into the night singing glorious hymns of praise for the life he was dealt. No, he anguished in his situation, cried out to God and was obviously in deep pain. I can relate.

We are most often fascinated by the fact that Job was faithful to God throughout his tormented life, but I find something more to admire within the character of Job. I find his integrity to be his most admirable quality. Job is real. He isn’t a Bible superhero, but a man. He got upset with God, he questioned “why”, he struggled and wept, but his integrity remain in tact-even when others thought sin was the reason for his suffering. When the rubber hit the road—it was obvious that Job was a man of principle and courage.

I am careful about what I ask for anymore. I want the integrity of Job, but have already endured my limit of hardship in order to obrain such an attribute, so I am reluctant to ask for it. Instead, I will use Job as a gauge and begin to work my way to that place of respectability. One thing I can say along with Job is that “by HIS light I walked through darkness.” I guess this is a start.

The most inspiring part of Job’s story comes at the end. He was rewarded for his faithfulness and resoluteness. In the 42^nd chapter, verse 12 it reads that “the Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the first.” I could only be so fortunate. This is a promise I can hold on to.

This I know for sure.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

My son is a senior in high school. This next weekend is his senior prom. He has been elected to the prom court and tonight I am overwhelmed with sorrow as I think that his father will not be here to witness this great milestone in my son’s life.

As I sat, wallowing in my self-pity, this verse in Jeremiah came to mind. God has far more planned for my son than I can imagine or envision. God has plans for my son that includes hope and a bright future, despite the “hand he has been dealt:” So tonight I celebrate who my son is—who he has become and who he will be.

He is the living legacy of his father. He is loved by everyone and has a special spirit that causes others to be at ease with him and themselves. He has a strong moral fiber which I, as his mother, am so very proud of. He is a natural musician and uses his talent to serve. He is a “normal” teenager, who, under abnormal circumstances has risen to become an exceptional human being. Sometimes, I look at him and am saddened that he no longer has an earthy father to share his life memories with, but am forever grateful that he has many strong men in his life who are more than willing to stand-in and represent his father, not take the place of, but to simply represent.

Life is hard, but my son is a perfect example of how overcoming is not only a possibility, but required to continue into a life of hope and a future filled with promise. Whatever God has for him, he will meet the challenge with the confidence and conviction that is his birthright. Whether he is crowned prom king on Saturday night is of little significance to us, he deserves much more than a silly earthly crown and will indeed receive such.

THIS I know for sure…

To Simply Exist

It's not enough to simply exist. Somewhere a choice must be made to actually stand for something. When I think about life in general, I wonder what it is that my life stands for? What can my children point to as the “point” of my living?

My son graduates from high school in just a few weeks. It seems like yesterday that I walked down that aisle and received my high school diploma. I thought I had the world by the tail. I was in love, going to college and knew most everything there was to know (at least that’s what I thought). The reality was that I had little to NO knowledge of life in general. I didn’t know you could marry the love of your life and it not be forever and though this has been my biggest heartache, life, in general, has been good to me. I have a job that I love, a family close by for support, some of the very best friends God could give a person and the hope that the next chapter in my life will be as amazing as the first.

I do have hopes and dreams—even at 44 years old. I hope to make a difference. I hope that I can build on the foundation laid by my husband and me; continue to raise my sons to be successful and happy adults and create a “chapter two” that is full of hope and promise.

Leo Buscaglia recommends this alternative to “simply existing”:
“May I suggest that it be creating joy for others, sharing what we have for the betterment of personkind, bringing hope to the lost and love to the lonely?”

We have opportunities every day to enrich another’s life. We have life experiences, thoughts, advice and views others could not only benefit from, but find joy within. Simply existing is to waste your life experience to horde what life has taught you as only your own. It is only with sharing and creating community within our lives that we are able to live fully.

It is my desire to “stand” for hope; for the ability to take life and not only exist, but flourish. Am I there yet? No—not even close. Do I expect to arrive there---Yes, I really do. I want my children to know that life may be difficult, even unbearable at times; but that God, through His strength and love can embrace us and guide us to a far greater existence than we could ever imagine. As my son graduates, my wish for him is to NOT simply exist, but to thrive.

This I know for sure.

Two Posts--One Day --Senseless!

I conducted a poetry workshop within my classroom today. It was successful, as lessons go,—my students were so engaged that they didn’t even want to go to band—they wanted to continue to write. Tonight, I found myself watching Oprah on TIVO—and I found myself encompassed in my very own poetry workshop lesson of the day. Oh, a victim of my own instruction---trying to make sense of something so utterly "Senseless"

Senseless

How many will join our ranks?

I am sitting

At home

Watching Oprah and learning of a man

Named Ken Granda

Father of three

Shot

In the hallway of Virginia Tech

Needless….senseless.

I knew something was wrong

He didn’t call me back

He was brilliant

How is his wife?

Children?

Three children…

He was a wonderful father..

Hearts are broken

Children without a father

What do we do?

It is surreal…

We can’t move forward…

We can’t make arrangements

We can move forward until

They release

The body

Release the body

“Our sense of grief can not be compared to your own…”

No, it can not.

Grief

Can not be compared….

I Hate Guns!

I will admit that the recent happenings at Virginia Tech have aggravated my feelings in this area. You see, a former student lost his life a few years ago to the fact that firearms were readily available to him. Now, we find ourselves reading about a college student with a semi-automatic handgun who had the capability of killing over 30 young people in one fell swoop --- in a heartbeat the lives of the Virginia Tech students and families will never be the same-innocence has been stolen from them. Security is gone. I can’t imagine the pain that the parents of these children must endure—it is truly senseless. The loss of my husband was great, but I comprehend and acknowledge that the loss of a child is the greatest loss of all.

I am unwavering in my stance regarding guns. There are very FEW absolutes in my life—this happens to be the ONE that is steadfast. Is this harsh--perhaps, but I will not waver---I will not back down---nor would I ever stand in the way of your “right” to own a gun, especially for hunting (though I have zero tolerance for semi-automatic anything). But if I am aware one is present in your home, my child would NOT be allowed to visit you. See, I am under no illusion that my child, who is capable of conquering any extremely complicated video game, could figure out how to open a “locked” gun cabinet if he so desired and curiosity; well, it is within every child’s nature.

At the end of the day, I believe in the potential of life from conception to death—it is a part of who I am. I can’t explain it any better than to tell you that---ALL life has promise. It doesn’t end at conception and it certainly doesn’t end with making horrific decisions. Do I KNOW that at moments in time, this doesn’t make sense, YES, but I still am willing to hold true to the fact that life is precious no matter what---and guns---seem to only accelerate the ability to take it away.

This I know for sure.

When Will I Learn?

Don and I never played the “popular in the school district” game and sometimes our kids suffered; however, in the past, Don was actually here to “oversee” the kids sporting activities. When my youngest son received word of the baseball team he was to be on this summer, I took exception with the fact that he seemed to be on a team coached by someone outside our community. As a single mother, I was hoping that he would be on a team coached by a role-model from our own community with which he could “connect”. Selfishly, I wanted to be able to car-pool with parents I knew well and be able to count on their support.

As always, I took things into my own hands and emailed the head of the youth league my concerns. As I was reading his response, my 11-year-old was looking over my shoulder and asked “Mom, why are you emailing Mr. L?”. I told him and, of course, he was APPALED. He said to me “Mom, we will deal with the hand we are dealt. I DO NOT want any special treatment.” So, I sent another email to Mr. L (who, most likely, thinks I am a nut case by now) that we would simply stay with the original team my son was assigned to.

The next day I received the team roster. Though I do not know the coach, the son of our “spiritual development pastor” at our church was on the team (my son already has great admiration for this man) and also the father of another man who was friends with my husband.

WHEN WILL I LEARN? When will I “GET” that God is truly in control of our lives and those of our children? I long to, one day, have the faith of my 11-year-old son and embrace the “hand I have been dealt”.

This I KNOW for sure…

DUMA!

My 11-year-old son and I love to watch movies together. We watch all kinds of movies, but have noticed that in many of the movies we watch together a parent dies. This could have been the way it was in movies we watch before, but we seem to be more keenly aware of this plot line now. With all we have been through you might think this to be horribly difficult to watch, but it really isn’t. Instead, it has opened dialogue between my son and me and has, in fact, assisted the healing process.

This weekend we watched the movie DUMA. DUMA was listed on my brother, Evan’s website as his favorite movie of the year. Now, Evan usually likes those artsy movies where, when I leave, I am left wondering what it was all about. Even with that in mind, we decided to take a chance and give this movie a try since it was about a South African boy who befriends a cheetah (who doesn’t fall in love with a cheetah cub). I am so glad that we did.

This is a lovely movie about friendship and the legacy of a father as the boy, Xan, goes on a journey to return his beloved cheetah back to its rightful home. The scenery is breathtaking and will make you want to hop on the nearest jet to South Africa to experience the “wild”. There are many poignant quotations in the movie, but one that really stands out is when Xan tells his new friend, Ripkuna, that his father died. Ripkuna articulates, “People go when they are ready to go, not when you are. We are all just travelers on the same river, grandparents, parents, sons and daughters. We all have our time on the river. We do what we can before we disappear”. How true.

Another moving scene is at the end of the movie when Xan expresses that his father will live on within him. At this point my son looked over at me and said, “That’s where dad lives on—in me.” Yes, yes he does.

This I know for sure.