Sunday, December 28, 2008
A very small window
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Facing Christmas without Christopher
There is a part of me that feels like that is all gone for me and never to return. I did good, though, I had Christmas dinner for my brother, sister-in-law, niece and mom. I made a good meal, if I may say so myself and generally enjoyed myself. But is it just different. That family is different from what I had with Christopher and what I looked forward to with him through the years.
It has been long enough that I have trouble remembering my last Christmas with Christopher; I get so confused as they all begin to run together. That is the way I feel about a lot of the thirteen years we spent together. It is just one, long movie that is growing more silent with each passing day. Is is coming to a point that I don't know what I remember as opposed to what I know. I know that we went on great vacations, but I want to remember every little moment, every conversation, every smile, even every argument.
I want it all back. I want every moment with him back to hold on to, to hear, to smell, to savor. Why don't we think that we will ever forget? Why do we think that the joy will last forever?
I often wonder what, if anything, I would do differently, if I had only know that my time with Christopher was to be so very short. You know, I wouldn't change a thing. Every encounter, every conversation, every experience, every adolescent talk-back and my response, (good, bad or ugly), is what made Christopher into the young man that he was and I loved him just the way he was (is).
I have to remind myself that Christopher "is". He isn't "was." That is vital to me to know that one day I will be reunited with him again and enjoy all he was on this earth and more. I will see the remnants of our time together in his laugh, his smile, his character. I can hardly wait, but I must. Apparently there is some reason for me to be left behind and to that I'll be searching. I may never find it, but I pray that along the way, that lives will be changed. This pain has to be good for something, something big, and I beleive it will be.
God is good and He has a plan. I don't like it right now I am alone this Christmas night (if I were to be honest, I'd probably be alone this night even if Christopher hadn't died. I need to remind myself of those truths as well.) He woudl be out with friends, I'm sure. And truthfully, he is with the One true Friend.
Christopher is home this night. It is me who hasn't made it yet. Maybe I resent that he made it first; you know we were always very competitive! :)
Merry Christmas, Christopher. I am sure that the birthday party was a blast! Wish I could have been there.
Talk to Papa for me and see what He can do about that!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Faith is Easy
Sunday, December 7, 2008
First "Anniversary" - although there has to be a better word . . .
I have been at Camp Charis in Pelham, GA, for nearly 24 hours now. I came to set aside time to reflect and remember last year. It was 52 weeks ago, today, that Christopher left this earth to begin eternity with his God. I still wrestle with this; believe me, I know that it is real, but it is still so hard to grasp.
So why am I in Pelham Ga? Well, I decided that this year, I wanted some control over this weekend. If there is anything that I learned last year, is that there is really so little that I can control. Here, I am sort of alone, although there are a lot of people around me; some who know my story and some who don’t. I am free to do as I please, when I want, but I know that my dear friend, Craig, is keeping an eye on me.
I want for this weekend to be a time to remember and feel the events of last year in a way that I can only do by myself, without having to take care of anybody else. I have done that some and think I will again before I leave on Monday.
I have thought a lot about the other lives that were changed that night. There was a young girl who was driving a truck behind Linda. I have no idea what impact this has had on her; I don’t suspect much as I understand that she was not taken to the hospital, but quickly released.
There are Keith, Michelle, and Jamie, Linda’s children. I have so appreciated getting to know them though I regret the opportunity that brought us together. I have repeatedly tried to reassure them that I have found no fault with their mother that night. I don’t know what caused the accident, but I firmly believe that Christopher would be here today, had the car he was in that night been going the speed limit.
I don’t know much about how the driver, Christopher’s friend, is doing. I have never heard much from him. I have reason to believe he has not reacted to this event as I (and others who knew him well) know that Christopher would have responded. This has made it hard for me to know how to pray.
As I have written before, I am not angry with him, but that does not mean that I think that his choices that night do not require consequences. Fortunately, that is not for me to decide; there is a legal process over which I have no control or influence that will take care of that.
When I first met Linda’s daughter, she and I agreed that we didn’t want this to ruin this young man’s life. From the little I know of such things, a failure to deal with this type of trauma appropriately is more likely to have a negative impact on this young man than any consequence that the courts deem appropriate. I am glad that there is a God in control of this entire situation who I believe loves this young man.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
In one week, it will have been a year . . . .
Friday, November 28, 2008
Giving Thanks, but . . .
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
In three weeks it will have been a year . . .

Sunday, November 9, 2008
I'm sorry, but this just isn't right.
It has been eleven months since Christopher died and I still have a hard time believing it. It has not even been three months since my cousin's thirty-year-old son was killed by a drunk driver. On the way to Erie, from my dad's house in Wooster, OH, I stopped and visited the mother of one of my brother's friends; her 17 year old granddaughter committed suicide last week. I've previously mentioned my friend whose four year old died in a day care fire. The list goes on.
I don't know that I ever knew anyone when they had a child die. I've learned since Christopher's death that it isn't an uncommon experience and I, in fact, know several people who have had a child die. I've been told that we are not wired to have to bury a child; we expect our parents to precede us in death, but never a child. If that is true, then why am I walking with so many through this horific experience?
When I look back to that night in December, if can remember the same numbness I feel tonight. There is an inability to really feel all that has happened; I still cannot believe that Christopher has left this world. I take great comfort in knowing that we will be reunited, but that does little good tonight.
The last time I was here with my cousin Linda, Christopher was with me. He, her then 14 year old son and 10 year old grandson went sledding with Christopher. When we left Cleveland for Erie in the morning, there was no snow, but by noon, there was plenty on which to fly down the local hills. Tonight is one of those nights. If Christopher were here, I have no doubt that he would, even now, be outside romping.
But he's not. Neither are Kevin, Grace, Megan, Ryan, Taylor, Steven, and the list goes on. I am sorry, but this just isn't right. Or is it. It sure feels wrong, I can tell you that.
We were laughing earlier today about our sons in heaven laughing at the two of us telling stories. Another of Linda's sons (she has five sons, a daughter, five granddaughters, and a grandson - she is much older that I), laughed and decided that the boys were probably saying, "I told you my mom was crazier than yours!" Jay may well be right.
I shared Steven Curtis Chapman's song, "With Hope" with Linda today. Then I realized that I have this all wrong. I am so blessed to have the hope of heaven. I cry, I ache, I hurt, but I somehow do all this with a sense of hope. It isn't a hope that I can always feel, but it is always there.
You know, it is night, and it is cold, here in Erie, but somewhere out there, the Sun is burning hot and bright. I don't feel it now, but it still is; my feelings have nothing to do with that reality. I don't feel like any loss of a child is "right", but it still is. God is good and He loves me. In the past eleven months, that has been my hope. Do I feel it, not often, but I have to remember, my feelings have nothing to do with that reality.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wandering - Alone with Others
So, I guess my experience is not so unique. Why doesn't that help? I am trying to look at all these other losses to normalize the loss that I have experienced. I can't do it. I know that they loved their children, but they didn't lose Christopher. (Yes, I realize that I haven't lost their loved one either, but that is not my issue. My issue is that I lost Christopher. Call me self-centered.)
What did I lose when Christopher died? Not just what you might think. Sure, I lost a fine young man. A tall, handsome man who called me "mom". But I lost more than that. I feel like I lost my closest companion. As a friend said, I lost the wind in my sails. Every now and again, I get a breeze as I begin to look ahead and try to begin a "new" life. The problem is that it is lonely.
Sailing is not fun alone. Traveling is not fun alone. The plans that I am making would be so much more enjoyable if I could just tell Christopher about them. I know that he would not always be "traveling" with me, but he still would share in the details. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd be proud when I graduate next Summer.
I lost my sense of family; my sense of my belonging for the future. I know that I have a place, I have a purpose, it is just suddenly not the one that I've been imagining for the last 14 years.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Is Hope the Best We've Got?
I don't hope that God forgives me, I know that He does. I don't hope that God will sustain me through this painful process that I hate so intensely; I know that He will.
God has made a lot of promises. I don't hope that He keeps his promises; I know that He will. Hope is not the best that God offers. He offers Himself and that gives me confidence.
And for that I am truly thankful.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Reflections for a hard "Night of Worship"
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Memories from Pensacola: the good, bad, and the ugly
Friday, September 19, 2008
Slow Fade
Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade
Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day
Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Grief is like Football?
Yesterday I was encouraged that that the only way through this grief process is right up the middle. Of course, I think of football. Actually, I don't know that my friend who offered this counsel even watches football, but no matter. Have you ever seen the brutality that players who try to run up the middle experience? I think that I watch in awe that not more guys get hurt.
So I, at five foot tall and too many pounds, am being told that the only way through this grief process is to run straight through it. I picture myself in a Cleveland Browns (of course) uniform and the play has started before I was ready. I've been handed the ball and, having see the size of those defensive guys, I don't want the ball. But I've got it and there are boundaries that keep me from running around them. So, I have no choice but to go up the middle.
I am confident that this is going to result in my certain death. I know that it really hurts.
I can hear the commentators, "If she can just keep her legs moving, she'll make it through."
Lord, please just help me keep my legs moving. Either way, it is going to be a painful process, but the shortest difference, I'm told, is straight through it.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Roller Coaster Ride
Tonight I went to run an errand with a friend. We stopped at the cemetary to remove flowers that I had put on Christopher's grave for his birthday. Crash. I guess it shouldn't be a surprise when visiting my son's grave makes me kind of sad. As Christopher would say, "Duh!" But it was a good day and nothing really changed except that I started thinking.
I am much better on autopilot. I do much better when I am busy and don't think too much about my new reality. As a parent, I would often scold Christopher to "Think!", but as a grieving parent, I would do well to not think too much.
Clearly Christopher was smarter than I; he knew that thinking was overrated! He just lived life to the fullest and generally had a great time.
For that I am very thankful.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Trying to run
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I need to see a light
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Happy Birthday, Christopher
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!
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Peacemaking
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Drawn back under
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Patience
Weary . . . just come . . .
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).
I can do that.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Do I have another choice?
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.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
What is normal, anyways?
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.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
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!
Monday, August 4, 2008
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.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
The Need for Balance
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.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Conflicting Emotions
Conflicting emotions.
As part of the luncheon, they showed a video of pictures of many of the children and families whose lives have been touched by Jackie through the years. Jackie was the person at Florida Baptist who first believed in the possibility of Christopher and I becoming a family. As a result, there were several pictures of Christopher in the presentation. It was touching, but very painful.
Conflicting emotions.
Afterwards, Mileya (who had prepared the video) asked if it was okay . . . the way she included Christopher was okay; she had considered leaving him out thinking it would be too difficult to see, just (nearly) eight months after his death. It was so touching to see how a presentation that reflected how precious he was to Jackie (and the FBCH family), but it was so very sad.
Conflicting emotions.
I was pleased with how I handled it. I was very honest with how painful it was, but quickly reminded people that pain isn't bad. Yes, I was very sad, but sad isn't bad either. Pain and sad just are realities after the death of a child. I've decided that they can't be avoided. The problem is that people would rather not think about the pain and sadness that is my reality. In the book Shattered Dreams, Larry Crabb recounts a story of a man whose wife had recently died overheard his friends talking about how he is doing. They commented that he was doing "great". He felt that he had to always be doing great because that is what he has to tell people so that they can be comfortable. He said that he is tired of doing "great".
I'm not as kind as that man. I am not doing great and I won't tell you that I am. The best I'll give you is that "all things considered, I'm doing okay." Today, I told people that I was sad and that it was painful. They just have to deal with it. After all, I don't have a choice; why should they?
Of course I am just kidding myself to think that I could hide it if I tried. The tears were flowing freely. This is kind of new for me. I've done a good job at not letting people see my tears. No more. I have to deal with it; those around me will just have to deal with it. After all, I don't have a choice, why should they? I don't want people to see me hurting, but I would be doing a disservice to myself and to Christopher if I was able to "act" like this is an overwhelmingly sad and painful time.
Conflicting emotions.
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Letdown
A song by Steven Curtis Chapman says,
But there's more to this life than living and dying,
More than just trying to make it through the day;
More to this life, more than these eyes alone can see,
And there's more than this life alone can be.
I know that is true. I know that is true for Christopher and I know that is true for me. It is just a little more clear for Christopher right now than it feels for me.
I am applying my "you can't steer a parked car" right now. I just keep moving and we'll see where God directs me. I don't like this feeling right now; I don't like being so obviously out of control. Truth be told, if I have learned anything in the last almost 8 months it is that I was never really in control; it was only ever an illusion.
Over the last three weeks I read Larry Crabb's Shattered Dreams and although I could identify with almost everything, it made me very uncomfortable. I don't like the fact that this implies that Christopher died so that I would find a deeper relationship with God. Wasn't there a different way? Did Christopher have to die? There must have been another way? If there wasn't another way, what does that say about me? Was I so hard-hearted that the only option was to take my son?
Then I have to remind myself that Christopher didn't lose in all this. He is not in heaven thinking, "Darn, I don't get to go to prom!" He is more than satisfied with the outcome. It is me that is challenged by the whole thing, because my perspective is so limited.
It doesn't, however, change the pain. For that understanding, I appreciated Crabb's book. Permission to hurt in today's Christian culture is rare. I hurt and that means nothing other than I am in the reality of Shattered Dreams
Thursday, July 24, 2008
What next?
I have always been fully aware that had it not been for Christopher's death, I would not have been on this trip as I would have planned and totally enjoyed a vacation with him in lieu of this trip. I believe in a sovereign God who is very much into the details of our lives.
1. Christopher died
2. I came to South Africa
3. As part of my class, we visited McCords Hospital where I met Dr. Jay Mannie
4. Dr. Mannie prayed a blessing for our meal - I knew he was a Christian
5. I asked about a church to which he inquired about my preferences and then invited me to his church
6. I visited church Sunday
7. It was the birthday of a boy named Matthew and they had planned to celebrate it with the children of an orphanage
8. We joined them for the trip out to the rural area
9. Andy invited us to a cell group on Wednesday; I went and we talked about the needs of the orphanage.
I have so many thoughts of how perhaps I could be used to help address the very real needs of these children. I look at this opportunity and know that I would not been available had Christopher not died. I am not sure that I understand this (as a matter of fact, I now that I don't).
It is so conflicting in my heart. I am honored to possibly be a part of this work, but I'd rather have Christopher - I know that God could certainly raise up anyone to work on behalf of these children, but nothing will replace Christopher.
I don't know how I feel about this new vision and purpose. I loved my old life, the vision of a daughter-in-law and grandchildren . . . or simply the hope of seeing Christopher becoming that man I believed God would make him.
i don't know that this opportunity with the orphanage will materialize, but I can tell that it is a sign that God has something for me. He will give me a new vision, a new direction, a new hope. But more than anything, He will continue to give me Himself. I have found Him in new ways in South Africa. I had always believed that He gave me Christopher and now I wait to see what he has next for me. I pray that I would find Him alone to be enough.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Allowed to be Sad
I just read that the services will be on Saturday for little Gracie Chen. I simply ache for Lili.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Rough Days
I am reading the book Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb. His premise is that God will do whatever it takes to arouse our desire for Him; His primary purpose is not for us to feel good, so that should not be our goal when responding to "Shattered Dreams." I don't disagree, but I don't know how to live it out either. There are few people who really want to know of my daily struggle; they want to hear that I am doing well. I don't even know what that means anymore. I am getting up every day and getting about the business at hand, but if I stop long enough to consider the events of December 7-8, the pain is overwhelming. . . . and the tears will come.
Last night I had a wonderful dinner with some terrific people. it was a great time. Then I realized that the conversation had moved to the joy of the first grandchild, now almost two. How wonderful it is to be a grand and how it is so very different . . . they spoke of something that I most likely lost that night. The tears came; I excused myself from the table but it was too late.
I felt like it was so unfair of me to detract from their joy with my pain; that wasn't certainly my intention. I'd prefer to retreat for some time, but that is not an option. I must make people comfortable by "doing good" . . . or maybe not. I don't know.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Body
Earlier in the week during a site visit to a local Christian hospital I met a Dr. Mannie. He had a totally different perspective from what we had previously been exposed to and then he prayed and I understood. Afterwards, I went to him and asked about a local Christian Church. He asked about my preferences and then suggested the church where he worships. Five of us attended and were so very blessed.
After the service, Dr. Mannie took us to an "orphanage" where a woman had opened her home to 32 children who generally were not safe at their own homes. The church is reaching out to her to help her meet this overwhelming need in her community. Both on the way up and back, Dr. Mannie asked questions in an effort to really know and understand each of us.
I was able to share about Christopher and this process
All this to say, I am not as homesick anymore. I have been welcomed into a local community of believers, a relationship that I pray will be lasting. I am at home in the body of Christ, wherever it manifests itself.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The Process Continues
When i return, I have two classmates who are going to be staying with me for 2 weeks in August until the dormitories on campus open. His room will be a room to one of these girls. I am thankful to be able to help them in this way. Christopher would be glad as well, to be sure.
I am highly motivated by knowing that Christopher would have been angry with me if I let his death “ruin” my life. That would be giving him way too much power, to be sure.
I sit here trying to realize that Christopher is not longer with me in this world. I still can’t believe it. I have never liked the word denial as I believe that to say that I was in denial about the fact that Christopher died would make me look foolish. I have preferred to use the word disbelief. I think that now I am ignorant to the reality of Christopher’s death. Not to the fact of his death, but to the implications of his death.
I have lost so much more than a son; I have lost the hope of a daughter-in-law, grandchildren, enjoying seeing that man that Christopher was to become, the way that I know that he would be used in the lives of many. I have lost so much more than a son, but I have found something that I never imagined. Over the last seven-plus months, I have been in awe of the power of God to sustain me. I had no idea of what God in my life really meant.
I so want more of Him.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Shared Grief; Reopened Wounds
It brought my whole experience right back to the forefront; reopened a never-to-be-fully-healed wound.
I know something of the pain that Lili and Ping are feeling, but even I don't know exactly what they are feeling; if there is anything that I heave learned in the past 7 months is that this is a uniquely personal experience. I have been so astonished how no two parents respond the same. I had a long talk with Pat Lager last night and it was so helpful. I am a talker; not much is repressed in my world. That is a good thing, at least for me. I don't know how everybody else feels about it, but they seem to tolerate it okay. I has been good to be with a group of social workers - especially the ones who who have actually worked in the field.
It has been a blessing to once again see my friends in this process. They appear to have collectively agreed that it would be best if I didn't find out about Gracie. I did find out because of the wonders of technology and the internet. I am glad that I did. I would not have wanted to find out about this upon my return - too much emotion at one time.
There is an expression that the devil is in the details. In this case as well as many other in the past few months, I have seen that my God is in the details and for that I am thankful. His timing really is so much better than mine; is perspective is so much for clear than mine.
I am the child of an amazing God!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
The Best Laid Plans . . .
When we started going to Ormond, we used a timeshare the my brother owned for years and never really used. We used it two years in a row and then I traded it in to upgrade to a points-based time share so that we had more options and could go to a larger room (this was a fixed week, fixed unit situation and he was clearly growing out of sleeping with mom!) The next two years we stayed at Casa Del Mar. Then I tried to get adventuresome and switch accomadations; Christopher was not happy. He had found what he liked and there was no reason to change it, but, having no choice, he went along with me.
It was a disaster. I spoke to the people and they agreed to move us back to the Casa Mel Mar, putting us in a room better than we had ever had! Needless to say, we returned there every year thereafter and I never lived it down!
Just two years ago, I acquired additional points that enabled us to get a huge two bedroom unit on the top floor. So last summer, we enjoyed that he he was living large! Ms Lisa (as Christopher always called Husley), joined us last year and we experienced some new things in the area, most notable, we climbed to the top of a lighthouse at the end of the island. It was so fun to share this with Lisa so that we can enjoy this fond memory of a great young man.
So here I am sitting in Cape Town South Africa, and I'd give anything to be with Christopher in the same town, at the same condo, doing the same things that we have done the previous seven or eight years - just the way he liked it.
Who'd have thunk it. . . .
Friday, July 11, 2008
You Can't Steer a Parked Car
Since Christopher’s death, I have felt a need to re-examine everything. I’ve been counseled that you don’t make any big decisions in the first year and I don’t plan to. What I do plan to do is to start moving in a new direction. First of all, I have decided to apply for the PhD program at FSU in Social Work. If accepted, would hope to start that in Fall 2009. In order to make that happen, I am putting the word out that I am interested in a part-time job. The idea is that being part time at the University will keep me in my state retirement (I have 7 years to go) and allow me to move on in the PhD program. In addition, it will make my schedule more flexible to do some more at Door of Hope, which is why I believe that God has me doing all of this.
In addition, I plan to pursue a certificate in “Social Entrepreneurialism” from the University of Tampa. The idea is to figure out who to make it worthwhile to get people to invest in solutions to social problems.
I have no idea if this will work out and I am not really too terribly concerned about it. I plan to keep moving in this direction until or unless the Lord shows me another way. I am the moving car and I am trusting that God will guide me in the direction that I am to go. I just need to keep my heart open to him.
Does that make sense?

