Monday, September 22, 2008

Reflections for a hard "Night of Worship"

Last night, I attended a night of worship at a local church.  The music was not particularly my styles, but it was good.  I had to leave early however, because I was struggling so deeply.  Interestingly enough, I wasn't when I went (otherwise I wouldn't have gone - duh!)

Upon further review (yes, yesterday was an NFL Sunday), I realized that this was a different time of worship and I am not sure that I like it.  The reason, I went, was that I need to focus on Jesus;  I need to be reminded about who God is.  That is what I think of when I think of a night of worship.

The songs selected for last nights "event" (using Facebook lingo here), had the word "I" in them to many times.  I wish I could remember them all.  But it seemed to be more about us praising than it was about the object of our praise.  It kind of reminded me of a pastor who once told me that he loved me unconditionally.  I finally figured out that mean he didn't really, because he had to keep telling me.  Rather than talking about praise, let's just do it!

I think that these songs were hard for me because, while my faith has remained strong, it has certainly been a struggle.  My faith hasn't been a struggle, but anytime someone wants me to get over my circumstances because of who God is, I crash.  I firmly believe that I can have confident faith, and still be in the pain of grief.  If the scales are going to be tipped towards praise in the midst of the circumstances, it is only going to be done by a genuine focus on the character of God and not by declaring that "Praise is what I do."

In the songs and from the worship leader, I felt condemned for hurting so.  I felt like he was implying that to allow circumstances to influence us was wrong.  I don't don't know how you can avoid letting the death of your only child not affect you;  it just wouldn't be honest.  I am convinced that standing before God, admitting my pain is worship.  And when I am able to do this, "I" is not the main noun;  I go because if who He is and not who I am.

I am thankful that he makes that possible.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Memories from Pensacola: the good, bad, and the ugly

Yesterday, I had reason to go to Pensacola.  My mom had lived in that area (Gulf Breeze) since before I adopted Christopher until 2003.  As a result, there are a lot of "Christopher memories" in that area.

As a matter of fact, the home that Christopher lived in before he came to me was in Santa Rosa County (same as Gulf Breeze).  When we were transitioning from their family to me, we would alternate between me coming to their home or that family coming to mine.  When I would pick him up at their home, Christopher and I would just go to my mom's place rather than driving all the way back to Tallahassee.  As a result, some of my earliest memories of getting to know Christopher were based in that area.  

We often went to "Quiet Waters Beach".  This is an area on Pensacola beach, on the sound side, that was very calm; perfect for small children.  The water was shallow and the beach was full of families with young children.  At the place where my mom live, Seaview Pines, there were 23 units in a "U" shape.  In the courtyard, there was a small pool.  For most of the time that mom lived there, this was a really great community.  We would be out at the pool and everybody knew us and we knew them.  It was easy place to be.

Seaview Pines was destroyed by Hurricane Ivan in 2004.  The place has been rebuilt, but nothing looks even remotely familiar.  It was almost hard to imagine what I remembered.  It appears that few people who lived there before the hurricane will be back.    

That is kind of how I feel about moving forward without Christopher.  What I knew has been destroyed.  It is being rebuilt, but it doesn't look even remotely familiar.  I fear that it will become hard to imagine what I remember (and that is why I write).  The question is, what can be done?

I don't know.  I suspect that this is the root cause of my desire for a "new life."  I don't want to rebuild on the same ground.  I don't know that I can handle trying to live with the memories in a place while there is a totally different view.  At the same time, every change I consider is diminished by the reality that it will always be a direction that I took, "because Christopher died."  Hard to get excited about that foundation on which to move forward.

Doesn't appear to leave a lot of options.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Slow Fade

Below are the lyrics from the above-referenced song by Casting Crowns.

"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?

I absolutely love to watch football, much to almost everybody I know's amazement. I especially love the NFL. Falls are hard for me because there are late games on both Sunday night and Monday night. Jessica asked me on Monday night who I wanted to win. I don't even remember who was playing; it does matter. I just love to watch 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

Probably the most surprising thing through this process is the range of emotions and how quickly they can change - in either direction. Today was a good day. Work went well, I had lunch with a dear friend who lets me be where I am, I was encouraged to see new life in the midst of grief when I visited my friend Lili, I talked to two other dear friends and made plans for a trip the week after Christmas. All in all, a very good day.

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

I so want this process to end.  I am willing to run from it, but it appears that I can't hide from it so what is the use.  It is an odd process in that I am constantly amazed on how hard it is to accept what has happened.  I still look at pictures of Christopher and can't believe that he is gone from this world.

And the ache has been more intense this week than it has been for months.  I never imagined a couple of months ago that it could get harder or hurt more, but I was wrong.  I just so want a break from having to deal with it, but there is no where to go to escape.  I've tried some old standbys, but they haven't worked.  Part of me doesn't want them to work because I know that I can't run away from this; it will always be there whenever I decide to face it.  It is kind of like work after a long weekend; everything is still there waiting for me to deal with it.

I think that the hardest thing is the alone-ness.  It isn't exactly loneliness, but it is being alone in my grief.  There is nobody who knows what I've lost in Christopher; we had a one-of-a-kind relationship.  I don't like (and never have liked) the feeling of being alone in my emotion; I am a talker and need to let it out.  

I've cried more this week than I have for months.  I guess that is letting the emotion out before God.  He knows what I've lost; He understands.  I just need to believe that He is enough.  The hole left seems to big, too deep, for even Him.  I guess the reality is that it is bigger than what my faith feels like it can handle, but it isn't bigger than what my God can handle.  Somehow, it seems that He wants me to want Him to fill it; it doesn't seem like He is going to just barge in. 

I want to want Him, but I am afraid.  It seems like if He is going to work, it means that the pain will go away and I haven't found that to be the case.  I so want relief.  I confess that I want relief more than I want God.  

Herein lies the problem.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

I need to see a light

Last Saturday was Christopher's 18th birthday.  He didn't show up.  I really didn't expect that he would, but I so wanted him to.  I miss him so and he so much was looking forward to his 18th birthday; I wanted to share his birthday with him.

On Saturday, Mike Houghton sang Steven Curtis Chapman's song, "With Hope."  I had asked him to sing it because it fits so perfectly.  The first line is that "This is not at all how we thought it was supposed to be."  That is the understatement of a lifetime.  

I never imagined such pain.  I physically hurt through my breastbone to my back.  I just ache.  It has been over nine months; it shouldn't still hurt so much.  I know that this is my new life and I need to get used to it, but it just hurts so much.

I just need to know that this is going to end, even if it won't be for a long time.  I just need to see a light at the end of the tunnel.  

It is so dark and so painful and I am so alone.


Saturday, September 6, 2008

Happy Birthday, Christopher

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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