Crafty?

Ugh.  My blog got too deep again. 

Here's the rub: My son, Graham, died.  I am overwhelmingly sad.  Jesus died on the cross for my sins, rose again, and is now seated at the right hand of God in Heaven.  I am thankful, grateful, joyful, and OK.

Does that make sense?  I think the byline on Angie Smith's book "I Will Carry You" says it best: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy.  Because that is now what my life has become.  It is a constant rollercoaster of emotions battling inside me.  I am grieving the loss of my son, while at the same time, seeing that there is oh so much to be thankful for here on this earth.  AND, more than that, the promise of Heaven is real.

I was telling my friend, Sara, the other day about how I sometimes feel guilty when I do something fun.  Or laugh at a joke.  I think it makes more sense when I can explain it to you in person (with my awesome voice inflections), but, in the midst of laughing or smiling I want to say, "But wait!  I'm still really sad about losing Graham!  I'm not OK - I am hurting.  BUT - that was funny!"

So, in an effort to tip the "scales" back the other direction, I wanted to tell/show you about my (possible) new hobby.  I've been looking on Pinterest at craft ideas a lot lately.  After a family trip to both Michaels and Hobby Lobby on Saturday I decided I wanted to make a fall wreath for our front door.

I started playing around with ways to make different kinds of flowers and rosettes out of felt, material, burlap and buttons.  This was on Saturday night.

On Sunday afternoon, while Parker was "napping," Matt helped me cover a D in burlap.  He also cut out circles of material so that I could make lots of different flowers.

The more I got going, the more comfortable I felt making it up as I went along.  I made all kinds of flowers, and then stuck them all on this wreath.

The thing is - the more I started working on it, the more I realized how fun it was!  And I kept on coming up with different ideas, but I could only do so much on one wreath.  Let's not get too crazy, right?  And since then, I've continued to think about what other things I could do and make.  Headbands, Clips, Frames, etc.

So, maybe I am "craftier" (if that's not a word, keep it to yourself) than I originally thought.  I have all these ideas floating and I'm ready to keep on working.  So if you want something - let me know! 



Grieving with Hope

I got in last night from a weekend in Austin.  One of my oldest and dearest friends - who I grew up with in school and church, who lived with me for 3 years in college, and who was my Maid of Honor - had a stillbirth.  Leslie and her husband, Harvey, were checking into the hospital for an induction when they recieved the worst news possible.  There was no heartbeat.  Their baby was gone.

Leslie texted me Thursday evening telling me what happened.  We got to talk on the phone, too, before she delivered her dear, sweet Wyatt.  It was a tough night, and I was definitely struggling.  In an exercise in full disclosure, here's what I wrote that night:

I can't sleep.

I've been tossing and turning in bed for the last 30 minutes, but finally gave up.  I need to "talk."

Y'all - I'm mad.  I got a text message this evening that I never want to get again.  One of my dearest friends lost her sweet baby.  She was going in to be checked into the hospital for her induction.  And 3 days after last hearing her sweet baby's heartbeat, it was gone.  No warning.  Just gone.

I am sick of babies dying.

I have vacillated all evening between extreme sadness and anger.

I talked to her on the phone.  They were starting to get things ready and organized to have a c-section, and she was just hours away from seeing and holding her baby for the first time.  And the last.  I told her to spend as much time as she wanted with her baby.  To not be scared of him.  But to love and kiss and hug all over him.  To take tons of pictures.  And after she thinks they've taken enough, take more.  Because this it.  This is your one and only chance.

I realize that all of this sounds dramatic, and I probably won't even post this, but I don't care.  It's the hard truth.  Losing a baby is about the stupidest thing in the world. 

So, yeah. 

I drove down to Austin on Friday after work, and didn't get to the hospital until 9:00 pm.  Leslie and I sat for 2 hours talking about everything.  And crying.  I got to see pictures of sweet Wyatt and hear a momma talk about her son. 

After everyone got a good rest on Friday night, we settled in for a long day at the hospital on Saturday.  And I kept on looking at Leslie and wondering if this is what I was like just 6 months ago.  Making small talk with people as they came in.  Seeming to be able to have things "under control."  It's amazing what someone in shock can do and say.  And that is where Leslie and Harvey find themselves - in absolute shock.

I told Leslie it will slowly wear off, but thankfully, it takes time.  I think that is God's way of protecting you from completely losing it.

There is a lot to Leslie's story that is hard for me to reconcile.  This was her first child.  Wyatt was completely healthy.  She was going in to be induced with her bags packed and the carseat in the car.

I spent some time out in the waiting room on Saturday afternoon so that Leslie could visit with other visitors.  Our group kind of took up a corner spot.  And there were a lot of people looking to me for wisdom.  Oh, that makes me laugh.

People were asking, "How in the world do you get over something like this?  What are you supposed to do?"

I told them that trusting that the Lord is still on His throne is the only thing you can count on.  It's the only thing that makes sense when a tragedy like this happens.

Someone said, "So that's it?  We trust that Lord is in charge and we know He has a bigger purpose?"

ABSOLUTELY that's it.  What else is there?

After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. So Jesus said to the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have alone have the words of eternal life."  John 6:66-68

At this point I started crying.  Not because I was sad about Graham or Wyatt or Leslie, but because I was so passionate about what I was saying. 

This is not the way it was supposed to be.  The Lord is grieving alongside us.  He is heartbroken that Leslie and Harvey will not get to know their son this side of Heaven.  But when we put an eternal perspective on things we realize that this is also not all there is. (I'm Amen-ing myself over here.)  Let me say it again - this is not all there is. 

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed⁽ about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.  For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

We can grieve with hope.  And we can rest in the promise that we will see Wyatt and Graham again.  Our sweet little red-headed boys are OK.  It's just us here on earth that are grieving the time we've lost with them.  But knowing that an eternity together in Heaven is on the horizon helps you wake up each day.

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.  John 16:33

6 months

I'm writing this blog from the "road." We are on our way to a family reunion and are just now passing through Waco. Which means we just passed Collin Street Bakery.

I told Matt that I will always think of Graham when I see Collin Street Bakery. Back in October, on our way back from a week in Houston, we were waiting on a call that would tell us the results of Graham's third and final urine tap. If you've been a part of our story from the beginning then you might remember that everything hinged on those results. If they came back positively, then we could continue on towards surgery that would hopefully save his life. If not, then there was nothing we could do to keep him from passing away.

We stopped at Collin Street to get dinner, our hearts still heavy while waiting for the - literally - life and death results. After getting dinner we got back on the road to Fort Worth. Not 10 minutes later we got the call we were waiting for. Graham had normal urine results, therefore allowing us to continue moving forward to surgery.

That was a good day. We were so excited and right after I hung up we stopped and prayed. The Father had been so gracious to us and the prayers of so many were answered.

So while I'm saddened by that memory, knowing now what happened at the end, it is also a sweet time to look back on.

And yet, here we are. 6 months since I last saw, held, and kissed my sweet son.

And that is WAY too long. And it will only get longer.

It's been a hard time for me lately. I am back to the mad stage. I don't know if I was supposed to have it once and then be done. But I am mad again. And not mad at anyone or anything in particular. Just mad that Graham is gone.

It's also very frustrating to start thinking about expanding our family again. I hate to think of having another baby, and it not be Graham. He's all I want.

I had really hoped this would be a more positive post, but I want to be honest, too. So I will just wait out this stage of grief, looking forward to the future one of acceptance. Not that I'm OK with it, but that I accept it as part my story.

That just isn't today.