A New Beginning

There are so many wonderful things about the dawning of a new year, the chance to gain a fresh start, make plans, dream big, set goals, plan to do things differently and better...the list goes on. I don't make any resolutions any longer, most of them never came to fruition anyway, so I just take it as it comes, and live the day the Lord has made for me. As the new year approaches, now there is new significance. I wish it were not so, but the first week of the new year was the last week of Allison's 21 years. January first was our last day of innocence when it came to cancer, but not our last day of hope and miracles. We lost our innocence the morning of the 2nd when her doctor shared that her body would not respond to treatments of any kind, any longer. We spent that day absorbing the shock, the news, the revelation that cancer was taking over and moving fast. I think I am still absorbing that shock, and try as I might, the moments beginning December 30, when she entered the hospital for what became the final time, are being replayed in my head. I want to turn down the volume, the intensity, the raging sorrow, and I want to capture that beautiful moment on January 9, at 7:00 a.m., when the multi colored sunbeams entered the room, and Allison Haake took her final breath. What joy we felt that she was at peace and that God above had answered the prayers that were cried out all night long...we knew at that infinite moment that God heard us and took her home. This comfort is our saving grace, but it doesn't take away the pain and suffering of loss and grief. When all these moments come hurling at me, in my memory, I just pray to God that He will get me through this moment, to the next one, and help me to remember that where she is, she has no recollection of the pain and suffering, that God gave her the greatest gift by making her so special that He brought her through and gave her the miracle she so longed for...the gift of eternal life in His kingdom. There is no reason for me to dwell on the painful memories, the times where news was not what we hoped or planned for, there is no reason to replay the details that have yet to be shared, that are so deeply personal that only Joe, Jennifer, and I share them with a heavenly father. Still, I cannot stop my inner self at times, my mind from going there. I resist it, I don't want to replay those days and minutes, yet I do. For when I do, I remember the spirit and determination and faith of a young lady who spent the day on January 2nd, sequestered with just her family, adjusting to the news, then announcing that we were done crying and that we would rise above this. Then she prepared herself to live in sweet eternity, leaving us the spirit to live for ourselves, for her, for each other, and for God.

As my emotions rage in many ways, and I anticipate a New Year's Eve with dear friends and my sister and Michael, and of course, Joe, I will recall the last one she spent, encouraging her sister to go out and do what would be "normal", and then ordering pizza with a room filled with friends in the hospital, toasting one another, laughing, coloring pictures, having a party like no other. Nine days later, there she was, finished with her work in this life, preparing to teach us all the lessons that never stop, always flow, and will be with us in every breath we take as a family, willing and ready to leave her earthly body for her heavenly home. Yes, these days are grueling, my heart is broken, yet the joy of God above and all His infinite wisdom settles me a bit, and gives the promise of light and love.

Memories make the best gifts...

Some postings of special moments that have now become treasures, Christmas past and final days of Allison's life on earth, with us. Her light, love, strength, dignity, faith and spirit has guided us through another milestone, a Christmas with its own new memories, made this year in 2008. One would never know just how difficult it can be to try to put the puzzle of life back together, or rearrange it, once there is a definite missing piece, but we do, and we will, for her sake and for all of our sakes. Merry Christmas to our daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend, how we miss your physical presence, but how grateful we are that God guided you safely home.

Love,
Your Mom

Peace, Joy and Love...and Believe

These words are indicative of the season...peace, joy and love. The Christmas cards all contain them and we all wish for them, if only for one day. Each word connotates a different emotion or feeling or memory and that in itself can bring us a bit of comfort. So, all the preparations and plans and cooking and gift buying brings us to one day out of the year where the world does seem still for a bit, starting in the evening of Christmas Eve. The solitude and lack of traffic and closed stores always made me feel a bit peaceful, I knew it was coming, Christmas morning and a day to just BE with family or friends. The day where there would be no conflicts, no pressures, no anxiety, no worries, really. We can all just take that 24 hours, the gift God gave us to celebrate the birth of His son, to do whatever comes naturally and feels good. Everyone does things differently, but to all Christians, it means the same, and some years we reflect more than others on its significance. Our girls certainly grew up knowing the true meaning of Christmas, but they also were indulged by Santa and presents from grandparents, aunts and uncles. Early years were lean, but they didn't know it, and some years were plentiful, if not "over the top". It didn't matter, the pure and simple joy, for one day was enough to make us smile, knowing they appreciated the gifts, and enjoyed them. Then the new toys or games would come out and the day and days that followed were spent engaged as a family. There were plenty of arguments over the game, Sorry, but never on Christmas Day. How does the world know to be peaceful and loving on Christmas Day?!! God prevails and shows us the way. We all know that it doesn't have to be Christmas Day to find that peace, that joy, that love, those who choose and understand that God is here in all times, in all days, well, that peace can never be taken away. It is a beautiful gift and I am grateful to know it and open it every day.

A conversation with my sister-in-law prompted me thinking, some time back, just how blessed I was to know God, how our whole family was, to know Him, when Allison was diagnosed. I believe that the whole situation would have evolved differently, and no day would be peaceful if we had not previously known a loving and merciful God. From the moment we heard the word, cancer, it was clear to us that God would be our guide, that we would find our peace and our answers in Him. Allison carried a pamphlet, God's Medicine, with her into treatments and prayed for doctors and nurses caring for her. She found a scripture to cling to that brought her the most comfort and she memorized it so that when her radiation mask was placed, she had no fear. She felt peace, joy and love. She, and we, never lost sight of God's hand in this. No, not that He gave her the cancer, but He was going to cure her, one way or the other. And cure her, he did...not in the way we thought or planned, but haven't we all learned that life isn't about OUR plan. Sure, there were times when I would have bargained, screamed, begged Him to do things differently, but through it all, once we gave this to His doing, peace and joy and love shined through. You could see it in the joy of our "last" Christmas, when the angelic glow began to permeate Allison, when we had the most amazing Christmas Eve and Day, filled with the most intimate and loving moments a family could have, playing that Uno Attack, or eating a whole pan of appetizers, and having champaigne and orange juice with my famous breakfast. The most important thing was, God gave us that last Christmas, free of worry, pain, anxiety or stress. For that one whole day, there was no cancer in our lives, no need to worry, God had it all under control. And now we have the pure and simple understanding that God takes care of it all, as if we didn't know it before. He has used our Allison to show us the light. Yes, I am glad I knew Him before and that I will always know and honor Him in my life, He is ever present, and as much as I long for Allison's physical presence, I know there is no more wondrous place for her to be...we will find that peace, joy and love in all that we do because we dared to first believe.

This Time of Year

I still wonder if the intensity of grief is all about the holidays or if it has mainly to do with the last days and weeks that Allison was home with us. The days mesh, and it is almost difficult to determine how and why the grief can come raging as it does, how the loss can bring tears in the night, how the body releases whether you want it to or not, and how it attacks when you least expect it. I see Allison in the faces of shoppers and in the items in the store. My knees go weak when I pass a Victoria Secret, thinking I need to duck in and get that pair of "pink" sweatpants. My insides scream when I walk through Kohl's and notice all the hooded jackets that she should have for cold Chicago weather. And seeing all the young woman in their beige boots, with tattered jeans and headbands, well, they could never know how my throat closes and I want to run out of the store. Last year I couldn't step into a mall for holiday shopping, this year I have made several stops. The gift of retirement is that I can go at odd hours, when there are very few folks indeed. So, I do just that, and I can go on my own terms. I set out with a specific plan, but on many attempts have just left the mall suddenly, with plans to set out another time. I am blessed to be my own barometer of what I can and cannot do...but still, she is everywhere, and that can be wonderful. It can also take me to the depths of despair and realization and can be that step closer to acceptance, accepting that she is never coming through the door, her smile will not light up my life, ever again, at least not in the same way. As I share with others, I never knew you could go from almost near euphoria to despair, and all emotions in between, in a matter of seconds. I never knew a lot of things until this path became my course of life.

There are times I feel as though I am the only one struggling with a loss because it can become all consuming. In the confines of my mind, I know that is not true...however, it just seems that way. That is unless I work at realizing and understanding there is a world outside of me, outside of my family, outside of my home. It is almost like a full-time job just to remove myself from my own deep sadness and know and listen about others and what they face. I have always said that everyone has a story and they do, and more and more, those stories are revealed to me. Perhaps they are revealed so I can, once again, be reminded that in this devastation, so much beauty and good has come from it, that we have a daughter who left us a brilliant legacy to carry on and live for her. I am convinced that she would not want those she left behind to carry the burdens so deeply that we cannot move or function. Her life and spirit in itself is enough to help us get up each day and smile and listen and care. And while it may be "easy" for me to say, I know that there is a solution to every problem and that we can find our way through whatever loss we face. That may not sound palatable to those who are losing their homes, their financial security, their marriages, their lives to whatever cause. I guess if God had given me a choice of what or who to lose, I would have taken other options over my child. But the choice was not ours to make, just like those who are losing part of themselves every day. What we did get to do was make a choice on how to respond and heal and find our way through the fog. That brings to mind a book that was instrumental in helping me find my way, and believe me, I am still working on that, but the book title, "Surviving The Losses of Your Life", by H. Norman Wright, talks about all the losses we face, ones we recognize and ones we don't. He lends varying types of assistance and while he bases much of it on scripture, he truly gives insight to the fact that we are all "losing" something or someone every day. In these times where loss is prevailing and we all can't answer the phone without hearing one more bit of bad news about someone we care about or love, it is reassuring to know that we will make it, somehow, but surely only by the grace of God. I love it that I can surrender all my burdens and pain and sorrow and heartache to Him, and that He takes it all, and promises hope when we choose to believe. Yes, I read every book I can that will help, I find my daily devotionals and affirmations help me breathe through the moment and get to the next one, and I truly understand that today is all we are promised. It can look as bleak as the weather so far this winter, but in the next minute, the streams of light filter through, and I know God is helping hold me up, for these times, these "last" days that bring memories that I would rather just put on hold, these times will pass and brighter moments will come, laughter will fill the house and hope is the promise, for as long as we have life, there is hope and there is a solution. This day, I long to just hold the hand of my beloved Allison, to sit by her bed and bring her favorite breakfast, and I thank God I savored the moments I did have, and as intensely painful as they are, I thank Him for the sweet memories.

Siblings

Ever since I posted the photo of the sisters, Jennifer and Allison, I have thought about the whole matter of siblings and how they get through a loss such as this. I have discovered that often, the siblings are the forgotten or unsung heroes when it comes to losing a loved one. You find there are many support groups for parents, or children, or spouses, but often, the siblings are the one who are left to sort it out and find their own way. As a parent, I have known nothing more intense than losing a child to cancer, and I cannot imagine a plight more devastating than being a grieving mother or father. I saw it in the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. John Walsh, when interviewed this morning on the Today Show, I saw the pain, the grief, the loss, and after 27 years, the tears were still ready to be shed. This journey, while unique as the type of death, is one that is understood to the core once you have travelled the road of knowing and living with such a loss. Also, to their credit, the Walsh parents gave amazing tribute to the three children they had after Adam was murdered. Their mother took such pride in the interview in pointing out the dignity and strength of those children, who never knew their brother, but who feels his spirit in the family unit. She made note of the fact that they never complained and they never wanted it to be about something other than what it was, seeking answers and making Adam proud...and all of us who know the case understand what the Walsh parents have done for lost children all across this country. Adam did not die in vain and these parents made sure of it.

But back to the siblings...and one particular sibling, Jennifer. If I could, I would take this walk away, this pain, this unforeseen journey, just as I would have gladly taken cancer from Allison. But I can do neither and I can't make her journey about me or her father or anyone else. She is the one who lost her only sibling, who lives on and marches to a different beat, forever changed, and she is the one who will find her way. Surely, as her parents Joe and I will be there to support and help in any humanly possible way, but it doesn't take away that she is a sister who had to let her best friend go, and in fact, she helped Allison move to eternal life in such a beautiful, dignified way. I say Jennifer is grieving graciously and that a part of Allison's spirit infiltrated her the moment her soul left her body on that January morning. Jennifer has the strength, determination and fortitude to honor her sister in every act and she carries her with her through all sorts of daily trials. She is going to find her own way through this, and has a good start on it. No mother could be more proud of the woman she is becoming, how she handles what has been dealt to her, and the grace she accepts from God. There are times when we know it is all too surreal, even now, almost 24 months into a lifetime of losing a child, a sister, and that we have mountains to climb. But we also know what faith is and how it helps you breathe, move and navigate.

The incredible, heroic story does belong to Jennifer, who not only lives for herself, but lives to make her sister proud. She is our hero and our earth angel, full of spunk and the desire to live. Siblings can often be forgotten, but we will not allow that to happen. Everyday I know how blessed I am to be able to say, yes, I have two daughters, one is guiding from heaven, and the other is here with us, finding her own way, becoming her own person, influenced, but not defined, by this loss.

Christmas Memories

So many thoughts and emotions scurry through our souls at this time of year, the hustle and the bustle of preparations and plans. The anticipation and the thrill of it all keeps us going toward that moment, Christmas Day, when families blend and traditions hold us together. Then there are the memories that come flooding in and often, when we gather, we remember when, we talk of Christmas' long ago, when the girls were babies, and toddlers, then pre-teens, when the annual shopping with Aunt Kathy took place, when the cousins visited, when the grandparents on both sides were sitting in the room, each beaming as the girls and boys opened their own gift, when Grandpa would hold the bow bag, or the times Allison and Jennifer would put on a Christmas skit, when Allison would play The Little Drummer Boy over and over and over again, when we would all gather at church for the plays and the services, when we opened that one special gift on Christmas Eve, when the girls would sleep together, even as grown young women, in anticipation of the early morning openings, with the stockings being the thrill of the day. Indeed, the memories never end, in fact, they become a valued, irreplaceable treasure. It seems even more so now that one of us is gone, Allison is not here in the physical sense, and that is more painful than any of us could imagine. We don't want to imagine or think about it, until it happens, and we are forced to do so...we are compelled to look at it all differently, yet embrace the memories as they are, and now, those are what we cling to, lovingly and carefully, as if they could shatter if we forget. But we won't forget, and I have come to realize that through all the memories comes the common thread of love. We don't think of how tired we were from the shopping or late nights or years when things were lean and we wondered how we would provide. We don't recall or remember the sad times for too long, rather, we carry in our hearts the pure and simple feeling of love. Christmas IS love and it is reflected in the photographs, such as the one that I am posting today. Christmas is a happy time and even as we have learned and embraced the true Christmas story over the years, and know that Jesus has always been the reason for the season, it is a day when all is right with the world and we stop and just be with the ones we love, and who love us.

As I hold tight to the memories of love and light and hope, it is not the gift in the box or bag that I can clearly define or describe. Yes, there have been those moments when a special gift does stand out and I don't forget that moment, but that gift, and all the memories are just symbols for the love in our hearts. That love sustains me as I look to a Christmas morning without the physical presence of Allison, without the girls spending one more Christmas Eve together, sleeping with Barkley in anticipation of a wonderful day, it holds me together when I make the favorite family cookies or egg casserole breakfast, and when it is all said and done, and the wrapping lies on the floor, and the presents are put away, I know for sure that the love of Allison and each other will permeate us all, will bring us together, will get us through the moments of pain and loss, when she will not walk through that door, that love will prevail and she will never be gone from our hearts. With every beat of my own heart, I feel her and know her and remember her, and she lives on, differently, and even more profoundly than ever before. Thankfully, she will always be part of our memories and our present and our future on Christmas Day, and every day.

This Is The Day

I didn't exactly know what to name this blog when I began, but I rather like the name and the purpose. Writing brings me peace and when my fingers fly across the key, I feel as though I can express what roars within, maybe not always as eloquently as I would like, but nevertheless, for some reason it is theraputic, and that is good. I still find myself repeating the scripture that started this whole process, when times were, and are, tough, I repeat once, twice, as many times as necessary, "this is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it". I find my way to get to the next moment with the strength of a loving, promising God.

Well, this is the day...this is the day that marked my father's birthday. He is heavy on my heart, as I wrote about yesterday, and today, though maybe not doing it justice, I want to tell a story about my father, one I learned AFTER he was gone, and in an unlikely place, years removed and miles away.

I was a school principal, doing my best to secure funding for a camping trip for our 5th graders. Prior to my arrival in this school, the DARE officer had found local resources to fund the trip, but business budgets were declining and there seemed to be very little support. I stopped off at the local Parking Spot Garage one evening to see if a face-to-face meeting would help. In doing so, I met a very nice lady who referred me to the new manager. I was to contact him the next day and when I did so, he explained just how his new boss was not inclined to make this happen, after all, budgets were cut and politics were involved (naturally, I won't get into that part of the story). It seemed a dead end. We continued chatting for a minute as I made my appeal about our "city" kids not having real-life opportunities and that this is perhaps the ONLY experience like this that some would have...the new manager agreed to stop by my office later that day, just to see the school and see if there was another type of support he could lend. He did as promised, and as we visited in my office, we laughed about camping, he asked me if the principal attends, and I said, NO, the Assistant Principal LOVES to camp (and that was true!). I shared that my camping experiences were limited and that even as I was Jennifer's Girl Scout troop leader, we earned our badge by "camping" at the Holiday Inn in Hannibal after visiting Mark Twain land! He laughed and then we led to where we grew up...and lo, and behold, both of us grew up in Vandalia, Missouri, a very small town where everyone knows your name! I had sensed he seemed familiar all along, but there was no reason to believe that I knew him. So, we, of course, reminisced, and spoke of our families and siblings. Me, being a bit older than him, well, we had never really crossed paths. There was another reason, he was a black man, and in our day, in this small town, I cannot believe it, but the "colored people" lived on their own side of town. One thing led to another and he spoke of his relatives and a particular aunt of his and I began to see how this story was going to unravel. You see, my brother had been hit by a car when he was 5 years old, by a black woman travelling down the main street of town. David was thrown by this car as he got off the school bus, and landed many feet away, maybe even almost a town block. It was a devastating time for our family as we didn't know whether David would make it through, but I remember my Dad's rendition, or do I remember the actual event...there was concern that if David lost his life, what would happen, and I remember vividly my father saying, "I will do what I need to do, I have two other children who need me"....(and some wonder how our family gets its strength...what a legacy). At any rate, the town was in an uproar, encouraging my father to sue this woman, to get revenge, it was very ugly. But my father remained stoic and did the right thing, always stating that she didn't set out to do harm, that it was a true accident and that she most likely had her own demons about what had happened, and that he didn't need to add more.

As the story goes, I was sitting in that school office, talking with the manager and we discovered that the lady was his aunt, and he knew my father. His "kinfolks" adored my father, and were ever grateful to him for supporting the woman who had nearly run over his son. And support her he did, he gave her a job at the local factory that he managed, AND I found out from Brian, he went to that part of town, in his big yellow buick, every Friday night with groceries and clothes from the factory for those in need. Of course, I never knew, there was no need to, for my father was the silent giver. He never wanted recognition, he just did the right thing.

Brian left my office and HE did the right thing, our students received $4500.00 in money orders so they could each go to camp. I don't know how Brian found the money, but he did, and he paid it forward, as they say.

Thank you, Dad, and Happy Birthday, as we continue to get through trying times with your legacy in place and the desire to help others at all times, when we can and how we can. I know you and Mom and Allison have found your way to keep sprinkling the magic. Love, Kathy

A Dad's Birthday

I woke up with the strongest sense and presence of my father, and in my groggy state, couldn't figure out where it was coming from. You know that state of mind when you have to put all the pieces of reality in place, because for that moment in time, you are someplace else, maybe in a memory, maybe in a dream, maybe in a spiritual visit, nonetheless, it takes a minute to come to the present. Often, that altered state is pleasant and happy, even euphoric, but then it is lost, and the reality of life as we know it is upon us. I have learned, through loss, and life's lessons, that the euphoric state doesn't need to be lost, we can hold on tight to the love and feelings, even while dealing with the reality. This morning, I had a beautiful sense of a party, a big cookie cake, smiling daughters as they presented the gifts, and I was feeling quite good, still fuzzy, and altered, but good. Well, of course, it was a distinct memory of a happy birthday for my father, and then I realized just why this was significant. His birthday is tomorrow, 12/12, as he would say! He also shared his birthday with Frank Sinatra, which was truly meaningful in some ways, to him, at least I think so, because he always reminded me of that fact. Well, once the dream and memory faded a bit, I was brought to the reality that Dad is not here, he has been gone for 6 years and would be 78 years old tomorrow. He was not intended to be with us this long, he had lived long enough according to him, and to be honest, he was never the same in the eight years he lived without my mother. His death didn't take the same course for those left behind as it did when our mother passed away, or certainly since our daughter. That is not to say that grieving didn't exist, for each of us, it truly does, but we understood, in new ways, just how God works His magic. We also know that God taught us lessons through the experience of Dad's cancer diagnosis, his own 11 weeks from diagnosis to death, what it means for a family to come together as their last parent leaves this earth, leaving the children to find their way in a new phase of adulthood. There was not a man who loved his children and grandchildren more and to think that right now he is reunited with one of them, well, that cannot cause him the pain it would have had he been alive to know it. He surely knows, in the spiritual realm, that a glorious reunion took place and we will all have that moment, as promised to those of us who accept the gift of salvation. That is my hope this morning, as the dream faded, and for a minute, I felt very sad and disoriented...I miss him at all times, and I can honestly say how deeply I wish he could have been here through my own loss, but that is selfish. It was not meant to be, it was destined that he was there, waiting to embrace his grandaughter, and leave the lessons for the other grandchildren, the legacy, the mark, the imprint of poise, dignity, empathy, love and care. And, tomorrow, on his birthday, maybe I can share a story or two of this man and how I came to find out more about him, long after he was gone.

I feel blessed that I can smile sweetly when I think of my father and his birthday, that I have moved through and past the pain of cancer, the grueling last weeks where we tended to him at home, where we fed him through a feeding tube, where we monitored medicines and sat by his bedside, where my sister held his hand and listened to his stories or when my brother watched the beloved Patriots team, all in the little room that became his haven, the room with the big window, where he could watch the reruns of his life, and know that he had lived the life chosen for him. Now I can remember the man who watched from the sidelines, who gave to all he could, who had a special look in his eye for his grandsons and granddaughters, who understood life, and taught me to never sweat the small stuff, that any problem has a solution. Little did I know how much I could learn from the actions, not the words, of one man. Happy Birthday to my dad, with love, Kathy

Compassionate Friends

This time I am not writing of the many lifelines of friends, but the organization, Compassionate Friends, a support network for grieving families and a special, upcoming world-wide candle vigil, this Sunday night, December 14, at 7:00 in your local area. Please join me, if you are able, by lighting your own candle for all those who have lost a child of any age, under any circumstance, in simple remembrance. While I have not been able to attend a Compassionate Friends meeting, I have most definitely taken advantage of their resources and website from time to time. In fact, I may consider beginning a small chapter in our area as there are no local groups. I discovered that if three or more families are willing to be represented, and the leader is at least 18 months into a deep loss of a child, then a chapter can be formed. This may be a calling of sorts, for I embrace their mission of hope, care and recognition of each person's private journey with grieving a child.

I recall when Allison first passed away, many folks sent pamphlets or suggestions of what might work for us. They were most helpful, but when you find yourself in shock, you really do not know where to turn or how to begin. I'm sure some parents do attend support groups right away, for them, perhaps there is a comfort and a need. We didn't choose that option, and still do not, although, we find other ways to face and "handle" the grief. I have always believed it needs to be handled before it handles us...and it most definitely will. However, I never rule anything or any suggestion out, for I don't know what I will need or desire around the bend of this journey. Hence, the possibility of beginning a new phase as a leader of a small group. A group that is growing and growing, sadly enough. I really do not know if I knew more than a handful of parents, personally, who had lost a child when we faced our own loss. Now I find that number growing and I know reaching out to those mothers and fathers is part of my purpose in this devastation.

We will all encounter someone who loses a loved one, a child, in our future. We will learn how to help, respond, assist, comfort and be there when the months tick away and the journey becomes more intense and painful. We will know because Allison taught us.

So, as we light our candles on Sunday night, and remember all those children, and say a silent prayer or participate in one of the hundreds of Compassionate Friends vigils in the world, we bring hope to one another, and the knowledge that our children will never be forgotten.

Feel free to refer anyone to www.compassionatefriends.net, for more information.

Getting Things In Order

A dear friend of mine, who has been through more than any one person should endure, compiled by losses that are unimaginable and surreal, called me a few weeks ago with some news. Her sister had just been diagnosed with small cell lung cancer, the news was fresh and raw and her sobs were gut wrenching. She didn't want to call me, but she knew that I "knew" things about this type of cancer, after all, Allison's journey had taught me, once again, about cancers and treatments and quality of life. As Barb and I chatted, cried, and sorted out some of the information, she made a comment, that her sister just hopes to live long enough to get her things in order. It seems that her sister had somewhat accepted this diagnosis, at least initially, and knew that this type of cancer is the fastest growing, most often, fatal cancer to have...so again, her hope was to get "her things in order". I thought of that a lot over the course of the last few weeks, wondering how that is going for her. I check in with Barb from time to time to find that her sister is still with us, sought a second opinion, and is waiting to confirm an exact diagnosis...a road well known and travelled by our own family, as well. The unknown is prevalent and frightening, but she continues to get her things in order.

Naturally, I have thought of what that exactly means...get our things in order. Does this mean making sure the life insurance policies are paid up, the bank statements are balanced, the will is defined and clear and established? Does it mean sorting out what you want others to have of yours and organizing one's closet? Does it mean seeing and visiting all of those who are near and dear so that things that should be said, are?! It must mean something different to each of us and if we knew we had a certain amount of time to get our things in order, how might we live this day? This has been a concept that I have thought of often, after losing my parents, but especially, my daughter. I have thought, often, what if that had been me? What if it is me tomorrow? I don't look at this as morbid, I look at this as reality. I do desperately try to look at this as my opportunity to seize this day. Sometimes I fall short, I fall backward or waste the moments, but then I remember her legacy. So, naturally, since Allison left before us, I have thought of what I should do to be ready. My quest has been mostly spiritual because in spite of how clean I leave the house and my affairs, there will be a mess at some point! I have used Allison's level of readiness to guide my own compass, and I know it is truly the word of God that is going to prepare me. Her own confirmation scripture, John 3:16-17, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." There are so many more to quote, but the point being, I believe God wants us to be ready, prepared, live for Him, and get our things in order for Him.

A very poignant moment came in our journey with Allison, a speck in time when she turned to me and asked me if she was going to die. I cannot describe the moment, now a memory, and how incredible it was, yes, emotional and heartbreaking, yet, an intimate moment between mother and child. And, I remember my response, yes, Allison, we are all going to die, and we all need to be ready. She smiled, I smiled and I knew I spoke the truth. Could I tell her when and how and what it would be like? No, all I could say was yes, we are all going to leave this earth, maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe in 20 years, so whenever that is, I know I want to be ready, I want my "things in order". I am not promised any more time, so there is no time like the present to get started.

Christmas Things

I never knew that each and every Christmas item to be placed in its "traditional" spot could evoke such a landslide of emotion. I never knew that each song and carol in the stores and in the car, could stop me completely from making a move. I never knew that creating the standard array of Christmas cookies could move me to tears, tears that feel as though they could shed for days. I didn't know the mere touch of a handmade ornament would take me places that are both joyous and sad at the very same time. I didn't know a heart could take this much. I didn't know until she was gone.

I guess there are some things that must be experienced rather than told, and grief, mixed with the holidays, mixed with her final weeks on earth, make for a wave that can knock you down and keep you breathless. I know this to be true because I feel like I am holding my breath, and have been, for weeks. I do this because I know what is coming. I don't invite it, I don't ask for it, I don't even want it, but it comes anyway, that time of year when the glorious celebration of Christmas, blended with the intensely beautiful days, the memorable "last" days of a life...the "last" time we made cookies, the "last" time we decorated a tree, the "last" visit to church, the "last" selection of favorite Christmas CD's, the "last" weeks at home when I became short order cook, nurse, shopper, housekeeper, you name it...and what a joyous privilege it was, even at the time. Did my inner sense know that these were the "last" times of earthly happenings? Is that why I derived such pleasure from them and would opt, even now, for that, over this?

We had no time to digest the ravaging cancer, 11 weeks, so we took each day and the news that came, responded and dealt with it. We prayed, we laughed, we hoped, we endured, and we came to know what life is really all about and what was/is important. We came to know that never again will we complain about the small things, that out of tragic circumstances, comes a faith and closeness to God and each other that can even be described as worth the journey. We came to understand the Christmas story in ways that had seemed rather remote at the time, and we came to put our complete faith and trust in God, whose will WILL be done. He took care of us all, held us up, and still does. There is no other explanation for how I am still standing, or coping, or entertaining, or cooking, or tending to my family, or even getting up when every corner of my being is screaming out in pain and sorrow. How do I do it, some ask, and I know my answer, fully and completely, by God's grace.He knows this is my trial and my sadness and I know it saddens Him, but he heals and protects, while never promising us smooth sailing.

Yes, as I look in the boxes of Christmas decorations, and close some lids, knowing that they may have to wait for another year, the emotion of putting them up is too raw and painful. But some will be there, tucked away, or placed in a very special spot, lit up and beautiful, the sign that Christmas is coming, these weeks are evolving, bit by bit, and Allison is part of it all. She is gone in the physical sense, but never far from any of us. God will get us through this storm, and then it will calm, and even rear its head again, we will get a respite now and then, and we will find our way. For now, the tears come, the memories are beautiful, yet difficult, it's too soon, too raw and too profound, time will help, and God will ease our hearts.

Acts 20:35, "It is more blessed to give than to receive"

I grew up hearing my father say this from time to time, especially when asked what he would like for a birthday or for Christmas...his response, "no gifts, it is better to give than receive", and he meant it. He would much prefer to stand on the sidelines at Christmas, or hold the bow bag, or sip coffee as we all tore into our packages that no doubt our mother had bought and wrapped, but he had willingly and lovingly paid for. I really didn't know his response was actually a scripture until much later, but what I did know, was that he was a true testament of this concept. I know he gave and gave and gave in ways that I will probably never ever fully comprehend.

So, as I grew older and learned there was a scripture that came from the book of Acts, I understand another concept of our Lord and Saviour. And a recent exploration of the chapters helped me understand from what context this scripture comes, (or at least I think I understand it)! Paul was making his farewell speech to the elders after being compelled by the Holy Spirit to leave them and not know what would happen. He knew he would face hardships but only wanted to finish the race and complete the task the Lord had given him, the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace. He knew he may not see any of them again so he encouraged them, once again, to commit to God and to His world of grace and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus himself, "It is more blessed to give than to receive".

Naturally, this story brings several things to mind and correlations to my own life. And what particularly struck me is that lately I have wanted to DO more, BE more, GIVE more, but at times cannot move past my own pain and sorrow and suffering. I pray diligently to move out of myself and my grief into the mode of helping others, and I do, but sparingly, it seems. I struggle to know what volunteer effort to join, whether to re-enter a work world, how to BE again, how to interact again. "They" say it takes time, and that for each of us who suffer from any type of trauma or shock, whether physical or emotional, the journey is different. I agree, but then I realize how life is so short, don't we know, and that my productivity could perhaps be more than making a meal for shut-ins, spending time with a grieving neighbor, baking cookies for those who cannot, offering mentoring advice to those who call or visit, opening my heart and home for a momentary respite for those leading a hectic, chaotic life, or being that listening ear to a friend in need. In this time of giving, rather than receiving, I pray God will lead me to fulfill a mission of His, giving back and doing for others, knowing that we each walk a road filled with challenges. "Giving" takes that sense of pain away, the loss dissipates for a short time, and brings that moment of comfort or joy to others. "Giving", when done with love and care, is healing, therapeutic, and comforting, but most importantly, when done with the conviction of the heart, it is God's work. I know from experience that He will reveal my time and place, so I work to be patient, thankful of the blessings that I do have, the gift of time, the dawning of each day where my soul can carry me where I ought to go, the chance to explore new horizons, a paced life that I have never fully embraced until now, and the chance to "give" when the time is right.

Indeed, I am in a special place in my life, I know it, I work to embrace it, and I am learning something new about myself every day. God has "given" me so much.

Reading Material

The written word is my passion, my addiction and my hobby, I suppose. Always has been, as far back as I can recall, which is about 4th grade, when I began the Bobsy Twin series (I believe that was the title, baby boomers will recall!) and couldn't stop. My nose was often in a book of any kind and over the years, it would depend on where I was at that particular time in my life as to what you would see on the nightstand or shelves. All forms of genre could be found but I rarely read autobiographies or true to life stories, mostly fiction and self-help, then the stage of leadership books and manuals, how to motivate and work with people, whatever came my way. Not long ago, a friend was over and scanned the many books lined on the desk in my "reading room", and another friend asked what she was looking at, and she replied that you can tell a lot about a person when you look at the title of books they have close at hand. So I took a look through her eyes, and saw titles such as "The Heavenly Man", "A Broken Heart Still Beats", "Surviving the Losses in Your Live", "90 Minutes in Heaven", "Seven Choices: Steps in Grieving", "The Power of Now", well, you get the picture. There are also assorted Jodo Piccoult selections, my new favorite author, who my sister wonders how I can read right now...I wonder that too, given the content of her books, high school shootings, dying of cancer, child abductions, and so on. Are those dark topics or just realities in my life, in all of our lives? I claim to love the way in which this author shares the written word, but must admit that she draws me in from the first page and I am caught up in the relationships and lives that made these people who they are, and not only am I hooked, I am intrigued. I know people just like every one I meet in her books, and maybe, just maybe I AM one of those characters.

A book not mentioned above, but a staple on my nightstand, is "The Shack", a book that as soon as I finished it, I began it again. That isn't all that rare for me, for all the books on my shelf find me weaving in and out of them, once finished, to maybe find that one chapter again that helped so much, or to read about that experience now that I am in a different place. But "The Shack", well, that hit home in many ways, starting with the profound loss at the beginning. The book is part fiction, part non-fiction and some of it is up to the reader to determine. You may walk away from this reading experience and ask, did Mac really spend a weekend with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit? One may suggest the absurdity of it all, that it was made up madness at its best. One may wonder how someone's mind could create such a vivid, real, yet remote experience. One may not "get it" at all and abandon the book as a hoax or ploy. And all of that is okay for the experience of reading it as as unique as the individual's life, journey, past, present or future.

I believe each time I read this book, I will be in a different place, as they say, thus, will gain something different than the time before. When I read it this fall, many emotions played into it and I had to sort out where I was coming from. I recalled what I would perceive as my own "shack" moment, when I knew God was always with me, sending the Holy Spirit through me, I recalled moments when I had what I thought was a dream, but upon waking up, knew it was not a dream in the true sense, it was the voice of a loving Father talking to and through me, and I naturally spend the entire book grieving with this earthly father who in an instant lost his child, once again confirming the notion that all we have is this moment in time.

I didn't need "The Shack" to confirm for me that God works His own magic and miracles in each of our lives, that a presence more powerful than us is at work, and that we are never alone, but it was definitely a life changing book to read, one for the Christmas lists. I have already given out 6 copies and I don't expect one of us to interpret it the same at all, but for those of us who are on the quest to look deeper, make sense of life, death, eternity, love, destiny, after-life, it is a good read!