Looking For God

There is a saying, "looking for LOVE in all the wrong places", that has stuck in my head the last few days. Not sure why. I think I heard the song on the radio recently. Anyway, as I go about my day, each one, and I ask God to be a part of it, invite Him, sometimes even beg and plead to help me see Him in all of this...in the day of a life, so to speak, I look for Him. And I ask Him to let me see Him clearly. When the pain of loss is so wrenching, when the news of the day from friends and acquaintances, let alone a nation, can tear my heart out, I just ask Him to help me focus and be one with Him. And what I am so pleased to know, is, He never lets me down. But He has me working...oh, does He have me working.

It's not easy to see where He fits in the puzzle, at times. At other times, it is that very God-like moment that I know He is carrying me, protecting me, giving me gifts that I am sure I do not even deserve. Michael used to ask me how I could think like that when my daughter was here one minute, gone in eleven weeks, leaving parents, sister, cousins, friends, family, all here to try to live on, live strong. He also questioned "why" when by his standards, Michael's that is, WE were good people?! Michael came to know, through his own journey, that it does not ultimately come down to how many good deeds, doesn't factor in what WE think of ourselves, or others, that God truly knows our heart. And best of all, Michael came to realize that no religion, no politics, no opinions matter when it is your time to meet your Creator. It's between Him and you, and that all along, we are ALL looking for God.

I have looked in the eyes of a dear friend in the last day, had a heartfelt conversation, able to share some things about Allison's last days, that I have shared with only a few, this relationship built on trust for many years...it just happened, I didn't plan it, but there it was, and it was a God moment. It's a God moment that our dear Cassidy is alive and able to rehabilitate, not leaving her children, her parents, her loved ones, rather, being saved for a purpose that none of us can know. It's a God moment every morning when I have the privilege of taking Rex around the block and sniff each blade of grass while I look up and I see what I see in the formation of the clouds, knowing my daughter is in my spirit for eternity, yes, yearning for her physical presence with every fiber of my soul, but knowing she is at peace. I don't have to look too far for God to be assured of where she is, for He gave me a gift, to be with her and usher her to her heavenly home, and in doing so, giving me the sweet assurance that she is in very capable hands. God moments are everywhere, if we look, even when we are so crazy busy with LIFE, even in pain, even in our deepest sorrow, even when we cry and scream to Him to please reveal what is good about this life we live.

It was a definite God moment, I knew it then, and I know it now, when I had the "last" full and necessary conversation with Michael, July 4th, as I headed for home, leaving the family of four in tact for what I knew would be their last full week together. I knew, not only because God sent the spirit for me to know, but because He had me journey through it before, so the signs were obvious, but only to those in the know. The conversation was sweet and spiritual and blessed, and it was our last. He knew it. I knew it. He needed some assurances of his own about the people he was about to leave behind. I was able to give them, making no promise that I knew I could not keep. And he made me a promise, asking me if there was anything he could do for me. I tried to answer. The words wouldn't come. They were stuck in my throat. How could a man who was dying ask ME if there was anything HE could do...but he knew, anyway. That was a God moment that we didn't even have to go looking for...and in a whisper he told me that he would tell Allison that we are okay. The tears flowed, his, mine. That wasn't Michael talking, that wasn't me, that was a higher power and a spirit that is so strong that it cannot be denied. Walking away was the most difficult thing I ever did, but it had to be done, as his son took me to the airport and the tears flowed. I could tell no one, at the time, what had just happened, but God knew.

It was another God moment, when seventeen days later, I was back with Michael, Karen and the boys. As I arrived, there was a whisper, "are you really here", and I said yes, and in that moment, he knew, his beloved Karen would have her sister there, his sons would be there, and all would be right with the world. No, he didn't go easily, but he went in God's timing. He got to hear all of his family gathered, talking, laughing, loving, his home filled to the brim with people, just as he liked it, and when the small peninsula town was fast asleep, a blanket of fog keeping all inside, God intervened, morning broke, the sun rose, and Michael left, yet he stayed. That is God and God is good.

No, it's never easy to find God at times. Especially in the despair and devastation. But He is there, always right there. At that moment, on July 24, I left the family for a bit, went to the hammock and cried the tears that needed to come, sobbed, couldn't breathe, but I wasn't alone. I was held up, just like I have been every day since I was born, and in every trial and tribulation. I didn't have to look far for God that day. And I still don't.

So, today, when my heart is crying and the remembrances are cutting deep, I keep looking. I always will, and I will see Him. I will see Him in so many things today, in the blue eyed angel, as Ciara calls Allison, in the spunk and vitality of my physical daughter, in the love I have for my husband, brother, my sister, my boys, Matt and Joe, for Sarah, who will become the next Mrs. Powers, for so many, I will see Him in the blessings that surround me, and I will see Him when I ask to be held up, when I ask Him to carry my sister through these trying days, and when I ask Him to bless us all as we move through these weeks ahead and gather in His name to celebrate, celebrate a life, many lives, many memories,

I pray I am looking for God, and looking in all the RIGHT places.

The Oxygen Mask

Through it all, the pain, the grief, the loss, the devastation, I learned something very quickly, and still learn every single day, no one is going to know how to take care of me, like me. It became painfully clear when I needed more time off from work to begin to process the shock waves that were rippling through my body, soul, mind, and heart, that the "world" wasn't quite ready for that. The "Kathy" that they knew before, who dedicated herself to everything and everybody for over 25 years, was now stepping back to take care of herself first. Later, much later, one of my life healers who I sought out, and still do, shared with me that there is a reason that we as parents are asked to put the oxygen mask on first in case of emergency when flying on the airplane. That is so we can take care of ourselves, first, then take care of the needs of our children. In a way, that is what I have found myself doing since Allison's passing, taking care of me, first, so that I can nourish the soul and just get up, live the day, possibly get some sleep, not dream, not hold nightmares to mean something, breathe, get through the milestones, wake up through the tears that feel as though they consume me in the night, make the meals, host the family functions, take the trips, be a mother, wife, sister, friend, and neighbor. I am learning to put the oxygen mask on myself, first.

When I first did that, it was surprising to many, as I have said. It was even surprising to me! I had not done that to the capacity in which I needed to, just to survive, just to live. I didn't really know how to go about it. So, I read everything in sight, became a learner, looked into my own soul, grappled with the loss, and still do...I soaked it all in, I stepped away, away from my career, social functions, weddings, graduations, and yes, in the process, have "lost" some friends and acquaintances along the way. Those friends and acquaintances that cannot understand and cannot help but make it personal, those I meet in the store, or run into along the way, that turn their eyes, and move along as if they didn't see me. No, it's not my imagination. It has happened. And I am "okay" with it. At least now, almost five years into this journey. Many have their opinions, still do, over why I "left them", whether it was from school, parties, phone calls, important family functions. I would like to scream out that it is not intentional, it is where I am, I have to be selective, pick and choose, and sometimes, just getting up, walking the dog, cleaning the house, or shopping is all I can do, for that day, for that moment, still, and maybe always.

The "oxygen mask" must be put on...It must take precedence over all things. It has to be a big one, though, for in grief, the many layers have to be peeled off, attended to, massaged, cared for, and loved. If I have no oxygen, I have nothing to give. And when the life, air that I breathe, partial reason for existence was stripped away, I had to learn, all over again, how to give myself sustenance. I find ways to do that. Today, on the Grieving Mothers Facebook page, I read a passage that means a lot to me, and I wish that I could turn the hands of time back a bit, and take care of ME sooner. But it's not too late for me to help spread the word to others, to my daughter, husband, sister, now in her own grief walk, nephews and niece, young mothers, friends and their children, the list goes on and on. For when we give ourselves the nourishment of oxygen we need, it is then that we can get through the madness, the crisis, the pain, the loss, all the challenges that come with life. We don't really need such "nourishment" when things are going well, but one day, when it all caves in, and it will, we need to know that we know how to reach for the oxygen. No one else can apply the mask, give us air, or sustain us.
We have to find our way, and thankfully, for me, I have a variety of ways that I can center myself and keep on breathing, keep on living, keep on giving.

Closing, and comprehending, and listening, and being aware of what I read, I will share this from the site I mentioned, for me, when I find my way, yes, even in my deepest grief, to apply to my own life, one of these, two of them, all of them, I am applying the oxygen mask.

Take time to think, it is the source of power.
Take time to read, it is the foundation of wisdom.
Take time to be quiet, it is the moment to seek God.
Take time to laugh, it is the music of the soul.
Take time to be friendly, it is the road to happiness.
Take time to love and be loved, it is God's greatest gift.
Take time to pray, it is the greatest power on earth.

All In A Day

Funny how a day can make things different, a moment really. But this morning, in my morning devotion time, that quiet reflection time that I must have to find my center, ask God for the strength and peace to face not only this day, but all the days of my life, this month choosing to read about strong women in the Bible, because I feel weak and minuscule, vulnerable and sad, and I have come to learn that all in a day, life holds much. And for all of it, I need strength. And that strength comes from only one source. God above.

All In A Day...look what happens. The good, the bad, and the ugly! I was talking with Jen last evening and she was sharing the "annoyances" of life, just those little irritating things that do add up, from the bank deposit mix up, to hitting and killing a raccoon late at night on the road, which really upset her, of course, to the early morning gushing of water gushing in the bathroom that had the potential to flood, had it not been right over the tub (again, always something to be thankful for...)!!The little irritants of life! They really mean nothing, but they can often be the "straw that breaks the camel's back". We can shake our fist, curse, yell, or even cry when these things happen, and all of that only represents what is really deep down inside, the emotions, the pain, the loss, the frustrations, all that binds that we don't take care of along the way.

All In A Day...along with what life hands us, and where life takes us, for me, if I don't stop, reflect, read, write, pray, listen to music, get a massage, put my feet up, drink a large glass of water, use my aromatherapy oils or sprays, get in "tuned" with what God wants from me, I cannot cope. I cannot cope, or handle, what comes my way. This is why I have always been so thankful I knew God so well when Allison was diagnosed. What would I have done, we had done? How would we have made it through, but more importantly, how would SHE have, without God as her guide?

All In A Day...we receive news that is difficult to bear, in the blink of an eye, the phone rings and life changes forever, that moment in time stands still, and things are never to be the same. We also receive those calls, like the one I did from my nephew when he asked Sarah to marry him, or when my daughter received the job she desired, or when someone calls to say another grandchild is on the way, and so many other "good news" calls. It's not all bad. But it's the "bad" news that we must be prepared for, in our heart and in our soul. Life is good. Life is meant to be lived. We live it and one day it becomes our turn to leave this world, for the next. We might be 21 years old like Allison, 52 years old like Michael, 62 like my mother, two days shy of 30, like Kate's cousin, a few days, like Faith and Clare and Lilly, and so many other babies. We make our mark, God grants us the opportunity to live and make choices, and then, this world, as we know it, ends, and the next one, the REAL life, the eternal life, begins. All in a day, life keeps swirling and the world keeps turning.

All In A Day...these thoughts are whirling today, for I need no calendar to know, that just a year ago, I packed and prepared for the call of that day, when my sister had shared some news about the cancer invading her husband's body. I had come to understand terms and medications and the path from experience with Allison, thus, I headed out to visit, while I had the time, and more importantly, while Michael had the time. We had a wonderful visit, extended once again, until the spirit let me know it was time to go. Time to leave the family of four together for what would become a week of opportunity. I left on July 4, and not before having several talks with Michael, not before hearing from him what his deepest thoughts were, and not before knowing it would be the last time I would have that chance. I thank God above for that time and the resources He has afforded me to be there, for a loving husband who never asks WHY and for friends, neighbors and family who rushed in to help make it happen by taking care of Rex or making meals for Joe. It's all coming back to me. I don't necessarily wish it were so, it's just here, perhaps because my heart is heavy on Father's Day weekend, perhaps because it is summer and I miss my girl, and I miss him, and I feel my sister's pain, and I pray for the boys to get through this weekend with as much honor and dignity and love for their father as is possible in their loss.

All In A Day...I had the beautiful chance to say good-bye. How blessed. Good-bye to Michael, good-bye to Allison, Mom, Dad. We never know when it is our turn to say good-bye. It may be when we get in the car, or an airplane, or just move room to room. The stories come soaring in of loved ones lost. So, why is it that we don't change or we "assume" we will see each other again? What has to happen before we realize that life is fragile, precious, and to be treated like a china doll? Anything can happen, all in a day. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Some of us hold experiences in our hearts that make us look at every day differently. We learn the lessons, or we try to, anyway. We look around and understand and see clearly what God intends. But, in the next minute, we don't get it, and we ask God, why? That's life. That's how it's supposed to be. God understands. And He has given us this day to live and figure it out.

Our Father, who art in Heaven...Hallowed be Thy Name...Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will be Done...Give us This Day.....Thank you, Father, for giving me this day. Pain or no pain, loss or no loss, I will do my best to seize it and make it pleasing to you.

Summertime...and the Living is NOT so Easy....

There is that saying...Summertime, and the living is easy. Summertime. It's here. I hardly know it, not just because we went right from heat to air conditioning on the thermostat, not because I barely have a concept of time any longer, not because I have very little awareness of the changing seasons, but because, in grief, the numbness keeps me from knowing. It's just the way it is, days turn to weeks, into months, and I have little knowledge that I have ripped another page from the calendar. I remember certain milestones, and make certain of sending cards. I/We receive invitations and honestly, I can barely remember if I sent a gift or a card or an acknowledgment. I don't really need to write things down because I won't follow the list. What I do follow, is my spirit, and if that were to fail me, I don't know where I would be.

I wonder if anyone would understand that I often have to ask myself questions like, Did Mother's Day come and go? Did we celebrate the birthdays yet? What part of the year is it and are we really mid-way through June? Did I really just return from an Alaskan voyage and did I really see my sister last month when it feels like a lifetime ago? Am I living in a fog or am I present?

But here we are, summertime, and the living is easy, so they say. Summertime. 2011. Summertime and so many memories that bring smiles....and so many that bring pain. Of course, I try to stay focused on the ones that bring smiles, the trips to Hull, the vacations, the time off from teaching when there was nothing like a summer day whether the girls were little or grown, the time when leisure truly meant leisure and the days at the pool with all the friends were how we chose to while away the day! Summertime and the living was easy. We just didn't know it. Summertime. The time that still starts with three birthdays in our immediate family, blended into five by July and so many celebrations in between. Summertime. That time that really belonged to Michael and Allison, we knew it then, and we know it now. Summertime. When the hammock was put up by Michael for her, for him, but really for her visit. When their pool was put up for the neighbors and anyone who stopped by, when he would hang by the fence and forget the chore he came out to do, but rather, stand in the yard, sit on the swing, hang on the gate, and talk the time away. When the visits to Hull were all we talked about and planned for, when we would arrive and the deck would be filled with boys in ten minutes because the Powers' cousins had arrived. Michael began his worry that girls were in the house for a week, a month, or a whole summer. Summertime. When SHE asked HIM if she could stay if she got a job, and he said yes, and she had one in 20 minutes, thanks to Matt taking her over to the camp. HER life was changed forever, and so was HIS.

Summertime and the living is easy....has in many senses, become, summertime, and the living is NOT so easy. It's not so easy because we never knew just how painful memories can be, how much emotional fatigue it takes to pack the bags and the summer boxes without them, how much emotional energy it takes to make a meal, to plan, to organize, to shop, to put up the hammock, for Karen to figure out how to "open" a pool, for us to once again visit "heaven on earth" without her, to put our toes in the sand and remember the images of HIM burying HER in the sand, HIM taking all the children to the beach and making memories for all of them, for HER to come so alive, OR relaxed in the place she loved best. While thankful and blessed for the memories, the pain associated with their absence has blended into one at times. Not really separate now, because summer came, and went, and HE was gone. Summertime. The time, so appropriate really, when the good Lord took Michael home, to his resting place, to meet his beloved Allison, whose hands were reached out all the way. Summertime. A foggy morning when a town was asleep, not a sound could be heard, until the sun came out, and the whispers began. Michael is gone. Gone from us. Gone from our town. But asleep with Jesus and alive with his loved ones.

Summertime. It takes on all sorts of new horizons, images, feelings, memories, joys and pain. The pain of losing him, her, Michael, Allison, is setting in. We all feel it. We don't need the calendar. We just know what we know. And even when we are confused by it, our soul knows. We have to dig deep and ask God what is this all about. Why am I on the verge of tears? Why am I dreaming and having fitful nights? Why am I/we reliving something that doesn't need to be relived? Why does my mind take so long to catch up to my soul? Why can't I let the images go? And God whispers back, that it's all part of the process. We are right where He wants us. We are right where we are supposed to be. And so are they. Allison and Michael. At rest. No more cancer. No more worries. Only true peace. The kind that comes when we know God has the answers, the master plan, the course already mapped out. If only we can stay focused on that when the pain comes, when the seasons change, and when the summer comes, and the living is not so easy.