Because He Lives

After getting back on my feet following our vacations, I feel like we've been running ever since! I need to get back to writing here, I can tell my feelings/thoughts are building up. I have 3 unfinished posts because I can't seem to get a big enough amount of time to work on them! So hopefully you'll see those soon.

But the busy-ness is for good reason. Foremost, we are really getting into crunch time for the big Warrior Wagons fundraiser coming up on April 20th! Josh and I have been busy planning and organizing since the first of the year, and things are really starting to come together. It's so exciting and encouraging to see the support for this project. The more Warrior families who reach out telling us just how much this small gesture has meant to them, makes us know we are doing the right thing. We are so happy to be able to do what we're doing, through the support of so many.

And personally, I've been working on some articles for a magazine out of Iowa, WomenInc Magazine (http://www.womenincmagazine.com/), that is publishing our story in three parts. The fist part that I wrote will be in the April/May issue, the next two in the following issues after that. I am thrilled that Drew's story is being told in a new place. It comforts me that more people will know about my son, will know he existed, and possible learn as much as I did from his life.

And just getting back into the swing of things after almost a month long break took some time these last few weeks. Meal planning, cleaning, trying to get back into my workout routine, reconnecting with friends...just generally getting caught up with life has kept me busy in my "free" time.

But even though my mind and energy has been focused on organizing, writing, and just doing I guess, my heart hasn't forgot what's coming up. What would have been. On April 1st, Easter Sunday this year, Drew would have been four years old.

Four...I just can't imagine it. Molly had just turned four when Drew was diagnosed. When I put that age in context, I just can't believe he'd be that old. What he could be telling me, what we could have been doing together. Watching my friends with children close in age to Drew celebrate four-year-old birthdays this spring has been difficult. But at the same time, it gives me a glimpse of what a 4-year-old Drew may have been like. It lets me imagine for a moment how it could have been...

Last year Drew's birthday really hit me hard. It was probably one of my toughest weeks of that first year. Those pictures of my sweet little newborn Drew, knowing all he'd face, how much he would suffer in his short life. Realizing that from that afternoon on April 1st, 2014, his clock was already ticking, and every day was one day less and I didn't even know it, really broke me.

This year, as his day approaches it's the pregnancy pictures that have caught my attention, that my heart is dwelling on.

It's a special time, when you're pregnant. You have baby all to yourself. You are beginning to get to know them without even realizing it, or at least I didn't. And you are so full of hopes and dreams for this little life that's growing inside of you.

Yet, I'm not one that loved being pregnant. I did not get a thrill watching baby movements across my big belly. I didn't sit and rub or stroke my baby bump constantly. (Honestly I was one that rolled my eyes at those that do). I didn't cherish that time, and now I wish I would have. 

Thinking back, I was aware of differences between Molly and Drew even at that stage. Molly was active during the day, but not at all during the night. I could roll over or even get up to go to the bathroom and she'd stay asleep in there. But with Drew, he'd move around for another half hour after I got settled back in.

I couldn't feel Drew move as much from the outside due to where things were situated inside. So I had to pay attention to the inside feelings for movement, which was not the case with Molly. Molly also seemed to have the hiccups all the time on the inside, Drew didn't as much.

I felt so full with Drew. Even after they said he'd dropped in those last weeks, I swore I still felt him all the way up under my ribs (and after he was born and measured 22 inches long, I guess I was right!).

I ate a whole pineapple 2 days before Drew was born because a friend told me it would induce labor. It started as kind of a fun experiment, but ended up with me not being able to taste anything for a week and having a couple canker sores. Still not sure if it helped, can two days later be attributed to the pineapple ingestion? But it's a fun story to tell.

That time with Drew when he was on the inside is a period I didn't think as much about until these last few weeks. But those months were also months with him, time to treasure and be thankful for. A time I know many would-be mothers are denied, or for some are cut tragically short. Even if I had to give him back to God far too early, this year I'm so thankful I had him all to myself, literally a part of me, for 9 months.

And I think a part of you feels like they're safe in there, especially if you have already had a child. You think that nothing can hurt them--they can't fall and skin their knee. Or bonk their head on a table corner. No one can disappoint them or hurt their feelings. They can't disobey yet and disappoint you either. It seems like it's a totally innocent and pure time.

Unfortunately, life has taught me how much of an illusion that is. Now I know, something can get to them in there, even as they are safely tucked into their mothers. And with Drew, that "something" probably already had. The something that would hurt him so badly, that would disappoint us and so many, and would eventually kill him--was probably already invading his little still-forming body.

I wish I didn't know that. That I could believe babies are safe in their mothers again. But now I know. I've met too many mothers that also have learned the awful truth. And now you do too.

I remember breathing a sigh of relief after 12 weeks. After 25. After 35. And then that he was born, and it all had worked out with nothing bad happening. As if that was the end of it. "Whew! Gave birth to a healthy baby--done!" I was foolishly breathing a sigh of relief. Little did I know.

I just look at that mother, think back on that naivety, and my heart breaks for what happened to her. The disappointment she'd face, the loss, the grief. Last year I cried for Drew, for all he went through. I cried for the loss of the dream, the loss of what I thought would be mine in that newborn babe. This year I guess I'm grieving for myself. Allowing myself to deal with the feelings I haven't worked out yet, how cruel this all really was not just to Drew, but to our family, to Molly, and to me.

But there is Hope.

And this year, my Drew's birthday is on Easter Sunday, when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ--the reason for our Hope. The year Drew was in treatment, his last Easter, we were so full of joy, and of hope. We realized the freedom the Cross gave us to live each day without fear of what could happen. Death didn't have a hold on us, the possibility didn't cripple us, because we understood the Cross and the hope it gave us. We lived each day to the fullest, and it was glorious.

This year we have the opportunity to once again embrace that truth, and proclaim it with our lives. Death still does not have a hold on us. Living without Drew is so hard, but it hasn't crippled us. And it's because of the Cross and the hope it gives us. Glory be to God!

And you know? The more I've looked at those "bump" photos, reflected on that special time when Drew really was a part of me, I have decided that maybe we've come full circle. That in a way, Drew's back to being a part of me. Inside me now in a different way, and goes with me everywhere once again. He's back to being all mine. I don't think it's too much of a stretch, and it makes me feel better to think of it this way. He's safe, and this time, it's not an illusion. NOTHING can hurt my baby anymore. He is perfectly secure in my Lord's care now.

So I go into another meaningful day with lots of different emotions. Yes, I will probably cry as I remember that special day Drew and I shared, as together we started his life. And inevitably I'll probably also cry as I remember the day that together, I watched as his life on this earth ended. 

But how wonderful it will be to also remember on Sunday that death has no victory. To be reminded why that "something" that got to my precious Drew when he was suppose to be tucked in safe with me, that cancer, surely did not win. Why we can keep doing, keep moving forward, and have real Hope--because Christ lives, and so Drew lives too. Hallelujah!

There's an old Easter Hymn that isn't sung as often as it should be, yet sums all this up so well:

"Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
Because He lives, all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living, just because He lives"

Happy Birthday sweet baby boy. I'll miss you as I remember our special day, but I will keep going. Bring more of our Wagons to kids you would have loved to play with. I will keep telling your story--letting God tell HIS story through us. All because He lives. And I'll smile, thinking how I have you all to myself again, with me in a special way once more. Even with all that has happened to us, it is still so true--life is worth the living, just because He lives!

Back to a Painful Realty...

We just returned home from another amazing trip, this time to the luxe Punta Mita, Mexico.  I feel so obnoxious and like I should apologize for such extravagant vacations back to back--but we really didn't plan it!  They both kind of fell into our laps, and we are so very, very grateful.

Josh earned the Chairman's Inner Circle award and this once-in-a-lifetime trip through his hard work last year at Hormel, specifically through several personal projects. More pictures, again, I posted on Facebook if you'd like to see them!

This trip was so special, because it was for Josh. I was so happy to see him recognized. Acknowledged. So often I get more of the praise between the two of us since I'm the most vocal, visible, about our personal life and situation. But make no mistake, Josh is backbone of this family. Without him and the dedication and focus he brings to our home, just like he does at work, we would not be where we are today. I am so proud to be his wife!

Molly did not come with us this time. Which, after 9 days all together in Hawaii, I was okay with--it was nice to get a break from Mom Duty!  But of course I missed her. This was the first time we've been apart for more than a night since the cruise Josh and I took last April. When a friend she was staying with sent me this picture of her, the missing her really hit me.

Even while laying pool-side, I found myself studying it.  I wonder what she's wearing today, under that coat. She doesn't look too tired, she must be doing okay! In fact, she looks so beautiful...I looked at her sweet face and a part of me couldn't wait to get home to her, even though I was surrounded by so much beauty.

And then when we got back, the reunion was so great! She smiles, does this nervous/emotional giggle when we see each other again after I've been gone.  We kind of stared at each other, re-familiarizing ourselves, pointing out changes/new things (Mom--you look different; Molly, your nose healed!!). I listened to her talk, really listened to her tell me about all she did while we were gone. I watched her, and thought how big she seems! Its been nice soaking her up again, getting settled back in his week, with a fresh appreciation.

Being here with her again, for breakfast at our table...its just so much sweeter after even 5 days away...

As the relief this week of being back with Molly subsides though, its making me yearn for the reunion that didn't happen...the one that wasn't here when I got back. My heart hasn't forgotten the child of mine that I didn't get a hug from, or get to see how much he's changed since last I saw him. Oh these last few days, getting reunited with Molly, makes me SO impatient for when I get to do this with my Drew. When the relief from that longing will finally be felt.

Five days made me tear up when I got home and sat with Molly again--and with Drew, it's been over a year now.  OVER A YEAR since I've seen, heard, smelled my baby boy.  I haven't forgotten, my heart hasn't given up hope for the reunion that is to come.

And what a reunion it will be! Like soldiers coming home after a long tour abroad, it will be passionate and emotional. I wonder how long I'll watch him. Listen in amazement at what he tells me he's been up to. Studying him in detail, taking in all he has become--fully healed in Heaven's glory. Will he do the same to me? Has he been seeing us this whole time, or will he take some time to get reacquainted with us like Molly did this week? I guess we think not. He isn't missing us like this. He isn't spending time pondering our arrival, wondering what we're doing...

It's always hard to get back into life after a vacation, a break. And especially when the vacation was over 3 weeks in total, spent between two trips. And even more especially hard is it when real life is in such a difficult season. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm complaining--that I'm ungrateful for the absolutely wonderful gifts that both of our trips were. It was marvelous to have a distraction from the missing, a break from the heartache!

But here it is again.

I'll have to get re-used to the weight of this load, the burden of this grief. Picking it back up again after setting it down for a time...wow. It's heavy.

I didn't expect to feel like this--didn't anticipate these emotions. I think a lot of us imagine we'll return from a vacation so refreshed and recharged, we'll be killin' it when we get back! But in reality, it's hard to shake that care-free, comfortable feeling we got used to on vacation.

I should have known better, but I didn't think about how missing Molly would open up the wound of missing Drew, which was actually starting to heal.  Even after a year, I am still experiencing new things related to this great loss, which is why I continue to share. To show how this is indeed a lifetime's journey of grief, not something that you can simply "get over". It will always be a part of our lives.

Maybe this should encourage me. As much as I missed Molly for a mere 5 days, and I sit and wonder how I'll ever make it missing Drew like this over my whole lifetime--I can choose to look at it as I've already gone a whole year. I have been able to get used to the missing, and have found a way to enjoy life. I have adjusted. Compensated in other areas of my life to accommodate this hurt. Thank goodness for the help from Above who teaches the balance, the path to tip-toe as to not fall into the gorge of grief. I don't think it's possible not to fall in without it.

So I guess I just need to remember all I've learned, and to take it one day at a time as I get used to this load again. I don't have to have the strength to make it a lifetime without Drew, just enough strength to make it through today. Be thankful for all I have, and look for all the good things in this day, even if they are mixed in with the bad or hard. And tomorrow, I'll start again. And He'll give me my daily bread, my daily dose of Grace to get through that day.  And so on, and so on.  Row by row...

Roosters

We recently had the opportunity to go to Hawaii with my family. My Dad had business in Honolulu, and took my siblings and my family along. We also spent a few days before the workshop he was speaking at in Kauai, sight seeing. It was a trip we'd been looking forward too all winter. It gave us something to get excited about, something to work towards. And boy, the islands did not disappoint.

Molly had a few things she wanted to do, her "bucket list" for the trip. And we were able to check them all off!  She wanted to drink out of a coconut with a straw:

                                              

See a waterfall:  

Meet a Hula girl:

And build a sandcastle:

We did LOTS more. I was surprised and a little embarrassed as I realized I took over 150 pictures! But there was so much to see, so much I wanted to capture. And after all I've been through, I know how special it is to have pictures to look back on. I uploaded many of the photos onto Facebook, so you can see all of them all if you want. But the high lights:

We visited a coffee plantation and a pineapple plantation...

We went to Luau, took a Hula lesson, and made Lei's.

We saw Waimea Canyon, Spouting Horn blow hole, and the famous North Shore of Oahu. 

Josh and I went to the Pearl Harbor Memorial one afternoon.

And of course we took in the absolutely beautiful sights. Beaches and mountains and canyons and sunrises and sets. God's glory was on full display--and it was magnificent.

It was an amazing trip, yet Drew's absence was still felt in this mother's heart.

The wonder in Molly's eyes, and the joy in her squeals made me wish she had another child to share it with.

The "boy stuff", like the off-roading we did in the jeeps on the way to one secluded beach--it would have given him such a thrill!  And after watching Drew with the princesses in Disney World, I know the Hula girls would have caused him to turn on the charm for sure!

But I know as glorious as Hawaii was, and as much fun as Drew would have had there with us, where he is even more glorious and fun. All that Molly loved, the awe and joy she felt, is a mere shadow of what he IS experiencing right now.  It's really mind-blowing, isn't it?  And those thoughts are what didn't let the longing, the heartache of his absence, ruin our trip by distracting me from the present.

And maybe Drew really was with us in Hawaii after all...

I use voice text a lot. As much as I talk and as slow as I text, its so much easier for me to communicate. But, as anyone who uses voice text a lot knows, it messes up words sometimes (a lot of the time if you talk fast like me). You have to go back and correct a lot. During treatment, as a friend would ask for updates, I'd tell her how "Drewster" was doing. Well, voice text always transcribed it as "rooster". I missed it enough times that I stopped correcting it, and my friend and I lovingly referred to Drew as "Rooster" from then on out. Its kind of our thing, our inside joke that no one else really knows about.

Flash forward to now. If you've ever been to Hawaii, and the island of Kauai in particular, you know there are chickens running loose all over. We saw our first one as we walked out of the airport, right by baggage claim. 

And throughout the vacation, they were everywhere; in the trees at the beach, alongside the road, at your feet trying to get crumbs from your road-side fish taco. And once we got out of Honolulu, we saw them on Oahu as well. My family teased me about how crazy they drove me, and how jumpy I was around them! They seemed to pick on me the most. I couldn't get away from them.

On the plane ride home, I was texting a different friend about the chickens, and casually called them roosters--since many of them were indeed roosters and they were the most note worthy since they were the biggest and loudest. And in that moment it hit me--the symbolism, the connection. Of course! Roosters. I couldn't help but tear up when I saw it looking back. They were there with me the whole time--from start to finish. With me on the beach, and in the maze at the pineapple plantation. Along all the roadsides and by the pool at the first resort. I got goosebumps when I thought of all the times during the trip that a rooster was a part of the memory, butting his way in.

Now I know chickens have been running loose on Kauai for a long time. And they are around everyone whether they have a connection to them or not. But I DO have a connection, a "thing" with them. A rooster means something to me, and it's not just a coincidence they were always around me. I don't know what to believe about signs from Heaven, but the moment it "dawned on me" about the roosters, I know it was the Lord's whisper to me. His gentle reminders, His comforting grace. Through wild roosters...God's funny sometimes! Reminding me that Drew's still with me. Wherever I go on earth--even across the ocean to Hawaii--he'll always right there with me somehow, trotting along and bobbing his head.

I left Hawaii so thankful. Thankful for my parent's gift to us in the trip. Thankful for all we were able to see, do, and eat! Thankful for the time with family, the memories made. Thankful for the tastes of Heaven we got as we saw, felt and touched an Earthy paradise. And thankful, even if it still hurt not to have both my babies with me, that my Drew gets to be in a place that's even more amazing than Hawaii...

Kairos Moment

Molly has been doing so well in Kindergarten. She loves the bus, taking her lunch, her friends and teachers. We've been working with flashcards at home first with the alphabet last fall, then with the sounds, and now with sight words and sounding out three to four letter words.

This week after I picked her up from school, as we were approaching the library, she asked to stop. I don't normally pick her up, so stopping at the library on the way home from school was kind of a fun deviation from our usual. Knowing she's been making so much progress lately with reading, I picked up some early/easy reading books.

When we sat down together to read them after we got home, she wasn't sure about the ones I'd picked out, "Hey! Who put these in my pile, I didn't pick these ones out!". But we opened the first one up, and it was so fun to see her quickly realize she knew some of the words. I watched her rattle off the sight words she knew, and then listened as she under-her-breath sounded out the others. She'd figure out the word and exclaim it loudly!

We got through the whole book, with me only helping a little (you don't realize how many words in English don't follow the "rules" until you're trying to teach someone to read!) and the look on her face was something I'll always remember. She was so amazed, so surprised by herself that she could actually do it! We picked up the next one and as she gained more confidence, the books read faster and faster. We cheered when she finished each one.

It was a special moment, and I was so proud and happy for her. It was so neat to have witnessed the progression that brought us to reading that book. To know how hard we've worked and to see it pay off in her confident smile, was such a warm and wonderful feeling.

As she went to her room to do her earned tablet-time, the smile stayed on my face while I got supper ready in the kitchen. It was so beautiful, such a special moment. A Kairos moment my friend calls it---when time stands still. We all know how the minutes of each day work, but those special times, the moments...those are the Kairos ones, those we should try to find in each day.  And when we experience them, we should recognize them as gifts, something to treasure.  This was one of those moments.

And the more I thought about it--it dawned on me that the moment was untouched by Drew! It hadn't even crossed my mind that I'll never watch him learn to read in this lifetime.  I didn't feel sad that Drew wasn't there to cheer Molly on with me. I was totally "in the moment" with Molly.  Something that at the beginning of loss, when its so much a part of every thought, you never think is possible.  I said a prayer of thanks, that the Sprit made me able to appreciate that moment for what it was, and feel the joy and wonder of the new experience, moving past the shadow of grief.

I remembered the words of a different friend too. One who also lost a son, a five-year-old, twenty years ago to childhood cancer.  She told me last year that the time would come when I don't think of Drew everyday. And it's not like you have forgotten, he'll still very much be a part of you, but you move past constantly having him on your mind, she suggested. I told her at that early point in my grief, that I couldn't imagine that happening.  But I remember asking, "isn't it sad to realize you didn't think about them?" No, she told me, "it's peaceful." It is a moment of hope because you realize you can be free from that constant nagging that they aren't there, she shared.

This week, as I rejoiced with Molly during this big moment for her, I understood what that friend told me.  As it hit me that I didn't have any thought of Drew, but only the celebration of Molly's accomplishment, I felt a little sense of accomplishment as well. I am making progress! I am getting through this difficult season, one day, one row, at a time. I can see how the rest of my life doesn't have to revolve around this--it isn't always going to be the first thing that comes to my mind. And it is so peaceful, so freeing.

I'm sure Drew was cheering too as he watched Molly (however we think they watch) read that first book of her life--saying to the little girl next to him, "That's my big sister!" with a big proud smile. And I was smiling too, because for one of the first times, I didn't even think about the fact that he wasn't here with us, and it was okay.

What I've learned...

As the first anniversary of Drew's passing passed, I took time to remember. The week, the day. To remember him and all that died that day, January 19th, 2017. And although it wasn't pleasant, it didn't feel good, I'm glad I did. It felt right to pause, and to go "back there". To hold his blanket and light a candle at the hour he was born into Eternity in remembrance, in honor, of the life that he lived, the sparkle that was Drew in this lifetime.

Since then, my "one year ago" reminders on Facebook don't included his smiling face anymore, but our new family of three.  My "two years ago" reminders are filled with shock and well wishes as we were just beginning our journey. It's really weird that it was almost exactly a year from our trip to the ER that Wednesday afternoon not knowing what was wrong, to watching his life quietly fade away. And actually, it kind of helps to see those posts. To see Drew so sick around diagnosis time right next to the ones where I know he's free--finished with that awful beast.

It feels in a way like we've come full circle. After remembering the event of his death the last couple weeks, I can now reflect on the year since, and how far we've come. Many of you who have gone with me this last year either through this blog or in person, know I've realized and discovered a lot. It seems appropriate to reflect on that as well, to take stock of how we did our first year without Drew.

A year ago, when I was just at the beginning of this grief, everyone told me there were no rules, do what feels right to you. And I don't think that was necessarily bad advice, but I needed more. I am a very structured, rule-oriented person, I like that security. So I started making some rules of my own as I moved forward.

Some were physical boundaries: I decided first I didn't want to form any habits from the beginning I didn't intend to keep in the long run. I realized I certainly could justify whatever I wanted to do, but I knew I didn't want to let myself engage in destructive behavior, even for a little while, because it'd be so hard to break free. And I think I've kept to that well. I didn't let personal hygiene slip, didn't overeat, or start drinking every night. It seems dumb to have to set those boundaries for yourself, but at the beginning, when it hurts so bad, you are very tempted to do whatever it takes to make it feel better. And forgo anything that seems pointless in light of your loss.

On the flip side, I also wanted to keep in place some good habits I already had. Like getting enough sleep. I need to sleep to handle myself--I'm kind obsessed with getting a full 8 hours (okay, maybe more like 9...), and I wanted to keep that habit so I could remain stable. I decided for me that meant keeping away from things that are upsetting too close to bedtime. So I tried not to look at photos/watch videos of Drew, write my heart out (and simultaneously cry my eyes out), or let my mind go to those dark places right before bed or as I was laying in bed. I told myself I could think about/be sad about/figure out my feelings the next day. And for the most part, I've been able to do that, and I continue to be careful about this. I think that has helped more than I know--to be rested. I'm so thankful I haven't experienced much insomnia/nightmares that disturb my natural rhythm as some grievers do.

Then emotionally, I decided I couldn't hold myself to anyone else's standards or expectations in my grief. We are who we are, and in some ways who we've always been. If we weren't the touchy-feely types before, I shouldn't wonder why we aren't holding each other and crying together like some couples/families who go through this kind of thing do. We have never done that, and I shouldn't feel bad or guilty that we aren't now. Once I gave myself permission to be myself, do things my way, I felt so much better about how I cope. And I reminded myself that this is true for each member of my family too. Josh and Molly both have their own ways of dealing with things, and do a pretty good job with it, so I can't hold them to my way of grieving either.

As I moved forward in those first few weeks and months, I figured out new things to add to my list of personal guidelines for my grief. Like consciously trying to remain present--especially with Molly. At one kids group in February last year, I caught myself daydreaming about what Drew would be doing in the class, and totally missing what Molly was actually doing. That really scared me. I don't want to lose both my baby's childhoods because of this! One I couldn't do anything about anymore, but watching Molly grow up was mine to lose if I couldn't stop being distracted by Drew's absence. So staying present went on my list, not missing special moments I'll never get back...

I also figured out as we went along that it helped to set up new routines--try different events/adventures, even if I wasn't sure I wanted to. We started going to the Y. We go up to the cities more often. We got season tickets in the fall to the ISU football games. We are about to go on a big vacation with my family to Hawaii. It gives you a break sometimes, to go to a different space Drew never was, or to do things that we never did with Drew. So much in this town, in our lives, have memories with Drew but some days it's nice to have some that don't.

I learned in the last year that helping others sometimes is the best way to help yourself. That when you put yourself out there in service, two things happen--you realize the needs/situations of others, not just your own; and you recognize that there is still something in you that you have to offer. You are still valuable and useful, even in your broken state. Which gives you a sense of purpose again, of power. Not to mention the good "feels" of helping someone who needs it. We all should do more helping of others, in big ways or little ways--they are all important. How much better off would the world be?

I've found out for myself in the last year just how hard it is for the bereaved to allow ourselves to be happy again. To decide it's okay to laugh, to play and to love after our loss. Somehow you feel like you are betraying them, that you must not have really loved them if you can actually be happy without them. Some people even perpetuate this lie with nice-sounding phrases like, "the amount of grief one feels is directly proportional to the amount one loved." And while I think there is truth to that statement, I think it easily can put us grievers in a corner. Because many think of grief as overwhelming sorrow and sadness, tears and gloom--not inspired, hopeful and experiencing joy despite our loss. And if we somehow are feeling the former, we're afraid our lack of despair is a reflection of the depth of love for the one we've lost.

But the truth is, as different as we all are is as different as all of our grief is. We Becker's have our own way of expressing our grief and showing our love for Drew (although as you have seen if you follow this blog---I do my share of lamenting and crying). Overall, we are more "doers" than "dreamers". Our grief has come out as beginning new things, building from this. And if you measure how much Drew was loved using what we've done in the last year as a measuring stick, I think you'd determine we loved him greatly indeed. You don't have to be a sobbing mess everyday to prove you loved, and that doesn't mean you don't remember or care.

And really, I'm more and more convinced that limiting yourself to the sadness of grief, the yearning for what was, only makes you miss out on what is and could be. It's what happened that morning at the kids group last spring, when I couldn't have told you where Molly placed the heart on herself during the silly children's song, because I was too busy imagining where Drew would have placed his. This is biblical guys, remember?  Isaiah 43:18-19 "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" I'm so glad that God spoke this to us, and the Spirit has helped me see it, because it's so true. And Drew can very much be a part of my life now, but only if I'm present enough, if I'm not so focused on the past, to see it.

And as I got through more of that first year, I began to see it. I've recognized not only his influence in me and the ways his life continues to impact this world, but recognized a new relationship with him. I "sit with him" each morning when I have some quiet time in his room before everyone wakes up. I talk to him when I'm driving around town in my van, or at home by myself (to be fair, I talk to Snickers, the cat, a lot too!) and it takes him with me, brings him back into my daily life. Maybe I won't do it forever, but right now, its what my new relationship looks like with my only son. And in the last year I have had reassurance that its not just a one sided relationship. I've felt him in such special moments, and have had things happen or saw things that showed me he continues to live on, which helps me know I ought to also.

 

Remember the two scales I talked about a while ago? A concept I got from a grief book. The idea is that there are two scales from 1-10 in grief, the first is a scale of your emotions, how big they feel today. And the other for how well you can handle them. The goal isn't to tame the first so you never feel anything, but to adjust your second scale to match. And I like that. I don't want the "sad" to ever completely go away, do I? I don't think it will, even if I did want it to. I think I just need to do what I've learned this year, to accept and expect there will always be a little sadness along with the happy moments of my life from here on out. So the key will be to figure out how best to cope. What does today's feelings call for? A long run to clear my head? A happy hour with friends to lighten my mood? Or some time alone, where I cry or pray... the better I am at knowing what I need to do, the better off I'll be. Not "the less I am reminded, the fewer times I'm sad or upset" the better I'll be...

I'll probably always be adding to my "list of rules" for grieving and be learning or experiencing new things along my journey. Because I know now it's not really a journey with a destination of "over it". But a journey for the rest of my life. Until the day we all are waiting for when God makes everything right, and eliminates all the sorrow, tears and pain. I think what I've really been doing this last year is figuring out how I'm going to be now, what it will look like for Heidi Becker to move forward through this life, one precious child down. And luckily, I don't have to do it alone.

That's the good news in all this. All that I've learned on my own is good and useful, but I will never be able to do it all. To "handle it well" if I try to on my own. And God has shown me the rest, the peace, the hope, and joy He has to offer if we just take it from Him. If we give up trying to figure it out, stop wearing ourselves out trying to carry the burden of grief alone, we will truly experience the freedom and peace that only He can give--even in the worst circumstances.

Looking back, its been quite a year, and we've done fairly well. If I can boast in anything it'll be in the Lord--how well HE'S gotten us through this first year. All that HE'S taught us and done through us. Paul's words truly have played out this year in my life when he said in 2nd Corinthians 12:9, "So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me..". Watching my brave Drew take his last breaths after we tried SO hard to save him left me feeling so very weak, in every way. And it was in that weakness that Christ's power has shown through in the words He's given me to write, in the projects we've started that are taking off, and in the joy we have found despite our grief. All glory be to God.