William Cowper

There is a Fountain
William Cowper
1771

I hesitantly post because these are those dark and private thoughts that I don’t want to share. I don’t know of one grieving parent who hasn’t thought about it. Maybe it will help someone.

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away:
Wash all my sins away,
Wash all my sins away;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow’r,
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved, to sin no more:
Be saved, to sin no more,
Be saved, to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more.

E’er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die:
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

When this poor lisping, stamm’ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save:
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save,
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save;
then in a nobler, sweeter song
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.

Here’s a link into a brief glimpse of William Cowper’s life, the author of There is a Fountain.

Why this song? Why is this one stuck in my head? I was getting ready for bed. It’s been one of those days. My mind was going places it really shouldn’t go. It all started last night with an ambulance triggering the whole accident scene, then add in today’s strobing red lights and siren like alarm of a firedrill…somedays there’s just too much going on for my mind to process.

There is a Fountain kept running through my head. Over and over… I couldn’t get it out. I was almost to the point of frustration at how fast the words were running through my head.
I’ve known the song as long as I can remember but I didn’t know who wrote it. I’m only familiar with a few hymnists, namely, John Newton, Fannie Crosby, Alfred Brumley, and Bill and Gloria Gaither. The words would not go away. I had to listen to that song or go crazy listening to my own voice sing it over and over in my head. I only pretend that I sound like Patsy Cline and I can only pretend so much, so… I had to research it. I had to find out about this song.

Because you know what? Most days I’d rather not be here. Most days I do think about how dying would be easier. Most days I’m sick and tired of dealing with the grief and the pain. Most days I want to sit and do nothing. Most days I’d do anything to have a normal life again. Some days I even think about how I would end my life. There’s no amount of looking forward to something, staying busy, taking care of yourself that will heal the hurt and pain of losing your child–nothing.

When I begin to read Cowper’s biography I had no idea who he was or anything about his life. Cowper suffered from depression. He made several attempts at taking his life. Cowper at one point even convinced himself that God wanted him to take his life. When the attempts failed he concluded that he had offended God. His life wasn’t a happy one. He never completely overcame depression, but he did come to an understanding of God’s love and mercy.

Oh thank God for his love and mercy!

Grief is bad. Grief is difficult to deal with everyday. Grief sucks. Grief is cruel and in our weakest moments, our minds are invaded with the thoughts we never thought we’d think.

When the thoughts become dark… When everything closes in… When you feel alone… When you can’t think straight…
reach out to someone
call a friend
call the national suicide hotline 1-800-273-8255
Someone here still needs you. You have purpose.

Self Care Sunday, Jesus, and Meatloaf

What do these three things have in common? Hell, if I know but I’m going to say that today they represent normal, everyday life. Well except today. Today I skipped church. Jesus said it was okay. September is almost over and I feel like I can stop holding my breath and start breathing again. It’s always going to be a hard month, I suppose. Maybe the next one will be better, but I’ll deal with that one when the next September rolls around again.

One thing that teachers do is constantly look back to evaluate and re-evaluate their students and themselves: What can we do different, how can we improve the lesson, and what new techniques, or even old ones that we’ve forgotten, can we employ to ensure everyone is learning and growing.

Today I’m looking back to see where I’ve come from and where I’m headed. Am I doing better, the same, or am I worse? If you’ve been following along and reading my last few posts, you are probably thinking things are not looking so good. My writing is therapeutic and sets my mind free…it’s where I can unload all my feelings and thoughts and move on.

Last year at this time I was just a couple of weeks away from requesting leave from work for the 2nd time in a month. I would eventually end up leaving for the rest of the year. This year I’m doing well at work. Is it my happy place and am I as passionate about teaching as I once was? No… I do love the students in my classes, and I look forward to seeing them and teaching them every day. I don’t feel overwhelmed by my duties and I feel like I am adding to my students’ education in a positive way. I don’t think I’ll ever think about teaching the same way that I did before I lost Patrick.

There’s been so many changes this past year. For someone that truly dislikes change, I’ve created circumstances that demanded change. What the hell was I thinking?!? I like status quo. I like routine. I like knowing exactly what is going to happen. I accepted a teaching job just a couple of weeks before school started. We sold our house. We started the process of building a house. We are living in an apartment–for 2 kids that grew up in the country with plenty of wide open spaces, and have always had room to roam, this has been an adjustment! I’ve added new friends. I’ve cut some people out. I’m trying to be healthier, but I really miss junk food. My daily goals have increased. It is no longer just do one thing, like put on deodorant. There is no growth without change. Not all change is bad. There is nothing permanent except change. Keep things spicy!

Then there’s missing Patrick. That ache will never go away. Sometimes when I look at his pictures I can almost feel his little face pressed against mine or his arms wrapped around my neck. I hear him whisper, ‘Mommy I love you no matter what’. For that brief moment I forget he’s gone and then the stabbing, aching pain in my chest comes back and jolts me back to reality. No, nothing has changed there. But, I keep on because death changes nothing and it changes everything.

Friendship

friendship: the state of being friends

One of the hardest things to deal with after a death is the way people treat you. There are those people that are genuinely concerned for you and are with you every step of the way. There are the nosy ones who just want information so they can inform everyone else or feel important because they ‘know’ something. There are the ones that you thought were your friends but you never hear from them again, and then there are the ones that were there for awhile but have drifted away for one reason or another. I’ve experienced all of these types of friends in the last year and a half.

Friendship has become a tricky thing for me since Patrick died. Growing up and even well into adulthood I always had few close friends. I was not Ms. Popularity and didn’t have the need to be surrounded by a lot of people. Then Patrick came along and demanded people in our lives! I had plenty of friends, good friends. In the last few years I never doubted the depth of my friends’ loyalty, I could count on them and they could count on me. It seemed to me that for the first time in my life friendships were easy and abundant.

Now sometimes, I feel like I’m the new kid at school, screaming desperately inside, ‘pick me!’ Sometimes I’m left wondering what happened, where did you go? Did I talk too much about Patrick? Did I cry in front of you? Are you afraid if we stay friends your child might die in some freak accident, too? Did I not react the ‘right’ way and follow some predetermined model of a grieving mother? Are you afraid if we talk about Patrick I’ll be sad? A year and a half ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about people coming and going out of my life. It’s life. People get busy with their own lives. Everyone has a lot going on. It’s just the way things are and chances are we’d eventually reconnect when our individual lives settled down to some kind of ‘normal’ routine.

But in grief, it’s different. I found myself craving to be around people. I needed a good solid friend, someone who truly was OK with whatever I was feeling or thinking. I also needed to relearn that lesson we’ve all seen where Madea tells us to ‘let folks go!’ I was expecting too much from friends. I was expecting branches to be roots.

I think I’ve found my new tribe.

You can tell them bad news and they’ll listen. You tell them good news and they will help you celebrate.
Jordan Peterson

Angry

Talk about bouncing around the stages of grief… Lately, I feel like one of those super bouncy balls. I’ve been through every stage of grief this past month and sometimes I’ve been through every stage in a matter of minutes ala M’Linn in Steel Magnolias at the cemetery.

This morning I wanted to cuss the charging cord in my car, the super thick sliced bacon, the humidity, and anything else that didn’t sit right with me this morning… and believe me, there is a long list today.

I want somebody to fix it. But, it can’t be fixed. It’s mine to deal with. Oh God is supposed to be there, all that never forsake you and so on but I can’t seem to find God for myself. He seems just out of reach for me. If he did show up would I even recognize that it was God? I don’t know what do about God so I mostly stew and stay mad. I’m still mad that my prayers went unanswered. I still want to know WHY? What purpose is this serving? Where’s the good in it all? I’m trying to put the puzzle back together but someone took some of the pieces and they won’t give them back!

What I want most in this world, I can’t have. There is no fix. I want to spend the day with Patrick. I want to hug him forever and talk to him. I want to make him some soups (yes, he called it soups 😉). I want to spend time looking at every box of lego and telling him he doesn’t have enough money to buy the set he wants, only to give in and buy it for him. I want to take him to the park and hear him get upset when it’s time to leave. I want to hear him humming and singing, running through the house, jumping on the couch and pulling all the cushions off. I want to hear him beg for just 5 more minutes before bed or ask for 1 more chapter to be read. I want to hear him talk about his day. I want to hear him call, ‘Mommy air hug I love you!’ from his room. I want to tell him how much I love him and how proud I am of him.

September has been an incredibly hard month. Yesterday was 18 months since I held, talked to, played with Patrick. 547 days. 21 hours. 59 minutes. 59 seconds.

No title…

Note: I've sat on this post and thought about whether to publish it or not.  I started this blog to show my true feelings about losing Patrick and how I deal with the day to day grief of losing my child.  This is not my best post but, it is honest about how I am feeling today.  And we all know the truth about feelings--they are tricksy(yes, tricksy), ever changing, and are easily manipulated.

Not much left to do today–I plan to wipe down the kitchen, have to go to the hospital for blood work, have a chiro appt. and then hopefully get some sleep tonight because tomorrow my little Patrick is going to be here!!!!!!!
Me 9/8/2010

I had so many things I wanted to write out today but when I try to write it’s just not there. Anything of substance that I wanted to say is replaced with a searing red hot anger and self pity. Anger that Patrick is not here. Anger that this is my life. Anger with the decision I made to take a road trip on March 14th. Anger that the people driving behind me were not paying attention. Anger that everything in my life is forever changed. I want to kick and scream and have a fit! I want somebody to give in and let me have my way. It’s not fair that I went from the pictures above to the picture below in 7.5 years.

Tomorrow is a day I have to endure. There will be no joy or excitement of waking up, snapping a picture first thing in the morning and singing, ‘happy birthday’. There’s nothing that anybody can say or do to make it better–Oh how I wish there were! I’d line them up and let them tell me it all day long! There’s no amount of distraction that will make the day easier. Will I feel like Jesus is there with me making the day somewhat bearable? Probably not; but, I’ll pray anyway, maybe… Then tomorrow will be over and the next day I will have to get up and go on about my life again like everything is fine. It’s never going to be fine again. There is nothing to erase the pain. It’s never going to be okay and the days ahead are never going to be as good as they could have been. There’s always going to be that pang of sadness no matter how good of a day it was. Some(ONE)thing will always be missing.

Grief is this daunting and continual climb out of a deep, muddy, and slippery pit. It’s been a long while since I’ve been this far down in the pit. I get tired of climbing. I want to escape the feelings that weigh heavy in my heart and keep my brain from settling down, the feelings that make my stomach hurt and my head pound. I want to feel normal again. I want to experience life again without the constant knowledge of crippling grief. I want to be free of knowing that it all can change in a second.

I won’t sleep tonight. It won’t be the same kind of sleepless night I had 9 years ago. No, this one will be full of tears, regret, a wish for a do-over, and a prayer that tomorrow morning never gets here.

9/9/2010

Numbers have life; they’re not just symbols on paper. Shakuntala Devi
shakuntala-devi

Next week you would have been 9. We would have had the best time planning your birthday this year, turning 9 on the 9th, your love of numbers and math would have been so fun to incorporate into this birthday. I can only imagine the conversations we would have had and the ideas we would have come up with for this party.

It’s the second birthday that we will ‘celebrate’ without Patrick. The days leading up to his birthday are the worst. I cry so easily, I’m irritable, everything is a trigger, and the stress dreams are in full force. I know now from experience that it will pass and these days although are the worst, they will pass, too. My goal is to get to next Monday and then everything will settle down again and will go back to ‘normal’.

I don’t remember too much about last year on Patrick’s birthday. I remember we bought balloons and went to the cemetery. This year I wanted to do something to honor Patrick but before I could even begin to start thinking of something to honor him, LifeGift called and asked us to be a part of the 2nd Chance Run in Houston. 2nd Chance Run is a 5K to help promote awareness of organ donation. It’s a time to honor donors and their families and donor recipients. It just so happens that this event takes place the weekend of Patrick’s birthday.

We are not 5K people. In fact I even stated earlier that while I see a lot of people honoring their loved ones by sponsoring or participating in 5K, I had no intention of doing anything like that. As with most things in life, or all things in life, we aren’t in control…so… I will participate because it honors Patrick’s donation. Patrick, the little boy who loved people better than anyone I know. Patrick, the little boy who made sure everyone had a friend to play with. Patrick, the little boy who grabbed life by both hands(thanks for that quote, Caty). Patrick, the little boy who gave everything he had. On your 9th birthday we will celebrate you. We will remember you. We will cherish your memory and share your story. You lived a marvelous life and you made a difference.

If you are interested in becoming an organ donor or want to register to participate in the 5K click on the links to find out more information.

Patrick’s 3rd birthday. His dad and brother built a sandbox for him. He said he was ‘king of the sandbox’

Ramblings–because there are no rules in grief

I’ve been occupied the last few weeks with selling our home, moving, and starting a new job. So much for being ok with not teaching HA! I went back to the classroom. I’m at a new school and hoping to actually finish this school year…

Rambling 1
Stress or Peace. One of my new teacher friends, well we’re not quite friends, but I think we eventually will be, came up to me and said she needed to hang out with me more because I seem so peaceful and not a whole lot seems to rattle me. That was new because normally every emotion I experience or even think about is flashing on my face. There is no need to wonder what I’m thinking or feeling. Although I can zone out on occasion and that look has been interpreted as a scowl or anger…so there is room for misinterpretation…but I’m not playing in any poker tournaments either.

Only a handful of people at the new school know about Patrick. It’s not something that I am ready to share with my new co-workers. First, I told my new friend that I didn’t think that was the case because I’ve been a nervous wreck most days before going to school. New experiences and not knowing exactly what is going to happen is enough to rattle me. I’m glad it’s not showing.

I thought to myself and it’s been a prevalent thought rolling around in my head for the last several months–I’ve already experienced the worst thing that could happen to me. There’s no reason to be stressed out or worried about the unknown or being upset that things didn’t go as planned. I’ve been telling myself to go with the flow and do my best in whatever situation I find myself in. Believing that the worst has happened to me is not a free pass that nothing bad will ever happen again. It’s more like I’ve survived Patrick dying so there’s nothing I can’t live through.

Rambling 2
Dates. I thought I had finally gotten past the dates. Wednesday,March 14th the date of the accident and Sunday, March 18th the date Patrick was declared dead. So for probably the first year every 14th and 18th of the month was a reminder of how long Patrick had been gone. On those days I would cry most of the day and truly make myself miserable. This month, today, August 18th caught me off guard. I didn’t cry all day or make myself miserable but I was definitely sadder today than I have been in awhile. I think it’s because Patrick’s birthday is a few weeks away. It will be the second birthday that he’s not here with us.

Rambling 3
Apartment life. We are temporarily living in an apartment while our new house is being built. The convenient location and the brand new complex was a plus when we moved in a month ago, but that has already worn off. At this point I wouldn’t care if I lived 100 miles away from the nearest grocery store. I’m still glad that it’s new. There’s too many people. There’s noise all the time. There’s no parking. And, we’re old enough to be parents to most of the people in this complex.

Rambling 4
School and Teaching. It’s definitely different being at a new school and a new grade. It’s a dream position. There’s a lot of pressure to see growth in the students. I don’t have too much to say about this yet. I get to meet my students next week.

So all of this to say as much as I don’t like change, life is based on change. I’m never going to understand why my life took such a drastic change and why Patrick died. I’m not even sure about the change that takes place because of my desires and my will. For someone that doesn’t like change I sure do enough to cause change in my life all the time! I chose to sell my home. I chose to apply for a new teaching position. I can let the stress rattle me or I can embrace it and keep on doing the best I can in the situations I find myself in.
I’ve learned…a lot
I’ve worked hard…to be a healthier person mentally and emotionally
I’ve changed…because I had to
I’ve gained new strength…because the worst happened

Small house big memories

The house we have lived in the last 15 years will have new owners next week. This little house that was too small for us when we moved in became even more crowded as the years rolled by. But boy, did we make some memories here!

Those memories are running around in my head tonight. There’s not an inch of this place that I don’t look at and recall laughing, crying, kids playing, baby crawling, movie nights, sleepless nights, good food, bad food–nah, always good food, holidays, birthday parties, company coming, good days, great days, bad days, dark days, decisions made, moving on…

The little house that holds so many memories has become a place that is lost and empty. It’s looking for a new family to fill it with memories. The little house we’d race to get inside–last one in is a rotten egg, first one in has to eat it–now the keys are lost and the door impenetrable.

Voices echoing from the corners, “Hi honey I’m home, Bubba let’s have a light saber fight, Who spilled dr. pepper all over the new carpet?, God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food, Mommmmmmmy, Daddddddddddy, Who wants devil muffins?, I don’t want to go to school today, I love you, I don’t want to go to work today, Daddy read me a book, what’s for dinner?, Mommy let’s snuggle, I’m gonna get you, I’m gonna get you–tickle, tickle, tickle!, ABCDEFG…, Go to your room, Deep and wide there’s a fountain flowing…,let’s go to Sonic, We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, Barn Cat what are you looking for, My buttons, my buttons, I have to work tonight, somebody bring me some toilet paper, doodle bug, pumpkin head, I’m sorry, Patrick bath time!, You’re getting so big!, Mom look at this drawing I made, I want to help, I’m so proud of you, I don’t want to put my clothes away, ugggg, yay!, Daddy’s home!, family hug time, …and let him have a good and happy day tomorrow Amen.”

I hope the people moving in make as many happy memories and get to have as much fun as we did!

Getting to Acceptance

http://secondwindmovement.com/grieving-process/

Most of us are familiar with the grieving process. We’ve seen that list. Some are a little more detailed but they all show the same numbered list. Shock, denial, anger…and eventually acceptance. Until we experience loss, I believe, most of us think that the grieving process starts at step 1 and ends with acceptance and life is wonderful again and you’re done. Oh, how wrong that line of thinking is!

I like these pictures because they demonstrate what grieving looks like. There are no steps to follow. You will experience all the stages. I’m pretty sure I experienced all of the stages in one day on some days! Grief is horrible. It ties your body and mind in knots. It’s like that horrible task you put off until the last minute and then you dive into it thinking you can just get in and get it done, but you can’t. First, you have to find all of the knots, then start untying the knots, and putting things back together, except now everything goes back together in a different order.

Grief turns your world upside down. Everyday is a battle over your thoughts and feelings. My own personal experience with grief has proven to me time and time again that I can have what is now known as a perfectly good day and go to bed happy, only to wake up the next day in a completely different place. A place where I have to force myself to get out of bed and face the reality of loss all over again–where it feels like I only lost Patrick a few minutes ago.

I don’t have a consistent sleep pattern. It started before Patrick died and has deteriorated since then. Sometimes though, during those weird awake hours I have my best prayer, thinking, planning, writing inspiration, and ideas that I can take over the world(insert goofy smile here).

This morning I was awake around 3:00. As usual I was thinking about Patrick. I missed him. I missed him sneaking in into my bedroom and snuggling up with us. I think he had gotten to the point of never really waking up from the walk from his room to ours. It was such an automatic thing. He knew exactly where to walk, where to climb into our bed and where to snuggle up. If I was awake when he came in I’d watch him and most nights he never even opened eyes.

In all of this missing Patrick and wishing he was there to snuggle up, a peace came over my mind and body. I was at peace that he wasn’t there. That he’s never going to crawl into my bed at 3:00 in the morning and snuggle. That I’m not going to see him grow up. That we aren’t going to go to Target and analyze every lego kit until I give the 1 minute warning. That he’s not going to sit next to me at the table and eat dinner. That he’s not going to show me some new dance move or sing his favorite song for me. That I’m not going to hear him say something funny or ask me to play knock-knock jokes with him. That I’ll never hear how his day was and who he played with at school. That I’ll never hear him beg for 5 more minutes before bath and bedtime. That I’ll never see what he’ll look like as a teenager, a young man, or even an old man. But there was peace. While I’ll never be ok with Patrick not being here, I was at peace and I thought…maybe… this is the beginning of accepting of it all…

Is God Still Good?

Goodness: the quality of being morally good or virtuous.
Good: possessing or displaying moral virtue
Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever .
1 Chronicles 16:34

“God is good all the time. All the time God is good.” Have you ever sat in church where that is recited over and over again? I grew up in churches and attended churches as a young adult where that phrase seemed to be the mantra of the day. Every service started and ended with those words.

Do Christians agree God is good? Yes, overall I think they do. But when they say God is good, what are they really saying? Most of the time, and I was guilty of it as well, we equate God’s goodness with something exciting happening in our lives, getting some long desired for item, surviving a terrible diagnosis, or escaping or missing some hazard that would surely have killed us had we been there only seconds before it happened. That’s where we mess up, because when the shiny wears off, or the excitement fades, do you believe that God is still good? When your world comes crashing down and your 7 year old is killed in a freak car accident, is God still good?

The concept of God’s goodness is one that I am still struggling with. I still argue with God on a daily basis about His love for me and his goodness. I want to know that God is good without my inner dialogue arguing, ‘if God is good then Patrick would still be here, alive and healthy.’ Because I keep attaching my definition of what I think God’s goodness should be. I want things to be good on my terms. I want the ‘make 3 wishes and ta-da all is good in my world’ kind of God. But…that’s not God. That’s a genie and a magic lamp…

Yesterday, I was reading a few scriptures about God’s goodness. None of them said anything about God’s goodness meaning life turns out perfectly, that you get the most loving family, that you are always surrounded by great people and loving friends, that you have the perfect job, house, car, financial status, and that basically, things always go in your favor and nothing bad ever happens to you. Nothing that I read about God’s goodness yesterday said that.

The verses I read talked about God’s mercy. His generosity for mankind. His grace. His righteousness.

And they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the Lord: “For He is good, for His mercy endures forever…” Ezra 3:11

The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works. Psalm 145:9

He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord. Psalm 33:5

Be thankful to Him, and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting. Psalm 100:4-5

The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knows those who trust in Him. Nahum 1:7

Hear me, O Lord, for Your loving-kindness is good. Psalm 69:16

I’ve sat in a room of grieving people. I’ve been to countless funerals in my life. I’ve been with friends that have endured very scary situations. In all of those situations the number of people that continued on with God is good, lived it, and proved it everyday are minimal. Everyone else has admitted to doubting or being angry with God or losing all hope that God is good. Most people, I have noticed, do come back to a place of believing God is good and He does love us. But it takes a lot of work sometimes to get back there and truly understand the definition of God’s goodness.

I struggle daily to change my mindset about the goodness of God, to be thankful to God, and to praise Him. I want to get back to always believing God is good. I will… because everyday whether I realize it in the moment or not I am experiencing God’s goodness and His mercy.

Note:  This post is a little different than what I normally write about but it's been on my heart and mind for awhile now.  'God is good' and 'God knows best' are probably two of the worst things you can say to a grieving person.  It does not help! The next time you are with a grieving person don't offer those empty words, 'God is good', because the only thing it does is makes us feel like we did something wrong and God is punishing us.  Show them God's love and goodness.  Think about it when you tell someone God is good--what are you telling them?  Are you truly showing them that God is good, loving, righteous, and merciful?