Hello there.
Yes, you. The one who chose to read this blog, knowing it's about Jon and his brain tumor journey. Thanks for being here. Still.
It's been awhile since I've written on this topic. I'm sitting here trying to figure out why that is. It's not because there's nothing to say. I think it's because we got tired of talking about it. Or maybe we thought you were tired of hearing about it. Hmmm... Not sure. Well, regardless, we're here again, asking for prayer.
For the past little while, Jon has not been feeling his best. Several times while walking up the stairs, he has tripped or lost his balance. Then a few weeks ago, Jon fell off of a ladder. (Jon has always had really great balance. I mean, he even climbed Mt Whitney last year, post surgery! So this is not "normal" for him.) A few days after his fall, he put in a really long, physically intense work day in Mexico where he led our church on a trip to build a house for a family in need. Since that day, his body has been completely worn out and has not been able to recover. Anyway, there are some other issues he has been experiencing, but the bottom line is his Neurosurgeon has decided he would like to do an MRI to see if the tumor is growing again and causing these issues. (His routine MRI was not scheduled for several more months)
So tonight, at 9pm, Jon is going to the hospital for his MRI.
I will be honest for Jon here. (I think he'll give me this freedom) :) Jon does't know which he is more scared of:
1) the possibility that they find something in the MRI
or
2) the possibility that they will find nothing in the MRI, but instead, they'll tell Jon this is just his 'new normal.'
Either way, he's scared. Would you pray for him? Ultimately, of course our prayer is that they find NOTHING bad in this MRI. Our prayer is always that the tumor would be gone! And at the same time, we continue to pray for healing from what is going on. Complete healing. Healing in Jon's balance, his endurance, his strength... Healing for his eye, his facial paralysis, even his hearing. God is able!
Thank you.
Thank you for praying. Again. And again.
Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen. - Ephesians 3:20
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Monday, June 1, 2015
One of THE Best Gifts You Can Give Your Child....
The week before my wedding, my dad and I were on a lunch date and he looked at me and said, "Deanna, is there anything you wish I would have done better as a parent? Is there anything I need to apologize for?" "Hmmm.." I thought for a moment, "I wish you would have put me in sports. You saw I had musical talent and so that is all you encouraged me toward. But I wish I would have also been encouraged toward being an athlete." He looked at me with kind eyes and said, "You're right. I am so sorry your mom and I didn't do that. Will you forgive me?" I laughed a little, as clearly this wasn't something that he needed forgiveness for. Thinking through 21 years of growing up, and my one complaint was that my parents encouraged me toward what was clearly a special gift and didn't encourage me toward what was clearly not my gift? I'd say we were doing alright. ;)
The profound thing in that lunchtime moment, was that the question my dad asked me was absolutely, completely normal in our home. My dad and mom would always check in with us. They would always be seeking to 'right' any 'wrongs.' I have such beautiful memories of my dad or mom walking into my room, sitting on my bed, and saying, "I'm so sorry for how I reacted in ---- situation today. Will you forgive me?" Or "I didn't handle ---- fairly today. I'm so sorry. Will you forgive me?" There was no pride. And if there was ever a moment when pride would try to sneak in, it was openly talked about. I remember a few times my mom was struggling to admit fault in a situation where she clearly was in the wrong. She kind of talked in circles and I remember my dad saying, "I feel like we're on the show 'Happy Days' and The Fonz won't admit he's wrong. You know how he has to stutter it out "I was wr-wr-wr-wr-wrong." We all laughed and that became a "thing" in our family for my mom. If she would ever find herself talking in circles, trying to justify something she had done, she would pause and go, "OK. I was wr-wr-wr-wr-wrong." We laughed. And loved. And offered grace.
As a mom of 4 today, I now marvel at the incredible display of honesty, intentionality, and humility my dad and mom parented with. When I think of the gifts I want to pass down to my kids, these rank on the top of the list.
This past week, Jon and I called a family meeting with our party of 6. We had been sensing tension in our home. Not a lot of patience, bad tone of voice, getting angry quick... the list of what we were seeing/experiencing was getting long. We were definitely in need of a re-boot. We sat down as a family and Jon and I started out by apologizing. We confessed the areas where we were not being the best of who we are. (impatient, frustration turning to anger, overreacting...) We gave specific instances. We asked for their forgiveness. Then we talked about the tone of our home and what we were seeing in the kids interactions with each other and us. The kids joined the conversation and talked about where they thought they could improve - even apologizing to each other and us. We set out a new plan. Reminded ourselves of who we want to be. And then we prayed together, asking God to help us to live that out.
The gift of humility in parenting is so important and so beautiful. Our kids need to know we are not perfect. They need to know that we need forgiveness just as much as they do. They need to know that when they mess up, we are a safe place to come to and confess it. Because we understand the desperation for grace.
And when we prove to be a safe, loving, grace-giver, we teach them to be safe, loving, grace-givers. And this world begins to heal. One person at a time. One relationship at a time.
But it starts with me. And you.
Maybe in a family meeting in your living room.
Or maybe at a coffee shop a week before your daughter's wedding.
It's never too late. And it's never too early.
....Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me...
The profound thing in that lunchtime moment, was that the question my dad asked me was absolutely, completely normal in our home. My dad and mom would always check in with us. They would always be seeking to 'right' any 'wrongs.' I have such beautiful memories of my dad or mom walking into my room, sitting on my bed, and saying, "I'm so sorry for how I reacted in ---- situation today. Will you forgive me?" Or "I didn't handle ---- fairly today. I'm so sorry. Will you forgive me?" There was no pride. And if there was ever a moment when pride would try to sneak in, it was openly talked about. I remember a few times my mom was struggling to admit fault in a situation where she clearly was in the wrong. She kind of talked in circles and I remember my dad saying, "I feel like we're on the show 'Happy Days' and The Fonz won't admit he's wrong. You know how he has to stutter it out "I was wr-wr-wr-wr-wrong." We all laughed and that became a "thing" in our family for my mom. If she would ever find herself talking in circles, trying to justify something she had done, she would pause and go, "OK. I was wr-wr-wr-wr-wrong." We laughed. And loved. And offered grace.
As a mom of 4 today, I now marvel at the incredible display of honesty, intentionality, and humility my dad and mom parented with. When I think of the gifts I want to pass down to my kids, these rank on the top of the list.
This past week, Jon and I called a family meeting with our party of 6. We had been sensing tension in our home. Not a lot of patience, bad tone of voice, getting angry quick... the list of what we were seeing/experiencing was getting long. We were definitely in need of a re-boot. We sat down as a family and Jon and I started out by apologizing. We confessed the areas where we were not being the best of who we are. (impatient, frustration turning to anger, overreacting...) We gave specific instances. We asked for their forgiveness. Then we talked about the tone of our home and what we were seeing in the kids interactions with each other and us. The kids joined the conversation and talked about where they thought they could improve - even apologizing to each other and us. We set out a new plan. Reminded ourselves of who we want to be. And then we prayed together, asking God to help us to live that out.
The gift of humility in parenting is so important and so beautiful. Our kids need to know we are not perfect. They need to know that we need forgiveness just as much as they do. They need to know that when they mess up, we are a safe place to come to and confess it. Because we understand the desperation for grace.
And when we prove to be a safe, loving, grace-giver, we teach them to be safe, loving, grace-givers. And this world begins to heal. One person at a time. One relationship at a time.
But it starts with me. And you.
Maybe in a family meeting in your living room.
Or maybe at a coffee shop a week before your daughter's wedding.
It's never too late. And it's never too early.
....Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me...
Thursday, May 7, 2015
My Tween's Attitude and My God's Grace...
My oldest child, Jackson, is apparently a "tween." I didn't know that was a real thing until recently. I have always thought of everything before 'being a teenager' as a really fun and sweet stage. And then I imagine the teen years as being really fun and hormonal. ;) But apparently there is thing thing called being a "tween" and I didn't realize how Real it was until recently, when my almost 11 year old super sweet, kind, respectful son spoke to me in a tone of voice that, well, let me just say it was a tone of voice that made me want to put him over my knee for a spanking. If only he were 2. ;) My eyeballs got big and my heart started racing and it. got. real. My husband and I both stared at each other, speechless. We held our tongues and through gritted teeth sent him to his room. We clearly needed a minute to gather our thoughts (and our jaws off the floor). For several minutes we prayed and asked God for wisdom. We wanted to reach his HEART. We know we can force his behavior. We know we can tell him that something he did is wrong and give him a consequence. We know we can force his hand and have him preform how we want him to. But what good is that in the long term? We want to reach his heart.
We didn't feel a ton of clarity on what to say, but our hearts were beating at a normal rate again, so we walked into Jackson's room. We began talking together and Jackson was very defensive. We explained why his tone matters and why it's not ok. And then we went on to remind him of who he is. Jackson is kind. He is gentle. He is respectful. He is loving. The way he had spoken to me wasn't really "him." At least not the best version of him. After a few minutes, Jackson started to cry. I'll never forget what he said through his tears. "I know I'm not supposed to talk like that. And I don't want to talk like that. But sometimes I feel like I can't control myself." Eek! I couldn't contain my excitement. "Oh Jackson," I said. "I'm so glad that you feel like that. I love that you were able to express that to us. You know why? Because THIS is how you know that you need a savior. THIS is how we know we need Jesus. Because we ALL mess up. We ALL make mistakes. And when we know the right thing to do, and we don't do it? That's sin. And when we acknowledge that we didn't do the right thing, we realize how desperately we need God's grace. Dad and I need it. You need it. And these moments just highlight it. What a beautiful reminder. And you know what? You're right. You can't control yourself. But I remember sitting with you when you prayed and asked God to come into your life. You surrendered your life to Him and His spirit is now with you and in you. Always. So although you can't control your tongue, His spirit can! We are not patient and kind and gentle and have self control by nature. But God in us helps us to be those things. And when we mess up, because we all are going to mess up at times, He offers His grace. I love that you got to experience your need for His help today. Because daddy and I need it every single day. Welcome to the club."
We talked for awhile more and hugged and then left Jackson in his room. He was laying on his bed and just needed time to process. Jon and I went back into our room, cleaning up our closets and folding laundry. I continued to pray for Jackson - that God would reach his tween heart. After about 40 minutes, Jackson came into our room with a completely different spirit. He almost had a spring in his step. He excitedly said to Jon, "Dad, I was just in my room praying and I felt like God told me that I just need to start over. That I needed a 'do-over.' So dad, can I have a do-over? Can I start today over?" Jon gave him a huge hug and said, "ABSOLUTELY." I peeked from around the corner and smiled at him. "Jackson, you can always have a do-over. Any time you ask for a 'do-over' the answer will be yes. Daddy and I need "do overs" all the time. And because God gives them infinitely to us, we will give them infinitely to you."
Friends, I don't know about you, but I was preaching to myself as much as I was preaching to Jackson. Do my failures push me down into a pit where I focus on my inadequacies? Or do they simply highlight my need for a savior and propel me toward worship? Do they weigh me down? Or do they compel me toward repentance and ultimately freedom?
Do you need a "do-over"? Me too.
Need another one in 5 minutes? God's grace is deep enough, wide enough, high enough.
God, help us to love our babies how you love them. Help us to reach their hearts. Help us to heap on the grace. And when it's needed again? Give us the extra portions. Thank you for the grace you lavish on us. It is extravagant and knows no bounds. May our failures only propel us toward humility and ultimately toward You. May we live in the knowledge of Your unconditional love and may we extend that same gift to those whose lives intersect ours.
With hearts bursting full of gratitude, Amen.
We didn't feel a ton of clarity on what to say, but our hearts were beating at a normal rate again, so we walked into Jackson's room. We began talking together and Jackson was very defensive. We explained why his tone matters and why it's not ok. And then we went on to remind him of who he is. Jackson is kind. He is gentle. He is respectful. He is loving. The way he had spoken to me wasn't really "him." At least not the best version of him. After a few minutes, Jackson started to cry. I'll never forget what he said through his tears. "I know I'm not supposed to talk like that. And I don't want to talk like that. But sometimes I feel like I can't control myself." Eek! I couldn't contain my excitement. "Oh Jackson," I said. "I'm so glad that you feel like that. I love that you were able to express that to us. You know why? Because THIS is how you know that you need a savior. THIS is how we know we need Jesus. Because we ALL mess up. We ALL make mistakes. And when we know the right thing to do, and we don't do it? That's sin. And when we acknowledge that we didn't do the right thing, we realize how desperately we need God's grace. Dad and I need it. You need it. And these moments just highlight it. What a beautiful reminder. And you know what? You're right. You can't control yourself. But I remember sitting with you when you prayed and asked God to come into your life. You surrendered your life to Him and His spirit is now with you and in you. Always. So although you can't control your tongue, His spirit can! We are not patient and kind and gentle and have self control by nature. But God in us helps us to be those things. And when we mess up, because we all are going to mess up at times, He offers His grace. I love that you got to experience your need for His help today. Because daddy and I need it every single day. Welcome to the club."
We talked for awhile more and hugged and then left Jackson in his room. He was laying on his bed and just needed time to process. Jon and I went back into our room, cleaning up our closets and folding laundry. I continued to pray for Jackson - that God would reach his tween heart. After about 40 minutes, Jackson came into our room with a completely different spirit. He almost had a spring in his step. He excitedly said to Jon, "Dad, I was just in my room praying and I felt like God told me that I just need to start over. That I needed a 'do-over.' So dad, can I have a do-over? Can I start today over?" Jon gave him a huge hug and said, "ABSOLUTELY." I peeked from around the corner and smiled at him. "Jackson, you can always have a do-over. Any time you ask for a 'do-over' the answer will be yes. Daddy and I need "do overs" all the time. And because God gives them infinitely to us, we will give them infinitely to you."
Friends, I don't know about you, but I was preaching to myself as much as I was preaching to Jackson. Do my failures push me down into a pit where I focus on my inadequacies? Or do they simply highlight my need for a savior and propel me toward worship? Do they weigh me down? Or do they compel me toward repentance and ultimately freedom?
Do you need a "do-over"? Me too.
Need another one in 5 minutes? God's grace is deep enough, wide enough, high enough.
God, help us to love our babies how you love them. Help us to reach their hearts. Help us to heap on the grace. And when it's needed again? Give us the extra portions. Thank you for the grace you lavish on us. It is extravagant and knows no bounds. May our failures only propel us toward humility and ultimately toward You. May we live in the knowledge of Your unconditional love and may we extend that same gift to those whose lives intersect ours.
With hearts bursting full of gratitude, Amen.
Friday, April 10, 2015
I'm Either Depressed or I Need a Nap....
“I’m either depressed or I need a nap.” I said to Jon, a few weeks ago. I laughed as I said it, imagining myself telling my friends, “I thought I was depressed. Turns out I just needed a nap! Who knew?!?” LOL! (Hmm.. I wonder how many other “fake depressed” people are out there, who just need a freaking vacation?) The truth is, I didn’t know which one it was. All I knew was I was not myself. Wait, let me rephrase that. I am currently not myself. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a 24 hour, every day thing. But the “whole” of me is just not feeling “whole.” Things that usually roll right off my back have started to ruffle me. If something “bad” happens at 9am, my whole day feels shot. If you know me, you know that is so not “me.” The “me” I’ve been my whole life is laid back, easy going and generally happy. The “me” I have been recently seems more skeptical, easily defeated, and fragile. The best compliment my husband has ever given me was when he told me, “Babe, you are easy to come home to.” I mean, come on. How cool is that to hear from your husband!?! I pride myself on being a low-maintenance wife. (his words, not mine) ;) But for several days, I found Jon coming home, looking at me and saying, “How are you doing today, babe?” His demeanor and vibe was definitely testing out the temperature of home-life that day. He just wanted to know what he’s walking in on - a happy wife, a tired wife, a frustrated mom? In the past, he’s always come home to a pretty even keeled wife. Even on my hardest days as a mom, I’ve never “tapped out” when Jon’s walked in the door. But for the past few weeks, I’ve found his presence to be sweet relief to my tired soul. I just couldn’t put my finger on the “why.”
I shared my current struggle with my community group. I shared it with friends. Heck, if I’ve run into you lately and you’ve asked me how I’m doing, I’ve probably told you! I’m a “live out loud” kind of girl and I just know I’m not ‘the best version of Deanna’ right now. I’ve been working out and eating healthy. And Lord knows my Graves Disease, radiation-demolished thyroid is no help. But deep down, I know it’s beyond that. I have had several friends, after listening to me talk about this, ask if I want to go on medication. Now I do not judge anyone who is on medication for depression. I’ve sat with friends who have suffered through depression and in the truest sense of the phrase, I know ‘the struggle is REAL.’ However, I knew that my struggle was not a chemical imbalance. I wanted to get to the core of my brokenness. Not mask it.
So last Tuesday night, as Jon and I sat with a small group of trusted advisors and friends, as we were all sharing about what God is doing in our lives, I blurted out, “My burden is heavy.” As the words came out of my mouth, I knew it. THIS. IS. IT. I'm not depressed. And a nap isn't going to fix anything. My burden is freaking heavy. All sorts of Bible verse swirled in my head… “My burden is light..” says the Lord. “Cast your cares upon Me.” He reminds. “My yolk is easy..” He promises. But I wasn’t living in any of that. My cares weighed approximately 10,000 tons and they seemed to make their home on my person, like a parasite, eating me away.
I. Can’t. Live. Like. This.
“You weren’t created to live like this, my sweet daughter.” He whispered.
“SHHH!” I said. “I can’t hear my fears and doubt when you’re talking to me. The fears and doubts are important. They need time and attention. They are real, valid things, ok? What if… what if…”
You guys. My burden has been so freaking heavy. 18 months ago, when life turned upside down, God literally carried me. His peace ruled my heart. His faithfulness was undeniable. Well, 18 months later, I think I took a look around me and went, “Holy crap. Is this really my life? Is this really my new normal? How did I get 4 kids? 4 kids is a lot. And my husband is on disability. Still. Because he can’t do his job. The job he’s done for the past 16 years and went to college to get his degree in. He’s starting over at ground zero. And the singing we’ve done together - literally traveling the world together - will never be the same again.”
And then fear and doubt started to seep into other areas… “I live in Orange County. Do I really fit in the OC? Does the OC like me? Does it like my kids? I mean, we’re SO not the high income earning, sports excelling family.”
And then it crept from fear and doubt into ungratefulness… “Look at everything in my house. Everything in my house is either hand-me-downs or gifts from people. I used to walk in here every day, overwhelmed with gratitude for how God provides. Now I look around and think, “I didn’t get to pick any of this out. It’s just what others have given me. Is my home even “mine?” I don’t like it anymore.”
Fear and doubt and ungratefulness are liars. LIARS. They have led me down a pit that is heavy. Oh so heavy.
Now let me clarify, I don’t live in the pit. My kids wouldn’t say I’ve been in a pit. I am so happy at times. And really enjoy life at times. But “at times” was never a part of how I typically lived. It just was.
Jon recently asked me what it looks like to “cast my cares” on Jesus. He asked me how I would get to experiencing God’s “light burden.” I love my husband for this. Because for the few weeks that it took me to get to this place, he just loved me. He sat in the pit with me. He even said it was his joy to journey with me in this. But once I knew the “what,” he waited a few days, and then encouraged me to explore the “how.”
Here’s where I’m at on my discovery of “how”:
I am still learning what it looks like to “cast my cares” and experience God’s “light burden.” I will write more as I learn more. And if you are an experienced “caster of cares,” what does that look like in your life?
I. Can’t. Live. Like. This.
“You weren’t created to live like this, my sweet daughter.” He whispered.
“SHHH!” I said. “I can’t hear my fears and doubt when you’re talking to me. The fears and doubts are important. They need time and attention. They are real, valid things, ok? What if… what if…”
- Say it out loud. When we speak light into the darkness, the darkness loses its power. From the moment I blurted out “My burden is heavy,” my burden felt lighter. Verbalizing things make them feel not so giant sized. In fact, the more I talked, the smaller it seemed. Did they go away? No. But it helped with perspective. And to speak it out loud to people who love you and love Jesus? All of a sudden I had people who were speaking truth to me, reminding me of who I am and who God is. Which leads me to…
- Remember who God is. Sometimes I forget how big God is. Sometimes I forget how faithful He has been. One walk down Memory Lane with Him, and my fears and doubts seem to fade away, in light of who He is. He is SOVEREIGN. Dangit. If only I could remember to live in that truth.
- Gratitude. Gratitude is such a beautiful remedy for so many struggles. Jealousy. Pride. Greed. I can look at the things in my house as evidences of God’s miraculous provision. Or I can look at the things in my house as a pile of stuff that I didn’t get to pick out. (aka I didn’t have control over. Ouch. Control. Issues.) My house is still my house. The items in it don’t change. The only thing that can change is how I look at it.
- Confession. I hadn’t confessed my fears and doubt to God. I had prayed over my HOPES. But I hadn’t confessed my JUNK. I hadn’t handed them over to Him to take and deal with. I needed to name them, confess them and release them. Confessing them to trusted friends was also a beautiful (and biblical) experience. So much freedom in confessing in community. Again, bringing dark things to light = healing.
I am still learning what it looks like to “cast my cares” and experience God’s “light burden.” I will write more as I learn more. And if you are an experienced “caster of cares,” what does that look like in your life?
Thursday, March 12, 2015
A Homeless Couple Asked my Husband for Money...
I was so inspired last night by my husband, as we sat at the dinner table and went around one by one, sharing about our day. Jon shared that he was approached at work by a man and his girlfriend who are homeless - living in their car.
They asked for money for gas and food.
I assumed Jon would give them money for those things, because we try to live very open handed. Meaning, we don't judge the person or try to guess what they'll actually do with the money. We believe that giving has a lot more to do with our own heart of generosity, and less to do with making sure the person we give to is a good steward of the money. It's our job to be generous. Living this way has helped us to have such freedom in our giving. It's a quick heart check. Does my money own me? Or am I blessed to be a blessing?
We've been on the receiving end of this type of generosity as well - Where someone has given us money and we responded saying, "Wow, we will do _____ with it..." and the person interrupted us and said, "You do with it what you need to. I don't need to know about it. This isn't my money. It's God's money given to you through me." Wow. Jon and I then felt accountable to God for our use of the money. Not to the person. It's such a more free way to live for all parties involved.
So yesterday, when approached by the homeless couple, Jon shared that he didn't just give them money. He asked them out to lunch. Yes, he filled up their gas tank and yes, he filled their bellies, but more than that, he joined them at the table. He sat with them and ate with them and asked about their stories. He got to know THEM. Not just their need. THEM.
I listened to him talk about this couple, with a heart of love and compassion.
1 Corinthians 13:3 says, "If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my own body, I could boast about it; but if I did not love others, I would have gained nothing."
Thank you, Jon, for giving me a glimpse of what it looks like to live this out.
They asked for money for gas and food.
I assumed Jon would give them money for those things, because we try to live very open handed. Meaning, we don't judge the person or try to guess what they'll actually do with the money. We believe that giving has a lot more to do with our own heart of generosity, and less to do with making sure the person we give to is a good steward of the money. It's our job to be generous. Living this way has helped us to have such freedom in our giving. It's a quick heart check. Does my money own me? Or am I blessed to be a blessing?
We've been on the receiving end of this type of generosity as well - Where someone has given us money and we responded saying, "Wow, we will do _____ with it..." and the person interrupted us and said, "You do with it what you need to. I don't need to know about it. This isn't my money. It's God's money given to you through me." Wow. Jon and I then felt accountable to God for our use of the money. Not to the person. It's such a more free way to live for all parties involved.
So yesterday, when approached by the homeless couple, Jon shared that he didn't just give them money. He asked them out to lunch. Yes, he filled up their gas tank and yes, he filled their bellies, but more than that, he joined them at the table. He sat with them and ate with them and asked about their stories. He got to know THEM. Not just their need. THEM.
I listened to him talk about this couple, with a heart of love and compassion.
1 Corinthians 13:3 says, "If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my own body, I could boast about it; but if I did not love others, I would have gained nothing."
Thank you, Jon, for giving me a glimpse of what it looks like to live this out.
Monday, March 9, 2015
The Day I Stopped Caring If My Son Was Cool...
When my first born, Jackson, went to kindergarten, something birthed inside of me... This desire for him to make lots of friends and be well liked by his teacher and peers. I don't know why I cared that much or gave it much thought. Jackson was an easy going kid - super chill and laid back. He played well with other kids and had a lot of friends in his care-free pre-school years. But having just moved to a new city, we didn't know any kids that first day of school. I remember during his Kindergarten year, spying on him on the playground at lunch and recess. Not often, but still. Did he have friends? Did he get picked first or last for soccer teams at recess? Was he well liked? Sometimes I saw him playing an intense game of soccer with a big group of friends. Other times he waited in line for a good old game of 4 Square. And other times he sat on a bench and talked with a new kindergarten buddy who had a broken arm and couldn't play, just so his buddy wouldn't feel lonely while everyone else played. Jackson had always just been a good kid. Like I said, very easy going and chill.
However, I quickly discovered that his way of doing school was very different than MY way of doing school. As Jackson went into 1st and 2nd and 3rd grade, it became very clear that Jackson loved to do what he loved to do. One day it was tether ball. One day it was hand ball. Another day it was basketball. And maybe the next it was soccer. Whatever he felt like playing that day, he did. It wasn't determined by WHO was doing those things. It was just about what sounded like fun to him on that day. This blew my narrow mind and sent me into a tailspin. "Um, but what about your friends? Why don't you hang out with your friends and do what they're doing?" I would ask, perplexed. "Well, sometimes I do. But sometimes they want to play basketball and I really feel like playing tether ball." "Tether ball? Is that even cool?" I would think to myself. When I was in grade school, I hung out with my friends. I didn't care what I was doing, as long as it was with my friends. Here was my son, doing what he thought sounded fun, regardless of what his friends were doing. How was I going to get him to change his crazy, care-free ways?!? ;)
I remember when Jackson was in Kindergarten, a mom from another class who I didn't know that well, made a comment in passing about another mom at school who was super nice, but her son was "a total nerd." Wait, did she just label a 5 year old a nerd? Wow. My heart broke for the boy and for the uphill battle I knew would be his, if he was already labeled by a peer's mom in Kinder. My heart also wondered what was said about my boy? Was he liked and accepted? And so the after-school questions continued. "How was your day, honey? What did you play at recess? With who? Why didn't you play ____?" Pressure. Expectations. Pressure.
At age 4, Jackson started soccer. At 5 he started baseball. At 6 he started basketball. At 8 he started flag football. And at 9 he tried out for a musical and got a leading role. (The Donkey in Shrek) His role was hilarious. He was funny and witty and clearly had talent. It was SO fun to see him branch out into the area of musical theater. While he had fun playing sports, and continued with baseball and flag football, he also continued on to audition for another show. He LOVED it ALL! It was a blast to see him thriving in his talents.
And then it happened. One day Jackson came home from school and told me that a friend of his had told him that he really shouldn't be trying out for a musical because it wasn't "cool." In fact, he told Jackson it was "lame." Jackson wasn't hurt or upset at all. He was actually perplexed. "Mom," he said, "He's never even been in a musical. He doesn't know if it's lame. It's actually one of the most fun things I've ever done!" Jackson wasn't upset. He just thought his friend was wrong. :) And the friend actually didn't say it to be mean. He didn't have a rude tone and honestly wasn't making fun of Jackson. He was really just trying to help his buddy out. "Stay away from what's not cool." Except that's not Jackson. Jackson stays away from what he's not interested in. :) What's cool? Jackson could care less. He wants to be happy. And doing things where he has gifts and talents and that's fun? That makes him happy.
In that moment, the moment where he was told not to do something because it wasn't cool, I felt an overwhelming sense of release. A release of the pressure and the expectations and the mom-fear. My son is really dang good at singing and acting. And if that's not "cool," then for the first time in my mom-life, I did not care. Truly. I had a choice. I could tell my son to stifle his obvious talent and passion. Or I could release him to be free to be him. No pressure to be anything less than that or different than that. "Jackson, everyone has different skills. Everyone has different talents and abilities. Everyone has different things that they love doing, and makes them feel alive. The best thing each person can do is to discover what those things are and do them. You enjoy baseball and football. So you do it and you love it. You are really good at acting. So you do it and you love it. Someone else might be really good at sports. Or really good at playing piano. Or at building things. Or drawing. There is no 'right' or 'wrong.' There is just being you. That's the best thing everyone can do. Be themselves. No apologies. No pretending to be someone else. Be you. And be happy." Boom. Release. HE has always lived in that. But me? It took me a few years to figure that out in regards to him. So embarrassing.
Since that day, I no longer ask Jackson loaded questions about what he does at recess. I still ask him - but I do it because I'm interested. Not because I want to pressure him toward something else or gauge how I think he's doing socially. I gauge how he's doing based on HIS happiness. HIS demeanor. HIS perspective, not mine. (DUH!)
Jackson is happy. Really happy. Whether he's playing hand ball or basketball. Whether he's playing baseball or The Genie in Aladdin. Whether he's playing those things with his best friends or with a group of people he doesn't know. He is happy. And there is such freedom in me knowing that his happiness is "enough."
However, I quickly discovered that his way of doing school was very different than MY way of doing school. As Jackson went into 1st and 2nd and 3rd grade, it became very clear that Jackson loved to do what he loved to do. One day it was tether ball. One day it was hand ball. Another day it was basketball. And maybe the next it was soccer. Whatever he felt like playing that day, he did. It wasn't determined by WHO was doing those things. It was just about what sounded like fun to him on that day. This blew my narrow mind and sent me into a tailspin. "Um, but what about your friends? Why don't you hang out with your friends and do what they're doing?" I would ask, perplexed. "Well, sometimes I do. But sometimes they want to play basketball and I really feel like playing tether ball." "Tether ball? Is that even cool?" I would think to myself. When I was in grade school, I hung out with my friends. I didn't care what I was doing, as long as it was with my friends. Here was my son, doing what he thought sounded fun, regardless of what his friends were doing. How was I going to get him to change his crazy, care-free ways?!? ;)
I remember when Jackson was in Kindergarten, a mom from another class who I didn't know that well, made a comment in passing about another mom at school who was super nice, but her son was "a total nerd." Wait, did she just label a 5 year old a nerd? Wow. My heart broke for the boy and for the uphill battle I knew would be his, if he was already labeled by a peer's mom in Kinder. My heart also wondered what was said about my boy? Was he liked and accepted? And so the after-school questions continued. "How was your day, honey? What did you play at recess? With who? Why didn't you play ____?" Pressure. Expectations. Pressure.
At age 4, Jackson started soccer. At 5 he started baseball. At 6 he started basketball. At 8 he started flag football. And at 9 he tried out for a musical and got a leading role. (The Donkey in Shrek) His role was hilarious. He was funny and witty and clearly had talent. It was SO fun to see him branch out into the area of musical theater. While he had fun playing sports, and continued with baseball and flag football, he also continued on to audition for another show. He LOVED it ALL! It was a blast to see him thriving in his talents.
And then it happened. One day Jackson came home from school and told me that a friend of his had told him that he really shouldn't be trying out for a musical because it wasn't "cool." In fact, he told Jackson it was "lame." Jackson wasn't hurt or upset at all. He was actually perplexed. "Mom," he said, "He's never even been in a musical. He doesn't know if it's lame. It's actually one of the most fun things I've ever done!" Jackson wasn't upset. He just thought his friend was wrong. :) And the friend actually didn't say it to be mean. He didn't have a rude tone and honestly wasn't making fun of Jackson. He was really just trying to help his buddy out. "Stay away from what's not cool." Except that's not Jackson. Jackson stays away from what he's not interested in. :) What's cool? Jackson could care less. He wants to be happy. And doing things where he has gifts and talents and that's fun? That makes him happy.
In that moment, the moment where he was told not to do something because it wasn't cool, I felt an overwhelming sense of release. A release of the pressure and the expectations and the mom-fear. My son is really dang good at singing and acting. And if that's not "cool," then for the first time in my mom-life, I did not care. Truly. I had a choice. I could tell my son to stifle his obvious talent and passion. Or I could release him to be free to be him. No pressure to be anything less than that or different than that. "Jackson, everyone has different skills. Everyone has different talents and abilities. Everyone has different things that they love doing, and makes them feel alive. The best thing each person can do is to discover what those things are and do them. You enjoy baseball and football. So you do it and you love it. You are really good at acting. So you do it and you love it. Someone else might be really good at sports. Or really good at playing piano. Or at building things. Or drawing. There is no 'right' or 'wrong.' There is just being you. That's the best thing everyone can do. Be themselves. No apologies. No pretending to be someone else. Be you. And be happy." Boom. Release. HE has always lived in that. But me? It took me a few years to figure that out in regards to him. So embarrassing.
Since that day, I no longer ask Jackson loaded questions about what he does at recess. I still ask him - but I do it because I'm interested. Not because I want to pressure him toward something else or gauge how I think he's doing socially. I gauge how he's doing based on HIS happiness. HIS demeanor. HIS perspective, not mine. (DUH!)
Jackson is happy. Really happy. Whether he's playing hand ball or basketball. Whether he's playing baseball or The Genie in Aladdin. Whether he's playing those things with his best friends or with a group of people he doesn't know. He is happy. And there is such freedom in me knowing that his happiness is "enough."
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
For the Mamas who have Miscarried and the People Surrounding Them...
Today is my due date. March 3rd. Well, 11 years ago today, it was. Today was the day I was due to deliver Jon and my very first child. We had been so excited to start our growing family. When we found out we were expecting, the first thing we did was go out and buy a minivan. Ha! To say we were thrilled would be an understatement. :)
I'll never forget the doctor's appointment we had as I was about to begin my second trimester. We watched in awe as the doctor showed us the tiny life on the screen. Jon was taking pictures of me in my paper gown, as we were getting printout pictures of our newest family member! And then he said it. The doctor's words knocked the air right out of my lungs. "I'm so sorry, but the baby isn't looking and growing like it should." I couldn't breathe. The room started spinning. He sent us home to "wait and see" and come back for more tests the following Monday. The elevator ride down to the parking lot was silent. Jon just stood next to me and squeezed my hand. I blinked hard and fast, but the tears streamed down anyway. Those tears. Once they came that day, they were either there or close by for the next several weeks and months that followed. The following Monday we found out the baby had stopped growing. Its heart had stopped beating.
I remember my husband wanting so badly to help, but didn't know exactly how. I remember my friends trying to support me, but not knowing what to do. I remember struggling with my own feelings of grief. Was I allowed to be sad over losing a baby at 12 weeks? That's nothing compared to the loss others have experienced.
As March 3rd's have come and gone, I have reflected and remembered. I have since walked this journey alongside friends and family who have had similar losses. And so today, I write this in hopes that it might be helpful to anyone in a similar spot - or who knows someone who is.
To the Mommies, the Daddies, and the friends who surround them:
*Give grace. To yourself and to others. Miscarrying is painful and everyone walks through pain differently. Give yourself and others the grace to walk it loudly, quietly, sadly, angrily and even clumsily.
*Give yourself permission to grieve. Whether you were pregnant for 5 months or 5 hours, allow yourself to grieve. There are ABSOLUTELY different degrees of pain and loss when you carry a child for 5 months verses 5 hours. But your pain is no less REAL. When you see that "positive test," you start to dream. Of what will be, what could be, what you hope to be. Even a short pregnancy comes with its dreams. Give yourself permission to grieve the loss of all you had hoped for that life.
*Use your pain to feel compassion, not comparison. I will never forget when my cousin shared with my mom and I the details of her loss. She lost her full term baby girl. I cannot even begin to imagine how a loss like that would feel. My mom, trying to relate, said, "I'm so sorry for your loss. You know, Deanna lost her baby too." I wanted to crawl into a hole. There is no way for me to try to compare my cousin's loss to my loss. Yes, my pain was real and it turned my world upside down. But I have such compassion for a loss of that magnitude. I never want to take away from someone's loss by comparing it to mine. Just as I don't want to take away from my own loss by comparing it to someone else's. I just want to use my pain to feel compassion. To weep with those who weep. To mourn with those who mourn.
*Give grace. Yes, this point again. Give grace to that person who just said they know exactly how you feel because they lost their pet goldfish when they were 8, so they can imagine what it felt like to find out your baby's heart stopped beating. People want to relate. They want to help. Offer grace when they do it clumsily.
*Don't try to fix it. Spouses and friends and family want so badly to take the pain away. So sometimes they say helpful things. Other times they say things that hurt. "I'm sure you'll get pregnant again." "Well at least you already have 2 kids." "You should be thankful for all the other great things in your life." And on and on they say "encouraging" things. Except they aren't encouraging. They perpetuate this pressure to be better faster. Hurry up and heal. Even if the statement is true, it doesn't mean it's beneficial in the moment.
*Give grace. Yup. Again. Give grace to your spouse that is trying to help and heal and fix. Women have this beautiful privilege of feeling a life growing inside of our bodies. We feel nauseous and tired and swollen and tiny kicks and hiccups. Your spouse doesn't have the benefit of those feelings, so doesn't always understand the degree of emotional connection a mama has with her unborn baby - no matter how far along.
*Surround yourself with healthy people who love you. The best kind of person is the one who gets in the pit with you and grieves with you....but also loves you too much to let you stay there. Let people love on you by bringing meals. (hint: if you are a friend of someone who has lost a baby, bring food.) :) Let people cry with you and meet your needs. But let them also get you out of the house. Let them take you out. Let them remind you of beauty and Truth and that healing is possible. These friends, if they have a healthy perspective on life, will know how to love you in both of those ways and at the appropriate times.
*Give grace. You knew it was coming again. ;) Grace. But I'm not talking to the mamas right now. I'm talking to the spouse and friends. You grieved with. You showed up. And now you're trying to help that person out of the pit. But they're not ready. They have found their pit to be quite cozy and warm. Heck, they may have even hung pictures in that place and called it home. Don't give up. Give grace. And try again. This time, maybe gentler. We will come around. We want to. Deep down we do. We just need someone to be patient with us and love us enough to journey with us - even if it's at a slow crawl's pace.
*If you get pregnant again, celebrate. This one might sound crazy, but honestly, it was the biggest gift my husband gave me. After the loss of our first pregnancy, the next time we found out we were expecting, I was very hesitant to celebrate. I was hesitant even to believe that I truly was pregnant. I knew the test had read "Positive," but every day after that, I second guessed if the baby's heart was still beating, if the baby was growing, etc.. One day, my husband sat me down and said, "You know what? You are right. We don't know how this pregnancy will end. We don't know what tomorrow will hold. But what we do know is that TODAY you are pregnant! You are pregnant RIGHT NOW. So we are going to celebrate the "right now." We are going to be excited about today! Because today there is a baby growing inside of you. That is truth. That is real. We'll face a different reality if that comes, but today? Our reality is YOU are PREGNANT." And you know what? He was right. I was pregnant. And I remained pregnant until at 9 months I delivered a 9 pound 12 ounce baby boy. I could have spent those 9 months filled with worry and anxiety or I could have spent it celebrating each day that life grew inside of me. I'm so thankful I chose the later and had a trusted, loving voice to point me to a better way to move forward.
*If you don't get pregnant and someone else does, celebrate. This might sound crazier than the point above. But I'm going to take a moment to use some "tough love" on this one. While we are grieving our loss, as much as we hate to acknowledge it sometimes, the world around us continues on. People get pregnant and grow their own families. You know pregnancy is beautiful and miraculous, but when someone else gets pregnant after you've experienced loss, you don't always view it as beautiful and miraculous. You view it as mean and cruel. But the reality is, someone else's pregnancy has nothing to do with yours. Celebrate with them. Don't make them ashamed of the miracle growing in their womb. They can't suck it in. Or hide it from you. At least not forever. And although sometimes seeing a pregnant woman was a reminder of my loss, the beauty of hearing a healthy heartbeat and seeing a sonogram of a growing baby is absolutely something to be celebrated!
Bottom line: Don't do life alone. Life is better together. Celebrations are better with people. And grieving is better when not done alone. Let people in. Although it is popular to wait until the 2nd trimester to tell people you're expecting, I am so thankful people knew about our pregnancy earlier than that. So that when we did experience the loss, we had a huge support system that was aware and there for us. And when our next pregnancy came, we had huge prayer support for a healthy baby and pregnancy. People want to journey with you. Let them. And when it comes time to journey with someone else? Be the first in line because you know the beauty of community.
I wish this world knew no loss or pain or death. But unfortunately that's not the case. "March 3rd's" happen for someone, somewhere, each and every day. And so we link arms and put one foot in front of the other...day after day after day. Giving grace upon grace and knowing that we are better together. Loving, learning, offering compassion, and being a safe place to heal.
Thank you for being that to me, on this, my first baby's due date.
I'll never forget the doctor's appointment we had as I was about to begin my second trimester. We watched in awe as the doctor showed us the tiny life on the screen. Jon was taking pictures of me in my paper gown, as we were getting printout pictures of our newest family member! And then he said it. The doctor's words knocked the air right out of my lungs. "I'm so sorry, but the baby isn't looking and growing like it should." I couldn't breathe. The room started spinning. He sent us home to "wait and see" and come back for more tests the following Monday. The elevator ride down to the parking lot was silent. Jon just stood next to me and squeezed my hand. I blinked hard and fast, but the tears streamed down anyway. Those tears. Once they came that day, they were either there or close by for the next several weeks and months that followed. The following Monday we found out the baby had stopped growing. Its heart had stopped beating.
I remember my husband wanting so badly to help, but didn't know exactly how. I remember my friends trying to support me, but not knowing what to do. I remember struggling with my own feelings of grief. Was I allowed to be sad over losing a baby at 12 weeks? That's nothing compared to the loss others have experienced.
As March 3rd's have come and gone, I have reflected and remembered. I have since walked this journey alongside friends and family who have had similar losses. And so today, I write this in hopes that it might be helpful to anyone in a similar spot - or who knows someone who is.
To the Mommies, the Daddies, and the friends who surround them:
*Give grace. To yourself and to others. Miscarrying is painful and everyone walks through pain differently. Give yourself and others the grace to walk it loudly, quietly, sadly, angrily and even clumsily.
*Give yourself permission to grieve. Whether you were pregnant for 5 months or 5 hours, allow yourself to grieve. There are ABSOLUTELY different degrees of pain and loss when you carry a child for 5 months verses 5 hours. But your pain is no less REAL. When you see that "positive test," you start to dream. Of what will be, what could be, what you hope to be. Even a short pregnancy comes with its dreams. Give yourself permission to grieve the loss of all you had hoped for that life.
*Use your pain to feel compassion, not comparison. I will never forget when my cousin shared with my mom and I the details of her loss. She lost her full term baby girl. I cannot even begin to imagine how a loss like that would feel. My mom, trying to relate, said, "I'm so sorry for your loss. You know, Deanna lost her baby too." I wanted to crawl into a hole. There is no way for me to try to compare my cousin's loss to my loss. Yes, my pain was real and it turned my world upside down. But I have such compassion for a loss of that magnitude. I never want to take away from someone's loss by comparing it to mine. Just as I don't want to take away from my own loss by comparing it to someone else's. I just want to use my pain to feel compassion. To weep with those who weep. To mourn with those who mourn.
*Give grace. Yes, this point again. Give grace to that person who just said they know exactly how you feel because they lost their pet goldfish when they were 8, so they can imagine what it felt like to find out your baby's heart stopped beating. People want to relate. They want to help. Offer grace when they do it clumsily.
*Don't try to fix it. Spouses and friends and family want so badly to take the pain away. So sometimes they say helpful things. Other times they say things that hurt. "I'm sure you'll get pregnant again." "Well at least you already have 2 kids." "You should be thankful for all the other great things in your life." And on and on they say "encouraging" things. Except they aren't encouraging. They perpetuate this pressure to be better faster. Hurry up and heal. Even if the statement is true, it doesn't mean it's beneficial in the moment.
*Give grace. Yup. Again. Give grace to your spouse that is trying to help and heal and fix. Women have this beautiful privilege of feeling a life growing inside of our bodies. We feel nauseous and tired and swollen and tiny kicks and hiccups. Your spouse doesn't have the benefit of those feelings, so doesn't always understand the degree of emotional connection a mama has with her unborn baby - no matter how far along.
*Surround yourself with healthy people who love you. The best kind of person is the one who gets in the pit with you and grieves with you....but also loves you too much to let you stay there. Let people love on you by bringing meals. (hint: if you are a friend of someone who has lost a baby, bring food.) :) Let people cry with you and meet your needs. But let them also get you out of the house. Let them take you out. Let them remind you of beauty and Truth and that healing is possible. These friends, if they have a healthy perspective on life, will know how to love you in both of those ways and at the appropriate times.
*Give grace. You knew it was coming again. ;) Grace. But I'm not talking to the mamas right now. I'm talking to the spouse and friends. You grieved with. You showed up. And now you're trying to help that person out of the pit. But they're not ready. They have found their pit to be quite cozy and warm. Heck, they may have even hung pictures in that place and called it home. Don't give up. Give grace. And try again. This time, maybe gentler. We will come around. We want to. Deep down we do. We just need someone to be patient with us and love us enough to journey with us - even if it's at a slow crawl's pace.
*If you get pregnant again, celebrate. This one might sound crazy, but honestly, it was the biggest gift my husband gave me. After the loss of our first pregnancy, the next time we found out we were expecting, I was very hesitant to celebrate. I was hesitant even to believe that I truly was pregnant. I knew the test had read "Positive," but every day after that, I second guessed if the baby's heart was still beating, if the baby was growing, etc.. One day, my husband sat me down and said, "You know what? You are right. We don't know how this pregnancy will end. We don't know what tomorrow will hold. But what we do know is that TODAY you are pregnant! You are pregnant RIGHT NOW. So we are going to celebrate the "right now." We are going to be excited about today! Because today there is a baby growing inside of you. That is truth. That is real. We'll face a different reality if that comes, but today? Our reality is YOU are PREGNANT." And you know what? He was right. I was pregnant. And I remained pregnant until at 9 months I delivered a 9 pound 12 ounce baby boy. I could have spent those 9 months filled with worry and anxiety or I could have spent it celebrating each day that life grew inside of me. I'm so thankful I chose the later and had a trusted, loving voice to point me to a better way to move forward.
*If you don't get pregnant and someone else does, celebrate. This might sound crazier than the point above. But I'm going to take a moment to use some "tough love" on this one. While we are grieving our loss, as much as we hate to acknowledge it sometimes, the world around us continues on. People get pregnant and grow their own families. You know pregnancy is beautiful and miraculous, but when someone else gets pregnant after you've experienced loss, you don't always view it as beautiful and miraculous. You view it as mean and cruel. But the reality is, someone else's pregnancy has nothing to do with yours. Celebrate with them. Don't make them ashamed of the miracle growing in their womb. They can't suck it in. Or hide it from you. At least not forever. And although sometimes seeing a pregnant woman was a reminder of my loss, the beauty of hearing a healthy heartbeat and seeing a sonogram of a growing baby is absolutely something to be celebrated!
Bottom line: Don't do life alone. Life is better together. Celebrations are better with people. And grieving is better when not done alone. Let people in. Although it is popular to wait until the 2nd trimester to tell people you're expecting, I am so thankful people knew about our pregnancy earlier than that. So that when we did experience the loss, we had a huge support system that was aware and there for us. And when our next pregnancy came, we had huge prayer support for a healthy baby and pregnancy. People want to journey with you. Let them. And when it comes time to journey with someone else? Be the first in line because you know the beauty of community.
I wish this world knew no loss or pain or death. But unfortunately that's not the case. "March 3rd's" happen for someone, somewhere, each and every day. And so we link arms and put one foot in front of the other...day after day after day. Giving grace upon grace and knowing that we are better together. Loving, learning, offering compassion, and being a safe place to heal.
Thank you for being that to me, on this, my first baby's due date.
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