Life as an Asker

There is a personal trainer who teaches classes at the Y who has become the voice in my head during long runs and solo lifting sessions.  She says things like “this is only 4% of your day” or “don’t quit until ‘yer done” and “does anyone want to get stronger today?”

She also says “the things you hate the most are probably the things you need the most.”  For me it’s lunges. (WHY oh WHY when we do so MANY of them are they still so hard?!)

When I do certain exercises and I hate them, it is probably because it is hard to do and it is revealing a weak spot.

Of course my friend means exercise but as I have walked next to friends through weeks of suffering it has come to mean more than just I may have weak muscles.

Some of these challenges we have faced have shown me areas of my life where I need to change.

When Isaac died, my heart broke on sometimes an hourly basis.  I found the towel at the Y become a tissue as well as a sweat wiper.  I would cry watching movies (Anne of Green Gables scene when they buried Matthew turned into an sob fest), lose my breath when I would remember the chain of events of April 21 or simply cry with my friends as we continue to grieve together.

It didn’t completely soften my heart (golly if this didn’t what will?) towards my children and I have not turned into Mary Poppins, BUT…

I find I am less picky.  I care less about how much they eat (I used to be a protein and veggie pusher at the cost of tears and even gagging sometimes – shame on me) or even what they eat (sure, have another piece of whatever that gooey candy is from the birthday party).  I care less about the mess, even in the boys’ drawers.  Underwear inside out?  Mismatched socks?  Mismatched PJ’s? No longer on the top of my complaint list. (Ok it does sometimes still drive me slightly crazy but that’s just normal mom-mode at bedtime right!?)

We celebrate more.  Today XS graduated from preschool.  (He told me beforehand that he was “nervous.”  Bless him.)  But we celebrated real good with juice, Chinese noodles at lunch and noodles at dinner again.

Grateful Homecroft teachers let big siblings attend the ceremony!

I never wanted 3 kids.  Had the tubal after Elam’s birth since it was a c-section and I was hanging open already.  We were sure we didn’t want or need another kid.  1-1 defense seemed best for our family.  Besides, when do people ever win a trip for 5 to Disneyworld?

But oh how grateful we are for this third child to make life uncomfortable – budget, time, diapers for overnights, lover of Chinese noodles so that I always have to have at least one dish in the fridge that’s just for this boy – mostly silly irritations but every once in a while we think what the what?

We thought we had it all together before 3 kids… ha!  We thought we had a handle on college fund planning, child care and one pink bedroom and one blue one.  Little did we know.

Thank God He knew we needed Him.

I find I am angry less.  When I remind my kids to do something (even for the 10th time) I remind them, they apologize and we move on.  When I find they have spilled, even if it IS pork grease from the freshly grilled loin Elam proudly helped Dad bring in from the deck… on the freshly cleaned carpets.  (WHO INSTALLS WHITE CARPET!?)

I find I kiss the boys while they sleep.  I chat with Calista more during bedtime and let her keep chatting.  I pray more while I run (although that may be because I am training for a marathon and simply have more time TO pray).  Brian and I pray more together before bed.  Brian and I also argue so much less than a year ago we should write a book about it.

This spring has shown me so many of my weak spots!  I could keep writing about how I find it hard to keep my mouth shut, harder to be nice sometimes and really hard to not try to fix everyone’s problems in the next 4 minutes.

And I’m sure this next week and its challenges of a friend facing a tough season ahead, Brian being gone for the last 4 days of school, grieving the end of a school year with my 8-year old and the busy weekend will show me more of the weak spots.

But as I do one more lunge, one more mile, one more day, I am also finding God gives me just what I need: faith for one more.  Joy for one more.  Energy for one more.  Strength for one more.

From a text from a friend.  From a note in the mailbox.  From a praise from a stranger.  From flowers from a friend.  From gifts left for me such a this necklace.

And then I believe I can do one more mile, one more race, one more phone call and one more blog that might mean something.

“Mom, I just wish I could do something.”

“We’d do anything.”

We had just spent hours with some of our dearest friends from church.  Our grieving friends had had a super hard day, putting baby Isaac’s clothes away.  Grandma Elaine had headed home to Iowa.  And overall, they were just sad.  We were sad with them, literally weeping together when Elam came in.

Elam had been trying to help XS and another boy slow down on the swings.  The babysitters thought they were going too fast or high and he wanted to help.  In the process, somehow this happened.

It looked like really REALLY bad road rash 2 days ago. Today, just like really bad road rash.

Elam was crying. Christy was crying. I was crying. It was slightly overwhelming.

Thankfully there were other moms and dads there and we got Elam bandaged up, other friends took over the conversation and somehow, with 12 kids, 3 babysitters, and 22 people total, we spent the evening together. We BBQ-ed, started an obligatory fire in the grill, killed some mosquitos and grieved together.

We also planned ahead for baby J coming in a few short weeks.

(True community – here is a freebie glance at a soon to be coming blog post.  True community is when your 6-year old SON remembers your girlfriend’s due date.  Just ask Elam: he knows it is May 30.)

It was devastating however to watch our friends grieve.

Shattering to walk into church behind them on Mothers Day.

Heartbreaking to get a “thank you” text from one of the grandpas exactly 14 days after it happened. It was mid-workout and after I read it at 10:00am, I knelt down on my exercise mat, cried a few hard tears, then picked myself up and got back to my push-ups and renegade rows. (Why is it when I experience hard resistance in class that I start to cry for real?  Those bloomin’ renegade rows do it every week.)

Well the night after Elam hurt his arm and we had spent time with our friends, Calista had expressed herself simply,” I just wish there was something I could do!  It is so hard to hear Elam in pain.”

And later when I was praying with the boys and I got quiet, Elam asked what I was thinking about.  “I just wish there was something I could do.  I asked Chris that earlier.  I just wish I could do something to help them.”

“Well, we’d do anything Mom.” It was simple.  Heartfelt.

I rarely don’t know what exactly to do.  I mostly have a list of 25 things and it is a matter of which thing to do.  And often I’m doing 2-3 of those things simultaneously. Especially when I’m solo parent for 14 days straight.

But in this grieving season, I am struck with such a sense of not knowing a single thing to do…

Except pray. Text. Stop by. Have lunch. Hug. Say “I love you.” Seemingly unhelpful, un-extrodinary things

Ordinary things.

Incidentally, for you liturgical types (of which I must not be b/c it took 4 attempts plus the use of my computer spell checker to get “liturgical” spelled correctly…) you know this.  But we are now technically in “Ordinary Time.” It’s no longer Easter (did you know Easter lasts 7 weeks? I just asked Calista if she knew and she said it lasts 50 days.  Yay.  She listens.)

My devotional guide reminded me that in Ordinary Time, we don’t have feasts, reminders like Christmas, Lent or Easter to wake us up and keep us in tune with the Spirit.*  Instead, now we enter in a time when we simply follow Jesus. In ordinary ways.

Ordinary Time.

The bustle of family visiting, funeral planning and having to share the fresh, sad story is coming to a close.

Instead, my friends are taking their girls to school. Planning to return to work. Running their miles early in the morning. Putting away clothes. Returning overdue library books.

Ordinary things.

However, I’ll bet they wouldn’t call it ordinary. Nothing for them is ordinary, or normal.  It is a new life, a shattered image of the dream they had been living.

And those of us around them wonder what to do, how to help.  Or maybe we shift the conversation away from the pain because we just don’t know what to do.

When I haven’t known what to do lately, I have decided to do what I always do. Stick to the plan. Keep following. Running my miles. Serving dinner. Being a friend. Talking to the neighbors. Finishing the last Harry Potter book. Writing.

Ordinary Time.

What is ordinary about a babe not waking from his morning nap after getting a full belly from his loving mother?

What is ordinary about going for a bike ride in the cemetery, where the roads are flat (a rarity in Duluth) and finding that babe’s gravesite?

Fitting: my normally smiling kids appropriately didn’t smile for this shot. I took it to show Brian what we were doing Mothers Day afternoon. It reflects how we all felt looking at it.

What is ordinary about helping another car filled with people, who happen to be looking for the section where babies are buried in that same cemetery?

What will we find as we just do what we always do? Who will find? Or Who might find us?

Ordinary Time.

• The book I am currently using for devotions is Bobby Gross’ “living the Christian year” (IVP of course)

The last two weeks have reminded me so much of how important relationships are.  The extra time, momentary discomfort and the minor work seem nothing compared to the joy I have had being on the receiving end of what friendship is.

Friendship is meeting a girlfriend at mile 10 with cut up fresh pear and oranges and then running the last 5 with her uphill both ways (golly Hawk’s Ridge is hilly!)

Friendship is buying a water bottle for your girlfriend who happened to mention she may need to buy a “going out” water bottle.  My bright red YMCA bottle is like my calling card.  I’ve left bottles at church, at friends’ houses and in the garage.  My girlfriend (my very pregnant girlfriend) remembered this despite all of the tragedy and busy surrounding her/us and presented me with a gift of a “fancy” water bottle tonight. After serving me dinner…  So sweet.

Friendship (or just love) is Calista racing to wash it for me, fill it with fresh, cold water and then taking a picture for me so I could blog about it.

Friendship is remembering to pray for your friend’s mother who is having heart surgery, while holding your baby who didn’t wake up that morning.  It’s leading the prayer, asking us all to hold hands and then pray out loud while the rest of us wept for the kindness.

Friendship is remembering families who are caring for families facing tragedy.  Offering to bring a meal to the weekly community group which meets every week.  Bringing an ENTIRE meal which provides leftovers to a mom who is single-parenting for two weeks.  Bringing the meal in non-returnable recyclable pans.  Bringing strawberries too for the kids.  And seeming to love every minute of it.

Friendship is offering to take 3 kids (mine – all these are about me, just FYI – this blog is not supposed to be tricky) for 3 hours on a Saturday even though you are a grandmother, and probably wonderful OTHER things you could do on a Saturday (like sleep IN!), plan 8 activities for the morning and bake cookies with those kids.  It’s letting them taste every ingredient (Flour tastes like dust they said).  It’s loving them with hugs and literally CHASING them around the playground on a chilly, April morning.

Friendship is offering to watch those kids again just days later if needed.

Friendship is planning to go visit your girlfriend in the hospital when she has her baby in a few weeks with other friends.  Even though your sweet baby just passed away weeks ago. Planning it with a smile and peace in your eyes.  And planning it because we remember how we visited together when that sweet baby boy was born just months ago. (And how that night we didn’t just rejoice over his new life, but we overheard another baby entering the world through the shared bathroom doors!!!)

Friendship is texting the morning after you buried your baby son before 8am to offer prayers for an important meeting before reminded to do so.  It’s remembering that my husband had a big interview that day and was getting a license to be able to minister in the Covenant church and praying just the right words for him that morning.

Friendship is learning to say “I love you” every time you say goodbye, even though you’re not related.  But after all you have walked through recently, seems more natural than if you had been born in the same house.

Friendship is texting to see how I am doing since Brian is away for 2 weeks.

Friendship is fixing my boys’ bikes so the seats are adjusted to the right height for a new biking season.

Friendship is asking an acquaintance at the Y how she is doing after witnessing her shock after finding out her girlfriend’s baby just died.

Friendship is texting daily to see if a friend needs anything.  And then when she tells you she is lonely, texting 4-5 rapid fire Bible verses that are so so EXACTLY what I needed to hear.  “even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you.” (Is 46).  And then joke with you by texting about the gray hair part and the funny timing of the hair appointment later that day, even though I am sure that friend was quite busy this afternoon.

Friendship is telling her that her white hair is rad and she shouldn’t be ashamed of it.

Friendship is asking your girlfriend what she needs. And offering to take her 3 kids for 2 hours so she can get that white hair cut and styled again.

After 10 minutes of styling, shaping and gelling the hair to look just right, 3 second in the wind did this. What do you think?

Friendship is dropping off popsicle making trays, Apple Juice, a card, rocks and loaning a stuffed animal when you’re stuck at home with impetigo. A girlfriend and her son (one of XS’ really first buddy) dropped these things off a few weeks ago.  When I asked XS today what friendship is to me he said, “Giving other people’s toys back.” He was referring to his dropping of the stuffed animal which he did last night.

Friendship is, according to Elam, “Loving and serving people.  Giving people your food.  Worshiping Jesus together and giving people Bibles.”

Friendship is, according to Calista, “having fun with the people you like.”

Friendship is Jesus with skin on everywhere I turn: at the Y, at the grocery store (my peanut butter, lunch meat and hydration drinks were all on sale today!), church, the neighborhood and on the phone almost every hour.

How have you been a friend lately? You are doing more than you know for those of us on the receiving end.

And who has been a friend to you?

Thank your friends.

Be a friend.

It just might change the world.

It was supposed to start at 6am, but my body thought 5am would be better.  I was lying in bed, praying to go back to sleep but eventually I gave up.  I knew it was 6am when Elam came BOUNDING into the room just as he does every morning.

I gave him the obligatory 6 minute snuggles and then got ready for my 16 mile run.  It was a long run today getting ready for Grandma’s Marathon in just 8 weeks (eek).  Brian helped me by coaching and jogging alongside of me for the last 6.7 miles.  It was sunny, calm for the first time in weeks on a Friday (yay!) and birds sang the whole time.  I saw my first sandpiper, scared up a deer (ok she scared me too) and ate my banana in some stranger’s driveway.

This afternoon my two close girlfriends and I created a genuine, 3-ring circus.  Sally was off to a neighbor’s house where an elementary girl with very long hair had head lice.  She combed it through and gave the girl a haircut. That’s love people.

I took off for Homecroft Elementary where 75 2nd graders were eagerly waiting to watch a sheep’s eye get dissected.  I read through the notes, watched slides on line and got very ill as I considered my options for cancelling on this volunteer opportunity.

lines like this got me:

“If some of the vitreous humor begins to come out of the eyeball… let it come out slowly.” (might it erupt if I’m not careful?)

“you may need to tease the material loose from the inside of the eye” (is this a joke? … see what I did there?  and there?)

Instead I showed up and was the one without a partner (moment of sadness please) and realized there weren’t enough tools, scissors and scalpels for us all to cut into these balls of fatty … eyeballs.

But wow, what 90 minutes we had with those kids.  One girl told me she threw up outside during the dissection.  My friend Amy had looks of disgust on her face as she cut through the eyeball. One table of kids went from gasps of shock to audible grimaces.

Calista was delighted I was there and we actually learned a lot about the eye ball and found the insides of the eyes had a shimmery, iridescent green/blue “tapetum.”  It was fascinating thinking about how God created all of that.

There were things said I have never heard in a schoolroom. “Logan, give someone else a chance to stick their finger in the eye.”  “Anyone else need an eyeball? There are two bags full over here.”

You too could order from Nebraska Scientific eyeballs, intestines and all sorts of yummy things to dissect.  And they ship with UPS.

Meanwhile Calista, Elam and I went to pick up kid #3 and found the final ring of the circus.  Rebekah (due in 5 weeks) perhaps had the hardest job, taking care of her own 2 kids, plus 3 extra.  She was rounding them ALL up to walk to the bus to pick up her #3.  2 kids in a single baby jogger and the bus stop having uphills both ways.  We all walked to the bus stop together, ran into Sally and walked our brood home.

We debated the choices we all made that day: head lice, sheep eyeball dissection and babysitting each other’s kids.  What a way to spend a sunny Friday afternoon!

Don’t eat off this plate.

One week ago I didn’t know what to do.  What to say.  How to help.

One week ago I hadn’t ever really grieved.  Hadn’t cried so hard my eyes, throat and chest hurt.  Hadn’t ever seen my friends all doing the same.

One week ago I had never hugged my friend and the children’s pastor at my church so tight I never wanted to let go.

One week ago I didn’t know just how great my church really was, is and probably will always be. One week ago I was not as proud as I am now to say I’m on staff at Lakeview Covenant Church.

One week ago I was sweating after class, getting a phone call from my husband that life had changed forever for our good friends, Chris and Christy.  Their 3 month old, long-awaited for, much prayed for, much prepared for baby boy didn’t wake up from his morning nap.

One week ago I had never held a dead child, much less a sweet baby. That sweet babe was rocked in his momma’s arms all day until dad arrived from his trip to Michigan.  Momma shared him, asked me to say goodbye to him.  So I did.

One week ago I had never fallen to my knees so many times.  168 hours of pain, sadness and the inability to shake the feeling that just .7 miles away, a family has been shattered.

One week ago people starting praying, bringing food, cleaning bathrooms, taking care of the other 3 children, putting onesies away and gathering photos.  One week ago people starting asking “how can I help?” and figured out a million ways to love.

One week ago I heard Grandpa Bob say, “It’s times like these when we really start to love each other the way we should.”

I heard Christy say, while holding baby Isaac’s body, “God is still good.  Don’t worry you guys” (tears streaming down her face) “I won’t forget that.  Even now.”

I heard my own children ask, “Are you afraid to let us go to sleep Momma?”  “Are you still sad about baby Isaac?”  “Why didn’t I die when I was a baby?”

I heard people at the visitation and funeral say, “This church takes care of people.”  “Christy sure has a lot of running friends.”  “I came from Edina.  Chris and I used to work 2 offices apart.  I had to come.”

One week ago, I knew Chris and Christy could run forever.  But I didn’t know they could stand for 5 hours to greet, weep and hug the hundreds of people who came to church to support them.

One week ago, I knew I loved these friends of mine, and our community group which has met for almost two years.  But I didn’t know the extent we would go to show love at at time like this.  One friend moved out of her house for three days so family from out of town could move in and be 2 blocks away from Chris and Christy’s home.

One week ago, I knew my friends loved Jesus.  But I didn’t know that they could place a hand on their baby’s stomach, in a casket and point to the Cross while singing, “through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You.”

we sang this song at the funeral and it’s worth a listen…

One week ago I knew Christy loved babies, especially her own.  But I didn’t know she could still hold her relatives’ and neighbors’ babies without a painful look on her face.

One week ago I knew Chris and Christy had friends and wonderful ones at that.  But I didn’t know the dozens, hundreds and even more who love them.  The flowers (dozens of arrangements), the bars and cookies (counters filled at the church) and even the ice cream (tubs of it) donated by Bridgeman’s for the funeral told us how.  At the touch of a text button, goods for a family waiting room at the church (chapstick, CLIF bars, waters and someone thought of makeup remover pads) showed up in 24 hours.  Even a refrigerator.  After 3 emails and a handful of text messages, those bars and cookies showed up.  The woman coordinating the kitchen for the meal after the service had to turn people away from helping serving.

One week ago, and this may be the most important, I knew God was faithful.  That He provided.  That He comforted the brokenhearted.  That He could help the mother who miscarried twice one year apart.  That He could give that same mother twins less than a year after the last miscarriage.  That He could walk my friend Linda through the sudden death of her husband and replace dreams of a retired life with her husband with visions for other ideas.  That He could strengthen those of us who suffer with energy to serve.  That He loves us through one another.

But this week I know more than ever that God is real.  He gave strength to my friend to sing and preach really, the song “How Great Thou Art” to begin the funeral of baby Issac.  He gave Chris strength to speak and even make us laugh at the funeral.  He gave laughter even the day of the death of Isaac as we remembered funny things, even as Christy was still holding Isaac.

Isaac means laughter.  And I “happened” to being a chapter this week in Lauren Winner’s book “Wearing God” called laughter.  Here is a quote from the Common Prayer: A liturgy for ordinary radicals:

Lord, to laugh in the midst of trial and to rejoice in the darkest valley is another way of saying, “our hope is in You.” Fill us with laughter and joy while we work for peace and strive for justice…

Help us to live so foolishly for you that we draw onlookers and those who would deride us.  And while they watch and mock, change all our hearts that we might learn to laugh at the foolishness this world calls normal and run away with the circus that is real life.  Amen.

Kids I’m joining the circus.  I’m cleaning other people’s toilets.  I’m up at 6 playing Battleship with my son.  I’m visiting the widow across the street (good thing since her brother just died).  I’m crying in the middle of renegade rows and push-ups (back to back mind you).  I’m running 15 and 16 miles, praying for Chris and Christy every step.  I’m asking for people to empty garbage cans.  I’m putting on jammies at 5pm and making the kids chicken nuggets.  I’m calling my BFF crying in the van on the ride down the Hill, watching the waves crash on the shore line and still driving to the Y.  I am going to watch Anne of Green Gables with my daughter.  I’m taking a nap.

And I’m praying that if I ever have to go through anything as hard as what my friends are going through, I will praise Him.  Give Him credit.  Rely on Him.  And none of us will forget that He is good.  And that He can grant us the ability to laugh in the midst of trial.

I’m running away with the circus… around 6am Friday – want to join me?