Posted in Celebration, Childhood, Family, Friendship, Motherhood, Thanks

Dear Daughters,

Spending this past week with you two beautiful women was the highlight of my 2020 so far.  (I know that’s not saying much, but bear with me…winky face!)

I couldn’t ask for better daughters than you.  I actually couldn’t ask for better people in my life than you.

You are all that I hoped you would be and so much more than I could have ever imagined.   You breathe beauty and hope and strength and faith and life into me.

You have done for this ONE mama what I long to do for everyone.  You have shown me that all it takes is ONE breath of GOODNESS at a time to infuse LIFE into another.

You breathe BEAUTY (not just the outward kind even though sometimes just glancing at you catches me off guard and I am dumbstruck).  You each see the world through eyes that find the small things glorious, like the sand between your toes or rainbow-sprinkled ice cream on your tongue.  You spend your days creating what’s lovely for my hungry eyes and ears.  THANK YOU!

You breathe HOPE.  Your zeal for making the world a place where there is “liberty and justice for ALL” (and that really means ALL) makes this mama heart do a happy dance.  You adamantly believe that it starts with you and you are more than willing to figure out how to make it happen so that it ripples out into this broken and hurting world.  WOW!

You breathe STRENGTH.  Watching the two of you discuss really hard things from political reform to gender roles to spirituality to personal responsibility made me wish I could grow up in the beautiful world you envision.  You do NOT shy away or disengage, but listen intently and respond with bold conviction.  You are strong, my daughters and I am so PROUD.

You breathe FAITH.  In a world where many of us (your mama included at times) seems to have lost its way, you continue to believe and trust.  You believe and trust your ever-evolving selves (woohoo).  You continue to see the best in others and take joy in loving them right where they are, walking alongside of them in humility and grace.   The two of you have an unwavering anchor for your souls in the good God that is at the root of all that’s right and true and wonderful.  My socks are officially KNOCKED off!

You breathe LIFE.  Life in the form of a good morning hug and quick “I love you.”  Life in the form of washing the dishes and saying “Take a break, Mom.”  Life in the form of abundant grace given when I falter and even fail.  Life in the form of laughter over game-playing competitiveness.  Life in the form of your sweaty yoga duet on the deck.  Life in the form of heart-to-heart discussions about our individual and collective fears, hopes and dreams.  Soul-filling LIFE.

So dearest ones, my beautiful girls, two of my closest friends, I salute you.  I believe in you.  I trust you.  I am thankful for you from the tippy-top of my noggin’ to the very ends of my toes to the deepest space in my heart.  I stand in awe of you.

But mostly and always, I LOVE YOU.

Your ONE Dolly Mama

P.S.  I am now over here in the most beautiful and sacred puddle of good tears.   I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

P.P.S.  You are rocking my ONE world, your world, THE world.  You go my girls!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Friendship, Grief

Grief – One Friend’s Journal Entry (For Steven)

“True love between two human beings puts you more in touch with your deepest self.  The pain you experience from the death of the person you love calls you to a deeper knowledge of God’s love.  The God who lives in you can speak to the God in the other.  This is deep speaking to deep, a mutuality in the heart of God, who embraces both of you.”  (Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love)

Grief.  Most of us try our very hardest to shy away, or even run away from it.  We question what to say when someone is grieving.  We are unsure how often or even if to “bring it up” once life supposedly goes “back to normal.”  We don’t know what to expect from ourselves or what the other might need from us.  Should we come close or give the other space?  It can be a very confusing time for everyone.  And truthfully, if I can speak candidly about myself,  I don’t like to be in pain or be with others in pain.  It’s just downright uncomfortable.

The past couple of years have been filled with family and friends who are grieving.   And like most things in my life, I am not an avoider.  I want to throw myself headlong into the process, engage in it, learn from it, deal with it.  After all, it’s fairly new to me and I’ve heard that it’s horrible, sacred, beautiful intimate, and gut-wrenching all at the same time.

I lost my own sister-in-law, Denise Maret, just under a year ago, after a year-and-a-half long battle with colon cancer.  My brother and 19-year-old niece are left to raise my nine- and ten-year-old nephew and niece, along with the help of their grandparents.

My friend lost her precious brother to suicide.  He has left behind a wife, three children and two grandchildren and her heart is broken.

Our friend and former babysitter lost both her dad and her husband to cancer during her two pregnancies and she is left to raise two young children alone.

I reconnected with someone on Facebook who lost her only son to teen suicide.  This was the second time she lost a child, the other, a daughter, in early infancy.

A friend from church battled kidney cancer for many years.  His wife faithfully cared for him, only to lose him.  He missed his step-daughter’s wedding by only three short months.

One of my best friends from high school lost both of her daughters, her only children, in a tragic car accident on Good Friday.  They were only 19 and 20 years old, absolutely stunning girls, one only 10 days away from her college graduation.

You have your own stories.  So much horror.  So much sadness.  Grief multiplied.

This is probably where you want to click off, log out, go find puppy videos on the internet.  Me too.  At times.  But not today.  Come with me.  Lean in.  Learn along side of me.  Today, we will catch just a glimpse inside the world of my friend, Annie, who lost her baby brother to suicide at just 51 years old.  I promise you that it’s not all horrible.

When she first shared this journal entry with me, my heart was filled with horror, joy, sorrow, connection, injustice and comfort.  Yes.  All of those things.   Loss feels raw and sad and terrible and wrong, but also sacred and beautiful and precious.  Entering in to the pain allows our hearts to be touched with a deeper knowing and beauty that we will miss if we click away.  I ask that you would read on.

Annie’s Journal Entry on 6/17/2017.  Four months later.

Steven is gone.  He is gone.  He is gone from me.  How can this be?  How can he be gone, just gone?  I don’t feel disconnected from him . . . but definitely disengaged.  He is not here to hope, or dream, or plan for a future together.  All those things are gone.

My connection to a future here that includes him is gone, and nothing will take its place.  It is an empty space…and it will stay empty.  It is a space that holds his absence and my missing him.  My own future will always hold this empty space.  I am suffering.  I will suffer, but I will not be destroyed or left desolate by an empty space.

This empty space where Steven is missing is a sacred place.  I would rather have this sacred, empty space than no space at all.  Our love and connection to each other created a space for our future together.  If there had been no love and connection, there would be no space – – and I am thankful for it, for our empty space . . . for my empty space.

I am thankful for all the other spaces, the other spaces that are full – – beautiful, cherished spaces filled to bursting with love and life and memories.  Memories of the two of us.  All the precious moments we had together and apart-but-connected.  All the treasured memories we had together with others.  Those spaces are filled up and will stay full . . .
nothing will change that.

I don’t have you with me now my Steve, my beloved Steven, but I am forever grateful for you – my one time little brother, my forever friend.