My Grief Observed

I remember the first time I read about Lucy pushing through the back of the wardrobe into the land of Narnia and taking me with her as I read. I remember when I first read the words of how to mislead humans in Screwtape. Then years later to have found a church home where my pastor was a famous scholar on the writings of C. S. Lewis I was once again being taught and being fed by his writings. So in that light it was with great need of my own that I turned to him to understand grief a bit better, specifically that of losing a spouse. I found instead a rawness of his own pain and little comfort initially.

Today, on Pentecost, as I once again turn to the words of "A Grief Observed" I am left with this passage to ponder...

"One never meets just Cancer, or War, or Unhappiness (or Happiness). One only meets each hour or moment that comes. All manner of ups and downs. Many bad spots in our best times, many good ones in our worst. One never gets the total impact of what we call 'the thing itself'. But we call it wrongly. The thing itself is simply all these ups and downs: the rest is a name or an idea." Chap. 1, p. 12 A Grief Observed

And so once again pressing on is the call, staying in relationship with One I will never understand but feel both comforted by and to Whom I am inexplicably drawn, not out of some false hope but out of the deepest respect of the Perfect Mystery and Complete Grace. He will continue to hold me through "all manner of ups and downs."

Grace for your journey,
Leigh

Apples and Peanut Butter

Chris was one of those people who could make most foods look better just by eating them...and I don't mean elaborate dishes but really simple foods. One of his favorite snacks was apples and peanut butter. He was methodical with them. He would slice the apple perfectly, he always got a plate and a nice knife and sat down at the dining room table like he was about to enjoy a nice Sunday dinner. Then he would proceed to slice the apple, seed it and smear it with a dollop of peanut butter that he spread perfectly even. I don't even like peanut butter truthfully but by the time he had gotten his snack underway I was usually there saying, "Oh that looks amazing, can I have a bite?" That's one of my favorite things to think about when I remember Chris, he could take simple and make it special.

Tonight I was cleaning out the cupboard and in the very back I found a jar of peanut butter. Emily, Eric and I are a bit odd for your average Americans, none of us really cares for it and why waste the calories on something you don't even especially like. So I stood in the kitchen with a half eaten jar of peanut butter and thought of Chris. Then I got an apple and smeared some on, it wasn't the same. And that's how life goes...it's NOT the same but we ARE finding life. Watching Eric use the chain saw just like his dad, listening to Emily uses phrases that she stole right out of his mouth, catching myself dumping the grass out of the lawnmower in the same spot he did, even though it's getting a little deep there, all of those little things remind me that this man totally made an impact. Just like he could with apples and peanut butter, he helped to make our very normal and simple American family into something really special.

So the jar of peanut butter will stay in the cupboard for now...I need the reminder...not of what I have lost, I don't ever need to be reminded of that. I need the reminder that with care and time, simple things can still be special...and Chris would really want me to continue to make them so.

Grace for your journey and peanut butter for your apples,
Leigh

One Word

A year ago tomorrow life changed. One little word, six little letters...CANCER. On May 15th of last year, we heard that word for the very first time. The only thing that would eclipse the shock and pain of that day would be five days later when we got the results of the CT/PET scan and heard the words "liver metastasis." When I was a little girl, I remember trailing along after my mother at church and the store and places and hearing little old ladies say things like "he didn't last long," "it just happened so fast" about people who had died from cancer. Seven year old Leigh was bored and ready to go home, 43 year old Leigh now realizes that there was a person behind that story...and a family and a lot of hurt. And lives that were forever changed.

In the last year here is some of what I have learned...the names of chemo drugs like Avastin and 5-FU. I have learned that Ondansteron is an amazing anti-nausea drug that only people with good insurance can afford and that slipping extra pills to other people can make their lives a little easier and I have lost total respect for pharmaceutical companies. I have learned that chemo drives white counts down and Neulasta pushes them back up, but with a cost of making you feel like you have the flu. I learned just how strong the man I married really was when he got up anyway, put on a smile and was still a Dad and how important church was to him when he would make it there no matter how bad he felt and how he would make our anniversary dinner really special even though he was badly anemic. I have also seen how wicked sepsis is and how little doctors really know about how to treat it. And I have met more specialists than I ever dreamed and both embraced and had it out with hospital nurses. I became well aware that I would fight for the dignity of ANY member of my family by moving out of my polite and quiet shell and taking people to task...that a mother lion lurked in my heart even more intensely than I had previously known. And over and over I fell deeper in love with these people who are my family and this loving and grace filled God who holds us.

At the same time, in the last year, I watched my first baby graduate from high school, I watched her enter college and do very well despite heavy burdens that few freshman carry. I watched my son change from a little boy to a man. His deep voice and six feet of height failed in comparison to the emotional maturity that became his this past year. I watched them BOTH make it to every chemo treatment, wait patiently through every CT report until we emerged from the oncologist's office to tell them the results. I watched them sacrifice the carefree nature that can be 13 and 18 and be saddled with heavy burdens for their tender ages...and they did it lovingly and gracefully and wowed us over and over at the human beings of God they are.

In the last year I went from being Chris' wife to being Chris' widow. I went from parenting WITH an amazing man to single parenting. And tomorrow's significance is that it really was awfully fast. One year ago tomorrow the word cancer changed my life...and the lives of Emily and Eric. My maternal heart breaks for the pain they have endured and from which I cannot shield them. One little word.

And still...there is another word...an even more powerful word, one that changes my life and that of my children EVERY day, even more powerfully...God. And it is to Him that we pray and to Him that we cling...as we face not only tomorrow but all the tomorrows to come. I am forever convinced that life is totally a God thing, that we will never understand it in human terms and that it's inherently GOOD even though it doesn't always feel fair.

And so here I am on a beautiful Seattle spring day, windows open and a gentle breeze flowing through our home. I am here with a stuffy Eric who is battling bronchitis and laying on the couch beside me. I am here waiting for Emily to come home on the 102 and tell me about her day. I am here with pumpkin muffins in the oven and chicken soup on the stove. I am here wondering what tomorrow will hold, will we be sad, feel weird, feel lost... I am here...and that's really the most important thing to remember I'm starting to realize. I AM HERE. And God has me. And God has Emily. And God has Eric. And God has Chris. And so we press on...a family on both sides of the mirror, three seeing dimly, one seeing perfectly. And God's grace is the universal constant.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh

Joy

"When are we going to be HAPPY again? I can't pen that question on just one of the three of us in this house because we all ask it from time to time. We do catch glimpses, we are not void of laughter or silliness in our home. General happiness, however, is quite fleeting. Yet there IS joy and our Lord once again creates teachable moments amidst pain. When I pour myself into Scripture each day, I find myself surrounded by nothing but teachable moments amidst pain...thus we are in good company.

Happiness IS fleeting and it was before Chris died and it was before he got sick. It is for everyone. Joy, however, is not and thus worthy of St. Paul's identification as a spiritual fruit. Eugene Peterson writes, about Psalm 126, that "(j)oy is not a requirement of Christian discipleship, it is a consequence."* He further alludes to joy as being a product of abundance.

So, the consequence of staying in relationship with the One who loves us is the joy that WILL sustain even when happiness is long absent. We begin our third month today without Chris. I sit at my desk drinking coffee that I will never again share with him and the concept of happiness is a bit foreign. Yet there IS joy and there is Relationship. I wouldn't wish my experience on anyone, nor that of my kids...but I DO wish I could convey the consistent presence of the Wordless Mystery. He really does bring joy and for that I am grateful.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh

*A Long Obedience in the Same Direction - Eugene Peterson

Two Months

When we've been there ten thousand years...bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise...then when we've first begun.

Two months -- March 4th to May 4th. Two long months for us in this life. Yet this life is but a prelude to our true home so, even while we miss Chris tremendously, we rejoice that he sings on.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...and Grace will lead us home.

Thanks and praise to the One who keeps us from falling.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh