The office kind of fell into place in the last few days. It's very reflective of my energies in particular. It feels cozy and very Leigh on the one hand and a bit sad on the other. Chris will never sit in this office at the computer we have shared, in the room in which we once constructed Eric's crib together. I watched a video the other day, Eric was about two, he was sick with a fever one Sunday morning and I taped him talking and playing with me in this very room while we were waiting for Chris and Emily to get home from church. The moment the car pulled into the driveway Eric joyfully said, "It's my dada, it's my sissy." The tape ends with Chris walking in, handing me a church bulletin and a kiss and saying "Hi sport, feeling better?" to Eric. So there is a heaviness in this room and new furniture and a new floorplan can't erase that. And I never want it to.
Next Sunday marks two things: a month to the day since he died and Easter Sunday. Our Lord is very good to us in so many ways and there is a lot of comfort in the significance of the date for the three of us. Chris lives in heaven now, along with our risen Christ and for that, I am grateful. God reaches in to my darkest moments and sends me grace over and over. A perfectly timed phone call the other day from my cousin Dennis turned tears of grief into tears of joy that God IS very good. Thank you Dennis, more than you can ever know...THANK YOU!! A perfectly timed sermon this morning did much the same. Our Lord loves us more than we can ever see and, with so much of my soul stripped down to nakedness in this state of grief, I can see Him more clearly than ever before. Grace in the midst of crushing pain is ours.
So, my first entry here from my new office. The sounds of Chris' voice, the presence of my memories of him intermingle with my thoughts and my new office. And together Emily, Eric and I face Holy Week, holding tightly to one another and ready to walk with Jesus to the cross and then to rejoice on Easter morning. Wesley was right, death in vain forbids Him rise. Thanks be to God.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Learning To Stay Open
"My mother was too busy raising a garden to join a garden club." That's the one line I remember from our pastor in Greensboro, NC, at West Market Street UMC. He was a very point blank man who cut to the heart of a passage with a tactless Southern style that left you staring directly at Jesus' words and wiggling in your pew a bit. Pastor Dickson said this about his mother when he talked about all the things we do to create things in our lives and how we struggle to fill voids, almost as if we don't trust God to meet us in them. I don't think my former pastor really had anything against garden clubs so much, just that it wasn't right for HIS mom...he said she stayed quietly in her garden listening.
I think I'm working through learning what is right for ME, for Emily and Eric and for the three of us together. We're re-doing the office, it's a tiny room, Eric's old bedroom but it's been our office for a couple of years since Emily moved downstairs and he tookover her old room upstairs. It's been a catchall for junk and furniture and has the energy to reflect it. I don't precisely know WHY we're doing it now, but it has something to do with creating sacred space and creating an environment where we can each honor Chris in one of the best ways possible, by studying and by stretching our minds and spirits and by picking up his micro-lending calling. And for me, also to write.
Sacred space is what we are after, so we're taking forever choosing even the first thing. And even though Chris drilled it in my head as an undergrad that you add BEFORE you drop, I got rid of the old desk we picked up for free from a neighbor when they moved and the new desk hasn't revealed itself to us yet. So the pc is on the office floor, papers are in laundry baskets and, for some reason, I'm totally content with that. The time simply hasn't come. This is a patience and a peacefulness I've not known so intimately before. I tend to be one that needs to start and finish things very quickly and not be content with mess and disarray. Then it dawned on me, we can't plow through and finish grieving either, I actually doubt that I, personally, ever will FINISH it. And I'm finding peaceful moments amidst the disarray of my life. Being content with a torn up office and my finances in laundry baskets is very un-Leigh like and yet I am. This a God thing...and once again our Lord teaches the bigger lessons by creating smaller examples that I can tangibly see and wrap my head and heart around. Disarray is okay sometimes...waiting and being patient and staying open to what is to be revealed, that's the calling here.
And so, I find myself having a cup of tea amidst pretty regular tears, amidst laundry baskets with bills in them and amidst a big empty space both in my heart and in my office floor. I think I shall buy some more tea tomorrow, this is a God's timing thing...and He will hold me and the kids through it all. That's a really good thing.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
I think I'm working through learning what is right for ME, for Emily and Eric and for the three of us together. We're re-doing the office, it's a tiny room, Eric's old bedroom but it's been our office for a couple of years since Emily moved downstairs and he tookover her old room upstairs. It's been a catchall for junk and furniture and has the energy to reflect it. I don't precisely know WHY we're doing it now, but it has something to do with creating sacred space and creating an environment where we can each honor Chris in one of the best ways possible, by studying and by stretching our minds and spirits and by picking up his micro-lending calling. And for me, also to write.
Sacred space is what we are after, so we're taking forever choosing even the first thing. And even though Chris drilled it in my head as an undergrad that you add BEFORE you drop, I got rid of the old desk we picked up for free from a neighbor when they moved and the new desk hasn't revealed itself to us yet. So the pc is on the office floor, papers are in laundry baskets and, for some reason, I'm totally content with that. The time simply hasn't come. This is a patience and a peacefulness I've not known so intimately before. I tend to be one that needs to start and finish things very quickly and not be content with mess and disarray. Then it dawned on me, we can't plow through and finish grieving either, I actually doubt that I, personally, ever will FINISH it. And I'm finding peaceful moments amidst the disarray of my life. Being content with a torn up office and my finances in laundry baskets is very un-Leigh like and yet I am. This a God thing...and once again our Lord teaches the bigger lessons by creating smaller examples that I can tangibly see and wrap my head and heart around. Disarray is okay sometimes...waiting and being patient and staying open to what is to be revealed, that's the calling here.
And so, I find myself having a cup of tea amidst pretty regular tears, amidst laundry baskets with bills in them and amidst a big empty space both in my heart and in my office floor. I think I shall buy some more tea tomorrow, this is a God's timing thing...and He will hold me and the kids through it all. That's a really good thing.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Monday, March 22, 2010
Meltdown
I've heard grief described as a roller coaster, ups and downs. I've heard it described as waves that come and go. I've decided for us, for now at least, it's like this infected boil that will slowly recede in time but for now has to be lanced every now and then.
We had a lancing last night...quite unintentionally, but pretty effective. I'll both spare you the details and protect the privacy of our family conversation but suffice it to say that everyone misses dad and we're learning that sometimes it's the family that just plain falls apart and sobs together that stays together. So we did!!! Like in SPADES!!!
Then morning came...we had swollen red eyes and headaches but it came and we felt better. We skipped school because we were exhausted but we felt better. In fact we felt LOTS better. I've little doubt that the boil is once again beginning to collect some pus and pain and it will have to be drained when it fills to capacity but for now it's a little more okay. That's apparently how this works. And the three of us got on the bed tonight and laughed and talked about television and it was nice...VERY nice. I then flipped back to the Psalms and Eugene Peterson's commentary on them (A Long Obedience In the Same Direction) and I just felt this really big God hug...no deep theological discourse...just a big old God hug that seemed to say, "remember I am with you in the wilderness."
So, onward to Palm Sunday...onward to Easter...there's a lot of pain between here and there but He really did rise up out of that tomb and He really does love us. And He really IS here in our wilderness. Thanks be to God.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
We had a lancing last night...quite unintentionally, but pretty effective. I'll both spare you the details and protect the privacy of our family conversation but suffice it to say that everyone misses dad and we're learning that sometimes it's the family that just plain falls apart and sobs together that stays together. So we did!!! Like in SPADES!!!
Then morning came...we had swollen red eyes and headaches but it came and we felt better. We skipped school because we were exhausted but we felt better. In fact we felt LOTS better. I've little doubt that the boil is once again beginning to collect some pus and pain and it will have to be drained when it fills to capacity but for now it's a little more okay. That's apparently how this works. And the three of us got on the bed tonight and laughed and talked about television and it was nice...VERY nice. I then flipped back to the Psalms and Eugene Peterson's commentary on them (A Long Obedience In the Same Direction) and I just felt this really big God hug...no deep theological discourse...just a big old God hug that seemed to say, "remember I am with you in the wilderness."
So, onward to Palm Sunday...onward to Easter...there's a lot of pain between here and there but He really did rise up out of that tomb and He really does love us. And He really IS here in our wilderness. Thanks be to God.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Chili and God
It simmers in a pot on my stove...always has on Saturdays...except in the absolute heat of summer. But it's spring still, March Madness is on the television and that's ALMOST as good as college football Saturdays. I got up and made chili this morning. It's the first pot I've made since late January...when we were in the midst of NFL playoffs and right before we went back to Swedish with sepsis. Chili may just food to other people but to us...it's Saturday, it's sports and it's very US. Chris loved my chili, he would tell me EVERY Saturday it was the best batch I'd made yet, he would dip breadsticks or cornbread in it and go on and on and make me feel like I walked on water as a cook and that he was glad he married "a good Southern woman." The kids picked up on the theme and I think some weeks I made chili just to get the ego boost.
So it simmers on the stove, the morning after a teary night of watching Star Wars together and all agreeing we miss him more than ever and this just plain hurts. Grief lurks under the surface only to slam us at various moments. If we are lucky it slams only one of us at a time and the other two can hug and love and support but something about the movie and the pajama time together had it slam us all at once last night and we finally got up and went to Dairy Queen for the distraction.
And yet now morning has come...and I woke up and read the Book of Job and was stuck by this line: "My ears have heard of you but now my eyes have seen you." (Job 42:5) Grief is really powerful but the thirst for God is more powerful and even in heaven Chris is able to push me in my faith. I have SEEN God now, not just heard of Him. I thirst for closer and closer to God and God meets me in every single moment, even in the tears of our collective grief and the kids and I are very much looking forward to Easter Sunday.
And so I made chili this morning, the house is slowly being overtaken by the smell just like our hearts are slowly being even more consumed by the Presence of God. How raw and deep, how real and intense the feelings of grief and the sheer missing of Chris but even more so of that Presence. God is so much bigger than anything I have ever imagined.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
So it simmers on the stove, the morning after a teary night of watching Star Wars together and all agreeing we miss him more than ever and this just plain hurts. Grief lurks under the surface only to slam us at various moments. If we are lucky it slams only one of us at a time and the other two can hug and love and support but something about the movie and the pajama time together had it slam us all at once last night and we finally got up and went to Dairy Queen for the distraction.
And yet now morning has come...and I woke up and read the Book of Job and was stuck by this line: "My ears have heard of you but now my eyes have seen you." (Job 42:5) Grief is really powerful but the thirst for God is more powerful and even in heaven Chris is able to push me in my faith. I have SEEN God now, not just heard of Him. I thirst for closer and closer to God and God meets me in every single moment, even in the tears of our collective grief and the kids and I are very much looking forward to Easter Sunday.
And so I made chili this morning, the house is slowly being overtaken by the smell just like our hearts are slowly being even more consumed by the Presence of God. How raw and deep, how real and intense the feelings of grief and the sheer missing of Chris but even more so of that Presence. God is so much bigger than anything I have ever imagined.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Grief
I'm very struck this morning by the nature of grief and how people grieve. I think Eric grieves outside...he grieves with a chain saw and a hoe and a shovel and lumber and nails and all the things that indicate we are going to work on the yard and outside stuff. He's building a fence, with some help, and when he is done, we're going to get a nice plaque made so he can dedicate the fence to his dad. Chris must be smiling down from heaven because Eric is smiling the whole time he works, having clearly learned a LOT from a dad who taught him how to do all the things that now come as second nature. And I just keep whispering up to heaven, "Nice job dad."
Emily grieves academically I think. She has a resolve for college and graduate school that I admire and am excited to see. She wants to go to a good graduate school, learn to publish papers like Chris did and already wants to teach. He must smile down on her as well, having clearly gotten through that learning and education are invaluable and money and prestige fail in comparison to sharing knowledge. Another nice job there dad!!
And I think I grieve while I alone do all the things that he did WITH me before, parenting being the biggest. I'm struck by the way it's so natural to say WE instead of I. I was only twenty when I married Chris and my entire adult life has been about being part of WE and I loved it. In many ways I will always feel the sense of WE when I think of life. They are OUR kids, they will never be just mine or just Chris', they will always being OURS. And so much of who I am has been shaped by the influence of Chris in my life. I look at the world and all that is in it differently because I have had the privilege of his thoughts and opinions throughout my adult life. They comingled with my own in a beautiful way and I grew. My interest and love of micro-lending has turned into passion, as I pick up the good work started in Chris and answer the calling that was handed first to him. And I'm going to finish up my own graduate degree. And perhaps that in itself is the gift of being WE...God calls and WE listened, both as individuals and together.
So the three of us now grieve, but we also smile and we laugh and we see the beautiful weather and we get outside and we breathe and we live. Chris wants that for us, but more importantly GOD wants that for us and has given it to us. And we honor Chris when we build fences, study and learn and grow in knowledge and when we work to further micro-lending. And so I guess I am still part of WE...and I'm grateful. Nice job God!!
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Emily grieves academically I think. She has a resolve for college and graduate school that I admire and am excited to see. She wants to go to a good graduate school, learn to publish papers like Chris did and already wants to teach. He must smile down on her as well, having clearly gotten through that learning and education are invaluable and money and prestige fail in comparison to sharing knowledge. Another nice job there dad!!
And I think I grieve while I alone do all the things that he did WITH me before, parenting being the biggest. I'm struck by the way it's so natural to say WE instead of I. I was only twenty when I married Chris and my entire adult life has been about being part of WE and I loved it. In many ways I will always feel the sense of WE when I think of life. They are OUR kids, they will never be just mine or just Chris', they will always being OURS. And so much of who I am has been shaped by the influence of Chris in my life. I look at the world and all that is in it differently because I have had the privilege of his thoughts and opinions throughout my adult life. They comingled with my own in a beautiful way and I grew. My interest and love of micro-lending has turned into passion, as I pick up the good work started in Chris and answer the calling that was handed first to him. And I'm going to finish up my own graduate degree. And perhaps that in itself is the gift of being WE...God calls and WE listened, both as individuals and together.
So the three of us now grieve, but we also smile and we laugh and we see the beautiful weather and we get outside and we breathe and we live. Chris wants that for us, but more importantly GOD wants that for us and has given it to us. And we honor Chris when we build fences, study and learn and grow in knowledge and when we work to further micro-lending. And so I guess I am still part of WE...and I'm grateful. Nice job God!!
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
Monday, March 15, 2010
Psalm 130
In his comments on Psalm 130, Eugene Peterson* writes:
"By setting anguish out in the open and voicing it as a prayer, the psalm gives dignity to our suffering. It does not look on suffering as something slightly embarrassing that must be hushed up or locked in a closet because this sort of thing shouldn't happen to a real person of faith. And it doesn't treat it as a puzzle that must be explained, and therefore turn it over to theologians or philosophers to work out an answer. Suffering is set squarely, openly, passionately before God. It is acknowledged and expressed. It is described and lived."
I find great comfort in the Psalms this morning, Eric is at school, Emily is on her way to a study session for a final exam and I am sorting through the cards and letters from the past week. As life transitions to a new place for us, suffering is our companion, grief comes in waves and waxes and wanes with no apparent pattern. I find the words of Eugene Peterson especially comforting, because it feels so natural to me to admit that we do suffer, that we do hurt, that it's crushing at moments and comforting at others. We both laugh and we cry, we love pictures and we can also be brought to tears by them and frequently are.
We study for finals, we fall back in to algebra and jazz band, we clean and do laundry and pick up the pieces of a life we basically abandoned last May and we move forward not knowing where to take the next step and yet knowing that God has hold. I won't lie, this hurts. I miss Chris so much and I've never known pain this deep, I've never known anything this raw and yet I have also never known God so intimately. Every hurt, every pain sends this craving need to draw nearer to the One who does know my very heart. So, as Peterson writes, we begin now to set our suffering squarely, opening and passionately before God. And daily bread WILL come...because He promised it.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
*A Long Obedience in the Same Direction
"By setting anguish out in the open and voicing it as a prayer, the psalm gives dignity to our suffering. It does not look on suffering as something slightly embarrassing that must be hushed up or locked in a closet because this sort of thing shouldn't happen to a real person of faith. And it doesn't treat it as a puzzle that must be explained, and therefore turn it over to theologians or philosophers to work out an answer. Suffering is set squarely, openly, passionately before God. It is acknowledged and expressed. It is described and lived."
I find great comfort in the Psalms this morning, Eric is at school, Emily is on her way to a study session for a final exam and I am sorting through the cards and letters from the past week. As life transitions to a new place for us, suffering is our companion, grief comes in waves and waxes and wanes with no apparent pattern. I find the words of Eugene Peterson especially comforting, because it feels so natural to me to admit that we do suffer, that we do hurt, that it's crushing at moments and comforting at others. We both laugh and we cry, we love pictures and we can also be brought to tears by them and frequently are.
We study for finals, we fall back in to algebra and jazz band, we clean and do laundry and pick up the pieces of a life we basically abandoned last May and we move forward not knowing where to take the next step and yet knowing that God has hold. I won't lie, this hurts. I miss Chris so much and I've never known pain this deep, I've never known anything this raw and yet I have also never known God so intimately. Every hurt, every pain sends this craving need to draw nearer to the One who does know my very heart. So, as Peterson writes, we begin now to set our suffering squarely, opening and passionately before God. And daily bread WILL come...because He promised it.
Grace for your journey,
Leigh
*A Long Obedience in the Same Direction
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Climbing
He climbs rocks like a mountain goat. Thirteen year old boys are agile and active and very full of life. And feeling life today was both hard yet important. We went to Snoqualmie Falls. And the mom here kept up...a little sweaty and scraped up but we scaled all the big rocks and he kept saying, "You sure you want to do this mom?"
The reality of single parenting a thirteen year old boy is both comforting and daunting. I spent the hike thinking "Chris would do this...he would go ahead and climb that rock, take that separate trail, etc. and I so want to be enough." SO...we begin to find the balance, the balance of what Chris would do and what Mom can do. It was worth it...he slipped his arm around me at one point and said, "You know, I miss Dad too Mom, but he's with us and you're pretty alright and we'll be okay."
Chris' absence is HUGE, it hurts badly and yet he is present in some way. And God is so good and so incredibly close. And there are so many rocks left to climb...
The reality of single parenting a thirteen year old boy is both comforting and daunting. I spent the hike thinking "Chris would do this...he would go ahead and climb that rock, take that separate trail, etc. and I so want to be enough." SO...we begin to find the balance, the balance of what Chris would do and what Mom can do. It was worth it...he slipped his arm around me at one point and said, "You know, I miss Dad too Mom, but he's with us and you're pretty alright and we'll be okay."
Chris' absence is HUGE, it hurts badly and yet he is present in some way. And God is so good and so incredibly close. And there are so many rocks left to climb...
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