Just In Case You Ever Wondered...

Why did you start this blog?   It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.  In the beginning I thought I would just share parts of my experience with grief in hopes that someone who was going through it may stumble upon it and find some hope and comfort in my words.   I honestly never thought I'd keep it up or that it would become so much a part of me.   


Why the obsession with Dachshunds/wiener dogs?  It started with Dixie Dog who came into my life as a puppy in 1995.  I fell not only in love with her, but in love with the breed as well. Dachshunds are typically fearless little spitfires with great big personalities, despite their short little legs and small size.  I'm partial to the long haired ones but I've never met one I didn't love. 


Why don't you become a foster for one of the Dachshund rescue groups?  See last sentence of my answer to the previous question.  I've thought about this a lot and my fear is that I would not be able to part with any of the little wieners I'm fostering.  It does not take long for me to become attached to one.  


Did you always want to be a stay home mom?  No. I never thought I would be.  My mother always worked outside the home and I assumed I would do the same.  Right up through the end of my first pregnancy I had no desire to stay home full time. But everything changed the minute they placed that little baby boy in my arms.  I knew I was going to do everything in my power to get to the point where I could spend my days with him.  


Now that your boys aren't babies or preschoolers anymore, have you thought about going back to work?  Yes.  If I had not met and married Charlie, I most likely would have had to do that by now.  When we got married in 2008 Dracen would be starting kindergarten soon and I told Charlie that I supposed I would need to get a job soon but that I had no idea what kind I would get.  And he, being the wonderful man and husband he is, told me he didn't want me to get a job just for the sake of getting one...only if it was something I was truly passionate about.  And so far, I haven't been struck with that kind of passion for anything outside my family and home. 


Did you ever think of having a third child?  A girl, perhaps? I always thought I'd have just two children...A boy first and then a girl.  I knew without a shadow of a doubt in my mind that Devin was going to be Devin from the moment I knew I was expecting.  And I felt almost as certain that Dracen was going to be Darcy right up until that ultrasound that proved me wrong.  After it sunk in though, I was more than okay with being a mom of boys and still knew that I only wanted to have two babies.  So when I had my c-section with Dracen, I also had a tubal ligation.   Never in a million years did I imagine that I would find myself widowed in just five months' time and married five years later to a man with three  children of his own, thus making us a couple with five children between us... Four boys and one girl (Ages: 24, 22, 18, 12, & 8)!  


If you could recommend only one book (besides the Bible) to someone going through a difficult time, what book would it be?  Embraced By The Light by Betty Eadie.  The best word I can think of to describe how I finally came to read that book (published in 1992) in the year 2000 is...Serendipity.  Plain and simple.  Serendipity.   Also, not that you asked, but I think that is my absolute favorite word....Serendipity.  I love the way it rolls off my tongue and suggests something otherworldly. 


Have you always had such a strong faith in Christ?  No.  I mean, as far back as I can remember, I have believed that God exists and learned the story of Jesus at a very young age but my faith has grown and strengthened by leaps and bounds over the years.  There were times in my life when I questioned His existence and did not make time for Him in my life but I always came back.  Finally, for good.  


Can you think of one defining moment in your life (a sort of Aha moment) that solidified your faith?  Yes.  Two, actually.  The first was when I read Betty Eadie's book I mentioned above and the other came just a few days or so after we lost Darin.  I was sitting in the bathtub and was so wrought with grief that I could hardly breathe or even move.  It felt like someone was crushing my windpipe and slowing sucking my soul out through a straw.  It was the most excruciating pain I have ever known.  I struggled to even find the words to pray so I just asked Jesus to help me...to please, please help me.  And I felt Him take me in His arms and give me the strength I needed to carry on.  It's very hard to put into words what I experienced in that moment but I knew that somehow, someday, everything was going to be okay.  


What is the best advice you can give someone who is struggling with grief or some other form of pain in his/her life right now?  
Just to be gentle with yourself and to take it one day at a time...One day at a time...  Your heart will smile again and your light will shine again, only this time much brighter than you ever imagined it could.  


*This post was written for Mama Kat's Writers Workshop prompt,  Create an FAQ page for yourself that answers frequently asked questions if people were to frequently ask you questions. People make those up all the time. YOUR TURN!   


Also linking up with Jenny Matlock for Alphabe-Thursday!  

A Poem...it changes things

it changes things...

forces things to change,

changes you without your consent

leaves you hurting,

 grasping, gasping...

brings out the desperation within

and leaves you begging God

for a rewind,

a do-over, 

a one more time

it changes things...

breaks your heart to pieces

forces you to your knees

in prayer, mercy,

 cries and pleas

it changes the way you see,

feel, love, and live

and you will never be the same, 

safe,

 familiar you you used to be

it changes things...

no longer do you just sympathize,

when you hear the tragic news

 for now you will remember

and empathize instead

it changes things...

it changes you,

 your heart, your eyes, 
your smile

but you must never stop believing

that life and love go on
after...

Loss.

This post inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop prompt , 4.) Write a poem inspired by the word “Loss”.

The Ties That Bind...

This Sunday we are heading to the coast for our annual family beach trip that never fails to be a wonderful time for all.  And to see us out on the beach together, one would never guess how our family as it is came to be.  


Because I'm not talking about my biological family or Charlie's although we certainly love and appreciate them too.  But I'm talking about Darin's family...


When I married Darin in April of 1997 I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that just a few years down the road I would find myself a widow with two little boys four and under.  And certainly not that just a few years after that I'd be married to another man who I'd take to Darin's parents' house for Sunday dinners and along on their family beach trips.  


Yet here I am.  Here we are.  And it works. It fits. Perfectly.  


There have been times when my mother-in-law Pat, father-in-law Bob or brother-in-law Karry have called the house and asked to speak to Charlie about something.  They all helped us move into our new house in the Spring of last year, we sit with them at church on Sundays and they were all right there up front on the day of our wedding that my sister-in-law Debbie and her twin sister Denise did the food and flowers for. And Darin's cousin, Kelly, blessed our day with his exceptional singing voice and guitar playing. 


Darin's best friend Dave still takes the boys, and sometimes even their friends too, to do fun stuff on Saturdays and how he has the patience to sit at the family fun place while they play arcade games all day, I will never know!  But he does it.  


Someone once said to Charlie (I think before we were married) that he didn't think he could deal with all that...that it would just be weird.  And I suppose to some it would be which is why I am so grateful that God sent me/us a man who could not only deal with it but embrace it, wholeheartedly.  


So while things don't always turn out anything at all like we thought they should and our hearts are often so broken that we can't imagine ever experiencing true happiness again or even how we are going to manage carrying on with our lives, we are living proof that with a lot of love, faith, acceptance and prayer anything is possible and life always goes on...

August 2010 (Pay no attention whatsoever to the sour puss looks on my boys' faces)

An Aha Moment...I'm a grown up

I didn't have your typical college life.  I attended community college for two years after graduating high school before transferring to a university that was only an hour's drive from home. 

I lived in an on campus suite my first semester.  It was designed for four but there were only two of us so we each had our own room and plenty of room to spread out. 

Still, I went home every weekend.  My mother is the most giving person on the planet and she was still graciously doing my laundry.  I know, I know.  

The next year I lived in an on campus apartment with four teeny tiny bedrooms,  a small living room/kitchen and one bathroom for four girls!  Needless to say, I still went home every weekend.  Mainly to keep tabs on my boyfriend at the time, who had a tendency to stray.

And of course, to have my laundry done.  

The last year I didn't even bother staying down there at all.  I commuted, driving my little 10 year old blue Mazda to its final death and demise.  My gracious mother allowed me to drive her big red Thunderbird until I graduated that May. 

In April, just weeks before I graduated, I met Darin, on my 23rd birthday.  I knew I was going to marry him almost from the very beginning and finally said goodbye to the boyfriend with the wandering eye.  

After graduating I still had no clue what I wanted to do with my life since I had already decided that a career in law enforcement was not for me.  Here I was with a bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice and no career prospects in sight.  

I wasn't feeling very much like a grown up.

I did find a job pretty quickly, as a receptionist in a chiropractor's office.  The chiropractor had a bad temper and smoked like a chimney and I knew there had to be more to life than this.  I mean, really, I went to school four years for this?    

It lasted about three months.  Maybe not quite that long.  

I had, luckily, saved enough money to make a couple of months' payments on my brand new red Mustang I had bought after graduating and found a job in the finance business that September. 

I continued to live with my mother (who, yes, was still doing my laundry!) though I spent several nights a week at Darin's house. We got married after three years of dating and I finally started doing my own laundry but did I feel like a grown up yet?

Not really.  

We had Devin after two years of marriage so now I was a wife and a working mother but I can't recall a defining moment during that time that said, "you're a grown up now!" 

Darin was a handle it kind of person so I never felt like I was facing the great big world on my own.  If I had a problem, I called him and he would fix it.  

The day after Devin turned four years old, Dracen was born.  Look out world, the Dracenator has arrived!  I was now doing more laundry than I ever cared to do, sleep deprived and a little cranky most of the time, but my family (the one I'd dreamed of) was complete.  

Still...I had not had my Aha moment that told me I had arrived as a bonafide grown up.   

Five months later when the doctor in the ER told me they had done everything they could do to save him but my husband had not survived,  I was in shock.  

I first threw myself to the hospital floor and pitched a little fit like my mother said I used to do when I was a kid and didn't get my way.  As if that would change God's mind and send Darin back to us.  It didn't work.  

Pat (my MIL) stayed the night with us for 3 months after he died so I still wasn't doing it all on my own.  But when her 3 month leave of absence was over and she had to go back to work, the panic set in.

Oh dear Lord, this is it.  I'm going to be on my own for the very first time in my life....with a house to take care of and two little boys to raise.  

Yeah.  That was most definitely the moment I realized I was officially a genuine, bonafide grown up.  I was about to turn 33 years old and I finally felt like a grown up.  

I proved to myself that I had a lot more in me than I had ever given myself credit for and while those (almost) five years of being a single mom were five of the hardest of my life thus far, they taught me so much about me.... the strong, fiery ,determined, handle it side of me, who was there all along.

And now, as I'm happily remarried to another handle it kind of man and approaching my 40th birthday in just five days, I can look back on those years and feel proud...proud that I handled it, proud that I survived it, and proud that I know I have what it takes to be an official gen-u-ine, bonafide grown up...

who still hates doing the laundry. 



 

This post was written in response to Mama Kat's writer's workshop prompt... The moment I realized I was a grown up.

Unforgettable

The following quote by Maya Angelou is one of my absolute all-time favorites so when I saw it listed among Mama Kat's writing prompts this week, I knew it was the one for me...

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”. -Maya Angelou

That is so incredibly true, isn't it?  If you really stop and think about it?  We often tend to forget the little details of major events or daily happenings in our lives. 

But the feelings?  Those are much more easy to retain and to pull out of the memory banks of our souls at any given moment.  Sometimes even when we'd rather not. 

Take facebook, for example.  I can see a name and face of a person I haven't seen or even thought of for years and while I may not be able to recall one single conversation I had with that person, I am almost always able to remember how I felt when I was in their presence.

When Darin (my first husband) died, so many people came to my house, to the church, the funeral...brought food, sent plants, flowers, cards, made donations to the boys' college fund. 

Many of these people I had never met before yet they were there because Darin had touched their lives in some positive way and they wanted to pay it forward. 

A lot of them, most of them, didn't know what to say.  I mean,  who really does in a situation like that?  But they came anyway and while it was emotionally and physically exhausting and draining to stand for so many hours and greet each one of them, I will forever be grateful for the love and sympathy they so thoughtfully brought and gave to us.

I don't remember now who brought those casseroles, chocolate eclairs, or rolls upon rolls of toilet paper and paper towels that took me two years to use up.  I don't remember which particular persons came through the receiving line or to the house and poured eloquent words of wisdom upon me. 

What I do remember is the feeling that everything, somehow, was going to be okay because how could it not with so many people around me who cared so much? 

There have been many, many times in my life when I have struggled for the right words to say or the right thing to do for someone , when all that was really needed was my presence and maybe a smile of support, or a wink of understanding.

We watched a video of a sermon by Andy Stanley in our Sunday School class this past Sunday and in it he talked about the things we say about people after they've passed on.  He brought up how often times at funerals, we display photos or videos of the person doing the things they enjoyed with the people they loved. 

He then pointed out how you don't see us displaying pictures of their material possessions or tax returns with the amount of money they made throughout their lives.  Because in the end, we all know those aren't the the kinds of things that matter...the kinds of things we really want to be remembered for.  

We want to be remembered for the love we gave and the kindness we showed.  

When my mother was in the hospital for 3 weeks last summer, the attitude of the nurse or doctor on duty was often our topic of conversation. The ones who came in with a smile on their faces and a warm and kind demeanor were always a welcome sight.  

Sometimes I would show up at her room in the morning and could tell immediately what kind of night she had and it almost always had a whole lot to do with the nurses who cared for her through the night.  She would say, "oh, I hope I have her again tonight!" Why?  Simply because she was a little bit more kind, caring, thoughtful...

The attitudes we carry around with us are often far more powerful than we realize.  Sometimes the way a complete stranger acts towards us, depending on our state of mind at the time, can make all the difference in the world.


They will often forget the words we said, they will forget the things we did, but they will most likely never forget the way we made them feel...

Wise words.

Invisible Scars

God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas, but for scars.  ~Elbert Hubbard

I have a scar on my left knee from crashing my bicycle into the pavement when I was a kid.  And another smaller one just above it on my left thigh from sliding across a blade of wet grass while playing with the water hose on a hot, summer day in childhood. 

I have three scars on my tummy from a laparoscopic surgery to remove my gallbladder in the year 2000.  And two faint, barely visible, c-section scars from the safe deliveries of my two baby boys in the years 1999 and 2003. 

My most recent physical scar lies on my upper chest, just above my left breast, from the removal of a basal cell carcinoma that finally broke me from my summer tanning habit. 

I have a few more physical scars here and there.  Nothing very noticeable or worth talking about...

I do, however, have a few scars on my soul as I am sure most all of us do or certainly will, at some point in our lives. I believe it is impossible to go through life without obtaining a few.  

When we are first hit with heartache/grief/a life storm that knocks us off our feet and brings us back slowly to our knees in prayer and then eventually to our feet again, we are left with an invisible scar.

Some, more observant ones, may see it in our eyes or hear it in our voices...usually the ones who are also marked with a few themselves.  But for the most part, the scars upon the soul are invisible, only noticeable and occasionally felt by the bearer. 

I am thankful for my scars.  Each and every one of them.  They have built my character and made me the person I am today.  A person I am, on most days, pretty proud to be. They remind me that I have loved deeply, and given myself completely to the art of living.  

The saddest thing in the world to me is to see someone get burned by life and to just give up on it....to let that wound fester by constantly picking at it and never allowing it to heal over and become the scar it was meant to be.  

Scars are beautiful and none of us were meant to spend our years on this earth without acquiring any.  How does that famous Abe Lincoln quote go?   And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years... 

Love that! 

I guarantee you any well-lived life is one with many scars.  Not saying, by any means, that we should go out in search of them. Most of my scars, both the physical ones and the ones upon my soul, hurt and I mean BAD, before they turned to scars, especially the invisible ones. 

What I am saying is to not be afraid to risk getting hurt a time or two in your life.  Because while yes, you will most likely experience pain and heartache at some point, you will also eventually realize that most of the time, the scar that is left over was worth everything you paid for it. 





Written in response to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop prompt number 1. Scarred