Secondary Grief

When you lose someone very close, you will grieve forever – or so it has been said.

I don't really agree with that statement . . . at least not just at face value.

The active grieving will fade as time passes – and, no, it is not time that heals all wounds – Only God heals our hearts – and only if we let Him. (We definitely can choose to hold onto our grief and live in it every day.) It is the natural process – the way God has wired us – that allows us to continue on after we have lost someone we love.  Though the active grieving subsides, there will still be 'moments' of grief that come and go.  I have been through this many times over.

Though I disagree with that opening statement, I do believe that loss changes a person – for better or for worse.  My theory is that that statement came about because of one of the changes that loss makes:   Loss creates a heightened sense of certain things.

About a dozen years ago, I had a strange injury at work – one that resulted ultimately in the surgical loss of the tip of my finger.  My surgeon assured me that the nerves were not cut – they were separated from the affected tissue and left intact.  From a medical standpoint, those nerves are whole.  However, those nerves are not 'normal' – at least not by the standard of what they used to be.   There is a new 'normal':

• Hot and cold don't feel the same – I don't always feel hot, and cold is very painful.
• I have mostly normal texture sensitivity – but not completely.
• Some days, it is numb.
• There are days it is incredibly stiff and uncooperative.
• There's that crazy phenomenon with weather changes irritating it....
• By far – the biggest change has been the pain-sensing aspect: If something pokes or bumps the tip of that finger, I definitely know it! The pain level is well beyond anything 'normal' – sometimes making the injury feel fresh again.

Most days, I don't give any thought to that finger – I simply go through life and do what I need to do.  There are adjustments, though.  If I really need to feel temperature, I have to use a different finger.   The same applies to when I need a careful texture sensitivity. If it gets bumped or poked in certain ways, I may need to stop what I had been doing for a while.   I may need to give my hand some extra attention by way of an ice pack, heat pack, or splint.  I may need to be very protective of it for a time to allow that heightened pain sensitivity to calm down.

Just as it is so with my post-injury finger, so are our lives post-loss. . . .

We are still here living our lives, but we have been altered in some ways with a heightened sensitivity.

There are people and situations we encounter that trigger responses and can make our grief feel 'fresh' again. 

Maybe someone near you is going through a situation similar to your experience – those feelings you had in your own experience may come rushing back in, and your grief feels fresh again.

Maybe you are 'tapped out' mentally and emotionally – your reserves are empty – when you learn of someone's difficult situation. Though you genuinely care, you feel nothing. Your emotions are numb to that.

Sometimes, it is an overload:  There are so many hurting people around you – and you truly want to empathize – and it is so very painful to do so. The overload may be such that you just . can't . emotionally invest.

Sometimes, though, you feel grieved for someone or something that is far removed from your personal loss; and yet it causes you to grieve your own loss anew. . . . That's where I have been at times this year.

Just as many others have done, I have been watching the events of this year; and my heart is grieved.

• I am grieved for our country and the direction I see it going.
• I am grieved as I see people living in fear.
• I am grieved to see lawless behavior not only happening (which is sad enough on its own), but being allowed to continue and even being applauded.
• I am grieved for those who have been affected by natural disasters.
• I am very deeply grieved for those in hospitals and care centers who have been denied the advocacy, love, and care from friends and family.

As I grieve for all of these – and more – I find that the grief of loss has been stirred.  I consider it a secondary grief – grief for my loss(es), yes; but a grief that is more prompted than purely natural -- Like my finger feeling newly injured when it has simply been bumped or poked.

Tears come much more easily these days.   That sense of loneliness has been a bigger battle this year.  Smaller matters feel much bigger some days.  Sometimes the overload hits, and I feel mentally and emotionally numb.  And to be completely honest, there are days I just plain don't want to cope with anything more.

When these times come, it is so very important to lean on the truths that we know.  I've written about it before – so much of how we go through life is a choice.  We have to choose to believe the things that we know – choose what we know over how we feel.  We choose to trust God.  We choose to believe what He has said.  We choose to live in His strength instead of our own.  We choose to be thankful for His goodness.

Whatever life brings, God enables us to go through it.

He has promised that He will work things together for good for those who love Him. (Romans 8:28)

He tells us that His strength is perfected in our weakness. (II Cor. 12:9)

He tells us that He will never leave us alone. (Heb. 13:5)

He tells us to give Him all that concerns us. (I Peter 5:7)

God's Word is full of these and so many more principles and promises.

In all that I encounter in life, I choose to be thankful for all that God has done and for the fact that He can be trusted.  In my hardest days, I lean more on Him -- He loves me, He cares for me, He strengthens me.  He is my Rock, my Fortress, my Guide.

I am far from perfect in this journey of life; but I am determined to continually refocus my gaze on my Heavenly Father, and I hope to encourage others to do the same.

Reflections on the Water

It seems as though it happens too often sometimes. . . .

Twice in one week during this past month, a friend had to say their final earthly good-bye to their husband.  Then, another friend had to do the same with her dad.  That same week, we made the decision to begin hospice care for my own dad - and just seven days later, he was gone from us . . . .

I've watched my friends as they have had to walk the path on which God had set them.  I've listened carefully to the things that have been said, knowing well that certain statements are more than the sum of their words.  I've paid attention, too, to the things that weren't being said, because - sometimes - it is those things that speak volumes.

My heart has ached deeply for each one as they have come to every juncture along the way.  I believe there is a different level of empathy  when you have walked a similar path - it gives deeper meaning to the scripture that tells us to 'weep with them that weep.'  (Romans 12:15)  The empathy comes close to being the original feelings from my own journey. . . .  I've had many nights of reduced sleep and many not-so-productive days as my heart has been heavy for my friends and my thoughts and prayers have been focused on them.

There have been points in time where I start to beg God to give people more time -- but more time may mean more suffering.  It is heart-rending to watch someone suffer -- it is equally heart-rending to know that the suffering will only end when they have taken their last breath on Earth and are no longer with us!  Do we desire more time as they suffer or an end to their suffering which means we must say good-bye for now??  Had someone been able to present me with those options, I couldn't have chosen either one.  That is where those two words that I've held onto become so very vital:  Trust and Surrender.

I choose to trust that God has a plan and that His plan is best.  I choose to surrender to His will and His timeline - to surrender my own plans and my own strength.  In those things I can rest.  God can be trusted -- He cannot lie, He is always good, and He never changes.  I can trust Him to work His will in His time.  When I surrender, it saves precious energy.

So instead of begging God for more time, I thank Him for being good and for having a plan and for His way being perfect.  (Psalm 18:30)  I thank Him for His grace and strength that I know He gives to those who choose to trust in Him.

I realize that all sounds very simple and cliche, but as I heard it put once, 'It is simple -- it just isn't easy.'  Simple and easy are two very different things.

I don't want anyone taking those statements and using them against someone else -- Don't tell someone that if they would just trust and surrender, everything would be fine.  Trusting God and surrendering to Him does make it easier  than if we resist Him, but there is no easy  way though any of this!  The reality is that suffering, grief, and loss are HARD !  Going through those things is also exhausting - in every way - and to an extent that words fail to describe.  I was able to see one of my dear friends for just a few minutes the day after her husband's memorial service.  I hugged her, told her I loved her and was praying for her, and then made a comment about words being inadequate.  She responded with, "But the exhaustion runs so very deep!"  Yes - it does.  I remember well - and even as an observer to another's journey, it comes again.

As I spent a weekend sitting with my dad, and in the days following, these thoughts have been foremost once again.  It it a privilege  to get to show care to someone - at any age or stage.  It is so very hard to watch someone's body wear out and fail -- especially when that body has been the 'soul carriage' for someone you love.

Because we live in a fallen world, death is a part of our reality.  We all face death for ourselves and for those around us.  Our only escape from death is after we have crossed over into eternity, having trusted Christ as Savior.  Until then, we will encounter and endure suffering, loss, and grief.  As we trust God and rest in His will, we also experience His love and comfort.

I am grateful for my God who loves me and never changes.  I'm grateful He can be trusted to have a plan and to work things out in His perfect way.  I am grateful that God gives us His presence and comfort as we walk the difficult paths of life. . . .

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;
Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. 

II Corinthians 1:3-4

I Didn't Choose This Life

 . . . or did I?

It has been said to me by some, and suggested by others, that I did not choose this life, that I did not opt for my current life circumstances.

Those statements have caused me to step back and really consider:  Did I choose this life?  This life that consists of becoming a widow at 41, of being a single parent who is solely responsible for every single decision and who now has to juggle family, work, school, sports, activities, home life, and life stresses, etc. on my own -- Did I choose this life?

I can say with certainty that those options were not on any "Life Goals" list that I have ever seen or written; but does the fact that I've never specifically said, "I want to be a widowed, single mom." mean that I didn't choose this life? 

I've felt compelled to look deeper at what I did choose (and do choose) for life goals . . .

• Many years ago, I told God that I wanted His Will for my life, whatever that may be.  That was a choice I made.

• More times than I could count, I asked God to work His Will in my marriage.  I chose that request.

• I have sung songs - and meant them from my heart - about surrender to whatever God has for me.  I sing those words willingly.

A couple of other things that I had to consider as I was pondering:

• I believe that God has a plan.

• When circumstances are beyond my control, I am still trusting that they are under God's control.

So . . . In summary, my conclusion is this:

God has a plan, and He is in control.  He has ordered my circumstances.

I choose to submit to His plan and surrender to His control. . . 

Therefore

I Choose This Life!

Psalm 143:8   Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.

One Day at a Time

This past week was a little more difficult.  Thanksgiving Day certainly was different than any other holiday observance.  There were a few visitors and phone calls, but mostly, the day was quiet - quieter than usual since several of the residents were gone to be with their families.

The fact that it was a holiday week gave place to thinking about all of the changes that have occurred this year -- and those yet to come.

Of course, Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the 'Holiday Season'.  That, in itself, is hard to process.  I can't make plans.  At this stage of life, there isn't even a small degree of what can be 'reasonably expected'.  The best I can do is to formulate a few vague 'If / Then' scenarios.

Last week, Trent's wedding ring would no longer stay on his finger.  I asked him if he wanted me to wrap it with tape so it would stay on.  He handed it back to me and told me he didn't need it.  I had tried to mentally prepare myself for the fact that I would need to remove his ring at some point, but I was totally unprepared for him to hand it back to me.  It was hard.

Yesterday, there was a marked increase in Trent's level of fatigue and weakness. 

I think one of the hardest things I deal with is not knowing exactly where we are in this journey.  It requires me to continually surrender myself to the timeline that God has for us.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating:  The greatest comfort through all of the uncertainties that we have been through has been knowing, without a doubt, that God is in control and that He has a plan for our lives and that He loves us and will work His plan in His time.  Daily we see God's goodness to us.  He continues to provide for our needs and shows us His love through those who He has placed in our lives.

We appreciate your prayers for us as we continue our journey.

A Strange Place

That is the best description of life right now that I can give.  It is a strange place.

I say that it is a strange place because there has been no other time in life that can really compare.  There is no 'point of reference' for walking this part of the path.  I'll be candid and say that there are times when it is very surreal -- It is hard to believe that this is actually where we are in life.

This is a strange place of trying not to live where we have not yet arrived, and yet still preparing for what seems likely to be coming.  When I think too much about what the future may hold, I quickly become overwhelmed.  When that happens, I remind myself to thank God for today and to ask Him to give me the strength I need for this moment.  I try to find blessings in that moment.  I don't know what tomorrow holds.  For that matter, I don't know what later today will hold.  I have to focus on living right now.

It is a strange time of waiting.  We are in a time where much of life doesn't seem to be moving forward, but rather standing still.  I'm not a fan of 'in-between times', but this is one I'm not ready to move beyond.  I'm doing my best to maintain where we are.

It is a time of strange perspectives.  Just a very short time ago, we wouldn't have called it a 'good day' if Trent were too sick or tired to go to work.  Now, it is a good day if he is able to eat something and is not throwing up, even when he is too weak to go anywhere.

It is a strange time for the kids, too.  Though we try to keep life as normal as possible, it isn't 'normal'.  The motion and commotion that comes with having 3 kids is sometimes too much for Trent to be able to deal with.  It is hard on the kids to always have to be quiet and slower than their normal pace.

This week, we turned over the responsibility of getting the kids to and from school to Trent's brother and sister in law.  Trent has had a couple of episodes of severe pain and nausea while he has been home alone and prefers not to be left alone as much as possible.  This has been hard on the youngest  -- yet another change.

We changed a couple of medications again this week, and we were able to get some IV fluids for Trent.  The fluids made a huge difference.  The doctor said that, if I think it helped, then he is willing to put in orders for more fluids as I think they are needed.  That was good to hear.  I have high hopes for one of the new medications -- I would love to see Trent get some relief and feel a little better.  He has definitely felt much better they past 3 days; and he was even able to go in to work for 2 hours yesterday.  He did have some kind of a medication reaction, though, this week.  I am in the process of trying to sort out which one - or combination - it may have been.  I think I may have figured it out and am testing my theory today and tomorrow, and I will see how things go.

We met the Hospice physician, Dr. Duane, this week.  He is very nice, and he spent quite a bit of time just getting to know Trent and where we are in this.  We also met our assigned social worker, Heather.  They each asked us, essentially, the same question -- "What do you see life like from this point forward?"  That's not an easy question to answer.  It's not something we want to think about too much.  We responded that we are doing our best just to live each day as it is given to us.  They were both surprised and pleased at our answer.  They said that most people enter Hospice care planning to die.  That would be a hard way to live.  I think I could sink into a state of despair pretty quickly if that were the focus of every day.  It is true that all of us face death -- our human bodies don't live forever, but I don't want that to be foremost in my thinking each day.  I choose to put my faith in God and trust Him with my future - with each of our futures.  I am choosing faith over fear.

Last evening, some men from church came over again to be an encouragement to Trent and to pray with him - to pray for us.  I am thankful for men who will do that.  I am humbled by their willingness to serve in that way.

So . . . here we are.  We are determined to live each day as God gives it to us; determined to see the blessings along the path.  We don't know what tomorrow holds, but we never did.  We place ourselves and our future in God's hands.  He will not fail us, and He has a purpose and plan for each step along this path; and for that I am grateful beyond words.

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow.  That really describes all of life, I suppose; but it is more noticeable during times like this.  The ups and downs, highs and lows, blessings and trials, the calm and the stress are all more prominent right now.

This has been quite a week.  We met with the Palliative doctor.  She was very kind and compassionate.  She spent a long time with us.  We came up with a new plan for attacking the pain; but with the new plan, there has been a transition time.  The transition hasn't been easy.  She told us it would take 3 - 7 days for blood levels to increase to where they need to be and then even out.  We were hoping for 3 days -- it seems that we're looking at 7 days.  About half of last night was spent in the ER trying to get relief.

It is hard to know what to do when it comes to helping Trent sometimes.  I want to do all I can to help him feel better, but I don't want to hover.  There are times when he will tell me what he wants me to do (or not do).  Other times, he is hurting too much or the meds have fogged his mind too much to be able to communicate effectively with me, and I just have to try to make the best decision I can.

We started school this week, too.  That has had its ebbs and flows, too.  One child plows ahead, one seems to be going along fairly willingly, and one is resistant.  I'm praying for some things to level off in this area, too.

Work had definite ups and downs this weekend, too.  I was unable to work last night due to being with Trent at the ER.  During my Friday over-night shift, we had a guest pass away.  Working at a hotel, I've always known it was a possibility to face that at work, but this was the first actual encounter.  I wonder if he had a relationship with God.

This coming week is filled with extra appointments again (plus school).  Trent has a new CT scan on Tuesday, and we will get the results on Thursday.  It is a strange balance to try to strike when thinking about the scans.  On the one hand, we try to be prepared for the results -- no matter what they may be.  We don't want to have the wind knocked out of us, so to speak, if the results are 'unfavorable'.  On the other hand, we don't want to speculate (or worry) about what they may be.  We know the results are in God's control.  We desire to rest in that knowledge.  It is an exercise in faith and trust to keep the mind from wandering too far . . . .

A new week.  Both old and new challenges.  One day at a time.  Ebb and flow.  Faith and Trust.