....besides having a nasty cold.
These past few weeks I’ve thought about Steve more than usual, knowing this date was coming but not dreading it.
At 4:15 this morning we woke up to lightning and thunder ~ a masterpiece in God’s creation. Dave and I got up to watch from our living room as random strikes filled the valley with sudden white light. We counted the seconds between the light and the sometimes booming, sometimes rolling thunder. Some strikes were as little as a mile away.
When the storm was over we stayed up to get an early start on our day. We left the house at seven to join Nick and Corey at the desert. They went out last night to get in some riding during the cool night and to hang out at Steve’s spot, just the guys.
Standing on the hilltop in the warm, humid air I looked down the slope where Steve’s ashes were sprinkled two years ago to see that bits of him remain on the hillside, just as bits of him remain in our lives.
We didn’t stay long...didn’t need to. It’s comforting to go to his resting place and experience a sense of connectedness, each of us to him and to each other.
We got back home a little before noon and after a light lunch I took a much needed nap, waking at 3:20. I stayed on my bed, waiting for the 3:26 moment of my son’s death to pass.
Walking to the living room I felt so rested, so relieved (that I made it through this time unscathed? or just at peace?) Yes, at peace.
It’s 6:30 p.m. now and, except for feeling miserable from this cold, I feel great!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
May 5, 2005
Sometimes it hits me again. Not quite new again but almost new...again.
Sometimes I remember I had a son named Steve, that he suffered, and he died.
Sometimes I’m caught up again in a swell of fresh grief and it crashes down on me and submerges me and carries me to some distant shore.
Sometimes I allow it, knowing it won’t keep me there forever and it won’t destroy me.
Sometimes Grief may think he is my master, but I know better,
and I am healing.
Sometimes I remember I had a son named Steve, that he suffered, and he died.
Sometimes I’m caught up again in a swell of fresh grief and it crashes down on me and submerges me and carries me to some distant shore.
Sometimes I allow it, knowing it won’t keep me there forever and it won’t destroy me.
Sometimes Grief may think he is my master, but I know better,
and I am healing.
Monday, March 14, 2011
February 24, 2005
A sunny day! I had almost forgotten what a sunny day could feel like. Last week we had nearly four inches of rain! Today brought bright puffy clouds wrapped in a sapphire sky, warm sunshine, and a call from my best friend. I jumped at the chance to meet her at Mocha Marketplace.
Later, as I was making dinner, I heard Dave and Robyn’s surprised exclamations from the entry way. “Hey! What are you doing here? What a surprise! Deb! Come see who’s here!”
Wiping my hands with a kitchen towel I headed for the door to find PEGGY! I hadn’t seen my dear friend since she moved to Oklahoma a few months after Steve died. Peggy's more than a friend. She’s the big sister my mom never gave me.
Since our accidental meeting in 1983 I’ve spent more time with Peggy than I have with any other friend. Through this closeness our children have grown up like cousins. Some of them even look alike. That’s how we met ~
One day after church Terry (Peggy’s husband) distractedly patted my seven year old Amy on the head then reached for her hand. “Common. It’s time to go.” Amy was terrified, resisting his tug on her little hand. Slightly irritated, Terry looked down to her face. “You’re not Beth!” Terry brought her to me, explaining what had happened.
That wasn’t quite enough to seal our bond, though. That autumn during the Feast of Tabernacles in Tucson we happened to be staying at the same rental property. A few days into the ten day stay our van refused to start. Terry offered to jump us....every time we needed to start the van. At the end of the feast they offered to caravan home with us so we would always have a jump. By the time we got to the I-15, 30 minutes past their home, our mutual love was sealed.
We never had another problem with the van after that, and Dave never figured out what the problem was. We knew that God intended our lives to be intertwined.
I knew she was planning a trip to California but didn’t know the date. My surprise was overwhelming as she pulled me into a tight hug. Catching up over dinner, I felt how cut off I am now, but I still don’t know how to overcome this isolation.
Peggy, Feb 1987
Later, as I was making dinner, I heard Dave and Robyn’s surprised exclamations from the entry way. “Hey! What are you doing here? What a surprise! Deb! Come see who’s here!”
Wiping my hands with a kitchen towel I headed for the door to find PEGGY! I hadn’t seen my dear friend since she moved to Oklahoma a few months after Steve died. Peggy's more than a friend. She’s the big sister my mom never gave me.
Since our accidental meeting in 1983 I’ve spent more time with Peggy than I have with any other friend. Through this closeness our children have grown up like cousins. Some of them even look alike. That’s how we met ~
One day after church Terry (Peggy’s husband) distractedly patted my seven year old Amy on the head then reached for her hand. “Common. It’s time to go.” Amy was terrified, resisting his tug on her little hand. Slightly irritated, Terry looked down to her face. “You’re not Beth!” Terry brought her to me, explaining what had happened.
That wasn’t quite enough to seal our bond, though. That autumn during the Feast of Tabernacles in Tucson we happened to be staying at the same rental property. A few days into the ten day stay our van refused to start. Terry offered to jump us....every time we needed to start the van. At the end of the feast they offered to caravan home with us so we would always have a jump. By the time we got to the I-15, 30 minutes past their home, our mutual love was sealed.
We never had another problem with the van after that, and Dave never figured out what the problem was. We knew that God intended our lives to be intertwined.
I knew she was planning a trip to California but didn’t know the date. My surprise was overwhelming as she pulled me into a tight hug. Catching up over dinner, I felt how cut off I am now, but I still don’t know how to overcome this isolation.
Peggy, Feb 1987
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
February 3, 2005
I’m always so sorry when I avoid my journal for so long. I often put aside for “later” the things that I know are best for me. The things I find the most personally enriching…prayer, bible study, meditation, exercise, and journaling. These I put on the back burner. Instead I sleep late in the morning because I’m so tired. When I finally get up around 9 a.m. I get lost in my day, literally. Sometimes I find myself standing in the middle of a room wondering, “Where do I begin?” If I can’t figure it out I sit to wonder, staring blindly at the walls.
A few days ago I got up early. I studied, prayed, and meditated. My entire day went great! I was productive and I felt excellent.
Today I woke up sluggish (catching another cold---blah) so I went back to bed and fell into a heavy sleep. I had another house dream. But in my dream this morning I was in was this house, our home of twenty-six years. For some reason Dave and I were inspecting one of the front hall closets and we found a passageway leading to a secret basement level. There we discovered three rooms. Of course, one was a bathroom; there usually is a hidden bathroom in my house dreams. In my dream we were so excited to discover these new rooms.
Now, what does it mean? Am I the house and the newfound rooms my as yet undiscovered potential?
A few days ago I got up early. I studied, prayed, and meditated. My entire day went great! I was productive and I felt excellent.
Today I woke up sluggish (catching another cold---blah) so I went back to bed and fell into a heavy sleep. I had another house dream. But in my dream this morning I was in was this house, our home of twenty-six years. For some reason Dave and I were inspecting one of the front hall closets and we found a passageway leading to a secret basement level. There we discovered three rooms. Of course, one was a bathroom; there usually is a hidden bathroom in my house dreams. In my dream we were so excited to discover these new rooms.
Now, what does it mean? Am I the house and the newfound rooms my as yet undiscovered potential?
Friday, March 4, 2011
November 14, 2004
Thirty-three years ago today I became a mother.
I remember my first sight of that five pound, scrawny, red boy...how my heart melted. Oh, that that moment of blessedness had lasted and made me a perfect mother.
But together we grew. I am so grateful for our time together, for lessons learned from each other. Steve helped to teach me patience. And in him I saw strength and perseverance through physical trial. He taught me that we don’t have to be perfect to be loved, to positively impact those around us. As flawed as I am, he loved me unconditionally.
And I am still learning. I am learning to wait. I know I’ll see him again, hold him again. All in God’s good time.
I saw Steve in a dream last night. Our entire family was standing, as if posing for a group picture and when I looked at them from across the (yard? room?), Steve was there behind them, only his face showing. He was healthy and flashing a radiant smile at me. I need more of those dream visits with him, though I would really like to talk to him.
Today I am grateful for
31 years,
8 months,
1 week,
2 days,
and yes, even those final
4 and one half hours.
I remember my first sight of that five pound, scrawny, red boy...how my heart melted. Oh, that that moment of blessedness had lasted and made me a perfect mother.
But together we grew. I am so grateful for our time together, for lessons learned from each other. Steve helped to teach me patience. And in him I saw strength and perseverance through physical trial. He taught me that we don’t have to be perfect to be loved, to positively impact those around us. As flawed as I am, he loved me unconditionally.
And I am still learning. I am learning to wait. I know I’ll see him again, hold him again. All in God’s good time.
I saw Steve in a dream last night. Our entire family was standing, as if posing for a group picture and when I looked at them from across the (yard? room?), Steve was there behind them, only his face showing. He was healthy and flashing a radiant smile at me. I need more of those dream visits with him, though I would really like to talk to him.
Today I am grateful for
31 years,
8 months,
1 week,
2 days,
and yes, even those final
4 and one half hours.
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