It's been a slow week for inspiration, my friends. In my heart, there is a need to explain this post, but I don't know if I have the right words to make myself understood.
I was pregnant, and I had a miscarriage at four weeks and four days.
So early. This little life that didn't even get a chance to know life.
The doctor called it a "chemical pregnancy" and said to not even treat it as a miscarriage. As if that can take away the fact that I had four positive pregnancy tests. A line is a line is a line is a line. His levity was meant to lessen my grief, and in hindsight, it's only added to the difficulty of processing my sadness.
I've never hidden that I've already lost one baby. In fact, just a few weeks ago I remembered the child that would have been four years old this year. So many years have passed since the sharpness of that loss and grief that I've almost forgotten what that experience was like. But that time, we'd had time to share our excitement and thus were also forced to share our grief.
This time has not been quite the same, and words cannot quite express just how confusing and difficult the emotions have been for me. Reuben and Kaylee keep my life so busy that I barely have time to spend alone with my thoughts, and those few moments when I am allowed to feel the depth of my hurt, the pain that wells up is so great that I find I need to distract myself so not to be swallowed up in it.
And God has been faithful to provide such comfort, but if I take my gaze off of Him for even a second, it is so easy to slide back down into that great valley of darkness.
In some twist of irony, when I had found out I was pregnant, my greatest concern was how tired I would be for the next nine months, and 2 Corinthians 9:12 became my mantra, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." It seems that I'm now looking at this verse in a completely different light and relying on His strength in a completely different way.
I continue to covet your prayers. I don't know if this post has at all explained what I need it to. In a small way, it has helped to write it.
Peace to you...
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
And I cling to His love...
My dear readers, I'm sorry for such lack of posting lately. I'm finding it hard to put into words a description of this newest storm of life -- I've lost track of how many times I've started a post only to delete it because nothing is coming out right. Even this is a pathetic attempt at giving you something -- anything -- at the very least, a request for prayer, because I so need His strength and comfort right now.
To praise Him in the storm, to bless His name while feeling the searing pain of loss. It is bittersweet to experience the joy of knowing a loving Father while my heart bleeds with sorrow. Such an odd thing to go from singing His praises in one breath to overflowing with tears the next. How can I feel so empty and mere seconds later feel so full of His grace?
I don't bother with all the "why" questions. Why me? Why now? Why again? It's simple: we live in a world full of sin and evil, and we are still waiting for Christ's return to make all things new.
I cling to the hope of the joy we will feel on that day -- such joy -- to see the loved ones waiting for us on the other side.
And to see the face of our Lord, the great Comforter, who daily grants me the grace to look to Him for strength, who daily binds the wounds on my heart -- not just daily, but hourly -- this one whose love for me goes deeper than anything I could imagine.
How to praise Him in the storm? The answer to this is also simple: He loves me. No matter what life throws my way, this will always be true. I will always have the love of my heavenly Father, and so I praise Him. I can find rest and comfort in knowing that I am surrounded by His powerful arms of love, now and always.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21 (NKJV)
"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" 2 Cor 12:9a
To praise Him in the storm, to bless His name while feeling the searing pain of loss. It is bittersweet to experience the joy of knowing a loving Father while my heart bleeds with sorrow. Such an odd thing to go from singing His praises in one breath to overflowing with tears the next. How can I feel so empty and mere seconds later feel so full of His grace?
I don't bother with all the "why" questions. Why me? Why now? Why again? It's simple: we live in a world full of sin and evil, and we are still waiting for Christ's return to make all things new.
I cling to the hope of the joy we will feel on that day -- such joy -- to see the loved ones waiting for us on the other side.
And to see the face of our Lord, the great Comforter, who daily grants me the grace to look to Him for strength, who daily binds the wounds on my heart -- not just daily, but hourly -- this one whose love for me goes deeper than anything I could imagine.
How to praise Him in the storm? The answer to this is also simple: He loves me. No matter what life throws my way, this will always be true. I will always have the love of my heavenly Father, and so I praise Him. I can find rest and comfort in knowing that I am surrounded by His powerful arms of love, now and always.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21 (NKJV)
"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" 2 Cor 12:9a
Monday, June 20, 2011
Remembering...
That I may never forget the little one we never knew, who would have been due four years ago today.
Friday, April 01, 2011
Losing a Church: The 5 Stages of Grief
In an effort to come to a place of personal healing and also to share with you the experience of having our church close down, I'm working on a bit of a series of blog posts. Today I'm going to be focusing on the 5 Stages of Grief and how those relate to the loss of a church.
Just to give some brief background, the 5 Stages of Grief are commonly known as Shock or Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. When experiencing a loss, everyone goes through those stages to varying degrees, although it doesn't always happen in a straight line. What often occurs while grieving is that one travels back and forth through the stages, being first in one stage, then another, sometimes being in more than one stage at a time, and not always in the order they're listed here. There is also no set time limit for how long one might be experiencing these stages of grief. Some people might take a very short time; others might have a longer struggle with it. The important thing is that eventually, in order to come to healing, one must reach the final stage of acceptance.
I think it's safe to say that I have been through the first stage of Shock/Denial. What this looked like for me: the day before the official announcement was made in church that our Board was recommending that we end our ministry, I was visited by a Board member at home who broke the news to me in advance; this happened because I am technically an employee of the church, and as such, this decision has the added implication of my job ending. I spent the rest of that day and the next feeling a bit numb. And then I ignored it. I went on with my life. The decision hadn't been formalized yet as the church still needed to vote on it to make it official. I think that was the denial part of it.
I moved onto the Anger stage for a while. I focused on and struggled with feelings of extreme frustration and anger at how it seemed as if this decision was coming completely out of the blue for myself and the other members of the church. I didn't understand how it hadn't been more clear to me that our church was having issues that went this deep.
I think the Bargaining stage also came into play a little bit while I was dealing with that Anger. This came out as questions of "What if" things had been done differently, "what if" people had been given a chance to talk more about the vision of the church, "what if" I had done more to help earlier on, "what if...what if...what if..." It is very easy to get stuck in this stage until you get so wound up in asking "what if" that you find yourself back at the Anger stage over all the what if's that never happened.
Once the official decision was announced in church following the vote, there was a brief moment of Shock, with some disbelief thrown in, before the Depression hit. I could go into long descriptions of what this stage could look like, but that would take forever, so for the purposes of this post, let's just say that for me, it involved tears and sadness, and throughout this past week has taken on the form of feeling very melancholy and down about the situation, mixed with an inability to focus on little else. Given my past struggles with depression on its own, it has been slightly frustrating to be back at this again, even though the circumstances are vastly different.
This past week has been filled with various moments spent in all these first four stages of grief. There have been moments still of Shock and disbelief, often feeling a numbness that it can't possibly be real. There have been moments of Anger over how it has all taken place, and of course, the Bargaining and what ifs to go along with it. There have been the moments of Depression, looking back at what was while going through photos to put together a slideshow presentation, wishing it didn't have to be this way.
And so we come to Acceptance. I would be lying if I didn't say that this stage has come into play as well over the past weeks, at least in part. God has been gracious and faithful to bring me into a place in my relationship with Him where I am able to trust that through it all, this decision is His will. I question His timing now and then, and the way that it has come about, but I have actually not had that many moments of questioning the actual decision. I know that the only way to come to complete healing is to be fully in the place of Acceptance, and for that I am looking to God. Daily I wrestle with Him about how to feel this grief, and process it, and move through it to come to healing and Acceptance. I know that He will carry me through, and I know that at some point, the grief will move on.
And I'm sure at some point, forgiveness is going to play a part here. But more on that in a future post...
Just to give some brief background, the 5 Stages of Grief are commonly known as Shock or Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. When experiencing a loss, everyone goes through those stages to varying degrees, although it doesn't always happen in a straight line. What often occurs while grieving is that one travels back and forth through the stages, being first in one stage, then another, sometimes being in more than one stage at a time, and not always in the order they're listed here. There is also no set time limit for how long one might be experiencing these stages of grief. Some people might take a very short time; others might have a longer struggle with it. The important thing is that eventually, in order to come to healing, one must reach the final stage of acceptance.
I think it's safe to say that I have been through the first stage of Shock/Denial. What this looked like for me: the day before the official announcement was made in church that our Board was recommending that we end our ministry, I was visited by a Board member at home who broke the news to me in advance; this happened because I am technically an employee of the church, and as such, this decision has the added implication of my job ending. I spent the rest of that day and the next feeling a bit numb. And then I ignored it. I went on with my life. The decision hadn't been formalized yet as the church still needed to vote on it to make it official. I think that was the denial part of it.
I moved onto the Anger stage for a while. I focused on and struggled with feelings of extreme frustration and anger at how it seemed as if this decision was coming completely out of the blue for myself and the other members of the church. I didn't understand how it hadn't been more clear to me that our church was having issues that went this deep.
I think the Bargaining stage also came into play a little bit while I was dealing with that Anger. This came out as questions of "What if" things had been done differently, "what if" people had been given a chance to talk more about the vision of the church, "what if" I had done more to help earlier on, "what if...what if...what if..." It is very easy to get stuck in this stage until you get so wound up in asking "what if" that you find yourself back at the Anger stage over all the what if's that never happened.
Once the official decision was announced in church following the vote, there was a brief moment of Shock, with some disbelief thrown in, before the Depression hit. I could go into long descriptions of what this stage could look like, but that would take forever, so for the purposes of this post, let's just say that for me, it involved tears and sadness, and throughout this past week has taken on the form of feeling very melancholy and down about the situation, mixed with an inability to focus on little else. Given my past struggles with depression on its own, it has been slightly frustrating to be back at this again, even though the circumstances are vastly different.
This past week has been filled with various moments spent in all these first four stages of grief. There have been moments still of Shock and disbelief, often feeling a numbness that it can't possibly be real. There have been moments of Anger over how it has all taken place, and of course, the Bargaining and what ifs to go along with it. There have been the moments of Depression, looking back at what was while going through photos to put together a slideshow presentation, wishing it didn't have to be this way.
And so we come to Acceptance. I would be lying if I didn't say that this stage has come into play as well over the past weeks, at least in part. God has been gracious and faithful to bring me into a place in my relationship with Him where I am able to trust that through it all, this decision is His will. I question His timing now and then, and the way that it has come about, but I have actually not had that many moments of questioning the actual decision. I know that the only way to come to complete healing is to be fully in the place of Acceptance, and for that I am looking to God. Daily I wrestle with Him about how to feel this grief, and process it, and move through it to come to healing and Acceptance. I know that He will carry me through, and I know that at some point, the grief will move on.
And I'm sure at some point, forgiveness is going to play a part here. But more on that in a future post...
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Lowdown
About an hour after I published my last post about not being sure how much information I could share, an email got sent out that would have allowed me to tell all. Figures. So here's some of the details I couldn't mention before.
On Sunday morning, during a meeting before our regular church service, the church plant that we have been a part of for the past three years voted to end its ministry as of May 1, 2011. Over the past number of years, we have been struggling with issues surrounding leadership and vision, which has led to people being hurt and subsequently leaving the church. Our numbers have been getting smaller and smaller, and it has become harder and harder for us to support ourselves financially. This was not an easy decision to come to; many of us have actually felt that we were not properly informed of all the issues that were happening as it seemed like this has come somewhat unexpectedly. But in the end, even with whatever doubts and struggles we still had about the decision in our mind, I think we all had a sense that this is God's time for it to end.
There's not many people that can say they've seen the closing down of their church community. Sure, many people leave churches and go to new churches; that experience happens to a lot of us. But to actually see and be part of a church closing its doors, this is an experience for only a few.
I feel as if my particular view on this experience is also different in that I am actually an employee of our church. Since October, I have been working part-time as the administrative assistant for our church. Am I sad to see my job end? Certainly. Am I heartbroken? Not at all. To a certain extent, I feel like they had to talk me into applying for the job to begin with. I am in a good place with God right now to trust that He will continue to provide for us, and frankly, I look forward to having my Thursdays back. (Thursdays are my office days. The rest of the week I work from home.) And I always have my transcription work to fall back on... :)
So that's what's going on. We have five weeks until we are officially done meeting, and my job will continue for at least a month after that to help with all the closing details. I don't know what to expect from this next month. I know that we have a choice. We can take all the hurt and frustration and anger and all the other emotions we're feeling and leave with only bitterness; or we can lean on God, keep our focus on Him, work through the pain and come to a place of healing so that in the end, He will be glorified. I for one will be choosing the latter.
On Sunday morning, during a meeting before our regular church service, the church plant that we have been a part of for the past three years voted to end its ministry as of May 1, 2011. Over the past number of years, we have been struggling with issues surrounding leadership and vision, which has led to people being hurt and subsequently leaving the church. Our numbers have been getting smaller and smaller, and it has become harder and harder for us to support ourselves financially. This was not an easy decision to come to; many of us have actually felt that we were not properly informed of all the issues that were happening as it seemed like this has come somewhat unexpectedly. But in the end, even with whatever doubts and struggles we still had about the decision in our mind, I think we all had a sense that this is God's time for it to end.
There's not many people that can say they've seen the closing down of their church community. Sure, many people leave churches and go to new churches; that experience happens to a lot of us. But to actually see and be part of a church closing its doors, this is an experience for only a few.
I feel as if my particular view on this experience is also different in that I am actually an employee of our church. Since October, I have been working part-time as the administrative assistant for our church. Am I sad to see my job end? Certainly. Am I heartbroken? Not at all. To a certain extent, I feel like they had to talk me into applying for the job to begin with. I am in a good place with God right now to trust that He will continue to provide for us, and frankly, I look forward to having my Thursdays back. (Thursdays are my office days. The rest of the week I work from home.) And I always have my transcription work to fall back on... :)
So that's what's going on. We have five weeks until we are officially done meeting, and my job will continue for at least a month after that to help with all the closing details. I don't know what to expect from this next month. I know that we have a choice. We can take all the hurt and frustration and anger and all the other emotions we're feeling and leave with only bitterness; or we can lean on God, keep our focus on Him, work through the pain and come to a place of healing so that in the end, He will be glorified. I for one will be choosing the latter.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
2 Corinthians 1:2-5
I took that thing called "Grief" off my shelf again this evening. It's funny how this always seems to happen on the nights when Tim is gone, and I don't have any work to do. I just sit around, watching TV shows that inevitably contain something that triggers that feeling of melancholy. I think I'm coming to realize that there's been a lot that's happened over the past four years, and now I'm finally finding the time and energy to deal with it.
My thoughts today turned this time to our first baby. I'm finding my thoughts are turning in that direction a bit more lately, probably because we're coming up on four years since we lost our little one. It was interesting to think about how we celebrated Reuben's third birthday today as a family, and how our little angel would have been three years old by now, but that if we hadn't lost that first child, we wouldn't have Reuben now. It's funny, but that thought almost makes it more painful, to know that we couldn't possibly have both. I can't imagine not having Reuben, but I still wish that we could have had a chance to know the one we never will in this life.
And it really sucks that we can't have both.
I think as time goes on, and as life adds more and more grief to my shelf, I'm coming to realize that it's something you can't ever get rid of. Once it's on that shelf, it's there to stay. Sure, with time, it gets easier to put it up there so it's not taking up so much of your life. And day by day, year by year, those griefs become a bit smaller.
But not smaller in importance. Never that. They will always remain on the shelf, never to be forgotten. And even though they get smaller, and we feel like we can sometimes forget they're there, they never really cease to be painful. Those moments when we can draw up the mental stamina to pull them off the shelf and look at them, they still hurt. I don't think there's any way to change that. It is in the very nature of grief to be painful.
But through it all, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows." 2 Cor 1:2-5
My thoughts today turned this time to our first baby. I'm finding my thoughts are turning in that direction a bit more lately, probably because we're coming up on four years since we lost our little one. It was interesting to think about how we celebrated Reuben's third birthday today as a family, and how our little angel would have been three years old by now, but that if we hadn't lost that first child, we wouldn't have Reuben now. It's funny, but that thought almost makes it more painful, to know that we couldn't possibly have both. I can't imagine not having Reuben, but I still wish that we could have had a chance to know the one we never will in this life.
And it really sucks that we can't have both.
I think as time goes on, and as life adds more and more grief to my shelf, I'm coming to realize that it's something you can't ever get rid of. Once it's on that shelf, it's there to stay. Sure, with time, it gets easier to put it up there so it's not taking up so much of your life. And day by day, year by year, those griefs become a bit smaller.
But not smaller in importance. Never that. They will always remain on the shelf, never to be forgotten. And even though they get smaller, and we feel like we can sometimes forget they're there, they never really cease to be painful. Those moments when we can draw up the mental stamina to pull them off the shelf and look at them, they still hurt. I don't think there's any way to change that. It is in the very nature of grief to be painful.
But through it all, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows." 2 Cor 1:2-5
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Looking back...
I was going over some old posts of mine tonight, looking back over the past few years, seeing how infrequently I posted at times. It does make it easier to read back when there aren't that many posts to read. It's left me in a bit of a pensive mood, and I'm reminded of my blog's description, "In memory of feelings felt..." Tonight I've really done that.
A few months ago, I was seeing a therapist (that's a long blog post for another day), and she once told me that grief is one of those things that you can put on a shelf when you aren't able to deal with it, and now and then, you take it down, and you can look at it again. You can feel the pain of the loss again, you can regret the missed opportunities, maybe cry some of those tears that were leftover, and then, you can be thankful for the happy memories that take the sting out of it all. Every now and then, you'll have moments when life gives you a chance to deal with it a little bit more.
I looked back at one post where I was asking about the whole when does time actually heal the wounds, and how do we know when that is? Well, it's been interesting tonight to look back at the healing process that's happened over the last few months in my life and see where I'm at today compared to then. Gosh, does it ever feel good not to be in that pit anymore!
And the funny thing is, I don't really remember when it was that I started to feel like myself again. It's just been a gradual, slowly over time, bit by bit, little by little, life goes back to normal -- "whatever your normal is".
And this has been WAY more introspective than I intended. Funny how my fingers sometimes go running off on me, and I end up in a place far from where I started. There's a lot of untold stories in all of this, but as I said earlier, that's a long post for another day.
To end off on a completely unrelated and somewhat more update-like note, Tim has been promoted to having a steady run at Northland! It's a run to Iowa, leaving Thursday night, back Sunday or Monday. It's not ideal to be over the weekend, but we'll take it for now, and the consistent income/work schedule will be a nice change. So that's that.
A few months ago, I was seeing a therapist (that's a long blog post for another day), and she once told me that grief is one of those things that you can put on a shelf when you aren't able to deal with it, and now and then, you take it down, and you can look at it again. You can feel the pain of the loss again, you can regret the missed opportunities, maybe cry some of those tears that were leftover, and then, you can be thankful for the happy memories that take the sting out of it all. Every now and then, you'll have moments when life gives you a chance to deal with it a little bit more.
I looked back at one post where I was asking about the whole when does time actually heal the wounds, and how do we know when that is? Well, it's been interesting tonight to look back at the healing process that's happened over the last few months in my life and see where I'm at today compared to then. Gosh, does it ever feel good not to be in that pit anymore!
And the funny thing is, I don't really remember when it was that I started to feel like myself again. It's just been a gradual, slowly over time, bit by bit, little by little, life goes back to normal -- "whatever your normal is".
And this has been WAY more introspective than I intended. Funny how my fingers sometimes go running off on me, and I end up in a place far from where I started. There's a lot of untold stories in all of this, but as I said earlier, that's a long post for another day.
To end off on a completely unrelated and somewhat more update-like note, Tim has been promoted to having a steady run at Northland! It's a run to Iowa, leaving Thursday night, back Sunday or Monday. It's not ideal to be over the weekend, but we'll take it for now, and the consistent income/work schedule will be a nice change. So that's that.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
In contemplation...
Lo and behold, I find myself with a small desire to blog today, so I'm taking advantage of the urge to write something a little more contemplative, seeing as how I just did an update not that long ago. The funny thing is, life has taken so many twists and turns that I hardly know to where I should turn my thoughts, to focus my contemplations.
I could think of Grandma, and how a silly little thing like using milk bags to store my cheese in reminds me of her. And how thinking of her makes me also think of the funny way she used to say, "Yep, yep" in a kind of breathy way, and how she used to call Grandpa "Daddy", and now I do that with Tim.
I could think of Aunt Jean, and remember how I taught her piano for a little while, and how she really wanted to learn some Christmas songs to play to her kids. And I could think about how we never did get to have coffee together sometime after Christmas like we'd talked about... Or I remember how stark and cold the landscape looked the night we drove back to Hamilton after finding out she had died; the way the moon reflected off the snow on the fields echoed the bleakness in my heart.
I could think about how exhausted and drained I feel; tired from lack of sleep (I blame Kaylee...); worn out from experiencing so many emotions, so many changes; lost in this odd feeling of fogginess when I try to think about who I am now and what my life has become. I feel like I need to somehow catch up with myself and where I'm at in the timeline of my life.
I could think about the good things that are happening in my life behind the scenes of all the sadness. How absolutely adorable my kids are...the way Kaylee smiles with her whole body and gets so incredibly excited every time she sees her Daddy; the twinkle in Reuben's eyes when he smiles. How I'm starting to make new connections and friends at our church... How we have been so supported by all of our friends and family with everything that has gone on... How God continues to be faithful to provide for us in so many ways, and how He is always there, even when I am not good at drawing near to Him. You'd think with everything going on I'd be so much better at leaning on Him...I'm not.
*big sigh* That was a lot of contemplating. Kaylee is now fussing to be fed, so that is where this will end. Not sure how much longer it will be till I get back to this much contemplating, but there it is...
I could think of Grandma, and how a silly little thing like using milk bags to store my cheese in reminds me of her. And how thinking of her makes me also think of the funny way she used to say, "Yep, yep" in a kind of breathy way, and how she used to call Grandpa "Daddy", and now I do that with Tim.
I could think of Aunt Jean, and remember how I taught her piano for a little while, and how she really wanted to learn some Christmas songs to play to her kids. And I could think about how we never did get to have coffee together sometime after Christmas like we'd talked about... Or I remember how stark and cold the landscape looked the night we drove back to Hamilton after finding out she had died; the way the moon reflected off the snow on the fields echoed the bleakness in my heart.
I could think about how exhausted and drained I feel; tired from lack of sleep (I blame Kaylee...); worn out from experiencing so many emotions, so many changes; lost in this odd feeling of fogginess when I try to think about who I am now and what my life has become. I feel like I need to somehow catch up with myself and where I'm at in the timeline of my life.
I could think about the good things that are happening in my life behind the scenes of all the sadness. How absolutely adorable my kids are...the way Kaylee smiles with her whole body and gets so incredibly excited every time she sees her Daddy; the twinkle in Reuben's eyes when he smiles. How I'm starting to make new connections and friends at our church... How we have been so supported by all of our friends and family with everything that has gone on... How God continues to be faithful to provide for us in so many ways, and how He is always there, even when I am not good at drawing near to Him. You'd think with everything going on I'd be so much better at leaning on Him...I'm not.
*big sigh* That was a lot of contemplating. Kaylee is now fussing to be fed, so that is where this will end. Not sure how much longer it will be till I get back to this much contemplating, but there it is...
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
"...through shadow, to the edge of night..."
On the off chance that anyone is still checking this, I figured it was high time I posted at least a quick update. Kaylee woke me up early this morning, and I haven't managed to get the energy to get Reuben out of bed yet, so I've been checking other people's blogs and felt guilty that I haven't posted since last July. Clearly, it's been a while, so much has happened.
To be really quick: Grandma Moelker passed away November 29, 2009. Oma Wikkerink (Tim's grandmother) passed away December 27, 2009. Aunt Jean (Dad's sister) was killed in a car accident January 30, 2010. Three funerals in the space of three months has been a bit much.
Kaylee is not sleeping through the night yet. She gets absolutely miserable when she's teething, and it seems like she's constantly teething, although we have yet to see anything more than her two front bottom teeth.
Reuben is basically toilet trained. I still have him in pullups for naps and overnight, but he doesn't really need them. He talks a lot, but it's not always understandable, and I end up spending a lot of time translating for him.
Tim is still at Artech, but I think he's quitting as soon as he gets back from Vancouver.
I'm still doing transcription. Kaylee's pathetic sleeping habits have me quite exhausted, which is probably why I don't post much anymore. Frankly, I don't do a whole lot of anything on the Internet anymore. Funny how two kids will change your priorities.
Anyway, that's it for now. I'd like to say I'll post more regularly, but I wouldn't count on it at this point.
To be really quick: Grandma Moelker passed away November 29, 2009. Oma Wikkerink (Tim's grandmother) passed away December 27, 2009. Aunt Jean (Dad's sister) was killed in a car accident January 30, 2010. Three funerals in the space of three months has been a bit much.
Kaylee is not sleeping through the night yet. She gets absolutely miserable when she's teething, and it seems like she's constantly teething, although we have yet to see anything more than her two front bottom teeth.
Reuben is basically toilet trained. I still have him in pullups for naps and overnight, but he doesn't really need them. He talks a lot, but it's not always understandable, and I end up spending a lot of time translating for him.
Tim is still at Artech, but I think he's quitting as soon as he gets back from Vancouver.
I'm still doing transcription. Kaylee's pathetic sleeping habits have me quite exhausted, which is probably why I don't post much anymore. Frankly, I don't do a whole lot of anything on the Internet anymore. Funny how two kids will change your priorities.
Anyway, that's it for now. I'd like to say I'll post more regularly, but I wouldn't count on it at this point.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
To the depths of the sea and back again
I was sitting at work today (Friday) with nothing to do once again, and I realized that this would be the perfect time to compose an update for my blog. Of course I’ll do it in Word as the almighty powers that be have blocked pretty much anything other than medical websites from the internet, and I’ll email myself the document to be posted hopefully at some point when I’m home. This is a brilliant plan. I may have to make this a habit, (easy to do as I am frequently bored at work).
The past couple of days have been filled with ups and downs. My last update came during a particularly down day. It had been my first day back at work after nearly a week off dealing with everything, and suffices to say I did not have a great day. Most of my co-workers were fairly supportive when I explained my absence; however, I received a rather insensitive comment from one of my teammates, and I have to say it made me rather perturbed at her. I find myself curious as to how she could think such a comment might be comforting, or maybe she just doesn’t understand what it is to go through what I have. Either way, I confess to feeling a small amount of bitterness toward this lady that I’m sure at some point I may have to deal with.
I find that to explain my feelings at this point is a conversation riddled with contradictions. At one point I am feeling quite at peace, strangely content with my lot, and dare I say it, happy. Then at another point I am completely disillusioned with life, experiencing great pain in my heart, and feeling sad to the point of wanting nothing more than to spend my day curled up in bed bawling my eyes out. I am able to swing from one end of the spectrum to the next within seconds, and then back again in still more seconds. I am on a roller coaster of emotions, a stormy sea where waves of feelings are continually clashing, carrying me to the depths in one moment and raising me high to the crest in another.
It is a wonder to me how one manages to maintain their sanity in the midst of such turmoil. I cling only to the certain knowledge that beloved family and friends continue to keep both Tim and I in their prayers, and that God must undoubtedly be answering those prayers, as I can determine no other reason for how I can possibly be feeling any such peace at this time.
The past couple of days have been filled with ups and downs. My last update came during a particularly down day. It had been my first day back at work after nearly a week off dealing with everything, and suffices to say I did not have a great day. Most of my co-workers were fairly supportive when I explained my absence; however, I received a rather insensitive comment from one of my teammates, and I have to say it made me rather perturbed at her. I find myself curious as to how she could think such a comment might be comforting, or maybe she just doesn’t understand what it is to go through what I have. Either way, I confess to feeling a small amount of bitterness toward this lady that I’m sure at some point I may have to deal with.
I find that to explain my feelings at this point is a conversation riddled with contradictions. At one point I am feeling quite at peace, strangely content with my lot, and dare I say it, happy. Then at another point I am completely disillusioned with life, experiencing great pain in my heart, and feeling sad to the point of wanting nothing more than to spend my day curled up in bed bawling my eyes out. I am able to swing from one end of the spectrum to the next within seconds, and then back again in still more seconds. I am on a roller coaster of emotions, a stormy sea where waves of feelings are continually clashing, carrying me to the depths in one moment and raising me high to the crest in another.
It is a wonder to me how one manages to maintain their sanity in the midst of such turmoil. I cling only to the certain knowledge that beloved family and friends continue to keep both Tim and I in their prayers, and that God must undoubtedly be answering those prayers, as I can determine no other reason for how I can possibly be feeling any such peace at this time.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Tears like rain...
To say that the last few weeks have been a little hectic would be an understatement. In reality our lives have been turned upside-down, and not because of our recent move to a new apartment, but by certain events that have occured to cause my husband and myself tremendous grief.
I found a quote online that seems to describe something of what I'm experiencing:
"I find it difficult to explain what I am going through. Grief, for me, comes in waves. It appears unexpectedly and sweeps through my soul. There are times when I [have] a smile on my face, I may say that I am fine, I may even convince myself that it is true, but just around the corner lurks another wave of sadness."
I find myself torn between thinking that what's happened isn't really a big deal and feeling as if the world is coming to an end.
I can do nothing but cling to the Lord and His strength. The verse I have used for so long is so appropriate once again: "The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:17-18
"O Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy; in your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief...Answer me quickly, O Lord; my spirit fails. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." Psalm 143: 1, 7-8
I found a quote online that seems to describe something of what I'm experiencing:
"I find it difficult to explain what I am going through. Grief, for me, comes in waves. It appears unexpectedly and sweeps through my soul. There are times when I [have] a smile on my face, I may say that I am fine, I may even convince myself that it is true, but just around the corner lurks another wave of sadness."
I find myself torn between thinking that what's happened isn't really a big deal and feeling as if the world is coming to an end.
I can do nothing but cling to the Lord and His strength. The verse I have used for so long is so appropriate once again: "The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:17-18
"O Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy; in your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief...Answer me quickly, O Lord; my spirit fails. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." Psalm 143: 1, 7-8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)