Happy Birthday

Tonight I asked Daddy what his plans were for tomorrow. He said “Nothing. For the first time in my life I don’t have any plans for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, March 23, is Momma’s birthday. If you know us then you know that birthdays are big deals. They come with 6 a.m. phone calls complete with a tone-deaf, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” being sung. Some voices are louder than others, and some are more chipper. But it’s all done with a half-awake, full of love heart and joy! Of course no birthday is complete without the favorite dinner followed by Daddy’s homemade strawberry shortcake and ice cream. And because no one can agree on one single flavor of ice cream in our house there’s always a smorgasbord to choose from, kinda like stepping into Baskin Robbins.

Hales and I loved the shopping for her cards. It was a challenge to find a good, spunky, sassy card that will top the belly laughs from years past. But let me tell you, Hales is a GOOD finder of cards that are “spoken like a true smart-ass!” (Claree Blecher, Steel Magnolia’s) Honestly, it’s a trait in our family. Or a squishy one that’ll make her cry more than the year before. I miss that and hadn’t realized till now how much I do. Or watching the kids help her blow out her candles. Oy vey. There should be a guide-book for all of this – at least one with suggestions!

I hope you enjoy your first birthday in heaven, Momma. And I hope you like the flowers we’ve placed at the cemetery. Daddy takes such great pride in having everything look nice for you. He’s itching to get out there and check on them for you, but the rain. It. Just. Keeps. Coming. Please tell God we’ve had enough. And while you’ve got his ear, please tell him that this family is full of soooo much character, it’s oozing out of our eyeballs. He can relax on us for a little bit. I think the lottery would be a nice compromise.

I love you Momma, we all love you…bunches and bunches and more than this world!

And Happy Birthday!

xoxoxo

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“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.” ~James 1:12

….and she did.

I got nuthin’, not even a title

Monday morning, standing at the open car door, Jackson stares at me across the seat and says “I haven’t been in this car in a long time.”

I know baby, but it’s okay. Come on. We’re gonna be late for school.

He gets in slowly and as he sinks into the front seat I can see his entire face shift as if another face has taken over. One that I don’t like because it makes my heart hurt and I want to fix it but I know that I can’t. And he says in the smallest voice “It smells just like Nina.”

Hales on the other hand, jumped in and then you could see her catch her breath and breathe it all in deeply –  the familiarity of it all, the feel and smells, like a huge tight hug.

How easy I forget that my kids still have moments like Daddy and I do. I’m driving Mommy’s car while mine is in the hospital and the thought never crossed my mind how it would affect my kids. And so differently. How is it that a smell can take you back in time to memory? Or a sight – a sound can turn on the movie reel in your mind and everything comes flooding back.

I walk by our dinning room window and see the Jeep in the driveway and expect to see Mommy coming up the walk, but she doesn’t walk through the door. I get in the car and see her lipstick tubes and  can vividly see her applying it. On Sunday mornings while sitting on the front pew I watch people walking up to the doors and I wait to see her too, but she doesn’t come. And sometimes at communion, I look over to tell her to get up that it’s our turn to go, yet she’s not there. When I need advice or just an ear to listen to me, my first instinct is to call her but I can’t. The other day I was talking to Daddy and he said “I wish your Momma was here ’cause she would know exactly what to tell you. She always knew what to do.” Me too Daddy. Me too.

I was going through my texts cleaning them up when I came across this one from Mommy…

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She sent this to me after she had walked into church on morning in July and looked very confused. She sat for a few minutes and caught her breath and then decided to go home. We thought the confusion and unsteadiness was because of her blood sugar levels. Little did we know that it was so much more. As you see in the text she made it home then and I know that she’s home now too.

Tuesday marked the fourth month since Mommy went home with God. It feels like forever ago and yesterday all at the same time. There is so much changing in our lives right now, so much that I want to talk to her about and this has just been one of those hard, hard weeks when you feel like you’re scraping to get by emotionally. My tank is empty. I have nothing left to give today. God, I think I’m gonna need a piggy back ride….

I think I got this lesson….next!

This little index card is priceless to me and is hanging up in the kitchen. I love this because it sums up our family perfectly. Nothing that comes out of my kids mouth about our family has ever really surprised me (we’re a little kooky I admit) except for Jackson in kindergarten when he told everyone, teachers included, that we grow weed in our front yard. He left the “s” off of weed. I had a lot of explaining to do to a lot of people.

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You have no idea how much truth Haley spoke – or wrote for her 5th grade assignment four years ago. Our family is not for the weak and if you dish it out, then by golly, you’ve got to be able to handle it coming back at you full throttle. Every year we’ve gathered at Momma and Daddy’s for Turkey Day, complete with oyster dressing, and a 40 lb turkey (I exaggerate a tad but not much) and all of the trimmings that are family recipes handed down for generations. The dinning room table would barely hold all of the food strategically placed around a beautiful center piece and all of us circling the outer perimeter. And no meal was complete without the hilarity of telling stories and laughing at each other. Momma was ALWAYS  at the center. She gave us such good material! We could sit at that table for hours laughing and talking.

I miss those days of all us together, madly. I’d give anything to turn back time.

To say that I was glad to see Thanksgiving come and go this year was an understatement, of a lifetime. This year Daddy and I did all the cooking. Instead of eating at the dinning room table, we sat in front of the tv with the kids and watched the rerun of the Macy’s Parade. It was a quiet, different day that will never be the same as it once was. It was a relief to put my pj’s on, have a cup of hot tea and turn in for the night, turning off the lights on a hard day.

Without fail, every November 1st my news feed on Facebook is full of everyone sharing something they’re thankful for. I’m sure you’ve seen it. And for the last few years I’ve participated…but not this year. This I decided to withhold all of my thankful fors. 

I know that I do have much to be thankful for. MUCH. And I know that I am to give thanks in ALL circumstances. To know it and to do it, consciously, is a different game. I’ve gone through much of this thankful season withholding my thanks for no other reason than being stubborn and disobedient. Like a child having a temper tantrum with my arms folded across my chest and my eyes closed tightly refusing to cooperate. I didn’t get my way so I’m not going to do what you have asked God. I know a portion of this is the grieving process but I also have the ability in me to not let it consume me. And consuming me it has. Everyone’s journey through grief looks different. What works for me may not work for someone else. How I grieve isn’t the same way my dad grieves or my children for that matter. But what I have been shown these last few weeks that finally hit me is when I’m spiritually disobedient and stubborn it’s not only just between me and God. It trickles down into every area of my life. Remember me telling you in an earlier post that God has to talk to me in a loud voice. This time he spoke loudly and clearly through my kids. He not only allowed me to hear but to also see it. With my own two eyes. Last night I had a moment and was getting on to Jackson about an incident that happened earlier, all the while he’s throwing his arms in the air at me and crossing them over his chest and finally stomping off. AND THIS, this is how I’ve been behaving towards God. Oh yeah, and just like my son, I’ve also had to have the last word. (It’s the curse that keeps on giving – two kids just like me.)

I absolutely have every right to be mad. But not at God. He didn’t cause any of this. But He’s my safe place. My safe place to be ugly, to show my behind. To have my hissy fits and act like a brat. To act on whatever emotion I’m feeling. My safe place because I know that He won’t love me any less and he won’t leave me. But just like a loving parent who only wants the best for their child, He will show me and He will direct me. So that is what I’m thankful for….accountability – from my Heavenly Father, my Dad, my kids, and my close friends and my Mom – who would always point me back to the cross.

So I will not dwell in my sufferings, but I will focus on what God will do through them, yielding perseverance, character and hope. And I know that I will not be disappointed because of the love that my Heavenly Father has poured into me and who has given my the Holy Spirit to guide and direct me.  Romans 5:3-5 – my version.

~ts

This is not a guide through grief, just what we’re experiencing. But if you have something that has helped in your own journey, please share!