Overwhelmed

My hands were leaning on the bathroom counter, my head bowed, with tears dripping off my cheeks. I wasn’t praying; I just could not bear to see the reflection in the mirror any longer. I did not want to be here, with my left knee on the scooter and my back still radiating with pain, starting a New Year without Sophia. How do I go another day – another year - with pain, with the deafening silence of a premature empty nest, trying my hardest to muster up enough strength to start another day.

This was too much like before. I was reliving the accident over and over every night when I climbed in bed with ice on my ankle and then recalling the sting of pain as I woke up unable to walk again without shoes. This latest surgery had been only two months ago, and the joys of the holidays and being with the children during that time made the first weeks bearable. Now I was left to suck it up, get dressed and wrap my ankle in that confining brace yet again.

I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the pain. Overwhelmed with the heartache. Overwhelmed with daily activities that drain the life out of me.

It was a rough, first full week of work after the holidays with meetings each day to spur the activities that would be taking place this semester. I thrive in a scheduled life, but getting back into the swing of things this time seemed to take much more effort than anticipated.

To end my week, I had lunch with Carolyn. I am extremely thankful to have her in my life, but not thankful for the reason that brought us together. Her daughter Hollie and Sophia were in show choir together and passed away just months apart. We sat down in a booth at a local restaurant, not looking around or paying attention to others enjoying their lunches. We shared our feelings, hurts, tears and it was time for me to head back to work.

The waiter came to our table and informed us someone paid for our meal, and we immediately wanted to know who. We asked for details of the person, but the staff honored the donor’s wishes to remain anonymous.

Did that person know our story? Did he or she know the pain we shared and that while being together never eases the emptiness, we are thankful to have each other to lean on knowing we understand the deep hurt. Tears began to sneak out between our eyelashes as we tried to hide them from the young waiter. We were speechless for a while, gathering our emotions that now come so quickly to the surface. Since we were unaware of our surroundings, we honestly are uncertain who it was that blessed us that day. It may have been a close friend or a person who was obedient to God’s leading and had no idea the struggles we face daily.

I was overwhelmed as I left our eating venue. My tears were on a steady march from my eyes driving back to the office. I recalled what appeared to be little things that happened all during that week, but it was really God’s reminder the He was taking care of me. I was overwhelmed by the acts of kindness shown by others.   

• The two cases of Diet Dr. Pepper in my chair at work from a co-worker
• My yard being cleaned and mowed by husbands of my Bunko babes
• The research my friend did to help me find a counselor who specializes in trauma
• A new washing machine installed since the last one died before Christmas
• Starting a new Bible Study at church about trusting God
• My Bunko babes that were coming over that night to help me take down and pack up my Christmas decorations.

Sometimes we miss the small ways God is taking care of us when life deals us a big blow, like the death of a loved one. Isaiah 41:10 says, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you; Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

Back at work, I sat at my desk with my hands on my keyboard, no mascara to be found, still overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed that each and every day begins and ends without Sophia here with us. But God reminds me – sometimes repeatedly – that He is still the one in control. No matter my heartache, no matter my physical pain, He is a God who can be trusted with my life and my damaged heart.

The Huddle of Christmas

Decorating for Christmas usually is one of my favorite things to do because being a December baby myself, I celebrated my childhood birthdays by matching the colors on the ends of limbs to the colors on a green pole, followed by the large colored lights clipped to every other stem, all to build a tree. I continued to celebrate my birthday with my own family by decorating our home with Christmas cheer - a Christmas tree here, a wreath there, garland down the staircase, candles in all the windows….all to celebrate this time of year. 

Many nativity sets adorn our home and somehow the spacing of those figurines involved in the scene never quite get placed like those in a Southern Living magazine. I distinctly remember when Matthew was much younger, and he placed the animals, shepherds, wise men, Mary and Joseph in the barn huddled closely into the manager where Jesus lay. If it had been a living nativity, baby Jesus would not have been able to breath!

That year, everything within me wanted to spread the story characters out for a more proper viewing, but Matthew informed me, “Everyone wanted to see Jesus.”  This was his idea of the best placement for all involved. 

And so the crowd remained huddled around the manger.  

It was that year I realized the decorations did not have to be strategically placed, I did not have to just put out the “pretty” ornaments, nor did I have to have my home immaculate to throw a party! Our family knew the center of Christmas, and it was important that we all huddled around for a good view.

Times change and the family looks different this year as we add to our family through marriage and miss the presence of our Sophia. Yet, the center of Christmas remains – Jesus.

You may be missing someone in your Christmas huddle this year; you may be ecstatic there are new additions through marriage or births that have added to your huddle. These huddles do not always remain, so we must be mindful to cherish each moment of every Christmas we have with our loved ones knowing we are not promised our huddle will look the same next year. Gather around those you love, celebrate the joys of the year, encourage relationships, relax, and enjoy the simple - yet quite possibly the most important - things in this world.

May you have wonderful Christmas season enjoying those in your 2019 Christmas huddle.

Wheelchair to 5K

Three months was adequate time for my talus bone to heal and now it was time to put weight on my left foot. Appointments with the physical therapist now replaced my triathlon-training program. Instead of swimming laps in the pool, I picked up marbles with my toes and dropped them in a cup. The bike rides were traded for heel raises and toe points, and miles of running were exchanged for exercises with resistance bands wrapped around the balls of my feet.

To say I felt defeated would be an understatement. I would easily run miles, not fast – but far, and now I could not even stand without assistance. Since the doctor cleared me to put weight on my foot, the process began with a scale and I pushed down with a certain amount of weight and held it, gradually increasing the amount of pressure over time. More and more exercises helped me get a bit more comfortable with the thought of putting my entire weight on my injured extremity.

I have never endured as much physical pain as I had with my foot, so to “just walk on it” not only took physical training, but mental focus. The strengthening of my foot and left leg gradually took time, and if someone has wondered what happens when a leg is not used in three months, let’s just say, it’s not pretty. Literally, not pretty. There was absolutely no muscle tone; atrophy of all the major muscle groups and my left butt cheek just sagged! Yep, there needs to be resistance to keep a lifted derrière.

With months of therapy and diligently doing my physical therapy homework, I was up and walking. It still hurt with every step, but I was making progress. I received a Fitbit for Christmas to track my steps, not only to make sure I walked enough, but also to ensure I did not go over the number of steps that would cause me additional pain.

Goals have always been important for me, and I knew I needed something to accomplish, some sort of a goal to conquer, to keep me focused on my walking. Since Sophia’s birthday landed on a Saturday this year, I knew there had to be a race I could participate in to honor her and accomplish a 5K, somewhere away so we could be inconspicuous.

On May 11, 2019, draped in Minions with Richard, Daniel, Megan and Matthew by my side, we began my first 5K since the accident. (James and Naomi joined us by being virtual participants.)  I of course could not run, but the race also had a 10K, so I was certain we would not be the last ones. The race was the day before Mother’s Day and fittingly called the Super Mom Race because of the timing in the year, but my feelings did not reflect that title.

A more fitting name may have been Surviving Mom Race, but it was a victory for me, even in this quiet, low-key setting. We finished the race, received our t-shirts and medals, and left to grab lunch at a nearby restaurant. Nothing about that day seemed right, especially having lunch without Sophia on her birthday – she should have been there blowing out 19 candles on her cake. Instead, we sat quietly, overlooking Lake Lanier, with tears in our eyes wishing we could have another birthday with her.

My race in this life looks differently now, and I am not sure of the terrain up ahead. “Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1) I would have gladly chosen a different course in this race - this one has had more unexpected twists and turns than I could have ever imagined. However, I am hoping and praying with my upcoming ankle surgery, my continued race will be with less physical pain. Despite the challenges I face, I plan to run with endurance and perseverance, and to always be faithful to the One who has my whole course laid out for me.

A Year of Tears

A year ago today, we sat beneath a green tent with family in padded, covered chairs and me in a wheelchair. The tent gave us shade but not a lot of relief from the July heat in South Georgia. And in front of us was a casket, beautifully draped with yellow roses, holding the Earthly shell of my beloved 18-year old daughter.

Since the accident on June 30 that altered the trajectory of my world, memories, bad dreams, and tormenting thoughts have caused the tears to flow on a daily basis.

I do not remember birds chirping or the noise of cars passing by on the nearby highway as I do today sitting at the cemetery.  The ground on top of the casket is now covered with live and dead flowers where grass is beginning to crawl through the dirt and weeds stretch up around her nameplate. Truthfully, I was probably too medicated from surgery and my own injuries to absorb all the details of that day.

I have learned since that time of others’ lives during that horrid week last year. Many cut vacations short after hearing of the accident, some left later than planned, some returned early, and some postponed it all together.  Tears were shed by many family and friends who mourned the loss of Sophia.

Now after wiping away tears each day for a year, maybe I’ll make it a day without puffy eyes, smeared mascara, and a pounding heart. Maybe I’ll be able to put in contacts again without fear of them swimming away. Maybe I can wear something other than tennis shoes with dresses. Maybe I’ll lie down to sleep without dread. Maybe my nightmares will turn into sweet dreams. Maybe I’ll wake up and not be in physical pain and can take a step without my ankle hurting.

During the course of this year, however, I have found myself laughing again. I’ll catch myself singing around the house and in the car once more. I have improved physically to the point I can work more hours, pull weeds in the flowerbed and start more projects in the shop.

There is much relief that this year of “firsts” is over. Yet, it is hard to imagine I will have to do the rest of this Earthly life without her. Sophia is not going to make a cameo appearance at Christmas or send me a sweet card at Mother’s Day. Life has changed, and I do not like it. I want her back, which unfortunately is not an option.

So, I’ll trudge through, trying to take it one day at a time. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days will be free of tears.

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes…” Revelation 21:4

Forever 18

I was feeling a bit successful as I ventured to my counseling appointment in a nearby town alone. It was only a few months after the accident, so even though I could not put weight on my foot, I was getting proficient on the scooter. I decided to head to a few stores to pick up items, and I needed to run by Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a gift.  

I got the registry and headed through the store with speed. After I found the wedding gift, I handed it to the clerk and asked her to leave it at the front so I could peruse the clearance areas. And then standing over the clearance table, it hit me. Hard. 

With tears streaming down my face, I realized I would never get to pick out wedding gifts with Sophia. She would be forever 18 in my mind, and I would miss many huge life events with her. I will never see her…

          -  walking across the stage for her high school diploma
        -  eyes light up as she tells me about finding Mr. Right
        -   dancing with Richard on her wedding day
         -  face light up in excitement when she tells me she’s pregnant
         -   raising my grandchildren
       -   trying to hid the gray in her hair
        -   holding my hand as I age

Inspirational speakers will tell us to look forward and not dwell on the past, but in this situation, I have to hold fast to those memories we shared, not the ones we will never have.

We have done amazing things with Sophia in her 18 years:

                  -   Skiing in Colorado
        -   See her get baptized
       -    Backpacking in the Cohutta Wilderness
        -   Watching her dance and sing on stage
       -   Seeing her love many different types of people
       -  Plan a Minion 18^th birthday party

                 -  Run a family marathon relay

I hope that with each birthday that passes, we will be able to focus on those things we shared more than those we did not. She lived a wonderful life and is loved by many. I simply wish I had more years to love her on this earth.

Hope in the Midst of Hurting

Holy Week brings with it many traditions of the organized church and personal families. From attending church services to dying eggs, from getting a new dress to getting some time off from school, this week resonates with the hope of new life and celebration.

For the hope of eternity to be available to believers, there had to be an ultimate sacrifice who could take on the sins of the world.

Enter Jesus. Son of God. ONLY son of God.

But why would God have to sacrifice his only son? Surely, something else could take his place. There are those pretty white doves, a spotless lamb, a majestic eagle, or even a beautiful tree could be struck down to cover my sin. God sacrificed His only son because He was sinless, and He was treasured more than anything in heaven. No angel, no streets of gold, no Old Testament saint could compare to God’s son.

Most parents would agree their most valued treasure is their children. We do anything to protect them, raise them well, and love them unconditionally. That is why losing a child is the most agonizing, heart-wrenching pain a parent can ever feel. We feel as though we have let our child down – that we did something or did not do something that has led to their death.

Our finite minds will never understand fully the trinity on this earth, but I truly believe God’s heart was broken when He saw His only son on the cross and when He knew the pain Jesus endured. Even knowing that in three days the hope of heaven would be available to all who believed, the pain of losing His only son certainly was the worst day in history from God’s point of view.

Just prior to his crucifixion, Jesus told his disciples, “Therefore you too have grief now; but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you.” (John 16:22)

God knew what was going to happen – He planned the whole thing! He knew Jesus would rise again, but I’m sure those three days of separation from His only son were not pleasant. The greatest day in history is Resurrection Day when Jesus rose having buried the weight of our sin and given all those who believe a path to redemption through Him.

However, even with knowing Sophia is in heaven and that I will see her again, the pain of losing her is still overwhelming. When I pass her Minion-filled room or sit by her grave, the hope of heaven has not brought me the comfort I thought it would. Somehow, the aching in my heart is not soothed by the reassurance of that hope.

My head has not relayed the message to my heart that it is going to be okay in the end. My heart has not grasped the hope of the resurrection. This will come (hopefully) with time and healing, but for those who have lost a child, the celebration of new life is challenging. So...we will wait, and in the midst of our hurt, we will hold on for the hope of eternity.

Always Daddy’s Girl

There is nothing quite like the love between a daddy and his little girl, and Richard and Sophia are no exception. Even before she was born, he began his doting over her.  We found out shortly before Christmas in 1999 that our baby number four was a little girl. That Christmas Richard lavished me with gifts of pink! He bought me maternity clothes that would announce to the world the new life I was carrying was going to change our world…and it surely did!

After three dirty, rambunctious boys, our world was rocked with estrogen and pigtails. Sophia entered our family and gave all four boys in the house a better understanding of the moods of females and the different needs we have from our male counterparts.

Richard of course had many pet names for her, and one that was prominent was “Princess.” As most every daddy calls his daughter, Princess was a term to let her know the importance of her position in our house - although there never really was a question on who ruled here.  When my parents took the family to Disney World when she was only five, we disembarked the monorail and headed for the gates for The Magic Kingdom. As Sophia entered with her hand in Richard’s, the man greeted her with, “Good morning, Princess.” She looked up with her big blue eyes to her daddy and said, “They know my name!” She never realized every little girl who came through those gates was “Princess” – she thought she was the only one around!

One of Richard and Sophia’s special dates each year was the Daddy/Daughter Dance, and their dances covered a decade together. This picture shows the gift I gave to Richard for Valentine’s Day this year. It was a hard day, knowing he did not have his princess to take to the dance this year. She always looked forward to her date where she could get a new dress or buy a cool pair of Converse shoes. This dance was one that she would never outgrow, and if given the opportunity, I feel certain she would have driven home from college to attend with her first love.

There are many seasons in our lives, and Ecclesiastes states them beautifully. “There is an appointed time for everything….A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.” (vs. 1, 4)

Sophia loved to dance, whether with her daddy on their special date or at a wedding with her brothers, and those memories forever will be treasured by us all. The time to dance with her is over, and the mourning continues. Our laughter has turned to weeping as we constantly miss her, and as I cry for her every single day.

The seasons will continue to change, although I am not sure when the mourning leaves – if ever. However, I do know that through life and even death, she will always remain her Daddy’s girl.