Tag Archives: heaven

December 19, 2012 · 11:13 pm

Keeping the Spirit of Christmas Magic Alive

The holiday season is equally filled with the truth of Christ’s birth as well as the story of Santa.  Some would actually argue that it’s more about Santa … I’ve often wondered about what the perfect balance is to keep the Christmas spirit alive … how much effort do you really need to put forth to keep Santa ‘real’ for our little ones?

We’ve adopted the Elf on the Shelf to our holiday traditions this year.  We have had a lot of fun finding Snowball-Owen (Jaden named him) all over the house doing things like hanging from the ceiling fan, on top of the xmas tree, playing with Jaden’s toys and so on.  It’s incredible how easily Jaden believed that this little plastic doll comes to life in the middle of the night to create a little mischief (and of course report to Santa on if he is being naughty or nice).

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If only our own faith is as easy as a child makes it appear to be.  One part of Jaden’s prayer with Isaac (see A Play Date for Jaden) keeps finding it’s way into my daily thoughts.  ”If he [Owen] is ok, will you send me a sign?”

When growing up my sister liked to test the concept of all those imaginary characters we tell children about (the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny).  She’d leave notes asking if they would leave her just a little something to let her know that they were real.  Just a little sign to know that she could keep believing.  My mom went to great lengths to keep her Christmas magic alive.  She was up until the wee hours of the night painting golden eggs from the Easter Bunny and finding the perfect white fluff from Santa’s coat.  If you ask my mom about it – she will groan and start to say what a pain Rachael was about these things.  But if you get her talking enough – she’ll begin to tell you how she secretly loved it.  She had fun and took delight in fueling the magic.

Here is where I get torn – Jaden is asking for a sign from God.  My first reaction was to find something to leave out for Jaden to show him that God is real.  I want to teach him that God listens to your prayers – He hears you when you reach out to Him.  But isn’t this where faith is supposed to take over?  Believing in something you can’t see?  Wouldn’t I be starting something much larger that could potentially set him up for disappointment and doubt later?  God doesn’t always answer your prayers … Garth Brooks song anyone?  Or at least He doesn’t answer them the way we hope He will or in the timing we want Him to.

I just don’t want the magic to die for him.  I love that he chose to pray when he missed his brother.  It’s something I sometimes forget to do myself.  My mother reminded me that rather than step in – I should sit back and pray about it myself.  Lift Jaden up in prayer that he might receive the reassurance and comfort he needs.  I should cultivate his relationship with God with prayer rather than control.  Perhaps my thought to intervene is proof of my own doubt.  Maybe God has a far better way to reassure him that Owen is in heaven.  As much fun and delight I would have working hard at night, planning something orange for Jaden to wake up to – I’ll kneel instead.  I’ll fold my hands and bow my head.

Dear God, Thank you for blessing me with such a wonderful and faithful boy Jaden.  You know his heart far better than I ever will.  I pray that you will offer him the comfort and reassurance he needs to know that his brother Owen is in heaven with you.  May he feel your love even when he is uncertain.  Let the answers to his questions lead back to you.  Protect him and guide him in places I cannot.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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June 25, 2012 · 6:52 pm

My frame of “heart”

Have you ever known what you needed to do, but you just didn’t wanna?  The risks are too high, the effort is too great, the work is too hard. Whatever the excuse, something stands in the way of doing what you know is right.  I, personally, get so frustrated with myself when I’m in this kind of situation.  I try to tell myself to ‘put on my big girl pants’ and do what needs to be done.

Because of my past experiences, I’ve got the outlook that the work doesn’t matter, as long as I’m doing what is ‘right.’  I’m not afraid of a little sweat and tears – bring on the labor, as long as I’m doing what is right.  I don’t want to waste my energy on going down the wrong path.

Now, let me say this — this does NOT mean that I have never taken the wrong path.  In fact, I often find myself lost or having made bad choices. But I do know that my intentions are usually in the right place.  At the time, I did what I thought was best.  Does God take this into consideration?  Does He look down on me and say “gosh, that girl Mel … she sure has made a major screw up of some parts of her life – but gosh her heart was always in the right place.  Even when she failed, I knew she was trying to please me.”

I say yes.  I think that my ‘frame of heart’ (so to speak) matters to Him.  When I look at my kids I know that their frame of heart matters to me.  When Jaden tries to help me clean the windows, but all he really did was use an entire roll of paper towel, half a bottle of Windex and really just smeared the dirt around in a circle – I smile and say thank you.  I know he was trying to do right by me.  He was acting in a way that sought approval from me.  I might have to sigh and re-set before saying anything – fighting the urge of annoyance on all the wasted paper towel and even bigger mess I will now have to clean up.  But I clean it up any ways and usually with a smile on my face, thinking “he means well.”

Will my efforts get me into heaven even if the end result is always a mess?  I think God expects me to be a complete mess.  I will never ever ever ever ever be perfect.  I’m human.  I’m born with sin and I will always be impure.  It’s just the reality.  But my ‘job’ is to love my God.  To follow His word.  To always be thinking of Him and gauging my actions and decisions on what I think He would want me to do. Just like those bracelets from years back – WWJD.  What would Jesus do?  They have a lot of truth.

So even when it’s tough, and you just don’t wanna.  Know that your intentions matter.  If your intentions are just laziness – well that’s what God is going to see.  If you are afraid, but do it anyways … even if you make a huge fool/mess of yourself … he sees that.  He knows you tried to do what He expects.  So have courage.  Face those obstacles.  Do what you know is right … even if you don’t wanna.

Love, Mel

ps.  If only it were as easy to take my own advice :)

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June 12, 2012 · 10:16 pm

A Crazy Kind of Love

We started a book/bible study with my Supermoms group this past Sunday night.  We’re reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan.  While I’ve only read the first two chapters, this book invokes all kinds of questions and emotion.  It’s getting to the root of why we are Christians and how God wants us to view him.  What the bible tells us he looks like.

I can’t exactly remember how it came up but I started to express my questions of how it all worked.  Does God lead us where he ultimately wants us or do we really choose our own path and he comes after us making beautiful things out of our messes.  I got pretty much the same response as I did when I posted Crossroads.

I found myself feeling frustrated by the comments I received.  Not because I disagreed with any of them, but rather, because I felt like I didn’t properly express what I was trying to.  Then on Sunday night my friend, Amy, said the right word: anticipation.  I don’t question these sorts of things because I have doubt.  I have no question that God plays a huge role in my life.  I question these more out of anticipation of reaching the gates of heaven.  Anticipation for one day having the veil lifted and having an understanding to the questions “why?” and “how?”  Anticipation if I will even understand it all when I get there.  Maybe this isn’t something that will ever be explained.  How can I know for certain?

Frankly, I don’t think it really matters one way or the other – as long as I remember that Christ is with me and I remember to turn it over to Him.  You know, maybe he’s only in charge if we let him.  Maybe he only comes and makes beautiful things out of the dust when we pray and ask him to.  But I feel like there are times that I should have asked for help and I didn’t, yet I still feel like he helped me through it.  How does that work?

It’s hard for me to listen to what others think – I question on how they could possibly know.  Is it spelled out in the bible somewhere?

I’m excited to know what heaven looks like.  I know I really struggled with that after Owen died.  I couldn’t picture where he was or what he looked like.  Does he have the same face?  What form do we take on when we are up there with the big guy?  Maybe we are more like beams of light – but how do you tell one person’s light from another?  I know that there is supposed to be roads of gold.  But how kinds of roads?  Are they like the yellow brick road?  Is there only one road or does it go off in 100′s of directions?  Or maybe the roads are more like the roads in the game Mario Galaxy.  All of these questions and wonderings.  Yet, it doesn’t seem to alter my faith that is all exists.  It’s true and real.  It’s good and something I yearn for more of.  Yet, it’s nothing I’ve ever seen.  I can’t picture it.

I question out of anticipation and excitement (and hope) that I will one day see all of these things.

Love, Mel

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December 12, 2011 · 9:56 am

197 Days

Owen lived for 197 days … I have had OWEN written on my calendar over today and tomorrow since I did the math.  This would mark the day that he’s been dead for as long as he’s been alive.  I remember asking myself in prayer, what would it feel like when he has been gone longer than he was alive?  Ironically … I did the math wrong.  On 12/10/11 he has been in heaven for 198 days.  I missed it.  The scale has already tipped and you know what?  I didn’t even know.  It feels the same.  There isn’t a magical switch that has been flipped.

What does that do for today then?  I’ve been praying about today, anticipating what I was going to feel like.  Contemplating if I would do anything special to remember him.  I’m not sure how I feel now.  I still feel a weight on my shoulders.  A fear resides inside of me as to when I may or may not break down or freak out.  I feel like I’m ok, but walking on egg shells.  I could crack at any moment.  Or maybe not at all.

Does it mean that I am free to be ok today? No longer bound to the harsh reality that TODAY is significant?  A day that would only be remembered by a grieving mother?  No clue.  No freaking clue.

Today is today.  Dec 12.  Three days before we head up to Green Bay to celebrate Christmas with Doug’s family.  Monday.  Last night at our peer-to-peer support group before the holidays.  The day more of the Christmas presents I ordered online come in the mail (hopefully).  Laundry day.  A day means so many things.  A tangled ball of yarn.  Unknowing of where one piece starts and the other ends.

I made sure to reconnect with the babies this morning.  We practiced how to blow kisses, blow raspberries and played This Little Piggy Went to Market. I’m going to be forgiving to myself.  Allow myself to feel what it is that I need to feel today.

Love, Mel

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July 11, 2011 · 10:46 pm

Highs and Lows

I am surprised by how cool, calm and collected I am one moment and then next I am spinning out of control.  I find that there are triggers that set me off.  Ones that make sense when I think back upon them and others that I’m not really sure how I lost it.

Take for today as an example … this morning things were going alright.  Jaden wasn’t feeling well so I was in the bathroom with him for most of the morning.  But the triplets were happy, I was optimistic.  Once I had the triplets down for their morning nap, I laid with Jaden in my bed.  Heck I even got a 15 min nap before my mom came over to help.  I made it to Wal-Mart and Walgreens and was feeling accomplished for the day.

Then it’s funny how a little something someone says can hit the wrong nerve and I’m spirling the rest of the day.  I can honestly say I know this friend didn’t mean ANYTHING by the comment.  I know in my logical mind that there wasn’t anything meant by it.  I was upset but didn’t want to be.  I found myself thinking “I shouldn’t have to be understanding.  I lost my son.  You should be watching what you are saying.  You should be aware of who you are talking to.  I am Owen’s mom.  My son just died a month a half ago.”

It was that easy and I was set off.  I didn’t want to be bothered.  I couldn’t talk nicely to anyone.  I got home after running a few more errands and went right down to the basement to wrap Jaden’s birthday presents.  I am a beast right now.  I can pretty much promise you that anything you say to me right now would be wrong.

I still want there to be someone who has the magic words that would calm my soul.  Yeah I know… Pray to God.  He’ll know what to do.  Honestly?  I want someone who I can physically see and touch to comfort me.  I want a real hug.  Wouldn’t it be so amazing if you could actually hug God?  How much comfort would that offer those who are suffering?

I can hear Doug’s footsteps upstairs and he’s closing down the house.  I know that when I go upstairs, the lights will be off, the tv shut down and he’ll be in bed.  I made it perfectly clear that I wanted to be alone down here.  Yet I sit here upset because he didn’t try to make nice for the 5,592 time.  I don’t blame him, yet I want him to be the one with the magic words to make it all ok.

We both are greiving so differently.  Everyone warned me of this, and I understood it.  But honestly … it sucks!  We were so alligned in the hospital.  Every decision came with ease.  We almost read each other’s minds at times.  And now in real life we miss each other often.  He goes left and I am so far right.  I want to talk about it, he’s looking for a quiet night.  I’m angry about it and he’s at peace.  I don’t want to talk about it and he wants to show me picture after picture.  Where is our unity?  How are we both the parents of Owen but be in such different paths?  I think it’s hardest because no one else in this entire world knows what it’s like to lose Owen as a son.  Doug is the only one.  Yet, we can’t relate to each other lately.  I’m so alone in this.  Not a single solitary soul can relate.  Doug and I are both parents.  But I am mom and he is dad.  Even if he does know what’s it’s like, I can’t understand why he would do the things that he does.  I find myself thinking “if he knew, he would be doing this.”  Like I know what’s best for me AND him.  Who am I to say what is right?  There is nothing “right” about a 6 month old baby boy dying.  This whole process is wrong by it’s very nature.

I know God is here.  I know he’s with me and hears my prayers.  But sometimes you just need a human.  Another physical face, arms wrapped around you, a shared glass of wine. Something tangible as a reminder that you can do this.  I hold the cross that was hung in Owen’s casket.  I sleep with the same tie blanket I did in the hospital.  (thank you Kate!)  That’s right, I’m a 27 year old that has a security blanket.  But it helps me sleep.  I can stop thinking for long enough to fall asleep when I’m cuddling with the blanket.  The physical softeness of the fleece on my face is a constant reminder of Owen, so I can let my mind rest long enough to sleep.  Again, needing something physical to ease my emotional pain.

Is there a physical in heaven?  Is the sense of touch only an earthly thing?  Will we have the sense of sight or taste?  What is it like to be a pure soul?  So many questions errupt as I think.  What is heaven like?  I’m a mother who has no idea where her son is.  I can say “Jaden is alseep in bed.”  I can picture him in his bed.  I know where he is.  ”Owen is at the doctor.”  I can picture the room and the table, even if I’ve never been there before.  I can at least imagine or make up a picture of what it looks like.  Sort of like when you are reading a book.  You have pictures of faces of how each character looks.  But with Owen?  I have no clue.  The thought of white robes, halos and golden streets are common.  It’s all Hollywood – smoke and mirrors.  What does the Bible say?  What does the actual, physical word of God say that heaven is like?

I’ve looked some stuff up.  Nothing seems to quench my thirst.  I still can’t picture what Owen is doing or what he now looks like.  His face is forever frozen in time.  He’ll stay his chubby baby face forever while his brothers will grow up.  On graduation day?  He’s still be 6 months old.  Forever frozen in time.  Physically frozen I guess.  But his story lives in.  He’s more alive today than he was on May 20th.  More people know him now than ever before.  It makes no logical sense.  Death is perplexing and confusing.  It’s like artist’s paintings are worth more when they are dead.  Orange means more now than it did when Owen was alive.

So I muddle through the days.  Some are strong and steady.  Others start out good and end terrible or visa versa.  I have my first grief counseling appointment tomorrow.  I didn’t want to do it tomorrow since it’s Jaden’s birthday.  But it was either tomorrow or August 6th. Really?  I’m sure it’ll be a bunch of introductory questions.  Do you have siblings?  How long have you and Doug been married?  But it’s a start.  A step to recovery.  Whatever that is …

Love, Mel

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June 26, 2011 · 11:15 pm

1 Month Ago …

Now after a month I am flooded with questions … why.  Was I not a good enough mother? Did God look down and think, Melissa can barely handle triplets.  She doesn’t have the strength so I’ll give life to this other child instead.  A child of a more deserving mother.  Did I do something to deserve this?  Was God mad that I didn’t give the triplets enough attention or Doug and I fought too much?  Maybe God thought that Owen’s life deserved to be lived in a ‘quieter’ home.

I screamed in the car tonight … uncontrollable screaming.  I felt like a tea-pot bursting … screaming that god awful screech.  Only it was ugly.  A hideous sound.  Once I started, I couldn’t stop.  I was driving … driving the same road that the ambulance drove.  I screamed and cried and yelled all the way.  Remembering each intersection that was blocked by police cars.  Remembering the lights as we drove under them.  Glancing over my shoulder, watching the paramedics give Owen chest compressions.  Wanting to hear what they were doing, but not wanting to interrupt.  I kept thinking “he’s gone.”  My son died tonight.   I drove the same road tonight.  The difference?  I felt something tonight.  I felt a WHOLE lot tonight.  On May 21, I was strong, calm, numb.  Tonight I could barely see through my tears, my chest so tight I could barely breathe, my nose running, screaming, yelling just to let feelings out.

I want a new life.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t this life … I don’t want to be a grieving mother.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  It’s getting to hard, I want out!  Please just let me travel a different path.  Give this one to someone else … someone stronger.

I drove all the way to the hospital.  I parked the car in the parking lot outside of the ER.

I kept looking for a sign that God was with me.  I channel surfed the radio while crying in the parking lot of the hospital.  I half expected to hear a man’s voice telling me to be still, He was with me.  No such voice came on the radio.  I didn’t hear a message through the song lyrics.  I didn’t see an angel in the clouds.  I saw and heard nothing to let me know he was there with me.  It made me angry.  I have followed you faithfully.  I have not questioned your plan or your will.  I have praised you.  I need you now.  I need you more than when I felt you in the hospital.  Why are you leaving me alone when I am lost and angry?

I started driving home, wondering if Culvers was open so I could get some fries and ice cream.  No such luck.  I’d never make it in time before they closed.  I went back to the basics.  Jesus loves me, this I know.  For the Bible tells me so.  I know He loves me.  I feel alone, but I can’t be.  He wouldn’t …

All of these emotions came charging at me without any real notice.  They are real.  They aren’t fake … the words shared by others who mean well but really sound more like a Hallmark card.  These emotions are the ugliest truth, the harshest reality.  Raw, true human feelings.

I want to know where Owen is.  What is he doing?  What does his soul look like?  Is he alone … are there others there with him?  I could paint all different kinds of stories on what heaven is like, but I want to hear the word.  I want to read what Jesus and God tells us heaven is like.  I am searching for some kind of proof or evidence of what it’s like.  I know heaven is there … I just want to be able to picture where my Owen is.

Love, Mel

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June 20, 2011 · 9:28 pm

Meet Jake Appleton from Appleton, WI

For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the one and only Jake Appleton, from Appleton, WI — he’s a pretty fantastic guy.  I have personally met him only three times.  The first time being Owen’s funeral.  While his face was one of hundreds that day, I still remember him approaching Doug and I, still dressed in his full suit from work, with his sister-in-law Sarah by his side.  (Sarah is one of my best friends.)  Jake, Tina (his fabulous wife), Violet (Jaden’s fiance) and Sam (Jaden’s future sister-in-law) were at my parents for a cook out just after the funeral.  Jake and I exchanged a few words.  But again, I had no idea the impression I had created on this man.

He wrote a blog about our encounter that made me blush.  He gives me way more credit than I deserve!  That leads me to our third encounter.  My sister’s birthday party.  It was this meeting that I feel Jake and I had a quality conversation.  We talked about what we did in life, where our passions lie and what makes us blog.  Yes folks, he’s another blogger.  And a HILARIOUS blogger at that.  He can make anyone crack a smile.

Just recently he wrote a ‘blug” (read on) about Owen and his possible experience in heaven.  It made me cry a little and mostly made me smile.  With his permission, I want to share what he wrote.  It’s beautiful.

***

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, 2011

Heaven

After baby Owen’s passing (see: “Mel B” post), I find myself thinking about Heaven more than ever before. What is Heaven like? More specifically, what is Heaven like for baby Owen? Well, faithful readers, I’ve taken this topic a step further than any other blogger, and have done so for your benefit. You see, I asked God to give me a sneak peek of the world above, and he recently obliged. Here’s what happened.

I was praying for baby Owen on a recent crisp spring night, when all of a sudden God appeared in front of me. He said, “Another person praying for Owen? Sheesh…kid just got here and he already owns the Place.”

“What do you mean?” I wondered aloud.

“In due time, my son. In due time.” With a snap of his fingers, I was whisked away from my bedroom, and into a fishing boat. As my eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight, I looked around, quickly realizing I was on Princess Lake in Ontario, Canada, my favorite fishing spot. 

“This, my son, is your Heaven.” God said no more for at least an hour, and he didn’t really have to. I immediately knew that in my version of Heaven, I was a solid fisherman. All of the inadequacies I possessed on Earth disappeared in the Afterlife. 

As God looked on, I noticed a great fishing spot: perfect depth, little bit of weed growth, a fish’s dream. My cast was on the money, and something massive bit almost immediately. I set the hook, but missed him. 

“What the…?” I caught myself before saying a curse word in front of God. “In my version of Heaven, I still miss fish?”

God responded, “What can I say? You boned it.” 

Huh…so God does have a sense of humor. After fishing for a few hours in Heaven, and catching some absolute monsters, God snapped his fingers with a bang, and the next thing I knew, I was in another version of Heaven. It was somewhat stereotypical. Clouds, harps, angels…the whole shebang. But something was vastly different than what I had pictured. Instead of a heavy white color scheme, the predominant color I noticed was orange.

“What’s with the orange?” I asked God.

“Ahhh, yes…the orange. Come with me.” We walked through a crowd of people clad in orange tones and headed towards a crib. There were beautiful women doting over the baby inside. God politely waved his hand, and they stepped a few feet back. Inside the crib was a very giggly Owen, chunky as ever. He was wearing a onesie that said “Got Orange?”, and was munching on, what else…mandarin oranges.

God began by saying, “About 3 weeks ago, Owen showed up on my doorstep, wearing this clever onesie. Before I could even finish his entrance paperwork, people started coming over to see the new arrival.” 

“Is that unusual?” I asked.

“Unusual? It’s unheard of. Fact is, I needed Owen here more than he was needed on Earth. He is going to be my Children’s Angel.”

“What’s that?” 

“Owen will be with the kids in Children’s Hospitals across the globe. Obviously, he can’t be with all children at all times, but he will get my most urgent cases, because he’s the right angel for the job.”

“So, why did all the people come to meet him before you let him into Heaven?”

“Well, apparently, Owen’s mother writes something called a “Blug,” and his story spanned the Living World and the Afterlife before I could even get the kid in here.”

“Do you mean a blog?” I asked.

“Did you just correct God?” God responded.

“Did you just answer a question with a question?” I retorted.

God stopped, having been bested by yet another blogger. He went on…”OK, a BLOG. Anyways, Owen’s story touched thousands of people. I understand his mother is keeping a big map and putting up orange thumbtacks to show the furthest reaches of ‘Orange for Owen.’ Little does she know that last night I placed an orange thumbtack on the ceiling of Owen’s old bedroom.”

“Why did you do that?” I wondered.

“To signify the fact that ‘Orange for Owen’ has affected all of us up here in Heaven. I’m normally pretty unaffected by stories like this, but even I find myself wrapped up in Owen’s parade.”

As I looked on in amazement, God pulled apart his robe to reveal an orange t-shirt, which read, “Once you go orange…” I also noticed Him wearing an orange “Chunky Monkey” bracelet. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed baby Owen had finished his mandarin oranges, and was standing up in his crib, sticky hands and all, looking to God for instruction. God simply nodded his head, and with that, Owen spread his wings and was off.

God looked me in the eye and said, “You have many things left to accomplish in the Living World, Jake. Go Forth…there’s a spot waiting for you one day.

Just before he snapped his fingers for the final time, I heard him say, “Oh, and tell Owen’s mom to keep writing that Blug of hers…”

***
Thank you Jake for sharing this beautiful image of where our Little Warrior now lives.  I’m so thankful to have met you and look forward to our kid’s wedding!

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June 17, 2011 · 11:42 pm

What’s Easier?

It’s 12:15 am and I’m wide awake.  My husband lays in bed next to me, sound asleep.  How is it that men can sleep through anything?  I find myself not wanting to go to bed because there are so many unfinished things to do.  But in the morning I’m dragging myself out of bed, just wanting to stay under the covers a little while longer.

I’m anxious because I feel like I have work to do.  Not only do I have dishes and laundry, but I want to find my direction with Owen’s memorial.  How ironic that after I have the answers to my questions – will Owen live?  Is he brain-dead? – I feel foggy and a little lost.  I had such clear purpose when this was all happening.  Now it’s a little foggy and I’m uncertain if I’m doing the ‘right’ thing.

I need more patience.  I learned that a few times during this process.  Just when I was ticked off at God about the tubes having to stay, he shook his head and showed me what a little time can do.  They fell out, I didn’t need to be angry at all.  Is this the same?  Is he shaking his head at me saying “Child, just give it a little time.  You’ll be just fine.”  Why do I want to take off running?

Is it that I’m scared of?  When life quiets down?  You know the ‘sound’ you can hear in the dead of night.  There is that humming in the air that you can only hear if you concentrate really hard.  It scares me.  When the cards stop, the emails end and the blog stats go back down to 50 per day.  What then?  Who will I be?  What will I feel?  Will I still wear orange?  Will I want to wear orange even more?

I find it ironic when people call me strong.  It’s certainly NOT a word I would use to describe myself.  I’m just someone who has a whole lot of weird and sad things happen to her.  I live in hope because it’s a lot easier than reality.  The real-ness of mortality and the end of a 6 month old is hard to comprehend let alone accept.  Hope, is light and sunshine, rainbows and unicorns.  It’s the belief in something good.  Sounds a lot easier to me!

The day after we found Owen, my pastor asked me how I was doing.  I said “Owen is gone.  He’s not coming back to us.  But Doug was still fighting.”  He believed Owen was in there and fighting to come back.  I didn’t know what to tell him when he asked me if I thought Owen would be ok.  I felt like I was horrible for giving up on my son.  I wasn’t fighting for him, rather I was just laying down and accepting what God allowed to happen.  Does that make me a faithful Christian or a horrible mother?

Pastor answered to let him live in the hope just a little longer, the truth would be told all too soon, and it didn’t hurt to let him stay in the shred of hope.  I thought … heck if he can stay there, why can’t I?  You know what?  it is easier to live in the prayers, acceptance of an answered prayer even if it’s not what you were hoping for, and the possibilities.  Dreams are way better than reality.

So I’m not strong, I’m taking the easy way out.  There has to be something good.  If there isn’t, then that means Owen’s life would have been a waste.  I just don’t buy it.  I’ve heard so many stories of how far Owen has touched.  I’m floored and so proud of my little man.

Love, Mel

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June 10, 2011 · 11:10 pm

My prayers to Owen

You know the saying …

“If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, its yours forever. If it dosent, then it was never meant to be.”

What a crock.  Honestly I say that because I think I believe in it … which screams the fact that Owen was never really mine.  He is the Lord’s … he always was and always will be.

When praying over Owen’s bed I knew if he came back it would be hard.  Brain damage was almost certain and he wouldn’t have been able to live a ‘normal’ life.  I asked myself so many times “What would Owen want?  Would he want to come back to live a dificult life?”  And what kind of mother was I to pray he come back to live in a body that might be more of a prison?

With every ounce of my being I prayed that he knew I loved him enough to let him go.  As a mother I’ve only wanted my children to grow into the beings that they were meant to be.  I want them to be happy in their own skin and to pursue their life goals.  You want to be a ballerina?  Ok … how do I help you find your way?  You love science?  Let’s sign you up for an awesome summer camp.  I strive to embrace who they are and to bring out their best qualities.

I think back and wonder if I had been weaker would God have given me my son back?  If I had begged him to send him back would he have taken mercy on me? But I didn’t.  I prayed that his will would be done.  I prayed that Owen knew he could do what he needed to do.  I told him it would be alright if he didn’t come back.  Dad (Doug) and I would be ok.  We would pick up the pieces and live on – care for his brothers.  I told him that I loved him enough and hoped he would come back.  But I supported him if he couldn’t.

I knew better … I know he was still there.  But I knew he wasn’t coming back.  I didn’t want him to feel bad about leaving.  I wanted him to walk up to those gates of heaven knowing that we would be ok … I didn’t want him to be scared.  I wanted him to know how much I loved him … enough to let him go.

So here I am … with an empty place in my heart.  A whole in my soul.  But I love my kids and I know he heard me.  My son died knowing just how much his mother loved him.  I have to believe that … what else do I have?

Love, Mel

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April 1, 2011 · 1:50 pm

Can I stay with Grandpa Tickley Beard?

Rachael and I got out for a quick afternoon run to the Dollar Store.  Jaden was so excited about the Dollar Store, we took him with us -  leaving mom with the triplets.  Of course as soon as we load into the minivan, Jaden wanted to watch his movie.  Boy was I glad when I told him we were going to talk and listen to music because we had the most precious conversation!

Jaden: I want to live somewhere where it’s warm all the time.

Me:  Do you like it better when it’s warm or cold outside?

Jaden:  I like warm – like the beach!

We passed by a cemetery and Jaden said that he remembered his “Grandpa Tickley Beard” (my grandfather who passed away August 2008).

Jaden:  I miss  my Grandpa Tickley Beard.

Me: Yea me too.

Jaden:  He’s in heaven with Jesus.  I go and see him there?

Me: No, I’m sorry Jaden, it doesn’t work like that.

Jaden: How do I get there?  Do I drive there or do I fly there?

– thinking he’s talking about how to get to his ‘warm’ beach I respond:

Me: To the beach?

Jaden: NO to heaven!

– I took a deep breath here and really debated on what to say.  Was I really having a conversation about death with my 4 year-old and how much does he really need to know?  Do I say the “d” word?  Or do I try to find another analogy to continue our “story”?

Me: Well Jaden, when you die that’s when you go to heaven.

Jaden:  Can I go and visit him?

Me:  No – it’s a one way ticket.  You can’t come back.  When you die, you go and stay with Jesus.

Jaden: Will YOU go and see Jesus some day?

Me: I sure hope so!

Jaden: Why do I have to stay with Jesus?

–another deep breath.  What do I say?  How do I explain the finality of death to my little Jaden?

Me:  Well Jesus loves you SO much that when he sees you he’ll want to keep you forever.

Jaden: When I die, I want to go to New York … forever!  Oooo It’s a bus!

And there you have it.  As quickly as our conversation about faith and afterlife started, it ended – in New York.

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