9-29 Elisabeth Elliot had it Right

"Do the next thing." Or words to that effect.

That's what I remember Elisabeth Elliot for--that saying that means you don't have to conquer it all at once. Just do one step at a time. Keep moving.

At the end of probably the toughest week of my life, I'm trying to decide just what to write. I don't want to be a total downer--I just can't live life like that.

I had decided to give myself one week to totally wallow in my own self-pity. On Tuesday, instead of going to Luke's football game, I was on the couch watching 147 episodes of "House Hunters International." I haven't cooked since Monday. My kitchen looked like a wreck. I told myself that I could stay in bed late in the mornings (since I don't have to be to work until 11:00).

But, Thursday morning I woke up and thought, "Enough of this." And I set out to do the next thing. I cleaned the kitchen. Made the bed. Made a list. And you know what? It felt good to be doing something again.

Throughout this whole process I have felt like no one but us was actually looking out for Luke's best interests. For where he would have the best chance for success. So I prayed that God, who loves Luke more than I do, as hard as that is to believe, would look out for Luke. Would place him wherever he needed to be, even if it was not with me. And I meant that prayer.

BUT...I DID think that if God was going to place him somewhere besides with me, He would change my feelings. Make me believe it. And I don't. Make me think, "Yeah, he should go over there." But I never said that. Never thought that.

I guess that's where trust comes in. I don't feel it but I have to believe that God is looking out for Luke. That may be through some tough times. I may not understand it at all. But I need to just trust. And keep moving and doing the next thing.

I don't pray that he'll come back here. Now that he's moved, it is best for him to stay there. Imagine how hard that would be to him to have to move yet again!!! Changing parents twice is hard enough, I think.

I pray that he will be safe. I pray that he will not be sad. I pray that he will choose good friends who love God. I pray that he will be obedient at school. I pray that he will sleep well without nightmares. I pray he will know that we love him--always that.

This has been a tough, tough week. And I don't know when it'll get any easier. I talked with him on the phone today for the first time and had to sign off earlier than I would like because I was emotional. His little voice...

These songs calm me down. They remind me to Trust. I believe that God has a plan. I believe that I do not understand it right now. I believe that sometimes trust and belief are choices to be made--not feelings. So, I am choosing to believe.  (And, I must mention, that these are friends of ours in Huddersfield, England, singing these songs.)

As much as this hurts, and it is terrible, in light of what's to come in eternity this will be just a snap of the fingers. My mind cannot comprehend this, but I cannot see the big picture. I can only see this puny time in my little life that is nothing compared to eternity.

Thanks for praying for us. We appreciate each one. We need it to make it through.

Kitt.

Oh, and I needed to end with a happy, make-you-smile picture of my sweetie granddaughter, Payton!

Now what?

So, since it's all about me and everyone is probably just hanging around waiting for me to write the next installment, here's where we're at right now...

Do you ever feel like you're just on the verge of tears, so you distract yourself? I walk around like that all day long. (Well, except when I'm at work...then I'm totally concentrating on medical care and the cost of hemorrhoid surgeries...) One word, a certain thought, a hug from a friend can set me off. I've debated the wisdom of pushing all those thoughts away. Once I get going crying it's tough to stop. But you need to let it all out sometimes, right? I bottle it all up until late at night. Don't call me around 10pm, OK?

Then I look up at the picture of my little Crusader football player and try to remember what it felt like when he'd give me a great hug (or rub my earlobes. He went through a phase when my earlobes were "so soft" that he felt the need to feel them constantly. I thought I was going to end up with earlobes down to my shoulders!)

The best way I can describe what I feel like is to say someone has taken a cheese grater and rubbed it all over my emotions. Can you feel how raw and painful that would feel?

I wanted to go to his football game last night. I thought it would probably be good for him to see me and that I would still be there. But I couldn't do it. It just all seems too fresh. I stayed home.

No one takes theses dogs outside to throw the ball like he did every day after school. They have no one  to leave yogurt containers out that they can steal. The dogs are sad. (On a related note, anyone want two doggies? One year old, females. Papi-poo and shih-poo. Spayed. Complete with beds and food. Enthusiastic dogs. Exuberant dogs. Excellent with kids, but need someone who can channel their energy. Pip and Sparky.)

But...we can eat supper without constant interruptions. I don't have to be sure that I leave work by the stroke of 3:00 p.m. to go get him at school. I can sleep in next Saturday. I just had myself to worry about during church last Sunday. I'd give it all away to have him back.

I realize that what I am going through is nothing compared to some of you. Some of you have had to say good bye for the rest of your earthly life to your loved little ones. I feel selfish for my pain and worry. Some of you have been so gracious offering me words of comfort. It has meant ALOT!

One woman wrote that I will feel better someday. I will be able to sing all the songs at church and not feel like they're scraping that cheese-grater-ed emotion. I will be able to talk about Luke without crying. Not today. Probably not next week. Maybe in a year. That gave me comfort. Someday.

We dedicated Luke to the Lord in front of the church when we lived in England. Here is a transcript of that service:

Pastor Colin:

Lord, we want to just say what a privilege it is for this little boy to be in this family. And we pray, God, that as they seek to bring him up in the Knowledge of Jesus, we know that Luke is not here by accident, that Loy and Kitt do not have him by accident. He’s here on purpose in this family, he’s here by design in this family. And we know that this is the best family he could’ve been put in because you chose this family, so it’s the perfect family for him.

And we pray that as Luke begins to see church, begins to see the Lord Jesus in the house of the Lord, we pray that he will quickly get a revelation from a young age and he’ll begin to see Jesus for himself in a real way. From this age let him take into his spirit, into his heart, into his mind the pearls of the Kingdom an understanding of salvation and let this boy, called Luke, Lord, I pray in the name of Jesus, know what it is to walk with the Lord.

And I just sense the Lord would say this, “From the atoms that were created at the beginning of the galaxy when they were thrown into space, the atoms that were meant to be Luke were purposed for this generation.”

Says the Lord, even now, “You might think it was by default you took this boy into your family. You may think it was by default that you have him this day but,” says your God, “it was not by default, it was by design and, because it was designed and Luke this day is here, because the atoms that I created, the atoms that I put together, the atoms that were formed in his mother’s womb, were purposed for this day, for this time, to be in your family and,” says the Lord, “I will, even this day, come upon you and you will be like parents to this young man and I will give you wisdom. I will give you wisdom of understanding that you have never had yourselves, even bringing up your own children. I’m going to go beyond that and I’m going to give you a greater wisdom for a unique situation. I’m going to give you unique wisdom for a unique time for a unique little boy.

“And this little boy called Luke, even now, I gave him his name before the foundation and the pillars of the world were set in place. He is going to be a Luke. He’s going to be a master medical doctor in the things of the world. He will be a spiritual doctor mending lives, mending broken hearts, mending those who don’t know where to turn,” says the Lord.

“I have given him this name called Luke because I have purposed Luke to be the man I created him to be. And,” says the Lord, “even when you worry about him, even when things do not seem to be working out, remember what I have said--his life belongs to Me and I have designed him to function for Me.”

  

Pastor Andrew: 

Hey Luke. God wants you to know that you’re very special. You’re very special to God. You’re very special to all those people out there, isn’t that right?

God created you to a purpose. You belong to him. That’s why your name is Luke Christian. So you have to always remember that on this day God said to you you’re very special to Him and He loves you with all His heart and He has a big, big heart and He has some big plans for you. They’re exciting plans. So you remember that.

And I just feel for the two of you, just two words. And I kind of know the situation but I really sense, in my heart, as Colin was prophesying, before the beginning of time God had this day planned. And there are so many questions floating around, but two words, “God knows. God knows. God knows.” And in all the things ahead, God knows. Let that settle into your heart. The Bible says, “Even though my mother and father forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” And God has such a plan for Luke that he placed you guys in his life. Remember God knows. Don’t worry about the future. He holds the future in his hands.

I'll try to always remember...God Knows.

Getting Through It 9-20

Hello,

The past five years or so have been really hard ones for me. . . cancer, leaving for England, getting Luke, and now losing Luke. One thing I have discovered is that the way I process things is to write about them. Some crazy people have said that they like to read what I write, so I've started a new blog to journal all this, if you're interested.

Anyhow, almost four years ago we got our little Lukie. He was naughty...so naughty. I remember the first rest time I put him in. When I came to "release" him he had overturned his night stand and toys were everywhere. Another time he took all the knobs off his dresser. Or the time he snuck out into the garage during rest time and was playing in the Loy's jeep when Loy came home. He hightailed it back to his bedroom but left his shoes and a few toys in the jeep, so we caught him. 

He cried out during the night every night...not waking up, just crying. When I went in his room he wouldn't wake up. Just cried. The only thing that consoled him was to sit in my lap and I sang. And sang.

There were many days when he sat on my lap and we sang. Song after song. For hours. 

I remember the "Poopy Trophy." That coveted award was presented after someone went five days without pooping in his pants. He's still got it sitting on his desk.

We would take long walks. He'd walk or run beside me as I pushed the jogging stroller. Then, when he got tired, he'd climb in and eat the snack that was waiting for him. After a rest he'd get out and finish the walk.

We've sat at the dining table and played dominoes or Labrynth or UNO. I can do a 100-piece puzzle with the best of them (although I always saved the last 5 or so pieces for him to do). We've played Play-dough, although I'm terrible. I can only make snakes or balls. 

I've sent him to time out, sent him to his room, and, on occasion, spanked that little bottom. I've sat in the audience during graduations and programs and sports events. 

I've gotten in bed with him at night and played "The Question Game." How many times have I answered what animal I like best or what kind of car I would like to drive?

I think back to those times, then compare him to the confident, funny, obedient kid he is now. He still can be naughty and sassy. He still does things that drive me crazy. He still has much, much energy to burn. 

I love him. He's my boy. 

So, last Tuesday when the gavel struck and the judge said, "Guardianship is terminated." it was the beginning of the end. My little boy is leaving us. Saturday. Two days away. And I don't know how I can even pretend to do this.

Right now I can see nothing good of this. It hurts...terribly. I cry often. But I know that I know that God is here. That there must be some crazy plan that He knows. I don't always feel this in my heart, but my head knows. 

"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," says the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." That verse is written on the huge chalkboard in my kitchen. At the bottom are three little words, written in 1st grade handwriting...

"I Love Mom."

I love you too, Lukie. Always will.

Done Deal 9-22

Today has been one of the hardest days of my life. Back in the '50's (?) Ray Bradbury wrote a story titled "Last Night of the World." I have stolen very liberaly his idea in this post.

It's not like it should have caught us by surprise. There had been rumblings and threats and promises made for the past year and a half. Each time I would call my friends and pray and fret and worry. And each time, after time, the threat would go away. But last spring things became different. There was more influence than before saying, "You need to get him back." So, this time, the threats became real. 

The last week...the last night...the last morning. How do you deal with those terrible milestones? I considered taking him out of school and just having the biggest Skip Day ever. I considered doing something over-the-top crazy fun. 

Know what we did? We went to school at the usual time. We read our Bible story as usual. We ate supper together as usual. I tucked him into bed as usual. 

And, last night, I followed that pattern. That is what is best for our Luke. To keep his life, which is about to go into upheaval mode, as normal as possible. 

There were lots of tears by both of us as I lay down with him last night. 

"I will always love you. If anyone tells you I don't love you, what do you say?" (It's a lie.)

"If anyone tells you that we didn't want you, what do you say?" (It's a lie.)

"You will have so much fun living with Mommy and Nick. You'll have your room and your baby sister and new friends." 

"Why does she get to decide?"

"Will I ever get to come visit?"

"Will I ever get to see the brothers?"

"If you ever visit our church, please, please, please come and find us."

"We'll see you in 13 sleeps..."

Then, after we had tucked him, Loy and I had more and more tears. My friend, Debbie, says tears get the sad out. I'm hoping so.  

"You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book."--Psalm 56:8  I don't think a bottle will do it this time...God, you'd better get a bucket.

This morning was the regular "Donut Day" for Loy and Luke. Then they were home and we sat around and waited. I'll admit, I was a coward. Ten minutes before I expected they would be here to take him from us, I said my "good byes" went for a walk. It was no wonderful, sentimental good bye. He was feeling the stress and was really ornery. He told Loy, later, that he was prickly. 

And they loaded his desk, his shelves, his table (that we uncrafty people made for him), and boxes of his stuff--much more than he came to us with--into a truck and drove away. 

I don't wish them failure. I don't wish that he becomes a juvenile delinquent because he doesn't have my influence. I don't wish him to pine away for me. 

Now, on a practical note, my way of dealing with sadness is to clean. I'm about to go reorganize Luke's bedroom and bathroom and clean it until it shines!! 

I just wish he was back in his little bed in his room. My boy. Always my boy. I love you, Luke.

Breathe In. Breathe Out. Move On. 9-24

So, now what? I feel at odds trying to figure out just what I'm supposed to be feeling now. A person just CANNOT sit around and cry forever--at least this person can't. But I don't want to minimize how terrible the recent events have been by just moving on and laughing and joking.

Luke is my first thought in the morning and my last thought at bed. He wasn't that when he was living here! I try and think of those thoughts as reminders to pray for him.

I could make myself crazy trying to imaging "What is he doing now? Is he OK? Is he sleeping good? Who will notice when his little face gets "that look" that means he's sad?" Yep. I could make myself crazy.

Church yesterday was tough. After the service I asked the music pastor if he was trying to kill me. We decided that when you're going through something, almost every song appears to be written straight for you. I could croak out some of the songs...I wanted to proclaim that, even now I know that God is faithful. Thank you, Adeana, for coming up to stand by me! I will forever remember that kindness.

Moving on, I am a Grammy again. Alexis and Corey have taken in an 18-year-old boy, Enock, from Ghana. He's been in the US for three years but needed a new place to live, so they are assuming responsibility of him. Corey knew him when he worked in a Ghanan orphanage about three years ago. They have hosted him for two days but, so far, so good.

I called this blog "Remembering to Fly." I had a reason...really.

Loy and I were married when we were 20 and 21. Then, three years later we began our wonderful family. Four kids in five years. (And, yes, they were all planned. We wanted them close.) (And, no, Grant, Paul was NOT an accident.)  Anyhow, we had all these kids and their activities and were fully immersed in parenting mode. We purposely had them all by 30 so that we would be 48 when they were all gone and we could have our empty nest.

Then in 2008, four months before this empty nest I was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer. It put quite a shadow on Paul's senior year. After graduation we arranged for Paul to live at NWU with his brothers since our house was not exactly a happening place at the time. We were going to bed by 9:00 p.m. and I layed (laid?) on the couch...alot.

That fall we hosted a wonderful family of eight, the Zach's, at our house for six weeks while they waited to buy a house. It convinced me that I could easily live a communal life! After they left, we had approximately two months, then we got Luke.

So we haven't really had an extended "Empty Nest." I have concentrated on getting the baby birds fed and bathed. I have rearranged the twigs in our next again and again. Now that it's just us, I need to remember that there even is such a thing as flying. Time to stretch out and be me.

I know, I know. I'm being terribly hokey. But, it makes sense to me.

If I just wasn't so sad right now...

God, watch over my Luke. Keep him close, oh so close, to You always. Protect him. Give him a sense of the love that You (and I) have for him.

Thank you for friends who care for us and pray for us and sit with us at church and pick us up to take us places. Thank you that we know You love us.

Heal our broken hearts. Give us a sense of joy again. Draw Loy and I closer over this loss.

And, help us remember what it means to fly.

Starts Out Sad...

Hello,

The past five years or so have been really hard ones for me. . . cancer, leaving for England, getting Luke, and now losing Luke. One thing I have discovered is that the way I process things is to write about them. Some crazy people have said that they like to read what I write, so I've started a new blog to journal all this, if you're interested.

Anyhow, almost four years ago we got our little Lukie. He was naughty...so naughty. I remember the first rest time I put him in. When I came to "release" him he had overturned his night stand and toys were everywhere. Another time he took all the knobs off his dresser. Or the time he snuck out into the garage during rest time and was playing in the Loy's jeep when Loy came home. He hightailed it back to his bedroom but left his shoes and a few toys in the jeep, so we caught him. 

He cried out during the night every night...not waking up, just crying. When I went in his room he wouldn't wake up. Just cried. The only thing that consoled him was to sit in my lap and I sang. And sang.

There were many days when he sat on my lap and we sang. Song after song. For hours. 

I remember the "Poopy Trophy." That coveted award was presented after someone went five days without pooping in his pants. He's still got it sitting on his desk.

We would take long walks. He'd walk or run beside me as I pushed the jogging stroller. Then, when he got tired, he'd climb in and eat the snack that was waiting for him. After a rest he'd get out and finish the walk.

We've sat at the dining table and played dominoes or Labrynth or UNO. I can do a 100-piece puzzle with the best of them (although I always saved the last 5 or so pieces for him to do). We've played Play-dough, although I'm terrible. I can only make snakes or balls. 

I've sent him to time out, sent him to his room, and, on occasion, spanked that little bottom. I've sat in the audience during graduations and programs and sports events. 

I've gotten in bed with him at night and played "The Question Game." How many times have I answered what animal I like best or what kind of car I would like to drive?

I think back to those times, then compare him to the confident, funny, obedient kid he is now. He still can be naughty and sassy. He still does things that drive me crazy. He still has much, much energy to burn. 

I love him. He's my boy. 

So, last Tuesday when the gavel struck and the judge said, "Guardianship is terminated." it was the beginning of the end. My little boy is leaving us. Saturday. Two days away. And I don't know how I can even pretend to do this.

Right now I can see nothing good of this. It hurts...terribly. I cry often. But I know that I know that God is here. That there must be some crazy plan that He knows. I don't always feel this in my heart, but my head knows. 

"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," says the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." That verse is written on the huge chalkboard in my kitchen. At the bottom are three little words, written in 1st grade handwriting...

"I Love Mom."

I love you too, Lukie. Always will.