Father's Day...how we will be celebrating!

Honestly, I am not quite sure how to express in words what I feel about Father's Day this year. I have experienced such heaviness in my heart, as the day approaches. It has triggered my own childhood feelings of sadness experienced on Mother's Day, after losing my mom at a young age. It has caused me to feel bitter and angry that my own children, now face a holiday, much like I have for years...blemished by great loss. I have found myself wanting to shield and protect them from the sting this holiday will carry for them, most likely for the rest of their lives.

The last picture of the boys with their dad. This was taken about 2 hours before he went to bed that night and then suffered cardiac arrest in the early hours of that next morning.

I don't know if it's my heightened awareness, but the "marketing" of Father's Day is persistent. It's on TV, the radio, pop up ads on the computer...and it seems to be so constant. Everything dad. Everything about "remembering and doing something special for dad, who does so much for you". None of this is wrong, it just feels like wave after wave of it crashing our shore, with no end in sight. I know this will get easier to handle over the years. But, every time it's mentioned feels much like a dagger in my heart all over again, for my boys. I am thankful for my own father and for Bunky's dad, who are very much a part of our lives and we celebrate these men and love them dearly. I just wish my children's daddy were here too.

The boys and I with both of their "Papa's"

I find myself wanting to get to the other side of Father's Day, and wanting to do so quickly! It's almost like the long car trip, when every child asks "are we there yet?" a million times, and you know you still have hours to go. I feel like we will never get there. The anticipation of it this year, seems to be in slow motion.

However, this morning I found it interesting to read that Father's Day first began in July 1908. The day was founded by Grace Golden Clayton who lost her father in a town mining disaster. The disaster known as the Monongah Mining Disaster killed 250 fathers, leaving 1,000 children fatherless.

So, Father's Day began out of loss and remembrance of a father. I never knew!

Tomorrow will, no doubt, be difficult in a lot of ways. We will not go to church. I don't know what we will do, but that will not be on our agenda. I love to be in church, but Mother's Day or Father's Day, as a child who is without one, can be agonizing. Believe me, I know. We will do something to honor and celebrate and remember their dad and just try to have some fun together as a family.

The boys with their dad on his last Father's day with us.

I will remind my boys of the amazing father they had and the amazing Father that they still have in our God (Psalm 68:5), who promises to be a Father to the fatherless. I will remind them that because God has chosen special trials for them to endure, then they can be assured He has kept a very special place in His heart just for them. We will no doubt, tell some stories and watch some old videos of their dad who had an immeasurable impact on their 10, 7, and almost 5 years of life. A legacy, that I would guarantee had more impact than some father's have in a lifetime on their children.

I will remind them of (some of mine and their dad's favorite quotes)...

"A badly bruised soul is one who is chosen."

"Difficulties challenge our energy and our perseverance, but bring the strongest qualities of the soul to life."

"To burn brightly, our lives must first experience the flame."

"Many of the things that are most precious to us today, have come through tears and pain."

"God often chooses brokenness and difficulties as a catalyst to our faith and ability to bless others."

"Combat comes before victory."

"Fly the plane." (those who worked with Rod understand this quote and the story he used behind it)

Finally, not only am I thankful for the boys' father, for mine and Bunky's fathers, and my grandfather, but also a whole LOT of fathers and men (friends and family), who have generously given of their time and invested in my boys' lives for almost 2 years now. I know their dad must be humbled and honored to witness the amazing men who have never tried to step in, but who have lovingly walked alongside these boys. Men who have poured into their lives and have helped to put salve on a wound, in a way that only a man could for them. All without ever trying to step into their dad's shoes. There are no words to show my unimaginable appreciation for that blessing! 

1 month

1 month

In one month from today, it will be 2 years since Bunky died. To type that out just feels surreal. I have been thinking a lot about what was going on in our world 1 month before that day. It has caused me to stop and realize how many days just came and went before July 3, 2013. Days that held a seemingly insignificant value in the moment. There were too many of them. I wish that were different.

I say to myself,

"But if I had known then, what I know now."

"If only, I could have seen what was to come."

I couldn't have known. If I had, I WOULD NOT have cared so much about the stupid little things...like garbage overflowing or dirty clothes in the floor.

I couldn't have seen what was coming. If I had, I WOULD have spent that last month with him treasuring EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND.

I would have encouraged him more and criticized less. I would have kissed him longer and spent less time nagging. I would have appreciated how hard he worked and the time he poured into others lives. I would have demanded less and forgiven more. I would have spent more time praying together. I would have been less resentful, less selfish, and less concerned about how he filled my needs and more concerned about how I could fill his. I would have been more kind, more understanding, and more loving. I would have overlooked the toothpaste on the sink or the "not so great" aim for the toilet. I would have picked up every last sock off the floor and been thankful for every damn one of them...because it meant that he was here to wear them. Oh, there is so much I would have done different in that one month...if I had known. I'm sure there were things he would have done different too.

I have no doubt that Bunky knew how much I loved him. I also never questioned his love or commitment for me. I do know that over time, I didn't go out of my way to show him that love as I should have on a consistent basis. I didn't always cherish and respect him the way that I should have. Usually it was out of my own frustration for something I felt I deserved and wasn't getting from him. My vision of all that was amazing about him was clouded by my own bitterness over completely stupid and selfish things at times. That was wrong and not what God calls us to in marriage. However, marriage is made up of two imperfect people. Two people who come together with their own sin. Their own bags packed full of everything from shame, hurts, habits, and insecurities. Open them up and throw those bags in a room together and you have a laundry disaster. Only by the grace of God, can two messed up suitcases join together to pack a perfectly seamless and simple carry-on. And even the carry on, may not always fit into the overhead compartment. It may sometimes have to be "checked," but it's better than traveling alone with one big, bulky, messed up suitcase.

I guess I say all of this because I want to challenge those who know me, or even those who don't,  to take a minute and ask yourself this question,

"If I knew that this was my last month on this earth with my spouse, what would I do differently?"

That's all. Just truly try to imagine that he or she would really be gone and your reality as you know it would no longer include that person. Then, LIVE IT. Live it like it was your last month to live. Love like it was your last month to love. Give like it was your last month to give. Don't waste another minute, because I assure you...those minutes are numbered.

Today I have had several people send me the link to the Sheryl Sandberg's Facebook post, regarding the loss of her husband. I love her ability to put her feelings after only 1 month, into words. You can read her post HERE. It is really beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.


My favorite part of her post was this:

I was talking to one of these friends about a father-child activity that Dave is not here to do. We came up with a plan to fill in for Dave. I cried to him, “But I want Dave. I want option A.” He put his arm around me and said, “Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the shit out of option B.”

I am thankful for a whole lot of people who have helped me "kick the shit" out of Option B for almost 2 years now. 

If you are still living your "Option A," even if it's not always like you want it to be, please do not take one more single minute for granted. I assure you that I would give anything to have my imperfect "Option A" here again. 

May Madness

April came crashing to a sudden end. I felt as though I hardly came up for air, as baseball was in FULL motion. The boys' grandma came to town and stayed a week with us. She got to go to lots of baseball, which was a treat for her to see them playing the sport their daddy (and her son) loved.

We then seemed to rush full force into the month of May. Baseball continued on a crazy schedule with literally 2 "nights off" during the season, due to weather or a rescheduled game. Those were welcome nights! 

Cooper got the game ball after playing his game on field 5...Carson was warming up on Field 6 , right next to it, so he took his "game ball picture" with Carson in the background, about to start his game!

There were also lots of school activities going on like Field Day, Kindergarten program, 5th grade program, parent/student kick-ball game plus lunch, Mother's Day, Carson's birthday, my parents and sister and nephew came to town, Cub Scouts awards, IEP meetings, Cooper Trooper event and taxes due, and end of the year room-mom responsibilities and teacher gifts. All of this while our back yard is being gutted to do a new outdoor patio area. I'm pretty sure I am leaving out other things. I did get to squeeze in one night with girlfriends to do a "favorite things" dinner. We each brought 10 of our favorite things to give out to each other. So much fun. These ladies keep me sane....really! May is truly madness!  

Carson with Aunt Lauren

The boys on Mother's Day. We ate lunch at one of our favorite places...Garcia's, after church. I should have asked someone to take my picture with the boys, since it was Mother's day. Oh well.  

Cooper was one of the 3 Musketeers in his school program. He did great! He is with his teacher, Mrs. Norris after the play. Lots of memories and emotions stirred up on this day, because Colby had the same part when he was in K and Mrs. Norris and I couldn't help but remember how Rod worked so hard with Colby on his part. 

And the project begins! We are doing the design that Rod had dreamed about and discussed with a contractor before he died. Thankful to see his vision come to life, but I sure wish he were here to enjoy it with me and the boys.

Field Day at Trinity

Nonny and Papa with the boys at Chuy's

Colby getting his cub scout award

Me with some of my girls exchanging our favorite things!

So proud of my soon-to-be middle schooler

I'm exhausted and emotionally drained. I'm grateful for a whole lot of people who have invested in my boys' lives. I haven't slowed down quite enough for many of my feelings to really sink in. If that even makes any sense. I know I hate doing all of this alone, but the pride that comes with being these boys' mom, helps balance the loneliness with joy. Looking forward to a little more laid back June!

Carousel

A friend shared this example of unexpected loss and the grieving process that goes along with that. I love the visual and it is really "spot on" so I just wanted to share it.


It's like riding a carousel and everything is wonderful and as it should be. 

You have no fear of danger, then the carousel suddenly and violently stops, throwing you off the horse.  

You hit the ground hard, harder than any word can describe.  People rush to you as you lie on the ground trying to figure out what happened. Everyone is huddled around, tending to your needs, genuinely concerned. 

But they don't stop the carousel. It resumes, spinning and spinning. 

It appears that you will be okay and people slowly begin to move away. 

By the time you sit up and take things in, everyone is back on the carousel, the music is playing, and people are laughing and smiling.  

Meanwhile, you are still on the ground trying to catch a full breath with scraped knees, bruised bones, and a shattered heart. The crying doesn't stop the pain. 

Life has resumed, yet nothing about it feels like your life.

...because after all, nothing about it is your life, as you once knew it to be.


As the school year is winding down, baseball is in full swing, the temps are warming up, and the summer is just around the corner...a rush of many emotions creep in. 

I still can't believe in less than 3 months, it will be 2 years since Rod left this earth. Life has resumed. There is no doubt about that. I am grateful that there are still some people in my life who haven't forgotten and take the time to let me know that. You will never know how much that means. 

I feel like I have been slowly getting up and dusting myself off from the "hard fall" throughout this 2nd year. To most people it would probably appear that I was "okay" a long time ago. I will admit I am really good at that. But, as triggers tied to this time of year start to come more frequently, I know that underneath it all, I'm still feeling the scraped knees, bruised bones, heartbreak and vulnerability that comes with knowing my "safe" world changed in an instant, almost 2 years ago, and nothing will be the same again.

I don't say any of this for pity. I say it because I think it's so important to make people aware of. I just heard today of another mom in Little Rock, whose husband died suddenly of a heart attack and she is left to pick up the pieces with 3 young children. This world is broken. It is full of sorrow and dreams that are shattered. The only thing I can hold on to that is certain is my hope in Christ. All things will be made beautiful and new in God's perfect time. And, this world is not our home. 

I share this so that hopefully we will all take time to remember. If not for ourselves, for those who have watched the carousel keep spinning and could do absolutely NOTHING about it. So, even though the carousel resumed for some, it never did for the ones who suddenly had someone precious taken away from them. It is just something good to keep in mind. 

I think for me, REMEMBERING is the single most important thing you can do for someone after a loss. Prayer is certainly important, but if you don't remember, you won't pray...so do whatever it takes to remember well. Even if that means you need to write it on your calendar or put it in your phone to just let someone know you still care, you still think about them and their loss, and you still remember their loved one. Do it. You will never know how much it means, until you are walking that road yourself. It matters!

The Realness of the Resurrection!

Easter 2012

There is something extraordinary about Easter. It wasn't until I lost the love of my life, so suddenly, that I truly embraced the HOPE that the resurrection of Jesus holds for those who believe in Him. I have always loved Easter, and have been thankful for what Christ did on the cross. I have meditated on what it means for me, as a follower of Christ. It just didn't resonate with me in the personal way that it has, since Bunky's death.

When you don't have an opportunity to say "goodbye" to someone you love so dearly. When the expectation of that person being in your tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that. And the tomorrow after that. And many years of tomorrows to come...is completely shattered in an instant. Suddenly, your thoughts of the moment you will get to see them again are consuming.

What does that mean for me and those who have lost ones they love, especially before it seemed they should go?

It doesn't mean I won't still feel broken-hearted. It doesn't mean I won't be angry and wish it were all different. I do and I will. It doesn't mean I won't doubt God's goodness. It doesn't mean I won't wrestle with the "why's." I would be lying if I didn't admit the reality of my world.

It does mean that I will take steps of faith to trust God's bigger purpose, even though that feels humanly impossible at times. It does mean that HOPE in Christ is real. It's not some grand story. It's not something we can just imagine and fantasize about. It is not a movie or a book about something so far-fetched or far gone. It is not just something we talk about or listen to for 25 minutes on a Sunday morning, and leave as if there was nothing about it that was life-changing.

It is real.

Flesh was torn and ripped away. (I complain about a hangnail).

Torture and pain endured by a man who felt touch physically, just as I do. (And I think stepping on legos hurts).

Rejection, betrayal, mockery, denial and sorrow were felt emotionally and mentally, just as I would feel and be hurt by them. (I can be bothered for days, just thinking someone had critical thoughts of me).

Blood, dirt, sweat, and tears flowed out of every pore of the body.

Then, He took a final, painful breath. And he died.

It was finished!

It was real.

It is so unfathomable to think about what Jesus experienced, yet if we really break it down...it happened to a man with real feelings and a real body...just like us.

Except He was the sinless, perfect son of God...in a body with feelings and emotions...just like us. That's exactly the way it had to be, in order for our sin to be forgiven. Jesus needed to be made in our image. Just like us. In order to take FOR us, what we deserved...Death. I somehow still want to envision Jesus as able to persevere physically and emotionally more than typical man. I think it helps me digest the truth of His suffering a little better.

But, He was like me and did what He did, FOR ME. And, because of it, I WILL get to be reunited with my earthly love again, one day in Heaven.

I didn't intend to go off into a "Sunday school lesson," but my point is that I have never felt so passionate and alive about the hope I have, the peace I feel, and the gratefulness that overflows for what this man, Jesus, experienced on my behalf. I look forward to the day that, because of Easter, I will get to be reunited with Bunky. My boys will get to embrace their dad again. What a glorious day that will be.

I think The Message Version of this verse is cool:

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

13-14 And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don’t want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus.

15-18 And then this: We can tell you with complete confidence—we have the Master’s word on it—that when the Master comes again to get us, those of us who are still alive will not get a jump on the dead and leave them behind. In actual fact, they’ll be ahead of us. The Master himself will give the command. Archangel thunder! God’s trumpet blast! He’ll come down from heaven and the dead in Christ will rise—they’ll go first. Then the rest of us who are still alive at the time will be caught up with them into the clouds to meet the Master. Oh, we’ll be walking on air! And then there will be one huge family reunion with the Master. So reassure one another with these words.

He is Risen! He is Risen, Indeed!

It's Baseball Time

Opening week of spring baseball has officially begun. I guess you could say I have a love-hate relationship with baseball.

Carson is on the Warriors. He is with a lot of new boys, but some that he has played with in years past.  

Colby is on the Mustangs with a group of boys he has been with (most of them) for several years

Cooper is on the Rockies 

On one hand, I absolutely LOVE it. Love watching my boys play. Love the relationships I have made over the years with those we play with. Love the smell of the grill at the concession stand and the way the white lines are so perfectly formed on the dirt with the green grass outlining the outfield. I just love the game and the lessons that reach farther than the rules of baseball, and into the realm of day to day life. I love how each individual player has a particular moment to "shine," yet it is a team effort that carries the weight of how successful a season is.

Carson and Cooper (this night Coop had his last indoor soccer game at the same time Carson had his opening game) 

Carson with his buddy Addy Charest

Colby and Cooper before their games

The part of baseball I am struggling with, comes with longing for the one who LOVED this game with every fiber of who he was. Rod Cook was most passionate about a few things in his life on earth. His love for the Lord, his family, his friends, Alabama Football, beach sunsets, golf, and coaching baseball! I am so proud to watch the boys play the game their daddy loved, but it also rips my heart out, because he should be a part of this. The boys should be sharing in this passion with their dad. Instead, they have to settle for a frazzled mom, who is half-heartedly in it, because it just hurts too much. So, I continue to pray for strength and lots of grace!

 

Instead of being secondary support in the dugout from time to time, basically showing up for games, and worrying about getting uniforms washed in time, I am running like a mad woman, trying to figure out how I'm going to get in at least part of one of their games and still make it to another one. Who will I get to pick this one up for practice or bring that one home from a game? It's become a juggling act that never feels quite sufficient. It is only by the generosity of many who help me pull it off, that it is even doable. 

So, last year during this week, Rod was honored at opening ceremonies with a field named for him. It's hard to believe that was a year ago. This year, we scrambled, to get everyone where they needed to be and I teeter tottered between two fields, as I walked past the very field named to honor the boys' dad just last year during this same week. It is still surreal. I had to stop, take a deep breath, and choke back tears at the reality of it. 

I still picture him standing there on the field in his uniform, clip board in hand, spitting sunflower seeds. Intense as ever, yet smiling from ear to ear just ready to teach a kid something that they didn't already know about baseball. I see it as vividly as ever, and it still takes my breath away. Then, I see the sign with his name and I am quickly knocked back into the harshness of what is. 

So, we press on, and we will soak in another season of baseball...and we will choose thankfulness, even when so much is missing in this game we love. We do it for two reasons. 1.) Because it is what God tells us to do. (I Thessalonians 5:18- "Give thanks in ALL circumstances"), and 2.) There is not a doubt in my mind that it is exactly what Rod Cook would tell us to do and would expect us to do.

Take me out to the ballgame!

Beautifully Broken

God wastes nothing.
Do you believe that? Better yet, do I believe that? I have found myself attempting to really trust that to be true, even when my heart doesn't feel it. I know it's truth. Sometimes I just can't help but to look around me at all the brokenness and wonder how He will redeem it. When He will restore. What exactly, are His plans and how will He transfigure empty into full again. And, I'm not just talking about my own brokenness, but the brokenness of this world we live in.

Lately, God has been bringing up a consistent theme with me. I can almost hear Him shouting at me, "Trust me…I WILL make all things beautiful. I will pick up these broken pieces and make a masterpiece like nothing you have ever seen before."

Quite honestly, I have just had a really difficult time allowing my heart to expect what my mind experiences.


It was spring break last year, that the boys and I took our first trip alone. We hopped on a plane and took a one hour flight to the beach. I go back to a year ago in my mind, and it feels numb and heavy all at the same time. I kicked into "Mom Manager" mode, determined to make it. All the while, I remember being so aware of all the families around me, enjoying the beach, TOGETHER. All of them. Mom, kids, dog, grandparents, you name it...and yes, DAD. I seemed to notice more family dynamics, especially ones that included the dad. It felt like a dagger with each family I saw "complete". It spotlighted my lack of completeness. My broken family doing the best we could to fumble the broken pieces together into a jumbled mess. Nothing about it looking right or complete. Behind the smile and "I've got it together" look, I was a mess. I don't even know if I realized how much of a mess I was. Looking back, I see it clearly.

Today at church, I heard these words:

"A time of brokenness exposes the core of who we are"

Isn't that the truth? My brokenness felt especially exposed on that trip and I remember feeling so desperate for God to do a transformation of healing…and I wanted it RIGHT THEN!

One year later, healing is still in process. I imagine it might always be, because I can't quite see how part of me won't always ache. It will. That's okay. He can still heal and it doesn't mean I won't feel. The core of who I am is hopeful for that. Sometimes my lack of patience and trust just gets in the way.

I wanted to share this from Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. This was what we discussed with my small group of ladies that meets to discuss this book recently. Timing a coincidence? I think not.

God transfigures...Darkness into Light
                              Bad into Good
                              Grief into Grace
                              Empty into Full

He "makes everything work out according to His plan" (Ephesians 1:11).

I also want to include something that I read from a devotional today March, 15th. I don't think it is by mistake that this goes right along with what God has been saying to me over the past week. This is from Streams in the Dessert, by L.B. Cowman. I absolutely love this!

Christ is building His Kingdom with the broken things of earth. People desire only the strong, successful, victorious, and unbroken things in life to build their kingdoms, but God is the God of the unsuccessful- the God of those who have failed. Heaven is being filled with earth's broken lives, and there is no "bruised reed" (Isaiah 42:3) that Christ cannot take and restore to a glorious place of blessing and beauty. He can take a life crushed by pain and sorrow and make it a harp whose music will be total praise. He can lift earth's saddest failure up to Heaven's glory.

I pray that I will be a "harp whose music will be total praise." I'm putting one foot in front of the other, trusting God is bigger, that He wastes nothing, and His restoration and transfiguration of my brokenness are promised. Even when my heart doesn't feel it!

The bench at their daddy's grave came in around Christmas time. The boys wanted "Roll Tide" written on one side.  Love it!