Kindness Disguised As a Shake

Twenty three years ago I became a mom. Growing up I wanted nothing more than to be a stay at home mom and wife. Perhaps my dreams were idealized or my youthful brain downplayed the struggles that would come with it or I severely underestimated the toll my own adolescent emotional outbursts took on my mom but alas, this is all I ever wanted. And I love it. Maybe not every minute of it but I can't imagine myself doing anything else. 

We would have one boy, then two, then three. I settled quickly into the boymom life and it suited me well. I was made for this! Then.....A GIRL! Oh bliss, right? But all I can remember was being terrified. I still am most days. Growing up as the only girl in the house, I only know that I have no idea what to do with this tiny pink thing about 125% of the time. No really. When she told me at 4yrs old that I had hurt her feelings, I vividly remember thinking, "You have those already?"

So as puberty has made its rather unwelcomed home in my baby girl, I've found myself leaning more on all of the girlmom experts in my life and hers. I've been coached by the best to respond, "I'm so sorry honey." or not respond at all to the on slot of estrogen induced swings and tears. I don't have to fight every battle, I don't have to prove my authority. Listen more, talk less. Got it. 

Last night, in the midst of one such occasion, a stranger's timely kindness would bridge a gap preventing a canyon from growing. 

As a reward for helping earlier in the day, I took two of the kids to Whataburger for dinner and bumped the drinks up to shakes. With a single income, eating out is a rare treat and you NEVER get a shake. From a very young age, part of practicing social skills for our homeschooled kids has been that they have to order their own food. Only when it was time for my daughter to order her food, she started to break down into tears of unknown origin. I placed her order with the kindest cashier I think I've ever met. We talked about our kids and how extensive it is to feed teenage boys then closed out the order and took a seat on the bench facing the counter to wait, my daughter crying silently under my arm. About seven orders had been placed immediately before ours so we knew we were going to be waiting a while. 

As we sat there, my precious baby took my hand and looked up with tear stained cheeks, "Momma, will you cry if you're tired?" 

"Yes, my love." 

"Momma, will you cry because you know that you're tired?" 

"My sweet girl, right now you will cry for reasons you don't know and then you'll cry harder because you're crying and you don't know why."

I guess the lady heard us talking or saw the tears that just wouldn't stop. She disappeared behind the wall then reimerged with three shakes in her hands. She walked over to us, having skipped all of the other orders, took my daughter's hand and said, "Here you go baby girl. This will help." Through tears, my daughter saw a shake but I saw something more. I looked for a name tag but she didn't have one. I wanted to report the depth of my gratitude to her corporate office, knowing most of what they hear is negative. So I just said thank you and we walked to the car after getting the rest of our food. 

I sat there for a few minutes, still debating on how to adequately thank her for the kindness she poured out, when I finally told the two kids I would be back. I walked into the restaurant, barely able to control the tears welling up in my own eyes at this point. I took her hand across that counter and thanked her for the simple gesture she had made for my struggling daughter. I told her I feel like I don't know what I'm doing with a girl most of the time and how both of us have been struggling so hard lately. She replied that she has six kids of her own and knows there are those days but could tell that we loved each other very much. I was crying by that point, thank God no one had walked in to order food! She started to make her way around the counter and asked if she could hug me. She whispered in my ear that everything would be ok and we would make it through. 

I returned to my car to find our two kids that fight the most laughing together and talking about a game we all play. It wasn't the shake itself that saved our evening, it was the unmerited kindness of a perfect stranger. No doubt a daughter of a different one time Stranger who poured out unmerited kindness to us all. 

Be kind. Look for opportunities to love with the same grace you have been given. Say thank you more often. You don't know who's life you may change. 

Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up. Proverbs 12:25

The Story I Did NOT Want To Write

Below you will find a blog I began July 16, 2017. It just was not the time to share, nor did I have any specific direction to go with it. I still don't have a whole lot of direction but have been urged to share.

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In all the years that I've written the things I've shared, I've always stayed away from writing other people's stories. The experiences that other people have are theirs to share, not mine. But a year ago, during a casual conversion, Aunt Suzie told me she would consider it a gift if I ever wrote about her story. I took it under consideration & filed it away until the time would come that we would rally around her & carry her to the finish line, like we had done for gma.

This is NOT the story I wanted to write.

I, not unlike my family probably did, envisioned days & nights of keeping watch over her. Making memories that we would have to hold close on these hard days. Resurrecting that dadgum bicycle horn that she could honk when she needed us, just like gma had. Massaging her shoulders & arm with whatever lotion she would have chosen. Singing to her as she would drift off to sleep. Walking in to the room to see even a hint of that smile that would set our hearts at ease. But those were my plans. They obviously weren't what God had in store.

Thank you to all of the kind souls who attempt to lessen the pain with statements like "She's in a better place now", "No more pain", "Think of all that God spared her from suffering", ect. My head knows these things but my heart is a little further behind. My heart still cries one thing, "But why? Why her? Why now? Why so quickly & like that?"

If you never knew her personally, you missed the honor of knowing a true fighter. Aunt Suzie had cancer but it never had her. But that's not the fighter I'm focused on. She fought for us. ALWAYS reassuring us that she trusted WHATEVER plan God had. She fought so that those who knew her first and foremost saw someone who was so in love with Jesus that cancer didn't even enter the room. That's not to say that there weren't moments, days, when the burden that she carried got too heavy. But even on those days, she would reach out & ask people to pray for less nausea, more strength, less pain, more glitter. Her focus stayed the course & "But Even If He Does Not" truly was who she was.

She asked me a question one day that has been one of the only tangible things I've been able to hold on to lately. I've poured through texts, emails, messages for a date & cannot find it anywhere. The message simply said, "Thy Will". I remember going back & forth with her, giggling the whole time, as she explained she hit the send button before she finished typing. She wanted to know if I had heard the song.

Duh! Amy Grant sang it in the 80s, of course I had heard it. I grew up hearing it all the time. But that wasn't the version she was talking about. Hillary Scott released "Thy Will" after the death of her baby. I vaguely remember listening to it & thinking, "Oh, that's nice." but at the time, I couldn't relate to the lyrics. It wasn't until the week after she went Home that the song would leave me totally 

wrecked & relating more than I ever wished to do so:

I'm so confused
I know I heard you loud and clear
So, I followed through
Somehow I ended up here
I don't wanna think
I may never understand
That my broken heart is a part of your plan
When I try to pray
All I've got is hurt and these four words:
Thy will be done

We had such different plans. We proclaimed His goodness & our willingness to follow Him through the valley that we knew lay ahead. God have me a blog that would become the anthem we would sing, only a week before the popular "Even If" was released. A blog that I can't even go back to read. A blog written in a different time & place when I was so sure I knew the story that I would write. We followed through with His plan. Now here we are with broken hearts that don't understand. Through gritted teeth, I would make myself say, "Thy will be done" outloud.

I know you're good
But this don't feel good right now
And I know you think
Of things I could never think about
It's hard to count it all joy
Distracted by the noise
Just trying to make sense
Of all your promises
Sometimes I gotta stop
Remember that you're God
And I am not
So - Thy will be done

Nothing about this feels good. At all. And counting it all joy is a little hard when your glitter partner isn't there to call you, send you a text, sing you just one more song. My brain thinks it can begin to reason out the things God thinks about. One thing is sure though - I AM NOT GOD. This is NOT the plan I would have made.

I may never know why but I can tell you that day when I heard that song, our conversation immediately came back to me. Like a gentle reminder that she was ready when He was. That she knew there would be immense sadness & we probably wouldn't understand. A gaping hole where once our sunshine & glitter was.

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She was ready to follow Jesus wherever He lead her. I'm not sure that we would ever have been ready to say goodbye. So as I sit here tonight on the eve of the anniversary of saying goodbye to her that final time, there are sights and sounds seared into my heart and mind of that hospital room. A waiting room full of her friends with literal glitter sprinkled all around. The songs we sang to her. The seasoned ICU nurse that had to leave that evening because "I was just getting too attached to you all." Hours spent kneeling, face down, on that cold floor over my bible as tears dropped to the pages below, looking for, begging for His peace and comfort for the people I love most in this world. Taking her hand and gently stroking it during that 4am hour as my family tried to rest a little, wanting to not ever let go. Such a privilege they allowed me to be with her, with them.

Here we are a year later and we are all still broken. We are all still intentionally having to look for whatever glitter He pours out.

I don't have a neat little ending to this. What I can tell you is that just like with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, Jesus has been right here in this fire with us. Protecting us as the flames lick at our heels. Carrying us on days when laying in bed, crying all day simply seems more appealing. Giving us strength to put one foot in front of the other as He guides our steps into the unknown. Constantly reminding us there is coming a day when no heartache will come, no more clouds in the sky, no more tears to dim the eye. All is peace forever more, on that happy golden shore. What a day, glorious day that will be.

More than the sparrows

I know that what happened today may seem so very small to the vast majority of people. I am quite aware that my love of nature, nurtured by a mother who sees God in every aspect of His creation, is unusual and quite overwhelming at times. But today, my heart hurts in a way that I simply didn't expect. 

As homeowners, you become aware that your work is never done. There is always cleaning to do. Maintenance to vie for precious moments, stolen away from children that refuse to stop growing up for even one second. Trees and water have been our inanimate enemies for these busy years in the throes of caregiving with those we love the most. Following the clearing of the land around us, the dreaded pine beetles moved on to munchier ground - ergo the towering pines that inhabit our back yard. 

In the midst of all this though, we have had a pair of beautiful Indian Hen Woodpeckers to take up residence year after year in the magnificent dying trees. Circle of life and all.... So when I heard the commotion outside by bedroom window, I clambered to throw on some outside worthy clothes and my trusty waders in order to check out the crash I had just heard. 

Much to my amazement, the dead pine we were worried about the most had fallen in such a way that no damage was done to any property, despite landing on top of the shop it had been standing beside. Mom ran down the dusty trail to meet me at the back fence and we marveled at God's goodness in sparing our home from another tree - roof incident. 

We were so caught up in the lack of property damage that we temporarily had forgotten our beautiful friends who were out on their daily task of foraging for babies totally dependant on their provision. I mean, we just knew they had nested in the other dead pine that was still standing just feet away. But as we walked into the property next door, in order to further survey the damage done, the laughter and smiles gave way to sorrow and tears. 

Three of the most beautiful baby Indian Hens laid there, motionless, at the top of the wreckage now plunged to the ground. The only solace we could take was that their deaths were instantaneous as the top of the tree  hit the ground first. 

Being ever so in tune with their momma's emotions and love of all things living, my boys, who now all tower over me, gently held me close and just let me cry. They didn't mock my sorrow as misplaced or dismiss it as some silly overreaction to a natural event. They didn't scoff when asked to help me prepare a resting place for three tiny baby birds. 

I cried for a while, thinking about the momma and daddy birds, wondering if birds feel sorrow like we do. I thought about her entire clutch being gone in one fell swoop and where they would go now. I thought about all the loss we have experienced in much a short time and the glitter of God's goodness seemed to disappear for a moment. 

"Are you not worth more than two sparrows? I see when each one falls and I gave them you today so that you could take care of them, even in dying. I gave you them, though, so that you would know My love for you."

As a sit here now, I think about all of you who have come along side us the past few years and carried our sorrow. Those who have said,  without words, how much you love us as you gently hold us and just let us cry. Those who never hurry us along in bearing a grief so deep that it has changed who we are. Those who never see our tears and sadness as misplaced or lingering too long. Those who continually shine a light into the darkness so that His glitter is seen. It is through you we are reminded of His deep, unfailing love for us. It is through you we are reminded His eyes are on the sparrows. It is through you we KNOW that He is still watching over us. 

And it is for you that we are grateful.