Wednesday, December 12, 2007

I originally penned this update in mid December. I didn't have the freedom in my heart to send it then. I was crying so much, experiencing so much sorrow, I had to keep this to myself for a bit. I decided that I was finally ready to share it with you.

It is very late and yet, my heart is so heavy right now(Dec 12th). These past three weeks have been especially hard for us. Going through The Promise was hard on us physically and emotionally. Last year will always reign in our minds because Rex was with us through it.

We agreed as a family that our favorite part this year of The Promise was during the song, Arise, My Love. Hearing the lyrics, The grave no longer has a hold on you. No more death sting. No more suffering... I can't help but think that Rex is not suffering anymore. He is there with Jesus experiencing something more powerful than we will ever experience on this earth. Lindsey loved that scene; she wanted to stop and watch it every time that she could. She would sing the song over and over. She has told me more than once that if Jesus hadn't come back alive that we couldn't go to heaven.

Lindsey had her first crying meltdown about her daddy; it was Sunday evening after the first weekend of The Promise. Last year, Rex held her quite a bit during practices, rehearsals, and performances. This year, I couldn't compensate for that because I had Rachael to hold. There were times when I handed Rachael off to someone else, but I tried not to overdo that because I didn't want Rachael to be over stimulated to the point of us simply having to go home. It was hard enough on her being away from home and her bed for many hours.

I believe that Lindsey's meltdown was a culmination of several things: her daddy wasn't here to hold her this year in The Promise; she was remembering him being here with us last year during all of this; she was very, very tired physically, and she just learned days before that her grandmother (she is very close to her "Ninny") has cancer.

I had tried to spare my kids of the cancer news with "Ninny", but she had lost her hair, and I knew that they would have to know that before they saw her again. I felt that the sight of her being bald would be harder on them than knowing she was taking medicine to help her get better.

On Sunday evening, December 3rd, Lindsey had already gone to bed when she popped her head out of her room and stood there looking at me not saying anything. She hesitated and then came over to me. Once she got in front of me, she started sobbing and said that she missed her daddy. I started crying too. I held her and rocked her and cried with her. I asked her if she wanted to talk about it, and she shook her head no. She didn't say anything else that night; she cried for 20 minutes or so, and then quieted down as I rocked her and held her. Once she calmed down, she got up and went to bed.

The next morning, she got up and was quieter than normal. She looked at me a few times, but didn't say anything. Finally, she walked over to me and said, "I still miss my daddy." I scooped her up and said, "I know. I do too." It was precious. I think she was thinking: I'm not crying like I was last night, but I still miss him. I sat down with her; after a few minutes, she spoke up and said, "It was partly your fault that daddy died. If you hadn't taken him to the doctor that last night, he would still be here with us." I wasn't really shocked with this. She wouldn't look at me while she said it; she was waiting to see my reaction.

Ever since Rex learned of his illness, Lindsey has shown an extreme dislike for doctors. She would do everything to avoid going to the doctor when she became ill; there were three occasions when I had to take her to the dr. while Rex was sick, and it was a real battle to get her to cooperate and an even harder one to get her take the medicine they prescribed. She really believed that doctors would make her sick. I can remember two conversations with her where we talked about sometimes needing to go to the dr. so that they could help her get better. She would listen, but I could tell she wasn't convinced.

Logically, that is what she saw. Rex went to the doctor; we learn he has cancer. Rex went to the doctor and he took medicine that made him sick (chemo); Rex went to the doctor; his pain was worse and worse; Rex went to the doctor; he was weaker. She has the cause and effect backwards. She thinks that going to the doctor caused the effect of Rex' illness. So...her statement was not really surprising.

I gently told her that the doctors were trying to make daddy better; I told her that her daddy would have died here at home if I hadn't taken him to the doctor that night. I told her that his organs quit working. I told her that God created us, and he put organs in our bodies that have jobs to do to make our bodies work right and that sometimes, they don't work right; so the doctors try to fix them with medicines. I asked her if she had ever had a toy break. She nodded. I asked her if she had remembered times when daddy or I would try to fix her broken toys; sometimes, we could and sometimes, we couldn't. She nodded again. I said to her that our bodies don't always work right and the doctors are there to try to fix them. Sometimes, they can fix our bodies; sometimes, they can't. The doctors were trying to get your daddy's organs to work right that last night, but nothing they did helped. Daddy couldn't live if they didn't work right. She said she understood, but I think it is going to take time for it to sink in. Her head knows this truth, but her heart thinks differently.

Monday, Dec. 10th marked 4 months since Rex' death. That evening, Erin had another meltdown about her daddy. It led to Amber having a meltdown and Lindsey just watched and listened. Erin sobbed for a good 30 minutes. She said that she felt like we were losing our family. She said that she knew that God had a good reason for taking her daddy, but she didn't know why. She wanted to know why God would want to take her daddy from her. She said that it was hard to see others with their daddies when she couldn't be with hers.

Amber started sobbing at this point. She brought up the song from Casting Crowns titled Every Man. Through her sobs, she said, "That song says there is hope for every man; why didn't daddy get that hope? I don't understand." I couldn't answer her. The premise of the song is Jesus is our only hope. It had never dawned on me that the girls might pull this thought process from that song.

We cried and sat together for almost two hours on my bed. I told them that I couldn't tell them why God took their daddy to heaven. I don't have those answers. I told them that God understood our hurt. I communicated to them that it was good for us to cry and talk about our feelings, that it will help us heal. Erin expressed that her biggest fear is that she will forget her daddy. I told her that we must talk of him often, remember him and he will live in on in our memories.

I told them that it was ok to write a letter to their daddy in their journals telling him how they missed him. Amber and Lindsey took off to get theirs. Erin hesitated. She told me that she hadn't written in hers yet because she didn't know what to say. I told her that it didn't have to perfect. If she just wanted to write "Daddy, I miss you." That was fine. So, she went off to write something too.

Lindsey brought me her journal because she wanted to dictate her letters to me to write. She dictated three pages to me. She repeatedly said that she missed her daddy. She repeatedly said that she loved her daddy. She said several times (her words) that "God choosed to take you from us because this was the best choice."

I don't know what Amber and Erin wrote in their journals. If they want to share it with me, they will.

On December 12th, we shared another crying time. As were listening to some Christmas music on the radio in the car, the song Christmas Shoes came on. We've heard this poignant song a few times this season, but I guess it hit the girls a little harder this evening. I looked over and saw Amber silently sobbing. I reached out to her and touched her arm. She started openly sobbing; Erin was crying too. I lost it, as well. We didn't exchange any words; we just cried for a while. Later, after I got done praying with them, Amber said she would like to have that song. That was all that was ever spoken about our grieving that night. There was something special about being able to cry together with understanding and leave words unspoken.

I was able to find that CD and give it to her before Christmas. She has listened to that song over and over. Why do we do that? We have a song that brings us to tears, and we opt to listen to it over and over knowing full well that it is going to cause us to cry every time.

I have cried so much in the past several weeks. This is so hard. Each morning, I ask God for strength to get through the day; each evening, I sigh in relief that the day is over; we made it through another day.

Matthew 6:34 has become so real to me these last few weeks. I have to take one day at a time; today is hard enough without adding the troubles of tomorrow to it.

Matthew 6:34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

I have never seen worry be productive. I believe it is rooted in unbelief/distrust. Unbelief that God is Sovreign. Distrust that He is faithful.

What is occupying your thoughts today? Are you worried? Anxious? If it will help you, get a piece of gum to chew, and as you chew on it, let it be a reminder that you need to chew today only.



Donna Meadows