Big Days

Originally written back in early August 2016:

Everything has not been awesome. I'm not sure where to start since there are probably at least two entries I should have written before this one. But I'm still trying to have grace for myself with all my shortcomings, which seem to be increasing exponentially these days. Instead of beating myself up for all that I haven't done, maybe I'll try patting myself on the back for seizing this moment of willingness to write instead.

Let's see if I can sum things up really quickly here. I had been dreading the anniversary of Libby's death for the past five months. In what seems to be a recurring pattern, the days before and after the big day/holiday were awful, but the day itself was quite decent and nice in many ways. Kaia's birthday was the day before Libby's anniversary, mine was the day after. I think I can safely say that Kaia had a great birthday celebration this year which was really important after all the trauma associated with her birthday from last year. So that was huge. Thank you, God! My birthday was quiet which was good after getting through the anniversary the day before. We got yummy sushi with some friends that night and that was good. So we had survived the three days for the first time. No small feat, that's for sure.

But there's also no rest for the weary. One week after my birthday it was our 15th wedding anniversary. This was the first year where I really understood how you could forget such an important date. I would have been very happy to just forego the whole thing. That's no reflection on my marriage. I'm so relieved I'm in this with Kurt. That as hard as it all is, I can count on him and on us. But I did not want to have to acknowledge another big day. I didn't want to celebrate, I just wanted to find an oblivion. However, Kurt wanted acknowledgement of our 15 years and Grandma freely offered up babysitting services for the night, so we were going out.

No, things did not really turn around. We didn't end up having a super, fun, romantic evening.

But it was somehow right and real anyway.

I started crying during dinner when a dad carried in his little girl. Kurt was about to do the same. We walked around a farmer's market afterwards, holding hands, but having a hard time being interested in anything. All day long I'd been trying to think of something doting to write him on Facebook or in a card, but no words really came until that evening together. I never got the Facebook post written or a sweet card done, but this is something like what I told Kurt that night:

Sometimes it's just going to be about survival. And that is nothing to be ashamed of. We have been through the wringer this year. But somehow I think we're actually closer than we were before this nightmare began. We've heard scary statistics about how as many as 90% of marriages will end in divorce after the loss of a child. But we have continued to fight for us. We have continued to say that divorce is not an option, so then it doesn't even become part of the discussion. And bonus: we both still want to be married to each other! Some years that could have been up for debate. But we have not given up. We have survived this year. We are battered, bruised, and battle-weary, but we're still here, leaning on one another to stay standing. There will be years that are more joyous and celebratory and I certainly look forward to those. But tonight, it is good for us to take the time to quietly and simply acknowledge all that we've been through and realize we're ready to do whatever comes next together. Sometimes just surviving is a really big, brave deal.

After our anniversary we were busy with trips and travelling which was all lovely and fun and relaxing. But then we came home about two weeks ago and everything was awful. We learned very early on last summer that a change of scenery is a very healthy thing when grieving. It was always so good to get away. You didn't forget, but the triggers were not so constantly in your face. The only problem was (and it's a big one): we always had to come back. So we also learned that the transition to coming home was rarely an easy one. This summer it seemed worse than ever though. Not only was Libby's absense at home so deeply felt, but the kids and I had come back on our own while Kurt went back east for work, so we were missing him and feeling the added emptiness so acutely.

On top of that, I had the new school year looming. The year that Libby would have been going to preschool, getting to be big just like her brother and sister. What would her language be like now? What new things would she be able to do? What myriad of information would have been revealed about her if she had lived this past year? Now I also need to wrap my brain around Max and Kaia going back to school. I would get overwhelmed just thinking about the homework, all the details to keep track of, all the activities we have to sign up for and then drive to, just a stunning amount of responsibility that is involved with going back to school, for parents and kids alike. It all just continues to be overwhelming.

Libbypops 2.0

It is not easy to make plans for the anniversary of your daughter's death. In our family we each want and need very different things as we look forward, with dread, to that coming day.

Kurt would like it to be a day for family, a small intimate gathering.

Max wants a bunch of kids there who we don't know: his friends from grief camp, because those are the kids who will truly get how he's feeling that day.

I think Kaia basically wants to have fun and for everybody to be happy. But if they're not, she'll be ready with hugs for them- and will likely end up needing some for herself.

Me? Well, I want everybody and their mother there. You said a prayer for us? You wrote a nice comment on Facebook? You don't know us, but Libby's story touched you? I may not know you, but you are important to me and I want you there.

And the thing is, all of us are right. These desires make sense. Unfortunately, they are not at all compatible, as luck would have it, which is why we were less than a week away from the anniversary and we still had no plans on how to honor and remember that day of days. The other issue, of course, is that it's just so dang hard to even talk about. We're not planning a party here. It's very painful to put ourselves back a year ago. It helps to attempt these conversations during therapy. It's good to have a mediator who is not so raw from running on emotional fumes most days.

A couple weeks ago I had my breakthrough in a counseling session with Kurt. We were talking about what we needed for that day. I delved deeper, because, let's face it, as a lifetime member of the Introverts Club (where we meet individually and don't talk about things), when do I ever want everybody and their mother around? It was a bit out of character. And with a crushing wave of emotion, I finally realized what it was I really needed.

I need to know that Libby made a difference. I need to know that her life mattered, that all this excruciating heartache we've been through has not been for naught. 

I want the world to be a better place because she was in it. 

And yes, she is all those things to our family, without a doubt. But I'm greedy and I want more. That little circle of us is just too small. I want her to be bigger. I can't have that physically, so I'd like to have it figuratively.

I came to the realization that I would be totally fine all by myself on her heaven day if I could have evidence of the difference she made. And that's when the wheels started turning.

I do know that Libby's story has touched so many of you.Your messages, comments, encouragement, all of it just means the world to me. So I thought, let's put some Libby-inspired goodness out into the world.

When Libby died the outpouring of love was beautiful, cathartic, and buoyed us through the hardest of times. One of the early tributes for her was an anonymous donation of five scholarships to the Village of Hope School in Haiti. That changes the world! Do you get what a huge difference that makes for those five kids? I love it! Another family saved their coins all year and then donated a goat, in Libby's memory, to a family in need through Compassion International. More lives changed! People I didn't even know used their artistic gifts to create precious Libby keepsakes. There were days where I knew I was being prayed for and I could tell that it was making a difference. What can you do to make someone smile like Libby on a swing? Big or small didn't matter, people were using the gifts God had endowed them with and as a result, the world was made better for the recipients of their actions.

So, if you would like to join me, let's put some good, some beauty, some kindness and joy out into the world in memory of Libby. Use your talents, whatever they may be, to do something you wouldn't be doing otherwise, something extra. Push yourself a little to see where you're being led. Maybe we'll even get pushed out of our comfort zones a bit. Anything could happen! It's gonna be wild! :)

I was trying to come up with a name for this effort, another hashtag perhaps. If you'll remember, we did #libbypops at Halloween and I was blown away by how many of your participated in that honoring of our girl. She did love her pops! Then I thought, why not just stick with #libbypops? Every act we do in honor of Libby is a little bubble-pop of kindness going into the world. I picture the Earth with little pink "pops" all over it and it warms my heart. We can share ideas and then also share about the "pops" we've done to keep inspiring one another. Just be sure to use the libbypop hashtag! Maybe I'll really get on the ball and make a Libbypop Facebook group.

And as this idea spreads to our friends and neighbors, let this mission be not just to honor Libby but for all those who have lost someone special too soon. You may be reading this and have no idea who Libby is. That's okay! Is there someone you want to honor? Someone who made your world better, and you would like to spread that joy to others? Then "pop" some love out there for them and then tell us about it!

If you're feeling motivated to do some "pops" of the monetary version and would like to support a Libby cause, I'd recommend the following:

Libby loved all things water, so we love the idea of providing clean drinking water where it is needed. You can make a donation here.

Last April Max and Kaia got to go to grief camp through Comfort Zone Camps. It was just what they needed in their grief journey and its value can not be overstated. Our family will be running/walking in the Grief Relief 5K in October to help raise money so that camp, which is completely free for its participants, can be available to those that need it. We would love to have you join our team, the Libby Loggers, or make a contribution to this worthy cause.

Libby Loggers

Facebook post from June 22, 2016

You guys, I am excited! Remember when Max and Kaia went to the great grief camp back in April? Well, that organization is hosting a Grief Relief 5K on October 15 and we are going to do it! When the kids went to camp we did not have to pay a penny. No one does. They didn't even ask for a donation. This is a camp for absolutely anyone that needs it and I want to make sure that kids who need it are able to go.

If you know me well, you know that I hate running. With a bit of a passion. I was probably in middle school the last time I dragged myself through a 5K. My sweet husband says I can use a scooter if my current plans of learning how to run fall through over the next few months. It would be so fun if some of our friends would come and do this with us! You can still register at the discounted rate of $25/adult and $10/kid, but that price will be going up, so hop on board (my scooter) soon!

But wait! There's more! Besides raising money for an amazing organization there's a really big reason I wanted to do this: the team name. We are going to be the Libby Loggers! Cuz we'll be logging the miles/kilometers! And also because the high school mascot in the town Libby was named after is called the Libby Loggers, so how fun is that? And we may just provide some Libby Lagers after the race too, because how extra fun is that play on words? (100% credit goes to my brilliant hubby for that one!)

So please join our team or, if you are busy living on the other side of the country, we would love any donation you could make to our efforts. Thank you so much! http://www.firstgiving.com/team/328234

You Will Understand

Facebook post from May 12, 2016

It's been 10.5 months since my little girl Libby died. So many things to say without knowing what to say. Obviously life will never be the same again for any of us. And while we have definitely seen God at work in all of this, sometimes my broken heart just selfishly wishes that there could have been a different plan for us. But I am so comforted knowing that one day all of this will make sense. In heaven His plan will be revealed and its perfection will be obvious.

Sharpie marker on washi tape. The tab is made from the hem of her jeans. Just one more way of incorporating her in my bible.

Sunflowers

Facebook post from April 21, 2016

Do yourself a favor and go plant some sunflower seeds! It's not too late! Last summer I planted a packet of expired seeds and absolutely nothing happened. Turned out the soil was really off from the pool filter getting rinsed in there, but no more! Those old seeds just bided their time, and this spring we were surprised with a forest of sunflowers! Such a strong happy flower.  

There's also some lovely lesson in there about how we are always planting proverbial seeds but we don't always get to see the growth right away, but I'll let you mull on that one independently. 😉

Life on Two Wheels

Facebook post from April 13, 2016

Further proof that our kids are going to be ok despite their parents! 

A whole lot of things slide through the cracks around here. This is not a new thing. My kids, 8 & 11, woke up yesterday morning still not knowing how to ride bikes. Embarrassing. So many reasons why this hasn't happened yet, but it's one of those things that leaves a parent feeling like they've dropped the ball somehow. 

Well, Kaia, realizing that self-initiative has its benefits around here, has been trying to teach herself to ride a bike the past week. I was watching her try over and over to get push-off initiated. She was not having much/any success. I left for 15 minutes to go pick up Max. AND WHEN I CAME HOME SHE WAS RIDING HER BIKE UP AND DOWN THE STREET! Whaaat? It seems the magic came from the gentle downhill slope of our neighbor's driveway that gave her the needed momentum. (Denis just makes everything on our street better, now even bike riding apparently. It's no wonder my kids call him the lord of the neighborhood.) Well, Max wasn't going to let his sister have all the fun. So he got on her little bike and once he got the Denis Driveway Magic, he was riding a bike too! 

So you're welcome kids, for the gift of discovering what you're capable of doing when you set your mind to it. For the joy and pride that comes from that personal victory. There will continue to be things we drop the ball on. And there will be lots of times where we make sure we don't drop the ball (and some of those times it'd be ok if we did drop the ball). This parenting gig is tough. We do the best we can, knowing what we know, and being who we are. But you are each pretty great, all on your own, independent of anything we've done for you. God made you your own special person, but it sure is great getting to watch your ride. 

Comfort Zone Camp

Facebook post from April 10, 2016

This weekend Max and Kaia got to go to Comfort Zone Camp. At home we'd call it grief camp for short, but believe me, there is so much more than just grieving to this camp! It's for kids who have lost a parent or sibling, and they get to come here and share and play and have this magical weekend with other kids and loving mentors who truly get it. I know we are only beginning to see the great impact this camp weekend has had on them and I'm just so grateful that organizations like this exist! Www.comfortzonecamp.org

Brain Fog Follies

Facebook post from March 31, 2016

One of the "perks" of grief/trauma is that your brain doesn't work the way it used to. Brain fog, they call it. Suddenly your brain becomes this thing you can no longer rely on to remember important things (worse than the normal age-related stuff). Kurt and I could make a pretty funny list if we wrote down all the stupid our brains have gotten us into over the past nine months. 

Here's my latest: a couple months ago I bought tickets to fly home to Virginia since my sister Grete was going to be in town from Switzerland. (Yay!) Lately my dad has been all up in my business wanting my flight info so he can pick me up from the airport. But for some reason, I couldn't find the email with my flight info. (I couldn't even remember what airline I had purchased my ticket on. Again, the little things that would be helpful in mental retention.) I also couldn't find any bills for said flight. I went back to kayak and determined, based on departure time, that I had purchased my ticket with American Airlines and gave them a call. Except I apparently had somehow not purchased said ticket. I know for sure I went through the motions of buying it, but I somehow missed an important Confirm button along the way. This is not what an emotionally-unstable woman should discover two days before her (supposedly) scheduled date of departure. By the grace of God, the same ticket I thought I'd purchased is not too astronomical now- once I apply for the airline credit card to get their added discount. But now as I make my purchase I am hyper-vigilant. The internet will not get the best of me again! So once I'm confident that I've made my purchase, I go about getting ready for the day. I check my emails. All sorts of welcome emails etc from American, but...no ticket confirmation! And my account shows no travel booked! Ah ha! It's them, not me!! Such vindication! So I go and purchase my ticket for the seemingly third time, making sure that I see travel has been booked. Once I'm confident there's nothing more I can do, life can go on. About an hour later, while out with the kids, I check my email and there are my confirmations. Yes, plural. I had now double-booked myself on the same flight. I won't bore you with the number of calls it took to get that straightened out. It was a big number, I just can't remember it.
The other perk of grief/trauma, at least for myself, is that I've gotten more perspective on what is actually worth getting really upset about. There were certainly tears initially, but even before I knew I'd be able to replace the ticket, there was some acceptance of the situation. There is a lot of frustration of not being able to trust my brain fully, but it does help me more than it fails me. By a landslide. And at least I'm able to look back on things like this and laugh about it. In the grand scheme of things, this is the little stuff. I don't want to have to take everything too seriously.

Update: As soon as I had posted this little gem I saw that I had a couple new emails. Went and checked those and, lo and behold, there are TWO requests for me to check in for two different flights tonight. One the flight I'd booked two days ago and one the flight I'd booked two months ago!! The flight they had no record of two days ago! So I'm able to cancel my newer ticket. The benefits there are that I get in a couple hours earlier and I don't have to sit in middle seats on both flights. There's also the added benefit of knowing I'm not totally crazy. Just disorganized with a memory like Swiss cheese.

Give Thanks in Everything

Facebook post from March 28, 2016

A little doodle with big meaning. Today is nine months since we lost our Libby. 

These words make so much sense to me, at least on a logical level. Yet I'm certainly not in a place of giving thanks for everything. I may never be this side of heaven. But I have seen God do so much good, so much healing over these past nine months. It's easy to be thankful for that. Without Him these months would have been pure hopeless despair. 

Over the past two weeks my grief has made a shift, and not in a good way. It's not constant, thank goodness, but it has given me a new awareness of how very deep this pain goes- deeper than I've been able or willing to go thus far. Deeper than I expected it to be. I think I kind of figured I'd been through the worst of it by now, but I'm beginning to realize that might not the case. And while that leaves me with a sense of dread over the unknown, I am so comforted knowing that I am not alone. God's got this. He's got me. He is bigger than my grief, bigger than my fears and weaknesses. He has placed the exact right people around me and my family. It is no coincidence that you are reading this. He has given us each other. And while I often feel like a leech, just thinking of myself and my own problems as I selfishly suck in all the love, support, prayers, and kindnesses I can get, I am praying that I will have awareness and willingness when it comes to how God wants to use me as I go forward. Because I know that living in His will is the best place to be. It's a place for giving thanks.

Easter 2016

Facebook post on April 28, 2016

Easter is a good day. As with other holidays this year, we just try to survive them. But the story of Easter, of us getting heaven this day, is a message so important to me- and, I imagine, to all of us who have someone waiting for us in heaven.

We also went and saw the movie Miracles from Heaven. It was often very emotional to be sitting there, watching parents watch their daughter dying. Max, sitting next to me, was often crying. (14 times to be exact. He was counting.) But I'd lean over and say to him, "Just remember, it has a happy ending." And that's just what Jesus gave us on Easter. A happy ending. The promise that all the hurt, sorrow, and pain we have now is temporary. Something more wonderful than we can imagine awaits us!

I'm Still Here

Today marks 51 weeks since Libby died. I know that number not from looking forward and knowing the one year anniversary is next week, but because every Sunday, usually while sitting in church, I remember the Sunday that she died, and mark how many weeks it's been. How many weeks since we begged the doctors to keep her alive until June 28 so she wouldn't die on her sister's birthday (June 27) and so that she could be an organ donor. We got one of the two. Libby died in our arms, as we shared funny memories about her, shortly after 12 a.m. on the 28th.

So surreal, so wrong to walk out of the hospital minus one child. As we turned in our badges in the lobby before heading to our van (with the car seat that was suddenly rendered useless), the people we passed didn't know what had just happened minutes before. Even now, no one can look at me and know the most important thing about me, that my daughter died. And isn't that true for all of us? We have to dig and discover to get below the surface of one another. We each have our own stories that are often surprising and not what one would expect. I remember listening to a fellow mom's testiony a number of years ago. I didn't know her well, but perceived her as one of those moms who just has it all together, has had a good life. Beautiful and kind, a happy loving family, organized, stylish, a strong faith, the whole package. But in high school she came home one day to find her older sister murdered by her brother-in-law who had then killed himself. I often think back on the experience of hearing her story, a story I never would have expected in a million years, and I'm reminded, once again, that there is so much more to each of us than meets the eye.

I'm always so appreciative of people who have the willingness and ability to take the time to really see and hear other people. I like being on the receiving end of that but struggle with finding the right ways to engage others. These days I'm grateful when I have the chance to talk about what I'm always thinking about. A dear friend visited me a few months ago and we were able to spend one day together. It was one of those perfect days.  One of the things she did that meant so much was that she read my Bible, the Bible I've journaled in this past year. And she didn't just thumb through it looking at the pictures. For probably close to two hours she read every word and feeling I had written in there. I can truly say my heart and soul are in that Bible and it was such an honor to have someone so interested in it, in me.

I wish there was an easy way to get to the heart and soul of people. How nice it would be if everyone came with their own book, or video that just got down to the business of who they truly are. Even before Libby died I have always been shy, unsure of what to say, what I had to offer, how to truly engage people. And now it's even more of a struggle. My brain is still not as it once was. The large majority of my thoughts are about Libby in one way or another, and I find it difficult to carry on varied conversations, even with good friends. How do I engage and learn about the people I interact with every day? Are there Pinterest pages about easy tips and topics to use in conversation so you can focus on others? Sigh. My struggle is real.

It's been four months since my last blog post. I'm trying to think about what to say to sum up that time. My absence here isn't because there was nothing worth saying. The previous posts I've done felt important, experiences and feelings I wanted to record and remember, if only for myself. So many of you have been so kind, not only in taking the time to read what I write (even though brevity is clearly not my strong suit), but to also praise my writing. It's so very flattering to hear that, but the truth is, writing is not easy for me. Yes, a lot of the writing I have done this year has flowed  and been very therapeutic, but even then there's still lots of detail work in the editing which can be a lot on my brain. In short, these past months have been a time when the thought of writing a blog post just seemed very intimidating and exhausting. I went through a pretty bad episode of depression as well. Everything in life felt overwhelming. The really bad days, which previously had never been more than one at a time, were now much more consistent and it was increasingly difficult to maintain a good mood. Everything was overwhelming and hard. Everything irritated me, especially if it was said or done by someone to whom I was married. And my sweet husband, he put up with me beautifully, stepping up and filling in all the areas I was leaving empty.

Grief mixed with depression was a whole new beast. I described it where Grief is your bad roommate. You don't like them, but you've gotten used to them, you know their habits, and generally what to expect. But then all of a sudden their evil-er twin shows up and everything is different and you have no idea what to expect, only you know none of it will be good. That's grief plus depression and let me tell you, it bites. I met with a new doctor and after 15 minutes of talking to me she suggested I see a psychiatrist for anti-depressants. And in the meantime she would just write me a prescription so I could get started on something right away. Excuse me? I was a bit shocked. This was a doctor who had gotten many of my friends off of their anti-depressants. And she had just met me! How could she know after a brief conversation with me? It's not like I sat crying in her office (well, not much anyway). I was still able to get out of bed. I got the basics done. Where do you draw the line to say what's grief and what's depression? I recounted this to my therapist who knows me. To my surprise she also applauded the suggestion of  medicating me. Well, I started on the meds and things just got worse. Another month, another medication, but still things continued to worsen. My therapist sent me back to my psychiatrist immediately. He didn't  change the medication but upped the dosage a bit. I'm telling you, after one full dose, I woke up like a new person. It was amazing. It was as if the final number of the combination had clicked into place and the vault was opened, with the treasure being my sanity, getting my self back. All of  a sudden life, my emotions, my family, were all bearable. I could still feel sad and cry and grieve, but I could also be happy and experience joy and take interest in life again. To see how my brain reacted to the medication, it was clear there was a chemical imbalance going on. How grateful I am to live in a time where there are treatments when our bodies can't fully regulate themselves and need a little assistance.

So I'm doing better now and that is such a relief. I didn't have any clear direction as I sat down to write tonight, but I thought I just needed to get something down, for my own well-being so I can show my brain it's not as bad as I make it out to be. I know I'm all over the place here and I know when I post it there will still be typos and and it won't be very tightly written, but it will be written and sometimes it doesn't need to be perfect, it just needs to be done. There's accomplishment in simply doing something, finishing something.

So tonight, after just one round of proofreading (instead of at least three), I'm calling this done. This was a good warm up for me, because with the impending anniversary, there are more, harder things to write. Maybe my brain will start believing it's not so hard. Or maybe I will realize I can do hard things and sometimes just getting through it is hard enough and I don't need to expect more than that.

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

So I had my first Libby dream.

It wasn't something I was anxiously awaiting. I'd heard from some other loss parents that they didn't have their first dream until more than a year later. I realized I couldn't control when it happened. I was also a bit nervous, because what if it was a bad dream? It could really go either way, it seemed.

It was the night the kids had gotten back from winter camp. An emotional night for me and I'd gone to bed early. As I awoke the next morning I lay there stunned, realizing I'd had my first Libby dream. Immediately I started working to bring the deails back to my consciousness, not wanting anything to slip away. Once I felt I had a grasp of it I ran to the computer to write it down so I wouldn't forget. And I figured if I was typing it up I might as well be typing it in an email that I send to my aunt, a psychologist specializing in dream work.

There were three distinct sections to my dream. In the first section I'm walking with Kaia, taking her to a birthday party. We're walking apart from each other in this big open area, maybe a desert or large field. She's forgotten her shoes which frustrates me. I'm missing my purse which worries me. Suddenly, as if rounding a corner that's not there, a large cream-colored office building is in front of us and this is our destination. Upstairs is like airport security. They're asking for my ID, my passport. I tell them I'm just there to bring my daughter to a birthday party (which is downstairs, maybe a pool party) and that I don't have my purse. But I suddenly discover I have a little pouch which contains my credit card, passport and chapstick.

I must have been ready for my trip because the next part of the dream finds me in the simple room of a high-rise apartment building in a gray, urban area. I'm looking out the window, maybe 10-15 flights up. My mom is in the back kitchen. As I'm sitting at the window, I see above me this telephone wire and there are these three young lambs (or goats, I wasn't exactly sure which) and they are about to start walking across the telephone wire from my building. My mom and I are so worried for them! But they come out on the wire and they're just breezily, playfully tripping along, even doing these four-legged pirhouettes on the wire. But just as I'm beginning to relax, one of the lambs jumps/falls from the telephone wire. The other two quickly follow suit. They weren't scared or sad as they tumbled from the wire, but as their bodies hit the roof of the gray maintenance shed far below I heard the breaking of their bones. Oh, I was heartbroken! I told my mom and she was so upset. I wanted to go after the lambs. I ended up outside but in a place where the scenery was so different from the gray city. It was this beautiful wooded glen with vibrant green leaves and grass as the bright sunlight came shining through. There was a man there, though I could not see him. He had been caring for the lambs and all three were there and they were fine, walking and playing about!

The third  and final part of my dream takes place in your basic grassy, tree-shaded park. Our whole family is there: Kurt, me, Max, Kaia, and our little Libby. And, thank you so much for this, Jesus, I got to sit in the grass and hold all three of my kids on my lap. I got to wrap my arms around them and feel them against me once more. (Let's just all take a moment to pause in appreciation for the gift of those moments!!) Then the five of us are walking through a town, a town that reminds me of those we'd seen in Europe. I knew that Libby was supposed to be dead, so I was watching the other pedestrians to see if they would/could look at her. I saw that they could see her so I knew she wasn't a ghost. Then we got the kids in the car to leave. A Volvo, I believe.

The next thing I remember is waking up. I was so relieved that it had been a nice dream, if a bit weird. So here are some analytical notes on my dream, brought to you by professionals who know way more than I do. (Along with some of my non-professional musings.)

From the first section: Missing shoes in a dream can mean that your soul is exposed or vulnerable. (If the shoe fits, wear it.) A missing purse (or wallet) can be indicative of a loss of identity. That certainly resonates with me as I'm trying to figure out what is next for me. The little pouch of essentials that shows up is maybe trying to tell me that I already have what I need for what's next. Whether in life or in my dream, who knows.

In the second section, the three lambs obviously represent my children. (Even now, I can't say definitively whether they were lambs or baby goats. I started calling them lambs, but later that same day something suddenly struck me. What are baby goats called? Kids! So fitting.) I never actually saw my mom in the dream, but her presence was so very strong. This whole section seems to be about motherhood, so it's very fitting that she's there. Because isn't this what parenting is like sometimes? Having to let our kids go out on the proverbial tightrope, to learn things on their own, to make their own mistakes. Sometimes our worry gets replaced with relief and excitement when we realize how capable they are and sometimes there are feelings of horror when things go terribly wrong. So there was my mom. With me. She was so concerned and then sad about the lambs, but she also had the added pain of seeing me, her own kid, hurting and scared. Added layers of grief. But then we're found in the bright presence of God and the lambs are perfectly fine. Because whatever the circumstances, it's through God that our children will ultimately find the purpose and happiness we wish for them.

The third section is the most straight-forward, the most real. And what a gift that is in itself! I recall teenage dreams where a cute boy is maybe about to kiss me and it's so super cool... except I would always wake up before the kiss actually happened! So disappointing! But this time I got the full experience of holding all three of my kids together! Nothing was rushed. We sat and when we were done we walked away, preparing to drive away together.

And because God works the way He does, there are some more fun twists to this story.

Kurt had his first Libby dream the same night! Crazy, right?! His was an auditory dream, he awoke to hear her calling his name, Dada, in the way she always did. What's also interesting to me is that while there was talking and sound in the first two sections of my dream, there was none in the third section which was also the section where both Kurt and Libby made their appearances. It was as if the sound from my dream just hopped over to his! (My aunt, the dream specialist, says that it's actually fairly common for spouses to have similar dreams, but since we don't often talk about our dreams together it goes by unnoticed. She once dreamt that she asked her husband to wash the dog and the same night he dreamt that he washed the dog. Kind of fun, huh?)

The timing was also certainly God's. You may remember some months back that when I had gone to count up the number of days that Libby had lived, I was shocked to find that she had lived for 629 days. Those numbers have always been significant because they are the numbers in my birthday, 6/29. It felt like God's way of letting me know that she was a gift, that that's what her purpose had been. Not just for me, or our family, but for everyone whose own life has been at all impacted by her story. Well, this dream came to us in the sixth month and on the 29 week anniversary of her death. Looking back, I should have almost been expecting something from God on that date! What a wonderful reaffirmation He gave us. I just can't imagine a better gift than this dream and having been able to spend some moments with my whole family together.

Bonus: Within the week I had my second Libby dream, which felt like an abundance after the gift of the first dream. Not that I was about to complain!

In this dream I'm at home and my mother-in-law brings the three kids home from an outing. Have you ever left your baby or child home without you for a couple days? As you were coming home did you wonder things like, Will they still recognize me? Will they be upset with me for leaving them? Well, that was the big question on my mind as I went out to see Libby. We were in our house and she had her back to me as I approached. Would she know me? Be angry with me? But she turned around and her face was full of love, delight, and joy as she looked at me.

No interpretation needed. Even as I write this I'm crying to remember that love from my girl. I can not wait for the day when I will get to see her smiling face in person and feel her arms wrapped around me again! In the meantime, though, this is the stuff that my dreams are made of. I am beyond grateful to have these nocturnal memories to tide me over until the days God has planned for me are done.

About the Bible journaling page. I tried to add powerful images from my dream to the page. I knew there was no way I could put the sensation of being able to hold my three kids in my lap on the page, so that's just going to have to stay in my heart for now. When I first made the 629 discovery I found a verse for that experience by going through the Bible and looking up every chapter 6, verse 29. (They're not in every book, so it's not too daunting!) So my original 629 page is on Mark 6:29, "When the disciples heard of it, they came and took his body and laid it in a tomb." Seems kind of fitting for our situation then, doesn't it? 
Because of the 629 connection with the dream I decided to try this method again. I didn't have to go too far. 2 Chronicles 6:29 (with a snippet from verse 30) seemed to fit our situation today. We're in a season of grieving, calling out to God, craving relief from Him. From heaven He hears us and sends us His gifts, knowing exactly what we need. 

More Beauty from Ashes

No, I'm so sorry, this is not the dream post. I promise that it's coming! I'm so honored that so many of you are so eager to hear about my Libby dream! It'll be done soon, but in the meantime I had myself a little moment at the Ash Wednesday service and I just wanted to share that as well. Thank you God for continuing to surprise me after all these years, for letting me always have more of You to learn.

Facebook post:

Sometimes when we hear the same words, the same messages over and over they can lose some of their impact.

There was a safe familiarity for me tonight, sitting in the Ash Wednesday service. We heard messages about the sacrifice Christ made so that we could have heaven. There was reflection certainly, but also comfort, like slipping your cold feet into a pair of well broken in slippers. It was familiar and reassuring. As we sang songs on the same themes, certain lyrics struck a chord. "Jesus paid it all / All to Him I owe," and from another song, "Oh praise the One who paid my debt / And raised my life up from the dead."

Our family obviously continues to have death on the brain. That mindset then naturally intertwines inself into song lyrics like these. And this has never happened before, since I am not at all musical, but I found myself adjusting the lyrics.

"Jesus paid it all... for Libby, All to Him I owe."

"Oh praise the One who paid her debt,
And raised her life up from the dead."

In that moment, I had a whole new understanding of Lent. I've heard my whole life about what He's done for me, for everyone. And I know that it is true and good. I'm so grateful for that gift, the promise that we'll get to have forever in heaven. But as I put my child's name into these lyrics... wow.

Who do you love more than yourself? Who would you protect at all costs? Put their name, the enormity of your love for them in these lyrics. All of a sudden I had learned a whole new level of gratitude for what Christ had done. One Parent helping out this parent's child in a way I could never do for her myself. I truly do owe Him everything. He saved my girl. He gave her a glorious, joy-filled life after she died. He gave me the gift of being able to say, with confidence, these past seven months, "I know she's doing awesome. We just really miss her."

Home Alone: Parent's Edition

A few weeks ago Max and Kaia went to Winter Camp at Forest Home with other kids from our church. It was the first time they'd both been gone overnight together since Libby died.

The last time they were both gone was when they went to Summer Camp at Forest Home. They got back from that camp on Friday, June 26 and a few hours later Libby had her accident.

You could say that there were some feelings going into this camp weekend.

I wasn't worried about Max and Kaia going to camp. They love this sort of thing and were excited to go back. Max had done other camps last summer after Libby died so he had mostly gotten over his "if I go to camp, someone I love is going to die" concern. Kaia was just ready for a good time, as usual. But Mama wasn't doing so well. It was all too parallel and was dredging things up  from those last days more than ususal.

I remember dropping the kids off for camp back in June. Libby wasn't with me, and a fellow mom, with a little one in tow, saw that I had two kids heading off for the week. She made a comment about how lucky I was to be kid-free. I wish, I thought and maybe even said. But with a small sigh as I did the math, I knew it would probably be the better part of a decade before we might have the timing work where we would have all the kids out of the house simultaneously for a whole weekend.

Because isn't that what us parents of young ones dream about some days? To be kid-free for a week, a day, even an hour? And even now, I can't really feel guilty for that feeling. It's real. Because parenting is hard and exhausting along with all the fun and beautiful.

But now things are different obviously. I felt no excitement at being kid-free for the weekend. Parenting is still hard, but this was not how it was supposed to be, this was not what I had planned. We were not supposed to have child-free freedom. We were supposed to take turns waking up early with Libby while we prayed for long naps and early bed times. We would have spent the weekend trying to keep Libby entertained without her brother and sister around. We were supposed to be able to focus on her, give her some of that undivided attention that can be lacking for a third child. But these were clearly my plans and not God's.

Recently in my moms group our speaker Debbie Williamson talked about how there is no Plan B. God has only a Plan A. We may have other plans, but they're not necessarily His plans. In Jeremiah 29:11 God says He knows the plans He has for us. He's known those plans since the beginning of time. It doesn't just mean He knows what college we'll go to, who we'll marry, where we'll live. He knows our daily plans, what we write down on calendars and to-do lists, He knows the things that seem so unexpected to us. God has always known that Kurt and I would be getting our child-free weekends much sooner than we'd anticipated. He didn't cause it, but he knew it. He knew that my heart would be aching with renewed vigor, He knew that Kurt and I could actually really benefit from this time alone, and He knew we would need some extra comfort.

So back to Winter Camp drop-off. It was hard. Going through all the same steps of signing them in, dropping off luggage and sleeping bags, the buzzing excitement among the kids. It was all too familiar. I was probably the only one wearing sunglasses on that gray afternoon and pretty soon I just had to hand the reins over to Kurt. I said an early good-bye to my excited kids and let myself have a good cry in the car. That was the feeling for me that Friday.

God's mercies are new every morning, and Saturday brought less immediate heartache. We slept in a bit and enjoyed a lazy morning making plans for the day. Kurt and I had fun going thrift store shopping together and just hanging out, having no place we needed to be. That evening we drove to Pasadena. We decided that since we were kid-free we would be European, so I made  9:30 pm dinner reservations. Pretty wild, I know, but sometimes you have to let loose. We saw the lovely movie Brooklyn and enjoyed a great dinner. It had been a good day and I was so grateful for that. It would have been so easy for our grief, our emotions to take over and rule the day, but God had other plans.

And suddenly it was Sunday and the kids were back. Honestly, I wouldn't have minded if they got back a little later. I was really enjoying my time with Kurt. Marriage is hard. Marriage while you try to navigate your grief, your spouse's grief... it can be brutal. So it was really nice to be reminded of how much we enjoy each other's company and to see that we can still make each other laugh. (My favorite from our date night was when we were driving to Pasadena. We were both quiet as us introverts tend to be. Kurt looks at me and says, "So I guess you're just saving up all your conversation topics for dinner, huh?" Maybe you had to be there, maybe you have to be an intorvert to get it, but it sure did make me laugh. We've still got it.)

But now Max and Kaia were home and things were back to feeling parallel. They came home with the same level of excitement and exhaustion, though not quite as much dirt as a week of summer camp accumulates. Our activities were similar to that June afternoon 29 weeks ago, as we all seemed lulled by our exhaustion. I saw the similarities but didn't try to change things because what good was that going to do?

I went to bed early that night. Sometimes when the days or hours are hard, sleep is the escape. When I first woke up the next morning I just lay there in bed, stunned.

I had had my first Libby dream.

Hidden in a Night Sky

Facebook post, January 23, 2016

Do you see anything in this night sky?

This is an older page. I did all the purple and gold back in early December as part of an advent journaling devotional. But I never got to the stars or lettering. They take a long time, I didn't have a good white pen, and it just got busy as that time of year always does. Lots of excuses.

Fast forward to Dec 30. Our CA family is in Va visiting my family there. I'm out to lunch with two sweet friends. Gretchen, my good buddy from high school, with whom I have all sorts of fun memories, and Lyn, who I also went to high school with... and don't remember at all. (It's not her, it's me. Looking back there's probably a lot I missed just being wrapped up in my own insecurities. Pretty sad.) But Lyn friended me after Libby died and was very sweet. Unfortunately, a month later Lyn would have to go through something all too familiar when her daughter Lindsey was stillborn. And I think that's why God had our paths cross again 20 years after high school. We connected over our loss, faith, and bible journaling. And that's what brought the three of us to a lunch table at a Mexican restaurant in northern Virginia. The conversation was real, as the three of us discussed our challenges, concerns, and joys. It was a blessing to have that time and when I got home I was eager to do something in my bible. I'd gotten a new white pen, I had the time, and I thought this verse from Genesis was fitting in honor of Lyn and the time spent with my friends. I got the words down, reflecting and praying on them as I went, dotted a bunch of stars all over the place, and was done. I sent this photo off to Gretchen and Lyn saying thanks for the time spent together. Lyn writes back immediately, asking how I did the child's face in the sky. What?? My mom and I look at my bible and there is clearly no face. Gretchen texts, she sees the face too. I go back to the photo. And there it is. A sweet little face with sleepy eyes and a smile. My mom and I are both stunned. If I had tried to do something like that on purpose, it would've looked ridiculous. But my random paint and scribblings, and the light from the camera revealed what was underneath. And once again, God was showing up in the details. A little reminder that our girls are in heaven and happy. A reaffirmation that there will be offspring and generations to come. Whatever the interpretation, it felt to all of us that this was just such a gift of love from God to us, His children. 

What amazed me also is how He used my imperfections for His glory. If I had finished this page when I started it, I never would've shared it with Gretchen and Lyn and none of this would have unfolded. I had been down on myself for what I had not done, but God is gracious and He just blessed the time He and I had spent together, orchestrating everything in His perfect time. I had done hardly any bible journaling in the past few weeks and what a loving reminder this was, of how that time with Him can be blessed. heart emoticon