tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87667168308802611202024-03-04T20:55:04.254-08:00Life After LibbyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-30579636013275735022016-12-29T09:06:00.000-08:002016-12-29T09:06:20.836-08:00Big DaysOriginally written back in early August 2016:<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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No, things did not really turn around. We didn't end up having a super, fun, romantic evening.<br />
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But it was somehow right and real anyway.<br />
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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:<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-49624337852537528652016-06-27T07:08:00.001-07:002016-06-27T07:08:44.739-07:00Libbypops 2.0It 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.<br />
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Kurt would like it to be a day for family, a small intimate gathering.<br />
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Max wants a bunch of kids there who we don't know: his friends from <a href="http://www.comfortzonecamp.org/" target="_blank">grief camp</a>, because those are the kids who will truly get how he's feeling that day.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">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. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>I want the world to be a better place because she was in it. </i></span></b><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <i>That changes the world! </i>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.<br />
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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! :)<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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<i>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:</i><br />
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<i>Libby loved all things water, so we love the idea of providing clean drinking water where it is needed. You can make a donation <a href="http://wishlist.compassion.com/libby" target="_blank">here</a>.</i><br />
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<i>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 <a href="http://www.firstgiving.com/team/328234" target="_blank">worthy cause.</a></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-11818428771553077442016-06-27T06:00:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:18:48.124-07:00Libby Loggers<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_27" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; overflow: hidden;">
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<i>Facebook post from June 22, 2016</i></div>
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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.</div>
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If you know me well, you know that I hate running. With a bit of a pa<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">ssion. 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!</span></div>
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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!)</div>
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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! <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.firstgiving.com%2Fteam%2F328234&h=pAQHmh38UAQFKF3kY2_Uq2R_ZAHuPPXX-cPFVx06s-04I5g&enc=AZPwYRjT_1Y_iRRqPw0qPLQfIzk65OetGjraanwQ_VPzao7qLI1AgHprfkuBf92N91RQYdQgbFV4vlkhmWDzc98Rt_hH6tQ10cWBeQbDbfnHd9J5z1rSnj8INhisbZA12s69mcpDKwl6mtuoSyTl8WykGjamgR85wrvCVFeu5foMeCthSyuUBNpLa6ozUdHo9Mg&s=1" rel="nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.firstgiving.com/team/328234</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-40619956148262967642016-06-27T05:30:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:28:43.903-07:00You Will Understand<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_3q" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; overflow: hidden;">
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<i>Facebook post from May 12, 2016</i></div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-61380360839956834162016-06-27T05:00:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:35:23.590-07:00Sunflowers<br />
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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. </div>
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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. <i class="_3kkw _4-k1" style="background-image: url("https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v5/u57/1/16/1f609.png"); background-size: 16px 16px; display: inline-block; font-style: normal; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><span class="accessible_elem" style="clip: rect(1px 1px 1px 1px); height: 1px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; white-space: nowrap; width: 1px;">😉</span></i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-38444114514505143502016-06-27T04:30:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:40:48.004-07:00Life on Two Wheels<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_47" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; overflow: hidden;">
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<i>Facebook post from April 13, 2016</i></div>
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Further proof that our kids are going to be ok despite their parents! </div>
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<br />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. </div>
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<br />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! </div>
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<br />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. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-29519483866082523522016-06-27T04:00:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:47:09.523-07:00Comfort Zone Camp<br />
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<i>Facebook post from April 10, 2016</i></div>
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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! <a href="http://www.comfortzonecamp.org/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Www.comfortzonecamp.org</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-32372319358588934442016-06-27T03:30:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:53:20.789-07:00Brain Fog Follies<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; line-height: 16.08px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Facebook post from March 31, 2016</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; line-height: 16.08px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; line-height: 16.08px;">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 do</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">wn all the stupid our brains have gotten us into over the past nine months. </span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Here's my latest: a couple months ago I bought tickets to fly home to Virginia since my sister <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=663547993" href="https://www.facebook.com/grete.willis" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Grete</a> 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.<br />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.<br /><br />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.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-127406857068751982016-06-27T03:00:00.000-07:002016-06-27T07:56:46.073-07:00Give Thanks in Everything<br />
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<i>Facebook post from March 28, 2016</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7oA9GNn5XdIQ5TCW7aLdYILcrq5Q2zhI7CoRsYWgnGXfcyCKm0B5Y5s1EldedOkvcbsIb6JhdYDicaBBIb6GLz_GpkyNPQ2UvlvbyLdecdcVpjMzXZXDgpLs0TWpdwEzOcyjWy1ptZXF/s1600/20160329_000854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7oA9GNn5XdIQ5TCW7aLdYILcrq5Q2zhI7CoRsYWgnGXfcyCKm0B5Y5s1EldedOkvcbsIb6JhdYDicaBBIb6GLz_GpkyNPQ2UvlvbyLdecdcVpjMzXZXDgpLs0TWpdwEzOcyjWy1ptZXF/s400/20160329_000854.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A little doodle with big meaning. Today is nine months since we lost our Libby. </div>
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<br />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. </div>
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<br />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.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-35176220749263747772016-06-27T02:30:00.000-07:002016-06-27T08:00:51.481-07:00Easter 2016<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_50" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; overflow: hidden;">
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<i>Facebook post on April 28, 2016</i></div>
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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.</div>
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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!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-23178353426491466662016-06-19T22:52:00.001-07:002016-06-27T08:08:37.337-07:00I'm Still HereToday 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <i>off</i> 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 <i>knows</i> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-39555469259768225472016-02-13T06:36:00.001-08:002016-02-13T06:39:39.210-08:00The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndJqgh8aVnX3nIO1v6WCZ4sZrP67B1xo_KaPirlIM3GC-FrAuyIUaiD8he69RowjnJVZ5-Du3JVjU4-SUiHJ58MW_CZ3mVLsImXz71p5mzyfllqPLPntbTyEG2tDjJqkeTdAZsZqjYZde/s1600/20160212_225952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndJqgh8aVnX3nIO1v6WCZ4sZrP67B1xo_KaPirlIM3GC-FrAuyIUaiD8he69RowjnJVZ5-Du3JVjU4-SUiHJ58MW_CZ3mVLsImXz71p5mzyfllqPLPntbTyEG2tDjJqkeTdAZsZqjYZde/s400/20160212_225952.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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So I had my first Libby dream.<br />
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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.<br />
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It was the night the kids had gotten back from <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8766716830880261120#editor/target=post;postID=8353390525556937096;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=1;src=postname" target="_blank">winter camp</a>. 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.)<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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And because God works the way He does, there are some more fun twists to this story.<br />
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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?)<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<i>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? </i><br />
<i>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. </i><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-17465208203036249262016-02-10T22:13:00.001-08:002016-02-10T22:13:47.687-08:00More Beauty from Ashes<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
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.</div>
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<i>Facebook post:</i></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">Sometimes when we hear the same words, the same messages over and over they can lose some of their impact.</span></div>
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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.<i> "Jesus paid it all / All to Him I owe,"</i> and from another song,<i> "Oh praise the One who paid my debt / And raised my life up from the dead."</i></div>
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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.</div>
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<i>"Jesus paid it all... for Libby, All to Him I owe."</i></div>
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<i>"Oh praise the One who paid her debt,<br />And raised her life up from the dead."</i></div>
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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.</div>
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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."</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-83533905255569370962016-02-07T19:01:00.003-08:002016-02-08T20:07:47.980-08:00Home Alone: Parent's Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black;">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.</span><br />
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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.<br />
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You could say that there were some feelings going into this camp weekend.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Recently in my moms group our speaker <a href="http://www.debbiedwilliamson.com/always-plan-a/" target="_blank">Debbie Williamson</a> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.)<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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I had had my first Libby dream.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-50484165837937053992016-01-31T11:30:00.001-08:002016-02-01T07:05:14.309-08:00Hidden in a Night Sky<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_3" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; overflow: hidden;">
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<i>Facebook post, January 23, 2016</i></div>
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Do you see anything in this night sky?</div>
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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.</div>
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<span style="color: #141823;">Fast forward to Dec 30. Our CA family is in Va visiting my family there. I'm out to lunch with two sweet friends. </span>Gretchen<span style="color: #141823;">, my good buddy from high school, with whom I have all sorts of fun memories, and Lyn</span><span style="color: #141823;">, 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. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823;">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. </span><i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_62a652" style="background-image: url("/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png"); background-position: 0px -204px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">heart emoticon</u></i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-2932256625250520452015-12-08T23:21:00.001-08:002015-12-16T11:11:26.217-08:00Christmas Days: The Good, the Bad, The WorstFacebook post, December 1, 2015:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><i>We only got two Christmases with our Libby. I can't figure out if that makes it easier or harder than if we'd had more. Probably both. She was there in infancy and again as a toddler and now that's it. Last year she was fascinated as she took it all in. But there's no part of Christmas where we can look and know, that was Libby's favorite. No tradition, except putting things beyond her reach, that really feels like it belonged to her. It makes it easier to do Christmas as usual, maybe because it's just out of habit. But even though it hurts like crazy, I still want to feel like she's part of it somehow. Which maybe means we need new traditions, even if they are bittersweet.</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I'm finding myself more in the Christmas spirit, at least most days, than what I would have expected. These are the good days. I'm into the hustle of shopping, the gatherings, and our family's Advent traditions. Because we only had the two Christmases with Libby, I'm finding it manageable to go about the routines of the season. It's easy to stay busy which is very helpful. But I'm definitely no Super Woman. Doing stuff is still hard, so I'm learning to prioritize. I've apparently given up cooking. This is not popular with the family, as their priorities seem to differ from mine. Around here, Progresso soups are the taste of the season. Our decorations this year are much simpler. Friends surprised us with gussying up our house while we were out of town over Thanksgiving. What an amazing gift that was to come home to! I had bins of decorations that I was still planning to put out, but after a couple days with no one asking for more I realized I didn't have to do more. How exciting! I'm realizing that the things I thought were essential are not necessarily important to the rest of my family. My mom was right again, simpler is often better. And I am giving myself the gift of peace (or something closer to it) by not running myself ragged trying to do more than I can.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I tend to question these good days. Early on they made no sense and for some reason I wanted a rational explanation for them. I certainly felt guilty about them, as if my misery was the only measure of my love for Libby. (Mind you, I also felt guilty when I had my bad days, because then I was making things so much harder for my family. So really, there was just no winning.) I have (mostly) learned to be grateful for my good days, to realize that they are a gift. If I had had to predict how I would react to the death of one of my children, it would not look like it has looked over the past five months. It would look like me not getting out of bed, watching Netflix, and eating ice cream. God gave me something else (most days at least). And yes, it's for my good and my family's, that they can have a mostly-functioning mom and wife, but it's also for His greater good, for something that goes beyond the little circle of our family, our friends, and even our community. We know that God works all things for good (Romans 8:28). Yes, even this. It doesn't mean that I need to come to a place where I can say, "Oh, I'm glad this happened." It doesn't even mean that I have to accept that all the good will outweigh the one really bad thing. I ache for my daughter daily. But Jesus is where my Hope is. I have Hope because I know I will see her again. And I have Hope because our God is a God of redemption, He is the only one who can bring good from this horrible thing. It doesn't make the horrible thing okay, but I need to see good come from something like this. I need to see beauty coming up from these ashes. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">And make no mistake. There are still bad days. Thankfully, I don't have too many of those. I do have lots of bad moments, minutes, and hours. And a good day is often filled with lots of emotional roller coasters. A memory, a sensation, a song, and suddenly there's an ache in my chest and the tears are threatening to spill. But I can handle the bad days. I can handle crying. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I've gotten pretty good at controlling it, because while it's not good to shove our feelings away, who really wants to stand sobbing in a thrift store becasue "Shut Up and Dance With Me" came on the radio? Well, I've done it and I don't care to do it again, thank you very much.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> The good part about the bad minutes and hours, is that I still feel there's some semblance of control over my emotions which means there's still a chance of turning things around. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">All of this feels a tiny price to pay for having gotten to be Libby's momma. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">But then there are the Worst Days. These are the ones I dread. The thing with the Worst Days is you can't control the crying. It needs out and I'm not strong enough to stop it. I had a Worst Day last Thursday. It was a couple days after I'd written the Facebook post above, so I had in my mind that I needed to find ways of incorporating Libby into our Christmas. See, the thing is, she is there, she's all around. She's just sprinkled over everything, with no real Libby-concentration in a certain bite. I know if we'd had even one more Christmas she would have had a different presense in the season because we would know more about what she loved from the holiday. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">But Christmas is full of traditions, so I thought I needed one for Libby and I thought I needed it now. So I decide that I was going to buy a special stocking for Libby and have a friend embroider her name on it and we could write notes to her and put them in the stocking and you get the idea. Well, I started crying in the first store, and I kept trying to control it but was pretty much failing. Why? Well, I was probably short on sleep, and grief and exhaustion are a horrible combination. And then the obvious element of trying to buy a stocking for my Libby girl who won't be with us for any more Christmases. All good reasons for a melt down. The thing is, we do hard things every day and I don't have meltdowns every day. Grief is like walking through a mine field, never knowing when something is going to set me off.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I eventually gave up on the shopping. It was just too hard and I could feel myself falling apart. So I went home and I got in bed and I put on Netflix and ate chips. (No ice cream in the house. Rookie mistake.) </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">We had learned very early on how important distractions were, anything to keep us not solely focused on the pain.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> I was in agony and I just wanted that feeling to go away. I cried until it became physically painful. And then I cried some more because I just couldn't make it stop. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Unfortunately, a life of bed and Netflix isn't a great long-term grief plan. Especially since I still have these two great kids to take care of. So like a good mom, I pulled myself out of bed and went to pick them up from school. Luckily they had counseling right after school, because when I am having a Worst Day I like to share that with those closest to me. I'm snappy, irritable, impatient, and apathetic. During their sessions I colored, which I've found to be a quick, successful distraction for me. It always helps calm me down when things start getting churned up inside. But on Worst Days, the benefits don't last. Nothing but the bad mood lasts. So I went home and tried to make my husband as miserable as me. Poor guy. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">That evening I was supposed to go to a craft night a sweet friend had organized and he was basically insisting that I go. Smart man. Now normally this is something I wouldn't miss for the world. Doing crafts (my favorite!) that I don't have to organize (even more my favorite!) with My People (no stranger danger: favorite!) would be a dream night on any other occasion. But as I dreaded the thought of having to go to this event, I knew I had reached a new low, one that concerned even me. I didn't want to go, but I know it's good to sometimes do the things I don't want to do. And once I've done them, I'm usually glad I did. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I had some time on my hands and a wish to turn this day around, so I turned to my Bible. All day long, the refrain from <a href="https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=jesus+please+come+please+come+today&view=detail&mid=44D8C8E578679AAC4A8244D8C8E578679AAC4A82&FORM=VIRE3" target="_blank">"Hallelujah"</a> by Heather Williams had been running through my head, mainly the lines, "Jesus, please come, please come today." And that's what I wanted. I wanted Him here. And not just in a help-me-get-through-this-day way, but in a hey-wouldn't-today-be-a-good-day-for-You-to-COME-and-bring-us-all-to-heaven way. (And I write that not as a cry for help or as anything super-dark. I was just feeling so low that only Heaven seemed big enough to take away that kind of pain.) I often journal song lyrics in my Bible and I'll try to match them to fitting verses. In this case the most fitting thing seemed to be to just turn to the end of my Bible and journal there. There was no planning or sketching.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> I just grabbed some markers and got my letters down. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Then the chalks, because there's no better way to add lots of color fast. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Another pen to scribble my thoughts at the moment. Here's a bit of what I wrote. "<i>Today I don't want any calling. I don't want a purpose. Days like today I just want this world over. I just want Jesus to come back. I want away from this pain. I don't want to be responsible for anything. I want the burden lifted. Thank you, God, that not every day is like this. I couldn't handle it, my family couldn't handle it. Today has felt hopeless. I've been discouraged. I'm just praying I wake up better tomorrow." </i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">And that's the thing. As awful as a Worst Day is, I know the next day will be better. God knows how weak I truly am and He has never given me two Worst Days in a row. I went to the craft party. I was not good company, but I participated. Until I couldn't anymore, because I guess that's just too much to expect on a Worst Day. I left in tears mid-craft, because on Worst Days the tears just can't be contained, even if you're doing your favorite thing with some of your favorite people. On the Worst Days you just need the day to be over. So I went home and I took my first sleeping pill in over four months, because I just needed it to be tomorrow. "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5) Here's a Bible verse that has brought on new meaning. Grief is always hardest in the evenings, as our bodies, our emotions are depleted and there is nothing left to manage the burden of our sorrow. As I look on my Bible page I'm filled with Hope. I have Hope because I know He is with me, I know He grieves with me, and He understands my grieving heart better than anyone. I have Hope for myself, because even on my Worst Day I was able to color in some bright yellow on the corner of my page, my confidence that there was something better coming.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-45110820250065042642015-11-26T09:00:00.000-08:002015-12-09T06:53:48.827-08:00Beauty for AshesThis isn't the blog post that first started rolling around in my head. I was playing around with a more acerbic title. Something like, "Buying Your Daughter's Urn." I know. There was a story there and that story will still be here, but over the last few days, God has made it so much more, has given me another gift in the reminder of His presence. There are really two stories here. One abour buying Libby's urn and one about three words that have been following me around these past five months. Before there was no real connection between these little stories, but how God has brought them together has filled me with awe, again, at His love and awareness of me.<br />
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I'll start with what might have been called Buying Your Daughter's Urn, because when you lose your little girl, these are the things you suddenly have to think about. I had wondered, in spare moments over the years, whether I would want to be cremated or buried. I never really came to any conclusion. Pros and cons on both sides, but either way, you're still dead. I had thought that I should ask my husband what he would want for himself, but that seemed too difficult, so I skipped that one as well. I figured we still had a lot of time to figure these things out. Not once did I ever think about what I would do if it was one of my kids. But when we were suddenly having to decide what to do with Libby's body, there was no inner debate. Cremation was the way to keep her at home with us. It was in the worst way possible, but it seemed a small comfort over having her far away at a cemetery. And after having spent my life moving on a regular basis, I couldn't handle the thought of one day just leaving her here, a plane ride away. Maybe these decisions shouldn't matter so much. I know in the core of my being that she is in Heaven and is doing awesome. She is my one child I don't have to worry about anymore. But when we lost Libby so suddenly, I just needed to have her at home and close, in whatever way I could.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's a little nook in the hallway where all our bedrooms are,<br />
so she still has her little space.</td></tr>
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I didn't buy Libby's first urn. The easiest way to handle that would have been to buy something when we were at the funeral home making arrangements. The problem there is that everything is crazy expensive and just downright ugly. Angels and lambs and chintz. Just No. So my best friend Erin and her husband went to Target and bought a simple gray canister with a wooden lid. It was meant to be temporary, but I liked it and figured it would be with us a long time.<br />
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But then three weeks after Libby died, Kurt and I flew to Montana to visit my grandparents. It was a trip I was supposed to have made with Libby. (You can read about it <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8766716830880261120#editor/target=post;postID=1630590318066451488;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=5;src=postname" target="_blank">here</a>,) Montana has always been so special to me. Libby is actually named after the town where my mom grew up and where I would spend summers with my sweet grandparents. Our first morning in Kalispell a craft fair full of Montana artisans opened in the park across from our hotel. One of the first booths we came to had this gorgeous pottery I just fell in love with. I made a purchase and we moved on. But suddenly the idea struck that we should ask this artist, <a href="http://www.theresagongporcelain.com/" target="_blank">Theresa Gong</a>, to make Libby's urn. She was lovely and kind and we were able to pick a number of different Libby-themed elements to include in the design. I had known that when it came to finding Libby's permanent urn that I would just "know" and that was exactly what happened.<br />
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The second part of this story was not something I ever thought would be part of a bigger, blog-worthy story. Just a little footnote in my own mind, something recorded in my Bible for my own benefit.<br />
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The day after Libby's funeral I sat in the church service weeping as the band played a song called Beauty for Ashes by Chris McClarney. My heart just broke some more and I prayed that those promises of God would be fulfilled.<b> I had ashes in the most real, literal sense of the word.</b> And I yearned to see beauty come from this great, gaping pain. I needed assurance that there would be some beauty in the long-term, big-picture of things. Beauty for ashes. I know it's not a fair trade by any means, but Jesus clearly isn't concerned about things being fair. We have the cross as evidence of that. That's His promise to us in Isaiah 61:3. To give us a crown of beauty instead of ashes. And we all have, and will become, ashes. There's only one real source for Beauty.</div>
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So these are the words that have been following me around. After Libby died I was using <a href="http://www.illustratedfaith.com/" target="_blank">bible journaling</a> as a way of working through my grief, engaging in therapeutic creativity, and mostly as a way of spending time with God. These verses from Isaiah have been on my jounaling to-do list almost from the beginning. But the close-to-my-heart verses are often the toughest, because I want to get them just right. I want the art to be beautiful, I want the verses to be as special on my page as they are in my heart. That's a lot of pressure! And that's why these verses don't get done for months at a time.<br />
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There were so many nudges from God. The verses would turn up in devotions, the song kept popping up at church. I looked on Pinterest to get some ideas. And I did get ideas... they were just all beyond my artistic capabilities and I was so scared of messing it up so I did nothing. The song played at church again this past Sunday. On Monday I was working through an amazing book/devotional called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Margins-Connecting-Pages-Bible/dp/1426767501" target="_blank">Writing in the Margins</a>. One journaling prompt gave four choices of verses to dig into. Without looking in my Bible I eliminated three of the choices for various reasons and turned to the last option. Of course it was my beauty for ashes verses, Isaiah 61:1-6. But this time I decided to face it, to just start writing in my Bible. (I was immediately planning that I would find a beautiful image online that I could print on cardstock and put in my Bible to cover my notes so that there would still be beauty on this special page of mine.)<br />
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When I'm teaching people about Bible journaling, I always tell them to write the date on their entries. (I also tell them that the art is not important, it's the time spent with God that counts. If only I'd been practicing what I preached, huh?) Well, as I went through these 6 verses line by line I felt like I needed a stopwatch to record the minutes and seconds of revelation. Almost every line seemed to hold personal significance. I could feel my soul just filling up, excitement as I realized how these words were from Him, to me, for this very moment. Looking back, I'm not really sure why Libby's urn (which hadn't even arrived yet) was on my mind at all, but when I came to the line "to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes" it suddenly hit me. <b>Libby's urn was our literal beauty for ashes.</b> That would be the art that graced this page of my Bible.<br />
<br />
But I was only halfway through my verses and God wasn't quite done yet. I kept making notes and saw through His words how He has already been so faithful in keeping His promises to us, for giving us so much hope and comfort. "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me," connected me right back to Acts 1:8, "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witnesses." I <a href="http://lifeafterlibby.blogspot.com/2015/10/september-2015.html" target="_blank">journaled</a> this page early on, because this is what I felt had happened from the moment I found Libby in the pool. God's gift to me was the presence of the Holy Spirit, and now He was reaffirming that gift to me. "That He may be glorified," this is what we pray will happen through Libby's story! "Strangers shall stand and tend your flocks." Oh my goodness! This feels like what we've been living! So many friends and loved ones have been caring for us, but the role of strangers has been shocking and humbling, and beautiful (again, out of the ashes). As I studied the Word, God just kept unfolding things for me, as if these words written thousands of years ago were just meant for me. [Please know this is not how my daily devotions normally go. (And daily is the ideal, not always the reality.) I struggle to stay connected. I'm just seeking and needing to find and He is there waiting for me when I put the time in.]<br />
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By the time I was done with these six verses, I knew I had met God on the page, in the margins of my Bible. And I realized that there was nothing more beautiful to me. There was no artwork that could match that. When I look at this page I am immediately taken back to that connection I felt with God, a beautiful assurance of all that He has promised each of us. Libby's urn arrived the next day and it is beautiful. We opened the box as a family. We haven't transferred the ashes yet, and those will be some difficult, real moments. I'm going to put a small picture of her urn in the upper right corner of my Bible page. God makes such big promises to us and He keeps them all. And then He cares enough to give us extra, sometimes in an urn by a Montana artist who used the gifts God gave her to give us more beauty for ashes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDPptH2ds8V4mylyw3myx_Nd7quynsYoE1-o71wn2hXto7uid_Mvx2MyfWV5b5mQA_nwgcU9zLSoPp8Z3E-FSStKkm_Zb6bg5f0H70MMP3y7R8O6wweY8-xO_QoHnqAf0pFPOlL4VKvvS/s1600/IMG_2080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDPptH2ds8V4mylyw3myx_Nd7quynsYoE1-o71wn2hXto7uid_Mvx2MyfWV5b5mQA_nwgcU9zLSoPp8Z3E-FSStKkm_Zb6bg5f0H70MMP3y7R8O6wweY8-xO_QoHnqAf0pFPOlL4VKvvS/s320/IMG_2080.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-c6153BYfYYKqWL5nSFyk-_JEsN6WXI6AKE3swDPe38JTCsnLxNH1S44CWNFXbbSyz1RJHZGOZbcHqMa2syf2Xd8VRWd7OMqyQYVW2ehkz1pY1REufAiuZRYeOPU8jWxGEOM1nQzLWJBB/s1600/IMG_2081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-c6153BYfYYKqWL5nSFyk-_JEsN6WXI6AKE3swDPe38JTCsnLxNH1S44CWNFXbbSyz1RJHZGOZbcHqMa2syf2Xd8VRWd7OMqyQYVW2ehkz1pY1REufAiuZRYeOPU8jWxGEOM1nQzLWJBB/s320/IMG_2081.jpg" width="320" /></a><i>Here are some photos of Libby's urn. The sword and shield represent the meaning of her name, God's promised armed warrior, which was a surprisingly fitting name for such a little girl. The moon and stars that Oma would take her out to look at. The birds that she and Daddy would see at the bird feeders. The </i>la-los<i> (flowers) she loved to go and pick from neighbors' yards. The lizards she would chase around our yard. Water at the bottom, because despite her ending, she spent her life loving all things water.</i><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-45737419666549315272015-10-30T11:07:00.001-07:002015-10-31T16:58:21.539-07:00The Ache of the Details<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Even with Halloween upon us, it's the images from this little Easter video that have been sneaking into my brain and breaking my heart this week. Her precious little pigtails. The little arm squeeze thing she does out of excitement. That beautiful, beautiful smile. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">It's so much easier to keep her general. I can do that and it doesn't hurt too bad. Or at least not as bad as it should. It's all those details, all those little things that made her so real, so ours; that's what makes me crumble.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-73832240774710898212015-10-16T07:47:00.005-07:002015-10-16T07:48:58.880-07:00Birthday Balloons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;">On
Libby's second birthday, October 4, I woke up to the sounds of a
downpour. Never mind that we had 200 balloons ready to launch or a trip
to the beach planned for that day. When you live in drought-ridden
southern California, you can't help but be happy about the sound of
anything wet falling from the sky. Plus, Libby herself would have been
thrilled with the rain, running out to jump in puddles with Max and Kaia
until she got tired and would then just plop her diaper butt right down
in the middle of one. So while I knew the rain meant we wouldn't be in
the field as planned for the balloon release, I was content as I did my
morning devotion to the sound of the rain. As one would expect in this
part of the country, the rain didn't last long and we were left behind
with a cool, gray day, which was a nice break from the high summer temps
we continue to have well into October. We got ourselves ready, added
jackets, packed the car, and headed to church.</span><br />
<br />
Your
daughter should be with her family on her second birthday. There's no
way around that. Heaven is wonderful beyond imagination, and God's
faithfulness continues, but even knowing these things does not take away
from my human heart wanting my daughter here.with.me on her second
birthday.<br />
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We
were not supposed to be doing a party today. I had done the obligatory
big first birthday party. Not so much because I wanted to, but because I
had photographic evidence of doing them for Max and Kaia and didn't
want my third child seeing such a blatant example of how the later
children get short-changed. (Of course, now I am ever so grateful I did
that party. I loved it, we have great memories from that day. I didn't
know it would be the only party I would get to do for her.) No, I
thought of second birthdays as the sweet spot between the first birthday
and the third or fourth birthday. They haven't started preschool yet,
so don't have a bunch of friends to whom to send reciprocal birthday
invitations. They don't have a frame of reference for knowing how fun
parties are and how many presents there can be. No, second birthdays are
meant to be small, minimal effort affairs. A cake, maybe, a gift from a
doting grandparent. You really don't need more than that. But instead,
Libby is having a delightful time in heaven while an amazing group of
friends here on Earth plan and execute all the details for a birthday
celebration she is unable to attend. Because way worse than planning a
birthday party is planning one for your daughter who died 15 weeks
before she turned two. Emotionally and mentally I was unable to give
much attention to the details of these events and I am so grateful for
friends and a community who loved us enough to make this happen and then
also came out to celebrate her, letting us know she is not forgotten,
but still in the hearts of many. And you know what? I loved this day. I
have wonderful memories from this day. The days before were
heart-wrenching and the days after continue to be challenging, but in
that emotional sandwich, I'm so thankful for such a sweet filling. Let
me tell you about it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9AWPMK1PpxrikwrudWec7CNQwGfjkli5wz2qu-WR4uEmi5IRCPBvCK3GvxmPmBMV521dUzsphGenm_cu8VN4mO5VRoFNSIZBH2iQnaJDBLjbIbXjATWjcWrAwAX9Q0G_lGtDfpH3LZTO/s1600/RA6A9385.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9AWPMK1PpxrikwrudWec7CNQwGfjkli5wz2qu-WR4uEmi5IRCPBvCK3GvxmPmBMV521dUzsphGenm_cu8VN4mO5VRoFNSIZBH2iQnaJDBLjbIbXjATWjcWrAwAX9Q0G_lGtDfpH3LZTO/s400/RA6A9385.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credits to Amy Salessi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCX-LhZK3sUoxKaY3JV79pHgf150GLw5r6KCt0ebVWYpJ9YUqpomR1cCVdVTIe6dHhkpMbVjE5DXyWoSfbI429UQsFHMVPa45T0nuTgkR3BTx3W0fXCCbgL1i7b0b5BIFj4JpgRnSqObD/s1600/RA6A9317-Edit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCX-LhZK3sUoxKaY3JV79pHgf150GLw5r6KCt0ebVWYpJ9YUqpomR1cCVdVTIe6dHhkpMbVjE5DXyWoSfbI429UQsFHMVPa45T0nuTgkR3BTx3W0fXCCbgL1i7b0b5BIFj4JpgRnSqObD/s200/RA6A9317-Edit.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJW4KleFYW3tcuH5kLs1eaDFeaOAT1GQdLY4oPVr8hIgQuT0-fAkBMywdHYpgyl8g2yewUmcuPLrhhxcAXGJPRmaUI0eGyJGx5PvPNzABm0Jtcgo1utvvIatKayXFUwRjNLwfHIZjdSUL/s1600/RA6A9357.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJW4KleFYW3tcuH5kLs1eaDFeaOAT1GQdLY4oPVr8hIgQuT0-fAkBMywdHYpgyl8g2yewUmcuPLrhhxcAXGJPRmaUI0eGyJGx5PvPNzABm0Jtcgo1utvvIatKayXFUwRjNLwfHIZjdSUL/s320/RA6A9357.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After
church everyone started gathering on the patio area. It was still gray
and chilly, but the rain clouds were gone. There was some discussion as
to where the balloon release should happen since the intended field was
too muddy from the morning's rain. The patio area where cake and the
rest of the celebration was set up was canopied by trees. So when the
time came and the balloons were handed out, we headed toward the parking
lot. Anthony, our children's pastor who was integral to walking our
family through all the hours in the hospital, welcomed everyone, spoke
about Libby, and said a prayer. After the Amen! it was time to release
our balloons. And in those minutes right before the release, the clouds
parted and the sun came out to shine down on us. (I actually got hot and
wanted to take my jacket off!) So with the sun shining and the breeze
blowing just as God commands it, Libby's balloons drifted off to the
north, rising right over the cross structure near where we stood. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlBL9hHbPbShNhV_MFz-Au5un9OMZ52pG1XidfykoTcW8UOtsM5a_4AWZ-7gekzjll4jeMqTxVrvyp-d-alBXx3xVVCiQLUk1CUN_m_1YzkGEHtr0wyFIwgRQTagdW1crv6nEhZ6N-yF0/s1600/FB_IMG_1444377285547.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Photo credit to Chrissy Kee" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlBL9hHbPbShNhV_MFz-Au5un9OMZ52pG1XidfykoTcW8UOtsM5a_4AWZ-7gekzjll4jeMqTxVrvyp-d-alBXx3xVVCiQLUk1CUN_m_1YzkGEHtr0wyFIwgRQTagdW1crv6nEhZ6N-yF0/s320/FB_IMG_1444377285547.jpg" title="Photo credit to Chrissy Kee" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to Chrissy Kee</td></tr>
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If
it had not rained that morning, we would have been in a different area
that would not have created this iconic-to-me image of Libby's birthday.
How present God was in all of it! By the time we walked back to the
patio area the sun was again behind the clouds and it was chilly once
more. About a month before, a friend, who had no idea about our family's
desire to do a balloon release for Libby's birthday, felt called by God
to get us a helium tank. Oh my goodness! My shock to see how a God who
loves us so much would show His presense through something like a helium
tank sitting by my front door! In the enclosed note she also wrote,
"Don't worry about letting them go into the environment. God assured me,
He will catch each and every one and give them to Libby." And indeed,
God truly did seem to open the heavens for us that day.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvkF5TssVD_4W_fhiXTH2cc9hKxI_QERx1-BhfnbM37mA3PXY7MrNA47xuqqX-n0sbXTAoiXj_Bn4AMAqrbPDuqQF2ML8VTx8aJIsUmOxlPpLE321EHpoWA8xE46R5aL8bGhcbFaNixhx/s1600/FB_IMG_1444377333728.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvkF5TssVD_4W_fhiXTH2cc9hKxI_QERx1-BhfnbM37mA3PXY7MrNA47xuqqX-n0sbXTAoiXj_Bn4AMAqrbPDuqQF2ML8VTx8aJIsUmOxlPpLE321EHpoWA8xE46R5aL8bGhcbFaNixhx/s320/FB_IMG_1444377333728.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to Chrissy Kee</td></tr>
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<br />
Despite the chilly temps and gray skies,
our family was also committed to going to the beach on Libby's
birthday.We had only taken Libby to the beach twice. Once as a newborn:<br />
<br />
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and
once this past spring when we spent the day visiting her aunt in Long
Beach. Oh, how thankful I am we made that trip! Initially, she was very
unsure of the whole concept of sand, but she quickly got over any
concerns she may have had, because there was no way she was going to sit
with Mom while Max and Kaia played. Before long we headed down to the
water's edge, and what a delight it was to be with her as she was
discovering an ocean for the first time! She stood there at the water
watching the waves. As they came in she clapped gleefully for them. When
they left she worried that they weren't coming back and used her little
hands to say "more" in sign language. For over an hour she was
entranced, becoming more daring as she'd put more and more of her toes
into the waves and then laugh when the receding water would try to pull
her off her feet. I'm so thankful I got to see how much she loved the
ocean, what pure joy that brought her, and that was why, for her
birthday, we would be going back to the beach, regardless of the
weather.<br />
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The kids, for whom hope springs eternal, put
on their bathing suits, topped with the sweatsuits on which Mom
insisted. I wore long pants, long-sleeved shirt, lightweight sweater. I
had my heavy sweater and Uggs packed in the car. I was quite pleased
with myself. The entire way there the car thermostat said it was 67
degrees outside. But when we got out of the car in Newport Beach, we
knew that was not the case. No two ways about it, it was hot! The sun
was out, there was a slight breeze, and it was an absolutely perfect
beach day. I was already sweating as I trudged across the sand to our
group of friends. I was thinking, this is what I should have expected
from God with the way He'd been handling the day's weather! Oh ye of
little faith! Everyone was going off to buy swimsuits, t-shirts, and
boogie boards, ourselves included (thank goodness for all the end of
season sales!) It ended up being one of those perfect days. We ended our
time there by putting a lei (handmade by a sweet friend) and flowers
into the waves. I shared the verses that had been on my heart that day.
Part of it was from Matthew 6:21, "For where your treasure is, there
your heart will be also." This verse has taken on new meaning as of
late. Heaven always seemed like a pretty sweet deal, of course, but now
it has a much more weighted importance. My bonus treasure is already
there waiting for me. A piece of all our hearts is already in heaven.
One of the small silver linings of losing a child, at least for me, is
that your fear of death is gone. I am thankful for each of the days God
has ordained for me on this Earth with my family, but when my days are
up, I am going to cry with joy at being able to hold my little Libby
again!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bZQcZyEhG07TlzB7IK7duoQ4-qJ1mMrxzZqQbjWuyl8qvFKakGjzCw5BhO9cKk5lWsTscBOyDCIjP07dLDoCCt57sBqI5OTzAPrHcujrkirRIozdnzRKOa0p8EjySOvLIndpI9p_ESuh/s1600/FB_IMG_1444377243304.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bZQcZyEhG07TlzB7IK7duoQ4-qJ1mMrxzZqQbjWuyl8qvFKakGjzCw5BhO9cKk5lWsTscBOyDCIjP07dLDoCCt57sBqI5OTzAPrHcujrkirRIozdnzRKOa0p8EjySOvLIndpI9p_ESuh/s320/FB_IMG_1444377243304.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to Chrissy Kee</td></tr>
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On the way home we had to make one final
stop. No Orange County beach trip is complete without a stop at Joe's
Italian Ice. Our oldest friends (who, ironically, are actually our
youngest friends) were with us, as they have been on so many other
occasions. Joe's has the best ices and soft serve. Their ice cream was
actually Libby's first solid food since Daddy snuck her little tastes at
the ripe old age of about three months. We had wanted a day that not
only honored Libby, but that she would also have wanted to be part of,
and it truly was a day she would have loved. Every part of it would
have brought her so much joy! We give deep, heartfelt thanks to all the
friends who made it possible. Thank you all for giving us the gift of
this day and these memories.<br />
<br />
<i>There is an amazing
photographer who God brought to our lives (along with her brother and
sister) the day of Libby's accident. She has been there in some
extremely painful, though holy, hours. On this day she shared her
talents with us again for what was certainly a more joyful occasion. <a href="http://amysalessiphotography.pixieset.com/libbysbirthdayballoons/" target="_blank">Here</a> are
the amazing photos she took at the balloon release (code 3947 if you
want to download any). And even though she asked for no credit for her
work on behalf of Libby, if you would like her to do your family photos,
you can contact her <a href="http://amysalessiphotography.com/" target="_blank">here</a>. You will not be disappointed!</i><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-51090268412858229852015-10-01T13:06:00.001-07:002015-10-30T11:08:02.681-07:00Bible Journaling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.08px;">September 8, 2015</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.08px;"> Journaling Bible Community post</span></div>
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Ten weeks ago my sweet, spunky, 20 month old daughter died in a drowning accident. I had started Bible journaling some the month before, but now it has become the perfect and necessary distraction and focus as my family and I go through this time of grief. I journaled this verse because this is what I think happened to me the day of her accident. The Holy Spirit gifted me with this level of faith <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">I had not had before. It was for my benefit, for sure, but I've also seen him use it to witness to others.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">About a week and a half after doing this page I finally got around to doing the journal entry I'd always intended to include. I just wrote it up on vellum (no rough drafts) and taped it in my bible. Done. The next day I was showing the page to a friend and talking about my experience. She stopped me and asked if I had lined up the highlighting to match the words of my journal entry. Only then did I realize that the highlighted verse on the bible page also served to highlight the most important statement in my journal entry, that this was a gift from the Holy Spirit. A holy, tearful, goose bump moment. How amazing that our God is so tuned into the smallest details of our lives and will use those moments to speak to us.</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><b>September 14, 2015</b> Journaling Bible Community</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">When you have a day where God just keeps showing up in crazy ways, you don't have to make it pretty, you just have to get it recorded! In dark days to come I can come here to be reminded of how much he cares and the lengths he goes through to let us know he's here with us. </span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;"> </span><br style="line-height: 16.08px;" /><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">Psalm 66:5 "Come and see what God has done: he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man!"</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16.08px;"><b>"God has a purpose for your pain, a reason for your struggle, and a gift for your faithfulness. Don't ever give up."</b></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16.08px;">We are finding this to be so true! Don't misunderstand. There are still hard days, hard hours, and the missing is constant, but it is becoming increasingly clear that God is at work to bring great redemption from this tragedy. Libby was such a gift to our family and to so many of you. I think she had more impact in her 20 months than I have had in my decades! </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; line-height: 16.08px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i><span style="line-height: 16.08px;"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">My appreciation and gra</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">titude for her is growing daily as I see glimmers of God being up to something good. So grateful for the days we had with her and how those days are still influencing us now. Whatever season God has you in right now, know there is a purpose. Appreciate right where you are today. How I wish I would have taken that lesson to heart before now! We don't have to understand or know what God is up to, but he is a God who gives us beauty in exchange for our ashes. He loves you and can be trusted.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><b>September 25, 2015</b> Facebook post</span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">So if you've spent any time with me lately I've probably talked to you about Bible journaling. </span><i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; line-height: 16.08px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i><span style="line-height: 16.08px;"> Or you've maybe seen a page I posted here on FB. This spiritual practice is one where your creativity meets with worship and prayer. You can write or draw right in your bible, they even make special journaling Bibles just for this purpose! You do not have to be artistic or crafty to do thi</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">s! (I feel that last sentence should be in caps, it's so important!) A Bible journal can tell your faith story, remind you of what God has revealed and done in your life, help you with learning scripture, and be a legacy of your faith that you'll pass down to your kids one day. (Your kids can even do it with you, which is just the best!)</span></span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><br />This spiritual exercise has been such a healing, revealing practice for me. The only thing that might make it better is if I had more people to do it with! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i> So, if you're local and would like to learn more about this or be part of a get-together sometime please comment below so I can start a running list of those interested. I'm going to a conference in November on Bible journaling and I'm just so excited to share this ministry with people!</span></span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><br />And if you are still reading this post, whether you want to try this or not, you should go follow Journaling Bible Community here on FB. You will be blessed by this lovely group and you will see skill levels of all sorts (brace yourself before you go on Pinterest, it can be intimidating!), but best of all you will fill your news feed with beauty and scripture and messages of hope and love. Now who doesn't need that? <i class="_4-k1 img sp_fM-mz8spZ1b sx_5371b4" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yx/r/pimRBh7B6ER.png); background-position: 0px -340px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/illustratedfaith?source=feed_text" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="color: #627aad;">#</span><span class="_58cm">illustratedfaith</span></a></span></span></span></div>
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Tissue paper, clear matte gel, black pens, tag and die cut items.</div>
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Prepped with gesso, watercolors & stamps.</div>
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Black pens, markers, colored pencils, gel pen, conference program clippings, & washi tape.</div>
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Tissue paper flowers (purchased at Dollar Tree in the gift wrap section) applied with clear matte gel, abc stamps, markers and colored pencils.</div>
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Watercolors, prepped with gesso, black pen, abc stamps & washi tape.</div>
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Doodle and writing done with black pen, colored with colored pencils.</div>
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Dress form cut on my Cricut, scrapbook paper, black pen, heart punch.</div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">So God has just been quite busy showing up a lot this past week. What a gift those reminders are and how they encourage us! For some time I'd had the idea in the back of my mind to calculate the number of days that Libby had lived here on earth. It kept getting pushed back because it wasn't something that important. But then last Friday night I was messaging with a sweet friend who mentioned the </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">420 precious days she had had with her son Owen and that brought it to the forefront again. So the next day I found myself waiting for Kurt sans my cell phone (note to self: the more significant things in my life don't usually happen when I'm holding my phone) and I had to find some way to busy myself. I grabbed an old receipt and started tallying Libby's number of days. As I added up the final numbers, my breath caught in my throat. 629 days. That number is in my email address, it's the time my alarm is always set for, even though I could easily afford an extra 6 or 11 minutes. It's my birthday, June 29th.</span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><br />I just kind of stared at the number for a while. Sometimes in this season of grief I wonder if I'm maybe trying too hard to find significance out of every little thing, constantly trying to find purpose and reason for what's happened and what is happening. But then sometimes I think you just need to give God His due! This one was just spelled out so clearly for me. Libby was (and is!) our gift! But I know she is not that just for me, or even for our family, that's what she has become for so many of you! I still hear stories of the impact that little girl of ours is having on people far and near. (And what a gift those stories are! What a treasure to be getting a small glimpse of the greater works God is up to!) </span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">So with that thought in my mind, it's changing how I'm approaching my daughter, my grief in this season. Because what do you say when you receive a gift? You say, "Thank You!" I'm reminded to come with a heart of gratitude. Because Libby, through God's perfect plan, has caused a tidal wave of goodness. For me personally, I am learning so much more about who God is shaping me to be and I have never felt God's presence more strongly. Some days He is just filling me up so much with His love and joy, there's no room for that deep despair that can be a valid part of our grief. That statement is not accurate for everyone who grieves though, and it's not even true within my own family. So many ups and downs, always without warning. But for where God has me right now, I am so thankful. I have the emotional and mental capacity to be there to take care of my family. As much as we hurt, we are also able to acknowledge the beauty God is bringing from these ashes.</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-67679707985829533552015-10-01T11:10:00.000-07:002016-01-14T12:30:56.173-08:00The Number of Her Days<div class="fsm" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.08px;">
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<b>September 26, 2015</b> Facebook post</div>
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<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="display: inline;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">So God has just been quite busy showing up a lot this past week. What a gift those reminders are and how they encourage us! For some time I'd had the idea in the back of my mind to calculate the number of days that Libby had lived here on earth. It kept getting pushed back because it wasn't something that important. But then last Friday night I was messaging with a sweet friend who mentioned the </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">420 precious days she had had with her son Owen and that brought it to the forefront again. So the next day I found myself waiting for Kurt sans my cell phone (note to self: the more significant things in my life don't usually happen when I'm holding my phone) and I had to find some way to busy myself. I grabbed an old receipt and started tallying Libby's number of days. As I added up the final numbers, my breath caught in my throat. 629 days. That number is in my email address, it's the time my alarm is always set for, even though I could easily afford an extra 6 or 11 minutes. It's my birthday, June 29th.</span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;"><br />I just kind of stared at the number for a while. Sometimes in this season of grief I wonder if I'm maybe trying too hard to find significance out of every little thing, constantly trying to find purpose and reason for what's happened and what is happening. But then sometimes I think you just need to give God His due! This one was just spelled out so clearly for me. Libby was (and is!) our gift! But I know she is not that just for me, or even for our family, that's what she has become for so many of you! I still hear stories of the impact that little girl of ours is having on people far and near. (And what a gift those stories are! What a treasure to be getting a small glimpse of the greater works God is up to!) </span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 16.08px;">So with that thought in my mind, it's changing how I'm approaching my daughter, my grief in this season. Because what do you say when you receive a gift? You say, "Thank You!" I'm reminded to come with a heart of gratitude. Because Libby, through God's perfect plan, has caused a tidal wave of goodness. For me personally, I am learning so much more about who God is shaping me to be and I have never felt God's presence more strongly. Some days He is just filling me up so much with His love and joy, there's no room for that deep despair that can be a valid part of our grief. That statement is not accurate for everyone who grieves though, and it's not even true within my own family. So many ups and downs, always without warning. But for where God has me right now, I am so thankful. I have the emotional and mental capacity to be there to take care of my family. As much as we hurt, we are also able to acknowledge the beauty God is bringing from these ashes.</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-16305903180664514882015-09-01T13:07:00.000-07:002015-10-30T11:15:30.587-07:00Montana Healing<div>
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<b>July 16, 2015</b> Bible study post</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigz8QhmqKja_noMnj2yeBoDCE1kX6I3xU0-nZHJrZkv0nFVlUlLxrzTsvGlkZ7f0SqGIbLA0EoOuTCBgxKgaFDqXMbOVwCqV52175qdiXA-Q3yfDp1mQdapL2vSYttf9ZFtlL9yt79oceK/s1600/20140727_154527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigz8QhmqKja_noMnj2yeBoDCE1kX6I3xU0-nZHJrZkv0nFVlUlLxrzTsvGlkZ7f0SqGIbLA0EoOuTCBgxKgaFDqXMbOVwCqV52175qdiXA-Q3yfDp1mQdapL2vSYttf9ZFtlL9yt79oceK/s320/20140727_154527.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">My husband and I are going to Montana today. My grandparents are ailing and my sweet grandma is on hospice with dementia. Nothing is imminent, everything has been painfully slow. I had booked this trip earlier, planning to bring Libby with me. Now, instead, I'm going to go and bring my sweet Grandma Libby's </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">photos and tell her to go home and be with my girl. I'm dreading it. My heart breaks just thinking about it. But I feel I need to do it. Please pray for us on this trip. But please pray especially for my kids, Max and Kaia, while we're away. I feel so awful leaving them now, while things are still so raw. They've got wonderful, loving people taking care of them, so that's not the concern. We just never know when the grief will strike them hard. Pray that God will just fill them with peace and comfort through the weekend and that He will give their sweet caregivers the right words and actions as needed. I know this is all so very possible for Him! Your prayers are so appreciated.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">One of the first things to catch my eye when I got to the airport in Montana. That's my grandma and grandpa on the cover of the local paper, the people I am here to see. An article beautifully written by Molly Priddy about families living with the "devastation of dementia and Alzheimer's disease." You can read the article <a href="http://flatheadbeacon.com/2015/07/15/fading-away/" target="_blank">here.</a></span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><i>The beautiful article that was written about them was such a gift and evidence of how God is still at owrk in my grandma's life. It was such a treat to be there with Grandpa the weekend that the article had come out. He was a bit of a celebrity around the retirement home! :) Best of all though, the article validated for him, not only his great love and devotion for his Helen, but this wonderful reporter was able to see in a short time the great love that Helen felt for him, something that is so easy to miss when caring for someone with Alzheimers or dementia.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b>July 19, 2015</b> Journal entry</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I had been dreading this trip, but felt it was something I needed to do. On the way to LAX Thurs I realiezed I didn't have my ID with me. Swiss cheese brain (officially known as brain fog), yet another grief symptom. Freaked out and asked my Bible study group to pray for that. And let me tell you, I basically sailed through security, just felt the Holy Spirit clearing my paths. (Later, Kurt's bag got torn apart as if he had explosives, so go figure. Once again agreed: my God is cooler. :)) At that point I started believing God wanted me to make this trip. I'd said earlier if the ID thing caused me not to fly then it was Him saying I needed to stay home with the kids. But paths cleared. The flight was rough because the flight ateendant asked at the begining of the flight if I had my lap child with me. That made me start crying, remembering that Libby was supposed to be with me. Plus we were surrounded by babies. So lots more crying (and not from the babies). I just wanted to turn to all those parents and let them know how lucky they were to have their babies with them today.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I felt sadness when we landed in Montana which was definitely a first. This has always been one of my favorite places. When we were out at baggage claim and I saw the woman carrying a stack of the newspapers with my grandparents on the cover it felt like another sign from God that He was in control of things. After getting settled at our hotel and finding a tasty bite to eat I started finding happiness in Montana again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">The next day we got to see my grandparents. Oh, how I love them. Every summer as a kid we'd drive cross country from Virginia. We'd stop in Minnesota to see my dad's parents and then head over to Libby, Montana to spend a few weeks with my mom's parents. Libby was named in honor of the town that held so many precious memories for me and as a legacy to my darling grandparents who were part of all those memories. They raised three daughters on love and mountains up in northwestern Montana. Now, as I sit with my 97 year-old grandfather, who cries at the loss of his sweet great-granddaughter, we're both knowing that he was wishing he had gone first. This was not supposed to be the order of things. But this gentle man sat with me and talked with me and when my tears came he told me to go ahead and cry and say anything I wanted to. I've always been a bit sad for him that he never had a son to carry on the family name, but all those years of loving and raising his three girls, are certainly benefitting me now. He is just the sweetest.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I got to see my grandma a number of times. She is in the end stages of dementia, a shell of the woman she once was. She sleeps almost always, can't feed herself, and can only whisper a word or two occasionally. But when she is awake and alert, there are still glimmers of her old self. She still has recognition of her family members and glimpses of her sunny personality and good humor. Thank you, God, that she never became someone we couldn't even recognize. After daily visits with her, Sunday, the day of our departure, arrived, and it was time to say good-bye. That was hard, knowing I might not (hopefully?) be seeing her again. I just hugged her as best I could, I cried a lot, I talked about Libby, I told her to go home, go be with her, what a good time they were going to have with each other, that Grandpa would be ok, we'd take care of hime. It was hard, so hard, but it was beautiful to be able to do that- another holy moment. Being real and doing life.</span></div>
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<b>July 20, 2015</b> Bible study post</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Well, I can't thank you all enough for your prayers last week. They sure worked! Kurt and I ended up having a wonderful time in Montana, something I hadn't even considered a possibility. I hadn't realized how good and helpful it would be just to have a change of scenery. And you can't beat the scenery in Montana. We had great times visiting with my grandparents and my aunt and uncle. It was so good for all of us to be together. I said what I needed to say to my grandm</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">a. I had gone into this half hoping I would get a call that she had died the next day. But as I sat with her it was clear that death was not going to be that immediate and I got the simple reminder that God's timing is perfect and my grandma will go Home on the day ordained for her. I know Libby is lacking for nothing up in heaven right now, so I'll just be thankful for the time I have my grandma here on earth. And on the other matter of my prayer request: Max and Kaia both had great weekends! No problems and I think the change of scenery was good for them too. Thanks again for lifting my family up in prayer. We've got some prayer warriors in this group! I want to learn your ways! </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-27128769781715707442015-09-01T11:13:00.000-07:002015-10-30T11:14:25.254-07:00The Power of &<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.08px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16.08px;">Two months today since our little girl left us for a place so infinitely better. The sadness is constant, the tears will start spilling without any warning, but we are also doing better than I would have expected us to be doing at this point. We are finding God in the &. When we can feel joy & sadness at the same time, that joy comes from Him. Without Him it truly would be only sadness. It's also </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16.08px;">because of so many of you who are praying for us. If you ever think your petitions on our behalf are in vain, please know that those prayers are making such a difference in our lives! Our words of thanks are so small in comparison to what we have received, but our hearts are so full of love for each of you who have lifted us up in prayer, brought us meals, blessed our home, or shared your gifts with us. How blessed we are that God ordained to put each of you in our lives, to walk with us on this journey. I hope that someday, in some way we will be able to return these many kindnesses. In the meantime, thank you for showing us so beautifully how to love one another.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12593996402312557820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8766716830880261120.post-64514078225642332932015-08-01T09:03:00.002-07:002016-01-06T10:36:31.499-08:00The First Two Weeks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On the evening of Friday, June 26, 2015 our sweet and spunky daughter Libby drowned at home. She was rushed to the ER where they were able to restart her heart. From there she was transferred to the Children's Hospital. But the prayers for a physical healing were not going to be answered in the way we thought best. God, who we felt so closely present through every minute of this ordeal, had a grander plan. Our Libby died at 1 a.m. on Sunday, June 28, 2015. She was surrounded by so many friends and family. She was 20 months and 3 weeks old. She was feisty, inquisitive, independent, funny, compassionate, and loving. She adored her big brother, Max (10) and her big sister, Kaia (8). We all adored her right back. Oh, she was so loved!<br />
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In the time since Libby's death we've ached and hurt, fought and rejoiced. So many ups and downs! And when a family is grieving, you have to go through it individually and as a whole. We have certainly learned a lot about this new way of life we never wanted. But through it all, God continues to be present, continues to reveal Himself and glimpses of the greater plan He has in store for us. That doesn't make losing Libby okay and we know His heart breaks right along with us as we grieve. But He is using her life to touch so many more people, and isn't that something all parents wish for their children (and even themselves)? That their lives will make a difference, that the world will be a better place because they were in it. Libby's life may have been short, but she has had a huge, lasting impact on our family, and we have seen so much evidence of the difference she's making with people who knew her or even just heard about her.<br />
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While we were in the hospital, social media was a real blessing. Large groups of people could be kept up-to-date by me or someone else. One of my sources of comfort at night when I couldn't sleep was reading the messages of love and sadness, encouragement and prayer. It was a surprising buoy that supported me by hundreds more people than could have happened otherwise. Thank you to all of you who have helped keep me and my family afloat, wherever you are. Here are some of the updates I shared of our journey, in chronological order, starting at the beginning:<br />
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<b>Facebook post, June 27, 2015:</b> I don't have a lot of time now, but thank you for all your prayers. They are felt and they are humbling. God has been so good through all of this, his faithfulness evident. Recovery is not the miracle we'll be getting tonight, but I know God does miracles and has other miracles in store for our family in the coming days, weeks, months. Right now please just pray fervently that she can be an organ donor, that would give us much comfort and is not a given in the current circumstances. Thank you for continuing with your prayers!!!<br />
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<b>Facebook post,</b> <b>June 28, 2015:</b><br />
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This is the verse I was grasping for at the first hospital and the words that have brought me the most comfort since. Since the beginning of time God knew Libby would be and that these would be the number of her days. What a wonderful and gracious God that he would let her be ours for each one of those precious days.<br />
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<i>(I had started to do some simple Bible journaling just one month before Libby's accident. This entry was done in the early morning hours when I couldn't sleep. I sat and read Facebook messages of love and prayers and I got into art and the Word and it was well with my soul, I found peace in those moments. This was the last journaling entry I would do in my "old" Bible. After this one, for some reason, I just couldn't add anything else.)</i><br />
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<b>Facebook post, June 29, 2015:</b></div>
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God could not be in this with us more. A dear friend just found this on her bookshelf where it had been sitting for over 10 years. Words just fail me. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.<br />
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And look what someone found inside the book!<br />
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<i>(A friend commented that if we looked hard enough we would probably find Kaia's name too. :))</i><br />
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<b>Facebook post on June 29, 2015: </b>Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes today. It was a surprisingly good day, which I had not expected. I was constantly surrounded by loved ones who cared for me and my family with the amazing gifts God had given each one of them. </div>
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Call it mother's intuition, peace from God, but I remember driving to CHOC in the ambulance on Friday and I knew Libby wasn't going to make it. Even then I said<span class="text_exposed_show"> a prayer asking that she could die on June 28. With Kaia's birthday on the 27th and mine on the 29th, sweet Libby would just be nestled in between us and we could celebrate her heavenly birthday along with our earthly ones. I hoped that in the years to come these three days would be a celebration for us. What's amazing is we actually got small bits of celebrations on all three days this year, which I would have never fathomed possible. Further proof of God's enduring love for us.</span><br />
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<i>Somehow on the evening of June 28th we were able to gather friends and family to go to Build-A-Bear to celebrate Kaia's birthday. I thank God for whatever He put in us that night to make that (barely) tolerable. Because when you are turning eight, and you have just lost your best playmate, you need some good friends and some big distractions. Your little heart just can't handle that much heartbreak.</i><br />
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<b>Facebook post on July 4, 2015:</b> A couple of people have asked about whether we were able to donate Libby's organs and I thought I'd share a bit about our last night in the hospital with her.<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
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Even though I've always been a strong supporter of organ donation, the idea of donating Libby's didn't hit me until late Sat afternoon. We immediately got the ball rolling, but found out quickly that we were up against the clock. It typica<span class="text_exposed_show">lly takes about 24 hours to go through all the steps to make an organ donation happen. We probably had three hours at best. But all the staff knew how much we wanted that to happen for our little girl, and they made it their mission to keep her body going so donations could be approved and arranged (none of this was causing her any pain). The organ team brought in extra of their best people, trying so hard to work against the clock, late into that Sat night. But eventually we had to accept that her body just wasn't able to go on anymore and we needed to cease our efforts.</span><br />
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If she had been able to donate her organs she would have immediately been carted away to an operating room to begin the very time-sensitive removal procedures. But instead, God gave us time to say goodbye to her. The heartbroken nurses and doctor lovingly removed tubes and wires and cleaned her up and we all got to hold her and talk to her. Our extended family was there in the room with us. The window to the adjoining room showed a space full of the people who love us and Libby. Our small group was there, Kurt's men's bible study group was there, other friends as well. They continued to hold vigil for us into the early morning hours as we said our goodbyes. As we held her, we were sharing some of our favorite Libby memories and we were actually able to laugh in those moments, remembering her antics and the times we'd had together as a family of five. It was yet another one of the holy moments God had given us in those past couple days, to be able to celebrate her life as we were so completely surrounded by the love and prayers of some of the people closest to us.</div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">Part of the reason I'd wanted the organ donation to work was purely selfish. I wanted to someday meet a person who was literally carrying a small piece of my daughter inside themselves. I wanted a family of a small child to be so grateful that Libby had lived because it meant that their sick child could now be healthy. I wanted her life to have made a lasting difference. But God's plan is perfect. Her organs were not needed that day but that last hour our family had to be together was so holy and precious, I know that was His gift to us.<br /> </span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">And after this week, where I have seen her story reach around the world and touch people, where friends and strangers are realizing the glory there is in God's plan and faithfulness, I am no longer concerned about her legacy. The book of her life may have been a short one, but it was a great story and we are already seeing how her life is now continuing on as it intertwines itself into the stories of people near and far. We will keep telling her story and invite you to do the same. To God be the glory, forever and ever! </span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><b>Facebook post on July 16, 2015:</b> T</span>here's nothing like a crisis to either break a family apart or draw them closer together. Thankfully, God has been drawing us closer to each other as we learn how to do life without our Libby girl. Last week Kurt and I celebrated our 14th anniversary. How thankful I am these days for this great man that God saw fit to give me, knowing we would have to be going through this dark time together. I w<span class="text_exposed_show">anted to share with you the beautiful words Kurt wrote for his eulogy. My sweet husband, with his fear of public standing-in-front-of-people, spoke so beautifully on his daughter's behalf. So in love with this man.<br /><br /> <i>I am Libby’s father, Kurt, and I want to thank you all for being here.<br /> </i></span></div>
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<i><span class="text_exposed_show">Last Sunday, the day Libby went to the Lord, Pastor Jim Miller mentioned the church as the arms of Christ and I understood without a shadow of doubt the message he conveyed because our family was living it out. We were being gathered in the warm embrace of those very arms and drawn in close to the body of Christ. The love and support has been unwavering, unrelenting, overwhelming and fearless, much like my daughter Libby. From the time this tragedy unfolded to the present, Christ’s presence has been constant.<br /> </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text_exposed_show">He has been in our midst through a group of men who hold a bible study in a bar, a small group “doing life together” and their small group cousins, close friends, as well as my fellow special agents who performed their most special operation of all, standing watch over us all. They were all gathered together in a hospital emergency room or a pediatric intensive care unit, holding us close until Libby departed this world, surrounded by the people she loved most and held dear to the end.<br /> At our home a group of women from iMOMS and women’s bible study worked long hours with the quiet fervor, reverence and perseverance of cloistered nuns (I have a Catholic upbringing so some of you will understand the allusion). They lovingly blessed our home with cooking, cleaning, fresh decorating, and love. As Erika’s sisters have said, “They make me want to be a church lady.”<br />All the faith, love, and hope continues to be a reassuring presence and an ever-constant reminder that we are not alone, we are not abandoned, and we are not forsaken, for in this broken world Christ is embodied in the church, and the church is holding us in its arms. I’d like to sum this up with a quote from Jerry Sittser’s book, A Grace Disguised, "Remember blood is thicker than water but faith is thickest of all”.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text_exposed_show">Personal note:<br /> I want to encourage you join a small group a bible study or become involved in one of the ministries here at Glenkirk or whatever church you call home. Go out and touch someone’s life as Libby has touched so many lives. Go forth today and celebrate, because that’s certainly what Libby would be doing. She was our little firecracker, so tonight, and in the years to come, always remember her and God’s faithfulness when the skies light up with fireworks.</span></i><br />
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