Day 198
198 days? Almost 200 –
wow…and I’m 198 days closer to being reunited with Paul. While a morbid thought, I know, it fills me
with hope right now. But other things do,
too (fill me with hope), so I’m not completely fixated on my own eventual death!
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| Our 2nd date - FBBC spring banquet - Apr. 1990 -posing for this picture was the 1st time we ever touched. I still remember the thrill that ran through me when the photographer posed us! |
My house is pretty quiet right now and it’s going to get
quieter. I’m excited! My friend, Sarah, took my Littles this
afternoon and will have them until early tomorrow evening. Sarah does my hair and the girls’, from time
to time. She’s a single mom of 4, but
wants to give ME a break. At least I
have teenagers to help. Will is out of
town hunting. Ben is at school for
another hour and David is quietly decorating a gingerbread house. This evening I will run he and Ben over to
the church for the youth group Christmas party.
And then I will have the house to myself for several hours! I think I’m going to stop and get a movie and
spend the evening sitting in my new recliner, not doing a single thing except
entertaining myself and eating. That
sounds pretty self-absorbed, now that I read it! But I’m still looking forward to those few
hours.
I probably won’t write again until after Christmas. I’m pretty much ready for the day. My parents are coming down, which will be
nice. I had a friend take me aside the
other night. She informed me that her
family was deliberately keeping their Christmas plans flexible so that if we
needed them, they could be there for us.
How have I been so blessed?
I have received several financial gifts in the last week or so and I’ve
also gotten a few cards and notes from friends, letting me know that they
understand that this first Christmas has to be hard, but that they care and are
praying. I wonder if
part of God’s bigger picture was simply to give me a reason to understand how
loved I am – loved by Paul, certainly, but also by those around me.
And it has been rough.
I knew it would be. The other
night on Facebook I listed a number of
Christmas-related events that had occurred and gave me pause. The first was that our Christmas program was
last Sun. night. This was the Cantata
year (they alternate between a Sunday School kids program and a grown-up
cantata). Will participated and looked
so handsome standing up there (no motherly pride involved at all, of course!)But my eyes kept drifting over to
the right side of the loft, where Paul always was and where he should have been
this year, too. David had a speaking part
and did wonderful job. He was SO
scared and confessed to me that every time he practiced his knees wouldn’t keep
shaking. He’s more self-conscious, too,
than other kids, so I know that made it more difficult. But he did it anyway and oh, I was proud! A woman told me later she knew Paul was
proud, too. He would have been. And – maybe he got to witness the program,
after all.
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| June '90- Worlds of Fun |
They had the younger SS kids sing the first song with the
choir. I was busy snapping pictures, but
I had several people tell me later they couldn’t take their eyes off Lizzie,
who sang with complete gusto and knowledge of all the words. I wasn’t surprised. She is extremely bright and loves to
sing. Sam was up there twisting his arms
around, up and down. Oh, I was about ready
to smack him! But I laughed
instead. He’s 6. If he’s still making distracting arm
movements at 16, we’ll talk then!
Later, that night a man said to me that I “seem to be doing just
fine” since Paul’s death. Not really
sure how to respond to that because I know I’m not doing “just fine”! But I kind of hate to dispel this competent
appearance I am apparently exuding, to some at least. I had one of my Facebook friends point out to
me, and I think she’s right, that there are people who want me to be doing
“just fine.” If they can convince
themselves that I am fine then it relieves them of the burden of having to
watch me struggle as I grieve. That, of
course, makes them feel helpless since they can’t take it away from me.
We stopped at Paul’s grave on the way home. I just wanted to be near his body. You know, it only recently occurred to me
that he’s not resting just underneath the surface of the ground. All this time I’ve been thinking that the
only thing that separates us is the coffin lid, the vault lid, and a layer of
sod. A few weeks ago, though, I suddenly
realized that he’s way down in the ground (hence the term, “six feet
under”!)! Bummer. I liked the idea of him being closer. Lizzie called out, “Hi Daddy! I singed in the program tonight! I love you, I miss you!” And Ellie echoed,
“Wub you, Daddy!” Touching and so, so
heartbreaking at the same time.
I finished up my Christmas shopping on Monday. I took Sam and Lizzie with me so they could
buy gifts for their siblings (the kids exchange names). Sam had David’s name and when we got home,
David asked, “So what did you get me, Sam?”
And Sam told him! And then later,
Will asked Lizzie the same thing and she told him what he’s getting! ARgh.
I could just throttle these teenagers sometimes!
I bought a Soda Stream this week.
Paul had kind of wanted to get one and we just never got around to
it. I had started thinking more
seriously about it in recent weeks and had been doing some research. The kids are probably the main reason I went
for it, though. They all seem to have a
real interest in keeping me alive these days.
It’s understandable. But every
time they see me drink pop (which is every day – I seem to need my fizz)
someone invariably cries out, “Oh, Mom – you’re going to die if you keep
drinking pop!” That’s thanks to Will and
David. Neither has drunk pop for about 2
years now, which is great. But they don’t
need to drop comments about how I’m shortening my lifespan, either, especially
in front of the Littles! I was at Target
on Monday and thought I’d just price their Soda Streams. They just happened to be having a deal where
if you bought one (for the same price I would have paid on Amazon) then you get
a $20 Target gift card. Plus, since I
have a Target debit card I would automatically get another 5% off. And there was one left. And it was red. I think I heard the voice of God.
Of course, the story of how hackers got into the Target card
accounts broke two days later, and if my account has been compromised, then I will
have lost all my savings that I gained by buying it now…
It’s working really well, though.
Tastes like pop, anyway! And
there’s no high fructose corn syrup, which is the best part and will hopefully prolong my life - for the kids' sake, anyway.
Sam told me that he no longer wishes his “real” name to be Samuel. Instead, he wants to be “Samson” because
“he’s way cooler, Mom!” Maybe I should
remind him how the Biblical Samson ended up?
Ben told me yesterday that he had dreamed about Paul the night
before. He couldn’t remember any
details, but said it made him happy.
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| Oct. '90 - both of us 19 - we'd been together 6 mos. here |
I received an encouraging note yesterday from Paul’s aunt in a
Christmas card. That was nice. I also got a short letter from another
relative. In it, she commented several
times how she just didn’t understand how God could “do this to you.” It took me aback, because I had never once
thought about Paul’s death in terms like that.
I wasn’t offended, but it did make me think. I understand her heart. She’s old and hurts not only because of
Paul’s death but because of the position the kids and I have been put into. It doesn’t make sense to her to have a young
person like Paul taken out of the picture when there were so many that needed
him.
So I’ve been thinking. Of
course I understand that Paul dying was not something a malicious God “did” to
us. But what was it, then? In many ways, it was an act of mercy. Paul dying at 42 means that he escaped so
much. Never will he deal with seizures
ever again. No more working, no more
stress. He will never experience any of
the indignities that can come with old age and failing bodies. Paul could have lived that night, but been
terribly brain damaged as a result of the loss of oxygen. What a tragedy that would have been. Financially, we would have been ruined. I would have had a tremendous burden placed
on me. And Paul would have been just as
lost to me as he is now, being dead.
The thing is, God never promised us lives of ease upon becoming
Christians. One of my favorite verses is
John 16:33 – “In this world you will have many troubles, but rejoice, for I
have overcome the world!” Troubles are
pretty much guaranteed and come in a variety of forms. It has to be that way when you live in a
decaying, sin-sickened world. Anything
new and good is temporary, at best.
But what we were promised was that when things around us fell
apart, as they invariably do, is that God would be there to catch us, whispering words
of love and comfort. He would remind us
that our current afflictions were so temporary - For our
momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable
eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is
unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. ~2
Corinthians 4:17-18~
It isn't what He has done TO us. All of this is possible because
of what Christ did FOR us at Calvary.
Merry Christmas, Everyone!
Merry Christmas to Paul, who
celebrates this year, sitting at the scarred feet of Jesus. I have a feeling that all our glittery
celebrations down here pale to what he’ll be experiencing. I’m a bit envious, really.
Merry Christmas, my Love…
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