It's been over five months since my last post. Hmm...sounds a bit like I'm in a confessional, or an AA meeting. Well, it may be fitting considering what I've been through in the last nine months. I have some confessions, and I have some moments of achievement. I have things I need to tell you about, because writing brings me peace, and I have some things to tell you about that I'm not proud of, but I believe they will encourage someone else who may be experiencing the same sorts of issues.
A lot of you know most of my story, but maybe not the most recent parts. For the sake of not making this the longest post I've ever written, I will write my entire story in another post or, perhaps, just keep adding to the book I'm finally writing. For those of you who have some time and would like to know more about me, you can click on the drop-down menu to the right of this post where it says "Blog Archive" and you can read bits of my story at a time, starting when I began to blog in 2009.
So...confession time. BUT, after every confession, I'm adding a positive confession from scripture that I'm speaking over my life in each of these areas.
~ I lost my Dad to brain cancer on April 1st of this year and I am still completely heartbroken. Most of the time, I walk around feeling like my world has been tipped upside-down and I'm just wandering. Wandering through memories, some appearing as if out of a dense fog and others as clear as if I was actually still living in that moment. My name is Tracie, and I feel broken and weak. (Isaiah 42:3)
~ There are a lot of days where I've hidden in my room while my lovely girls play and make their own meals, simply because I need to cry and pray, and I hate seeing the looks of worry on their faces. But also because I literally have no energy to make meals, deal with dishes, listen to whining, answer a million questions, etc., etc. "Are you OK, Mommy? Do you miss Papa?" they ask as they place their still-little hands in mine. No girls, I'm not OK. Yes, I miss Papa so much that I feel like my heart is actually breaking and the earth is going to swallow me up. That's the truth. But, what do we moms do instead? We tell our children something that will comfort them, and it's not always how we truly feel. "Yes, girls. I'm OK. I miss Papa very much, but he's in the best place he can be and everything is going to be fine." My name is Tracie, and sometimes I'm not honest with my children. (Isaiah 54:10)
~ I have eaten more ice cream in the last four months than I have in my entire life. True story. My name is Tracie, and I currently have an ice cream addiction. (1 Corinthians 10:13)
~ I. am. tired. I am exhausted in every possible sense; mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. I had no idea what intense grief was going to feel like, and the toll it takes on your entire being. I have dreams about my Dad that are sometimes wonderful and sometimes scary. When I have a good one, I'm actually angry when I wake up and realize it was just a dream and my Dad is still gone. When I have a scary one (mostly re-living the weeks before he passed away,) I wake up and I'm relieved that my Dad is with Jesus. It's a constant yo-yo of emotions. Add the fact that one of my daughters has been waking me up almost every night for a few weeks now and you've got one momma that's seriously on the edge. My name is Tracie, and I'm weary. (Matthew 11:28)
~ This is my last confession, for now. I wear my game face a lot. Although, in the last few days, I've found it harder and harder to wear and I think it's melting off. Makeup is a most wonderful invention indeed. Eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara in particular are very good at hiding puffy eyelids that are swollen from crying. Concealer, if you have a good one, really can hide the dark or puffy circles under your eyes from the above mentioned exhaustion. However, unless someone can invent an automatic smile-maker, or "twinkle drops" to put the spark of life back in my eyes, then I'm really not hiding anything anymore. I have gone to every church service, church meeting or commitment, kids' Dr. appointments, my Dr. appointments, grocery stores, etc. since my Dad died. Every one. I've worn my game face to all but the last two church services this past weekend and to my daughter's class yesterday. Know why? Because I finally felt the Holy Spirit wrap His arms around my heart and the tears just flowed and flowed, melting my game face away. My name is Tracie, and I can't hide anymore. (Psalm 139)
I don't know if you've ever lost someone you love. I don't know if you've ever walked through the valley of the shadow of death with someone, and then walked through the darkness of grief. What I know is that it's hard. It's worse than I ever imagined it would be. But what I know the truth to be is that God is still with me even in the darkest moments. Even when I can't hear him, he's there. Even when I can't feel him, he's there. Even when I feel lost, I'm found. Even when I feel like I can't take another step, he's there to pick me up and carry me. God is with me. He's been with me through every moment of my life, and will continue to be with me until the end of the age. (Isaiah 43:2)
In one of his sermons this past year, my pastor said, "Don't trade the truth of what you know for what you don't understand." That statement has carried me through the process of losing my Dad. I don't understand why he wasn't healed. I don't know if I ever will. But, God is sovereign. He has each of our days numbered in His Book of Life. Not one of us will leave this earth a second before or after what he has already ordained for us. That gives me great hope. I don't need to understand why my Dad died. I just need to know that God is still with me. He's still with my Mom. He's still with my entire family and all our friends who loved my dad dearly. And, someday, we will be OK. I will be OK. (Joshua 1:9)
Even with everything I confessed to you, I've still persevered through it. I'm being the best I can be with where I'm at. I'm showing up, even if it is with my game face on. I'm honoring my commitments. I'm taking care of the basics around the house. Somehow it doesn't look like a tornado blew through here. Somehow our bills are getting paid. Somehow my kids are showered and fed and still know they're loved when they lay their heads on their pillows at night. My husband is being amazing and picking up the slack. Believe me, there's been a lot of slack to pick up and I couldn't do life without him right now. The only reason I've been able to have achievements in the midst of the things I'm not proud of is because of Jesus! His grace, His mercy, and His compassion for me are carrying me. (Psalm 6:9) His joy, even though it doesn't feel like "happy" joy, is giving me continual strength. (Psalm 59:16) His love and acceptance of me assures me that what I am lacking in right now, he is making up for it. His love covers all.
Maybe your situation isn't grieving a loss. Maybe it's depression, an addiction, a betrayal, or a financial hardship. Whatever your situation, whatever shortcomings you may have right now, know this... GOD LOVES YOU! I'll leave you with a few more scriptures.
Romans 8:38-39 says, "And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Be encouraged today. (Psalm 43:5) Love, Tracie
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
I Quit...Confessions of "Volcano Mommy"
Today, I said two words I never thought I'd hear myself actually say out loud...and I said them to two precious little girls who never should have heard them come out of my mouth. The words were, "I quit." I realized my mistake instantly as I watched their little faces become confused and completely panicked at the same time. "You quit? Do you mean, you quit being our mommy?!" Then the tears flowed as sobs took over my two precious girls; my seven-year-old melting into a puddle and my ten-year-old screaming and shouting.
How could I have let this happen? When did I become so consumed with stress, anxiety, fear, or whatever, that I lost control of my tongue? I know what the Word of God says about the power of the words I speak, and yet I completely lost control. There were no fruits of the Spirit in me at all at that moment. I felt so ashamed, and so lost, like I had just done something I'd never be able to undo. Well, that part is true. I can't un-say what I said. Ever. I can't erase the fear that those two words made my daughters feel in that moment. However, the intense pain I felt when I saw the looks on their faces assured me of one thing. I will NEVER lose control of my tongue like that again.
I have no excuse for the way I hurt my children with those two little words. Yes, I've been under a tremendous amount of stress over the past few months. Yes, my girls have been fighting constantly, both with each other and with me. I have been feeling like a volcano about to erupt for a few days now, which should have been a warning sign that I needed to pay serious attention to, but I didn't. Nothing excuses the fact that I lost it. I just plain lost it. I messed up, big time. I was "Volcano Mommy."
After many tears from the three of us, and my being completely honest with them about why I was so angry, I was able to explain to them that when I said, "I quit," I was not talking about quitting being their mommy. I was talking about my efforts to stop their constant bickering, fighting, yelling, name calling, etc., etc. I was talking about my consistent efforts to make them understand that I'm their Mother, and they are to honor me and respect me, even if they don't "feel" like it. I told them that I was tired of trying to teach them these things, when it seems to go in one ear and out the other. I told them I felt completely disrespected and that my feelings were very hurt. However, after all that needed to be said was said, I was able to reassure them that I had made a terrible mistake by allowing those words to come out of my mouth, and that I didn't mean them. I asked them to forgive me and they did, without reservation.
Children are amazing. My children amaze me. No matter how awful they've been acting towards me or each other, when something like this happens, they want things to be right again so quickly that it's almost like they forget the fact that they've just been hurt so they can make everything OK again. Their need to feel safe, loved, and protected overrules their need to hold an offense. Man, can we learn some serious lessons from our kids. I'm blown away at their ability to forgive me so quickly, especially when I've messed up this badly.
As much as I wish things would have gone differently, that I would have had a more calm approach to the conversation that still needed to happen, we each learned valuable lessons through this experience. My children were immediately remorseful, which is usually not the case. They lavished me with hugs and apologies. They asked me if they could please be excused to go and talk with each other and do some "research." I have no idea what they're talking about, but I can't wait to see what they've come up with.
I should never have allowed the volcano mommy inside me to erupt. But, maybe it was what needed to happen for the lights to really come on for my kids about how things need to change right now. I've basically been a single parent since November, and my hat goes off to every single parent out there who is trying their very best to not become volcano mommy or volcano daddy. What gives me the greatest hope is that even though I messed up as their mother, I can still run into the arms of my Heavenly Father and ask his forgiveness. The same comfort that my girls had from my reassuring hugs and kisses is the same comfort I feel from my Father in Heaven, who also forgives me the moment I ask him to.
1 John 1:9 says, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." I am so thankful that God is gracious and merciful to me. I need him so desperately right now, and I know he's with me. I pray that my children never see "Volcano Mommy" again. It was a good indicator to me that I've been trying to carry the load of my life on my own shoulders for a while now. Which is exactly why Peter tells us to cast all our cares on Jesus, for he cares about us. I needed the reminder to let go of all the things in my life that I can't control right now, so that I can remain in control of myself.
I debated whether or not I should share this post with you. Let's face it, it's not an easy thing to admit when you've messed up. But, if it encourages just one other parent that we can be forgiven by God when we've made a huge mistake with our kids, then it was worth it to put myself out there like this. I hope you're encouraged. We need each other. Raising kids is hard just by itself. Add to it any other life challenges and our job becomes almost impossible at times. At least it feels that way to me. It is, in fact, an impossible task if we're trying to do it in our own strength. We must give our cares over to the Lord so that we can do this most important job that we've been called to do...raise godly children. Hug another parent when you see them. Encourage them and tell them they're doing a great job.
Much love,
Tracie
How could I have let this happen? When did I become so consumed with stress, anxiety, fear, or whatever, that I lost control of my tongue? I know what the Word of God says about the power of the words I speak, and yet I completely lost control. There were no fruits of the Spirit in me at all at that moment. I felt so ashamed, and so lost, like I had just done something I'd never be able to undo. Well, that part is true. I can't un-say what I said. Ever. I can't erase the fear that those two words made my daughters feel in that moment. However, the intense pain I felt when I saw the looks on their faces assured me of one thing. I will NEVER lose control of my tongue like that again.
I have no excuse for the way I hurt my children with those two little words. Yes, I've been under a tremendous amount of stress over the past few months. Yes, my girls have been fighting constantly, both with each other and with me. I have been feeling like a volcano about to erupt for a few days now, which should have been a warning sign that I needed to pay serious attention to, but I didn't. Nothing excuses the fact that I lost it. I just plain lost it. I messed up, big time. I was "Volcano Mommy."
After many tears from the three of us, and my being completely honest with them about why I was so angry, I was able to explain to them that when I said, "I quit," I was not talking about quitting being their mommy. I was talking about my efforts to stop their constant bickering, fighting, yelling, name calling, etc., etc. I was talking about my consistent efforts to make them understand that I'm their Mother, and they are to honor me and respect me, even if they don't "feel" like it. I told them that I was tired of trying to teach them these things, when it seems to go in one ear and out the other. I told them I felt completely disrespected and that my feelings were very hurt. However, after all that needed to be said was said, I was able to reassure them that I had made a terrible mistake by allowing those words to come out of my mouth, and that I didn't mean them. I asked them to forgive me and they did, without reservation.
Children are amazing. My children amaze me. No matter how awful they've been acting towards me or each other, when something like this happens, they want things to be right again so quickly that it's almost like they forget the fact that they've just been hurt so they can make everything OK again. Their need to feel safe, loved, and protected overrules their need to hold an offense. Man, can we learn some serious lessons from our kids. I'm blown away at their ability to forgive me so quickly, especially when I've messed up this badly.
As much as I wish things would have gone differently, that I would have had a more calm approach to the conversation that still needed to happen, we each learned valuable lessons through this experience. My children were immediately remorseful, which is usually not the case. They lavished me with hugs and apologies. They asked me if they could please be excused to go and talk with each other and do some "research." I have no idea what they're talking about, but I can't wait to see what they've come up with.
I should never have allowed the volcano mommy inside me to erupt. But, maybe it was what needed to happen for the lights to really come on for my kids about how things need to change right now. I've basically been a single parent since November, and my hat goes off to every single parent out there who is trying their very best to not become volcano mommy or volcano daddy. What gives me the greatest hope is that even though I messed up as their mother, I can still run into the arms of my Heavenly Father and ask his forgiveness. The same comfort that my girls had from my reassuring hugs and kisses is the same comfort I feel from my Father in Heaven, who also forgives me the moment I ask him to.
1 John 1:9 says, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." I am so thankful that God is gracious and merciful to me. I need him so desperately right now, and I know he's with me. I pray that my children never see "Volcano Mommy" again. It was a good indicator to me that I've been trying to carry the load of my life on my own shoulders for a while now. Which is exactly why Peter tells us to cast all our cares on Jesus, for he cares about us. I needed the reminder to let go of all the things in my life that I can't control right now, so that I can remain in control of myself.
I debated whether or not I should share this post with you. Let's face it, it's not an easy thing to admit when you've messed up. But, if it encourages just one other parent that we can be forgiven by God when we've made a huge mistake with our kids, then it was worth it to put myself out there like this. I hope you're encouraged. We need each other. Raising kids is hard just by itself. Add to it any other life challenges and our job becomes almost impossible at times. At least it feels that way to me. It is, in fact, an impossible task if we're trying to do it in our own strength. We must give our cares over to the Lord so that we can do this most important job that we've been called to do...raise godly children. Hug another parent when you see them. Encourage them and tell them they're doing a great job.
Much love,
Tracie
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
The Challenge
It's been quite a while since I've sat face-to-face with my computer screen, just staring at a blank blog post page...the vertical line in the top, left-hand corner blinking away, waiting for me to start typing. "What do you want to say today, Tracie?," the blinking line asks with every blink. It waits patiently while the torrent of emotions in my heart flood up into my mind and try to answer that question... What do I want to say?
Honestly, I don't feel like writing today. I don't feel like saying anything. Past experience reminds me, however, that on the days I don't feel like writing it's usually because I need to write. Along with past experience is a recent experience, which I will write about later in this post, in which I was challenged by a hospital chaplain to write the truth of what was in my mind and heart, not just what I thought people would "want" to read, but what they "need" to read. So, even though I don't feel like writing today, I'm going to anyway.
Many of you know that my girls and I have been in Washington State since the middle of November to help take care of my dad, who is fighting brain cancer. To try to count the number of precious moments my girls and I have had with my dad and family since we've been here would be impossible. Even though it has been incredibly difficult to watch my dad, my hero, suffer tremendously, I wouldn't trade one second of the time we've had together. We had a lot of catching up to do.
Christmas Day began with our tradition of having the girls open their stockings and a few gifts before heading over to have breakfast at my sister's house. They took over the tradition of breakfast at Grandma Peggy's house after she passed away six years ago. My brother-in-law prepares a delicious breakfast every year and we have had the privilege of being here for three of those years. Usually, it's Dad, Mom, myself, my two sisters, our husbands, and our children. This year was my first Christmas apart from Josh since we met fifteen years ago, so of course that meant it was the first Christmas our girls were apart from their daddy, too. We were all feeling the empty spot at the table, but were determined to have a good day. We finished our feast and gathered in the living room to open each others gifts. My dad was extremely weak and so tired, but he wanted to stay and watch his grandchildren. Like I said, he's my hero.
Eventually, my mom took him home (which is conveniently right next door to my sister's house) and then she came back to help us pack up gifts and clean up. However, the conversation and mood had turned to anything but a holly-jolly Christmas. All we could talk about was how we were going to take care of my dad. He was getting too weak for my Mom and I to handle when the caregiver wasn't there. Even when the caregiver was there, who is an amazing lady, she still had to ask for my help at times when my dad needed to get from one place in the house to the other. We were beginning to realize the need for things to help him be safer and more comfortable.
But most of all, there was the elephant in the room. You know, the one you try to push in the closet and hope it doesn't pop out. It was the one question no one wants to know the answer to... "Is this our last Christmas with Dad?" There! The elephant is out of the closet. I said it. Do I feel better? Not really. But, I've come to realize in hindsight that the "elephant" was probably what led to the events that happened later in the day. I'll get to that in a minute. We finished cleaning up, and put our conversations about hospital beds, facilities, doctors, etc, on hold and went back to my parents' house to rest until our small family dinner later that evening.
Around noon, I began to have very strange sensations and sounds in both of my ears. It was like every sound was magnified 1000x normal, yet both ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton balls. I couldn't think straight, and I began to feel the all too familiar "boat rocking" sensation of vertigo begin. My first thought was that I was getting a migraine, so I decided to lie down and drink a cup of decaf coffee and have some dark chocolate. I can't handle the amount of caffeine in regular coffee, so the combination of decaf and chocolate usually works for me to stave off a major migraine. However, things went from bad to worse and in a matter of a couple hours, the room was spinning.
When I say spinning, I'm not talking about a slow spin, like when you first get on the Tea Cup ride at Disneyland, and you're in control of how fast you spin. I'm talking about the room spinning in every direction all at the same time, like in an aerotrim. An aerotrim is a gyroscope large enough to contain a human being, used for cardiovascular workout and balance training in pilots and astronauts. See the picture below.
I can't remember how many hours later it was when my mom told me she was going out to the car to try to take a little nap, but then came back crying. I thought she was going to tell me that my blood test results were back and it was bad news. Well, it was bad news, but not about me. My sister had called to say that the paramedics were on their way to the ER with my dad. At the time, they were suspecting that he had had a stroke, but weren't sure if it was that or a seizure. Either way, his left side was paralyzed. I could not believe what I was hearing. And I could not believe that I was too sick to go see him across the ER. We waited for them to do preliminary imaging and make sure my dad was stabilized and then they prepared to transfer him to Swedish Hospital in Seattle, where all of his doctors are.
I was worried about my girls. They had watched him being taken away by the paramedics. I knew how sensitive they were and I was so afraid for Hailey. I didn't want the stress to trigger an attack in her body, as it so often does. I was so sad. I was so mad. I was SO frustrated! Why? Why, when my dad needed us the most, was I not able to be with him? I had been here for almost two months taking care of him every day, only to have the most important thing happen and be completely helpless myself. I did not understand. I asked if the paramedics could at least roll his gurney next to my room so I could wave and say goodbye to him, which they did. I am so grateful for them. At that point, I had no idea what the future held for my dad and there was no way I wasn't going to tell him that I loved him before they took him to Seattle.
The ER Dr. admitted me into the hospital later that afternoon. I found out late that evening, after my dad had gotten to Seattle for an MRI, that it was indeed a stroke. I just cried. There was nothing else to do at that moment. I was completely alone. I hung up with my mom and just cried and prayed until a nurse came in to take my vitals. I was so sick, so dizzy, so helpless, and so alone. Did I mention alone? I know that I am never truly alone and that God is with me always but, I had never felt so alone in my entire life. This is the part where the hospital chaplain's challenge to me comes in.
I didn't actually see him until the third day of being there, but it was perfect timing. I was too sick before then to have even been able to hold a real conversation with anyone. We began to talk and he listened to me patiently tell him what had happened since I had been there. He kept hearing me say over and over again things like, "But I know God is with me. God has His hand on this. God is taking care of my Dad. God is taking care of my kids." He looked at me and said, "I hear you saying all of these things, but I want you to tell me what you're feeling inside right now. What are your fears? What are your worries? Are you angry? Are you feeling alone? Tell me what you're feeling. Don't tell me what you know about your faith. Tell me what you don't know about your faith." What?
At first, I was shocked. I wondered what kind of a chaplain was this? He certainly wasn't seeming to be encouraging. He wanted me to tell him all of my bad feelings and stop talking about my faith. But all of a sudden, a dawning occurred to me. I needed to put aside my Christian "lingo," my "game face," my "super-woman" complex for just a minute and actually allow myself to feel the full weight of my emotions, my fears, my confusion, and my anger. I started to tell him how alone I had been feeling. That my husband was in Virginia and my family was in Seattle, where I wanted to be. I felt like I was 3,000 miles away again, as I have been for over six years now. I was angry. I was confused. I could not understand the timing of the events. I was worried about my dad, I was worried about my mom, I was worried about my daughter getting sick, I was worried about myself. How long was this relentless vertigo going to last? Why now? Why was I sick AGAIN?!
In that moment I realized what God had sent that chaplain to tell me. He sent him to tell me that it's OK to be scared. It's OK to be mad. It's OK to be human. I've been trying to be strong for so long, not truly facing my fears head on, and my body finally said, "Enough is enough. You can't do this anymore." He told me that God knows I'm a woman of faith, a woman after His heart, and His will. But that he needs me to be honest with him and be more real with him than I ever have been before. That was the key to my body beginning to get better. The chaplain asked me what were some things that I do that bring me joy and peace. I told him that I sing and write songs, I write on my blog, I go to the ocean, etc. That was when he challenged me.
He said, "I bet your blog is full of scripture and encouragement, right?" I said, "Well, yes." He said, "You are a woman of faith. Anyone who knows you knows that about you, right? But what I want to challenge you to do is to write about what people can identify with. Fear, worry, anger, etc. You are always going to bring God glory, no matter what you write. It's in you, you can't help that. So, have the courage to write honestly about what you're going through. Because it's the pain that people like me identify with. It's the agony about their loved one. It's the frustration at the timing of events like this. That's what they relate to. That's what they need to know they're not alone in walking through. The encouragement will come, yes. But, for a moment, they need to be in the dark pit with you before you can show them how God helped you climb out."
I was floored. I was challenged, indeed. I was humbled....I was in the hospital for four days. The vertigo barely let up, even to the point when I was discharged to go home. I spun and spun, cried and cried, and prayed and prayed. Josh had to come out to take care of me a couple days after I'd been released. I wish it wouldn't have been because of being so sick, but at least we got to see him for over a week. It was much needed tangible strength for my girls and I. My husband is amazing. God knew just the right time to send him to us.
I will never fully understand the reasons why I got so sick right before my Dad had his stroke. One thing I do know is that I don't think I could have handled finding him that morning, unable to move his left side. And, from what my sisters have told me, I don't think I could have handled seeing him in the hospital for that week after the stroke. My body was already completely stressed, which is what the Dr's determined caused the attack in the first place. So, I can't imagine what would have happened had I not already been in the care of doctors during that time. I do not believe that God causes illness. He is our Healer. But, I do believe that he allows us to go through things at specific times for very specific reasons. I believe my hospitalization was His divine protection over me. I really do. It gave me time to grieve alone, without worrying about making my kids sad. It gave me time to pray and intercede for hours upon hours. It gave my kids a chance to get to know their other family members and friends who were so wonderful to step in and help take care of them. I am so grateful to God for every good thing that came out of this horrible situation. As I always say, He is forever faithful.
There is so much more to say, however, I feel that I should end for now. Please keep my Dad and my family in your prayers. We need prayer like we've never needed it before. Thank you.
Xoxo,
Tracie
Honestly, I don't feel like writing today. I don't feel like saying anything. Past experience reminds me, however, that on the days I don't feel like writing it's usually because I need to write. Along with past experience is a recent experience, which I will write about later in this post, in which I was challenged by a hospital chaplain to write the truth of what was in my mind and heart, not just what I thought people would "want" to read, but what they "need" to read. So, even though I don't feel like writing today, I'm going to anyway.
Many of you know that my girls and I have been in Washington State since the middle of November to help take care of my dad, who is fighting brain cancer. To try to count the number of precious moments my girls and I have had with my dad and family since we've been here would be impossible. Even though it has been incredibly difficult to watch my dad, my hero, suffer tremendously, I wouldn't trade one second of the time we've had together. We had a lot of catching up to do.
Christmas Day began with our tradition of having the girls open their stockings and a few gifts before heading over to have breakfast at my sister's house. They took over the tradition of breakfast at Grandma Peggy's house after she passed away six years ago. My brother-in-law prepares a delicious breakfast every year and we have had the privilege of being here for three of those years. Usually, it's Dad, Mom, myself, my two sisters, our husbands, and our children. This year was my first Christmas apart from Josh since we met fifteen years ago, so of course that meant it was the first Christmas our girls were apart from their daddy, too. We were all feeling the empty spot at the table, but were determined to have a good day. We finished our feast and gathered in the living room to open each others gifts. My dad was extremely weak and so tired, but he wanted to stay and watch his grandchildren. Like I said, he's my hero.
Eventually, my mom took him home (which is conveniently right next door to my sister's house) and then she came back to help us pack up gifts and clean up. However, the conversation and mood had turned to anything but a holly-jolly Christmas. All we could talk about was how we were going to take care of my dad. He was getting too weak for my Mom and I to handle when the caregiver wasn't there. Even when the caregiver was there, who is an amazing lady, she still had to ask for my help at times when my dad needed to get from one place in the house to the other. We were beginning to realize the need for things to help him be safer and more comfortable.
But most of all, there was the elephant in the room. You know, the one you try to push in the closet and hope it doesn't pop out. It was the one question no one wants to know the answer to... "Is this our last Christmas with Dad?" There! The elephant is out of the closet. I said it. Do I feel better? Not really. But, I've come to realize in hindsight that the "elephant" was probably what led to the events that happened later in the day. I'll get to that in a minute. We finished cleaning up, and put our conversations about hospital beds, facilities, doctors, etc, on hold and went back to my parents' house to rest until our small family dinner later that evening.
Around noon, I began to have very strange sensations and sounds in both of my ears. It was like every sound was magnified 1000x normal, yet both ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton balls. I couldn't think straight, and I began to feel the all too familiar "boat rocking" sensation of vertigo begin. My first thought was that I was getting a migraine, so I decided to lie down and drink a cup of decaf coffee and have some dark chocolate. I can't handle the amount of caffeine in regular coffee, so the combination of decaf and chocolate usually works for me to stave off a major migraine. However, things went from bad to worse and in a matter of a couple hours, the room was spinning.
When I say spinning, I'm not talking about a slow spin, like when you first get on the Tea Cup ride at Disneyland, and you're in control of how fast you spin. I'm talking about the room spinning in every direction all at the same time, like in an aerotrim. An aerotrim is a gyroscope large enough to contain a human being, used for cardiovascular workout and balance training in pilots and astronauts. See the picture below.
Notice how happy the woman in the picture is? I can guarantee you, I was not smiling. In fact, I was physically ill. I somehow managed to keep my head completely still and eat some dinner in my room while the rest of my family was at the table for Christmas dinner. Sometime after that, by the mercy of God, I fell asleep. I woke up several hours later, around 2:00am and tried to get out of bed to use the restroom. I fell on the floor. I called my mom's cell phone and told her I needed help to the bathroom. When I got back to my room, I began to throw up. At that point, I realized I needed to go to the hospital. I had no idea what was causing the severe vertigo, but I had never experienced it so violently in my life. So, my sister came over to stay with Dad and the kids and off to the ER we went.
I can't remember how many hours later it was when my mom told me she was going out to the car to try to take a little nap, but then came back crying. I thought she was going to tell me that my blood test results were back and it was bad news. Well, it was bad news, but not about me. My sister had called to say that the paramedics were on their way to the ER with my dad. At the time, they were suspecting that he had had a stroke, but weren't sure if it was that or a seizure. Either way, his left side was paralyzed. I could not believe what I was hearing. And I could not believe that I was too sick to go see him across the ER. We waited for them to do preliminary imaging and make sure my dad was stabilized and then they prepared to transfer him to Swedish Hospital in Seattle, where all of his doctors are.
I was worried about my girls. They had watched him being taken away by the paramedics. I knew how sensitive they were and I was so afraid for Hailey. I didn't want the stress to trigger an attack in her body, as it so often does. I was so sad. I was so mad. I was SO frustrated! Why? Why, when my dad needed us the most, was I not able to be with him? I had been here for almost two months taking care of him every day, only to have the most important thing happen and be completely helpless myself. I did not understand. I asked if the paramedics could at least roll his gurney next to my room so I could wave and say goodbye to him, which they did. I am so grateful for them. At that point, I had no idea what the future held for my dad and there was no way I wasn't going to tell him that I loved him before they took him to Seattle.
The ER Dr. admitted me into the hospital later that afternoon. I found out late that evening, after my dad had gotten to Seattle for an MRI, that it was indeed a stroke. I just cried. There was nothing else to do at that moment. I was completely alone. I hung up with my mom and just cried and prayed until a nurse came in to take my vitals. I was so sick, so dizzy, so helpless, and so alone. Did I mention alone? I know that I am never truly alone and that God is with me always but, I had never felt so alone in my entire life. This is the part where the hospital chaplain's challenge to me comes in.
I didn't actually see him until the third day of being there, but it was perfect timing. I was too sick before then to have even been able to hold a real conversation with anyone. We began to talk and he listened to me patiently tell him what had happened since I had been there. He kept hearing me say over and over again things like, "But I know God is with me. God has His hand on this. God is taking care of my Dad. God is taking care of my kids." He looked at me and said, "I hear you saying all of these things, but I want you to tell me what you're feeling inside right now. What are your fears? What are your worries? Are you angry? Are you feeling alone? Tell me what you're feeling. Don't tell me what you know about your faith. Tell me what you don't know about your faith." What?
At first, I was shocked. I wondered what kind of a chaplain was this? He certainly wasn't seeming to be encouraging. He wanted me to tell him all of my bad feelings and stop talking about my faith. But all of a sudden, a dawning occurred to me. I needed to put aside my Christian "lingo," my "game face," my "super-woman" complex for just a minute and actually allow myself to feel the full weight of my emotions, my fears, my confusion, and my anger. I started to tell him how alone I had been feeling. That my husband was in Virginia and my family was in Seattle, where I wanted to be. I felt like I was 3,000 miles away again, as I have been for over six years now. I was angry. I was confused. I could not understand the timing of the events. I was worried about my dad, I was worried about my mom, I was worried about my daughter getting sick, I was worried about myself. How long was this relentless vertigo going to last? Why now? Why was I sick AGAIN?!
In that moment I realized what God had sent that chaplain to tell me. He sent him to tell me that it's OK to be scared. It's OK to be mad. It's OK to be human. I've been trying to be strong for so long, not truly facing my fears head on, and my body finally said, "Enough is enough. You can't do this anymore." He told me that God knows I'm a woman of faith, a woman after His heart, and His will. But that he needs me to be honest with him and be more real with him than I ever have been before. That was the key to my body beginning to get better. The chaplain asked me what were some things that I do that bring me joy and peace. I told him that I sing and write songs, I write on my blog, I go to the ocean, etc. That was when he challenged me.
He said, "I bet your blog is full of scripture and encouragement, right?" I said, "Well, yes." He said, "You are a woman of faith. Anyone who knows you knows that about you, right? But what I want to challenge you to do is to write about what people can identify with. Fear, worry, anger, etc. You are always going to bring God glory, no matter what you write. It's in you, you can't help that. So, have the courage to write honestly about what you're going through. Because it's the pain that people like me identify with. It's the agony about their loved one. It's the frustration at the timing of events like this. That's what they relate to. That's what they need to know they're not alone in walking through. The encouragement will come, yes. But, for a moment, they need to be in the dark pit with you before you can show them how God helped you climb out."
I was floored. I was challenged, indeed. I was humbled....I was in the hospital for four days. The vertigo barely let up, even to the point when I was discharged to go home. I spun and spun, cried and cried, and prayed and prayed. Josh had to come out to take care of me a couple days after I'd been released. I wish it wouldn't have been because of being so sick, but at least we got to see him for over a week. It was much needed tangible strength for my girls and I. My husband is amazing. God knew just the right time to send him to us.
I will never fully understand the reasons why I got so sick right before my Dad had his stroke. One thing I do know is that I don't think I could have handled finding him that morning, unable to move his left side. And, from what my sisters have told me, I don't think I could have handled seeing him in the hospital for that week after the stroke. My body was already completely stressed, which is what the Dr's determined caused the attack in the first place. So, I can't imagine what would have happened had I not already been in the care of doctors during that time. I do not believe that God causes illness. He is our Healer. But, I do believe that he allows us to go through things at specific times for very specific reasons. I believe my hospitalization was His divine protection over me. I really do. It gave me time to grieve alone, without worrying about making my kids sad. It gave me time to pray and intercede for hours upon hours. It gave my kids a chance to get to know their other family members and friends who were so wonderful to step in and help take care of them. I am so grateful to God for every good thing that came out of this horrible situation. As I always say, He is forever faithful.
There is so much more to say, however, I feel that I should end for now. Please keep my Dad and my family in your prayers. We need prayer like we've never needed it before. Thank you.
Xoxo,
Tracie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)