Little Treasures

Last weekend, my favorite daughter...  Oh, wait, some of you are having an issue right now.  Parents can't have favorites. Yes, they can. I have a favorite son too!  Anyway...

Last weekend, my favorite daughter had the urge to haul her box of school memorabilia out of the attic and sort through it.  Now this child isn't quite normal.  If she has something that needs to be organized, even if it is already in a box in the attic where no one can see it, she cannot let it be.  Her mother, on the other hand, is more of an "out of sight, out of mind" kind of organizer.  Thinking about sorting a box like that would make me groan (and procrastinate).  Not this child.

So Kailey was on her bedroom floor working her way through her box.  Every now and then she would holler out a comment to share with me.  "This says one of my best friends in kindergarten was Sam.  I don't even remember a Sam."

Later, she came downstairs with a red spiral notebook in her hands.  "Guess what I found?"  It was her 2nd grade Take Home Journal.  This discovery didn't mean to much to me.  I didn't even remember it.  Then Kailey explained, "Every week I had to write a letter to you and Dad.  Then you had to respond." She had found writings from her Dad! 

This journal was a way for a little 2nd grader to share what she learned and practice her writing skills.  Now it contains a collection of memories which we will treasure. 

Although Kevin was not known for a love of reading or writing, his messages to Kailey let his personality shine through.  In her September 28 entry, Kailey wrote about her class's walk down "Camershl Street" as part of their study of where they live.  She ended with, "Today we made apple pie."  Not surprising, Kevin responded with "How come you did not bring a piece of apple pie home for me?  I bet it tasted really good." I can imagine him saying those words in his teasing manner.

In a later entry he was hoping to get some more snow "so we can go snowmobiling." That was a typic wish during the winter months. I commented to Kailey that in a few earlier entries I barely recognized Kevin's handwriting.  She reminded me that we were instructed to print so she could read our writing.

I'm not certain what provoked Kailey to feel the desire to go through her box again.  It was not a disarray of papers without rhyme or reason like one might expect. Instead, it was already an extremely organized collection of envelopes and folders and notebooks.  What a treat for her (us) to stumble across this particular notebook.

So today I am thankful for

• An organized daughter who has carefully kept mementos from her childhood.
• A teacher's assigned task which helped students to learn and grow but also engage parents in the process.
• Memories of the time we had together.

Just as a father has compassion on his children, 

So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him.

Psalm 103:13

A year ago

A year ago…it feels like forever.  Forever since I’ve heard Kevin’s laugh. Forever since we have snuggled in bed.  Forever since we’ve shared a conversation.  Forever since I’ve held his hand.

I haven’t written in a long time either.  I’ve wanted to because it helps me process. I’ve started the writings in my head many times but I always give up.  There are no newsy details to keep people updated.  It just always seemed like a woe-is-me tale and no one needs to read that.

Too often I find myself being swallowed up by my own self pity…and then I have to have that conversation in my head that reminds me of all of the things I do have…great kids and family and friends and a job and a house and and and.

Obviously, the first few months were very difficult.  I was alone.  I’m an extrovert so I need to say all of those thoughts and feelings out loud.  It isn’t good enough to just think about them.  I’m not deep and self-reflective with my own inner joy.  Happiness for me comes when something is shared. That was gone.

However, through my readings and grief class and things I ran across, I thought my grief could help change me.  I think I’ve shared this quote before that I carry around in my phone, “The reality is that you will grieve forever.  You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it.  You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered.  You will be whole again but you will never be the same.  Nor would you want to.” I thought this could be a push to be better. I posted two quotes on my mirror:  “Life is happening for us…not to us” and “Problems make us grow, sculpt our soul, make us more.”

I took the quotes down a little while ago.  I found I wasn’t seeing them any more even though I looked at that mirror at least once very single day.  Instead of using my grief to become more, this past year I’ve become less. (Well, physically I’m not less.  I’m more.  My pairs of pants that no longer fit and the recent doctor visit prove that my “Queen of the Couch Potato” status have added to the more category when it comes to pounds.) But as a person I am less. I’m not sure how hours or even weekends can go by and I have done absolutely nothing.  I remember when my life used to be busy…projects to work on, places to go, people to see. Now a week can go by and I haven’t done anything except go to work. But it is my own fault. The couch seems to always be calling me.

Isn’t it odd?  I should know first hand how short life can be. Yet, I continue to waste precious hours and days and weeks.

I haven’t given up on the idea of building a better me, but I’m starting with a baby step.  When the new year rolled around, you may have seen people post about their #oneword2018. What one word was going to be the focus for 2018? I was intrigued by the idea, but scrolled by it many times without applying it to myself…because I’m good at that. Finally something clicked.  But my one word is two.  And it’s not profound or self-reflective or even going to lead me to a healthier life (because I should have chosen #exercise!).  Instead, it is simply Do More.  We’ll see where that leads me.

Although I don’t tell her enough, my lifesaver this year has been Kailey living at home.  There is someone to ask, “How was your day?” Someone to make sure you don’t go out the door looking like a total geek. Someone to cook for. Someone to come home to.  I know that will change, but the “roomie” status is working for now. Besides, she reminds me to put my “adventure straps” on and give something a try.

So one year later… I wanted to commemorate the day.  Not with sadness and tears, but with remembrance.  I haven’t quite figured out how to do that yet.  We are going to church with the Hilby family and Polly is hosting brunch after.  Keaton was invited to go snowmobiling with friends.  He faced that guilt trip dilemma…what do I do?  In my opinion, the answer was easy.  “What would your dad do?”  Go snowmobiling.  Keaton texted he wasn’t “prepared for the range of emotions this weekend.”  I understand but I think he made a perfect choice for celebrating his dad.

I’ll most likely crack open a Bud Light (Kevin’s beer choice, not mine) and give him a silent toast.  I would not wish him back…only wish I could go with.

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, 

and death shall be no more, 

neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, 

nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.  

Revelation 21:4

So today I am thankful

• for a roomie who keeps me in line
• for a snowmobile weekend for Keaton
• for family to share stories
• for the thoughtful cards and kind words sent our way
• for the time we had with Kevin.