Death has an uncanny way of bringing out the best in people. And, sadly, it also has a way of bringing out the worst. Fortunately, with my father, his goodness only shined through in his passing. He became the light that we all needed. In his last days, only love filled his heart. Only love was passed on to us. Only love presented itself in his last moments. His last hours. His last minutes. Love is what he left us with and love is what we hold close to our hearts.
I envisioned coming home this winter season as a terrible time for me, but it hasn't been as horrible as I imagined. I think I needed to go away and come home again to fully understand that he never left me. The physical remainders of him may lurk here, but in reality, the essence and being of him cannot be placed on what is left. He lives in my heart. He lives in all of us who loved him. And, that is such a beautiful thing.
He is never more than a thought away. Never more than a fleeting glimpse. Never more than the headlights on a truck or tractor. Never farther away than that silent touch on my shoulder.
Always as close as that smile that sometimes greets me in the mirror. Always as close as the laughter of my mother, my brothers, their children, and mine. Always in his quips that have now become ours.
Always near. Always ours. And always theirs. He never left and he never will. He will always live on.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I Am a Farmer
I am a farmer,
But I am not the typical farmer of my youth.
I do not harvest crops of the earth.
The crops I tend are buried deep within my soul.
They are the water of life,
In which my future depends on.
I cultivate a crop that does not rely on the weather
Of this physical world.
I am a farmer of my future.
When the weeds of despair, anguish, and hurt sprout up,
It is my job to rid my soul of the pain and hurt,
Which will certainly take root if I don't act quickly.
Sometimes, I allow them to flourish.
I spend too much time in their company,
But, my time is not reciprocated.
In the end,
When I am eventually ready to cut myself away from the hurt,
Those crops have taken root,
And, sadly their roots are strong.
Fortunately, also grown deep within me are the means I need
To eradicate them.
I harvest the pain with love.
I harvest the hurt with family.
I banish the unbearable with faith.
The unseen victors that are stronger than any foul weed that comes my way.
Thankfully, the seeds of love have been planted deep within the confines of my being.
I just need a reminder of the machinery I need to overcome the disappointment that creeps my way.
Faith, family, and friends.
The founding fathers that my own father based his life upon have taken root within me,
And no matter how cold the winter,
How sparse the harvest,
And how dim the sun,
Those ideals that matter are bigger and stronger than any adversity that will come my way.
But I am not the typical farmer of my youth.
I do not harvest crops of the earth.
The crops I tend are buried deep within my soul.
They are the water of life,
In which my future depends on.
I cultivate a crop that does not rely on the weather
Of this physical world.
I am a farmer of my future.
When the weeds of despair, anguish, and hurt sprout up,
It is my job to rid my soul of the pain and hurt,
Which will certainly take root if I don't act quickly.
Sometimes, I allow them to flourish.
I spend too much time in their company,
But, my time is not reciprocated.
In the end,
When I am eventually ready to cut myself away from the hurt,
Those crops have taken root,
And, sadly their roots are strong.
Fortunately, also grown deep within me are the means I need
To eradicate them.
I harvest the pain with love.
I harvest the hurt with family.
I banish the unbearable with faith.
The unseen victors that are stronger than any foul weed that comes my way.
Thankfully, the seeds of love have been planted deep within the confines of my being.
I just need a reminder of the machinery I need to overcome the disappointment that creeps my way.
Faith, family, and friends.
The founding fathers that my own father based his life upon have taken root within me,
And no matter how cold the winter,
How sparse the harvest,
And how dim the sun,
Those ideals that matter are bigger and stronger than any adversity that will come my way.
Friday, November 16, 2012
The Glove of Sadness
Sadness, which was once so foreign,
Now fits like a glove.
It has been oiled over the past few years.
It has been molded by disappointment,
Heartache, loss, and death.
My sadness follows me everywhere.
It leaves me naked,
Exposed.
I may wear my heart on my sleeve,
But it is sadness I greet the world with.
It is an unwelcome companion,
A friend thrust upon me without my consent.
The glove I wear has been oiled.
Oiled with the tears I have wiped away.
Oiled with hugs-
Given and received.
Oiled well the last day I held my father's hand.
And oiled every minute of everyday,
Since the news of my fates washed upon me.
I cannot shed this glove.
I cannot escape it.
My responsibility now is to learn to cope,
To live and understand this new journey.
Holding the hands of those who adorn my heart,
Who reach out to pick me up when I fall.
Those whose gloves are as newly formed as mine.
We forage along.
Fortunately, we do not have to walk this road alone.
I find the mate of my glove in those,
Who are also searching
For what I am trying to find.
Now fits like a glove.
It has been oiled over the past few years.
It has been molded by disappointment,
Heartache, loss, and death.
My sadness follows me everywhere.
It leaves me naked,
Exposed.
I may wear my heart on my sleeve,
But it is sadness I greet the world with.
It is an unwelcome companion,
A friend thrust upon me without my consent.
The glove I wear has been oiled.
Oiled with the tears I have wiped away.
Oiled with hugs-
Given and received.
Oiled well the last day I held my father's hand.
And oiled every minute of everyday,
Since the news of my fates washed upon me.
I cannot shed this glove.
I cannot escape it.
My responsibility now is to learn to cope,
To live and understand this new journey.
Holding the hands of those who adorn my heart,
Who reach out to pick me up when I fall.
Those whose gloves are as newly formed as mine.
We forage along.
Fortunately, we do not have to walk this road alone.
I find the mate of my glove in those,
Who are also searching
For what I am trying to find.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
The Seeds of Life
The seeds of life,
Are planted upon fertile ground.
Within the fortunate,
They can be found.
The seeds of life,
Weather hail and rain.
In spite of the hardships,
They still remain.
The seeds of life,
Her beauty prevails.
Despite it all,
A deep love unveils.
The seeds of life,
I have seen unfold.
The birth of life,
In death, the untold.
The seeds of life,
Carry us on our way.
The cusp of understanding,
Still years away.
The seeds of life,
I see in my kin.
A love that only be found,
From deep within.
The seeds of life,
Are a bleesed gift.
From the depths of dispar,
In which only love can lift.
Are planted upon fertile ground.
Within the fortunate,
They can be found.
The seeds of life,
Weather hail and rain.
In spite of the hardships,
They still remain.
The seeds of life,
Her beauty prevails.
Despite it all,
A deep love unveils.
The seeds of life,
I have seen unfold.
The birth of life,
In death, the untold.
The seeds of life,
Carry us on our way.
The cusp of understanding,
Still years away.
The seeds of life,
I see in my kin.
A love that only be found,
From deep within.
The seeds of life,
Are a bleesed gift.
From the depths of dispar,
In which only love can lift.
Friday, November 9, 2012
The Voice of the Heart
The voice of the heart is one of the first things we hear. As a child, in our mother's womb, our hearts are one of the first things to develop and not so coincidentally, one of the first things we understand.
Before we are born, we are lulled to sleep, and find such peace, in our mother's hearts. The beating of her heart gives us life. It sends us peace. It gives us a place in this world.
Once we are born, we lay on our mother's chest. We suckle her breast. We drink the sweet nectar of her bosom. We hear her heart. It is the first language we know.
I remember being a child and snuggling down on my mother's chest. A day of being bullied, a night of restless sleep, an hour of discomfort, was all laid to rest, on my mother's chest with the beat of her heart completely in sync with mine.
After losing my dad and watching his last heartbeat, I comprehended that it was the last beat his heart would physically take, but spiritually, his heart had never been stronger. I have never believed that he "left" us.
The fact is, his heart beats on in me. It beats on in my children. It beats on in my mother. It beats on in my brothers. I feel his blood mixed with mine. It pumps through me. It sustains me. We are wonderfully connected. Before. Now. Always.
Right now, I cannot rely on modern science. I cannot call him. I cannot hear him, but that does not mean he's not there. In a very real way, he has never been closer. I do not need the mediums this Earth has placed on me. All I need is a thought. A prayer. A conversation that my heart has with his.
Those are the things that sustain me. Those are the things that root me. Those are the things that keep us- he and I, coming home.
The language of the heart. The most beautiful and unique language there is.
Before we are born, we are lulled to sleep, and find such peace, in our mother's hearts. The beating of her heart gives us life. It sends us peace. It gives us a place in this world.
Once we are born, we lay on our mother's chest. We suckle her breast. We drink the sweet nectar of her bosom. We hear her heart. It is the first language we know.
I remember being a child and snuggling down on my mother's chest. A day of being bullied, a night of restless sleep, an hour of discomfort, was all laid to rest, on my mother's chest with the beat of her heart completely in sync with mine.
After losing my dad and watching his last heartbeat, I comprehended that it was the last beat his heart would physically take, but spiritually, his heart had never been stronger. I have never believed that he "left" us.
The fact is, his heart beats on in me. It beats on in my children. It beats on in my mother. It beats on in my brothers. I feel his blood mixed with mine. It pumps through me. It sustains me. We are wonderfully connected. Before. Now. Always.
Right now, I cannot rely on modern science. I cannot call him. I cannot hear him, but that does not mean he's not there. In a very real way, he has never been closer. I do not need the mediums this Earth has placed on me. All I need is a thought. A prayer. A conversation that my heart has with his.
Those are the things that sustain me. Those are the things that root me. Those are the things that keep us- he and I, coming home.
The language of the heart. The most beautiful and unique language there is.
Friday, November 2, 2012
A Post Script: The Story of the Butterfly
“A God Wink is … a message of reassurance coming when you most need it: when you’re at a crossroads in your life, and when instability is all around. It might be said, in fact, that coincidences are the best way for God to establish a perpetual presence in your life”. SQuire Rushnell
Looking back, my life has been full of God Winks. A chance encounter here, a move there, staying home versus going out. In thirty-six short years, I have seen how my life is beautifully intertwined with others here on this earth. The latest God Wink I have experienced has been a decade and a year in the making.
The prologue is my post, The Story of the Butterfly, the rest is what has happened since my father passed away, less than three months ago.
The two weeks I was home after my dad passed away, I longed to see a Monarch. I searched for them, but I didn’t see one; that is, until the last day before I left for Arizona. The afternoon before I flew home, my mom and I drove out to the cemetery to visit my dad.
We spent about an hour walking around, talking, and finding family and friends we love who were also buried there. We talked, laughed, and wondered about the fates of those we did not know. The time finally arrived when we had seen every grave and honored those whom we loved and those we did not. We made our way back to the car, buckled up and set off on our new journey-as a family without our patriarch.
I happened to glance down, probably to take off my shoes (those of you who know me understand that's the first thing I do when I get into a car), but I was alerted to look outside by my mom saying, as she drove the car out of the cemetery, “Look Sarah! There’s a butterfly!”
And then, one of the biggest God Winks of my life happened on Halloween. That evening, I met Gail;it was a very chance encounter to say the least. My sons had already trick-or-treated at her home, and I was a bit behind them, but I happened to see a sign that read, something like, "Monarch Butterfly Habitat". Of course, I had to know more!
Gail emailed me today. Attached to the email, she sent me a link to her latest blog entry. She told me that the Mexican, Day of the Dead, coincides with the arrival of the Monarchs migration to Mexico. In some Mexican cultures, the people believe that each butterfly holds the soul of someone who has passed away. She also blogged about our chance meeting. The following is the link to her blog:
http://monarchsinthedesert.blogspot.com/2012/11/monarch-butterfly-migration-and-day-of.html
Looking back, my life has been full of God Winks. A chance encounter here, a move there, staying home versus going out. In thirty-six short years, I have seen how my life is beautifully intertwined with others here on this earth. The latest God Wink I have experienced has been a decade and a year in the making.
The prologue is my post, The Story of the Butterfly, the rest is what has happened since my father passed away, less than three months ago.
The two weeks I was home after my dad passed away, I longed to see a Monarch. I searched for them, but I didn’t see one; that is, until the last day before I left for Arizona. The afternoon before I flew home, my mom and I drove out to the cemetery to visit my dad.
We spent about an hour walking around, talking, and finding family and friends we love who were also buried there. We talked, laughed, and wondered about the fates of those we did not know. The time finally arrived when we had seen every grave and honored those whom we loved and those we did not. We made our way back to the car, buckled up and set off on our new journey-as a family without our patriarch.
I happened to glance down, probably to take off my shoes (those of you who know me understand that's the first thing I do when I get into a car), but I was alerted to look outside by my mom saying, as she drove the car out of the cemetery, “Look Sarah! There’s a butterfly!”
Sure enough, there was a Monarch
butterfly that flew right past our front windshield. We drove home that afternoon, traveling the same path that we had traveled to lay my father to rest, albeit with a bit of peace in our hearts this time around. I absolutely believe that God's angels sent that beautiful creature to us to remind us that He is watching over us during our times of joy, but also during our times of need.
Later that night, I sat in my dad’s chair a gazed at the garden of bird feeders he had erected. I
watched a Monarch flutter back and forth past the picture window he loved to
look out. I got the message loud and clear; my dad would never leave me.
The next morning, I flew home to Phoenix. I honestly did not expect to see another butterfly this season, but as fate would have it, I have seen more this year than I ever had before.
Since coming home, there have been a few times that
I’ve seen a Monarch just when I needed it most. The first time it happened was a normal Sunday afternoon. Tate and I were driving home from getting groceries in Doug's truck. Normally, I would take my car, but on this occasion, we had just come home from church and it was easier to drive the vehicle we were in. I turned the corner to my home when all of a sudden, a song struck a chord in my heart. I was listening to E Street Radio, and although, I love Springsteen, there are a few songs I am not that familiar with. I'm not sure at what point I realized the words of the song, but I looked down and saw that the title of the song was, My Father’s House.
As tears filled my eyes, I glanced up, and right there, flying past the
windshield of the car was a Monarch.
A few weekends ago, our family went for an early morning walk. As we turned the corner to the park, Doug said, "Sarah! Look at this!" When I glanced down, there it was, a Monarch. Sitting. Waiting. Peaceful. Just for me. I was enthralled. I placed my hand on the ground and it allowed me to cradle it in my palm. It fluttered its wings, laid still, and repeated the entire scenario. I was even fortunate enough to take pictures. I realized that even on insignificant days, the most amazing things can happen.
This past weekend, Doug and I were at a wedding and the
reception was held outside. We were talking to the father-of-the-bride’s
mother. She has lost her parents and husband. I was talking about my dad and
how hard it is to lose someone you love so much. Almost instantly, after I
finished talking about him, there it was, a Monarch. It fluttered right past
us. It stayed just long enough to warm my soul and fill me with love. We did
not see another one all afternoon.
And, back home, "butterfly things" were happening, too. Every year, my father's high school has a ceremony to pay tribute to those who have died. Families have a chance to purchase a brick with their loved ones name engraved on it. My mom heard about this and absolutely wanted to participate. About a week before the ceremony, my mom found out that during the ceremony there would be a Monarch butterfly release. She called me to share the news and my jaw literally dropped. I was speechless. Certainly this was not a coincidence.
And, back home, "butterfly things" were happening, too. Every year, my father's high school has a ceremony to pay tribute to those who have died. Families have a chance to purchase a brick with their loved ones name engraved on it. My mom heard about this and absolutely wanted to participate. About a week before the ceremony, my mom found out that during the ceremony there would be a Monarch butterfly release. She called me to share the news and my jaw literally dropped. I was speechless. Certainly this was not a coincidence.
And then, one of the biggest God Winks of my life happened on Halloween. That evening, I met Gail;it was a very chance encounter to say the least. My sons had already trick-or-treated at her home, and I was a bit behind them, but I happened to see a sign that read, something like, "Monarch Butterfly Habitat". Of course, I had to know more!
It turns out, Gail Morris, the owner of the home, is a conservationist. Her passion is bringing back the Monarch population in the Southwest. She does amazing work and I admire her. Now, I'm sure she was a bit confused as I rang her doorbell and told her that I saw her sign and I needed to know more. She was more than accommodating. She answered my questions and gave me her name. She told me to google a few key words when I got home because there was an article in the newspaper she wanted me to read. I left with a feeling of enormous love in my heart and a desire to know more.
So, we came home, my family and I. One of the first things I did was get on the computer find the article Gail was referring to. As fate has it, she is one of the most important Monarch butterfly conservationists in Phoenix. I was so amazed I had trouble sleeping. Little did she know that my friend, Jane, had sent me her article the day before. I didn't put two and two together until I got home. I had already read about her work and, of course, I was intrigued!
I called Gail the day after our meeting and she was just as wonderful as I remembered. She invited Tate and I over to learn how to tag butterflies. She is starting some milkweed plants for me to grow in my yard so I too can enjoy a backyard full of orange fluttering wings.
Gail emailed me today. Attached to the email, she sent me a link to her latest blog entry. She told me that the Mexican, Day of the Dead, coincides with the arrival of the Monarchs migration to Mexico. In some Mexican cultures, the people believe that each butterfly holds the soul of someone who has passed away. She also blogged about our chance meeting. The following is the link to her blog:
http://monarchsinthedesert.blogspot.com/2012/11/monarch-butterfly-migration-and-day-of.html
I believe that God winks in many ways. Little did I know the significance of one thought, eleven years ago, on that fall night in Iowa, when my family became butterfly harvesters that something amazing would fill our lives for many, many years to come. The night the butterflies came to town.
Friday, October 12, 2012
God's Handiwork
I have done a lot of thinking, reading, and praying lately. Much of what I have read in these past few months has had to do with God, healing, loss, and grief. Today, I finished the book, To Heaven and Back, by Dr. Mary Neal. Earlier this month, my mother-in-law handed me a Guidepost magazine with the story of her near death experience in it. Of course, after just losing my father, I found her story fascinating, hopeful, and wonderful. This week, I happened upon a post on Facebook mentioning her. She appeared on an episode of Katie, which I happened to catch at "just the right time".
Today, I finished Dr. Neal's book and no sooner had I put down my book, I read a blog by my sweet friend, Kathleen Quinn. And, today, another piece of my puzzle seemed to fit together.
This past week for me has been one of deep depression, sadness, and despair. I have missed my father terribly, struggled with the fact that I am so far away from home, and tried to bandage up the wound that fragile X has left on my heart...just when I thought I had come to terms with living with everything. Silly me.
Today, everything came together for me. That being said, tomorrow is another day, but today, for the first time in a week, I have felt a little sense of peace.
Many times, even before my profound losses, I have contemplated the circumstances that have led me to where I am today. I believe that God always knew my path in life. He sculpted me and weaved me together with love, just as he does with all of his children. Before I was even born, He placed a gene within me that is invisible to the naked eye, but would profoundly change my life, or perhaps, help me better live my life.
Years ago, before knowing of my future, God pressed upon my heart the path of becoming a teacher. He put into place every moment that led me on this journey. That journey led me away from home and back and away and back once again. And when I returned home the second time, I was content, happy, and at peace, but little did I know what I was missing. Then, one summer night, Doug literally bumped back into me.
The night Doug and I were "reintroduced" was nothing short of a God-Wink. In a few short months' time, we fell in love, and I made the decision to move to Phoenix. I had no second guesses, no regrets; as much as I knew I would miss my home, I couldn't move soon enough.
Fast forward eight years, the birth of two beautiful children, and the diagnosis of fragile X. Through the pain of that news, I was able to understand the remarkable and unmistakable handiwork of God's plan. Doug had moved to Phoenix years before running into me. When we met, he told me he'd move anywhere to be with me, but something (God) was pushing me to come here. After Trek's diagnosis, so many things were clear to me. We were in Phoenix for a reason. We have an amazing pediatrician, who is not only a doctor to my boys, but a friend to both of us. She listened and loved us every step of our way. She was the second person I called after knowing, "the truth". We have a community of fragile X families, right at our fingertips, who are there for us when we don't know where to turn. We live in a school district which is amazing and I am a teacher in a school with some of the best in the business (how I got the job is another God-Wink). And, twenty minutes away is a newly formed fragile X clinic that is in its infancy, which we are lucky enough to be a part of! We have therapists who are like family to us, and neighbors I could not imagine being without. Not to mention family and friends we have here, in Iowa, and all over the United States.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Another loss. Another forever hurt. I know that I could not survive without ALL of the wonderful people in my life. My loves there, my loves here, and my loves in heaven.
When I think about losing my dad, I also think about how fortunate I am to have had the parents I do. They cared for me and guided me. They let me fail and learn the lessons I needed to. The loved me enough to let me go, knowing that I would always return home again.
After the emotional turmoil of this week and the little ounce of healing this afternoon, I sat outside and watched the sun setting and told my dad how much I missed him. At that moment, I felt him press upon my heart and speak to me in words that have no language, "I am here. I am always here." And, I didn't feel so alone. Maybe, given enough time, I will be able to look back on this chapter and understand how beautifully and wonderfully written it is, just for me. And, for that glimmer of understanding, however fleeting it may be, I am thankful.
Today, I finished Dr. Neal's book and no sooner had I put down my book, I read a blog by my sweet friend, Kathleen Quinn. And, today, another piece of my puzzle seemed to fit together.
This past week for me has been one of deep depression, sadness, and despair. I have missed my father terribly, struggled with the fact that I am so far away from home, and tried to bandage up the wound that fragile X has left on my heart...just when I thought I had come to terms with living with everything. Silly me.
Today, everything came together for me. That being said, tomorrow is another day, but today, for the first time in a week, I have felt a little sense of peace.
Many times, even before my profound losses, I have contemplated the circumstances that have led me to where I am today. I believe that God always knew my path in life. He sculpted me and weaved me together with love, just as he does with all of his children. Before I was even born, He placed a gene within me that is invisible to the naked eye, but would profoundly change my life, or perhaps, help me better live my life.
Years ago, before knowing of my future, God pressed upon my heart the path of becoming a teacher. He put into place every moment that led me on this journey. That journey led me away from home and back and away and back once again. And when I returned home the second time, I was content, happy, and at peace, but little did I know what I was missing. Then, one summer night, Doug literally bumped back into me.
The night Doug and I were "reintroduced" was nothing short of a God-Wink. In a few short months' time, we fell in love, and I made the decision to move to Phoenix. I had no second guesses, no regrets; as much as I knew I would miss my home, I couldn't move soon enough.
Fast forward eight years, the birth of two beautiful children, and the diagnosis of fragile X. Through the pain of that news, I was able to understand the remarkable and unmistakable handiwork of God's plan. Doug had moved to Phoenix years before running into me. When we met, he told me he'd move anywhere to be with me, but something (God) was pushing me to come here. After Trek's diagnosis, so many things were clear to me. We were in Phoenix for a reason. We have an amazing pediatrician, who is not only a doctor to my boys, but a friend to both of us. She listened and loved us every step of our way. She was the second person I called after knowing, "the truth". We have a community of fragile X families, right at our fingertips, who are there for us when we don't know where to turn. We live in a school district which is amazing and I am a teacher in a school with some of the best in the business (how I got the job is another God-Wink). And, twenty minutes away is a newly formed fragile X clinic that is in its infancy, which we are lucky enough to be a part of! We have therapists who are like family to us, and neighbors I could not imagine being without. Not to mention family and friends we have here, in Iowa, and all over the United States.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Another loss. Another forever hurt. I know that I could not survive without ALL of the wonderful people in my life. My loves there, my loves here, and my loves in heaven.
When I think about losing my dad, I also think about how fortunate I am to have had the parents I do. They cared for me and guided me. They let me fail and learn the lessons I needed to. The loved me enough to let me go, knowing that I would always return home again.
After the emotional turmoil of this week and the little ounce of healing this afternoon, I sat outside and watched the sun setting and told my dad how much I missed him. At that moment, I felt him press upon my heart and speak to me in words that have no language, "I am here. I am always here." And, I didn't feel so alone. Maybe, given enough time, I will be able to look back on this chapter and understand how beautifully and wonderfully written it is, just for me. And, for that glimmer of understanding, however fleeting it may be, I am thankful.
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