Standing on the High Dive (and I hate heights)

My mom died two weeks ago today, on Halloween.  I am wearing Halloween socks today that my kids picked out in the Target Dollar section for her to wear while she was in the hospital.  They refer to them as M'ma's candy corn socks.

Today I am grabbing a few minutes alone at Atlanta Bread Company to process the last few weeks. Because tomorrow I have my first counseling appointment since her death, actually first one since the week before Mackey was born (2 1/2 years ago).  Then my counselor moved and I haven't taken the time to find a new one and begin the process again.

Here's the thing: I am a believer in preventative counseling.  We get physical exams (or are supposed to- confession time I don't) yearly and we don't think people are weird for that.   So, why the stigma for mentally "checking up."  Personally I would prefer to go to counseling preventatively than to wait til a crisis happens, whether in my life or my marriage.

I was born in North Carolina, live now in South Carolina and lived for two years in New York City.  In small towns I feel as if counseling has a negative stigma.  Like if you go to counseling, then you must be weak or if you and your spouse go to marriage counseling, there must be some SERIOUSLY crazy bad stuff happening.  When we were moving to NYC my friend Amira said something that resonated with me: "Where we're from (the south) people look at you weird if you go to counseling...here in the city they look at you weird if you don't go to therapy."  People talk about their therapist as easily as they talk about their hairdresser there.  I love that.

So, I am standing on the high dive with that feeling in my tummy of utter sickness and nervousness. But I'm up there.  I have been grieving as best as I know how right now.  Well, actually I don't feel like I'm even grieving.  My mom's death happened so quickly that it still feels surreal.  I still can't believe it happened.  Everyday I wake up and wonder, 'when is this going to begin to sink in?'  I know it probably never will totally "sink in," whatever that even means.  But I wonder when will the numbness will begin to subside and I when will I begin to "feel" it.

So, earlier this week I figured instead of wondering this, why not find a Christian counselor and get some tracks to run on: some applicable things to do in order to grieve and celebrate well.  So, I called my mom's former counselor (who I met while my mom was in the hospital) and am seeing her tomorrow.  I want to learn to celebrate my mom well but also grieve the loss of her not being with me too.

A friend let me borrow Shauna Niequist book "Bittersweet" yesterday.  I have already been challenged and find myself wanting to say "yes, yes" just as I read the prologue.

 Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul.  Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands.  Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity.  Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy (11).  

But when you've faced some kind of death-- the loss of someone you loved dearly, the failure of a dream, the fracture of a relationship-- that's when you start understanding the central metaphor.  When your life is easy, a lot of the really crucial parts of the Christian doctrine and life are nice theories, but you don't really need them.  When, however, death of any kind is staring you in the face, all of a sudden rebirth and new life are very, very important to you (12).

              

That's just the first two pages!  Yikes...so so so good.  I look forward to sharing more from this book as I digest it.  So, after I've lept reluctantly off the high dive, I'll let you know how my glide into the water is.  After all I'm going preventatively, to learn how to jump in from this height.  My other option is to, months from now, do a completely painful bellyflop.  I know their will be pain involved in the jump now but hoping to meet it head on and not get knocked out or feel paralyzed from it.  Thanks for praying for my family during this journey of my mom's sickness and death.  God has been and will continue to be gracious as we walk through this day by day.

 *Excerpts taken from Bittersweet by Shauna Niequest

Guest Post from Hubby on Last Two Weeks

My hubby Brandon wrote a blog on our ministry website on the past two weeks and my mother's death from his perspective.  Check it out at the link below.

http://bahammond.wordpress.com/2013/11/13/leaning-in-even-more-with-hope/

Leaning In

Metastasis.  Pulmonary embolism.  Pleural effusion.  I was an English major in college so needless to say I had no reason to know these medical terms until today.  My momma has been in the hospital since Tuesday.  She went in for unidentifiable pain she's had for almost a month.   After a series of every test known to man, we will hopefully get answers tomorrow after her lung doctor and cancer doctor consult one another.  Even though they're not totally sure everything that's causing the pain they have decided to begin treatment on her cancer, which we learned a week ago has become active again after almost six months of being in remission.

Needless to say, I am overwhelmed, flustered and numb.  The best way to describe it is I feel pressed but not crushed (2 Cor. 4:8).  The burden is pressing on my heart, my mind constantly.   I am confident in who God is, not in the circumstances or my knowledge of what's going on.   I will not lose heart (2 Cor. 4:16-18) because God knows all and He has my momma in the palm of His very capable hand. This does not mean I won't have times of questioning, I won't have times of being angry, sad, anxious. So, what does this mean to me?   I know that He is able to heal her, completely, to erase everything away and make her physically well again.  I will pray that it's His will to do so. But, whatever the outcome: more chemo, more abnormalities, more unknown: I will CHOOSE to trust Him, even when it's hard.  I will do this, not because it's easy or because it's the "right" thing to do: I will do this because I will "remember the deeds of long ago" (Psalm 77:1) and choose to trust He still is doing good deeds and will continue to do them.  He doesn't change, even as my circumstances do.

So, do I pray that my momma would be healed?  Yes! I pray that would be God's will.  I thank God for how awesome He is.  Reminding myself of who He is allows me to gain a perspective that I don't have if I just focus on myself, my mom, the situation.   I then lose sight and begin to spiral into "what ifs" and I begin to try and take over control.   I pray that my momma would know how deep His love is for her in the very depths of her soul.  I devotedly pray (Colossians 4:2), that she would experience peace every moment, an indescribable peace (Philippians 4:7)...right now as she sleeps nine miles away from me, hooked up to oxygen and resting deeply because of pain medication.   I pray that my family (myself included) would not become "anxious about ANYTHING but in EVERYTHING present [our] requests to God" (Philippians 4:6).

I pray for myself, that I would lean IN to this experience.  Leaning in for me means to enter into this with my mom and my stepdad as he cares for her.  Leaning in for me means to pray, to carry this burden to the throne room of God on their behalf.  Leaning in means involving my children in the reality (age appropriate of course) of what their M'ma is going through.  A great opportunity to remind them and myself that this world is not our home (Hebrews 11:13).  Leaning in means allowing friends and family (near and far) to help my family bear this burden: taking up people's offers to watch my kids so I can be present with my mom, bringing food- doing things for us.  After all, this is what the body and community is for.  We were created to live life with others.

I am a "doer" and if I'm being totally honest and vulnerable, I operate in my natural self as someone who wants to look good to others and to have it all together.  If I do not allow others to be involved I come across as someone who is not in "need."  And boy am I ever in need.  Not just now because a loved one is going through something really difficult- but EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.  I will choose to not be prideful.  I will choose to not place barriers around my self and the situation.  I will choose to let people in.  Why?  Because there's much more at stake than whether or not I keep it all together.  A representation of the gospel is at stake.  We were created to be IN community, do life with people, just like God the Father exists in community with the Son and the Holy Spirit.   I pray I will portray a true picture of why Jesus even came.  He didn't come because I'm almost perfect, almost good enough, almost have it all together and only 2% of me needed restoration.  He came to bridge the gap between me and His Father (John 14:6): something I cannot do- through any means (Romans 3:23).  Thankfully the story/situation never ends with depressing news.  My story and my mom's story will hopefully reflect the one Story that has the power to change lives, mine included.

So, I'm leaning in.  Sure, its messy.  Sure, its hard.   But it's also beautiful, it's also lovely.  Thank you for leaning in with me.

*Update: since writing this we have found out the pain was most likely caused by the fluid around her lungs.  She will be having surgery Monday to drain the fluid and seal the area in order to prevent future fluid from gathering.  When she's recovered from that she will begin chemotherapy to arrest the active cancer cells.  Thanks again for leaning in with our family.

Myra Grace spontaneously praying for M'ma

Ballet performance for Granddaddy and M'ma

After M'ma was wheeled out for a test, they took over the space

Mackey enjoying a popsicle from a sweet nurse