April 28, 2002

This is the first Spring we've had withoutLevi. Sometimes I actually forget that he's gone. I think of him and I feel joy at the mere thought. The "flower" that is joy in my heart goes from a bulb to a plant, then a bloom and then the flower withers and dies when my heart and mind come together and remember the truth, he's not here. Sometimes I just say, "Caleb, Jonah, Levi and Graci." I love to hear myself say thier names together again. It's so incomplete to go through the names with one missing. Sometimes I write their names all together like I used to. We got our new neighborhood directory this year and it didn't have Levi's name in it. I hated that, it doesn't seem right. It's not right!!!

Jonah had a bad day yesterday. I noticed he was quiet all day. He kept to himself and was irritated with everyone. Later, he and I layed down together on my bed and talked. I found out that he just "really misses" Levi. He said, "Do you know what one of the sweetest things that I miss about Levi is?" I said, "what?" "Those cheeks, I loved those chubby cheeks of his." We layed there and talked about all the other things we loved about him. It was good for Jonah, it was good for me.>>>>> Caleb and Jonah were talking about whether or not they will play basketball this coming Winter. Jonah said, "Is it o-kay if I don't play?" I said, "you don't have to play any sport you don't want to play and there's plenty of time to make that decision..." Caleb chimed in, "besides, we might not even be alive then." I was shocked at his thought so I asked him, "why do you say that?" He explained, "well if Jesus comes back we'll be in Heaven with Levi anyway." (Sounds good to me!!!) The other day Graci was showing me how good she could snap her fingers. She actually put her fingers IN my ear to show me how loud it was. :) I remembered her and Levi practicing snapping thier fingers and competing on who could be the loudest. So, I asked, did Levi know you could snap so well? She immediately looked up toward "heaven" with her hand fully outstretched and snapped. Then, she yelled, "Did you hear that Levi?" Sweeeeeeet! Today, Caleb said (out of the blue), "Do you know which was my favorite Thanksgiving?" I said, "which one?" His response was healing to me. He said, "Levi's" (meaning the one in the hospital, ICU)

Graci was singing in bed this morning, I was listening without her knowing it. These were the words..."Levi loves me so much, he wants to hug and kiss me because he misses me, I want to hug him and kiss him too but we can't because he is there and I am here..."

When we go to the cemetary to water the flowers that are in front of Levi's tombstone Graci walks around looking at the other tombstones. Then when it's time to leave she says, "Waaaaiiit!" and runs over to Levi's tombstone and kisses his picture (on the front of the tombstone) and says "bye Levi, I love you," and then runs to get in the car.

We were all talking the other day and Caleb said, "I wish we could start all over again." I wish it could be the day they first told us that Levi had a brain tumor. It would be hard to do it over again but at least we would have him for nine months longer. At least he would be with us now."

Sometimes when I meet new people that don't know about Levi I think to myself, "If only we had met 4 or 5 months ago, then they would have met the 'whole' me, not just part of me."<<<<>>>> When Jeff sees 5 year old boys out while he's working he can't stop staring at them, wondering what Levi would be like now. "Would he be inquisitive like that little boy?" "Would he ask lots of questions?" or "would he be shy and not talk at all?" What would he be like if all this had never happened?

These are all just fleeting moments, thoughts or comments that I wanted to capture and never forget. They are our hearts spoken. They are our "way" to keep him alive and here with us. May it never end... may we never be" healed" so much that we don't talk about him, remember him, long for him, sit still and picture the way we were when we were all together.

jami

April 22, 2002

This morning I was changing the sheets on my bed. I saw the stain on the mattress where Levi had wet the bed over and over. Oh how I would love to change the sheets because he wet them... my mind carried me back to the hospital when, for days, he hadn't gone to the bathroom. The nurses gave him 2 enemas and oral laxatives and still, nothing. I remember waiting for him to go "poop". I remember praying about it. I remember when he finally went. Wow, what a mess! Head to toe, top of the bed to the bottom, a HUGE mess. I remember the nurse (not our usual nurse) seeing it and saying "eew gross!" Clearly she had never known the sweet gift of the "proof of life." To me, that mess meant he was ALIVE! yeah poop! He's ALIVE! I enjoyed that mess like you wouldn't believe. If only I could have to do that again... I would, I would Lord, If only I could do it again. I miss being his nurse. I miss the honor and privilege of "doing" for him. I miss his sweet voice. I miss him saying, "mom, you're the best mom ever," and putting that chubby arm up for a hug. I miss him! I miss him! I miss him!

I have a picture of him at the pool with swimmies and goggles on. I look at his body and how familiar it is to me. I can remember every square inch of his body. I look at his belly button.... how sweet and cute it is. I never knew to stare at it. To see it move up and down with each breath. His little square feet, "Fred Flinstone" feet. His always chubby hands that seemed to be screwed into his arm. They were always too big for the rest of his body. I love those hands. I wonder if he would have lost his teeth by now. You know he couldn't wait to loose those teeth so he could be just like his big brothers... how strange it will be when Graci loses her teeth when Levi never did.

My heart hurts so bad today. So sad. I hate how life just keeps going on. Sometimes I chart in my mind how far we've made it without him. I'm surprised at how we have survived and want to reward myself by "waking up" from the nightmare. But the truth is still hard and strong, going on is all there is. It's like running a race that will never end. No matter how tired I become I can't stop. I have to keep going further and further away from when he was alive. The trouble with life is that it just keeps happening whether I'm ready or not. I have no choice but to "hold unswervingly to the hope I profess, for He who promised is faithful." (Hebrews 10:23)

Obviously, today is a sad day for me. It's windy but beautiful outside, the perfect day for a kite and a trip to the park. That's something that would really throw Levi into a tizzy of excitement. I can hear him in my mind. Once again he would say, "mom, you're the best mom ever." We bought a really cool kite for the kids the day before Levi was diagnosed. We've never flown it. I think I'll get it out and make a memory with Caleb, Jonah and Graci. Maybe we'll tie a note on it that says, LEVI, WE MISS YOU AND LOVE YOU SOOOO MUCH!! And then we'll fly it as high as we can into the "heavens." If only it were that easy. If only we could get a "note" back saying, I LOVE YOU TOO, I MISS YOU BUT WE'LL BE TOGETHER AGAIN SOON, VERY SOON. LOVE, (YOUR VERY COMPLETE) LITTLE MAN, LEVI. Wouldn't that be cool?

I will "Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating me as a son/daughter... God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in His holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." (Hebrews 12:7, 10,11)

I have a special friend (Jamie Hahn) who lost her daughter (Christy) to cancer about 6 years ago. She has been gracious and loving to share her heart and loss with me. She still misses Christy, she still hurts but she seeks the Lord, she loves Him and she trusts Him. Whenever she writes me, she signs her letters "fumbling victoriously." I love that. It says soooo much in just two words. I feel that way today. I'm fumbling TERRIBLY. But because of my hope in Christ it's victoriously. :)

[Yes I am] Fumbling victoriously,

jami

April 16, 2002

This morning I'm thinking of Heaven. I wonder.... what will be the best thing about it? Of course, I have no idea. I can't even imagine since scripture tells us that "no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has even conceived it... but if I were to think of what could be my favorite part of heaven (aside from seeing Jesus and Levi) I would have to say it would be the "foreverness" of it. Seems so obvious I know but I'll tell you what I mean: When Levi was diagnosed it's like this big huge clock started and I was trying to stop it. It was such a "hurry up and wait" feeling. I felt in a rush to be still...trying desperately to stop the chaos of life and try to enjoy every moment, stopping to smell the roses all the while the deafening silence of the "clock." No matter what I did the inevitable came to pass. Now, I look at my other children wanting to stop the "ticking." I can't help but see every moment as a possible "last." "Anything could happen," "who knows what tomorrow could bring." It's as if I want to stay ahead of any more possible pain. I have been on a mission to live a life without regret, not even one. But that is quite impossible because I'm starting to see that my greatest regret now is that I have been putting such pressure on myself to not have regrets... I've been trying so hard to make every moment useful and impacting... I knew I was not trusting the Lord to work things for His good when: I was laying on Caleb's bed with him. I was just staring at him while we were talking. I was etching his face into my mind. I guess Caleb noticed so he stopped talking and said, "that face, I love that face." It was cool that he noticed that my face was a reflection of the love in my heart for him. But then, I said, "Oh, Caleb, will you always love the Lord, no matter what comes? Will you love Him and His ways till your last day? He put his sweet hands on my cheeks and got this pained look on his face as he said, "Oh Mama, please don't worry so much!" Oh no, he saw it. He saw my lack of faith. He saw that I was not relaxed in the knowledge of God's sovereignty. He saw that I hadn't gone to the Lord in prayer and trusted that HE loves my children even more than I do...

Intimacy with God. What does that really mean? How does it bubble over into every aspect of my life? How do I get that? Ronnie Floyd says: "To know intimacy with the Father is to answer God's ancient question, even as it was put to Adam" 'Where are you?' If we are honest we, too, must respond, 'I was hiding.' In our candor, we take the first step toward wholeness as we address our true condition. We are hiding from love, hiding from pain, hiding from our desperate fear of being known, and hiding from the God who loves us – who wants to clutch us to His bosom, never let us go, the One who wants to whisper a Father's word of comfort into our waiting ears. Intimacy."

Man is that true! I hide myself in the busyness of "making the most.." That seems like a good thing but like so many other things it brings me to a place of leaving HIM out. A place of seeking purpose outside of HIM. It can't be done, it always leads to emptiness. Why do I do that when I know where my hope lies? Lord, since I must hide (and it seems that we all find a hiding place somewhere) then help me to hide in you. "Rescue me from my enemies (of which I, myself am the worst), O Lord, for I hide myself in You." Psalm 143:9

I guess my "plea" for the day is: Lord, surely this path in suffering is the road that leads to deeper intimacy with You. The kind of intimacy that looks into the face of death and says, "I will not cower, my mouth will speak in praise of the Lord." Oh Lord, touch me, be the light that I live by, be the breath that I breathe, be the dream that sets me free. Let my children see that You and I have a good thing going on, a romance that is pure and confident. Let it be true of me that You are the music in my soul that cannot be squelched. Let my life be a dance that my children are drawn to. Oh that they would see very little of me and so much of You... Lord, be the courage and hope to which I boast. Teach me to live and finish well even though the longing for the day you call us home is so strong...

jami

April 9, 2002

I haven't written in a while. I kinda hated to write a follow up to the last update. It was such a "high" and I haven't been enjoying that same high on a daily basis. So, I've just kept the "not so wonderful" stuff to myself. I must admit that I've fallen into this "gotta 'look' good" mode. I've had a few people make "suggestions" on how I should do things a little differently to be more upbeat, focusing on the rest of the family or being not so sad. But since I am sad that would be a bit difficult. I've not written because I have been feeling like I can't be honest anymore. Like I've got to fake that everything is back to normal and we're all as happy as can be, we're not sad, we don't miss Levi and we're moving on to a new ministry of "be 'happy' because God is good."

But I can't! I have bad/sad days. I do still struggle with anger. I miss Levi and sometimes think my heart will explode if I don't see him soon. The Lord is working in my heart about forgiveness and compassion. I admit that HE has had to teach me countless lessons on these two issues of the heart. And I do NOT like it. I've seen that my heart is prideful and prone to turn hard and immobile. I cling to my defense and anger feeling that I "deserve" them rather than forgiving. When people make suggestions on what I "should" do to grieve more efficiently I feel like my time is up! Like I'm hurting too long and I need to forget Levi and just focus on Caleb, Jonah and Graci. Sounds really easy! But not so. I don't think the Lord would make me passionately in love with my children and then require me to cut out the Levi portion of my heart. What would that say to my other children? "If you die I'll miss you for 3 months but then I'll be over you."

I guess I need to make it clear that this website is my grieving table. I come here to sort through my heart and the pain that resides there. When I get up from this desk I do my very best to hold my head up and create a joyful atmosphere for my other children. But at the same time I don't want to teach them to be "fakers," or what I call "heart liars." How torturous it would be to require that we all "act" like God has finished His healing process and we're "done" when we are all hurting beyond words? Maybe the "be happy" theology is helpful to some (which I really doubt) but not for me, not for us. We are a changed family. We will never return to the way we were. Our hearts are anchored to heaven. Our love of this world has been weaned from us. We (I) cannot act like sadness and missing Levi is not a very real part of our daily lives.

Let me share with you one day "without Levi."----- I wake up and stare at the ceiling. I still think, "Is it true? I really won't have the privilege of taking care of Levi today... ever? I drag myself out of bed and get things moving toward getting the boys to school. I open the kitchen cabinet and see Levi's favorite "cup" mingled in with the other glasses. I get the boys vitamins out and see all of Levi's medicine still there (I wish I could give it to him one more time). I make carrot apple juice and my mind takes me back to my old schedule when I would make it for him every morning....I walk past his picture 1000 times, I smile at it every time. Graci plays by herself and says, "I miss Levi" several times a day. We talk, we remember together, we cry... I walk into my bedroom and see Levi's special tray that he used to eat on. The cruel irony that there is now a plant on that tray, a plant that was given at his death. I give Graci a bath and remember how they played together in the tub every morning. I look into the closet and see his never opened Christmas presents. I turn on cartoons for Graci, it's "Bob the Builder", Levi's favorite. We read books, the same ones I used to read to Levi while we were in the waiting room at the doctors office. I look outside and see Levi's bike in the driveway. My heart leaps and then I realize that one of the other kids must have gotten it out. I get in the car and put Graci in her carseat (missing the chance to put Levi in his carseat) I go to the grocery store and calculate meals for 5, not 6. Yesterday I bought donuts at the bakery. I could only find 3 alike so I was looking everywhere for 4 with sprinkles....then I painfully realized I only needed 3. I would have searched all day if only I could need 4 again. We see a mother with 4 small children with her. I covet the completeness she has.... We come home and I cook dinner. I get out the plates...one for Jeff, one for Caleb, Jonah, Le... no, I don't need one for him anymore....I hate that!!! It's time for bed. The night time routine begins....Graci first. We pray, I scratch her back and sing. She wants "nothing but the blood of Jesus" (Levi's favorite) I sing and cry. I lay in the moonlit room remembering....remembering when I would sing to both of them, scratch both backs at the same time. I tickle Graci's face. I remember how I used to do that for both of them. I play with Graci's hair, I remember how I used to play with Levi's hair...I miss his hair... I go to Jonah next, then Caleb....I go downstairs all the while feeling like I'm missing someone... I am...

Jeff and I sit and talk. Sometimes we cry together, sometimes we just remember, sometimes we just go to sleep just holding each other thinking the same thing. Words aren't necessary. We understand each other's silence. As I fade off to sleep... I thank God for my other children, more grateful than I ever could have been before, but I miss Levi and that's the fact.

All that to say: It's really hard to take someone's advice or suggestion for change. We're just living here. We can't go beyond the "call of duty" right now. We just get through each day by the skin of our teeth. We seek the Lord's healing in each painful memory, praying that the sting will fade. I have come before the Lord and asked Him to "let me go" – to release me from this intensely painful part of grieving. The Lord has not released me. He is still working out some stuff in my heart. I cannot go ahead of HIM. I just wait for my release. HIS timing is perfect. I am not! Not even close.

In summation: I am dealing with anger. I get angry when people say: "I'll tell you what I'd do...." when they've never walked this dark valley. I am surprised at the ugliness of my heart. I am ashamed at the way I seem to nurture my anger. I am shocked at the way I justify my sinfulness. It is clear that the Lord is doing some pretty major purification in my heart. But this is it!! This is one of my "chances to die" a chance to die to myself and my "rights." Lord, please don't let me reason away and excuse myself when I need to let you "pin me to the wall" on the state of my heart. My flesh wants to shout out the injustice of life and "loose talkers." I want to say LOUDLY, "Who do you think you are, telling me how to grieve?" Lord, you know my personality, you know that being quiet and gentle is not natural to me. You know me. Teach me Your gentleness. Teach me Your kindness, teach me to see from Your side of the sky. How do I focus on You and Your ways and not my offenders?

Now, I know that some people are reading this thinking, "wow, what a mess!" This is true, but I say along with Paul: "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display His unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on Him..." (1 Timothy 1:15,16)

"I would rather be cheated (offended) a million times than develop a heart of stone." —Tim Stafford. Lord, help my heart......

jami

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