Creature Bug

VBC & Me

I have gotten the biggest kick out of reading your comments (here and over at Facebook) about your misnamed adventures. For one, I'm relieved to know that so many of you get called the wrong name. Makes me feel a little more normal. And for two, it's been an emotionally difficult week and your stories have brought some much needed humor to my life.

I mentioned last week that a close family member was in the hospital. This past Wednesday we got the results of that hospital stay, and it was the worst possible news we could have received. I can't really process the whole of it, and at some point I'll write through it, but I can't right now. I will say that your prayers for my family would be greatly appreciated.

As we all know, though, grief does not keep life from moving forward, and this was the week I was committed to helping out at my church's Vacation Bible Camp (evidently the new trend is to have VBC, not VBS...the theory being that "Camp" is more fun than "School," I guess...). I did some registration stuff and some photography stuff.

  

 

 

When I signed up a couple months ago to help at VBC, I had no idea that the week would come at a time when I'd be emotionally and physically exhausted. Nevertheless, starting my day surrounded by 500 kids ended up being exactly what I needed.

Plus, it turns out that it's good for the heart to photograph kids having lots of fun.

It's also good for the heart to listen to two little cousins talking excitedly about all the fun they were having at VBC. Oh boy, oh boy. These girls are something else.

I love seeing how they have different styles from each other, and yet they are so alike. Even though they do things on their own, they still want to be doing their own thing right next to each other.

In fact, they had initially been placed in different VBC classrooms, but of course that wouldn't do at all. At five years old, being apart from your best friend is about the worst thing that can happen. (And can you blame them? Who wants to be in a room full of people without a friend close by?) It was quickly fixed, and the week was smooth sailing from there.

On the drives home from church, they would talk about their drawings, about their snacks, about the games, about the crafts, and about the new verses they had memorized. One day's verse was "Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young." I asked Sydney if that meant me too. "No, Mom. You're not young."

Honey, Mama is ALWAYS young. No matter what. Remember that.

Darian

"Boy! It sure is taking us a long time to get to heaven!" Sydney exclaimed on our way home from church on Easter Sunday.

It seemed like a funny thing to say, but I figured that she was working something out, and I was only catching the tale end of her thoughts. I asked her what she meant.

"Well, we're going to heaven, but it's taking us a long time, isn't it?" I didn't know if she was looking for a theological answer or what, but after a pause I simply said, "Well, sweetums, we don't go to heaven until we die."

Maybe it wasn't the right timing for the discussion, but it was not what Sydney was expecting to hear. She's heard plenty about heaven, and sings songs about heaven, and knows something about getting to heaven, but clearly the whole timing part wasn't on her radar.

"We die?!" She burst into tears.

I tried to console her, but I wasn't entirely sure what to say. I couldn't promise her that we'd be around forever. I couldn't tell her that nobody she knew was going to die. In the end, I told her that it wasn't something she had to worry about. Mostly, I wasn't sure to what to say because Darian was on my mind.

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Three months after Sydney was born, I quickly learned that I needed some kind of support system to help me adjust to being a new parent. After a bit of research, I discovered a local church had a MOPS group (Mothers of Pre-Schoolers) and so one Thursday morning I decided to go.

When I got there, Abby sat at my table. She was the MOPS coordinator, and had the most amazing way of making you feel important from the moment she said hello. That first Thursday at MOPS I realized--thanks to Abby--that I was not alone in the parenting journey. More than that, she made me laugh until I cried.

I kept going to MOPS, and every so often Abby would call me at home just to check on me. My every-other-Thursdays were a lifeline for me and helped me cope with that first year of parenting. Eventually, Abby moved on out of MOPS, but occasionally I would see her and we'd say hello and she'd make me laugh.

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Last year, Abby's youngest son Darian was diagnosed with cancer. Osteosarcoma. His left leg was partially amputated. He endured painful treatments, painful surgeries, difficult recoveries. Despite it all, he started kindergarten in the fall.

Abby chronicled Darian's story through CaringBridge, and I followed along--reading, praying, fasting, praying some more. Darian kept going to school, started swim lessons, fought the cancer.

In February they got the news that the cancer was back. It was untreatable.

Abby continued to write about Darian's journey. Through it all, her faith was steadfast. Through it all, she encouraged others, thanked others for their support, reminded us all that God was in control.

Earlier this week she wrote that Darian would soon be in Heaven. I wept. Even though I haven't spoken with Abby in a long time, I still so vividly recall that first Thursday I met her. I recall the stories she told of her boys. I remember laughing.

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I received the CaringBridge email this morning:

2 Timothy 4:7

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith

Darian went to be with Jesus this morning at 2:20am.  We're proud of you buddy.  Give Jesus a hug for us.

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I told Sydney tonight about Darian. She didn't know him, but she's heard me talk about him. We talked about Heaven; we both cried.

I'm heartbroken for Craig and Abby and Bryson. Their loss is one that no family should have to endure.

Please, oh please, keep them in your prayers.

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Related Posts

By my friend Molly:
Lessons from Darian~Part One
Lessons from Darian~Part Two
Lessons from Darian~Part Three
Lessons from Darian~Part Four

By my friend Alida: A Heavy Heart

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PS: Comments on this post are turned off. I encourage you to leave a comment at Darian's journal.

Pray for Archie

My dear blog friend Gretchen had her baby yesterday, and today little Archie was admitted to NICU for breathing difficulties. Please pray for Archie, Gretchen, and the whole family. And if you have a moment, leave her a comment of support. I know she'd appreciate it.

Week 190: Self, divided

Something that continues to give me pause is when life simultaneously brings joys and sorrows. Before you start to be overly concerned regarding my well-being, rest assured that all is well in our household. What has been filling my thoughts are the households of friends, near and far, who are going through hardships and have had me in prayer so much of this past week.

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There is the joy of last Monday, when Sydney attended her first ballet class. Oh, my goodness me. Sydney in a leotard, tights and slippers is a sight to behold. She was fortunate enough to receive the ballet classes as a gift from her grandparents, Jason's parents. While I had always thought it would be wonderful if she could take lessons, there wasn't even the smallest hope of being able to afford them. Granted, there are inexpensive classes offered through the YMCA, but throw in the cost of all the other necessities (clothing, costumes, recital tickets) and it becomes out of our reach. However, Jason's mom had ballet lessons as a child and wanted the same for Syd. It is marvelous. We have been busy dancing and flitting and twirling all week.

And probably at the same moment as Sydney was dancing across the floor with her new classmates, another family was experiencing a grief greater than any family should have to bear. A ninth-grade student, who Jason had as a seventh-grader, was on her way to school Monday morning when the car she was riding in had an accident. She was thrown from the car and suffered traumatic head injuries; the parents made the heartbreaking choice to take her off life support on Tuesday. Jason didn't make it to Alma's funeral but several of his co-workers did. My heart is heavy for Alma's family and friends, and so I am in prayer for their great loss.

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There is the joy of last Wednesday, when the three of us girls got to spend a wonderful afternoon with Rachel and Sawyer. I am not always a good one for making new friends (the old insecurities never fail to pop up!), but I am so thankful that I ignored those unfounded fears of "what if they don't like me?" and have had opportunities to hang out with Rachel. She is a fountain of positive energy, I tell you what! And the fact that Sawyer and Sydney get along so well (including their penchant for racing through the house) warms my heart. Sawyer even bestowed upon Sydney her former ballet slippers that she had outgrown, and those have been constant fixtures on Syd's feet ever since. Ah, what fun!

Wednesday brought another joy into the world, one a million times greater than even the most perfect play-date. Wednesday brought us Logan McNally. He was born to my friend Kristan, whom I have had the pleasure of knowing for a couple years now through my MOPS group. For unanticipated reasons, however, Logan's arrival via c-section did not go as planned. As a result, Logan got very sick and after a few days had to be transported to Portland due to internal bleeding. He is still there, and has a long road to recovery. (My friend Leslie is keeping us all updated on Logan's story.) It is not the beginning anyone expected of his life, and I have been praying that God would restore him to health.

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There is the joy of last Thursday, when I stepped back into the classroom again, finding 35 fresh new faces before me. I can't even tell you how giddy I was, practical breathless with excitement as I went through the syllabus (even my students seemed a bit concerned how giggly I was talking about the splediferousness of speech). It's unnatural for someone to enjoy teaching public speaking this much, I'm sure. But love it I do.

On the other side of the continent, J-L and ccap were enjoying the wonders of having a 20-week ultrasound. Anyone who has experienced a pregnancy ultrasound knows that it is an amazing and incredible experience to see those little toes. The chambers of the heart. The halves of the brain. The tiny fingers as they clasp and unclasp. What you don't expect to see are problems, which is what the ultrasound revealed. Little Jack has a tumor on his back. When I read ccap's post about it, tears filled my eyes. When I read J-L's letter to God, I cried. It doesn't matter that I haven't met either of these two blessed people in real life, their lives have touched mine and so I pray.

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There is the joy of Saturday, when I got to spend an evening with my MOPS friends, seeing P.S. I Love You (loved it) and chatting over hot drinks at Starbucks. The joy of today, taking a nap with my girls and then later making a yummy dinner of meatloaf and scalloped potatoes. And another joy? Kristan got to hold her baby Logan for the first time today. Sweet joy.

Of course, it is much easier for me to continue with the day-to-day than any of these families whose lives have intersected with grief this week. But I know what it is like to feel sorrow, to lose, to grieve, to wish with all your heart that a moment could be redone with a different outcome.

There's joy. There's sorrow.

And thankfully, there's prayer.