Mary (the fish) died last Friday

So, last Friday morning we got up and as we went into the kitchen the kids went to check in on Mary, our blue (and male ?!?) Beta fish...and found her floating in her bowl.

Now, to understand why I am sharing this, I need to share Mary's story.  We first obtained Mary as a fulfillment, very late, to Katie to get her a birthday present as I remember it. But it was November - and if I remember it correctly, it was the day that we found out from the oncologist overseeing Brandi's trial treatment that the effect of the trial treatment had faltered, and that we needed to regroup and decide with our local oncologist what would be the next step in the treatment.  It came as some what of a surprise to me, though I think Brandi had sensed some things and was concerned, and it ended a season of almost 8 months when, after facing metastasized cancer the winter before, we had had a season of respite, of joy in living somewhat normal lives.  And all of that was thrown up in the air that day.  

2014 when we got Mary
Eli and Katie with drawings of Mary
her bowl (but not her yet) in background

When we got back from that trip (over an hour away), we picked up the kids, and as I remember it, Brandi suggested we just go out and do it - let's get the fish we had been talking about!  So we went to our local Petsmart, picked out this blue fish, some rocks and a fake plant, and came home.  We had been reading Little House on the Priarie with the kids, so the fish despite its gender was names Mary. And despite our very basic bowl, being ignored far more than is likely good for any fish, she lived these past two years, a living reminder of Brandi and her love and care for the kids and the way she brought life to our house (the houseplants still seem to be thriving, too, despite my almost complete neglect of them).  

I will admit - it hit me harder than I thought, as it did Eli as well (Katie tends to be very matter of fact about it, which is not always comforting to her brother).  It tapped into the sadness of death - and that pool is close to the surface in this season.  It was hard because she came from Brandi - and though we can get another fish, we cannot replace the one which we got when she was still alive.  We went to school late after we processed it some.  When we got home, I buried her in the yard under Brandi's bench, marked by a rock that the kids decorated.  They moved on...me not so quickly.  

There is a hopefulness, as I just posted, but competing with it is the ongoing loss of what had been.  The more change that happens - and it is good change, as we move on and make our lives not about the past but the present and the future - there is more mourning that comes with it.  The loss is never forgotten, just more woven into life.  It reminds me a bit of a passage in the Return of the King, when Gandalf is talking with Frodo after all the drama (well, almost, except the scouring of the shire) has happened - good has triumphed over evil, the new age has dawned, life is returning to middle earth and it seems that the future is bright - and yet:

“Are you in pain, Frodo?” said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo’s side.

“Well, yes, I am,” said Frodo. “It is my shoulder.  The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me.  It was a year ago today.”

“Alas? There are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,” said Gandalf.

“I fear it may be so with mine,” said Frodo.  “there is no real going back.  Thought I may come to the shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same.  I am wounded with knife, sting and tooth, and a long burden.  Where shall I find rest?”

Gandalf did not answer.

The One who came to save us all from the ravages of sickness, sin, and death - He still carries the scars of our redemption in eternity, yet with Him there will be rest, forever.  But in this life...still a question for me.  Thanks for your prayers.

Reflections on the two years’ anniversary of Brandi’s death

I was deleting photos and videos from the Ipad the other night – viewing Brandi alive, loving, her creative and engaging ways with the kids, the creativity that was a part of our home.  And it made me smile – not without pain, for I miss her and all that she brought to our house, and I feel the gap as I realize what is missing from our life now, what I can’t fix, can’t replace, can’t do anything but remember it and miss it – but there was also a smile, a recognition of what a blessing she was to us and that we have been so enriched and shaped by the time with her.  It was a time of recalling God’s goodness to us – a past goodness, but wonderful beyond calculation.

It tapped into something else that has been a part of the past few weeks – I’m not sure quite why.  But I have sensed in my own heart something that I have not felt for a while – hopefulness.  Now biblical hope does not need my feelings for it to be true, and for the last two years (maybe more?) I’ve clung to that hope despite precious little feeling.  That is clinging to the hope connected to the truth of God – his faithfulness will not fail, his promises will come true, and his love is real, even when I don’t feel any of that.  But this hopefulness is engaging my heart in new ways – a new expectancy, a thaw in the damp cloud covering that has weighed on my heart.  Some spark that, after a long winter that spring may be coming.

Some of it is connected, I think (oddly to my mind), to my mom’s death.  I have shared before that Brandi’s death left me feeling like I don’t know who I am in some ways – I lost not only the present partnership but the future that we envisioned together.  And it has left me wondering who I am and how I begin to pursue a future path on my own.  Family is one of the places that we can tend to retreat in these times – though I didn’t actively think about that a lot, my mom’s death made me realize how important family has been, and the role of son to her has shaped me as well.  And now she is gone, I feel both more unmoored in a bad way, with more uncertainty, but also with a newfound sense of freedom, of being ready to move ahead with whatever the next step in the journey would hold. 

I have had a number of notes and letters recently – one in particular that I want to quote:

"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning."

We don't often know how long our particular "nights" will be, nor when our "mornings" will dawn, but the timeline of eternity makes this promise, and for that reason we can have hope and persevere. That said, I do pray whatever your current "night," that it will end and your morning will come, with a joy and peace that surpasses your wildest expectations.

Then from Spurgeon:  There is One who careth for you. His eye is fixed on you, his heart beats with pity for your woe, and his hand omnipotent shall yet bring you the needed help. The darkest cloud shall scatter itself in showers of mercy. The blackest gloom shall give place to the morning. He, if thou art one of his family, will bind up thy wounds, and heal thy broken heart. Doubt not his grace because of thy tribulation, but believe that he loveth thee as much in seasons of trouble as in times of happiness. 

(thanks, James, for these!)

So if you would, join with me in praying for this – for a season of renewal, a season of resurrection, of life springing up in my heart toward the Lord, and then from that to the kids and others.  Pray for a season of joy after the night.  I know my last post was pretty raw – and there are moments, and days, that are mostly colored by that…but there has also been this new stirring, and I would ask you to join with me that it might come to pass, and be real.

Brief kids update:

 

Kids at winter school show

Many of you ask me how the kids are doing.  Generally, they are doing great – I just today received an email from their Sunday School teacher sharing of their engagement with spiritual things, and their teachers share that they are a joy to have in school.  I am thankful for all of this. This past week they have shown some signs of the emotional stress that I have come to expect on these anniversaries – though they don’t talk about it (I have to do that to them), I think that my mom’s death on top of this season has made them both a bit more “on edge” emotionally.  Pray for them, for God’s comfort to be theirs.  Pray for me, for patience and grace, for wisdom and discernment on when to help them with boundaries and discipline and when to give them a place to feel and grieve even if they don’t know what it is about. 

Thank you all, friends, for your prayers!