life is fragile

Posts Tagged ‘life is fragile’

Posted in WONDER, tagged blessed, inhaling their scent, Life, life is a miracle, life is fragile, life is short, love in action, Mom, Pregnancy Loss, Teenagers on March 18, 2013| 3 Comments »

As I write this post my fatigue has tossed my adrenalin into the sea of forgetfulness.

I am sitting on an airplane, just one hour from my southeast destination, and almost seven from when I boarded a plane with two of my children, in the Pacific Northwest.

I have personally had only about an hours rest in the past twenty-four hours, and I am weary beyond words.

My daughter and son have finally found rest … One slumped over at the window, and the other weighing heavily on my shoulder.

As the adrenalin has faded away, as planning and packing and preparations have given way to fulfillment of our plans, my thoughts have turned to how very fragile life is. greeting-card-flower-life-is-fragile2

In recent days, as I have become aware of the death of a gentle man, of the tragedy of preschoolers left in life without a mommy and a daddy, of the heartbreak of a couple (and all their family) dealing with the news that the dreams of health and long life that they have had for their yet born baby will not be as dreamed …

the high levels of adrenalin have not allowed these events to pierce my heart …

until now.

Life is fragile.

Having had these two children of mine lay their heads on my shoulder in as many hours, turning towards the tops of their heads, inhaling the scents that are uniquely their own, reminiscing in my mind of the many times we have traveled together since their births, fatigued, frustrated and even infected by flu bugs …

I remember

how very blessed I am,
how very short life is.
how very fragile life is.

According to every source I checked (there were many), women under 35 years only have a 20-30% chance of conceiving each month, and about half of all conceptions end in miscarriage (most before the woman knows that she is pregnant).

I remember the agonies of losses of little, yet born babies, I remember vowing that those losses would not be in vain. I remember promising each of our children as I held them in my arms in different hospitals, in different cities, even different provinces, that I would not forget how very blessed I am to have the chance to be their mom …

that ‘mom’ would be more than a noun,
a title,
that mom would be a verb,
ACTION.
That I would not just ‘be called’ mom
I would be mom to them …
mom in action
LOVE in action.

As our newborns grow up to independent thinking teenagers, we forget to inhale, and drink in the scent that is uniquely theirs. We forget how just holding their newborn body in our arms brought us to tears, how the sight of their smile made us smile, how nothing mattered more to us than protecting our babies.

As parents of teenagers we need to get physically close enough to drink in that scent, we need to hold them close, we need to look at them, and smile … we need to protect our kids.

Or maybe, if we hold them close, if we can be still enough to be brought to tears just by holding them in our arms, if we smile at them … every day, maybe that will be a protective barrier around them, around their hearts.

Life is a miracle!

Life is fragile.

Love in action!

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No Tears for this Ending

Posted in GOD, life, The Kids, WONDER, tagged adieu, beginning, Daughter, endings, fragile as a dream, giving your life to Jesus, GOD, Graduation, leaving, Letting Go, life is fragile, path less traveled, something to live for, stories be whispered, Tears on August 31, 2012| 2 Comments »

Today I write to, and about our oldest daughter, who is embarking on an adventure away from us. It is not the first, nor will it be the last … but there are no tears.

I have often been teased (goodhearted) about not shedding a tear at her high school graduation. Really, although proud of the hard work she did, graduating was not an academic struggle for her. Oh, she worked her tail off, but graduating was never in doubt for her.

As she prepares, and boards the plane tomorrow for the East Coast (a reversal of her parents from their Easterly homes, to our present Western one), not a tear will be shed. Oh, she has worked hard all summer, some weeks working twelve hour days, but she is going on to a new adventure, one that will include extended family who she has never had the benefit of daily contact.

Over the years, though, there have been tears …

“Let my stories be whispered”

From when you were just a young child, I have been learning to lay you back into the hands of your Creator (A Most Desired Child). This lesson will continue to my dying day, and with many tears.

“I took the path less traveled on”

I remember a few years back, when you decided to go on a mission trip with your church youth group to Tijuana, Mexico. I was so excited for you to have that adventure, to help orphaned children and for you to see how God might use the gifts and talents He has given you.

But …

I was scared you would be murdered or raped or traumatized or kidnapped. So, I drove you to that train station in Seattle. I tried to absorb every last moment with you, fearing it might be our last. I hugged you, told you I loved you. Then I had to watch you walk … away … staying strong. Until I walked from the station, with tears streaming down my face … asking God to go with you.

And then when you told me, just a year ago, of your desire to go to India, to work with the children of Calcutta. I listened to your dreams, asked the right questions. But, when I was alone, the tears streamed down my face, as I asked God to give me the strength to let you live your life. And, one day, I will stand at the airport, holding you and telling you I love you, uttering best wishes, and watch you walk away to board your flight that will take you to the mission of Mother Teressa and the Sisters of Charity, and tears will stream down my face, as I ask God to go with you.

“this life is as fragile as a dream”

That night in April, of 2008, was a night that God tested me. As I stood at the back of a church, knowing only that you were in there, somewhere, after the floor of the church had collapsed (Starfield Concert). After the frantic search, the long drive home, the holding you in bed … I collapsed on my knees and thanked God for giving you to me for another day … and the tears were streaming down my face.

“Cause in this life you must find something to live for”

When you were only three, I remember your voice, as we both knelt at your bed, and you prayed to give your heart to Jesus. I remember feeling such privilege to be there to kneel on that holy ground with you … and the tears were streaming down my face.

And, He goes with you now. You ‘know’ all that that means … and He is something to live for. I need to shed no tears, because this is a new beginning, and He goes with you.

Go with God … or, as they might say in the East, adieu ma fille chérie.

“I’ve always heard, every ending is also a beginning, we just don’t know it at the time … I’d like to believe that’s true.”

This is what we raise our children for …

I think, my firstborn daughter, that you can read between the lines here … think of it as my melody for you these next months. (and there was the shedding of tears in the writing of this post … but they were, selfishly, for my loss in the ending of this phase).

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