Part of the journey

It has been so much harder to lose Dad than I thought it would be.When I was a little girl I obsessed over him dying. I wouldn't let him drive alone. I thought about possible ways he might die constantly. When I got older I told him about it. He was standing by me and leaned his head over on my head and rested it there and said "I know." He always did that. It was one of our little things. When I married Jody I transferred that fear to him. If he got stuck in traffic with his phone on silent I would be a nervous wreck by the time he got home. Certain always that these men were hanging by a thread and my life would end without them. And they were hanging by a thread. Like most people, Jody could tell you a few times he stared death down and got a chance to keep breathing especially with all of his adrenaline hobbies. Dad, on the other hand probably couldn't even tell you how many times his life was spared. He had a dangerous life. Probably sounds silly to city folks but just ask a farmer how many years it takes off of their life keeping city folks alive when they visit a farm. Farms are insanely dangerous, from the heavy machinery, to the ornery horned cattle, to the chainsaws and felling trees. It has taken many lives but it didn't take Dads. He always squeaked by. Never even got a broken bone, he was cautious and always keenly aware. Apparently, raising four kids on the farm that never got an amputation is considered worthy of a safety award from OSHA. ;)
Anyway, one day Jody called and said he had cancer. The world started spinning and I just knew it had finally happened. Jody was dying just like I'd known he would. I knew nothing about cancer. My aunt died of pancreatic cancer and it had been basically unstoppable. And so we went through a very weird time of being unable to grasp what his kind of cancer means to a persons mortality. And during that time, I was able to make peace with God and let go of that fear. And a huge weight lifted off my chest and never came back, even while I watched Dad die a slow horrible painful death. I did not fear his death.
But then the struggle came in a different form. I couldn't picture him laying there in all of that pain and understand why God would let his children die that way after Jesus bore it all on the cross.  Now some people will compare cancer to Jesus death but I don't. It seems irreverent. And as I struggled with those images for all of these weeks, I finally flipped it over and asked myself a question I have been avoiding. If Jesus sat down with dad and asked him man to man to die in this way for the kingdom what would his answer be? I know for a fact Dad would say yes. He was a soldier in Gods army. Now don't shoot me and tell me I'm speaking heresy. I am not a theologian, I merely draw my conclusions of Gods ways from the early church. There were times when God spared Paul and Peter from certain death but ultimately they did die as martyrs and God did not send an angel to take peter off that cross or deflect the the sword from Paul. Their deaths meant something. Just ask the miracles drew believers, so did their deaths. So, I have received some priceless letters from incredibly "time generous" people. And do you know what those letters say? Dad's death means something for the kingdom. It means a great deal. And that I can work with.
My second big struggle has been asking myself where was Gods presence in those dark dark days leading up to Dads death? At the beginning, we basked in the glow of the Holy Spirit sustaining us through the prayers of our community. In those last weeks, though the prayers were still strong, our days became bleak and hopeless and seemingly meaningless. And I hate to say it but his death was not peaceful and I did not feel him walking into heaven with a big smile. I wept over his pain ridden earthly body and begged God for a sign of peace and heaven and I got nothing. I asked Dad if he could feel the presence of God and he said  "not much". It killed me to know that it was true for both of us. I would sing him hymns and pray over him and reach but I couldn't get a connection. Well, the deaths of the martyrs don't give me much to go on as to what a Christians last breaths are supposed to look like so I will have to turn to Jesus on this one and I find comfort. "Father, father, why have you forsaken me?" Are words I am certain Dad would have uttered in those moments if he had the strength.
I haven't arrived but I'm journaling and blogging A LOT and it's helping. And Jody is coddling me and that helps immensely. And my friend Knelly calls me a lot and that helps more than she will ever know. I have no idea how she is handling homeschooling while parenting 6 kids and moving in sub zero temperatures and babying me through this but she is and frankly I need her so I'm glad she will do basically any and everything God asks of her sweet and amazing heart. Otherwise my days and nights are a continuum of tears with momentary blissful distractions. I am waiting eagerly for a night that I don't lay in bed crying and then get up and read or watch tv until my eyes are bleary and then crash. Good night world. Its time for me to read about how to have a confident heart so I can actually have the courage to live the life God has called me to.

What that feels like.

People who haven't gone through losing someone close have varying reactions to seeing it but pretty much all of them helplessly observe that they have no idea how it feels and it makes them feel anxious and inadequate at being there for the person grieving. And it's true that they don't know how it feels but it's unimportant. Because all you really need to know as a friend is what to do, not what it feels like and I can help with that. These are tips for a close friend or family member that has a dear one going through grief. You wouldn't do these things for acquaintances obviously. Those people just need a card or a condolence when you see them next. But if you are right up next to someone in deep grief and feeling helpless, here's my personal opinion of what to do. This is what people have done for me that helped.
1. Be closer than you want to. Walk right into their pain circle and sit in it with them. You won't like it and it won't feel comfortable, but do it because that's what they need and they are important to you. I talked to a friend about that one day and her eyes were huge, she said "but that's what you are supposed to do if you're a friend!"It was obvious that it's second nature for her. I think it comes naturally to some people, maybe not so naturally to others. Time is gold when a person is in pain. They get a message that they are important to you and that they have value even though they feel like they are just dragging the world down and adding no value. Time.
2. Listen very closely and affirm their feelings, whatever those feelings are. Even if they are irrational, and exaggerated or just plain not true in your mind. Don't be afraid to ask questions and don't feel bad if the questions make them cry. It really is ok. Sometimes I just hope people will ask questions so I can talk. It's like I am given permission. Time.
3. Hug them when they cry and assume that tears mean they need a hug. Try not to worry that you did something wrong. If you say you think you did something wrong it can jumble their mind and make them start panicking that their support system is somehow weak/damaged and needing attention and it's terrifying because they can't handle working on other stuff. They feel like they are such a mess and such a burden that they need everyone else to seem relatively stable and present for awhile. Time.
4. Write something meaningful down and give it to them. It doesn't matter what you give them, a quote, a poem, a memory, an affirmation that you believe they are partially who they are because of the wonderful person they lost or all of the above. Grieving people sit and re-read it. Anything you say or write that gives some kind of purpose or value to their pain is basically gold as well. Time.
5. Try to respond to a cry for help if you are available. I think it's instinctual to think you should give a grieving person lots of space or food or other gifts but for me, I just want someone to pick up the phone or come sit in my pain with me and fortunately a couple people do that in addition to all of those other little perks I mentioned like food and gifts :). Time.

I want to say that I was mostly inspired to write this by a friend who is always very open with me. She tells me all of the things she worries about watching me grieve and it helps me see that what I am going through is not just scary to people because they never want to go through it, but it's scary to think they could make things worse by trying to reach out because they don't know how I feel. I cannot stress enough that trying is the ultimate gift and try she does and it's beautiful. I also know that the things I wrote may be somewhat individual or of varying importances to others going through grief so don't blame me if you follow my rules and they don't work. ;)

The looking glass

After 34 years of being me, Elizabeth, Betsy, E whatever you call me - I gave up and got a book. So tired of being me. Slicing people in half with relish and then standing with my knife shaking in my hand wondering what I have done. Dishing it out and refusing to take it. Dropping the hammer and letting the pieces fall. Curling in a ball of shame and considering becoming a hermit - again. Yes, after all of those years... hearing my family joke about why I never became a lawyer or a politician. It's true. It's me. The God given abilities to use words written and spoken completely misused until the habit is so ingrained I have honest doubts I will ever feel the peace of extending grace when someone needs it from me.
I'm baby stepping. I ask forgiveness now sometimes. I see my blunders a little sooner, feel more wretched than ever and have a handy little list called my conflict cheat sheet that I have only successfully used once since the day I laid on my face and cried to God and he gave it to me. I forget it. I forget everything I try to renew my mind to when anger, sweet adrenaline pumping anger gets me.
So today I sat down to read the book (Unglued by Lysa TerKeurst) to tell me how to control my emotions. I am certain the key is to keep inputting so much positive reinforcement that I change instinctively... because I go on pure instinct in life. I rarely put thought before action. So, the hope is to make it my nature rather than hope for the presence of mind to grab the conflict cheat sheet. As I read the opening paragraph about the authors outburst of rage at her children for stealing her bathroom towels there was a little angst going on in my own home. While I sat immersed in my lovely kindle with the book that will finally change my life, rage was kindling alright, right in my little girl. My beautiful little looking glass was about to explode into fireworks mirroring my every fault. Her little brother had used all of the hot water. There she stood tirading about the injustice and thoughtlessness. And as usual, we parents snapped. Telling her not to blame him, the laundry and dishwasher are going too and she will just have to wait until morning. She marched off and I continued reading the very interesting life changing book. The little brother announced that he was going to go apologize to her. He went upstairs and came back dejected. She wouldn't let him speak to her. I patted his arm and continued reading. He wandered back upstairs and a few minutes later my husband said "is she still yelling at him about the shower?" Sure enough we could hear the muted litany of insults she had borne from behind her bedroom door, yes she rained down her anger on the little guy. I asked her to come downstairs and flipped back to the beginning of my book and read her the whole chapter about the stolen towels. She held her arms across her chest and puffed it defiantly. Little tears glittered in her eyes that nobody cared about her, that's what she worries about most. Part of it's because she's a middle child I suppose. I put the kindle down and I said "you know what?  It really honestly wasn't his fault, and he really honestly wanted to apologize because he felt very bad that you got a cold shower but you wouldn't let him. Am I right?" She gave a slight nod and I said "honey, you really are my mini me, you are the closest thing to looking in the mirror 27 years ago that I could ever have. I am going to read this entire book with you because I want to equip you now so that you don't have to go through the pain I have in my life. It's really hard to let your anger be a wrecking ball in your life." She hunched her shoulders and started to walk away and I stopped her. I said "you know who makes you want to be angry right? You know who is winning the war for your heart when you're angry..." Her eyes softened and she nodded.
It's hard to be me... but it's even harder to see me in my beautiful little girl.

http://www.p31bookstore.com/collections/by-lysa-terkeurst/products/unglued

Common Core Math at a school that jumped in a year early

There's a lot of buzz about common core math and what everyone thinks of it. I am not going to try to pretend to be unbiased or to profess I know everything about it. My only contribution to the conversation is obviously merely my own experience and maybe it will help someone else going through the same thing a year behind me to at least understand what is happening to their poor kids education if not to help annihilate common core before more damage is done.
We started our fifth year at Flagstaff Academy in Longmont the fall of 2012. I had no other expectations than that we would continue to be as happy as ever there. I was entrenched in the school. It was the only school my children had ever attended. I was proud of the school. It was academically challenging and we had to work to stay on top of all of the homework and assignments and stem fair projects. I was the room parent coordinator for the school. I volunteered wherever allowed with my baby in tow. I had a fourth grader, a second grader and a kindergartener. I was in a carpool. It was going to be another great year of fantastic support for my amazing kids. 
I had heard that the school was buying a new math curriculum a year early to stay ahead of a new national standard being implemented nationwide in 2013 but I didn't worry about it much, just sounded like mumbo jumbo to me and I was sure the kids would still learn everything they needed to. At Flagstaff, the kids are assessed at the beginning of a year and the end. The end scores determine which math group they will go into the following year. Eden had come off of a very good 3rd grade experience and scored very well at her end of year NWEA's so she was placed in the second from the top math group. Within weeks of some very confusing, obfuscating, redundant and time consuming math homework she came home with a sigh of relief and announced that she had been bumped down a group but she was happy and thought it was a better fit. The math continued to be ridiculous nonsense of hundreds of tally marks and purposely trick questions. Lord how I wish I had saved some examples to post here. Meanwhile she was being required to do advanced multiplication problems as well but was not learning her multiplication tables. Now I remember 4th grade. You had to be able to write the answers to all of the multiplication tables through 12x12 within 2 minutes or you missed recess every day until you got it. I started asking around about why the kids weren't required to know their multiplication tables. I was told that we needed to do that at home. Well, we couldn't because sometimes her math took so long it was 10 at night when we went to bed after tears, drama and my husband wanting to stick an icepick through his hand. Meanwhile with all of this going on, my 2nd grader was barely keeping her head above water and getting practically no attention or help with her homework. My kindergartener was so overwhelmed he had several "shut downs" in class and would not participate. We all dreaded school and wished for it to end. I could go on and on about the minute details of what happened in that semester at that school but the bottom line is, my fourth grader was being passed over, ignored and unsupported by a teacher who only liked gifted and talented kids and my middle child was treading water and my youngest was having a simply horrible experience. On top of that, my fourth grader was going to another classroom for math and failing there as well because of the new curriculum. It was a nightmare. I went through several steps to try to correct the situation but we were just falling further and further and the administration placated me with things that didn't fix anything. I was at my wits end so I wrote a letter to the school board telling them about my problems and that though it broke my heart I had to remove my kids from the school to salvage the second half of my daughters fourth grade year. We left school for Christmas break and I cried like a baby hugging all of those dear friends/teachers goodbye. I couldn't believe I was having to do this. The teachers were shocked.
I moved the kids to Aspen Ridge Prep in Erie around the corner from our new home. When my fourth grader started I had some great conversations with her new teacher and he supported her and believed in her and helped her believe in herself again. All of the students were of course far ahead of her in math. She was very ashamed and embarrassed and afraid she couldn't learn long division especially since we didn't have the multiplication tables down but she plugged away and finished out the year strong. The real victory was when she took the standardized test at the end of the year and owned it. Her horrible teacher at Flagstaff had said she was behind in writing but her scores came back advanced after just a semester at Aspen Ridge. By contrast, the scores for the poor kids who stayed at Flagstaff were not so thrilling. Just searching the school grades website and looking at the downward curve of Flagstaff over the last three years tells me that the common core curriculum is tanking a perfectly good school and wrecking some great kids education. Aspen Ridge was required to conform to common core standards this year but rather than buying a new unvetted curriculum, they have added supplemental things and maintained their proven curriculum.  I'm happy but vigilant at this point, we have now completed two semesters at Aspen Ridge with nothing but wonderful results for all of my kids. 

It's never real until it's personal

I'm mulling over what could drive me into a deeper darker place than losing one of my nearest and dearest for the rest of my earthly life. Nothing. It was a super short mull.
It's been challenging, trying to cling to sanity, to hold on to the love most people give and to not analyze why some people say what they do, or analyze why others say nothing at all. The bottom line is, people are just people and everything people do and say to me is merely a reflection of my own imperfections. It's not as if they could fix anything anyway. We can't fix grief. It's just a process. A horrible, torturous process that nobody can take away. The real pain comes when a man who had a fatherless childhood gives me a gentle hug and offers me total compassion and a steady stream of prayers. I feel guilty that I had the most wonderful father imaginable and I'm leeching compassion from someone who has so much less than me. I said from the day Dad was diagnosed that I wanted to beg God for a supernatural healing but I felt like I was asking to win the lottery twice. I felt guilty. Then I looked at his pain and felt robbed and gyped by God. Then I stepped back and looked at my Dad's series of choices and felt angry at him for ignoring or hiding this disease until we couldn't help him.  Then I walked back through all of the arguments about his health over the years and feel like I should have tried harder. Never should have left Arkansas. Should have gone back to Arkansas. The conflicting emotions are suffocating. What is my expectation of God, my dad, me? I think about all of the times God saved Dad from certain death by a simple turn of his hand. I remember all of the things my dad made the right choices about in his life with or without my encouragement. I cling to all of my memories of time I did give to Dad. It's not like none of us were ever doing anything good, right or worthwhile. Then I picture Dad walking up to Heaven and seeing all of these people hanging through the gate excited to see him. Aunt Bonnie, Granny, Poppy, Gilbert (sans an interpreter), Tom, Angie, George Scott, Coralee, Thurl, Aunt Eileen... oh the list goes on. Who am I to say we lost? We fought hard with every tool we could find, so hard that I got on Dad's last nerve. He was sorry for our grief but there wasn't any dread, his pain was consuming and he knew where it would end.  He gave me a kiss on Christmas Eve and told Mom he loved her too. It wasn't a smooth peaceful lift off to heaven though. We loved him more than anything but no matter how we tried or what we did his will to live was gone in a sea of pain. And at the end, we held him and wiped a gallon of sweat off of his cold brow, his cheeks, his arms, his hands. We silently willed breath into his body as it raggedly breathed on. We begged God to turn the clock back or perform a miracle or make pain meds work. I sang to him songs all but our most special song. I tried but I couldn't. I don't know why we have to do this. Miss him for 20 years he should have been alive. Second guess everything that led to this. Replay his voice in our minds so we don't forget it. Picture his perfect hands in fine detail to imprint them on us. Try to help my mom scramble to pay tens of thousands of dollars for hospital bills and a funeral. Now I know we should have been fundraising for her but we were in a vortex of hell on earth. It sucks. Really sucks. I hate how I burst into tears with every kind gesture shown. I hate having to carry kleenexes to Costco. I hate speaking to an empty room and asking him what to do about my latest spat with Jody. It's not that my heart is broken, it's that there's a giant hole in it. It's a hole nobody can fill. Not my husband, my children, my friends, my mom, my siblings or anyone else. When you've chatted on the phone with your dad several times per week your whole adult life, and never pondered what to do when that ends, you are left in a never ending cascade of tears. I'm waiting on that "new normal" but I honestly think it's a joke for me. I hate to be the annoying person who says I'm unique and my dad is special and our relationship is different but it is. It has to be. I've listened to practically everyone I know tell me what terrible, fake or nonexistent relationships they have with one or both of their parents and I am here to say, I'm just loved, adored and even guilt tripped for growing up and leaving home. That's all I have.