Fall, 2010

First of all, our nephew, Israel, nearly died at the end of October and continues to struggle in the hospital...you can keep track of how he's doing at his Caring Bridge site. My youngest brother, Jon, is Izzy's papa and both Jon and his wife, Dani, would appreciate your prayers.

I can't believe we are already into the Christmas season. With everything going on with Izzy, the fall slipped by us. We did, however, manage to have some good family times.

The kids made candy bags with me. Here's Noah with his:



The kids loved carving pumpkins. Noah didn't want to wait to carve his and did it right after the pumpkin day at school. We had such a warm fall, though, that it didn't last until Hallowe'en.



The kids were super involved in their costumes this year. Miriam planned hers based on the Pom-poms I had gotten her last year. We found clothes to match and then freezer paper stenciled the "H" on the front of her shirt. Many people thought the "H" was for homeschool, but she intended it to be for "Hallowe'en." Alex had very strong opinions about his policeman outfit and it took a very long time to get it just right. We got two badges and used one on an old blue ballcap and one on his shirt. He had a walkie-talkie in his holster (Daddy said no play guns in our neighborhood!) Noah wanted to be a Good Knight again this year, so we recycled a costume from 2 years ago. His sword had broken, though, and he saw one at Dollar Tree, so we used that instead of a handmade one...and of course, we needed the shield to match! Noah won "most original" costume at a neighborhood event we went to; he was quite pleased!



We had a lovely Thanksgiving...more on that on the next post.

Two Years

Two years ago I was holding my lifeless baby and feeling pretty lifeless myself. This past week I attended Calvin's Festival of Faith and Writing. At the session with Ed Dobson and Sara Miles, Miles spoke about the difference between healing and curing. She spoke of a woman, dying from breast cancer, who was estranged from her son. Over the course of her illness, which would eventually take her life, she and her son managed to forgive, repair and restore. Their relationship with completely, fully healed, while she was completely, fully NOT cured.

This resonated with me in such a way that I can hardly speak about it--and writing about it is not much easier. I feel as if I am healing from the loss of Hazel, but I am not cured. I will never be cured of the loss. Her death, the desire to have had the privilege of raising her, will always, ALWAYS, be part of me. And at this point, I wouldn't have it any other way. The first few weeks after her death, the idea that I would carry my grief forever was almost more than I could bear. But I did bear it, thanks to friends, family and a God who understands my grief while still forcing me to walk through it.

But cured or healed, whichever word you choose hardly matters, because I am not yet healed. I catch myself sinking deeper into an unreal life--hiding behind my computer and my books. I hardly do any crafts, baking, fun householdy-type-stuff anymore--shoot, I hardly read anymore. I just waste time, watching the clock and waiting for the time to pass. Not everyday is like this, of course. If I didn't have the homeschool co-op and other responsibilities at church (and friends who lovingly expect me to fulfill my obligations) I think I would already be in a deep state of denial and depression, but still, I am getting a little scared that if I don't give myself a good kick in the ass, I'll be lost and my kids will be grown and I'll be saying, "Wait! I wanted to..."