Saying Goodbye to Kristen

Two nights before her death I was spending the night at my sisters house, sleeping in my nieces bed.  My sister found me in the dark hallway and I woke as she asked if I was okay and who was calling me?  I replied I didn't know, turned and went back to bed but not to sleep.  How does one sleep when her friend is breathing her last breaths on this earth?  

I met Kristen in Sunday school at our little Episcopal church.  Red headed, fair skinned with a beautiful smile.  We chatted over Easter Egg hunts, children with baskets running around, reenactments of Jesus last days on Earth, kids and adults all dressed up in shawls, in the hallway while our girls had choir rehearsals, with coffee in hand before parenting class, over lunch at the Square Root.

We understood the need for good pure eating, no sugar, processed stuff, little to no wheat & dairy.  We understood each others conflict of 'eating perfect' and 'living free.'  She got my battle with Multiple Sclerosis even tho it hasn't raged it's head in a few years.  I groaned with her over her looming battle with cancer.  3 years cancer free and now a scan showed it was back.  In the brain.  

We shared a love of children, of the great outdoors, of being with family and of sitting in our beautiful stone church.  We talked of getting together to make candles, of letting our girls glory in glitter and glue and art.  We talked of hiking as families.  But never got around to those things.  We actually put it on the calendar but something came up, pulled us away.

Kristen was a fighter.  She was strong and brave and present.  I only got to know her in her last two years of her 40 here on earth and I admired her.  I wish we had more time.  I wish her story had more chapters to be written, even the coming hard preteen ones with her daughter... looming decisions with boyfriends, college and career.  

Yes, that is where it pierces me deepest.  That this little family has lost its Mother and Wife.  That her light in their home, her warmth of body and soul will be there no more days makes me want to hurl basketballs in God's face.  The thought of Sam and Lily there in their home without Kristen doing and being all the things she did and was to them rips me to my core.

It is times like this that I appreciate all the more C.S. Lewis work in the Chronicles of Narnia.  The character of Aslan, the lion who suddenly shows up here and there with a fierce strength, tender love and wise words has always comforted me.  He is a picture of God, as Father and Mother to the children in the story.  The line I love the most is "Aslan is good, but he is not safe."

The night I slept walk into the hallway when my sister asked who was calling me, I know it was Kristen.  And Aslan.  He knows me like a book and knew my heart had been aching the last few days over Kristen.  I had spoken with her Mom only 5 days prior to her being in the hospice house and was planning on coming to be with her once she was home from the hospital.  She never came home.  She went directly to the Elizabeth House to be medicated to comfort, to allow her organs to shut down and her body to stop working.

And I.  I walked around my life with 4 happy children chasing chickens & riding bikes, I watered my gardens and picked tomatoes, I chopped salads and set out 6 plates for our full family, lively supper while my mind and heart felt pierced with no band aid big enough to comfort.  Then the weekend came and her Mom said they weren't allowing visitors.  My chance to see her one last time and say goodbye was gone.  

I chose on a whim to go to Hickory to surprise my sister for her birthday, savoring the chance to be present and to celebrate the life of someone I loved.  But, the pain followed me and even haunted me.  So as I drove home on Sunday after my sleepwalk in the night, I knew I needed to go be near her.  Yet, I didn't want to upset the family's ask for no visitors and I am a rule follower.  How loving of Aslan that Kristen's Mom called me for another matter in that moment.  I was able to share with her my pain and desire to go sit outside Kristen's room and say goodbye.  She blessed me in doing so.  What a gift!

As I walked the hall to her room I was jolted more into the reality of her coming death, of all of our coming deaths really.  Mine included.  "Oh I don't want to do this" I kept saying.  "This is too hard, turn around & just drive home Amanda."  But something beckoned me to go talk to her.  Was it for me or for her sake, I don't know.  But after journaling a letter to her outside her room a kind nurse came by and asked if I wanted to see her as she opened the door to check on her.  I did and I didn't.  I walked in, pierced with deep throat tears, told her how sorry I was this stupid cancer was taking her away from the life she loved, but told her it was OK to fly on to Jesus, asked her to hug him for me and told her that I was sure it was grand living there in a way we never tasted here.  

She died the next day.  After tucking my children in bed I checked email and read the news.  Crying on the couch with my husband I said, "We were just sitting behind her on the front row in church on Easter Sunday chatting it up, our girls exchanging flowers."  "Yes" my husband said, "And now she is experiencing Easter."

Because schools not just from 8-3pm you know?!?

Sitting in the driveway gathering my things after a full afternoon of bowling & grocery shopping with my crew after everyone else had bolted out of the car, I suddenly had a head right beside mine.  Startled a bit, my eyes widened and a silly face came over me as I looked into this, my 8 year old girls face.

"Has anyone told you they loved you today, Momma?" She asked with a smirk.  "Cause I love you a real whole lot you know."  We side hugged and I thanked her for taking time to care and to ask me that wonderful question she's heard from me a hundred times cause I grew up hearing it from my Momma and still do from time to time.  

We forget how much were teaching with our very lives sometimes, don't we?  How much one learns from watching a life.  And as we are in the throws of daily math & grammar & latin vocab and all the world around us is in back-to-school modes something in me wants to gather close all the Momma Bears out there and whisper some sweet reminders...to yes, care deeply about their childs education and being in an environment that fosters learning, new skills and concrete building blocks for adding, subtracting, reading and writing.  For these tools are staples and empower greatly. 

 But, Momma Bears what if the time they spend with YOU is an even greater mark of their formation.  And what if we are putting too much stock in our unique choice of education be it public, private or home?  What if we are unknowingly asking the state, the sunday school teachers, the million and two extracurricular activities our American kids are offered to fill a void and shape a life that we ourselves need to take back some responsibility for?  Yes, there is truth in the village raising the child and Lord knows we all want loving influencers in our kids lives.  

But lately I see such exhaustion in Mamas eyes from all the running around and worry over the right activities & school pressures that I wonder if we all just need a reminder to slow down, to craft a slower pace with space for loving right here in our homes.  For bedtime routines, for lingering dinner conversations, for rest together and time to play random crazy games and have tickle fights.  Cause aren't they learning from our pace of life?  Aren't they seeing what we value?  And won't they pattern their lives and homes somewhat after the one they were raised in?

I am no parenting expert or phD status.  All I have is my own story full of warts, tears and triumphs too.  And lately, I see the little glimmers of silver among the rocks in my kids lives.  And the effects of my choices to slow down, live more simply, put perimeters on when I check my phone, scale back their screen time greatly (to their disdain of course) are having great effects on their sweetness, on their joy and their budding selves.  Their personhood.

And lately, it is in this my first daughter that I see it the most. She was born under water, the first baby I didn't know her sex before birth and whispered, "a real live Abby" when my husband said she's a girl.  Cause all my baby dolls as a child got named Abby and tucked in sweet all lined up in our basement in Falling Creek.  And now, I get to parent a real one and it is much harder than it was then.  And she needs to talk way more than I have space for sometimes.  But, I love seeing her blossom and know that young womanhood is just around the corner.

So last night when she tip toed out of bed and came to the kitchen where I was lost in mashing bananas for muffins and enjoying the quiet of the evening I said "Yes" to her ask to help me even though she needs her sleep and its a school night.  (have I told you baking is therapy for me?) 

She cracked eggs with no spills and stirred without getting tired and even poured them into the muffin tin.  She is steadily getting better and more confident in baking with each time she does it.  And I am seeing now that this time listening to, loving her, being with her is just as much 'school' as when she sits to do her math at 8:30am.  

What if these are the golden days?

There are weeks.  And then there are weeks.

This was one of those weeks.  It was one of fullness, of piercing moments, of enough.

Typically, the first week of dipping our toes in school rhythms I feel anxious, behind, worried I just may be screwing my kids up (don't we all at some point?) and somewhat overwhelmed.  Run thin, worn out...tired.  Amid the excitement, the joy and fun moments of course!  But this week has been markedly different and I want to remember.  I'm still wrapping my brain around why? because I don't totally know.

Maybe because last week I found out a dear friend heard the news of fresh tumors on her brain and her several year battle with cancer is coming to a close and about to usher her to the other side.  Leaving memories unmade with her precious 9 year old daughter and her husband.  Yes, this has pierced me.  Has me a bit undone and walking through the moments of my life with grateful goggles on.  Of slow down, savor this goggles.  Of recieve and be present and here....now. Of let go of perfection and what others think. 

And stop rushing to the next subject or grueling over the messes being made or making a mountain of a molehill of a fuss between siblings.  Yes, that.  And that I found out about another precious Mama in our community with 2 sweet boys, one of whom has a brain tumor.  And now, the other one has a 105 fever they can't bring down, even at Childrens Hospital.  Deep gulp.  

And I wonder...what if these are the golden days of my life?  And what if I'm sometimes missing them?  And that tho I sometimes daydream of my MFA in Creative Writing or Spiritual Direction School....lets be honest, I sometimes dream of quiet, of no more laundry, and more uninterrupted conversations with my husband, more coffee dates with friends.  But really when they are grown and gone I think I'll ache for one more PJ ed kid snuggle in my bed, one more load of little people clothes to fold, one more 'hey Mom, come see this!' moment, one more hike deep in nature hearing their chatter and make believe.  So why am I so tight sometimes & hurrying through these days, hours, weeks?  What is the goal and when will we know we are there?

So, Abba pierces me and invites me to pray for these two dear women souls who have stories that are grueling right now and he leads me to be in this chapter of my story, now.  Because I have been in one of those chapters of loss, of sickness.  And in this  piercing I am waking up afresh to the wonder of grace in my world today.

So, as I walk through the den with books scattered everywhere on the first day and a nagging tug to pick up & make neat, I choose to stop instead and glory over this view.  My kids outside together on their own accord blowing bubbles and chatting it up.  I allow my kids to take a 10 min. break between subjects to go swing, grab a snack, stretch a bit whatever they are wanting as long as they maintain the quietness in the house.  Jed is my one who B-lines for something outside be it a tree, sandbox, chickens, catching grasshoppers or blowing bubbles.  I love that home educating provides this for him.

This is another view from my kitchen window I will never tire of.  This happy big man cub running out to check on his flock.  And this week instead of getting tense about 'did he rush through his math' or 'why is he out there again' I stopped washing dishes and said 'thanks' for his growing up self, for the way he loves and worrys over those birds and that he is blossoming before my eyes into a hard worker and a compassionate lover of life and God and those around him.  I chose to smile over him.

Josh is loving the guitar these days and making some sweet tunes in our home.  Hard to believe he is now officially in middle school.  He has had a year of lessons from Eddie at Area 22 guitars and has stuck with a hard practice weekly schedule.  It is paying off!  He is dreaming of a band, of an electric guitar for his big 13. 

Well, this is another sweet moment that I teared up over this week.  

During her room time Lydia always changes clothes & today it was into her ballet leotards.  She loves dressing up, playing babies & listening to sweet stories on LibriVox app (FREE!) or Audible while she plays.   As I started calling for lunch this is what I found... that he stopped his practice to engage his sister and was speaking in a such a kind, calm teaching way to her about her fingers just so was priceless.  Another reminder that relationships take t. i. m. e.  Time and space to be together.  I agree with Ann Voskamp that somehow, in making our schedule simpler, our lives are richer.

Banana Grams -a great game for any age.  Here, Jed is playing alone making words.  With younger ones we say the letter sound and make simple words, their names, ect.  With olders we play like scrabble.  Games are a great learning tool.  This week we all 5 played some math games with a deck of cards & had some good laughs!  Guess who won the first game....little bit Lydia!

Joshs workspace for early am Math

Jed, Abby & I are forging into latin this year!

Abby girl loves her violin.  After handwriting & math she is hankering to get outside and play some tunes!  And I enjoy  stopping to listen and hear her critique herself.  Music is super for the brain.  And the daily practice and sticking to it even when its hard is good for them.  The reward is sweet melodies & the joy of blessing others with music.  Lately, Crooked Creek, Ode to Joy and Beautiful Skies fill our home.

This is a typical afternoon work around here.  With an acre of mostly grass we have plenty of work to engage in outside.  Boys hot and tired and muscles burning are a good thing.  Thank you today for bodies that work, for a bit of land to tend.  And help me not to grumble about why my husband won't buy a riding mower.
 

This first week of school we planned a hike with friends.  Nurturing for the Mama Bear & the cubs!  Nature time is high priority over here.  I love the recent things I've read proving time in nature effects kids emotionally & socially & intellectually.  What a gift in our world to have a family that has a friend for each child in mine!  Thank you Father for leading us to friendships that build up and encourage in each stage of our lives.  Watching this particular bunch grow over the last 7 years has been a treat.

5 years old.  A moldable young sapling.  A sponge, soaking up all that fills her world.  I'm honored to be the one to choose books & music to fill her soul, food that nourishes and builds healthy cells and to structure her day with work and play.  She is eager this year to be up and doing her 'morning routine' so to be in the kitchen as the designated 'Breakfast Helper & Chooser.'  Dr. Sears tools for a brainy breakfast guide our choices and influence these growing brains.

Beautiful Feet Books is a great resource.  Also Before 5 in a Row by Jane Claire Lambert for this age.  She and I do Kindergarten work in the morning when she is eager and fresh.  This day we read Blueberries for Sal by Robert McClosky.  I gave her a pail like little Sal had and we picked blueberries too!  Because of a wonderful book Landscaping with Fruit Trees that a dear friend gave me I planted these 6 blueberry bushes in our front yard a few years back.

 

This.  This.  Isn't this where it gets messy.  Where Mamas can loose it real quick?  Where we want...space...?  Well, I'm learning to breath through it in this space and this week I found my self saying, "Good lands, I have a fridge.  And its full of FOOD.  I have running water.  Oh. My.  Stars."  Which this mindset was encouraged by a post at www.momastary.com.  A worthwhile read!  That there are starving children in the world breaks me.  To be a Momma who can't find water for her child or get fresh food.  We forget how darn spoiled we Americans are, me included.

Today, this space is dirty.  The sink is always full.

Yes, Jed is our dishwasher emptier and Lydia is our dish washer.  And Josh is our trash taker outer.  And Abby is our table/bench wiper.  But.  It is a space of work & creativity & food prep.  And yes, my almost teenager is usually changing the Pandora station, introducing us all to new tunes, my girls are usually singing something and Jed gets in and out as quick as possible.  Unless I reel him in and pick a tickle fight of course.  

The bantering, the laughing, the down right dancing that goes on in here is priceless.  And yes, the arguing, the saying "I'm sorry" the make up hugs and Mommy/ Daddy kisses happen too. And somehow in this space, where we sit down and eat 3 meals a day together, feast on Scripture, on artwork by VanGogh or a poem sometimes....somehow this week I just inhaled it all.  And my cup overflows.

And tho I have spent hours choosing books for them to learn from this year it occurred to me through a post by Ann Voskamp at www.aholyexperience.com that maybe the main thing I'm teaching them, the most important thing is love.  How to love someone...how to put anthers needs above their own...what it looks and feels like to love...to be loved and to give love away.

On the first day of school my students get presents!  And this girl is not shy about showing how full her heart is.  She has been so excited about starting Kindergarten with Mommy and doing CC (Classical Conversations).  Though she does miss Miss Tina her wonderful preschool teacher and I thought for a while she would be a KinderOwl at the Montoursi like school in town it has become clear this summer to James & I that the best place for her to learn and grow and flourish is here at The Walters Greenhouse (the name we chose for our school 10 years ago).  

Goodness knows we have enough for her to explore and do and friends to play with and dollies to love and dress and care for.  I love this shot of her and Jed I got this summer at the Creekhouse.  They have a special bond and play so well together.  She looks up to him and trust him and often asks, "What do you think, Jed?"  She let him take her down the creek on the back of the kayak hollering the whole way.   And to think that I almost signed them both up for 'another' camp that week...

So, as I sit on my bed and finish writing this outpouring of our week I am thankful for this space to chronicle memories in my world.  

And I am also hesitant because we all put our puzzles together differently as Sally Clarkson says so often.  And tho I am finally confident of how I have been led to put my puzzle pieces together I in no way want you to feel pressure to pattern your world after mine.  I am following Fathers heartbeat as I listen the best I can for how to piece together my ordering of our days, our education, our service in this hurting world.  I hear his whispers of love afresh in the birds each morning, the dew on the mountains, the warmth in my coffee.  And I pray you do too whatever that looks like for you this week.  Grace and peace to your heart.  Today.

A different kind of summer

Summer is in full swing over here.  We ate lunch yesterday at 2pm...with lemonade.  

It was a Saturday of being fully home together, doing projects and playing, projects and more play.  The rule around here this summer the professor decided is no screen time during the week, iPod for music only.  Then on the weekends, between projects & outings the kids can play.  It has worked well once we got past the assumption of playing all day if we are home all day.  "Yes, you will still eat food and care for your animals and yes, there are still limits even tho it is summertime."  Geeze louise, kids!

It seems this summer has ushered in a whole new chapter in my life as a parent.  I feel the abrupt reality of no more toddlers in my bed, no more need to make each meal on weekends.  There is a twinge of loss there and ache for another little Walters for sure.  Yet, I feel certain my chapter to live with work in an orphanage loving/ serving babies and toddlers will come.  One day.  All in due time.

Mostly, tho this chapter I am still living into is pretty grand.  For the first time in 12 years I can take my kids to the pool and read a magazine, like a whole article.  Yes, eyes still have a clue where they are in the pool & YES I do jump in and still play some too!  But.....I can have a  full conversation with another person.  And my kids make up fun games together.  And laugh hard.  And I sit, sip my smoothie, read, exhale.  Oh my!  Truly a new freedom for this Mama Bear.  I love it!

All except for the few Mamas that have their Moms or Mother-in-laws by their side to share in the experience which leaves an ache in my heart and pit in my tummy cause thats not my reality.

This winter I made my 9 & 8 year old kids do a month of swim club in order to learn some strokes cause I think its a valuable skill.  My oldest 12 year old was determined not to take a class and so he and I took turns swimming laps and playing with littlest girl in shallow end.  By the last week, he was putting on fins and using hand paddles and Coach Cassie was complementing his strokes.  Lydia began a four week private lesson with her sweet friend.  Week 3 the girl started swimming by herself!  Little fish.  

Feburary turned to March and the kids wanted to sign up for the next session.  We did and I am so glad.  Friendships forged over this early evening rhythm of meeting in the pool.  Schoolwork and chores were completed in a timely manner so we wouldn't be late.  I planned supper & set the dinner table in the morning.  Showering afterward got easier, the girls started remembering clean panties and boys their towels.  And I loved the invitation to play in the water with my oldest and my youngest.  Everyone in same room, getting exercise, being with others.

March turned into April and Coach Cassie decided to start her own swim team.  Her expertise in the sport coupled with her love of children and gift of patiently relating to them make her one of the best coaches I've ever observed.  A rare treasure indeed.  To my surprise, all four desired to be on the team this summer.  

Which entails a morning (you can tell by her jacket) and an evening practice Monday -Thursday.  Friday afternoon is fun games only.  Just certain that would be tooooo much for my crew I asked Coach Cassie if we could only come once a day and to my delightful surprise she had the most mature answer.  Something to the effect of, "YOU make that call and do whats best for your kids, the more they come the stronger they will get of course, but mainly I want them to enjoy the sport and experience.  Hot dog!  With that freedom I posed the practice schedule to my kids.  

And they surprised me too!  They wanted to come in the morning because Coach Cassie said to bring your tennis shoes to do some running and strength training.  And.....she brings doughnuts on Wednesday mornings.  Oh my!  

So this summer finds me with kids who are literally setting their alarms for 7am so they can wake in time to do their morning chores, eat breakfast, pack their swim bags and be in the car by 7:50.  AM.  All four of them ages 5, 8, 9 & 12.  Monday through Thursday.  

This is some of them on a Wednesday morning after doughnuts.  They get to put their feet in the hot tub.  Relax a bit before showering, chat it up, enjoy the coolness of the morning.  And my overly health oriented, sometimes controlling self who wanted to change the rhythm to yogurt & fruit on Wednesdays has relaxed to see the joy of this magical treat after a hard workout with friends.

And I even bought the doughnuts last week.  And my kids grinned large and loud with surprise and pure wonder over me, their Mother buying lots of doughnuts.  

And this summer, I am learning to lean into different, into kids wanting to spread wings and try and embrace to new rhythms.  I have even started swimming IM's and hytopsics.  I swam in the lane beside my 12 year old last week and he coached me through what an IM was.  I don't want to forget these days.  Yes, my washing machine runs daily, I tire of the sun, I am food prep queen, I tire of messes and servanthood like all working Mamas do as I seem to be working 14 hour days lately.  But the goodness and the richness exceeds the exhaustion of bone tired, teary afternoons.  Always.

Because some days, I just want to yell

Scrambling to clean up from the day, picking up, wiping, prepping the lentils & rice for when hungry, wet & tired bodies scraggle into my kitchen after a day of swim team & sun & work & school, I am stopped by 9 year old boy, introvert, standing in my path tears pouring out with every other word.

Big brother and friend duo were being too rough & macho boys on the trampoline.  I walk outside (well...I stomp actually) and see no boys but rather just the girls on trampoline.  So I bark out his name and he and friend come from the side of the house.  He red faced and a bit emotional and friend already saying, "He didn't do it, really!"

And why in these moments does it all rush back from my childhood?  Me 9 and my older sister hurting me in some shape or form, nails, feet or words that lodged deep and loud but quiet, peacemaker me had no tools to fight back, to solve the problem so I retreated, slunk back, gave up time and again.  And now, even as a grown woman, I feel the hurt and wish I could go back and stand up for myself.

So of course I am partial to 9 year old over 12.  And I am ready to dish out punishment large after I hear both sides when I suddenly ask a question and get a major curve ball, dagger to my heart.  "What were you doing behind the side of the house?"  And his answer clear and honest diffuses me and leaves me undone, raw and forced to look at the speck in my own eye.  "I was scared you'd yell at us."

And just like that, I gulped hard, bit my lip and whispered deep in my heart, "Help me Jesus not to harm but to help, to bind up and not to break."  I am guilty of yelling.  I was about to be guilty of embarrassing him in front of friend and all, for goodness knows he deserved it.  

Yet, how do you reel it all back in and not let it fly in the heat of the moment?  How am I to be the adult here when I feel like the 8 year old girl again, broken and bruised and finally ready to stand up and pull back the bow.  I don't have the answers.  All I know is words can scar and words can wound and lodge deep and fester when left unchecked.  I've been on both the receiving and the giving end unfortunately.  

As I grow up unto all the fullness of Christ, mature into 5th grade from 4th in my conflict resolution skills I am learning that usually when I feel deep anger, rage even, that it usually isn't about the issue at hand.  The issue, the squabble to referee, the broken glass, the spilt milk is just the trigger to push up some undealt with something that if I can be brave enough and face, grieve, yell at that sister face in my pillow that I can spare a lot of pain in my present hall of memories.  

My counselor back in Wenatchee, WA used to say the world would be a sweeter place if we'd stop throwing up on the sidewalk -ie. to each other- and learn to throw up in the toilet large and loud and then flush (i.e.-palms open, give it to Jesus, trust he's big enough to handle it).  And in those days she taught me to put my kids in front of Veggie Tales safe and walk back into the bathroom and speak out the deep hurt, yell even, grunt, pound the sink, kick the door, cuss even and then flush.

And there at 3327 School Street, the parsonage house we rented with orange carpet and white picket fence I learned that I was angry about some things and that being honest with my anger could lead to great hope and healing.  It hasn't been an easy road but I've learned that throwing up to the ones I love doesn't produce what I desire.