The Journey of a Dream

              Not that long ago I was sitting in the comfy rocker/recliner I have in my office doing my morning devotions and I looked over at the file cabinet. My gaze landed on a 5 X 7 piece of paper that I had stuck up there 3 1/2 to 4 years ago. I had forgotten about that piece of paper or what it said, so I went over and looked at it. It was something I had done in our church’s worship service as part of a conversation on visioning. Part of the exercise was to reflect on a journey of renewal. On that piece of paper I had written a personal dream – to finish writing Hope’s and my stories. There were other questions to reflect on, too, such as what changes would I need to make? What might I lose?  What might I gain? The other part of the exercise was to share what we had written with one other person that was there. Speaking my dream made it a bit more real, but at the time I had no idea or real intention of pursuing the idea beyond maybe doing a bit of personal writing in a journal. I had no clue that dream would take root as it did and take me on the journey I have been on for the last two years.

            As I write this I am only a few short days away from February 1st and the release of Still A Mother: Journeys Through Perinatal Bereavement that I co-edited with Tabatha D. Johnson. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined I would have my name on the front of a book cover. You see, writing was never my strongest talent when I was growing up. I struggled and spent hours working on research and term papers. Never was anything turned in without at least a couple of proof readings by my parents. They proofread papers for me all the way through the end of my seminary career. It truly was a labor of love, for which I am eternally grateful.

            Thinking about this journey and the questions of what might I gain and what might I lose, I know now that I had no clue just how important this dream was to me. I gained so much: a better sense of myself as a bereaved mother, and a courage of truth telling that I had no idea resided within me. I gained a good friend and trusted colleague in Tabatha, and found myself getting to know some other amazing women as they shared their stories with us. When I first wrote on that paper, I thought the only thing I would lose is personal time for myself, and yes, it was a sacrifice of time both on my part and the part of my family. However, I lost something else – I lost the sense of crippling grief and some of the shame that had come with me keeping my story to myself. And it was through this loss that I gained my healing.

            But also, if I am honest with myself, I have to admit there is still a bit of fear and trembling in my soul as I wait for February 1 to arrive. I am used to being vulnerable in smaller settings and one on one. However, writing Hope’s story and having it published in the book required being willing to be vulnerable to potentially the whole world (or at least a large quantity of strangers who pick up the book and read it.)  This is scary. It is scary because I have in essence given my precious little Hope to the world, and with this little one also goes a part of my soul. I wonder how will the world react?  Will it be kind? Will those reading our story be understanding of our choices and struggles? These are all questions I cannot help but wonder about.

            In the midst of the excitement, wonder, amazement and fear I have to remind myself why I started this in the first place. Not for affirmation from the world, although that would be nice. But rather for all the women who have made the journey of having a little one die too soon, so they would know that they do not journey alone. I wrote and edited in the hopes that these words will help to bring this grief back out of the shadows and into a place of understanding and compassion.

            So I invite you to share the journey with us, to read our stories and hear our hearts speak. Remember with us our little ones, and the places they hold in our families and the world. You may do so by ordering a copy at Judson Press and of course at Amazon. If you live in the Kansas City area some copies of the books will soon be available at Unique Finds in Overland Park, Kansas.

Is that you?

Today's post is simply some poetry I wrote.  It comes from my bereaved momma's heart as I continue to do this journey as a momma to one on earth and one in heaven. My prayer is that it may provide healing to you if you share this type of journey, provide insight if you accompany someone in this journey or simply bless you in some way.

IS THAT YOU?

What was that?
A shadow catches my eye.
Then it's gone again just as quick.

Was that you?
That child sized shadow,
the one that just blinked through the darkness.

This is not the first time I've seen your shadow.
Do you come because you miss me?
Or are you checking in, making sure Mommy's ok.

I've never believed in ghosts.
And angels have never been physical beings in my personal belief.
So that child sized shadow, it puzzles my soul.

Yet I always feel at peace,
When in the stillness of the night,
It flitters through the corner of my sight.

The only explanation I can come to,
is that it is you, my precious little baby.
The one I only knew in utero.
The one I never got to see.

That shadow is it you?
You coming back so that I can "see" you?
It is the only explanation that this Mommy's heart can give.

A Labyrinth For All Seasons

I have had a 16-year relationship with labyrinths. They have become an important part of my spiritual life and own emotional health management. For those who are not familiar with what a labyrinth is I’ll offer a brief explanation. Labyrinths are ancient prayer and meditation tools found in many cultures and religious. They are unicursal meaning that there is only one path in and out. One of the most well known labyrinths from the Christian tradition is in The Chartres Cathedral in France. It is that pattern that I personally find the most connection to and the pattern that I based my own personal back yard labyrinth off of.

Having a labyrinth in my back yard has allowed me to spend many hours walking and allows for a labyrinth walk right before I leave for work each day. It is also provides a chance to watch the labyrinth change with the seasons. Each season brings it’s own beauty to the labyrinth. I love spring and watching the landscaping around it come to life, to look out with anticipation of what critter I will find sitting around the labyrinth. Summer comes and with it the smell of lavender and sound of buzzing bees and sight of fluttering butterflies. Fall is when the green begins to fade, but my ears are blessed with the sound of the leaves that have fallen on the path crunching under my feet. Winter at the labyrinth is bare, brown and gray but in many ways is my favorite time to walk; the cold air on my face and the gravel path firm and frozen under my feet.

This winter the area around the labyrinth has been particularly bare as almost all my lavender plant died and had to be pulled. The labyrinth truly feels like it is in a place of slumber and transition as it awaits spring and the possibility of the new plant life that will be planted around it. I find it interesting that this echoes the fact that several aspects of my life are in transition. I have a new supervisor at work, the church I am a part of is embarking on an exciting and new way of doing and being church, and in a few short weeks my book Still a Mother will be out to the public and I will transition into the arena of author and publicity. It can be said that the labyrinth can be a mirror to one’s life. This has most definitely been the case for me.

I will admit that a challenge of winter walking is snow and subzero temperatures. Sometimes I will bundle up and brave the elements for a walk, but often times I choose to use my finger labyrinth until my soul cries out, take me for a walk. When this happens there is no choice for me but to go and with the walk usually comes some kind of poetry that pours out of my soul. This was exactly the scenario earlier this week.

I invite you now to come with me on my walks this week and listen to the words of my soul in hopes that they may in some way speak a moment of rest to yours.

                        To walk, cold air on my face

                        Circling in, in, in.

                        Into your presence God.

                        A brief respite from the laundry list already started in my head.

                        A pause of my soul to listen deeply to your whispering to me.

                        To revel in the silence of the early morning waking up around me.

                        This is communion for me.

                        My communion with the Holy Three.

                        God, Christ, Spirit joining me on my day.

                        This is why I walk,

                        In winding circles,

                        On a Sacred Path.

                        This is why the labyrinth is part of my sacred time

                        Spent with the Holy Three.

                        The labyrinth calls again,

                        I miss you, come walk and play.

                        My answer is in my unwavering footsteps,

                        My heart open to the voice of God.

Return of the Busy Signal

            I recently stumbled upon a hastily scribbled note that said return of the busy signal. I can not for the life of me now think what it was that I was reading that triggered that note to myself, but I do know that it was a note to remind me of something I wanted to think about more. I also know that I am dating myself when I admit to remembering the days of getting a busy signal or just a constant ringing on the other end of the phone instead of voicemail or an answering machine.

            Don’t get me wrong, I love having voice mail and answering machines. It gives me a sense of security knowing that family can always reach me and I can always reach them. Lately, I have also gotten to thinking about what we may have lost by always being available even if only through voicemail.

            I was in college before I had access to any kind of answering machine or voicemail. So there were several years that not having one was just normal. Reminiscing about those years, I thought about what it was like to get a busy signal. A great many times there was frustration that I could not reach that person. Frustration of not being able to finish up whatever task it was that required a phone call. Sometimes it was disappointment that I could not talk to the friend I was trying to call. But it also taught me that people are not always available when you need/want them because they were busy with something else. It taught me to wait and respect the fact the person was busy and not available to me right at that moment. In many ways it forced me to slow down.

            There was another benefit to the busy signal: when I was on the phone, there was no beep of a call waiting. I had no idea someone else was trying to reach me so I was fully focused on the conversation I was having at the moment. Also, if one really did not want to be disturbed, you just took the phone of the hook and instant busy signal and a greater chance of no interruptions.

            Now one might argue that you can still do this: just turn off the phone, let voice mail get it. But with voicemail there is still contact. That message that “I will get back to you just as soon as I can.” There is that underlying implication that I am always available. When I get done with being busy, there is always another call to return.

            Some days I really miss the busy signal, especially very busy days that has every one vying for my attention. I wish I could just put myself on a busy signal and make everyone else wait until I am good and ready to deal with the world again. This is where I really admire those who can accomplish a true tech-free day. This is something that I have tried to do myself, but am not always that good at accomplishing.

            All of this reflection has helped me realize that while I will never get the busy signal back, I can work at regaining some of the benefits of it. When I need to leave a voicemail I can work on being more internally respectful of that person’s time and be less anxious about when they will return my call. I can choose to ignore that beep on the call- waiting and stay focused on my conversation. I can turn off my phone if I need some time away for Sabbath. In essence, I can be intentional about making myself slow down, because really that was what the busy signal made you do.

            Last week I blogged about working to be more present to the moment. Read about it here. I think this slowing down and letting others realize you are busy and not available is a part of being fully present. And it’s not always about being present to someone else’s need. Sometimes it’s about needing to be present to yourself. And that’s ok. It’s ok to need to put out a busy signal and retreat for a while. Everything else will still be there later, and you can tackle it one busy at a time.