Advent Peace - Advent Guilt

Advent has arrived and with it our tree is up and the spiritual journey is underway with both family and mother/daughter devotions around the advent wreath. Overall, it is a fairly normal (if there is such a thing) Advent. On further reflection, if I’m honest, I’ve found myself inhabiting a weird place of grief.  No, grief and guilt. It is a truth that for women and families that experience fertility issues and/or pregnancy loss and infant death that Advent and the hopeful waiting towards the birth of Christ can be painful and a struggle to get through. After six years on this journey I find myself finally reflecting deeply and intentionally on my own relationship with Advent as a bereaved mother. And I have come to the conclusion that it is complicated.

The part of me that is deeply connected to contemplative spirituality and spiritual rituals looks forward every year to putting up the Advent wreath and choosing the devotional material for our family worship around it. This year my daughter and I are slowly coloring our way through an Advent poster every morning before school and work. I love these moments, I love planning for them. I love guiding my daughter through Advent to Christmas with a strong spiritual focus on the reason we celebrate Advent. I don’t feel the ache in my heart of what should have been with our second child until we light the candle of Hope. Hope, our child’s name, and am stopped in my journey with emotion. These are the emotions of the heartbreak of grief and the guilt that Advent does not remind me in a deeply emotional way of my Baby Hope. Then I remember that I have chosen to honor my baby Hope by living fully into my life, and for me that also means choosing to find joy and peace in the waiting for Baby Jesus to arrive. But sometimes it gets complicated because when the feelings sneak up, even after six years, I think I should have a handle on it. I have to remind myself there is no timeline with this forever grief, and it is ok to not have a handle on it some days, even six years later.

Guilt crept up again as we put up the tree. CJ has her own collection of ornaments, and earlier in the year she was commenting on how Hope did not even have one ornament of her own. CJ was very intentional about remembering to put up the purple snowflake on the tree that she received at the bereavement walk we did in October (you can read that blog here). It was important to her that her never-born sibling have Hope’s very own ornament on the tree, just like CJ has her own ornaments. Because I knew how important that was to her, I had planned on us putting Hope’s snowflake on the tree together, taking a moment to remember. In the hustle and bustle of decorating, CJ put the ornament on herself  - no ritual or special moment of remembering done together. I felt guilty; something that important should be guided by me. But then again maybe not.  Maybe that needed to be CJ’s thing as Hope’s sister, done in her own way. Then I felt a bit sad and left out. Like I said, sometimes it’s complicated.

And amidst all the Advent and Christmas preparation, parenting and life continue. Adding in piano lessons for CJ making it a total of 3 activities she is in. It was never to be more than two, but she is an extrovert and needs the interaction. As I sit down with my calendar trying to balance the schedule for school, work, her activities, my self-care, church, down-time as a family, my thoughts immediately go to wondering "how would I have ever done this with two kids? ". And a guilty feeling of contentment being mother to my one living daughter comes over me. When these moments hit, the guilt looms large, like I have tossed my dear Baby Hope aside. That is not the case at all. I would have embraced the crazy chaos that comes with more than one child, oh so willingly, if that had been our future. But I have also chosen to honor my second child by embracing the life and family that has been given to me, and that my husband, daughter and I make together. Embracing means living into the fullness of the type of mother I am able to be now, in the life I have now.

When the guilt looms large, I try to think of my baby Hope moving in just a bit closer, reminding me it is ok to experience Joy, Love, Peace, and Hope. It is ok to be happy and content in the place I am. So this Advent season I am choosing to live into the PEACE, HOPE, JOY AND LOVE of the Advent candles. But I also know it will always be just a bit more complicated for me living in this place of remembering, honoring and living life. And that is ok too.

A Litany of Thanksgiving

The month of November I try to be very intentional about embracing an exercise in looking for and recording those things for which I am thankful.  This year, engaging this spiritual practice has been most important to my soul's health and wholeness.  There is something about engaging a practice of listing thanksgivings that helps me to stay grounded in spiritual concepts that are important to me such as: hope, grace, love, peace, kindness. The practice serves as a reminder to me that there are good and wonderful things around me and it serves to remind me of God's good works in this world.

This year I included not only using words, but also finding or creating images that reflect my thanksgivings. In doing this I noticed a very spiritual and contemplative focus to my thanksgivings this year. They seemed to come together as a kind of litany. 

This is my last post for the month of November. I am going to take next week or so off and spend some time being less busy and more thankful with those closest to me.  I will be back in December. So as I prepare to take this pause, it seems fitting for me to leave my thankful litany here for you to engage in with me. I also would like to invite you, as we head into these days leading up to the celebration of Thanksgiving, to create your own litany of thanks giving. 

Painted sky displaying the grandeur of God's beauty

For this I am thankful.

Early dawn's light, quiet spaces and rituals that help me enter the day with peace and calm

For them I am thankful.

Books that take me deeper into the heart of the theology and spirituality that feeds my soul and simple tools of pen and journal where my own thoughts can reside

For these things I am thankful.

A faith family that is truly family, worship that feeds the soul, and the offering of our creativity

For these things I am thankful.

The sun that rises and sets, shining clear, bright light reminding me that light still shines and there is always hope

For this I am thankful.

Music that calls to and soothes the soul. Music that heals and restores

For this I am thankful

Moments of creativity

For these I am thankful.

Color bursting, the beauty of God's creation shining

For this I am thankful.

Wind that blows gently, bringing with it a soft rustling. Brushing my face and my soul. Reminding me of the Holy Spirit that flows and blows through us and the world

For this I am thankful.

Breathing, Grieving, Preparing

As I have made my rounds today both in my work, but also on my Facebook feed I have encountered people, people  who are processing and trying to make sense of and figure out their feelings. I have encountered people who are grieving and struggling with difficult feelings. And as I wandered through my day and my rounds I have struggled with what to write today and put out there.  There have been good words written and spoken by many about ways we can help our children to feel safe, about how we can start to move forward and do the work of striving for moving towards respect, working for justice issues and ultimately unity. 

As we move forward might I suggest tempering our need for news with breaks from media and social media and instead find quiet spaces where our souls can rest and recover for the work ahead. Find safe places for you to process your thoughts and feelings. Honor your feelings, do the work of grief if that is what you are feeling.  Try to keep from laying blame and pointing fingers, but instead find the places of commonality and hope that are still surrounding us. Speak with grace and words that speak of love and hope. And as we find our own healing may we then remember that there are so many more that need a compassionate, willing companion as they seek to move out of their own fear and into the work of the days ahead.

God of all,

It has been difficult and divisive days.

I am weary, we are weary.

It is hard to be hopefilled, yet you call us to be people of the light.

And with light comes hope.

Guide our thoughts, words, actions in the days to come.

May every breath in be one of your light, love and hope.

May every breath we breathe out be one of healing.

Help us to remember that you call us to be your hands and feet in this world.

Help us to move into the work of the days ahead with grace and love.

AMEN.

Lengthening the Apron Strings

A while back I was chatting with some other moms at work and we got to discussing teaching our kids responsibility and independence.  It was a timely conversation because just a few short days before my husband and I were talking about this and how and when would be appropriate to encourage further independence for our daughter.  I was very uncomfortable to the point of being somewhat resistant to the conversation. But sensing how deeply he felt about the topic at hand, I tried to engage with an open heart and mind our conversation.

It was as I was talking with this group of moms that I discovered the source of my resistance.  As is often the case when chatting about parenting, I said what I often do “with C growing up as an only child…..” That was when the light went on.  C is my only living child, and as such I recognize that I tend to be much more protective of her. What I had not realized was how deeply rooted and emotional that protection went. The idea of soon having her make her own breakfast or take responsibility for getting herself up with an alarm clock in the morning shakes my soul.  It is a removal of just a few more things that I have gotten used to doing for “my baby.” It is one more reminder that my baby is growing up.

In the shadows of this it is also a reminder of the fact that there is only one child I got to do these things for. There are no more little ones after her for me to continue doing these tasks. But there was supposed to be another one and grief becomes two-fold once more.  This is what makes it so hard for me to keep “lengthening the apron strings” and giving more independence to my child.  With each new set of tasks of independence and responsibility come with it another round of grief over “my baby” growing up. It is one more thing that this very protective momma has to let go of. It is yet a reminder that this is the last time I may get to do this at all, because the one that was to come next, never got to live.

And so it is in this tension of knowing I need to let the “apron strings” get a bit longer, let my precious not so little one gain more independence and the simple fact that my heart does not want to to it.  I want to keep her close, where I can protect her because the thought of anything happening to her, my only living child, is just more than my heart can handle.

It is in this space of tension that I am grateful for my husband who pushes me and is her champion for more independence and forces me to face myself and let go a bit more. It is in this space that God and I do a lot of talking and I tug on God’s apron strings just bit harder asking to be gathered in closer. 

It is in the nearness of my image of a parent God, who also had to let the child Jesus go into our world, that I find my comfort and strength to do what I know is right in giving more independence and responsibility. It is in the gathering into God’s presence that I find the courage to face again my two-fold grief and rage about how unfair it is that I have to do this. After my tears are spent and the snuffling breaths turn into deeper more sustaining breaths, I know what I must do and I venture back into my world of living and grieving that are all wrapped up into one. I also know that this will not be the last time that I find myself at this crossroad and that each time I will have the strength of faith to give my precious one wings to fly.