Have you ever wondered how someone so young can have such an old soul? I do. All.The.Time. You see, my oldest child, who is still in elementary school, has just such an old soul. His younger sibling is the free spirit of the household. But somehow, both children, in their own special ways, are much wiser than I am at almost forty.
Case in point, two weeks ago, we unexpectedly had to have our 13 year-old female Golden Retriever put to sleep. It was a hard transition for everyone, including the 13 year-old male Golden (her brother). I worried how I was going to explain that she was sick, so sick, and that this was what was best for her to my children. I didn't want to go into the gory details about 'how sick' she really was, but I didn't want to lie to my boys either. They deserved to know the truth, but at the same time learn that death, as life, should be celebrated - especially for a family pet that had lived such a good, long life.
Imagine my surprise when my children were the ones to teach me that lesson. That evening, as we were getting ready to read before bedtime, my youngest asked when our female Golden was coming home. I explained that she wasn't coming home because she was in Heaven and that she no longer hurt - her hips didn't hurt, her heart was young again, and she was running and chasing tennis balls just like when she was a young pup. His comment was, "So, she's dead." Spoken just like a child, right? Blunt, and straight from the heart. But, my older son amazed me when he turned to his brother and said, "But you know, Jesus is up there right now throwing tennis balls to her. She's really quite happy." Ahh...to be young and oh, so wise as to put your sibling's fears to rest in one kind comment.
Later that evening, as I told stories of the dogs when they were puppies, the boys giggled and giggled some more. They continued to ask for more stories, and I told as many as I could remember. Forget that we were supposed to read for school - this was an important day in our family's life together - and for one night, what was it going to hurt to tell tales of our pets as happy puppies?
As my children drifted off into peaceful slumber knowing their dog was being cared for by only the best (yes, Jesus fits that bill, doesn't He?), I quietly crept into my bed to mourn the loss of one of my two 'first children'. As I cried, I remembered all that the boys had said throughout the day and wondered if this was the reason Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me..." Truly, children are the way to the Kingdom of Heaven. For they believe with honest hearts and pure souls that God and Jesus are up in Heaven prepared to take care of us. Whether it be by throwing tennis balls to old dogs that go to Heaven, or making us new again when we return to our rightful places by their sides.
Imagine yourself 20-, 30-, even 40-years ago. What did you believe? How did you see the 'scary' things of life? Did you believe without even questioning that a higher power would take care of everything? Or did you allow fear to replace that faith? I learn so much from my children every single day. I can only hope that they are the Wise men that will help lead me to a stronger faith. I want to once again joyfully believe (without a moment's hesitation) that God and Jesus will take care of me no matter the circumstance.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Lengths We Go To...
This past week was one of the most heart-wrenching weeks I've experienced in quite some time. My 13 year-old female Golden Retriever had to be put to sleep. This comes on the heels of divorce, and comes right before what would have been the 16th wedding anniversary. A lot to take in during the span of a few weeks when emotions are running high.
As I prepared myself for the inevitable at the afternoon's vet appointment, I visited with my dear next door neighbor. He talked to me about any and everything to do with all topics e-x-c-e-p-t my sweet puppy's bad health. We laughed over stories about our children, and I thought I could handle what was to come. I was wrong.
As I lifted her up to carry her to the car, I let my male Golden sniff her. He knew. He licked and licked her face. He even tried to go with us. But, the worst was when I unloaded her from the car to go into the vet's office. She hung limp like a dishrag in my arms. Everyone in the waiting area knew. One woman even came over to give me a hug. I lost it. As I sat on a bench in the waiting room by myself holding my sweet Golden, I cried and cried. I couldn't stop crying.
As our names were called into the exam room, I mentally attempted to prepare myself for something I didn't know if I could handle. The vet and I discussed her health - and it was horrifying to learn she was so much worse than anticipated. She was literally dying a slow, painful death. I couldn't stand it. I wanted her to be free from pain but not free from my world. I couldn't have my cake and eat it, too.
I don't know how I managed to make it home that afternoon. I do know that I cried and cried in the exam room, at the front desk while paying for the visit, sitting in the car, and all the way to my parents' home to pick up my children. I even cried as I told my kids that our puppy was in heaven. The worst part? Coming home to find my male Golden looking for her. He searched the backyard, he wouldn't eat from her food bowl, and he paced the rooms, stopping in the sunroom to stare.
We all deal with grief in different ways. I attempted to teach my children that we can celebrate someone/something's life while still missing them terribly. The kids and I filled a shoe box with tennis balls that were her favorites as well as her collar. We wrapped the box in a bag and sealed it. We buried the box in the backyard under some plants and placed a squirrel statue my Dad had given us on top with a solar powered light to the side so we could see her memorial 'all through the day'. We then each said something about her and remembered her fondly.
How far will you go to celebrate someone or something that left a permanent impression on your heart? Will you go out of your way to help others affected to heal? Will you take the time on a beautiful Saturday morning to relive wonderful experiences with that person/thing and savor what was an important part of your life? Or will you just move on, not taking the time to deal and heal? What lengths will you go to so that you as well as those you love can learn that life (even in death) can have a silver lining?
My sweet puppy will always be remembered for her spunk, her loyalty, her mouthy, insistent bark, and her sweet disposition. Sounds like qualities the rest of us could use in order to navigate this world, doesn't it?
As I prepared myself for the inevitable at the afternoon's vet appointment, I visited with my dear next door neighbor. He talked to me about any and everything to do with all topics e-x-c-e-p-t my sweet puppy's bad health. We laughed over stories about our children, and I thought I could handle what was to come. I was wrong.
As I lifted her up to carry her to the car, I let my male Golden sniff her. He knew. He licked and licked her face. He even tried to go with us. But, the worst was when I unloaded her from the car to go into the vet's office. She hung limp like a dishrag in my arms. Everyone in the waiting area knew. One woman even came over to give me a hug. I lost it. As I sat on a bench in the waiting room by myself holding my sweet Golden, I cried and cried. I couldn't stop crying.
As our names were called into the exam room, I mentally attempted to prepare myself for something I didn't know if I could handle. The vet and I discussed her health - and it was horrifying to learn she was so much worse than anticipated. She was literally dying a slow, painful death. I couldn't stand it. I wanted her to be free from pain but not free from my world. I couldn't have my cake and eat it, too.
I don't know how I managed to make it home that afternoon. I do know that I cried and cried in the exam room, at the front desk while paying for the visit, sitting in the car, and all the way to my parents' home to pick up my children. I even cried as I told my kids that our puppy was in heaven. The worst part? Coming home to find my male Golden looking for her. He searched the backyard, he wouldn't eat from her food bowl, and he paced the rooms, stopping in the sunroom to stare.
We all deal with grief in different ways. I attempted to teach my children that we can celebrate someone/something's life while still missing them terribly. The kids and I filled a shoe box with tennis balls that were her favorites as well as her collar. We wrapped the box in a bag and sealed it. We buried the box in the backyard under some plants and placed a squirrel statue my Dad had given us on top with a solar powered light to the side so we could see her memorial 'all through the day'. We then each said something about her and remembered her fondly.
How far will you go to celebrate someone or something that left a permanent impression on your heart? Will you go out of your way to help others affected to heal? Will you take the time on a beautiful Saturday morning to relive wonderful experiences with that person/thing and savor what was an important part of your life? Or will you just move on, not taking the time to deal and heal? What lengths will you go to so that you as well as those you love can learn that life (even in death) can have a silver lining?
My sweet puppy will always be remembered for her spunk, her loyalty, her mouthy, insistent bark, and her sweet disposition. Sounds like qualities the rest of us could use in order to navigate this world, doesn't it?
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Happily Ever After?
July and August 2010 were the beginning of the end of my almost 16 year marriage. I am nearing the age of 40, and I've moved into the 'divorced' category that so many of my peers are finding themselves in these days. How did I wind up here? What was I thinking? Are my kids going to need therapy once the dust settles?
I wound up single again because there are idiosyncrasies your spouse has that you get used to over time. Then, there are the 'deal-breakers'. After several years of trying to fix (the Southern term for 'taking care of') the 'deal-breakers', we both drifted and grew apart.
What was I thinking that fated evening when I asked the question, "Are you really happy?" I was thinking, "Gosh, I hope we don't get into an argument." "What if he says no, he's not happy? Is that what I really want to hear?" "I sure hope I don't throw up all over the bed - that would really add to the drama, wouldn't it?" As all the above (and more) swirled through my mind, we calmly discussed how we'd come to this juncture in our 'for better or for worse' relationship. We realized that divorce was the best possible option for all involved. Wow. Is this really happening?
July passed quickly, and with it moving boxes, packing tape, and strained discussions. We explained the situation to our children to the best of our abilities. We cried, we clung to one another, and we did the best we could for each other. Was it the hardest conversation we'd ever had? Definitely. Were we relieved when our children seemed to take everything in stride? Absolutely. Are there still bad days for all of us? Sure.
What has this life-changing situation taught me? That I'm stronger than I knew I ever could be - for myself, for my ex-spouse, and for my sweet, darling children. That I really am happier now, and better able to care for my children since a lot of stress has dissipated from my life. That you can stand up for your beliefs, and it isn't shameful to not live in the traditional 'norm' of society (some may say 1950s society - I say the society I was brought up to believe in) to still be a family unit.
My oldest child said it best after we explained the new living arrangements. He said, "Well, OK, then. Pop's got the pool and Mom's got the dogs. Who gets the silverware? And, what about the dogs - are we all going to gather here at the house during holidays so the dogs won't be lonely?" Yes, sometimes life changes can only be explained best by a young child. The character you hope you're helping build in your children shines when they are more worried about the family pets (and the silverware) than the changes to come that are affecting them. I guess my ex- and I have done something right with our children - we're instilling optimism in times of strife and our kids know we love them above all else. Guess I won't be needing the phone number to that therapist after all...
I wound up single again because there are idiosyncrasies your spouse has that you get used to over time. Then, there are the 'deal-breakers'. After several years of trying to fix (the Southern term for 'taking care of') the 'deal-breakers', we both drifted and grew apart.
What was I thinking that fated evening when I asked the question, "Are you really happy?" I was thinking, "Gosh, I hope we don't get into an argument." "What if he says no, he's not happy? Is that what I really want to hear?" "I sure hope I don't throw up all over the bed - that would really add to the drama, wouldn't it?" As all the above (and more) swirled through my mind, we calmly discussed how we'd come to this juncture in our 'for better or for worse' relationship. We realized that divorce was the best possible option for all involved. Wow. Is this really happening?
July passed quickly, and with it moving boxes, packing tape, and strained discussions. We explained the situation to our children to the best of our abilities. We cried, we clung to one another, and we did the best we could for each other. Was it the hardest conversation we'd ever had? Definitely. Were we relieved when our children seemed to take everything in stride? Absolutely. Are there still bad days for all of us? Sure.
What has this life-changing situation taught me? That I'm stronger than I knew I ever could be - for myself, for my ex-spouse, and for my sweet, darling children. That I really am happier now, and better able to care for my children since a lot of stress has dissipated from my life. That you can stand up for your beliefs, and it isn't shameful to not live in the traditional 'norm' of society (some may say 1950s society - I say the society I was brought up to believe in) to still be a family unit.
My oldest child said it best after we explained the new living arrangements. He said, "Well, OK, then. Pop's got the pool and Mom's got the dogs. Who gets the silverware? And, what about the dogs - are we all going to gather here at the house during holidays so the dogs won't be lonely?" Yes, sometimes life changes can only be explained best by a young child. The character you hope you're helping build in your children shines when they are more worried about the family pets (and the silverware) than the changes to come that are affecting them. I guess my ex- and I have done something right with our children - we're instilling optimism in times of strife and our kids know we love them above all else. Guess I won't be needing the phone number to that therapist after all...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)