New year, new start

I just looked back on my post from 2012--December 30.  It was full of remembered sorrow--a husband and a son lost for 20 years, but lovingly remembered and still in my heart.  So much has happened since that day last year--actually, so much has happened since July!  Last year, there was still the pain of loss and the pain of incomplete business.  This year, it's all different.  I'm accomplishing my dreams, and it feels wonderful!

To be honest, I don't remember all that much about the beginning of the year.  I know that I decided to start blogging again, and that went well.  I still am not sure why more people don't read my blog, but I know that I will eventually figure it out, so I'm not worried.  As I continued in the year, I decided to go to California over the summer.  It started as a trip with Emily to visit my sister, but that was postponed due to my new niece's arrival.  Nina--what a beautiful name!  After that, we decided to travel up the coast to Oregon.  I miss the  beach; it's lifegiving to me.  Everything was set and ready, but then my son and daughter both tried out for "Annie" and were given parts, so a coastal vacation turned into a time in Greenville (what would end up being the LAST time in Greenville, though none of us knew it).  We enjoyed each other and had fun.  I didn't get to see the play, but I did get to sit in on a rehearsal, so I felt good about that.

When I came home, there was an invitation to join a writer's group in town--Tucson Christian Writer's Group.  I decided to give it a try, along with a lot of other things.  The other things didn't click, but the writer's group certainly did.  I brought one of my portraits with me to read, and it was very warmly received.  More importantly, the guest writer, Kris Tualla, gave a talk on self-publication.  I could hear a door opening in my mind, and I immediately started getting my portraits in a publishable format.

School began with many changes.  I am now teaching Spanish 1 and 2, and that has started me writing for first year as well as second.  I took a bunch of my stories and made an SSR book for 2nd-3rd year.  I realized, too, that I can use that book for my own classes, so that's a really good thing.

As the year progressed, I got up my nerve and asked Adam Colwell to edit my book.  That worked out well, too, and my book, Biblical Portraits, will soon be available for sale.  I'm excited to see a long-held dream finally come to fruition.

I hope all of you have a great 2014.  I'm looking forward to finding out what my future holds.  I'm once again thinking about relocating, but I'm not at all sure that God sees it the same way.  As always, it's in  HIS hands.  Amen!

Christmas poetry

Hi everyone--I've been on vacation, but I did want to put up this post during the season.  I hope you all have a great Christmas and a wonderful holiday!

Joseph’s Troubled Night

Luke 2:7

I love her so much.

What is that to them, now?

Look at her, so absorbed in that baby.

How is it that this has happened to me?

I always thought that I would live life alone, and I was content with that.  I liked being alone.

My thoughts were my own;

My life was mine to rule.

I answered to no one.

Yes, it did get a little lonely from time to time,

But even that was nice, in a way.

I could revel in the solitude, the silence,

And the sense of pervasive stillness that filled my life.

And if I did ever feel the need for companionship,

There were always my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins...

Every one of them with a family of their own—

Loud, raucous, stridently breaking up the early morning stillness

With their bickering, their banter, their hilarity.

I would find myself heading for home after a very short time,

Content once more with my solitary state.

And then I saw her.

She had always been in the periphery of my vision,

So to speak,

A quiet little thing—

Quiet, but not shy.

She seemed to be all eyes,

So much so that the other men left her to her own devices.

There was something almost unnatural about her,

About the way that she just—

Looked,

As if she were keeping the events around her

In some sort of ledger inside herself.

To the average man, this was not a woman to be favored.

Too much looking and too little talking

Was disconcerting to them.

But me...

I loved her the more for her silence.

She did not prattle on about inconsequential affairs,

But when she did speak, her words spoke volumes.  I

Worked up my courage and asked for her hand.

Our courtship was not your normal one.

Yes, we did talk of our life together,

As much as was necessary.

But that was not our main focus.

No, we loved to speak of He who is to come, Messiah—

Of the prophecies in all their confusion.

It was our favorite game.

How would he appear?

Would he be triumphant king or suffering servant?

Or could these conflicting descriptions

Somehow all apply to the same person?

How could that be?

Today, we have our answer,

For this servant king is suckling on Mary’s breast.

Fully human, he cries when he is hungry, wet or cold.

His cries reach into my innermost being.

I never realized how much I could love someone who is not my own.

But he is not just fully human.

The angels, the shepherds,

The sky with its enormous star

All have revealed him to be Messiah.

Messiah—my son.

It is true,

And yet it doesn’t fit well on a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths.

How strange—living, he lies wrapped as one who is dead.

Yes, I know it’s necessary to keep him straight and strong,

But it still troubles my heart.

I don’t want to think of my son,

My beloved,

And death.

My son…

My child, what will our future be?

Should I announce you as my son?

But you are not my son.

Should I put myself in danger of being called a naïve fool or worse by proclaiming the truth—

You are Messiah, sent by God?

What will Mary do?

I only have to look at your mother to know that she is not concerned about any of this.

Not in the slightest.

What secrets is she keeping?

I feel that they are the first of many,

And I know that she will keep them until the end of time.

Little range big range

They call me the Tucson Mountains.  No big deal, not much of a much.  I am a "minor" range.  Well, that's pleasant.  I'm not nearly as spectacular as my neighbors, the Santa Catalinas.  They are so grand, so beautiful, so magestic...well, let me just show you!

They tower over the city of Tucson--that's right, the city that I'm named after.  I used to be jealous of them, I have to admit.  They make me seem small.  In fact, when people talk about the four mountain ranges that close Tucson in like a picture frame, the others are called by their names.  Me--I'm the tooth mountains.  Why?  Thanks, you're really very kind.  Surely, though, it must be obvious.  I look like sharks' teeth, don't I?  

So anyway, I used to be jealous of the mighty Santa Catalinas, like I said.  But one day, I realized something.  I might be tiny, yes, but I have a big "A" on me.  They can't say that.  I also am home to the Saguaro National Park and the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.  They didn't pick the Santa Catalinas.  Nope, they picked me.  But the thing that makes me happiest is this:  while it's true that I'm dwarfed by the Santa Catalinas, they are not movie stars.  Who is?  You guessed it!  Me!

That's right, friends!  I am the home to Old Tucson, a movie set that has filmed everything from John Wayne movies (yes, I knew him personally) to Three Amigos to Little House on the Prairie.  So even though I am a little range, I am just as important as my big sister to the north.  It just goes to show you--bigger isn't always better.  Small guys like us can be important, too!

Sympathy vs Empathy: What Not to Say

"Oh, Sweetie.  You lost your baby?  I'm so sorry.  I lost my dog.  I know how you feel."

Really?  REALLY?  No, sorry, you don't know how I feel.  You feel sorry for me, and that's fine.  But comparing my baby to your dog?

Believe it or not, the above phrase is said more than you'd think.  The person speaking is well meaning, but they are blurring the line between sympathy and empathy.  That is a line that should never be blurred.

People sometimes get confused between sympathy and empathy, I believe.  Deffin.com does a good job of delineating between the two (here is the link complete with examples and times to use either  http://www.diffen.com/difference/Empathy_vs_Sympathy).

According to Deffin, sympathy is acknowledging another's emotional hardship and providing comfort and assurance.  Empathy is understanding another's hardship because you've been there yourself or can put yourself in their shoes.   The problem is that some people think that they can emphasize when they really can't.

Take the example above, for example.  What if the situation were reversed?  "I'm sorry you lost your dog, Sweetie.  I know how you feel.  I lost my baby once."  I think that once the words were out of your mouth, both the speaker and the listener would realize the ludicrous nature of the comfort.  How can you possibly compare the loss of a dog, beloved though it might be, to the loss of a child?  What possible connection  can you make?  A person who lost a child may empathize, yes, but would they voice their empathy in this way?  I doubt it.  Well, if you reverse this picture, think of the jolt that the person grieving their child would feel.  Not only has the person just lost someone who she had carried inside her body, not only has she lost a cherished member of the family, but now you have just compared her baby, her son or daughter, to a dog.  I understand that you were trying to empathize, but you can't.  It's not the same.  And I guarantee you that she won't be comforted. At best, she'll see the attempt and appreciate it.  At worst, it will enlarge her grief to include anger at you.

Here is a better way to say it.  "I'm so sorry you lost your baby, Sweetie.  It's so hard to lose someone you love."  The simple sentence may seem empty to you but it's not.  You have acknowledged her grief and affirmed her right to the grief she feels.  Words are going to be empty, really, no matter what you say.  This way, she knows you care and she knows you're thinking.

Let's try another one.  "I'm so sorry you lost your baby.  But remember, you can always get pregnant again."

At first glance, this one seems like a great example of the sympathy definition.  It provides comfort (sorry) and assurance (you can get pregnant again).  But what else does it do?  It brushes past the all-encompassing fact that this mother is full of grief in order to point to a future time when this "mistake" will be rectified and result in the successful birth of a baby.  But again, the response (usually unspoken) on the part of the grieving mother will be REALLY?? I can guarantee you that your words will be unwelcome.  The mother doesn't want to think about some future baby.  She wants--NEEDS--to grieve the baby that she has just lost.  And please realize--that baby does not have to have been stillborn or have lived for a few days.  A mother will grieve the loss of any baby.  As a funeral director once said, "I have conducted services over babies that were so small that the caskets that had nothing in them."  The parents needed to grieve.  The fact that the child was a miscarriage, not a full-term stillbirth, is irrelevant.  If parents need to grieve, they should be allowed that right.  And by the way, how do you know that the mother can get pregnant again?  Aren't you making some pretty big assumptions?  I can only imagine the hurt felt by a mother who has tried and tried to get pregnant and finally conceived, only to lose the baby.  Your well-meaning words are striking another blow, not relieving the pain.

So what can you do to help the mother?  Well, that's the problem.  Our society is a "fix-it" society.  We have come to believe that if we work at something hard enough, we surely will find a way to fix it.  But this will not be fixed.  This will have to be walked through, step after painful step.  Words will do nothing more than be a temporary support--one that might not last much longer than the fragmenting air that supports it.  But--words can be beautiful, if they mean something. For example, Saying that you're sorry is fine, but saying that you're praying--it means something, especially if you follow your words with actions.  It's great to say that you'll pray, but if you text in a few days just to say that you're thinking and praying for her--that shows that you care in a way that is concrete.  You are showing her that you mean what you say.  Why text?  Well, I'm going by my own experience.  I was not able to deal with words very well.  Texting or talking will depend on your relationship and also on the woman's makeup.  You also help her if she needs anything.  But don't say it that way.  Before you visit her, decide what you can do for her and then offer to do it.  Don't say, "If you don't feel like cooking, call me and I'll be happy to cook."  She won't call.  She's in pain.  Just make up a casserole or two.  Bring them over and tell her that you'd like to bring over a meal or two a week, if that's okay.  If she seems inviting, ask if she would like some company.  Otherwise, give her the meal, tell her you're praying, and leave.  You have to realize that sometimes the grief is too great to take alone, but sometimes the grief is too great to be shared.  Everyone differs.

I've said a lot about sympathy.  Next time--empathy.

Are you grieving this Christmas?

My husband was born on December 5.  Christmas and birthdays were always very entwined for us, especially with a daughter and a son with December birthdays, the son's on Christmas itself.  When Val was taken from us, it seemed like Christmas was taken as well.  I tried hard to make it not be that way, but I know that we all felt it.

Christmas when you're grieving is so very hard.  You might be grieving a loved one's death, but it might be a divorce, a job loss, or one of a million other things.  Grief is always serious and should never be overlooked.  But how can you balance grief and normalcy on the holidays?

First of all, don't feel that you have to.  My husband died in February.  He'd been gone almost a year in December.  I really don't even remember that first Christmas.  But in the years that have come since, I find that I still think of him more, still remember his excitement, still wish with all my heart that he was here.  My husband was part of my life for 13 years and gave me 4 children--I will never leave his memory out of Christmas.  I choose not to.

But you have to learn to go on, and you can't wallow in pain every year, can you?  You can keep your memories alive, but you also need to make new ones.  If it's possible, you could go someplace you really love for the holiday.  You might have single friends far from family that you could gather together with.  You can always arrange for something as a memorial--maybe you and some (understanding) friends or family can watch a movie your loved one really loved in his memory.  But at the same time, the gathering can become a new memory, one that will slowly replace the agony of being without him.  For a time, my family and I went to the Sharing Parents Christmas memorial, where we put up ribbons in honor of our baby and then also Val.

If your parting was not amicable, that has to be dealt with as well.  Maybe you feel guilty that you actually are happy (in part of your soul) that he's gone.  Maybe you have the day-to-day reminder that he's with someone else now--you grieve divorce every bit as much as death (maybe more, since there's no finality, only a daily reminder of a love that went off the tracks).  Either way, if you need to, please don't feel ashamed or worthless if you need to seek outside help.  It is the steps that you take that make you who you are.  Counseling is a necessary step for many.  I know that I would not be whole if it wasn't for the counseling that I received.

As you continue to walk through this season, accept small victories and admit small defeats.  If you try something and it worked for you, rejoice in that.  Maybe you could buy or find a small memento to remind yourself.  If you try something and it falls flat or makes you feel worse, then realize that and go on.  Please don't think that if you try and miss you should stop trying.  It's the failures that help us realize that we need to go in a different direction.

If you are walking in the desert this Christmas, God bless you.  I understand and would love to pray for you.  Drop me a line at meggiev7777@gmail.com if you'd like--I promise to uplift you in prayer this Christmas season.

Quiet--Listen to the Spirit

My friend Ann is frustrated.  She has attended the same church for years and years, and until very recently, she was satisfied with the worship.  In the last year, however, a new program has begun, a program designed to increase membership.  Lots of changes--many unwelcome--are coming into place, and the existing members, or at least some of them, are beginning to feel dissatisfied.  This is happening in other churches as well.

Why is this happening?  I think that it is because church leadership has ceased listening for the voice of the Spirit and is instead seeking other voices to give them wisdom.  Voices that are being heard are voices that recommend treating the church as a business and finding ways to market better, therefore bringing more "butts to the seats".

People, Christianity is not a marketing ploy.  Christianity is a relationship with the ONLY One who is able to draw people in, to give them expectation, and to give them hope.  Don't look outward to find out what others say you should do to increase your membership.  Instead, look inward.  Fast and pray.  Call others to yourself in committed prayer.  And ask the LORD to provide the members.

And to my friend Ann and others going through her struggle, remember that God is still in control, even if your leadership has forgotten.  Pray and watch and keep seeking His will. He knows your need and will provide.

Advent reading from my new book :)

Wow, what happened to the time?  Look away for a second, and it's Advent! School is out in a few weeks, and then the long trek to California to visit.

Since we are waiting for the birth of the Savior, I thought I'd share a reading from my book "Biblical Portraits", coming soon to a e-reader near you!  This one is called "Advent"

Advent

Reflection on our Lord's coming

We started out together

Walking hand in hand

In love with the Father of Love

Surrounded by all good things

And in perfect peace.

We wanted for nothing,

For everything was provided us

By One who loved us more than we could possibly imagine.

You know how the story goes.

The snake, the fruit, the disobedience,

The betrayal of trust...

Our lives would never be the same,

And our hearts would forever need to be filled

In ways that we could not even begin to imagine.

We tried so many different things,

Countless aids to ease the hurt,

Yet all we did was intensify the pain,

Cause the loneliness to overwhelm us,

So that the darkness seemed to be all-encompassing.

Yet, somehow, we knew that there was an answer

Somewhere

A beacon was shining in the night

Somewhere

A lantern lifted high,

Dispelling the darkness,

Somewhere.

We did not know how

Or even if

We were to search for it.

Maybe it would seek us out

Find us in our grief

Our pain

Our loneliness

The hideous blackness of our being

The opaqueness in which we lived.

And so we wait

Caught in the void between hope and despair

And even without being aware of it,

We pray.

O you who caused the light to shine all around us

Who permitted us to walk hand in hand with you

Who chose us as your children

Who desired our companionship

Who did nothing to lose our love

And everything to merit our respect,

Come unto us

Dwell once again among us.

Cause us to see your light blaring in the darkness

So that we can finally come home.