Rambles

There are far more drafts in my folder than published posts.  I write about lots of things, but I hesitate knowing they are incomplete.  Some of those topics are just too close to leave stones unturned.  I write a lot about my kids ...each of them and their own heroism, character ...survival in this sad loss.  But those words stay tucked away.  Though I'd like to share them, I'm asked not to ...and so I don't.  I don't get to sing their praises here.  Just know they are sung often ...for each of them.
Another topic I've written about over and over is teenage suicide ...and that is the toughest because it will never be a good enough piece, thorough enough, helpful enough ...complete.  It will never STOP it from happening ...and I wish it would.
I won't write much here, I've exhausted many of my thoughts for now with reams of words. But I will share a few things that might prompt some thought, some awareness ...and maybe, just maybe help someone.
What gets covered most times are suicides that have a reason.  It's easy to write about a 'cause' and an 'effect'.  If you listen to the most basic news story, you'll hear a specific beginning, middle and end.  It might read something like this.  There was a robbery at local convenience store last night. (beginning).  It happened around 11:20 after the last train for the night dropped off passengers at 11:05PM (middle).  Police have added extra manpower to find and arrest the robber. (end).  We read or hear this and we say oh no, that's scary (beginning).  That makes sense they waited until most people were gone after the train left ...no witnesses. (middle)  Oh, thank goodness the police are on top of this so we are safe. (end).  And then we go to bed, certain everything has returned to normal.
Now take that same premise on stories we hear about teenage suicide.  Bobby died last week by suicide (beginning).  His parents say he was depressed and he was recently cut from the baseball team after tryouts (middle). He was getting help, but sadly he had missed his last appointment (end.)
Cause. Effect. Beginning. Middle. End.
Bobby died by suicide because he was depressed.  Had he not been cut from the team, and had he kept his appointment, he wouldn't have died.  Simple story.  Simple answers.  Notice your child is depressed, don't let your child try out for a team if there's a chance he won't make it, and make sure no appointments get cancelled.  And everything will be fine.
I am simplifying this for sure.  And I am not dismissing that there are many scenarios just like this.  Every suicide is tragic ...whether there are 'signs' or not.
My point is, the vast majority of teen suicides come from nowhere.  They are as predictable as a flat tire.  Which means ...if we could all observe for signs of a flat tire ...no one would ever have one.
Media coverage, school meetings, peer presentations all speak to one thing ...knowable signs that will make suicide preventable.  We all want to believe we have control and that we can prevent our children from dying.
But the raw truth ...the hard truth is this.  Children die by suicide in a five to twenty minute window of despair, fear, sadness, anger ...maybe one of those or all of those at once.  They die by suicide with some indications of teenage angst (which is normal in most), or none.  Or some signs one morning, day or week ...and not the next morning, day or week.  And no one wants to talk about that.  And no one wants to talk about the culture they are trying to grow up in and the unrealistic demands and constraints put on the them to perform at optimum levels in multiple areas. 
I want to start talking about that.  I'm tired of listening to or reading the 'experts' discuss warning signs and things parents can do.  Talk, talk, talk to your kids.  Yes, of course.  Do we really think as adults our teenage children, no matter how close, share their deepest, most vulnerable thoughts?  And do we really believe that even if they would, they'd actually have the words to describe their own inner turmoil and struggle?  Why do we believe there is a simple answer in this incredibly complicated, chaotic world?
People ask me ..."did you hear about this one or that one?"  And these are the suicides that have a beginning, a middle and an end.  Tragic for sure.  I do hear about them ...and I want to, because I want to pray for the children, ask Phoebe to greet them.  And I want to pray for the parents and families and maybe carry some of their burden for them.  But ...I also tune into the unknown, the one's few talk about, or try to by putting information together in an attempt to create an understandable story.  These suicides go hidden, fading from view ...because they don't make any sense.  Just like Phoebe!
And that is where the conversation needs to begin.  Why is this happening?  Why is teenage suicide, talk and glorification of suicide in writing, music, programs, happening more and more?  Why are more teenagers and young adults dying from drug overdoses, car  and other odd accidents?  What is going on in this Godless culture that loves success and things and uses people?  How far we've come from preserving and protecting the sanctity of human life where over 4000 babies are killed every day by abortion, and our own youth risk and end their own lives in staggering numbers like never before.  I'm wondering if anyone has stopped to consider that our teenagers know,deep in their hearts, that nearly 1.5 million of their own peers who would have born the same year as them,  never had the chance to live.  Did you, as an adult, ever wonder why you were spared something your neighbor or friend was not?  Our kids wonder, at a very basic level, how in God's name, so many of their peers never got to see the light of day ...and they did.  That is an enormous burden for this generation of kids to carry.  Its. Too. Much. For. Them.  Dismiss it if you want!  All I ask is that you think about this reality they are forced to carry.
I'm wondering if anyone else out there is seeing the same thing as me?  And I'm wondering if we'll ever have the courage to look ourselves in the eye and see the world we've so boldly and flagrantly taken from God, only to disorder it away from Him.  And I'm wondering if we'll ever have the courage to look God, our beginning and end, in the eye and beg his forgiveness for the legacy we've left our children.
Teenage suicide will not end until God is restored as the center of our world, His world he gifted to us.  Period.
Have a blessed night.

Valentines

Little packages of chocolates make their way into lunches ...tiny tokens reminding them they are loved.  Valentine's Day.  Romantic notions all around us, but really, all types of love bloom outright expression on this day.  Loving our children is intense and constant. Red hearts, chocolates, flowers all say I love you.  I'm not crazy about forced holidays, but why not have one special day where collectively we say I love you.  Maybe it forces us to be a little nicer, a bit more thoughtful ....maybe offer a 'thank you' even, where we haven't before.  Just do something that might warm a heart, bring a smile. And its fun too ...showing someone they are special.
But what if that person isn't here to offer something?  What if that deep yearning to express our love has no place to go? no one to offer it too?  This day, as commercialized as it may be, becomes more poignant and painful for those in their early walk of grief.  Someone who may normally disregard Valentine's day, suddenly is overwhelmed at the inability to express their love for the one they've lost.  It's an odd place to be, that only adds to the confusion of despairing grief.  Pray for these people ...they need to be bolstered in these moments.  Its a harsh reality to watch others freely giving and receiving.  Loneliness can surge at times like this.
Like every other morning, Phoebe is my first thought ...as she is my last every evening.  I gather my six goodies for distribution and imagine her assistance and insistence in helping me.  I had once needed seven little packages. I smile more now thinking of her ...the smiles last longer than the tears.  That comes with time.  But still, I miss her.  I think of those families, parents so new to the absence.  I wince, knowing how hard it is right now.  It won't always be so unbearable ...but they won't believe that yet.  Today I can imagine her alongside me making sure she kept me on track.  She is with me, I know.  But I wonder where she will wink at me ...if she will today.
A new job takes me on the road with another nurse.  More seasoned than I am, she navigates me through.  She has a 'way' I've noticed, a natural ease that allows her in to the most vulnerable places of our charges.  They relax around her ...trusting.  They are safe with her.  I can tell by the way she speaks of them, confirmed again by watching her interact.  There's much for me to learn from this seasoned nurse.  She offers something special here.
She tells me our paths have crossed through mutual friends.  She remembers meeting me when my youngest was just weeks old. I can't place it, but she remembers ...and the details assure me its true.
For some reason in this early working relationship am I 'at rest', and I can't say why.  I will learn though.  Sitting across from each other she tells me of the two she's buried.  She doesn't yet know about Phoebe.  I listen to her tell me and my heart cracks as I take in her loss and release mine.  And then it is her turn to know my own burden.  It is a language of hearts and eyes ...words only share a portion.  We know.  Living in two worlds.
I realize now, this work I'm called to, caring for people in their most vulnerable moments ...when, no matter how much they want to or try, they cannot get up ...they cannot be who they once were.  We both know that burden and struggle ...because we can't be who we once were. We are 'other'.  Like our patients, we glint and gleam our past selves here and there ...but we know we are limping.
I'm struck that it's Valentines day and unexpectedly my heart entwined with another knowing soul.  God is good we say ...because He is, and because he allows winks from Heaven.  Three children looked on as their moms let go and wished them a valentine.  Who could arrange such meetings, on such days?  Only God. It's a small consolation compared to the one we really desire ...reunion with our children.
Our day ends ...and we imagine our children together ...in joy.  She defines grace in carrying her sorrow, her joy from deep within.  Hers is a beacon for me ...leading me forward.  I have much, much to learn.  But the path ahead is clearer, and I have to believe it's a little valentine from that feisty girl.  I found her today holding a lantern at my footsteps, calling me forward ...onward...and I'm glad.
Happy Valentine's Day!

Fleeting

The plan is early to bed.  Often the plan, rarely, if ever, the reality.  Those so many days ago when I said goodbye and knew I wouldn't find Phoebe sitting on my bed late at night...waiting, I promised I would try my best to never miss those moments again.  I sense the quiet settling in and the urge to write pulls me, knowing the great comfort I find in flying my fingers across the keyboard.  But so often, when I want to sit quietly, compose my thoughts into words, and then slip off to bed ...other plans emerge.  First one, just needing to sit close by ...and I pull up a stool and join her, ruffle her hair until she sneaks off to bed.  So maybe now, some time to write ...maybe not.  Another finds me, special treatment, help her with something, quick conversations reviewing the day, the prom months away, pictures shown, plans for tomorrow.  And I shake my head ..yes, and yes, and of course.  A dramatic goodnight, a return assignment ...Mom, make sure you....  I do a final wipe of the counter, switch off lights, let the thoughts flow.  Quiet. Door opens to the kitchen, changing the light.  A new head, hair piled high up on top ...remember you promised ...tonight.  Oh yes, how I'd forgotten.  And we sit and squabble and conflict and resolve ...over and over.  I'm frustrated, worn out ...all I want to do is write.  All I want to do is spend time remembering and finding.  She f.i.n.a.l.l.y. patters off to bed, I think.  And I remember all those nights when there was only one teenage girl with just one other in the wings.  And she reminds me, with gusto, that these moments of juggling, of trying to eek out just a shadow of time for my own thoughts ...are really much more fun when three girls, each resembling her in their own way,  keep knocking.
I sigh deep.  You're here, aren't you?  I whisper.  I promised I wouldn't miss these moments ...and she holds me to that.  She knows me enough to know I won't go back on my word.  I'll follow through imperfectly, but I'll keep my promise, until the end.  They'll remember I was there ...and she helps me do it.  Ever present for my kids, I am one tired out momma ...but these evenings spent can't be recaptured ...and I'm glad they go as they do. 
I'd write every day if I could, and someday, when its my time, I wonder if I'll find a big book with all I've wanted to write captured and preserved. 
I find Phoebe in the ordinary evening with teenage girls parading, demanding, laughing, hugging ....and finally sleeping.  Her sisters ...so much like her that I get to peek at the great missing ...and smile.
Please say a prayer for all the moms and dads missing their precious child ...we need them.