Welcome to the Club

There's an unspoken club within the walls of Hawk Elementary School. There isn't a secret handshake. There are no formal meetings. There isn't a clubhouse. There are no dues. And it's a club that no one wants to be a member of, and the current members forever pray that no one else joins our club. It's a club of grieving people. People who have lost loved ones over the years. And the number keeps growing. 

It started with me, I suppose. Brian died in October of 2010. I remember Tess, our principal calling a "stand up meeting" as she calls them to let the staff know. I was thankful to be elsewhere and not present at the meeting. The support from the people in my building and in the speech department was amazing. I was and am truly blessed to have them in my life. And life goes on. 

But then, the next one to join the club...Katy miscarried her twin babies. Our hearts as a staff were broken again. Another stand up meeting. Another round of meals. Another staff member going through so much pain and heartache. 

Wendy lost her husband almost two years ago. I remember walking into school that day, and my assistant standing in my office with such a sad look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong and she told me what happened, I had to sit down. It was like someone grabbing the scab over the wound on my heart and ripping it right back open. I sobbed. For Wendy. For her husband. For her loss. Another unwelcome member...

A new building and a new start was exactly what we all thought we needed. Our brand new building would start new and fresh and we would all be ok! Free from gathering any new members. We hadn't even moved in yet when we got the email from Tess that sweet Liza had lost her teenaged boy Jackson. No stand up meeting since it was over the summer. But sign ups to make meals. Sending love and prayers. I didn't know Liza very well, but I made her family shredded chicken and took her dinner. I sobbed to whole time I was making her dinner. Like ugly cry sobbed for three hours solid. Another unwelcome member into the most horrifying club ever. School started back up in the fall and life carried on, with oh so heavy hearts. I couldn't even look at Liza without wanting to sob. So I sent her love and hugs and prayers through email, until the day she got brave and stopped me in the hallway and we hugged. I have loved getting to know Liza. And although our grief is oh so different, it's not so different all at the same time. 

We marched through the fall, and celebrated a staff member with a new baby on the way. And then...another email. Our friend and colleague Jennifer has lost her precious baby. And we cried. And I made pulled pork sandwiches and delivered them to her and sobbed into her arms as we held each other and loved each other and welcomed another unwelcome member into the club. 

And then it seemed things were ok. We marched on, hiding our grief in front of our kiddos, leaning on the individual coworkers we all run to, sending a knowing glance as we pass in the hall, sharing gentle smiles and quick cries and bonding together as unwanted members in our awful club. 

Then, cancer took Joni's husband too soon. Another email. And I just couldn't make anymore casseroles or crock pot dishes. I just couldn't. I hated that! I know people feel like they want to help but I hated people bringing me food. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to have to smile and try not to cry and be thankful. And when it came time for Joni I was relieved that the food chart filled up quickly. Because I just couldn't. Another member in our group. My heart was broken. 

This past weekend, Tess sent an email. Calling for another "stand up meeting" on Monday morning. My heart was sick. I texted a few coworkers and found out what happened. Another coworker lost her husband. My first thoughts were with Joni and Wendy. I remember walking into the school when Wendy lost her husband. I knew how hard that hits and how sad it is. And then my thoughts turned to our other members. Because grief and loss, no matter how different, is still grief and loss. It rips all those wounds open, no matter how long ago it has been. And I wept. For all of them. For all of us. Another name on the roster of the worst club ever. 

  

We went to school Monday morning. I got there just in time for the stand up meeting. Walking up the stairs I met Wendy, who had already found out and was crying. I took her hand and took a deep breath and walked into the library. Tess made the announcement and told us we could stick around for a prayer if we wanted to. After a few left the rest of us got up and formed a circle. I tried to avoid eye contact around the circle but I slowly started to look. Liza. Jennifer. Katy. Wendy. And then I stopped because it was tears. One of our teachers said a prayer. I hugged Wendy. And I went to duty on the playground and tried to push it out of my head. 

When duty was over, I had this feeling I needed to check on Wendy. As I was walking back to Wendy's classroom, Katy was coming out of her classroom. Jennifer and Wendy were coming down the stairs together. Liza was coming out of her classroom. We all stopped for a second and looked at each other. I smiled and said, "How did we all find each other?" Then we shared a lot of tears, and quick and quiet words, and hugs. And then did what we needed to to greet our kids at the door. That moment though...the moment when we all just happened to be there, in that moment, was so important and so powerful to me. An unwelcome club. But an amazing group of strong, supportive women. Women who have been through hell and back. Who have experienced different losses, but losses just the same. 

When Brian died, I went to work the next day. I needed to be there. I needed my friends and I needed my coworkers and I needed my kids. Thinking back, I am so thankful to the people that have supported me and carried me through and been there for me. I never would have been able to make it without Melody and Kim and Tess and so many others that helped me out in those days.  And now I wouldn't make it without the addition of Liza and Wendy and Jennifer and the other members of this club. For they know. They understand. They can see my face and know about the weariness and exhaustion and pain and depression and sadness. And I see it with them too. 

It's a club that I never wanted to be a member of. And it's a club that I say is full and no more members are allowed. But, if it happens that we need to make space, we will. Because there is no other place I would want to be if I need support than within the walls of Hawk Elementary. We are a sad school. But more than that? We are a school full of strength and love and support. Beautiful, strong, grieving women who cling to each other and hold our breath everytime there's a stand up meeting. 

Here's to no more of those meetings!

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

Tears welled up in her little eyes. She told me it was the worst day ever. She got into a fight with one of her friends at pre-kindergarten. Her best friend. I laid on the ground next to her and held her and asked her how I could help. She wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered "Mommy, I'm sad we won't be friends anymore. Please fix my broken heart." Tears then welled in my eyes. You never like to see your kids suffering. And as a mommy you want to do your best to fix their brokenness, especially if it's their heart. 

But then I paused and thought of the Ash Wednesday sermon that my pastor gave at our church. All about broken hearts. I remember listening intently after seeing the sermon topic. For, although I have come a long way in the last few years, my heart is still broken...still being mended as time passes. He spoke about wanting to fix things. He spoke about how people are always looking for the fix. We are always trying to fix things on our own. But that we need to go to God with our brokenness. That He wants to be the fixer. He wants to be he one to make it all better, just like a mommy fixing something for our children. God is the Father, wanting to fix our brokenness and take away our pain and suffering. 

I am the first to admit that I am terrible at this. I fret and worry and feel and hurt and all of those things on my own. I try and figure out how I'm going to fix things. I am constantly striving for the solution and how I am going to make everything better. And not only do I do it for myself, but I also tend to want to do it for everyone else also. I get very anxious when I cannot fix my own problems, but I also get anxious when I can't fix everyone else's problems too. When really, all I need to do is turn it over to God to fix it and make it all better. He is the one that is omniscient and omnipotent and can take care of everything. And yet, I struggle through on my own and get scared and mad and frustrated when I can't find the solution on my own. Or I can't mend my broken heart. 

Our pastor used the analogy of us fixing our own brokenness to be the same as giving your spouse a gift of a broken vase that you glued the pieces together yourself. God doesn't want that as a gift! He doesn't want a half-heartedly repaired heart bound together with tape and twine. He wants the broken pieces. He wants to see the sharp edges and the teeny broken bits and the cracks. He wants to be the one to sweep up the pieces and make you whole again. In His love and in His light. 

I am guilty of not letting this happen. I have a lot of shame for the things that have happened. I am ashamed that I am not strong enough to hold all of my pieces together. I pick up the shards and push them together and hold still and pray they don't crumble. And the temporary fix that I am capable of looks good to others. I smile and say I'm fine and press forward. I hide my tiredness behind makeup. I shove my fears to the side. I weep quickly and quietly and hide my tears. And soon something happens and I crack. The tape pulls away, the pieces crumble under the pressure and I am a broken mess once again. Because I tried to make it better for myself. That just doesn't work. 

As I sat in the pew on Ash Wednesday, did I listen? Absolutely! I was enthralled with the message that was given that night. There was a moment where everything stood still and it was the voice of God speaking directly to my heart. Listen, my child! This message is for you and only you! I try to hard to fix everything when really I should be falling at the feet of God, crying out to Jesus to fix my brokenness, begging Him to cradle me safely in His arms and fix me! Heal my wounds. Take away my pain! Wipe away my tears! Have I followed through? Nope! I still try to do everything on my own. I still think that I can fix everything. That I can right this sinking ship on my own. 

But I can't. And that is true even as I listen to Emerson ask me to fix her broken heart. I held her close that night and told her I could not fix her broken heart. That I could hold her and love her and pray with her. Pray to God for Him to heal her broken heart. Give it to God. Lay it at His feet and ask Him to make you whole again. So, she and I prayed. I prayed for little hearts to be healed and fixed by the goodness of God. And I prayed for big hearts to be healed and fixed by the goodness of God. 

So, to everyone who is broken. Or suffering. Or going through hard times. Don't fix your brokenness! Give it to God! Give Him all of your broken pieces to heal and mend and put together in the way only He knows how! He is the Master, the Creator, our Father. He knows where all if the pieces go, and exactly how they for together. So there no better one to fix us!

Prayers for healing and love and light to many! There are so many that I want to fix right now...but I will lay it at God's feet and have faith that he will fix all the broken pieces.