Thursday, August 28, 2008

Death Stinks, But Hope Will Someday Return

It's encouraging to look at all the comments posted at Marsha's blog. It's even better being able to see what HSB is doing to reach out to one of their own. There isn't much you can do to make life easier for a bereaved family, but they're doing all they can.

Death stinks. There are other ways to say it, but I consider this a family blog. Death really is the worst. It means a separation, a heart-rending loss of staggering proportions. It's a leaving, a departure and a goodbye that makes the breath catch in our throats. How can human hearts survive it?

But somehow, the sun manages to come up the next morning. It's Death + Day 1, and if we sleep at all, it's in spite of a heart that rages against the loss. Hope for anything is beyond the horizon and it's a cold grayness that descends over everything. How long this lasts is anyone's guess, but it seems forever until the music returns to the notes, the flavor returns to the food and laughter returns to the heart.

Somehow, the joy of life will return. Things will be different, but it will return.

Chrisitians have a hope that this world doesn't truly grasp. In a way, most of us don't grasp it either. When Jesus referred to his own death, He said,
You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. (John 16)

Right now, we feel the pain. We know nothing but the pain of the process. The hope of Christians is that this pain will eventually be forgotten in the joy of our homecoming. This hope is very distant while enduring the pain of death, but nevertheless, it exists. Someday, it will be fulfilled.

What do we say to those profoundly affected by loss? We mourn with those who mourn. We stand by them, shed tears, and live beside them for as long as they need us. I've written more about this before as recently as May. I don't want to turn WW into a grief blog, but this just seems like where we're at lately.

Marsha, we are with you in this storm.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Why, God?

How do I write this?

Another one of my friends--Marsha Drews--has lost her child in a completely unexpected and traumatic way.

Right now the questions are one word. How? Another? God?

I don't get it. I just don't get it. How can the death of a child do anything but carve a gaping wound in the heart of a family? This is not ...it just ...I don't know.

When I can coherently type, I'll let you know. Please pray for Marsha and her family.

Is Preschool No Longer Optional?

Dave Long, a county commisioner in northern Colorado, opines that Preschool Is No Longer An Option. Mr. Long states that in order to be ready for kindergarten, children must already qualify under a long litany of criteria. According to his article, every child entering kindergarten must already:
  • Be able to get along in a large group of children.
  • Be able to sit still and pay attention.
  • Be interested in learning.
  • Be potty trained.
  • Know numbers one through 15 and the letters of the alphabet.
  • Recognize and be able to identify the letters in their first name.
  • Recognize shapes including circles, squares, rectangles, triangles, ovals, hearts, cones and stars.
  • Be able to identify body parts, including eyes, nose, mouth, ears, ankles, etc.
  • Recognize the eight basic colors.
  • Be able to hold a pencil and scissors the correct way for hand preference.
  • Know basic manners and social skills.
  • Be able to tie their own shoes.
  • Be able to follow two- or three-step directions, showing the ability to remember and follow though.
Entrance exams for Kindergarten? When I was a child, this was what kindergarten was for. It was for getting ready for school by learning how to hold a pair of scissors, how to read my own name, and how to tie my own shoes. I should mention that I failed that last part of shoe tying until the middle or end of first grade. Thank God for velcro!

So today's students are going to preschool to learn what I used to learn in Kindergarten. This leads me to a very important question How is it that today's students spend more years in school and yet graduate from it knowing less than the children of my generation? More importantly, how are students who are homeschooled until they are 18 know so much more and test so much higher than their public school peers*, despite the extra year advantage given the school students?

The question now is obvious: Is preschool really no longer optional? Or is it just an attempt by a broken system to try to fix itself without adding more grades, like 13, 14, and 15? Should we really be pushing children out of their homes at the ripe old age of 4? Are they ready for such stress, or is this just the system's Rumplestiltskin solution, saying "you didn't teach the child anything! Now, give me your baby!"

Parents in Colorado need to know that they have a better choice. They have a low-cost alternative and one not nearly so heart rending as giving your child to a preschool. Keep them home and let them learn the entrance exam for Kindergarten in their own way and on their own schedule. Homeschoolers retain the home field advantage and produce top students in record time.

* - according to studies done by NHERI.org

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Buying Milk At 12:30 AM

I was at the store last night buying milk with my son. He's 9, by the way, and it was way past his bedtime. We ran out of milk last night and I needed his help to lift four gallons from the rack to the cart to the car to the fridge. So he was up late.


From the way I was raised, that's not normal, or at least it shouldn't be. But unfortunately, it's happened before, and it may happen again if we don't get better at it. This is living with a disability, and a disabled person needs to operate under grace rather than the standard set of expectations for "normal."

What Homeschool Looks Like When You're 5 Years Old

This morning was one of those golden moments in homeschooling that we've missed quite a bit over the summer. Yesterday, my wife was teaching our 9 year-old (Quarterback) and 12 year-old (Narniagirl) how to diagram sentences. Today, my 5 year-old daughter (Katiebelle) comes in, waaay before her brother and sister are up, and she has--on notebook paper in purple marker--diagrammed the title of her "school" book, Come On, Snoopy. She even had her rocket ship for compound subjects and verbs, but she called it her jet. I guess that's what Snoopy used to catch up.

This is the same daughter that watches Prince of Egypt and later starts singing snippets of "Let My People Go," but instead of the repeated line "Thus says the Lord," she sings, "Upset the law, Upset the law..." It worked for her.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Becoming a Wheeled One

You never know what will happen until you try it. For instance, Arava, a paralyzed turtle shows up at an Israel zoo. They strap a modified skateboard to her body and she's getting around in more ways than one. An amorous 10 year old turtle decides he likes her as a moving target and now the poor Arava's pregnant.

I have been contemplating getting a powered wheelchair to help me get around and be able to explore things more with my family. I had always been the adventurous one until my condition prevented it. Now, if I get my wheels under me, I'm wondering what's going to happen to me and my family, especially in light of the turtle story!

I know I need one. I can't go on walks with my kids and I can't go to the mall without ending up in long-term recuperation and taking heavy painkillers to keep things under control. I need the ability to walk with my kids, to explore new things, to go to museums and plays and anything else I can think of. I feel like too much of my life is just passing me by and I need to get out and thrive!

For the longest time, I've felt like getting a power chair is admitting defeat and giving up on ever walking unassisted. I still haven't given up on the dream, but doggedly holding on to one dream is causing the rest of my life to die in the waiting. I can't let that happen anymore! I'm going to fight it folks! I'm going to get some wheels and, hopefully have better luck than the turtle.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Why Men Don't Talk About Their Emotions

It was while we were watching our umpteenth hour of Olympics coverage on NBC that I came up with an explanation on why guys generally have a hard time articulating their feelings about matters of the heart. I tried explaining this to my wife in the middle of her work and didn't quite make it through, so I'm going to try it here and see if I get better in explaining it.

Guys don't like to show their emotions or reveal their feelings about something dear to them because it leaves them vulnerable. This is not just "Me Tarzan not like feeling vulnerable. Rather hunt bear with pointy stick!" It's something I think we've forgotten in our relative prosperity and "lack of vital needs," like when there was only so much medicine available or there was only so much food to go around. In competition, weaknesses are exploited and it's imbued on men that weaknesses can cause you to fail and lose. To allow others to know what is in his heart is to invite disaster. So men have instinctively clammed up and only allowed their feelings out when they knew it was safe, confidential and controlled. To protect himself and the ones he loves, a man will not betray the contents of his heart for the instinctual fear that the sentiments of his heart could be used to hamstring him and expose his beloved to possible harm.

It's not an apologetic that I'm making for men, saying this is the way we are and so don't go asking us how we feel. Instead, understand that men need to know that when the environment and time is right, it is okay to actually open up a little. They won't do it if they feel threatened. Using his feelings in a later argument to hurt or hamper him is an immediate and profound reinforcement of the instinct to clam up and protect his heart. Good luck getting him to open up after that.

On that note, I'm glad that we are homeschooling my son. Keeping him out of the dog-eat-dog competition and ruthlessness of the schools, public and private, is probably going to spare his heart and protect him from the pathological side of this instinct.

No, my wife and I aren't fighting. It's just that seeing the competitive nature of the events and it's impact on so many of the olympians and their families. It really has helped me understand the human heart to watch the games. I just better come up with some more observations that are a little more profound in order to keep this from being a total loss.

Oh, and NBC, ease up on the ads for sex-and-violence shows. My kids are watching, and it's only reinforcing our desire to turn off the TV after the closing ceremonies. Maybe that wouldn't be a such a bad thing for us.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Who Remembers June 4, 1989?

Yao Ming, professional basketball player for this country's NBA, was honored today as the first to carry the olympic torch in Beijing. He entered Tianimen Square to cheers of fans.

This is not the Tianimen Square that I remember, is it?

The one that once hosted a Statue of Liberty?

The one that still bears the blood of students asking for democratic reforms?

Fair useIs this the one that shuddered under the rumble of a PLA tank's treads and was stilled by a single student standing in the way of the tank?

I remember Tianimen Square far differently than the present festive mood. I remember watching from half a world away the brutal devastation as 500 or more protestors were killed by the People's Liberation Army and dissenters were rounded up and imprisoned or purged in a bloodbath of thousands. Living, breathing human beings were crushed under the treads of these tanks. Such a festive China not 20 years away from this unresolved massacre should not be celebrated, but reviled.

I say unresolved because the government has not changed. No one has been imprisoned or even censured for the death and destruction. Blame for the massacre is lost in the bureaucracy of the Chinese government.

When protestors for human rights appear in China during these Olympic games, as they inevitably will, what kind of China will we see? Will it be the same dishonorable China that lost face in 1989, or will it be a China capable of largess and magnanimity toward dissenters? I think we will see the same old backwater thinking that censors political ideas and ideals. How many must stare down a tank before China truly changes itself from a regime ruling by brutal suppresstion to a democratic government, no longer claiming the People's will, but actually ruling by the consent of its people?

Yao Ming should wipe his size 18 shoes off before he comes back to Houston. The blood of June 4th, 1989, still cries from the dust of Tianimen Square.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Choosing Hope In A Hard Season

A homeschooling family we've never met lost their daughter when a car hit her and her bike. I have been watching their CaringBridge blog and praying however I can. Since their entries disappear when they update it, I am re-printing today's entry so that I can comment about what Rachael Kligmann's mother, Corrine, wrote today.

She starts:

I keep thinking that maybe it is time to let this journal go. But then so many people are telling us that it helps them to know how we are doing and honestly, that does help us. It helps to not have to say it all the time.

I cried through much of church today. People keep asking me how I am doing and I know it is because they care. But I don't know what to say.

I talked to a friend who noticed I was teary,and told her I need a 'stock' answer for that question. She said I should tell people I am 'up and down.' That is the truth. One hour I am okay and the next it washes over me.

There are two questions I don't know how to answer actually. The other one is: Is there anything I can do to help? Yes, I am sure there is; there must be. But I don't know what it is. If you think of something let me know and I will gratefully accept I am sure.

It has been a month since Rachael died already. Pete and I talked about it and it seems like maybe we should at least have some idea of how to proceed. I think that we are just now barely beginning to get our feet under us. Just barely. I have heard that the first year is the hardest, but wouldn't that mean that after a month it would begin to feel better? I cry 10 times a day at least. It is like a constant leak. I don't feel any better today than I did the day after she died. I know Pete is about the same too.

Actually I described it the other day like waves in the ocean. They are constant and if you stand hip-deep and let them move around you it is hard to stand up but most of the time you do. Sometimes though there is a wave that you don't know is going to wash right over your head. Most of the time I can stand and the grief washes around me and tries to knock me down, Sometimes I see a big one coming and I can brace for it, but sometimes, unexpectedly one will wash over my head and knock me down and I grieve much harder.

I know that other people have survived this. I know that other people have come through deep grief and been happy again. I feel right now like we are just waiting and slogging through. There is no joy. There is no color. There is no flavor. I do what I think I should do, not anything that I *want* to do.

We are going to a James Taylor concert tomorrow, thanks to Eric and Denise. I really want to enjoy it. I have always wanted to see him. It is nice to be with them because if I cry off and on they are not scared by it. And I do cry off and on.

I am certain that we are not a lot of fun to be around. We are depressing to other people. Some are avoiding us I think. I don't blame them. I wouldn't know what to say either. There really aren't any words.

We do talk about Rachael. We need to. We cry. We need to do that too. Pete holds it in all day at work. I think he is actually mostly able to compartmentalize this huge monster and do his job. But then on the weekends he sleeps and cries and rests.
I know some people have been concerned about us as a couple. The divorce rate for couples who have had a child die is something like 80%. We are doing well. We are close and holding on to each other tightly.

I am holding on with both hands to the fact that God knew this was going to happen and that Rachael lived *her* whole life. Her whole life. Not 100 years or nearly as long as I had planned or as long as she had planned. But every single day that God planned for her.

God gave us a gift. It is a long story but it is a special gift and I will try to shorten it a bit.

Last fall-ish I had purchased an Aflac accident policy. With 9 kids still at home I figured it would be a good deal, right? Wrong. In February I canceled it because we hadn't even used it once and it was $45 a month. We didn't pay it for three months. No payment. On June 17th Aflac took out an automatic draft just like nothing had changed. I was furious when I found out on the 18th.

Rachael was hit by a car while riding her bike on June 18th. I forgot all about the policy until after she died and I got home and checked our bank accounts.

I couldn't believe that the policy could be active based on that one payment. It was. There is a small (for life insurance) life insurance policy for Rachael included. We will be receiving a check from them soon.

The really miraculous thing for me is not that there is some money coming. What is miraculous and the real gift to me, is that God Himself had to have arranged it. AND even more importantly is using that to tell us that HE planned this. He knew before it happened and He had it all under control. He wanted to send us a message that all of this was His plan for Rachael and for us. It was simply her time to go.

I don't pretend that it is okay with me and I can't pretend that I understand why He wanted it this way. But it does make it easier to trust Him.

God has asked us to trust Him many times before now. We chose to obey God when He asked us to allow Him to plan our family and it was all about whether we trust Him.

Do we? We did and it was very hard.

Do we trust Him even now? In some ways I am wondering if this is all part of trusting Him with our family. Is He the author of Life and Death and do we trust Him with that or not?

I wish I could say that I do without qualification. But He didn't give this time. He took away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Anyway.

- by Corrine Kligmann

Wow. How does anyone put one foot in front of the other after such a loss? I'm so glad she sees what her heavenly Father intended for her to see in providing the insurance.

Corrine wonders that if the first year is the hardest, then shouldn't they be doing better a month afterward. From my own experiences with grief, I can say probably not. Everyone's grief is as unique as the person, but deep grief really does ebb and flow. Being up and down is the only thing you can count on with your emotions. Tears, laughter, anger, regret, despair, and even envy all run amok in what has to be one of the most bewildering experiences a person can face. It's not rational, logical or progressive, and it lasts for months and years. It sits like a stock pot on the stove with all sorts of things coming up and disturbing the flotsam on the surface. Grief is an unbelievably messy and chaotic experience for parents to face.

I'm glad Corrine is being honest in how she feels about God allowing Rachael to die. We aren't supposed to be okay with God taking a loved one. We have every reason to throw a fit in the face of what looks to us to be a colossal injustice. My own children get frustrated and angry when they lose what they wanted and I expect that from them. I imagine it's the same with our heavenly Father as well. But at the end of the tears and frustration, I still want my children to trust me and know that I have their best interests at heart.

That's the tricky part. There are things that God sees from His eternal perspective that we don't see from our point here on earth, stuck in linear time. One second procedes to the next and we have no way of saying with absolute certainty that we know what's next for us, let alone what's next for anyone else. Could we even begin to pretend to know what's good for us? We only know where we are at and what we love (and despise). We know most of the things we want and some of the things we need. We hope, but we don't know. We take action, but we can't fully predict the results. It's times like these, situations like this, where any illusion of control is fully wrenched away from our grip and terrible reality rears its ugly head. Then we are forced to either turn to our faith in God, or abandon our faith, mistrusting God.

Yet if we turn our backs on the God Who wounds us, we also reject the God Who heals us in turn. Everything has its season and eventually autumn and winter are replaced by spring and summer. Would the God Who gave us these seasons not use it to show us that He will make all things new again? If there is death among the flowers and trees, new life waits only a winter away. While we might not find pleasure in the frosty chill, we can at least hold out hope for God's eternal spring.

Please keep the Kligmann's in your prayers and if you have the time, drop them a note to let them know you'll be praying.

Drastic Measures

Since getting a used N64 over a year ago, our family has been dragged forward into the modern console-game era. Starting with Pong in the 70s, the consoles have evolved into a three-dimensional world where you can bag a deer, haul in a trophy bass, and save the known universe from near-certain annihilation ...all before noon.

Our latest addition has been the Playstation 2. This is a current console in that game titles for the PS2 are still being released for it and you can find games in chain stores like Target and Wal-Mart. It is also a very nice step down from the $30+ game prices of the PS3, Xbox 360, and the Wii. Any PS2 titles we get will still be playable on a PS3 when we upgrade years from now.

If we upgrade at all, that is.

Since our son took his birthday money and bought a used PS2 for his birthday a few months back, we have enjoyed ...okay, I have enjoyed the games a little too much. You'd be amazed how much of my chronic pain fades to the background when I'm trying to fight my way through to the next goal of a game. This has had a carry-over affect on our 9 year-old son that has kept me worried quite a bit.

Last night, God worked it out for us to visit a family we hadn't caught up with in a long time. One of the things that came through our conversation last evening was that they have seen such a change over the last few months by limiting PC and console games to an hour a day with their children. I seem to remember that limit existing for our N64 console so very long ago.

Fast-forward to this morning. Attitudes were somewhere south of awful and my bride of 15 years was pulling her hair out trying to work with our surly brood. The idea of an hour limit, fresh from our talk last night, burst forth on the scene like a level 99 Sora with his Ultima Weapon blazing! We seized the opportunity to pray about it and we both felt like an hour on weekdays and an hour and a half on weekends would be more than enough for our kids to have, after they've completed their chores and with no "guarantee" that they will always have that time (i.e., we have something come up and they don't get their time, then it's too bad).

It is now 30 minutes after we have instituted the hour rule and already attitudes are north of decent. Young and old are plotting how to get to play board games with each other and, if they don't know how, by golly they'll teach them how to play! It's amazing! What we couldn't beg them to do before the limit is now somehow what they really want to do. The hour limit was drastic, but already I feel my family coming back out from under the control of pixels and programs. We don't like making hard and fast rules like this, but this is one rule I think my family can't do without.

While I don't have an hour limit (yet), I also plan to limit my time on the PS2. My fictional fishing buddies may miss me, but I'd rather have a real family anyway.

Anyone up for Dominoes?