Tag: hope

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Susan 🦋

Hannah

My heart feels crushed every time I remember that a hard goodbye is just around the corner. I am grieving having to say goodbye to an incredible woman. An Angel among us. I have been so blessed in life to have been given friends who leave such important footprints on my heart.

I met Sue in a roundabout kind of way; we were both following the same blog, and the blog author had asked for prayers for Susan’s granddaughter, Delainey, who was having complications from Trisomy 18. In the end, we lost our daughter Ellianna, and she lost her granddaughter Delainy just a few months apart. Thus began an unexpected friendship; raw, real, beautiful, and based on the bare bones truth of treating people gently when they need to be loved.

Sue and I carried the heaviness of grieving our little ones side by side even though we were states apart. She was always accepting of whatever stage I was in, and gave me space to feel and express all that I needed to. Do y’all know how rare that is? It is an indescribable gift to have a person like that! Even in her own grieving, Sue found ways to speak to my hurts and mend my broken pieces with her gentle words and kind heart.

From right: Susan, Delainey, Delainey’s mom Christy

Susan is a relentless encourager. If I look at my “friendship” on Facebook I will be scrolling through page after page of scripture, encouraging quotes, and meaningful articles she would send on to me. And that woman must have liked and commented on every one of my pictures for like five years. She was always looking for ways to build me up.

I only got to be with Sue in person one time, and that makes me a little sad. She was traveling near my town and made it a point to stop and meet up with us so we could finally meet in the flesh and have a good meal together. It is a treasured memory, an experience that really made me realize how gentle and kind of a person she is. She is calm and sure of herself, content in the moment, unlike how I sometimes come roaring in in a hot frazzled mess.

How blessed I am to have shared in such an uplifting and encouraging friendship at a time we both so deeply needed it. My heart aches that this world will not have Sue anymore, but my soul rejoices wildly at the thought of her scooping up her Delainey once again, and snuggling her close for all of eternity. How happy she will be. Once again she will be paving the way for me through a new unknown.

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Above the Belt

Hannah

I seem to frequently get told that I’m strong or brave or amazing, or any one of those pat-you-on-the-back kind of words. As flattering as that is, let me change your camera angle for a moment and show you what’s really going down. Behind, beside, blazing ahead of, or basically whatever direction I need to find him in is the most wonderful man that I get to call mine and do life with every single day.

It is true, I do a lot of fighting against my waves in life, but if you look a little closer you’ll see my Mark doing whatever legwork is necessary to keep us right-side-up. He is one of the most giving guys out there, frequently overlooking his own needs or wants in order to keep me comfortable and moving forward.

I can see it in my head; a boxing match. There is arm waving and whistle blowing and the boxer wearily plops themselves down in the chair in the corner, and that’s where you see him. He flies in fast as an eagle, but stealthy as a shadow and he surveys the damage and starts making it better before the rest of us have really even taken it all in. He’s icing swollen eyes, dabbing up bleeding lips, and all together just letting the sweat and the blood and the brutal grossness of it all drip all over him without a second thought because he is so focused on the goal of getting his fighter back out there to take in all the glory. Yep, that’s who my man is. Every single day.

He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t ask to share the winning Golden belt, he simply does whatever he can to make the circumstances better so his fighter can get back to doing what she loves, and be good at doing it. I’m not sure the official name that person is called, but for me, I call him Buddy. Whenever he hears me call that name he comes rushing to my side to help me battle through whatever next fight needs to be fought. He likes to stay in the shadows, and insists that anyone would do what he does, but I know better, I have the best of the best.

Will you say a prayer for Mark today please? He is such a hard worker. He gets up as daylight is about to begin cracking the sky. He gets ready to start his work day, but never before first checking on me; helping me get my morning medicine, and showering me with kisses. He always makes sure I am cared for and comfortable before he starts his own work. He puts in a solid day of work, but it is not just that. He is working through his doctorate, and he’s making himself available for all the 10 gazillion times myself or one of the kids will come knocking on his door to ask for his help that day.

He does work-work all day long, but he often splits into the time of his day to take me or one of the kids to appointments. He makes sure the little ones get lunch, and feeds all of us again at the supper hour. He helps with homework, does housework, and whatever else needs to be done, like picking up groceries, or taking our pets to the vet. He does it ALL, and he still meets each one of us with love and grace. And usually a silly dance; lets not kid ourselves.

My husband needs more strength right now more than ever before. He needs strength to keep up with work and school, and all the other things that still need to happen around our home because I am laid up in bed. I’m so thankful he has scuba diving as a hobby, because it allows him to find peace, refreshment. (and quiet) to keep fueling himself for keeping our family running. Please help me support and love on him right now as he carries such tremendous weight on his shoulders.

Thank you for listening to my heart!

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The End

Hannah

All things must come to an end. Except suffering maybe. The verdict is still out on that one. I do not know anymore why I am so candidly sharing my heart-thoughts with a world unknown to me. When I first starting blogging, when our daughter died, I found it therapeutic. Getting my thoughts out and also believing they might help someone else who was going through trials somehow eased a bit of my grief. Then my life carried on and this horrible disease struck, and I kept putting it all out there. The good, the bad, and a lot of the ugly. What I’ve come to realize is I don’t know what the purpose for that is anymore. I am blaring my deep hurts, vicious disappointments, and strongest hopes to an audience who can neither see nor hear me, and the void of comforting souls doing life beside me remains vacant.

Perhaps one day my children will read my words and gain an understanding of the storyline that played in my head, hidden beneath the brave face I tried to put on for them, and they will learn the truth-depth that is woven in the coming and going of our every day.

Thank you each for being here to follow along and cheer me forward. For now it is time for me to step away, to let my silence be the echo of the words I have clung to for so long; Choose Hope.

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Just Keep Being

Hannah

I was scrolling through my photos and feeling pretty grateful. It was a day of strength. A shunt adjustment this week seems to have given me some reprieve.

I got to witness the joy of my little guy filling up a backyard pool.

I got to melt into a puddle of all the warm amazing feelings watching my boys head off together with their fishing poles.

I was able to stand long enough to make trendy sweet coffee drinks with my girl.

It has been good. /Good/

But then I swiped to the next picture and it hit me like an unsuspecting slap that stung like fire.

It was there because I had been going through some old photos a few days ago and I’d saved it to send to a friend. I had been building this incredible list of small mountains I’d climbed, and reveling in the joy and fulfillment I felt, and this memory of my past swiped my feet out from under me and sent me crashing through a wall of heartache that I was not ready for.

So much emotion tied up in that one simple picture. The immense joy that being on the fire department filled my soul with. The overlooked gift of being hold a brush to paint my nails. The ability to use my thumbs for a thumbs up. In a splinter’s worth of time, I went from great heights to a mind crushing low. I felt sad to have ruined my gratefulness, but as I talked myself through it, I came to realize that it was absolutely ok to feel what I was feeling. A hard memory doesn’t take away the joy of important moments with my people. Those two emotions can live together. I was reminded of a card I read this week…

“You can be angry and at peace. Curse God and whisper His name for help. You can be shaking and sobbing and strong. You can be grieving and grateful. Jagged and graceful. You can paint your nails and curl your hair. You can also not give a crap about any of that right now. You can hide quietly in your closet crying and dance to loud music in the kitchen while squealing in laughter. It can all hurt even when it feels good. You can feel so darn lonely in your head, and you can feel the vibration of the world holding you up in love and prayer. There is no book for dummies on this awful thing. I imagine your feelings change daily, sometimes by the minute. There is no wrong or right way to be. Just keep being.” -author unknown.

I cannot think of a more perfect way to say it. Just keep being.

Please leave me a comment, it lets me know you’re listening!

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Leaving Winter

Hannah

Recovering from brain surgery is no joke. It’s been a lot tougher than I expected. I’ve not much made it out of bed over the past few weeks that I’ve been home. It’s easy for things to get dark when that’s the case, and add on this pandemic and the quarantine we are under, it doesn’t take long for things to feel like they’re closing in around me.

Today I managed to get up and go outside for a few minutes. My goal was simply to refill the birdseed at my window. The birds that come sit and peck at my window are such a beautiful source of joy to me. As I made my way through the backyard though, I noticed something. All around me, little colorful buds were standing proud on the trees and poking up from the leftover scraps of last year’s leaves. It took me by surprise. I guess in my sickness and discouragement, I forgot that Spring was coming. But just like the fluff starting to grow on the bald half of my head, new sprouts could be seen almost everywhere I looked!

I know a lot of people are feeling sad and scared and overwhelmed right now, so maybe that’s what we all need a reminder of. After Winter, Spring always comes. No matter how cold or how dark, those beautiful buds find their way back to meet days filled with sunshine. We may not know how long this hard time will last, but don’t forget the new beauty that is coming. It will be here. The hard Winter always forges the toughest stems and most beautiful blooms. Don’t forget to look for them.

New hair sprouts!

Please leave me a comment, it lets me know you’re listening!

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Quiet & Brain Surgery

Hannah

Thank you to the many of you who have reached out to check on me over the last weeks. My silence prompted care and concern, and my people reaching out to me has been heart nourishing when I simply haven’t known what to say. I am wrestling through a new season; one of discouragement and questioning, and it’s often left me grasping so desperately for my own hope strings, I haven’t felt anything left to offer.

As the days are growing longer and the tips of new blooms are beginning to push into view, I am in the quiet of home with my closest people letting this new season of hope-finding be one of rest and healing. Not so much of my own choice, but my recent battles have forced me into a time of convalescence.

I am recently home from a 35 day stay in the hospital two hours from home. It started as a cerebral spinal fluid leak because of the medication pump in my spine. Three spinal surgeries and one brain surgery later, I was finally stable enough to come home. Flu precautions kept my little people from being allowed to visit, which made the days exceptionally long.

My sweet friends and family loved on me as best they could from a distance, and when my stay kept getting extended, my fire partner from Colorado flew out to spend a few days at my bedside. Much of it is blurry, as I was medicated and exhausted, and more than a few people got text messages from me that were impossible to decipher.

I’m thankful to have been carried through on the prayers of so many, as my own strength and determination has been quite sapped for awhile now. Getting a shower is the triumph of my days right now, and the remainder consists of lots of sleep, fluids, and trying to figure out how to style half of a shaved head. My littles have just begun their Spring Break, and I’m snagging them to snuggle as often as they’ll allow.

Thank you for your loving care during this time. Surely when I find my bootstraps I will grasp them once more, and challenge my days with more adventure and sass. For now I’m here resting, healing, thankful for each of your kind messages, and looking forward to sharing life’s next adventures.

Please leave me a comment, it lets me know you’re listening!

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In the Waiting

Hannah

I spent the morning with my little on our knees in the dirt, carefully setting tulip bulbs in the ground as the bite of the brisk air nipped at our coats. He excitedly flung dirt with a small trowel, and counted out the bulbs, mixing the colors and nestling them tips-up into each hole. As we carefully patted the dirt down, covering the evidence of what lays below, I was struck with the symbolism of it all.

These bulbs, cold and papery, don’t look like much right now. They are carefully keeping a beautiful secret which won’t be seen until Spring, after the Winter storms and bitter cold have faded. How true this is of our lives. You may be in the middle of a hard season, worn by the beating of the storms and weary from the gray that stretches on for days. In these hard moments though there is planting; the lessons you are learning, the faith you are growing, the hope you are clinging to… these beautiful treasures seemingly lost in the bitter winter of what you’re going through will bring eye-catching wonder on the other side. Don’t despair; keep sowing in the cold ground, even though you can’t see it now, something beautiful will come of what you’re going through. Let’s wait expectantly together for Spring!

Please leave me a comment, it lets me know you’re listening!