When Holding on is Letting Go

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be They name; They kingdom come; They will be done on earth as it is in Heaven…”

I must admit, I expected a miracle on my terms with in my realm of understanding.

We met Kyle Vonfeldt when he was just a few days old right out of the hospital. Our family and the two Vonfeldt families had a planned camping trip to the coast. Kyle was born to adventure and his parents showed him the way. Our Daughter, Sissy Laree, was 6 wks old and Her bestie, Chelsea, was 11 days the eldest. This was the beginnings of a lifetime of splashing and dancing through the ups and downs that came their way.

On Wednesday May 5th, Sis got a phone call from Chels, that Kyle was found unresponsive and in ICU. We knew without a doubt that a miracle was just around the corner. That’s how it is with faith, we are hardwired to believe.

As a minister of the gospel, I stand on the Word of God that proclaims the healing power of Christ Jesus and I have seen many miracles in my life time. I also know full well that the mysteries of life are not understandable. It says in Ecclesiastes that there is a time to every purpose under Heaven; A time to be born and a time to die…That is of little comfort when it comes time to let go.

On May 10th, the day after Mother’s Day, it was declared that Kyle’s brain was unresponsive. His organs were fully intact and operational and there in lies the miracle. You see, Kyle was a registered organ donor. This lifted the burden of choice from the shoulders of his father. His gift of life and love would be transferred to those waiting and wishing and praying for their miracle.

It is said in Proverbs 20:11 “Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure and whether it be right.”

John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this, that a person will lay down his own life for his friend”

On Thursday May 13th Kyle went into surgery and gave the miracle of life to four people. They were not friends per say, but Kyle never knew a stranger. He was as kind and giving in life as he was in death. I have looked on line to find that the green ribbon is the designated symbol for organ donation awareness. I have a pink dot on my drivers license and I will be rocking the green ribbon in honor of our dear one who gave without question and loved beyond reason.

Kyle was preceded in death by his mother and grandparents. May they be rejoicing with him on the other side with a BBQ and a beautiful spot on the river.

Our love and prayers for his family as they walk the hardest path of loving and letting go.

I Love to Watch You Live

They found their way to our home when our second child was fourteen, the boys next door. They brought with them brown eyed sparkles that told me they were up to something. I liked “something” and welcome them with open heart and a firm hand. Between the brown eyed boys and the crew that emerged from the house on Wood Street, a bond was formed that was palatable. The organic display was one to behold. It was at times hard to watch but you could not look away. They were visible without effort and oftentimes had no awareness of the shadow they cast on others who were looking through key holes wondering how to turn the latch and enter in.

Going away to school, to work, to play, they navigated adulthood. They wrestled, they loved, they lust, they lost. It was tragic; I held my breath. They gathered in a circle and cried each other’s tears, held each other tight, breathed each other’s breath and sweat each other’s fears.

I was honored a year later to have lunch with a few that had gathered to remember and to be. A drive to the coast was in the wind and they all piled in one truck. Fussing and fighting and laughing and music filled the air, they drove off in a flurry. I wanted to call after them, “buckle up, drive safe.”

I caught myself, they had known safe. He was the youngest of the pack. He had gone to school, got his degree, and landed that job he had hoped for. It was his nine to five. Driving home from work that day he would be taken from them. Some how they had made it through the year. I cried and whispered, “I love to watch you live.”

I have had my own wrestling in these years that followed. I have loved and I have lost. I am finding my way and navigating a plan. I started by clearing my mind and now it’s time to make a list. I give way to prayer and ask The Father to help me make it. I heard him gently whisper, “I love to watch you live.”

The Edge of Giving Up

The day he looked me in the eye and his spirit asked me to love him forever, my world was changed. I will not be complacent to the abandonment of children. I will not turn my heart from the hard things in my path, but seek the comfort of knowing I am enough. He deceived me, stole from me things that can not be replaced, told the officer he did not know me. Changed his name and has not looked back. I once called you son.

My heart feels too heavy to carry and grief covers me like a well worn blanket. I am aware that my words and thoughts hold captive my tomorrows. I have nothing to do in his coming and going, but I hold the door open to walking out my belief. There is a way a truth and life but it is not in me. My son must find his own way.

I quickly give my anger over to forgiveness. This is truth and I will declare restoration. I don’t understand when, where or how. Isn’t that the way with faith. If we could make the list, and launch the project then it is within my grasp, and faith is not needed.

I went to the water, I sat and listened to the rushing and the wind. I am little and I know it. This will pass with the hands of time. I question my place and the things that I have known. The answers have not yet come. I am here, on the light side of darkness, at the edge of giving up.

A Good Attitude and The Right Pair of Shoes

I have had enough of myself and my room. I have found with a good attitude and the right pair of shoes you can change your surroundings, and I did.

Today I awakened to a foggy morning and a foggy mind. We, my doctor and I, are trying something new in the line of medications. My knee surgery and challenging recovery are complicated. I had a t-shirt made in high school and wore it proudly with rainbow suspenders, declaring “UNIQUE” across my chest. I didn’t know it then, but now I am fully assured, I didn’t need it in writing. Just ask brother.

So, this is a side note: If you need the t-shirt that says “messy hair, don’t care” You probably do!

I had surgery on January 6, 2018. The two-part surgery on the meniscus and tendon were unremarkable and a basic walk in the park for my well established doctor. What he found on the Femur, Tibia, Fibula and behind the Patella have him very concerned and frankly, shaking his head.

I injured my knee playing basketball in 1980. Yes, that was a very long time ago. I hyper-extended it in a basketball game. I was posted up under the basket rebounding and a girl came down on my knee and it bent backwards. It was wrapped and I finished out the basketball season and had surgery at the end of my senior year. The meniscus was trimmed, the knee cap shaved and realigned. My doctor for that surgery was tragically killed in an accident and I did not have a follow-up appointment on the knee and furthermore, I was out hiking on crutches and took a fall. All this has been tucked away for over 37 years and while walking along on a side-walk, it just collapsed.

The doctor explained to me what he found. Our bones have a film on them where they come together and are joined with cartridge to form a joint. Mine had formed a protective pocket at each bone as it formed the knee. Those protective pockets were full of ground bone and cartilage and blood. He has no idea how long it had been that way and even greater questions of how I could even walk. The wear and tear on the bone is critical and the deterioration significant. He cleared it all away and my body has rejected the change. My mind has compensated for so many years suppressing and dissociating with the issue, that it will not give my recovering knee the proper signals.

Now the hard work begins. I have started taking a medication for nerve receptors. I took it for the first time last night and the nervous system currents to my legs were alarming. A few hours later I was completely exhausted and had a hard time waking up at 8:00. I start physical therapy next week to cause reaction. My concern is that I have to convince my mind to pay attention and acknowledge the pain so it will cooperate with sending it healing. Now hear me this…It sounds to me like it has to hurt to heal and I am trying to get my head in this game. I have blocked, put aside, and rightly ignored pain and trauma for over 50 years and I’m not sure I want to teach myself this new trick.

My Grands are on their way tonight. My own young children are a sight to see. They make my world go round and I would like to keep up, if only to watch them shine. I will be attending a memorial luncheon for a dear one who lived to her 90’s tomorrow. The examples before me tell me to dig deep and get this done.

I have adjusted my courage, found the right pair of shoes and I have work to do.

I started this blog to honor the unconditional love of my dog. “To live out loud in his honor. Unconditional, Encouraging, Challenging and Exploring Ideas”

I know I am not alone in physical pain or frustrating health issues. I am extending these words to you , not for your sympathy. I think we are more alike than different. cue the music… reach out a hand, ask for help and receive others. When someone asks what they can do, give them a true answer. Living a connected life with giving and taking in balance, brings healing to more than the broken bones of this world. It heals loneliness and hopelessness.

Please share with me your stories of connecting with others. When you were at a hard spot in the road, what did someone do to turn it around. Lets give each other ideas. Sometimes it’s the simplest of gestures. Today a stranger encouraged me by carrying some papers to my car. I could have done it, I started to say, “No, thank you.” It wasn’t a difficult task and only took a moment of his time. Why would I rob him of that reward? A person standing near noticed and nodded his head. See, connections. We are selfish in our pursuit of independence.

Today I tied on my just right shoes and went out into this small town I call home. I trusted it with my frailty and I was not disappointed.

Just Opening a Window is Not Enough

Three weeks ago my knee collapsed. Two days later I was in emergency surgery. The surgery went well, the recovery has not.

I don’t want to write about my grief, my physical pain or my children’s personal struggles, so I have been quiet.

I began sharing my thoughts to go deeper, walk together in an unconditional way that cause people to feel and think and live!

I awakened this morning yearning deeply to be outside. I threw open the window. It’s just not enough.

I have decided to feature some writings of other bloggers or likeminded thinkers.

Please throw open the windows of your heart and mind and let others in.

Today, I will go outside. I will embrace the wind and the weather.

What is it that you will do. Talk to me.

Traditions of Deception

To the receiving hands of the ripped and torn children of the system, foster care and adoption. I have some advice. It is only my opinion so take it or return it. I write this with full knowledge that many won’t agree and I’m fine with that. These are just my thoughts followed by a powerfully written piece from my daughter when she was only five.

Be careful with the traditions of deception. I am not a Scrooge nor am I a religious one who hates costumes and candy. But I have some thoughts on Santa. The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy too for that matter.

In the past 15 years, children have come to my home with broken foundations of trust. They have been lied to, traumatized and played. Physical and emotionally scared in ways that cause me to evaluate the traditions of deception. Ba-Humbug. I know, It all in fun.

Do you remember the age of discovery, the feeling in your belly when you realized there is no Santa. I do not. My family told the history and story of St Nicolaus and played the role of giving in the tradition of old. We hunted eggs and received gifts for our teeth all in the knowing that someone loved us and was delighted to gift us with surprises.

The Holiday tradition of casting a magical character that knows everything and will judge you naughty or nice and give you gifts based on merit, upsets my humanitarian mind. These children have no self-worth, often do not know that they are deserving of any good thing and furthermore, love people who have wronged them and society. It’s a heavy burden to carry. How many crying babies have to endure the traditional Santa pictures when they know full well this isn’t right. They are coaxed and encouraged and expected to put aside the naturally inherited protective fact, all for the traditional photo. You set them on a strangers lap and ask them to tell him what they want. He is a stranger, in a red costume! Freaky

I have been asked so many time as to when is it the right time to tell children that they were adopted? Let that sink in…it is their story. Tell the truth from day one. Do you question as to when to tell your biological children about their truth?

My girl told me this christmas story when she was five. She was secure in her attachment and belonging.

“On a dark winter night a man named Santa Clause came down our chimney. He snatched up Traven and Lillie when our parents were sleeping. He took them to make them work as elves. But one night we snuck out and borrowed his reign deer. Traven rode Rudolph and I rode the crazy one, I can’t remember his name…nope, can’t remember his name, but he was craaaazy. We got on in the night and flew home. I held on tight and said hyah-hyah. It was a crazy ride but we got home safe. We let the reign deer go back home but then Santa noticed that we were gone. He came back to get us and I wacked him with a stick when he came down the chimney. Then he went back to his home and left us alone.” Lillian Sayad

I love her courage I love her wit.

Give your children a foundation of wonder and imagination with a strong identity of truth.

via Daily Prompt: Torn

The Unexpected

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A friend came to visit yesterday evening and I found myself chatting about blogging. I got started less than a month ago and I must say there are surprises along the way. I am new to this and have much to learn.

I hesitate to say that I had no idea about the “stats” or the image of the world map that lights up as you have traveled across continents and connected with others around the world. It is an unexpected thrill. The traffic is a tease at times as I want to know more about those who have crossed my path. I want you to know if you have disclosed yourself to me and I am not aware of your region or town, I educate myself. I go online and read about your surroundings. This grounds me and I become vetted in my fellow readers and writers.

When I was a young girl we had an exchange student at my school. She linked me to another student in India and we became pen-pals. We wrote letters and exchanged artwork. We lost contact over the years but I have never forgotten her drawing of peacock feathers or the life experiences that she shared. Blogging is pen-palling at its finest.

Cheers to connecting from here to there. I look forward to your stories and comments.

Suicide; one person’s panacea, another’s life sentence.

Daily Prompt: Panacea

“Panacea~a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases…”

I have been thinking of this daily prompt all day. There is so much that I am not yet ready to say. If my dog Shaw was still with me he would have felt my angst and pushed me to go for a walk. He would have pushed in close and I would have put my nose to his fur and breathed him in.

David C.R. ~ My childhood friend. You could have told me anything. HIV
Kelly P. ~ High School. My beautiful friend, I loved the ice-cream on your face. I wish you would have know broken hearts mend.
Uncle Paul and Aunt Georgie~ You changed our world. You did it your way.
Teasa Lane~ I can not even say your name. I was there when each of your babies were born, I climbed in beside you in some of your darkest days. I tasted your tears and I couldn’t catch you when you fell.
Kenny W.~ You encouraged me and said the kindest of things, I just didn’t know it was good bye.

My Panacea: “There is no death, only a transition of life.”

Bonds of Attachment

Attachment, it’s not for the timid or weak of heart. Today we sit in the sunny window of my upper room. My boy is struggling to find his way. His bravery inspires me and scares the life out of me. I will match his bravery because I must.

Often as parents struggling to bond with our restless adolescents, we ask them to join us. I challenge you, join them. We are listening to alternative rock while I paint his drawings. Yes, I set some boundaries, I don’t want derogatory f’words in my house but strong language is part of both our raging emotions. Say That

We are both a work in progress. I will fear no evil.