Difficult Seasons

Light and Leaves

I haven’t posted on Difficult Seasons for a while.  It wasn’t something that was planned.  Rather it was something that just happened. Once it started, it continued.

I have been posting a lot of photos to my personal blog, and in truth, have been spending a lot more time working on my photography.  It’s part of my self care effort.  It helps me see. I find myself looking at things more closely, studying the light, looking for the beauty. I love the challenge of learning the skills. But even more, I enjoy the creative process of trying to capture an image, working to get it just right in the camera, and then fine-tuning it in Lightroom.

I’ve also continued to post frequently to Twitter and facebook.  Twitter keeps me connected to a fairly large group of folks, most of whom I’ve never met in person, but many of whom I’ve developed friendships with.  It also provides me a window into several of my interests (including photography), as well as exposure to a broader world than I encounter in my normal daily walk. Facebook is similar, except nearly all of the people I’m connected to are people that I’ve met face-to-face, including a large number from my church family.  I intentionally limit my facebook friends to people I know — it’s a more intimate forum than Twitter for me.  It allows us to keep up with what’s happening in each others’ lives and keep more connected than we otherwise could.

To be honest, though, I just haven’t felt like writing. There’s been a lot going on that would have provided material for this blog. I’ve attended four funerals for my friends’ parents or spouses, and there are stories that go with each. I have several good friends who are struggling against long odds with cancer, and there are lessons in how they are dealing with this part of life. My visits with patients at M.D. Anderson provides plenty to share. I just haven’t wanted to process all of this through writing.

But I think that’s changing. For the past week or so, I’ve felt the pull to begin again — as much for me as for those who drop by and read.

Maybe there are seasons to write, and seasons to be silent?

When we have suffered a loss and as we move through the grieving that follows, we often express in words what we’ve lost.

Twitter Post by Karen Putz

I was reminded that sometimes how we describe our loss surprises others when I saw this Twitter post by Karen Putz (@deafmom) earlier this week.  Karen’s dad has esophageal cancer, and hasn’t really been able to eat normally for the last couple of months.  So in retrospect, his response to the doctor is right on, but it probably surprised everyone when he said it.

As we’re grieving a loss, we tend to express that loss in ways that are highly personal to us — in ways that truly describe what we miss dearly, and would like to have back.  It’s part of the longing for phase of grief.  Karen’s dad longs to be able to eat his wife’s cooking again — both because it’s good, and because that would mean that he’s dealt successfully with his cancer.

One of my favorite questions while visiting patients in the hospital has become, “What one thing are you praying for today?”

I ask that question for lots of reasons.  It helps me target my prayer with the person to pray specifically for what they want most that day.  There’s often a powerful connection between us as we join together in prayer with the words, “God, my prayer is _____ ‘s prayer.”  And it often provides an opportunity to talk about the real issue the person is struggling with that day.

Karen’s post reminded me of a recent visit.  When I first entered the room, most of my conversation was with the patient’s husband.  The patient was having some pain, and just wasn’t engaging.  But when I asked her if she’d like to pray, and specifically what her biggest request was, she jumped in and took over the conversation.  Her request was simple:  ”I want to be able to go back home and take care of my 101-year old mother, and help my sister get there so she can help.”  It represented both what she had lost, and what was important to her.  As we prayed together, she verbally reinforced my words with her “Amen’s” and “Yes, Lord’s.”

It was a special moment for all of us.  Her greatest desire had been heard and then expressed in prayer.

Karen’s post is one reason I’m active on Twitter — I’m always learning, and often being reminded of what’s important.  Asking good questions like Karen’s dad’s doctor did is important.

Thanks for the Twitter post, Karen.  And I am praying that your dad gets to eat your mom’s good cooking soon!

Once every week or two, I scan tweets from Twitter that contain the word “grieving.”  Mostly I’m just “listening.”  People tend to be more open about talking about their grief on Twitter on on their blogs than face to face.  Sometimes I’ll follow a link and discover someone who is writing about their grieving process.  It’s a good learning experience.

Today when I scanned the list of tweets, I was  struck by the variety of what people were grieving.

One guy was grieving the loss of his Mercedes.  He’d sold it.  Another person was grieving not having an iPhone.  Apparently he’d never had one, but wanted one.

In stark contrast, there were a number of people grieving the loss of a loved one.  One that caught my attention was a person who wrote about being half way through the grieving process:  they’d had the viewing and the funeral was the next day.  Of course we know that’s not half way.  In fact we never know how far along we are in the process.  It reminded me how when we’re inexperienced in grieving, we tend to focus on the formal ceremonies as the time of grief.  But also, many of us seem to expect people that are grieving to “get over it” soon after the funeral, which probably feeds the misunderstanding.

Finally, two points from this rambling post.

1. People need to talk about their grieving.  It’s often difficult to do so face to face, so many people do their processing on social media platforms like Twitter or a personal blog.
2. Not only do people need to talk about their grieving, they need people who will listen.  Who do you know that is grieving?  How can you give them a chance to talk about it while you just listen?

Tweet from Mary DeMuth

Sometimes you see a phrase, and it sticks in your mind.  And replays again and again.

“I feel full and empty all at once.”

Earlier Mary DeMuth had written on Twitter a post that explains this one.  She had finished her latest book, but at about the same time, her stepdad’s wife died.  Full, and empty.

Because I’d read the first tweet,  I understood the second.  And it started me thinking about times I’ve felt the plurality of emotions.

The ones I thought of were a little different.   So happy that my Granny Hughes was no longer trapped in her body devastated by Lou Gehrig’s disease, so sad because this once vibrant woman was gone.  So happy that my mom was in a new body, not one which had quit functioning because of liver cancer, but sad that she wasn’t here to talk to, to share life with.  And I’ve got more examples.

It’s fascinating that our hearts can hold such polar emotions together at the same time.

What can you add to the conversation that Mary started in my mind?  I bet you have some examples from your own life, times when you’ve felt full and empty all at once.

And you’ll also want to check out Mary DeMuth’s website as well!

This is post no. 100 for Difficult Seasons.

It probably should have been a “heavy” post, rather than just a reflection on reaching a small milestone, but it’s not.  Partly that’s because we’re on a short trip as you read this, visiting my wife’s mom.  Partly it’s because it’s good just to pause and evaluate what’s happened since I started this blog project a little over four months ago.

• I’ve met a lot of good people who have read the blog and talked about their difficult seasons and/or given me encouraging words.
• I’ve met more good folks while trying to increase readership using Twitter and facebook and using Google alerts to find other people who are writing about the same subjects.
• I’ve been able to put down in writing some of the stuff that’s been floating around in my head for several years by adopting a disciplined approach to blogging.  That includes putting together two e books that otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten to.
• I’ve been able to process through writing some of the things that are part of my own difficult seasons, and that are part of the difficult seasons that I share with others as a lay chaplain and a shepherding elder in a local church.

So, what about the next 100 posts?  My goal is to continue writing the series of posts on Caregiving and to collect the material into a book.  Along the way, I’ll write posts on other topics as well, depending on what I’m experiencing at the time.  As in everything, we’ll see where God takes it.

Thanks for reading and interacting.  We don’t travel our journeys through life alone.  Thanks for being a sojourner.