Grief That Hurts, Grace That Heals

Three years ago this morning, I was awakened by a phone call at 6:45am. A mere 18 hours later, my Mom - my best friend, my greatest encourager, and one of the loveliest creatures to ever grace this earth - was gone.

My mother had been at Seton Northwest Hospital for 8 days, following an undetermined neurological event that had left her disoriented, confused, and struggling to speak. Since arriving on Monday, September 6th, she had been showing signs of improvement during her first few days. But by the weekend, she was beginning to show slight signs of decline.

The phone call that came on Tuesday, September 14th at 6:45am came from an ICU nurse named Julie. Her voice was calm but urgent. Mom's blood pressure had dropped significantly. "Julie, tell me," I said, "Do I need to come there right now?" "Well," she said, "We've had some rain and the streets are slick, so please be careful, but yes...you need to come here right now".

The next 18 hours would be a blur of harrowing events. Pulmonary embolism, cardiac arrest, Code Blue, CPR, chest compressions, seizures, more drops in blood pressure, kidneys failing, no neurological activity, sobbing siblings, shocked friends, discussions about Mom's end-of-life wishes, doctors using words like "grave" and "hopeless". And worst of all, standing at the bedside of my paralyzed father, and telling him that his adored wife and best friend had passed away.

Sometimes, when this anniversary is far off, I wonder why it is so difficult. My mother's absence hurts every day. Why, I sometimes wonder, does it seem to hurt more on this day? But then when the actual day arrives, I wonder no more. Because there is re-living of the events of the day, almost as if someone has put you in a "Back To The Future" DeLorean and sent you back in time to that very day. Or tied you to a chair and forced you to watch a video of the unfolding of the day's events. (The fact that I have a freakishly sharp memory does not help matters). It all becomes, once again, very vivid. Hauntingly vivid. And it's hard and it's sad.

But what also comes back are the glimpses of grace that colored those days, and the many days and weeks and months that followed. I would be remiss - nay, dishonest - if I were to mention the terrible events of September 14th and 15th, 2004, and not mention the love, support, generosity, selflessness and magnanimity that was so lavishly bestowed upon us during those days and the days that followed. An ICU waiting room FILLED with friends, the provision of food and drinks, the assurance of prayer, the gentle reminders of God's promises and provision, phone calls, emails, cards, flowers. Every face I looked into that day and in the days that came after seemed to be saying to me, "You are not going to walk through one minute of this alone."

And I could hear my God saying the same thing.

"My child, you are not going to walk through one minute of this alone."

And as shattered and grieved as I was, I knew it was true. And it was. And it still is.

Those of you who have known me for a while have heard me speak and/or write about this before. But it's something that I honestly cannot speak or write about enough. Indeed, I will probably never stop speaking or writing about it. Because as much as the dreadful events of those days still hurt and still grieve me, the love and grace that was showered upon me those days still heals and restores me. I still hurt, but I still heal.

And you know what? I could not ask for more. So thank you Jesus, and thank you ALL for "faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms." (I Peter 4:10).

There will be a memoriam in the paper tomorrow for my Mom. For those of you who may not see the local paper here in Austin, here is what it will say:

Kindness, selflessness, humor, compassion, enthusiasm, intelligence, inexhaustibility, poise, warmth, vigor, courage, generosity, devotion, integrity, grace, hospitality, dignity, loyalty, and above all, love. You were the very embodiment of all of these qualities, and we strive every day of our lives to live up to your example. What a legacy you left for us all! You are forever loved and tremendously missed. Love, Daddy, Julie, Barbie, Chandler, Darby, Chris, Shelby, Brookie, Tom, Rachel, Christopher, Krissy, Alan, Marky, Christy, Camden, Erin, and Ivan

I'll leave you with a photo of my dear Mom.

Howling!

Ya'll!

Dannielynn Birkhead, the daughter of the late Anna Nicole Smith, who is now being raised by her father Larry Birkhead, turned 1 over the weekend. Her father apparently threw her a big princess-themed birthday bash in Kentucky. I read an article about this party yesterday, and as I did, I was touched by the possibility that this little girl - whose life began so dramatically and with such tragedy and uncertainty - may just have a shot at something of a normal life.

But then I got to the picture.

Check out the three-stories-tall balloon cake that they rented for the party! HAAAAA!

Ya'll, this thing is huge! Look at how it dwarfs the giant Hummer limousine! Look at the people standing under it who look like bugs about to be squashed by cakeus gigantus! I am wondering if they needed to get permission from air traffic control to put this thing up! I am also concerned about its slighty tilted and seemingly tenuous state. If this thing went flying into the trees, it could wipe out an entire species!

Hysterical!

A Very Good Reminder

The other day, my sister and her 4-year old son Christopher went to the mall together, as they often do. Chris always likes to be dressed up as one of his favorite characters, and this day was no exception. Indeed, that Thursday afternoon found my darling nephew bounding through the mall in full Batman regalia! So cute!

Brooke called to tell me that her little Caped Crusader was attracting quite a bit of attention as he played on the mall's playscape, and that she wished so badly that I could be there to see it. And although I couldn't, I could see it all in my mind's eye. My sweet Chris in his mask and his cape, no doubt outwittting The Joker, vanquishing the Penguin, and conquering the Riddler in the wonderful imaginations of his mind. Here's a pic of our little hero:

After a few minutes, Brooke noticed that a woman near her was watching Chris closely, and that she had big tears welling up in her eyes. Soon, she was actually crying. Concerned, Brooke asked her if she was ok. The woman replied, "My Batman joined the Army yesterday."

Gulp.

Choke.

No words.

Immediate tears.

Eventually, Brooke did find words and began a conversation with the woman, who explained that her son - a former 4-year old Batman himself - was now a grown man of 18 who had only the day before enlisted in the United States Army. Brooke thanked the woman, praised her for raising such a brave son, and asked her to thank him for his service. They parted with a hug, and Brooke called me shortly thereafter to relate the entire event to me. She could not tell me the story without crying, and I could not hear it without crying.

Brooke and I come from a deeply patriotic family, one in which the U.S. Military has always been highly praised, valued, and admired. Our father and our brother Alan are military history enthusiasts, so we have heard countless tales of soldiers' heroism, selflessness, and integrity, both on and off the battlefield. Additionally, one of our mother's best friends from high school was a POW in Vietnam for several years, and Mom shared tales of his ordeal throughout our childhood. We have always had an enormous appreciation for the men and women of this nation who have served, sacrificed, and suffered with such valor.

In my mind, I continually acknowledge that every single man and woman who make up our Armed Forces is someone's son or someone's daughter. But there was something deeply profound about the encounter that Brooke shared with me. It was so much more visceral. More raw. More real. After all, we are a nation at war, and a mother whose son just joined the Army is a mother whose son will soon face combat. This truth overwhelmed and humbled us both.

Please do not read anything political into my comments. I am as big a political junkie as anyone, but to politicize what I am saying here would be to bastardize what I am saying here. Not everything is about our politics, but everything is about our humanity.

As such, I fall to my knees and I thank God for the brave hearts of the men and women in our military. I thank God for their sense of duty, their guts, and their courage. It's been said that it is hard to find heroes these days, but when I think of these soldiers, I realize that one does not have to look far at all. I pray not only for them, but for their families - for all of the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, children, wives, and husbands who watch those they love depart from them, travel to foreign lands, and risk their very lives for the freedom and safety of others.

I am so thankful for the reminder that this woman at the mall provided for my sister and me, and I pray that its impact would stay with me forever.

Cracking UP! Have Ya'll Seen This Show?

Ok ya'll, I am howling.

My brother Mark and his son - my much-adored nephew Camden - were over at Dad's and my house the other evening. We had gathered in the living room where we were having some dinner and watching TV. I saw my brother fiddling with the remote control, and the next thing I knew, we were watching a show on Nick Jr. called "Wonder Pets".

I'll say here that my knowledge of kids' shows is pretty darn good, despite the fact that I am 38-years old, single, and childless. Due to my close involvement with my nieces and nephews over the course of the last 13 years, I have a pretty thorough knowledge of everything from The Wiggles to Barney, from Dora to Elmo, from Curious George to Scooby-Doo, and just about everything in between.

But "The Wonder Pets" was new to me.

I asked my brother what the show was about. He explained that it was about a group of animals who are pets in an elementary classroom by day, and animal rescuers by night. The premise alone made me chuckle. Classroom pets leading a double life! Ha! Come on! I love it! I began to watch the show, and it wasn't long before I was completely cracking up.

The three characters are are a turtle, a guinea pig, and a duckling, and are named, respectively, Turtle Tuck, Linny Guinea Pig, and Ming-Ming Duckling. They rescue animals who are trapped in trees, chimneys, sea plants, etc. And although they themselves are small animals, they rescue everything from elephants to cows, from dolphins to kangaroos. I read online somewhere that they once saved a chimp who was trapped in outer space! Ha! Dying!

Adding to the hilarity here are several things. First, they receive the calls to come rescue an animal on a tin-can phone that is in the classroom. A tin can with a string attached to it. Second, the characters sing throughout the entire episode in the style of opera. Yes, OPERA. There is a full orchestra in the background throughout the entire show. Third, the duckling pronounces his R's as W's, and frequently proclaims, "This is sewious!"

But what kills me the most here are the outfits these animals wear. The turtle wears blue sneakers (yep), a red cape, and a red and white hat that closely resembles the hat that Mary throws in the air in the opening credits of The Mary Tyler Moore Show. The guinea pig wears a blue cape and a baseball cap. The duckling wears a green cape and, most hilariously, a WWI-era bomber's cap. See picture below.

The bomber's cap slays me!

Anyway, I just find the whole thing to be so nutty and so adorable. On a more serious note, there are wonderful messages in each episode, the most consistent of which is the importance of teamwork.

I wonder how many of you out there who are parents, grandparents, or aunts/uncles to little ones have stumbled upon this show? Am I overstating it when I say that this show is altogether riotous and wonderful? Let me hear from you!

Ok Ya'll, This Is Just Wrong

Check out this picture:

I took this picture in a Christmas store while shopping in Estes Park. These are Star Wars characters dressed up in Christmas garb. People, this is one of my pet peeves. I don't like classic characters dressed up in Christmas garb. If you click on this picture, you can see that C-3PO is not happy about any of this. Look at his face. (And please don't ask me which one is C-3PO, or I'll have to act like the Star Wars snob that I am and say something like, "I'm gonna pretend like you didn't ask me that").

By the same token, I don't like Santa dressed in non-Christmas garb. I don't like seeing Santa dressed as a fisherman:

I don't like seeing Santa dressed as a beach bum:

And I don't like seeing Santa dressed as an easy rider:

Please keep the red suit on Santa and off of the cast of Star Wars.

Thank you and good-night.

GMA Festival - Going Home

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go..."

It was time to go home.

I was sad to be leaving a place that had given me SO much in just six days, but I was eager to get home, see my friends and family, and report on the week's adventures. As I walked outside, this is the view that I was greeted with:

Extraordinary, huh?

I made my way down to the administration building, where I planned to spend the morning taking in this view, having a little caffeine, and awaiting the shuttle that would take me to the Denver airport. In a delightful turn of events, just about everyone that I had become friends with in the course of the week was hanging out at the admin building as well, so we all had a good chance to spend our last hours together, take some pics together, and say our good-byes.

All went well on the shuttle ride back to the airport, and I made yet another new friend during the trip. We chatted the whole way, and it made the time go by quickly. So many nice people.

While in the air, this is the beauty that I beheld outside my window:

Awesome.

And while descending into Austin, this is the sight that welcomed me home:

I wasn't sure how much more beauty my heart could take. Every now and then, I have those moments in my life where my heart is so full of thanksgiving, that I feel I will never be able to fully express it. This was one of those moments. At these times, I generally conclude that the best way to express my gratitude is to live my life as God would want me to - to boldly live out my faith, to passionately love people, and to relentlessly try to do better.

My mind turned to one of my favorite songs by the late singer Keith Green:

Make my life a prayer to you,

I want to do what You want me to,

No empty words and no white lies,

No token prayers, no compromise.

Lord, may it be so!

GMA Festival - Friday, Day Six

Well, this was my last full day at the festival, and I promised myself that, in addition to attending classes, I would accomplish two exceedingly important tasks: 1) get out and enjoy the remarkable scenery and 2) SHOP. While coming into Estes, I had noticed an abundance of ADORABLE shops in the downtown area, and vowed that I would try to find some time during the week to get over there and engage in some retail therapy. And that I did! But more on that in a moment. First, I had some schoolin' to do!

My first class of the morning was called "Writing From The Artist Perspective", and was led by a phenomenal singer-songwriter named Mark Harris. Christian music fans will recognize him as the lead singer of the band 4Him, and will recognize tunes he's written or co-written such as "Basics of Life", "For Future Generations", and "Strange Way To Save The World". He shared wonderful insights about the work of songwriting, and most significantly, the importance of collaboration. This was a good message for me - and one that was really emphasized by several artists throughout the week - because I have typically not done much collaborating in my songwriting.

But the FUNNIEST part of the whole session was when he was asked who some of his earliest influences were and what concerts he had seen growing up. He mentioned a number of names, and then said, "I'm a little embarassed to admit this, but I did see Olivia Newton-John in concert once."

WHAT? Embarassed to have seen ONJ in concert? I felt my blood boil a little. Then someone asked, "Were you the one person who actually saw the movie Xanadu?" And Mark said, "Well, no...by then I had come to realize that her music was cheesy." WHOA! Fightin' words! Then he said, "Wait, scratch that. That's not nice. I should say, I just wasn't into her music anymore."

But it was too late. The damage to the good name of ONJ had been done, and it was my job - nay, my moral obligation - to set the record straight. I approached Mark after the class, introduced myself, and offered him my sincere thanks for sharing his time and wisdom. But then I said, "However, Mark, I do have a bone to pick with you." He looked surprised at first, but I think he could tell by the smirk on my face that I was just going to rib him a little bit. About what, I'm sure he did not know.

He said, "Uh-oh, what did I do?" And I said, "Well, Mark, as a lifelong member of the Olivia Newton-John Fan Club..." and straight away, he started to laugh and said, "Oh boy I knew I'd get in trouble for that comment!" I then went on to explain to him that ONJ still has a very loyal fan base, has recorded several records as an independent artist, writes her own songs now, and does about 50 live shows a year. Poor guy! He listened patiently to my ramblings, but must have been thinking "why do I get all the geeks?" Ha, ha! Actually, he was real sweet about the whole thing, and we ended up having this good conversation about how artists grow with time and age and circumstance. Too funny...what were the chances of anyone saying anything about ONJ at this festival?

My next class was entitled "The Story Behind The Songs". It was led by a very successful Christian artist named Joy Williams and a songwriter named Ben Glover. I knew only little about Joy and nothing about Ben, but this class ended up being quite possibly one of the most meaningful that I attended all week.

I was not familiar with much of Joy's music, and quite frankly, she had been marketed in a way that, I felt, targeted pre-teen and teen audiences. On her album covers, she looked young and blonde and perky, and I felt like she was probably making simple pop music aimed at the tweenie crowd. Well, I could not have been more wrong. In the course of this class, I came to learn that Joy was a very gifted and prolific singer and songwriter. Additionally, she was an artist of incredible depth and wisdom. She had a wonderful earthy, artsy vibe to her, coupled with a clear devotion to her faith and her craft. Ben Glover, one of her co-writers (and a TOTAL punkin', by the way), was much the same way, and they freely shared stories from the songwriting trenches. Together and separately, they write dozens of songs a year, and they took us through the whole process of what is involved in trying to get those songs picked up. Truly inavluable stuff.

Following the session, I had a chance to meet Joy, and we had a nice little chat. Here we are below. Isn't her scarf the bomb?

By the way, about two hours later, as I was walking across the grounds, I saw Joy again, from a distance. I hollared out, "Hi Joy!" and she replied, "Hi Kristin!" And I was like, "I cannot believe you remembered my name." But that's the thing about many of these Christian artists, and I experienced it with every single one of them that I met during GMA. They are the real deal, and they really live out their faith in kindness and graciousness. The records don't lie. They are as good as they seem.

I attended one more Tom Jackson class and then we had a two-hour break for FREE TIME! Time to see God's country and hit the shops! I had been told that it was a mile walk to a lodge where I could pick up a shuttle that would take me into the shopping district. I'd get to walk through the mountains for a mile and then be driven to the shops. Brilliant! So off I went, onto Hwy 66, surrounded by the wondrous mountains, the Big Thompson River, and one of the bluest, sunniest skies that had ever smiled on me. (I am embarassed to tell you that I thought I was on the infamous Route 66, but later found out that the historic road does not even run through Colorado. Shame on me). Nonetheless, it was a GLORIOUS walk.

The shuttle delivered me smack dab into the middle of the shopping district and I hit as many shops as I could in the 90 minutes I had before having to pick up the shuttle back to the Y. There were lots of t-shirt and souvenir-type shops, but also lots of fun, unique gift shops, with names like "Blue Skies & Dragonflies". CUTE! That's what I love. I didn't really even buy much - just a couple of knick-knacks - but it was so stinkin' fun. Below are pictures of the mountains and rivers that surrounded me as I shopped. You simply can't beat this!

When I returned to the Y, it was time for the evening concert, in which we would get to see ALL of the finalists perform in the Vocal and Instrumental Competitions! I couldn't wait! There were about 20 acts, and I'm tellin' ya, I literally got to see some of the finest talent in all the land. Man, it just made me want to get better. The big winner of the night was a gal named Rachael Hurt, who completely JAMMED on a song she had written. Dude, she brought the house down and won several major awards. I met and congratulated her, and told her, "Girl, you better get used to all of this adulation and success, cuz you are goin' far!"

As I walked back to my room to turn in for the night, I stumbled upon a friend named Karen that I had met in the course of the week. Knowing I would probably not see her until next year's festival, we hugged good-bye, and she gave her standard adieu - as she had many times throughout the week - which was, "Enjoy God's blessings."

"Oh man," I thought, "You can count on it."