Jennifer's Writings

Garden Creation

I feel the capacity to care is the thing which gives life its deepest significance."

—Pablo Casals (1876-1973), cellist, conductor

This week my neighbor invited us to plant a memory garden by the park in our neighborhood named after Shawn.  We made it a project with our children.  They were delighted to dig dirt and use the big watering cans.  They also enjoyed watering themselves.

While we were planting, Jordan said, “We’re making a garden for my daddy and he’ll see it from heaven.”

When we finished the kids posed for a photo and Jordan added, “We can’t see my daddy in heaven but he can come into my heart.  My daddy is always in my heart.”

Our garden creation was one of the best ways to spend an afternoon.  And it was all started by a very caring friend.

Follow Hard After You

Here is the test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: if you’re alive, it isn’t. -Richard Bach

A friend wrote to me this week with many thoughtful words as it marked what “would have been” or “was” or "should have been" or “is” or however I want to word it—my wedding  anniversary with Shawn. 

In her email, she said, “Seeing firsthand the depth of the love you feel and the Grand Canyon of loss you’ve experienced when it comes to Shawn is one of the few huge things in my life that has really taught me about love.”

I keep praying that God will use me.  Some days this takes mighty convincing.  I have a hand written note taped to my sun-visor in the car that says, “See You, Hear You, Know You, Follow hard after You.” 

I think this is what we are most asked to do in this life—find where God is and walk there.  Easier to write than to walk. 

Makes me think of the quote by e.e. cummings, “It takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are.”

Believe in Memory

“We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same.” -Carlos Castaneda (1925-1998), author, philosopher

I heard this week that our memories are composed of the last time we actually remembered a special event, person, or idea.  We aren’t recalling the original experience, instead we build upon it.  This may explain why our memories can change or be enhanced.  It also introduces the idea that each memory is a new memory of some sort, allowing each time we remember to be fresh and alive.  Memories than become our story.  And the story continues to evolve and grow and bring new light. 

I find that my memories add some of the sweetest pieces to healing.  Sharing these memories with my children build the story of their dad, a necessity for my heart along with theirs, as his absence creates such a void in our lives.  I believe God uses our memory bank to build healing inside of us.

"I am the LORD, who heals you" (Exodus 15:26).

I believe in my memories.  Now I ask, can I believe in my life?

Something New

“Strive to be first: first to nod, first to smile, first to compliment, and first to forgive.” —Anonymous

This week I went to the salon and did something new to my hair.  It feels different and fun and as my kids would say fancy.  Who can’t use a little fancy in their life?  A compliment is even better.  In fact, I’m smiling more this week.  Interesting. One more truth—it feels good to be recognized.  And I recognize that responding to the life in front of me is a good thing, too.

My Favorite Ages

I love the ages three and four. 

Exploring.  Conversing.  Recalling.  Questioning.  Discovering.  Laughing.  Innocently loving.

Tonight on the way home from church we stopped by the cemetery to light a candle for Shawn.  Jordan walked up to his dad's grave and said, "I love you, Dad.  Thanks for loving us, Dad" and blew a kiss at the cross that stands behind the marker.

Back in the car, Jordan asked me, “Mom, how did I get my name?”

“Your dad and I gave you your name,” I told him.

“How did you and dad give me my name?” he asked.  “Did you put it in my throat?  And then I opened my mouth and said to you, ‘I’m Jordan!’”

Amused, I nodded as if to say that could be a possibility.

“Or was it on a rock?” he continued.  “Or did you write my name on a paper?  Was it on a note?  You wrote it down and I ate it?  And then I told you, ‘I’m Jordan!’”

This time I laughed a little out loud.

“What did you want your name to be?” Jordan asked me.

“Jennifer,” I said. 

That seemed enough to satisfy him to start a new topic.

“Hey, Mom!  I have a sliver in my thumb from the park.  Is it like the sliver in the moon?” he asked.  He loves to figure out words.

I looked down to see the red fuel light taunting me from the dashboard.  One more chore before the night was done.  I took the nearest exit, the one right before our turn for home and pulled up to the far left pump.  Jordan asked me not to open my door right away as he wanted to finish talking.  Elated that I respected his wish, he told me, “Good job, Mom!  You’re a good listener!”

His mind is intricate and thoughtful.  He is observant—a thinker.  Like this afternoon when he asked if I would make his favorite lunch, ska-betty (spaghetti).  I think this is the only word I’ve heard him mispronounce.  He then told me, “if you want to say ska-betty in Spanish it’s called, ska-betta.” 

Sign this clever child up to work for the United Nations.

A Good Day

I love a good day. 

The kind that has something that went right inside of it.  The kind of day where I am smiling and it isn’t forced or coerced or even much of an effort.  I love the type of day where my children hug me and I am glad to be their mom.  A day where I make time to collect my thoughts, myself, my dirty laundry, my mail—or any of the above.

Most of all I love a day like today where I am a bit satisfied, fulfilled, relaxed.  One where the constant hurt isn’t nagging me like a heavy headache.  Where loss is in the back of my mind and calm is in the front.  A calming day is a good day.