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When an Extrovert Goes Quiet: Finding Myself after Loss

May 9, 2013 By

cocoons

I’m a slightly shy, somewhat awkward extrovert. By shy, I mean that I really have to psyche myself up to walk into a room full of strangers or into a group of people I haven’t met before. (I’ve never been so nervous as the day I arrived at the Miami airport to meet up with the World Vision Bolivia Bloggers team!) By awkward extrovert, I mean that I gain energy from being around people but I’m not good with small talk and forget names as quickly as I hear them. I remember my mom saying once that when I was growing up, she would forget that I was shy until I was confronted with a brand new situation, and then my hesitation took her by surprise. [Read more...]

Filed Under: Depression, Elli, Grief 15 Comments

Ain’t No Fortunate One

April 30, 2013 By

Joy's daughter

As soon as the band began rocking out, that grin flashed across her face like lightning.

Some folks are born to wave the flag,
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.
And when the band plays “Hail to the chief”,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you.

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one.

Elli’s papaw introduced her to Creedence Clearwater Revival when she was around age 7. She was always just like the gusto and grit of those songs and I think that’s why she loved them. As soon as the drummer began beating out the rhythm, ecstatic messages fired through her scrambled neurons and nerves to every muscle in her body, clenching and releasing and contracting again. Her body didn’t cooperate with her, but it was still strong as an ox, shooting out straight as a board, then collapsing limp. She kicked and stomped her legs, clutched her fingers into her chest, and shook her head as she squealed with delight.

I watched her feet as she jerked in her wheelchair. Sometimes her feet would slip off the end of the chair’s footrest and she’d slam her heels against the end. I didn’t want her to bruise or blister her ankles in her enthusiasm, even though pain didn’t faze her the way it did her siblings.

Read the rest at A Deeper Story. 

Filed Under: Elli, Grief, Parenting 1 Comment

Mother of a Teen… Sort Of

February 26, 2013 By

Thirteen years ago today:

elli's birth day

Scott and newborn Elli

Five years ago:

 

Happy thirteenth birthday, Elli. 

It’s weird to think I could be the mother of a teen today. On the one hand, I’m grateful that Elli didn’t have to endure puberty in a body that didn’t cooperate with her. I’m relieved that we didn’t have to put her on contraceptives to keep her from bleeding each month. I am glad that she didn’t have to go through the surgeries to keep her hips and legs flexible. It’s a good thing she didn’t have that fifth open-heart surgery, the one the doctors weren’t sure she would survive.  I’m also thankful that I don’t have to worry about someone taking advantage of her when I’m not around to protect her.

But I wish she was here anyway. I would have done all that for her and with her. And it would have been scary and difficult, frustrating and irritating. It’s such a strange thing to bury a child.  I wouldn’t be the same person today that I am now if she were still with us. None of us would be. But wishing won’t change it.

These things are: We are who we are today because Elli is gone, and we miss her.  

(Scott wrote a little bit today, too.)

Filed Under: Elli, Grief
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