Last Saturday morning when I was making pancakes, Lizzy bounded into the kitchen.
"Oh Mummy, I had the best dream!"
I asked her what her dream was about, but all that she would tell me was that it had been about her dad. I am so glad that she has happy memories.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I Want This to Be a Happy House.
About a month ago we moved into our new house. Ahh...we are finally settled. After living in five different houses over the past two years, we are finally able to feel comfortable and create some happy memories. Tonight as we chatted before he went to bed, Matt said, "Mom, I don't want anything sad to happen in this house. I want it to be a happy house."
While our home in Marland held many good memories, they seem to be overshaddowed by difficult and sad ones. My children watched their dad slowly lose his ability to communicate, reason and think logically. They saw him lose his ability to read, walk, feed and dress himself. They saw him stuggling to breathe on his last day of life. Their home went from a safe haven to the place where their father died.
Like Matt, I want this new house to be a happy house. One where my children can be free from worry and anxiety. I am praying for wisdom to know how I can create a place where they can regain the feeling of security and happiness.
While our home in Marland held many good memories, they seem to be overshaddowed by difficult and sad ones. My children watched their dad slowly lose his ability to communicate, reason and think logically. They saw him lose his ability to read, walk, feed and dress himself. They saw him stuggling to breathe on his last day of life. Their home went from a safe haven to the place where their father died.
Like Matt, I want this new house to be a happy house. One where my children can be free from worry and anxiety. I am praying for wisdom to know how I can create a place where they can regain the feeling of security and happiness.
If I were God...
About a month before my husband's death, I told my children that he was going to die. He didn't want me to. He was convinced that he was not going to die. He felt certain that God was going to heal him, but I knew that he was going to die. The children needed to be prepared.
It was late one evening, the kids were in their PJ's and had just brushed their teeth. I had them sit down in the hallway right by the bathroom. I told them that their daddy was very sick, and he wasn't going to get better. He was going to die.
Their response was typical in that each child responded differently.
My eldest was quiet.
My daughter was upset, angry, and verbal.
My youngest didn't understand.
Through her tears Lizzy said, "What have we been praying for! All this praying has been a waste!" I explained that God doesn't always answer the way we want him to. She responded, "If I were God, I would heal daddy!" I held her as she cried and stuggled to know how to explain to my child that God's ways aren't our ways? "Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time." O. Chambers
My three year old son was completely confussed. He began to be silly and laugh. This angered Lizzy and she yelled at him.
"Ben, you shouldn't laugh! Daddy is dying!"
I explained to Liz that Ben was too little to understand. To this Ben put his hands on his hips and said,
"Yeah, Lizzy, I too little." :-) This made us all laugh.
I was surprised that the severity of my husband's illness was a surprise to my children. I assumed that they recognized that he was close to death. They had not. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor five years prior to his death. He had been sick almost all of their lives. For them it was normal for a dad to not be able to drive a car. It was normal that he coudn't read them a book or speak in complete sentences. Seizures, doctor's appointments, and medication were all a normal part of their lives. When I told them that he was going to die, Lizzy cried and said, "I wish you hadn't told me. I didn't know!"
David didn't want the children to know that he was dying. We kept it from them for almost five years. As he came closer to death, I knew that they needed to be told that he was dying. Children need to be told. A year prior to my husband's death, my friend's husband died from stomach cancer. Their three young children were not told that their dad was very ill. He, like my husband, did not want his children to know. He too believed that he would be healed. When my friend told her children that their dad died, one of her boys said, "Why didn't you tell us that he was that sick?" They were angry. I didn't want that for my children.
It is difficult, but children need to know. Not knowing doesn't make it better.
It was late one evening, the kids were in their PJ's and had just brushed their teeth. I had them sit down in the hallway right by the bathroom. I told them that their daddy was very sick, and he wasn't going to get better. He was going to die.
Their response was typical in that each child responded differently.
My eldest was quiet.
My daughter was upset, angry, and verbal.
My youngest didn't understand.
Through her tears Lizzy said, "What have we been praying for! All this praying has been a waste!" I explained that God doesn't always answer the way we want him to. She responded, "If I were God, I would heal daddy!" I held her as she cried and stuggled to know how to explain to my child that God's ways aren't our ways? "Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time." O. Chambers
My three year old son was completely confussed. He began to be silly and laugh. This angered Lizzy and she yelled at him.
"Ben, you shouldn't laugh! Daddy is dying!"
I explained to Liz that Ben was too little to understand. To this Ben put his hands on his hips and said,
"Yeah, Lizzy, I too little." :-) This made us all laugh.
I was surprised that the severity of my husband's illness was a surprise to my children. I assumed that they recognized that he was close to death. They had not. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor five years prior to his death. He had been sick almost all of their lives. For them it was normal for a dad to not be able to drive a car. It was normal that he coudn't read them a book or speak in complete sentences. Seizures, doctor's appointments, and medication were all a normal part of their lives. When I told them that he was going to die, Lizzy cried and said, "I wish you hadn't told me. I didn't know!"
David didn't want the children to know that he was dying. We kept it from them for almost five years. As he came closer to death, I knew that they needed to be told that he was dying. Children need to be told. A year prior to my husband's death, my friend's husband died from stomach cancer. Their three young children were not told that their dad was very ill. He, like my husband, did not want his children to know. He too believed that he would be healed. When my friend told her children that their dad died, one of her boys said, "Why didn't you tell us that he was that sick?" They were angry. I didn't want that for my children.
It is difficult, but children need to know. Not knowing doesn't make it better.
Ice Cream from NASA
A dear family friend sent a care package to my children from one of her many business trips. Contained in her package were postcards, a newsy letter about her trip, a book, and three packages of freeze dried astronaut chocolate chip ice cream from NASA. As I opened the ice cream for my five year old, I told him that it was from NASA where his daddy used to work. Immediatly Ben looked at me and said, "Is he still dead?"
"Yes, daddy is still dead," I answered. Before I could elaborate on why dead people stay dead, Ben was happily eating his icecream talking about something else.
This is how young children learn to accept death. It is a slow process with all learning done in quick spirts.
"Yes, daddy is still dead," I answered. Before I could elaborate on why dead people stay dead, Ben was happily eating his icecream talking about something else.
This is how young children learn to accept death. It is a slow process with all learning done in quick spirts.
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