red balloons

So last week I shared our wedding story, which was so fun to look back on and remember. As I write this post, I am quietly recovering from a night out in the French Quarter- school is out for summer and I’m delivering Kylie for a long-awaited visit with Todd’s family. Hayley joined us and I was able to treat her to her first completely legal trip to Pat O’Brien’s in the Quarter, since she turned 21 last fall. Before we hit up the hurricanes there, we visited Todd’s favorite place to eat- The Gumbo Shop (if you ever come to visit, this place is a MUST). The entrance to the restaurant is only half a block from Le Petite Theatre and Tableau and so many wonderful memories came flooding back. 

But in all honesty, it’s been a heavy week. I think it’s been a heavy week for everyone. As a mom of an elementary school aged child, it’s hard to even put into words how I felt when I saw the news of the latest school shooting (please know I’m not going to get into the politics of it). As I dropped Mason off every morning this week, the kids who were out in the car line opening doors just seemed that much more precious- as well as completely out of control in the way that kids can be during that final week of school (it happened to be a line of all boys and as a #boymom I had to smile every morning as I saw them run back to each other to continue their shoving and conversation in between opening doors for cars). 

Because there are really no words to try and help make sense of what happened, I’m going to use my coping skills and my life motto scripture from last week’s post:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things. (Philippians 4:8)

I’m going to focus on what is true, what is lovely, what is excellent and praiseworthy- how my people came together and got me through that initial stage of grief, immediately following Todd’s death. While I am not claiming to be an expert in grief and I definitely do not feel like I’m in a place where I can give advice across the board for every situation (truly- we are still a mess most days- I read somewhere that the second year after a loss is harder than the first and I was really praying that was not true, but for me this has hit 100%. We are no longer dealing with the thoughts of just “If I can make it through this hard day, it’ll be good” and now dealing with “Augh- this hard day is here again and it’s still hard and he’s never coming back and this day will always be hard”), maybe some of these ideas can spark something for you and how you might be able to support someone else when they are plunged into their own season of darkness. 

In 2019, I was asked to give my testimony in front of a group of about 100 women. The first question they asked me to answer was “What is one word you would use to describe your current season of life?” That question has resonated with me since and helps me focus when life gets overwhelming. As I think back on the nightmare that has been my life this past year, there are so many words I could use (remember how I lost those words for a while? I do think they are ALL coming back- the good and the bad). Ultimately, I think the word I might choose would be “soft.” I know that doesn’t make much sense and it’s taken me a lot of reflection and thought to land there, but I believe it is the best description and I hope that others are able to understand the experience- although I would not wish for anyone to have to live through it. 

I wrote earlier about my love of all things neutral and sparkly. Add to that list all things soft and fluffy and feathery. In February, I helped Mason make his final Valentine’s box for elementary school. We made his box on laundry day, and as I finished off a bucket of Tide pods, we decided to peel off the labels and draw some lines in Sharpie to make it look like a basketball. We used lacrosse stick tape to add a dollar-store basketball hoop on the top and called it a day. Not my best work, but he was happy and it collected a lot of candy so it served its purpose. The next day, a friend sent me a picture of the most lovely Valentine’s box that was brought in by a student in one of her friend’s classrooms. It was a box turned into a pink flamingo and sprouting soft, pink feathers all over the place. I am still thinking about it a week later and would love nothing more than to make it for myself to place on my desk, just to make me smile (here we are months after I wrote this, and I’m still thinking about the flamingo feathers…). 

In the days and weeks following Todd’s death, this verse played over and over in my head: He will cover you with His feathers and under His wings you will find refuge (Psalm 91:4)

When I think of His wings, my mind immediately moves to angel’s wings and I imagine large, white, feathery, soft and sparkly wings. It gives me a goal for my life- I love all things sparkly and soft in this world- I want to have my own large set of sparkly and soft wings in my next (eternal) life too.

It also brings me back to a time when I stepped in to help with my first big event at my church. I was in charge of decorations for an Advent by Candlelight event- decorating the church for a special evening for the women of the church to take time out at the beginning of the advent season to put our focus on what advent is really about- hope, faith, joy, and peace. We chose an angel theme for the year, and the decorations were easy to choose from there. As a newly stay-at-home mom, I was determined that all the decorations would be Pinterest winners. For table number holders, I made small angels out of wire. These were nothing spectacular. This was a throw-away decoration that I spent time creating each night after I had kids in bed and didn’t think much more about. Until, years later, on our first Christmas together, I opened a box of Christmas tree decorations from Todd’s house and one of the pieces they chose to keep from Christine’s extensive collection of Christmas decor was the angel that I had made and had likely been on the table that she hosted that year at the church. It reminded me that Todd and the girls, and by extension me when I entered their lives, had an angel in heaven watching over them each day, and of the incredible connection that continues to weave through our lives. 

And that angel connection extended to my world immediately following Todd’s death. As people in my world, whether I had spoken to them recently or not, provided encouraging words, an offer of support or even a hug (in the post-COVID world!) I realized that this was not a season of time that I would ever experience again (please Lord) and I tried to be fully in each moment- even in those excruciating moments where the reality of what had happened set in. 

During those first few days, I felt heavy, like gravity was stronger than normal and it was not my friend. There were many moments where the air felt thicker and it took more effort for me to physically move. I was moving in slow motion and even in those days when more people dropped in and wanted to speak with me than ever before in my whole life up to that point, I found myself staring into space and trying my best to focus my mind on what was happening right in front of me. None of these sensations are anything I would ever want to feel again.

But the side effect that I least appreciated was the feeling of being turned inside out, as if all of my nerves were on the outside of my skin. Most of my senses were heightened (with the exception of taste- all hunger went away and even the food I did force in was bland and purely to appease those that were watching to make sure I ate- highly DO NOT recommend the grief diet y’all). Voices were louder, scents were stronger, colors were more contrasting and even the slightest breeze felt sharp on my skin. 

But despite these heightened senses, and although my emotions and nerves were completely raw, and that due to what my doctor deemed “adjustment insomnia” I was not sleeping and was definitely not processing life moment by moment, when I think back on it, even though there were hard realities being faced every day, because of the love and support from a community of people built up through my entire life (family, childhood neighbors, high school friends, college friends, fellow colleagues that I work with very infrequently, church friends from my youth, fellow school moms, as well as those who have been there for me through it all the last six years), as well as from a community of people who loved on Todd and the girls (and me, by extension even though due to COVID I never had a chance to meet or really get to know most of them), I felt a sense of peace and protection that has no earthly explanation. In my mind, I can see that each person that offered support and love served as a feather of refuge to soften my reality to the point where I could process what was happening without completely shutting down. It really was my own personal miracle.

I completely understand how difficult it can be to step into someone else’s grief, to be unsure of what to say and to worry that you will hurt them more than help. I am socially awkward enough to know without a doubt that I have missed many opportunities to serve as a feather in someone else’s difficult time due to my own uncertainty of what to say or my own feelings that my involvement couldn’t possibly help that person. I’m hoping I can change that moving forward.  

I’ve also seen enough writings on grief to see the statements about how those comments that are meant to help the most can also hurt the most. Honestly- this frustrates me. Life is hard enough, and to give anyone more uncertainty about offering support to another person just makes it even worse. I appreciated it the most when I ran into an old friend from church at the grocery store, and she was honest enough to say “I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve read all these articles, and I know I’m not supposed to tell you that you look great, or that you’re strong, but there are no words.” For me, just knowing that she acknowledged my pain was enough, and there didn’t need to be any other words. But I also would not have been mad about a “You look great!” I had just survived a trip through the grocery store without completely breaking down after all (bless the poor Kroger employee who was stocking the lunch meats the day they were out of the cheese pizza Lunchables and I COMPLETELY lost it. I’m sure his family heard about the “crazy” lady who cried over Lunchables…). 

Understanding that everyone is different and someone else may not appreciate the comment, I believe what matters most is that you make an effort. Have good intentions towards supporting others, and becoming those feathers when someone is in a tough season of life. And if you are in the unfortunate position to be receiving those comments, search for the intention behind the statement before you shut someone out or build up a grudge based on what has been said. If it legitimately crossed a boundary line, let the person know as clearly as possible that you understand the good intention behind the statement/offer/action, but draw your boundary lines as you need them.  

Here are a few ways that I received that love and support during those first few weeks that I would highly recommend:

Patio parties- impromptu mass text messages with a note that my girlfriends would be arriving at 7 p.m. were fantastic. Thankfully, I have a fabulous backyard living area commissioned by Todd and finished two weeks before he died (he did not leave out a single detail, including the wine fridge, and I sit out there often, on the couch he bought on a whim, watching movies on the television he ordered and was so excited about, and wishing he was there to share it with me). My girlfriends would just text a time and then arrive, bottles of wine, brownies, and even ice cream cake in tow, to chat. Sometimes we talked through my grief, but other times they all just talked and I sat and listened. It was all I needed. The fact that they were all willing to give up their evenings and time with their families to sit with me meant the world to me. (Note- by day five, every one of these friends assured me that no one cared how messy the house was- I had to take them at their word, and so far no one has stopped coming to visit just because the house was a mess- this is a pride thing that many deal with, and if it’s keeping you from seeing your people- take a deep breath, make sure the toilet is clean and enjoy your time together.)

Meal train- This is a classic- and it’s a classic for a reason. On day two, one of my nearest and dearest friends came to the house and we hugged, we talked and she got organized. By the time she left that day, there was a whole calendar set and shared online for signups on meals. I have two freezers, and we were already pretty much full… I appreciated every meal, because it meant someone was thinking of us and took some of their precious time to prepare food for us to eat, taking care of a most basic need that was at the very bottom of our priority list. But this level of organization and a calendar definitely helped prevent wasted food as much as we could. Also- this particular site provided an option to send gift cards for the food delivery services available. As I mentioned previously- I’m not going to lie- I was already on a first name basis with most of the delivery drivers in the area, so this option was amazing. It also provided my extended support network that lives far away an option to participate in this level of support if they wanted to. So if you are the organized type- this may be a good option to offer to someone going through the difficult season. There was definitely no way I would have been able to work through this one on my own.

Open when- This last idea might be my favorite for future seasons. It came from a friend who had just been through her own difficult time. She delivered dinner for the family one night, along with some gifts, because her love language is shopping (which is something I remember her saying in one of the first Bible studies I was in with her, and also with Todd and Christine). One of the gifts was a canvas bag, filled with “open when” cards. A group of ladies from my church wrote out the cards for me, and this gift is one that continues to provide for me even months later. Each envelope is labeled for a specific feeling. “Open when you feel…” overwhelmed, sad, alone, angry, unable to accept change (WINNER), like a hot mess (ANOTHER WINNER), hungry, bossy- the list goes on and on. And every one of them so far has been filled with words of wisdom, love, encouragement and support that were so incredibly needed in the moment. This is a fabulous way to make good on that comment “Call me whenever you need me, even if it’s 2 a.m.” I know without a doubt that every single person that has said that to me means it 100%. I also know without a doubt that at 2 a.m. when I am wide awake and my mind is racing, the last thing I am going to do is pick up the phone and call someone. These cards are a perfect solution and have been a calming reminder on many nights. But what I love the most about these cards is that every time I open one, I know that the person who wrote that card for me took time out of their own busy life to sit and write directly to what my heart might need. And that connection is what provides so much comfort. Feathers, y’all. 

Obviously everyone is different, and nothing I write is ever going to capture every possible scenario, but my intention behind writing my story and sharing my thoughts are to give my perspective, so here it is- when it comes to being one of His feathers to provide refuge to someone going through a difficult time, don’t let fear of doing or saying the wrong thing hold you back. Search your heart for what feels right for you, and know that the person hurting will understand the intention behind the words/action, and that understanding is what provides the peace and comfort- not the specifics of what was said/done. These are the human connections that we need more of in this world. And in my opinion, that human connection, soft feathers of protection for someone else’s shattered heart, are the biggest red balloons from heaven.