After losing a loved one. . . What's next?

He was . . . a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.

Isaiah 53: 3-4

 

In one of my favorite shows, "The West Wing", the President always said, "What's next?" Anytime he was finished with a discussion, he would spout that off and everyone knew it was time to move on. I hadn't heard anyone use those words in that context before I attended a funeral this week. It certainly made me think.

The young man's father was trying to make sense of the fact that he lost his son. I can't even begin to comprehend what that feels like. Although I know when I lost my mother I experienced some of the same emotions he talked about and some of the same questions. Over and over again, as he did, I asked God why. Why did she have to die? Why did my young kids have to lose a grandmother that they loved?

But, as he pointed out, we will never be able to understand why. And, unfortunately it's not for us to do so. All we can do, with conviction, is say, "What's next?" The conversation is over, there's nothing more to be said or interjected, so it's time to move on. It's hard to accept, but it's the only way to make sense of it all.

What's next? What does God want us to do with the life we are left with?

One thing is for sure, God knows how we feel. He is a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He knows. He understands. As much as we think the "why" would help, it's not going to bring our loved one back. All we can do is trust that God has a plan and he's with us through it all--a constant companion through the grief.

If you've recently lost someone and are struggling to understand why, take this father's advice and ask, "What's next?" Moving on may be the hardest and the best thing you ever do to work through the grief.

Bentley Tyler-Our Handsome Boy

Ten years ago Bentley came into our lives. He was playful and full of life. He loved burrowing under the covers and we fell head over heels in love with this handsome boy. Even though he was a dog, he acted like a small child, as most dachshunds take on human qualities.

Bentley was human in every respect. He pouted, got his feelings hurt, acted out and showed more love than many humans are capable of giving. He was my grandpuppy and I loved him. When I went to visit he was so excited because I always brought him a present. He would start sniffing my suitcases, looking for the surprise and would jump up and down when he found it. His favorite treat was scrambled eggs and when I came to visit, I made a point to fix them for him while I was there.

At Christmas I would give the grandpuppies 24 days of presents. They were just as excited as toddlers to get their daily gift. He loved his Christmas stocking as much as a child and Christmas morning was such fun as he always tried to help unwrap the presents and was always in the middle of the morning excitement.

We bring pets into our lives knowing that they won't be with us long. But when the day comes that they leave us, we feel the loss more deeply than we could have ever imagined. Bentley filled our hearts and lives with memories during the ten years he was with us. He bought joy into our lives and there will be a void in our hearts now that he is gone.

He was a gift from God and we were all blessed to have him with us, but it will take time to heal and replace the hurt with the memories. But for now, here's a tribute in pictures. 

Bentley Tyler Shaffer Spengler

2004-2014

Say goodbye to the "ta tas"

After much angst and indecision, I finally succumbed to all the medical advice—chop them off! Since I’m almost 60 you might say, “What does it matter at your age?”. And 6 months ago I would have agreed. But there’s some kind of weird emotion attached to those protrusions.

Mind you they have always been a bane to my existence. They interfered with clothing choices--making it impossible to find any shirts that fit and would also reach across the ta-tas. They have caused me an enormous amount of physical pain—causing back issues for years. They were an incredible cross to bear during puberty because I “blossomed” before my peers and of course, garnered the attention of the boys entering puberty.

Good riddance you might say. Adios. Sayonara. Adieu. But parting with these annoying mounds of tissue can only be described as sweet sorrow. On the one hand it’s nice to finally breathe deeply and know that I’ve removed the BRCA threat. On the other hand for about 45 years they have become a part of who I am. Jokes have been made, some by physicians (“the breasts are too large”—to map for radiation) and my family who all in fun made comments about how I can’t see my feet, how food drops on them and stops before reaching my lap, etc. etc. On the other hand, I used them to nurse my two babies. An experience I will always cherish.

A good friend of mine who is going through her own cancer battle reminds me that you have to take the negative and turn it into a positive, so here it goes:

10 reasons why I’m glad the ta-tas hit the medical waste bin:

1. I can finally see my feet
2. My shirts actually button for a change
3. My back should feel better
4. They can’t be cancer carriers any longer
5. I probably lost an automatic 10 pounds (could be more)
6. I don’t have to ever wear a bra again (unless I choose to) 
7.  I will no longer be the brunt of family jokes 
8.  I can go wardrobe shopping
9.  It’s easier for the cardiologist to hear my heart now
10. The breasts are no longer “too large”

So there you have it—farewell to the ta-tas. It was a relationship feathered with good times and bad times. And yet, they can no longer be the carriers of the dreaded big C. Adios. Adieu. Sayonara. I know I will miss them but I have to wonder why we all place such a high value on those blobs of fatty tissue. After all, I’m still the outspoken, opinionated crazy lady that laughed at the chemo nurse when she read me a list of side effects and asked me to sign on the dotted line. With or without my ta-tas.

There is family..and then there is family

I spent the last two days with people that I love. I wasn't born into this family but they are, in every sense of the word, my family too. I grew up with Polly, Jack, Nancy, Patsy and Joy. My family spent summers with them, took vacations with them, and hung out at their beautiful Houston home. My mother and Polly were like sisters and my dad and Jack were like brothers. Polly--soon to be 90 (sitting on the left), is a gift from heaven. Her girls grew up to be just like their mother. I had the privilege of sharing a portion of my adult life with Patsy and Nancy, both of them living where I was living at the time. They were and always will be the sisters I never had.

This is a large family--and they love each other. They take care of each other. They embrace others and bring them into their family. They have had struggles, heartaches, and even great loss, but they rally around each other, cry together, hug one another, and trust that God is always in control. This family shows all of us that, as Polly said to me last night, "you're rich if you have family and friends". Polly is a billionaire.

When my mother was diagnosed with cancer and having chemo treatments at MD Anderson, Polly was her nurse (and my rock). I remember sitting in her kitchen late one night while she was making me a pan-fried steak talking about my mother and telling her how scared I was that I might lose her. She grabbed me close and said, "honey, I know...I know." She didn't have to say any more than that. She just held me until the pain subsided. That's the kind of woman she is. When my mother died, Polly and Jack were right by her side and I would never have survived that first week without them.

Polly has outlived friends, the love of her life, Jack, and recently two of her daughters, Joy and Patsy. And still, she gives and gives to others. Her pain in the last year has been unfathomable, and she's hurt more than a parent should have to, but she glows with hope and resilience.

This morning I heard her clanging around in the kitchen and she was making one of the things she always cooked for me, biscuits and chocolate sauce. My kids still talk about them when she made them for them years ago. They are delicious. But as I said in my book, it wasn't the biscuits or the chocolate sauce that I loved so much. It was so much more. It was standing in the kitchen with her while she made them. It was seeing the joy on her face when I chowed down, enjoying every bite (and yes, I had four this morning). It was the love that she showed because she knew how much I loved them.

There aren't many women in this world with the class of Polly Pry, unless it's her daughter and granddaughters. They are all angels on earth, mothers, grandmothers and friends. I love this family and I thank God every single day that he brought them into my life.

God is still in the miracle business

Call me crazy, but I still believe in miracles. Why? Because God made me a believer again this year (and reminded me that he is still working in my life). Let's just say that me and my daughter are walking miracles. We both dodged some pretty amazing bullets this year and there is no other explanation except the fact that God worked some major miracles. Coincidence you might say--not a chance. He orchestrated every single event and raised up prayer warriors to stand in the gap on our behalf.

Psalms 66:16
Come and hear, all you who reverently and worshipfully fear God, and I will declare what He has done for me!

Here's how it all began--

About two years ago I found a lump in one of my breasts--again. I naturally freaked out and made an appointment at MD Anderson because I wasn't going to take any chances this time. I was expecting a new grandson and I had every intention of being a part of his life. The lump was merely calcified tissue caused by the previous radiation I received when I first found cancer years ago. But while I was there, I arranged to be tested for the BRCA cancer gene. My daughter had been urging me for quite some time to get tested upon the insistence of her doctor but I just kept putting it off.

To make a long story short, I did have the BRCA gene; my daughter was tested and did as well. That meant 6 month checkups and once a year MRI's of the breast tissue. My daughter was 30 and it never occurred to me that those tests would be anything but inconvenient and an uncomfortable necessity. But after her first MRI raising some concern about the tissue, her doctor ordered a biopsy and found a mass of pre-cancer cells in one of her breasts. It was nothing short of a miracle that they caught it early and that test saved her life.

That's not the only miracle that occurred this year. After being sick for a few months while I was in Dallas, I finally agreed to go to an urgent care facility, thinking I had walking pneumonia. The doctor immediately did an EKG because my pulse was over 200 and sent me to the emergency room. They soon discovered that a) I was in AFIB and b) I had pulmonary embolisms and a clot in my leg. The first night in the hospital, things went from bad to worse. The doctors urged my daughter to call family telling her that I was not going to survive the next 24 hours.

To make another long story short, I did. Each hour I got stronger and stronger and with each day in ICU my condition improved. That's not to say it was an easy road because complications related to the tactics they used to revive me extended my hospital stay to 22 days. But obviously God had plans that the doctors, still to this day, shake their heads in disbelief. And once again, God worked a miracle of healing.

There will always be skeptics that say the miracle of modern medicine saved both of our lives. I say that medicine is only the method God uses to work his miracles; and I will be forever grateful and humbled by his constant presence in both of our lives.

The Best Gift

The best gift that I ever got
Didn't really weigh a lot
It didn't have a ribbon 'round
And it sometimes made a terrible sound.
But best of all it seems to me
It wasn't neath the Christmas tree
And yet, I guess I'd have to say
That it made all the other presents twice as gay.
The best gift that I've ever known
I'd always wanted most to own
Yet in my dreams of sugar and spice
I never thought it could be so nice.
The best gift that I'd ever get
Was sometimes dry and sometimes wet
Was usually pink but oftentimes red
As it lay so innocently in its bed.
The best gift of the year to me
The one I hold most dear to me
A gift that simply drove me wild
Was a tiny new born child...

Happy 29th Birthday to my sweet baby girl
Who still, after all these years, makes me smile.
I love you to the moon and back again, to the stars and around again,
Mom

Saving Grace

Tonight was the last night of the Saving Grace series on TNT. I have to admit that when I first started watching this series I wondered where it was headed. Tonight's final episode ended in Grace's sacrifice of her own life. She gave her life to destroy an evil that was out to destroy others.

The intensity of this show is beyond words. During the course of this series we've seen what it means to be controlled by your pain, haunted by your past, and how it's impossible to make any of that go away without God. Perhaps some might say the show was not a good representation of who God is, but for me, Grace goes through some of the most in-depth soul searching any human could ever imagine.

What did this show mean to me? It showed me what it means to pour yourself into the lives of others, without concern for your own happiness. It showed me the meaning of true friendship and unconditional love. It showed me that you can't put God into a box and that each of us has our own spiritual journey to walk.

I'm going to miss having Grace in my life every week. And I'm going to miss the way the show challenged me to look at God through different eyes and see evil for it really is. Grace walked into her destiny once she knew the peace of God. That's a profound lesson that we all should learn.

R.I.P Grace,
Walden Fan