Category: The Healing Journey

Posted on

Almost Perfect

It would be scandalous to say how good this year has been. I’ve gotten to unknow and start to find myself again. I’ve spent more time with my sons than I thought possible. I’ve had the chance to reflect on an imperfect love that was stronger than I knew. A love that not only survived death, but continues to pour forth out of me.

My mind is stronger, clearer, more aware of what is necessary and what is accouterment.

It started as a joke, but my sons embraced the idea of using our Norfolk pine as our Christmas tree this year. It was a classically “Mary” plant: impossible to keep alive and rooted in history. It had been her grandma Emily’s. I never met Emily, but we did visit her ancestral home (and the Clan McPherson Museum) during our honeymoon travels.

The Norfolk looks like a proud, if awkward, dancer with its single string of lights, standing tall and bright in the pre-winter dark. I was tempted to keep ornaments off of it to remember that a life doesn’t need trimmings to be beautiful, it only needs light.

Then I was reminded that life doesn’t conform to my sense of symbolism. My younger son made a foam picture frame, a tiny thing for which he wanted a special picture. I found a surplus of last year’s Christmas cards and Isaac was seated next to his mom. He asked me to cut out the two of them, which was unusual as he’s a skilled and independent crafter. He hot glued it in place and asked for it to be the first ornament on the tree.

He’s so much like her, sweetly and genuinely sentimental. I could not think of a better way to have Mary with us this Christmas.

God bless,

Jason

Posted on

Up on the Rooftop

When my wife passed away she left me with more Christmas decorations than one human could put out in a month. 

This year my sons are picking out a few of their old and new favorites and we’re going 1.5 steps above Charlie Brown on the tree. We’re going to make some special ornaments and cards for donation, but I doubt I’ll get to putting lights up outside the house. However, I could not resist getting on the roof to place Santa.

Last year was my first attempt at this rig. I ended up going out the bathroom window to rescue the fat man (and our siding) from a wind storm. Mary laughed her ass off as I climbed out there in my pajamas. She got me laughing and it was a Christmas miracle that I didn’t go off the roof.

Thankfully, I was able to troubleshoot the set up and now Ole Kris is rock solid, for now.

God bless,

Jason

Posted on

Looking for a Sign

Tonight I’m going to my first concert without my sons since my wife passed away. I’m feeling strangely ambivalent and wonder if I’m so worn out from emotional purges that I don’t have much left in the tank. 

Disclosure: Some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. 

Or maybe it’s the calm. Having recently gone through some seismic psychological shifts, I’m feeling ready for a new chapter. While moving piles around I found Get Well cards that Mary never got to read, funeral home to-dos I’ve yet to do, and the looming stack of condolences that might demand my attention. But none of it controls me today. It’s just stuff.

Among the stuff I also found a Time Out Chicago from when Mary and I went to Lollapalooza in 2008. A quiet sign and reminder of how much music meant to us individually and as a couple. An unbroken thread stretching back through my memories to well before I met Mary. One that continues on with my sons and on for me as I find my new way in the world.

God bless,
Jason

Posted on

Looking Back

I’ve been trying to attack some of the piles of books, journals, files, notebooks, and pictures that have not needed immediate attention.

Going through some of Mary’s things is intense. Whenever she was really upset with me she would write it down before coming to me with it. It provided a pressure release and also a reminder that there was something that needed to be addressed, even after the storm of emotion passed.

Some of those notes are tough. Stress, drinking, a desperation to be more positive parents: I regret not working harder on solving these conflicts that infrequently, yet regularly, arose.

More of the notes are sweet: meeting my family the day we “officially became boyfriend & girlfriend,” “I Love You,” “Sweet Dreams!”

There was one surprise of an email I had copied her on to the men in the Bible study I had been attending. She had printed it out and it was in a prominent place in one of her notebooks. It was a brief summary of my journey to becoming Christian. I don’t know why she kept that one close. Maybe it was a sign for her that I was taking self-improvement seriously. Maybe it represented a hope that we would work through obstacles that seemed impenetrable.

We only had five more months together.

Here’s that letter:

Gentlemen,

I shared some news at a recent meeting and realized that I wanted to share it with the whole group. To get to the chase: my wife, two boys, and I are getting baptized and accepted into membership at Aldersgate during Sunday’s Rally Day combined service. We’re very excited and hope you can join us in the celebration.

Six years ago I decided to leave my job and come home to take care of my boys. I expected to say, “It wasn’t an easy decision…” when explaining the change to family and friends, but that feeling didn’t last. I immediately saw God working in my life. My wife, Mary, and I had been looking for a church to attend, but it didn’t become a spiritual journey for me until I sunk myself into trying to take care of these little humans. And then I did get a bit lost in the day-to-day of childcare and then homeschooling. We found a great place in Aldersgate about a year-and-a-half ago. We started talking about membership and baptism and what all that meant. I realized that I had been trying to listen to God, but I hadn’t been spending much time with his Word. I can’t thank Dave Harrington enough for inviting me to this group. I was so keenly aware of not being baptized and not being a member that I wasn’t sure I belonged, but the timing couldn’t be denied. God was handing me this opportunity and I’d be worse than fool to turn it down.

Not only have the meetings become an important part of our life (my boys are present for almost everything else I do, I think they revere these meetings as some sort of secret club and can’t wait to hear about them). And I am spending a lot more time thinking, reading, and listening to and about scripture.

I most want to thank David DiGiacoma for leading the group. He’s created a welcoming, informative, and serious discussion space for us to get together and share the Word. I may not have had a “born again” moment, but I was unsure of myself until during a meeting David turned to me and asked, “As a Christian…” I had a nervous flash of thought, “Oops, I’m found out, not a Christian, have to share that now.” But after the flash was just calm and I answered the question honestly. I don’t know when I came around to accepting Jesus as my savior, but I do know I became aware of it in that moment.

I think that’s the shortest version I can come up with. And I want to thank you all for making it a great group that I really look forward to joining each week.

Hope to see you Sunday!
-Jason

Posted on

Positive Parenting: Family and Friends Style

I’m discovering more and more that single parenting doesn’t just need “support” in the most commonly understood ways. Yes, childcare, carpooling, play dates, overnights, and the simple presence of our family and home-educating friends are all necessities when it comes to providing my children the most rewarding life possible without a mother. 

Even so, there is another need. One that is seemingly so specific that I cannot fully identify it. “Mother figure” isn’t right, it’s superficial. This need is complex, deep, and a scary place to go. It demands trust and openness, listening and understanding, and a willingness to give and receive without fear. It sounds like marriage, but for me it is a friendship with a single mom and her children. A woman who understands loss and children who are just as sweet and rough as my sons.

Maybe that is the key. Mary wasn’t simply a person who provided things we needed, she was a significant portion of our world. A part that cannot be replaced by another person, nor a community, no matter how giving they are. She was a part of our world that is gone and, as we build a new reality, we need big pieces. Not just new relationships, but new sets of relationships, creating new networks and dynamics that support and challenge at the same time. Helpers in need of help.

Playing house. How often do young boys and girls naturally fall into this game? The storytelling, negotiations, and little dramas are innocent, but don’t they point to a need in all of us? Not long ago I would have assumed that need was of a traditional family. Now that option is gone and I see that, although close relationships are critical, they can come in surprising forms and provide in amazing ways.

God bless,
Jasonpositive

Posted on

I Am A Bully

A lot of anger welled up in me this week. I tried to blame other people for perceived wrongs, but today I saw it and felt it emanating from inside of me. It’s a monster with a persona I crafted and used to great effect in my teen years. I had been surrounded by bullies for much of my youth. I was small, geeky, totally different. For years I was smart enough and fast enough to keep away from any real harm. Then, when I was twelve or so, I witnessed someone being bullied in school. It was just words, but the kid was big. Unprovoked, I threw some smart-assy dig at him. Before he could turn his attention to me I hit him with another. He was on his heels and I got the taste of that power. That year I decided that the world was made up of victims and victimizers. And damn if I would be a victim.

I didn’t steal lunch money or knock books out of hands, I used my energy and love of a good, nasty joke to build walls of safety and to strike out at those whom I thought might wrong me or get in my way.

It seemed to work pretty well. I chose my friends and didn’t feel the pressure of being a part of any of the various teenage groups. With an ever-sharpening tongue I was more confident and could impress girls by belittling teachers and other boys. On the soccer field I applied my energy more towards intimidation and violence than skill.

I cultivated the monster for years as he seemed to reward this still small kid who now could get in a mosh pit and instantly identify who to hit. I took him to the workplace and bullied anyone who couldn’t keep up with my pace.

Then I met someone who quieted the monster. Who was never a threat and not impressed by my clever nastiness. Someone who was genuinely kind, loving, helpful, and, most importantly to the monster, confidently independent. Mary wouldn’t be bullied. She had been wronged and was too tough for that. She wasn’t damaged. She didn’t use the lessons she learned against others as I had for a decade. She took her hurt and made it something positive. Mary quieted the monster just by being there. I have thought long and hard and cannot think of one time I said something intentionally hurtful to her. Insensitive? Thoughtless? Negligent? Sure, I said lots of stupid things, but she never roused the monster.

I was sitting pretty, all of a sudden I was a decent guy and looking to do right by people. I got comfortable and forgot about that beast I had fed for so many years.

As we had children, I took on primary care of them and after a little while I started to bully my sons. Usually when Mary wasn’t around, I would find things not going my way and the monster showed up. This abomination was not quick witted, it knew it was bigger now and didn’t need any of the fancy tricks. Yelling, throwing things, threatening…a big, scary, disgusting toddler trying to bend independent humans to its will.

I was in the car alone this evening and cranked up the heavy metal that had fueled my youthful anger. The grieving/healing process has taught me that leaning into unpleasant feelings is the only way to take their power away. The monster hadn’t really been let out in years, not in this off-the-chain, feel every panicked breath, physically paralyzing way. I pulled into the parking lot of a facility where I knew some friends were playing soccer. I was exhausted from keeping it together just enough to control the car. But the tears stopped and I was fearful of sitting there alone, so I went in to watch the game. It was halftime and my friends were playing a man short. “Get in! Get in! We need you!” Without a thought I ran to the car for my gear. Out in the cold I paused for one moment and looked up, “Thank you for bringing me here, God.” I was all smiles and calm and my body was light.

The monster is still there. I treated him too well for too long for ugly crying to chase him off or slay him. But this is the closest I’ve been to this part of my being without giving it control. I hope I can lean into the anger the next time it manifests and find a healing way to engage it.

God bless,
Jason

Posted on

Positive Parenting Challenge: Day Twelve

Disclosure: Some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. 

It’s always intense here. Whether it’s fun, difficult, loud, quiet, angry, sad, focused, scattered, adventurous, or laid back, we seem to swing the pendulum as far as it will go.

Today was a rainbow of intensity. Early ups with cousins, off to jiu-jitsu, good-byes to family, long hike with friends, fights over lunch and screen time, a high-stakes South Phillyopoly game, collaborative dinner prep, more screen time fighting, and a post-dinner movie of surprising weight: The Man Who Invented Christmas.

As the movie tells it, Charles Dickens was of two minds. A giving and tireless lover of children and a man darkened by his creations. I’m no Dickens, heck, I’m no Dan Stevens, who brought the historical figure into pained relief on the screen. But I saw the monster rise up in the man as it rises in me. Taunted by the things he could not overcome in himself, or would not directly face. I think my sons saw it as well.

Jekyll and Hyde, the Incredible Hulk, this story isn’t new. But putting Dickens at the center, surrounded by books and characters, and a story fighting to be written put it right in our laps. We’re writing this story and taking power away from the past, taking the pain away from it and making it hope. Using freedom from the past to write today’s story, to lift a burden, and to make the world better for it.

Thank God it’s gotten easier to self publish since 1843.

God bless,
Jason

Posted on

Day Ten of My 10- and 30-Day Challenges: Thanksgiving

I gave myself ten days to be prepared to host my family for Thanksgiving. In the 24 hours before dinner, my sister and her husband were there with their sons to help with setup and entertain my boys. They were a Godsend and made the pre-celebration celebratory in its own right. As all of my guests showed up within a five-minute window, I went through my mental checklist and felt good about the work we had accomplished.

My sons are troupers when the stakes are high and today was no different. Playing with cousins and neighbors during the day and helping organize, and even create, desserts. We sat down after appetizers and my seven-year-old lead a simple grace. He was uncharacteristically nervous at the biggest table we had ever hosted. Before “digging in,” I was able to say a few words of thanks for having my family in my home, for having my sister’s family to help, and for all of the ways that this gathering would not have been possible without Mary. We still receive and re-receive gifts from her remarkable life, from a treasure of recipes tried and untried to a thousand lessons on how to host a party.

Unfortunately, I was not able to hold onto the thankfulness through the day. As more and more things fell into place and went smoothly, future tasks crept into my mind and I slipped away from being present in the moment. I resisted sneaking off to write the soccer emails that needed to go out; but my mind was there, wondering if I had already waited too long. I put the device away, but wondered who had responded to my morning messages. My thoughts were on the weekend, next week, my soccer future, my future relationships, and a hundred other unknowable things.

Typing this out in an exhausted state of mind helps bring me back. The sound of the tapping on the tablet is here and now. Another night brings another chance to close my eyes, sleep, and reset. Tomorrow can wait until tomorrow.

God bless,

Jason

Posted on

A Surprise Trio

Pork and kraut. Green lentil vegetable soup. Roasted beet salad. 

This Thanksgiving has already brought a series of surprises. Nine days ago I’m not sure whether I volunteered or was volunteered to host Thanksgiving. Either way, I’m excited to have my family for a big, grateful dinner in the house my late wife helped to make a welcoming home.

In an effort to clear the freezer before the onslaught of leftovers, I’ve been searching out every frozen item to heat up for recent dinners. The last one came out last night and my sons and I had pork and kraut, leftover from a good luck meal on New Year’s Day. Mary had prepared that meal and it struck us while eating that it was one more piece of her that would be gone before bedtime. It was hard. We all cried. We filled our bellies and went to bed without much discussion.

I was up early this morning to prepare for pre-Thanksgiving guests and plans to make a green lentil vegetable soup from Mary’s little pile of favorite recipes. I stumbled through and thought it strange that I didn’t remember ever having this dish. As I prepped the stock and tried to keep the printed recipe dry I noticed the date at the top. Mary had found this recipe only a week before getting sick. She’d be gone less than three weeks later. A smile came to my face. Not 12 hours after the last meal she left us, she left me something to make for friends and family on a chilly November day. She prepared me for these moments, prepared me to try new things and welcome new people to our table. The soup was a hit and, in true Mary fashion, it took me a while to stop running around and join my guests at the table.

Tomorrow comes Thanksgiving and the third unexpected food challenge from Mary: her Famous Roasted Beet Salad. I don’t have many food duties, but I’ve taken on the responsibility of one of my favorite salads of all time. It won’t be hers, it will be mine. As will the sole role of host.

Strengthened by hardships and envigorated by successes, I’m calm and resolved to make this Thanksgiving thoroughly special.

God bless, Jason

Posted on

Day Eight of My 30-Day Positive Parenting Challenge: Valley

Nearing total exhaustion. Familial pressures, homeschool programs, a friend in need, hours of driving, difficulty focusing on my parenting goals, Thanksgiving grocery shopping, outpouring of grief about mom, some of my own outpouring, and self pressure to create something positive out of all of it. Quite a day. 

It’s the kind of day you try to end as peacefully as possible, without doing any more harm. Dinner was rough, but bedtime is quiet and I’m able to sit here and claw out a couple lines. I can’t make sense of today now, but I’m looking forward to the rejuvenation that comes with exhausted sleep.

God bless,
Jason