And so I decided to change it to reflect that passage. Please be so kind as to follow me over to my new location:

http://upfromthegarden.wordpress.com/

13

Kindergarten

1227

Sepsis

It was hard to read. Especially where it said his death was natural. I know death is a natural part of life, but it doesn’t feel natural. But at the same time I was thinking all this and feeling sick inside, I remembered a passage in A Grief Observed and for some reason it clicked and I felt better and I know everything is ok.

Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. To the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful.

When I started out reading the book I thought it would be a good idea to mark the passages that really spoke to me, for future reference. I might as well have highlighted the whole book. It’s brilliant. Raw, and painful, but brilliant and so true. And I’m not even done with it yet. Next time someone close to you loses someone, don’t send a card, send A Grief Observed.

God is Good.

A friend and I were talking, how whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, prepares you for things ahead. But with the magnitude of this trial, do we really want to be prepared for whatever greater trial lies ahead? Do we really want to be that strong, so much so, that we can handle it? Do I want to experience something like this again? No, I don’t want to feel this pain again. But I do want to be a part of God’s plan, whether this one or another. I want to be used by Him, and I want Him to use our pain and our trials for His glory. And if that means making it through this wilderness, or others, then I will do it gladly.

The morning of Joey’s burial, as my dear friend, Sara, and I were getting ready, I played the song Blessed Be Your Name, over, and over. It’s always been a song that touched me, made my throat tight with unshed tears, but that day even more so, only I was actually shedding the tears. (As was Sara, sorry dear!)

It is my prayer that through this all, and whatever may come after, that I will always be able to say with all passion and fervor and truth, blessed be YOUR name.

Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your Name by Matt Redman

I planted a ton of flowers a few weeks ago, and now have planters and pots all over my balcony, full of beautiful flowers. For some reason the process of watering them each morning is very therapeutic and calming.

I got my fundraising packet, for Thailand, from Wheels for the World the other day. I’ve already written my fundraising letter, but I want to get my Ghana application in before I send it out. I can’t wait for next year! I need to go somewhere, travel, do something. You would think after being gone over 14 weeks of this year I’d no longer have the wanderlust. But it’s hard being home. I love the routine, the comfort, being with my family, but at the same time it’s hard. It’s the whole seeing other people’s pain on top of your own. And just the general every day stress feels ten times worse. The little things, for some reason, are so much harder.

But that much sweeter too. I treasure the moments. Taking the three little people to the park, long hugs from my sisters, the “I love yous”.

God is good, all the time.

It’s been a month now, since you’ve left us. It seems like forever ago, so long ago that it all seems like a vague dream. But it’s not. The images are still there, if I let them come to mind. I can see it all clearly. But I don’t want to.

I keep waiting to see you come rolling down the hall, smiling. Last week I was in the office, and all the other kids were in there, playing on the computer, coloring at the counter. I thought you were there for a moment, but it was Juli. I almost asked where you were. I miss you.

We miss you, Joey. John will say “I want Joey.” We all want you.

I framed two pictures of you and I, from that day at the hospital when the Star Wars characters came. One is on my desk, one on my dresser.
I love your smile, and how well you look, even with the oxygen. You were so happy that day, and you laughed so much. It was so good to hear that laugh, see your beautiful smile. I miss you.

Sometimes I feel so empty. Like there’s nothing left in side me. My chest will hurt, I feel like I can’t breathe. But I know you’re happy now, so happy.

I love you so much, Joey.

It made me think of how fortunate we are. Even though this has been horribly devastating to us, God has blessed us. When you have a child with a disability, you enter a new world. Dr’s, hospitals, medical supplies, medications, wheelchairs, ect, it all becomes your life. Disability is your life. And then your child dies. Suddenly you no longer see half the people who had been a part of your life. Not only have you lost your child, but your lifestyle.

I still have four siblings with disabilities. We’re still seeing our neurologist, urologist, orthopedic surgeon, ect. We’re still going to the hospital, staying at RMH. In a way it’s been hard, as it all brings back memories of Joey, seeing all the people who knew and loved him. But it’s a blessing too. We’re still a part of the community, the family.

My heart reaches out to those who don’t have that luxury.

Six of us kids at Ronald McDonald House in Phoenix, right after our first Christmas with Joey.

ecclesiastes 3:1-8

When my niece Khloe was born my sister Jessica graciously invited my mom and I to the birth. For Kohen’s birth she again invited us to be present. Mom fulfills her motherly role of encouragement and comic relief whilst I give foot rubs and do the picture taking. It was an amazing and beautiful experience, but hard too. It was the first time either of us had been back in a hospital after Joey’s passing. Off and on through the hours spent at the hospital I could feel the panic start to rise up. All those memories. And then after Kohen was born, as they were cleaning him up in the warmer and I was taking some pictures, I couldn’t help but cry. Joey would have been so excited to meet him. He would have been so excited for Korban getting a brother. It’s hard because life is moving forward, it keeps going, we keep going. But we’re not forgetting Joey, we never will.

Jessica and Brian chose to use Robert as Kohen’s middle name in order to honor both Brian’s uncle who passed away in the last year, and Joey. It is so fitting. Brian’s uncle was like a father to him, and a mighty man of God. And Kohen is such a gift of God in the wake of Joey’s passing. And even though Kohen never got to meet Joey here on earth, he will always know about his sweet uncle Joey. Mom especially was so proud that they chose that name. We had to go to a doctor’s appointment in Phoenix for Jill, and Mom was eager to show pictures and tell them about little Kohen Robert.

It was hard being back in Phoenix, going to the clinic, going to St. Joseph’s. I had to go into the hospital to try and get Joey’s medical records. I about lost it when the woman asked why the patient couldn’t sign for the records.
The hardest part was poor Jill. She had to get an MRI, something that’s hard for her under the best of circumstances. Even before the MRI, when we took her to see Kohen, she just started to lose it, and finally we realized she too was having a hard time being in a hospital. In her little mind all she knows is that Joey kept going to the hospital, he was there a long time, and now he is gone. Thankfully they gave her some Versed along with anesthesia for the MRI, so she doesn’t remember. Mom and I, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury.

It was good to see our ‘family’ at the clinic. They were all full of hugs, memories and love. We’ve been a part of the clinic for over twenty years, Jami started there. It’s odd that we only have one child there, Jilly. Jami is too old now, Juli isn’t eligible because of her citizenship issues. But they continue to love and support us.

Life continues to move forward, God is getting us through, and as it says in Job, the Lord gives and the Lord takes. And He has given us a beautiful little boy.

Kohen & Grandma

On September 30th, at 2:08PM, Kohen Robert McAfee was born. He weighed 8lbs 14oz and was 20 inches long.
Kohen means “priest” in Hebrew. Robert means “bright fame” and is in honor of his paternal great uncle, Robert McAfee, who passed away last year, and his maternal uncle, Joseph Robert Crawford, who passed away in September.
He is welcomed by his parents, Brian and Jessica Mcafee, his siblings, Kallista Nichole, Korban James, Kadence Anne, and Khloe Elisabeth, his paternal grandmother Glenda Couch, his maternal grandparents, Dennis and Rebekah Crawford, and many aunts and uncles.

]]> http://musingsofmimi.wordpress.com/2008/10/03/kohen-robert-mcafee/feed/ 1 jasmimi dsc_01161 http://musingsofmimi.wordpress.com/2008/09/29/comfort/ http://musingsofmimi.wordpress.com/2008/09/29/comfort/#comments Mon, 29 Sep 2008 16:15:47 +0000 jasmimi http://musingsofmimi.wordpress.com/?p=26 ]]> The Lord is close to the brokenhearted,

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalms 34:18

Yesterday I was at JCPennys and stopped by the portrait studio. I think we’re going to get some new portraits done, Mom and Dad with all us kids, married daughters with their family’s, and a grandkid set. In our group shot we’re going to have one of us hold a portrait of Joey. Because he is still a part of our family, and a portrait won’t be the same without him. Maybe it’s holding on to the past too much, not moving on, but I don’t care.

Yesterday while driving to Lake Havasu it seemed like every song that played on the radio had to do with death or dying, Only The Good Die Young, Seasons In The Sun.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time.

I’ve noticed in the last two weeks that the majority of the songs on the radio are about death or saying goodbye. So if you see me crying in my car, that would be why. It’s strange what sets it off. I know I internalize way to much, and that adds to it. The other night Jabin was saying the prayer for dinner and thanked God for taking Joey to heaven. That about did me in. It’s not that I’m mad at God though, not at all. Not once have I felt anything like that, which I know is strange. I believe it was all part of His plan. The most comforting thing throughout this has been seeing how God orchestrated it all for His Glory. So that’s not what hurts. It truly is the fact that I miss Joey, and I know it will never be the same.