How is it already March? Spring Don't Mean A Thing

    I was on the phone with a sister who is dealing with a similar loss. I kept screaming, "How is it March? How is it already March of 2023?" Time is mean. And yes, I'm still screaming. How is it spring? How did we already have our first Wheeler Kid birthday of the year?  Where is Pat? How can we do this, another year without our person?

    I'm not ready for spring.  I drove past two home improvement stores, and they had all of the fresh, new, vibrant florals out on display. But there is no way any beautiful flowers will come from this. I'm not ready for spring. I vividly remember the pain and shock of our first spring after losing our person.  It was volatile, gut wrenching, and downright terrible.  

    How are we doing? For me, there are still daily breakdowns, gut punches of "reality", and just times when I laugh because I can't understand how this was really the move. How was THIS what God had next for us? As for my beautiful, brave, kind children-they're doing their best.  Although they still have meltdowns where they scream shout and cry; they are less frequent.  But, instead there are constant mood and behavior changes that highlight the sheer horror of being a grieving, solo parent.

    I can tell when they're sad or struggling because they will become argumentative, impatient, easily distracted, unmotivated and anxious.  So then, I have to put on my therapy mom hat and decide whether to cuddle, comfort or correct in those moments. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Making parenting decisions on my own, without Patrick has truly been one of the worst parts of this whole thing.  I was never meant to do this alone.

    We talk about Patrick every day, all day. I don't think that will change; I hope it doesn't.  I played a video the other day and his voice coming from the speakers of the laptop just...overwhelmed me. Because why is he not here? Everyone needs Patrick's voice, encouragement, laugh, and perspective.  I'm grateful for all of the people who call or text just to tell me a story about him, or to simply say, "I miss Pat, and I hate this."  It's been 15 month to the day that we rushed him to the hospital and the daily check-ins, meals, gifts, and gift cards have continued to come in.  Although we hate this situation, the outpouring of love is absolutely beautiful. 

    So I think, for me, my struggle is "how?" How do we keep pushing? What does this actually look like. As my 6 year old screamed a few weeks ago, "Why did you do this to US, God? Why Us?" I felt that in my soul. We're taking it day by day, moment by moment.  Trying to do things that work for us. Slowing down in some spaces, rediscovering and embracing others. 

I've been posting daily updates on Instagram, you can follow us @servingwith7.

What's Helpful: Talking About Our Person

Big Hugs. Big Laughs. Big Voice. Big Love. The space that he filled is...expansive.  So please, when you see us, talk about our person.  It's okay. Tell us about the gaffes, the memories, the things you miss about him. Share pictures of fun times of you and him had together.  It doesn't have to be forced, but when you are able to share, please do. I can only imagine how tough it is just mustering the courage and the strength to reach out to talk, check in, or hang out with us.  It's awkward.  You love us, and don't want to make us sad. You don't want to trigger us. You don't want to cue a meltdown. You don't want to meltdown, yourself!  Unfortunately, the gaping hole in our lives right now is unavoidable from the moment we wake, to the moment we finally drift off to sleep. One of the ways that we are making it through, is by continuing to regularly tell our family jokes and stories.  We talk about Patrick all the time.  We can't help it, and we don't want to.  

Although most words, platitudes and phrases of comfort bounce right off of me, there are two things that stuck with me, early on. First, having a bunch of still, framed photos is really unhelpful. It feels cold, harsh, and final. It was never our norm.  So, I bought a digital photo frame and loaded it with some of our favorite pictures. I add to it daily, because the legacy is a living thing. So, we have to live with it and through it, I guess.  He is woven into the fabric of each of our stories and I see him every day in the faces and personalities of these children.  They have his sense of humor, compassion, wit, and eyebrows for sure!  

Next, I had to come to terms with the fact that yes, the December 10th 2021 chapter of Patrick's life SUCKED, but there are so many more chapters that were beautiful and good. Some chapters were hard and tough, but all of them are a part of his story; a great story. So I had to force myself to visit all of the spaces, places, times, and travels. They all happened.  They all matter. They are all real. And despite the ending, the book of his life is definitely worth the read.

Back in February, a kind friend brought Avielle a Memory Book for her birthday.  When it was given to her, we all had a shared perplexed reaction, due to the fresh and unrelenting shock of our reality. "What is this?" Why do we need a memory book? This does not apply to us." A couple months later after a hard, hard night of grief, Avielle picked up the book and begin to read & write in it.  She showed me a question that asked her to name one thing that she feared.  She told me, "Mom, one thing I'm afraid of is that I'll forget Daddy and I never want to do that."  Then she snuggled up in his jersey and went to sleep.

*We would love to keep a collection of stories and memories for our family all in one place.  If you have something to share, now or in the future, please email to : pwheelslegacy@gmail.com*

The Man Test-by Christian

Hello, my name is Christian, and the title today is, “The Man Test”.

One thing I always found myself waiting for was… manhood! Yes, I know that sounds strange, but I was counting the years, impatiently waiting to become a man.  I remember I was eight years old, I ran to my dad and said “Dad! I’m growing a mustache!” So, he pulled out his flashlight and said, “that’s peach fuzz!”  I refused to believe I was not growing up, so Elijah and I would take Dad’s man test every now and then.  I failed the test every time, but it was fun trying. The test consisted of:

1. Not laughing when being tickled

2. Being able to hit Dad's hand before he closed it

3. Not reacting to being thumped or pinched

Back then I couldn’t wait to grow up, but not anymore.  I would like adulthood to come slowly, VERY SLOWLY. I would not like to rush the years anymore because right now, I have been without my dad for a few months, and it makes me sad thinking about looking back as a grown man knowing that I lost my dad at twelve. Even though they were very full years, there should have been more. That’s what makes this situation so stupid to me. Why could there not have been more years?  Y’all I am stumped.  Dad planned to have a big ranch and use it as a getaway for pastors looking for a break. He would say, “We’re going to have horses, canoes and lots of acres for our whole family to live on.” It pains me to think of all the plans we made and did not get to do together. 

But then I think of all that Dad has done. He started a church, a family, brought Jesus Christ to the people in dark places, he did a lot.  Was it all he was supposed to do? We won’t know until the other side.  But, he helped a lot of people and I am proud of him. I am upset, but he is perfect now and we are still struggling.  Yes, hurting and that’s okay. The Bible says "weep with those who weep", and God understands. He does not expect us to be joyful all the way. He wants us to express our grief through tears, it’s okay. Dad always said, “Son, if you need to cry, cry.”  And even though that comforts me a little bit, it doesn’t bring him back.  As sad as that is, it’s true. So, I want to take life one step at a time, grieve as a kid, and then I will worry about the rest when the time comes. To all who are reading this, take your time and grieve too. Love you guys.

Out of the Mouths of Babes-Bedtime Prayers

Bedtime prayer has gotten better. I hesitate to even acknowledge it because honestly, I'm fearful of regression. In this situation, I don't even know if progress is sensible or attainable.  Today, instead of posting a million emojis to sum up our day, I'm going to post some of the most beautifully candid things that have come from the mouths of these little ones during this time. 

"Lord, I know You don't make mistakes, but this feels like your very first one"

"God, please show us You love us, because this doesn't feel like love"

"God we just need our Daddy back so he can play football with Me and Mister. Brother Jerry, and Mrs. Lois"

"God, please give Dad a Big hug for us and tell him we found his stash of candy on top of the refrigerator"

"God, thank you for the insane amount of love Daddy gave us"

"God, please heal the hearts of everyone who was at Dad's heaven party; this is a global hurt"

"God, I feel like You have the candle and You're holding it in another room. We can't see any light. Help us to trust You because all we see is darkness"

"God, please spoil Daddy up there in heaven, because he deserves it"

The Bittersweet-ness of Wins: Surviving Birthday #2

Yesterday, we survived another birthday and major holiday inside our new reality. The entire day, I was completely off. I felt like I was moving in slow motion... Like my feet were stuck.  My aunt texted to check on us that morning and I remember replying "Today hurts."  In spite of how I was feeling, I was happy to see that Joy was excited about celebrating her day. There were some beautiful moments on yesterday and I counted the many blessings.  It's because of those blessings and the obedience of God‘s people that we were able to persist and ultimately sustain the blows that came after the celebration.

So here's the sweet:

• Some good friends in ministry hosted and served us for a special birthday breakfast in Joy's honor. It was humbling and a great start to the day. We all felt so loved. 
• My Sister showed up with hugs and decorations in tow to make Joy's Day Special
• Another friend found a space in her day to have coffee in the car with me & catch up
• Some of our favorite family came into town and we shared laughs, hugs, and celebrated Joy
• Kind friends stopped by, called, emailed and video-messaged birthday wishes and sent awesome gifts for Joy
• Awesome friends stopped by and prepared a homemade taco bar for our family to enjoy for Joy's Special Birthday Dinner & hung a cool tree swing that the kids can't wait to use

Here's the bitter:

After all of the beautiful things that happened yesterday, and we experienced gobs of God's grace, my birthday girl  screamed and cried herself to sleep. She wanted her Daddy. Even the good things remind us that something, someone is missing.  My fourth child had a raw, gut-wrenching hour of grief with a hurt in her heart that I couldn't soothe. Questions that I couldn't answer.  My third child struggled to find enough peace to even fall asleep. Thankfully, God sent a song and a scripture for me to share. It didn't take away their pain, nor mine. But,  I did what I knew to do.   My baby boy sat through wailing from his sisters which in turn caused him to toss and turn in his sleep in addition to the night terrors he's been having.  The baby would cry when l put her down and wanted to sleep in my arms.  Thankfully the other kiddos were able to get some rest after all of the chaos, but  I wonder what enduring something like that does to their little hearts..  I have no doubt that they have the supernatural favor of God on their lives and that he will bring them through this and somehow use it for his glory but this utterly sucks. My constant prayer for them is "God, preserve and prosper their faith. You're the only One who can."

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The Bittersweet-ness of Wins

 As we walked in the door from Benjamin's soccer practice, I was in a surprisingly pleasant mood.  My plan was to sit down and blog about the wins of this day. Because let's be honest, this is sad. Brutally sad. So, I can't help but want to be able to encourage and give some glimmer of hope and beauty in every situation.  We made it through the day, it was 7pm and we had avoided any major meltdowns.  Benji started off slow at soccer. For the first time, he didn't want to leave my side. Before he went down for nap, he told me that he wanted to go back to our old house.  I believe that he was expressing that he wanted to go back to normal, and wholeness as he knew it.  We often look at photos, and last night we found a video of our family playing charades in the old house. All of us could be heard...every voice.  The loudest and most resonating being Patrick's.  It's funny how children even as young as Benji can associate things.  If we weren't in this house, bad things wouldn't have happened. Let's go back to the photos, where Daddy is.

Getting back to the story; I came in ready to cook and celebrate Benji pulling through during the soccer scrimmage as Avielle stayed close on the sidelines cheering him on.  I looked up and saw her eyes welling up with tears. Tears turned into crying, crying turned into screaming "I want him BACK, I want Daddy." My heart is already shattered, and in this moment, in it's place was just a stony space.  I was angry. Angry that I couldn't give her what she was asking for.  Angry that God had the power to give him back but is choosing not to.  Little girls deserve their Dad. Especially when they had the very best.  My sister was here to help comfort Avi. One by one, the siblings came over to hug or encourage her.  After about twenty minutes, Joy came over with the piano and Avielle started playing. I heard music, then laughter, then they all started to dance. I want to make sure to say this :THANK YOU TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO IS PRAYING TO THE MOST HIGH GOD ON OUR BEHALF. THESE TESTIMONIES ARE POSSIBLE BECAUSE OF YOUR UNRELENTING LOVE AND PETITIONS.

So here are the wins:

This morning, we all slept in and then hurried out of the house for breakfast. Mondays are  brutal so I had to be proactive and switch up the plan, so we headed to the playground after that.  As the kids played I walked around I was contemplating  "what is this supposed to look like?"  Then, an angel of a human sent me the publishing proof of Patrick's soon-to-be released devotional. I saw light. For the first time, the very first time in all of this darkness, I saw light.  To see this work come to life was the brightest spot in my day for as long as I can remember.  About an hour later, some good friends stopped by with lunch and much needed hugs. We also got to share with them that Max and Eli were promoted in Martial Arts to their yellow belts this weekend. The boys were elated and had worked so hard, but the best compliment came from their instructor on Saturday: 

 "They did really really well and I am very impressed with them.  Not only are they very smart and fast learners and are athletically gifted, but they have really good character.  I asked them to work with the two little new white-belt girls yesterday before class started while I handled other things and I was happy and impressed with how mature and kind they were with the girls."

Joy's Dance Party

 Joy came to me with a big smile on her face, carrying a small keyboard given to us by a friend.  "This song makes me think of Daddy. He would always pretend like he was playing it. Daddy was so funny. " She pressed the button and started to dance. That's it. That's the post. That's the praise report. Y'all keep praying, God hears.