How we #KeepItMoving: Summertime Edition

    The only reason I have any recollection of last summer is because of all the photos that pop up on my phone to remind me. But I can't believe it's summer...again. I don't want it to be summer again. I need time to freeze and rewind to Winter 2021, so I can bring Pat back. Over the past few weeks, people have asked how I'm able to juggle being a solo mom of seven and have asked how they can help. One of the things that I usually tell people is that "we do all the things." 

    Since our loss, we rarely stay in the house. It's crucial that we have things to look forward to. But at the same time, I make sure to schedule blocks of time where we have nothing planned so that we can just process and exist without obligation. Both of these things have been extremely helpful on our grief journey. Because I know that if I stay in the house too long, I'll melt into a puddle of tears; unproductive and unable to move. But I also know that too much busyness overwhelms me and adds to my anxiety. So, it's a delicate balance. This is how I learned that it's costly to grieve with kids. 

    When Patrick was here, we spent hours doing life with each other. We would limit our commitments to make sure we had time to enjoy one another and grow in God as a family. Just being together doing everyday things was an adventure.  We were very cautious not to get our kids involved in too many activities, as we were already a big family in ministry: That alone, kept us on the go.  But now...we do all the sports & all the activities. This is why I'm grateful for all the blessings and help that comes our way. I'm grateful that in Florida we have access to many free and low-cost activities and ways to enjoy nature. Beautiful distractions, including lots of #friendtherapy help us get through the days. So, this is what our summer looks like.  It's imperative that we #keepitmoving.  If you know someone who has grieving kids, please share this list with them.

"How's Therapy Going?"

    I snapped this picture below of Benjamin today at our family therapy session.  The counseling office was so comfy that both my babies went to sleep right there on the sofa. My four and two-year-old had been up in the wee hours of the morning; they couldn't sleep.  They were triggered and afraid.  So that meant Momma didn't get much sleep either.  We used to share a room with Pat, and they can feel the gaping space. Although it’s been 17 months since we lost him, they still just want their daddy back. They want their world whole again. 

    About a week ago, I posted a video on Instagram that went viral. Before this, I thought that viral meant about 10k views. This particular video, that was uploaded from my ring camera, now has over 426,000 views! I started not to post it, because it was jarring to even me when I watched it back. It was one of my most unguarded, vulnerable moments of grief.  But it blessed many.  The messages of solidary and empathy poured in by he thousands.  But several people asked, "are you in counseling?"

 

    In May of 2020, Patrick and I were looking forward to walking across the stage of Luther Rice College & Seminary to receive our well-earned master's degrees in biblical counseling.  But the pandemic had other plans, so the ceremony was cancelled. But we still had a socially distanced celebration in our caps and gowns.  Yet another crazy milestone in the adventures of Pat N' Keisha.  Over the years, we had been honored to counsel dozens of beautiful, strong, faithful servants during our time together in ministry. In addition, one of the very last projects that Patrick was working on before he went into the hospital, was a mental health initiative at his job.  He not only helped get paid prayer/mediation time approved, but he oversaw the implementation of a mental wellness room on the work site.  

   As a lifelong proponent of mental health, I’ve seen a therapist on several occasions as an adult.  I realize that although I'm a strong person, part of my strength is knowing when to tag in help. Over the past decade, Patrick and I both have gained coping techniques and been provided a safe place to vent with the help of licensed mental health counselors.  But therapists are not magicians. Therapists are not God. The hard, ugly and awful doesn’t go away because you make an appointment, sit on a cozy couch, and pour out your heart.  A counselor cannot solve your problems, break your habits, right your wrongs, or in our case…being our person back.

    Has counseling been helpful? Yes, it helps take the edge off and I wouldn't want to walk this journey without having trusted, equipped counselors in our village.  Since the week after Patrick's Heaven Party, we've been under the care of Christian Therapists.  But some Things you can’t walk around; you can only walk through. What I share here, is what walking through looks like.

Messy Grief - Part 1

 Over the years and throughout my time in seminary, I'd read periodically on the topic of grief.  I was curious enough to read about what it could look like and study some components for my biblical counseling coursework. But superstitiously I thought if I researched it too much, I'd be inviting the premature loss of a loved one. I know that's crazy and it's not the most spiritually informed thought, but it's real.  

After our situation happened, I poured over the bible, devotional, books, blogs, vlogs, pamphlets everything I could get my hands on to try to make sense of what had happened.  But I learned quick and fast that nothing would make it make sense, and that a lot of what I was reading was really general or "removed." The authors were speaking from a space of super spirituality that I couldn't get with.  Either that, or they were so far removed from those first initial days and weeks of the pummeling pain that I just couldn't relate.  I had to shut that all down. So, I started writing.  

As I thought about it, of the sermons I've heard in my lifetime, all of the teachings, biblical lament was rarely a focus.  Teaching about that real space where grief and faith intersect was a rare topic. Yet, it is something that will touch us all.  I have more thoughts on this that I'll share in another post. The raw truth is: grief is messy. And for whatever reason, even though it's something that we all will definitely go through, it's hardly referenced.  It's a subject that's rarely attended to or addressed, in and out of the church.  I thought back to when my granddaddy passed.  When I got back in town from his service, we went to serve at our church, and no one asked how we were.  A few people said "awww, I'm sorry" but quickly moved on. My grandfather DIED at 68! He was a pastor, a loving husband, father, grandfather, friend, mentor, etc.  How was I expected to show up at church and just serve the save God who chose not to heal my grandfather from cancer? Thankfully, the loss of Patrick we have experienced a much different more empathetic response, but sheesh!

So, here's what messy grief looks like, in our journey thus far. There are no lines, no calendars, no framework, no way around it.  Here's an example of what messy looks like for us:

• At times I don't ask for help because it reminds me of my void, and it's retraumatizing.
• Other times I don't ask for help because the fear of disappointment and rejection are now higher than ever
• Sometimes my kids will make such a mockery and mess of our house, I'm sure they're protesting a world that makes no sense.  "When I tidy up and put everything in its place like I did before, it won't bring my Dad back. "
• When my kids can't sleep, they miss their Dad. "I never had trouble sleeping when Daddy was here."
• If my kid disobeys or doesn't complete a task, I have to sit and debate whether to be disciplinarian or counselor-maid.
• Sometimes I'll throw out all of my plans and take the kids to four different parks, just so we can be in nature, and I can meltdown and avoid my seemingly insurmountable Mom List at home.
• I struggle to believe that God can make something beautiful out of this.
• Sometimes on birthdays I open sob with my kids. Many times they are strong for me, too. 
• When I enjoy something, I wonder if my kids worry that I'm healed and over it. Of course, they don't but the fact that I have to even monitor those thoughts is exhausting. 
• I don't think I'll ever be able to hear or use the word "miss" again aside from this situation. It no longer means the same thing.
• Sometimes I type, "My phone battery is low on power" instead of "my phone d*ed". Like it's that deep.
• They hate this house without their Dad in it. This is the house where our lives changed forever. Another reason why getting them to do chores is a struggle sometimes. No amount of order in the house will restore what we've lost. Contrarily, I struggle to function in mess.
• The hardest thing to try to do is to keep your kids motivated to do anything, set goals, look to the future, for two reasons:1) Because whatever they face, Patrick won't be here. 2)The reward for people seeking after God, living a life of love and service abruptly ends with them being promoted to heaven and leaving a slew of heartbroken loved ones behind. Thankfully God handles this for me, I don't even try to make it make sense. 

I'm Finna Hate Fall

I'm finna hate fall.  I just know it.  When I first started to see the harvest displays at the grocery stores, the pumpkins and the cinnamon brooms, I tried to ignore them. I felt something, but I was already feeling too much of everything else, so I had no space. I had to block it out.  But last fall, was our last fall. I thought it would be a fresh start. Clearly, I was wrong.  I'm rarely wrong about things like this. I hate being wrong; but I can acknowledge when I am. 

We had just moved back to Brandon after about seven years of living in the flourishing south Riverview area. We'd experienced everything from spotty Wi-Fi, to overcrowded roads, and baby budding trees that barely provided shade to the caterpillars.  But in our new, more mature neighborhood, it finally felt like fall. Big, shady trees lined our street, making it a much cooler season than we had experienced in a while. School started up, we were getting into a routine, Patrick's commute was shorter-all things were looking up-ish. We were slowly adjusting and making our home into a home and adding new memories in the process.

I was always the fun coordinator.  I think I'm a pretty boring person in day-to-day life, but I can definitely organize some fun! One of my favorite things to do, was to find new experiences and adventures for Patrick and the kids. Secretly, I would love sending him off with them so that I could have a quiet moment alone in the house-so it was a win/win. Right on the corner was a church with a huge pumpkin patch.  I had arranged for Patrick and the kids to go over, take some awesome pics, and pick a pumpkin.  They came back with 9 pumpkins; one for reach kid and one for him to decorate and take to his job for a carving contest. They had a messy blast but lost the contest. 

Fall is here again, too quickly. It's reminding me that in a few short months, it will have been a full year since we lost my Husbae. I still cannot believe I typed that. And even before that, I get to celebrate Benji's, Pat's and Max's birthdays all within a few short months.  Fall is here again, reminding me that we will not have a fresh start.  I was wrong. 

One thing that many of the books and blogs I've read haven't shed enough light on, is the fact that this type of loss shakes the very foundation of every facet of your life.  No matter how much faith you have, no matter how long you've been a believer, no matter how many encounters with the Holy Spirit you've had-this is physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually disorienting. 

 "Where am I? What's going on? Whose life is this? Where is Pat?"