PENNY BEAR

After my husband passed, a counselor from Hospice had met with the children a few times and we had gone to some activity nights at Hospice. One of my fondest memories were when they gave each of my children a Penny Bear.

Those little bears just sit upstairs now with other forgotten about stuffed animals, but for a time in my children's life they had great importance and meaning. The bears came with a small story book that told of a little boys loss. The story shared how the little Penny Bear was there in place of the loved one. According to the organization's website, "Some people feel that finding a penny means they will have good luck, or that by making a wish and tossing a penny into a fountain or wishing well, their special wish will come true. Others read the words on the penny and think about how important the words “In God We Trust” are in their lives."

For anyone with small children who are grieving... I just want to share that these bears are on my top 10 list of favorite things!

THE DIAGNOSIS

Six years ago today....

A rushed morning to be at the hospital early for a routine procedure. My husband was having the base of his esophagus stretched. I had rescheduled my appointments for the day. One appointment was not too far from the hospital and was with some construction workers who would actually be working at 7am when my husband's procedure was scheduled to begin. Once he was being put under and I was no longer allowed in the room, I ran down the road to meet my appointment. It was quick, I just needed to drop off a few things and fix a phone.

I was back to the hospital in less than twenty minutes.

As I walked down the hall I saw the doctor standing at the end, near the waiting area. I found that odd - certainly he was not done already. He caught my eye and waited for me to get closer, *** I don't know what he said. It is such a blur. Just that he stated that my husband had cancer***.

It doesn't work that way on TV. They tell you it's a possibility.... they need to run tests.... they don't tell you that you have it. Just like that without any tests being run. I questioned it. He retorted by telling me they were sending samples out to be tested, but if it came back negative - he would send them back until they got it right.

The next thing I remember is standing next to his bed. He was still groggy. The doctor came in and tried to explain to he and I what was going on. He showed us photos. I don't know what the photos are supposed to look like - but I guess the black mass was bad? They wanted to run all kinds of tests. I could tell I was going to be there a long time.

It's my oldest son's birthday. I had promised him Tim-Bits. I didn't want to let him down. I hadn't had time to run before we had come to the hospital. I called my mother-in-law to ask her to do it. My father-in-law (who had lost his first wife to cancer) answered the phone. I explained the situation. There was sorrow in his voice. Too much pity and sorrow. I broke down. I cried. Then I went to find my husband who was laying in his hospital bed in the hallway. I climbed up on the bed with him. I wanted to lay down and be close to him. But the hallway felt too strange for that. He was drinking barium... preparing for a scan.

My in-laws showed up. There we all stood in the hall. What is there to say? Chris had something to say, he looked at his mom with her eyes red from crying and told her, "Don't be sad Mom!". Our Branch President (the leader of our church) showed up just as he was heading in for his test. We asked if we could have just a minute in the room alone (the five of us). My father-in-law and our Branch President gave Chris a priesthood blessing. I felt such overwhelming peace.

The last detail I remember of that day was telling my friend Sue. She called when we were driving home. I told her the news. She cried.

HOPE

A week ago my oldest son had the opportunity to meet Dallin H. Oaks. For those of you who do not know who he is, Dallin H. Oaks is an apostle of the Lord. Elder Oaks was in the Dallas area speaking about the mantle of one's calling and that he never feels worthy of the calling of an Apostle. So he called Christopher up to help him demonstrate- having him stand on a stool so all could see him. Elder Oaks then took off his suit coat and had Christopher try it on. Naturally, it was too big on him, and using that analogy, he said one has to grow into his calling.

I was of course not there, but am blessed to have this photo. I love this photo for a couple reasons. 1. How cool it is to see your son standing with a smile next to an apostle of the Lord. 2. Hope.

Elder Oaks was raised by a widow. He was the oldest of three children and was seven (two years younger than Christopher) when his father died. He had to learn to work early and hard. He was raised by a widowed mother who used her faith and his parents’ temple marriage to make his departed father a daily presence in his life.

I want to be like Dallin H. Oaks' mother. I want to be able to raise children worthy of being an apostle of the Lord.

CRYING THROUGH THE HYMNS

It took me a few years to be able to sing certain hymns in church without crying... Somedays I still do. This is one of my 'new found' favorites. I feel these words when I sing them....

Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;
With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In ev’ry change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav’nly Friend
Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as he has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: The hour is hast’ning on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

(Hymns, Be Still, My Soul, no. 124)

HEALING WITH MEDIA

As I working away at work one day this past week, I received a phone call from my youngest's teacher. She began to tell me this long travelogue about how she was reading the children a book that she had never read herself prior to reading it in class to the students. She was very apologetic about this and continued by explaining that she had seen the movie and it was such a sweet story, etc. etc.

As she was telling me this whole story, my mind could not fathom where she was going with all of this. Then she explained. In the movie they quickly touched on the fact that the little boy's mother dies. But, in the book, it went into great depth regarding his feelings about this.

The teacher stated that while she was reading, she continually would glance up at my son to ensure he was OK. He seemed to be, so she kept reading. She called to let me know this had happened in class today and to offer to stop reading the book if I felt that was necessary.

I assured her that she was fine, and that there should be no reason to stop reading the book - but that I would check-in with my youngest that evening to see how he was doing.

I have never been one to shy away from any type of media that addresses death... I actually embrace it. I think it is healing for the kids to be able to read or watch how another child handles the same trial they have been given. Isn't there something about feeling validated? That is a piece of why I write this blog... for all the widows out there who go through some of the same insanity... so they can be validated. Kids need that too. And books and movies are a great source. They also allow for us to engage in some seriously healing conversations.

SHUT THE WORLD OUT

After having friends watch over my youngest for two years as caring teachers, I was more than a little nervous to see how he would do on his own now. I counseled with the school about my concerns and requested that careful consideration be given to who would be chosen as his teacher. I knew that it would make all the difference in how he would do. A male teacher was chosen. One who was soft spoken and kind.

Kyle did so well. When I went in for Parent Teacher Conferences in the fall, I was so pleased to find that there had not been any issues. Kyle had never not followed directions, or not completed an assignment he was asked to. He was kind and well behaved. I was thrilled, although prayerful and concerned that he was not all the way there, yet. He was just on a good path. But, to have made it a couple months in and YET to have an incident where Kyle refused to participate or engage was good news.

About a month later I was at work when I received the following phone call: "Hello, this is Mr. X, the school counselor." *** "Yes, Mr. X, how are you? What can I do for you?" *** "Well, I was hoping you might be able to offer us some advice. Kyle is in the lunch room and won't leave". At this point my mind is asking all kinds of questions, like... Did he eat? Is he still hungry?... The counselor continued, "His class left an hour ago, but we can't seem to get him to leave". I really didn't know what to say, as I could not understand the cause of this behavior. I simply offered, "Do you need me to come there" *** "If you could, that would be great". *** "I will be right there".

I drove to the school confused... not understanding what was going on. When I arrived his teacher and the counselor were at the door waiting for me. As I walked in, they explained that he had gotten in trouble from the lunch lady and was asked to sit at a desk in the corner for the remaining time of lunch. He put his head down and had been sitting there for an hour and a half. He refused to speak to or look at anyone. He had missed recess and library. He just wouldn't leave.

I walked into the lunch room feeling a bit intimidated as the teacher and counselor both watch anxiously, wondering what it was going to take to get him to leave. I walked over to him, pulled the chair out that he was sitting in, took his hand and told him it was time to leave the lunchroom. With a solemn face, he stood up and walked out with me. I asked the counselor if I could borrow his room to have a few words with Kyle. He quickly agreed. When we walked in and I shut the door, Kyle broke down in tears and I just sat there holding him. He sobbed.... letting out all the frustration from the day. I just held him.

When he was done, I asked what happened. He explained that he told a joke at the lunch table (alright, think back to third grade and repeat what I say "I"... "P"... get the idea?) It was a joke that had been told by many... for many generations... but the kid he told it to, didn't like it... and told on him. The lunch lady had yelled at him and sent him to the desk in the corner.

He didn't feel like he should have been yelled at and ostracized that way. He was embarrassed... and as he had in the last couple years, when things were too much for him to deal with, he curled up in a ball and shut the world out.

THE GOOD TEACHERS

I have repeatedly commented that my oldest child struggled. Don't get me wrong though, he was not the only one. They all had their ways.

My youngest was in kindergarten when his father passed. He made it through that year, and we were fortunate enough in first grade for him to have a friend as a teacher. This was fortunate as she didn't require as much parental involvement as another teacher may have. One of his ways of 'coping' was shutting down. No doubt there were times that his poor little brain just couldn't process any more. So, to ask him to sit and learn - when all his brain wanted to do was process the fact that his daddy is gone, was just too much some days.

When the teacher would ask the class to come sit on the carpet... sometimes he would just want to stay at his desk, in his own little world. My friend didn't worry about this, she would simply pick him up and bring him where he needed to be. This worked (of course sometimes he objected and she might have been seen carrying a flailing child who, much like a two year old being taken out of a toy store, would grab a hold of the door frame attempting to inhibit her ability to take him away).

In second grade, he again had a friend for a teacher. She was such a loving and kind women. In fact I have given you a sneak peek at what a wonderful woman she is.. remember this and this? Well, I don't think it is a coincidence that teaching Kyle ended up being her last year before she retired.

When life got too tough for Kyle he would just sit in his locker... "Mrs. R, Kyle is in his locker". "I know... he'll come out when he is ready". Or should he be asked to write something and the task seemed too daunting... he would simply go under his desk and cry. "How about you tell me what you want it to say, and I will write it for you."

She was soo good to him. She allowed him the space he needed to heal... to cry... to check out of life a little without a harsh reaction. Such a contrast to the reaction my oldest son was receiving.

I don't know that I thanked them enough. Both of my friends, for the service they offered as patient loving teachers to my child.