Saturday, October 20, 2007

thoughts on today

I have walked past my computer about a thousand times in the last week and wondered if I should write anything. Words usually come pretty easily to me, but I find myself stalling out in a lot of ways lately.

I discovered I'm apparently in desperate need of anti-anxiety drugs. I've never been one to take pills, of any kind, though as I share my dependence on them of late, I'm amazed at how many people out there in the universe are also somewhat addicted to something. My doctor prescribed them for me before we were even out of the hospital and while I resisted in the beginning, I happily pop one pink pill every night before bed and coast the mediocrity of feeling pretty much zilch for the next 24 hours. I hadn't realized that perhaps the numbness I've noted was due to the medicine until I - stupidly - thought I'd ditch it for a couple of days. What resulted was an afternoon spent throwing pottery off my back porch just to watch it break. The sound of the shattering and the great splay of shards was certainly cathartic, but now I've got pieces of mug to go sweep up and there aren't any more dishes just lying around that I'd feel good about chucking. So drugs, it is, for me. Whether mediocrity and broken china are at all equally problematic, I don't know. I often suspect it'd be better for me to break every dish in the house if only to be real, to feel fully what my heart and mind and even my lungs should feel, but for now, I'm halfheartedly accepting the somewhat feigned sense of control and normalcy my medicated life is giving me.

The grieving feels like a battle waged inside: one part of me desperate to do something, hating the elements of loss that look like helplessness, dreading the moments when I want to hold Copeland or kiss her cheek and finding no comfort for my anguish other than to stroke the computer screen where her picture serves as my screensaver. This is the same part of me that's ritualistic: wear this bracelet, listen to that song, fold this piece of paper just-so, only to remain connected to her. But there's another kind of grief, the other part, the part that battles the frantic movement. This is the laziness. I have no motivation for anything. I loaf about the house like someone who's - ironically - in a drug-induced state and wonder what I can possibly be entertained by. It's the me that will sit in front of the television set and flip mindlessly through uninspiring, unintelligent programming and read what by all accounts are "trashy" celebrity gossip magazines just to eliminate the possibility of stumbling across my emotions.

My mom is taking me to Texas in a few weeks and I confess, I dread it. I dread going anywhere that, inevitably, Copeland will not be. It sounds strange - as though I'm half expecting to turn a corner someday and see her face. But to go new places and realize, again, that she's not there is only to be reminded, again, that she's not anywhere. She's gone and I can't get to her, at least not yet. I could be bundling her up in cozy blankets for walks over the freshly-fallen leaves, but no, my baby's being cradled in the arms of God. Should I be happy? Maybe. If my faith - what I believe - is absolutely true (and I must believe this if I believe it at all), then Heaven is as real and solid and irrefutable as a math equation. But life isn't numerical or formulaic in the least. Life is neither black or white, but gray, and the swirling mess of it all means I can no more find absolute comfort in the absolute truth of Heaven than I can find in the absolute truth of the Pythagorean theorem. These absolute truths may themselves be, after all, absolute, but I'm a constantly writhing, conflicted individual with hardly anything solid or irrefutable about me. What about any emotion, on this side of Heaven, is absolute for me? It's ironic that I will never know complete comfort until I am completely comforted - until there is no more need for comforting.

Rob Bell wrote a book called "Velvet Elvis" and from the first few pages, I can tell he's going to be very hung up on the idea that we need to shake off the dust of our thinking about God and Jesus and even salvation and the resurrection and, well, everything that means anything to any of us who call ourselves Christians (and that, too, is another word that needs re-examination). Thank goodness. For the shaking off, I mean. When I was fifteen I knew Jesus. But that Jesus looked different than the Jesus I know at 28. Has He changed? Certainly not. But my capacity to see Him has. I knew Him then. Now I just know Him more. And praise God for that fact! For the Jesus I knew before my trials would not have been a comfort to me. If my ideas about Jesus never change then I'm certainly not worshipping God Almighty, but rather a god - a god I can conform and contort to fit into a mold that looks and feels the way I think religion and faith and church and Bible study should look and feel. No, Jesus does not change - He was and is and is to come - but our need for HIm does, and thus we are compelled, we are forced, to see Him differently. Not for what He's become. But for what He's been all along. If the Jesus I knew at fifteen would not have been a comfort to me in my trials, it was only because He hadn't given me any. The depths to which He will take us will only be matched by the depths of His character He longs to reveal.

And so I struggle. I long to see Him, to know Him, to understand this Man who does, in fact, hold my child in His arms. But I also ache for the painless, for the life of ease where there was no need for the knowing. I don't want to be the drug girl. Or the girl who chucks mugs off of porches. And yet I suspect that this is the version of myself that is most real. This is the version which sorrow and suffering has generated. And this is the version of me that Jesus loves. He does not want me to be what I once was or even what I have the potential of becoming. This is the me He wants. And it is all I have to offer.

79 comments:

Anonymous said...

I pray that the Lord will help you get through this. I can't imagine how hard this is for you, but just remember that God is in control. I am only 15, but my heart beaks for you.Just remember that He planned this, he wanted you to be copeland's mommy, though her life was short, he wanted this all to happen. You were the perfect one for her, and when you get to heaven, she will thank you. thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings. I will continue to pray.

Moriah from PA

Jaclyn said...

keep walking.... just like you said after Copelands memorial service. You have helped so many people and taught so much. You have made a difference in my life, Copeland has made a difference in my life. Thank you for continuing to share your raw emotions. I promise to continue to pray for you and your sweet family.

Anonymous said...

I just found your blog yesterday. I can not stop reading, I am just completely captivated. Thank you for being willing to share openly all that you feel and think. So many want to hide the true way they are or the true people they are. But you are bold and courageous. I thank you and I want you to know that it is not all in vain what you are going through. Your testimony has touched me and I suspect many, many others. I don't know how anyone could be as strong as you in the face of this situation. I can't even imagine what you are going through. I hope to one day meet you and your family, and Copeland in heaven.
Thank you a thousand times, and I hope you can feel the Love that I have for you and your family just from knowing you through your words.

Anonymous said...

Throwing mugs...taking drugs...God is there. Please keep moving and keep writing and we'll keep praying.

Rebecca said...

Boothe, I have been on medication for depression and anxiety for more than 6 years. Do I LIKE taking pills every day (multiple times)? No.

But I thank God for them.

I'm not a doctor, but I do know that, in my case, something in my brain isn't quite right; the chemistry is messed up. If I had diabetes, I'd take insulin every day. So I take "brain medicine" for my messed up brain chemistry.

I also see a therapist (in my case a psychiatrist, who also manages my medication). I don't see him as often now as I used to, but the therapy has been so valuable.

When you're ready, you might consider going to a pastoral counselor (or a psychologist, depending on your comfort level). You friends, husband, daughter, parents (and we, to a certain extent) can help, but a therapist is trained to be objective. Only he or she can be emotionally detached, while still being interested in what you're saying and offer help.

It took awhile between the time I knew I NEEDED to see a doctor about my depression and when I went. Then it took awhile between the time I knew I NEEDED counseling before I went. But I did eventually.

And I'm glad I did. Without the help of modern medicine (both doctors and medication) my life today would be markedly different, but it would be worse, not better.

My journey isn't your journey, but here's food for thought... for what it's worth.

Much love...

Rebecca

www.ramblingsbyreba.blogspot.com

Anonymous said...

God bless you and carry you on this journey.

The Agarwals said...

I have walked past my computer about a thousand times in the last week as well, stopping to see if you've posted anything new from the depths of your heart and praying for you with each click of my mouse.
I have been so touched by your life and your faith, and now by your complete openness about the pain and anguish you feel.
Although my words are no better or comforting than anyone else's, I pray with you, I mourn with you- though I've never met you, and I long for you to find complete rest and peace in Christ. As you sling dishes, hearing them crash to the ground, may you also sling yourself into the arms of the Father and may His steady hand keep you from falling. May He begin to restore joy to your life, may He be the comfort that you need, and may you feel Him walking beside you. As you bend down to pick up the pieces of pottery may you be reminded that He is doing the same thing in your heart- picking up what is broken and preparing to bring wholeness once again.
Praying for you Boothe and believing in the power of our great, great God!

{Karla} said...

oh, dear Boothe - you've been on my mind so much.

None of this seems unexpected to me - grief is a hard, painful thing. And moving forward is scary.

You know a God who loves and adores you. And as trite as it sounds, He is there always.

I am praying for you.

Peace and love to you,
Karla

Anonymous said...

Boothe, my heart breaks for you. As a mother I can not even imagine what you are experiencing. I can; however, continue to pray for you and your family. Thanks for writing and being so honest with your emotions.
Tampa, FL

Joy said...

(((HUGS)))

Anonymous said...

As a mother...we pray that our children will have the "best" of us and not remember our failures. Copeland's life here on Earth was consumed with your overwhelming love and thankfulness for each minute of her presence!!! Even now...when she is in the arms of Jesus, I have to believe she carries those precious moments in her soul as you do!!!

Christin Warren said...

Thank you for your transparency. I am better for this journey with you - though we will probably never meet this side of heaven I treasure our friendship. I have celebrated with you and grieved with you and the Lord has touched me through your words.
May the Lord continue to heal your sweet heart(s). We will continue to walk with you as long as you will have us.
God's richest blessings on you and Conor and Sellers.

Laurie said...

Boothe,

I've been thinking of you and praying for you so often since your last post and it was good to come here tonight and see that you are doing what only you must do for now. This is all still so very new and if medicine helps for now, do not feel guilty in letting it help. Jesus threw and turned over tables in the temple, so I think he was right with you throwing pottery off the back porch. Good for you girl. There is no right way to walk this road you are on except your way with the Lord. And He is right there with you in your struggle to move forward. These past few months have been an emotional marathon with you running it at full speed. It is time to rest now and it is so hard knowing how to do this, but you are doing it and being real while doing it. I continue to pray for you and Conor and Sellers to be able to draw close to each other in the moments you need to the most and comfort each other, letting nothing but the Lord come between you. My heart aches for you and wish I could do more than pray, but it is the best I can do. And Jesus wants and loves you for who you are right now, as He knows you better than you will ever know yourself, and He wants to comfort you until you do not need it anymore, however long this takes.

I love you in your struggle Boothe,
Laurie in Ca.

Anonymous said...

please continue to be honest and open with your feelings - it is theraputic for you and will help. this grieving won't be over soon - it will take a while. you will always feel the loss but in time it won't hurt so much. i am praying for God to comfort you and give you the strength to move out of your numbness slowly and when you are ready. depression hurts even when you are numb. medicine is a temporary solution to help you function and take care of your family and get through the stages of your grief. just know there are many people who are praying for you and understand your struggle. love, jan431

heather said...

i found it interesting that you mentioned rob bell in your post- as i was reading through your incredibly raw, honest, beautiful words, i was reminded of him- his clean thinking that is soaked in mystery that somehow bleeds into our hearts with it's truth.
i think it's probably a good place to be reading when grieving... allowing for the twists and moving and agonizing within the faith- the very struggle of working out our salvation...

i pray for this moment. that God will provide you with what you need in this moment... and i feel honored every time i read your posts. you using this forum to articulate your grief allows other of us to move through some of our own.
thank you

Anonymous said...

Once again, thank you Boothe for sharing your story with realness and honesty. I am continuing to pray for you and your family as you walk this journey.

Lyric said...

Yes. The real you is the one He embraces, the one He can comfort...

Your struggle does not surprise Him. He created mother's hearts, the connection between parent and child.

Your tears, your anger, your questions...they are all expressions of your love and your loss. And there is no shame in those things.

Be gentle with yourself. My prayers continue.

Lyric said...

Yes. The real you is the one He embraces, the one He can comfort...

Your struggle does not surprise Him. He created mother's hearts, the connection between parent and child.

Your tears, your anger, your questions...they are all expressions of your love and your loss. And there is no shame in those things.

Be gentle with yourself. My prayers continue.

jayfersgirl said...

I've been checking your site multiple times a day and praying for you many, many times throughout each day as God brings you to mind. I live in Dallas, so if you're coming anywhere near here and need anything, let me know...
Cara
c_squared_x2@yahoo.com

Anonymous said...

"True is freedom when I am UNDONE and in beautiful desperation for You."

Letting go of being held together is the first step in receiving the healing the Lord has for you. The Lord loves your authenticity. He loves your boldness. He loves your willingness to go to the depths with Him. You are a highly favored child of God. Rest in His mercies....

Anonymous said...

Dear Sister in Christ,
Your precious daughter is in Texas - Our Savior touched many lives in the great state through your pretty girls. Our faith has been stretched and my love for Jesus is deeper because you shared about your little girl. While you will ache for her while you are here, please know that their is a Dallas Bible Study praying for you.
I think about you every time I read about Elizabeth - her son was filled with the Spirit even in her womb! How amazing and what purpose. I do believe in my heart the same was true for your pretty girl. May that offer you some comfort.
On another note, read Donald Miller too. I love his writings and they offer great insight and comfort.
Thank you for being real and honest on your grief. May Jesus grant you an abundance of comfort.

Anonymous said...

I found your blog a few weeks ago as Copeland was born and have felt your grief. I do not know you, but I do understand your grief. My husband and I have 3 sons that died. Tomorrow is Kendrick's birthday, our 3rd son. He would have been 5 had he lived. He was born at 20 weeks gestation and lived only minutes. I held him in my arms as he took his few breaths of life. It was the most difficult time in my life, but yet the most beautiful time also. I have never felt so close to God in my entire life. I was introduced to a support group called Share at the hospital where I gave birth. It helped my husband and I tremendously walk through those stages of grief that many/most people do not comprehend. I also read a book called, "Holding on to Hope" by Nancy Guthrie. I highly recommend it to anyone who has a child that has died. Please know that even though we do not know each other, my heart goes out to you and I think of you daily and pray for your emotional healing. Don't push yourself, allow God to heal you in His timing. Jeremiah 29:11 reminds me that God is always in control of all things.

PTS said...

Boothe dear ~ I am SO sorry for the pain you are going through. You are an amazing writer, and I'm so grateful that you have shared your heart with us. You continue to be in my prayers, and in my thoughts. I have walked this road too, and the steep incline it feels you're walking now, will one day level out a bit. The hurt will never go away, but will ease somewhat. Copeland has touched my life so much, and I'm so thankful I have "met" her through your beautiful writing.

Love to you ~ Kathy

Melissa Platt said...

thank you for sharing. i continue to pray for you and to love you. blessings.

Anonymous said...

Jim Elliot said that wherever we are to be all there. The context in which he spoke or wrote these words was entirely different than where you now are, but I the application of the idea holds true wherever we are. Thank you for your immense, raw honesty in where you are and how you are being all there. You are amazing. Just breathe...

Alison said...

Boothe, you need to grieve as only you can. Not the way others think you should. If flinging helps, then fling. If meds help then you need to take them. We are here for you, praying , loving, and hoping. Feel His arms around you today and rest in them...

Anonymous said...

There's nothing wrong with taking medicine, Boothe.

And it doesn't make you "not feel". It helps you "go in and out of your feelings" without having them "knock you over" and still allow you to "live your everyday life".

Don't beat yourself up about that, sweetie.

Anonymous said...

Boothe, I found your blog through someone else's and have been keeping up with your family since the day before Copeland was born. I have a 2 year old son and I am due in December with our second son and as a mom myself I am in awe of how your family is handling this situation. God has really used the 4 of you to touch my life and look at things differently. I will never forget your family and you are constantly in my prayers. Please keep writing and we will keep praying. Jessica from TN

Anonymous said...

We are still praying for you and your family. May God's strength get you through these days.

The Breland Family

Tiffany said...

Boothe,
I humbly write and hope that you may just see my arms reaching towards God on your behalf. I pray that you may see God's army surrounding you, protecting you, allowing you to feel safe to feel and live -however that looks minute to minute. You are accepted by God. You are righteous, adopted, a gift and child of HIS, every minute of every day. I am so thankful for His soverignty and grace in allowing you (and me) to get to know Him better and better. I am so thankful that you are walking with Him knowing Him like you do today.
I am praying the Spirit's strong presence with you always..

Amanda Conley said...

Thank you for being real.
I really think that it is only through our weakness that Jesus' power can truely be seen. Whether you are trying or not, you are reflecting Jesus, because you are choosing not to reflect anything in your self. Your words are encouraging to all those out there who feel they have no hope.

wyatts said...

boothe, my heart is breaking for you. i have been reading your blog for awhile now but this is the first time i have written a comment. you may be getting tired of hearing this but i just wanted you to know that your honesty and genuineness has been refreshing. sellers is blessed to have you as her mommy...life can be unbearable at times and the truth is that no one has it together. we are all sick in need of a savior. your writing makes me feel "normal" and encourages me to set my eyes on Jesus. thank you.
much love, kristin

Anonymous said...

Thank you for your honesty Boothe. It is a privilege and a blessing to read your words. I know that writers often write in moments of clarity and perspective but during those moments when you pass by the computer in a daze, feeling that you have nothing to offer and no ability to cling to Jesus, please please know that He is always clinging to you. God will give you the tools that you need in order to get through each and every stage of your grief. If right now those tools are medication and mugs, then praise God for them because you were made for such a time as this. The Holy Spirit will prompt you when it is time to lay down the olds tools and take up new ones; and I have all faith that you will trust and obey. He has you in the palm of His hand Boothe. You are His and nothing that you do, think, feel or don't feel can ever change that.

Reagan Mackenzie said...

I am so sorry for your lost. I attend North Richland Hill Church of Christ and I know that you are prayed for by many here. You write so beautifuly. You should create a book from these writings. Your story inspires so many people. You and your family are in our prayers. Please just keeping holding on to God. Again I am so sorry, I can imagine what you are going through. Hugs for all of us here in Forth Worth area!

Julie said...

How strange it is that God brought you to my life several weeks ago with no clear connection as to why. But today I now know. My friend just found out that her little unborn girl has the same condition as Copeland. Because of your journey that you were so willing to share, I now have a small glimpse into her journey. Thank you for sharing your words and emotions, so that I can be a better friend.
Julie in VA

Anonymous said...

Thank you. Amazing, honest writing. I thank God for the gift of you and Copeland and your willingness to share. There is a book here you know.

Anonymous said...

Romans 8:26-27 (The Message)


26-28Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

Prayers

Amber said...

Oh, Boothe. Do whatever you need to do to keep going, to function, to live, to worship, to cry, to grieve, to write, to pray, to remember. If that means chucking pottery off of any available surface in your home, then do it. If it means taking medication, do it. If it means falling to the ground on your knees, begging God, or thanking God, whichever, do it.

We all grieve differently, and your pain is your own. You can deal with it any way you choose, or need to. Just remember Him, and remember what He's given you - the strength to go on, the love of your sweet family, His death on a cross.

You are blessed, loved, and prayed for constantly. May He lift you up out of your grief, even if just for a moment, today so you can smile, and breathe.

Mandy said...

I'm sorry Boothe. I too struggled with taking medicine but without it, I just can not manage right now and I will occasionally go a few days without it and it is like you said, I end of "throwing dishes"! Hang in there and know that you are healing, it is just a slow and painful process. I hate feeling the numbness of which you speak too but it beats the alternative. I was missing Madeline just this morning in church as we sang and I thought of her sweet and full lips and wanted more than anything to just kiss them once more. I guess it will never go away. We just have to find a way to live with it. I love you and am here if you want to talk.

Mandy
GA
www.madelinegracehopkins.blogspot.com

courtney said...

Boothe,
I can imagine that it's difficult to write about, deal with, or grieve something that is so expansive that you cannot get yourself around it. It can almost be as if it threatens to take you whole b/c you cannot even comprehend it. And I know that you know that's right where the Father is. In that moment, in that helplessness waiting for you. I am praying fiercely that God would give you great wisdom to feel free to grieve your way. To walk the path that He has only for you. That path has been paved by Him and tailored for your pain and joy. You are a mighty daughter with an effect on many. Praying for you always-

Courtney (Nelms) Ashburn

Anonymous said...

Oh Boothe, Sweetie! I am on PAXIL and people say they would never take anything, but NEVER SAY EVER, huh? Honey, sister in Christ, it is too soon to be railing on yourself for needing meds. You are fine taking this under a doctors care and if nothing else ;it will help you while you get some TIME behind your loss. You will be a MAJOR blessing someday to those who go through this. Now remember, you prayed for a miracle and you got one. Don't make yourself sorry for the time you had by being so sad all the time. YOU ARE PRECIOUS to love that little girl this much. I wish we could hang out. MUCH LOVE
MEMPHIS MOM

JMom said...

One step at a time...walk the way He is leading you. It may take you through darkness, valleys, rocky places, but He will never leave you or forsake you. Praying...

Jenny said...

Boothe, I gave birth Thursday just gone, and I wanted you to know that after everything calmed down I thought of Copeland, you and Conor, and prayed a prayer of thanks for you. How I cherish this wee child of mine more than I would have. Thankyou, for showing me not to take the health and life of my baby for granted. Reading what you write today made me feel so much more... luckier. Bad word, I know, but I just can't articulate the way that I feel... especially without causing you more pain, though, I know I have, just by having my child here, while you do not. Please know that I pray for you always. You are so precious.

Anonymous said...

Keep fighting, Boothe. It's just fine to take a breather and sit on the bench for a little while with the Coach. We are still rooting for you!

Anonymous said...

Boothe,
I have broken plates, ripped up clothing, broken my sunglasses (for some reason sunglasses always seem to be right in front of me when I am the most angry) ummm the list goes on and on. I have about scared poor Todd to death a few times. That doesn't make any of that right, and I can't relate to what you have gone through at all, but I can relate to feeling like you are going crazy and wanting to just destroy something. Maybe it is in our Mayfield genetics that we all share, maybe not. But whatever it is, I can sort of understand, and I don't blame you...after all you have gone through, you deserve a few broken mugs.

your cous in AR

simonsays said...

Boothe -

I feel weird saying that this blog is beautifully written. It's like "Wow, Boothe, you describe this hell that you're going through so beautifully!" Yeah, right, thanks. But you do express yourself very well and you challenge and inspire your readers. I hope that at least gives you a sense of purpose and some gratification.

I will pray that Texas goes well. Sometimes getting out of this crazy town is the right thing to do!

Love,

Julie

BooMama said...

Praying for you here in B'ham....

Dee Dee in NC said...

And this is the you He will heal, and this is the you He will use. He is working, and it hurts so bad, and I am so sorry. And yet His work is good , even as He chisels.
And I tell myself the same, because, although it differs, chiseling hurts in my life as well. May God give us both strength for the hour.

Paula said...

Boothe,

There are a number of stages to go through in the grieving process, and processing through each one of them will be the path to coming out whole. Just remember wherever you are in the process, God is there with you.

Continuing in prayer for you.

Anonymous said...

Boothe, I check back on you to see what you have posted. Anger, intense grief, longing for Copeland, its all okay. I sobbed for you. Why can't we help you carry some of this pain? I will remember to pray for you. Words are not enough right now. Just know that there are people who you have never meet who are bringing you to the Father, asking Him to comfort a mother's broken heart. He designed us with this fierce love. He understands it. He knows your emptiness inside. Remember that you are in the postpartum period in the midst of all of this. Please ask for help from your OB or Pastor. Women get various degrees of postpartum and this is the most stress you could put on your body. It can only handle so much. Realize that you need to take care of yourself. You are fragile right now and my thoughts are with you and your family tonight. Colleen

Tammy M. said...

"I lift my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord the maker of heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2 He will see you through, and we will pray for you along the way.

Anonymous said...

I sit at my computer with my heart aching for you...My good friend forwarded me your blog and I feel blessed to be reading it. It is so hard to understand sometimes why God takes precious ones from us, especially children! I will begin praying for you daily. I pray that God will sustain you through this difficult time and that your strong faith will get you through. I imagine it is difficult to just "move on" and you MUST have that time of mourning! Thank you for the reminder to hug and love and kiss our babies each and every day and thank God for the good times as well as the flus, colds and illnesses that go through our households. Thank you for helping us to remember to thank the good Lord for the sleepless nights and middle of the night feedings because we never know what tomorrow might bring and God can take our babies without any warning signs...I can't imagine losing my baby but what a blessing it must have been to have that short time with Copeland and be able to say goodbye. It sounds like you have an amazing support system and I pray that the Lord helps you to endure this pain and get out of the pit at some point! I will continue to read and continue to pray! -Rachel in IL-

Chandra said...

Boothe,
I LOVED this blog. Girl, break every dish in the house if it makes you feel better. They are just things. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted & saves those who are crushed in spirit. - Psalm 34:18
He is with you as you grieve. And will continue to be, no matter how you do it. :) Keep your eyes open in Texas...it just may be refreshing to your soul.
Praying for your comfort & healing!
Love-Chandra from Texas

ali said...

Hey Boothe,
I read your blog on Saturday and have spent the last couple of days thinking and meditating on it. I spend a part if my time each morning taking over 90 mg of medicine to help me live life the way that God has intended for me to live it.
I have thrown coke bottles into dumpsters, gotten in my car closed all of the doors and screamed as loud as I can, and thrown things across my house.
It's okay. It's how God calls us to live life, aswho we are. Coming to Him and being broken and exactly who we are. Only in those places can God change us into who He is calling us to be. Anywhere else where we are put together is putting a road block between us and him not allowing him to truly work in who we are- authentically.
i love you and am very glad to see you that you are walking through this....whatever that may look like.
ill be home next weekend and i would love to see you or play with sellers for a little while and give you a break,run errands for you or something. let me know.
think of today. god has given you enough manna for today and you dont need to take more manna for tomorrow for you. it will spoil. today is where you are, today is where he is with you. he is in tomorrow so you dont need to be there.

JUST A MOM said...

Please know that when I come here I feel so unable to help. I am here only to try and take yoru pain to God and ask him to help you. I am so sorry as a mother I can NOT HELP or take away the hurt you have. I have NO words of wonder for you I only have hurting arms that wish to lhole you tight and rock the pain away. I am sorry Boothe you are hurting so bad. I am so sorry I can not help,, I only can tell you taht I TRULY TALK TO GOD AND ASK HIM TO HOLD YOU FOR ME....

Bless you and your family know that I hurt that you are hurting.

Jaye, just a mom

Kelly said...

I am praying for you... as a mother and fellow Christian my heart breaks for what you are enduring. You have a gift for articulating, in the most beautiful and profound way, the depths of what you are feeling and learning. Thank you for sharing and inspiring, while you face the worst pain we can imagine here on earth. I pray that you will feel the comfort of our Heavenly Father, as He, too, lost His child and is the only One who can truly ease your pain.
God bless you.

Leah said...

I identify with your feelings- grief is painful and spontaneous. My poor husband had to replace a broken window pane a couple of months ago when I was cleaning up the nursery and unexpectedly found a baby rattle. Before I knew it, I had thrown it with such ferocity that I didn't recognize what I'd done until it was over. Thank goodness he wrapped his arms around me and even chuckled. I felt silly.

My prayers are still with you and your family.

Melanie said...

I just want to hug you and say, "Whew! You are normal!" As normal as inevitably bizarre grief can be. I'm glad you're being helped by meds and glad you got to throw some mugs too. Time doesn't heal all wounds, but God, in His time, does. It will get easier, then harder, then easier, then harder...until the Lord calls us home. And then our grief won't even be a distant memory: "When we've been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, there'll be no less days to sing God's praise [and no longer need to be comforted] than when we'd first begun!" Hallelujah.

Stephanie said...

Boothe,
Again I read your words and can relate all too well.And from the looks of all of these other moms comments,we're normal!Woo-hoo!Thank you,again,for such an awesome blog and letting us all in.I continue to pray for you

Stephanie from CA

Anonymous said...

My sister had 3 miscarriages and shortly after the 3rd, she went into severe depression, was even hospitalized and didn't want to be on medication. But...I believe sometimes God needs to use medicine to protect us from ourselves. One day you may be able to not take it, but until then, rest in the fact that it is helping you. My sister has also been reading your blog and finds comfort from the things you say. She too has felt similar pains. Thank you so much for your honesty and transparency to let complete strangers read your thoughts and struggles. You are an amazing woman and family. God Bless.

Anonymous said...

Boothe,

I feel led to encourage you to replace the People magazines and Friends episodes with the Word. You'll never find what your looking for in anything other than in the ultimate Promise. When you want to do mindless activities, like watching tv or throwing dishes, you are going numb. Don't go numb, dear Boothe. Stay open and broken. And turn to the Healer in the Word. I can imagine that that would be hard, especially when feeling nothing is so much easier. But don't fall into that lie. And remember that this emotional war you are fighting is not for you to fight alone. Let the Lord fight for you. Draw close to Him in any way you can.

Your heart has been laid on my heart.

Fern said...

I am thinking of you. Anything I have to say will be worthless to ease your anguish, but I do wish I could shoulder some of your burden, if only for a little bit so you could have a good afternoon and once again know the peace of an uneventful life. But maybe that's the thing with the medicine. Maybe if a medicine can help to shoulder that burden until you are stronger -- like what you posted about not letting the waves of grief take you until you are stronger -- then maybe you should stick with the medicine for a bit. You will not need it forever.

You are worlds beyond me in your knowledge of God, but I feel like all these "bad" feelings (depression, anger, numbness) are okay with Him. Certainly He grieved for His son, and Jesus didn't want to die either -- that slight resistence to what He knew was His destiny tells me that it's okay to question and to be angry and to think this wasn't fair.

Lots of love,
Fern

Abby said...

I am just another stranger reading your blog and peering into your tragedy...and like all of the others I feel compelled to come here and immerse myself in your grief.

I know I am learning something by visiting you and your inner most thoughts...

I have nothing to offer you or your situation...I've been spared from the cruel reality of life thus far...but I am plauged by the worry of "what might happen to me or my family" EVERY DAY of my life...to the extent that I am never truly happy...pathetic...I know.

But somehow your blog offers peace to me...reading your words on pain and grief are strangely comforting...similar to the way CS Lewis' words give peace through understanding.

I just wanted to thank you for that.

I pray you find peace on the other side of this mountain of grief.

Anonymous said...

Dear Boothe: Thanking you again for your honesty, transparency and vulnerability to share your pain and your perspective with the world. Your writing is real, heart-rending and speaks like an invitation for those of us who don't know you personally to walk a mile in your shoes and glean God's wisdom from the journey. May He wrap you in His loving arms today. My son and I continue to pray for your family each night.

Wendy in IN

Amy in Spring Hill said...

Boothe,
You are loved- by all of us and most importantly your Creator, the very maker and sustainer of life.

God is restoring- even in the brokenness. God loves broken things...broken hearts, broken lives, broken mugs...

Thanks for your transparency. We are praying for all of you and are so imspired by your faithfulness despite circumstances.

Much love

Kerry said...

I am in awe of you and what you have withstood - but I wonder if the numbing effect of anti-anxiety drugs ultimately prolongs grief.

Anonymous said...

Boothe, I am always able to relate to you even when I feel like you are surely a better woman than I am! Your faith is beautiful.

I went through a pretty catastrophic event a year and a half ago, and I will be honest and say that my prayers combined with anti-anxiety medication are what got me through. No, I did not lose a child, thank God! But did have a death of sorts that was truly the most painful experience of my life.

Looking back, I feel like what I did was ok. It was ok that I threw things. It was ok that I couldn't eat and vomited every time I tried to. And it was certainly ok that I took medication to help dull the pain...Because without it, I'm not sure I could have made it to be there for my son. I had moments where I did not want to go on, as I'm sure you can relate to, and all I could do was scream, and cry, and curse the Lord...even while on my knees begging for His help.

It is a desperately helpless feeling when your emotions create a physical manifestation of pain and anguish. I understood how you felt when you spoke of tearing garments in agony. I think it is a pain, that unless you have felt it, you have no business in judging others on what they do in order to survive it. I could literally feel shooting pains through my fingers (still can when I think about it-since we are being honest).

My heart just breaks for you, and I hope you know that what you are doing is OK! I broke things, I screamed, and I prayed as I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. You do what you have to do to be there for Sellers! You can buy new dishes, you will eventually not need the medication, you will always have faith...but grieve! Take time for yourself, and smash whatever it takes to get you through. Just know that you are NOT alone in your anguish.

I hope I'm not being presumtuous to imagine that you have entertained the thought of ending your life...I just know that there is a breaking point for us all, and I know for a fact that losing one of my boys would put me where you are now if not deeper in despair. I'm not sure my faith is as strong as yours.

Just please be strong for little Sellers. Remember "Footprints". When you think you are alone, you are being carried. I promise that sometime in the future, although it may be distant, you will look back and see your strength, just as I have.

Just keep your head above the water. He'll do the rest.

Take care of yourself, Boothe...by whatever means necessary.

Anonymous said...

I have buried every feeling/memory/emotion for over 14 yrs with legal/illegal drugs. I am that drug girl. This is the first time I have forced myself to feel all the emotions. The drugs will only stall all you are feeling. When you stop the drugs everything will hit you like a train. I beleive it is better to feel pain than nothing at all(Well you'll still feel sad. No drug takes that). You have to embrace your feelings to be able to work through them.

Anonymous said...

Your honesty, your authenticity, your realness. The admittance to not knowing, to trying to figure it out, to reestablishing your faith, to understanding anew...it's all amazing. It puts me in wonder. Of the journey. Of your rawness. Of the fact that you're still wondering. You haven't stopped wondering. Asking. Seeking. Drawing yourself out. I love it. It's so refreshing. Keep at it. You're on to many things!
Charlene Ruff
rufffamily@msn.com

Anonymous said...

Just some thoughts from other people at the death of our loved one. You will go through a year and look back and wonder what you have done and where you have been because everything is over shadowed by Copeland. You will look at everything only in the light of what she might have thought or how she might have reacted or what she would have worn or said or eaten or done.
God does not like death. It is hell.
I haven't lost my faith. I still believe but I have lost my son for the things that are going on today. I have lost my dreams for him in this life. Never to see him stand at the altar to be married. Never to see him hold his own child.......
I sit and cry and it has been months. The shock has worn off and where people are moving on it seems I am not.
Grief has its own isolation. I dare not show my grief to my family because they may be having a "good day" . And they seldom show me their bad days. Maybe we will all sit down during the holidays and just cry and talk and look at all the letters and cards from friends. Should you plan times to grieve? I think maybe we should. When we are all together we are not really all together. There is a gaping hole.
I am not sure I am writing this for you Boothe. I think this has turned into writing for myself.
I just want to encourage you to not be afraid to grieve. Those piece of pottery in the yard are nothing . Throw them and yell. I think God is right there with you throwing them too. He is as angry at death as you are.

Here are some thoughts from other people at the death of our loved one.
I have never been more motivated to live, more willing to die and more ready for Jesus to come.
There are countless days where I only want to go home. Deep within there is this yearning to be in heaven with God, and with my son. At times I am unsure whether I want to be with God or with my son more. Many days God seems to only be a means to get to heaven so that I can see my son. I guess my faith is still struggling in many areas. God does grant me peace. And he does provide comfort in many ways… But I continue to struggle to trust him with my life, and with my family. I also struggle to know God again. With so many unanswered questions, some days it is challenging to choose to trust in spite of my uncertainties. Spending time with God and resting in his presence is a struggle. My son is at the forefront of my mind all the time, but in the stillness his absence is all the more evident and overwhelming. So, avoiding the silence and stillness is a way to at least evade the intensity of the loss. He is the only place I do find true rest. But getting to that place of rest is to a great extent more difficult than it used to be.

There are days where I want to keep on living and find inspiration in the way that my son lived his life and hope to live my life in just such an amazing way. But there are also days where the lyrics of the Lifehouse song “Take Me Away” echo in my heart.

"This time all I want is you
There is no one else
Who can take your place
This time you burn me with your eyes
You see past all the lies
You take it all away
I've seen it all and it's never enough
It keeps leaving me needing you
Take me away
Take me away
I've got nothing left to say
Just take me away

Anonymous said...

i mourn with you. how can i not.

Mari-jane said...

My daughter was killed at 24yrs old, almost 2 years ago now. We are raising the twin children she left behind. Our situations are not the same. But I too have broken things, I still find times when I sit in front of the television and flip the channels and lose track of time. I still have moments when the pain is so sharp and so deep I don't think I can bear it. Then there are the times I laugh at soemthing she did, or I see her in her children's faces and think of her as a child. I hold onto the good, hold onto the laughter, and when the tears come, I let them go. God bless you for sharing your life with us. You are not alone, although even in a crowd you can feel like you are.

Carly said...

Praying...

Jessica said...

I still believe the Lord gave us medicine such as anti-anxiety drugs, for special times. Don't completely write of medication for these early months. There are types that will not make you numb or comatose, but allow you to be a person again, while dealing with things inside. May the Lord lead you to what to do. It is a fine line and a difficult choice. I remember walking back into Sunday School with my husband that first time after we lost our daughter. I believe my doctor had given me an Ambien for the occassion. The Lord walked me in, as well, mind you!

In Him,
Jessica

Gaddia said...

With 74 other posts and comments I don't know why I assume that you'll look at mine. I don't know exactly what Faith you belong to, only that you are Christian.

I don't normally read blogs, and so rarely that I may say 'never' read all the way through them, but this one I did. Maybe it hit home, maybe God wants me to write this. I don't know, but either way, here I am, telling you what I feel I need to tell you.

There are two things I feel compelled to tell you, and so I'll just say them.

First, on the side of faith. A little bit about me is required to fully explain what I'm about to say, and to explain it effectively. I am 19, and have never had a child pass away, I don't have children yet. What I have experienced though is my father and brother passing away. My father passed away in a car accident in 2003, and my brother committed suicide in 2006. My father's passing was quite painful, but I am going to focus on my brother's. At first I didn't want to do anything because everything I did on my own without my brother (who was my best friend), I knew that by his absence, I would be reminded of him. I didn't want to live a life without him in it doing everything with me. But after a while, I felt that he would want me to keep going. If not for myself, at least as though in proxy for him. Then I could tell him when I finally reach that point that I leave this life, all the things that I've done, not to rub it in, but to share with him those things he never will experience. I'm living my life not with a burden of feeling I must live for him, but a desire to do things that I would be able to share with him later.

The second thing I feel I need to tell you is more about you. Another of my brothers worked at a company called "True Hope" which is based in southern Alberta, Canada. This company has done much research into the topic of drugs and their effect on people. What this (Christian based) company has done, is come up with a better solution than drugs for mental disorders such as depression, bi-polar, ADD, etc. They can't SAY that they've found a better cure than pharmaceutical drugs out right, for the medical industry will sue them for any claims like that, but so many people have benefited extremely from these supplements. Please look into it. I know it works because many people I know have tried it and have really improved if not healed.

http://www.truehope.com/

I hope that this informs you a little bit more, and perhaps you can find it useful.

God bless.

Anonymous said...

i've read all the posts up to this point. God has most often in my life been used to torment me, from my abusive mother to a shame-faced twenty-something version of myself berating a simple mistake. this blog post has brought me to tears, and to the brink of believing in the existence of a deity i've avoided (not rejected) since childhood. i'm still walking in the blindness of a life without that faith, and i'll keep patiently waiting the time when your God will walk me over that cliff's edge and onto solid ground. until then, thank you for the raw vulnerability. your experience is one that i cherish already.

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