Christmas pictures

I actually got around to taking pictures of my children and doing some Christmas cards this year.  Here are my two growing cuties (and the furbaby).      
                          Merry Christmas from the Sweeney Family!

skype grief ambush

When something triggers an unexpected wave of grief, it is often called a "grief ambush."  The weeks and months after Ryan's death were filled with these unending waves of grief - any familiar sound or memory or object could send me into a horrific wave of grief.  After awhile the waves become so familiar that you learn to recognize the wave, ride it out, and keep on keeping on.  It is part of just surviving.  With time the waves became fewer and further apart.  And at some point they just kind of taper off and largely disappear.  But occasionally something will still catch me by surprise and there arrives one of those familiar waves again.  I had not even realized how very long it had been since I have been hit by a strong wave of grief - a grief ambush - until just Thursday afternoon when I was blindsided by a fresh wave.
I had a skype meeting online on Thursday afternoon for one of the classes I am taking.  And for some reason I could not get the skype application to load on our desktop computer.  Knowing my meeting started in only a few minutes, I quickly grabbed our laptop computer and pulled up the skype account there.  Apparently I do not use skype or the laptop vey often because as I logged into the account, the call log still had, right near the top of the list, the call I had with Ryan on June 22, 2016.  It was a complete shock to see his name pop up on my screen like that!  I had to look closely at the date and realize what it meant.  This video call was the very last time I ever saw Ryan.  He died less than 48 hours later.  The call log says we talked for 48 minutes and 36 seconds that Wednesday afternoon.  (I blurred out the other contacts on the call log screenshot here for privacy.)  Seeing his name on that call log hit me like a ton of bricks. I took this screenshot of it, then quickly focused on my meeting, trying to hold back the huge wave of emotions hitting me to deal with after my meeting.
I did make it through the hour long skype meeting, despite my emotional brain fog.  And afterwards I closed out the skype application, not wanting to think about the call log and how seeing Ryan's name there had startled me so much.  But as I look back now at that screenshot from Thursday afternoon, I remember that conversation with Ryan - those precious 48 minutes and 36 seconds.  I remember telling Ryan about our day and how much we missed him and that we were looking forward to seeing him that weekend.  I remember him on the screen, sitting in our loft in our home in Texas talking to us, with the kids Legos and schoolwork table in the background behind him.  And I had no idea at the time of that conversation that I would never see him again.  I had no idea that would be our last skype conversation.  I had no idea that in those 48 minutes and 36 seconds he was beginning to battle the worst pain of his life and was somehow being so incredibly strong for us.  I had no idea that I would not get another chance to look him in the eye and say "I love you."  I did not even know we had talked for 48 minutes and 36 seconds - the exact length of the call was new information to me.  It hurts that I do not remember every detail of that conversation.  It hurts to see his name listed as a call contact that I can no longer call.  Every "last" is a source of pain.  I remember the weeks and weeks of pain, as I would wait for my cell phone to buzz with a call or a text for Ryan - my head knew it would never happen but it took my heart weeks to let that reality sink in.  Seeing his name on the call log this week kind of brought back that similar type of pain again. What I would not give to have another 48 minutes and 36 seconds to call that contact again.
The funny part though is that even though I feel pain from this grief ambush, I am almost glad to have it.  It has been months since something about Ryan has surprised me or caught me off guard like this.  I know that seeing his name pop up unexpectedly in places is going to happen less and less, as I have uncovered almost all the "surprises" or information I could collect.  It almost seems like another kind of grief to realize that the waves of grief are fading...  So I hang onto this little bit of pain, just for today, clinging to Ryan with one more "last" that I do not really want to let go of. 

quote

TAPS conference

Last weekend the kids and I took a quick trip down to a TAPS conference in San Diego.  Kate and Charlie attended Good Grief Camp for kids while there, just like they did in Washington DC this last May during our Memorial Day weekend trip.  Time spent in the company of other TAPS families is always a blessing and the love those mentors and leaders shower on my children just warms my heart more than I can say.  While the kids were at their camps, I attended a Peer Mentor training for the TAPS organization.  I guess I feel like I am at a place where I have attended the seminars myself in the past and it is now time to try to give back in some way.  So many others so selflessly reached out to me last year, especially at times when I felt like I simply could not, or did not want to, go on.  If I can somehow just be a shoulder for someone else, sharing their grief with them, I want to be able and be prepared to do that.  

What surprised me the most, however, was how much seeing others’ pain affected my view of myself.  I sat in on the first sharing group on Friday evening after we arrived.  It was seeing those new, first-time attendees arrive, raw with shock and new grief, that I realized how I had been that person at one point.  My peer mentor was there (she has become a good friend of mine) and she asked me to help a newbie that evening, as she was overwhelmed herself with helping others.  I found myself timid to approach this woman who was crying with fear and fresh grief.  But then the memory of that debilitating, all-consuming pain came flooding back to me and I just hugged her.  I hugged her while she cried and I listened.  Because those two gifts - a warm embrace and a listening ear - were what I most needed in the weeks and months after Ryan's death.  And as I listened to her sob, I remember and I felt that pain again.  Not in a way that consumed me, but like a foggy memory of the hurt I had felt, and do still feel, but mixed with the familiarity of learning to live with the pain.  And I know it sounds weird, but I felt thankful.  I think you do not realize how much you have changed until you have something to compare it to.  Kind of like when you look at a picture of your children and realize how much they have grown but you did not notice the growth day to day because the changes are so subtle and slow.  I have changed from the person I was a year and half ago, in small subtle ways that add up to huge changes over time.  Grief and tragedy change a person.  Seeing others walk a similar path of pain brought that reality to my awareness.  And I guess my hope is that maybe I can shine a ray of light into those feeling trapped in the darkness of their grief by showing them that they can keep taking steps forward and let the pain become a part of transforming them.  One day they will look back and be able to say they have learned to live with their pain in new ways too. 

Kate and Charlie spent the whole weekend in their age group camps, doing their “grief work” and playing on the beach with other kids and bonding with their military mentors.  While they were safely occupied there, I attended that sharing group Friday morning, a workshop Saturday morning, and then I decided to spend Saturday afternoon alone, just relaxing and reflecting on the shores of Mission Bay.  And somewhere in the middle of that afternoon, I realized I am no longer afraid of solitude.  After Ryan died I spent months feeling absolutely terrified of being alone.  Each step I took last year by myself - moving into my home, traveling, staying in a hotel, attending my school program, each new “thing” took so much energy to do because of the exhaustion of grief and fear.  But sitting on the beach, alone, this past Saturday, I realized I was no longer afraid.  I had easily driven down to San Diego, checked into our hotel, gotten the kids off to camp. and then instead of attending the afternoon seminar, I had chosen to sit alone on the beach because I wanted to.  Not only was I not afraid of being by myself, I had sought it out as a comfort and had not thought twice about doing things that even just a few months ago would have been very scary to me.  Sitting there by the water I realized what I had accomplished and how far I have gone - and I was just thankful.  Thankful for answered prayer, thankful for those that have been there for me when I needed them, thankful for God's healing, thankful for the peaceful solitude there beside the ocean, and thankful for how God has continued to use my grief to love and keep a tender heart, instead of building up walls of bitterness or fear. 

Sunday I spent the day in peer mentor training with other survivors who want to learn how to be there for those in their deepest time of need.  It felt good to connect with these precious others.  Those of us who have walked this horrific road of grief have a special bond, often unspoken, maybe just a knowing how difficult it can be to take the next breathe.  I left the training that afternoon feeling loved, empowered, and ready to help wherever I could.  I felt strong as I walked back to our hotel to check out and pick my kids up from camp, ready to drive home.  And maybe God knew I needed that strength for the afternoon.  I picked Kate up from camp first and as I walked up to get her and hear about her day, a man came rushing up to me.  He was Kate's group leader for the weekend.  Each camper gets paired one-on-one with a military mentor, someone who is usually active duty and volunteers their time for a whole weekend to just bond with and interact with a good grief kid.  And the pairs of mentors / kid mentees are divided into groups (by age) and led through activities by a group leader who has volunteered to be trained to help kids with grief.  I had met Kate's mentor for the weekend but not her group leader.  So when this man sought me out at pick up and rushed over to me, I was caught off guard.  He proceeded to tell me that he knew Ryan.  He had been Ryan's co-worker at WHCA (White House Communications Agency) during part of our time in Washington DC.  I was kind of in shock and listened as he teared up and hugged me.  He had no idea that Ryan had passed away and did not put it together until he saw Kate's name and started talking to her.  I thanked him for sharing and I left to go pick Charlie up from his camp. 

As I was getting Charlie, however, it truly dawned on me what had just happened.  I had met someone who knew Ryan and this was new information to me.  All the memories I have of Ryan I have replayed over and over and over in my head so many times.  It saddens me deeply that there will never be anything new to add to my memories.  Suddenly I was desperate to hear more from this man so after getting Charlie, I rushed back to Kate's camp and found him again.  I apologized that I had to think about what he said and I asked his name, where he had worked with Ryan, how long they had worked together, and a host of other questions.  Daniel shared that they had worked together briefly downtown during Ryan's time at the White House itself, before Ryan was transferred back to the WHCA travel team.  Ryan had LOVED that stretch of time downtown and Daniel shared that it was indeed a sweet, kind of unknown secret about how great that particular position was.  And I received a tiny bit of new information about Ryan.  No matter how small the words and new memories, I am just delighted to have anything new!  That poor man must have thought I was crazy to come back and question him and hug him, but he was so incredibly sweet to talk with me and share.  He even gave Kate his contact information and asked to keep in touch with us.  I left feeling overwhelmed with emotion by the surprise of the afternoon.  I struggled to hold back the tears spilling out, just to be able to drive ourselves home from San Diego that evening.  I mean what are the chances that a previous co-worker from DC would travel to California and be assigned as my daughter's group leader?  Again, I left feeling thankful.  Thankful for a fresh memory, a new friend, and surprise blessings. 







Kate at camp (spelling out TAPS)

Charlie and his mentor

Charlie with some of the TAPS mentors

Peer Mentor Training

TAPS San Diego Conference

our beloved Ryan on the memorial wall

memorial wall at the San Diego conference

the view at our conference

Ryan's former co-worker & Kate's group leader

Saturday afternoon

relaxing after a long day at camp



the awesome group four





so will I

A friend shared this amazing song, “So Will I (100 billion x)” performed by Tori Kelly (link below).  I absolutely love love it.

So Will I by Tori Kelly

God of creation
There at the start
Before the beginning of time
With no point of reference
You spoke to the dark
And fleshed out the wonder of light

And as You speak
A hundred billion galaxies are born
In the vapor of Your breath the planets form
If the stars were made to worship so will I
I can see Your heart in everything You’ve made
Every burning star
A signal fire of grace
If creation sings Your praises so will I

God of Your promise
You don’t speak in vain
No syllable empty or void
For once You have spoken
All nature and science
Follow the sound of Your voice

And as You speak
A hundred billion creatures catch Your breath
Evolving in pursuit of what You said
If it all reveals Your nature so will I
I can see Your heart in everything You say
Every painted sky
A canvas of Your grace
If creation still obeys You so will I
So will I
So will I

If the stars were made to worship so will I
If the mountains bow in reverence so will I
If the oceans roar Your greatness so will I
For if everything exists to lift You high so will I
If the wind goes where You send it so will I
If the rocks cry out in silence so will I
If the sum of all our praises still falls shy
Then we’ll sing again a hundred billion times

God of salvation
You chased down my heart
Through all of my failure and pride
On a hill You created
The light of the world
Abandoned in darkness to die

And as You speak
A hundred billion failures disappear
Where You lost Your life so I could find it here
If You left the grave behind You so will I
I can see Your heart in everything You’ve done
Every part designed in a work of art called love
If You gladly chose surrender so will I
I can see Your heart
Eight billion different ways
Every precious one
A child You died to save
If You gave Your life to love them so will I

Like You would again a hundred billion times
But what measure could amount to Your desire
You’re the One who never leaves the one behind

gorgeous evening beach walk,
if creation sings your praises, so will I

eternal life 🌅

I am reading the final chapter of Dallas Willard’s “Divine Conspiracy” and truthfully, I am going to be sad to finish this book.  It has been like a companion to me the last two months of study!  But in this final chapter, where Willard draws together conclusions on what our human future is to look like, he paints a picture of heaven and eternal life that I am so drawn to.  It is a picture of each human set free in a gorgeous universe, empowered to do what we want to do, actively and creatively.  Having finally developed the kind of character to be able to do so, we “shall shine brightly, like the sun, in the Kingdom of our Father” (Mt. 13:43).  It is a picture that both brings joy and meaning to our present lives, but also hope and anticipation of eternal life.  Below is my own paraphrase of Willard’s chapter on the human future in this universe: 

The present universe is only one element in God’s Kingdom but it is the one in which the Son of man is currently preparing for us to join him in his stunning surroundings, where He has been since the creation of the cosmos.  We will there actively participate in the future governance of the universe.  We will not just sit around looking at one another or God, but we will ‘reign with him’ in the endless ongoing creative work of God.  This is what each individual was intended for.  Our faithfulness over a ‘few things’ in the present develops the kind of character that can be entrusted to enter the joy of the Lord in the ‘many things.’  And the joy is the creation and care of what is good.  His plan for us, as apprentices to Jesus, is for us to develop to where we can then take our place in the ongoing creativity of the universe.  

If that is not an amazing picture of heaven, I do not know what is!  I remember about a year ago one of the members of my GriefShare group made a comment about he thought heaven sounded “boring.”  He had said if everything is so perfect, what will there be to do?  I think this chapter in Willard’s book addresses that question!  God desires us to join him in being creative, even empowering us with the ability to create and care over what we want to, because our souls, our personalities, our characters will have been developed into the kind of children of God who can participate in that Kingdom!  Just as we desire for our children to develop the kind of character where they can be empowered to use their creative gifts to do what they want, God desires this for us - to active and unimaginably creative with him!  This is what it means to be a disciple, or an apprentice, to Jesus- truly learning what Jesus does and then to be able to be like Jesus in his actions, here on earth and then on into eternity. 

This quote by George MacDonald is a gorgeous picture of our future:

“And in the perfect time, O perfect God,

When we are in our home, our natal home,

When joy shall carry every sacred load,

And from it’s life and peace no heart shall roam,

What if thou make us able to like thee-

To light with moons, to clothe with greenery,

To hang gold sunset o’er a rose and purple sea.”

evening walk - sky painted pink and blue at sunset

evening walk - God’s gorgeous sunset

Thanksgiving prayer

“When you sit down to eat, pray.  When you eat bread, do so thanking Him for being so generous to you.  If you drink wine, be mindful of Him who has given it to you for your pleasure and as a relief in sickness.  When you dress, thank Him for His kindness in providing you with clothes.  When you look at the sky and the beauty of the stars, throw yourself at God’s feet and adore Him who in His wisdom has arranged things in this way.  Similarly, when the sun goes down and when it rises, when you are asleep or awake, give thanks to God, who created and arranged all things for your benefit, to have you know, love and praise their Creator.”  - Saint Basil the Great

Happy Thanksgiving!

Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him.  Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.  (Colossians 2:7)

🍂🌻🍗🌾🦃🍁🌽💛

grief work

Please keep my sweet Charlie man in your prayers right now.  The next few months are going to be difficult for him.  He has been dealing with a lot and some of his buried grief is surfacing in ways that are so difficult for this mama’s heart to take.  Charlie started working with a grief counselor last month, very willingly.  He has been just a little down and sad, with intermittent episodes of anger.  I suspected he needed to talk about his daddy but that he is reluctant that I be the person he talks to because he fears making me cry or causing me to be sad.  He is such a tender-hearted boy, like his daddy.  And I sometimes forget that I had months and months of counseling and the support of my weekly GriefShare group at church to help me understand, process, and learn to move forward (not move on, just move forward) in healthy ways.  But my children, largely, have wanted to just be normal kids and were thriving with their routines and family support.  And my counselor assured this paranoid mama that that was okay.  Kids grieve differently and they may not even fully grieve until later in their lives.  I was told as long as they were doing well in friendships, in school, in social situations, etc,, to just let them grieve as they choose and to step in when/if their behavior were to shift towards anything not typical for their personalities.  Sometimes children really just need to find the security and stability of a routine and a new normal before they can feel safe enough to explore the difficult, deep emotions of a loss.  But that is where Charlie is at - he needs to address the issues buried down deep in his heart as they start to seep up.  The painful emotions can cause confusion and sorrow that my children may not have learned the skills to navigate on their own.  My heart aches that my sweet eleven year old has to navigate these at all, but Charlie is such a brave and strong boy.  He amazes me.  He and his counselor are tackling the emotions of grief, suicide, moving forward, sorrow, and acceptance.  It is important for my little guy to have guidance in sorting through these emotions and I am SO thankful for the amazing lady so dedicated to working with him through this.  His counselor is amazing and has put up with me asking a zillion questions with such love and grace.  I have come to pick Charlie up from a session to find both him and his counselor teary-eyed together but often playing a game too.  Sorrow and joy, always both together, that is life.  It is just so hard for my heart to know my children have felt such pain and loss in their lives.  If I could somehow take the pain for them, I would in a heartbeat.  Watching them struggle on their journeys is so much harder than my own journey often is.  So please keep Katherine and Charlie in your prayers, and especially my little Charlie man these next few months as he so bravely keeps returning to his counselor sessions to put in the hard work of grieving.  In my GriefShare group we called it “grief work” because it is so completely exhausting - mentally, physically, and emotionally - to pull up each emotion, fully feel it, and then put it into a healthy and truthful perspective.  I see the exhaustion on Charlie’s face.  Oh, I see it and it hurts my heart, but also makes me so proud of him.  The process, however, is so, so important.  So please pray protection over Charlie’s tender heart as he does his grief work, talks about difficult things that bring such sorrow and tears, and bravely learns the steps to sorting through those emotions in healthy and truthful ways.  

May God, our loving Father, bless and protect the precious hearts of my children, strengthen them in the most difficult of their sorrows, gently guide them to peace, truth, understanding, and joy, and comfort them through that arduous process with His abundantly loving presence. Amen. 

Veterans Day 2017 🐑 🏈

For Veterans Day 2017, Charlie and I were invited to attend the NFL Los Angeles Rams “Salute to Service” game against the Houston Texans.  Through the amazing TAPS organization Charlie was paired up with a player from the LA Rams who played Sunday’s game in Ryan’s memory, with Ryan’s initials on his helmet during the game.

On the Saturday before the game, we came to observe a special Rams practice where each family got to meet the player who was playing in their loved one’s memory.  Charlie was matched with Tanzel Smart #92, a super sweet rookie just drafted to the NFL from Louisiana.  He took the time to talk to Charlie about football, about Ryan, about his own family, and he told Charlie how much he appreciated him.  It was so sweet and really touched my heart to see this huge player bending down and giving my little guy a tender bear hug.  After the practice Charlie was given a matching helmet with Ryan’s initials on it that Tanzel Smart autographed for him.  And Tanzel also gave Char his practice gloves to keep.  I do not have any pictures from the pre-game day practice itself, as apparently professional football is VERY serious business and cameras were not allowed during practice in case we were actually Texan spies recording plays, but I did take plenty before and after the practice itself.  ;)   Charlie found this especially amusing and pointed out two Texas license plates in the parking lot of the practice field afterwards.  He is convinced that they were the vehicles of Texan spies... If so, luckily the spies were not very successful, as you will see from how the game went on Sunday... ;)

On Sunday, game day, we arrived at the LA Coliseum and were part of the pre-game torch lighting ceremony.  Neither Charlie nor I had ever been to a professional sporting event so it was awesome site to see the huge stadium, watch the players be announced, and be down near the field during the excitement!  After the pregame show, we were escorted to a suite where all the TAPS families got to watch the game together and eat yummy food.  Did I mention how amazing the TAPS organization is??  They completely spoil us with such awesome, well-organized events where we are able to remember and recognize our loved ones that have passed away.

Charlie actually surprised me by how excited he was about the whole football game!  He has seen a few games on TV (he is a huge Broncos fan) and he has played flag football with Scouts, but he usually loses interest after a quarter or so.  But maybe something about hearing the roar of the fans cheering in the stadium, watching the big Jumbotron TV thing, or just the excitement of so many energetic others packed together and surrounding us that Charlie was completely captivated!  The Rams were the first to score with a field goal but when Texas pulled ahead with a touchdown, I saw my little guy’s spirits sink.  I realized it would be really, really helpful to me if the Rams could pull out a win for Charlie...  and goodness, they did!  During the third quarter, they scored three touchdowns back-to-back and the stadium went wild!  And my little boy did too.  He looked at me during the fourth quarter and said, “Mom, I know the Texans don’t stand a chance to win at this point but I have to see how this ends!”  So we, of course, stayed to the end and celebrated the final score of 33-7!   

It was a precious day of some one-on-one mommy-son time and in memory of Ryan, acknowledging his sacrifice and honoring his memory.  Side note - Kate chose not to attend because sports, and especially football, are just “not her thing” but she did tune in on TV for a bit and seemed interested to hear Charlie tell her about his weekend.  And I can not think of a more rewarding way to have spent Veterans Day this year.  

Below are a few precious pictures of Ryan teaching Charlie how to play football a few years ago (probably fall of 2013) and a few pictures from our weekend with the Rams.

Charlie and Daddy, Bolling AFB, 2013 

Before the game

Charlie and Tanzel Smart

T

Littlest Rams fan 🐑 🏈 

Intent on watching the field

Charlie and Daddy, Bolling AFB, 2013