Follow by Email

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Time to heal. Time to set Jacob free.....

Hard to believe it has been almost a year since my baby went to heaven. The year has been a most different year in my life. One that is hard to really explain. It is a combination of the worst pain possible a parent can walk through and yet some of the greatest blessings have come out of it this year.

 Before Jake went to heaven, I never cried. Nothing made me cry. It seemed that I was made of steel. Now it seems that the steel all melted off me and I am rubber. I bend easily now. I cry over little things quite easily now. I cry with others when they hurt. I just seemed to have unzipped a wall inside me that pours out tears and yet I am ok. The tears are now ok. They don't over whelm me. They don't take me to a bad place. They move through me and seem to wash me and heal me, each time I shed them. 

  This is a blessing. Did Jake's death clear my heart for a compassion that I might never have known?
Possibly. 

For a long time I wanted the doctors to pay for their mistakes. I looked into law suits but we didn't have one. Jake had not done the right things for himself, even though the doctors had made mistakes. Jake was responsible too. 
 Then I simply wanted them to know what they had done wrong. I wanted to fix the system that failed my son. 

Well I am here to share that God did some things in my heart and I no longer wish to do that. I don't care to put my son's death on someone. I don't want anyone to live in pain for the mistakes they made. I want them to be forgiven and loved just the same.
 So today I took a big step for me. I had saved a group of his medications. The very one that dammed his body to seizures. I emptied them all out and took the bottles for a project use. No longer will I hold onto the bottles, as they represented my bitterness. My anger at whom ever prescribed them. It no longer resides in my heart, so  I no longer need the bottles.

 Jake didn't die. Jake moved addresses. Jake is very much alive. Many things have come to me about his life since his death and I now know that his life was more full of suffering then he deserved to have to live through.  He paid a price to live on earth really and his price paid has now bought him a ticket into the most joyful place possible. Heaven. He deserves heaven.  He deserves all the love he is living with now and the freedom that he has now. He deserves his mansion and all his blessings. 
  
One day I will get to see all that he has now. Until that day I will just hold him in my heart and remember his adorable beauty that he was here, and know that he is safe. and waiting for me.
  
Jake has two very close friends whom I know he is watching over. His friends don't believe God exists. I know that Jake has shown me to tell them that He does exist and to one day give Jake a gift of bringing them to heaven. I have tried to do that, but at this point, they are still in that non believing state.
  
I just will love them until God shows them where Jake is and how much Jake desires to have them be with him one day.  
  
Anyone who doesn't believe God exists has to deny that babies being born are not God's creations. They have to believe that cells just jumped together and created people and the recreation of people that is pregnancy, just spontaneously happened.  I think it takes more faith to believe that lie, then it does to simply believe God.
 But until one lets the scales drop from their eyes and reaches out to God to find out if He is real, then the scales keep the eyes blinded. 

I so pray that these two friends one day take a chance on God and find out hoe much He loves them and wants them to be with Jake.
I pray that we all celebrate in heaven one day and talk about the days of earth and realize that they almost missed God, but they didn't. I won't give up believing that can happen for Jake's friends.


   We had to send Fluppy to heaven. He was old, blind and senile and not doing well. The day we took him to the vets, I saw in a vision that Fluppy just popped up from the ground into heaven and Jake ran to him and held him joyfully, crying Fluppy you are here with me!!  It made Jakes day that day to have his dog in heaven with him. I know it.
  I have been listening to an awesome woman who has had many experiences like what Jake had when he was caught up in heaven at age 14.
 This has been a huge encouragement for me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02ggLITT9rw

Her name is Kat Ker. She has a ton to describe about heaven, and I plan to listen more to her video's. She describes a port hole there our loved ones can visit us, or see us. I want to know more about that. I love to know that Jake is watching from above and sees his family.

 I know he doesn't want me to continue to grieve for him when he is in such an awesome place. Sometimes I can't help it still, but I am learning to let go in an amazing way.

 I am learning to let God give me that peace that fills my heart and lets my son go to freely enjoy heaven, until one day we are united again.

 If Jake could be here now, this is what I would say:

Jake, you were beautiful, awesome and sometimes a little brat. You were precious and loved and sometimes you got on my nerves. 

 You were gentle and kind and yet you did things on earth that were not right at times. 

But Jake, I adored you as my son. I will always adore you even though you were not anyone's perfect child. No child is perfect. I can't keep you as a memorial in my heart that I lost a perfect kid. I lost a real person who was born to me and struggled alot in life. Life hurt you in some ways while you were here, but you honestly didn't stop being gentle through it all. I am proud of you for that. You fought a good fight while you lived here to keep above the things that were taking you down.
  
 Now you no longer have that fight. You are free. You dance. You run. Your mind is clear and loved and happy. I am so happy for you Jake. I give you to God now. You belonged to Him in the first place and now you are back with Him for eternity. I love you baby. I love you unconditionally no matter what and forever. 

 Speak to those angels up there on my behalf. Tell them that we all need them down here to take care of us and help us continue the mission that God has given to us.  Remind them that we are not done on earth and we can't do this alone here. 
  Give Jesus a hug from me please. Tell Him I so love Him and I am so grateful that He loves me.
 Sit in the throne room of God and tell Him your family wants to serve Him the rest of their days on earth.

 He knows all this because He sees us, but I feel good just asking you to play a part on our behalf.
 Keep your mansion clean Jake. I am not coming up to visit a dump. Your apartment was horrible. I know I taught you better. You can do it up there because you don't have any ties holding you down. 

 Enjoy everything Heaven has to offer you. I bet God even has some nice clean and awesome video games up there that you play. 

I think I have three other children up there too Jake. I lost three babies. They probably know you now. Tell them I love them too, and one day I look forward to meeting my other children. I can't wait to find out if they are boys or girls and what they look like.

  Give them hugs from me while they wait to meet me.
This is not good bye Jake. This is see you soon, as I surely will and it won't be long as heaven is not in time. 

 I love you Baby.  I am holding you in my arms now in a big hug. Please take my love and hold it up there until. 

 Love Mom.

Terry Quinn
kidznlildogz@aol.com
http://www.parentingfasdkids.com

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Out to sea in the boat of grief

Losing my son landed me in a boat.

That boat is still on the sea people. In fact, I don't see land in site. Daily I wonder if the boat will sink.
I am often dehydrated from the sun and in agony that I might not live through this trip.
Other boats around me are sailing and looking at me as though my sails should be up by now, but they aren't.

I have been in touch with many boats from afar who are also in this same boat and even after a year, most of them are not sailing, so my five months is puny.
So I am not alone in still feeling this way.

 The gut wrenching pain of losing a child is only known and understood by those that have had this happen to them. If you haven't experienced it you can't really understand it. 

 You can say "I am sorry" all day long and it doesn't even seal a tiny crack in my boat.
Nope, there isn't a way you can fix my boat.
There is a way you can help me keep my boat afloat though.

You can love me when I appear to be "throwing up" all over the place with my pain.
You can stop thinking that I should be sailing and stop expecting me to be ok.
I am not. Not even close.

You can just be there. Being there to hold my boat out of the water for just a little while each day gives me a chance to feel uplifted.  It helps me to keep paddling through the very dark waters and not feel as though one moment  my boat is just going to sink and I will go down with the ship.

 You can not judge me when I over react to every other situation in life that triggers my PTSD.
All of these things make my boat roll from side to side so much that I honestly hang on for dear life in that moment. I scream for someone to help me feel safe again, and no one shows up.
 
 I have moments when I want to take my own knives and cut holes in my boat and sink it on purpose just so I can escape the reality of the scorching sun and the rocking boat.
  
All the boats around me are not really paying attention to that and they want me to just straighten up and fly right and they want to smack me and hope I wake up from such thoughts. They order me to jump ship and get out of that boat. They tell me you don't get to die with that ship. They say my thoughts are STUPID. 

They belittle me. They think their actions are going to fix my boat.
 What they do is make my boat look more riddled with holes. They add pain to my pain.
Then they move off into their own boat world where parties take place, laughter, happiness, joy and fun.

Their lives honestly don't want to touch mine any more because I look scary to them. It feels to them if they get near me that their own boat will be tainted and they might ruin some of their own fun.
 
They don't even want to consider what it might be like to lose a child, so getting near me scares the crap out of them. It is as though my disease will hop onto them.
 
 They also don't want to deal with pain because no one does. That is the human condition. So if they get near my boat, they might be confronted with their own desire not to touch pain.
 So this boat I am in that is riddled with holes and rocking with the storms, is all alone in the sea.

 I cry out to God. When can I come ashore God? When can I get out of this boat? Will I ever be free of it?
I can see Him plugging a hole now and then and allowing me some more safety. I can see Him often sitting in the boat with me. Then a crisis happens and the repaired holes not only break, they look bigger to me at that time.
 
 I get it if you can't come in the boat with me. I get it if you don't even want to look at me.

What I hope is that you will at least give me the grace that allows me to "throw up my pain" now and then. when the sun has scorched me so bad that I am dehydrated and sick. When I get through that, just don't leave the water that is near me. Stick around if you can. Maybe one day we can all go ashore together.  

Maybe. I am not sure yet.

Terry Quinn