I always thought that this would be what our house would be like in 8 or 10 years. I actually looked forward to the boys fighting because at least it meant they were bonding and caring for each other.
I saw this video first a few years ago and laughed and laughed because it was such a good representation of Nick and Cody. Now I still laugh (out loud actually) and cry, too.
I miss my son, but I also miss the years I had dreamed of and lost.
I hope you can laugh at this and enjoy some of your own memories of "Nick -N- Cody" and their very "brotherly" relationship!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Should I be making decisions?
They say you aren’t suppose to make any major life decision for a year after you lose a loved one. They say that for the first many months you won’t be able to think straight and you may make life altering decisions that you weren’t able to think through clearly. They say you’ll be thinking with your heart and emotions instead of logically.
I wonder if they are all wrong.
It is true that I am thinking with my heart and also very emotionally – but who says that’s wrong? I can’t think like I use to and I am no longer concerned with the things of earth but only with the things of heaven – but who knows if that’s “clouded judgement” or truly thinking clearly for the first time in my life? I am filled with strong emotions for people and concerned for their emotional and physical well-being over all other issues like food, clothing and career – but how am I to know if that is illogical thinking or if my priorities are finally straight?
Could it be that death breaks through the clouded barrier that the prince of this world has placed between us and heaven? Could the loss of a loved one be the bucket of cold ice water that wakes us up out of our narcotic stupor that limits our ability to care for those around us? Could it be that shocking pain awakens our senses to the issues that truly matter and opens our eyes to true reality? Could it be that what we thought was reality all these years was just smoke and mirrors meant to distract us from our true calling and purpose? Could it be that C.S. Lewis was correct – that tragedy is what God uses to wake us up from a life that would otherwise be hopelessly lost and distracted from it’s true intended purpose?
So, why not act upon the impulses of this time of grief and pain?
Why not become engrossed in a project of complete umimportance on a worldly scale and get lost in frivolous behavior like spending all of my time with the poor and needy and spiritually bankrupt? Why not care for others to such an extant that I run the risk of losing my own worldly goods for the sake of saving the eternal wealth of another?
This world has become empty to me. It is useless and void.
But people matter. My discomfort is irrelevant and daily chores unimportant, but people are priceless.
I am in agony over the interruption of my relationship with my son, so why not use this unbearable amount of time we are required to spend apart in a way that will make it seem of some importance? Why not lose myself in the attempt to relieve the suffering of another and exhaust myself in the efforts to care for my family with a hope that the days might begin to pass less slowly? Why not care for the only thing that matters and the only thing that lasts – people – and forget all of life’s other demands?
If I feed myself, I should look for ways to feed the starving; Cothe myself – clothe the naked; Read the scriptures – find the illiterate to read outloud to.;Love my children – care for those with no parents to love them. I feel an insatiable urge to make my time worth the incredible price I’m paying to be stuck here.
Isn’t this what God has been shouting to us all along anyways? Aren’t we suppose to get our heads out of this materialistic and sinful world and focus on eternity? Isn’t fasting and praying truly about being so caught up in the needs of others that we forget to eat and being so overwhelmed with the need to plead to God on another’s behalf that we forget to sleep? Isn’t to obey better than sacrifice? Isn’t it better to go hungry not because we’ve decided to store our food away on a particular prescribed day of prayer, but rather that we go hungry because we’ve given all our food away?
Does God Himself say in Isaiah 58:5-10 (emphasis mine):
Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed
and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD ?
Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness [a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.”
So, what activities should I be limiting myself to? What things are more dramatic and less life altering than the loss of my child? What decision could I possibly make that would be more irreversable than living my life without one of my children by my side?
Please , forgive me if I choose to “live life on the wild side”. I think that, while I am living in this altered state of total awareness of what truly matters and what is completely unimportant, I will risk making many big decisions.
Don’t be surprised if you see me playing ball with Cody while the laundry piles up. Don’t be shocked if I’m kicking a soccer ball with Selah while the grass is two feet high. Don’t spred rumors if I am sipping lemonade with the neighbor when you think I should be washing windows. (I hope I prove to be more interested in lines of communication remaining clear than I am about clear windows!)
But most of all, don’t allow me to forget where I am today or waste the lesson I have learned and slip into numbness again. Don’t allow the enemy’s lies to drug me into believing that my physical comfort or my family’s well-being is more important than the spiritual lives and well-being of those I encounter throughout my day.
Tell me where there’s a single mom who needs childcare, show me where there’s a food pantry I can help in, introduce me to your neighbor who doesn’t know the Lord.
Life will be hard for me – it will be hard forever now. So, if it’s going to be hard anyways, it might as well have purpose.
And that’s a very big decision
I wonder if they are all wrong.
It is true that I am thinking with my heart and also very emotionally – but who says that’s wrong? I can’t think like I use to and I am no longer concerned with the things of earth but only with the things of heaven – but who knows if that’s “clouded judgement” or truly thinking clearly for the first time in my life? I am filled with strong emotions for people and concerned for their emotional and physical well-being over all other issues like food, clothing and career – but how am I to know if that is illogical thinking or if my priorities are finally straight?
Could it be that death breaks through the clouded barrier that the prince of this world has placed between us and heaven? Could the loss of a loved one be the bucket of cold ice water that wakes us up out of our narcotic stupor that limits our ability to care for those around us? Could it be that shocking pain awakens our senses to the issues that truly matter and opens our eyes to true reality? Could it be that what we thought was reality all these years was just smoke and mirrors meant to distract us from our true calling and purpose? Could it be that C.S. Lewis was correct – that tragedy is what God uses to wake us up from a life that would otherwise be hopelessly lost and distracted from it’s true intended purpose?
So, why not act upon the impulses of this time of grief and pain?
Why not become engrossed in a project of complete umimportance on a worldly scale and get lost in frivolous behavior like spending all of my time with the poor and needy and spiritually bankrupt? Why not care for others to such an extant that I run the risk of losing my own worldly goods for the sake of saving the eternal wealth of another?
This world has become empty to me. It is useless and void.
But people matter. My discomfort is irrelevant and daily chores unimportant, but people are priceless.
I am in agony over the interruption of my relationship with my son, so why not use this unbearable amount of time we are required to spend apart in a way that will make it seem of some importance? Why not lose myself in the attempt to relieve the suffering of another and exhaust myself in the efforts to care for my family with a hope that the days might begin to pass less slowly? Why not care for the only thing that matters and the only thing that lasts – people – and forget all of life’s other demands?
If I feed myself, I should look for ways to feed the starving; Cothe myself – clothe the naked; Read the scriptures – find the illiterate to read outloud to.;Love my children – care for those with no parents to love them. I feel an insatiable urge to make my time worth the incredible price I’m paying to be stuck here.
Isn’t this what God has been shouting to us all along anyways? Aren’t we suppose to get our heads out of this materialistic and sinful world and focus on eternity? Isn’t fasting and praying truly about being so caught up in the needs of others that we forget to eat and being so overwhelmed with the need to plead to God on another’s behalf that we forget to sleep? Isn’t to obey better than sacrifice? Isn’t it better to go hungry not because we’ve decided to store our food away on a particular prescribed day of prayer, but rather that we go hungry because we’ve given all our food away?
Does God Himself say in Isaiah 58:5-10 (emphasis mine):
Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed
and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD ?
Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness [a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.”
So, what activities should I be limiting myself to? What things are more dramatic and less life altering than the loss of my child? What decision could I possibly make that would be more irreversable than living my life without one of my children by my side?
Please , forgive me if I choose to “live life on the wild side”. I think that, while I am living in this altered state of total awareness of what truly matters and what is completely unimportant, I will risk making many big decisions.
Don’t be surprised if you see me playing ball with Cody while the laundry piles up. Don’t be shocked if I’m kicking a soccer ball with Selah while the grass is two feet high. Don’t spred rumors if I am sipping lemonade with the neighbor when you think I should be washing windows. (I hope I prove to be more interested in lines of communication remaining clear than I am about clear windows!)
But most of all, don’t allow me to forget where I am today or waste the lesson I have learned and slip into numbness again. Don’t allow the enemy’s lies to drug me into believing that my physical comfort or my family’s well-being is more important than the spiritual lives and well-being of those I encounter throughout my day.
Tell me where there’s a single mom who needs childcare, show me where there’s a food pantry I can help in, introduce me to your neighbor who doesn’t know the Lord.
Life will be hard for me – it will be hard forever now. So, if it’s going to be hard anyways, it might as well have purpose.
And that’s a very big decision
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Mother's Day Weekend
This Weekend
This weekend was hard; way harder than I thought it would be. I actually thought I would be completely fine. I have both children with which to celebrate the holiday as well as my own mother and mother-in-law to send greetings.
But my decent began when I wrote a Mother’s Day card to my sister.
You see, this is her first Mother’s Day and I was so excited to buy her a card and remember what all my firsts were like. I remembered my first Mother’s Day and how I realized on that first Mother’s Day that I was finally an adult involved in a real life. I was not just a student playing house with my new husband. I wasn’t a newlywed or new at life or new in my career – I was an official somebody.
I had become a mom.
I wrote all of my thoughts to my sister with excitement for her and joyous reminiscing for myself for many moments until it hit me…
The source of all my hopes - my confidence in my new role as a parent and my newly realized maturity -was gone.
My son is gone.
It’s like I actually forgot it for a moment.
So, that was Thursday and it’s been a downward spiral every since.
Hope
Once again I have been reading from the One Year Book of Hope and I was directed to read an excerpt from Psalm 91 and consider how the Lord is sovereign in my life. Specifically, I was asked to consider what I think about the phrase “[The Lord] is my refuge” in light of my current circumstances.
I had already been thinking about this topic weeks ago because of a Psalm that I had memorized years ago. Psalm 103 says, “You redeemed my life from the pit and crowned me with love and compassion.”
Needless to say, I haven’t felt very redeemed or safe from the perils of life recently.
But then I heard the details of some stories of families who went through the loss of a child and they had no hope or faith in the salvation of Jesus Christ.
As much as thirty years later these families were still lost in their grief.
They could barely function with the constant thoughts that their child was no more. They believed that their child simply ceased to exist and that their child’s short life was a waste because it had no time to affect another. Somewhere along their paths of grief they became lost in alcoholism, drug addiction, affairs, divorce and even abandoning the children that remained in their homes.
It was then that I realized that the lives they had been living were the “pit” that scripture referred to. They are hopelessly lost - both in this life and the next.
I praise God that I have a promise of not only seeing Nick again, but living an eternity with him. As difficult and painful as this is now, how could I hope to survive if I did not know of the redemption of Christ?
Housekeeping and Psalm 91
So, I read the Psalm as requested and I was truly blessed. Feel free to click over on the link that says “Scripture to heal” and have a look at what I learned.
Also, I jumped on this blog and cleaned it up for you all (I figured it was a better thing to do than just sitting listening to the rain and crying all day - which is what I had planned to do for this Mother’s Day!)
Please, bless me by visiting the links I added to the side and adding any thoughts you feel led to include. (No matter how you send your thoughts – email to me or as a comment – I’ll clean it up and make sure it posts “nice” for everyone else to see!)
Thanks for visiting again today.
Andi - andimorici@yahoo.com
This weekend was hard; way harder than I thought it would be. I actually thought I would be completely fine. I have both children with which to celebrate the holiday as well as my own mother and mother-in-law to send greetings.
But my decent began when I wrote a Mother’s Day card to my sister.
You see, this is her first Mother’s Day and I was so excited to buy her a card and remember what all my firsts were like. I remembered my first Mother’s Day and how I realized on that first Mother’s Day that I was finally an adult involved in a real life. I was not just a student playing house with my new husband. I wasn’t a newlywed or new at life or new in my career – I was an official somebody.
I had become a mom.
I wrote all of my thoughts to my sister with excitement for her and joyous reminiscing for myself for many moments until it hit me…
The source of all my hopes - my confidence in my new role as a parent and my newly realized maturity -was gone.
My son is gone.
It’s like I actually forgot it for a moment.
So, that was Thursday and it’s been a downward spiral every since.
Hope
Once again I have been reading from the One Year Book of Hope and I was directed to read an excerpt from Psalm 91 and consider how the Lord is sovereign in my life. Specifically, I was asked to consider what I think about the phrase “[The Lord] is my refuge” in light of my current circumstances.
I had already been thinking about this topic weeks ago because of a Psalm that I had memorized years ago. Psalm 103 says, “You redeemed my life from the pit and crowned me with love and compassion.”
Needless to say, I haven’t felt very redeemed or safe from the perils of life recently.
But then I heard the details of some stories of families who went through the loss of a child and they had no hope or faith in the salvation of Jesus Christ.
As much as thirty years later these families were still lost in their grief.
They could barely function with the constant thoughts that their child was no more. They believed that their child simply ceased to exist and that their child’s short life was a waste because it had no time to affect another. Somewhere along their paths of grief they became lost in alcoholism, drug addiction, affairs, divorce and even abandoning the children that remained in their homes.
It was then that I realized that the lives they had been living were the “pit” that scripture referred to. They are hopelessly lost - both in this life and the next.
I praise God that I have a promise of not only seeing Nick again, but living an eternity with him. As difficult and painful as this is now, how could I hope to survive if I did not know of the redemption of Christ?
Housekeeping and Psalm 91
So, I read the Psalm as requested and I was truly blessed. Feel free to click over on the link that says “Scripture to heal” and have a look at what I learned.
Also, I jumped on this blog and cleaned it up for you all (I figured it was a better thing to do than just sitting listening to the rain and crying all day - which is what I had planned to do for this Mother’s Day!)
Please, bless me by visiting the links I added to the side and adding any thoughts you feel led to include. (No matter how you send your thoughts – email to me or as a comment – I’ll clean it up and make sure it posts “nice” for everyone else to see!)
Thanks for visiting again today.
Andi - andimorici@yahoo.com
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Pleasantly Surprised
I was pleasantly surprised, but surprised none the less, to discover that people are actually reading this blog! Why would I write if I didn’t think people were reading it all along? Because it’s very therapeutic for me to write and get these thoughts out of my head even if no one else cares to know the inner workings of my brain!
So, since more than one person has told me that this blog gives them an insight into how I am doing, I will say it plainly –
I’m progressing.
There are bad days, not so bad days and even a few moments of laughter every now and again. Most importantly Tony and I have been seeing a counselor and she has been quite helpful. Mostly she’s helped me to understand the “lay of the land”. She reassures me that what I’m experiencing is normal or that various valleys won’t last forever.
Currently, I am fearful that these new positive feelings I’ve been having may mean that I didn’t love Nick enough or that there’s something wrong with me if I already have days when I can actually take deep breaths. But again, she encouraged me to enjoy the respite while I have it. Apparently, natural breaks occur during the grief cycle and instead of complaining about when or how they come, I should embrace them and use the time to regain some strength for the next bout.
For the most part, I do have a desire to survive this process and I’ve learned that is really the most major battle in the war. Just desiring to try to make it to the end of time without being swallowed up by grief is one of the lifelong goals of grief management. For me, it’s the act of falling into grief that is extremely easy.
Grief is like a well. It takes no effort at all to step over the edge and free fall for hours or days. Just sitting, remembering, looking at photos, being alone – any of those things usually lead to hours of tumbling through the deep, dark well of sorrow.
But if I want to stop, that takes immense effort.
Somewhere along the freefall I have to decide I want to stop – which is a seriously difficult choice to begin with. Then I have to reach out and grab a slippery root or jutting rock from the side of the earthen well wall. Those roots of hope can be grasped by putting the photo album away, getting up out of bed or choosing to talk or play with Selah.
Then I begin the exhausting climb to the top - pulling and stretching one agonizing inch at a time – grasping for the next root, jagged rock, or hand hold in the dirt – and struggling my way to the top. I take a walk, make a play date for Selah, go to the grocery store whether or not I need anything, read my bible and play a worship CD, type my thoughts for the blog…
But on some occasions I’m falling with no strength to stop the decent …
Then –mercifully - a hand reaches out from nowhere and whisks me into the light. That’s when a phone call breaks into my thoughts, a neighbor taps at the door or a friend comes by to spend a few hours listening.
I’ve heard that most people don’t want to bother us so they don’t call. They don’t want to intrude so they don’t stop by. They don’t want to interrupt so they don’t knock on the door. But I’ve found that the only time I’m safe from myself is when others are around and offer their time to sit and listen to what my brain has been doing to me lately!
I’m sure it’s very trying for those who have chosen to take the challenge!
But don’t be surprised if you leave a message and I don’t call you back.
When the phone doesn’t ring, I don’t take the time to go and pick it up. If I see the message blinking, I don’t feel like taking the effort to press the button. And when I do hear a message, I become like a teenage boy fearing the first conversation with the girl who’s stolen his heart. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid that the conversation I’ve played out in my head won’t be the one that turns out to happen. I’m not sure if what I have to say is worth your time or even if you have time for me to begin with.
So, I waste the whole day arguing with myself whether or not I should call and never get up the nerve to actually pick up the phone.
So, that’s how I’m doing – in a nut shell.
Thanks to those of you who care and those who had the nerve to ask! You are braver than I!
Andi
So, since more than one person has told me that this blog gives them an insight into how I am doing, I will say it plainly –
I’m progressing.
There are bad days, not so bad days and even a few moments of laughter every now and again. Most importantly Tony and I have been seeing a counselor and she has been quite helpful. Mostly she’s helped me to understand the “lay of the land”. She reassures me that what I’m experiencing is normal or that various valleys won’t last forever.
Currently, I am fearful that these new positive feelings I’ve been having may mean that I didn’t love Nick enough or that there’s something wrong with me if I already have days when I can actually take deep breaths. But again, she encouraged me to enjoy the respite while I have it. Apparently, natural breaks occur during the grief cycle and instead of complaining about when or how they come, I should embrace them and use the time to regain some strength for the next bout.
For the most part, I do have a desire to survive this process and I’ve learned that is really the most major battle in the war. Just desiring to try to make it to the end of time without being swallowed up by grief is one of the lifelong goals of grief management. For me, it’s the act of falling into grief that is extremely easy.
Grief is like a well. It takes no effort at all to step over the edge and free fall for hours or days. Just sitting, remembering, looking at photos, being alone – any of those things usually lead to hours of tumbling through the deep, dark well of sorrow.
But if I want to stop, that takes immense effort.
Somewhere along the freefall I have to decide I want to stop – which is a seriously difficult choice to begin with. Then I have to reach out and grab a slippery root or jutting rock from the side of the earthen well wall. Those roots of hope can be grasped by putting the photo album away, getting up out of bed or choosing to talk or play with Selah.
Then I begin the exhausting climb to the top - pulling and stretching one agonizing inch at a time – grasping for the next root, jagged rock, or hand hold in the dirt – and struggling my way to the top. I take a walk, make a play date for Selah, go to the grocery store whether or not I need anything, read my bible and play a worship CD, type my thoughts for the blog…
But on some occasions I’m falling with no strength to stop the decent …
Then –mercifully - a hand reaches out from nowhere and whisks me into the light. That’s when a phone call breaks into my thoughts, a neighbor taps at the door or a friend comes by to spend a few hours listening.
I’ve heard that most people don’t want to bother us so they don’t call. They don’t want to intrude so they don’t stop by. They don’t want to interrupt so they don’t knock on the door. But I’ve found that the only time I’m safe from myself is when others are around and offer their time to sit and listen to what my brain has been doing to me lately!
I’m sure it’s very trying for those who have chosen to take the challenge!
But don’t be surprised if you leave a message and I don’t call you back.
When the phone doesn’t ring, I don’t take the time to go and pick it up. If I see the message blinking, I don’t feel like taking the effort to press the button. And when I do hear a message, I become like a teenage boy fearing the first conversation with the girl who’s stolen his heart. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid that the conversation I’ve played out in my head won’t be the one that turns out to happen. I’m not sure if what I have to say is worth your time or even if you have time for me to begin with.
So, I waste the whole day arguing with myself whether or not I should call and never get up the nerve to actually pick up the phone.
So, that’s how I’m doing – in a nut shell.
Thanks to those of you who care and those who had the nerve to ask! You are braver than I!
Andi
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