Thankful for Twisted Peppermint and Bubble Baths

Ian,

Do you remember stealing my Bath and Body Works Twisted Peppermint body wash I received for Christmas? (I don't think you considered it 'stealing,' because you would have given your own away if anyone asked.) It was probably 7 years ago. You loved how it smelled--and for good reason--I am still using it--thank you Aunt Stephanie! We bought you your own bottle for your stocking that year (and for several years after). I think I will get some for your big burly man friends this year for their stockings.

I remember being so glad that we didn't have to fight you to shower after moving here to Austin. In fact, in typical teenage fashion you went from a smelly prepubescent boy to a smelly teen man-boy who showered all the time...that is until you discovered we had a whirlpool tub and you had a long week and wanted to relax. That was probably four years ago. You spent 4-5 nights a week for many months in our bath tub with your Twisted Peppermint that makes way too many bubbles. I remember you always asking around 10pm...not that we old people like to sleep or anything. In fact, I believe we fell asleep quite a few times while you did your Twisted Peppermint bubble bath 10 feet away.

Oh, I so wish you were here to hug, and to listen to, and to talk to, and to steal my stuff.

Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving. I don't feel I have anything to be truly thankful for this year. Even all my new friends, the new Aggie family, supportive Bible study group and spiritual growth I am blessed to have and not sure I could survive without, but it all came with too high of a cost to be 'thankful' for these things. Does that make sense? Life is insanely bittersweet and often more bitter than sweet. So we aren't even planning to celebrate--just throw some food out and wander around visiting with Momma Jean and Poppa Gene and I will probably study. Doesn't that sound like fun!

Okay, so there are a few things I am thankful for. I am thankful you "joined" us for dinner the other night. Caylea said it well in her FaceBook post:

Today was interesting, God and Ian Redeemed Pogue were present.  

Lanette, Greg, Daniel and I went to Terry Hillis Jr.'s Madrigal dinner theater tonight. It was a GREAT show, I highly recommend it to every one! Terry was amazing in his role, and the song and food were good too.   

Well, what made it more interesting at our table, we sat across from Ian, a freshman in Architectural Engineering [FYI: most people do not know what Arch. Eng. is, & there are only 60 people/grade in a university with 5000 freshman. So there are no chances of having an Ian in my major, it is a God thing only He could make possible]. So even though our Ian wasn't there in person, God made it clear, He and Ian are still with us and LOVE us even when we are grieving.  

Ian, I miss you so much. Love you. 

I am thankful for the 577 amazing, wonderful, e-xtraordinary, far-reaching, life-changing, life-giving, graced by God, physical gifts of yourself. It is hard to talk about or even imagine because of the reality that hits each time we remember, but that doesn't mean I am not in awe of you.

I am thankful for your Dad who cries for you everyday and has started writing stories (he always has had the best memory) and supports me without question when I stay up until 2am studying. I am thankful for your brother and am so glad to have him nearby and I especially love seeing him for our pop-in lunch dates. I am thankful for your sister and how she has handled so much stress with her grief and still manages to do so well in school. I am thankful for memories and photos and videos of you and when people talk about you and when people write us stories of you and when people FaceBook post things remembering you.

So, it looks like we will survive Thanksgiving and manage to find something to be thankful for...It's really the day after that is going to be the most difficult I believe. For 22 years we have gone shopping early, purchased a new ornament, put on the Grinch (or some movie) and put up our Christmas tree with all of you whining incessantly, shirtless, and posing like muscle-(well you were)-men (I was the photographer and Caylea donned a sports bra). I think we have all decided to skip it this year for many reasons, you being at the top of the list, but also since you and we won't be here for Christmas. Just seems easier emotionally. (Boy, don't we sound like a sad sack lot.) And, YES, I know that you would not want us carrying on like this, but you don't get a say in it this year. You might win out next year, but not this one.

As I end, I want to say that I feel blessed that you knew Emily and she introduced me to her mom and dad and, that today of all days, you are with Josh. You boys be praying for us. We need it. Josh, I love you already and can't wait to meet you in person. You have an amazing family.

Ian, I miss you. I love you. Happy Thanksgiving.


Philippians 1:3-11

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus. And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.

Hey e-xtraordinary

Hey e-xtraordinary, 

7 months pregnant - we still couldn't decide on your name. That happened 3 days before you were born. Ian is Gaelic for John and in Hebrew your name means “Graced by Yahweh” (God). And we were.

7 minutes old - you were our Barney (tv dinosaur) lizard baby. You came out purple, like your shirt your sister wears now. You also kept sticking your tongue out repeatedly. Regardless, the whole pregnancy I was scared I would not love you because I wanted a girl (a sister for your sister) and I couldn't imagine having enough love for another baby. I could not have been more wrong! I was overflowing with love for you. My heart grew that day and everyday after.

7 hours old - you were a champion breast feeder and no longer purple.

7 days old - you'd bring sweet tears of joy to me when you'd smile and roll your eyes in sleep. We loved our baby tv! We could watch you all day long.

7 weeks old - finally sleeping all night in the bassinet, which took a lot of tears on both our parts. You really really really liked sleeping in our bed all snuggled up next to us. You cried and cried when I'd move you to your bed. I didn't know your little obsessiveness was showing through at such a young age. Really, you were two weeks old the first time you wailed when I moved you from our bed to yours. But at 7 weeks the time had come. Again, you always knew what you wanted!

7 months old - you had all who looked upon you enraptured by your smile. That smile is forever embedded on all of our souls.

7 years old - you and your sister are like twins and go hand in hand everywhere, both of you looking up to your big brother for everything. You also became “social” in school…that is that every teacher conference started with “he loves to talk.”

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7 days before your homecoming - we were sitting and having dinner with you discussing parent’s weekend. You were very bummed we didn’t get a bed and breakfast room big enough so you could stay with us! I wish we had. That was a great weekend and I am so thankful to have spent it with you.

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7 minutes after your homecoming - I was oblivious that my heart and my world were about to be shattered. Your sister pointed out just the other day that by this time you had started praying for us as you walked in Heaven. We needed it. I am not sure we would have survived without it.

7 hours after - we were still trying to call all your friends, we already had meals in the fridge and flowers and cards and hugs. This was because of you. You never met a stranger. Never. And they all showed up for you.

7 days after - we celebrated your life with 130 of your close friends at our house on Friday night. We shared stories. We cut hair for Locks of Love. We cried. We prepared for the bigger celebration the next day.

7 weeks after - everything is wrong in life and life hurts.

7 months after - you are still amazing me. We learned you are still living here on earth through 577 donations!! …From The Tissue Center: The significance and impact of Ian’s gift is beyond measure – I don’t know if I can adequately express to you and your family how unique this outcome is. I spoke with several of my colleagues and we all agreed that to our knowledge, The Tissue Center has never seen a gift as far-reaching and extraordinary as Ian’s.  What he has accomplished, and will continue to accomplish through donation is truly remarkable…You are still giving your all in life and I am so proud of you Ian.

7 years from now - we will still all feel Graced by God for having you part of our lives. 

I love you Ian.
     (and I desparately miss you)

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Just for those who are curious. The number seven in the Bible is one of the most powerful numbers and stands for spiritual perfection and fullness or completion. Google it. Very interesting.

Just one such instance: The number seven symbolizes God's perfection, His sovereignty and holiness. God created earth - seven days; One seven-day week is a reminder of our creator; God blessed the seventh day, making it holy (Exodus 20:8-11).

Fall Back and Escape the Dark Night of My Soul

A totally random post about random stuff.

This weekend we "fall back" and gain an extra hour. FYI: I don't want an extra hour on the weekends. You think I have lost my mind, huh? We look forward to Mondays in our house since that fateful Friday in April. Friday's are the worst, followed by Saturday and Sunday--although church always provides some kind of emotional release. Yes, we can't wait for the weekends to end, they last too long and we can't afford to keep ourselves constantly preoccupied. It doesn't work anyway, because "fun" things are what normal people do on the weekends...for us it is a reminder of the gaping hole that our son left behind.

If only I could fall back. Fall back to early Spring, to easier times, to life feeling certain and happy and content, to knowing where, what and who I am.

Have you ever fallen backwards on a roller coaster - the kind that takes you high into the air then drops you one direction and then the other? The kind that throws your internal organs for a loop? I loved roller coasters. I don't think I do anymore. I have been on one for over six months and my internal organs are constantly roiling higher and higher then I am dropped back into reality. This ride has left my heart beaten, battered, bruised and broken, that is, what's left of it.

This past weekend I vacillated between irrational thoughts that I had actually fallen back to a more joyful time, where I kept waiting for Ian to text or to call or simply be sitting with me chatting about something totally random. But then I would spring forward to be present in the here and now filled with tears and sorrow. Roller coasters have nothing on a bereaved momma.

When Ian left for college last year I will admit that the quiet of the house was nice. Now it is a curse. And I find I keep "torturing" myself with his songs as my ringtones and watching the very few videos that we have of him and listening to him sing (no jokes about that being torture, much like God, his singing is a joyful noise to me! - one of my favorites you can download: Oh How He Loves). I listen to his Pandora stations and wear his pajama bottoms when it is cold. I look through pictures and post on Facebook. And it is torture because these activities are simply--at best--the late evening shadows of him.

Evenings...evenings are only slightly less worse than the weekends. Again, not enough to do.

And then there is night--most nights--feel like the dark night of my soul. Except for one recently. I think I mentioned in the "Yours Alone" blog that I don't dream or rarely remember them if I do. I had a miracle a week ago. On occasion I still take Ambion when sleep eludes me for several weeks and this was one such night. Sometime during the night, by the grace of God, I briefly awoke from my Ambion coma to remember a dream I was having. I remember Ian sitting next to me just chatting like olds days. Clearly it wasn't a conversation that was important--I remember no details--it was just important to have. If only we could fall back.

Recently I heard a great sermon called Night Song by Rev. Jason Twombly. He discusses how we all have a song we sing and that suffering brings out our most genuine songs loud and clear (he says it quite more elegantly). He mentions that some of us are in the "dark night of the soul" as was he when he gave the sermon. His wife had her own Homecoming 40 days before.

My song frequently changes...In the beginning I could only sing I Want You Here and Need You Now. At times it is The Bitch is Back (no ones favorite). Most of the time it is Ain't No Sunshine. On a rare occasion, and more recently, my song is It is Well with My Soul - only God could put this song in me. Peace that surpasses ALL understanding. I hunger for more.

While I wait through the dark night of my soul I cling to God's promise - that joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30).

Joy come, come.