I've been living this out loud...
Challenge and Change by Sherry Mutcher TCF/ Appleton, WI
As I look back over the past six years since our son died, I realize
how much I have changed. When we talk about grieving, we often forget
to mention that we grieve, too for the person we were before our
child died. We might have been energetic and fun-loving, but now are
serious and absorbed.
Our friends and family miss the old us too, and their comments show
it. "Don't you think it's time to return to normal?" "You don't laugh
as much as you used to." They are grieving for the person who will
never be the same again.
Like the caterpillar that shrouds itself in a cocoon, we shroud
ourselves in grief when a child dies. We wonder, our families wonder-
when will we come out of it? Will we make it through the long sleep?
What hues will we show when we emerge? If you've ever watched a
butterfly struggle from the safety of the cocoon, you'll know that
the change is not quick or easy- but worth the effort!
We begin to mark our struggle from the cocoon of grief when we begin
to like the new us. When our priorities become different and people
become more important than things; when we grasp a hand that reaches
and reach in turn to pull another from the cocoon, when we embrace
the change and turn the change into a challenge, then we can say
proudly: "I have survived against overwhelming odds." Even though my
child's death is not worth the change in and of itself, the changes
and the challenges give me hope that I can be happy.
I can feel fulfilled again. I can love again.
Sherry Mutcher TCF/ Appleton, WI
~reprinted from TCF Atlanta Newsletter 2000
Monday, January 11, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
the Kitty Circus
My new job is...different, different in so many ways. I really don't teach anymore, and I miss that daily relationship with my class as a whole and with each individual student. I miss watching them grow and learn and develop their skills. I miss the space of a classroom, having all my teaching materials at my fingertips, able to access manipulatives and an entire library of books, but most of all I miss having a window. God, with no window, I can't see the the color of the sky or the clouds as they move across it. I can't see a tree or leaves dancing in the wind, and there is no chance of seeing a bird. Liz heard my whining and made a paper window and put it up on the inside of the door, as my office is basically a storage closet with no wall space. Oh, and by the way, my door actually has a sign above it that says Never Never Land.
What I do have is 149 students, 4 recreation leaders, 3 credentialed teachers, 2 instructional aides, and me. I have too many bosses to count, I call them legion. "What?" my friend Suzy posted on face book, "no pig in a poke?" At first I thought of myself as a circus ringmaster, but my principal said "No, you herd cats." And an old friend Jenise said "Remember when you were a kid and had a kitty circus? Your mom and I used to watch and laugh our butts off!" Herding cats, circus ringmaster, and once again I apparently have a Kitty Circus. And the volunteers have the shock and awe campaign well under way just in case the kids miss anything.
My friend Cindy wrote this and it was so inspiring that I put it on the bulletin board above my computer: After a few months, you will find that it is like conducting an orchestra. Try to make beautiful music every day, even though the members of the orchestra will come and go at will throughout your performance. End each day by reflecting on the huge impact you make for each child and his/her family because you are there.
She evidently has not heard me leading assembly and singing Yellow Submarine...
What I do have is 149 students, 4 recreation leaders, 3 credentialed teachers, 2 instructional aides, and me. I have too many bosses to count, I call them legion. "What?" my friend Suzy posted on face book, "no pig in a poke?" At first I thought of myself as a circus ringmaster, but my principal said "No, you herd cats." And an old friend Jenise said "Remember when you were a kid and had a kitty circus? Your mom and I used to watch and laugh our butts off!" Herding cats, circus ringmaster, and once again I apparently have a Kitty Circus. And the volunteers have the shock and awe campaign well under way just in case the kids miss anything.
My friend Cindy wrote this and it was so inspiring that I put it on the bulletin board above my computer: After a few months, you will find that it is like conducting an orchestra. Try to make beautiful music every day, even though the members of the orchestra will come and go at will throughout your performance. End each day by reflecting on the huge impact you make for each child and his/her family because you are there.
She evidently has not heard me leading assembly and singing Yellow Submarine...
knitting our lives together
This year I wanted to make something special for each of my sons that would be useful. Because they live on Lake Michigan near Chicago, I thought some nice knitted scarves might be just right. I went to the store and picked out 2 skeins of Patons Shetland Chunky yarn called 'winter moon' for Gabe, and size 11 needles.
I watched a youtube video on how to knit, and cast on 26 stitches for his 26 years. I knit for awhile, then frogged it, then began again. My friend Anne taught me the term 'frog' for when you get frustrated and rip-it rip-it all out. I knitted then frogged quite a few times until I found a fairly even knit, which as my friend Nola pointed out was all about tension.
It occurred to me that knitting scarves for my grown sons reminded me of crocheting and quilting baby blankets for them before they were born. I wondered if I could knit some love and happiness and magic into these scarves, stitch by stitch. Well a mother can dream, can't she? I thought of how knitting was a metaphor for healing, as in knitting the bones together, and I wished I could use my imagination to make scarves that heal their grief.
Knitting definitely has meditative qualities, so it became quite a comforting thing for me to do. The first skein took a week, and the second took only 24 hours, and voila! One scarf for Gabe to keep him warm and always remind him that his mommy loves him. Sharon said when it was finished that it looked like the Northern Lights, which was cool because our family had once seen them on Friday, March 30, 2001. It was one of those magical things that you can't plan, they just happen.
Then I tried to get Jason to pick some yarn, no luck, so finally grabbed a medium weight Patons Classic Wool called 'palais'. Because it wasn't nearly as thick as the other yarn, I knew I'd have to cast on a lot more stitches, so I decided on 21 for Jason and 24 for Katie for a total of 45. I remembered Jason reading a Johnny Cash biography and telling me about how Johny Cash's brother had died, but in his dreams his brother kept growing older right along with him, so that's why I chose 24 for Katie, as she would be 24 if she was still with us, still his big sister to watch over him. There wasn't nearly so much frogging this time, although I learned what a pain it is when stitches get accidentally dropped or unravelled. This scarf is taking a lot more time, but that's ok. It's full of browns and blues and purples and reds, and Jason seems to like it. He had requested the dark blues and the purple is for Northwestern and he says he likes the red. I hope I can finish it soon so that he can feel the warmth of it and the love in every stitch!
Both times I went to the yarn store, I saw so many wonderful colors that my boys would never wear, but Katie would have loved them. She and I were talking about learning how to knit not long before she died. I had run into Jami at the doctors office, and we were both fascinated by a woman that was knitting a scarf. Jami said she had heard that knitting was the new yoga. Later that day I talked to Katie on the phone, and repeated what Jami had said, about knitting being the new yoga, and she said, "Oh mom, I really want to learn how to knit, some of the girls in the dorm knit." And we decided we'd go to a yarn store together when she got home and learn how to knit.
For a long time I really didn't see the point of doing something without her that we'd planned to do together. Sort of took all the fun out of it. Finally I decided to try it, for both of us. As my friend Mary says, "I get to live all of these years for her."
I watched a youtube video on how to knit, and cast on 26 stitches for his 26 years. I knit for awhile, then frogged it, then began again. My friend Anne taught me the term 'frog' for when you get frustrated and rip-it rip-it all out. I knitted then frogged quite a few times until I found a fairly even knit, which as my friend Nola pointed out was all about tension.
It occurred to me that knitting scarves for my grown sons reminded me of crocheting and quilting baby blankets for them before they were born. I wondered if I could knit some love and happiness and magic into these scarves, stitch by stitch. Well a mother can dream, can't she? I thought of how knitting was a metaphor for healing, as in knitting the bones together, and I wished I could use my imagination to make scarves that heal their grief.
Knitting definitely has meditative qualities, so it became quite a comforting thing for me to do. The first skein took a week, and the second took only 24 hours, and voila! One scarf for Gabe to keep him warm and always remind him that his mommy loves him. Sharon said when it was finished that it looked like the Northern Lights, which was cool because our family had once seen them on Friday, March 30, 2001. It was one of those magical things that you can't plan, they just happen.
Then I tried to get Jason to pick some yarn, no luck, so finally grabbed a medium weight Patons Classic Wool called 'palais'. Because it wasn't nearly as thick as the other yarn, I knew I'd have to cast on a lot more stitches, so I decided on 21 for Jason and 24 for Katie for a total of 45. I remembered Jason reading a Johnny Cash biography and telling me about how Johny Cash's brother had died, but in his dreams his brother kept growing older right along with him, so that's why I chose 24 for Katie, as she would be 24 if she was still with us, still his big sister to watch over him. There wasn't nearly so much frogging this time, although I learned what a pain it is when stitches get accidentally dropped or unravelled. This scarf is taking a lot more time, but that's ok. It's full of browns and blues and purples and reds, and Jason seems to like it. He had requested the dark blues and the purple is for Northwestern and he says he likes the red. I hope I can finish it soon so that he can feel the warmth of it and the love in every stitch!
Both times I went to the yarn store, I saw so many wonderful colors that my boys would never wear, but Katie would have loved them. She and I were talking about learning how to knit not long before she died. I had run into Jami at the doctors office, and we were both fascinated by a woman that was knitting a scarf. Jami said she had heard that knitting was the new yoga. Later that day I talked to Katie on the phone, and repeated what Jami had said, about knitting being the new yoga, and she said, "Oh mom, I really want to learn how to knit, some of the girls in the dorm knit." And we decided we'd go to a yarn store together when she got home and learn how to knit.
For a long time I really didn't see the point of doing something without her that we'd planned to do together. Sort of took all the fun out of it. Finally I decided to try it, for both of us. As my friend Mary says, "I get to live all of these years for her."
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