Lanterns

I can't believe I haven't written in over a month. What can I say...life got busy.

August 14th was Faith's birthday. She would have turned 2 years old...she would have been walking, talking, making messes, wreaking havoc, and probably getting into everything under the sun. Instead, our house remains the same. Quiet, free of kids' toys (for the most part), and the cabinet in our kitchen that I cleaned out over two years ago to make room for baby bottles and sippy cups...still sits with one lone bottle I got as a free sample. I'm not sure why I've never put things back in the cabinet. I guess we didn't miss the space, so why move everything around again?

Faith's room is as we set it up. There is still a crib, mostly unused, except by one very special little boy just last weekend. Sarah was so careful when I suggested using it to only use it if we were comfortable doing so. After all, it was supposed to be for Faith, and she didn't want to invade that space. I told her, "It's a piece of furniture." She asked again, "Are you sure?" I assured her we were. It felt a little strange...a little tug on my heart, but it is, after all...just a piece of furniture. Palmer peacefully (for awhile anyway) slept there and it was okay. If it couldn't be for Faith, then it seems appropriate Palmer get to use it first.

We remembered - and celebrated - Faith on her birthday. Jamie's parents, his sister and her family, and Marc, Sarah, and their boys joined us for a barbeque. We enjoyed each other's company and walked to the Catholic church across the street to launch some Chinese Wish Lanterns for Faith. That was definitely one of the coolest things I've done...they took off to the Heavens like nothing I've ever seen. We were all quite impressed, and I felt genuinely happy watching them until they disappeared in the sky. Check out the sidebar for a few pictures of our celebration.

Two years have gone by since my child died. Sometimes that phrase still sounds strange to my ears...like it's someone else saying it, living it. But, it's not. It's our life. I have learned how not to be so sad, so overwhelmed by it. I've learned to celebrate the small moments...the family gathered together, the cards we get in the mail, the phone calls, the texts, the flowers placed on her grave by someone other than us. The beautiful August day (not a phrase you often hear this time of year) made possible only by our little angel. So, the next time an August day tops out at 80 degrees with no humidity, and a cool breeze that makes it possible to want to be outside...say thank you to my daughter.

Erica

I'm Not Blind

Jamie said to me last night..."I'm not blind anymore."

He meant that we don't live in the world that we used to...we don't live blindly, assuming that nothing bad will happen. We live in a different world than many people...which a lot of people don't really understand. I will tell people, "I don't live in your world," and they often look at me like they don't know what I mean.

I mean, that nearly two years later, we miss our daughter every single day. We look at a room unused, a crib never slept in, a house empty of toys and sippy cups and bottles...eyes wide open. We spend time with friends - and their kids - often feeling as though we're left out of a club.

It's no one's fault...no one intentionally makes us feel left out. Our life makes us feel a bit left out. After all, how do you contribute to a conversation about when kids walked and talked, and who's potty trained, and what summer camps they're attending...when your child isn't there? It just becomes a painful reminder of all that you are missing out on. How do you contribute to a conversation about preschools and school shopping and day care costs when the only thing you can think of to say is, "I wish I had something to say...I wish I knew."

Sometimes, my frustrations are warranted and valid...like listening to a complaining parent who does so without gratitude for what they have been blessed with. Sometimes those frustrations are less rational - mind you, they don't feel less frustrating, but my brain knows that they aren't rational...they're just emotions, and emotions aren't always rational.

I certainly don't pretend parenting is easy, or that I understand the day-to-day grind of it, but I can't stand listening to parents who go on and on about how hard and how miserable things are...or listening to pregnant women that do nothing but complain about being pregnant. I often want to scream at them to count their blessings. And it's only the people who can't see the good through the bad that bother me the most. The average parent, who gets frustrated with their strong-willed 3-year old telling them "no" doesn't phase me, as long as what I see is a parent who loves their child and knows, "This too shall pass." Like Jamie has often pointed out, people just assume that you get pregnant, wait nine months, and get to bring a baby home. When your story doesn't work out like that, it changes everything about you...it cuts deep, it affects every part of your life.

People who know us will probably tell you, if you ask, "They're good...they're fine." And we are. We get up, live our lives, and go forward. We go to work, the bills are paid on time, the lawn gets mowed. We cook dinner, go on vacations, laugh at ridiculous things that happen and cherish our time with the people we love. But, below the surface sits something that isn't visible...something that other people don't see, but something that Jamie and I feel everyday.

So, while we're "fine" most days, there are still those moments that feel a lot harder than they should. Hearing the news of a pregnancy from an acquaintance...sometimes that hits hard, though it often depends on who it is. I don't wish anyone ill, but there is a part of me that so frequently wishes one thing...

I wish so much that someone would truly get this without ever having to truly experience it. I want people to know that while we're "fine," we're not the same. I just never, never, never want anyone we love to truly know what we feel every day of our lives. Because that would mean that they, too, buried their child. And no one should ever have to do that.

Though I wish for this, I have found some friends and family whose sensitivity and compassion has gone far beyond what I ever expected. The friends - a word that can't begin to describe this relationship - that show up for every walk, every anniverary, every remembrance, every event for Faith. Who bring us a plant on Mother's Day, call Jamie on Father's Day, and ask about Faith's birthday before I ever bring it up. Those people that aren't afraid to say her name in conversation, to tell me that they stopped at her grave...those are the people where we don't feel left out, where we feel included in every part of life, despite the fact that they are busy raising two boys. Because, there, with them...we feel like we aren't the only ones who aren't blind. These are the friends that walked our journey with Faith, side by side with us, who held us up in our darkest days.

For us, sometimes the greatest comfort comes in knowing that they, too, don't go through life blind. And as always, simply knowing you're not alone is the greatest comfort of all.

Erica

Butterflies and Fireworks

I'm sitting in my living room tonight, drinking the first glass of Chardonnay I've had in over a week. We spent the last week on vacation at an all-inclusive resort in Mexico. And, apparently, they don't have Chardonnay. In fact, when I asked for it, they kind of looked at me funny...alas, I survived the week on Corona and taste-testing a variety of other cocktails. Hard life, I know.

I was sitting here, enjoying that glass of wine, feeling very guilty and very unpatriotic...hence the guilt. It is July 4th, and I could honestly care less about watching the fireworks. Our neighbors will shoot off some later tonight (I'm already hearing some booms), but other than maybe peeking out at that, I don't know if I'll even care to do that. I am just fine sitting in my house, drinking my Chardonnay, catching up on recorded shows, and maybe doing a little reading.

I started doing some catch-up reading on some of the blogs that I read regularly, and one of the women was talking about her late son's upcoming birthday...and it crossed my mind that I don't think I care much about July 4th right now because in a way, it was the beginning of our journey with Faith. I remember being at my in-laws that year, enjoying the fireworks and the 4th of July...telling people we had a doctor's appointment on July 7th...expecting nothing more to really come of all the ultrasounds and tests and visits. And then, days later, being so completely wrong, and so utterly devastated. Since that year, this holiday just doesn't feel the same. I can't help that my thoughts go to those dates in my head that we are approaching. It just seems the beginning of a rough time of year for us, leading up to Faith's birthday and the day she left us...followed by her burial. July 7th, July 8th, July 10th, August 14th, August 17th, August 22nd. Forever, those dates are burned into my mind. I don't think I will ever look at those dates on the calendar in the same way...they will forever have those other events inked in. July 7th happens to be our wedding anniversary, and July 9th is my birthday, so there are good moments in there.

Almost as much as her birthday and those few days after, these days in July are difficult, too. I think about the fact that I should be chasing around a 2-year old, making play dates with friends and their kids. We went to Mexico for a week, and more than once while we were there, I thought about how different our life should be. Would we have gone to Mexico? Who would have watched Faith? So many questions...so many "what ifs?"

Part of this journey is learning that there are so often no simple answers. For many people I've met, butterflies have a special meaning to them in relation to the loss of their baby. There are some stories about the meanings that butterflies have, and that they carry a spirit with them. When we were in Mexico, there were butterflies everywhere. We drove down one road on our way to a snorkeling spot and there were hundreds of butterflies...I sat and thought about all of the babies that I know whose spirits might be on those wings. It made me feel a little better, thinking that a piece of Faith was with us there.

Now, we're back to reality. Life is still here in St. Louis...and July is still going to pass us by. Those dates will still be in my memory...that will never change. I guess that I'm still struggling with exactly how to weave those dates into a calendar that has other things penciled in.

Erica

Money Isn't Real

One of my favorite movies is "Blow." It's a true story of George Jung (played by the fabulous Johnny Depp), who became part of the Pablo Escobar drug cartels and was largely responsible for smuggling cocaine into the U.S. in the 60s and 70s. Now, obviously, this isn't a "feel-good" kind of movie...but it's intriguing and Johnny Depp is at his best.

My very favorite scene in the whole movie is in the opening few minutes when George, as a young boy, is talking to his father, played by the amazing Ray Liota. His father's self-made business has just gone under and they are in a precarious financial position, teetering on bankruptcy. George is expressing concern over the fact that they are out of money and how his prissy, high-maintenance mother will take this news. Without missing a beat, his father looks at him and says, "Money isn't real, George. It just seems like it is."

This has become my new favorite one liner..."Money isn't real." Because, it isn't.

Coincidentally, Jamie and I just recently watched the newly released HBO film, "Too Big to Fail," about the collapse of Lehman Brothers and the ensuing bailout of AIG by the federal government. It was fascinating how our government and our society placed so much blind faith in Wall Street. CEOs that were taking home millions of dollars in bonuses each year and even just the "peons" that were bringing home six figure salaries. Listening to the numbers they were throwing out was mind boggling...and frightening. As Jamie said, "There is no one on this planet, no job, that is worth tens of millions of dollars a year." Agreed. And how sad is it that our financial "gurus" make exponentially more than our congressmen, senators, and even our president? Or our soldiers? Or the police and firefighters that risk their lives to protect us? What is wrong with our society that this is how we prioritize? No matter what you think of the government, it says something about how we value these roles when the President of our country makes significantly less than the president of a bank.

Watching the movie, there was a human part of me that had a small amount of compassion for these people who were watching their entire lives crumble beneath them. But, the bigger part of me that looked at Jamie and said, "Money isn't real."

I watched the story of these CEOs and bank higher-ups whose lives collapsed under their feet, I kind of thought it was a good lesson. Their whole lives were built upon a falsehood that having millions of dollars, multiple homes, fancy cars, and expensive clothes bought them security and made them infallible...that they were better than the rest of us because they could buy things the rest of us can't even imagine being able to afford.

Now, I will readily admit that having money certainly makes life a little easier and less stressful. But, I can't even imagine what it would be like to be able to buy whatever we want whenever we want, without thinking about how we'll pay for it. And though I would love to win the lottery, I don't want to lose the values that we have now...the values that make us think about what we're purchasing, how we're going to pay for it, and where the money is coming from. Those values have taught us that we have to work for and earn the things we have...and that we aren't immune from the ups and downs of life. We save money so that we don't have to worry about "what if?" We've had times where we were more flush and had a lot more discretionary income, and we've had times where we're squeaking by, paycheck to paycheck. And guess what I've discovered?

Money isn't real...it just seems like it is.

Because no matter how much or how little money we've had in our lives - and even going back to my childhood - I don't think about the "richer" times as the "happier" times. The happiest times have been almost the opposite in a way...camping trips in the mountains as a kid, fishing trips as an adult with my husband. Sitting in a whirlpool tub in a cheap bed and breakfast, drinking a $10 bottle of wine, bike riding in our neighborhood parks, watching fireworks on the 4th of July at my in-laws, drinking cheap wine on the patio at Marc and Sarah's. None of this required a big house, or a big boat, or shoes that cost more than my house payment. Nor should they...what IS real are relationships and the values you carry in this life.

And none of the thing that matter can be bought...and none will collapse with the failure of Wall Street.

Erica

Last Day

So, we have finally finished another year of school. 12 years of "last days" are behind me...and a lot more are in front of me. I feel more like a veteran teacher than a young teacher, as I was so reminded tonight by a young man working at the restaurant where some teachers and I were enjoying happy hour.

"Hi, Miss Ezell. How are you?"

I turned my head, responding to my maiden name, to see a very nice looking young man in glasses. After what I hope was a discreet look at his nametag, I made the connection...he was a former student. And for the record, the second I knew his name, I knew him. Now, a high school graduate, getting ready to attend college in the fall and bussing table in the meantime. We chatted for a few minutes, and then I proceeded to walk back to the other end of our table and announce, "I feel old."

I remember this young man well. He was sweet, quiet, well behaved and hard working. On our fifth grade camp overnight that year, he was amongst a group of students who wandered away from their counselor and spent a few very scary minutes "lost" in the woods where we were camping. Upon being found and finally sitting to eat breakfast, he was one of the kids that sat at the breakfast table, relieved to be "found" - and promptly burst into tears. He had been terrified and it showed. I remember hugging him and trying to reassure him that he was okay. At 10 years old, he was very much a little boy that morning.

Today, it was not a little boy in front of me, but a young man who clearly stayed on the path he'd always been on - with a future in mind. It was a beautiful way to end this 12th year of teaching - to be reminded of the past. To have a student remember you and talk to you so many years later has a way of reminding you what you teach for. Some days we really need that reminder.

And so, another year is behind me. I remember a good friend years ago telling me that one of her favorite parts of teaching was knowing that, at the end of every year and the beginning of another, was a chance at a "do-over." In teaching, we have a unique opportunity to correct our mistakes and do a better job than we did before. Sometimes you feel like all you are doing is making mistakes, so seeing a student almost a decade later can serve as a great reminder that not everything is worthy of a do-over. Sometimes, just once in awhile, we get it right on the first try.

Erica

Oprah

I am sitting tonight, finally watching the Oprah finale. Not the big surprise after surprise shows...but the final show that was her "love letter" to her fans. And the moment that has me in tears is the final moment when they are rolling the credits and Oprah is walking out of the studio. She stops to kiss Stedman and walks out of the studio to her staff applauding her throughout her building. And I teared up...because, love her or hate her, Oprah forever changed television.

I never watched Oprah religiously. I tuned in when I could, or if I knew something particularly interesting was going to be on, I'd record it. It was always on at a time that I was at work...well, I have realized that "always" isn't exactly true because since Oprah has been on the air for 25 years, that is roughly 75% of my life. Meaning, when Oprah first aired, I was 8 years old. I watched Dakota Fanning on the finale show the other day talk about being an "Oprah baby." They were a group of young women who had literally not lived in a world unknown to Oprah Winfrey and her show. Now, I'm not quite in that category, but in terms of my memory, I don't really recall a world in which Oprah didn't exist. That's really saying something. Like many out there, I remember the hideous hairstyles, the 80s fashion we all wish we could forget, and shows that stick out in my mind.

So, why, of all things - would I write about Oprah?

She is an icon...love her or hate her, sad to see her go or screaming from the rafters, "It's about time!" - you can't deny her impact on television, pop culture, even politics. She affected the books we read, the topics we discussed, the music we listened to. While I find it a strange thought that I have no idea what will air on my local NBC station from 4-5 p.m. every Monday through Friday, I am no sad. 25 years is an amazing run...and it's iconic. She literally changed the face of television in this country.

While I can't really say what it is about Oprah that struck people, it seems to be attached to her genuine personality. She made fun of herself, she laughed at herself, she talked about her demons and let us see her foibles and fallacies. She was never afraid to appear imperfect if it met she could make a connection with a person.

Oprah has said she always wanted to be a teacher, and I have to say, she probably would have made a good one. She allowed us into her world everyday for 25 years. Most of us haven't known our closest friend that long! While she was doing many things for the purpose of television, to all of us watching, it felt like she had appeared in our living room and was chatting with us, even if she had to be stern and give us a dose of "tough love." While compassionate, her ability to set boundaries and be firm when called for seemed to make her the thing we liked about her. As she became a self-made billionaire, she also remained what so many wealthy people fail to do...she remained human. That is why Oprah succeeded. Because at her roots, she remained a person that was grateful for what life had bestowed on her and never forgot where she came from.

As I'm not sure what I'll watch on weekday afternoons, I do know that Oprah has much left to do. I am interested to see what that turns out to be...

Erica

Tragedy is not a Tourist Attraction

Several years ago - actually, probably 10 or 12 years ago now - my parents' neighborhood was hit by a tornado. They live outside of Cincinnati, Ohio and though their home was unscathed, the path of destruction was within a mile of their house. As the residents were busy cleaning up the scattered ruins of their lives, gawkers came to stare. Imagine for a minute that your life is in pieces around your feet, and someone shows up to take a tour of your closed-off street and snap a few photos. Eventually, the people in the neighborhood resorted to posting a sign that said, "Tragedy is not a Tourist Attraction." How sad that people couldn't figure out -on their own - that maybe their presence was not needed, unless they were there to help.

Fast forward to 2011. We live in a western suburb of St. Louis, about 10 miles from where the recent EF4 tornado just ripped apart a several mile path. Our airport took a direct hit, shattering windows and ripping a hole in the roof, closing the only international airport for 200 miles for over 24 hours. Even though our own home and neighborhood dodged a bullet, I have been stunned by the damage we have seen. Because of where I work, I drive right past the airport, as well as Bridgeton, one of the hardest hit areas. Even from the highway, the devastation is obvious and heart-wrenching. I personally know several people whose homes are now uninhabitable because of the tornado and ensuing damage. The neighboring school district was hard hit and was closed today, just a couple of miles from where I teach and where my students come each and every day. It is absolutely mind boggling to see how a tornado can completely uproot an enormous tree, rip a hole in the side of a warehouse, completely demolish a house, and leave the fence in the yard completely untouched. One side of the highway was virtually untouched while the other side literally looked like a bomb had gone off. My drive home took nearly twice as long because of all of the drivers taking in all of the damage and staring as we trudged along in the rain. All I thought about was my friends who lost their homes. How desperately I wanted to be able to help, donate something, even take a day off of work in order to help sort through the mess. I know enough to know that I need to just stay out of the way, but it is a terribly helpless feeling to know how close we came to sharing in their tragedy and knowing friends that have been so impacted, with so little we can do to help.

So, we'll donate money and time and food...whatever our friends, acquaintances and neighbors need. As for the gawkers out there...this is not an amusement park. A violent storm ripped apart someone's home....their child's toys are gone, their clothes are strewn about the street, their cars overturned. They cannot live in their homes and can't go back to retrieve the most precious items they have. Pictures are soaked and probably destroyed. Please, please, please...stay out of the way. Do not go for a drive to see what you can see...do not take a walking tour and snap some photographs. Though miraculously no one was killed, or even seriously hurt, there is a tremendous amount of heartache out there, and it is not there for your entertainment. If you want to do something, make it something useful. Here are some ways to get involved:
- Go to http://www.redcrossstl.org/ and donate.
- Call the United Way. '
- "Like" the group on Facebook called "Pattonville Provides" that will help that affected school district.

Say a thankful prayer tonight that it is not you, and that the worst complaint you probably have is that it's rained too much in the last few weeks. Don't let someone else's tragedy become a tourist attraction.

Erica