Knocked down, but not out!

I was reminded of Psalm 42 this week, the part where the psalmist cries out that all God's "waves and breakers" have poured over him.

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?...
My soul is downcast within me;
therefore I will remember you...
Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.
(vv. 5-7)

This week I was feeling more and more sad, Sabine noticed it, my daughters who had begun to assemble for Thanksgiving saw it, too.  This is not the best place for a primary caregiver to be.  I owed Sabine more than trying to struggle with this by myself.

I think it was not only Matt's death, but also knowing that Sabine's cancer was back that was the final blow.

So, yesterday afternoon, after we had met with Sabine's oncologist, I decided to take action and "practice what I preached."  I walked into the mental health intake wing at the Veteran's Hospital in Madison and checked in for an evaluation.  They confirmed what I thought was going on -- I had enough more than enough "waves and breakers" roll over me during the past three years: Granddaughter Allison's death, Sabine's cancer diagnosis, her stem cell transplant, Matt's suicide, and now Sabine's cancer flaring up again.  I was beginning to suffer from depression.

If this had happened twenty years ago I might have resisted going to a therapist.  I don't have as many pretensions now as I did then and thankfully God led my heart to pursue what I knew needed to be done and made me a wiser man.

At the mental health unit, I met with a therapist and psychiatrist and we decided that I would start individual "one on one," weekly therapy for my symptoms (and not to begin drug therapy right now).  Instead, we would check on how the therapy and my sadness was progressing.

Depression was something I did not expect.  But thankfully I am at a place in my life that I know what my priorities are and what I need to do to keep myself on my own two feet.

This is a big step for me.  But I am confident that it was the right thing to do and thankful that I did not more strongly deny and resist it (I did for a couple of days -- "I can get through this!").

Psalm 42 ends with this note of encouragement.  It is advice I will take.

Put your hope in God,

for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

To that I say, AMEN.

God is my hope and my salvation!

My journey continues...

Just when you think it's getting better...

There are good days... times when I feel I am moving forward, healing, moving out of daily grieving, out of the anger, the sense of loss and guilt -- and then it happens... again.  Why does this surprise me?  In my head, I know this is part of the process... I read all about it in seminary!  But my heart seems to have forgotten.

Matt had been the repository of a set of hundred of family slides from the 1970s through 80s.  Hundreds of them... he kept them with him despite his ups and downs.  His brother and I found the slides in his room after his death.  He has now digitalized them and put them online so that we all can see them.

It started out just fine.  I was looking forward to seeing this historical account of our family in its early years.  I thought about the years we spend houseboating on the Mississippi River... camping... bicycle racing on the Kenosha track and racing on midwestern roads.  And in winter, cross-country ski racing and the Birekbeiner.

There were family trips to Toronto and  Niagra Falls and other places... family get-togethers... and then the feelings, the emotions, came rolling over me...  anger, loss, blame, grief -- you name it.  Chest-tightening stuff.

And then the realization that I might not have much time left with Sabine.  That another loss was looming on my horizon.  The stem cell transplant is not holding... her "numbers" are going up...

I realized that when this happend to other stem cell recipients in our support group it has been the start of a two-year fatal crash.

One side of me says that we are making great strides in cancer research and treatment protocols (that's my head), but my heart aches, even as I write this I feel that tightening in my chest agian, the start of tears...

The holidays are coming up... Thanksgiving and then Christmas.  They will be different in so many ways this year.  I realize that out of Matt's death has come the blessing of healing and restoration in the Couper family (the sweetness mixed in with our grief). 

I know I need to keep myself healthy and upbeat as Sabine's "battle buddy."  I need to be fully present for her.

The range of emotions I am experiencing with these two events almost become ovewhelming.  Yet I am committed to going through this (not around it only to revisit at a future date and time). 

Going through this will not be easy nor do I know how long it will take.  I sense God's presence with me, in my life and in the lives of my close friends.

My suicide support group meets again tonight.  I think I need to be there even though family members are assembling at the farm for Thanksgiving.  I also am realizing I may need more intense "one on one" help. 

Prayer has become life-giving... wandering the desert, lost and thirsty, I find an oasis with clean, fresh spring-water.  I am reminded of Psalm 107:

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;

his love endures forever. ..

Some wandered in desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where they could settle.

They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress.

The Power of Story

The power of a story, of a narrative, is that it can become our story and connect us as a people who all find ourselves on the same journey.  For example, I often find comfort in the great biblical stories: Job's faithfulness in the midst of great loss, how God chose Jacob, a trickster and deceiver, and also David, who cheated and killed Bathsheba's husband, but God knew that David was a man after God's own heart.  God certainly loves to qualify the unqualified!

David: shepherd, poet, warrior, and leader -- a God-seeker.  Last week I was thinking about my name and my namesake.  I was thinking about the story of my life and my family and this flowed from my pen:

__________________________________

THE STORY OF THE HOUSE OF DAVID

This is a story about David and his House. It is not about the David of the Bible, but it is also not too unlike his story either. From the beginning, David was blessed by God because God gave him many things and prospered him in his life. David knew God, but not personally; he only knew “about” God. David either forgot or ignored God during most of his life. Yet God still blessed David, prospered his House with beautiful and talented children and wives because God had a plan for David. And David, remembering God, brought each child to the temple were they were baptized and dedicated to God just like the parents of David and his wives had been in the past.


While David pursued his career, grew his family, God continued to pour out more of his blessings and protection upon David and his House because God wanted David to know him. David became a great leader and was acclaimed among his peers.


On day trouble came to the House of David; internal chaos and brokenness reigned between his wives and children. David did not know what to do. He did not ask God for help. And so the division continued and all were injured in some way -- including David. The House of David was now broken as hurt and blame and anger continued to reign.


God gave David another wife. His third wife was a loving tower of strength, a gifted warrior-woman who respected and encouraged David. Three more children were added into the family – now there were nine. Still David went about his life without God but continued to mourn his broken House. But God’s plan was now being unveiled as he showed David wisdom. God showed David his everlasting love and his plan for David. David learned how to become a godly husband and father. After many years as a warrior and faithful husband, David retired to the priestly life and became a man singularly after God’s heart – a man who prayed to God sought to deeply know God. So God revealed to David that he was more than the “beloved” man he thought he was (David thought his name only meant “beloved” in Hebrew and so God revealed to him that his name was “beloved of God.” And then God blessed him even more abundantly.


Now David was in his seventy-third year and the one gift that David really wanted was withheld from him – a restored House. And so David continued to pray each day for God to heal and restore his family; to bring the broken House of David together. Even though his third wife loved and consoled him, and many of his children loved and respected him, he still grieved for many of them were apart.


Then one day, a great tragedy struck the House of David. Matthew, who was a son, and father of two daughters grieving his broken family, took his own life. The House of David was now in great grief. And David cried out to God, “O God, help me to heal and restore this House and my children, I can do nothing, nor can any of us survive our broken hearts without you!”


And so the Lord God heard David. He looked down on him and his great grief and had compassion on him and his House and answered his prayer. And on the day that the House of David came together to mourn and remember Matthew, the Spirit of the Lord God came across the hills and fields as a warm October wind and passed over and touched each member of the House of David assembled on that hill called Restoration. And this began the healing that would one day fully restore the House of David, his children and his children’s children.


And David was exceedingly glad, praising God, and God’s love and grace. Then God said to David, “I am the LORD, your God, and a God who restores to the faithful that which was destroyed. What the locusts devour, I restore!”

And so the House of David continues its journey toward restoration and healing – even to the fourth generation -- and beyond. Thanks be to God!

Is it for sale?

I saw this on Interstate 94 on the way to Milwaukee near Oconomowoc,  I am sure the cross is not for sale (or is it?), but, perhaps, the automobile next to it.  But this certainly brought a lot of things to my mind.  In our self-centered, money-loving society, why not sell the Cross?  After all, isn't everything for sale in our society?

Slowly moving forward

I had lunch yesterday with a man who told me that he had suffered the death of his wife from cancer.  We both started to tear up.  "When did it happen?", I asked.  "Fifteen years ago..." was the answer.

I have come to learn that our grief stays with us.  Never leaves us.  Things will never be the same again but they can be -- and that new "being" can become a new "normal" -- but the grief is something not cast off -- it will be a constant companion.  And in his case, even when he remarried eight years afterwards.

He told me that he was surprised that his grief came to the surface as fast as it did.  He had not thought about it for some time -- and now here it is -- right there in jfront of us!

I am approaching the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas with a certain amount of trepidation.  This year I don't feel the excitement I usually feel at this time of year.  It will be different this year.

Daughter Yumi is back in Afghanistan after her bereavement leave.  God-willing, she will return in February or March when her unit's tour ends.  Fear and grief are closely related.

This morning on public radio's "Story Corps" there was an account from Vietnam.  The soldier telling the story was assigned to a "graves registration unit" which meant he processed the bodies of soldiers who were killed in action.  He said he didn't have nightmares about it -- just "day-mares" in which he thinks and grieves about those young men every day; even after nearly forty years have passed.

I don't think we know much about grief except that it happens and it happens in different ways to different people.  I had a dream last night in which all my anger came pouring out about Matthew's death and toward a person I believe contributed to his death.  It was ugly and angry.  And yet in my mind I know that going the "blame-route" will not help me nor anyone else in the family.  I can't go there and I find myself refusing to do so (except strangely in a dream?).

Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming.  They are times for family -- for the living, those of us left behind to heal and for this family to continue its path of restoration.  This morning Psalm 132 was scheduled to be read during my meditations.  The first verse struck me -- it was my prayer: "O God, remember David, remember all his troubles!"

That's my prayer, God.  Remember my troubles -- as I remember you, my heart for you, and your promises to me and others who remain faithful in spite of our troubles!

Praying, processing, proceeding

I was thinking today (again) about what God is showing me through this present tragedy. Not that God in any way DID this, but seeing this tragedy occurred, what and where is the learning? Is this not a reasonable question? Perhaps this is the best way to ultimately process the events that happen in our lives; that deep within is great spiritual teaching – and I need to be open to it.


Elisabeth Kubler-Ross identified “five stages of grief” in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying. It bears reviewing again. She identified five discrete stages in which people deal with grief and tragedy:

Stage 1: Denial – "I feel fine."; "This can't be happening."

Stage 2: Anger – "Why me? It's not fair!"

Stage 3: Bargaining – "Just let me live to see my children graduate."; "I'll do anything for a few more years."

Stage 4: Depression – "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"; "I'm going to die... What's the point?"

Stage 5: Acceptance – "It's going to be okay."; "I can't fight it, I may as well prepare for it."

Kubler-Ross originally applied these stages to people suffering from terminal illness, later she applied it to any form of catastrophic personal loss (job, income, freedom) or significant life events such as the death of a loved one, divorce, drug addiction, the onset of a disease or chronic illness. She said these steps do not necessarily come in the order noted above, nor are all steps experienced by all patients, though she stated a person will always experience at least two of them.

My experience with grief is that these feelings/emotions are even more complicated and encompassing and in the instance of a suicide of a loved one, even more so. As I find myself slowing moving forward a variety of feelings come and go. It is like a large wheel going down the road: anger, blame, sadness, relief, avoidance (denial), deep grieving (crying), and (from time to time) a hint of acceptance. Each time one of these emotions “hit the road” they are experienced again -- and these continue, some more, some less, as I move forward.

Feelings (especially among us men) are strange phenomena. We have avoided and suppressed them for most of our life and now as we begin to mature (some of us earlier than others) we are able to identify them, talk about them with our loved ones. From this, we find comfort in not having to stuff/eat them as we have done for so many years.

For the past two years, I have been involved with the powerful “One Year to Live” men’s retreats sponsored by the Lutheran Men in Ministry. It has been a powerful experience for me as I have learned to connect with and give to, and receive strength from, other men.

I remember hearing a story about one men’s group that did what they called “home invasions.” A home invasion is men supporting other men who have suffered loss, tragedy, or other life-shaking events. One story went like this: upon reading in the newspaper that a man in their community had just announced he was a homosexual, his heterosexual male friends showed up at his house -- unannounced. Each man brought a ball with him. Upon receiving permission to come inside, they each presented the man with a ball as a symbol of the fact that to do what this man had done “took a lot of balls!” To me, this was a good example of men supporting other men.

So I have been thinking this week. what did I expect from my male friends? Some called me on the phone to give me love, support and prayers; others sent cards offering to help in any way they could – just call.

On one hand, I was emotionally “raw” after coming back from Los Angeles. All I wanted to do was spend time alone with Sabine and get prepared for the memorial service that was only a few days away. I don’t think I would have wanted a number of my close friends to make a “home invasion,” but did I?

This morning on my walk, I started thinking about this. I shared it with Sabine and she said that if I wanted a bunch of my male friends to come over, talk and pray with me, I should ask them. True. But should I have to ask? One side of me says, yes. If you want something ask for it. Another side says, no, my friends should automatically be there for me without my asking.

So these are some feelings I am processing. I want to be left alone to “lick my wounds” with God (and Sabine) and yet (at the same time?) I expect some continuity from the relationships I have developed with other Christian men over the past two years as a result of those powerful men’s retreats in which I participated.

But maybe this is my learning. I know so much more about loss grief and suicide. If one of my friends went through this, I would act far beyond what I thought was “appropriate” and “Christian” knowing what I know today.

There, I have it. Each one of us has a great capacity to learn -- even when experiencing one of life’s deepest tragedies! It could almost be a “self-giving/self-pouring out” experience – a witness -- in which the power of God is demonstrated to those around us.

Thanks for “listening.” And may God bless your journey, too.

Entering the Second Month





  One of the things I have learned since the suicide is the importance of family and friends.  As I enter into the second month of my grief, I find that talking to family and close friends is a most helpful exercise.  Since that tragic day, I sense that my children have come closer to each other and have recognized each other's strength and uniqueness.  We have been apart too long and now the rays of love, so prominent during that miraculous liturgy on Restoration Point, are now connecting and touching each one of us.

Time together is the cement that bonds us as we process our feelings, help one another, and remember that this will not be the last tragedy to touch us.  Life is a process of negotiating the ups and downs of our journeys and coming out the other end with new insight, new strengthen, and a growing love.

As I enter the second month, I sense it is becoming a bit easier -- a feel less "on edge," cry less frequently, and am sleeping a bit better.  I know this is not a linear but a rolling, circular progression.  I am aware that all this could change, but, nevertheless, my movement will be essentially forward...