Widow Woes...

More than 6 years ago my life forever changed. I never thought I'd have the life I have today. As time passes, it seems the world around me has forgotten. In some ways, I have forgotten.

Let me be clear, I'll never "forget" losing my husband. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not reminded of it. I look into my daughters' eyes and think of all the things Garrett is missing. I have heard them laugh and wish he could hear them. Every once in a while, I'll think back to something and try to remember the details only he would know. Holidays are hard...no matter which holiday it is.

This past week, my sweet friend Angelina lost her sister. I have spent many hours with her or on the phone with her and my grief comes creeping back. I have lost 7 family members in the past 6 years. I have spent a lot of time grieving. I have cried my share of tears and have come to my friends over and over with tears and grief and confusion.

Somehow in the midst of grief with Angelina this week, I have been reminded of the blessings. As sad as it is, I have felt blessed to be on the other side this time. Because of the grief I have journeyed through these past few years, I have been able to just be there for her. I have listened to her process the mixed emotions and express her frustrations. I have heard her share about the blessings her family and friends have poured out on her this week. I have remembered but I'm not raw anymore. I have cried for her and her family. I have remembered my losses and cried...but then, sleep comes at night. I am not crying myself to sleep and opening my eyes to tears in the morning. I have just enough distance to be there for Angelina but not too much distance that I have forgotten what I needed during my losses and tried to be those things for her.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate Angelina's sister, Lani's life. I didn't know Lani but through Angelina and yet I miss her. I grieve for Angelina's loss and the things Lani will miss. I grieve as I hear my friend trying to "muddle" her way through this. I listen to her process the mixture of all of it coming at her at once. I laughed at her "bad" jokes and tell a few of my own. I reminded her of things she once told me almost surprised when she says she doesn't remember saying them (as grief seems to take away our ability to remember anything but grief). She was a rock for me through one of the darkest times in my life and her words pierced through it. 

She expressed some overwhelm and feeling like she was asking for too much. I reminded her that she once told me she was a grown woman with boundaries to say "no" if she needed and wouldn't offer something she couldn't give. I am doing just what she has done for me. There are no tallies in friendship but in some ways we are the type of friend that our friends are to us. I could never "pay" her back for all she has done but feel in no way stressed, overwhelmed or overextended to give back to her now.

It's truly amazing how God heals our hearts so we can give back. I hate that my friend is hurting but love that I understand this hurt. I know what God has called me to do in life and this is a moment I get to walk in that calling. It isn't fun. It isn't glamourous. It is what it is. 

I have felt as though I was called to those who grieve long before I lost anyone really close to me, before I lost Garrett, my grandpa, my mom, my uncle and all my grandmas. I struggled with loss knowing I was called to the grieving. I felt it would have purpose but still didn't want it. For me, there is no greater calling to which God could have called me. I am the one who cries with those who are crying. 

I am a widow. Yes, I'm remarried and love my life, my husband, my step kids and all the ups and downs of a blended family. At the end of the day, I am still a woman whose husband died. I was widowed. Today I have cried tears for all the people who are gone. Today I have remembered them all as if it was yesterday. Today I have allowed my heart to grieve as I prepare my heart to love on my friend tomorrow while she grieves. 

No one knows how hard this will be or what will be hard. No one know what one little things will set off tears or anger or the 9,000 other emotions that come during grief. What I know is I'm here. That's all I have to offer. 

Thank you all who have walked with me through my grief these past years. You are all part of making me the woman that stands strong today. Words cannot express how grateful I am for the words of encouragement, the meals, the girls nights and the babysitting that got me through the hardest moments. Today I stand strong, still grieving at times, but strong. I stand here to love on those as they grieve. I am walking in this with confidence that God will give me the words to say or lead me to the things I can do to help ease the burden so others can be free to grieve.

I don't think we ever get to a point where we're just done grieving the loss of someone. Today, my grief looks different than it did 6 years ago. I still miss Garrett. There are days when I call a sweet friend, Jessica, who shares a lot of fond memories of him and I just cry. Why she keeps answering the phone is beyond me... I am truly blessed to have amazing women in my life who just keep answering the phone.

So here I am... All I have to offer is that I'll keep answering the phone. If you need to cry about it years from now, I'll still answer the phone. Grieving doesn't have a time line and friendships don't either. The little things I can do seem so little to me but I remember the littlest things had the biggest impact on me. One of my fondest memories is my friend Melissa picking up my girls and taking them to lunch (and she made them brownies). The still talk about how special they felt. So please remember, if there is only one thing I can remind you...nothing is too small. The words, "I don't know what to say" are better than saying nothing at all. 

Noelani "Lani" Swayde 

With all that said, I wanted to share the giving page we set up for the family to help them cover the cost of the funeral. If you want to give you can. 

Lani's Funeral Fund



If you want to send a meal, let me know. I'm more than happy to help you get a meal to them. You can sign up through Volunteer Spot. If that's too overwhelming, just message me and I'll set it up for you. If you want to bring a meal to Angelina on a day that isn't listed for her family, just let me know.

Meals for Lani's Families



If you want to come to the service, please feel free.

All services held at Woodmen Valley's Stone Chapel
290 E. Woodmen Rd.
Viewing: 1:00 pm
Service: 2:00 pm
Reception: Immediately following service



If you would like to leave a message for the family in Lani's memorial book:

Lani's Memorial Page



I just wanted to say that nothings too little. Every little things helps. I love this family more than words can express. I just wanted to take a moment to pay tribute to Lani and love on them. As always, thanks for listening.

Megan's For Missions

Not every teen girl has focus...in fact most teen girls can't focus beyond today. My daughters are no different. The issues our girls face are ones of epic proportions and no one can possibly understand.

But...

I also have girls who are caring, loving, loyal and gentle. They are amazing friends, sisters, daughters and young women. They enjoy life and their smiles brighten the world.

Our oldest, Megan, it no exception...

She is an amazing girl. She gets good grades, helps out at home and babysits with gusto. Though the teen years have been rough at times, her smile always seems to shine through.

When we made the decision to join yet another new church in the past several years, she was part of the driving force behind the decision. She is on fire for God and we wanted to find a youth group that would encourage her fire.

The very first time she stepped foot into the group, she made friends and came home with a form to go on a missions trip. Daddy and I discussed it with her in length. Though I was secretly thrilled my daughter wanted to go on a missions trip, I was also a mama bear wanting to protect her and make sure everything was safe.

I went with her to the informational meeting last week and was reassured when all my mama concerns where addressed. She would be safe. She would have fun. Most of all, she would be forever changed by her experiences just as I had on my missions trip through the years.

Then this past weekend, I traveled to Minnesota to honor my grandma's life. At her funeral service, so many people got up and talked about all the missions trips and different service projects my grandparents had done. I was blessed an amazing to come from such a strong family with a heart for missions.

That heart didn't fall far from the tree because as I was home for just hours, Megan started to talk about her upcoming missions trip. I feel so blessed to have a daughter walking in Grandma's footsteps...on fire for God and willing to serve. Megan was named after my grandma, Margaret. Megan is the Irish for Margaret and they both mean pearl. As I look at these two amazing people in my life, I feel blessed to have them as my pearls.  I miss grandma and look forward to watching Megan strive to follow after such an amazing woman.

Just a few years ago...the last time Megan got to see grandma

Please consider helping my daughter raise funds for her trip. The monies will go to her deposit, supplies required by the program, some spending money for meals not included in the trip and all additional money she raises will be donated to her youth group fund to help others who need help raising funds. There is a link to the right column of this blog to donate.

I know I come from a family (on both sides) who have big hearts for missions. I have missionaries all around me. I feel honored to help my daughter go on her first missions trip as I know there will be many that follow.

Ignored?

I have found recently several people have removed me from Facebook. These people were not people with which I once went to school a million & a half years ago. These are not people with whom I haven't spoken in years. These are people I thought were friends. Now I understand people deleting their account but they just removed me.

Once again I stand at the door of social media and wonder why I ever opened the door. I find myself hurt over and over. 

People remove me... I hurt. 

People don't like my status... I wonder if anyone listens. 

People don't comment...I wonder if I have offended. 

I start to wonder if anyone is out there. I start to think my friends aren't real friends. I remind myself over and over that Facebook creates false intimacy. I've blogged about that before. I've struggled with knowing if I should keep my Facebook. Then I do because it helps me stay in touch with loved ones that are far away. 

But then in the end...I feel ignored.

It causes me to write less, blog less, and post less on social media. I isolate in response to being ignored. I crawl into a hole and wonder how I got there. 

The same lovely, amazing people keep showing up in my life just at the right time and encourage me to write. Others tell me they are glad I stay on Facebook so they can stay in touch. They read but just don't comment. 

I think to myself how am I going to leave my footprint on the world. I want to make sure that I always communicate with others clearly. I try hard to like things on Facebook from friends and family just to let them know I am here. I comment to create communication. I write to express the inner me. 

Others do not communicate with writing like I do. They are not ignoring me. They just don't write like I do. It's hard for me to understand that because I always write. It's a natural form of communication for me. It happens without a second thought. I write every day even though I don't post. I write things in my head all the time. If others do not write, it doesn't mean they are not there. 

So are you there? How do you let people know you are there? Do you call? Do you make friend dates? Do you write, text, email or comment on social media? Let someone you care about know you are there and thinking of them today. Make sure they know they are not ignored!

Thanks to all my girlfriends who make sure that I know I am loved & not ignored. 

Words that are so offensive...

Did you know that saying Happy Holidays could be the last thing you ever say?

No I'm serious!

People are really up in arms about this, this year. There are people willing to pick different businesses or quit going somewhere because of the usage of Happy Holidays.

Did anyone stop to think that maybe we are wishing you well in the this entire holiday season? You know...from Merry Christmas/Eve, Happy New Years, Kwanza, or Hanukkah or WHATEVER may fall from Thanksgiving till January.

Good grief people! Get a grip.

I'm a Christian and celebrate Christmas. But maybe I choose to say Happy Holidays because I'm referring to all of it. Maybe I hope you have a wonderful few weeks and are happy. Maybe when you get up in arms because of my words, you've lost sight of the whole reason I said Happy Holidays in the beginning.

Maybe I picked my "holiday" card because I liked the picture. Maybe I said "Happy Holidays" in passing to someone I don't really know.

Why is it okay to be up in arms over words?

Why in December is it okay to be irate for Jesus?

This makes no sense to me. I have seen far to many FB posts about the Merry - Holidays debate.

GET OVER YOURSELVES!!! AND BE HAPPY!!!!!

There are so many words that we as society give power. We don't need to make these words so strong that during the month of December people feel they have to watch their words or pick the right card.

Maybe they bought a pack and send them to Uncle such-in-so that is Jewish. Maybe they just want you to be happy! Maybe they just hear it so much, that's what they say.

I will say that this past week when I was shopping at the grocery store a young gal bagging my food said "Merry Christmas" as she handed me my bag. The sincerity in her voice is what touched my heart. I believed at that moment she wanted me to have a wonderful Christmas. It really made my day.

So people...relax. Yes, continue to think about the words you use. But more than that....think about the words and what they mean. Use your voice and body language to send your message. Don't give words so much power that a card that says "Happy Holidays" will send you into a tizzy. Just remember to send the message with feeling. Really mean what you say. Don't forget what the words mean.

The next time you say, "Have a good day," try to say it in a way that the person believes you want them to have a good day. Do that every day all year long. Then if you choose to say, "Happy Holidays" next year, maybe the person will hear your intent. Maybe it will warm the heart as the young bagger warmed mine.

Lets all stop trying to fix how everyone does or says things this year. Maybe we need to be sincere and focus on letting everyone know what we are thinking and feeling by expressing ourselves "better".

Okay...off my soap box.

And thanks for listening.

She's a mean one...Mrs. Grinch

I really cannot help it. I don't mean to be a Grinch. I don't know what comes over me...

Okay...

I take that back. I know exactly what comes over me.

The other night the family was watching Duck Dynasty. It's a family favorite around here. We love that this family is down to earth. They aren't afraid to be Christians and pray. They have values and morals with which we agree and they are outdoorsmen. Love it.

Anyhow...one of the brothers, Jase, isn't into Christmas like everyone else. He said something like, "If you want to celebrate electricity, then put lights on a tree." He said he doesn't like celebrating the make up things of Christmas but just the true meaning.

Light Bulb!

It hit me...that's one of the things I hate most about Christmas. I'm glad my kids are done with Santa though I never really pushed it one way or another. There was always something special under the tree from Santa and the stockings were a "Santa" thing. But I'm glad we're done with that. We still do stockings but the kids know it's from us now.

I am married to a Christmas person. He loves everything about Christmas.

Me?

I can barely force myself to get out the decor. It's a huge job. And though I love certain things about it...I'm not sure I would be all that upset if we didn't do any of it.

Okay, okay, okay...before you freak out on me.

I mean the decorating. Outside lights. Inside lights. The lit up village. The tree...oh the tree. We get a real tree. That's the one thing I demand. Then there's the lights on the tree. The ornaments. Oh...and the tinsel. If you don't know it, the Morrison Clan does it up with tinsel (that's the other little thing that's me). One year we had 10 packages of tinsel on the tree.

Then there are Christmas cards...haven't sent any out yet. I've prepared them 5 years in a row...still sitting in a box downstairs.

Christmas cookies. I follow my mom's old recipe and would rather just sit & eat the dough but the kids, they get out all the cutters and decorate them all.

Shopping...yuck. I just don't like shopping and not just Christmas shopping. I just don't like shopping. It's a thorn in my side. Then you have to wrap it all. Can I just tell you if I had the money, I would so pay someone to wrap it all.

Then there are the 10 places we have to go. There are holiday concerts and parties. There are events at people's houses. Then there is Christmas with the family which happens two different days.

Ugh. I'm tired just thinking about it...because well...I'm a Grinch (which of course is just another made up character).

I have a tree in the living room. We'll decorate this Sunday. I'm sure I'll have fun. We'll make hot cocoa and light a fire and the kids will laugh and there will be a lot of reminiscing. We'll talk about the reason of the season. We'll be around each other and love each other.

And...well...

I'll survive another Christmas season.

My perfect Christmas?

We'd go away to a destination. No decorating. No gifts. We would spend the holiday together, around a fire, and make memories. We would remember the reason for the season and if I did any shopping at all, we'd donate it to needy families.

But here's the thing....

It might be perfect for me, but not for anyone else. My whole family loves all the things that I find to just be a lot of work. They have traditions and memories of years past. They want to make new memories. They want to decorate. They want to make cookies. They want to have gifts to open and watch others open gifts.

So Mrs. Grinch over here will just pick herself up and put on her "big girl pants" and just "suck it up buttercup" (to quote Hals). I'll have fun in the end and be glad we did it all. I just have to find that thing that will make my heart grow two sizes too big so I can give my family another great Christmas.

The Like Button

The words are missing.

I don't even know why.

I have things I want to say but the words...they just don't seem right. I write something and the hit delete. Then I write a bit more and...delete. Then I think I have it and...wait for it... d e l e t e!

Why are the words so hard to find today? Why am I trying to write when I don't have the words? What is my purpose? Where did my voice go?

At the end of the day, I find myself writing stories in my head each and every day. I think I've done it my whole life.

Sometimes I dreaming of a world I want. Sometimes I'm dreaming of a world that could be. Sometimes I'm trying to correct things in my life.

Today...I'm just writing. There are no words but I write. My thoughts are jumbled but I write. My fears are growing but I write.

I don't understand why I continue to write. I have a few faithful friends and family that read but mostly, it would be safe to say this is just a journal. It seems to make little to no difference in life.

I'm just another person with a blog. Doesn't everyone have a blog now?

I don't have a niche, maybe just a glitch. I'm not clever or funny or witty. I'm not an authority on anything. I don't have a fantastic story to share. I don't have tales from far away places. I just write.

I feel like all I write about right now is that I write.

I think it's because I'm hiding.

I'm hiding from sharing what's really inside.

I'm an insecure person. Yep. I said it. I have lots and lots of fears. Anxiety and I are old friends.

I want to write my book. I want to share on my blog. I want to put it out there but then... maybe no one reads it. Or maybe no one comments. Or no one hits the "like" button.

Then I laid it all out there and well, I proved myself right...no one is there. I'm all alone.

I know it's not true but then little things happen to confirm my fears. I have friend who have never read a word I've written. I have family that didn't know I wrote. I have been blogging for years and no one follows me. I have my steady 30 readers and then something different happens.

I share these feelings and fears with a few close friends. One quotes me. I almost cry. One said, "Wow 30 readers" and then commented that she thinks I might be the only one on earth that would read her blog. Then my blog gets shared on another page and more than 100 people read one post.

It felt really good. I was excited. But the comparison game starts...

I look at a blog that I have seen several of my friends share. This woman writes less than I do and man when she does write, thousand and thousands read what she wrote. They share it and share it and it goes viral every single time.

Then I read another blog. This guy doesn't even know what he's talking about and he has thousands of followers.

I try to tell myself these things don't matter but in the end, I think the "like" button is ruining my life. I wait to see how many hits I get, how many likes, how many comments. I check over and over and over. I look at the stats obsessively.

Then I almost break and I try to talk myself off the ledge. I call some close girlfriends and get reminded of the truths I know. I know I have a way with words. I know I am able, capable and called. I can hear my mother's voice very clearly. She encourages me to keep writing.

I allow my friends to remind me that I like writing. That I'm good at it. That I wasn't out to be the biggest, badest, bestest. I just wanted to write what was on my heart and in my mind.

So I start a blog and I babble a lot. I write about writing. I write to get it out. I have fears and anxiety about writing. I don't ever feel like I'm enough or even have the right words to write.

Today, I won't fret too much. It's really not about the "like" button. I will not let it ruin my life. After all, Facebook could come out with a "dislike" button. Then I certainly would have lots to fret about...like how many "dislikes" would I get?

My hero...a 14 year old?

No really, I'm serious. My 14 year old daughter is my hero. She really is. She's amazing. She's so loving. She's so strong. She's so beautiful.

The other day, we were just sitting around chatting. I told her she was beautiful and she started to tell me why I was wrong. Knee jerk response is the best was to describe it. It was an instant response. I was baffled for a minute. I thought, "Where on earth did she get this behavior?"

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...me.

Oh no! My worst nightmare!

My daughter has picked up my "bad" habits. She cannot take a compliment. She denies positive words. She negates any affirmation. The worst of this is she learned it from me.

That old lie that we should shove off compliments with a minimizing statement is just wrong, wrong, wrong. You know what I mean. People say things like, "Oh I love your hair." Your response is, "Ugh, I need a hair cut." Not, "Thank you" or "You're so sweet" or "I take really good care of it."You simply explain to people that they are wrong...that you are not beautiful or worth the compliment.

My daughter actually told me she doesn't like to smile because she doesn't like her teeth. I know she needs quite a lot of cosmetic correction. She'll need braces and veneers. She might need more than that but I had those bad teeth too when I was young. I remember not smiling. I remember hating my teeth. I got braces and after they came off, I could not stop smiling.

But there's a problem with this. My mom did the same thing. She didn't smile because her teeth were damaged from years of taking medications for her complications with diabetes. When she did smile, it was closed lipped. Now that she's gone, it makes me want to cry. I have no good pictures of my mom smiling. Every time the camera was out, my moms lips were pierced shut. That wasn't her natural smile, but that's all I have...lots and lots of pictures of her mouth sealed shut hiding her teeth.

As her daughter, I didn't care what the meds had done to her teeth. I loved her smile. Her true smile. I just want to look at a picture of her smiling. I want to remember her smile. Those memories are fading and the pictures do not bring back her true smile to memory.

Now I have a daughter that learned this same behavior...three generations of fake smiles concealed behind closed lips. I found my smile only after having dental correction. But here's the thing...I wish I found my smile even when my teeth laid crooked in my mouth.

I wish I had embraced a true smile in spite of my less than perfect teeth. I wish I allowed myself to be happy with how I looked. I wish. I wish. I wish.

So I told my daughter I loved her smile. I told her I wanted to see her authentic happy smile. I wanted to see the smile that happens after a solid laugh. I want to have pictures of her that look like the happy girl I know and love. I told her it broke my heart that her Nana wouldn't smile for pictures. My daughter was so very close to her Nana (my mom). I saw tears in her eyes when I told her how hard it was for me to not have Nana anymore and not have a single picture of her Nana smiling her natural smile. I told her that Nana spent a lot of time hiding her teeth. I told her the only thing it did was make me sad.

I hugged my girl. I told her she was beautiful and when she tried to dodge the compliment, I told her to listen not talk. I told her I loved her smile. I loved her laugh. I loved her. I told her she was beautiful. I told her that her hair was gorgeous. I told her that her eyes were stunning. I hugged her and affirmed her.

I told her I was to blame for her not being able to take the compliment. I told her it was a lie that we needed to negate compliments. I told her that when we speak poorly of ourselves, that self talk does damage whether we say it out loud or in our head. I told the first act of being authentic was to take a compliment. Believe that the person meant it. Love that someone cares enough to say it. Then tell yourself those words are true.

Here's my beautiful girl performing with the Color Guard at a Marching Band performance at our first football game.

She's smiling...and her teeth are showing.

It's not the biggest smile I've seen, but she's smiling.

She's my hero. She heard me. She listened to the people who love her. She smiled. I know she's going to be okay. She's going to hear the world's compliments and believe them. She's going to smile for pictures. She'll eventually get braces...but until then, she'll smile. Teeth showing. Why? Because she's amazing. That's why she's my hero!