The Good Admist The Meh <-- help me invent a better title

2022 was not a great year to look back on. It was a year of unexpected traumatic events from losing a pet in a tragic accident to getting a family member through recovery after a sudden accident turned our world completely upside-down to experiencing a level of stress at work not previously experienced. 

Honestly, the holidays have been pretty rough this year--looking back on sorrows, struggles, and change.

In light of this, my therapist suggested I do something that I was already considering doing: pull out a journal and reflect on the GOOD moments from 2022 and those moments of GROWTH.  When I expressed to her my near-constant fear I am that I'm going to go through these levels of traumatic events all over again, she pointed out "and you did get through it. You are more capable than you realize."

THE BEST MOMENTS OF 2022

* Music. HILARIOUS videos. 

* LEARNING THAT THUMBELINA IS DOING WELL!!!

* Snow tubing with friends in March!!!

* THROW THROW BURRITOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* Spending time with my little's in June

* Winning the Softball Championship with my Forever Loaves!!!!!  

* Surviving a flash flood at the State Fair

* The best experience of LASER TAG I've ever had

* Attending Footloose at Chanhassen Dinner Theatre with my girls

* Beginning legit 10 year reunion planning with high school classmates

 

~*~

WHAT I'VE LEARNED INTERNALLY:

My friends are INCREDIBLE!!! They got me through some of the most difficult parts of 2022--even giving me a letter of condolence signed by the majority of our friend group (this meant THE WORLD to me and is still up on my piano as a memorandum) when I lost the little light of my life, my therapy pet Jack. A dear friend also went to Mass with me the weekend of the loss when I didn't have the strength to go to Church on my own.

Over the summer, when more tragedy struck, multiple friends personally prepared and delivered home cooked meals to my family and provided support in various ways. I had friends who provided immediate physical support on the day of the accident, and I have friends and family who called to checked on me throughout our "upside-down" summer. Shucks, I'm still meaning to send out thank yous! 

A crisis or tragedy can happen in the blink of an eye, but there are people and resources out there to get you through everything --> Lean on them! Have that "emergency plan" ready, because people really DO care about you

~*~

 

WHAT I'VE LEARNED EXTERNALLY:

* Um, like everything I learned in my 15 months of DBT therapy--music & hilarious videos do a lot too

* How awesome Farmer's Markets are and how to cook a variety of foods

* How to shop for a (very small) household

* How to be a sort-of-"live in nurse" for a few months

* A little bit about softball but more-than-that simply the joy of playing a sport on a team again

GOD WORKS THROUGH TRAGEDY

WHERE TRAGEDY AND BLESSINGS COLLIDE—THERE IS GOD

 

I wanted to reflect some on how God has turned something tragic into a blessing--in appreciation for His incredible/novel/creative goodness and also in hope that this post will give hope to friends out there who are going through a hard time:

 

This reflection is from my end/perspective, so I can’t say how the accident has positively or negatively effected my mom as a whole. I am just sharing the daughter end of what was a very traumatic experience for multiple people.

 

As most people know at this point, mid-summer my mom had an accident while trying out an E-Bike that resulted in multiple fractures in one of her knees. Our life was turned upside down overnight, and to say the first week was stressful is rather an understatement. Over the course of three days we spent somewhere around 20-25 hours with doctors and in the hospital (one day was a 14-16 hour hospital day)—that’s not counting figuring out homecare/a new routine at home. As the only-child-living-at-home with a single parent and zero relatives in state, I told God He was pushing things too far this time--that this was too much to handle and that I felt so incredibly alone/helpless/overwhelmed.

 

Here are some of the things He did for me through this accident this summer:

 

*God gave me another excuse to be home. I had already told my work the morning before the accident that I was thinking of going from part time to on call for the summer for the sake of my own mental health. When the accident happened that made that decision easy.

 

*In that sense of being alone, God sent help my way in a variety of ways. I’m not saying I didn’t feel alone or have more on my plate than one person can humanly (physically, emotionally, mentally…) handle. I’m not going to underscore how bad things were EVEN THROUGHOUT my support system being there and building up. That said, we got a dialectic------amidst the pain and exhaustion and long felt feelings of aloneness which were all VERY PRESENT and VERY REAL, I got to experience the support of friends. (I was forced to be humble enough to let my friends carry pieces of my load and got to see how supportive my friends are.)

 

*Once again, amidst feeling overwhelmed, overburdened, and alone, DIALECTICALLY God made this an opportunity to connect with family a little more. I saw my sister more times than I would’ve and got in a weekly phone call with out-of-state relatives once a week.

 

*Did I almost forget to mention THERAPY???!!! My therapist went above and beyond and saved me. She increased her work hours (like, DUDE!!!) in order to walk me through a mental breakdown and made suggestions that helped build up my support system and battle the aloneness.

 

*To cope with the accident, I took full advantage of my $1/mo. for 3 month Hulu subscription (which turned into a 1 month Paramount+ subscription). This got me obsessed with a show that was a blessing and a CURSE----but in the blessing realm seriously helped me better understand and appreciate the passion of God’s love and His vulnerability in giving us free will. I was in such a level of agony over a course of days that I don’t even know how to describe it. Ultimately, after days of experiencing this most-hopeless/helpless-pain-I’ve-ever-felt (the physical symptoms alongside mental were so disturbing/intense that they probably had some permanent effect), God came to me in prayer before Sunday Mass and turned this pain into growth, insights, and something now-conceivably for His glory. (OK, God. Thank you for allowing me to come this close to You. Now please don't allow me to go through this level of anguish again. Thanks.)

 

*Last but not least, the thing that actually got me thinking to write down a list of blessings: The accident motivated/got me adulting for the first time with regular, healthy cooking as well as being in charge of chores and errands. I’ve always felt like a partial adult (years ago I moved out of state to try to change that)—yes, I work full time, do my own errands, pay my own expenses, etc. etc. That said, there are so many skills that I would like to gain in order to feel capable of some self-sufficiency and independence ----for the record, adulthood and self-sufficiency/independence aren’t by any means necessarily simultaneous--this “adulthood = independence” idea is an idea rather unique to our culture--but that topic is for another post. One skill/responsibility I’ve been trying to motivate myself to do is to cook real food. In previous years, I’ve had the New Year’s Resolution to cook one new thing per month to branch out beyond my toaster-oven-waffles-life. I’ve maintained this for a few months before drifting. THIS SUMMER, with this much time at home and with knowing my mom was entirely dependent on her to bring her food and water, being that our kitchen is upstairs, I felt motivated to actually try cooking some real food. I spent hour in the kitchen each week trying to incorporate different food groups in different ways into our diets. Add in the Farmer’s Market with some FRESH produce, figure out my favorite recipes, and cook until I drop. (I truly don’t know how people take care of an entire household---shopping, cooking, and 101 other cares. BLESS YOU! I am in awe of you!)

 

--- I see that God is letting me take slower steps into adulthood than those that many adults take. I may not be married with kids by 24, but this is because God knows what is best for me. For some people that timeline is great (though I’m sure challenging). I have lots of baggage to file through. I have lots of skills to attain. I have tasks and encounters that I am called to that I could not partake in if I were in a different state in life. This life is a GIFT, and I am now embracing with joy that God has given me ample time and opportunity (and some motivation/initiative) to develop more skills before 30. He is giving me the time I need and is calling me to the places He desires in the now regardless of where He is ultimately calling me in life. I love the life God has given me, and wouldn't exchange it for any other. I guess you could say that this whole experience has taught me something about living in the present, and that too is a gift.

Lessons Learned: 2021-22 School Year Edition

1. Taking 17 middle schoolers to Skyzone is the best decision ever.  

Enough said.

2. Kids who left you baffled at the beginning of the year can become your favorite students by the end of the year. (I know, "we don't have favorites.") It just might be the case that I come out of each school year with a few favs. 

Two of these favs I looked at all the beginning of the year wondering how the heck to even work with them. I never disliked them; I was just baffled seeing some strong or distinct personalities and bundles of energy. I can tell you now that we've come a ways and these are a couple of the students who have stolen my heart the most.

3. 7th and 8th graders have a way of stealing your heart in ways you can't describe while simultaneously giving you grey hairs. ALSO, you'll think there's no way next year's students could steal your heart as much as this year's students, and you'll be wrong.  

I seriously look forward to going to work almost every day (even if I simultaneously want a break), because I look forward to seeing those faces. Last year, I decided that I could not leave our school until that year's 7th graders had graduated from 12th grade. I am now decided I can't until this year's 7th graders graduate. Granted, if I do get married and have kids....... it will be a difficult parting.

4. There is a way to be gentle, fun, engaging and also firm. It is a balance, and I can see myself growing in it every day (even if it's not an upward continuum every day). 

It is truly a challenge, and to some extent different students need slightly different approaches. Still, I am learning to be an adult and not a pushover while still building positive, special relationships with the kids. It's those sorts of skills, mindsets, insights, and habits/practices that you develop over time.

5. Mistakes are a learning opportunity. Beating yourself up over something in the past won't help you at all. Learning from it will.  

This is a message I hear all the time. This year I find that I have been gradually internalizing it with that NJS (DBT, folks!), CTF (also DBT), identifying Cognitive Distortions (CBT/journaling), and practicing Radical Acceptance (DBT). Also, use the STOP skill (DBT) when those negative, judgmental thoughts start to invade the brain.

6. Each paraprofessional brings something different to the role, and those differences are what our kids often need. 

I always want to be the perfect EA, and there is always room for improvement. That said, "the perfect EA" doesn't necessarily fit into one box. I find that there are some students I connect easily with and some I have a harder time connecting with. Some students seem to respond best with stricter approaches. Many students love a joking/humorous personality. Others are very drawn to and in need of that gentler personality. Some need a loud voice, some need a quieter voice---and so often it is from situation to situation (one student needing a different approach at different times).

I know that there are times when I need to work on setting expectations and holding kids to them more strictly. Simultaneously, it seems like a good sign when I find various students flocking to me in a trusting manner. Trust is the basis of any meaningful relationship. I'm learning to find that balance and read situations while also being authentic and true to who I really am.

7. ALSO --> If you see someone doing something better of more effectively than you, don't beat yourself up for it in comparison mode. Instead, LEARN from them!

A LOT of staff members have come and gone, and some I've compared myself to and thought "they're new, and they're doing so much better than me." I then learned to turn that around and say, "What can I learn from them?" Honestly, I think most of the skills I've learned and new approaches I've used with kids this year have come from my observing a teacher or fellow staff members and adjusting my approach to incorporate aspects of theirs. (Ex: "Wow, they're so gentle." "They're so gentle yet firm." "Being assertive worked." "Welcome humor.")

8. It's okay (and often good) to be assertive (to your employer and coworkers) about what you need, --even if that means feeling at odds with an employer or coworker,-- and people typically won't hate you for it.

I've written some strongly worded letters. And sure enough, they probably didn't have to be quite so strongly worded. Then again, maybe they did. Standing up for yourself as someone who shrinks from conflict can feel aggressive. Still, if something needs to be said, say it (after taking a breath of fresh air and maybe waiting an hour to hit send). -- Also, say it to the person who needs to be said to. They will likely appreciate it. If they don't, at least you tried your best. YOU MATTER, and so does your voice.

9. Living the faith while working in a secular school environment is a unique challenge.

Ah. Perhaps I could write a book on unique challenges that come working as a Catholic in a secular school. There are those challenges of "what does love look like here?" "How is Jesus calling me to love best in this moment?" Questions of "how much should I show my faith and in what ways?" "Is this simply a time to witness through actions? Are words helpful?" "What can I support?" "Is this something to silently protest?" "What are my intentions, and what is God asking of me?"

Full disclosure: I'm not trying to imply that public schools are the only place controversial or difficult topics arise. Nor am I saying that public schools are a sin haven while private schools or home schools are white as snow. What I'm saying is that certain challenges come when you and others aren't speaking the same first language----when God is considered a taboo versus daily topic--when assumptions are made that everyone supports the same, modern mentalities--when "good" and "evil" are considered simply opinions...

10. When you love a job this much, you can't even be jealous of your friends or acquaintances, because your heart is exploding with what you have.

I'm not where I thought I would be at 26. I'm better. Blessed beyond compare.

What I Have To Work On

I feel like I do a good job of providing a safe and trusting place for most of our kids. Humor is my favorite way to connect with some of them. I think a weakness for me is getting kids to do what I say. I've noticed that when I tell them to do something they often blatantly refuse, say "no", or act like I'm not there; then as soon as the teacher or case manager tells them they more often listen even if not instantly. I guess if it's between being a safe and trusting adult or a authoritative rule enforcer, I would rather rather be the first, but I think it would be good if I had a greater balance of both. I'm still trying to figure out what that looks like (and sometimes it is just the kids; you can't "make" someone do anything). I just have my people-pleaser quality ("I just want you to like me") that gets in the way.

Made In The Image Of -- My Greatest Fears and Sorrows

It's been a reflective time for me recently. In Adoration just this past Sunday, I read the I Thirst prayer for possibly the hundredth time (I used to pray it daily in Rome). What's interesting is that the words that stuck out to me this time--the words I felt God calling me to focus on--were words I had barely noticed before. I was even led to write them down in my prayer journal:

"in His own image."

I could write an ENTIRE other blog post about how for the first time I realized this is the GREATEST gift God could ever give anyone, because He invites us to actually enter into Him and become one with Him in the Trinity (no wonder angels were jealous)... but that's not what this particular blog post is about.

What I want to reflect on today is how God poured light into some of the greatest fears and sorrows I have been grappling with recently. (Actually, I've probably been grappling with them my whole life.)

~*~

Throughout the past few days, my greatest fears and sorrows have risen to the surface. I'm not really sure why they rose at this time. Perhaps because I'm in a physically vulnerable state with allergies and exhaustion... All I know is they came to the surface and have tried to plague me (successfully doing so until I brought them to prayer).

The fear that has been plaguing me recently is the fear of inadequacy, the fear that people who I value the friendship of so much might now or at some point consider me irrelevant. Namely, I find that one of my greatest fears is being "abandoned," "left out," or "left behind." 

--What if people realize that I'm boring?

--What if people forget about me, because I don't talk enough?

--What if people find me annoying? Maybe I look desperate for attention.

--What if my friends move on to a new stage in their lives and I'm no longer included?

--What if, as our friend group evolves, I disappear into the background?

--What if I'm forgotten?

I think that last one is the most plaguing one of all: the fear and sorrow of being forgotten.

~*~

On a walk today, I realized that this fear of rejection/abandonment/forgottenness/irrelevancy is probably my greatest fear next to only one --> which is my fear of the death of people I love.

I brought these fears and sorrows to God in prayer today, and my does He have powerful ways! As I shared my two greatest fears with Him, I realized that I indeed am...

made in His image.

As I shared these fears and sorrows, I drew near to God and He drew near to me and Our hearts became one in that moment (esse cum - to be with). As I felt the cold breeze on my face and through my cardigan, I saw Jesus in the Garden of Eden and on the Cross feeling that same chilling breeze and sadness.

I was praying a Chaplet which included a variety of intentions along with "my selfish prayer" (to be included in a future event I so long to be included in). As I reminded God that He already knew my selfish prayer and asked Him to either include me in this event or help me to accept in my heart being left out, I realized even Jesus prayed this prayer. Perhaps it was not quite so selfish. 

"May this cup pass from me, but not my will but Yours be done."

Even Jesus prayed for His deepest desires, for His longing to not endure rejection. I had told my therapist less than an hour prior that I realized my desire to be included and united with others is not a bad thing but a good thing. It is God's imprint on the human heart. It is what we are ultimately CALLED TO--to unity for ALL of us together.

As I confided, I realized...

My greatest fears and sorrows: (1) Losing my loved ones through death, (2) Rejection and being considered irrelevant and left on the wayside by people I long to be united with 

God's greatest fears and sorrows: (1) Losing His loved ones through eternal death, (2) Rejection and being considered irrelevant and left on the wayside by those He loves: not included in their lives. 

 

He is waiting for us every single day in the Chapel. Waiting even for one glance.

 Truly, I am...

made in the image of God.

His heart is imprinted onto mine.  

Realizing this, feeling something He feels (though of course He feels this more intensely and times the billions of people who reject Him or leave Him on the wayside in their lives... sometimes including me), I am able to be united with God in a new way, to see and understand Him in a new way, through experiencing (even if less intensely than He does) what He experiences.

Suddenly, I am not alone and neither is God.

"I looked around for one to console me, but there was none."

God's greatest consolation is our coming to Him, uniting with Him, and BEING with Him. As we experience trials in our lives, we can unite ourselves with Christ's Heart on the Cross. He has experienced all we experience before us and He is experiencing this with us now.

Somehow, every time when two are joined together in some way--even in a shared sadness--there is some beauty, there is some hope, there is some joy, and above all there is some MEANING found through that connection.

~*~ 

I now see that the cup Christ is calling me to is His gift to me. It is His gift to participate in His life. This doesn't mean I have to enjoy it, and this doesn't mean that I can't pray asking Him to "let this cup pass," but it does mean that in this moment God has drawn near and provided a chance for me to be united with Him in His sorrow.

However things may go, however long this may last... There is meaning for there is connection (a uniting with God's heart), because

He is Good.

Those who sow in sorrow will reap great joy.

My Great Treasure: Blessed Beyond Measure (A Eulogy For Jack)

To the dear Augustus Waters to my Hazel Grace...

PART ONE

 From Day One (We Won The Lottery And Then Some)

On March 26th, 2018 at 4:30pm, a few days after we mourned the passing of our beloved Stella, my mom purchase a "male gerbil" for $11.99 ($12.84 with tax) who had recently arrived in a delivery from Texas. It was the best $12.84 ever spent. (I would've spent hundreds on this boy.) The pet stores closest to us did not have gerbils on hand, so my mom drove out to Burnsville after a stop at one other pet store on the way. The first pet store she went to had a lovely little female gerbil. My mom considered getting her, but remembered that I had already named our next gerbil "Jack" (after Jack Pearson in This Is Us). 

I came home that day, looked into our gerbil tank, and saw a tiny, Oreo-colored treasure. He was the friendliest gerbil I had ever met from day one. Within minutes, maybe seconds, he had crawled into my hand (an experience I had never had amongst our many gerbils before him; usually it takes gerbils a while to to warm up to you and some never crawl into your hand independently).

We were smitten with each other from day one.

 

PART TWO

A Thousand Adventures Together

Black Jack, Jack Black, Jumping Jack, Jack in the Box, Hungry Jack, Jackpot, Race Car, babesie (honestly the name I called him the most)...

No gerbil has ever been through so much with me, and I think few gerbils ever have this much of a story to tell. How many gerbils can say in that in their lifetime they've traveled across the country multiple times, gotten their owner through multiple mental breakdowns, survived a traumatic car accident with their owner, lived in a high class 4 x 1 ft tank that was changed every 3 weeks with new arrangements (trees, coloseums, and so much more), ran across the house freely, eaten this many sunflower seeds (from almost daily scavenger hunts through boxes and ships, etc.), jumped six inches in the air on a regular basis just because he wanted to see his owner (and eat sunflower seeds), recorded a popular video of him doing tricks including walking on his hind legs and jumping back and forth between legs to earn treats, ran at such a fast speed that our eyes could barely track him (the Jack sprints that got him the nickname "race car"), eaten multiple cardboard boxes on the daily and sometimes egg cartons, and gotten the amount of love and attention that this boy has gotten (even through the multiple clothing items he destroyed with his chewing habits)...?

~*~ 

Nashville

Yes. Perhaps the most complex adventure to tell with him is the story of Nashville. I moved to Nashville at the end of summer 2019. It ended up being a traumatic experience, but also one of the best experiences of my life. I new I could never move away from home without my little Jack. We were going to move him in an approximately 18 x 12 in. box with air holes in the top, but it was apparent from the start that he was not happy in there, so I insisted he be allowed to travel in his ginormous 4 x 1 ft tank. 

I only planned to live in Nashville for 1-2 years, and I don't think I've ever told anyone this but the biggest reason for that time limit was because I knew that if Jack died (most gerbils live 2-3 years, and he would be 2 in spring 2020), it was an event I could not in any way handle without the support system of home. There were some sad things about the move, including the fact that he wouldn't get to do one of his favorite daily activities of jumping up and down flights of stairs, but sacrifices had to be made -- don't worry, Jack, you know this didn't last long :) -- I tried creating a play area in my room for him out of cardboard boxes. I knew it wasn't the same and that he wasn't as happy as at home in MN with all his freedoms, but we had to make do.

Nashville is, of course, where I went through the biggest mental breakdown of my life. So many things went wrong at once, and I reached a point where I was barely eating, I was throwing up while driving in rush hour almost daily, migraines were a regular, and my work situation was a disaster. I can truly say that Jack was my one constant through all of this. The cherry on top was when I almost passed out driving from overwhelm and the variety of physical complications I was having.

I finally reached out to my aunt and uncle, who were always there for me, and let them know how bad it was getting. My aunt started bringing me food, but things got bad enough that I did end up in the hospital. During that week, my roommate took care of Jack for me (thanks, Cecilia!) The one thing I missed the most through my week in the hospital was Jack.

But lets just top off how much Jack were there for me throughout his life by letting me be there for him. After two weeks in a partial hospitalization program, a visit from my mom, and... the biggest downer -- further work complications -- I ended up calling my mom to come back and move me home (not being sure if the move was long-term or temporary but bringing everything home in our caravan just to play it safe).

So you think the trauma is bad enough? Just wait.

Jack was thankfully in his tank in the back when the car accident happened. It was 3am, and I was caravaning behind my mom on a barren highway in the middle of nowhere Illinois. (Okay, actually less than half an hour out of Rockford - thank God! - but all we could see were empty planes and super rare ramps to get off the freeway.)

I'm on my way home after two months of the worst stress I had ever been through -- a week in the psychiatric hospital (actually such a good experience), two weeks in a partial hospitalization program (also such a good experience - these are the things that made Nashville worth it), and the culmination of my worst mental breakdown ever -- thinking things couldn't get much worse. But wait...

I'm driving 5-10 mph under the speed limit with my mom's car far ahead of me, the only car in sight. Within the flash of an eye, shining eyes appear before my car, and BAM!!! (I hope the deer died on impact, because I'd hate for it to have suffered despite the fact that I wondered how the heck a deer could be so stupid as to cross a freeway on an empty highway at the one rare moment that a car was there.) I didn't see it coming. It was meters if not feet in front of my car when I first saw it, and that was it.

I felt my car dragging, so I pulled out. I was in tears, but the first thing I remember doing is turning to the back seat and seeing Jack's tank fully intact. "We're okay, Jack. We're okay," I said. Jack was the ONE thing that got me through that tragic moment while I waited for my mom to backtrack on the ramp-less freeway to come help (comforting him was the only thing that comforted me). I'd lost a headlight and the entire front of my car was dragging on the ground, but Jack and I were safe.

We got the car towed into Rockford and stayed at the most beautiful hotel - Holiday Inn - still such a special memory for me: the beautiful comfort of the rooms, the incredible and fancy breakfast "covered by insurance," and Jack in a box safely in our hotel room <-- Yes, that little box with holes in the top came in handy MORE than I could ever have imagined. It was a life saver! Imagine bringing a 1 x 4 ft tank into a hotel room - lol. We made it safely home to Minnesota.

One thing that brought me incredible joy was that Jack was as happy to be home as I was. He returned to his daily romps up and down the stairs, and I think that's what led him to live so long. I can't be grateful enough that these priceless years spent in this incredible way. (I'd be sad to picture him not getting that level of vitality for those years had I stayed in Nashville.)

~*~ 

Through more mental breakdowns and one more partial hospitalization that ended one week before COVID hitting the U.S. (thank God I could go home to him each evening), Jack was a light. He was the one thing that could calm me or bring me hope at some of my lowest moments. He was my little one to live for.

I was blessed through COVID to get so much more time with him between furlough and work-from-home (THAT was the most special part of work-from-home), and I'm glad I got to have that precious time with him: we would play scavenger hunts during lunch breaks.

As soon as Jack hit three years, I prepared myself on the daily knowing that each day could be his last. Every morning I would say goodbye to him before work knowing not to take for granted that he would be alive when I arrived home (despite his energy levels being far superior to that of a 2 month old). I prepped myself every day, and started recording videos of him (multiple times per week) doing some of his most special and unique things. I wanted to capture these clips of him being one of a kind, so that I would never have to lose the joy of witnessing these things and would never have to let him go completely.

AMAZINGLY, he survived another summer and then fall and all the way through Christmas, and NO day with him was taken for granted. Every day I would remind myself that this could be the last and to cherish every moment. 

I always thought he would eventually die of old age. I never expected things to end in an accident, but THAT IS WHERE I HOLD ONTO JESUS the hardest.

 

PART THREE

Tragedy Hits * TRIGGER WARNING * 

Some vivid descriptions. Feel free to skip and go to last section if you're worried.

February 5, 2022 - I made plans for us to celebrate Jack's 4th birthday (since he would have been 6-8 weeks old when we got him) and put it on the calendar. My mom and I went shopping for gifts for him that morning. I planned to make him a party hat, and we got him a #4 to top the schmatt cake. I filled his star wars cardboard spaceship with treats. We were ready to show him the glories we had prepared for him.

I reached into his tank to lure him into my hand, telling him to come and see. I was excited to show him the treat-decked spaceship I had ready for him and for him to then race up and down the stairs for a scavenger hunt, for him to see the chew flower Mom got for him and to let him run wild and free around the house to his favorite spots like he had the night before.

Jack crawled halfway into my hand. I waited. He walked around my hand and then crawled halfway in again. Sometimes I would wait for all 4 feet, but sometimes I would accept the 2 and pick him up. He would also clamp his back feet onto my hand and would be secure.

I don't know what happened differently this time. My guess is he may have never gotten to clamp his feet to my hand and fell from kicking his feet trying to secure himself. My hold on him was too light. He slipped backwards out of my hand and fell 3 feet to the ground.

I was mildly worried, since he had survived FAR WORSE falls where I was afraid he would sprain an ankle, but this time I looked down and saw his legs dangling behind him on the ground. That was unnatural. That had never happened before, and in that moment I knew he was injured. It took a few seconds to realize how badly.

I let out a gasp and picked him up off the ground. His legs dangled and did not go back into place. I tried to cradle them and put them back in position and he squeaked. I gently held him. THIS was the moment of realization of what a tragedy had just happened. Both legs were COMPLETELY broken. His pride and joy - his legs - which he had been hopping 6 inches in the air on over and over again in his tank the day prior to get my attention.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I whimpered. My mom was the comforter saying maybe things would be okay. That we didn't know yet. He might get better. We put him on the ground to see if he could use his legs. He scurried around the house using ONLY his front legs --he's a STRONG boy-- and dragging his dangling feet behind him. He was remarkably fast though of course not quite as fast as with 4 legs.

We took him to the entry to show him his gifts. We moved all of treats to floor level so that he could get them. He ate some of them but not all of them (he had NEVER turned down a sunflower seed before in his life). He was full steam ahead. Sometimes independently and sometimes with a little assistance he pulled his body through some things. We adjusted things to meet his needs for space and a level surface.

My mom fixed his tank to single story things while I watched and helped him run around on his front two in the entry trying different things, getting stuck a few times, but accomplishing so much nevertheless (even pulling his body over a few things). When the tank was ready, we put him in there. t was sad to see that he couldn't itch his ears which he had always done with his hind legs (the cutest thing ever). I think that was one of his biggest discomforts, not being able to itch.

He pulled himself around, and we tried to help him make his bed, but he was resistant wishing he was still able to do it alone. He would try to kick the bedding back, but with only his front legs he couldn't do much. It was heartbreaking. 

I stayed with him for the next 24+ hours, subbing out with my mom once to make the birthday schmatt. He refused water at all times; no matter how many ways we tried to offer it he would jerk his body away. He sometimes accepted sunflower seeds. I found he would eat them the most if they were hidden in his bedding right by him where he could hide and seek for them. It gave him some sense of mastery.

To the last, he experimented and tried doing EVERYTHING he could. His favorite activities in life were running and jumping all around the house, sunflower seeds scavenger hunts, chewing things, and sleeping. I was surprised to hear him chewing away that night. 

He's a resilient little guy, but I knew things would never be the same for him without his legs (his most life-giving asset), so, as I had been doing for hours prior, I prepared to say goodbye.

As I fell asleep on the couch next to his tank, I would reach in and try to situation his feet properly every now and then, because I'd read online that if gerbils rested in the right position the bones might grow back and heel (though I never got my hopes too high considering the level of the fractures and his desire for constant movement). There were three times when I heard him chewing and then stop. I would always check up on him.

In the morning he was lying next to his cardboard, still breathing but lying pretty limp. The worst part was picking him up and realizing that it was now more than his legs that were limp, it was the whole back part of his body. The only parts of his body that were not yet limp were his head and arms. He was a little cold.

I carried him downstairs to tell my mom he was dying, so that I wouldn't have to go through this alone. I rested him on my chest for a while: partially to give him warmth but mostly because I needed that close contact with him. He was squirmy and didn't seem happy being held -- I think due to his lacking a sense of control -- so my mom took him off. In the process he bit her hard--a sign of his distress.

We stayed with him all morning, loving on him, covering him in bedding for warmth, putting food and water within reach. He rested and seemed to be peaceful. Having the power to do nothing more for him, I played him some songs of the piano including a few that I knew were his favorites (The Mickey Mouse March and Colors Of The Wind), then I went and had my breakdown.

The rest of the day consisted in napping by his tank and checking up on him -- with my mom also in the room. I recruited a friend to go to Mass with me that evening (Sunday), since I couldn't bear to go alone.

Mass was super healing. I cried a lot (something I never do in public; the mask is a nice... mask, to an extent), uniting myself with him and offering God Jack back in union with the sacrifice of the Mass <-- I've learned that at this point in the Mass those of us in the congregation are meant to unite our sufferings of the week with Christ.

I thought about the Miracle of Santa Maria, and it brought me comfort. Despite the fact that days before I found I could only look at images of the scourged heart skin for so long before getting nauseaus, it was SUCH a comfort to me at this Mass.

I knew I was received Jesus at HIS lowest (the Miracle of Santa Maria as visible proof of what I was actually receiving), and I knew that God was suffering everything I was suffering in that moment there with me along with all the other sufferings of the world.

Communion was such a comfort. It was the greatest moment of unity. Feeling our pain together. Uniting in our pain. I also thought about how God the Father had offered His Only Son for us,  realizing that if it was this hard to give up by beloved gerbil, how great the Father's love and suffering had to be to offer us His Only Son.

Mass was unifying. On the ride there I talked with my friend about the accident and about what I was going through, and it was sooo comforting to talk about it with an understanding person amidst tears. After Mass, she agreed to go shopping with me so that I actually had food for the week. 

I knew it was a good thing that I had work the next day. I would need the distraction and fulfillment, and thank God I had my favorite student for so much of the day: a student who constantly made me smile and rejoice and who touched my heart in ways similar to Jack. I also recalled how our students had gone through so many tragedies this year: some losing pets, some losing family members... I knew I was not alone, and I felt their pain with them.

When we arrived home, my friend asked how I was doing and how Mass had been. I told her about the Miracle of Santa Maria and uniting my suffering with Christs. I told her how healing it had been. Then we departed ways, and I returned to Jack (who always had Mom in the room). 

He again looked peaceful. My greatest mourning was knowing he would never have the joy of jumping from tree limb to colosseum and racing around the house -- things that brough him SO MUCH joy. Thinking about his not getting any more of that joy was the biggest thing that would lead me to breakdown. I felt his pain and worried that when he would wake up from his naps he would have to re-experience that moment of knowing his body was half paralyzed. But...

He seemed very peaceful. We loved on him. He would rest and occasionally move his nose or twitch his ears. He lay in the bedding, and I checked his feet were in an okay position. We knew this was the end ... actually, I'm writing this in the moment.

I will be with him until dawn, and Mom will be home all day tomorrow for the chance that he makes it that long. I do not have to go through this alone. I have my support system: Mom, Stephanie, Jesus...  

It's heartbreaking, but I know that God can bring any creature back in eternity. Even if they do not have immortal souls, God can bring back the exact same form with the exact same personality and even infuse the creature with the exact same memories. I only hope Jack will have a place as special an our town home to run in in heaven when we are reunited in our bodies in eternity. I really think God will bring all good things - all things that have not denied him - back to life: a new creation, a more perfect creation, a not-missing creation...

Jack was MY GREATEST GIFT, and I know we were THE GREATEST GIFT he every could have received. No gerbil has had a happier life. (It's mutual, little love. You are a complete GIFT from God, and I will thank Him for gifting and entrusting you to me every day of my life.)

 

PART FOUR 

A Beautiful, Peaceful, Healing Death

Jack died around 6:40pm on January 7th on my mom's chest wrapped -- in a soft blanket I had knitted him -- while I played and sang If I Die Young on the piano. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful, peaceful death for him. He didn't even gasp. He went in peace surrounded by our love shown to him in every way possible.

How beautiful that we ever had something that could be so painful to let go of. ALL IS GIFT

LINK to the first song that came on the radio the day he died.

LINK to the first song that came on the radio the day after he died.

  Video coming after I do more healing...