Dissonance

The title of today’s post comes from lyrics from a Toby Mac song, 21 Years, that he penned after the sudden and unexpected passing of his firstborn son. “I just can’t make sense of this / Everything is so dissonant.” Those lines have been on repeat in my head ever since I attended his concert last month. Usually when a word just won’t go away, it’s an indicator that I need to write, explain, process, whatever you want to call it to deal with the emotions associated with it. Writing blog posts can be therapeutic yet draining, and I haven’t had the fortitude to get on here in a long time because I’m already drained and running on empty. However, my boy would have turned 18 this week, it’s his senior year, and I need to write regardless of my trepidation in doing so.

Dissonance is defined as “a tension or clash resulting from the combination of two disharmonious or unsuitable elements” which is a good summary of life since losing Carter in July 2017. Nothing fits together anymore. Life as we know it now and life without him in it causes a dissonance that is jarring, unsettling, annoying AF, and incongruent. I loathe it. As a matter of fact, I loathe it so much that my New Year’s goal for 2023 was to go to sleep and never wake up which sounds terrible, I know. I am a trained advisor for a suicide awareness and prevention program. I know the warning signs of suicidal ideation and when I feel like I’m tipping close to that edge, I have things I do that bring me back to myself. I’m just sharing because life with my family and a profession that is my calling that brings such joy and peace is very much at odds with the grief that I bear as a mother having buried her son to mental illness that resulted in suicide at the age of 12. I experience lots of highs and lows and learning to navigate through them all has caused a ton of emotional stress which is why I haven’t blogged in ages. It’s been all I can do to just get through each day.

Last summer marked 5 years since we lost him, so we decided to make the trek out to Oklahoma to experience something new in his memory on the anniversary week of his passing. Why Oklahoma? Well, we flew to the land of prairies and cows basically to visit the set of Ree Drummond’s cooking show on the Food Network, “The Pioneer Woman,” as it is filmed on her ranch in Pawhuska. After the widespread appeal of her show and merchandising took off, she opened a Boarding House and Mercantile Store in her hometown to boost tourism, so we planned our trip around those things. Her boarding house has a theme for each of the rooms, so it was a must that we lodged in “The Butterfly Room.” Joseph was finally able to secure that reservation after calling and speaking to someone in person, because in years past it would book within minutes of becoming available online and we would be out of luck. The room was exquisite, and we enjoyed staying there and relaxing for a few days.

There really wasn’t much else to do besides that once we toured the set of her show which was the highlight of our Oklahoma trip. Driving to that ranch was like a total fangirl experience for me. Forget teased up hair heading out to a New Kids on the Block concert in the ’80s. I was going to see my cooking idol whose recipes were a hit in our home and some of Carter’s favorites which included her Sunday Stew and mashed potatoes. Touring her set was a literal dream come true. I stood in the same place she stood while filming, I touched her pots and pans, I opened her actual oven (gasp!), and I got a behind-the-scenes sneak peak of her pantry, commercial kitchen set up in the back, and guest rooms. It was a picture perfect morning and I don’t know what was brighter- the sunshine bearing down on those wide open spaces where the fields were as expansive as an ocean, or my smile just being in the vicinity of my cooking idol.

Ironically, her food at the restaurant wasn’t all that stellar. I mean, if she were the one cooking it, I’m sure it would have been amazing, but it was just “blah” to me which was a bummer. We got the best souvenir imaginable, though. At her Mercantile Store, there was a handcrafted horse composed entirely of steel-cut butterflies. It cost an arm and a leg, and they weren’t going to be able to ship it home for us, but Joseph was bound and determined that it grace the hearth of our fireplace in South Carolina. Hubby wasn’t taking “no” for an answer, so he made it happen even if he nearly gave me a panic attack while waiting for him at the UPS Store near the airport to get the fragile thing packaged securely and on time to make our flight.

While we were in the Midwest, we drove through parts of Kansas and Missouri, too. We ate delicious BBQ at a dive that was part of a gas station, believe it or not. The line wrapped around the building and had rave reviews online, so we knew we were in for a treat. I got a “Carter wink” while there standing in line waiting for our food, too, as I glanced up and noticed the time was 4:33 PM. That number is always special because it is the time he was born. I just smiled to myself and thanked the Lord. That wasn’t the only sign from heaven while on that trip. Immediately, upon arriving in Joplin, Missouri, the Welcome sign was surrounded by butterflies, and just down the street from where we stayed at the Boarding House in Pawhuska, Oklahoma was a store called “Mariposa” which is Spanish for “butterfly.” We knew we were in the right place.

We also decided to check out the Precious Moments Museum and Chapel. I had collected those figurines through the years, so I was interested in the history behind some of them. When we first drove into the parking lot, it looked a little abandoned. I didn’t have high hopes for it. We learned that it was intended to be a huge amusement park and attraction back in the late ’80s and early ’90s but apparently due to funding issues and the fact that it was in Nowhere, Missouri it never really took off. After touring the sparse museum that had clearly seen its better days, we headed over to the chapel. Immediately upon entering, we knew that this was “it.” THIS was where the magic was. Instrumental hymns were piped through speakers as we slowly took in the sacred space. The artist had painted a gigantic mural as the chapel centerpiece entitled, “Hallelujah Square” where he depicted children based on real people and stories in heaven. They were joyful, playful, and at peace. It was extremely touching. Many tears were shed that morning while walking through the rooms, reading the stories, and feeling the presence of the Lord knowing that He was right there with us in our grief. The morning we toured the chapel was also the anniversary of Carter’s passing, so every reminder we got that our boy was in heaven and in perfect peace was a balm to our soul. However, writing his story in a book of remembrance and reading accounts of other parents who have buried their children certainly struck a dissonant chord within me. It just didn’t seem real that here we were 5 years later, trying to make new memories and honor the life of our boy who should have been there with us.

We returned home and finished out the summer keeping up with the babies while simultaneously trying to keep our sanity. School started back which was a welcome respite for me. Being home all day with toddlers isn’t my cup of tea. Hats off to all the stay-at-home Mamas out there who relish their time at home and wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m not that Mama. I’m too selfish. I need adult space and time. Mentally, I get in very dark spaces very quickly when I don’t have a routine of work and things to keep my brain busy and firing on all cylinders. I crave intellectual stimulation and go stir crazy when I’m up to my elbows in toddler mess, tantrums, and Peppa Pig on repeat. So, being back in the classroom was good and it also helped that I was advising the Hope Squad, a peer-to-peer based suicide awareness and prevention program. I’ll devote a blog post specifically to that in the near future since there’s a lot to share about it.

Somewhere around late September a friend reached out and asked if I would be a part of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s Out of the Darkness Walk. I hadn’t attended a walk since that first year and looking back, I realize that it was too much too soon. Carter had only been gone for a few months, and I was too grief-stricken to be in the right spot mentally to take comfort in the walk and shared experiences with others. However, again, I just felt like we were 5 years out now and I should be able to show up and do at least a little something. That little something started as an idea to bake fall treats and box them up as a fundraiser. I posted about it on my Facebook and had to stop taking orders after a few hours because I wasn’t sure I could fill them all. The next few weeks were spent making Smores Cups, peanut butter fudge, chocolate chip cookies, and butterscotch haystacks. I was able to reconnect with old friends, meet new people, and stay busy doing what my boy and I loved to do- spending time in the kitchen baking. That was a good month as I was able to raise $1700 with the help and support of so many who wanted to encourage me and honor Carter.

The holidays were hard as they always are. I got off of social media even though I originally said I was going to push through and try to show up online and encourage Carter’s classmates as they experienced senior milestones, but it wasn’t just that heartache that kept me discouraged and disillusioned. It was also the hypocrisy, insincerity, cattiness, and pettiness of people that I could no longer tolerate by simply scrolling past. What I would see online would stick with me for days like a burr in my heel, constantly reminding me and becoming a stumbling-block. So, I deactivated my Facebook which I do periodically anyway, and I removed the Instagram app from my home screen so I wouldn’t be tempted to get on and get sucked back into it. The break has been really, really good for me.

I logged back on Instagram this week to document what would be Carter’s 18th birthday. It was important for me to acknowledge his special day online, so I set some pictures to music and made a reel. Just doing that simple act meant a lot. The pictures I chose showed the joy and excitement we had surrounding his birth, the gratitude I felt for all the years of birthdays I got to celebrate with him, and the sweetness of his smiles through the years. Toby Mac’s song that I referenced earlier was the track I chose for the reel because the first verse accurately depicted the heartache I felt.

Heart shattered in a thousand ways
They tell me pain gonna come in waves
They tell me I'm gonna be OK
Still waiting for the first to break. 
Why would You give and then take him away?
Suddenly end, could You not let it fade?
What I would give for a couple of days, a couple of days.

During the Toby Mac concert that I attended last month, an opportunity was presented that became our random act of kindness in honor of Carter’s birthday. We are sponsoring a child from an organization called Food for the Hungry. The welcome packet arrived just this week and we learned that our child is 13 years old from the Dominican Republic. Correspondence is encouraged, so I am excited to share the gospel with him and his family in Spanish while also sharing Carter’s story. So, when Carter’s birthday arrived, I kept telling myself that the reel and act of kindness were enough. I hadn’t made any extravagant plans. Nothing special was on the agenda. I was tired and hurting and just didn’t want to wear myself out running around town doing good deeds and then feeling drained. I just wanted solitude and to sit with my grief for the day.

I decided not to go to work, and Joseph and Caroline also stayed home. We began the day with a yummy I-Hop breakfast. Sometime later on that morning, my in-laws came to the cemetery to deliver heart balloons. Around 2 o’clock Joseph attempted to get the babies dressed to go out there for a balloon release as I was on the couch debating whether I should run to the store to buy some cupcakes or try and make a recipe super quick. It didn’t feel right not to have something special for him. Every idea that I had just fizzled out. I didn’t know if it was because I was too lazy to do anything or because the Lord was shutting the door. I remember thinking, “Lord, it would be nice to have something special for his day- some sign, someTHING that would appear and I would know without a shadow of a doubt that it was You.” But I’ve already begged and pleaded for things like that in the past, and I didn’t want to utter those words in a prayer. I guess in my twisted thinking I still am under the impression that I bug the Lord about these things. He’s surely tired of hearing from me by now, so I just had the thought and dismissed it. Next thing I knew, Joseph was coming in from the garage with a package that he quickly unboxed. Wouldn’t you just know that it was a molded chocolate cupcake, complete with sprinkles and a candied cherry on top? It even came with a little wooden gavel the babies could use to break it open to discover even more candied treats inside like M&Ms and chocolate covered pretzels.

My jaw dropped and I was floored. My seemingly insignificant thought became an answered prayer that I won’t forget if I live to be 100 years old. I may not remember my name or my age when I’m that old, but I’ll remember that cupcake arriving and the reminder from the Lord that He cares, and He sees me. Nothing that I could ever come to Him with would be a burden to Him. He’s not bored with me. He’s not tired of hearing from me. He wants the requests, He wants the open line of communication, and He desires fellowship with me. I’m His child, and He loves to hear from me and give me things, because He’s a good, good, Father. I’m reminded of this Bible verse from Matthew 7:11-

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?

So with our giant cupcake in tow, we headed out to the cemetery and sang “Happy Birthday” through tears and choked up voices to our sweet boy in heaven. Nothing is as dissonant as that. Such a happy and joyful occasion that we now must celebrate in a graveyard.

Is it just across the Jordan or a city in the stars?
Are you singin' with the angels, are you happy where you are?
Well, until this show is over and you've run into my arms
God has you in heaven, but I have you in my heart.