Miserable Day/Wonderful Night

At work the coke machine returned my quarter and rejected my dollar bill.

Multiply that by everything I tried to do today. One of those days. I rested well, I wasn't stressing over Jolene, but today I should have moved to Australia (do any of you remember that children's book?)

A very pleasant evening, however. We watched So You Think You Can Dance. The synergy of music, movement, and beauty touches me, and revives my own dreams (as a musician, not as a dancer). During commercial breaks, Mom shared pictures of her parents, grandparents, and other family members. A feast of delights for the evening.

Made up for the bad day.

Guest Post - Elizabeth Ludwig

Tonight I am starting something new. Recently, my book Gunfight at Grace Gulch, was released as part of the new Heartsong Presents: Mysteries! book club (heartsongmysteries.com.)

As a member of the wonderful "spyglass" authors loop and of the larger Christian writing community, I experienced firsthand their amazing love and support. I also heard over and over "I lost someone." "I care." "I'm praying."

So I am inviting fellow authors to share their experiences of loss with me and with my readers. Tonight, I am privileged to introduce you to Elizabeth Ludwig. Her first novel, Where the Truth Lies, is currently available through the book club.

Q: In this blog, I have been processing the loss of my daughter to suicide. The experience of loss of universal. What significant loss have you experienced? How has it impacted your writing?

A: You’re right, Darlene, experiencing loss in one form or another is universal. I lost my son, Seth, in 1991 when he was three months old. Five years ago, my mother-in-law passed away from cancer. Both of these deaths impacted me and my faith deeply.

Writing about these experiences was a healing balm to me during those troubled days. After Seth passed away, I wrote a short article that chronicled my feelings, my heartache. I never expected those words to see the light of day but God had other things in mind. A few years ago I received an email from Houston author, Charlotte Holt. She was putting together a book all about trusting God during periods of grief. I sent her that article and though the book has yet to be published, many have read it and been helped by the testimonies of others.

I went through a similar process after the death of my mother-in-law. I dedicated an entire scene in one of my novels to a family get-together we had when she was alive. It was a way of memorializing her, I guess, of saying goodbye.

At the heart, that’s what writing is—a way of opening ourselves up and letting others get a taste of who we are and how we came to be at our place in life.

Q: What central truth did you learn through your loss?

A: More than anything else, I learned how precious time is and the importance of making the most of every minute. I had a very short time with Seth, but those memories are sweet. I am so thankful that I am able to remember the way his gaze followed me about the kitchen as I prepared his bottle, and how my husband and I laughed over his skinny feet. Though parting was difficult, I look forward with joy to the reunion God has planned for us in heaven.

Q: Do you write to escape your circumstances or to process your feelings? Or both? Please share examples.

A: As I shared above, writing can be therapeutic. Sometimes, the most intense emotions are the hardest to process. That’s why writing them down was so healing for me. It was an acknowledgement of everything I could not find the words to voice. If you’d like to read the article I wrote about Seth, click here.

Q: What books or characters resonated with you in your time of loss?

A: You know, the book that meant the most to me was a tiny thing called “Death of a Little Child,” by J. Vernon McGee. It’s funny how the simple words this author penned still resonate within me. I’ve often shared some of the truths I found in its pages with other suffering mothers. This book taught me not to overlook the importance of even the simplest work. God can do great and mighty things with the smallest of tools placed trustingly in His hands.

Q. You have recently published Where the Truth Lies. Please tell me a little about your book.

A: This was such a fun book to write, especially because so much of my writing tends toward the morose. I loved gothic romances growing up, so I guess that explains it. :-)

Don’t let me mislead you, however. Coming up with the character of Casey Alexander was just as much a personal endeavor as anything else I’ve done. Janelle Mowery, my co-author, and I spent weeks hashing out just who we wanted this character to be and what her outlook on life was to become.

Casey is a fun person, quirky in her love for detective novels, but someone I would love to hang out with. I think that’s why people who have read the book tell me they hated for the story to end. Hanging out with the characters was fun! That’s the feeling I hope to leave all of my readers

The Woman at the Well

I am reading Desperate Woman of the Bible by Jo Kadlacek, and just finished the chapter on the Samaritan woman.

Jo asked what we learned about the meaning of “passion” from her story.

I wrote that she refused to accept a ho-hum existence. She longed for the “abundant life” that Jesus described elsewhere. She sought meaning and passion in any way possible, including inappropriate ones.

So when she met Jesus—POW! He was what she had sought all along, and because of her life-long search, she knew Him when she found Him. And grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.

As I wrote, I thought of Jolene.

How many conversations did we have in the past year when she railed “Why doesn’t the church …”

What she expected was what the church should be: a haven, a loving family. That they should call her when she was absent, recognize her and greet her enthusiastically when she was there. At a minimum.

I love my church, and they went to extraordinary lengths to help us when Jolene died. But I will admit … it can be lonely. The month we joined, we sat alone at a fellowship to welcome new members, while old members carried on lively conversations.

So I tried to tell Jolene, “You’re right but … they just don’t act that way. It’s nothing to do with you personally.”

She refused to accept a ho-hum church, or a ho-hum existence. Whatever she did, she jumped into headfirst, with all the determination and enthusiasm contained in her body and soul.

Before she died, television ads had convinced her that she could make thousands of dollars a week through sales. She got so far in debt she could never repay and never made a single dollar. She plunged into finding a career with her limitless passion.

I wish Jolene’s story ended in success and transformation the way the Samaritan Woman’s did.

But her passion for living, her refusal to settle for second-best, touched many people.

Word Play

Mom & I watch a lot of t.v. But we also know how to turn it off when there's nothing we want to watch. We play a lot of board games. And tonight, since we ate early and it's a holiday night, we played Scrabble.

I LOVE words (okay, I'm a writer!) And I've scored over 300 on my last 2 games, so I'm feeling pretty confident. I won tonight. :) It helps to get the Q and the Z.

And as we played, we spoke of Jolene.

Jolene was very bright. She also used words like weapons, very articulate. She could read and digest almost anything.

She just couldn't write correct sentences. Poor motor coordination resulted in terrible penmanship. She also did not spell very well, a minor case of dislexia.

So, I never played Scrabble with Jolene. It was a set up for failure, and she didn't tolerate losing very well.

As we membered, Mom and I spoke with fondness and not tears. "She need a game where you had to make up words!" Mom joked.

I laughed. "Yeah, 'mack up, Mom, mack up!'" Which in Jolene's unique language, meant something between "do what you said you would do" and "do what I think you should do." (At times it was hard to tell.)

It was good to remember the good times and not to cry volumes the way we did yesterday.

Both are part of grieving, and letting go. Only today was a lot easier.

Thanks for all your prayers. I know they have made a huge difference.

My First REAL Memorial Day

A really rough last 36 hours.

We went through the remainder of Jolene's belongings yesterday. Which was worse--the simple Care Bear dolls she had since her first Christmas? Or the box full of receipts, evidence of her responsibility and organization--and life in-the-midst? I think I started to lose it when I found a receipt from Smash Burger, a new hamburger chain that she introduced us to.

That was yesterday.

In Sunday school this morning, I opened my Bible to Genesis 50. There I read a note from a year ago, May 24, 2007. I said Jolene had said hurtful words, and asked God to turn them into something good.

Oh, God, I would take those hurtful words if it meant Jolene was still here.

Only, as I told my class, if she were still alive--I wouldn't realize the alternative to those words was her death. Her words would still hurt just as badly. In the last year, she and I had really struggled with our relationship. We'd always been so close, you see, and I felt I understood better than anyone else on earth. All of a sudden, I felt like I didn't know her at all.

At the beginning of the year, we seemed to be coming out on the other side. And now she's gone.

I was already crying when the worship service started. Then I looked at the section of the worship service titled "Remembering members who have gone home to be with the Lord since the last Memorial Day."

The pianist and organist played a duet while the names of church members scrolled down against a background of flowers, on the overhead screen. There she was: Jolene Franklin, March 17, 2008.

I couldn't contain myself. My tears turned into sobs and I left the sanctuary. Mom joined me and we cried and prayed for half an hour. At last God gave me peace enough to leave. We never returned to the worship service.

So it's been a long day, a hard day, but a day that we have survived by God's grace.

From now on, Memorial Day will be a day to remember.

Jolene at Play

From the Christmas carol, As with Gladness, Men of Old:

Holy Jesus, every day keep us in the narrow way;
And, when earthly things are past, bring our ransomed souls at last
Where they need no star to guide, where no clouds Thy glory hide.

The words sparked an image of Jolene at play. In my prayer journal, I wrote:

At play in the field of the Lord—dancing, tumbling, on the trapeze learning from Vicki. She is in the presence of the Light, no longer any veil in between.

Vickie Baker, my writing companion from the beginning, was a self-styled “quadriplegic trapeze artist.” (She broke her neck while attempting a 2½ somersault.) A big hunk of my writing heart died when Vickie went home to be with the Lord in 2003. For months afterward, I felt like I had lost my biggest fan and best mentor.

For the first time it occurred to me that Vickie was there to greet Jolene when she died. Someone who watched Jolene grow up, encouraged her writing gift and loved her, welcomed her at the gates of heaven.

And now they are both free to do what was impossible on earth—fly on the trapeze, in and to God’s glory.

I miss you both, but I’m glad you have each other.

Holiday Weekend

Well, I've never been big into Memorial Day.

But this is the time we've set aside to go through the remainder of Jolene's belongings. I'm dreading it.

Add to that finding more sympathy cards that I hadn't yet tucked into our memorial notebooks.

My heart is heavy.

Continue to lift us up. Thanks!