Mixed Emotions

[waiting]

MIMI,   

  thanks for sharing that.....very comforting.


   Kathy.xoxo

[Godlovesmimi]

I'm so bad at this forum stuff!  I think I've deleted some replies to my posting's and I can't find the post I've made.  I'm so sorry if I haven't responded to messages (because I lost them) but I will try to better in the future.  Thank you to all for your support.  It means the world to me.

Has anyone heard from the author, Lost my Only, who started this subject?  I'm worried about her and want her to know how much I love her.  I pray she knows how much God loves her and her son.

Again, my apologies.

[Godlovesmimi]

Has anyone else had a dream that gave them special insight or peace over lossing a loved one.  Scroll down and read a bit about my dream.  I was just wondering if these kinds of things have help other people too.

[palapala]

Yes I have, with three loved ones. But only once each and it was to real to be just a dream.

[irishgeorgie]

Godlovesmimi,
there's a thread here in another section that is about 'does God allow loved ones to visit in dreams'
here's a link to it, http://theshackbook.com/discuss/index.php?topic=1135.0
click on the link should work,

[justbreathe]

Hello Dear One,

I have been overwhelmed with work to the point that I have not had a chance to eat regularly or even do anything more than get a quick shower and fall in to bed at night.  The sixteen hour days of trying to keep up with everything and falling further and further behind are catching up with me and I am taking a break from the forum for a little bit.  That does not mean, however, that I will be taking a break from loving my friends on this forum and praying for you all. 

I have prayed, and thought, and prayed some more about what if anything God would have me to say here on your thread before I go away for a short break.  After reading what you have written so far about your son, his life, and his death, I feel that God would have me to  say this:

Tell his story.  In telling the story of your son you are keeping his memory alive and your are touching lives.  You are helping those who have never known your son to know him through your eyes..............the eyes of a mother.................and no one can see more clearly who their child is than a loving mother.  You honor him by writing of him and you make his presence tangible through your words. 

But I feel that not only would God have you to write but also to wait.


(Cont.)

[justbreathe]

The writing will at time bring up pain for you but it will also bring a measure of healing, although you and I both know that the broken heart of a mother will not be completely healed on this earth.  But, I implore you to write and wait and see what Papa (God) does with your words.

I don't know what is going to happen, Dear One.  But I do believe if you write and wait, you will see a miracle.

Know that I am thinking of you as well as all my other friends here on this forum and I am praying and will return when I am able.

Tammy

[LostMyOnly]

[Continuing...]

"Mom, I'm on my way baaaccckk!"  I smiled as joy and relief replaced the fears and uncertainty, birthed three years earlier, that he really would return to his newfound home, and to me.  Joy.  It filled each word he spoke and I knew, with no doubt this time, he meant it.  He sounded so free, so happy.  Relief...such relief.  My baby had survived three years of literal hell back there in DC.  A place he considered "home" for most of his life, but was surprised to discover that his real home, the one his One True Father had prepared for him, was at the foot of the Rockies.  This was his Place of Blessing, where God would meet him and say "welcome home."  This place I was called to for one reason and one reason only...to pull him out here.  I, by and through faith, obeyed the fierce calling to move to an unknown place with no friends and family, and no job.  In contrast, he refused to heed what he knew his heart was pleading and returned to the curse, and found himself trapped taking care of others, including his grandparents.  But, now, he was returning to where he found dignity and peace, and I was overjoyed.

The very next day, October 1, 2006, marked the fourth anniversary of my first day here in Colorado.  Night had fallen and I do not recall the exact time, but I do recall the phone ringing.  It was my dad, now frail as he battled a new cancer, his voice a little off, shaken.  "Rudy's been shot again and it doesn't sound too good.  Everyone is at the hospital with him... I stayed to be here by the phone."  My heart lost its natural rhythm and all I could think of at the time was "NOT AGAIN," but believed this had to be yet another wound from which he would recover, be spared, as all the times before.  Dad said he had been shot in the butt, so I tried to smile thinking how embarrassed Rudy must be.  But another call came soon after while I talked with God and this one let me know that I may lose him.  She was crying and sounded so desperate, insisting that I needed to get there right away.  I asked to speak with the doctor because I needed to know what happened to him.  Instinctively, I knew he had been shot on the right side, as he had been all the times before but was not prepared to hear what the doctor shared.  The bullet from the high-powered rifle entered his body on the right side, yes, but for the first time a vital organ [his liver] was pierced and it went through his body, exiting his left buttock.  "We have tried, but we cannot stop the bleeding...it doesn't look good, Ma'am."  Camela returned to the phone, sounding as if she were about to lose her breath, repeating that I must get there right away.  Desperation, anger, fear, helplessness pounded every part of me as I tried to figure out what to do and if I could get a flight that would get me there right away.  I called the airlines and learned there was a such a flight but it would still take hours to get across the country.

The final call came just after 1AM.  "He's gone....he's gone."  I hung up the phone and looked out the window.  My head up...and suddenly this, this THING violated me.  Some wretched face or mask, totally unfamiliar to me, had become my own; the sides of my mouth were pulled downward as if by some extraordinarily heavy weights, dragging my jaw out of place.  (I knew I would not have recognized myself if I dared to look in a mirror.)  And then this...this horrid sound came out of me that scared me.  I had never heard such a monstrous scream come out of a human being, certainly not out of me, but there it was and it would not go away, for it would return day after day unbidden.

This could not be happening...no way could this be real.  He was coming back "home," God. Back to his place of blessing that You prepared for him.  You had me come here, knowing this was not my place but his, and I obeyed you, Father!  I believed so strongly, my faith was so unshaken because I knew he would receive yet another miracle, but all was in vain.  NO! no...

The next day, October 3, I returned to my parents' home in DC to take care of his final arrangements.  I would have him cremated and bring his cremains back to Colorado, where he belonged.  I was fought, despised, and even threatened because of that decision, but he was MY SON and I would not be swayed.  My dad was at the airport to pick me up and the only way I recognized him was by his ball cap.  He was shriveling away, with only parts of his face recognizable to me.  I held back the tears and smiled, being careful not to hug him too tightly.  Was I losing him, too?  My dad, my pastor, my best buddy. (cont'd)

[LostMyOnly]

Entering the house, I was struck by how "dark" it was even though it was in the middle of the day.  Mom was seated in the corner of the sofa, frozen, expressionless.  Her feet ashen white and, when she would finally get up to move about, they barely left the floor.  Her gait deliberate with so much caution, as if she could lose her balance at any moment.  She would shift her gaze in my direction briefly, but would say nothing, and I could see within that gaze that it was best I not say anything to her until later.  There were others.  Young women crying, and some frozen, too.  I recall a slight hug from someone...don't recall who it was.  Then "I'm so sorry" rang out from different directions toward me.  They were all broken, falling apart, and there was no room for any show of grief from me.  I had to comfort them all, listen to them all.  I looked into the tear-stained face of his current girlfriend who assured me he was on his way back, and even had started packing.  Camela later shared her fears for her own safety, not just mine, due to the threats from the mobs of angry friends who wanted a major funeral event for Rudy, whom one said had "become as big as Elvis" while I was away those four years.  I sincerely regretted placing her in the position of relaying my plans to them.

The next day when we returned from the nearby funeral home after making all the arrangements, I sat on the sofa and looked at my dad who was relaxing in their pale rose recliner.  His large round eyes were red and filled with tears behind his glasses, as he began to share what he had learned earlier that morning.  "A young lady came by and sat there in the corner of the sofa," pointing to the exact same corner where I had found Mom the day before. "She said she wanted to let us know that Rudy saved her life and maybe her baby's life, too.  She had come out of the corner store and Rudy rushed and pushed them back in.  The bullet hit him."  I burst into tears!  They overtook me along with this odd sense of relief.  Relieved because what she shared helped to make some sense of a senseless act.  My baby was a hero.  That mob knew it, but I had no idea until that moment.

Forever and a day, I sometimes see what she shared with my parents...how he laid on the cold concrete shaking, bleeding to death while waiting for the ambulance.  She was angry because it was taking so long, and I too was/am angry that those who could have saved his life did not care enough to employ heroic measures to do so.  I see his blood on the concrete, his blood-soaked hospital mattress, the blood that covered my mom's dress as she leaned in to kiss him, the odd bubble-wrap he was covered in, while going in out and of consciousness, and the tears they said were streaming out his right eye, his entire left side horribly swollen...sometimes even haunted by visions of the wound inside his body.  THIS was his reward for saving their lives and the lives of so many others???  NO! no.

I missed my baby.  I missed saying goodbye to him.  Missed giving him a final hug and kiss, my cheek pressed to his.  Missed letting him know once again how much I love him and how so very proud I was of him.  I felt cheated.  Not just because I would never see him again in this life, but also because I did not get to say goodbye to my man-child.  My man-child, who was not perfect, nor an innocent...he was tormented and tortured between doing what was right, what was wrong, while along the way and during his final days, proving he was worthy to be called God's son.  My prayer and hope has been [and is] that those he saved and helped, in so many ways, will consciously with true purpose live out their lives in gratitude to him but most of all to God, his One True Dad. 

I often say he was my "Angel with Dirty Wings"... and I am so proud of you, Rudy!  I miss you so much!!!

(By the way, my Poppa, once a very robust and active man [full of faith and laughter], lost his battle with cancer barely a year after my baby was killed. That is another nightmare I've been forced to live through but I will not share all the events surrounding his death here.)

[wandaw]

Dear One,
  What a handsome son you had and what wonderful parents.  Your writing is such a gift and I can't help but compare it to Mr. Paul Young's writings (author of The Shack).  Imagine how many hundreds of thousands or even millions of people have been blessed by his sharing of his life's story through his little book of fiction based on fact.  So well written that even though I'd read it was fiction, I became convinced it was fact and biographical before I had read many chapters.  I can see something ahead much like this for you and your writings that you have done and will do in the future.
  Now, I know you live in Colorado and I still am anxious to know what your profession or occupation is besides being a writer!  What a blessed gift you have.   Looking forward to hearing whatever you feel like sharing with us and when.
  Bless you Tammy as you take a rest from the forum and from your 16 hour work days on the farm.  We look forward to your returning rested and well.  I hope you both have wonderful weekends.
  Wandaw

[LostMyOnly]

TIME TO SAY GOODBYE

****Wandaw**** you are precious! and no, I am not a writer...at least not a financially successful one.  I simply love to write, as well as draw, paint, design clothes and more.  My book was on the market for a while, and sold all over the world; and managed to help many of my readers, for which I am truly grateful.  But, as my luck would have it, my publisher was stealing my royalties, so I fired them.  Work?  I work in customer service for a very abusive employer, which has exacerbated the many health problems with which I present.  I have been deemed disabled by the social security administration, but denied benefits because the DC government lost my medical files.  So, I am forced to work to survive.  But thank you sooooo very much for all your prayers, good wishes, and compliments!

****Dave**** the first to post, so never forgotten, especially since you made me giggle when you thought I was a dude.  Thank you for your kindness and prayers.

****Claire****thank you for your prayers and words of encouragement...for reaching out to me. Angel is a good moniker for you.  It fits like an exquisite garment made just for you.

****Arus****always posting good thoughts and wishes, thank you!  You wear the words "I care" on your sleeve!

****Joe****if I were confined to a hospital bed, I have envisioned you as the caring, praying silent type who peeks in once in a while to say "hey" to remind me that you are "there," that you are thinking of [and praying for] me.  Thank you, Joe.

****Judy****you have quite the sense of humor, but always reminding me, as Joe has, that you are still there and praying, hoping for the best for me.  Thank you.

****Kathy****you may not be into the mush stuff, but you certainly are into the quiet caring stuff.  Thank you for that quiet caring.

****Barbara****your trial touches me because I cannot tell you how often I wished I had given up my baby for adoption so he could have a better life, a whole family. I am believing for you, that all is well.  Thank you so much for all you have shared and given.

****Rebecca****I share the scars of spiritual abuse, too.  Thank you, Ace, for your prayers.

****Sammy****one of few words, also much like Joe, but thank you for those words, dear.

****Wynette****thank you for caring enough to post, to wish me the best, for listening as so many of the others.

****Boobear****I am so sorry for your loss, and thank you.  Blessings to you, too, dear.

****Happy Feet****thank you for your prayers, for caring.

****Mimi****Hiiiiiiiiiii and goodbye, dear.  You say you have grandchildren, but you have an incredibly youthful spirit. Your "hope" is miraculous and I know you will never lose it.  (And, yes, Tammy is my gift of grace...how marvelous of you to "see" that truth which I did not see until you revealed it.  It has not been fully unwrapped yet, but Abba knows.)  Oh Hopeful One with the Heart of a Child, Papa is especially fond of you.  Thank you, Mimi!

****Mfleener****thank you for your posts, and I do hope you find truly good friends here.  I believe you will.

To Harshman...no need to "put up" with my posts and my "wallowing" in this anguish.
To Georgie...although I thought I made it clear you had said nothing to offend me, you clearly were offended by my propensity to lean toward Tammy.  

****Tammy****we will keep in touch through email, if you wish.  Thank you so very much for being in this place and for keeping your ear to God's heart, although I know there is more if I can manage not to lose patience.  It is so very strange how I see/visualize my death, while you and some of the others see life, a future for me.  Anyway, I believe you and many of the others will understand my decision to cease posting here, because things have been said that none of you would have said to me; and I wound so very easily.  Never managed to develop a thick skin.  So, I want all of you to know how very very much I have appreciated the spiritual sensitivity and care in your posts.  Tammy, Josh was a beautiful child and I can see you in his eyes.  I love you and want nothing but the absolute best for you and yours, as I do the others here.  Get your rest, dear, and maybe I will hear from you soon.

Goodbye ****Everyone****

[arus]

Go well Lost.  I pray that you find some semblance of peace and hope in this crazy world. 

[waiting]

 Take Care ........((((((((((((((((((((((((((LOST)))))))))))))))))))))))

                                         

   Kathy

[claireangel]

Thank you again for sharing your story with us. I will not soon forget you or your son. I do sincerely pray that you find peace some day, Dear One. Keeping you in my prayers...

[wandaw]

Dear One,
  I will never forget you as well.  Your time with us has been way too short.  I am happy that you will keep in touch with Tammy and hope that she will keep us posted as she hears from you.  I am so sorry you are in such an abusive work place and have health problems that you should be receiving social security disability from.  I hope your medical files "mysteriously" reappear. 
  If you change your mind about posting, please know that you are welcome to come back in your own time.  You have so much to offer us as well as people whose lives you have not even touched yet!  I left the forum once and I'm sure many never knew I'd even been here since I never started a thread.  I did return and even though I don't have my own thread, I do enjoy trying to encourage when I can and am uplifted by what so many are facing with such grace and courage.  I do respect your decision to leave but selfishly hope you will return.  More than anything, I wish for you to have that peace of God and from God that passes all human  understanding. 
  Go with God,
  Wandaw