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A letter to Clear Lake firehouse 71.

By A Grieving Mother

How do you measure your success? If you pulled a child from a wreck, treated him promptly and professionally, saving his life. This is a good day. Parents thank you for saving their child. And for that moment you are the hero. You are reminded why you chose such a lifestyle and you know this is what you live for. Your life is filled with many stories. Perhaps you treated the wounded on the scene of a terrible fire, or sung a song to calm a scared little girl who doesn’t understand why her mommy won’t wake up. In your down time, you may be an ordinary person, winding down with your friends enjoying a cold beer. Talking about the crazy situations and people you encountered that day.

Then there are the truly hard days, of things you could barely speak. Sights that can never be unseen. Perhaps screams that still linger in your ears, or tear filled faces that haunt you in your sleep. When you have done everything in your power, expended every ounce of your energy to save that life, refusing to stop trying, yet to powerlessly watch this one slip away beyond your reach. Yes, there are some battles even the strongest and bravest cannot win.

You don’t feel like a hero then. There is no thanks. No smiles. Just faces of anguish and pain. You are taught not to let your emotions get involved, told to steel your heart. But deep inside you are still human, and that is what makes you care. When you tuck your kids in bed to sleep, do you hold them extra tight? Do you think about that family who will never have that chance again?

I’ve had experience to see a peek at both sides of EMT life, as one of my own daughters would ride out each day under lights and sirens. She was focused and ready, to do whatever needed to be done. Some days she came home a hero, some days she came home weighted with pain and holding back tears.

But I have also been on the other side, the weeping mother yelling at you not to give up. I have been there with my child under those flashing lights, I have watched you fight long and hard for her life. In that one moment, you were right there in the very center of my world. Life and death hanging in the balances. I was in shock and disbelief, yet refusing to give up hope. You didn’t give up either. In a sense, you were fighting for my own life too. Although CPR is tiring and strenuous, you never slowed or stopped your pace, till arriving at the emergency room and others took over the fight.

Then when all that could be done had been done… my child was gone. I was consumed by my own grief. I remember seeing you again in the ER halls. Yet in my shock I could not to take notice of anything else. Those are the days when you get no thanks, the days when the battle is lost. You go home late and exhausted. The hero that has lost his cape. Of course, “It is just a job. Don’t take it personally.” But under that strong exterior, does it hurt when you lose a fight?

It has taken me two years since that day to be ready to write this, and it may be something you’d never expect to hear from a grieving mother. But for all the battles you have lost, all the days you did all that you could do, for all the screaming voices and faces of despair you have had to face, all the days you went home worn and defeated, the days no one appreciates or calls you a hero, I want to say, Thank you. Thank you for trying your best under some of the worst of circumstances and not giving up. Thank you for being there for us in our time of need. Thank you for getting back up again, through all the wins and the losses. And thank you for giving of the best of your strength, even for the one you couldn’t save. 


By Marie Morrow

 
 

A Grieving Mother's Easter

It was so dark that Easter Friday,
When they laid His body down.
As though the hope of all creation,
Went with Him into the ground.
And she wept a bitter weeping,
Only a mother’s grief can know.
For this savior was her baby.
She had loved and watched him grow.

It was so dark that Easter Friday,
When we laid her body down.
As though the sunshine of a lifetime,
Went with her into the ground.
And I wept a bitter weeping
Only mother’s loss can know.
For she had been my little girl,
I’d loved and watched her grow.

Now when Easter comes it pains me,
To see brightly colored eggs.
For the coming of this season,
Softly fills my heart with dread.
For when everyone is celebrating,
The resurrection found,
This season marks the painful day,
I laid my daughter down.

But how bright that Easter Sunday,
When He rose up from the earth.
All creation felt the glory,
Of new hope and life re-birthed.
But none as deep emotion,
As the joy in Mary’s face.
To see her child back again,
For one more sweet embrace.

Oh how bright will be the sunrise,
When we rise up from this earth.
All the world will know His glory,
As creation is re-birthed.
But the deepest of emotion,
Is seen on a mother’s face.
To have my child back again,
Once more in my embrace.

For the joy of this reunion,
I believe and I will wait,
I’ll trust He doeth all things well,
Though He give or though He take.
Cause one day I’ll see my girl again,
With sparkle in her eyes,
Then I will hold her in my arms,
To never say, Good Bye.

For what we celebrate at Easter,
Is not left within the grave.
It is joy that’s daily given,
And more joy that still awaits.
Yet, all this is only possible,
Because of Easter’s pain.
When He was buried with our loss,
And resurrected with our gain.


By Marie Morrow
 
 
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The Painful Question
By Marie Morrow

Heavenly Father, I ask that you teach me to see the overlay of grace. I want to see good that is in this world but all I see is pain. When you finished your work of creation and said, “It is good”, did you know what would become of this world? Did you see a fallen world destroying itself by greed and withering in pain? Did you see the cruelty and hate that would trample the weak? When you rested on the seventh day, did you not lament how Satan would seek to steal and destroy everything that is good?

How can you call it good, when the seeds of such pain had already been planted? How could it not break your heart to see what they have done to your beautiful world? If this is your world, how can you have resigned lordship over the “kingdoms of this world”? Why is Satan allowed place to rule over your creation?

My heart is so broken by the pain in this world. I try to heal and see beauty again but every day I see more pain. I used to be able to handle it. I used to have strength to do some good. But my heart has been so broken and grief has shown me depths of pain I never felt before. Now empathy is so painful, for I have known the depths of great sadness. The pain I see in the world now, hurts so much more. The suffering of the weak and the cruelty of the strong, each story in the news, each person’s grief, each one’s pain, falls heavily on my already broken heart. Yes, empathy can be so painful.

I used to offer so much hope, always full of faith. I used to believe that any pain could be turned into good. I used to see the beauty and potential all around us, waiting to be discovered. Now I feel the pain of a hurting world reflected in my own broken heart. For the first time, I see the world in its full depravity and all the heartache that it causes.

Death steals the ones we love. Friends we trusted betray us. Families and churches are divided. People are criticizes and judged for their differences. Good people try hard only to be trampled down. Young and innocent are abused with no defense. Wounds inflicted leave lifelong scars, beyond our power to overcome. Violence and crime, war and hatred abound on every side.

Where is the Kingdom of Heaven to be found on earth? Where do we see Your kingdom come and Your will being done, on earth as it is in Heaven? If Yours is the Kingdom, the power and the glory, shouldn’t we be seeing some of it here? The God I believe in is not impotent or indifferent. You would not have created this world with such care and wonder, only to leave it to crumble in its own devices. In a world where evil has such a stronghold, surly you must have a powerful resistance.

You said your kingdom was not of this world. Yet you came to tell us that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. So if your kingdom is “in the world but not of the world”, then two parallel universes must somehow overlap. “Where sin abounds, grace much more abounds.” I understand that it is there but I want to be able to see it again, this overlay of grace. To see pain overlaid by joy, hate overlaid by love, and sin overlaid by grace.

God, I ask you to open my eyes, to see your grace in the overlay.


 
 

Infant Hope
My Christmas Morning Peace

The world was still as dark that night.
The Roman grip was just as tight.
Not much had changed for poor and week.
Their lot in life was just as bleak.
 They sought a savior strong and wise,
To heal their hurts and hear their cries.
Instead they heard a tiny peep,
From little infant fast asleep.
How could the hope of all the land,
Be held within such tiny hands.
For thirty years would come and go,
Still waiting for that gift to grow.
Yet, changes great have come on earth,
Because of that small infant birth.

Today we want what’s fast and strong.
To ease our pain and right our wrongs.
Yet answers to our prayers are born,
Just as they were on Christmas morn.
A seed of hope so frail and small,
That does not seem like much at all.
Yet such a tiny seed of hope,
Will someday be a mighty oak.
So do not cry and do not moan,
When miracles are not yet grown.
For God has given us His grace,
As smiling from an infant face.
And if we wait, then time will tell,
Of God with us, Emanuel.

By Marie Morrow
Christmas Day, 2015

 
 

Just a Little Christmas Cheer
My Christmas Eve Plea

There’s just one thing I’m praying for,
 One gift I need this year.
I wish, God, you could spare for me,
Just a little Christmas cheer.
The lights are brightly shining,
The gifts wrapped under the tree.
I’ve given joy to everyone,
But there is none left for me.

I’ve done the Christmas baking,
And I’ve played the Christmas songs,
Hoping to have Christmas,
As it should be all along.
But my heart is feeling empty,
And it’s hard to make it through,
‘Cause my child’s gone to Heaven,
To have Christmas there with you.

She is singing with the angels now,
Where the stars are all aglow.
And it’s left a sad and empty space
In our family down below.
So as Heaven’s choir sings tonight,
To celebrate your birth,
Could you spare a little Christmas cheer,
To share with us on earth?

I am praying for a Christmas star,
To shine a ray of light.
To beam through all this darkness,
As it did that holy night.
Oh, I wish to hear the angels sing,
Of God’s good will to men.
And I wish today some peace and joy,
Would come to us again.

By Marie Morrow
Christmas Eve, 2015

 
 
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“I’m doing fine.” “We’re getting by.” “Slowly getting back on our feet.” I could not tell how many times I have said these words when well-meaning friends inquire. What could I really say? Grief has so many faces, it’s difficult to even understand it myself, much less explain it to someone else. Grief comes in waves and stages, fluctuating and contradicting over time. Emotions overwhelm the senses, some lasting for days, others for months, and multiple feelings compound together all at once. My experience has been a journey unlike anything I had imagined or encountered before. I used to think grief was only the sad feeling of loss. Now I understand that it can be so much more.

Some days grief is a wrenching pain screaming out from the depths of my soul.

Some days it is a numbing paralysis, suffocating the very life out of me.

Some days it is a tangible ache in my arms, longing to hold my child.

Some days it is exhausting fatigue that feels as though the weight of my body is too heavy to lift.

Some days it is a deep sadness imploding my world into a small dark space.

Some days it is a punch in the gut that knocks me off my feet and leaves me gasping for air.

Some days it is an uneasiness that twists my stomach and makes my nerves flair and heart race.

Some days grief is the soft sweetness of precious memories held close and kept alive.

Some days it is the close bond of family, supporting each other in a shared sorrow.

Some days it is seeing your kids walk out the front door and wondering if that will be the last goodbye.

Some days it is a state of hypervigilance, feeling as though another tragedy could strike at any moment.

Some days grief is floating through an empty space, grasping for something to hold on to.

Some days it is self-loathing and self-hatred.

Some days it is a tornado of confusion hurling around in my head.

Somedays it is a black void where neither thought nor word can come together cohesively.

Some days grief is an ordinary day, going through the motions as though nothing ever happened.

Some days grief is an ocean of tears that cannot be contained.

Some days it is Netflix bingeing for hours on end in an effort to escape my world.

Some days it is craving every good food and some days it is being unable to eat at all.

Some days it is being unable to talk to anyone, ignoring calls and texts, and leaving unopened emails.

Some days it is being unable to even go to the store, afraid I might see someone I know and have to talk.

Some days it is having family over for a BBQ and keeping it together so well that I look fine.

Some days it is being friendly and talkative, a little glimpse of the old me trying to peek out again.

Some days it is wondering aimlessly around town all day to avoid the pain of being at home.

Some days it is watching the ones you love hurting as bad as you and being powerless to help.

Some days grief is an avalanche of self-doubt, so as to make me not even know who I am.

Some days it is staring blankly out the window, seeing only a world that is cold and grey.

Some days it is seeing a glimpse of my daughter everywhere I turn, expecting her to still be there.

Some days it is feeling the memory of her face slipping away where I cannot find it.

Some days it is holding her personal belongings, as though each one held a remnant of her presence.

Some days it is wanting every reminder of her kept out of sight, blocking out any trigger of a memory.

Some days it is being angry at God and questioning all I believe.

Some days it is unshakable faith and sweet communion with my God.

Some days it is feeling like an island alone, unable to connect to anyone around me.

Some days it is deep mutual understanding, laughing and crying together as one.

Some days grief is reaching out to my child and feeling that Heaven is so close and so real.

Some days it feels like the other world is beyond reach, a million light years and a lifetime away.

Some days it is being devoid of any coherent word or creative thought.

Some days it is a focused expression, an outpouring of emotion through paintbrush or pen.

Grief is so many conflicted feelings coming and going that it can never truly be explained, but it is deeply understood by another who has walked a similar road. Each one’s journey is different, but we share a common bond, and in time, we will get through it.


By Marie Morrow

 
 
From a Grieving Mother

In the Beginning, when there was nothing, You created the Heavens and the Earth.
You started with darkness, deep waters and formless void.
Lord, darkness covers and surrounds me now like a formless void.
I am drowning in deep waters where there is no life.
I feel as though no good can come from this place.
Then I remember, that when You wanted to create a beautiful world,
You started with darkness and deep waters.
This is the black canvas on which you paint the glory of the morning sunrise.
It was from this dark place that You first spoke life into being.
You speak and the world awakens.
You speak and dry land rises out from the deep.
You speak and baron ground becomes a lush garden.
You speak and the dark of night is filled with stars.
You speak and the deep oceans come to life with wonder and beauty.
Then You speak and the quiet garden erupts with the song of bird and beast.
And best of all, You speak and we come to life, as a man or woman created in Your own image.
Heavenly Father, creator of all things, speak now into my darkness and bring my world to life.
Lift my lifeless form from the dust and breathe into me Your breath of life.
Let the end result of all of this be a new life that is created to bare your image.
Creator, I listen in hope for You to speak life and then I will echo your words, “It is Good”.

By Marie Morrow

 
 

Forever Near

She’s gone from here, So far away.
I long to get her back.
The pain I feel, so very real,
Reveals how great the lack.
Then I stop and look around
How could I be so blind.
All around are parts of her
Which she has left behind.
The smile she gave is lingering,
Upon some other face.
She left a scattered legacy,
Which time cannot erase.
Impressions that she left behind,
Create a work of art,
That I will keep so carefully,
Imprinted on my heart.


Marie Morrow