No Kid-sized Sadness. (A tribute to Doug Crider from his daughter, Kelly Joe Crider Albert).

I recently read a paragraph that resonated deeply with me. It helps me understand that even when a child experiences loss, we should never underestimate the effect it is having on them. I can't say it better than this, so I'll just share the paragraph here:

It helps to understand that emotions are basically one size. 
Love is massive. 
Fear is huge. 
And when you take these large emotions and put them inside tiny people, they overflow easily. There is no "kid-sized" sadness. They experience it just as fully as adults do, and without us encouraging them to pray through the feeling, they can easily be overwhelmed by it. — Charity Virkler Kayembe

This was certainly true of me, as it became evident in my songwriting years later. I processed the grief of losing my brothers, Nathan and Doug through my writing. I know it's also been true for Doug's youngest daughter, Kelly, my niece. Many people say that Kelly and I look alike and we know from spending time together that we certainly act and think alike too! 

Kelly has so beautifully shared her experience with losing her Daddy in her own words....

From Kelly Crider Albert:

"My father’s death has had a big impact on my life. 

Growing up I wanted to have a dad that threw ball with me outside, to help me with the sports that I loved so much. There was always a hole that seemed never to be able to be filled. I really had a hard time being around other people that had fathers that did things with their daughters. I didn’t understand why I felt these feelings till I was older and realized that I needed to mourn the loss of my dad. 

I had the opportunity several years ago to return to the farm where my father was killed. Even though I had grown up for the first six and three-quarter years up there and would visit the family at the farm many times, I never realized then that it was where my father had died. This was a very hard and good experience all at the same time. 

I remember just standing there staring at the place where it happened while Steve (son of the farm owner at the time of the accident) told how it happened. Then Steve put his arm around me like a protective big brother and I broke. I don’t ever remember crying so hard in my life. I do believe that was very good for me to get out though. 

The rest of the family was very willing to answer any questions that Crystal and I had about our dad that day as well. This was very hard for them since it is still very painful for them as well. I hope they realize what a gift they gave me that day though. 

Denny and Kelly (Crider) Albert family.

I love to run into people that knew my dad and hear stories about him. But that can also be bitter sweet for me because it is very clear that I missed out on a great man in my life. I would have loved for him to know my husband, our children and now my grandchild. I love to hear that my sons and my grandson look like him." 


Thank you, Kelly, for sharing your heart with us here.

You are loved and valued,

Aunt Francie

Mirror mirror on the wall, I don't like what I see, at all!

How do you feel about the way you look?

I have my days when I would rather not look in the mirror, but those days are less than what they used to be.

As I continue to share my mother's writings/stories in this blog, I see so many parallels with my own life. My mother had her own story about a mirror and the reflection she saw in it one day.

My story took place in Nashville, TN. I remember the day we were going to start recording the music for my album, "Inside Things" there in Nashville. We planned to start with the song, "Wonderfully Created". I had written this song thanks to a teenage girls' slumber party booking (yes - that was unusual) and our theme was from Psalm 139, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made".

We were planning to start the week of recording with that song. I got up early and had my devotions, meditating in the Psalm to prepare my heart for recording. This led to a challenging conversation sparked by the voice of God when he asked me to thank him, out loud, for making me so wonderfully, just like David did in that Psalm.

Our conversation went something like this:

God: "I want you to thank me for making you so wonderfully, just like David did here in this passage."

FD: Hesitation. "Do I have to do it out loud? Can't I just think it?"

God: "No, I want you to say it out loud."

FD: More hesitation. "But I don't want to."

God: "Why?"

FD: (Knowing how Adam and Eve must have felt when God asked them why they hid. He KNEW why! But he wanted to hear THEM say it). "I guess the truth is, if I say it out loud, I feel like I have to mean it and now that you ask me to do that, I realize I don't feel like I'm wonderfully made—no offense to your craftsmanship, but I don't!"

God: "Why don't you like how you're made?"

FD: "Well, I don't like my teeth. They are crooked and when my mother offered to have them corrected, I took it as an insult to my looks and it hurt me. I wish now I would have taken her up on her offer. When I get my pictures taken, I hate smiling with my teeth because I'm embarrassed by them. Not to mention the massive underbite I have and how it makes my jaw stick out."

God: "I know all of this about you. But you ARE wonderfully made. Do you think you could begin to thank me out loud for making you?"

FD:  (Knowing within my heart that God only asks things like this of us because he intends to help us and has more work he wants to do on the inside, I responded.) "I will certainly try...with Your help!"

God: "I'd be glad to help!"

From that moment on, I began doing just what he asked. I still have many days when I struggle, but he has begun to help me change how I think about myself.

Years later, you can see why reading the following story from my mother's life hits home with me!

From Bertha Heisey's story:

"One night that same spring, on April 1, 1947, myself, Paul and Dougie (my son) were in our car with my brother Chester, his wife Norma and their son, Charles, who was about Dougie's age. Paul was driving and we were almost home. I was sleeping with my head resting on Paul's shoulder and Dougie was on my lap (this was before child car seats, airbags, and seat belts). We were within sight of our destination, but Paul must have nodded off–and we hit a concrete bridge.

No one was killed, but our new car was greatly damaged and my face was changed forever. Earlier that same day, I had had an interchange with my mother. I was at my mother's house passing in front of the hall mirror—I looked in the mirror and said, within hearing of my mother, "I wish I looked different!"

My mother said, "Oh Bertha! You be careful what you wish for!" Well, the car accident that happened later the same day, left me with my front teeth missing and a jaw broken in 5 places and indeed, I did look different—my jaw was permanently rearranged. The injury was complicated and the healing of my jaw was a drawn-out-process, taking months to complete the surgeries and dental work. A special bridge plate with two new front teeth had to be specially made to fit my mouth, which I still wear.

But my mother never said a word to me again about what I had said when I looked in the mirror that day. And that's something I appreciated about my mother. She lived such a good example. She could have said when I came home from the hospital—"Now Bertha, see what happened!" But she never said another thing to me about it. All down through the years I have grown to appreciate her more and more."

Frances:

So back to my original question. How do you feel about yourself?
What are some beautiful traits that you could begin to focus on, instead of the ones you don't like?
Everyone has something beautiful about them! What do you adore about yourself?

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

    your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 

Psalm 139:14 NIV

Click on the video to hear the song "Wonderfully Created."

What Would You Do?

I was only 7 when we got word from our Pastor that my

oldest brother was killed in a tractor accident on a farm hours

north of our farm.  They didn't know exactly what happened,

but found him pinned underneath the tractor and wagon at the

bottom of a cliff in a riverbed.  He had been unloading

rocks over the cliff.

Something must have gone wrong.

Our family took a small airplane to Northern PA for the funeral,

navigated by my other brother, Adriel.  I faintly remember that trip.

In a few weeks I'll be providing music for 2 sweetheart banquets

about 3 hours from where I live....and yep, you guessed it, I'll be near

that farm where my brother died.

I had an interesting e-mail today in relation to these bookings.

Apparently the secretary of one of the churches lives on the farm

where my brother was killed years ago.

She has extended an invitation to come and see the farm

and see where the accident happened while I'm there ministering

in the area.

I answered her fairly quickly because of course I'd like to see the farm!

Or do I?

I find that as the day goes on I feel nervous about visiting the site.

After all, I was just a little girl and that was such a long time ago,

yet the loss of a loved one never really leaves you.

You feel their absence at family get togethers.  Your heart flutters

with delight when you meet someone who knew them and tells you

more about them that you didn't know.  They are always with you.

You look at their grandchildren and wonder if they look like their grandpa

did at that age.

I am excited and nervous about this.  I'm afraid of my emotions.

Maybe I'll be fine.  Maybe I'll want to cry and be alone.  Maybe I'll learn

more that will give hope and courage in the face of tragedies like the one

right now in Haiti.

I don't handle tragedies very well to be honest.  Maybe that's why I write
a lot of songs about death.  Never realized I wrote so many until my
producer listened to all I was writing when we began working on
"Inside Things"and pointed this out to me.  I guess it helps me process it.

If you had this opportunity, what would you do?  Would you

visit the scene of the accident of a deceased loved one?

Meet Tia.
My brother's oldest grandaughter.