Why did I write Among the Sunflowers: A Memoir of a Mother’s Love for her son and his poetry of Addiction, Relapse, and Recovery?

~to look closely at my own reactions to addiction

~to understand what I will never understand

~to transform the hard things and to remember the good that was there always

~to help others through my experience, strength, and hope and through an addict’s words

~to share my story, so others who have experienced addiction in their family will  know that they are not alone and neither am I

~to get it out—and hold a book in my hands

~to show my love for my son today and into the future

~to share compassion for addicts as they journey toward healing and life

HOME

 "Your house is your larger body.

It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night, and it is not dreamless.

Does not your house dream? and dreaming leave the city for grove or hill-top?

Your house shall not be an anchor but a mast.

It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound,

but an eyelid that guards the eye."

Kahlil Gibran

Excerpt from On Houses from The Prophet

It was a hot August day when we arrived at our house in Illinois to help our son, Matt, and his family prepare for their move. The time had come. We needed to pack them up, move them out and sell this house. We hadn't lived here for about eight years.

I walked through the door on crutches after unexpectedly twisting and spraining my ankle a few days before and breaking a bone in my foot. I was in a large bulky boot and wouldn't be much help.

As I looked around the house, boxes,  packing paper, plastic bubble wrap, and tape were strewn all around the house; I felt such dread about what was ahead of us. Life was slowly being sucked out of the place as the last few baby toys were packaged up and boxed. I attempted to keep the baby entertained so the other adults could continue packing. My broken foot was a big nuisance, but most of the packing managed to get done anyway. We ordered carryout for dinner and sent my son's wife and two girls off on a plane the next day. Doug and I returned to Indiana, and Matt and his father-in-law drove a loaded truck to an apartment in New York City. They were about to begin a new adventure, life in the city, and a new full-time job. I felt excitement for them and hopes for their future.

A week later, Doug and I returned to the vacant house. It was quiet and dusty--there had been no time for a move-out clean. Without furniture and the children's happy laughter, it was an empty shell. The rooms echoed when we spoke to each other as we glumly looked at all the things left for us to deal with. Most of it was ours, items we had left when we moved to Indiana, thinking we would return and take care of things. But we never did. Items from Doug's physical therapy practice that he had closed down in 2012, paperwork in boxes from years of tax returns, and patient records lined the walls of the small office in the basement. Boxes. There were boxes everywhere. The entire office was full. Completely. I looked around with dread. How were we going to go through all that? We also had the workroom full of tools and the attic full of whatever. It all seemed like a burden. It was.

We took things slowly, one space at a time, and began to clean and sort. Boxes were opened and out of them flowed a steady stream of memories. We found our children's artwork, pictures we had lovingly hung on walls of our previous homes that had never found a space to be hung here. There were boxes we had never unpacked since our move here in 1995! We found trophies and photos, baseball shoes and bats, tents, dishes, Halloween costumes, books and more books, t-shirts, and collectibles. All the thoughts and emotions of reliving long-ago memories hit me hard. I couldn't believe how emotional I felt. Tears were just below the surface.

Every time I walked up the stairs to the second floor, I could remember moments on those stairs. At the very top of the staircase, the last step would make a creating sound. That sound reminded me of the kids coming home late at night, trying to sneak into the house without me noticing the time. I always opened my eyes and looked at the clock when I heard the "squeak."

I was reminded of Michelle's wedding day as she descended the stairs in her beautiful wedding gown, ready to greet the photographer on her special day. A wonderful memory. I also recalled young Mike setting up his hot wheels tracks on the stairs and shooting cars down them so they would crash into a box strategically placed at the bottom. I sadly recalled the time Mike fell down the stairs one night and was carried off on a stretcher. All the memories were flowing--good and bad.

The white ceramic floors held memories for me too. When we first moved in, I was obsessed with keeping the floors spotless. One afternoon, Matt had some friends over to have a rock concert in the backyard, and I insisted the kids take off their shoes to come in to use the bathroom. I didn't want any grass on my clean kitchen floor. Matt was so upset with me! I remember him telling me, "It's just a floor, Mom!"

Then that same floor became sacred ground when our youngest granddaughter was born unexpectedly In that kitchen. Born in the kitchen, just as her great-grandmother and namesake had in 1926 when the kitchen was the warmest place to be. As I cleaned the floor for the last time and polished it to a beautiful shine, I released my need to have it perfect and said a prayer of gratitude for my granddaughter's life and for the new owners to be able to hire a cleaning lady to take care of that beautiful floor. 

After several weeks of trips to Illinois, we finally removed all of our stuff from the house. (Yes, the attic and garage too!) The house has fresh paint and new carpeting. We've accepted an offer and closing is only a few days away. We're very grateful.

We've said our goodbyes to the physical space that was home for our family for so many years, yet the memories remain.

Kahlil Gibran says your house "shall not be an anchor but a mast." That mast is leading us to the next place that home will be. For us, it's Indiana for now. For Matt and his family, it's NYC. I'm relieved but holding onto the memories, good and bad, and the love that grew in that house. The walls were what contained our lives for a time. It was a symbol for me of HOME.

Forty Days without Facebook: I am Listening

This year I decided to give up Facebook for Lent. I am a Lutheran and we can, but are not required to, choose something to fast from or abstain from as an act of purposeful spiritual renewal for the forty days of Lent. This is partly because Jesus went out into the wilderness for those forty days prior to re-entering the city of Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

I chose to take myself away from the social media platform, Facebook for those forty days. This was mostly because I found myself daily wasting hours of time scrolling through senseless memes, reading political discourse that constantly upset me and actually activated feelings of emotional distress and fear because of it. I felt that each day and each moment I was looking at my own life through the lens of “moments” that I could post on Facebook to show my friends and family just how precious my grandkids are and all the fun things we do together. Maybe I hadn’t really been “present” in those moments, but thinking about how it would look to others. To be honest, this is the one thing I missed the most, the inability to share moments of joy myself, or to see the joy and happiness that others posted. It became blatantly apparent that I was, am “addicted” to the social connection we get to be a part of on this and other similar platforms.

I began to set my purpose for this time of fasting by examining what I actually wanted to get out of this time. In January, I felt a strong need to get to a place of “listening” more. I felt God was telling me to listen more, to listen to what the Holy Spirit was trying to tell me and to what others were telling me when I was with them. I needed time to be quiet with my voice and with my responses, my posts, my political views, my memories, and instead fill myself up with silence, prayer, listening, contemplation and reflection. I chose “Listen” as my word for 2020.

I began to use a journal that my daughter, Michelle, had gifted me for Christmas.

The title is I am Listening: Guided Journal Practice, A Journey in Hearing from God, by Tammy Weisweaver. (Available through Amazon) This little book gave me some prompts to reflect on each day and I could easily respond to each one and then reflect on it weekly during this time. So I made the commitment to undertake this fast to see what I would hear from the Holy Spirit. I began to really listen.

            What did I hear from God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit during those forty days? I will share some of it with you now.

            I needed to slow down on this journey through the wilderness called Lent by tuning into the Holy Spirit around me and truly listen to the mysteries. God is trustworthy and I can put my trust into the presence of God in others, and myself in nature’s beauty, and life’s sorrows. I am loved and the Holy Spirit is with me all the time.

            I heard that I should not listen to the lies. Politics don’t really matter, but everyone, even politicians, are children of God too. The world is large, but God makes himself known to us in small things. I can be authentic and I ought never assume anything. Things don’t always work out how we want them to in our small understandings of the world. There are many layers to everything.

            I heard that I needed to surrender my will to God and that by trying to control things. I am trying to be God. I cannot be God. I heard that I could trust the Spirit to lead me. The truth will be revealed.

            I heard God telling me to relax, to take care of myself, to rest, to enjoy this time of quiet reflection and quarantine. My own health and that of those I care about is important. I heard that I should look for the things I am grateful for and I did that. I surprised me how many blessings I have been given.

            I prayed more often and more fervently during this time and I wrote out my prayers and named those I prayed for. This lead to more focused prayer time and I felt the presence of God more strongly. The Holy Spirit was with me, and those I prayed for, through all of it. Everyday I felt that I was listening and God was responding.

My gratitude list:

~the love of my mother

~doctors who care

~grandchildren

~my children

~words

~sunsets, sunrises, sunshine

~family

~birds

~glass of wine

~friend’s voice

~my marriage

~kid’s climbing trees

~pictures

~physical health

~rain, yes-even rain that nourishes the earth and promotes new life

I partnered with the Lord when…

~we walked together through the wilderness

~I prayed

~I trusted

~I was kind

~I sought the truth

~ I had an open mind

~I accepted His strength in me

~I was loving

~I relaxed and let go

~I rested

~I kept moving

~I reached out to others

~In stillness and new life

~I stayed positive

~I celebrate communion with others virtually

What did I let go of? (Still working on it!)

~resentments

~fear

~pride

~control

~regrets

~weakness

~shame

~impatience

~denial

~failure to accept

~pain

            As you can see, there was a lot there…and there has been a lot going on in our lives that has been a source of fear and pain. I believe that because I felt the presence of the Spirit so strongly with me during this time. I will continue to listen and spend time thinking about and consciously work on letting go of things that are hurting me, fully believing that God can work in us even as we cannot do it ourselves, if we are open, if we listen.

            May God bless you and restore you this coming Easter weekend. I am anxiously awaiting the good news!

Early Thursday Morning

Whenever I cannot sleep because my mind is going, going, going as if it were running a marathon that never ends, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and force my mind to visualize myself laying cozily in the hand of God.  Usually after a few extra deep breaths, I can relax and go back to sleep. Thursday morning was not one of those times. I just couldn’t get comfortable in God’s hand this time. I’ve always felt “held” in the past, but at that moment, I did not.

I climbed carefully out of bed and walked out to the great room and looked outside to see if it was raining. It was dark and warm with a slight breeze but no rain. I opened the sliding door and walked with bare feet out and sat down on a damp chair, put my head down in my hands and began to sob.  I’ve been holding my emotions together by a thread lately and at that moment I just railed at God and the Universe into the gentle breeze, not with words, but with sobs and sighs and deep breaths.

My own sobbing brought me back to a time when my son was only 10 years old and had tried out for a travel baseball team that he had been involved with the previous year. I had just gone over to the park district to look at the posting of the players for the new season listed on the door of the building. His name was not included. As a mom of an anxious boy, I was very aware of how much he wanted to be a part of this team and a huge sense of disappointment rushed over me and I felt so helpless for him. It was probably the first real let-down that he was to experience, and I was going to have to be the one tell him.

I remember going in to work at the church preschool that morning and before facing anybody else, I went directly up into the sanctuary and sat down in the quiet space and prayed for peace and understanding…but inside I was a wreck. I didn’t speak out loud, but my thoughts railed at God as I looked up at the altar with sobs and sighs and deep breaths.

This memory kind of seems ridiculous now as I look back on it some 25 years after it happened. It seems like such an insignificant moment that in retrospect doesn’t even count in the course of life’s storms. However, it occurred to me on Thursday morning that after my current moment of despair, that my son had moved on after the disappointment. He joined a wonderful team, coached by his dad. They went on to win the championship at the local level and had a very good time with all of his friends, minus the pressure and the competitive nature of the whole “travel” team. It turned out just as it needed to be, just as God intended it to be.

I realized in that moment, that what we think is the “best” situation or solution to a problem may not be the “right” one. I’ve learned this multiple times, yet I still wail angrily at God when it doesn’t seem to be moving in MY preferred way…This living with uncertainty and disappointment while waiting for God to reveal WHAT the next thing is, is so difficult. I just keep forgetting the lessons I have learned.  

After I got the grief and anger out of my system, I knew that I was just being impatient. God was still holding me in the palm of his hand. My concern for my  children has not changed, nor do I think it ever will. The issues and concerns I pray over my children are related to health, mental health, job security, financial stability and the very lives of my grandchildren. All of these issues seem to be so much more important and life altering than 5th grade baseball in the grand scheme of things. It seemed as though I had been looking at “travel” baseball tryouts through a huge magnifying glass back when it happened. It seemed so very important at the time and it wasn’t easy to trust that things were going to work out, but they did. I longed to take the magnifying glass off of the current problems the my children were facing and tried to see them through a lens that would bring me closer to God. I want to trust, but then that darn doubt creeps into my brain in the wee hours of the night. I do know in my heart that the issues will resolve, one way or another, in God’s perfect timing.  He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not a fan of His timing, but God is usually right. 

After my good crying jag and some sobering thoughts and realizations that I cannot control any of it, I swore at the devil out loud, 

“Leave me and my family alone, dammit!” and went back inside.  

I turned on the shower, stepped into it and let the warm water run over me as I stood there.  It felt to me like a renewal of my baptism.  The water was softly flowing over me and cleansing me as if it held the power of the Holy Spirit to restore me. The Spirit was rinsing away all of my resentments, fears, negative thoughts and anxieties. Afterwards, I felt better, stronger and closer to God. I was dressed and ready face the day by the time the sun began lightening the sky.

Gail Mehlan

June 2019

Flow

I woke up again with a cry and my heart palpitating and blood rushing through my veins…

”Honey…it’s okay.  You’re fine.  It was only a dream.” My husband reassured me.

It’s the same dream…but different circumstances each time.  I’m reaching for something very important to me, but somehow it’s out of reach. It eludes me and it’s gone…whatever it is that seems so important in the dream, and often I can’t even remember it…it’s gone…into the abyss of nightmares and unanswered prayers.

I awake unsettled after these dreams.  It’s as if I’ve experienced a great loss.  I struggle to return to sleep then, but try anyway saying a brief prayer…

“Lord, I know you’ve got me covered.  You’re with me. The sun will come up tomorrow and I will face a new day with joy.”

I’m not sure what the dream means for me. I suppose the subconscious speaks to us in dreams. But I’m not sure.

I realize when I’m fully awake that I’ve had and am still going through a series of enormous life changes. When our first grandchild was born, I’d set my heart and mind on finding a way to be closer to him and his family.  I wanted so much to be an involved grandma and I missed so much in his first few years because we lived about 3 hours away in another city.  I was determined to find a home nearer to my daughter and her family so that we could enjoy the grandkids and be a part of their lives on a daily basis.

I retired 3 years ago from a very fulfilling and engaging career as a teacher.  I loved my job and the children that made each day worth getting up for. I suppose that’s a loss, in a way.  In some ways, it’s a good loss.  I used to dream about the time I would have to sew, write, exercise and volunteer…I couldn’t wait to be able to travel and enjoy the golden years with my husband.

I wasn’t prepared for the sense of loss that I would feel.

We found a beautiful home on a wooded lot, with lake views in a small town near my daughter.  We put in an offer on the house and after several months of negotiations and ups and downs due to a short sale, the house was ours!

So much of that first summer, I spent alone working tirelessly to prepare the house to move into while my husband stayed in Chicago, working. I felt lonely.

We had a dream, but this separation became my new reality.

My mother in law, who had been very ill, passed away just two weeks before the birth of my 4^th grandchild. We physically moved a couple of months later, leaving our home of 20 years behind. My husband tried, but could not find work he wanted to do here, in our new place. My father in law fell and broke his hip and was placed in a nursing home/rehab facility. Back and forth to visit, take care of him. He passed away only 8 months after his wife died, alone, in a nursing home.

Lots of grief, memories, processing and sadness filled our days.

Even though we were trying to get excited about our new place, it still just didn’t feel like home.

Our son came to Chicago to work on his master’s degree.  We offered to let him live in our old house while he attended grad school.  We visit often, but it’s weird to have someone living in your former home…making it their own. No longer ours.  There have been many adjustments.

So I set out to get involved in our new area.  Here is a list of things I’ve tried to get more involved. I’ve enjoyed each one, and continue to do so,  but still haven’t felt a real sense of belonging.

Volunteering

Writing classes

Sewing for a non-profit organization, making wedding gowns into burial gowns.

Visiting many churches

Babysitting grandchildren

Substitute teaching

Still, after a year, an entire year, I have felt:

Frustrated

Discouraged

Lonely

Through all of these transitions and changes, the biggest challenge has been making new friends and feeling like I belong here…in this home, in this community, in this world as it is…I feel lonely.  I do not feel known.

I can’t seem to find my rhythm or my space here.

I find myself thinking about what I can do to really focus on what’s good about my life right now.  I don’t want to focus any longer on what’s making me feel lonely. If I do then I continue to walk down the path of discouragement and resentment.

I have daily tried to turn my attention and focus on maintaining a heart of gratitude for…

Beautiful lake views

Beautiful home

Visitors (especially those that know me!)

Quiet Days and not so quiet ones, when I am needed to be “grandma” or “mom”

New grandbaby

Sick kids (Grandma is needed!)

Family is coming for dinner…cooking cleaning, enjoyment and frustration all in the same breath…at the same moment

Finding a new faith community

Stepping out of the comfort zone of being “known”

New relationships

Listening, opening my heart

Having time to spend with my husband, getting to know each other in new ways

Opportunities for travel

Here’s what I’ve learned and what I’m learning…

I have entered into a new FLOW of life.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

This FLOW is not necessarily BAD, and it doesn’t have to be lonely, either.

I dedicate myself to this new flow, and I give myself grace for the resentments, the grief, and the loneliness I’ve felt as I adjust to these new ideas and this new place. I will develop a sense of curiosity about my new life and new people.   

What is waiting around the corner for me…a new friend? 
A new interest?   
What could that interest be? 
How can I be a blessing to someone here?   
What am I being invited to do?

I will try to lean into the unknown with an attitude of  “gracious” expectancy. I believe God has invited me to something special. I must accept this invitation and expect the positive.  I hope I can become aware of how my whole being is involved with new things…how does it fit me? If it feels good, go with it. If not, leave it for someone else who fits it better. But don’t be afraid to try it out and notice.

Notice…

If I tune in my peripheral vision to what’s happening in my life and read that too, not just what is in plain sight, I may be able to experience a deeper level of living.  Sometimes the next good or right thing is just a bit off to the left…or to the right...and I won’t see it if I’m laser focused on only what’s in front of me. I need a broader perspective.

I know as well that I must allow myself the space and time to grieve. It takes time to work through the grief of losing a parent and the loss of leaving a life we worked hard to build.  It takes time to make adjustments to the new rhythms of my life and accept them as the new “normal”.

My plans to sew and write, craft and decorate could be FOR me or maybe NOT.  I must accept the current FLOW.  But I can’t be afraid to shift course if need be. I can’t be afraid to say “NO” to the things that don’t fit.  I can’t force myself to FIT into something that is not me.

After a long vacation, and an exciting one.  It was good to be back HOME again.

I am learning to accept the new reality of what my life is and could become here.

I am anxious to get on with it.

Am I OPEN to the NEW flow of my life? I am working on it by…

Relishing the OLD. Keeping my memories, ideas, hopes, dreams…

Trusting God to continue to speak to me through my past experiences and my new situation.

Letting go of the “things” of the PAST.  There are “things” that burden us with their physical presence. Cleaning out the stuff that isn’t serving you any more is important. Take the time to do that.

My son told me a story of a seed laden dandelion, soft and feathery, ready to go out into the world.  He said when we blow on it, it scatters and then the seeds are just out there…to grow or not.  Once we’ve blown them away, we cannot get them back, we don’t have that control.  Our ideas and dreams are kind of like that too.  Once we let go of them, we can’t grab them back…even if they are our hopes and dreams. What grows is what takes root in soil that is ready for it. Reality is.  When something takes root, we can look to that and that alone as our current present reality. Just like in my dream, sometimes you can’t hold onto things forever.  
If it doesn’t fit anymore, let it go…

Gail Mehlan

October 31, 2016

Sometimes...

Sometimes I feel like all of this 
is too much
for me

Did I forget that I am almost ....?
I think so.

Sometimes it is so overwhelming
I feel tired

But...
not defeated

I am
motivated  by the
"Dream"

And it is becoming a reality....

I can almost begin to envision

this as home...

But still sometimes

too

much...

work

money,

time

day by day

WE

move ahead

Doug and I

walked 3 miles today

through my new hometown

through the cemetery

with many,

many,

"Goods" and "Kinders"

"Livelys"

It must be a 

GOOD town.

found a penny 

on the driveway...

a sunflower moment for me

all of this

"They're" with the saints

"watching and loving still"

After, on my 

new back porch

 Looked out on the lake...

and

for a moment

It felt like 

home.

Gail Mehlan

Revelation

To Something...

"We will be guided into understanding what we need to do to take care of ourselves.  We will begin to trust our instincts, our feelings, our thoughts.

We will know when to go, to stop, to wait.  We will learn to great truth:

The plan will happen in spite of us, not because of us.

I pray today an each day that my thoughts, words and actions may be divinely led. I pray that I can move forward in confidence knowing my steps are guided."

-Melody Beattie The Language of Letting Go (2/11)

"Why are we terrified for God to speak to us?  Because we know that when God speaks we must either do what He asks or tell Him we will not obey." 

-Oswald Chambers My Utmost for His Highest (2/11)

Strangely, lately, the thought of a change has been filtering into my mind. I am confused by it.  This is especially true when it comes on the job front. I truly felt called to serve at Fox School, brought here out of the blue, fulfilling a life-long dream of mine to work in the public schools and to be a bilingual teacher.

As I pulled into the parking lot yesterday I was listening to a song by Third Day called "Revelation":

Give me a revelation,

Show me what to do

Cause I've been trying to find my way,

I haven't got a clue

Tell me should I stay here,

Or do I need to move

Give me a revelation

I've got nothing without You

I've got nothing without You

I'm not sure of the exact words, but as I got into the car at the end of the day, I heard the very same exact song again as I was pulling out...and it freaked me out.

Tell me should I stay here,

Or do I need to move?

I recall a foggy early morning drive in to the Fox School parking lot several years ago, when I was frustrated with the situation at Fox and I had asked about other positions in the district because I felt the pressure of the position. 

As I drove into the parking lot there was a certain glow around the gigantic pine tree in the driveway and the sun was shining through the fog onto that tree in such a beautiful way and I remember thinking, "This is a sign from God".

I stayed and weathered the trials and it has been good!  Now I am feeling those strange vibes of something calling me, a change, I need a revelation.

Give me a revelation

I've got nothing without You

I've got nothing without You

I move today with the certainty that my steps are Divinely guided!  I am listening! I just need to know if the call is truly from God.

And I wonder at how the "inkling" of change whispers to me in the words of a song and I wonder at how You, Lord, prepare me and get me ready for "real" change.  I felt that  "twinge" of discontent, heard a song, and have given myself an attitude adjustment.  My principal will leave at the end of this school year.

Tell me should I stay here

Or do I need to move?

Perhaps the change I felt was simply this. I still need the discernment and wisdom that only God can give me, help and love, I need patience for the transition, love for the kids, and stamina to keep learning and growing as a teacher!

"And the only way to live an undefeated life is to live looking to God"

-Oswald Chambers My Utmost for His Highest 3/6

So I go today and face You,

look to You,

and live

undefeated

unflapped by change

dedicated

full of Your spirit

in me

moving me

loving me!

I go, I do, but always,

like a sunflower,

face fixed on the sun

I turn

and look

 to YOU

the source

of all my 

strength,

energy

and 

POWER!

-Gail Mehlan 3/6/09