"Before"

BEFORE
a poem by elizabeth stoeckel


Before it slips away,
carried by the tides of time too far from shore;
I’ll write it.
Before my heart forgets the quiet yearnings,
before the gentle whispers are hushed by the beatings of life;
I’ll say it.
Before my body can no longer feel your arms around me,
your breath in my hair;
I’ll shout it.

I loved you!
I love you still!


Elizabeth Stoeckel
May 10, 2001

The Magnetic Pull of DNA

What is family? Well, I'm not the first person to ask that question, and it will certainly be asked millions more times by far more intelligent people than I. We are born into a family not of our choosing. Most of us have totally lucked out and we feel blessed to have the family we have. But for some, a birth certificate seems to almost double as a license to inflict pain. The newspapers and court dockets are weighed down with case studies of family grief. I love my church family and my work family, and I'm lucky to have been adopted by this eclectic and quirky mix of human beings. But there is something about sharing DNA that inexplicably, but most assuredly, connects people physically and emotionally.

There's a new television show on ABC called, "Find My Family". While I've not yet watched an episode, I glean from the commercials and press releases that the show reunites adopted children with their birth parents. Why do adopted children seek out their bio-parents? I submit to you that it is because of that strange and almost magnetic pull of DNA.

Fifteen years ago I learned I had a little sister who had been given up for adoption. My dad was the bio-dad of this little girl and just before her 10th birthday, she began asking questions about her family. Dad called me, told me about Megan, and showed me the photos the adoption agency had sent to him over the years. The moment I saw the image of that beautiful little girl, I knew I was connected to her and I loved her immediately! Her parents welcomed us into their home and they let their daughter be a part of our family. What a gift it has been to watch my baby sister grow from stranger, to sister, to young adult, to friend.

I was married for a short two and half tumultuous years a long time ago (well...25 years ago). If not for my son - who is the blessing of that marriage - I might have successfully tucked the memories of that union away with the cobwebs in my moldy brain. But, my husband and I have raised a son who looks an awful lot like his bio-dad, so it's not possible to pretend it didn't happen. When the marriage ended, I sadly lost contact with half of my ex-husband's family. I don't know why, but it is what it is. Anyway...my son always had a "hole", for lack of another word, that could only be filled by information - even though he'd been adopted by my husband and only knew HIM as "Dad". I can't speak for my son so I won't, but I do know that the old DNA magnetic pull thing sort of tugged on him. It's been almost two years now since my ex - totally out of blue - contacted my son through MySpace. Just "knowing" has filled the hole for my son.

In a couple of days my son will meet his grandmother for the first time. Well, there was that time when he was 6 months old, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't remember that. The door was always open, but life sometimes moves people away from open doors. Such is the case with Grandma. Even though this woman is no longer my mother-in-law, she IS my son's grandmother, and as such, she is family! I can't wait to see her again and to watch her look into the eyes of her one and only grandson - now a grown man. I know she'll see her son's blue eyes, his walk, and the cleft in his chin. How great is that!

Awwww....life!

"The House Of Me"

The House of Me
by Elizabeth Stoeckel

I pass by it at the end of the hall twenty times a day,
but today I stopped – really stopped to entertain the image in the full-length mirror.
Today I went to visit the house of me and I met strangers.
I didn’t remember the deep cracks and saggy walls
and I was sure they had not been there long.
They had responded to the invitation to submit,
Invitations sent by gravity and time.

The ravages of outside elements had left the hinges rusted
and the door impenetrable.
The windows in the no longer familiar house were shrouded with thick
dust covered webs of disappointment, loneliness, anxiety and fear.
The house I saw in the only slightly familiar reflection
was no longer a home for faith and wonder,
but a haven for the tired and weary.

You must excuse me now for a while as I tend to some much needed repairs.
While my time spent in the homes and gardens of those I love
was most precious,
I must now turn my focus to the place that is my soul and my home.
The door to my heart has been loosed with the oil of forgiveness,
The webs will be cleared with the life breath of peace,
and the light of hope will once again brighten the darkest hiding places
known only by me.
I hope you’ll be a frequent visitor to the house, the home that is me.

August 23, 2000

Things I've Learned From The Prodigal Son

1. Sometimes we will give our kids resources with which they will make mistakes.

Luke 15:11-13 - Jesus continued: "There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them. "Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.

2. Don't hold your child's bad choices against him/her.

When the son returned home, his father did not ask him where he'd been or what he'd done. He simply hugged him, kissed him, and began preparing a welcome home meal.

Luke 15:20-24 - So he got up and went to his father. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son'. But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.

3. You don't have to know all the details of their sins.

There's no doubt that when they come home, it is tempting to ask them to spill the details of their missteps, but that's not what they need to do. They'll tell you what they want you to know, and in their own time.

Luke 15:27 - 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'

4. Understand that the other children will have issues with the prodigal and you might not be able to change that. The siblings might very well make some assumptions about what was in the heart of the prodigal. This is their issue...not yours.

Luke 15:28-30 - "The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'

5. Defend your child and affirm his/her commitment to change.

The father was talking with the other brother and he said (effectively), "Look, you have always been here with me, but your brother has not been so smart. He's a part of the family, and we are going to welcome him home.

Luke 15:31-32 - " 'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' "

One Strong Teabag

"A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water." Yeah...I've heard that one a hundred times. While I believe the sentiment of the statement, I've come to hate being called, "the strong one" 'cause it means I've spent a ton of time in hot water. I do love that I have discovered how amazingly strong I am, but being in the hot water is exhausting. The other day I was reminded of the other half of that teabag analogy. Here it is; "...and the longer she's in hot water, the more bitter she becomes. Help her out, squeeze her with a hug and let her dry out."

It's easy to encourage someone with bumper sticker philosophy. Doling out wise quips to the hurting makes everyone feel better. I contend, however, that the "dol-er" gets more emotional satisfaction than the "dol-ee". I know that when someone we love is hurting, it's really difficult to know what to do, and sometimes words are all that comes to mind. I spent a lot of time in hot water and I know how desperately I wished someone had had the courage to help me out, squeeze me off with a hug, and let me dry out. For the most part, however, people around me only added to my bumper sticker collection.

I spent many years in hot water, and I'm stronger because of it. I am determined to fight the bitterness by using my experiences to teach and encourage others. You want to help me out? Turn off your hot water kettle, squeeze me, and sit with me while I dry out.

Hearing From a Columbine Mom

Early last week I saw a story on Good Morning America about Susan Klebold, the mom whose son Dylan was one of the Columbine killers. I'm sure you remember the horrible events of April 20, 1999 when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold killed 12 of their fellow students and a teacher at Columbine High School in Columbine, Colorado. Susan Klebold wasn't personally interviewed for the story, but she wrote a column for O Magazine and Gayle King, in turn, shared the story on GMA.

Susan has spent the last 10 years questioning herself and how she could have known what her son was planning. She replays in her mind the morning of the shooting and the last conversation she shared with Dylan. She has been in therapy for all these years as she deals with the guilt and personal sadness that walks beside her like a constant shadow. She has written letters of apology to each and every parent who lost a child that horrible day, but her therapist has suggested she not mail the letters, as that would bring the hurt back to the surface for the victims.

For the Good Morning America spot, some of the parents of the students killed at Columbine were interviewed. One student's family said they were happy to hear from Susan and to "finally" hear an apology. Another family said it was too little too late.

Susan Klebold lost a child that horrible day in 1999, but she has NEVER been given the kind of support and love that the innocent victims' families have been given. This woman has been the subject of judgmental criticisms and unspeakable gossip. She is as much a victim as any of the other parents. It was a mental and emotional sickness that caused her son to take so many lives and then commit suicide. So much GOOD has come from the Columbine experience because teachers, counselors, students, and parents have learned to recognize the signs of violent despair in kids and teens. Young people change and reinvent themselves every few weeks and it is difficult to recognize what might be a danger sign of underlying violence, and what is simply a "phase". We've got to stop blaming mothers and we've got to reach out and support one another! Our kids are counting on us!

Bread Or Stones

Happily, and I say this with great trepidation, my life seems to be settling down a bit. There’s a hint of fear factor in these words, because every time I settle in for some good old fashioned peace, another challenge comes along to knock me out of the boat and back into the ever choppy waters of life!

I’m going to try to cherish this moment and not just hold my breath while waiting for the other shoe to drop. My prayer has ALWAYS been that my struggles will not have been for nothing and that people might learn from my mistakes. I pray also that I might share some of the wisdom that comes from surviving.

Many times people ask me, “I feel so helpless, but I want to do SOMETHING. What can I do for my friend, when there’s nothing I can do?” Great question. So….let me share some of the things that people did for me that really helped, and some not so helpful things (although completely well-meaning).

Matthew 7:9 asks a question, which among you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? In this passage Jesus is saying that when you come to the Father, He will provide you with what you nee

Now, sometimes we ask for one thing, and God gives us something else – because He knows what we NEED. In Psalms 37 we also read that if we delight ourselves in doing God’s will, he will give us the desires of our heart. When dealing with someone in crisis, if you ask them what they NEED at that very moment, they will tell you. Do not try to give them a stone, if what they are asking for is bread. Oh, it might make YOU feel good to know that you were doing SOMETHING, but it may make things harder for the person in pain then you realize.

When my daughter was missing (a drug-addicted teen runaway) we had MANY need.

When people asked what they could do to help, we told them, but for the most part – no one asked. I think they (like us) were overwhelmed with the enormity and gravity of the situation, and most did not know what to say. I get that.

One day a friend called me up and said, “I know that if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be getting my chores done. So, I’m going to come over and clean your refrigerator. Don’t say no, I’m coming.” I KNEW she wanted to do SOMETHING, so I didn’t say no. However, what do you think I did before she came over? (Everyone) I cleaned my refrigerator! Well, I took out the really gross science project stuff at least. I also vacuumed the rest of my house, because I was embarrassed and didn’t want her to see how badly I was dealing with thing.

I cried the whole time I was cleaning because I felt guilty about the fact that I wasn’t out looking for my daughter. I know my friend wanted to help, but at that moment, I felt that I was being given a stone when what I really needed was bread!

A friend of mine tells the story of having a need being met and I love it. She told me that when her mother-in-law died, she was overwhelmed with all the details – family, funeral, emotions, etc…. A dear friend of hers called and said, “What do you need”. She told her to “be real”. So, my friend was raw and real. “What I need”, she said, “is for my laundry to get done”. The friend told her to leave it on her porch. So my friend loaded all the dirty laundry (underwear and all) into two huge garbage bags and put the bags out on her porch. The next day all the laundry was returned to her porch, clean and folded neatly. My friend didn’t even have to open her door, vacuum her house, or put on make-up. Talk about meeting a need! Awesome story!

The people who provided bread to me in my times of need will never be forgotten.

One day 50 people gathered in the parking lot of the church we attended and were given flyers featuring the face of my beautiful missing child. They spent the morning canvassing the city and putting those flyers on every pole and in every window they could find! I love those people.

On that very morning, I walked out of my house to find that my tire was flat. There was a nail in the tire! My husband put the tiny “donut” spare tire on the car and we went to the meeting place. One of the people who had arrived to distribute flyers offered to take the tire with the nail in it and have it repaired! When we returned home that afternoon, the repaired tire was sitting on our doorstep! I didn’t have to miss a step, or take one moment away from the enormous job at hand and I was so grateful. Bread!

I too find myself wondering what I can do to help. The needs of a family in crisis are HUGE. They need money, food, shelter, counseling, and sometimes a good attorney. Sometimes the only thing I can give is a hug or an ear with which to listen.

So many times people are so confused as to what to say that they ignore the hurting person all together. Don’t do that! I’ve spent hours on the phone with hurting moms whose children are lost in rebellion. I’ve talked women through the jail visitation process. I’ve sent Starbucks gift cards to friends. No pressure – they can use the cards whenever they feel like taking a moment, or they just need a cup of coffee! I’ve sent cards of encouragement, and emails saying, “I’m thinking of you”.

These aren’t big things, but believe me…they help!

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT assume that you know what a person in crisis needs. Ask them! Don’t give stones when all they’re asking for is bread. Surely we can find a piece of bread to give a hurting person.