The Night We Lost Kenji

Last night we went to a farewell dinner for Arie's Chief in Chesapeake, Virginia. We left our home at 2 pm to meet Arie and do some shopping before our dinner. As usual, the dogs were in the garage so that they could come and go from the backyard to do their business. It had been raining for four days . . .

We returned home at about 9:30 pm and we began preparing the babies for bed while Koen went out to check on the dogs and make sure they had plenty food and water. I was just preparing to lay Karter down after his bottle when I noticed a flashlight in the backyard. I thought that was odd since it was raining. Why would anyone be in the backyard with a flashlight? After laying Karter down, I realized that Koen hadn't come back in and Arie was no where in the house either. I stepped into the garage where Koen met me saying that Kenji and Dexter were missing and the side gate to the yard was open. Arie came right behind him and told me the rain had saturated the ground, which made the fence settle enough to release the gate latch. Kenji and Dexter had run out and we had no idea how long they'd been gone.

I threw my shoes on and ran out as quickly as I could, followed by Valerie and Koen. We jumped in the van and drove a large perimeter around our neighborhood calling their names and whistling. Nothing. They were gone.

Back in the house, I began looking up numbers for animal control and anyone else I could think of to contact. As Valerie got on the phone making calls, I left again with Koen to search a larger area. It was pouring rain and we were driving with the windows down, again calling and whistling. Frogs were jumping everywhere and I inevitably ran over too many of them. The whole night seemed like death and foreboding. I felt sick as I turned around, dodging frogs, and drove back toward home. At that point we had been looking for them for almost 1.5 hours.

As we approached the house I could see flashlights in the road in front of our house and the shapes I began to make out as Arie, Valerie, and Aaron (my sister and brother-in-law). I was driving up on them when Val calmly waved me off. My stomach sank and I wanted to throw up. Who was it? God, please don't let it be both of them! Koen sat next to me clueless of the sign I'd received from Val. I pulled into the driveway and as I parked I told Koen they had found one or both of the dogs and that it wasn't good. Someone was dead. We both jumped from the van and I began to jog down the driveway. Meeting Val halfway, I said, "Who is it?" She told me it was Kenji. I turned and Koen was gone. Arie and Aaron were standing next to Kenji when I walked up. He had been lying in the tall grass along the side of the road just across the road from our house. I felt so guilty that I'd passed him, not even knowing he was there. I was empty and heartbroken.

Val said that dispatch told her they had received a call and that animal control was going to go out in the morning and pick the dog up. We were so thankful we had found him first. After spending a few moments with Kenji, Arie and I agreed we had to gather him up and bring him home and I ran to find Koen. Rounding the corner from the yard into the garage, my eyes met Koen's. The look on his face was agonizing and he seemed to be holding his breath. I said, "Buddy, it's Kenji and he's dead." No matter how softly I spoke those words I couldn't seem to muffle their blow and my tenderhearted 10 year-old son was reduced to loud sobbing tears. We melted into each others arms - two hearts breaking in two. That's where Arie found us. He wasn't crying, but the look on his face was pained and he seemed to be straining not to cry. It occurred to me that he needed a hug. I think I hugged him, but all I truly recall is talking about what container we could use to hold Kenji. Arie grabbed a large green tub and I ran to grab a towel. I felt the need to make Kenji dry and warm, to give him comfort even though I knew he was gone. Really it was to soothe me by treating him as gently and lovingly as I knew how. Standing in the door of the closet I pondered which towel was the right one to choose on the occasion of losing a best friend. My eyes landed on the purple towel and I thought of Jesus. I yanked it from the stack and ran out the door.

Arie wrapped the towel around Kenji and something about the purple color and Jesus gave me a slight bit of comfort. Arie gently placed him in the container and we walked to the garage. Koen gathered with us and we said our goodbyes to Kenji. Sachi was running all around us and we decided to bring her over so that she too could say goodbye to her best friend of eight years. I raised her paws up on the side of the container and pulled back the purple towel. She leaned forward, sniffing all around Kenji. Her face seemed to change and we thought she understood. We spent some time with Koen before sending him off the bed around 12:30 am.

The fleas on the side of the road were horrible and Kenji was covered in them. We had only recently had our backyard infested with them and had sprayed the yard and treated the dogs. Seeing those fleas made me an angry woman! I felt that he was being violated and was determined to kill them all! I announced to Arie and Val that I was going to Wal-Mart to buy flea killing spray. I was relieved when Val offered to go with me. We drove to Wal-Mart in torrential rain. Elizabeth City, N.C. was flooded.

In the pet section I grabbed the flea killer spray and turned to see the dog beds. We still had Sachi and I felt compelled to buy her a comfortable new bed. The thought occurred to me that if we found Dexter he would need a soft new bed too. I stopped myself short of buying two because after finding Kenji I was skeptical that Dexter would be coming home. I stepped into the check-out and wound up sobbing in front of the cashier and another customer as I told them we'd just lost Kenji. The customer, a man named Jerry, said he would pray for us and specifically for Koen. I grabbed my bag and headed back out into the rain.

We sprayed Kenji and covered him. I was comforted knowing the fleas were dead. How could they live and him not?

Morning would bring many phone calls and knocking on doors in a mad search for Dexter. Koen was worried sick and distraught at the thought of burying Kenji in a yard we would eventually move away from. We all decided to call the pet crematorium in the morning and have him cremated so that we could take him with us the day we move from this house. It was nearly 4 am and still down-pouring before I forced my eyes to close with visions of Kenji in my mind - worried sick about Dexter.


Dexter laying his head on Kenji. They were best friends.

Don't Tell Me to Come Out of the Closet

When I was a little girl, I used to spend a lot of time in my step-mom’s closet. What took me there was as varied as the imaginings of a child. One day might have found me crying over an argument with a friend, while the next day I’d have been pondering my adolescence or maybe even “What do I want to be when I grow up?” No matter the reason, one thing was certain – Dad would always join me there if tears were involved.

There were several reasons I chose that particular closet of all the places in the house. First, it was a place I knew no one would come and interrupt me. There was simply no reason for anyone to knock on that door and ask if they could come in, like the bathroom. Second, it was large enough that it didn’t make me claustrophobic and I could conceal myself behind the hanging clothes at the farthest recesses of the closet. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly - I could turn off the lights and vanish. I spent many hours like that, wishing I could disappear. This was my haven; a place of refuge from the storms that brewed in my life, both real and imagined.

Dad and I like to joke about the times we spent in that closet, bonding. Sometimes we even moved a fan in to get some circulation going. It could get pretty stuffy. He gave me fatherly advice and listened when I cried. In many ways I grew up in there. I can’t recall the exact words of wisdom that emanated from that room and though there’s no doubt they helped to mold and shape me as I stumbled through adolescence, more important was the fact that Dad took the time I needed to see me through it. Thank God for Dad. (Of course thanks to Mom too. What she and I shared wasn’t a closet, and will be addressed in a later writing.) Thank God too for a place I could go to figure things out - away from my siblings and the other craziness of life.

Speaking of craziness. Today I was nearly a crazy woman. At first glance it’s going to be difficult to see how this day and the days of my closet adolescence are connected, but it’ll soon be clear.

We headed out to Virginia Beach to buy Koen’s Boy Scout uniform, looking forward to having lunch together at our favorite place, Chipotle. Everything was going smoothly until we pulled out of our driveway, and the tears began to flow. Karter and Lisse cried inconsolably for the first hour we were out. Here is where I will tell the story slightly in high gear so as not to mentally wear the reader out. I wound up sitting on the floor of the van between the front and middle seats feeding them their lunch while we were stuck in traffic. With me turned around backwards and on the floorboard, hence not navigating, Arie dislodged us from the traffic, only for me to realize he was going the wrong way on the interstate. After lunch, Koen spilled an entire soda on the floor of the van. Then we were off to the Boy Scout store where they didn’t have one item of clothing in Koen’s size after we drove nearly 1.5 hours one way to buy his uniform. We then made our way to run another errand, during which time my normally wonderful husband morphed into a jerk. Out of respect for my husband I’ll spare these details. We were sitting in a parking lot while Arie looked for directions to our final stop when I decided to get out of the car and walk over to a Starbucks. I needed a few moments alone and I was annoyed with Arie, so the thought of a frappuccino was consoling.

I was slightly steaming as I stood in the store contemplating the notion that I’d somehow got back at Arie by not offering to get him a Starbucks. If you know Arie, you know this would be a major letdown for him. I felt justified, even triumphant, and finally peaceful just getting away from the stress that was in the van. As the glow was just building in me, either from the triumph or from my previously noted steaming, I got a text message and photo from Arie. He said, and I’m quoting here, “:( I’m sorry I was a..."



I about died laughing! After chuckling at Arie’s photo and feeling like he had sufficiently apologized, I texted him back with an offer to buy him Starbucks. He responded with a request for an iced coffee and I patiently waited in line not realizing the horror that had begun unfolding in the van. Yep, it only got worse from there, just when I thought things were looking up.

I crossed the parking noticing that Arie was no longer in the front seat. As I opened the door he said something like “you have no idea…” Lisse, who had not pooped at all the previous day during our trip to Busch Gardens had had massive diarrhea while sitting in her car seat and blew out her diaper. Arie said he actually heard it. He might have even gone on mumbling something incoherent about a geyser afterward, but Koen distracted me with a request to go in the grocery store for something to drink. I think he was partly trying to get away from the smell. Climbing out of the van, Koen inadvertently kicked over my mocha frappuccino, spilling it on my floor mat. I could tell he felt horrible for spilling another drink, so after my initial ARE YOU KIDDING ME? reaction, I dialed myself back and told him to let it go and that it was okay. I handed him my wallet and sent him off for his drink.

Upon pulling out the mat to clean it, I unveiled a soggy floorboard indicating a possible problem with our a/c leaking under the carpet. Then Arie, while cleaning up Lisse, began to laugh hysterically. I turned thinking I was about to witness my husband’s nervous breakdown when I heard him say, “She’s peeing!” He could barely get the words out of his mouth from laughing so hard. Whatever parts of her clothing that weren’t covered by poop were at that point soaked in urine, as was a portion of the carpet where it had run off the pad.

The next thing I knew, Koen was opening the back hatch with no drink in his hand and he was crying. When I asked what was wrong and why he had no drink he said, “I can’t do anything right today.” I consoled him and had him repeat after me saying, “Today is the day from hell.” I thought I said it as calmly as I could and though I was giving him permission to say his first ever 4-letter word the day seemed to warrant it. His lips parted into a strained smile that said “I don’t really want you to make me smile while I’m trying to feel sorry for myself.” Once I told him about Lisse peeing on the floor we both fell into each other laughing. I told him, “I KNOW! IT’S A HEAVENLY CONSPIRACY! All the drama,” I said, “must be a heavenly conspiracy to keep us from going home.” Maybe God was keeping us out of some sort of trouble by stalling us with so many distractions.

There are detailed portions of the story I have left out, like Karter almost ripping the signal arm off the steering column, Arie missing our exit (again), and Lisse biting me, but you get the gist I’m sure. It really WAS the day from hell. At the time I could only imagine that short of an auto accident, an acute medical condition (each of us was already having an acute mental condition), or a death in the family, nothing could have made the day more stressful. I said as much to Arie, then thought better of it and acknowledged it could have indeed been much worse.

Speeding as fast as we could safely get away with, we bee-lined for home. After more screaming, all three kids finally fell asleep, leaving me and Arie with some much needed quiet time. For a time we sat silent or maybe I should say shell-shocked before I inquired, “How’s pizza for dinner? I’m not cooking.” Arie asked if I meant the frozen from the store variety. “I said I’m NOT cooking,” shooting him a playful, yet serious look while he laughed.

We eventually made it home, fed and bathed the kids and played until they were exhausted from repeatedly climbing onto the couch only to be dragged off again each time. After one last bottle and teeth cleaning, they went down without so much as a whimper. Here is where I was thanking God again.

After lying Karter in his bed I stepped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and carry on my nightly routine, which includes stepping into my closet so that my electric toothbrush doesn’t wake the baby if it rattles against my teeth. (He’s sometimes a very light sleeper.) I stepped in and out of my closet a few times before pausing inside. With the door pulled shut and the light on, I looked around and pondered the quietness of the space. Actually, it was more like I was soaking up the peace. I began having flashbacks of my childhood days in the closet and what it meant to me then. It occurred to me that at that very moment I was doing exactly what I did as a kid – taking refuge from the storm that was my day.

Thankfully, nowadays I have better coping skills than when I was a kid. However, admittedly there are still days when I step back into my closet, shut the door, turn off the light, and hope no one comes looking for me. Having kids can drive parents to get creative with their hiding spots. Sometimes you just can’t get away from all the noise, sometimes you don’t want to, but during those inevitable times when life gets to be too much or too loud - there’s always the closet. :)

Know Where You're Going & Plan the Trip!

A man named Henry Emerson Fosdick once said, "He who chooses the beginning of a road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determine the end."

We often hear "the end justifies the means", but have we really thought about what that means for the life-changing journeys we are on? This literally means that our actions are acceptable if they help us achieve our desired end result.

This begs two questions:
What is our desired end result?
AND
What means are we willing to use to get there?

We can't just focus on the result we're wanting without bringing into sharp focus the means we're going to use to accomplish what we want. So many people talk about having a plan. The importance of having a plan and working that plan cannot be underscored enough, because failing to plan is itself a plan to fail.

I've spent a tremendous amount of time questioning my weight loss and fitness plan. I have it set as a daily spark goal for myself - to start each day reviewing my goals. If I'm not daily committing myself to focus on making right choices for my health, then I am going to be more prone to letting those choices be made for me. Does it take extra work? Yes. I plan ahead for meals and snacks and steal time during my son's swim practice to hit the gym. These are things I plan out ahead of time so that I don't find myself at the end of the week saying, "A whole week flew by and I didn't work out once!" or "I got caught up at an appointment, etc. and had to hit the drive-through for lunch." These things happen when we don't plan.

It's not enough to just say I want to weigh 135 lbs. I'm letting myself down if I only visualize myself wearing a size 5. That would be like wanting to take a dream trip to Italy. You're given the airline tickets (joining www.SparkPeople.com for free), but forget to plan the trip! I'm committed to NOT throwing away that opportunity. Now it's a matter of replicating the success I had the first time when I lost 61 pounds before becoming pregnant with the twins. It's not rocket science. It's just determination to feel better about where I am physically and deciding that where I am now is not where I want, deserve, or need me to be.