It's kind of like expecting a deaf person...

to understand sound.
A color blind person to grasp what a rainbow looks like.
A barren woman to understand the magic of a baby in her womb.
Or an atheist to understand that denying the existence of God because you cannot physically prove He exists is a bizarre kind of reverse faith, based on the exact same type of principles as believing He exists EVEN THOUGH you cannot prove it.
Trying to explain parental grief is pretty much just. like. that.  
Unfortunately, I've learned immeasurably more than I care to about parental grief in this last year and 12 days.  12 things for 12 days into year 2...

1.  Until you awake every morning to 2 of your kids, in a box, on your husband's dresser-Praise Jesus, you cannot, will not and should not understand how we feel.  I don't want you to try to, because it's simply awful and since we love all of you, we'd rather you just continue to pray for us and love us in the unconditional way so many of you have through the twists, turns, ups and downs of our new reality.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with wordless groans.  

Romans 8:26

2.  Wow-my kids were, and are-infinitely loved.  As are we.  Truly, we are blessed.  Even in the midst of this trial, His tender mercies are abundant and true.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, 

offspring a reward from him. 

Psalm 127:3

3.  I absolutely love to hear about my kids.  I love to talk about them, laugh about them, recall their antics and remember the incredibly neat little people they were.  Some of the greatest blessings in the last year have been photos, videos and letters of memories we have been blessed to receive.  Please send and share them if you have them-it's such a balm to our hearts.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in truth.  

1 John 3:4

4. I can't make peace with the death of my kids.  Ever.  But I can be a part of making a powerful statement for wisdom when using recreational vehicles.  And that is exactly what our family is doing through The SaMercy Fund.  Tirelessly, so many have already worked every event to promote our cause, and I've not planned a single one.  Or even been able to attend one.  Every one of the fundraisers has generously been scheduled, promoted and executed by family, friends and even those who have never met us or our kids.  They simply want to serve and lend a hand and heart wherever they can.
Every single penny that we raise helps us to begin partnering with the people that use and sell these vehicles to help raise awareness and to promote safety through educational classes/seminars/training.  We absolutely cannot sweep this under the rug and allow it to be considered a consequence of a way of life when people die or are horrifically injured because of such powerful vehicles.   Every human life is precious to God and it is our intent to honor that in helping to reduce these casualties.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as for the Lord and not for men..

Colossians 3:23

5.  Grief is quite possibly the most powerful and debilitating trial I can ever imagine going through.  It has forced me to be selfish, to blot out the world at large and to realize that tending to my shredded family is the one and only priority I can have right now.  And for a fixer, a gift-giver, a glass half-full bleeding heart and one who always tries to see beyond the surface, that has been a bitter and hard pill to swallow.  It has revealed more about my character, my weaknesses, my soul and my connection to Christ than I could ever have imagined.  And it has opened my eyes to immeasurably more about the true character of God.
Never does he ever, leave or forsake us, no matter how hard we try to sever the cord when we are bitter, broken and hurting, He NEVER leaves.

Though one may be ovewpowered, 

two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not easily broken.  

                                                                      Ecclesiastes 4:12

6.  Guilt is a clever little devil.  Or should I say, work of the devil's hands?  Even though I was nowhere near my children the day they died, I have lived the last year blaming myself in some way, shape or form.  I know it's not my fault, but to live each day knowing that I somehow failed to protect them?  I don't know if my son felt pain, if he knew for just an instant how horrible his injuries were and that he was almost dead?  Did he cry out, call out or know he needed mama?  Or was he just instantly gone?  I don't know if Mercy cried for me, or if she knew what had happened.  I don't know if she saw her brother, dead and broken, and if she knew she was going to die too.  And I don't know if she felt the crushing pain that must have filled her tiny, precious little body.  That, my friends, is a guilt and shame that burrows deep into the recesses of the soul and plants a very bitter root.

...Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

1 Peter 5:8b

7.  Praise the Lord, kindness and grace are abundant in this world.  Simply put, there are just a tremendous flock of people who are exceptional in the way they serve, treat others and give grace.  It is my heart's desire to send a personal thank you note to each and every one of them-not because I'm a proper etiquette nazi or because I feel obligated-but because I truly want each of them, from the butterfly tattooed woman on the beach who found us by way of our church and sent us a letter, to the strangers who have sent meals, to the loving ladies who knit prayer shawls for each and every one us, and finally the incredible friends and family who have picked us up when we fell and keep falling, to know what a treasure it is to be held in their hearts, prayed for, and loved by each of them. In truth, that is just a tiny smattering of the blessings we have received.  Honestly, I still sleep with the very first prayer shawl I received, every single night.  But I know that not one of those people expect a thank you note, a pat on the back or acknowledgement.  Each one served out of the wellspring of love God placed in their heart.  Period.

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. 

Galations 6:2

8.  Sadly- guilt, anger, judgement, selfishness and expectation are also dismally plentiful.  I wish we had made it through this year with a minimum of cuts and bruises on that end-unfortunately, we did not.  Harsh, thoughtless words have been spoken, judgment has been handed down and relationships have potentially been destroyed.  There is fault to be had on all fronts and only God can close and repair any of those gaping canyons that now exist.

Indeed, there is not a righteous man on earth who continually does good and never sins.  

Ecclesiastes 7:20

9.   Healing-For reasons I'll try to explain without sounding like a jerk, it is the buzzword that makes my hackles rise, my knickers twist up and my hair catch on fire.  Maybe it's because, to me, it says that I'm expected to return to the person I was before, that I'll be whole again and that the wounds left behind by the absence of Mercy & Sam in this life will be rendered cured.  That may not be what it means when people say it, but I tend to be a bit on the prickly side with that concept at this point in my life, so I'm just being honest.
His healing of my heart will be filling it with His presence and peace-and because I'm flawed and human-well, that means it may take a while.
A precious friend had her daughter go home to Christ 10 years ago on June 20.  Her "healed" heart still hurts, she still grieves and she still longs to hold her baby again.  BUT, because she has held onto Christ like a lifeboat in an epic storm, she has found joy & purpose again, she truly does laugh, and she adores the life she still has with her living children-I KNOW she does, because it radiates on her face ever single time I lay eyes on her!  So I'm holding onto that lifeboat too and praying for rescue.

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  

John 14:3

10.  It must be incredibly hard to be my mother, my father, sister, brother, friend, husband or child.  No one really knows what to do, what to say, or how to help.  As time wears on, I wish I could say that part got easier, but it some ways it's harder.  Time has passed, we've walked through all the firsts, we go out in public, we do things normal families do-but Mercy and Sam are still dead, we are still hurting with every breath we take, it is STILL too quiet in our home, I still look for them around every corner, and we never know when a new wave of grief will knock us down.  When it seems like we're normal on the outside, I think it makes the "how" of loving the inside of us through this grief even more complex.  

Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights.  No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was. 

Job 2:13 

11. On the flip side, it's a tremendous weight to be the parent of 3 hurting kids and really have no idea how to help them, how to make them feel safe again in a world that damaged them so deeply, and how to teach them to live THIS life to the fullest extent of God's will and plan for them.  How do we teach them to be bold, be brave, be Christ-like?  How do we honestly teach them how loving God IS when we can't explain why He'd allow us all to hurt like this?  How do we answer their why questions?  Making decisions for their lives carries with it an overwhelming sense of fear and worry, far beyond anything I ever experienced before June 11.
And for my husband?  How can I be the wife he needs me to be when I can't fix, mend or soothe the things that hurt him in the deepest part of his soul?  The incomprehensible loss of his children and the dissolution of his family.  I can't make any of that better, I can't change the past or people, and I certainly have no inspiring wisdom that springs forth about how to plan a future that is so drastically altered.  So into His wisdom, I have to lean.

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.  

Proverbs 16:9

12.  Finally, and most importantly-
Transparency is the greatest gift we can share with one another.  From the moment I could put my fingers to a keyboard again after the day our world imploded, I have vowed to keep our story out there, to beg all of you for prayer and to shine a light on the fact that while faith is messy, complicated, and HARD-It is the only way we can ever survive THIS life.   Your burdens may be different than mine, but each of us is walking in our uniquely fitted shoes-and those shoes desperately need God to keep them on our feet.
SO-I'll never be the quiet grieving girl in the corner, the stoic, yet broken-hearted matriarch, or a pretender that grieving while loving God is easy if I just give it all to Him.
I HAVE given it to Him.  I have laid it at His feet, sometimes with grace and sometimes with my teeth clenched and my fists ready to punch.  For 1 year and 12 days, I have done my very best.  And my best is all I can ever do.  HIS best is what will carry me through.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.  

Ephesians 4:17b-18

And as I just looked out my window for a moment,

2 pure white, busylittle butterflies flitted into view...
As if to say, "look at us mama, look at us!"
Our Father is just. so. good.

love,
clan mac mama

a lightning rod in perpetual storm...

in short-
I seriously thought my husband got struck by lightning today.
Not kidding.
And I honestly felt like I wouldn't even have been surprised.
That's really what our life has felt like for the last 9 months.
A merry go round of sadness, frustration, fear, pain and complete crap-a** circumstances.  One hurdle after another.
This week-my Marine managed to bust himself up again-pretty good this time.  Double break in his collarbone...cue the surgeon, please.
There are no words to describe the fear that seized my soul when I answered the phone to what I though was his call and it wasn't him on the other end-I couldn't even let his coworker speak, I instantly peppered him with questions, namely-
"WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME ON MY HUSBAND'S PHONE?"
To his credit, he remained 110% Marine Corps calm in the face of my harangue-and thankfully, save for the extremely painful injury of a collarbone broken in 2 places, my beloved man was ok.
Mostly.
As ok as you can be when you're hit with another blow in the absolute WORST year of your entire life.
I wish I could say I was that stoic and strong caretaker that I'm supposed to be in the face of yet another wall we hit going 90 miles an hour...
I think I'd rate this one an EPIC FAIL on my part.  Which is exactly how we ended up with him outside in a raging thunderstorm (that was parked squarely on top of my little house,) searching for our spare house keys because we couldn't find the car keys as we raced out the door to his pre-op appointment.
You see, it's like this.
9 months ago, my husband answered the call that would forever alter our lives.  The call that would destroy our dreams, shatter our family as we knew it, shred our future as we dreamed it and pulverize the peace in every corner of our souls.
And since that moment, it has felt like we keep hitting a brick wall going 90 miles an hour at least once a week.
Please don't take this as a "poor me, I'm so downtrodden," kind of post.  Take it for what it is.  An honest look at the tornado that ripped my home from it's foundation and dumped my family in a foreign land.  One where we don't really know who we are, how we got there or how to get back to where we came from.
I rapidly alternate clinging to The Word and my Savior with episodes of gut wrenching, wall beating, lung shattering moments of anger that literally set me ablaze.
And I'm just so. bloody. tired.
I'm tired of people who give lip service to Christ, whose actions truly speak SO MUCH LOUDER than their words, or lack thereof.
I'm tired of tossing and turning, tormented by lack of sleep and troubled by fitful dreams when sleep finally comes.
I'm tired of watching my oldest daughter pretend that she is JUST FINE.  Because someway, somehow, she got the skewed idea that she should "just focus on the happy times" and it'll all be OK! Because Mercy & Sammy are with Jesus, so what on earth should we be sad about?  SERIOUSLY?  Of course they are with Jesus, but that doesn't make their death and absence from this life any less awful to deal with!  
I'm tired of my sweet son CONSTANTLY pestering me to watch TV first thing in the morning because he is so lonely and morning was his time with them.  It was that precious time when the best of the mischief happened and the bonds that anchored him to his twin and his brother were knit together so tightly.
I'm tired of seeing my innocent little Charley bean rapidly morph from patient and kind big sister into a selfish and manipulative shell of herself, just trying to find a way to fill the void that her heart constantly feels.
And I'm tired of ceaselessly hitting that brick wall.
Now, let's be realistic here.
A shady contractor, lack of sleep, severely strained relationships, some stinky health issues for both Charles and me, abundant car troubles, broken a/c, yet another sinus infection and a pervading sense of doom don't make me Job.
And I certainly can't claim Job's all encompassing and unwavering faith.  But I can sure as heck tell you that there is a tiny corner of my soul that is in awe of Job in a way that I can't fully put into words.
Because friends-the character that Job displayed in the face of constant and great adversity is so far beyond my comprehension.  I wish, with every part of my heart, that I could display even one ounce of the faith that Job lived.
But, honestly, I'm just so tired.
So, tonight I ask for your prayers once again.
For my hurting husband, our precious children and for our weary and world battered hearts.
Please cover Charles in prayer as he undergoes surgery tomorrow.  Please cover me in prayer as I shoulder both of our responsibilities.  Please cover our children in prayer as they make yet another adjustment in an ever changing landscape.
But, simply and most importantly, pray that we know these simple truths...
But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 
                                                                                    2 Corinthians 12:9a
I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. 
                                                                                    Phillipians 4:13 

There is absolutely NO way I can get through even one more minute without these truths tattooed on my heart and in my soul.

I pray tonight that each of you knows the simple truth of the unending and merciful grace of Christ, that you would know how loved and cherished you are by The Father, and that you would understand the blessing that each of your prayers is in our lives.

In His grip and only by His Grace,
clan mac mama

There are holes in the floor of heaven…

and their tears are falling down... 

I should have known they’d be with me.  Someway, somehow, They always are.  

  

It’s my first visit to Tennessee since “the accident.”  

My first trip without my other half.  My anchor.  My Charles.  

The other anchor in my life, my other sweet Sammy, rode shotgun today, sniffling, sneezing and snotting the entire 11 hour trip.  She sat beside me, heart pounding, anxiety mounting, as we treacherously inched through a raging rainstorm with one headlight, fog, mist and almost zero visibility.  She hunched beside me as I gripped the wheel and I prayed over and over and over again-

Jesus-please. 

Jesus-be near-

Jesus-cover us in your grace, your protection, your mercy.  

Jesus-PLEASE.  keep them safe-keep them covered-guide them to safety.  

Because in front of me were 2 of the 3 children I have left on this earth. 2 of my precious babies were in a car, in front of me, in some of the  most dangerous conditions I’ve ever driven in.  

2 OF MY 3.   

I simply couldn’t breathe.  

And when we got here, to her home, the one my kids had never seen…it hit me like a freight train.  Mercy and Sam were never physically here- 

and yet, here they were.  On every wall, in every room, on almost every surface.   bits and pieces and memories. Everywhere.  

And it hurt.  Like you wouldn’t believe, it stung.  My sister, their aunt, not me, their mom-seemed to have more ways to remember them in her home than I did.  Little pictures dotted almost every surface & wall, butterflies peeking out, superheroes smiling, a lovely little corner of their things.  

So I escaped.  I hopped in the car, bound for the grocery, as usual.  Tears poured down my face in the blur of the night...and the radio that had sat silent the entire day- it suddenly beckoned me.  

Seek me. 

Search me. 

Find me.  

And I did.  

For the first time in at least 10 years, THIS. SONG. PLAYED.  

‘Cause there's holes in floor of Heaven…

and her tears are pourin' down. 

That’s how you know she’s watching’

Wishing she could be here now...

And sometimes if you’re lonely

Just remember she can see

There’s holes in the floor of Heaven

And she’s watchin’ over you and me

So I had another hissy fit-(to which I firmly believe I am completely entitled.)

I told Him again, for the thousandth time, how outraged I was.  How completely infuriated I was with His lack of a miracle for my babies.  How they don't belong in Heaven in yet, THEY BELONG WITH ME.

This is not supposed to be my life…

Yet it is.  

So I thirst like a withering vine in the desert for any tiny reminder, any little “sign,” any shred of a memory or moment.  I cling desperately to the little things.  

Like songs from decades ago-songs that remind my lonely heart that my precious little people are still and will always be with me, that He is with me, walking beside me, carrying me, drying my tears and gently reminding me that they are NOT gone, they are just waiting for me.  

In Heaven. 

Dammit-I'm stuck here, I'm left here, beseeching Him, actually... BEGGING HIM...for the peace to trust His voice, hear His whispers and fulfill His plans.  

I’ll wait here, fighting with all I am for what is left of my family and believing in His promises.  

I’ll wait here, safe in the knowledge that He created me knowing I would live this life and He will walk/carry/drag me through it, one single moment at a time.  (He might well be doing some dragging right now.) 

Quite simply, I know it’s not a coincidence that I write- in His infinite wisdom, He knew it would help me find my center someday in a painfully topsy turvy world.  He knew I’d use it somehow and He knew every one of you would read it.  Because He. knows. us.  He knows every choice our lives will be directed by, so He creates us to survive them if we fall into His arms and beg Him to show us the way.  He KNOWS we are fatally flawed, He knows we will fall, and He loves us in spite of it all.  Because He created us to serve Him for the number of days we will walk this earth.  And He knew my babies would be in His care far too soon-

For you created my inmost being;

You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful, 

I know that full well.  

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, 

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.  

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.   

                                                                                                                                     Psalm 139:13-16

Which means that I must remain squarely in His care. 

So I will open my eyes and my heart WIDE-alert for every little reminder, overwhelmed with the love my sister and each member of my family has poured out over us and covered us with as we faced our first season of our Savior without Mercy and Sam.  

I will study and memorize every picture I see here, I will turn every corner and see their faces.  I will hold Sammy's blanket and Mercy's skirt, I will inhale what remains of their scent and be thankful.  That they will never be forgotten, not ever.  And that when I am too weak and weary to build my little remembrances-my family will do it for me, holding me up, anchoring my heart and preserving my loves.   One memory, one memento, one picture at a time.  

With love,
clan mac mama

Walking in my shoes...

I read a poem recently about the shoes I walk in.
The shoes I never wanted to wear-
the ones of a grieving mother.

And then I thought...
What about HIS shoes?  The grieving father and the shoes HE must wear?  The man whose heart is just as broken as mine-yet he stands in the shadows with his grief while the world comforts the grieving mother?
What about HIM?
It's SO not just me.

My husband- he is the shattered, grieving father in the darkness... in the midst of this nightmare.
So many times, helplessly, I watch the man who leads our family sobbing and broken.  It's gut wrenching to try and hear him when he can barely speak the words he needs to get out.  What's it like for him?  To put on that uniform every day and have to walk into the office where he would sometimes take our kids for a bit while I went to appointments or ran errands.  The place where he took them for the kid version of "Jane Wayne" day every single year.  That place where people just laughed as they watched the little fire team and a spare literally march by.  To have to drive, EVERY DAY, by the spot where we were standing when we got THE call.  To know he has to drive by the stupid Polaris dealership every. single. day. and see their proud display of that damn death trap that killed our kids.  To sit and watch him with his head in his hands because he simply can't fill out another piece of paper to inform YET ANOTHER person/agency/entity/organization that his children have DIED.  To see the regret etched in his eyes for the times he was gone, the memories he missed because of deployments, schools, PCS moves, classes…you name it.
What's it like to know your children are no longer of this world and you can't change it, fix it, mend it, patch it…nothing?  There isn't a single. solitary. thing. you can do.  And for a father?  That is simply the worst part of it all.  That he. can't. fix. this.

His son doesn't have a brother anymore, his son doesn't have a twin to share his life with.  His daughters don't have their sidekicks to plan every holiday months in advance, invent new games, dress up and hide in forts and corners with, watch scooby marathons with, simply GROW UP with.
And
he.
can't.
fix.
it.

We took the kids to the movies a while back.
It sucked.
We both spent the entire movie remembering what it was like when we took the 5 of them-the popcorn juggling, candy fighting, potty breaks, spilled drinks-
it was just too quiet.  Too easy.
Every. single. day.  It's just too damn quiet.

Every day, my husband, their father, aches for what was, what should have been and what will never be here on this earth.

The daughter he will never walk down the aisle, the son he will never see serve Christ, his family or  his country, the grandchildren he will never know.  But most importantly, the baptisms we will never share with them.  That moment when they come to Christ, when they CHOOSE Him, when they choose JOY and share it with those they love.   Don't get me wrong, they LOVED Jesus, but they hadn't walked forth in baptism yet.  They were so little!  Baptism just beginning to be a concept they could grasp.
Clearly, they've already gone to Christ.  The last thing any parent truly wants…baptism by way of actually meeting Christ.  Forever.

And yet, Jesus said...
      "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
                        Matthew 19:14

It's amazing to me how God created the human body and mind, preparing it for those times when it would be overwhelmed by the circumstances and choices of this fallen world.  He created it to withstand the insanity that threatens the human mind when it is simply overtaken by pain too great to bear...He gave us-
Shock-
And I'd venture to say we're both overwhelmingly grateful for it now.  Beyond thankful for the time we were numb and could show infinitely more grace than we, alone, could ever be capable of.  That shock was truly God's gift and provision for preserving what was left of our sanity.  Some days, I'd give my left arm to have it back.  And I know Charles would too.

So many days, shock seems like it would be so much easier. To just go back to that place of numbness and just putting one foot in front of the other.

Because when you're still in shock, it's not real.
And we just don't want it to be real.  And maybe, for a tiny window of time, all the moving and chaos of finding a home let it be "unreal" for just a little bit longer.

All of a sudden-it's been almost 5 months now. We've changed seasons, the time has fallen back, the holidays are upon us.  We live in home they never lived in.  We sleep and wake, eat and play, cry and laugh...we LIVE here in a home that never knew them.
Bless the hearts of every one of you who wants to know if we are settled...
No.
We'll never be settled.  Ever.  Not until we are all settled, once again, as a complete family in one place.  Reunited, every tear wiped away, all our sorrows forever forgotten, in our forever home with Christ.

     "And God shall wipe away all the tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away."
                                                                                                              Revelation 21:4


And if I'm really honest, I'll tell you that they are starting to feel like a dream.  A really wonderful dream that we lived for 6 1/2 years.  
Because, truthfully...I can still barely look at their pictures.  Watching a video of them is impossible. And just holding their clothes can make me sob uncontrollably.

So I don't.  And Charles doesn't.  But our kids need us to, and truly, our hearts need us to.  So we will.  One image, one captured memory, one piece of their lives...at a time.  We'll walk, in tiny...itty bitty...baby steps...
of the shoes we must wear.  

     "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." 
                                                                                             Matthew 5:4

Finding hope and joy in the daily presence of Christ, despite our circumstances, that will be the greatest blessing we can receive.

But, please, please, please, share with us your memories.  Your laughter.  Your moments.  Tell us about our babies.  Remember them, laugh about them, keep them alive in your hearts, your lives and your spirits.  Share those photos, tell those silly stories.  Help us take those baby steps.  Help us find comfort in not only who they were, but more importantly, who they are now.

And finally-
I know I've been quiet, not posting or sharing.  It simply wasn't time.  And I knew it was time when the Lord placed this verse on my heart-

      After the earthquake, there came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 

                                           1 Kings 19:12

My heart needed a quiet, humble place in which to listen.  To listen for whispers He provides.  To listen for the quiet breeze on which He sends the Holy Spirit.  

My heart needs Him.  My mouth will praise Him.  My life will serve Him.  And by both their births and their deaths, our family will serve him by ensuring the lives of Mercy and Sam will continue to glorify Him, spread His truth, share His love, live in His peace and glorify His saving grace.

     I will extol the Lord at all time, 
           his praise will always be on my lips. 
     I will glory in the Lord;
          let the afflicted hear and rejoice.  
     Glorify the Lord with me; 
          let us exalt his name together.  
                                           Psalm 34:1-3


Each prayer that is offered is a life giving affirmation of love- so, please continue!  Not just for our family, but for every family that is walking in these horribly ill-fitting shoes of grief.

With love and by His Grace,
clan mac mama