FMF: Following Jesus

Joining Kate  for another Five Minute Friday

Follow:

As a child, I used to read the verse, "take up your cross and follow me," and I never really understood what it meant. I used to think it was very strange. As I grew I started to understand it a bit better, as I had to bear things like ridicule from non-Christian friends, and being left out of things that happened on Sunday mornings because my family went to church every Sunday without fail unless you were home sick in bed.

Now in my adult life, I am learning a whole new meaning to the phrase, "take up your cross and follow me."

I am learning that every single one of us has a cross to bear. We were given it at conception in our mothers' wombs along with the sin-nature that was handed down from Adam. We all have to bear that symbol of death and destruction due to sin.

We don't have a choice what our particular cross looks like. For me, it partly looks like saying good-bye to my precious babies. For my cousin it partly looks like raising four preschoolers one of which has special needs including a feeding tube. For my college roommate and dear friend it partly looks like losing her father as a teenager.  For a dear friend and colleague this week it partly looks like holding her mother's hand in the hospital not knowing if she will ever come home on earth or if it is her time to go home to heaven.

We do not have a choice whether or not we will bear a cross, and we do not have a choice what our particular cross might look like each day, but we do have a choice of what to do with our cross. Some choose to buckle under the weight of carrying our crosses ourselves, barely inching along life's road weighed down, tired, and discouraged. Others choose to try to ignore their crosses, paint them up fancy and disguise them to look like something else. Some might just plunk their cross down in the dirt and refuse to go on.

Me, I have chosen to daily pick up my ugly, heavy, pock-marked cross, and follow Jesus. I follow Him because He bears my cross alongside me, shouldering the heavy load. I follow Him because He doesn't disguise it or ignore it, but rather promises to one day exchange it for a crown of glory. I follow Him because He gives me strength to put one foot in front of the other, even when I cannot see where the road I am walking goes up ahead, and I am surrounded by darkness.

And one day when I get that crown of glory, I will lay it down again at His feet and I will be able to say with that great hymn, "All the way, my savior led me!"

Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

One year old today

365 days of this earth traveling around the sun,
And now you're one!
Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

I imagine how chubby your thighs would have been, 
As you toddled around with frosting coating your chin,
From your beautiful birthday cake.

I imagine the curls of your hair,
and the sticky crumbs you would share 
With your loving big sister June Bug.

I imagine the gifts and ribbons and bows,
And dressing you up in the cutest new clothes,
And watching you play in the paper.

I imagine the giggles and smiles and babbles,
And the wonderful sound of your voice speaking 
Straight to my heart, "Mama!" 

I have to just imagine, you see,
Because you are no longer here with me.
365 days since my heart shattered. 

You are one year old today.
I wish that you could have stayed,
To celebrate with us. 

But even as we are down here,
We smile through our tears, 
To think of Jesus holding you in heaven.

I never got to bring you home,
But one day He will bring me home to be with Him,
And you,
Forever.

FMF: Good

I know it's not Friday, and it will take a bit more than 5 minutes, but I felt this message on my heart this afternoon and just had to share, and since it fit with this week's theme I decided to link up anyway :).


GOOD

GO:

We say that God is good. We say taste and see that the Lord is good. This time last year I had a hard time seeing or tasting the goodness of God as I was seeing nothing but darkness and tasting nothing but bitter tears.

I was questioning why a good God who had conquered death would still allow my beautiful beloved daughter to die before she even got the chance to be born.

This afternoon I was looking through a photo album and found a snapshot of June Bug. She was only about 18 months old, and was sitting in a kitchen cabinet (she had emptied the contents onto the floor), arms crossed, pacifier in her mouth, and such a look of anger and hurt on her face. You see, she had been betrayed.

Earlier that day I had taken my little girl to the doctor to get her vaccinations. I remember holding her on my lap while the nurse jabbed a needle into one chunky little thigh, and then having to hold her even tighter against her struggles and wails as the process was repeated on the other side. She continues to cry as we left the doctor and drove home, and the first thing she did when we got home was to empty out that cabinet and close herself inside, sobbing to herself.

In the toddler mind of June Bug, she had been betrayed. The Mommy who said she loved her little girl, who said she would kiss boo-boos away, who sang lullabies and read bedtime stories, had just held her down and allowed some mean woman to jab needles into both her legs. She was mad. She was hurt. She did NOT want to see Mommy, or talk to Mommy, or have anything to do with Mommy.

In her mind, Mommy was no longer good.

In my mind, God was no longer good.

But June Bug grew. She grew and learned and developed, and when she was four years old it was time for more vaccinations. This time around I was able to explain to her that it was for her own good. That even though the shots would hurt, they would protect her from getting sicknesses that could hurt her much more. I explained that Mommy didn't want to let her hurt, but this hurt would only be small and for a short time, where the sicknesses could cause big hurts for a long time. This time she sat calmly on my lap, and only winced a bit when the needles went in, and then smiled at the Dora band-aids and stickers she was given, the pain of the shots melted away.

I also grew. I grew and learned and developed spiritually. Though I still don't understand the whole plan of why God allowed the pain of losing first Mikayla and then Selah, I do know that my pain does not remove His goodness or love. I know that it hurts Him to see me suffer just as it hurt me to hear June Bug's wails. I know that He want nothing more than to have me run to Him so He can scoop me up in His arms and comfort me, just as I wanted to do with June Bug. Yet so often I go and hide in my cabinet, pouting and sobbing about how unfair it all is while He waits outside ready to shower me with love.

I have opened the cabinet. I have run into those everlasting arms. I trust that one day He will wipe away every tear from my face. I can once again taste and see that the Lord is good. My trials and pain are not bigger than His love. My limited understanding of the reasons does not mean the reasons are bad or wrong.

God IS good.

The Mingling of Hope and Grief

Yesterday was Palm Sunday.

Last year on Palm Sunday I was in the hospital recovering from labor. I spent most of the day either in numb shock, or curled in a ball bawling my eyes out wishing I had died too.

This year I was at church, and only cried twice; when we sang songs about Jesus overcoming death.

Jesus overcame death. Mikayla's death has been conquered, destroyed, overthrown. She is alive and well. Selah, too. Not alive in my arms, but alive nonetheless.

Right now I am 22 weeks pregnant. I am a handful of days past the point where Mikayla left my womb for heaven. Mikayla's 1st heaven day is coming soon, and this Easter season will probably forever bring with it reminders of my sweet girl gone too soon. It's been an emotional week, and will probably continue to be an emotional time until I make it past April 13th.

And yet, the emotions are not all bad. The cup is not only full of grief. There is a sweetness to it as well. A sweetness that my babies are enjoying the wonder of heaven. A sweetness that this new little girl is wriggling around inside of me healthy and strong. A sweetness in knowing that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God. A sweet hope that all things are indeed working together for good.

So despite the triggers of grief that rip the scabs off my healing heart and cause the sorrow to flow once more, I grasp hold of the glorious promise that God is the healer, the giver and keeper of life, and I cry "Hosannah! Hosannah! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!" and the prayers flow out of my lips as the tears flow down my cheeks and the hands are lifted high in praise to the God who knows the pain of watching your child die, and the God who brings life out of death.

My Letter to Grief

I got the idea for writing a letter to grief from Kate Motaung, who encouraged readers to write their own letters. I began this letter several weeks ago, but it got to be too raw, and I had to back away for a bit, but I came back today feeling ready to tackle it. So here goes.



Dear Grief,

Over the past nine months I have tried holding you at arms length. I have tried bringing you in for a snuggle session. I have tried ignoring you and trying to pretend you were never there. I have gotten angry at you. I have coddled you like a newborn kitten and fed you until you became a tiger who nearly turned to devour me. I have researched you. I have tried to plumb your depths. I have ridden out your waves, even when I nearly drowned. You could not take me under.

Grief, you came into my life that early morning in the Emergency Room of the local hospital when I stared at the screen of the ultrasound machine, eyes searching for my wiggly baby and only finding a still stone instead. Strange that there should be a stone there. Where was my baby? Was she hiding? There must be some mistake. And then when I should have been hearing the delightful wild-stallion cantering clip-clop of her precious heartbeat, there was only silence. And I knew. I knew she was gone, and you crept in and made yourself known. An unwelcome guest in a place that should have been filled with hope and reassurance. You showed your ugly head that morning.

 You weren't through with me yet. In fact, you were only getting started. You embraced me as I was caught in the throes of contractions which should usher forth life, but instead were only bringing forth death. You held me as my precious daughter slipped into this world silent and still, when the only cries were that of a mother whose heart was ripped in two.

You were gracious to me those first few weeks. You let me ignore you for a bit; hold you away from me. But slowly, slowly, bit by bit you wormed your way in. You twisted into my heart and left it open and raw and bleeding. Scabs have formed now, but every so often you like to come and rip the scabs off as well, bringing up all the pain all over again.

You've been a constant shadow to me these nine months, sometimes almost disappearing for brief times when the joyful sun shines so brightly straight ahead that I can ignore you for a while. At other times you stretch large and spooky and make me want to hide under the covers like a frightened child. Especially now, that new life is growing in my womb. Now I am scared of you more than ever. I know your full power, and I don't want you coming close again. And yet I am powerless to stop you.

But I don't have to. I can live with you. I can let you come and go, ebb and flow, because I know that there is one in me who is greater than you or anything else in the world. He beat death. And because He beat death, He will one day banish you, grief, forevermore.

So I can close my eyes tonight, snuggle with my pillow, and sleep in peace knowing that though you can be so all-encompassing some days, you are merely a constant companion until the day I see Jesus and He strips you off of me and clothes me instead in pure joy.

Until then,

A Grieving Mama choosing to live by FAITH, not fear

Day 24 and FMF: Dare

Day 24 of 31 Days of Healing, and Five Minute Friday

I realize it is Saturday, the 25th, and I am behind. My husband unexpectedly has a week off work, so I have been making the most of it to spend time with him and haven't gotten to blog the past few days.

So here goes, 5 minutes of free-writing on the word Dare.

GO:
When I was a kid, I would always choose the dare. I was fearless. I was the one who rode her bike down the biggest hills, feet not even on the pedals, skidding to a stop, heart pounding, with a grin plastered on my face.

Then something changed. I became the reserved one, always playing it safe. Always cautious and following the rules to the letter.

I've begun to find my daring side again. I guess after losing something so important to you, that you love so much, that hurts so hard, and seeing that you CAN still breathe, everything else loses the scariness.

Well, almost everything - I have become more fearful of June Bug's health and safety. Losing her would be the only thing more painful than losing Mikayla and Selah.

But everything else  - financial trouble, issues at work, worrying about what people might think. None of those things matter anymore. I will take the Dare and tell it to bring its worst, because it can't touch the depths of what I have already faced.

STOP.

Day 15: LIFE!

Day 15 of 31 Days  of Healing is very special to me and near and dear to my heart. I also LOVE that Kate's prompt for today is LIFE! I believe we have a God who is sovereign even (especially?) in the small things - even things like blog prompt words, so I know this is no accident!

Today is special because it is a holiday. Not one you'll see on many calendars, not one you'll get a day off work for, and not one that anyone ever really wants to have a reason to celebrate. It is a holiday I wish there was never any need for, but since we do live in a fallen world where babies die, I am glad there is a day set aside to remember.

Today, October 15th, is set aside as Pregnancy and Infant Loss (PAIL) Remembrance Day.

The Bible talks a lot about remembering, and special times of remembrance for His people. They generally involve remembering God's faithfulness during times of trial and tribulation.

Today this is my day of remembrance of God's faithfulness to me in the midst of Mikayla's stillbirth and Selah's miscarriage. I remember God's faithfulness to me and my family in the days that followed. I proclaim again God's continuing faithfulness to me today and forever!

As part of PAIL remembrance day, people around the world light candles at 7 pm local time and keep them lit for at least one hour. The idea is that this will create a continuous  wave of light around the world.

I lit 4 little tea-light candles tonight. One for Mikayla Sophie, one for Selah, a third for June Bug: one for each of my babies. I wrote their names on their candles. On the fourth I wrote one word: hope. For me this candle represents the hope that God will bring more children into our family when His timing is right.

At one point tonight, I glanced over and all the candles had gone out except for June Bug's. I felt a bit like it was an omen of some kind, that only my living-on-earth child's candle had not gone out. I felt like it was a bad sign that the "hope" candle had gone out, especially!

But then I thought to myself, "What can you do when you start to lose hope?" I realized that the best way to rekindle hope is the way the writers of scripture so often did, by revisiting and remembering God's goodness, grace, mercy, and faithfulness in the past.

I looked at that June Bug candle still brightly glowing in the darkness, and it was very symbolic for me. June Bug is a living picture of God's faithfulness to me. So I used her candle to re-light the others.

As I did so I remembered that my hope is in God's faithfulness, goodness, mercy, and grace. I remembered God's faithfulness and grace in giving June Bug life that continues here on earth, and for giving Mikayla and Selah their brief lives here on earth followed by a life that can never be extinguished.

I thank God for LIFE. For June Bug's life. For Mikayla's life. For Selah's life. For the lives of the children He will bless us with in the future, whether biologically or through adoption or some other way of His choosing. I thank Him most of all for giving us eternal LIFE through His death and resurrection.

So today, we remember. We celebrate the LIFE of these little souls who came to us for a short time before returning to the giver of LIFE.

Day 14: Away

Well, on day 14 of 31 Days of Healing, Kate's  prompt was actually quite appropriate because I was literally away, so I'll do 2 posts today to make up and get back on track.

5 minutes on the word AWAY.

GO:

My babies have gone away. Nothing can bring them back.

But my God is still here. He has always been here. He will always be here. My God will never go away. I might feel like God is distant, or I am distant from God, but really He is always near and it is only my perspective that changes.

My love for my babies will never go away. His love for me will never go away.

"I love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my babies you'll be!" ~Robert Munsch

STOP

but never stop. Never stop going to the heavenly father with prayer and petition and thanksgiving. Never stop remembering. Never stop loving.

Day 3 and FMF: Making All Things New

Part 3 of my 31 days project, and a Five Minute Friday on the word NEW

Go:

So many people talk about finding the "new normal" after a loss. Real normal will never be achieved again, because losing someone you love permeates every aspect of your life. I understand better now how sin and death entering the world had such a profound impact on every single corner of creation, because I have experienced the way the entrance of death into my life and the lives of my husband and daughter has had a profound impact on every corner of our lives.

The good news is, we can and will find a "new normal." Inevitably we will find ways to cope with the waves of grief, develop new habits and rituals, and carry on with our daily lives even though everything has been turned on its head. 

The important thing is knowing where to find the "new normal" and how to go about establishing it. 

We could fall back on sinful desires and habits - drowning our sorrows in alcohol, drugs, or even just too many hours spent in front of a computer screen (Candy Crush, anyone?). We could allow worry and anxiety to take over, because of all people we are entitled to do so, right? We could seek meaning through our own works, starting a non-profit organization; making donations of goods and time in our children's names; rituals and traditions we create. 

But the better way is to fall back on the God who is making all things new - seeking peace in the Word; drinking deep of His grace; spending hours on our knees. We should cast all our cares on Him and in everything through prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present our requests to God.

(Time is up, but I want to continue...)

We ought to seek meaning not in our own works, but in His work in and through us, which very well may look like starting a non-profit organization, donating goods and time, and creating new rituals and traditions (raising Ebeneezers?). 

Sin and death may appear to rule the world at the moment, but Hallelujah! Our God is making all things new, including our broken hearts and lives.

Five Minute Friday: Because

 


Joining the 5-minute flash-write. I look forward to Thursday nights to get me through my week. This week's going to be a rough one, though.

Prompt of the week: Because

GO

Why? 

So many questions without answers. Why did I start bleeding? Why couldn't the doctors do anything to stop it? Why didn't I go on bed rest sooner? Why didn't I get tested after June Bug's birth? Why did my baby have to die? Why did I never even hold her, or take pictures, or even touch my precious girl? Why did God let me get pregnant again only to take away that baby, too? Why didn't my insurance card come sooner so I could have gone to the doctors sooner to get an action plan before it was too late? 

Why do I keep beating myself up over choices I made that were the best I could have done with the knowledge I had at the time?

And the only answer I get is the answer God gave to Job. Because. Because I AM. 

Because God is sovereign, and His ways are not my ways. Because the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and all I can do is say, sing, shout, "Blessed be the Name of the Lord!" 

Someday I will know the because to all of my whys, but for now I am content to cast all my whys and what ifs on the I AM. 

STOP

Five Minute Friday: Whisper

Prompt of the week for  minutes unedited writing: Whisper

GO:

I love the way God whispers in my life. Have you had this experience? Where it seems all the sermons you hear, all the devotionals you read, and all the testimonies of friends all seem to be sending the same message to your heart? It is times like these that I can feel the holy spirit moving the most.

Sometimes God shouts into our lives with one pivotal moment where the light-bulb goes on and we suddenly see truth from a new perspective and our lives will never be the same again. 

Other times He whispers. Quietly, persistently, gently whispering truth in our ear. And we say, "yes, God, I get it." And He whispers again, and you think, "Yes, I understand." And again you hear the whispering and if you are not careful you start to brush it off because you have heard it so many times from so many different places in so many different voices that you think it's old news. 

God's good news never grows old. Listen to the whispers. Hold them tight. Hide them in your heart.

I remember a time in college when I kept hearing sermons about sickness and death and pain. The topic kept coming up in school chapels, and devotionals I was reading. I even read several novels for enjoyment that touched on the same topic! 

And then BOOM. Out of no-where my father was diagnosed with kidney disease and my mother had cancer. I stood face-to-face with the possibility that death might take one, or both, of my parents. Suddenly all those whisperings came back to me, and were my anchor in the storm. They helped me remember that It Is Finished and death no longer has the last word.

Thankfully, after surgery the doctors discovered that the only cancerous cells in my mother had already been removed in the biopsy, and a willing friend was found who was a match and gave his kidney to my father. They are both still here to love on June-bug. 

Fast-forward to 2013. I always take notes in church, but I generally took notes on the bulletin which invariably ended up in the garbage. In November of 2013 I decided to start keeping the notes, so I got a notebook to take sermon notes in. (By the way, the one bulletin that "happened" to get stuck in between two books on a shelf instead of thrown away, was a sermon about Job's trials and God's sovereignty).

• December 8th the sermon was about God's purpose and plan.

• On December 15th, right after I found out I was pregnant with Mikayla, the pastor gave an incredible list of verses that are promises God gives to His people - I looked them all up and copied them into my notebook.

• On December 29th, the sermon title was: Is God Enough When I have Lost a Loved One?

• January 12th was about Jonah. One of the quotes I wrote down? "Run to Him and not from Him when troubles come."

• A follow-up on Jonah on January 26th, I have written down, "God can handle our anger. When you are angry, listen to others, express your emotions, trust God, and take Him at His word."

• March 1st, my aunt posted on Facebook about a free Kindle book about Romans 8 - I downloaded it and read through it over the next few weeks.

• March 16th, the sermon was all about our suffering and God's comfort.

• April 13th, Mikayla was stillborn.

• April 27th, the sermon was about the defeat of death. 

• June 24th, I downloaded another free Kindle book which I highly recommend:

•             A Place of Healing

• June 29th, the sermon was about walking in God's will.

• July 6th, I wept through most of the sermon about the beauty of heaven.

• July 13th, that very-difficult 3-month anniversary Sunday, I wrote down in my notes, "(Rev.1:4) is a reminder that we are not only saved by grace, but also kept by grace through times of trial, and peace comes as a result of that grace."

And I could go on and on about the little whispers of God's grace and comfort that He has injected into my daily living over the past year. All the little things that would have been easy to miss or dismiss or forget, but when all added together have been a powerful barge to keep me afloat in my sea of confusion and grief. 

I do not believe anything is a coincidence, and I know that God whispered each and every one of these truths into my life at the moments I needed them most. I am thankful that God prompted me to record them and keep them for when I am tempted to forget. And He keeps on whispering His words of love in my ear.

STOP.

Whoa. That was way more than five minutes, but it was worth it. What has God been whispering to you lately?

His Eye is on the Sparrow

One of the things that has been the most difficult for me in the aftermath of Mikayla's stillbirth is June-bug's reactions and questions. She has always been a very inquisitive child, and some of the thoughts she comes up with astound me.

Directly after the stillbirth, she showed some regression which I've read is pretty typical for children who experience trauma or loss. She started having bathroom accidents more often, and sucking on her fingers. Thankfully that has gotten better and though I still find her sucking her fingers every so often, it's not constant like it used to be.

The questions, though, have not let up.

I remember one night I was putting her to bed and we had been talking about the lizard we had seen in the backyard that afternoon. She piped up with, "Mommy, what makes lizards die?" We discussed different things like lack of food, old age, illness, being eaten by larger animals, etc. She then asked the same question of chickens (the other animal in our backyard). I had a feeling I knew where it was leading, but I continued giving her reasons chickens might die. Finally she asked, "Mommy, what makes peoples die?" At first I tried to skirt around the issue and listed things that were in common with the chickens and lizards: old age, illness, lack of food, getting hurt like in a car accident. She wasn't satisfied with that, however and added to my list, "Or when too much of their blood comes out because of the baby in their tummy?"

I was floored. I had no idea that she had been bottling up this knowledge (or suspicion at least) that I could have died if I had lost too much blood while I was pregnant. I realized that for her the trauma wasn't just the loss of a baby sister, but the fear of losing a mother as well!

Today we went to the park, just June-bug and me. We went on the swings, played on the see-saw, and I watched her go down each of the slides. She left the smallest slide for last, I think because it is the least exciting. As she walked over to climb the ladder onto the platform, I heard her gasp. When I rushed over (because I have become somewhat over-protective since April), I saw her pointing at a little sparrow.

The sparrow was obviously dead. It was not moving, and had ants crawling all over it. June-bug just sat and watched it for a few minutes, then said, "Mommy, that bird is dead, right?" I told her yes it was, and then she said, "Mommy, I can't take it home, right?" I told her no, you can't take dead things home. Then she asked, "Mommy, do sometimes people take dead birds home? You know, to try to make them better and not dead anymore?"

I must admit I teared up at that, but had to reply truthfully that once something is dead, people can't make it better. We can only make it better if it is only sick or hurt, and even then sometimes it will still die. June-bug took that in for a minute, then said she wished the bird was only sick so she could help it, because it was so cute and sweet, but then she added, "But if it wasn't dead it wouldn't be here. Not sitting here on the playground. It would be flying around in the sky or sitting in its nest."

She sat mournfully for a few minutes just looking at the little bird. Then she piped up, "People can't fix dead things, but Jesus takes people who die to heaven. Do you think heaven needs birdies, too?"

So I quoted her the scripture about God watching every sparrow that falls. She smiled then, and told me that Jesus would take this little bird to heaven and make it fly there for Baby Sissy to watch.

And my heart soared with the sparrows that God keeps an eye on, and I know He watches my June-bug and me.