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 Bereaved Mothers Day!

A day that I never knew existed until last year is here - Bereaved Mothers Day. You learn a lot when you lose a child. 

And I know some people would question my blog post title, because how can anyone ever put the words happy and bereaved in the same sentence? And yet, even as a bereaved mother, I have a lot to be happy about.

I am happy that I had the opportunity to carry my babies in my womb even if only for a short time.

I am happy that I have a sweet sunshine daughter June Bug who loves and remembers her baby sisters Mikayla and Selah.

I am happy each time I remember Mikayla's kicks, that hot chocolate always made her dance, and I am happy I got to see her face even though it was only a brief moment. Though all these memories are mingled with sadness, there is happiness there, too. 

I am happy that Selah passed peacefully and at home instead of in a cold hospital bed with drama and needles and doctors and nurses. I am happy I had the time to truly say good-bye. Again, I wish the ending could have been different, but if she had to go away so soon, I am glad it happened the way it did.

I am happy that I have a rainbow on the way who will not in any way replace Mikayla or Selah, or make me love or miss them any less, but who will enrich our lives and bring joy to our family.

I am happy that I have a loving heavenly father who knows and understands the pain in my heart and offers His comfort and peace.

I am happy that the same heavenly father is holding and loving my precious babies for me until the day I get to see them again. 

I am happy that through the wonders of the internet I have learned and found other beautiful and courageous mothers who are walking this most difficult of roads alongside me. I am happy we have each other for support and encouragement, and the healing power of a simple, "Me, too!"

So yes, I wish each and every mother who has ever had to say good-bye too soon to her precious child a very Happy (though probably bitter-sweet like so much of life) Bereaved Mother's Day. 

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.

Making Room for Joy

Since Mikayla died and was born, I can count on one hand the moments I have felt truly happy without a cloud of fear or anxiety or sadness clouding the moment.

Today, I was given one of those moments.

I was putting June Bug to bed with our nightly routine: shower, pjs, brush teeth, drink of water, bedtime story, prayers, hugs and kisses, and lights out. We were snuggled on the bed together and I was reading a chapter of Betsy-Tacy  - a book I enjoyed as a child - on our tablet. I was holding the tablet resting its end on my lower belly, when I felt it. Baby was kicking! Baby was kicking at the tablet!

Now I have felt things that I thought might have been baby earlier on, and the other day I felt a few distinct flutters that I knew had to be baby, but this was different - vibrant, strong movements without a shadow of a doubt caused by little arms and legs exploring this thing that was pressed up against their home. I told June Bug about it, and we both enjoyed some giggles at the thought.

It was only later, when I had finished the chapter, said our prayers, and turned off the light that I realized how pure a moment of joy it had been. I was also able to remember feeling Mikayla kick at June Bug's musical teddy bear without the overwhelming feeling of acute grief, but rather a fond memory with just a hint of sadness.

I know there will still be days of weeping and pain. I know it will still be a long journey, but I do feel like I have turned a corner somehow. Like I have crawled far enough down the tunnel that I can actually see a glimpse of the brilliant light waiting for me up ahead.  

I am learning to make room for joy again. And it feels good.

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

A Bittersweet Thanksgiving

I can't help but think how if things had gone differently, I could be introducing my 3-month-old baby to my grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins today as we gathered around the table to give thanks.

I can't help but think if things had gone differently, I could have been finding out Selah's gender, and have a tummy gently swelling with a baby inside, instead of just bloated from too much turkey.

And yet, I do have a lot to be thankful for.

I am thankful that I have a beautiful healthy 5-year-old who is reading up a storm and singing praise songs that she makes up and prancing around the living room in her princess tiara and twirly skirt.

I am thankful that though it has been a rocky road, and the bumps are still not all smoothed out, my marriage is still intact.

I am thankful that God used my tragedy to get me out of a toxic work environment (which I was reminded again this week just how toxic it really was) and into a job that is full of love, grace, and mercy, with coworkers and bosses who come along-side and encourage and lift up instead of tearing down and pointing fingers and talking behind backs.

I am thankful for a new doctor who is ready to do anything it takes to help us bring a baby home.

I am thankful for two pink lines that showed up on a pregnancy test early this morning, and the opportunity to be Mommy to another precious little soul.

I was reading Psalm 139 this morning, and thinking about the fact that God knew each day that Mikayla and Selah would be in my womb. He knows exactly how many days June Bug will walk this earth, He knows how many days I have left until I see my babies in heaven. And He knows already how many days I will be blessed to hold this new little life. He is knitting this baby together in my womb, and that is a wonderful privilege to be a part of another miracle.

When I lit my candles in October, I lit an extra one for hope. This pregnancy brings me hope, but my hope is not in this pregnancy. My hope is in the God who created and sustains it. My hope is in the Savior who loves me. My hope is that God would be glorified through my life, and through the lives of all my children, however many days each of us may have on this earth.

Day 31 and FMF:The God who Never Leaves

GO:

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Some people ask, where was God? Where was God when I was hurting, sick, in pain? Where was God when my loved one left this earth too soon? Where was God when my heart was shattered into pieces?

I know my God is here. I know He never left me nor forsook me. I know He was holding my tight the night my world fell apart.

Some ask what kind of God would take away a baby that was loved and wanted and precious and perfect?

I know that God works all things together for good. I know He always has a plan. I know my babies are not suffering, but are rejoicing and worshiping around the throne of heaven! What kind of God gives us that opportunity to be with Him in glory!?!

He has never left my side. He has never let me down. He has never forsaken me. He has held me when I cried and filled my heart with peace and joy when I thought I would never feel those things again. True healing can only come from the great Physician.

I read in a novel the other day that there are 5 kinds of healing: healing of our immune systems constantly fighting off illness, healing through medical treatment, truly miraculous healing, healing of our hearts and attitudes even as our bodies continue to suffer, and finally the ultimate healing of dying and being given a new glorious body that will never be in need of healing again. My babies have been given ultimate healing, while my grief is being healed in the fourth way - my heart and attitude are slowly but surely looking more toward Christ and less at the horrible pain left behind after loss.

STOP.

Just a note - I found a new doctor. I love my new doctor. Seriously, even though he is expensive, he is worth every penny. He has ordered a whole new set of tests to try to find answers, and has given me a game-plan for what to try even if we don't get any answers, he's ready to throw everything he's got at me in hopes something will work. And after basically being told it was all a big fluke so we'll just watch and see, someone who is willing to DO SOMETHING is a breath of fresh air! And, since I just started my first cycle after losing Selah, it's time to try again! Praying that God will give us the desire of our hearts soon; praising Him in all things.

Day 30: First

Day 30 of 31 days of healing. Joining Kate for a 5--minute free-write on the word FIRST

GO:

I have a calendar of June Bug's first year. It is full of colorful stickers of her "firsts." First car ride, first smile, first tooth, first words, first steps. All the way up to first birthday.

This year we celebrated her first day of Kindergarten, first ride on a 2-wheeler, her first book she read by herself, and soon probably the first loose tooth.

There's no sticker for the first breathe. No sticker for first cries, or first movements - those frantic flailings of arms and legs exposed to air instead of amniotic fluid for the first time. No. Those are so taken for granted, they don't even warrant marking.

There are also no stickers for first heaven day, or "crap-versary" as one loss Mama put it. No stickers for the first time someone asks you how many kids you have and you just stare at them and tear up as you debate whether to go into details or just lie.

And even in June Bug's case, there are no stickers for the day you found out your long-awaited and prayed for baby sister went to heaven instead of coming to play with you like everyone said she would.

And so we make our own way. We mark our own days. We make prayer flags in August and light candles in October, and will celebrate Heaven days in April and September. We will forge ahead making memories wherever and however we can, to honor our love for our babies.

Day 29: Words that Unite

Day 29 of 31 days of Healing, I'm joining up today with incourage to share that words matter!



Words are things that can bring people together or tear people apart. Going through my journey post-loss, I have seen numerous posts by various people of things to say or not to say to someone who has recently lost a child or baby. Words can encourage and build up, healing a broken heart, or they can tear down and add to the already overwhelming weight of a loss.

I will not offer a list of phrases to say or avoid, but I will say that words are very important. Speak to me. Speak the names of my babies. Do not skirt around the issue, because words shared with a friend can be a healing balm. Listen to me. Let me share my story. Let me put my love into words and paint a picture in your mind of the precious life I carried, though you never got to meet my baby.

I have been blessed by words shared by others, words that unite, words that let me know I am not alone, and the emotions that are boiling over in my heart are a normal and natural reaction from the intense fire of saying goodbye. Words that let me see the beauty that can blossom from the ashes. Words that give me hope for myself that the fire will not always be such a fierce and painful thing, but will settle down to a pleasant warming of love.

I offer up my own words here, both for myself and for others. I have always needed to process feelings through words, but I also hope and pray that my words might also bless those who read here as I have been blessed by the words of others. Most of all I hope that all of my words will point upward to the WORD become flesh who dwelt among us.

Day 26: Visit

Day 26 (Ok, so it's not actually, but I'm trying to catch up here!) of 31 days of healing. Joining Kate with a 5-minute free-write on the word VISIT

GO:

There have been 5 new babies born in our church family over the past month. After each one, a joyous email is sent to the whole church body announcing the name, details, and that Mama and Baby are doing fine. Then there is usually some comment about whether or not they are ready for visitors, and/or how to help out the new parents.

The pastoral prayer this week included all the new parents and babies, prayers of thanks for their health and blessings for their futures. It also included all the expecting mothers (of which there are quite a few!).

I can't help but think - what about the rest of us? What about the mothers like me who didn't get the fairy tale ending? What about coming to visit and bring a meal for the mother who doesn't have a cute newborn to show off? What about looking at the heart-wrenching but still beautiful photos of the stillborn baby? What about prayers for healing of the broken hearts of the mothers who got something they never expected?

It is wonderful to celebrate new life. I am genuinely happy that our church family has so many blessed little ones. But I can't help feel a bit forgotten. Yes, we are to rejoice with the rejoicing, but where are those to mourn with those who mourn?

When a father, mother, sister, brother, cousin, aunt, etc. passes away, there is always a throng of people sharing their memories, giving condolences, bringing comfort. 

When a baby passes away before it was born, there is often silence and a sense of loneliness. 

I have been grateful to find sisters online who have been through loss of a baby, but in real life there have been very few who have reached out to me in my pain. My mother and grandmother, and my former college roommate, and another friend from college who experienced a miscarriage around the same time as Mikayla was stillborn. 

We need to do better. We need to acknowledge these precious little lives that continue in heaven. We need to mourn with those who mourn even as we rejoice with those who rejoice. Stillbirth is still a birth, and a life lost before birth is still a life. 

Day 16: Adjusting to the "new normal"

Day 16 of 31 Days of healing, 5-minute free-write on the topic: adjust.



As someone who moved a lot growing up, I am very familiar with change. Living in lots of different countries and cultures, I am very familiar with culture shock. I am familiar with dealing with change, and having to learn to adjust to a new way of life that is different from your old one. Not necessarily worse, not better, but just different.

Grief is somewhat the same way.

I remember after one of our moves when I was 9, I became very angry and hated everything about the new country I was living in. I hated the language they spoke there, the food, the way people dressed, just everything about that country. At the same time, I longed for and idolized my life in my previous home. I missed my old friends, my comfort foods, being able to speak without worrying about saying the wrong thing...

At first as I moved into grief I hated everything about my loss. I hated having conversations about children or babies or motherhood because I was always on the verge of tears. I hated the way my body felt, tired all the time, weak, and flabby. I hated myself for all the would have, could have, should haves. I longed to go back to a time where babies didn't die. At least not my babies. Maybe someone else's, far away. I wanted to go back to feeling strong and womanly, knowing my body was the home of a tiny human.

The thing is, you can't go back. You can only go forward, and the sooner you accept and recognize where you are and who has led you there, the sooner you can pick up the pieces and adjust your attitude and find things to love about the new, different, yes difficult, but also blessed, place you are right now. The sooner you can move on with adjusting to the new normal.

Don't get me wrong, I still miss the days of blissful ignorance before I knew what pPROM and MTHFR were, or that 1 in 4 women will experience some type of baby loss at some point in her life. But I am learning to be content to follow where he leads, and lean on Him for strength for the journey.

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 11: Resources

Ok people. It's day 11 of 31 days of healing and I am feeling very uninspired and can't think of anything to write about, so I decided to look at Carly Marie's Project Heal for ideas and decided to jump back to her day 8: Resource, and list some resources I have found that have helped/are helping on this journey through grief toward healing.

• Project BEAR

This is an awesome ministry which sends teddy bears to anyone grieving the loss of a baby. I ordered one for June Bug which she calls her "Baby Sissy Bear." I found this site after previously seeing Molly Bears and realized I would rather have a simple bear quickly and for free than pay $20 and have to wait possibly years to get a fancy bear. That's just my opinion, though.

• Still Standing

This online resource is a great place to read stories by other parents who have had their children or babies die. There is a lot of encouragement and practical advice on there, as well as just the reassurance that I am not alone in feeling the things I feel or doing the (seemingly odd) things I do after loss. It is affirmation that though loss changes you for life, you can keep standing, and even begin to walk again.

• CarlyMarie

Another resource that encourages healing and working through your grief in productive ways.

• Surprised By Suffering

A great book that helped me explore where my loss and grief fit in with my faith.

• A Place of Healing

Another awesome book that helped me wrestle with the hard issues of faith and God's love in the midst of pain.

• My mother and grandmother 

Two amazing ladies of faith who experienced the pain of losing unborn children themselves. It helped to know that they have traveled this road before me, and went on to live happy, fulfilled and faith-filled lives and have more healthy children.

• The Holy Bible

Through the work of the Holy Spirit helping me to see God's love and faithfulness, and through reading accounts like that of Joseph and Job and Jesus himself who went through great suffering through which God was still faithful and working all things together for good. I am thankful for a God who can take my hurt and brokenness and turn it into beauty.

Day 5: Triggers

This morning I watched my beautiful June Bug sing on a stage, and she did such such an amazing job. Then they brought up the preschoolers to sing. It brought back memories of June Bug's first of such concerts, when she was 2 and got up on stage with her preschool class for their Christmas concert and proceeded to cry through the whole thing with her fingers in her mouth.

It also brought something else. The reminder that I won't get those memories for Mikayla, or for Selah.

In church this morning there were 2 different couples I knew were bringing their tiny babies to church, with everyone crowding around the car seats to coo over the sweet little bundles of joy, as I felt like a boulder had been dropped onto my stomach because those happy moments were ripped from my life.

Then tonight I was watching A Little Princess with June Bug, and when the main character said that her Mama was in heaven along with her baby sister it was all I could do to hold back the blubbering, knowing it was only by the grace of God that June Bug could only relate to half of that statement.

I don't know how long the rawness will last, or how often the scabs of my heart will be ripped off before the new skin finally grows back, leaving only the scar. Some days are better than others, and sometimes I am fine seeing pregnant women, tiny babies, etc. while other times something as simple as two sisters fighting in the supermarket can send me into all-out panic mode,

I am praying that God would work in my heart to help me count my blessings whenever the ugly green jealousy monster shows up. I am praying that He would help me overcome the envy and fill me up with love. I am praying that God would help me to cherish the moments I have with June Bug, without worrying that she may never get a sister or brother here on earth. I am praying that God would keep my heart soft and stop the pain from fermenting into bitterness, but rather blossom it into love and compassion for others.  

I can't stop the triggers from itching at my heart, but I can choose to look for the beauty and goodness of the Lord in all things, and to rejoice with those who rejoice even in the midst of my mourning.

And I will leave you with a poem:

Loved and Lost
Better to have loved and lost?
Even if your heart gets buried and crushed
Under the weight of snow and frost
In the winter of heartache where all joys are hushed?

Even if your heart gets buried and crushed
And all that remains are fragments and dust?
In the winter of heartache where all joys are hushed,
The naked trees whisper of Spring bound to come.

But all that remains are fragments and dust
And a shadow of a shell of a ghost.
Still the naked trees whisper of Spring bound to come,
"Better to have loved and lost!"

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: Reaching Out

Prompt of the week: REACH

GO:

So often we are told to reach for the stars, or reach for our dreams. We are told to chase what we want, and work for what we long for. Shoot for the moon, and don't settle for anything less than perfection.

While it is good to have a goal to work towards, and there is nothing wrong with dreaming, Jesus has called us to do so much more than reach for the stars.

When Peter was walking on water and lost focus and started sinking, he didn't reach for any stars or dreams. He reached for his savior. When I was lying in a hospital bed wracked with contractions, I couldn't do anything to chase my dreams. I could only reach heavenward.

But we can't stop there either. We must reach for our savior, and once He has grasped hold of us, we are then to reach outwards to others. We are told to extend the comfort we have received from Christ out to our hurting brothers and sisters. We are told to hold out to our enemies the same kind of forgiveness we were given when we were enemies of God. We are commanded to go fishing for men, and you can't go fishing without doing some reaching out beyond yourself.

I praise God that He enabled me to reach out and cling tightly to Him in my darkest time of need, and I pray that God would equip me to reach out and extend the same lifeline to others who are in darker times of need because they don't even know which direction to reach.

STOP.

Time

I was reading today over at A Bed For My Heart her thoughts about people saying it gets easier with time. I began thinking about time, and the time (though still short) since I joined the club no one wants to join - the bereaved mothers club.

I will say the pain doesn't feel as raw now. It doesn't sting quite as deep. The tears don't flow quite as easily or freely (at least in public - they still flow often and abundantly when I am alone!) as they once did.

I still have days I don't want to face the world, but I am learning to talk myself into doing whatever needs to get done instead of letting myself wallow over-long in my grief. The grief has not gotten any lighter, but I have gotten stronger and better at shifting the weight just so to keep it balanced. My heart and my arms still ache for the little one who should be a week old now, but I am learning to embrace the joy of each day as well.

I definitely wouldn't say it is easy now. I'm not even sure it is easier than it used to be. But I do know for sure that the only way I get through it at all is through Christ who strengthens me. It is often quoting scripture to myself that helps me out of the miry pit of wallowing. In my weakness, He is strong and carries my burdens with and for me when I can't dream of doing it myself. His goodness and mercy have filled my aching heart with joy.

Time alone will never make anything easier. Only sharing my burdens with the one who makes all things beautiful in His time will make them easier to bear. Only finding strength in Christ alone will make me strong enough to make it through. Only driving out the bitterness and anger and replacing them with the peace, joy, and love of God will heal my aching heart.

Five Minute Friday: Change

 


Prompt of the week: Change

GO:

It is amazing how quickly your life can change; how a woman can change from longing and hopeful but scared to hope too much, to ecstatic and filled with love and joy in a matter of seconds when those 2 pink lines pop up on the pregnancy test.

Or how she can change from ecstatic and filled with love and joy and hope, to devastated and broken and wondering how this could have just happened when they can't find a heartbeat.

How a missionary can change from being a doctor helping treat victims of an Ebola crisis to being a patient himself.

How an audience can change from seeing a comedian and laughing alongside him to seeing the ugly depths of depression.

How a young man can change from planning his college career to dead on the sidewalk full of bullets in a matter of 3 minutes.

Yes, life can change in an instant, and never be the same again. There are moments that leave you reeling. Change can rip your heart right out of your chest.

But what each life so desperately needs is a change. A change where the heart of stone melts into a heart of flesh.

What this sad and sin-soaked world needs is a change. A change in each individual's heart that will prompt change in a family, a community, a nation, a planet.

And I rest in knowing that NOTHING can change God's love. Not racism or bullets, not depression or suicide, not illness or disease, not stillbirth or aching hearts. God's love is greater than all of it.

God's love is the only thing that will never change. God's love is the only thing that will ever bring the change that we need.

Due Date

Today is the day.

August 18, 2014.

They call it the estimated due date because you never know when baby will actually arrive. Big sis JuneBug surprised us 3 weeks before her due date. One of my sisters surprised my mother by waiting almost 3 weeks after her due date! What women expect on their due dates is either to be waddling around with a watermelon belly about to pop, complaining about back pain and swollen ankles, or else shuffling like a zombie snuggling a teeny-weeny wrinkly newborn, changing poopy diapers and feeling like a 24/7 feeding station.

Instead I walk normally, with a (mostly)flat belly, well-rested. My body is not in pain, and on the outside I look just like anyone else.

But on the inside....

I can't help but thinking about what should have been. What could have been. What we are missing out on. I would give anything to trade an aching heart for an aching back and swollen ankles. I would give anything to trade these red-rimmed eyes from crying for red-rimmed eyes from waking every 2 hours to feed a newborn baby.

On this day I dreamed of introducing JuneBug to a new baby sister, instead she is snuggling her "baby sissy bear" (thank you projectbear.com !) and asking when God will send her a "real" sister or brother.

I'm debating between trying to do something special and meaningful today, or just wallowing in my sorrow and shutting the world out for a while.