Come and Listen

  Preface:   When I was grieving,  deeply wounded by the lifetime ahead of separation from my children,  words like this stung.  Like salt in a cut,  or smoke in the eyes,  those who were happy made me feel all the worse.  (That was wrong.   I knew it was,  but there it was.  I couldn't help but feel like God had singled me out for pain.)   So I write this with a prayer,  that if you are the one in the darkness right now,  you can either turn away now,  and come back when things are better,  or read on,  knowing that God has brought healing where once there was nothing,  nothing but ugly, nasty pain and sin,  all mixed up.  And (please here this!) things are far from perfect now.  But I have to praise God....literally there are times I feel ready to burst if I don't tell someone what the Lord has done for me!!

Come and Listen, all you who fear God;
let me tell you what he has done for me!
~Psalm 66:16

Praise our God, O people,
let the sound of his praise be heard;
he has preserved our lives
and kept our feet from slipping.
For you, O God, tested us like silver.
You brought us into prison
and laid burdens on our backs.
You let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and water,
but you have brought us to
a place of abundance.
~Psalm 66:8-12

The last 4 years of my life are a blur...and not in a good way.   In just the last few months,  like awakening from a terrible dream,  the reality that God is still at work in my life has given me hope.   Hope for life,  here and now.  In the midst of that pain,  all that I could think about was heaven.   And that was a good thing.   But sometimes to the point where I didn't want to live here on earth anymore,  it was just too hard.  It hurt too bad.  

I believed in God's sovereignty.   That means that He's in control.   Everything that touches me has been filtered through His will.    And yet,  deep down in the humanness and sinfulness of my heart,   I want God to be the good genie in the bottle,  the magic potion that makes my life perfect.   The one who shields me from hurt and pain.   I'm not asking for much,  I would think petulantly.   I don't need a bigger house or a nicer car,  I just want my babies.

    It hurts so deep....when He puts these burdens on us ,  leads us through the valley of death, choses this terrible and miserable road for us.   My grieving was about losing my children, yes,  but also about how to love the God who had hurt me.   Love matters.   I can only worship what I love,  and obey what I love.  

While I struggled to love God,  to trust him,  there was a whisper from the Holy Spirit.   I knew that He had me.   He wasn't going to let go.  He was preserving my life,  and somewhere deep down,  I knew it and loved Him for it.  

But I lived in fear.  Constant fear,  really,  of the next bad thing God had lined up for me.  A year ago,  on our 10 year anniversary trip,  Mr. Wonderful and I had a conversation.   James was about 15 weeks along,  and I was holding my breath for that anticipated 18 week ultrasound.    Surely the doctors would be able to fix it, if they found anything wrong, I thought. These were the specialists!    Mr. W gently reminded me that God had not promised us anything.   He had given us this little one for a while,  how long was completely up to Him. 

I don't know for sure where I would be if James had been called to heaven with our other babies.   But I do know,  that while he has been a balm to my lonely heart,  James isn't the source of healing.  Neither is the passing of time,  as so many well-meaning people say.   God is. 

What blows me away about this season in my life is how rich it feels.  This healing,  this restoration,  is beyond what I had hoped for,  beyond what I had prayed for.   He has truly been at work,  and there is fruit.  From HIS work.

He has brought me to a place of unexpected abundance.   Abundant love for Him,  and eyes that can see His hand. 



Even the fruits of our meager garden efforts...
so many "little" things are truly remarkable gifts from Him.

  

The Same

Three years ago,    a special gift given in the moment I most needed it...walking into the hospital to be induced to deliver my child,  who had died in my womb.  It was the Word of God.   Portions of a certain Psalm were running through my mind on repeat,  and as we waited,  my husband read and read and read the laments and praises until he found it.
 The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made....
Psalm 145 has been my meditation,  a rock of comfort and uncomfortable truth since then.   Many times I've read it,  through tears and with clenched fists as I battled my emotions that wanted to despair.
He hears their cry and saves them...
My daughter, Ellie! 
God is loving towards all he has made...
When the next child also died,  my soul sighed,  resigned to grief and heaviness. 
The Lord upholds all those who fall....
Benjamin, my son!
Every day I will praise you....
The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.



Now,  there is this amazing, unexpected, thrilling and mind-boggling turn of events:   a living child.  He breathes.   James!

O Lord, you are my God;
I will exalt you and praise your name,
for in perfect faithfulness you have done marvelous things,
things planned long ago.    Isaiah 25:1

How is it?   How can it be?  

The same God who takes away,  has now given?

And He's no less good when He takes,  then when He gives?

These verses were true 10 years ago when I first felt grief,

3 years ago when it's full weight fell upon me,   and even now...

He is unchangeable,  and His ways I cannot even begin to understand.

I stand, like Job, with my hand over my mouth,

and worship.   

Dr. Love

Our  doctor,

who was with us when Braden was born 

9 years ago,

then Nathan,

then Ian.

A perfect fit....laid back and relaxed

she understood me and my approach

(less is more!).

Then, in 2007,  another pregnancy.  YAY!

Everything cruising along just fine....

when,  at the routine 6-month appointment...

she couldn't find a heartbeat.

She sent me off for an ultrasound, 

hoping that the baby had just moved into a tricky place.

As I walked out of the examining room, she hugged me.

It was then I grasped what she was afraid of...

and I tasted fear and death.

That night,  Dr. Love delivered Ellie. 

Stillborn and perfect....

a girl....

and she wept.

Last winter,  

unsteady and afraid for our newest little one,

going to see her was tonic and balm.

She didn't make any promises,

but I was reassured anyway.

Until 18 weeks.

This time,  when the doppler couldn't find that steady rythm,

she bent down,   hugged me and cried.

So sorry,  so very sorry.

After many hours of waiting,

when I was finally delivering Benjamin,

she ran down the hallway to my room...

that is one of my sharpest memories of that hard time...

her footsteps coming fast.

My doctor was running:

for me,

for our baby, 

who was dead.

What kind a doctor does that?

I called her the day I found out about Sweet 7  { our James }.

She prayed with me, 

and every visit and phone conversation since

(and there have been alot!!)

has ended with her humble prayers

that God would give her, and the other dr.'s, wisdom,

and that He would spare this little life.

Every step of the way,  she has been loving and caring

and supportive.   She has been gracious and humble,

when we decided that we needed to see the high-risk doctors.

It was a emotional decision for me to have James in the city,

away from her.   

This photo was taken the day after we came home

from the hospital.

We went to see her, 

and introduce her to our very special son.

We thank God often for his kindness to us,

evidenced in a smalltown doctor,

who loves.

Remembering, with Joy

'Diane' Witch Hazel~~a special gift from last spring, in memory of Benjamin

 I savor my James with all my might,

fighting the fatigue of round the clock feedings

and stress of having a pre-term baby

with every single one of us

getting sick during his first week.

We are praying for James' immune system to fight this

so he doesn't have to go back to the hospital.

James and I keep mostly to the bedroom,

and the big boys haven't been able to hold him since Saturday.

It's been painful,  but a teaching and learning time

about the importance of sacrificing our own desires

(to love on James!)

for his good.

Things have been so crazy that I wasn't able

to post on Ellie's Heaven Day.

It hurt my heart,  but I rejoice in knowing

that she's not offended!

She is in heaven,  with her brothers,  and JESUS!

She doesn't need anything from me!

I do miss her, though.  

 I miss her twinkling eyes,

and the way her pudgy fingers

would be enthralled with her newest brother.

Happy Heaven Day, Ellie!

31 Weeks and Undeserving

So far, the non-stress tests

have shown us 

our little man is doing great!

~~~

After loss, twice through,

it is still hard to grasp that in a matter of weeks,

if God wills,

I will hold this little one in my arms.

In so many ways,  grief has become a part of who I am.

I am used to it,  as ridiculous as that sounds.

Now I almost can't even imagine the feeling

of holding him.

Will I fly apart with happiness?

~~~

I am so undeserving of this gift.

God is gracious and merciful,

slow to anger,

abounding in love.

Birthday Boy

Today:
schoolwork done with the boys,
several household projects completed....
but I would have prefered....

~reaching greedy arms for my baby boy
~crying tears of joy at his breathing
~inhaling the wonderful scent of life, newest life
~hearing his funny croaking cry
~posing for the best photo in the world...baby (minutes old) and mommy (delirious)
~watching Daddy meet his boy for the first time
~introducing my boy to his big brothers
~calling Grandma's and Grandpa's with happy news


I'm still whispering "Happy Birthday, Benjamin!"

Trust and Obey

Resurection Sunday, 2007
This morning's walk brought me the classic help from Proverbs 3:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your understanding.

A verse I've known all my life.
New meaning, now, that the path is so hard,
dark and steep.
The pain of the past
wants to keep me from hope for the future.
But, against the oceans of emotion,
I can trust.

I will trust.

WHAT?

This past month since I've written has been full of questions. Most of which, there are no answers. None that comfort, anyway.

How I long to walk in faith through all of life's stuggles, with my eyes UP and self-pity on the back burner. I hate the curling inward that suffering brings, that grieving demands.

But what did I expect? That because three of my children are in heaven means I've *paid my dues* and life is supposed to get easier now?

My morning walks have been a life-saver. Before the heat, before the world is awake, watching the sun rise over the hills, listening to the birds sing. I'm finding things to be THANKFUL FOR!!

Enough

It is already past the middle of June. I won't count out where I should be in pregnancy, I won't think about how I should be straining through these days with an aching back instead of an aching heart.

I won't. I have found a place, healthy or not, for my heart and mind to go on living. And it's surprising even me....that most days, I find something happy and productive to do, and enjoy doing it. I play with my boys... read.... sew....sit..... walk.....hike. I cook and clean. In the doing of my life, I find myself singing. And I refuse to feel guilty for it. I AM HAPPY, God is enough.

Not that everything is perfect. Melt-downs have been here, too. But praise God, I am not in the deep drought of depression, and that is something to be thankful for.

How Much More

my son eating a good thing from his daddy....

marshmallows over a camp-fire!

(March 2010)

Remember this mystery, the giving?

It has deepened, grown wider and longer:

overflowing the bounds and banks,

washing fragrant over me,

until my sense returned.

God is

for me.

God is at work,

for me.

God is love,

for me.

God is here,

for me.

The ministers of his grace,

showing such unexpected sacrificial generousity,

have brought the greater gift:

Blessed (re)assurance.

Jesus is mine!

Because if these, his servants,

know how to give good gifts,

how much more does He!

If they weep with me, and pray for me,

how much more does He!

If they work and strive to bless me,

how much more does He!

If they love me,

How much more does He!

If you then, though you are evil,

know how to give good gifts to your children,

how much more will your Father in heaven

give good gifts to those who ask him!

Matthew 7:11

Time-Out

photo of the boys' favorite chicken (Whitey)

~by Braden

I've never grieved this way. It's different this time. I would just rather NOT process all this pain. So I put it away, tenderly and with a prayer that it will stay where it belongs and not mess up my life. But last night, it overflowed like a drawer stuffed with too many socks. The grief explodes and I wonder how I am to clean it up.



The first thing to go:

Blog reading/Facebook has brought many wonderful friends and blessings to my life, but at this stage in my grief being on the 'net is also bringing on extra burdens that I can't bear right now. My real life is pretty simple.....feed the family, fold the laundry, weed the vegetables---and I like it that way. So, while I will still be blogging here for the purpose of my personal and family journal, I won't be checking in or commenting on all my favorite blogs for the next few months. And I'm quitting Facebook, too.



Wonder what it's like back in the stone age? I'll let you know!

Upside Down

This week is thumbing it's nose at me as it ends.....I have accomplished very little. I haven't shared here the amazing things that God has done and is doing in our lives and in our hearts. But, I have lived. Breathed. Laughed. Cried. And looked at things differently, seeing beauty in even the upside down.

Given

There is a mystery I cannot even describe faithfully, and never explain.

Family, friends and aquaintances (and yes, even blog readers!)

have been moved to action, inspired by God to reach out to me

in tangible, hold-it-in-your-hand ways. It amazes me how generous God's people are!

There have been several times over the last 6 weeks that I have thrown a temper-tantrum at God. Self-pity and whining take over, and I momentarily forget the ways the ways he has moved in others to help me.

So, humbled because of my pride and my need, I express my thanks to you. Each one of you has done the unexpected, what I never would have dreamed, and for this I am deeply grateful. You are on my "counting my blessings" list!

Broken

In our American church culture, this is a glamourized

word....

One song even says: sweetly broken.

The past 2 years and 2 months have been

full of breaking.....

and it's not pretty. It's not gentle.

Today my heart just hurts.

Comfort and Compassion

I know, O Lord, that your laws are righteous,

and in faithfulness you have afflicted me.

May your unfailing love be my comfort,

according to your promise to your servant.

Let your compassion come to me that I may live,

for your law is my delight.

~Psalm 119:75-77

Tears come, flooding hot and bitter.

Additional blows,

an extra sting in the wound of loss.

How much more can I take?

How much more does He have in store for me?

I am tired, weary, and yes,

angry.

Beauty will come,

{I know}

but for now,

it's just ashes.

More about Benjamin

Benjamin weighed 5 ounces, and was 10 inches long, born at 9:22 pm on April 7th.

~

He is buried next to his big sister, Ellie Rene', and they will share a headstone.

(After all the hospital and dr. bills are paid.)

~

He is surrounded by the love of his family: a blanket knit by me and a burial casket built by Daddy.

~

He is named for my dad. Ellie's middle name is my mothers. I hate it that both of my parents namesakes are in heaven.

~

We miss him. Our grief over Ellie as a daughter was a loss of something unknown.....a daughter. But Benjamin....we know the joys that boys bring. The dirt, the mud, the wrestling! We miss seeing Ben's version of boyhood in our home!

Benjamin Curt

Grandpa and his boys......at the cemetary.Ian cries at being told to sit down,

and we have to laugh through our own tears.

Grandpa Curt,

my daddy,

Benjamin's namesake.

Benjamin's little feet, perfect to the toes, and smudgy.....

something to hold in my hands.