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.

  

A Little Limbo

I am learning,  trying to learn,  how to live in this new life.    Prepared as I was for what was could have been,  and thrilled as I am with what is,  I am at a loss sometimes.   The past years have been so draining,  emotionally and physically,  that it is going to take awhile to re-ajust.   There are still holes,  still wounds.   As much as I didn't want this to become a grief blog,  I also didn't want my life to be defined by my losses.   And yet,  I have changed.  So so much has changed.   Sometimes I am not sure of how to be happy,  of how to fully live in the blessing God has given.

If
I
am
honest,
it's because
I am still afraid.

I am now in the thick of all I've wanted.  My arms have been miraculously filled, and now,  as I watch him grow so very quickly,  I realize how afraid I am of failure.  Being a parent is the hardest thing I've ever been blessed to do  (understatement).   All of my boys need so much,  and I am so limited.   God is endless,  and prayers for help and wisdom he does not ignore.

Happy Birthday, Ellie!!

24 weeks with my little girl....such a short time,

but how she has changed my life!

It's like a little secret....I have a daughter!!

There have been comments and questions 

(even more now that we have James)

asking about "trying" for a girl.

Most the time I just smile and say...

"We'll see!"

but inside I have this little monologue:

"Hey, sweet girl....I miss you,

and apparently everyone else,  even perfect strangers

can see that there is something missing in our little family...

a bouncy little girl!"

Ellie would be three today!

There are still moments of profound sadness and longing over
my Ellie,

but lately,  mostly just anticipation.  

She is safe and secure,

it's just a matter of time

until we touch again.



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.

Happy Birthday, Ellie

Are you 2 in heaven, the way I imagine you? Do you have your daddy's blue eyes? Your grandpa's curls?

Your roses are blooming, profuse color: fragrance and beauty.

Not a day goes by without my thoughts turning to you! Most often it's with wistful longing brought into submission to Peace when I contemplate your complete happiness, consider your fulfilled joy as you see and live in His presence.

I remind myself of life's moment....it's almost here, then, when I find the day has come to be with my Lord, and there experience what you have ahead of me. How I long for the day when my faith shall be made sight! Jesus, come quickly!!!

Ellie, we're going camping today. We'll hike and play and eat s'mores. You would have loved the extra big marshmallows I bought just for today. We all miss you, and say your name with a smile on our lips and a song in our hearts.

Through the Valley

Somedays I just wake up feeling like crying, and by noon, know it would have been better off for me to have my weep before breakfast, instead of dragging it on through the day. Today my heart is just heavy. It has been two years to the day since we buried our little girl, and I still go by the cemetery and think, "It can't be!"

As always, I sit and stare at the screen, wondering how much, and what, and if, do I say anything at all?

These two years have been like twenty (I feel soooo old!) and yet, I can praise God for answering my prayers, for keeping my family whole while I was blinded by grief. I know that my boys bear the marks of this, too, but in a good way. Their faith and hope in God is so strong. Braden's first response when we told him of the new baby, was "If this baby dies, it will be OK, because Ellie had the best life ever. Just straight to God....none of this yucky stuff." If my eight year old can see that life on earth is not all there is, then this is only God! I have failed them often, often, often as a mother. From the start, I begged God to let me still be a good mom, since I can't afford to give up years of our children's lives! But these have been ugly years, when my selfishness and sinfulness have shown, a painful and humiliating process. My dear husband has borne the brunt of my ugliness, and yet continues to love and serve me in the strength of Christ. I am thankful for him and the way he has been a direct flow of God's love in tangible ways, while suffering himself.

I miss my little Ellie, I wish she was going to get to be a big sister this fall. But I am convinced, through this suffering more than ever, that heaven is just a breath away, and God's promises of rewards and restitution are more real to me than ever. There will be a time when ALL our tears are gone. Hard to fathom right now. But it's going to be good.

At the End: 2009

This year has been unspeakable.

Blogging has been a struggle

as I sincerely could not find

the words to convey the

depth of my misery,

culminating in March.

But now, equally, the words are just as evasive, as I recount the healing that God has done in my heart over the last nine months. Day by day he has strengthened me, restored me.

Weeping in despair, anger, loneliness and depression has been replaced by singing, laughter, smiles, and

acceptance-with-joy.

God is good, and God is all there is.

Run with him in 2010!