Life Unedited: Point and Shoot Summer

New business venture for Isaac...








Frequent "camping" on the deck...





Many hours at the pool...








Swim team (Go Marlins!)...








Building fairy houses under the Magnolia tree...








Cute Jackson...





Falling asleep while Mama reads aloud (currently "Because of Winn-Dixie"... such a great book)... 





Watching Mr. Larry build Mama's screen porch...





Adding something special to Joel's Tree...





Playing soccer on Daddy's homemade field...

Groans of the Heart

News of a boy, Isaac's age, just miles from our home, drowning last night. My friend notified me of this horror, as this boy was her dear friend's son. He was taken to our local hospital... the place we lost Joel. The place I thought we were going to lose Daniel this past January.


My heart is sick. Wrestling with this knowledge of God's sovereignty, knowing he not only allows this horrifying pain, but ordains it. Again the devil whispers, "Who is this God of love?" And the sinful fear creeps in... what if I lose MY 9 year old? How would I ever face another day? He's at the pool as I type this, what if something happens, and the coach doesn't notice? Or what if he doesn't pay attention while crossing the road back home?


Tasting the pain of loss, having my protective bubble burst, only makes the paralyzing fear grip my heart... the "what ifs" are overwhelming. They are also a logical waste of time and energy.


I will say, that as much as I WANT Joel to be here, and my heart desires different circumstances, when the protective bubble burst, this world became less shiny, and the veil between heaven and earth became a little more transparent. We are not meant for this broken world, and God wants us to understand that life here is fleeting. The eternal is what matters most, although the faith we have here has everlasting effect.


What if what the Bible says is true?


For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.
Ephesians 6:12 (ESV)


I told my friend the other day that I feel like we are living in "the Matrix". Most people seem to robot their way through life (myself included), but what we don't see with our eyes is truly powerful, and far beyond our imaginations. God's provision of pain and loss in our lives, seemingly contrasts the thought that He is love. However, what if the gut wrenching pain gives us a glimpse into what is real? Not the physical world, but that which is eternal. 


But the day of the Lord will come as unexpectedly as a thief. Then the heavens will pass away with a terrible noise, and the very elements themselves will disappear in fire, and the earth and everything on it will be found to deserve judgment.
2 Peter 3:10 (NLT)


Why are we clinging to things that will burn? Including, our physical bodies? Every person born in the 1800s is dead (save for maybe one or two born at the end of that century). The 1800s was not that long ago. Soon enough, we will all be dead, too. I'm not trying to be depressing, or morbid. I'm just being real. It's the norm for most of us in the US to simply deny that death is coming. We are encouraged to deny this by spending buckets of money on trying to stop the signs of aging.


What is important? That is all I am asking in my heart. What truly matters in the grand scheme of this life? There must be purpose in the pain. For in order to believe God really is a God of love, the pain must be worked out for good in the eternal. We just don't see it yet. And for now, my heart groans, waiting for that day.

 

Doggy Paddle

At the swim meet yesterday, a little boy, maybe 4 or 5 years old, was swimming. He hadn't mastered any sort of true stroke... it was a modified doggy paddle with his entire head submerged except for his face, which was tilted toward the sky. He slowly moved across the pool in such a manner that you thought he might not make it, and maybe, just maybe, someone might need to grab him up out of the water. I couldn't help but think, Kid, I know exactly how you feel. 

He did make it to the other side, without stopping to rest on the lane rope, and without putting his feet on the bottom. It wasn't pretty, but he made it. And I guess that's what's important... he did not sink, he did not give up, he kept his eyes looking upward, and he finished the race.


I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.
2 Timothy 4:7

Light Shining Out of the Darkness

I picked up one of my English books from high school while cleaning out (Immortal Poems of the English Language), and figured a little poetry might be good for the soul. Found a gem written by William Cowper (1731-1800).


Light Shining Out of the Darkness


God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
And rides upon the storm.


Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.


Ye fearful saints fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.


Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence, 
He hides a smiling face.


His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour:
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.


Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter, 
And he will make it plain.

One Day

One day, was all we had, to enjoy our 5th babies together, freely, without fear.

The day after a healthy heartbeat was heard. You were over 10 weeks along.

And I sat with a growing belly, almost 17 weeks, looking forward to the soon to come ultrasound.

One day was all we had, without fear, to bask in the sun, enjoying being pregnant together.


A Friday morning, as our pre-schoolers played in the yard, and we sat, dreaming.


Dreaming of the "what if's."


What if we both have girls, wouldn't that be fun?


What will we be naming them? Beautiful names already chosen.


What day will they be born? Only a month apart in age.

Rejoicing. Dreaming. Hoping.

One precious day was all we had.

To Be Homesick

As written by D. A. Carson:


In September 1542, Magdalene, one of the daughters of Martin Luther, lay dying, her father weeping at her side. He asked her, " Magdalen, my dear little daughter, would you like to stay her with your father, or would you willingly go to your Father yonder?"


Magdalene answered, "Darling father, as God wills." Luther wept, holding his daughter in his arms, praying that God might free her; and she died.


As she was laid in her coffin, Martin Luther declared, "Darling Lena, you will rise and shine like a star, yea like the sun...I am happy in spirit, but the flesh is sorrowful and will not be content, the parting grieves me beyond measure...I have sent a saint to heaven."


Is not some of the pain and sorrow in this life used in God's providential hand to make us homesick for heaven, to detach us from this world, to prepare us for heaven, to draw our attention to himself, and away from the world of merely physical things?

In Psalm 90 we see that as Moses stares at death, he thinks through its relation to life, to sin, to God, and strives to understand what death means. And then he asks for wisdom to live his life in light of that death. He would have utterly scorned the modern mood that wants to live life as if death were not there waiting for us at the end. Moses wants us "to remember our days," that is, to recognize the limit that is imposed on us, and to live with that limit in full view. Only in this way can we "gain a heart of wisdom."

Psalm 90

A prayer of Moses the man of God.

¹ Lord, you have been our dwelling place
    throughout all generations.
² Before the mountains were born
    or you brought forth the whole world,
    from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

³ You turn people back to dust,
    saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.”
⁴ A thousand years in your sight
    are like a day that has just gone by,
    or like a watch in the night.
⁵ Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death—
    they are like the new grass of the morning:
⁶ In the morning it springs up new,
    but by evening it is dry and withered.

⁷ We are consumed by your anger
    and terrified by your indignation.
⁸ You have set our iniquities before you,
    our secret sins in the light of your presence.
⁹ All our days pass away under your wrath;
    we finish our years with a moan.
¹⁰ Our days may come to seventy years,
    or eighty, if our strength endures;
yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow,
    for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
¹¹ If only we knew the power of your anger!
    Your wrath is as great as the fear that is your due.
¹² Teach us to number our days,
    that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

¹³ Relent, Lord! How long will it be?
    Have compassion on your servants.
¹⁴ Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
    that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.
¹⁵ Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
    for as many years as we have seen trouble.
¹⁶ May your deeds be shown to your servants,
    your splendor to their children.

¹⁷ May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us;
    establish the work of our hands for us—
    yes, establish the work of our hands.

The Made-Up Days

We've never really celebrated Father's Day (or Mother's Day) aside from maybe some handmade items, and a card or phone call to the respective parent. I mean, they aren't real holidays, and it seems Hallmark, florists, and ugly tie makers may have been a proponent of these "special" days.


I have never stood on the side of how hurtful these days can be for those grieving. For me, Mother's Day is obviously never going to be the same. Forever scarred, I doubt I will ever get through a Mother's Day without feeling the sting of loss. I didn't know how I would feel about Father's Day. It has been met without fanfare, I can't even say Happy Father's day to my dear husband (every time I think about it I get a lump in my throat). Because it's not happy. We both know it.


What about the other large portion of our population? The majority may have not buried a child, but many have buried a parent. Or how about those folks who desire to be parents, but have never been able to have their own child? Or people who had dead-beat or abusive parents who don't deserve a special day?


While I love my father, I don't want a day that feels forced. I want him to know that I love him everyday. That I pray for him, that I think about him, that I appreciate him. I want my children to show respect for their Daddy every day, and thank him routinely for his sacrifices of love.


Does anyone else out there feel like these instituted federal holidays seem trite? Or is it just my grief griping?

Words

It's amazing how words can help heal. I crave reading the words of others who have gone through suffering, the wisdom they bring, the comfort of knowing I will be okay someday. Words can come through other blogs, books, emails, or songs. Small steps in healing sometimes comes from a written note, or just a good conversation with a friend.


My own words, even if a simple expression of what I am feeling in the moment, help me get out the pain.


Right now, I am about to start a book call "Be Still My Soul." It is a compilation of 25 classic and contemporary readings on the problem of pain. It includes people such as Joni Eareckson Tada, R.C. Sproul, John Piper, John Calvin, Sinclair Ferguson,  Corrie ten Boom, and Jonathan Edwards just to name a few. With wisdom filled vessels of this nature (plus many more), I am hoping to grasp onto a little peace and hope. Maybe I'll have to give a book review when I'm done... which should be in a couple of days as I feel famished for soothing words.

On the opposite side, music helps me feel an expression of the anger I have... I suppose a healthier option than bottling it up. It helps me to listen to angry lyrics, or at least lyrics that tap into my rage. Obviously, there's not much in the realm of Christian music that does this for me. It doesn't seem "christian" to be angry at God, or just angry in general, now does it? My guess is, there are a lot of angry children of God walking around out there. And as a friend or two recently reminded me: God can handle my anger. That truth alone is very comforting. If interested... here are two songs I've been playing loud lately... and yes, I understand that most people won't get why I like these songs, and "turn down that dag nab loud rock-n-roll you heathen" etc. etc., so be forewarned (no cursing in these, so I guess I'm not a total heathen):

A Foo Fighters song that was written by by the lead singer Dave Grohl. My gist of the lyrics (from my in depth googling of the song) is that he is singing about the loss of a former close friend who committed suicide back in 1994 (I remember it well, I was a freshman in high school). The song is sung to people who told him "it's alright, you will get over it."



The other song I've been blasting is an Incubus song. I had this album in college, so that tells you it's not a recent song. But sometimes I feel like bursting into flames, so I figured it's a good time for me to dig it up.

One Month

One month has gone by. 
It makes me want to curse.
I hate the number 13.
I hate Mother's Day.
I hate trudging through each day, just to get to the next.
I hate cruel ironies. 


Today, I am angry.

School's Out for Summer!

Last day of school for Isaac and Lauralyn was last Friday.


I am so proud of all they have accomplished this year!


It's official, Isaac will be in fourth grade next year (with EC modifications to help him), Lauralyn will be in second grade (still deciding on whether to homeschool her or not), Kristin will be going to kindergarten, and Daniel will be spending his last year of pre-school at home!

Psalm 143

Lord, hear my prayer,
    listen to my cry for mercy;
in your faithfulness and righteousness
    come to my relief.
² Do not bring your servant into judgment,
    for no one living is righteous before you.
³ The enemy pursues me,
    he crushes me to the ground;
he makes me dwell in the darkness
    like those long dead.
⁴ So my spirit grows faint within me;
    my heart within me is dismayed.
⁵ I remember the days of long ago;
    I meditate on all your works
    and consider what your hands have done.
⁶ I spread out my hands to you;
    I thirst for you like a parched land.

⁷ Answer me quickly, Lord;
    my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me
    or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
⁸ Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
    for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
    for to you I entrust my life.
⁹ Rescue me from my enemies, Lord,
    for I hide myself in you.
¹⁰ Teach me to do your will,
    for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
    lead me on level ground.

¹¹ For your name’s sake, Lord, preserve my life;
    in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble.
¹² In your unfailing love, silence my enemies;
    destroy all my foes,
    for I am your servant.

Psalm 31:9

I replay in my head that wretched moment. The instant I knew I was going to lose my baby. When on that Mother's Day morning, as I was being slow to rise from an uncomfortable night of restless sleep, and my water broke. That split second, I knew. Terror set in immediately.


I screamed for Noah. "Noah?! Noah?!" And when he responded, I answered horrified, "I'm losing the baby!" The tears were immediate. I bawled knowing that I was facing uncharted depths of pain. "I can't do this, I can't do this," I repeated over and over.


But I had no choice. In that moment, a wave crashed over me. I was overtaken. My abilities were stripped to nothing. I was powerless to stop it.


Here I sit, still sputtering for air. That morning plays in my head like a broken record. Every horrifying moment trapped in my head.


There are no words for the pain. The anger. Just the groans of my soul pleading for mercy.


Will the nightmare ever cease? Or will it simply get fuzzy as time slowly passes? My heart screams into the darkness. I'm mirage of my former self. All while the Father of Lies whispers in my ear, "Who is this God of love?"


I want this all to slip away, a distant terror of the night, that is no more when my eyes open. 

I just want my baby.

Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress;
    my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
    my soul and body with grief.
  Psalm 31:9
 

Deja Vu

Noah had reminded be that Daniel and Kristin weren't the first duo to make themselves comfortable on our back deck. Click HERE to see Isaac and Lauralyn's version. Our cypress trees were so tiny 5 years ago! Of course, K and D's version was on a much grander scale.


We have a builder coming out soon to replace the boards on that deck, add a roof, and turn it into a screen porch. Now if I could just keep the kids from turning it into their own living room.

Normal creeps in.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
Hebrews 4:16

Words don't come easily to explain the aching in my heart.

Normal creeps in. I can act okay. Sometimes, I actually feel okay. Our days aren't changed. Immediate plans haven't altered. Thoughts, questions, hopes, memories, all continue to whirl around in my my mind. All while Normal sneaks his way back in. Today, I wanted to punch Normal in the face. Because I know he's a liar. I know he's not really the Normal I once knew and loved. He's the new Normal. And he's a jerk.

Dinner with friends last night filled with typical conversation. Watching the boys wrestle shirtless in the grass, entertaining all the adult with their antics. It was nice, but never leaving my mind the boy who will never get to wrestle shirtless with his brothers. Today I weep over the loss of future memories to be made. No sweet newborn first grins. No chubby cheeked toddler, with soft curls clinging to his mama's leg. No looking up to his big brothers as his heroes. 

I can't help but wonder, would he have looked anything like this?:



Or maybe he would have had brown hair and eyes like Kristin? Or maybe he would have been my first blue eyed child?


I know in my head that Joel isn't missing out on anything. He isn't sad that those memories will never be made. However, I feel robbed.

I do have hope that more children will join our family. Lord willing, my aching arms won't be empty forever. The problem is, how do I ever become okay with Joel's absence? Will people think I'm crazy for missing a child I never really knew? Is his worth decreased because he never saw my face?


In our society, thousands of babies the same gestational age that Joel was are aborted each year because they have been deemed an inconvenience. How much more then, will my perpetual grief be viewed as foolishness? 

In memory of Joel, I feel a deep desire to love on babies who may not have loving arms to hold them. To minister to women who are so damaged by life, they can't properly care for their child. Am I inviting more sadness into my life? Or will I be given the grace needed to face each challenge?


Lord, I plead with you to give me strength, peace, wisdom and grace. Help me to focus on what the future holds instead of my hatred for the new Normal. And please tell Joel his mama loves him.


“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. ” 
2 Corinthians 12:9b

OurCrazyFarm (Link)

I have been following the writings of a fellow mom and sister in Christ, Terri, for over a year now. I don't remember how I found her blog, but it has been a favorite of mine. She is in Wisconsin, doing what I wish we could do: live on a farm surrounded by animals.


Sixteen months ago, Terri's son Trent died in a skiing accident on a youth trip. She has been very candid in her writings about the journey through grief unimaginable... but she has held on to the hope there is in Christ. Such an encouragement to me, especially now as we work through our own suffering.


Today's post spoke so sweetly to my heart: Thousands Elsewhere


If you are looking for encouragement today, take some time to visit OurCrazyFarm.

Amazon = Dangerous

I got sucked into the Amazon vortex this afternoon. You know... go onto Amazon for one specific needed item (in my case, new Protect-a-Bed covers for my 2 bedwetters), and then decide to "look around." That was my first mistake, as Amazon has the amazing ability to tell me what I would like, and give me the tantalizing reviews of said items, and before I know it, (an hour later), I have 11 items in my cart. Oops. I am feel justified in this since 4 of those items are different books/devotionals on grief and coping with the loss of a baby.


While I spent my hour in the Amazon, my two pre-schoolers were busy. Lord, HAVE MERCY.


I knew this was evidence that something bad was happening:
Note: looking back (hindsight 20/20), my first clue should have been them playing quietly and happily for so long... these two are notorious screamers/criers as they have a knack for aggravating each other. 






Keep in mind, this closet was PACKED full of towels, blankets, sheets, pillowcases, quilts, bedspreads, and pillows. So jammed packed, I really couldn't fit anything else in there... even the floor had a pile of sleeping bags and a comforter. And I found it empty.


Here is why:











The pictures really don't do this creation justice. It took me ONE FULL HOUR to re-fold everything. There were probably 10 layers at least.


The good news is, my kids are cute and creative, so I didn't kill them. I may have been a little grumpy about the clean up process. (By "a little", I mean a lot). The silver lining, however, is that my linen closet is now neat and organized. I gathered a large pile to donate to Goodwill, and a bunch of baby blankets and towels to store elsewhere.


Anybody want to invite my darlings over to help you clean out a closet or two? They have an interesting method, but apparently, it works.

Update: I realize I am outing myself on the fact my kids were still wearing their mismatched pajamas in the afternoon. What can I say? Motherhood isn't always glamorous. I had more pressing matters at hand, obviously. Amazon depends on suckers like me.

Hope in the Unseen

The past few days have been somewhat peaceful. Granted my house is a hot mess, our dryer is broken and must be replaced, I have photos needing to be edited, and always on my mind, the child I am missing.


After such turmoil and sadness, a light of hope has appeared within my sight. Don't get me wrong, I can cry on a dime... but I don't want to. That saying "Life is for the living," keeps popping into my head. Joel is experiencing joy I can't fathom. I, however, have things that must be accomplished. Yet at the same time, I know I can't shove my grief under the carpet and hope for the best.


There are moments that catch me off guard. Noah held a friend's 2 month old son yesterday... I couldn't even look at him for fear of the emotions that would bring to the surface. I can look at babies, and not feel sad. I even held my friend's 3 month old daughter and enjoyed embracing her sweet frame. But to see Noah holding a baby boy about undid me. It's been so long since he's held a baby, the last one he probably held was Daniel.

I hurt. The kind of hurt I have feared to experience. The kind of hurt that I wasn't sure I could survive. Yet, I'm still here. I wish I could erase the memories of that day, horrifying and full of anguish. But then I would erase the beauty of his hand on my finger. I'm not willing to lose the memory of him, in order to ease my pain.


The peace I have been given is simply based on hope in the unseen. The hope that one day I will be reunited with my son. The hope that God's plan for my life is far better than I can imagine. The hope that all of these heartbreaking trials have a greater purpose. Faith that God will fulfill his promises.


This is a disjointed entry... but I suppose that reflects my life right now. Chaotic, sad, with a touch of peace, hope and joy mixed in.

Four

Today, I praise God for the life of my 4th child.


He is a delight in our lives, full of laughter, creativity, strength, and intelligence.


I am beyond blessed to be his mama, beyond blessed to know he's my son.


Today, he proudly exclaims with a grin, "I'm the birthday boy!"


Happy birthday, my sweet boy... happy birthday, Daniel.