I just saw a post that another family’s photos of their little ones may be lost. My heart split apart at the possibility. Please pray–fall at the feet of our Sovereign LORD–that the card is still readable and that the photos are recovered! Jedidiah’s pictures mean so much to me, and I can’t express how much my heart broke when I found out that his raw video footage was deleted. If it is God’s will, please pray that they get the photos taken of their little ones.
November 5, 2014
Be*loved, be*lov*ed… GO*love, be*lov*ed!
Romans 1:7 “to all who are beloved of God in Rome, called as saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
While reading this morning, I came across the word beloved in Romans 1:7. It had a letter cross-reference letter before it (I was reading in the NASB copyright 1977). I am drawn to the word beloved whenever I see it in Scripture. The reference verses were Romans 5:5 and 8:39.
“3 And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; 4 and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; 5 and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” Romans 5:3-5
“37 But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:37-39
Ahh, God loves us!!! Circumstances of pain on this floating ball of rock cannot stop the flow of love–His love and our outpouring of His love to our fellow man. Hope does NOT disappoint. We hope for change. We hope for joy. We hope for love. And, nothing, NOTHING, will ever separate us from Him and from our ability to reach out in our sufferings to love the person hurting beside us.
Let’s not stop of at the warm-fuzzy “oh, I am loved; isn’t God great” feeling. God is in the little things; He is in the big things; He is in all things in between. He cares about the election we just had and the results; He cares about the young girl being trafficked as I type this (and He equips brave warriors I know to work hard and pray harder to remove her from that life); He wants us to reach out and love… LOVE. Be kind, caring, compassionate. Look for those people who might not help you but whom you might help. Look into the eyes of the people you pass and CARE what their answer is to your habitual, “How are you?” Let’s revolutionize the segment of people we have contact with in order to revolutionize the world. Be intentional!
June 10, 2014
I haven’t posted in a while.
I haven’t written in a while. There are many reasons why. One, our lives have been so turned up side down with a new little one. Yes, Joseph Michael–whose name means “God will increase; who is like God?–made his way into the world in early March. Two, I wanted to announce it in grand fashion, yet, at the same time, I wanted to keep everything to myself. Three, what do I say? Will I repeat myself? Joseph’s birth brought up many past struggles. Four, will it matter? I am a rain poet. My writing, my blogging, is designed to help me get through the tough stuff and to stay honest, open, and transparent (H.O.T.) in this world of fake smiles and breaking hearts. I want to glorify the LORD, always, in all I say and do. I fail miserably at times. In fact, my Bible reading and devotional time has been sorely lacking in the past four months or so. How do I point everyone to Him when I haven’t been keeping focused on Him myself? Five, it is hard for me to sit down and write the good stuff. And, thankfully, there has been so much “good stuff!”
But, here goes. In December, my family had the opportunity to participate in a research study about how parents help their children grieve the loss of a sibling. Through that study, I realized that I wanted a huge juxtaposition from Jedidiah’s birth for our new baby. Whereas, anyone and everyone was welcome to join us for Jedidiah’s labor, delivery, and few hours together, with Joseph I asked everyone, including my own mother and children, to stay away as Jim and I welcomed this new little one to our family. I see other mamas invite in their family, and I felt selfish and rude, yet I needed to begin this little one’s life focused on him and him alone. Ever try getting out of your own way?!
And, quite honestly, I had no idea how I would react. I have had five unmedicated births, and with three of them now, I am a screamer. Not the whole time, mind you, just during pushing. (Guess what? It helps. But, I digress.) Knowing that each birth is unique (and unmedicated childbirth is tough enough), I didn’t want an audience this time. I just didn’t know how I was going to be able to get through another birth after giving birth to my little man and losing him. I didn’t want anyone around to see me lose it if I lost it. I didn’t want their opinions, their sympathy, their looks to each other from across the room, their sighs, their tears, or their joy, their elation, their praises when I might be feeling the opposite of them. I was selfish.
With all my other deliveries, I remember minute details; it is kinda creepy. With Joseph, my husband tells me he was rubbing my back through most of the last two hours. I do not remember it. Labor with Joseph was prayer after prayer after prayer with every contraction except one. One contraction in five hours was the only time I was not falling at the feet of our LORD. Why? Well, one reason… labor hurts. 🙂 But, also, because I could not possibly have gotten through bringing this sweet blessing into the world without the LORD holding me as He always has. Would I be able to give birth or would I just give up?
In a way, I did give up. I just let contraction after contraction wave over me even though I was complete. I was spent, and I didn’t want to face my inadequacy of possibility not being “over my grief.” God had shown me His love and His power and His glory, and, now, He had blessed me again with another son. I should be focused and strong. And, I was, but what if I wasn’t at the moment it was needed? I overthink things, and I just couldn’t think, feel, or move anymore.
So, the LORD made sure that Joseph needed my focus (he was decelling–sp??) and He made sure that I realized that I just couldn’t do this alone. My doctor, my husband, and the technician were there helping me stay focused and strong to bring Joseph into the world without emergency surgery.
I needed to be led through the birthing process; I had to return to the step-by-step process of the details of delivery.
I need to be led to the glory and refreshment of God’s Word; I need to return to the step-by-step process of spiritual disciplines and deepening relationship with the Creator of the universe, the Creator of my heart.
February 17, 2014
Washed Away
Washed away
in a sea of busy-ness
Washed away
in a mountain of time
Washed away
by my salty tears
washed away
by the passing years
Washed away
from the hurt of yesterday
Washed away
fading more every day
Washed away…
Jim and I pulled the boys’ little blue outfit out of the shadow box in the early morning hours yesterday. Jim had placed it in there almost three years ago before Jedidiah’s memorial service. He had forgotten that he was the one who pinned it into place. He didn’t remember that Jedidiah’s foot ID was still in the toe. I cried; he held me. The day began and we moved on.
Being over 37 weeks, I need to move into gear to get ready for Baby. I have to wash the baby’s clothes. I had wondered about the little blue outfit, if it would still smell like Jedidiah. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it more to or not to. It is a bit musty, but there is a faint scent of my little man on there. I don’t know if I can put it into the washing machine; I don’t know if I can wash away the last connection of his earthly body that I have.
Yet, tradition holds that each of my boys wear the little blue outfit. Of course, it has been through many boys and many washings and had been purchased by my sister specifically to fit within the first day or two, a preemie-sized outfit. My biggest boy thus far only wore it for a few minutes because his legs were already too long, and since Baby is measuring bigger than that brother did, part of me wants to break with tradition.
Why does tradition matter? What makes it compelling enough to make us move into areas of discomfort? For me, it is the tradition that helps identify the bonds of sibling and familial connection. We have considered naming Baby without a “J” beginning, and I am considering the removing of the little blue outfit wearing and picture. Those things would not make my son any less my son or any less his brothers’ brother. Yet, I remember the unique, unusual names that almost all the women of my family had, except me. I felt left out, unimportant. Now, as an adult, I don’t feel that way, but it is the reality of my childish feelings. I don’t want Baby to feel left out; I want him to know he is part of an amazing family (that drives me nuts and has its daily moments of rudeness and frustration, but amazing, nonetheless).
I also want him to know that he is unique. Finding the balance of tradition and uniqueness is not new to me since our loss of Jedidiah, yet it has new importance. Baby must know that he is not Jedidiah’s replacement. He must know that he is loved and cared for no matter who his older brother(s) is/are. He must know that he holds a place in my heart and a place in this family that no one else could ever hold.
November 18, 2013
Baby clothes
With a new baby boy on the way, I am trying to prepare my heart for baby clothes. Baby clothes? Yes, baby clothes. Walking by the baby section of a store was excruciatingly painful for many months after Jedidiah’s death, but that is not to what I am referring. The only baby clothes we have left from our many blessings are the few that I purchased just in case Jedidiah lived for a few days. I didn’t want to have to run out to the store or worry about getting new clothes washed before he could wear them. Now that we know that Baby is a boy, I can put those clothes on Baby instead of Jedidiah. While there are emotions there, it isn’t bad. The outfit that I am scared, yes, scared, to prepare for Baby is the cute little blue outfit that all of my boys have worn.
You see, after Jedidiah’s bath, we put him in that outfit. He didn’t wear anything else until after his death. I placed that outfit on our front table after Jedidiah died, and when we got ready for his memorial celebration, I placed it in a shadow box. I remember picking it up, and his sweet, sweet smell surrounding me. I placed it lovingly in the shadow box frame with plans to put pictures of each of the boys in that outfit inside the frame, too. I couldn’t find the pictures in time for the celebration, so it just held the empty outfit; it seemed fitting in a way since I was empty—empty in so many ways.
Now, I need to take the outfit out of its shadow box—a shadow box that is not hanging but lying covered in a drawer because of the pain instead of joy that it brings me. I obviously don’t have to put the outfit on Baby. I’m sure no one would care, but each of my sons have worn it, and I don’t want that to change. And, through time and God’s healing ways, I know in my heart that He will restore the precious, positive, wonderful memories instead of the thoughts of emptiness.
But, I am scared–scared that maybe a bit of Jedidiah’s smell will still be there but even more scared that it won’t be.
We are Jedidiah. 