beauty among the brown.

Today was an early Michigan Spring that begged us all outside.

For me, springtime absolutely takes the cake when it comes to the 4 seasons we experience here in the midwest and I take special delight in its arrival signs.   The first weed in the garden,  my first robin sighting,  and oh, the rejoicing when I first lay eyes on a blooming daffodil!

Last week, as a family we journeyed to spend a week in Florida.  I marveled the whole trip down.  Each state greener than the last as the temperatures rose and the clouds cleared.   Usually, about Virginia I find my daffodils.
I squeal, "there they are!" and my family teases me for the rest of the trip.
It's not quite the same on the trek back home.  Not so much marveling as mourning as we cross state lines back to Michigan. It's remarkable, really. The closer we get to the Mitten the cloudier and browner it gets.  Last year,  and I am not kidding -- the moment we passed the border to our home state,  it started raining.   5 years ago when we returned from a Spring Break trip a storm would come to pass in our lives.

Today I was neck deep in post vacation laundry chaos but finally made it out of my robe at noon to go outside to hang a couple of white shirts on the clothesline. I glanced around looking for emerging signs of life and suddenly remembered the special daffs that grew rogue amongst the brush and tangle behind the shed.   I couldn't find them at first and felt a bit desperate.  So special these daffodils because of the year my daughter Joy discovered them and came running into the house to gift them to me.
"They just have to be here" I thought.
And then I spotted them.
I was filled with gratitude.  As long as the earth endures!
Life bursting up through last year's death.
For me, among many things in the last 5 years, daffodils have been a symbol of God's goodness.
His sovereignty.
His grace.
His love.

5 years ago this night I was quietly admitted to the hospital and we numbly waited on my delivery of our 5th baby who was still, who had passed in my womb. We named her April. I don't think my typed words can rightly express how wonderful and beautifully made she was, how loved she is, and how painful it was. I speak of the pain in somewhat past tense as 5 years has given us much healing and hindsight. It's all I wanted back then, you know... to rush to the future, to restoration, back to the normal. But time does not speed nor slow. In this life we are given sorrow but promised that good will come from it. Friends,  so much good has come, I have been taught so much.  We are grateful.  Let's go out for coffee and I will tell you all about it.

That day, much like today Spring had sprung all around but I couldn't see it through my swollen eyes and broken heart.  Today I see. I trusted through the hurt that each new Spring, when the daffodils blossomed -  I'd know God's grace in greater measure.  The only way to move forward after you've handed over your lifeless baby to a nurse only to go home empty 5 minutes later, is to continue to lay it all down at the feet of Christ. The months and years went by and He is faithful.
My challenge, my lifeline during these times of trial is to see the gifts God gives,  trust His sufficiency, and rest in His love.

God can bring New Life to the hopeless heart.
His Grace is certain and His Salvation sure.
He will display beauty among the brown.

April's Story

Ham on Buns.

Sometimes I'm so oddly conscious of things that some folks might not give a first thought to... much less a second thought or a 15th thought.   Often, it bugs me that I'm this way.  Sometimes it's exactly how I grow...

My first unsettled experience with ham-on-buns came about 17 years ago.

Wait.   Ham-on-buns, you (did or did not) ask?

In the mid-western,  religious, Dutch influenced culture where I've grown up, life events most always involve food.   Okay,  food at life events aren't just ritual in our little corner,  but ham-on-buns may just be.   As my life has been filled with weddings, baptisms, graduations, and funerals-- often included like part of the family is the tray of lunch meat on buttered rolls (buns) and starchy side dishes.   
Ham-on-buns.  It's what's for dinner. 

Okay, back to the story. 

I was 20 and my paternal grandmother had passed away. Following the funeral service I watched my male cousins carry and lift the casket gently into the hearse.   

A touching moment. 

Witnessing my older, tall  and normally jovial cousins visibly and audibly emotional was uncomfortable.   
And sad.  
And good.   But it didn't last long.   
I sensed there was but a brief window for that kind of emotional let go, as moments later we were being quietly instructed to go to the basement for lunch. 

"What!??"  I thought.   "How am I supposed to feel this kind of sorrow one minute and indifferently slather mayo on a sandwich, the next?" 

No way.

I'd dare to assume at this point most normal people would be anxious to move things along.  Grief is not an enjoyable state,  eating lunch is.  But as I sat there staring at the foam plate and bakery bun,  I was somber and silent.    17 years ago, I found absolutely no value in the post funeral luncheon.  

And then we went home.

Early this spring my paternal grandfather (Gramps) entered his eternal home and many of the same scenes and faces from Grandma's funeral were present at his.  It was, in part a thankful celebration.  Of the life he lived and loved,  and of God's faithfulness to our ever growing family-- of Jesus' redemption in Grandpa's life. 

  

All of the great times,  the painful times,  the strong as well as strained relationships were brought to the first five rows of church pews that morning.  We lifted our voices in "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" and it will go down as one of the most precious moments of my life.  

Following the service and recessional I felt the now familiar inner struggle welling up.  Slip away and grieve, or line up for ham?   I hugged my Dad, my husband, my brother.  I could have stayed there all day.   Then from the corner of my eye I saw my eldest daughter embrace my mom and begin to weep.  I know she loved Great-Gramps but I wasn't sure how her first funeral experience would effect her.  I talked with her quietly and realized something.   These sad feelings were difficult for her and as glad as I was that she could express them,  she might also learn from the upcoming hour.  

So, just like the well meaning white-haired ladies at Grandma's funeral 17 years prior, I asked my girl,

"How about we go and eat lunch, does that sound good?" 
It did.

We walked to the other side of the church and what began with- quiet tones of wiping tears and blowing noses beautifully transitioned into smiles,
and memories--
and breaking bread together.  

I had finally found value in the ritual. 

 

A large (but not the whole) part of the family poses for a photo 

following the --much to my delight-- Ham-on...croissants!

It was Sadness and Celebration.
Pain, still Praise.
Death, yet Victory!

Joy and sorrow are often intermingled into the ways and the days of this life.  

What is your only comfort
in life and in death? 

That I am not my own,
but belong—

body and soul,
in life and in death—

to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven;
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.

 

The Heidelberg Catechism above says "all things"

I desire to be a person who can see the big picture, have that keen awareness of all the gifts and all the grace surrounding life's circumstances.   

In the great moments and especially in the hard times be less bogged down with fickle feelings and more attuned to what The Lord wants me to see and learn. 

It's not easy. 
Just about anything can fog our senses.    
But by the same token,  just about anything can be used to teach us.  

Even a ham sandwich.

when winter came.

(Photo from our back yard one rare day 
when the sun broke through)

It's been a winter for the record books where we live.  Snow upon snow upon snow that we push into piles and create pathways to go where we gots to git.   (sorry for the poor grammar- but I'm not a professional writer, so I can get away with it!)   We deal with winter's blow and look forward to brighter days when the sea of white will dissipate,  because we know it will.  As long as the earth endures, seasons change.  It's a promise.    

As we wait for the literal winter to secede there is a figurative winter that our family is waiting through.
May I share a little more about it?

First though,  a little background from my childhood...


When we heard the back door open,  we'd come running.

Barbie dolls,  Legos, dress up clothes all left in the dust when we realized our Daddy was home from work!  

It was like an amusement park ride how he could lift up all three of us at once and tote us around.  Did he have super human strength?  I'm sure I thought he did.  I was wee and he was mighty!

Day to day experiences like that among many others throughout my childhood sealed for me the impression that my Dad was amazing, invincible and unlike no other.    I am grateful for this.

Our Dad's mild stroke just after the new year took us all by surprise.  Over the last months many have expressed to me how Dad is so healthy, strong & fit and didn't seem likely for such a health crisis.   Initially,  I shared those sentiments as facts because as far as a 61 year old goes,  he is active,  full of vim and vigor.  Not living a sedentary lifestyle and responsibly monitoring his health status,  I always assumed from a medical standpoint Dad was better than the average.  As his doctor could attest,  that was a fair assumption.

But what was really happening for me was something less factual and more emotional.  (I know, imagine that?)  It didn't matter to me that he didn't fit the typical risk factors for stroke or not--yet suffered one anyway.   In my heart he wasn't supposed to have a stroke because he was the Super Human father that lifted me up both physically as a child and in every other way since childhood.  

(Photo courtesy of Footstock Barefoot Tournament) 

It was the first time I would come to the awareness that our Dad is in fact,  super! Yet also... human.  

I know,  rather a late realization.   But an important one.    Although an uneasy understanding for me that my Dad wasn't invincible after all,  I began to see Dad as God's child!   In unique and powerful ways our Heavenly Father carries His children through seasons of winter in our lives.   As the weeks went by this was very true for Dad.   You see,  a super hero wouldn't admit weakness or see the need for help.    In Dad's humble humanity he worked hard at regaining strength.  He wasn't too manly or macho to take a break from work,  or even driving for that matter.    I smiled often in the dead of this very long winter as Mom escorted Dad everywhere for awhile. They really are two peas in a pod.   I'm inspired by and have learned so much from them through this experience.

As our Heavenly father strengthened Dad's health and resolve following the stroke,   He also strengthens my heart against worry and fear.   We experienced again the gifts bestowed though community,  His Word,  hugs,  prayer,  & conversations.   God blesses, even through hardship and unresolved outcomes.  He doesn't let us go!   In His strength we are lifted and carried around when we run to him.   I like to picture it in much the same way my Daddy lifted me as a youngster.

Dad's prognosis is good, yet still-- we  wait.   For winter to melt away and for the possibility of Dad's vision to return full and clear...  for spring to arrive.   

But,  we wait with hope,  we hope with faith.  We are always held,  no matter what.   No human,  not even the biggest, strongest, wealthiest, hero you know can offer this kind of assurance when the winter comes.    
Only The Lord Almighty, 
as we humble ourselves before Him.

Run to Him! 

Song of Songs 2:11-13

New International Version (NIV)

11 See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me.”

an offering

I remember my Mom telling me what song they sang in church the Sunday morning following my delivery of our 5th baby,  a girl we named April.     Mom said I would have had a difficult time singing the words,  as did she that Spring Sunday morning, 3 years ago.

Blessed be Your Name

On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

The reality of pregnancy loss and the literal giving away of our deceased baby to the nurse was,  as the lyrics of the song truthfully convey,  a painful offering. 

Was it a true offering?   Something (someone) was being taken that I was unwilling to give.  At the time it seemed to make no earthly sense.

Why was I given only 17 weeks to carry her? 

Was I to offer God the life of this baby?  a life that had already ended?  

I used to think of an offering as a voluntary action.  I give my time or my service,  or maybe even a gift or tithe.   Offerings were something I initiated,  that I was comfortable with.   Meaningful and fruitful,  but not painful offerings. 

3 years ago today God moved in my life to make an offering of a different sort.   When faced with the devastation and sadness of April's death I learned (although not immediately) that I had to offer it all back to the Lord.   The confusion,  the ache,  the tears,  the emptiness,  the doubt,  the fear.    I had to release my plans,  our hopes for the child this baby would become.   Hanging on so tightly to these things would never give me peace.

The song continues and within the chorus, these words:

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

I had always found these lyrics perplexing.
Yes,  God gives.  That was easy to see.  All I had to do was look at the beautiful faces of my 4 children.
He gives immeasurably more than we need and most certainly more than what's deserved.  Perhaps this song speaks also of the comfort God gives,  or the Grace and love he lavishes on us.   Or the joy in Salvation that circumstance can't deplete.  
He gives.

But,  the next part...
He gives... AND takes away?  Lord Blessed be your Name?  
If I sing this,  do I claim that God took our baby?   am I supposed to praise His name anyway?
That seemed to make lesser sense.
Praising God in the midst of pain is work,  it is a choice,  it's an offering.  It takes faith.  For me it opened my heart for healing.  I believe this song speaks also to the way Jesus takes away our hurts,  our anger,  our sadness,  our guilt,  our sin. 
He takes. 

I don't want to imply that 3 years later everything is tied up nicely with a bow and this chapter is closed.  Nor do I mean to over simplify healing or equate my loss with the pain another may be experiencing.  I do desire to be honest about what I've learned.  I am thankful to see the ways the Spirit moves in my life through our loss of April.    So, yes.  Her short life was an offering.   An offering of my heart to ways that were not my own.   A yielding to the Father when my circumstance was beyond my understanding.

In those days I realized with new eyes that God held my life,   just as He held April's life until the moment her heart stopped beating,  and that He holds her still today.

If you are new or are interested in reading more about my story...

 Here is a link to click.  It's a summary with additional links to other posts.

15.

I wanted to do this 2 months ago, but you know how it is...  life gets in the way.

So,  15 years and 2 months into our marriage we celebrate 

with this slideshow of photos... through the years,  

and a wedding prayer.

Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise.
You are faithful, God, You are faithful.

--- Matt Redman Never Once 

Father in heaven,
        give today your blessing
        upon the marriage of Dan and Michelle.
      We thank you for the vows
        they have spoken
        and the love in which
        they are now united.
      Keep them faithful and strong
        in every trial.
      Sustain their joy and affection
        for many years.
      We pray, Lord Jesus,
        that you will be acknowledged
        head of their home
        and master of their lives.
      Equip them, Holy Spirit,
          with patient endurance,
      sacrificial service, unfailing courtesy,
        endless trust, and lasting love.
      Grant that their home
        will often be a place of laughter;
        and in times of difficulty or trouble,
        a haven of healing and forgiveness.
      May they and their children
        give constant praise to you,
        eternal Father, who with the Son and the Spirit
        is God, blessed and exalted forever. Amen.

a Mother's love.

My mom and I,  with April.

A sad photo,   but a beautiful love.

Happy Mother's Day!

May God bring you all the joys, comfort,  peace,  gratitude, love and hope that a day like this can bring.

does she know?

How much I hoped for her?

Is that why she is such a jolly little soul?

Does she know how she delights each one of us?

I think she does.

Happy nearly 10 months, Naomi April.

Soon she will figure out the what her place in the birth order is all about.  This question then will be,  Does she use it for good?   or  not so much good?

Time will tell.   But for now,  we enjoy every day of this toothy,  happy grin.

How's the grief?

A friend of mine has recently asked me lately how I am doing.

My response to that question is usually one of the following:

"Not too bad..."
"Really great..."
"Busy..."
"Good, how about you?"


I knew though, that she was asking more than just a "how's it hanging?" kind of a question.
In fact she was deeply caring for me in asking me how I am.

The answer that came immediately to my mind was:

"It's complicated."

I was really blessed by her question,  and it was certainly timely. This particular time of the year brings about thoughts of a life, created from love that would have been, could have been, but never was meant to be--
a one year old.  

Following the many days of grieving and growing, hurting and healing that I lived the last year I am now one year distanced from that time period of profound sadness. At the time I knew not how to move forward, but forward movement was what I chose.    I wanted so badly to hurry past and through the pain of losing our baby.  I desperately wanted to see what God had planned for us,  I was in a rush to see His revelation.   

So here, one year later I daily hold (probably too tightly at times)  a bouncing 6 month old.  Naomi is so full of life at this age.  Smiley and communicative.   Beautiful and adored.    It would be dishonest to say that her birth hasn't helped the healing process. 

It has.

In many ways. 

I feel it every time I watch Naomi reach another milestone.

But,  (isn't there always a but?) as I take stock of the last year and a half,  I still feel a kind of void.  There's still a yearning.   I imagine what my life would be with a one year old daughter right now, and if her eyes would have been green like mine.   I'm sure they would have been green.  I imagine her taking her first steps and running around the back of church with the big kids.   I daydream about reaching Heaven's door and seeing her, holding her as if she had never been lost.   These are the feelings I keep, and that is OK.   For me, (and I know others will differ)  losing a baby isn't something that I can take a been there, done that type of attitude about.    Yes, it is a part of my past,  but also my present and future.  

Grief isn't a task I want to check off my to-do list.   It is part of me,  it is part of almost anyone who has lost a dear loved one.

I realized recently that I tried to run so fast from that painful time,  and now-- strange as it may seem--  I kind of long for it.   I don't wish for pain,  for that seems silly.   What I mean is,  I miss the amazing closeness with family,  community,  and God that I experienced during those days. 

I'm not sure if that answers my friend's question,  but I sure am glad she asked.  Anything that gives me the opportunity to think on April,  is blessing to me.   That is how I feel connected to a baby I grew and held but never had the chance to raise.   My grief isn't the same as it once was,  and that is good.  My grieving takes new forms and different roads,  and that is good too.  

Good. Grief.

Little Things.

I have this plaque hanging near my kitchen sink:

It was a gift from my Mom last year and she knows me well.   One of the reasons I created this blog was to record things.   Things big,  some small,  at times humorous, others very heavy.    In the certain craziness that 5 children brings I have not been able to record as I wish I could.   I suppose their needs do have to come first, after all.

So, with shrinking free time on my hands it made perfect sense to start another blog,  right?

Probably not.  But my hope is that I can quickly pop in the things that inspire me.   Hardly a day passes that I don't notice something,  feel a deep thought,  or want to celebrate a thing or two.

As a result I'm starting a new effort to record Little Things.    Call them pieces of joy,  or endless gifts,  or beauty in the ordinary.   Little photos of things that bless me, inspire me,  speak to me.   My hope is to be able to do this on a daily basis---  but don't hold me to that OK?

So here (again) I go...
if you'd like...click on over to Little Things 

 

2 months + , say it ain't so!

Since I heart. heart.  HEART!  the newborn stage,  and generally the first year of our childrens lives-- each week that passes means our little one is getting older,  and farther away from that precious phase.
Call me weird.   I've been called worse.

I noticed the feeling when Naomi first grew out of the size 1 diapers.   Then once more when she graduated to size 2 diapers.  And this week when Amazon.com delivered a stash of Size 3.  Well,  forget it,  I just don't like it.

Watching her smile, giggle and try so hard to get her hand to mouth I realize that she is growing up so very quickly.  Faster than any of her siblings did.  I don't know why because I am sure that time is spinning by at exactly the same rate as when Chase was a newborn, but somehow the weeks are flying by.

So today,  instead of being sad about each milestone,  each increased diaper size,  I will celebrate it.
These things are worth celebrating --not being sad over. 

she looks skeptical, but I am certain she is 2 months old (actually nearly 3 months now)

Naomi is wearing a sticker on her onesie-- I have one for each of the first 12 months.

Find them here

Just wanted to share more spring beauty from April's garden.

More later about this very special rosebush.

"He has made everything beautiful in His time" Eccl 3:11

captured the moment

I received many precious keepsake gifts following the death of our unborn baby last spring.   One of those gifts was a charm from our friend Jamie.   I am sentimental and perhaps at times search for poignant moments, so you can imagine how my heart felt when I glanced down at Naomi while she was nursing and I noticed this:

Her tiny, chubby hand was gripping the necklace I was wearing round my neck.  I had to quickly grab my phone and angle it just right to snap this pic. 

Down on my knees thankful for these moments.

--if you'd like to buy this charm, find it here--

We Do, God Helping Us.

Mother's Day this year was a myriad of emotion and experience.

I was awaken at 5:15 by our sweet Naomi.  I suppose she was eager to get this special day started.  For that day she was to be baptized into the covenant.

On my mind at that early hour was Mother's Day 2010 , last year.    Oh,  how uneasy I was heading to God's house that beautiful spring Sunday.  Conflicted because I had much to be grateful for after all,  I was a mother 4 times over,  but grieving the still baby I had delivered 3 weeks prior.   It was the first Mother's Day I experienced with a heavenly baby.   How clearly I remember telling myself not to be so upset,  to be logical.

Don't let Mother's Day get to you,  I told myself... it's just a Hallmark holiday anyway. 

I survived that day, even got a few photos of it.   When last year's Mother's Day was through, I prayed that the next year,  my heart would have some healing and I could testify to God's work in my life.  

That was my prayer.  

In fact I even wrote about it here. 

God,  as He promises to do,  answered that prayer and I was given the opportunity on Mother's Day to share during the worship service.  Speaking honestly about the pain and joy our last year has seen,   how God is always good and His blessing is not based on my deserving or perception. 

I'm forever grateful for the chance to stand there,  with my husband and newborn daughter at my side,  and proclaim-- To God Alone be the Glory!  Thank you for bringing us this far!!

It was just one of those days where I realized how amazing this life can be.  How,  through the loss of April,  God can use me,  how He opened my eyes and heart to so much.  How it is only the beginning.

Well, like I mentioned at the start of this post.  Mother's Day was also Baptism day for Naomi.  I was determined to keep a calm attitude despite my nerves and the chaos of getting everyone out of the house.   Unlike any given Sunday,  I did NOT want the drive to church to be one of kids fighting,  me grumbling under my breath about how Dan waited so long to brush his teeth and surely that is why we were late.   Rather, I hoped for smooth and methodical Sunday morning preparation and did my best to facilitate that.   You would think I would do this everyday of my life,  but no.  Chaos generally reigns.

Thankfully,  everyone (including myself) was well behaved and we had a joyous time celebrating  with family and friends.

Naomi in the baptism dress worn by me, my sis Stacey, Joy, and Juliet

love, love, love the history in that gown!

First, 

do you confess Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, accept the promises of God, and affirm the truth of the Christian faith which is proclaimed in the Bible and confessed in this church of Christ?

Second, 

do you believe that your children, though sinful by nature, are received by God in Christ as members of his covenant, and therefore ought to be baptized?

Third, 

do you promise, in reliance on the Holy Spirit and with the help of the Christian community, to do all in your power to instruct these children in the Christian faith and to lead them by your example into the life of Christian discipleship?

We do, God helping us.

Prayers for a Precious One

I'd like to ask those who follow this blog

(some of you I know, some I am quite certain I do not know)

to

please

pray

for an unborn baby.

The precious baby of dear friends.

click the bird button above to learn more of Baby Bird's story and how you can jointhe warriors of prayer as we wait in hope for the life of this baby.
Thank you so very much. 


If you would like to add this "pray for baby bird" button to your blog, copy and paste the code that you see here in my right sidebar.

A birth story, in photos.

I was privileged to have my sister-in-law of Katie DeBoer Photography come to photograph the birth of our baby.    Early in my pregnancy,  I was not sure  if I would want the private moments of the birth photographed.   I  had these thoughts because I was nervous.   I was nervous about an un-happy ending.   As much as I had hoped and continually tried to "give it to God"  I had a slow ember of fear that something could or might go terribly wrong.    But on the other hand,  I just KNEW I wanted the birth photographed. 

God's peace and the excitement that went with me into the hospital that early morning knocked out my fears and we lift our hearts in gratitude that we have our baby here with us today.   I am so thankful that Katie came to take pictures.  She is so talented and I will cherish the photographs for a lifetime.

Besides the fantastic ones already posted on Facebook,  here are some additional faves I picked. 
I think they tell this part of the story,  beautifully.

 (this photo is actually taken on my phone by Dan,  but we had to get that last belly pic.)

I couldn't wait to use my iPhone app. to time my contractions!  So exciting and amazing to think that when I had Chase 11 years ago,  we timed contractions the old fashioned way-- with a wall clock !  

 Signing on the dotted line...

Dan's typical method for helping labor progress.

It's GO (and push) time!!

Not to us, O LORD, not to us
       but to your name be the glory,
       because of your love and faithfulness. 

Psalm 115:1

Her Story Begins.

Praise be to God!

We welcome this gift into our hearts and our lives...

Naomi April

March 23, 2011

10:08 am

9lbs. 15oz.

20 in.

Many more thoughts and photos to come.   Wishing time could just stand still right now.   

God has turned our tears to a time of rejoicing!

11 months ago...

"There is no despair so absolute  

(indescribable pain, indescribable peace)

as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow,

(naming our baby girl)

  when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed,  (one day I will testify!)
 

to have despaired and have recovered hope."

(it's a Gal !!)

--George Eliot

I  recently came across this quote.  I read it and thought to myself-- SO true!   I immediately thought how it so poetically described our last 11 months.
I broke down each phrase of the quote followed by parenthesized links to previous blog posts. 
If you are new to my story,  click the above links for a small summary.

First came despair.   

Losing April was our first great sorrow.   Perhaps the pain of losing her was second to the immense fear I held that I didn't know how to live life after loss.  What if I couldn't move past it?  What if I dissolved into a disaster of a woman filled with bitterness,  emptiness, and anger.   What if I turned my face from God or believed he turned his face from me?

I did not know what it was to have suffered and be healed.

As the weeks went on I learned and experienced much.  The ways, shapes and forms that healing comes.  But also the ways,  shapes and forms grief over our loss that still remains to this day.  

In what surprised me as a relatively short amount of time,

God gave us a gift to recover our hope.

I did a bit of research,  not a lot but some, about the person who wrote these words.

She wasn't a George after all,  that was her pen name.  Her given name was Mary Ann Evans and she denounced Christianity.   How she must be rolling in her grave knowing that the beautiful words she penned so long ago speak to me only of Jesus. 

I don't say that to be condescending,  I just love, love, love it when I come across something so full of truth!!!

11 months have passed and our story  still beginning.
What I'm realizing now is-- that it always can be...beginning.

"to the joy that's coming"

If there was ever a song that I worked hard on me last summer it was Before The Morning by Josh Wilson.  

Last week Joy and I were cruisin' around town in the mini-van and she began to talk about April.    Joy has kept April a part of our daily lives through conversations, questions and drawings.   So many times I have been struck by what a healing gift that has been.  Numerous times she has asked me just how small her head was, and if she can look at the hospital momentos.   She lovingly opens the box and carefully examines each article.   Joy is not a procrastinator and she keeps wondering why I have yet to compile the momentos and display them in the shadow box that I bought last fall.   She has convicted me to work on it, amongst other things that I really want do to honor April's memory before I am all to consumed with my post-pregnancy life.

So, back to the song.   There is a phrase in the song that sings like this:

Would dare you, would you dare, to believe,
that you still have a reason to sing,
'cause the pain you've been feeling,
can't compare to the joy that's coming

If you know Joy and I (and my mom for that matter)  we are always humming or singing a tune that it is our heads.  On that particular day in the van I was singing the above lyrics.   Joy said to me,

"Mom,  I know what that means... "to the joy that's coming"
I replied, "What do you think?"
She said "When the new baby comes!"

And for the short term,  she is right.  The baby is absolutely a joy that's coming!   But there in that moment I wanted to tell her all the more reasons that joy is coming--One Glorious Day!   I tried, and as my kids often do,  she bolted to the next topic as quick as her mind would go.   One of the legacies, if you will,  that April's short life leaves in our family is that she opened our children's minds door to Heaven.   For that I thank my Heavenly Father.

There is so much that her 7 year old self just gets, you know?  I am amazed at how God works in her heart and how she so easily expresses herself.   Sometimes too easily when it comes to her opinions,  wants or displeasure.   She is my firstborn girl and it blesses me to know that she will carry April with her throughout her life.   What God has given me is a special someone that will keep all of the physical and mental memories for me someday when I have gone on.    She is truly a Joy !!

If you care to check it.... Here is  a short story about the inspiration for this song.  Great Story!

And finally,  a few pix of Joy and I on today.. our shared BIRTHDAY!!!

the final countdown.

Sometime around 30 weeks I began to count down the weeks,  while before that point I was counting up.    A wonderful milestone and I am thankful!    With less than 7 weeks to go before my due date I am trying to get my head around this being my last pregnancy.   I have many fun comparisons going on my my head about the first time I walked this road 11 years ago.   I hope to dig out a few  thoughts and photos from the olden days pretty soon and blog them,  but for today, though writing I hope to kick some fear to the curb.

I have said countless times that my previous pregnancy and this one have kind of melted together to one long hormonal circus.     Hope and loss,  sadness and searching,  anticipation, fear, and joy all weaving their own mark into my time line the last 10 months.

The closer I get to the 40 week mark increased anxious thoughts and memories of April's induced delivery reach the surface of my heart.    The way the last few weeks have lived out resemble the way I spent the first trimester of this pregnancy--living in fear.

Fearful of what exactly?   Frankly,  another pregnancy loss and delivery of a baby already gone.   The thought of living through that again is breath stealing  and joy taking.   I DO NOT want to be filled with this fear,  but here I am again letting it seep back in.    I say  "I"  am letting it seep in because it certainly is not of God.

He has restored me.
He has displayed His power in creating this life that I carry. 
He has promised to be near me every hour.

I don't want the loss of April to be for nothing.  Of the many things I have learned and will continue to learn following that time is that God is God!    His promises are true, and He carries us.   

It was not a one time gig.   

He will do this over and over again in my life as certainly more and greater storms will arise.  

Matthew 8:26 (Contemporary English Version) 

²⁶But Jesus replied, "Why are you so afraid? 

You surely don't have much faith." 

Then he got up and ordered the wind and the waves to calm down. And everything was calm.

So,  as a kind of declaration of independence from fear I say,  that come what may,

God will restore me.
God will display his power whatever the circumstance!
God will be near me every hour.

Moving forward in faith.   49 some days to go!

everything rides on hope.

Didn't get around to posting this at Christmas time... but pondering hope is even more fitting for this  New Year...right?

 

Deeper than optimism,  more rooted than wishful thinking...

hope  | hōp |

noun
1 a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen

God's gift of Hope.

I learned much more about hope last year.  I felt it rise, crash, and slowly etch itself back into my heart.  At times it feels like there are 2 kinds of hope.   The kind that is defined above from the dictionary -- the hope that we feel for things of earth.   But also there is the indescribable kind of Hope-- the kind of hope that only comes from God.  The kind that lives in the Christian soul because God has initiated it.   We are the objects of His affection and mercy!

1 Peter 1:3-

³ Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,

Unlike wishful thinking or staying optimistic,  Christian hope is secure.  It cannot be lost because what God ultimately has planned for our life is stored in Heaven. 

⁴ and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, ⁵ who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.  

So in believing this,  I find joy.

When life is filled with trial,  doesn't make sense,  or the things we hope for here on earth do not materialize,  Hope can endure.   

⁶ In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. ⁷ These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. 

I am not trying to say that having Christian hope will wipe away yours (or my) trials and pain.   Certainly challenges persist while hope endures.   My intention with my writings...er...ramblings  is to testify that God has restored hope in my life.  Not just the hope of a new baby,  but the hope of my life eternal. 

I was so inspired this Advent season by a series of messages given at our church.  The Gifts of Christmas.

To learn more...

Click here to hear the podcasts    

more specifically choose November 28...   The Gift of Hope.