Thoughts from My Heart
This morning over at Held, you can find a post written from my heart. Read it here.
When I was asked to write something for their What Not To Say series, I had a few ideas, but one that pressed more strongly upon my heart of late and stood out among the rest. This is something I continue to struggle with now, as I fight the tendency of people around me to imply that Baby Nine could in any way replace Hosanna, Victory, Mercy, Peace, Promise, or Glory ~ just like Gabriel didn’t replace Covenant when I carried him in my womb. As I say in the short article, death is death, no matter how much life is left in its wake.
May the Lord encourage you today, hold you against His tender Father’s bosom, and sharpen us all as iron against iron.
Embracing the Moment
This morning, Gabriel begged me to climb back into my bed so he could cuddle with me. How could I say no to that?! So instead of getting up and doing my typing, I embraced the moment of cuddles and lovin’ and chatting with my precious little boy. *happy sigh*
After a minute of quiet snuggling, he looked at me and said, “where are my brothers and sisters?” As my eyes filled with tears that I successfully hid from him in the dim room, I said, “most of them live in heaven; one of them lives in my tummy.” He contemplated that for a moment and then responded, “they live with God.” “Yes, they do.” “I will ask God to bring them back to me, Mommy.” I explained to him that it doesn’t work that way, but that someday God will take Gabriel to live in heaven with Him too, and that’s when he will see those brothers and sisters again.
“I love my brothers and sisters,” he said. I cried silently and said, “so does Mommy. We all love them very much.” “God loves them too,” he told me. “Yes, yes He does.”
Then he wanted to wiggle under the covers, rub my belly, and kiss Baby 9 about half a dozen times. He scooted back up to put his head on the pillow next to mine and said, “I love this baby too. He can come out and play. He’s big now.” I explained that this baby wasn’t big enough yet, and that God would keep this baby in Mommy’s tummy until it was big enough to really come out and play. “God won’t take him to heaven?” he asked. I didn’t really know how to answer that. I can not see the future. I do not know how many days are numbered for this child, any more than I know my own. “We pray that God will not take this baby to heaven for a long time; this baby belongs to Him, but sometimes God shows us His love by allowing a baby to stay on earth. Like He did with you.”
There was some silence. Then the thumb popped out of the mouth again, and my sweet Gabriel said, in very quick succession, “I want to pray for God to keep my baby safe. I want to ask God for brothers and sisters. I like brothers and sisters. I love our baby. I don’t want heaven yet, Mommy. I will pray for God to keep us safe.”
And he did.
And I cried because it was beautiful and pure and honest. 
So now, much much later than usual, I am finally sitting down to do my typist work. My schedule is off for the day, but oh how thankful I am that I tossed conventionality out the window this morning and embraced the moment to cuddle with my Gabriel, else I would have missed out on that beautiful conversation with that precious saint whose life and words and prayers glorify our Father in heaven.
Stay Tuned
Stay tuned for something straight from my heart!
I was asked to write a specific short essay from my heart for a website connected to a ministry where I have planted roots.
Four years ago, I became a mom—a few weeks later, we lost our baby to devastating miscarriage. We sought rest in the shadow of the Lord’s wings as we focused on God’s great love for us, regardless of the trials He brought our way (Psalm 36:7).
So tune in on Monday for the link to this little piece of my heart.
Granola Goodness
These granola bars are in the works today in my home. It’s been a wonderful day of focusing on my little boy (hurray for setting up a tent in the backyard and going “fishing” in the kiddie pool!) in the just-arrived-warmer-weather, but now I’m giving in to a craving for some granola bars. What went into mine today? Shredded coconut, golden raisins, dried cranberries, crushed unsalted nuts, and some chocolate chips for good measure. 🙂
EDITED TO ADD: I just used granulated sugar (was tempted to use brown sugar), I don’t think it probably matters. I used freshly ground hard red wheat flour instead of oat flour. And for the syrupy sweetener I used maple syrup. Also, they were easiest for me to cut after I let the granola sit on its parchment hammock in the freezer for half an hour. This might not be the healthiest granola bar recipe out there, but it is super tasty plus I’m totally all over anything homemade. So yeah, it fits my bill perfectly. 😀
my vineyard
This morning in church, I sang a meditation based on Habakkuk 3:17-19. The Scripture reads,
“Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
He makes my feet like the deer’s;
He makes me tread on my high places.”
The words of the song read,
“Though the tree shall not bloom,
and the vine bears no fruit,
Though the field shall fail and yield no food,
Though the flocks are cut off from within the fold,
And though all is destroyed both young and old…
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
Yes, I will be joyful in God my Savior,
I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior,
I will rejoice in the Lord; I will rejoice in the Lord.
Though the winds rise up
and the rivers roar,
Though the thunder may crash and storms destroy,
Though the mountains may fall and the seas rush in,
And though nations invade by the hands of evil men…
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
Yes, I will be joyful in God my Savior,
I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior,
I will rejoice in the Lord; I will rejoice in the Lord.
And the Sovereign Lord is all my strength
And He makes me to walk upon the high place!
And I will rejoice in the Lord,
Yes, I will be joyful in God my Savior,
I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior,
I will rejoice in the Lord; I will rejoice in the Lord.”
You can listen here to a clip of the song by the composer/arranger Nathan Clark George, but when I sang it for the meditation today I slowed it down, did it acapella, and in general tamed it a little bit for the conservative nature of our church. 🙂
Anyway.
It was an interesting start to the day. Steven and I memorized this song last winter, shortly after our little boy died. Incidentally, today was our Hosanna’s due date. It’s the first time (since after Gabriel, with my six back-to-back losses) that I have reached a due date without having another miscarriage in the meantime. I can’t tell you what a balm our Baby Nine is. Heartbeat and kicks and general sickness have been sweet reminders today of this balm that God has so generously gifted to our family. This life doesn’t replace Hosanna (or any siblings), but it does somehow balm the pain. My arms may not be holding a newborn today like we had hoped, prayed, and thought they would be… but my womb is not empty and our hope is not completely gone. The Lord’s mercies are still new every day. We still have the privilege of anticipating heaven. We still have the unique blessing of having extra sweetness to look forward to when we reach heaven; because not only do we get to see Jesus face to face, but we get to see our children again.
Anyway. Singing the Sanctus today was hard too. Singing “hosanna” at the top of my lungs, knowing that covenantally I too was praising God in the midst of His glorious sanctuary, lifted up by Christ into the heavenlies in corporate worship with all the saints who have gone before ~ including my own Hosanna Praise. I was meditating on a verse today in honor of our Hosanna boy and praying it to our Father even in church, Psalm 106:47 “Save us, O LORD our God… that we may give thanks to Your holy name and glory in Your praise.”
Plus it was Father’s Day. Two years ago, our Promise died the day before Father’s Day, so last year her birthday/anniversary was on Father’s Day. This year on Father’s Day we have the bittersweetness of Hosanna’s due date. And for once, our church actually mentioned the Hallmark holiday numerous times (usually we don’t emphasize Hallmark holidays at all at church; we reserve such acknowledgments for holy days on the Church calendar). It actually pained my heart more than Mother’s Day this year. Why, I’m not precisely certain. But I think it did. Because of my history and because of my exposure to so many many hurting couples (who experience various forms of infertility and loss), it just ached in my heart. I hurt not only for my husband who has had to bury seven of his beloved children (and who has had to watch his wife suffer such grief, which has been such a burden for him to bear), but also for other men I know who ache to have children and to hold their babies on this side of heaven. But Father’s Day was yet sweet for us, too. It included a special meal (steak and potatoes and wine, to boot) and gifts and fresh cherry pie as one way to honor my husband, the father of my sweet little brood of nine. While they can’t all smother him in kisses, scribble him Father’s Day cards, or climb into bed for morning tickle games before church, I am quite certain that every one of these children honored and loved their daddy. I don’t know if they could possibly know how much he sacrificed for them… but I know. And it grows my respect and love for him all the time. Watching him father and parent these nine children has been a true privilege (if not bittersweet), and I am thankful that God has given such a precious gift to me. I can’t imagine mothering these little saints beside anyone else. The Lord is merciful indeed!
But okay, back to my original thought. Habakkuk 3:17 talks about unfruitfulness, barrenness, things that ought to grow but aren’t. And yet in the midst of that fruitlessness (when, in fact, we may have been not only hoping for but truly expecting much fruitfullness!), it emphasizes praising the Lord and rejoicing in Him. It doesn’t say that we need to rejoice in the barrenness. It says that despite the barrenness, we rejoice in the Lord. How beautiful!!
The mention of “vine” also made me think of Psalm 128. Of course that’s Gabriel’s favorite psalm right now, and he sings it a dozen times a day on average. 🙂 We even sang it at our wedding four years ago. We sang it at one of Gabriel’s baby showers. And we’ve sung it in our home countless times during our life together. But the words are always bittersweet to me. I have wondered how I could be called a fruitful vine (Psalm 128:3 says “Your wife will be like a fruitful vine
within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table”) when my womb has failed to bring forth fruit season after season after season. Of course everyone consoles me with the idea that “fruitful” doesn’t just mean “fruit of the womb” (although in the context of that verse, it certainly seems connected, doesn’t it?), but it means fruitful in service, in ministry, in wifehood, etc. In so many areas that aren’t limited just to motherhood. Okay fine. But you know what? As far as the womb goes, my fruitfulness has been so different from what I had always expected it to be!! In the postmillennial view of things where heaven is what matters I have been incredibly fruitful. 🙂 More fruitful than I ever planned on being! We certainly weren’t thinking I would be the mother of nine children. So in that sense, God had planned way more fruitfulness for me than I had imagined! But in the short-term sense as far as life and ministry on earth, I have been so much less fruitful than we had expected. To have my body physically incapable of carrying seven of our children to term is incredibly deflating, to say the least. It makes me feel way beyond fruitless. It makes me feel like a dead, rotting vine that spreads disease to any grape that dares to try to grow upon it.
And that feeling can be very debilitating to me sometimes. (more than sometimes…)
But you know what I was reminded of while singing the meditation this morning? In some sense, fruitlessness doesn’t even matter. If the fruit is not on the vine, blessed be the name of the Lord anyway. I don’t have to find joy in my lack of fruit on the vine, but I can still find joy in the Lord regardless of my lack of fruit. Despite the recurrent miscarriages that have plagued our home for years, the Lord has been our joy. He has, indeed, caused us to walk upon His high places! Even in the midst of incredible grief, He has lifted us out of the mire and sustained us.
And that is beautiful. That is worth shouting from the rooftops to the entire world. I may not have had the best harvest off my vine over the last couple years, but the Lord has been praised in our household anyway, by the strength of His sovereign grace.
So, friends, as I remember my children today ~specifically our little Hosanna boy~ and as I honored my husband (and our fathers) and as I welcomed the balming presence of Baby Nine on this day… I rejoiced in the Lord, for He is faithful in all circumstances, regardless of whether there is fruit on the vine.
AMEN!!
Ministering at Home
Something I have long believed in very strongly is that my greatest mission field (at this point in my life especially) is right here on the home-front. In my own home. Amongst my own family. I impact generations by what I do today.
People so often emphasize the mission field or even ministering in your local church that often the enormous ministry of ministering at home is overlooked, or—at the very least—under-emphasized.
I was brought to tears (call it raging hormones if you must) by Rachel Jankovic’s beautiful descriptions and timely encouragement in this arena today as I read an article she guest-posted at Desiring God.
Please click here and read this wonderful source of truth and exhortation.
“At the very heart of the gospel is sacrifice, and there is perhaps no occupation in the world so intrinsically sacrificial as motherhood. Motherhood is a wonderful opportunity to live the gospel. Jim Elliot famously said, “He is no fool who gives up that which he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.” Motherhood provides you with an opportunity to lay down the things that you cannot keep on behalf of the people that you cannot lose. They are eternal souls, they are your children, they are your mission field.”
“Do not think that your work does not matter. In God’s hands, it will be broken, and broken, and broken again, until all who have need of it have eaten and are satisfied. And even then, there will be leftovers.”
Amen!! May the Lord mightily equip us in our homes as we share the gospel, effect His Kingdom for generations, and sacrifice our very selves daily for the furthering of His glory.
Photo Shoot
A week ago we had a little photo shoot, since we had our east-coast-family visiting us. It was wonderful to have my brother share his talent and time with us! We got so many beautiful pictures of various poses and groupings… but here are just a couple that I can share with you here.
Photos courtesy of Colin D. Bennett Photography, (c) 2011
My little family.
Us with Steven’s parents.
All of us together.
Worthwhile Reads
Occasionally I run across some particularly good things to read, usually pertaining to the death of babies and the grief that follows. Especially when they are solid Christian writings.
Although it has been over six months since we said goodbye to our littlest boy, Hosanna Praise, and even longer since we said goodbye to six of his older siblings, the grief still comes and goes. I spend a good amount of time on a daily basis praying for women (and their families) who are suffering bereavement, moderating loss forums, penpalling with freshly grieving parents, and sharing information regarding various research and treatment and medical stuff. So no matter how much time passes from the moments I last held each of my babies, I still continue to walk in the steps of grief: whether it is my own, or whether it is bearing the burdens of others. Some days it is positively burdensome. I know that makes sense, since bearing one another’s burdens is exactly that: burdensome. But I rely on the Lord’s strength (and my sweet husby’s) to help me carry these burdens, as I often feel like I am just so weak: most definitely too weak to carry all of this on my own. Weak shoulders, weak hands, weak knees, weak heart. I praise the Lord for being my strength, and for providing a husband who aids me in ministering to others by sharing their burdens of grief.
Anyway… two articles that I have read this week have been particularly good reads. Worthwhile, especially if you are–or someone you know is–a bereaved parent.
One.
Two.
Some of the phrases that stuck out to me as being literally pages from my own heart & life transcribed by someone else into these articles (emphases mine):
God did eventually heal some of our sorrow on His timetable.
Through it all, we found that a sovereign God cannot be trusted to negotiate, but He can be trusted.
…trite and easy answers don’t satisfy, but the deep and mysterious sovereignty of God settles the soul [it doesn’t fix things or make it go away, but it does settle the soul]. When things were out of our control, they were never out of God’s control.
…not only is your baby gone, but so are the dreams you had for him. That’s a tough void to fill.
The battle was won by grief, of all things. We learned how to truly grieve in those days and months. There were times at night when [we] were just too tired to offer much support and we just laid there listening to one another cry. We cried a lot, day and night it seemed. But we clung defiantly to hope for better days, and grief can be a powerful ally when accompanied by hope.
In a way we still grieve with hope, though we long for the day when neither grief nor hope will be necessary.
…we have chosen never to speak again of the death of our son as a “loss.” We didn’t lose our boy—he is absolutely safe in the arms of Jesus.
I had to learn that although I am weak, God is sufficient.
I would offer a special word of counsel to husbands whose wives have recently experienced the loss of a child: She needs you now and she will need you for years to come. She needs your hand, your ear, your heart, your compassion, your tears, your attention, your encouragement, your faith, your courage, your love, your leadership, and your understanding (1 Peter 3:7). And you need hers, too.
I know it feels like the fight of your life and you can’t imagine ever recovering. In a lot of ways, you won’t. But that’s okay. Because He lives, better days are still ahead.
The tears would come trickling down my cheeks. I made no sound. These tears were too painful for noise. They came from the very depths of my soul. The anguish I felt pushed so hard on my shoulders, I feared it would crush my heart. My arms literally ached to hold my baby.
We will never forget our baby. Every [year], we will rejoice at our baby’s return to our Lord. Every Thanksgiving we will remember to give thanks for all [our] children.
Strong Faith
“The only way to learn strong faith is to endure great trials.
I have learned my faith by standing firm amid severe testings.”
~George Mueller