Imagine sticking your fingers on your pulse
and thanking God every time
He gave you another blood-driving, brain-powering thump.
We should.
And we shouldn’t,
because if we did,
we would never do anything else with our living;
we wouldn’t have the time to look at or savor
any of the other of our impossibillions of gifts.
~N.D. Wilson, Death by Living, p108~
I know that most of us are longing for something. I know that longing is part of the deal, part of living in the not-yet-heaven. I know people who are longing to marry, who are longing to be healed from disease, longing for their children to come home, longing for the financial pressure to release. I get that longing is part of how we live. But today I feel angry and boxed in, like the system is rigged against me and everywhere I turn, someone else’s body is blooming with new life, while mine still, again, is not. …That’s why it’s hard, I think, to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. I love that line from the Bible, but it’s so incredibly difficult sometimes, because when you’ve got reason to rejoice, you forget what it’s like to mourn, even if you swear you never will. And because when you’re mourning, the fact that someone close to you is rejoicing seems like a personal affront.
~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p127~
I’m still hoping for a happy ending, but if there is one for us, it will be a little off-kilter and not nearly as tidy and poetic as I’d hoped. It will carry inside it a whole lot of tears and longing, and a few good lessons learned watching the lake one Saturday afternoon. I’ll keep celebrating the good news with each friend and each new baby, until maybe I’m the only one left in that dwindling circle. And I’ll ask for help and tenderness every time I find myself crying in the bathroom. And most important, I’ll choose to believe that sometimes the happiest ending isn’t the one you keep longing for, but something you absolutely cannot see from where you are.
~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p129~
I’m still in the middle of it. The thick part. Of my story. Of grief. I knew the happy chapters weren’t going to be the end. I knew that shadows would come again, because that is part of the scenery of life. But at the time… when Evangeline came so soon on the heels of Asher, for instance… I confess that I really did think I had moved past the thickest and hardest part of my grief chapters. I admit it: I had grown naive all over again. Not quite to the point of naivete that comes ingrained into us all with our first pregnancy ~ no, of course I could never go back that far into the naive. But I was at least naive enough again to think that God had wrapped up those chapters, and tied them up with a pretty bow, tucking them away into this magical part of my life story called the past. And then 2014 happened. And it’s been like reliving 2009 and 2010. And what’s funny is that I suddenly realize that I am right back in the middle of it. Back in the thick of it. In a place I thought I’d left, hoped I had left forever.
I’m still weary. Weary again. And then some.
Every day I feel not only emotionally and spiritually spent, but seriously physically exhausted. And no, it isn’t just because I am a young mom of three amazing little kids with electricity-like energy. It’s an exhaustion that I can not explain. It’s so much more tiring than the early days of infancy. I had so much energy when I had a 4 year old, a 14 month old, and a newborn. This is different. This is what Shauna Niequist calls the middle. And I’m still there. In the thick waistline of my grief story.
When you’re in the middle, pretty much all you can ask for are little bits of flame to light the darkness that feels interminable. You don’t know what the story is about when you’re in the middle of it. You think you do, but you don’t. … I hate the middle. The middle is the fog, the exhaustion, the loneliness, the daily battle against despair and the nagging fear that tomorrow will be just like today, only you’ll be wearier and less able to defend yourself against it. The middle is the lonely place, when you can’t find words to say how deeply empty you feel, when you try to connect but you feel like thick glass is separating you from the rest of the world, isolating and deadening everything.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p216
There are diamonds in crevices, hidden throughout the darkness. To be sure.
The nine jewels in my crown who live in heaven are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the diamond mining we do in the shadows of our grief.
I believe in mining through the darkest seasons in our lives and choosing to believe that we’ll find something important every time.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p194
But sometimes when stuck in the middle of it all, I am not equipped for the mining yet. That often comes later. It comes when the exhaustion is not so overwhelming, when the tears are not always at the ready, when the cynicism has worn away a bit. In the meantime, it’s the comfort of Christ, and the comfort He extends through His people, that helps pull me through the middle.
Jesus is no stranger to pain or loss or heartache, and there are some times when the only thing that eases the pain is His comfort. I wasn’t ready, and still am not, to mine through this experience for opportunities to grow, things to learn, ways to transcend and transform. Maybe I’ll be ready over time, and maybe not. But it is an opportunity to be comforted. I’d rather not need the comfort. But I’m thankful that it’s there when I need it, because I’ve needed it desperately this month.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p248
As we continue to see the story of our life revealed through time and circumstances, we are thankful to know who the author is. We trust Him and praise Him. We seek His face, His mercy, His grace. We rest in His comfort and delight in His love. We cry to Him and fall at His feet, and know that He is here with us even in the thickness of the middle.
If you’ve been marked by what might have been you don’t forget.
You know the day, the years.
You know when the baby would have been born…
It makes the calendar feel like a minefield,
like you’re constantly tiptoeing
over explosions of grief until one day you hit one,
shattered by what might have been.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p110~
I can’t always pinpoint exactly what makes me miss my sweet babies more on some days than on others. But today is a day where I just feel their absence here tangibly. When I was lying in bed this morning, I suddenly noticed I had my hand resting on my belly: almost as if I were waiting for Fidelis to kick me. I keep looking at Evangeline’s things as I pack them away into the basement and wonder what I should do with them… and I wonder what her little sister Heritage would have looked like in each outfit, and whether she would have loved shoes and hairbows as much as her big sister does. All three of my children are infatuated with babies, and even their little babydolls (Bennett, Timmy, and Bea) ~ and when they play house together, I watch with my own arms empty, my womb closed up, my breasts dry.
This year is so far from what I thought it would be. And while most days I am able to not only function with joy & thankfulness & peace, there are the rare occasions like today where all I want to do is crumble into a ball in a dark closet and weep for the children I lost to heaven.
On most days, for me, it’s all right…
But for today, for a minute, it’s not all right.
I understand that God is sovereign,
that bodies are fragile and fallible.
I understand that grief mellows over time,
and that guarantees aren’t part of human life,
as much as we’d like them to be.
But on this day, looking out at the harsh white sky of a Chicago winter,
I’m crying just a little for what might have been.
…I’ll always know.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p110~
A couple days ago, I read the account of Lazarus’ death and resurrection to my children, and Gabriel said “if Jesus had been here, would our babies not have died either?” I assured him that Jesus indeed was here, and it brought Him joy to take our children to heaven. And I reminded him of how Jesus Himself said all of these things are so that God would be glorified.
Today I miss my sweet babies acutely.
They are my little darlings, and I will always be their mommy.
So I’m thankful tomorrow will carry new mercies, and my God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Amen.
All around the world, God is giving and sustaining life to the praise of His grace.
His mercy is new every morning, and it’s always morning somewhere.
~Gloria Furman, Treasuring Christ When Your Hands are Full, p149~
We are teachers, we work with words,
which means that we are builders of worlds.
~Douglas Wilson, blog
Distance learning is not a new thing. We have always had distance learning.
That is what books are.
~Douglas Wilson, blog
There’s no better time than all the time to boldly ask God for mercy and grace.
~Gloria Furman, Treasuring Christ When Your Hands are Full, p109
…and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of God! (Matthew 19:14)
As Steven and I have raised our children, we have had the privilege, blessing, and responsibility of bringing our children to the sanctuary for worship each Lord’s Day ever since their birth. In fact, last Sunday was the first time our children ever attended Sunday school! But it was in the education hour prior to the worship service. For worship, we believe in coming together as a family; but yes, that means that Gabriel was over 6 years old before attending a Sunday school class, and Asher nearly 3. I suppose that is backward from what a lot of modern evangelical families practice! 🙂 But it is such a joy and privilege to sit together as a family each week during worship: to sing, pray, learn, read, respond, confess, pass peace, and partake of the Lord’s Supper ~ together. Our children belong to the Lord just as much as we adults do! So this week I read a little book called “Parenting in the Pew” as a refresher and reminder to myself of why it is such a joy and responsibility and privilege not to send my kids off to their own little classes while the adults worship alone. Below, here are a few little highlight snippets that really hit-home for me. May the Lord continue to bless my children, and grant grace to our family, as we come together at His feet to worship Him, seek His grace and forgiveness, revel in His mercy, eat His meal, sing with His people, pray on behalf of His people, and live as equals before our Father in heaven. I love filling a pew together. And just recently, after many months of being at different churches, we are filling a pew with my parents again. The blessing of having three generations together filling a pew is glorious, and we praise God for this kindness! It reminds me of growing up in California, filling a super long pew with my mom’s side of the family: my great-great-grandma, my great-grandpa, my grandpa & grandma, my parents, my brother & me, and occasionally my uncle’s family. All of us together. What a beautiful expression of God’s generational faithfulness, and Deuteronomy 6 coming to life in a tangible way.
May God draw my husband and me, and our children, and our children’s children, even unto a thousand generations, joyfully into His presence because He is faithful, the Alpha and the Omega, worthy of all praise, the Lamb that was slain. Amen!
[As a child], all I was taught was to “be quiet and be good.” “Be still, and know that I am God” is more biblical (Psalm 46:10). This verse begins to define the difference between “going to church” and “going to worship.” Going to worship requires a life-transformation and happens out of a new heart, not an old habit.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p18Simply telling children to “be quiet” is not the way to draw their attention to the worship that is taking place. The purpose of parenting in the pew is to train a child to worship, not to be quiet. Quietness at certain times may enhance their ability to worship, but quietness is a means to this effort, not an end.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p63If our children’s lack of quietness preoccupies us rather than their worship experience, we are simply in the pew in the presence of our kids and are probably feeling far from the presence of God.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p63Training children to worship does not always enhance our own experience of being before the Lord… The number of times children must be helped to concentrate, pay attention and enter into the worship service is almost beyond counting. The effort can be exhausting. And it can be pleasing to God.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p63It can seem paradoxical that to help a child to develop concentration and a sense of quietness for worship, parents have to talk more. If you sit close to your children, however, you can give whispered instructions and reminders rather easily and with little or no distraction to others.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p63It is not unusual for parents to express delight as their own sense of worship is enhanced through practicing parenting in the pew. The liturgy becomes less routine and more relevant. Not because the words have changed, but because we listen again to the familiar and find that God is still speaking.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p67Music is one of the easier tools for parents to use in teaching their children to worship. … Scripture memorizing, too, is made easier if done through songs.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p73Parents need help in getting the youngest of worshipers to sing praise to God through music written for adults. This can be a significant way that young children are connected to the heritage and history of the church. Worship music can also lay a foundation for understanding the truth of God that produces the theologians of the next century.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p73Children love being set free to “make a joyful noise.” … During songs or hymns, encourage very young children to sing “la, la, la” with the tune if the words are totally unknown or unpronounceable to them. Children don’t mind doing this and will quickly begin to pick up the refrain or a repeated phrase.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p73God is believable because He is real. His reality rings true with children because of His sovereignty. God’s purposes and will do not always match our expectations. It is very often in disappointment or difficulty in the lives of our children that God’s existence becomes objective and real, distinctive and powerful for them. We shouldn’t be afraid that prayer that is not answered according to our hopes will weaken or destroy or children’s faith. Children need to see that God can be trusted no matter what. This is the foundation for maturing faith.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p85Learning to pray about real things, simple or profound, prepares children to participate in the church family. The church needs to hear the prayers of children, because they often reflect the best definition of faith given in the Scripture: “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1).
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p85Sometimes [children] will whisper questions in the pew. Giving brief answers to some questions is appropriate; others need to be answered at a later time. Either way, be sure to respond respectfully to your children. If a question needs to be answered later, ask the child to remember the question and ask it again after church.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p101Through worshiping together, my children and I have become friends before the throne of grace. As fellow sinners, we worship our Father who forgives. In worship we have learned to love God and accept His mercy. In worship we have learned to love each other and accept our failures. God must be real in our experience of faith. He must be known and encountered. We cannot be satisfied with worship that simply fulfills social and religious obligations. God must be heard. We need to teach our children what it means to touch the hem of His garment and be healed. Our children need to clamber into the loving lap of the Savior. He yearns for the companionship of children and longs to bless them.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p124…I see my sons more clearly in the pew. Sitting beside me I see the handiwork of God. In the presence of our Father, my sons have become my brothers.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p125The best kind of seeker service is one where unchurched people feel two things simultaneously: “I don’t belong here!” and “I want to belong here!” The mysterium tremendum, God’s fearful majesty, is off-putting and in-drawing at the same time. The “throne of Grace” is still a throne, not a rocking chair or floor pillow. The church is not another club to join. It is the body of Christ, the presence of the kingdom of God in the world.
~Robbie Castleman, Parenting in the Pew, p139
For further excellent encouragement on this subject, please read our friend Pastor Toby Sumpter’s exhortation here!
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
… lest you forget the Lord… It is the Lord your God you shall fear. Him you shall serve and by His name you shall swear.
Deuteronomy 6:5-9, 12, 13
As a homeschooling mama I particularly embrace teaching my children about… well… pretty much everything! But the main thing that God calls me to teach my children is Him ~ and of course, in the process of learning about Him, they will learn not only His Word but also about His people, His world, His creation, His desires. Our prayer is that our children would come to see all of life through the lens of Christianity, so that they know that nothing can be separated from God, and that they would not only know but also love that all things are connected to Him, and are for His glory and the furtherance of His Kingdom.
So as I continue in the journey of homeschooling these sweet children the Lord has entrusted to my care, I pray that Deuteronomy 6 would be a daily meditation and reality for me. It is written on the wall near our front door, and I pray that it would be inscribed upon my heart just as noticeably.
As I’ve recently been enjoying a little read by Elizabeth George, she reminds me of some easy highlights from Deuteronomy 6:7 ~
Who is to teach? Every believing parent.
Who are you to teach? Your children.
What are you to teach? God’s Word.
How are you to teach? Diligently.
When are you to teach? All day long, every day.
Where are you to teach? At home and everywhere.
It’s so basic and so complex all at the same time!
May the Lord equip me to accomplish this task set before me!
Psalm 34:11
2 Timothy 1:5
Proverbs 1:8
Proverbs 6:20
It may be a ten week Bible study course, but it was something that I worked through and studied for the last nine months. Last fall, a couple of friends committed to getting together with me twice a month to pursue praying and singing together, and studying the book of Genesis through Mrs. Guthrie’s study called The Promised One. It was such a blessing for me to read, study, prepare, and share what the Lord was teaching me and showing me and reiterating to me through these chapters and through re-reading the book of Genesis again this year. We took it a little at a time, because even though we had the blessing of having a grandma on-hand every time for babysitting all the kids, we were never uninterrupted, and things like starting on time and staying on task didn’t always happen either. 🙂 Regardless of hiccups, I felt so blessed to have the accountability of regularly getting together with a purpose, and the Lord truly encouraged and challenged my spirit through studying His Word, being reminded of the history of His people (who are also my people!), and applying spiritual truths and principles to my life over these recent months.
I knew I would love this book, and the whole Seeing Jesus in the Old Testament series actually, even if just because Nancy Guthrie wrote it, and nothing of hers has ever left me coming up dry. I’ve read six of her books so far, and I have two more lined up ready to go. I have never met Mrs. Guthrie (even if I do somehow feel like I have, in my heart), but that is on my bucket list ~ if the Lord ever gives a reasonable opportunity, I want to meet Mrs. Guthrie someday, to tell her how she has ministered to me in my grief, encouraged me toward love and good works, and helped shape some of my ministry and writing opportunities.
In this study on Genesis, I may not have had lots of revelations about things I’d never heard before, but some of the most encouraging reiteration of things I’d read before, heard in previous sermons, or thought of when doing character studies on the patriarchs. Beautiful reminders. And honestly, I think largely because Mrs. Guthrie has also buried children and suffered intense grief, the author thinks along similar wavelengths as I do, and she seems to say things exactly when and how my heart needs to receive them. Good stuff. Especially because through the nine months I was studying through The Promised One, I have been suffering and grieving and revisiting all kinds of old temptations & trials. Covenantal theology is an enormous thing for me, never moreso than right now, and while I don’t know if Mrs. Guthrie and I would line up 100% on our biblical interpretations and theologies, for the most part I really think we do, and I have just found it such an encouraging thing to see covenantal theology throughout so much of this Genesis study. It has really solidified things for me and opened my eyes even further on things I had seen glimpses of before.
Another beautiful aspect is how some of the things I read in this study have been wonderfully parallel to some things I’ve also been reading in A Son for Glory which is a study through the book of Job. Once I completely finish that book (I’m not quite there yet), there will hopefully be a blog about that one as well (it’s super good stuff).
For the last year or so, my husband and I have been utterly astounded by GRACE. Just in awe of God’s grace not only to us, but to His people at large. We have been grappling to get ahold of a bigger and stronger understanding of grace, seeking to soak up His grace so much that we ooze it out on each other, on our children, and on others around us as well. And for the last few months especially, we have really seen God doing such wonderful works in us and in our family, as we have seen and embraced grace from Him, from one another, to one another… to God be all glory! But one of the biggest hallmarks in this Bible study is the overriding theme of grace! So having this book to read and to hammer grace into my head and heart over recent months, right along the same time that my husband and I have been seeking to know and understand and grasp and embrace and overflow grace… well, it’s just one of those “God things” where you know He lines up even the smallest details of our lives. And it makes me so thankful.
So please take a moment to read just a very few wonderful-to-me, although out of context, quotes from The Promised One, and consider it my offering to poke you toward this Bible study series… I am off to begin The Lamb of God next.
“When we have been made new on the inside, it fortifies us to endure the inevitable oldness and deterioration that is a reality of living in these bodies of flesh in a world that still longs to be transformed by this same newness.” (p51)
“To know the favor of God is not to be loved as you are by nature but to be loved for who you are in Christ.” (p101)
“The bigger picture around the ark was that of families on rooftops, struggling and failing to keep their heads above the water, and a sea of floating corpses… It prefigures what will happen to all who refuse to enter into the safety and protection provided in Christ… Because Noah was a righteous man who walked with God, Noah’s heart must have broken as he heard the desperate cries of those who were not safely inside the ark… Rest inside the boat does not come easily unless all those you love deeply are safe inside with you… It can only be saturated in prayer. It can only be sought through diligence on our knees… And ultimately, we pray that it will not be our loved one’s rebellion and resistance that will have the last word in his or her life, but God’s grace and mercy.” (p104-106)
“Noah’s story is the story of a man who walked with God, believed God, waited for God, and depended on God. But sadly, it is also the story of a man who, in the final chapter of his life, dishonored and failed God. Noah is just like us. He not only needed God’s saving grace; he needed God’s sustaining grace.” (p109)
“Like Abraham, we must believe that the righteousness of Christ is sufficient, that it is weighty enough, and that God is good enough to give it to us, who have no real righteousness of our own.” (p162)
“To walk before God is to live in such a way that every step is made in reference to God.” (p185)
“No one who lives by faith continues to live their own way. Grace goes to work in the interior of our lives so that our allegiances are directed by God and our perspectives are shaped by God.” (p186)
“God was faithful in His promises. Abraham received the promises of God not because he and Sarah worked up enough faith on their own to believe God’s promises and hold on to them. It was grace given to them in spite of their doubt and disbelief. God was faithful to Abraham not because of Abraham’s faithfulness but in spite of Abraham’s faithlessness. God kept all of His promises to Abraham, who did not keep his promises to God… The good news of the gospel is that even though we fail in keeping our promises to God, He will keep His promises to us.” (p192)
“Genuine faith is always lived out through obedience. Authentic faith is proven, purified, and strengthened when put to the test.” (p194)
“The point of this story [of Abraham being willing to sacrifice Isaac on an altar[ is not to convince or convict you that you must be willing to sacrifice for God what is most precious to you. It is that God was willing to sacrifice for you what was most precious to Him.” (p197)
“God’s promises to me are not for this life only. In fact they are not primarily for this life, but for an eternity to come.” (p198)
“Joseph not only knew that God was with him but also was confident in God’s plan to use him. That confidence gave him peace as he waited for God to work out His plan, even as that plan brought him pain.” (p241)
“God’s people would suffer. But it would not e wasted, meaningless suffering. It would be fruitful suffering… Joseph didn’t turn his attention to being fruitful only after the season of suffering was over. In the land of his affliction, in the middle of the struggle, in the heart of the darkness, Joseph was confident that God was at work.” (p243-244)
“He has a purpose and design in what is happening to us from the beginning, and even though what is happening to us might not be good, God intends it all for our ultimate good… We may never see in this life exactly how God is using our loss for good. But just because we can’t see or articulate clearly His purpose in our suffering doesn’t mean He doesn’t have one… Your suffering will one day give way to great glory.” (p250-251)
“While God certainly cares for us and interacts with us as individuals, and His purposes for us are personal, we have to balance that perspective with the truth that the heart of the story of the Bible is God’s dealings not with individuals but with a people — a people He has called to Himself from all the peoples of the earth. So while there is a great deal we can learn from Genesis about how we can expect God to deal with us as individuals, we cannot miss the context, which is that God’s purposes are not primarily about individuals but about His chosen people.” (p280)
I have an honest confession that I need to make, but it is very difficult to make this confession publicly. I feel like I should be stronger than I am, or at least more joyful even if weak. But the true confession is that I am really struggling to cope and function on the most basic levels, and not give in to overwhelming anxiety. I am now pretty much past all seven of my past miscarriage marker dates (with the exception of one that was a missed miscarriage, and while it took my body a while to actually miscarry, her development had stopped by now)… but because the problems we are facing this time are totally unrelated to my immunological problems that caused all seven of my previous miscarriages, I feel like I am in frightening territory that is completely new, unfamiliar, unknown… and it is so terrifying.
My plethora of medications, thanks be to God, are once again controlling my immunological problems and protecting this baby, allowing my body to nurture him/her! I am SO grateful for that. It makes every pill, every injection, every past hiccup and mountain totally worthwhile. Praise to God alone for providing these things!!
But that does not help with the problem this baby is facing: that of seeming to be outgrowing the gestational sac. I had never even heard of that before, and now I’m too afraid to “research” it online because knowing the level of risk just wouldn’t really help my coping right now.
I’m trying to take it easy, as limited activity was suggested as “it couldn’t hurt and might help.”
I’m also drinking at least a gallon of water a day, again suggested along similar lines; I guess thinking that if my body is super hydrated, maybe the baby would get more amniotic fluid and maybe the sac would grow better…?
It is such a helpless feeling, especially as a mother: to know that I am doing everything I can, yet still feeling like there is absolutely nothing I can do.
One thing is for sure: I do NOT know how anyone could cope with such situations without resting in Christ and His sovereignty.
So we are thankful that we are His. We are thankful that this baby is His, and only lent to us. We are thankful that we know with certainty that Little ‘Leven’s days are already numbered, and that the Creator of all things and Sustainer of all creation is the One who not only created but sustains this darling baby.
I definitely find myself living and breathing that C.S. Lewis quote,
“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us;
we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”
May God sustain us, and may He grant me the ability to cope little by little because of His great grace, so that I can follow Him with faith and continue doing what He has called me to do as the mother of this beloved child.
This morning as I read a daily devotional snippet by Nancy Guthrie, the Lord spoke to me right where I need a continual reminder today, and I am so thankful that even little things like this can be exhorting even while I sit here trembling, crying, wondering what the future holds:
Joshua 1:9
This is my command ~ be strong and courageous!
Do not be afraid or discouraged.
For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
Walking through life with Me does not mean that there is never any struggle, or that you will never face opposition or difficulty. It means that you can encounter whatever comes without being crippled by fear or depleted by discouragement. Instead, you can know a strength and courage that comes from your settled confidence that I am with you. I am out in front of you, leading you into the abundant life I have promised to give you. I am beside you, speaking words of encouragement and instruction, pointing out potential dangers. I am in you, filling you with My power and conforming you into the image of My dear Son. When I tell you I am with you, I do not mean I am present in a general sense, but in a personal sense. You have My attention and affection. Wherever you go, you can reach out and find Me right beside you.
Today is October 15th, the day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss remembrance and awareness. In past years, I have been nearly overwhelmed by anticipating this and preparing for it. It’s one of the few times where I felt normal for speaking about the babies that were born directly from my womb to the glories of heaven, one of the few days where I don’t find myself blushing when talking about the little babies the size of a fingernail who I have cradled in my hand, one of the few Hallmark holiday type moments that I take delight in embracing. I love to speak about my babies, to remember aloud the beautiful little children that God created with Steven & me, to imagine what their resurrected bodies look like, to wonder what the hosts of heaven sound like with my seven little saints uniting their voices with all the saints victorious. I love to light candles and let balloons go up into the sky. I love to wear jewelry with their names on them, and look at the arrows in a leather quiver that also bear their names. As weird as it sounds, I love to think about the sorrow and the grief ~ it’s one of the few things I have done in my motherhood of these seven children. And I love to think about reuniting with them in heaven ~ it’s the only thing I have in my motherhood of these seven children that I get to look forward to. The mystery of heaven, the glory of heaven, the purity of heaven… some of my children are experiencing that right now, and I can only begin to wrap my brains around that.
Nancy Guthrie, one of my favorite authors, describes this at length (quoted from The One Year Book of Hope, pp 161-174):
Heaven. It is our fondest desire, and yet it is such a mystery, isn’t it? We lack the clarity or vocabulary to understand or describe heaven. The magnificence and marvels of heaven are beyond the capacity of our language and intellect. And really, anything less wouldn’t be heaven, would it?
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” ~ 1 Corinthians 2:9
If only we could long for heaven and long for Christ as we long for our son.
Suddenly I was longing for heaven and it seemed so real. And yet, if I was honest, it was not Jesus I was longing to see and enjoy most of all; it was Hope. But I didn’t want to admit it. not to myself, and certainly not to anybody else. It seemed to me a sad commentary on the inferior state of my love for Christ.
Should you feel guilty about wanting to see someone you love in heaven? I don’t think so. It is a desire God uses to awaken us to Himself. When someone we love is there, heaven becomes more real and our longing more vivid. It is a sacred longing. The fact that we long for them more than we long for Jesus reflects our current human limitations of taking in the beauty and magnificence of Jesus. In heaven, we will see Him in His fullness, and we will not have to choose between focusing on the people we love and loving Jesus with our whole heart. We’ll be swept up with the chorus of heaven singing, “The Lamb is worthy” (Revelation 5:12). And together with those we love, we will look to Jesus.The grace is, for me, a difficult place. Sometimes people have tried to comfort me be reminding me that Hope and Gabe are not in that grave — that they are in heaven. I know what they are saying — but my children’s bodies are in that grave and I loved their bodies! Bodies must mater to God because He will use the seed of our earthly bodies to make for us bodies fit for heaven. Out bodies will be remade for glorified minds that understand the mysteries of the universe and purified hearts that are free of bitterness and resentment, selfishness and suspicion. We will see each other as God intended us to be all along, before sin had its way in our hearts and bodies.
There is one place where heaven is always talked about — in the pages of a hymnal. Have you ever noticed how most old hymns end with a heaven verse — one that celebrates Christ’s coming return or what it will be like to cross death’s shores? O that with yonder sacred throng, we at His feet may fall, we’ll join the everlasting song, and crown Him Lord of all… Far, far away, not only could I see that “younger sacred throng,” I could see a familiar face in the midst of the throng! Someone I love is there, worshiping Jesus! I am closest to them when I do what they are doing and love Whom they are loving — when I fall at the feet of Jesus. They are at the feet of Jesus, singing praises to the Lamb who is worthy! But we don’t have to wait until heaven to join the everlasting song. We can join in here and now.
Grieve with us, share our sorrow, but don’t feel sorry for us. We are enormously blessed. A piece of us resides in heaven. Her absence leaves a hole in our hearts, but we are comforted to know we will one day see her again.
“He will remove all of their sorrows, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. For the old world and its evils are gone forever.” ~ Revelation 21:3-4
This life is not all there is, and neither is it the best there is.
The undercurrent of all Scripture — even the passages that give directions for how to live our lives on this earth — is preparation for and longing for heaven. To set your sights on heaven is to choose to anchor your thoughts and your heart’s desires beyond the ordinary things of earth. It is to choose to value what is valued in heaven, to be concerned with the concerns of heaven, and to enjoy what is delightful in heaven.Longing for heaven is not a form of escapism. It is extreme realism.
Every hunger we have has been placed there by God. All are God-given, and he is not surprised when we try to satisfy these desires. Neither is He disappointed when we discover that we are never satisfied. Discovering that we cannot satisfy our longings in the here and now forces us to reckon with the fact that we will never be satisfied in this life.It is the separation that hurts. In heaven there will be no more separation. there will be nothing that separates us from each other or from God ever again. No more sorrow. No more crying. No more pain. No more curse. No more death. “No more” encapsulates some of heaven’s sweetest gifts.
In a couple of weeks, it will (God willing) have been three years since my last miscarriage. Three years ago, my son Hosanna was snuggling in my womb, and we were praying with trepidation that God would save him. His very name, Hosanna, means “save, lord!” The realization that it has been nearly three years since death has been in our home is utterly astounding to me, extremely humbling.
I am in a transitional phase of life right now. Letting go. It isn’t easy. It is both good and difficult.
Remembering some of what Mrs. Guthrie said regarding letting go and moving forward (pp 409-414) brings bittersweet tears to my eyes. Back when I first read these words, I didn’t know if I would ever get to the other side. But now I can say that I know from experience that she is right. I’m there. Thanks be to God.
She wrote to her daughter in heaven, “I don’t want it to be another year; it just takes me further away from you. I want so desperately to feel close to you, to be able to hear you in my mind even if all I ever got to hear from you was a cry. I want to feel your skin and stroke your cheek. I want to wake up and find you here. But you are so far away and becoming even more distant in my memory, and it is so painful. I don’t know how to let you go and hold on to you at the same time. How can I stay close to you if I don’t stay sad? Sometimes I want to scream because I feel so torn. Forgive me for going on with life without you… it just keeps moving farther and farther away.“
Some days I wonder if the letting go will ever stop… I had to let go of her physical body, my dreams for her… her things… her room… my hopes for Matt to have a sibling…
The truth is, eventually, we will let go of everything in this life. Life is a constant barrage of having things and people we love ripped away from us. Every ripping away takes a piece of us with it, leaving us raw and stinging with pain.Do you find yourself resentful that people no longer ask about your loss or struggle? Are you frustrated that they seem to have moved on and forgotten? Don’t be afraid they’ll forget. Don’t be afraid they’ll think you’re fine when you are still hurting deeply. It takes a conscious choice to turn conversations away from my pain, to stop trying to make sure everyone understands my hurt and has considered my feelings. but it is a step toward normalization, and a step closer to Christ.
There is a tyranny in grief. We realize at some point that we have to figure out how to keep on living, how to incorporate the loss into our lives. We want to feel normal again, to feel joy again. But the energy and emotion of grief keep us feeling close to the one we love or connected to what we’ve lost. Letting go of our grief feels like letting go of the one we love, leaving him or her behind and moving on. The very idea of it is unbearable.
We can make the painful choice to let it go — not all at once, but a little every day. We begin to find that we have the choice of whether or not we will let ourselves sink to that place of unbearable pain when the flashes of memories and reminders of loss pierce our hearts. And we can begin to make that hard choice. We can begin to let go of our grief so we can grab hold of life and those who are living. but I think the only way we can do that is by telling ourselves the truth — that if we choose to let go of the pain, or at least let it become manageable, it does not mean we love the one we’ve lost any less. And it doesn’t mean that person’s life was any less significant or meaningful, or that we will forget.When you love something or someone, the process of letting go is a painful one that takes some time, and it need not be rushed. Nor should it be avoided altogether. We feel the pain, mourn the loss, shed our tears, and with time we can begin to let go of the grief that has had such a hold on us. Perhaps it’s not so much that we let go of our grief, but more that we give our grief permission to lessen its grip on us.
Psalm 13
How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.
But I have trusted in Your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because He has dealt bountifully with me.
My Father has not forgotten me. We have trusted in Him, and our hearts rejoice in Him. We do sing to Him, because in all things (even in the grief), He has dealt so bountifully with us. We are so thankful.
Thank you for remembering our children, for knowing that we have ten children. Thank you for living with us through the storm. And thank you, too, for being with us in the peace that has followed the sorrow.
