Tuesday March 30, 2010

We have returned from the land of no-internet. 🙂 I will upload some pictures soon from our adventures in California (I know, I know – I could have visited so many of you, but trust me when I say we literally had no minutes to spare – maybe another time!) this last week. For now, I just wanted to say hello and get back into the net world. I am trying to catch up on everybody’s lives, and it’s hard. I guess a lot happens in a week. We did have a simply lovely time, and although my hubby was working (he presented at a techie conference in San Jose), we had lots of time to enjoy God’s creation, some relatives, and good old family time. I even managed to survive plane flights – if you don’t already know, I have a fear of flying, so it’s a big deal. 🙂

Now I am catching up on life: bills, laundry, email & voicemail, restocking the ‘fridge, etc. Steven is getting caught up on work, and Gabriel is getting reacquainted with his toys. 🙂 I also have a bunch of music rehearsals coming up, as we are preparing things for Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. I love Holy Week. I had hoped to try doing a Seder meal this year, but am not sure I’ll be able to pull it off. We have parish fellowship that night, and my husband is leading it – so perhaps I will put the Seder off until next year. I am excited to be working on harp and organ this week, and might even get to do some piano (the easy way out!), but we’ll see.

I will also be preparing for another round of infusions next week. It feels like that is coming up too quickly, but maybe that’s good.

Also, today we are remembering our sweet Glory baby. When I mentioned it to Steven earlier, we almost couldn’t believe it has been a year since he left us.
Glory Hesed, your mommy & daddy will never forget the brief time we were able to spend with you in our home, and we will forever be blessed by your part in our family. We love you and treasure you, and pray for strength to endure the days until we are united once again in bliss. We know the Lord is keeping you, and we know you are blessing Him. xoxo I love you, Glory baby.

Psalm 71:8
My mouth is filled with Your praise,
   and with Your glory all the day.

Monday March 22, 2010

I have found a new hobby.
A new instrument.
The organ.
Yes, our church bought a  new organ recently, and I am hooked.
I went to play on it for a while one day last week, and then played organ yesterday in church for the prelude & meditation.
L.o.v.e.d. it!
So I am thinking of buying some organ music, and trying to hone some skills.
Wondering if I will actually have time or wherewithal or talent for this…
but definitely hoping. 🙂
And hoping that church will be wanting an organist sometimes instead of just a pianist. 🙂
Sometimes they want me as a harpist, so I’m crossing my fingers.

Friday March 19, 2010

The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride;
The threshold high enough to turn deceit aside;
The doorband strong enough from robbers to defend;
This door will open at a touch to welcome every friend.
~Henry Jackson van Dyke


One of my favorite books about relationships is Face to Face by Steve Wilkins, discussing friendship and hospitality. It’s been about two years since I have read it, though, so it’s about time to start again. 🙂 Click here for a decent review of it. I once shared excerpts and quotes from it here, too (anyone remember that?).
The funny thing is that we are almost always eager to pursue friendship. But are we as eager to pursue hospitality?
The two things are frequently related, but not always. Interesting.

I don’t know that I want to get into a deep discussion about hospitality right now.
I just wanted to say that I personally have been getting back at it.
During times of heavy grief, I am not always able to open my doors to invite in lots of guests for pretty tables and delicious food. But times of heavy grief come and go (sometimes predictably, but more often less so), and the days come again when I am equipped by God’s grace to show hospitality.
In recent weeks, I have made an effort to have someone over for dinner once a week. We’ve done it for the last four weeks, and are about to take a break for a few weeks. But then maybe I will try it once again.
It is delightful to have people over to share a meal (simple or fancy, as the case may be), pop open a bottle of wine (or a couple of beers, or a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade), and chase the evening away with pleasant conversation and fellowship (and maybe even a board game or two).

I pray that as I age, I will grow into my desires of hospitality. I would love to share my home, my table, my meals, and my family with others. Especially those in the bonds of Christ (Galatians 6:10). It is mutually beautiful and encouraging! But I would, someday, like to grow out of my comfort zone. I would love to invite nonChristians into my home (with discretion and hubby’s leading) someday, so that we can share the Gospel more tangibly, with table & food & conversation. I have always felt more called to discipleship than evangelism (God gives different gifts to different people), but I think I must at least dip toes into both realms. And one way I would love to grow my evangelistic thread is by sharing food (not that that is the only way to show hospitality, for it certainly is not. It is just one of my main ways of showing hospitality, as God has gifted me in that area). I have a few thoughts on how this may develop and evolve through the coming years… but this isn’t the time or place for that just yet. 🙂

I have been trying out new recipes on my hubby very frequently of late, and have even tried new recipes on our guests (which can be risky business). For our first recent set of guests, we had fajitas (our favorite tried & true, easy & quick, go-to meal) and salad and chips & salsa; with sweet tea to drink and chocolate bundt cake (new recipe!) for dessert. The second set of guests helped us share a meal of salmon & tilapia (basted with garlic, Meyer lemon, herb butter), quinoa (new recipe!), salad, and bread; again with sweet tea to drink and peach cobbler for dessert. The third set came on a day I had a blood infusion, so I tried planning ahead with a crockpot meal of Beef Burgundy (a twist on the theme, at least – I didn’t actually use burgundy, I used port! and this was also a new recipe!), salad, bread (new recipe again!); with a Spanish wine to drink and blackberry buckle (another new recipe!) for dessert (the pictures below are of this meal). Then on St. Patrick’s day we shared a meal again (this time with my brother’s family!), so it was our traditional March 17th fare of corned beef (with a fabulous brine in the crockpot), cabbage, onions and carrots, Irish soda bread (new recipe!), sour cream mashed potatoes; with Guinness to drink and chocolate chip cookies for dessert.


Besides the food, the home and table and atmosphere should also be welcoming and lovely. It should seep with hospitality. While I don’t necessarily think you have to have your house completely spic & span to have company (for what of those unannounced guests that occasionally pop by? Do invite them inside, even if there is dog hair all over the couch and toys strewn all across the floor!); if the company is expected, your home should look like it was expecting company. This will look different for different homes and different families. So do what you need to do to prepare your home (as well as yourself and your meal) to be hospitable.
For me, this involves bringing out the vacuum to clean the carpets and get the dog hair off the couch, etc. Vacuuming almost always involves first decluttering the house and putting away [most of] the toys. It also involves wiping down the bathroom; if it needs a good, deep clean then by all means scrub away… but if it just needs a little freshening up, grab a Lysol wipe (or spray a cloth with some good all-purpose disinfecting cleaner), and wipe down the countertop & sink, and then lastly wipe down the commode (no guest wants to use a disgusting toilet – I promise). Don’t worry much about the shower/tub unless the guests are staying overnight. Just close the door/curtain, and call it good. A quick Windexing of the mirror would be nice, and maybe putting in a Glade Plug-In or lighting a candle out-of-the-reach-of-children on the counter would add a nice scent and ambience.


And the table… yes, the table! Basically the altar upon which you offer your delicious meal as a sacrifice of your time, energies, and means! Make it lovely. This can be very simple or very complex, depending on the day. I like to have a candle or two (or four…), a vase (or jar or champagne flute) with a flower/bouquet, sometimes a tablecloth (especially if your actual table is less than lovely), etc.


Remember to relax. If something gets spilled on the tablecloth or floor, just smile and quickly wipe it up – and deal with stain-removal once the guests have left. Shrug it off. If you are relaxed and comfortable, your guests will be too.

Share the Gospel – with your food, your home, your words & your actions. Interact with your family as well as theirs. Don’t ignore anyone, including the littlest guests! Keep the conversation going (which is sometimes easier than others). Bring out toys for children (or Tupperware and wooden spoons and cookie cutters if you don’t have any), turn on some music, and enjoy sharing of yourself and your resources.

Also remember that hospitality isn’t just shown by inviting a whole family over for dinner.
(Mrs. Wilson has an archive about various issues involving hospitality right here!)
Hospitality is shown by delivering dinner to someone else’s home; by dropping off half a dozen (or a dozen!) cookies on a random day of the week to encourage someone’s day; by giving a can or two to the local canned food drive; by offering a bedroom to a traveling minister who needs a place to rest his head; by inviting someone over for brunch or tea; by sharing your garden produce with neighbors or brethren at church…
Hospitality looks different for different people, and different at different times. But it is always lovely.
Share of yourself. Bless God. And encourage hospitality in yourself, your home, and your family.

Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;
Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord;
Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing constant in prayer;
Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.
~Romans 12:10-13

Monday March 15, 2010

Opening a can of worms can be so… wormy. 🙂

I guess my previous post was meaning to clarify myself, but maybe it was just digging further into the can. That’s quite possible (and that’s okay – I’d love to learn how to eat fried worms, lol). In my experience, it is desperately hard to tell tone, inflection, and even meaning sometimes when something is written. You can’t see facial expression or always discern sarcasm. And although sometimes I use italics, sometimes I use them too often or not enough. And aren’t you left sometimes thinking, “is she talking about me?!” (or not). So yeah – wormy. 🙂

Blogs are funny. There are lots of different kinds of blogs, and my blog tends to fall somewhere into the realm of an online journal. Pictures and personal updates, things I read, things I cook, thing I make – yep, I guess it’s pretty much all about me, me, me. That’s how most personal blogs end up being, when you grind them down to brass tacks. All I am doing is sharing my experience. That’s all I know. So it’s all I feel comfortable sharing about here – my experience.

If you look at my recently created little “tag cloud” (as I think my hubby called it), you’ll notice that “grief” is pretty  much the largest word. That’s because it has the most tags. And that‘s because this last year has been a year of grief for me. People tend to blog about their experiences – and as I said, I fall into that category. I blog about what I am doing, thinking, reading, cooking… and so yes, for right now, a large part of my blogging falls into the grief category. Because that is where God has me. I am learning to be thankful for that, and God’s enabling grace causes me to resist becoming bitter. And I give all the glory and praise for that to God! I sincerely hope that my tag cloud will change one day soon. That the word grief will become smaller amongst the other words. And that it will not be the majority of my experience, and therefore the majority of what I share. But for now, that’s a large portion of what you get here on my blog. Pray with me that it won’t be like that forever. 🙂

I love to pray for people. I love to encourage people.
Those are what some people call my “spiritual gifts.”
I inherited that from my mother. 🙂
And no, I don’t always have the right words (if you’ve ever gotten an “encouraging” note from me, I frequently say that flat-out), and I don’t always know what you are feeling, suffering, or going through.
And yes, I too love to be prayed for. I love to be told that I am being prayed for. I love getting flowers, cards, emails, hugs, coffee, muffins, dinner, blog comments — those are a few ways people have reached out to encourage me when the times are tough. And I just simply love it when people reach out to encourage me – because I know that takes faith, courage, and love. I know that, and I am thankful. So THANK YOU. 🙂

The hard thing is: everyone suffers.
And everyone suffers differently.
God gives us different problems and different experiences. And even if we go through the “same” pain or suffering, we each handle it differently. For instance, if two women lost their husbands in the same head-on automobile collision, the two wives would likely grieve very differently, handle it very differently, and experience two different things – even though on the outside it would look like the same thing.
So when I say “you can’t understand” what I am suffering, it’s true. (To an extent.) Just like I can’t understand your own suffering. That isn’t a bad thing, and I never mean it to come across as vindictive or accusatory. Simply a fact. We will never wear each others’ shoes.

In the online forums in which I participate, I have met with hundreds of women who have lost babies. Some have lost many more than I have, some have only lost one, etc. And although sometimes we know the right thing to say, oftentimes we don’t. And that’s okay. We are reaching out with the comfort with which we have been comforted. And that’s all anyone (including our Lord) can ask of us. I’ve never asked more than that from any of you, my friends & family.

I have a couple of friends whose husbands have been out of work for over a year.
We know a family who has to sell their house ultimately because the husband is out of work.
I have a dear friend whose mother has recently fought through her second bout of breast cancer.
There are three different families we know who have children in rebellion, who have been excommunicated from the covenant community.
One couple we are friends with always has premature babies: they’ve had three babies (two have been in the NICU) in the last 35 months.
One of my friends suffers from Crohn’s disease.
A family at our church is trying to adopt twin boys while raising support for the mission field.

These are just a few forms of suffering that are effecting people that I know and love. These are people that I minister to, encourage, and pray for although I have never been in their shoes.
I do it imperfectly.
I don’t know if it is honestly encouraging for them or not.
But the Lord has called me to encourage them and pray for them in my imperfect ways, and I make an effort to do so, praying that God would give me the words and the timing and the resources to be a true comfort.

So sure, you may not “completely understand,” as that would be impossible (and I am not asking you to). But you try. And you take me before the throne of our Heavenly Father. And that is beautiful. And I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that. And how thankful I am that you tell me. Because otherwise, I just wouldn’t know. 🙂

And yes, some people are called to share their trials (and blessings) with others (like I am), while some do not feel that calling. My personal experience is that I feel called to it. I said that I could never ignore the lives of my children, but I didn’t mean to imply that someone who keeps a miscarriage (or another form of suffering) to themselves is necessarily ignoring or forgetting their child. My family, and our experience, and what the Lord has called us to – that’s all I was referring to. I can’t pretend to know the intricacies of anyone else’s losses, sufferings, or pains. Even if someone else’s suffering is because of miscarriage. Some people call me an expert on that, but I’m not. Certainly we all have different experiences, different callings, and different coping mechanisms. I am the first one to accept that.

So why do I share my experiences? Why do I share my grief? Why do I share the lives of my children with you?
To bring glory to God.
To show His faithfulness both at midnight and at noonday.
So that someday when I am no longer walking through the valley, you can rejoice even more with me when I am dancing on the mountaintops.
And in case someone else in a similar situation to mine comes by my blog, maybe I can even offer practical advice (from my experience) that other women wouldn’t be equipped with. Who knows.

May God use me –even me– and my feeble little blog to show forth His praises, His providence, and His comfort.
It’s all I can share – it’s my experience

Monday March 15, 2010

(excerpted) ~~>
I yearn for the days that we ‘didn’t know.’  The days when pregnancy was blissful and normal, filled with joy and anticipation.  


I want my ignorance back!  I want to be able to believe, once again, that NOTHING could possibly go wrong ~ that I could NEVER be a statistic.  I want to be able to think of a newborn baby and not cry or feel such intense jealousy that I don’t even recognize myself.   I want to be able to wear my maternity clothes with pleasure again.  To feel like I am blossoming and not getting ready to implode. 

I want the light switch moments of my life back.  I want to be one of the others who do not understand what it is like to lose a child.   Instead, I don’t get to choose and just have to live with it.  It has become part of who I am.  I have to learn to survive ~ to find the elusive “new normal.”   

I just want a life jacket or a boat that will carry me in the current of death.  I want to believe that God is that for me…but He seems so very far away right now.  Sometimes, even with my best efforts, I get pulled under and tossed about, in the emotion that I don’t see coming.  One word, one look, one encounter, one smell, one song, one thing ~ is all it takes to blindside me. 

I don’t ever get to just turn it OFF!  I have to pray to get through.  I have to hope that each day, I will find it easier to anticipate.  

How very lucky the others are, to be able to offer support and then go on with their lives.   Feeling better for having reached out and stepping out of their comfort zone, knowing that when they turn back around, their normal life will be waiting.  Like a bit of mud on hiking shoes.  It is easy to dislodge once you get out of the muck, take off your shoes, and let it dry.  I don’t get to wear hiking boots, I have to walk through in my bare feet.  I have to feel rough terrain:  each rock, brier,  and thorn that threatens to cut my feet to shreds. 

In all of this, all I can do is wait and pray.  Pray that God will continue to help me feel His unconditional love.  Pray that even when I turn from Him, because I expect that I will (I am only human), He will embrace me. 

I know that many of you are reading and hoping to offer some kind of relief from the pain.  I don’t know that it is even possible.  Pain is something that only God can help me with.  But I do know that there is support (I can feel it) in the form of prayers.  And I think that it is safe to say that we don’t want to be forgotten or avoided. 

Right now, I don’t know that there will ever be a time when we will be ‘better’  just ‘better at hiding our pain.’


A woman I know online, a sweet bereaved mommy, wrote the above excerpt. Our experiences are not identical, but these are words I could have penned myself. I wanted to share them with you, so that you know I am not the only one feeling these things. Her heart, her courage, her writing, her faith are beautiful to me.

Recently one of you said that it is courageous of me to share some of what I do with you. Thank you for recognizing that. You know I don’t have to bare my soul to you. I don’t have to tell you of my grief or share my heart with you. I didn’t even have to tell you that five of my children ever even existed! You never would have known the difference. Right?
But actually… I don’t believe that. I believe I do have to share with you (although I share even more on my private family blog – aren’t you glad you aren’t privy that one?!), and that God has called me to proclaim His glories and faithfulness through my loss and grief and pain. And I can’t even imagine ignoring the existence of any of my children.
Life on earth only lasts for so long. Life in heaven is eternal.
That is where true life lies.
Although most of the time I tend to think of Covenant, Glory, Promise, Peace, and Mercy as having died – in truth, they are the ones who are truly living. Those of us left behind to walk the dust of this earth for our threescore and ten – we are dying. We are simply longing for the true life of heaven to which five of my children have already attained.
How beautiful that is.
(Beautiful, at least, when I am not in a moment of overwhelming grief, and am willing to see its beauties.)

Anyway…

Someone else also recently wanted to encourage me (thank you for that, too!) not to grow weary during this hard time. That is something I am praying for grace to do – to endure with faithfulness, not growing weary – although it is honestly tempting to simply throw it all away and wallow in tears. But that’s something you won’t see me do. By God’s all-sufficient grace. (Amen.)

Many people have told me that Gabriel will make a huge impact on the Kingdom. And I truly believe that. I believe that God has prepared great things (whether he sees it in his lifetime or not) for this little boy. He survived against odds I can’t even comprehend. He had about a 5-8% chance of being born. What a miraculous little life. Sustained by God’s very words.
And not that I expect my Gabriel to be a Samuel, Jacob, or Moses necessarily — but the Lord had him survive against great odds. I truly do believe that whether I have other biological children or not, the Lord has great things planned for my son. Gabriel belongs to the Lord, and I am eager to see the paths He has prepared for this little boy as he grows.
Yes, many “great men” were from small families. Many women were mothers of few children. The most common  examples people give me are (predictably) Sarah and Hannah, but there are many others. And no, of course I do not believe that having more children is more holy or more honorable. I am definitely not in the “Quiverfull Movement” (oooh, do I sense another blog post coming there?? hmmm…).
Of course that does not necessarily mean that we will give up pursuing more children for the Kingdom (either on earth or in heaven), as our Lord leads. At this point, we feel strongly the Lord calling us to endurance. So we must follow Him and His call. We seek His wisdom and guidance as we move forward. We know that He will continue to guide our footsteps, and we are praying for discernment as we follow Him.

Certainly, yes, Gabriel is young – not yet two years old. And certainly, no, I am not too old to bear children.
But these things, I’m afraid, are not the point.
Gabriel’s age is irrelevant.
And I am not a “normal” bereaved mommy. The majority of women (85%, according to most statistics) who endure a pregnancy loss will go on to have perfectly normal, full term, healthy pregnancies following a miscarriage/stillbirth. While having one miscarriage is very common, it is less common to have recurrent miscarriages (some places say that chance of recurrent miscarriage is only 1%, while others say 1 in 200 couples). And with each miscarriage a woman has, her statistic chance of having a healthy baby in the future goes down significantly. After having five miscarriages (regardless of having a live birth in there – because Gabriel has already been established as a miracle), my statistical chance of having a healthy baby is 5%. Five.
For me, being young makes no difference.
And for me, trying again makes no difference.
Most of my babies have not died from some random chromosomal anomaly that will likely not reoccur in a future pregnancy. It is our belief, according to the knowledge that God has provided us, that only one of our babies has died from aneuploidy.
For most women, seeing a heartbeat on an ultrasound is a comfort – for me, it means nothing. While risk of miscarriage for most women drops to 5% or less after confirming a heartbeat in a baby over 6 weeks’ gestational age, it doesn’t for me.
Maybe some of you will remember that Peace miscarried in November just a few hours after we saw his gorgeous little heartbeat (it was the second time we’d seen it).

I’m not asking for pity here. That’s not why I am writing this.
I just wanted to make some clarifications. For myself, if not for you.

I am not most women.
I am not even most bereaved women.

While yes, there may be time and there may be hope – when you’re in my shoes, both of those things are limited.
My body now will rely largely on medical intervention to prepare for and protect pregnancy. Any time that I could possibly conceive, I need to be monitored closely and continue these medical interventions (unless we want to keep miscarrying 4 or 5 babies a year for the rest of my fertile years). If you know anything about lab work, medications, medical specialists, plasma, i.v.’s, etc – you will understand that these are not cheap. And while we pay for good insurance, our insurance does not have to cover these things (we pray that they will continue to cover a percentage though). If our insurance drops us, you’ll realize (ca-ching) that my childbearing days may be over.
And, please note, these medical interventions are still balancing on the skinny branches: while not exactly experimental anymore, they are far from common practice. There are no guarantees. None.
Yes, it is possible that I will be able to have more biological children with the aid of i.v.’s, shots, and medications.
And yes, it is possible that my body will be resistant and will simply continue to miscarry repeatedly.

This is where I stand.
This is where God has us.
This is what our kind Father ordained for us, prepared for us, and carries us through.

Yes, we want more children.
No, we are not unthankful for our one living son.
Yes, we acknowledge that a family of 3 is just as useable in God’s kingdom as a family of 8.
No, we do not feel God calling us to complacent contentment.
Yes, we are pursuing more biological children as God provides.
No, we will not stop pursuing where God leads.
Yes, He may change His direction of leading.
No, He will not leave or forsake us.
Yes, He may use miracles (like Gabriel) or medical science (which He has given us as a gift).
No, there are no guarantees.
Yes, we continue to grieve for our five children in heaven.
No, this is not wrong but right.

Answer this for me: if you have six children and five of them die, would you not grieve? Would you want someone telling you that you need to get over it, be happy, simply try again (there’s time and hope that you can replace those kids)? Obviously not.

And if you think for a second, “but your five children died before they were born” – stop it. Get over yourself.
Life begins at conception.
These are my sons and daughters.
They are heirs to the Kingdom of Heaven.

We do have hope.
But where is that hope?
I must cling to God alone for hope, especially in the midst of grief. Not to hope of a future healthy baby. I would be deluded if I thought that my hope and my joy will come from a healthy pregnancy… that will only bring me joy ultimately if my first joy is found in the Lord. So yes, I am praying for a deeper faith, a deeper relationship with my King, and a stronger bond with His people. I want to find my joy there, and my fulfillment. I want to.

But my hope in God and my hope for more children are not mutually exclusive.

Thanks for letting me be courageous, for reading this piece of my heart.
Thanks for trying to understand (even though you can’t).
Thanks for praying for us.

Saturday March 13, 2010

The boy is napping and the hubby is working outside in the yard. I am supposed to be drinking tea and reading – but my tea (earl grey – my daily favorite) is already cold. So why not take another few minutes to say hello to the world? 🙂
We went out on a little family date today. My tires needed switched out (in fact, we never really needed my studded tires this year), so while they were being done, we went to Starbucks for a rare treat, and then to the grocery store to wander around and pick out a few special things for upcoming meals. Like delicious-looking olives for our Sabbath supper tomorrow night (after our niece & nephew’s birthday party!), paired with applewood smoked cheddar cheese & crackers & red wine.
Delicious food has been something I’ve enjoyed focusing on lately. Making dinners that are new to our palate, and coming up with some new kitchen skills along the way. I have even added some new ingredients to my fridge lately: like fresh ginger, green onions, and fresh parsley – apparently these are all much better fresh than dried, so I’ve been giving it a shot. 🙂
I have made a bunch of new recipes this week, including a crockpot version of Beef Burgundy, a Blackberry Buckle, a round loaf of sweet bread (I don’t generally use recipes for bread, but this one was worth trying), and Chicken Scampi over Lemon Noodles. Mmmm! Tonight we’re opting for quick and familiar: salad (with homemade dressing and croutons) and grilled burgers. I just hope it doesn’t rain on the grilling… it isn’t as fun to grill in a storm. 🙂
I am looking forward to giving my niece & nephew their birthday gifts tomorrow. They won’t probably love them as much as I do – especially because they will be dripping in oodles of birthday gifts from all the relatives… but hey, it’ll be fun anyway. 🙂 I can’t believe they will be one year old this week!
As much as I am excited they are turning one, it is also bringing up memories that I am not looking forward to delving into. A year ago I was pregnant with Glory Hesed. I never really imagined that I would still be newborn-less a year later. And, at the very least, I thought I would have a full womb now. But nope. Empty. And I hate that. I’m pretty sick of it, actually. I feel alone in my plight… and then God reminds me (as I will elaborate upon in a moment) that I’m not. Even though I may feel it.
One of the hidden blessings that comes with being a bereaved mommy is the perspective I can bring to others. So many women take pregnancy for granted. They take healthy babies for granted. They take motherhood for granted. And not that I am perfect either. I am a sinner, too! And my perspective isn’t always what I would like. For instance, last night I was exhausted – it had been a long day, and an even longer week. And I really just wanted Gabriel to go to bed so I could take a long hot shower & head to bed too. My normal bedtime routine with him is to read 3 books, sing 3 songs, pray together, put him in bed, give him his blessing, and leave the room. It takes a good 20 minutes. Last night I picked short books and short songs. And he desperately wanted one more book (which may have turned into four more books, if I had let it…). But I said no. Was that selfish? Or was it prudent? And how do I know the difference sometimes? I’m uncertain. I told him that we’d already read our three books, and it was time to sing. So he cried a little as I sang him three short liturgical hymns (they tend to be the shortest…), and then he was fine and ready to pray and ready to go to bed.
As I sang, I remembered my five little babies who I no longer get to read bedtime stories to. I no longer get to rock them and sing to them at night. And I wish I could. I sincerely, desperately wish I could read them “just one more book.”
One of the songs I sing to Gabriel (the one that I always end with, and the only one that I faithfully sing every single night) goes like this:
God that madest earth and heaven, darkness and light;
Who the day for toil hast given, for rest the night;
May Thine angels guard defend us,
Slumber sweet Thy mercy send us,
Holy dreams and hopes attend us
This live-long night.
Guard us waking, guard us sleeping, and when we die;
May we in Thy mighty keeping all peaceful lie;
When the last dread call shall wake us,
Do not Thou our God forsake us,
But to reign in Glory take us
With Thee on high.
I love this song. And yet it is so painful for me. I have sung this to all of my babies. All of them. And the hardest part for me is when I am pregnant, and I have to sing the line about guarding us when we die. Five of my babies have died, and I have prayed this song with them in my belly.
Yes, I am continuing to grapple with grief. It comes and it goes, against my will and even sometimes against my expectations. God continues to teach me, mold me, break me, grow me, forgive me, love me, and sustain me.
And -back to my original thought- I am beginning to be equipped with so much with which to help other bereaved mothers. I am part of a few online forums/groups of bereaved women, and I am constantly surprised by how often the Lord brings certain women to talk with me, ask for prayer, ask for wisdom, wanting to know my experiences. I feel so helpless and useless, and yet the Lord is using me. I get emails not infrequently (four in the last month) from women (some I know, others have simply stumbled upon me) who have lost babies. I feel blessed to pray for them, to weep with them (because you know I do), to grieve with them, and to offer any support that I can. Even though I feel so ill-equipped, I can tell that God is continuing to equip & use me.
I don’t know what He is going to do with me long-term. But I have no doubt that He is molding me for lifelong service. I am not in love yet with the idea of forever being surrounded by grief and sorrow – but I am called to serve Him and His people. And I will do whatever He asks of me. If I can help any hurting mother whose arms are aching & empty – it gives my babies’ lives & deaths even more beauty & purpose by the grace of God, and lengthens their legacies.
Please pray with me that God would use me in His kingdom, for His kingdom, by His power & strength.

I was reading more Amy Carmichael poetry this afternoon, and wanted to share this poem, which so aptly describes what I feel:

Thy servant, Lord, hath nothing in the house,
Not even one small pot of common oil;
For he who never cometh but to spoil
Hath raided my poor house again, again–
That ruthless strong man, armed, whom men call Pain.

I thought that I had courage in the house,
And patience to be quiet and endure,
And sometimes happy songs. Now I am sure
Thy servant truly hath not anything;
And see, my song-bird hath a broken wing.

~~

My servant, I have come into the house–
I who know Pain’s extremity so well
That there can never be the need to tell
His power to make the flesh and spirit quail:
Have I not felt the scourge, the thorn, the nail?

And I, his Conqueror, am in the house,
Let not your heart be troubled–do not fear:
Why shouldst thou, child of Mine, if I am here?
My touch will heal thy song-bird’s broken wing,
And he shall have a braver song to sing.

Monday March 8, 2010

Today I had another immunoglobulin blood infusion, to help my body with my autoimmune problem. It is longer and more complicated than most of you want to hear, so I won’t go into details. 🙂 I am thankful that today’s treatment is done, and that after tomorrow it will be another month until I need my next one. Once I got my headache (a common side effect) under control and rested for a while after the i.v. treatment was done, I did some baking and eventually a little reading (while Gabriel watched a dvd). God never fails to provide for me, not only physically but emotionally & spiritually – if I just open my eyes to see it. Steven sent me the most wonderful email this morning, reminding me to take everything to my Lord in prayer. I needed that. And a lady from church who used to get blood infusions (different from mine, yet similar in essence) emailed me today to say she’s praying for me & wanted to encourage me to fight this good fight – reminding me again that it is a good fight. How easily I forget that. And my mama spent hours here today watching Gabriel for me while I was tied to the i.v. as well as afterward when I wasn’t feeling well enough to look after him myself (I still have the hep-lock in my arm, so that makes things a little tricky with a youngin’). Even in my baking today (for our dinner with friends tonight), He provided: I had two eggs left and 2 teaspoons of baking powder left. Well, guess what? I needed one egg and 2 tsp of baking powder for the dessert, and I needed one egg for the bread. How good is our God! Even in the little details. Just another reminder to me of how I need to ask for daily grace, my daily bread, because He only ever promises to give us strength for the day, and bread for the day.
Daily.
I can’t stock up!
It’s like manna.
Gotta keep filling up each day. 🙂


If your Lord call you to suffering, be not dismayed; there shall be a new allowance of the King for you when ye come to it. One of the softest pillows Christ hath is laid under His witnesses’ head, though often they must set down their bare feet among thorns.” ~Samuel Rutherford


There is no sweeter fellowship with Christ than to bring our wounds and our sores to Him.” ~Samuel Rutherford


What room is there for troubled fear?
I know my Lord, and He is near;
And He will light my candle, so
That I may see the way to go.

There need be no bewilderment
To one who goes where he is sent;
The trackless plain by night and day
Is set with signs lest he should stray.

My path may cross a waste of sea,
But that need never frighten me;
Or rivers full to very brim,
But they are open ways to Him.

My path may lead through woods at night,
Where neither moon nor any light
Of guiding star or beacon shines;
He will not let me miss my signs.

Lord, grant to me a quiet mind,
That trusting Thee –for Thou art kind–
I may go on without a fear,
For Thou, my Lord, art always near.

~Amy Carmichael


Thou art the Lord who slept upon the pillow;
Thou art the Lord who soothed the furious sea;
What matter beating wind and tossing billow
If only we are in the boat with Thee?

Hold us in quiet through the age-long minute
While Thou art silent, and the wind is shrill.
Can the boat sink while Thou, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?

~Amy Carmichael

Wednesday March 3, 2010

“With Feathers”

“Hope” is the thing with feathers —
That perches in the soul —
And sings the tune without the words —
And never stops — at all —

And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard —
And sore must be the storm —
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm —

I’ve heard it in the chillest land —
And on the strangest Sea —
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb — of Me.

~Emily Dickinson~



Today I cry with Job, “Oh that I might have my request, and that God would fulfill my hope” (Job 6:8), for I am clinging to a hope which is not seen; “hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?” (Romans 8:24). But the Lord is my hope, and He is my strength & salvation. No matter what He does to me (and for me), His praise will remain in my mouth and hidden in my heart. With Job, may I proclaim with believing faith: “Though He slay me, I will hope in Him; yet I will argue my ways to His face” (Job 13:15).


“To Hope”

When by my solitary hearth I sit,
When no fair dreams before my – mind’s eye – flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.

Whene’er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof.

Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;
When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart:
Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,
And fright him as the morning frightens night!

Whene’er the fate of those I hold most dear
Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,
O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!

Should e’er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair;
O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!

In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country’s honour fade:
O let me see our land retain her soul,
Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom’s shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed –
Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!

Let me not see the patriot’s high bequest,
Great Liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress’d,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil’d face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head.

~John Keats, 1815~


Steven and I are seeking to “…rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5). I am thankful, looking at this passage right now, for the confident knowledge I have that God’s love has been poured into my heart by the Holy Spirit — hope does not put me to shame! So often, I feel ashamed and humiliated by my physical/emotional difficulties borne from the burden of losing my babies — but I have hope in the Lord & [although somewhat flickering] hope for the future. And I will not be put to shame. Amen & hallelujah!



May we not grow weary in our prayers or in our efforts. May we have the faith of Abraham, of whom Paul said, “in hope he believed against hope” (Romans 4:18). May we, as Abraham, not lose our hope or weaken our faith when we consider our bodies (Romans 4:19) and the trials we face. Of course we have not been personally promised that our offspring would be as the stars in the sky — yet we feel called to produce children for the Kingdom, be it in Heaven or on the earth, and we can only move forward according to the call of God and the wisdom He gives us at any given time. Therefore, may we bold in seeking the face of our Father, bold in pursuing what means we must for physical fruitfulness, and bold in clinging to hope for more children in the Kingdom on earth. May we have no distrust to cause us to waver concerning God’s covenantal promises to us, and may we grow strong in faith as we give glory to God!! (Romans 4:20) May our faith be a witness to the world of God’s covenant-keeping love (His hesed), and to His power in our weakness. May it be accounted to us as righteousness (Romans 4:22-25).


“Safe In The Father’s Arms”

Far away from fear and death
Do my children play;
Never to know the sting of sin
On their spotless soul;
Never to know a single tear
Nor stab of searing pain.

In the Father’s arms are they,
His face do they behold.
In arms of tender comfort
They rest in loving cheer;
Salty taste of tears
Never to crease their face;
Not burnt by scorching sun
Nor chilled by thunderous storms.
Untouched by earthly shadows
And haunting pangs of night,
They giggle in golden warmth
And snuggle in contented glee.

Lifted higher than dreams can go,
They soar above
The failings of earth
And thrive in the love
Of the Father
Whose tender grace sparkles
And wondrous ways smile
With endless delight.

Yet my arms feel empty.
With painful chest
I long to hold them
To my breast;
To see their smiling faces
And ease my painful fears.
Yet this I know:
They are safe
In the Master’s care.
And I shall see them face to face
And hold them when I’m there.

They’ve breezed their way to Paradise.
How smooth their getting there;
So free from blame and shame.
More pain than them I’ve known,
Yet our destiny’s the same.
Their journey there was easy;
Long and hard is mine.
But whether quick or long,
We will meet again.

Till then, my loves, rest easy.
Behold his face and rejoice
Without a single fear.
I shall come to you some day
And you shall dry my tears,
As I weep in joy
To see your cheery face.
And even now at times
I think I hear your giggles,
But rest, my loves, in his arms,
Till I am with you there.

~unknown~



Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,
so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Sunday February 28, 2010

If thou but suffer God to guide thee
And hope in Him through all thy ways,
He'll give thee strength, whate'er betide thee,
And bear thee through the evil days.

Who trusts in God's unchanging love
Builds on the Rock that naught can move.
              
What can these anxious cares avail thee,
These never-ceasing moans and sighs?
What can it help if thou bewail thee
O'er each dark moment as it flies?
Our cross and trials do but press
The heavier for our bitterness.
              
Be patient and await His leisure
In cheerful hope, with heart content
To take whate'er thy Father's pleasure
And His discerning love hath sent,
Nor doubt our inmost wants are known
To Him who chose us for His own.

              
God knows full well when times of gladness
Shall be the needful thing for thee.
When He has tried thy soul with sadness
And from all guile has found thee free,
He comes to thee all unaware
And makes thee own His loving care.
              
Nor think amid the fiery trial
That God hath cast thee off unheard,
That he whose hopes meet no denial
Must surely be of God preferred.

Time passes and much change doth bring
And sets a bound to everything.
              
All are alike before the Highest;
'Tis easy to our God, we know,
To raise thee up, though low thou liest
,
To make the rich man poor and low.
True wonders still by Him are wrought
Who setteth up and brings to naught.
              
Sing, pray, and keep His ways unswerving,
Perform thy duties faithfully,
And trust His Word, though undeserving,
Thou yet shalt find it true for thee.
God never yet forsook in need
The soul that trusted Him indeed.

~Georg Neumark, 1640~

We didn't sing the above song today in church. But my dear friend (who was today's accompanist) played a few
verses of it for the meditation at the beginning of the service.
I was (need I even say it?) in tears.
What a beautiful hymn. How true. How bittersweet. How heart-wrenching.
How I wish I could recite these words with unswerving faith.
It's hard.

It is hard to believe that God will be with me and give me strength, no matter what circumstances He brings me.
It is hard to trust that He will bear us through these evil days.
It is hard to be patient, awaiting His leisure.
It is hard to have cheerful hope (especially the cheerful part).
It is hard to even believe sometimes that my inmost wants are actually known to God (what, isn't He listening?).
It is hard to be confident in the fact that God has not cast me off unheard in this fiery trial (when it so  often feels
like maybe He has).
It is hard to see others receiving blessing without obvious trial and grief, and not wonder if they are then the
preferred children of God (does my heavenly Father have "favorites"?).
It is hard to know that it is easy for God to raise up and bring low, for that simply reminds me that my
bringing-low is His will, and it is not out of His grasp to stop.
It is hard to sing, hard to pray, hard to keep His ways; hard to perform duties faithfully; hard to trust His word.
It is hard to believe that I, so undeserving, will find His words true for me. Even me. Even my family. Even our
broken hearts. Even our grieving souls.

But it is so.
There is no denying.
Only Satan wants to confuse me and confound me.
My Father wants to bring beauty from these ashes.

As my husband recently said, we are being released from the immediate hot burns of grief; the Lord is pulling us
out of that particular fire (for now). But here come the hammer and tongs. He is shaping us and molding us. He is
conforming us more into the image of His Son.
So we are grimacing, bracing for it.
And we are eagerly awaiting the beauty on the other side of the pain.

It was hard to sing some of the songs in church today with hope and faith, without my voice wobbling and my eyes filling with tears…
from Psalm 34: In every time I’ll always bless the LORD; His praise will ever be within my mouth… O fear the LORD, all you He has redeemed! For those who fear Him never suffer want. Young lions hunger; they may lack their food; But those who seek the LORD shall have no want.
from “Blessed Jesus, At Thy Word”: Open Thou our ears and heart; Help us by Thy Spirit’s pleading; Hear the cry Thy people raises; Hear and bless our prayers and praises… Grant that we Thy Word may trust And obtain true consolation…
from “The Son of God Goes Forth to War”: A noble army, men and boys, The matron and the maid, Around the Savior’s throne rejoice, In robes of light arrayed… O God, to us may grace be giv’n To follow in their train!

Today, as on other Sabbath days, I was allowed to worship in Spirit and in Truth. I went to the Heavenly Jerusalem today, to worship at the feet of Jesus. I brought my joys and my brokenness. And He did not turn me away. He fed me. He gave me His own body in broken bread and spilt wine.
And (just one other icing-on-the-cake reason to love it) I got to fellowship with my children. All six of them. We were together as a complete family, as on no other day of the week. And we praised together.

It is hard sometimes to sing certain words – either I know their truths too deeply, or I feel I perhaps will never deeply enough feel their truths (a bit of each usually).

I love reciting the Creeds. Especially the parts about looking for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
I look forward to Heaven.
Probably moreso than many other young women.
But as Samuel Rutherford puts it (sorry for the paraphrase), I just have more jewels in Heaven now, and simply more reasons to exult when it is my time to join them.
Elisabeth Elliot said, ” I wonder if one of the reasons God doesn’t give us more clues about what heaven is going to be like is that we would never manage to keep our minds on our work if we knew. It would be like telling little children ahead of time where the Christmas presents are hidden. ” (Be Still My Soul, pg 142). I think it’s true! Because today I feel like Christmas is coming, and I can’t wait to start ripping off the bows and peeling away the layers of paper to see what beautiful secrets are itching to be uncovered.

Monday February 15, 2010

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day.

While I do think that this holiday is much over-commercialized and over-emphasized to a large extent (I suppose that’s mostly personal preference, so don’t whack me over the head ~ we’re all entitled to our own opinions on these types of things)… I think marital romance can never be over-emphasized.

Now, of course, I happily married a romantic. He’s not the type of block-head husband who needs See’s and 1-800-Flowers to remind him to show me how much he loves me. We don’t need a specific Hallmark holiday to remind us of our passionate love for one another. Or of our tender love for one another. Or of our enduring love for one another. We live it out in our daily lives together. And we are so thankful for God’s blessing upon our marriage, and for giving us our love for one another. We give all the praise and glory to Him for the beauty in our marriage!

But, regardless of how beautifully we live a life of marital romance on a day-to-day basis, it is nice to have a few yearly opportunities (a poke with a pin, so to speak) to really go out of our way to show each other something special. Something unordinary. (Again, my husband & I do this kind of thing on days other than Valentine’s Day and our anniversary — we’re not limited to twice a year — but we also don’t neglect those days for reminders.)

I have previously posted about our real-life romance. How we don’t need fancy, expensive dinners out. Or weekly movie dates. Or a dozen roses delivered on special days. Although all of those things are undoubtedly nice and delightful, and we do indulge in such things on occasion.

But Valentine’s Day in our home is homey. And private. And lovely.
And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
This year it included (but was not limited to): Steven writing me a poem, he made me dinner, I made dessert, we lit candles, looking at our wedding pictures, and we spent hours in one another’s company just being reminded of the beautiful thing God gave us when He covenanted with us on our wedding day.

So, sure: Valentine’s Day is over-commercialized & unnecesssary.
But I would never say it isn’t lovely & worthwhile.

I love it. 🙂

Husby grilling in the rain.

A port reduction sauce he concocted.

Delicious grilled lamb chop! The marinade was excellent.

Adding the finishing touches.

I turned the lights up for the photo, but we ate by candlelight.

Unfortunately this is the best pic we got of us together! Ack…