Today is my nephew Noah’s first birthday. It is also my niece Hannah’s first birthday.
Yes, the twins are one!
I made them these fun things for birthday gifts.
The crowns are my favorite, especially because Gabriel has a coordinating one. So I am envisioning the three of them playing dress-up someday, with two kings and a queen. Sounds like fun!
At any rate… now that the twins’ birthday has arrived, I am starting to think about Gabriel’s birthday. I know, I know — it’s two months away. But this mommy likes to plan ahead. I ordered his main birthday gift today, but I also want to make him a little something extra. I am going to make one of these felt “Happy Birthday” banners for the occasion. But what else? Hmm…
I’m thinking a Quiet Book is exactly right. It would be so nice to have during church, and other necessarily-quiet times.
Have any of you had Quiet Books? And even more to the point, have any of you made one before??
I had one as a child. This one looks very similar to it. I am trying to get ideas online, and was hoping to glean some tips or pointers before I start digging into the craft supplies. Click here to see five different themed Quiet Books; I am thinking it would be fun to incorporate some of the ideas from each of these that are seen here.
So anyway… if anyone has ideas or tips, feel free to chime in. Should I actually attempt and finish this project, I will share it with you at an appropriate time. 🙂 Just remember — I have two months!
Tuesday March 16, 2010
“Here is sweet, fragrant mouth to kiss, here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God; and the body in which it dwells is worthy of all it will cost, since it is the abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all, to whom, while I minister in God’s name, I will make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother’s heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, her tenderest cares, her life-long prayers. Oh, how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest!”
~Elizabeth Prentiss~
“Stepping Heavenward”
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. Fe
In all of this, all I can do is wait and pray. Pray that God will continue to help me feel His uncondition
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.
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.
Wednesday March 10, 2010
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII.
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1849)
STRONG Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen Thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which Thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And Thou hast made him: Thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, Thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them Thine.
Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of Thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from Thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock Thee when we do not fear:
But help Thy foolish ones to bear;
Help Thy vain worlds to bear Thy light.
Forgive what seem’d my sin in me;
What seem’d my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to Thee.
Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in Thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.
Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
Forgive them where they fail in truth,
And in Thy wisdom make me wise.
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
Friday March 5, 2010
My little boy & I got to spend the day in the country. Walking along the dirt driveway, tossing dirt everywhere, hiking through the woods, watching birds & deer & ants, playing on the grass ~ so many, many fun things to do!! 
Friday March 5, 2010
I just spent the last hour sitting here, going through pages and pages of blogs (I made it back to late summer 2009) trying to attach “tags” to all my blog entries… And now it looks like it didn’t even do anything. Grrr. A little frustrated now. 🙂 And disappointed. I was excited to make things more organized and easily accessible.
EDITED TO SAY: actually…. if you notice, I now have a “tag cloud” on the lefthand side of the blog page! So exciting. 🙂 So if you want to click around in a more themed way… feel free. 🙂
Friday March 5, 2010
Jehovah-Rophi ~ I Am the Lord that Healeth Thee
(Exodus, xv.26)
Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are,
Waiting to feel Thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair
And, Saviour, we are such.
Our faith is feeble, we confess,
We faintly trust Thy word;
But wilt Thou pity us the less?
Be that far from Thee, Lord!
Remember him who once applied,
With trembling, for relief;
“Lord, I believe,” with tears he cried,
“Oh, help my unbelief!”
She too, who touch’d Thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,
Was answer’d, “Daughter, go in peace,
Thy faith hath made thee whole.”
Conceal’d amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn’d Thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.
Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch Thee, if we may;
Oh! send us not despairing home.
Send none unheal’d away!
~William Cowper