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Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
~1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
In everything, give thanks. In. Every. Thing.
In the valley of sorrow...give thanks. In the sea of grief...give thanks. In the storm...give thanks. Weeping may endure for a night...give thanks. Ashes in the brokenness...give thanks. Mountains of laundry and cleaning to do in the next 24 hours...give thanks. A turkey that may or may not be thawed by tomorrow morning...give thanks. A less-than-perfect family holiday picture...give thanks. A little house that desperately needs cleaning (as I sit blogging instead)...give thanks.
Jesus came and He will come again...give thanks. He brings comfort for the sorrow...give thanks. He holds on to us in the sea of grief...give thanks. He shelters from the storm, and He tells the storm "Be still" when it's time...give thanks. Joy comes in the morning...give thanks. Beauty is born in the ashes of brokenness...give thanks. There's a family that belongs to this mountain of laundry, giggling, wrestling, ornery-grinning boys filling my house with life...give thanks. There will be turkey and other delicacies in abundance to fill us...give thanks. And there will be football, oh yes...there will be football...give thanks. There are people in that less-than-perfect holiday picture - people Jesus came for, people He died for, people He loves, people He's given us to love...give thanks. This little house is warm and filled with joy and love, and the people I am blessed to walk through this life with...give thanks.
This year, especially, I give thanks...
For my Jesus and His daily gift of sufficient grace.
For my husband's hands rough from years of hard work, folded in prayer on Sunday morning...teaching Timothy to hunt and hold a golf club, showing James how to cast the fishing pole in the perfect spot, playing his guitar, playing catch with both boys...his hands, holding on to mine.
For our boys as they grow and enter new seasons of life...what a blessing and privilege to witness it all...to be their mama. For the young men they are and the young men they will become. For the promises God gives us in His word for their future. For their laughter...the music that fills our home. (When not being drowned out by the sound of their arguing, of course.)For their health. For the joy in their victories and the lessons in their losses. For the lessons I've learned as I peek into the window of boy world.
For our church...and the body of Christ in general. For the love of Jesus displayed in His people...for the beauty of seeing the way God uses the body of believers to work together to fulfill His purposes.
For Sufficient Grace Ministries...the privilege of being used in whatever capacity the Lord allows to offer His comfort and hope to the broken-hearted. For the lives of Faith and Grace and Thomas...for the lives of all the little ones whose mommies and daddies still dream of until they meet again...lives that mattered...lives with a purpose. For the mothers I've met...the mothers who are walking the journey...mothers we are honored to walk with through the valley of sorrow. For those who serve with us, using their gifts...their time...their resources to bless and comfort bereaved parents. For those who support us with their prayers, encouragement, and resources. For God's hand leading, guiding, growing, nurturing, and providing for every step of the journey. What a mighty God we serve!
For friends...friends I've known since I was twelve, friends I pray with, friends I eat Chinese with, friends I shop with, friends in blog world and in real life, friends I've met in the valleys, friends who've come and gone, friends who come back, friends I work with, phone friends, friends who laugh, friends who will walk with us through sorrow and joy...friends who already have.
For family...the family that fills this home, my haven. For the family related by blood, and the "extras" who've entered into this fold. For the scattered pieces and for the pieces He has put back together again. For the ones who are with us, and for the ones who are Home with the Lord.
For an overflowing cup...give thanks.
Happy Thanksgiving...may your cup overflow with the beauty of His grace.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Cardboard Testimony
On Amy's amazing blog, Chapters, she recently posted about Cardboard Testimonies. I want to share the video with you, but due to my extreme lack of bloggy-techno savvy, I will just direct you to the link below, so that you can view the video on Amy's blog. Please take a moment to watch this beautiful video...you may want to grab some tissues first.
Amy's Cardboard Testimony
My Cardboard Testimony
Broken...Restored and Redeemed
My grace is sufficient for you; for My strength is made perfect in weakness.
2 Corinthians 12:8
For I know that my Redeemer lives,
And He shall stand at last on the earth;
Job 19:25
Held Captive...Forever Free, Forgiven, and Loved
When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion,
We were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
And our tongue with singing.
Then they said among the nations,
"The Lord has done great things for them."
The Lord has done great things for us,
And we are glad.
Bring back our captivity, O Lord,
As the streams in the South.
Those who sow in tears
Shall reap in joy. (some versions say..."with songs of joy")
He who continually goes forth weeping,
Bearing seed for sowing,
Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
Bringing his sheaves with him.
Psalm 126
Lost in the Ashes of our Grief...Found in His Beautiful, Sufficient Grace
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
Because the Lord has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn,
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.
Isaiah 61:1-3
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
Psalm 30:11-12
His name is Jesus...and He came for me.
His name is Jesus...and He came for you.
I'd love to hear from you...What's your cardboard testimony?
Amy's Cardboard Testimony
My Cardboard Testimony
Broken...Restored and Redeemed
My grace is sufficient for you; for My strength is made perfect in weakness.
2 Corinthians 12:8
For I know that my Redeemer lives,
And He shall stand at last on the earth;
Job 19:25
Held Captive...Forever Free, Forgiven, and Loved
When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion,
We were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
And our tongue with singing.
Then they said among the nations,
"The Lord has done great things for them."
The Lord has done great things for us,
And we are glad.
Bring back our captivity, O Lord,
As the streams in the South.
Those who sow in tears
Shall reap in joy. (some versions say..."with songs of joy")
He who continually goes forth weeping,
Bearing seed for sowing,
Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
Bringing his sheaves with him.
Psalm 126
Lost in the Ashes of our Grief...Found in His Beautiful, Sufficient Grace
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
Because the Lord has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn,
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.
Isaiah 61:1-3
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
Psalm 30:11-12
His name is Jesus...and He came for me.
His name is Jesus...and He came for you.
I'd love to hear from you...What's your cardboard testimony?
Friday, November 14, 2008
He Came...
In a quiet church, almost fifteen years ago, two young kids made a promise to love, honor, and obey. Like two sparrows in a hurricane, they held hands, shaking under the weight of the promise and unaware of what would be required of them.
And He Came...
Weeping on the floor of their one bedroom apartment...overwhelmed with the loneliness of a little girl lost and the consuming responsibility of being a wife and mother, she cried out to Him.
And He came...
On the first silent snowfall, on a cold November day, they held each other and wondered how they were supposed to say good-bye. Forever changed, robbed of the invincibility of youth, robbed of a lifetime of dreams and moments, and all the blessings two little girls would bring.
And He came...
They stood in the hallway of the hospital as her tears fell in unison with the raindrops trickling down the window pane. How could this be? How can they walk this journey once more knowing it will end not with the joyous sound of a newborn cry but with the heart wrenching emptiness of another good-bye? Presented with a hopeless outcome, an impossible choice, and the mocking question..."Where is your God now?" They drove home in the storm.
And He came...
She prayed and searched day and night for the answers, the evidence that He hadn't turned His back on His two sparrows, leaving them to the merciless destruction of the hurricane. She wept from the unspeakable depths of a mother's heart. Fumbling around in the darkness, she searched for Him. Every step was taken blindly, surrounded by fog so thick, she couldn't tell if her next step would be the one to send her over the edge of the cliff. Would He catch them if they fell?
And He came...
Another silent birth on a warm day in July, they met their fourth child...their second son. They said hello and good-bye.
And He came...
Storms of rage and regret, disappointment and grief, rolled in as the clouds of darkness and doubt, bitterness and pain surrounded them. When the winds of the hurricane threatened fierce and certain destruction, one sparrow flew away and the other remained with broken wings to face the storm.
And He came...
Baby number five...For a moment there was silence, and her heart sank. And then...there it was...life's most precious, miraculous, beautiful sound...the cry of new life...the cry of their baby. They held him and cried in complete awe and gratefulness for the gift of this life.
And He came...
She watched helplessly as her mother painfully and slowly slipped away. As she reassured with promises from His word, they repeated together...He will carry me, He will carry me...and in the depths of her heart, she wondered where He was, and if He would really come.
And He came...
Because He came...
The two sparrows were not alone when they made their commitment to love and cherish each other for all of their days.
Because He came...
She stood up from the floor of their one bedroom apartment, He lifted her head and wiped her tears and gave her courage to begin a new journey.
Because He came...
There was peace in the silent snowfall, beauty in the brokenness, and the hope of the most amazing reunion filled with the unending joys of two little girls who have never known pain, sorrow, regret, sickness, or tears.
Because He came...
There is an answer to the question, "Where is your God now?" There is complete confidence in the sufficient grace of our loving Savior, comfort in the arms of the Comforter, hope in the promise that we will never be forsaken. That His arms are always faithful to carry us. There was strength for the journey. When darkness should have smothered her, joy overcame her at the meeting of her boy...the boy she would only hold for a little while, and yet carry for a lifetime. She felt Him brush past her, and it was almost as if she could just reach out and touch the hem of His garment. Never did she feel His closeness so much, as when He whispered past her to take her sweet boy home. She sang songs of peace and praise as he left her arms. And because He came, one more precious little one will join the forever reunion, with their forever family, in their forever home.
Because He came...
The sparrow flew home, and the other sparrow's broken wings were mended. They learned to hold on tight, so that when the hurricane winds blow, they will not be separated...but held together...closer still.
Because He came...
He carried her mother home just like He said He would, and He carries His sparrows still today...through storms and sunshine, laughter and tears.
More than two thousand years ago, the world ached for salvation, swelled with yearning for deliverance, redemption, restoration...for a Savior to rescue from sin and death. And He came...a baby King, born in a lowly stable on a quiet night to a peasant girl and her betrothed...a carpenter. He was in the still, small voice when He whispered past Elijah. And He was in the quiet stable birth when He came to rescue us and sent His angels to tell the lowly shepherds the good news.
His name is Jesus...and He came for me.
His name is Jesus...and He came for you.
And Because He came...there is hope for tomorrow and a promise of a joyful, forever reunion. He will wipe away all of the tears and wash away the loss and regret. He will cleanse and forgive and clothe us in robes of white. The empty arms will be filled. The hungry hearts will be fed. Brokenness will be restored. Mourning will be turned to dancing. And sin and death will be no more.
Because He came...He will carry us through this life.
And because He came...He will come again...in all His glory...to take us home.
And He Came...
Weeping on the floor of their one bedroom apartment...overwhelmed with the loneliness of a little girl lost and the consuming responsibility of being a wife and mother, she cried out to Him.
And He came...
On the first silent snowfall, on a cold November day, they held each other and wondered how they were supposed to say good-bye. Forever changed, robbed of the invincibility of youth, robbed of a lifetime of dreams and moments, and all the blessings two little girls would bring.
And He came...
They stood in the hallway of the hospital as her tears fell in unison with the raindrops trickling down the window pane. How could this be? How can they walk this journey once more knowing it will end not with the joyous sound of a newborn cry but with the heart wrenching emptiness of another good-bye? Presented with a hopeless outcome, an impossible choice, and the mocking question..."Where is your God now?" They drove home in the storm.
And He came...
She prayed and searched day and night for the answers, the evidence that He hadn't turned His back on His two sparrows, leaving them to the merciless destruction of the hurricane. She wept from the unspeakable depths of a mother's heart. Fumbling around in the darkness, she searched for Him. Every step was taken blindly, surrounded by fog so thick, she couldn't tell if her next step would be the one to send her over the edge of the cliff. Would He catch them if they fell?
And He came...
Another silent birth on a warm day in July, they met their fourth child...their second son. They said hello and good-bye.
And He came...
Storms of rage and regret, disappointment and grief, rolled in as the clouds of darkness and doubt, bitterness and pain surrounded them. When the winds of the hurricane threatened fierce and certain destruction, one sparrow flew away and the other remained with broken wings to face the storm.
And He came...
Baby number five...For a moment there was silence, and her heart sank. And then...there it was...life's most precious, miraculous, beautiful sound...the cry of new life...the cry of their baby. They held him and cried in complete awe and gratefulness for the gift of this life.
And He came...
She watched helplessly as her mother painfully and slowly slipped away. As she reassured with promises from His word, they repeated together...He will carry me, He will carry me...and in the depths of her heart, she wondered where He was, and if He would really come.
And He came...
Because He came...
The two sparrows were not alone when they made their commitment to love and cherish each other for all of their days.
Because He came...
She stood up from the floor of their one bedroom apartment, He lifted her head and wiped her tears and gave her courage to begin a new journey.
Because He came...
There was peace in the silent snowfall, beauty in the brokenness, and the hope of the most amazing reunion filled with the unending joys of two little girls who have never known pain, sorrow, regret, sickness, or tears.
Because He came...
There is an answer to the question, "Where is your God now?" There is complete confidence in the sufficient grace of our loving Savior, comfort in the arms of the Comforter, hope in the promise that we will never be forsaken. That His arms are always faithful to carry us. There was strength for the journey. When darkness should have smothered her, joy overcame her at the meeting of her boy...the boy she would only hold for a little while, and yet carry for a lifetime. She felt Him brush past her, and it was almost as if she could just reach out and touch the hem of His garment. Never did she feel His closeness so much, as when He whispered past her to take her sweet boy home. She sang songs of peace and praise as he left her arms. And because He came, one more precious little one will join the forever reunion, with their forever family, in their forever home.
Because He came...
The sparrow flew home, and the other sparrow's broken wings were mended. They learned to hold on tight, so that when the hurricane winds blow, they will not be separated...but held together...closer still.
Because He came...
He carried her mother home just like He said He would, and He carries His sparrows still today...through storms and sunshine, laughter and tears.
More than two thousand years ago, the world ached for salvation, swelled with yearning for deliverance, redemption, restoration...for a Savior to rescue from sin and death. And He came...a baby King, born in a lowly stable on a quiet night to a peasant girl and her betrothed...a carpenter. He was in the still, small voice when He whispered past Elijah. And He was in the quiet stable birth when He came to rescue us and sent His angels to tell the lowly shepherds the good news.
His name is Jesus...and He came for me.
His name is Jesus...and He came for you.
And Because He came...there is hope for tomorrow and a promise of a joyful, forever reunion. He will wipe away all of the tears and wash away the loss and regret. He will cleanse and forgive and clothe us in robes of white. The empty arms will be filled. The hungry hearts will be fed. Brokenness will be restored. Mourning will be turned to dancing. And sin and death will be no more.
Because He came...He will carry us through this life.
And because He came...He will come again...in all His glory...to take us home.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Letting Go...
Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead.
~ Philippians 3:12-13
There is something no one tells a mother when she is expecting her first bundle of joy, or when she is peacefully nursing her newborn, or even when she is potty training and navigating through the "terrible twos". There is a hint of it the first day her little one toddles off to Kindergarten. A small tearing away, but it is quickly mended when he returns home to the waiting arms of the mama he still needs and adores. Otherwise, we mothers are oblivious to what is coming. We think when these children enter our lives and consume our hearts that we will always be mothering them. They will always be in our care. If we knew, if we really knew what was coming, would we have the courage to embark on this journey?
Here it is...the point of the training of children is that they will one day function as independent, self-sufficient adults.(And of course, not just adults, but adults who are walking closely with the Lord.) And that sounds wonderful, except there is this fire...this upheaval they must walk through first, a mysterious, tumultuous, dangerous place between child and adult. During that time, there is a tearing away that must be done on the part of the child, and a letting go that seems impossible on the part of the mother.
And so here we are, caught in the vortex of teenage transition. My son is becoming a man. He reminds me more of a young man that the boy I knew. He doesn't talk much and is annoyed by most things I do and almost everything I say. When our kids are young, mom can always make it better with a hug and a band aid or a cookie. Now, there are struggles that I don't even know about and disappointments that I cannot make better...and believe me, no one's asking for my help anyway. I must change the way I relate to him, learn to respect him, to understand and accept the person he is becoming, stepping out of the way while he works through struggles on his own. I will continue to pray for him that God will work in his life to show him the way to walk. And I'm grateful for the honorable young man he is becoming, and the qualities he has been blessed with. Most of all, I need to let go...and that is the hardest part. I don't want him to make mistakes...to suffer through the pain...to be harmed spiritually, emotionally, physically by this world and all the damage it can do. Do I trust God to protect him when he drives off in a car? The first time he goes on a date? When temptation weaves its magic spell before his eyes? Who else can protect him? Certainly not me.
I have been protecting and guarding, fighting the good fight, reminding my boys to be "innocent of what is evil", to guard what their eyes see and all that enters their mind. But, we can't protect forever, and we can't control what is to come. It sounds so easy...let go, trust God. And there it is...that's what faith looks like folks. It's not easy and wrapped up in some little perfect package. Faith grows in the messy, brokenness of our desperation to hold on. It's in the painful, aching of letting go that faith grows. It's in the letting go of what we cannot control and the holding on to the One who is in control. So by the grace of God, I will learn to loosen my grip on this child who never really belonged to me and desperately cling instead to the Lord...the Father who loves him even more than I do. Pray for me as I learn to let go...
~ Philippians 3:12-13
There is something no one tells a mother when she is expecting her first bundle of joy, or when she is peacefully nursing her newborn, or even when she is potty training and navigating through the "terrible twos". There is a hint of it the first day her little one toddles off to Kindergarten. A small tearing away, but it is quickly mended when he returns home to the waiting arms of the mama he still needs and adores. Otherwise, we mothers are oblivious to what is coming. We think when these children enter our lives and consume our hearts that we will always be mothering them. They will always be in our care. If we knew, if we really knew what was coming, would we have the courage to embark on this journey?
Here it is...the point of the training of children is that they will one day function as independent, self-sufficient adults.(And of course, not just adults, but adults who are walking closely with the Lord.) And that sounds wonderful, except there is this fire...this upheaval they must walk through first, a mysterious, tumultuous, dangerous place between child and adult. During that time, there is a tearing away that must be done on the part of the child, and a letting go that seems impossible on the part of the mother.
And so here we are, caught in the vortex of teenage transition. My son is becoming a man. He reminds me more of a young man that the boy I knew. He doesn't talk much and is annoyed by most things I do and almost everything I say. When our kids are young, mom can always make it better with a hug and a band aid or a cookie. Now, there are struggles that I don't even know about and disappointments that I cannot make better...and believe me, no one's asking for my help anyway. I must change the way I relate to him, learn to respect him, to understand and accept the person he is becoming, stepping out of the way while he works through struggles on his own. I will continue to pray for him that God will work in his life to show him the way to walk. And I'm grateful for the honorable young man he is becoming, and the qualities he has been blessed with. Most of all, I need to let go...and that is the hardest part. I don't want him to make mistakes...to suffer through the pain...to be harmed spiritually, emotionally, physically by this world and all the damage it can do. Do I trust God to protect him when he drives off in a car? The first time he goes on a date? When temptation weaves its magic spell before his eyes? Who else can protect him? Certainly not me.
I have been protecting and guarding, fighting the good fight, reminding my boys to be "innocent of what is evil", to guard what their eyes see and all that enters their mind. But, we can't protect forever, and we can't control what is to come. It sounds so easy...let go, trust God. And there it is...that's what faith looks like folks. It's not easy and wrapped up in some little perfect package. Faith grows in the messy, brokenness of our desperation to hold on. It's in the painful, aching of letting go that faith grows. It's in the letting go of what we cannot control and the holding on to the One who is in control. So by the grace of God, I will learn to loosen my grip on this child who never really belonged to me and desperately cling instead to the Lord...the Father who loves him even more than I do. Pray for me as I learn to let go...
Sunday, November 2, 2008
What Would Have Been
It was twelve years ago...the first silent snowfall of the year. It was early for such a heavy snow. November 3, 1996. The snow flakes were big and fluffy...perfect. It was as if it were sent just for them. Peace washed over me as I breathed through the next contraction. Focus. Breathe. Push. And silence...as silent as the snow falling outside.
There they were, so tiny and delicate. First Faith...born silently. Then Grace, smaller but less broken. They had their father's nose. They looked like their big brother. I didn't see their brokenness. I saw them as the beautiful girls that God created them to be. They were my daughters, and they were beautiful. One in each arm, I sang Amazing Grace with my mom on one side and Tim on the other. We wept, prayed, and said good-bye.
Over the years, I have dreamt of what Faith and Grace would be doing if they were here with us, and I have wondered what they are doing in heaven right now. I have dreamt of long brown hair with ribbons, little girl giggles, and dresses with lace. Baby dolls and making cookies. All the accessories at the Gymboree store. When Timothy was little, he would dream with me. We would have cupcakes or cookies and sing Happy Birthday. He would say something like, "I bet they would have Barbie pajamas." I love the simple beauty of childlike faith, and I treasured remembering with him.
My world is boy world, and for the most part...I love it. I have embraced it, and cherish all things boy. Love football. Love golf. Love baseball. Love soccer. Love everything they do. I cheer them on, encourage them, resist the urge to run on to the field when they're injured. I pray silently and wish them luck as they go into the woods to hunt...with guns. I fish. To entertain the youngest while the oldest was golfing at a match, I let James see how many locust shells he could put on my lap. I hold frogs, catch lightning bugs, hunt for grasshoppers. And I am grateful for every boy-filled moment of my life.
God has certainly mended my broken heart, and He pours out His sufficient grace for our family each day. The love He has given us...the gratefulness He has taught us. And the legacy He has given to our children...seeing Faith's footprint on every Dreams of You Memory Book and Comfort Bear that touches the heart of grieving moms all over the country...all of those things fall into the category of beauty from ashes. And, oh...how beautiful it is...the joy after the storm. The peace that comes from being carried. Knowing, really knowing that no matter what, Jesus will never leave us or forsake us...knowing that when we walk through the fiery furnace, He will be there in the midst of it, and we will not get burned. And friends, the only way for us to really know that, is to have walked through the fire and to have experienced His grace. That's where faith grows...in the valleys of sorrow...in the fiery furnaces. For it is by grace you have been saved through faith, and not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. ~ Ephesians 2:8
Still, even now there are pangs of yearning for my daughters and sorrow over what might have been. Identical twin daughters is quite a unique gift that would have brought a lifetime of joy. How fun it would have been to dress them up and have tea parties with Grandma Rutter. We had big dreams for them. I had the nursery picked out and plans for so many dresses. Mom would have made the baptismal gowns just like she's done for all my children. And they would have been breath-taking. Now, twelve years later they would have wanted to experiment with hair and make-up. There would be slumber parties, and even more giggling. Girl hormones would fill our house, clashing with teenage boy hormone-driven tempers. Timothy is fourteen. Faith and Grace would be twelve. Thomas would be ten. And James is seven. Our house would certainly be a happening place (even more than it already is!).
Several years ago, I was looking at some baby girl clothes at a garage sale, when someone said, "You don't have little girls. What are you doing? Just dreaming?" Yes I was just dreaming. I've been dreaming for twelve years. The other day, I stopped to smile at a little girl who was all decked out with accessories. Someone walked by and said, "Don't you wish you had a girl?" I nodded quietly. I still wish I had two girls, but not just any girls...my girls. Then I remember that I was given the gift of two girls, identical twin daughters...girls to carry within me for a short time...to dream about for a lifetime...girls who have been woven into the tapestry of this family...girls who were loved, wanted, prayed for, treasured, and remembered. Girls whose lives have helped offer comfort and hope to hundreds of families through the Dreams of You Memory Book and the Comfort Bears. My girls may not be clothed in ribbons and lace or Gymboree accessories on this earth. But my girls are clothed with the beauty of Heaven and surrounded by the Light of the One who carries me through this life.
And I am grateful for the gift of being their mama...Happy Birthday Faith and Grace! I can just see you having a tea party with Grandma Rutter, and giggling...always giggling.
There they were, so tiny and delicate. First Faith...born silently. Then Grace, smaller but less broken. They had their father's nose. They looked like their big brother. I didn't see their brokenness. I saw them as the beautiful girls that God created them to be. They were my daughters, and they were beautiful. One in each arm, I sang Amazing Grace with my mom on one side and Tim on the other. We wept, prayed, and said good-bye.
Over the years, I have dreamt of what Faith and Grace would be doing if they were here with us, and I have wondered what they are doing in heaven right now. I have dreamt of long brown hair with ribbons, little girl giggles, and dresses with lace. Baby dolls and making cookies. All the accessories at the Gymboree store. When Timothy was little, he would dream with me. We would have cupcakes or cookies and sing Happy Birthday. He would say something like, "I bet they would have Barbie pajamas." I love the simple beauty of childlike faith, and I treasured remembering with him.
My world is boy world, and for the most part...I love it. I have embraced it, and cherish all things boy. Love football. Love golf. Love baseball. Love soccer. Love everything they do. I cheer them on, encourage them, resist the urge to run on to the field when they're injured. I pray silently and wish them luck as they go into the woods to hunt...with guns. I fish. To entertain the youngest while the oldest was golfing at a match, I let James see how many locust shells he could put on my lap. I hold frogs, catch lightning bugs, hunt for grasshoppers. And I am grateful for every boy-filled moment of my life.
God has certainly mended my broken heart, and He pours out His sufficient grace for our family each day. The love He has given us...the gratefulness He has taught us. And the legacy He has given to our children...seeing Faith's footprint on every Dreams of You Memory Book and Comfort Bear that touches the heart of grieving moms all over the country...all of those things fall into the category of beauty from ashes. And, oh...how beautiful it is...the joy after the storm. The peace that comes from being carried. Knowing, really knowing that no matter what, Jesus will never leave us or forsake us...knowing that when we walk through the fiery furnace, He will be there in the midst of it, and we will not get burned. And friends, the only way for us to really know that, is to have walked through the fire and to have experienced His grace. That's where faith grows...in the valleys of sorrow...in the fiery furnaces. For it is by grace you have been saved through faith, and not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. ~ Ephesians 2:8
Still, even now there are pangs of yearning for my daughters and sorrow over what might have been. Identical twin daughters is quite a unique gift that would have brought a lifetime of joy. How fun it would have been to dress them up and have tea parties with Grandma Rutter. We had big dreams for them. I had the nursery picked out and plans for so many dresses. Mom would have made the baptismal gowns just like she's done for all my children. And they would have been breath-taking. Now, twelve years later they would have wanted to experiment with hair and make-up. There would be slumber parties, and even more giggling. Girl hormones would fill our house, clashing with teenage boy hormone-driven tempers. Timothy is fourteen. Faith and Grace would be twelve. Thomas would be ten. And James is seven. Our house would certainly be a happening place (even more than it already is!).
Several years ago, I was looking at some baby girl clothes at a garage sale, when someone said, "You don't have little girls. What are you doing? Just dreaming?" Yes I was just dreaming. I've been dreaming for twelve years. The other day, I stopped to smile at a little girl who was all decked out with accessories. Someone walked by and said, "Don't you wish you had a girl?" I nodded quietly. I still wish I had two girls, but not just any girls...my girls. Then I remember that I was given the gift of two girls, identical twin daughters...girls to carry within me for a short time...to dream about for a lifetime...girls who have been woven into the tapestry of this family...girls who were loved, wanted, prayed for, treasured, and remembered. Girls whose lives have helped offer comfort and hope to hundreds of families through the Dreams of You Memory Book and the Comfort Bears. My girls may not be clothed in ribbons and lace or Gymboree accessories on this earth. But my girls are clothed with the beauty of Heaven and surrounded by the Light of the One who carries me through this life.
And I am grateful for the gift of being their mama...Happy Birthday Faith and Grace! I can just see you having a tea party with Grandma Rutter, and giggling...always giggling.
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