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For the last couple years on October 15th, we honored and prayed for many families who lost a baby or child. And, I would like to do it again this year. I hope you will join us. Here is an excerpt from last year's post:
October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I have met so many beautiful families through Walking With You, this blog, and through Sufficient Grace Ministries. Your stories have touched my heart, and I want to remember each one of your precious babies. Every life is precious in the eyes of the Lord. Every life has value and purpose. While I have prayed for everyone who has crossed my path, it would be nice to have a list to pray for all in one place...with names and birth dates (and heavenly home-going dates). I thought it would be special for us to compile a list of our precious babies and post it here on October 15th. So, if you are a mother who has lost a baby/child and would like to include your family on our list, please leave your information in the comments below or email it to me at sufficientgraceministries@gmail.com. If your information is on last year's list, please note I will be including those previously listed and just adding any new names and re-posting the list.
Even if we've never met (in real life or blog land!), you are welcome to participate. We want to remember all of the precious babies and their families. On that special day, I will post the list here and pray throughout the day for each of you...as we remember together. If you would like to help us spread the word on your blog so that we could include more families, please feel free! If you would like to include your child on the October 15th Remembrance Page, please leave the following in the comments below (on this post):
Child's Name
Parents Name
Birth Date
Entered Heaven:
Any message you may wish to share...or bible verse that brings you comfort
Also...if you are a grieving parent, and new to our site, please visit the Dreams of You Shop. If you would like a Dreams of You Memory Book or Comfort Bear, please email the shipping address listed on that page. We do not charge parents for our products or services. It is our desire and prayer to offer comfort and hope to every family who crosses our path.
*We would also like to bless a mama with a $50 gift certificate from My Forever Child!! So, if you would like to enter to win the gift certificate, please mention that you want to be included in your comment.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Musings and Happenings (and Puppies-Oh My!)
This morning, I'm finally working on some overdue Dreams of You Shipments and SGM thank yous. It has been difficult to keep up in this busy season, but if you are waiting to hear from us, please know you have not been forgotten. Shipments continue to go out to families all over the United States and beyond. If you are a supporter of this ministry, we thank you for your continued support and ask for your prayers for us as we reach out to grieving families, and for the beautiful families we serve as they walk this difficult path.
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, with a special Remembrance Day on October 15th. Sufficient Grace Ministries will once again honor the lives of the precious babies who leave this earth too soon, as we have in the past. Candles will be lit, and prayers will be lifted on behalf of each family. We will also be hosting some giveaways to bless a few mamas in the coming weeks, so please stay tuned for more information. We've listed names for the past couple years here: October 15th Remembrance Page. Information coming soon about how you can add your child/family to the list.
Franchesca from Small Bird Studios has been working on a redesign of the Sufficient Grace website and this blog. I'm excited to reveal those changes when they are complete. The process included a photo shoot, (once again in the pouring rain) with Raechel Feehan (who was such a trooper to give her time and stand in the pouring rain with us...coaxing smiles out of my not-loving-getting-their-picture-taken guys). She does an excellent job of "capturing" our family. So excited to get an updated family picture on our wall...and to update the blog as well! Thank you beautiful Raechel...love you, girl!
I've been adjusting to a new school year, and loving spending time with the fourth grade students I work with each day. James is acclimating to middle school, and Timothy is well into his Senior year. Time is flying, golf clubs are clink-clanking, I'm following behind...sometimes a sappy puddle, acutely aware of the endings this year brings...even as we anticipate the adventure of beginnings. It has been a gift to watch him achieve some accomplishments on the course the past few weeks, and I'm missing my mom (who would relish every inch of it all). You know, you can't freely brag on your kids with anyone except your mama...at least it doesn't seem acceptable to do so. Only our mamas love them like we do. But, it has been a blessing to see his hard work bring some fruit this year (including his first hole in one last week, which was a fun surprise!). I'm looking forward to watching him compete at the district tournament this Thursday.
Our band One Way has been preparing for an upcoming performance at Oakdale United Methodist Church. We will be sharing some praise songs, and I will be speaking briefly about Sufficient Grace on Sunday, October 9th. Please keep that upcoming event in prayer.
After working as a concrete/excavating foreman for more than 16 years, my husband started his own business last month. He has been quite busy, and it has been such a blessing to see him use his gifts and abilities in new and creative ways. You can check out his website here: Gerken Construction. Stop over and give him a word of encouragement. He does beautiful work...and I would say that, even if he wasn't my husband. =)
Oh...and in the midst of it all, our beagle had puppies on the first day of school. She had a litter of eight, but two did not make it. So, it has been a roly-poly, tumble-bumpling romp of puppy goodness and cuteness around these parts...James has been in heaven! =)
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, with a special Remembrance Day on October 15th. Sufficient Grace Ministries will once again honor the lives of the precious babies who leave this earth too soon, as we have in the past. Candles will be lit, and prayers will be lifted on behalf of each family. We will also be hosting some giveaways to bless a few mamas in the coming weeks, so please stay tuned for more information. We've listed names for the past couple years here: October 15th Remembrance Page. Information coming soon about how you can add your child/family to the list.
Franchesca from Small Bird Studios has been working on a redesign of the Sufficient Grace website and this blog. I'm excited to reveal those changes when they are complete. The process included a photo shoot, (once again in the pouring rain) with Raechel Feehan (who was such a trooper to give her time and stand in the pouring rain with us...coaxing smiles out of my not-loving-getting-their-picture-taken guys). She does an excellent job of "capturing" our family. So excited to get an updated family picture on our wall...and to update the blog as well! Thank you beautiful Raechel...love you, girl!
I've been adjusting to a new school year, and loving spending time with the fourth grade students I work with each day. James is acclimating to middle school, and Timothy is well into his Senior year. Time is flying, golf clubs are clink-clanking, I'm following behind...sometimes a sappy puddle, acutely aware of the endings this year brings...even as we anticipate the adventure of beginnings. It has been a gift to watch him achieve some accomplishments on the course the past few weeks, and I'm missing my mom (who would relish every inch of it all). You know, you can't freely brag on your kids with anyone except your mama...at least it doesn't seem acceptable to do so. Only our mamas love them like we do. But, it has been a blessing to see his hard work bring some fruit this year (including his first hole in one last week, which was a fun surprise!). I'm looking forward to watching him compete at the district tournament this Thursday.
Our band One Way has been preparing for an upcoming performance at Oakdale United Methodist Church. We will be sharing some praise songs, and I will be speaking briefly about Sufficient Grace on Sunday, October 9th. Please keep that upcoming event in prayer.
After working as a concrete/excavating foreman for more than 16 years, my husband started his own business last month. He has been quite busy, and it has been such a blessing to see him use his gifts and abilities in new and creative ways. You can check out his website here: Gerken Construction. Stop over and give him a word of encouragement. He does beautiful work...and I would say that, even if he wasn't my husband. =)
Oh...and in the midst of it all, our beagle had puppies on the first day of school. She had a litter of eight, but two did not make it. So, it has been a roly-poly, tumble-bumpling romp of puppy goodness and cuteness around these parts...James has been in heaven! =)
They are seriously so cute, I cannot even deal!
Friday, September 30, 2011
I've Looked Away
For most of my life, while nestled on my comfy couch, indulging in some yummy food, when those commercials interrupted my entertaining television programs, I turned the channel. You know the ones. Bedraggled children with the lost look in their eyes. Hungry. Alone. Desperate. Bellies distended from malnutrition. Tattered rags falling from their shoulders. I turned the channel. I looked away.
My days are busy and full. Soccer games and golf tournaments. Baseball games in the summer. Finding the perfect dress to wear to a friend's wedding. Making sure the boys have nice new clothes for school. Shopping for the items on their Christmas list. Going to work to help pay our bills. Supporting my husband in his new business. Trying to find time to reach out to others through SGM.
But, when the least of these stood before me with haunting brown eyes, I have looked away. Over and over again. No time to be bothered with images that are unsettling. The kind of thoughts that shake a faith with a firm foundation to it's knees. I looked away, because I was busy. I looked away because I didn't want to be uncomfortable. Because it's too hard to look, to really consider that children are living in such a hopeless state. I looked away, because I knew that if I ever really looked, I would be consumed with the idea of their suffering. I looked away because I am a selfish coward....because the task seems insurmountable....because there is nothing I can do to save them.
My heart's passion is to reach out to mother's who grieve the loss of their babies...to look on the kind of sorrow that many find uncomfortable, untouchable, that many look away from. And, yet there is a suffering that, as a mother, I cannot wrap my mind around...a suffering that seems too horrible to imagine. So, I have looked away.
But, something happened last Sunday. A speaker from Gospel for Asia came to share about their outreach for the children of India. He spoke of the desperation and poverty, the children cast aside and abused in unspeakable ways...rejected by a religion that tells them they are worthless, less than human if born to a certain "caste"...digging in garbage to find a scrap to feed their starving tummies...filthy from the slums they live in...drinking from a sewer to quench their thirst. I looked over at James, listening intently to the desperate tales of woe suffered by millions of children and fellow human beings on planet earth just minutes after proclaiming his determination to one day own a Playstation 3. I thought of how we cannot determine the conditions we are born into. It could have been me, or one of my children born into the same hopelessness. We know this life of comfort, freedom, and safety. But what if we didn't? What if we only knew the horror of waking everyday to such an agonizing existence? What if we didn't know that a Savior came to die for us? What if we didn't know we had worth and value? What if every moment of our lives screamed the opposite? What if I was the mother forced to watch my children starve to death? What if my child were the one begging on the street and digging in the garbage? I cannot tell you how difficult and frightening it is to even type such "what ifs".
The usual protective numbness that surrounds my heart when such things are discussed was no where to be found. I couldn't look away. I took the books and the picture of a child to sponsor.
These words from the book No Longer a Slumdog (by K.P. Yohannan) have haunted me for several days, piercing my cold heart:
"Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only
one death to die; that you have only one life, which is short
and has to be lived by you alone; and that there is only one
glory, which is eternal. If you do this, there will be many
things about which you will care nothing. ~ Teresa of Avila
And yet, none of it seems like enough. While I don't believe we should feel guilty for living in a warm, safe house with plenty of food and freedom, it is difficult to reconcile that there is such suffering while we do so. I opened my full cupboard after Sunday's service and made chili and apple crisp. We stuffed ourselves while watching the Cleveland Browns and enjoyed a peaceful Sunday nap. Across the ocean, a starving child digs in the garbage hoping for a scrap someone tossed away.
I don't know how to reconcile that the same loving God sees us both. I don't know how to reconcile the things we think matter so much in the day-to-day world we are living in with the truth of what matters in eternity. I don't know how to reconcile the helplessness I feel that there are so many, and the sudden desperation to take at least one of these children in my arms and let them know that God sees, that they are loved and wanted, valuable and precious in the eyes of Jesus.
I don't know what to do with it all....but one thing is certain...I can no longer look away.
*For a free copy of the book, No Longer a Slumdog and for more information on how you can help Gospel for Asia bring hope and healing to people in desperate need, please visit: Gospel for Asia
And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’
~Matthew 25:40
My days are busy and full. Soccer games and golf tournaments. Baseball games in the summer. Finding the perfect dress to wear to a friend's wedding. Making sure the boys have nice new clothes for school. Shopping for the items on their Christmas list. Going to work to help pay our bills. Supporting my husband in his new business. Trying to find time to reach out to others through SGM.
But, when the least of these stood before me with haunting brown eyes, I have looked away. Over and over again. No time to be bothered with images that are unsettling. The kind of thoughts that shake a faith with a firm foundation to it's knees. I looked away, because I was busy. I looked away because I didn't want to be uncomfortable. Because it's too hard to look, to really consider that children are living in such a hopeless state. I looked away, because I knew that if I ever really looked, I would be consumed with the idea of their suffering. I looked away because I am a selfish coward....because the task seems insurmountable....because there is nothing I can do to save them.
My heart's passion is to reach out to mother's who grieve the loss of their babies...to look on the kind of sorrow that many find uncomfortable, untouchable, that many look away from. And, yet there is a suffering that, as a mother, I cannot wrap my mind around...a suffering that seems too horrible to imagine. So, I have looked away.
But, something happened last Sunday. A speaker from Gospel for Asia came to share about their outreach for the children of India. He spoke of the desperation and poverty, the children cast aside and abused in unspeakable ways...rejected by a religion that tells them they are worthless, less than human if born to a certain "caste"...digging in garbage to find a scrap to feed their starving tummies...filthy from the slums they live in...drinking from a sewer to quench their thirst. I looked over at James, listening intently to the desperate tales of woe suffered by millions of children and fellow human beings on planet earth just minutes after proclaiming his determination to one day own a Playstation 3. I thought of how we cannot determine the conditions we are born into. It could have been me, or one of my children born into the same hopelessness. We know this life of comfort, freedom, and safety. But what if we didn't? What if we only knew the horror of waking everyday to such an agonizing existence? What if we didn't know that a Savior came to die for us? What if we didn't know we had worth and value? What if every moment of our lives screamed the opposite? What if I was the mother forced to watch my children starve to death? What if my child were the one begging on the street and digging in the garbage? I cannot tell you how difficult and frightening it is to even type such "what ifs".
The usual protective numbness that surrounds my heart when such things are discussed was no where to be found. I couldn't look away. I took the books and the picture of a child to sponsor.
These words from the book No Longer a Slumdog (by K.P. Yohannan) have haunted me for several days, piercing my cold heart:
"Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only
one death to die; that you have only one life, which is short
and has to be lived by you alone; and that there is only one
glory, which is eternal. If you do this, there will be many
things about which you will care nothing. ~ Teresa of Avila
And yet, none of it seems like enough. While I don't believe we should feel guilty for living in a warm, safe house with plenty of food and freedom, it is difficult to reconcile that there is such suffering while we do so. I opened my full cupboard after Sunday's service and made chili and apple crisp. We stuffed ourselves while watching the Cleveland Browns and enjoyed a peaceful Sunday nap. Across the ocean, a starving child digs in the garbage hoping for a scrap someone tossed away.
I don't know how to reconcile that the same loving God sees us both. I don't know how to reconcile the things we think matter so much in the day-to-day world we are living in with the truth of what matters in eternity. I don't know how to reconcile the helplessness I feel that there are so many, and the sudden desperation to take at least one of these children in my arms and let them know that God sees, that they are loved and wanted, valuable and precious in the eyes of Jesus.
I don't know what to do with it all....but one thing is certain...I can no longer look away.
*For a free copy of the book, No Longer a Slumdog and for more information on how you can help Gospel for Asia bring hope and healing to people in desperate need, please visit: Gospel for Asia
And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’
~Matthew 25:40
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Where is God in all This Mess?
Suffering is everywhere. Grief, loss, brokenness. Everywhere. Everyday.
Everyday, I meet or read about a mother who has lost her child. My inbox is full of mothers waiting for SGM shipments to honor the memory of these precious lives.
A couple days ago, one of my best friends (mommy to baby Sawyer), kissed her sweet boy and sent him off to the operating room where he endured his second open heart surgery. He is a little more than one year old. He is full of life and joy, seemingly unaware of the precarious way he entered this world and ridiculously resilient although he has been poked and prodded by various physicians throughout his brief time on planet earth. (The surgery went well, and sweet Sawyer is recovering...please keep him in your prayers.)
This week, after one of the plethora of high school golf matches that fill my afternoons, I sat for a couple hours talking with another dear friend and co-worker, mother to my son's best friend. Her husband was a co-worker of mine, an amazing father to her three boys (the youngest a senior), a beloved girls' basketball coach, and a devoted member of our community. The fourth anniversary of his sudden death is approaching. We spoke of the missing...of the reconciling how God could let this happen...and why. I couldn't shake the image of my beautiful friend sitting in the church pew with her three boys beside her and his casket in the front of the church. I have often thought of the grief I have walked through, and the times Tim has held me up when I couldn't stand...held me when I woke up sobbing...covered for me when I couldn't leave my bedroom...held my hand and led me when I couldn't see where to walk. My friend has walked where I have not. Grief I have known, but grief without him...I dare not even speak of it. It's the kind none of us want to know, and yet she walks this path...bravely and beautifully. The world keeps turning...the sun rises and sets. She goes to work everyday, and loves her boys, and aches for the love of her life.
A student is watching his father bravely battle cancer.
Another boy I know loves the color pink, because his mother is fighting cancer...for at least the third time. His grandfather is currently in the hospital...not doing well.
There are other children...who come to school with hurts we cannot imagine. Everyday.
And, the world keeps turning. The sun rises and sets.
The question hangs in the air. It's the one I struggle to answer when face to face with such grief. The one that won't tolerate some well-thought out response with flowery prose. The one that looks skeptically at the scriptures that promise comfort and peace. It's the one I don't have an answer to...at least not a worthy answer.
Where is God in all this pain...and why did He let this happen?
Sure, I could wax poetic with a thousand cliches and pat answers. There are beautiful scriptures...examples of faith. Words that are true and right. But, when standing face to face with the raw agony of a heart twisted in pain like that....sometimes I am rendered speechless. Sometimes there are no words...no answers.
I could say that this world is not the one He intended for us. The suffering, grief, and destruction are part of life in this fallen world. They are not Who He is. He is the love that carries us, the peace that sustains us, the grace that offers redemption. He is in the beauty born of the ashes.
My words will not fill the ache of a mother's empty arms or the agony of living life on this earth without the one she loves. Many times, I say nothing or very little and simply offer prayers and/or scripture. But, sometimes I long for something to say...some hope to cling to.
In April 2010, Kristin wrote this post, wondering about God and His intentions...wrestling honestly with her grief and the sometimes hurtful words of others. The response that poured out of me (along with buckets of tears) was the closest I have ever come to saying what I wish could be said to an aching heart. Still...the words are far from adequate. I copied my comment from her blog and pasted below:
I know this post is getting long, but I wanted to share these thoughts for the mothers newly walking this path...or those with other struggles feeling hurt and wondering where God is in all of this. I've asked that a few times, and He is always faithful to answer. God loves honest, real questions. And, He loves to meet us where we are. There is no pit so deep He cannot find us. For further thoughts and scripture on where God is when we are in the pit of despair, visit this post: Letting Go and Holding On
Everyday, I meet or read about a mother who has lost her child. My inbox is full of mothers waiting for SGM shipments to honor the memory of these precious lives.
A couple days ago, one of my best friends (mommy to baby Sawyer), kissed her sweet boy and sent him off to the operating room where he endured his second open heart surgery. He is a little more than one year old. He is full of life and joy, seemingly unaware of the precarious way he entered this world and ridiculously resilient although he has been poked and prodded by various physicians throughout his brief time on planet earth. (The surgery went well, and sweet Sawyer is recovering...please keep him in your prayers.)
This week, after one of the plethora of high school golf matches that fill my afternoons, I sat for a couple hours talking with another dear friend and co-worker, mother to my son's best friend. Her husband was a co-worker of mine, an amazing father to her three boys (the youngest a senior), a beloved girls' basketball coach, and a devoted member of our community. The fourth anniversary of his sudden death is approaching. We spoke of the missing...of the reconciling how God could let this happen...and why. I couldn't shake the image of my beautiful friend sitting in the church pew with her three boys beside her and his casket in the front of the church. I have often thought of the grief I have walked through, and the times Tim has held me up when I couldn't stand...held me when I woke up sobbing...covered for me when I couldn't leave my bedroom...held my hand and led me when I couldn't see where to walk. My friend has walked where I have not. Grief I have known, but grief without him...I dare not even speak of it. It's the kind none of us want to know, and yet she walks this path...bravely and beautifully. The world keeps turning...the sun rises and sets. She goes to work everyday, and loves her boys, and aches for the love of her life.
A student is watching his father bravely battle cancer.
Another boy I know loves the color pink, because his mother is fighting cancer...for at least the third time. His grandfather is currently in the hospital...not doing well.
There are other children...who come to school with hurts we cannot imagine. Everyday.
And, the world keeps turning. The sun rises and sets.
The question hangs in the air. It's the one I struggle to answer when face to face with such grief. The one that won't tolerate some well-thought out response with flowery prose. The one that looks skeptically at the scriptures that promise comfort and peace. It's the one I don't have an answer to...at least not a worthy answer.
Where is God in all this pain...and why did He let this happen?
Sure, I could wax poetic with a thousand cliches and pat answers. There are beautiful scriptures...examples of faith. Words that are true and right. But, when standing face to face with the raw agony of a heart twisted in pain like that....sometimes I am rendered speechless. Sometimes there are no words...no answers.
I could say that this world is not the one He intended for us. The suffering, grief, and destruction are part of life in this fallen world. They are not Who He is. He is the love that carries us, the peace that sustains us, the grace that offers redemption. He is in the beauty born of the ashes.
My words will not fill the ache of a mother's empty arms or the agony of living life on this earth without the one she loves. Many times, I say nothing or very little and simply offer prayers and/or scripture. But, sometimes I long for something to say...some hope to cling to.
In April 2010, Kristin wrote this post, wondering about God and His intentions...wrestling honestly with her grief and the sometimes hurtful words of others. The response that poured out of me (along with buckets of tears) was the closest I have ever come to saying what I wish could be said to an aching heart. Still...the words are far from adequate. I copied my comment from her blog and pasted below:
Kristin,
I am so sorry people have used words that are hurtful. I'm reading your words with tears pouring down my face...so sorry for the hurt you are feeling. I can feel the strength of it through your words. The anger...the pain...the feelings of abandonment. They are bigger than anything else right now. Right now, there are no perfect answers or words tied up in a neat bow to explain the suffering and death of your sweet baby girl...and the continuation of loss you feel facing infertility. There are no words to make that better or explain why. I know the pain is bigger than anything else...that you feel like He has let you down, turned His back on you. You are in the thick of grief...heavy, relentless, merciless grief.
You may read my blog and see where I am now...it isn't a place I've always been. The process of getting beauty from ashes is no walk in the park. There were years of healing, brokenness, restoration, surrender, and learning to trust Him. He is still piecing some things back together in my life.
The words I want to tell you are going to seem so cotton candy right now. But, they are true...and maybe you can take some comfort in knowing that they are coming from someone who has walked through some stuff.
God doesn't intend suffering, pain, death, sickness, cancer, grief...any of it. He never intended it. He isn't the author of it. And, as a loving Father who values you enough to send His own Son to suffer horribly and die in your place....He takes no pleasure in your pain. He loves you and His heart breaks for you...with you... I get that you can't feel Him right now...that the pain is too much. I get it, and so does He. When I even try to think of the depth of your pain, it seems like such bologna as I'm writing it...knowing that you are in a place to receive this right now, and desperately hoping that my words do nothing to pour salt in your gaping wounds...
(To be continued in next comment)
I am so sorry people have used words that are hurtful. I'm reading your words with tears pouring down my face...so sorry for the hurt you are feeling. I can feel the strength of it through your words. The anger...the pain...the feelings of abandonment. They are bigger than anything else right now. Right now, there are no perfect answers or words tied up in a neat bow to explain the suffering and death of your sweet baby girl...and the continuation of loss you feel facing infertility. There are no words to make that better or explain why. I know the pain is bigger than anything else...that you feel like He has let you down, turned His back on you. You are in the thick of grief...heavy, relentless, merciless grief.
You may read my blog and see where I am now...it isn't a place I've always been. The process of getting beauty from ashes is no walk in the park. There were years of healing, brokenness, restoration, surrender, and learning to trust Him. He is still piecing some things back together in my life.
The words I want to tell you are going to seem so cotton candy right now. But, they are true...and maybe you can take some comfort in knowing that they are coming from someone who has walked through some stuff.
God doesn't intend suffering, pain, death, sickness, cancer, grief...any of it. He never intended it. He isn't the author of it. And, as a loving Father who values you enough to send His own Son to suffer horribly and die in your place....He takes no pleasure in your pain. He loves you and His heart breaks for you...with you... I get that you can't feel Him right now...that the pain is too much. I get it, and so does He. When I even try to think of the depth of your pain, it seems like such bologna as I'm writing it...knowing that you are in a place to receive this right now, and desperately hoping that my words do nothing to pour salt in your gaping wounds...
(To be continued in next comment)
Ridiculously long comment continued....
You may be thinking...O.K...He didn't intend it, but He allowed it. He didn't stop it. He didn't protect her. He didn't protect me. You're right...He didn't stop it from happening...and I don't have an answer for that. Not one that will make it better. His ways are not our ways...and only He sees the beginning from the end. It is true that there are beautiful things that come from the ashes of our brokenness. And God can use all things in our lives to shape and mold us.
But, when you are in the pit sinking...where you are, those words sometimes don't help...and may even bring hurt. Who wants to hear about being shaped and molded when your arms are aching for your baby, your body is broken, and your heart is in pieces, and your mind is plagued with memories of the suffering of your precious child? You can't see the hope of that promise from the pit. Can't feel the comfort of it. That doesn't mean it isn't there...doesn't mean that He isn't there...and I know me saying it doesn't make you feel better.
From my pit...I didn't want to hear about God's will...didn't want to hear about the fruit that would come...didn't want to count it all joy...didn't want the witty words and well-meaning verses...didn't want the pretty flowers...certainly didn't want to listen to any miracle stories...almost every promise from scripture or well-meaning words from Christians brought pain. I just wanted my babies. And I just wanted my mother. And...they weren't here...
For a time, I didn't want to hear about the promises and hope.
But...in time when, I did. I wanted to hold on to the promise of the joy set before me...wanted to know that although weeping may last for a night...joy would come in the morning. I didn't know when morning would come to my house and stay...but one day, on my knees, crying bitter tears...I felt myself surrender all that I had wanted and just let Him carry me. There's no formula or timetable to come to that place...and it sounds so easy and tied up in a pretty bow as I'm writing it right now. It wasn't. And, it wasn't a place I could come to on my own...
Here's the thing, I believe as the bible says, the rain falls on the just and the unjust. Whether we are Christians or not, we will find suffering and trouble in this world. It's a guarantee. We will walk through these valleys with or without Him. The bottom line is...I'd rather walk through it with Him than without Him.
There is unspeakable beauty that has grown in our lives from the ashes of our sorrow. I don't believe that God sent the sorrow and loss...and I never would have chosen it. But, He has used it to make us who we are...to draw us to Him...to teach us to love one another. I'm saying that, not to rub salt in your wounds, but to tell you that there is hope for healing. Even in this darkness...light can shine again.
And, Kristin...even when you can't feel Him, He is holding you. He will carry you...He is carrying you. When you are too weak to reach for Him, He still holds you. When you are too angry to hear Him...to go to Him...He waits for you. And...no matter how hurt, angry, deserted, lost, hopeless, broken...no matter how long it takes...He will wait for you. He will be there with open arms. He loves you with a relentless love. A love that can take your anger, your sorrow, your questioning, your doubt, your pain...
His only intention is tTo love, heal, save, and carry you....
You, my dear, are not a failure....and no one has the right to judge your "performance" in the pits of grief. No one.
I hope you don't mind my long comment...and all of my words. Words that I know do nothing to "fix" the brokenness. Please know that they have all been written in love...my heart is breaking with you...
I pray nothing I've said added to your pain...
Love and Continued prayers,
Kelly
You may be thinking...O.K...He didn't intend it, but He allowed it. He didn't stop it. He didn't protect her. He didn't protect me. You're right...He didn't stop it from happening...and I don't have an answer for that. Not one that will make it better. His ways are not our ways...and only He sees the beginning from the end. It is true that there are beautiful things that come from the ashes of our brokenness. And God can use all things in our lives to shape and mold us.
But, when you are in the pit sinking...where you are, those words sometimes don't help...and may even bring hurt. Who wants to hear about being shaped and molded when your arms are aching for your baby, your body is broken, and your heart is in pieces, and your mind is plagued with memories of the suffering of your precious child? You can't see the hope of that promise from the pit. Can't feel the comfort of it. That doesn't mean it isn't there...doesn't mean that He isn't there...and I know me saying it doesn't make you feel better.
From my pit...I didn't want to hear about God's will...didn't want to hear about the fruit that would come...didn't want to count it all joy...didn't want the witty words and well-meaning verses...didn't want the pretty flowers...certainly didn't want to listen to any miracle stories...almost every promise from scripture or well-meaning words from Christians brought pain. I just wanted my babies. And I just wanted my mother. And...they weren't here...
For a time, I didn't want to hear about the promises and hope.
But...in time when, I did. I wanted to hold on to the promise of the joy set before me...wanted to know that although weeping may last for a night...joy would come in the morning. I didn't know when morning would come to my house and stay...but one day, on my knees, crying bitter tears...I felt myself surrender all that I had wanted and just let Him carry me. There's no formula or timetable to come to that place...and it sounds so easy and tied up in a pretty bow as I'm writing it right now. It wasn't. And, it wasn't a place I could come to on my own...
Here's the thing, I believe as the bible says, the rain falls on the just and the unjust. Whether we are Christians or not, we will find suffering and trouble in this world. It's a guarantee. We will walk through these valleys with or without Him. The bottom line is...I'd rather walk through it with Him than without Him.
There is unspeakable beauty that has grown in our lives from the ashes of our sorrow. I don't believe that God sent the sorrow and loss...and I never would have chosen it. But, He has used it to make us who we are...to draw us to Him...to teach us to love one another. I'm saying that, not to rub salt in your wounds, but to tell you that there is hope for healing. Even in this darkness...light can shine again.
And, Kristin...even when you can't feel Him, He is holding you. He will carry you...He is carrying you. When you are too weak to reach for Him, He still holds you. When you are too angry to hear Him...to go to Him...He waits for you. And...no matter how hurt, angry, deserted, lost, hopeless, broken...no matter how long it takes...He will wait for you. He will be there with open arms. He loves you with a relentless love. A love that can take your anger, your sorrow, your questioning, your doubt, your pain...
His only intention is tTo love, heal, save, and carry you....
You, my dear, are not a failure....and no one has the right to judge your "performance" in the pits of grief. No one.
I hope you don't mind my long comment...and all of my words. Words that I know do nothing to "fix" the brokenness. Please know that they have all been written in love...my heart is breaking with you...
I pray nothing I've said added to your pain...
Love and Continued prayers,
Kelly
I know this post is getting long, but I wanted to share these thoughts for the mothers newly walking this path...or those with other struggles feeling hurt and wondering where God is in all of this. I've asked that a few times, and He is always faithful to answer. God loves honest, real questions. And, He loves to meet us where we are. There is no pit so deep He cannot find us. For further thoughts and scripture on where God is when we are in the pit of despair, visit this post: Letting Go and Holding On
Sunday, September 11, 2011
When the World Stopped Turning...
Ten years ago, I had just finished nursing James. After laying him down for his morning nap, I turned on the news as I prepared to go to work at my part time job at our elementary school. My mom would be arriving soon to stay with him for my 2 1/2 hour work day.
The first plane hit. I froze, suddenly acutely tuned in as Matt and Katie tried to sort it all out from the TV. I watched as a second plane hit. The world stopped turning.
"It appears this was not an accident."
My knees buckled, and I sat in awe...as the news anchors tried to sort out what was happening.
Within minutes, news came that the Pentagon had been hit. The phone rang. My stepdad, asked "What's happening?"
"We are under attack. Terrorists are here...in America. They hit the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I don't know where Shannon is."
My thoughts raced to Shannon, my brother-in-law serving in the Marines as the crew chief for Marine One (the president's helicopter). Where was he today? Flying with the president? A dignitary? If he was landing on the helipad, he would be at the Pentagon...
The news shows President Bush reading to some children at a school in Florida. I vaguely hear that he will board Air Force One, not Marine One.
Reluctantly, although like every other mother in America, I just want to grab James from his crib and get Timothy from school and hold them close, I leave for work after mom's arrival.
The silence in the school halls was deafening. Our faces remain stoic so as not to alert the children. The only source of news is a radio in the office that tells us there is still a plane out there unaccounted for. We go through the motions, numb...gripped with fear...knowing that our world is forever changed. Not knowing what that may mean, or what more may be coming.
Not since Pearl Harbor has there been such a day. We see war torn countries on the news, enduring explosions and civilian casualties everyday. But, not here. Not in America.
Ten years later, I sat in a Social Studies class where we spent two days remembering the events of September 11. Our Weekly Reader was devoted to the events of that day, and the heroes that emerged all over this country. Something beautiful arose from the ashes of destruction, as people joined together to give what they could for the rescue effort...to wave their flags...to weep together...to pray for this great land. The lessons inspired the young children, many of whom were just born or not even born when the events occurred, to talk with their parents about that day. And, everyone remembered where they were when the world stopped turning. A friend of mine put it in perspective when she mentioned how amazing it is that our children (10 and under) have never known an America without the threat of terrorists and war.
Our world changed that day, and our country. Forever changed.
But, the steadfastness of our God remains secure.
A friend of mine posted this scripture on facebook, and I found it fitting as we remember:
"Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out
against me,
even then will I be confident." - Psalm 27:3
God is always in control. Let us never forget those who lost their lives on
God is always in control. Let us never forget those who lost their lives on
9/11/01.
Continued prayers for this great land...
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Ride4Grace 2011
The 3rd annual Ride4Grace, hosted by our friend Dave Amspoker, was held on Sunday August 21, 2011 beginning and ending at Abiding Hope Lutheran Church in Bowling Green, Ohio. There was a small group of bikers who came to show their support for SGM, including sweet Holly and family. We are always grateful for those who take the time out of their busy schedules to help raise awareness and support for this mission so close to our hearts.
The run began with a prayer led by Dave.
After an ominous-cloud-covered beginning...
The run began with a prayer led by Dave.
After an ominous-cloud-covered beginning...
The sun shone through...
Love these cuties...
James loved this amazing work of art in the church lobby. It looks like just a drawing, but it has the entire New Testament written into it...as part of each line of the picture. Amazing!!
Tim and James getting things ready in the kitchen and waiting patiently for the bikers...still no motorcycle for Tim...sigh.
Those who joined us enjoyed some delicious grilled hot dogs and ice cream sundaes.
It was hard to get a pic of these cuties that wasn't blurry!! They were on the move...
Thanks so much to Dave, Brooke, our friends from the CMA, and all of those that joined in to bless this year's Ride4Grace bike run. We appreciate your continued support of Sufficient Grace Ministries. To read more about the day, check out Holly's post.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Senior Pictures...and Mama Confessions
This is my senior boy. I know you've been hearing a bit about our first born lately around these blog-parts, and I promise I will post about something else soon. But truthfully, I'm a bit consumed by this fleeting time.
My sweet friend Dawn Marshall took his senior pictures last month and she let us share one here. They turned out great, don't you think?
She also emailed me a copy of a pic she snapped before the one above. When Timothy took his guitar out of his case, it was a bit dusty. So, without skipping a beat, I did what mamas do. I dusted it off with the bottom of my skirt. Dawn, being a mama herself, was amused by the gesture. (Please ignore the fact that it was not my best side!)
Speaking of not my best side, I've been doing some thinking on the stuff we mamas do...the schedules we juggle, the guilt we carry, the things we forget, the things we'll never forget, the things we wish we could forget, and the things we want to remember forever, the things we mess up, and the moments when God's grace shines through and we breathe a satisfied sigh.I've been pondering the passing of time...the way everyone says that it will go so fast.
They are so right.
I returned to my job as a paraprofessional at a local elementary school last week, and Timothy is in the thick of his very last high school golf season ever. SGM is busy and growing. Tim started his own business. And, James started middle school. I can feel the pull of my heart's desire to be the "keeper of my home" and the reality of the everyday demands of life. While I need to work, and enjoy my job working with special needs students, there are days when I would love to focus solely on the needs of my family...and bake some cookies. I've never felt like one of those people who could do it all. I try, but I mess it up.
I forget things, miss appointments, and constantly feel like I'm juggling and about to drop all the balls hanging in the air. A co-worker and fellow mama was sharing at lunch about her child's homework, and forgetting something.
I looked up and said, "I don't know how other working mothers do it. Some seem to have it all together. I stink at it!"
And, I was thinking maybe I'm not the only mom who feels that way sometimes...whether we work outside of the home, or not. Maybe we all have moments when we feel like we are messing it all up.
But, then, I look at my boy...almost all grown up. I remember the prayers I've prayed for his life...and the answers I've seen so far. I think about God's faithfulness, reflecting on all He has already done. Surely He isn't finished yet. His promises are the same for both my boys.
And, let me tell you...God hears the prayers of a mother.
I love that God is always big enough for everything that weighs on my mama-heart. I love that it's about His faithfulness...not my inability to get it right. It's about His strength...made perfect through my weakness. Always and without fail.
I'm so grateful...and now if you'll excuse me...I think I'll go bake some cookies.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
I'm Gonna Miss This
It's funny the things we notice when we're looking. The things that get our attention and stop time for a moment. Sights, sounds, smells that whisper, "This is something to stop and soak into the depths
of who you are...something to remember."
For me, it's the rhythmic clink-clack of golf clubs slung on the backs of my boys as they walk the course. They walk, and I follow, clubs clink-clacking...me, breathing it all in.
It's the sound of summer...the sound of fall...the sound of boys - young, healthy, and strong for this moment...doing what they love.
It's the sound of little brothers looking up to big brothers...and dads walking alongside.
It's the sound of me, following behind...soaking it in.
Monday, August 22, 2011
The Haven Network
I first read a blurb about The Haven Network a few years ago, shortly after learning about the concept of perinatal hospice and meeting Amy Kuebelbeck (author of Waiting With Gabriel). I was grazing through a list of perinatal hospice organizations, and stopped for moment when I read that The Haven Network was a Christian-based, non-profit organization, serving families who received a fatal diagnosis during pregnancy. Immediately something stirred in me. I knew that one day I'd like to make a connection with them and see what kind of work they do. Perinatal hospice was a fairly new concept, and I was quite intrigued with the idea that such a place could exist...a place where families facing a fatal pregnancy diagnosis could find support, encouragement, guidance, resources, and comfort. It is the very thing I wish existed when my family muddled our way through years ago, and some of what I longed to help provide for families myself through Sufficient Grace Ministries.
I came across the name again at some point, and found that The Haven Network was located in Rockford, Illinois...the same town my where my father lived. I thought that if I ever happened to visit my father, I would have to see if I could visit The Haven. Years passed, and we started serving families in our own way...through the Dreams of You Memory Book and Comfort Bears and online support through families. I spoke at hospitals and women's groups...sharing about the hope and comfort God gives and about SGM.
Two weeks ago, while planning a spontaneous visit to finally see my father's home, I remembered The Haven Network. The whirlwind trip was going to be a busy one...with just the boys and me. So, I wasn't sure if I could pull it off. I had a fleeting thought about getting their contact information, when a mom named Laura that we had ministered to through SGM sent me a comment on facebook that Rockford, Illinois was the location of the perinatal hospice organization that walked with her in her time of need. She had such wonderful things to say about the ways they had offered her support. I quickly asked for their contact info., and she sent it. I contacted them and spoke with Jean who was receptive to meeting with me and arranged a time that fit into our busy schedules.
We met Saturday morning. Jean greeted me at the door of their beautiful building location on the river. I walked through the hallway, gazing at walls adorned with gorgeous black and white photographs that captured precious, yet brief lives. Baby feet, mamas and babies, hands holding one another...soaking in a lifetime of love and memories in a moment. Everything about the place was soothing and welcoming...honoring of life.
I met Kathy, who joined Jean in her office to share the mission they had for families who face the loss of their babies. They have a staff with a nurse (Kathy) and a photographer and a host of volunteers. I kept choking down the emotion as I looked around me, as if walking in a dream, my own dream and vision. I had longed to create such a place where families could come...a haven where there would be love and encouragement to continue a pregnancy with hope and dignity. A place where each precious life is treasured and a family is supported through the process....a place where someone will hold the hand of each mama and daddy and walk with them all the way. At one point I had to allow the emotion to come out...so overwhelmed to know that such an amazing, beautiful place exists for families like us. I felt such awe and gratitude to be standing in the room with the women who created such a place...the women who have made this their life's work. How I long to do the same.
I shared with them the story of Faith, Grace, and Thomas...with much emotion spilling over. And, I told them about starting Sufficient Grace in 2004 and operating out of my basement. Even as we sat in their beautiful building, they shared about starting in a basement in the beginning, as well. I gave them the Dreams of You Memory Books and other items I had brought to give in memory of Michael Vollmer.
They loved the books and I felt that we had been parts of a puzzle fit together in that moment, as I admired all that they had accomplished and they encouraged me on what we have accomplished. (All of us knowing that God was really the One that made it all possible!)
It was such a blessing to spend time sharing and exchanging ideas with like-minded ladies, with hearts of compassion for the same purpose...comforting grieving families. I hope to work with them in the future in whatever way our paths happen to cross again. It seems the Lord has plans for us, and I look forward to seeing what that might be! I hope you'll take a few moments to learn more about this wonderful organization and the services they provide for families. Praying God's continued blessings on the beautiful ladies from The Haven Network.
Pictured below: Jean, me, and Kathy
I came across the name again at some point, and found that The Haven Network was located in Rockford, Illinois...the same town my where my father lived. I thought that if I ever happened to visit my father, I would have to see if I could visit The Haven. Years passed, and we started serving families in our own way...through the Dreams of You Memory Book and Comfort Bears and online support through families. I spoke at hospitals and women's groups...sharing about the hope and comfort God gives and about SGM.
Two weeks ago, while planning a spontaneous visit to finally see my father's home, I remembered The Haven Network. The whirlwind trip was going to be a busy one...with just the boys and me. So, I wasn't sure if I could pull it off. I had a fleeting thought about getting their contact information, when a mom named Laura that we had ministered to through SGM sent me a comment on facebook that Rockford, Illinois was the location of the perinatal hospice organization that walked with her in her time of need. She had such wonderful things to say about the ways they had offered her support. I quickly asked for their contact info., and she sent it. I contacted them and spoke with Jean who was receptive to meeting with me and arranged a time that fit into our busy schedules.
We met Saturday morning. Jean greeted me at the door of their beautiful building location on the river. I walked through the hallway, gazing at walls adorned with gorgeous black and white photographs that captured precious, yet brief lives. Baby feet, mamas and babies, hands holding one another...soaking in a lifetime of love and memories in a moment. Everything about the place was soothing and welcoming...honoring of life.
I met Kathy, who joined Jean in her office to share the mission they had for families who face the loss of their babies. They have a staff with a nurse (Kathy) and a photographer and a host of volunteers. I kept choking down the emotion as I looked around me, as if walking in a dream, my own dream and vision. I had longed to create such a place where families could come...a haven where there would be love and encouragement to continue a pregnancy with hope and dignity. A place where each precious life is treasured and a family is supported through the process....a place where someone will hold the hand of each mama and daddy and walk with them all the way. At one point I had to allow the emotion to come out...so overwhelmed to know that such an amazing, beautiful place exists for families like us. I felt such awe and gratitude to be standing in the room with the women who created such a place...the women who have made this their life's work. How I long to do the same.
I shared with them the story of Faith, Grace, and Thomas...with much emotion spilling over. And, I told them about starting Sufficient Grace in 2004 and operating out of my basement. Even as we sat in their beautiful building, they shared about starting in a basement in the beginning, as well. I gave them the Dreams of You Memory Books and other items I had brought to give in memory of Michael Vollmer.
They loved the books and I felt that we had been parts of a puzzle fit together in that moment, as I admired all that they had accomplished and they encouraged me on what we have accomplished. (All of us knowing that God was really the One that made it all possible!)
It was such a blessing to spend time sharing and exchanging ideas with like-minded ladies, with hearts of compassion for the same purpose...comforting grieving families. I hope to work with them in the future in whatever way our paths happen to cross again. It seems the Lord has plans for us, and I look forward to seeing what that might be! I hope you'll take a few moments to learn more about this wonderful organization and the services they provide for families. Praying God's continued blessings on the beautiful ladies from The Haven Network.
Pictured below: Jean, me, and Kathy
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Leap of Faith
I've been thinking about leaps of faith lately. I suppose mainly because our family is about to take a really big leap of faith. After 16 years working as a concrete and excavating foreman, my husband is starting his own business:
This decision has been bathed in prayer, and we continue to pray that God would bless the work of Tim's experienced, hard-working hands as we take the next steps.
I'd like to share some thoughts on taking leaps and not looking back...what God has been whispering to my heart in the wee hours of the morning and the quiet of the evening...
The idea of looking back was pressed on my heart. I have been thinking a lot about the Israelites and how God told them to leave Egypt and not to worry...that He would provide. I thought of Abraham. Abraham was asked to go and did so as well...trusting and believing without seeing. Hebrews 11:8 says "By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to the place which he would received as an inheritance. And, he went out, not knowing where he was going."
Another great verse: Exodus 14:13- 15 "Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will accomplish for you today. For the Egyptians who you see today, you shall see again no more forever. The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace. And the Lord said to Moses, 'Why do you cry to Me? Tell the children of Israel to go forward."
Just continuing to cling to Him...going forward...and taking the leap...trusting Him.
This decision has been bathed in prayer, and we continue to pray that God would bless the work of Tim's experienced, hard-working hands as we take the next steps.
I'd like to share some thoughts on taking leaps and not looking back...what God has been whispering to my heart in the wee hours of the morning and the quiet of the evening...
In general, I have been granted great peace regarding this choice. Yesterday, I was gripped by some "did God really say" and "what if" questions.
This morning I awoke with the same questions and God immediately spoke truth to my heart. He led me to Psalm 77:11-15, which talks about remembering what the Lord has done...and the greatness of our God.
This morning, Lot's wife crossed my mind. God told Lot to take his family and flee...not to look back. They didn't have time to pack their things...didn't know where they were going or how they would get what they needed. They were just supposed to trust God to provide....just to go and trust. Obey. But, Lot's wife looked back...and that's when the trouble came! (If you're unfamiliar with the story, Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt when she looked back.)
There wasn't some perfectly orchestrated elaborate plan laid out before them where they knew exactly where they would live and how they would eat and how it would all work. They had to wait on the Lord and trust Him to provide...trust Him to keep His promises. (Just so you know, I tend to be one of those people that really likes a perfectly orchestrated plan where I have a sense of security and control!)
The only time it's good to look back is when we are remembering what the Lord has done. It is never good to look back in longing for Egypt (the old ways or where we came from)...or as Lot's wife looked back.
Are you struggling with a decision...feeling led to take a leap of faith...feeling tempted to look back and take your eyes off the Lord?
Monday, August 15, 2011
Our Trip to Chicago and My Dad
This weekend, I drove to Chicago. Alone with my boys.
If you know me in real life, you realize what a crazy big deal that is. I don't even like to drive on the highway an hour away! So, six hours on the turnpike, without Tim...now that's something! (Tim had work obligations, and couldn't join us.) But, I did it...and we survived. Sometimes you have to just pray, trust, and leap! I remember one of the lessons that hit home when my mother was battling cancer had to do with the song I Hope You Dance. The words: Whenever you have the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance were a message for me years ago. So, this weekend, I danced, driving to see my father's house for the first time, also to see my brother for the first time in close to a decade, and to meet with the ladies from The Haven Network. I'll be posting later this week about my visit to The Haven Network, as well as doing a special Chicago-style Traveling Food Fest. So stay tuned!
Tonight as I write this post, emotions and thoughts of family and ministry happenings tumbling around in my mind, I'm not sure where to begin.
Thursday, we left in the morning, beginning the six hour drive to the Chicago area. We stopped in South Bend, Indiana, to see Notre Dame, (Timothy's favorite college football team). He has always loved the movie Rudy, and it remains his favorite. After our visit, I have a hankering to watch some Rudy myself!
If you know me in real life, you realize what a crazy big deal that is. I don't even like to drive on the highway an hour away! So, six hours on the turnpike, without Tim...now that's something! (Tim had work obligations, and couldn't join us.) But, I did it...and we survived. Sometimes you have to just pray, trust, and leap! I remember one of the lessons that hit home when my mother was battling cancer had to do with the song I Hope You Dance. The words: Whenever you have the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance were a message for me years ago. So, this weekend, I danced, driving to see my father's house for the first time, also to see my brother for the first time in close to a decade, and to meet with the ladies from The Haven Network. I'll be posting later this week about my visit to The Haven Network, as well as doing a special Chicago-style Traveling Food Fest. So stay tuned!
Tonight as I write this post, emotions and thoughts of family and ministry happenings tumbling around in my mind, I'm not sure where to begin.
Thursday, we left in the morning, beginning the six hour drive to the Chicago area. We stopped in South Bend, Indiana, to see Notre Dame, (Timothy's favorite college football team). He has always loved the movie Rudy, and it remains his favorite. After our visit, I have a hankering to watch some Rudy myself!
And, yes, James is wearing an Ohio State jersey on the Notre Dame campus! =)
We had lunch at the Legends of Notre Dame restaurant. A really cool place, if you're a Notre Dame fan.
We lingered for a couple hours, soaking in the architecture and the atmosphere, snapping pictures, and browsing the bookstore.
We arrived in Geneva a couple hours behind schedule, spent a moment freshening up in my dad's office located on the second floor of a historical red house with yellow trim, and took the short walk to the train station, through the kind of neighborhood you would read about in a book about a summer romance in a quaint town on the lake.. Much to James' delight, we boarded the train for the hour ride to Chicago.
Downtown Chicago
At Navy Pier
I hear they dye this river green on St. Patty's Day. Wouldn't it be fun to see that?
My Dad, smoking his pipe, walking through Chicago. He has smoked a pipe for as long as I can remember.
The boys and I with my Dad...
After our Chicago visit, we drove to my father's home in Rockford, Illinois. We spent the next few days meeting friends, neighbors, and my dad's wife, Carol's side of the family.
This is my handsome brother Colin. On Friday night, we rode with my dad to Milwaukee to pick him up at the airport.
During my visit, we flipped through photo albums filled with pictures I had never seen before. Like this one of my dad holding me as a baby. I love this one, because he is wearing a fisherman's sweater. Fisherman sweaters always remind me of my Irish dad.
And this one...both of us so young.
And my grandparents, who both passed away years ago.
As I turned the pages of the albums, I reflected on the memories. And, the mystery of time and love...of roots and connections and family. We love the best we can. We do the best we can, being the flawed vessels that we are. God is teaching me about love, gently and patiently...freeing, grace-filled love. Have you ever considered that it is no accident the people God places in our lives? Whoever they are and however they stumbled into our lives, we have the opportunity to love them.
The family we know well, the family we know little of, the friends we share laughter and tears with, our neighbors, even those that drive us crazy and push all of our buttons. Even fleeting meetings with random strangers. Every encounter we have is an opportunity to show love and grace to another soul. What if we lived that way?
He is teaching me. And, I'm trying to learn...slowly and clumsily, like flawed vessels do.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Put it Away
Over the years, and even most recently, I have heard many of you share that your family and friends were less than supportive of your grief over the loss of your child. We posted on some of the original Walking With You posts about this subject. There are many reasons: maybe they are struggling with their own grief and have difficulty expressing it, or maybe they are uncomfortable and just do not know the right words. Unfortunately that leads many to just act like they don't care, fail to even acknowledge our children, avoid the subject or even avoid us, or worse...speak words that add to the hurt.
I posted a bit about it here:
But, for this post, I would like to focus instead on how we can cope with their reactions or lack thereof. While it has been many years since we said good-bye to our Faith, Grace, and Thomas, reading your struggles has made the sting of our family's reaction fresh on my heart this morning. And, before this launches into a finger-pointing, hurt-wallowing session, let me just say that while the memories still come with a sting, I have forgiven those hurts. I now realize that they were doing the best they could. Even if some of them reacted in ways that were hurtful to us, it was done out of lack of knowledge more than malice. God provided support for us in other ways. Over the years, I have learned to lay down my expectations for family. And, sometimes I have had to re-learn this again and again as new hurts arise. Sometimes love requires laying it all down.
That being said, I realize for many of you, the wounds are too fresh for full healing...the hurt still too intense for relief. It may surprise you to know that I didn't know that I could publicly embrace the memory of my children in the early years of grief. I often felt compelled to put my feelings away to spare the discomfort of others. Sometimes I didn't want to see the expression on their faces as their eyes shifted down and they squirmed uncomfortably when I shared about my children in heaven. I didn't want to seem like the weird mother who thinks she needs to keep bringing up her dead babies, making everyone around me uncomfortable. Yeah...I know....the initial lack of openness seems pretty crazy considering God has placed a passion in my heart to serve in a ministry that honors the lives of these sweet little ones.
People gave us some ornaments the first year to honor the memory of Faith and Grace, and it seemed at first that many friends reached out. The same month they were born still, another set of twin girls was born in our family. To comfort herself, and because she was genuinely excited about filling her own arms with these grandbabies, my mother threw herself into spending time with them. She had no idea that it felt like a punch in the gut to me when I walked into her house and saw two identical baby girl dresses slung across the chair. She had no idea that I went into the other room and cried, feeling sick when I saw their pictures on her refrigerator. Not that she shouldn't have been embracing the gift of their lives...certainly for them, it was a time to rejoice. But, for me...it was agony. What made it harder is that I could never have shared that with my mom. I don't share this often, because in many ways, my mother was a great support to me in my life. But, there were things about grief she didn't get.
My mother expected me to put my grief away after a time. When a friend of mine had her baby shortly after I lost my girls, mom said: "I know what will make you feel better. We'll go to the baby department and pick up a new outfit and visit your friend."
So, she drug my grief-weary self to the baby department (a place that still brings a twinge of pain to this day), while my wounds were still gaping, and to add insult to injury...a trip to visit my friend's brand new baby...in the hospital. She even made me hold him. It was all I could do to keep the sobs in until I reached the elevator. She looked disappointed by my tears. As if she thought forcing myself to visit the OB floor and hold someone else's baby would magically make me all better.
Other family members said hurtful things, ignored us, never mentioned our children, looked uncomfortable if I did. And, still sometimes look uncomfortable, even now that we have a public ministry.
And, for years...I put it all away. Stuffing it far down. Hiding my hurt. Keeping the memories and longing to myself. Failing to mention my precious babies. I put it away because it was expected....and because I didn't want to draw attention or make others uncomfortable. It's shameful, really, but I also understand that it's hard to defend yourself in early grief. It's hard to know what you need. It's hard to take the next breath.
Here are a few ideas for survival in those early years:
You may not be strong enough to defend yourself, so find someone who loves you that is able to deflect hurtful comments and situations.
Know what triggers hurt for you, and do what is necessary to protect yourself. We cannot keep ourselves from every hurtful situation, but when we can it's more than o.k. to do so. If the baby shower is going to be too hard to attend, graciously decline.
Take time as a couple...allow laughter when you can.
Find someone who gets it. This blogging community has been so helpful...even years later...for me and for many others. It helps to know we aren't walking alone. And it helps to know in the early days of grief, that you will not feel this way forever. You will feel joy again.
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Have you ever felt you had to hide your grief and put away all your memories? What are some of the things you found helpful in dealing with others who didn't get it?
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