Life in the new year

I haven't posted in a while partly because I haven't had the time, but mostly because I haven't had the words.  The anniversary of Joshua's loss came and went on December 6th.  It was a hard day in some ways.  It was a reminder that the pain never quite goes away; I think it just hides for a while sometimes, and then returns, changed, but not gone.  I visited his grave and brought Caroline and Charlotte with me - it was sad, there's no other way to describe it - but at the same time there is this pervasive joy in our lives now with Charlotte's arrival.  There was definitely something "not right" though about visiting the grave one child no longer here with a new life, only one week old at that point.  It is interesting though how Joshua will always be a part of my life, my story, and also in this sad and joyful way, a part of Charlotte's story.  

While I don't quite know how to describe life and my feelings on our loss right now, I do know that with the loss of Joshua came a sense of gratefulness for everything we get.  Waking up to feed a baby in the night, soothing her cries, and figuring out how to juggle life with two girls is not the stress or burden it might have once been.  There is joy in the gift of life and all that comes with it.  I miss our boy and often wonder what life would be like if he was here, and at the same time, I am taking in every moment of my life because of him and the realization that he brought that each of those moments is truly such a gift   

Charlotte

Charlotte entered the world on November 29, 2008 at 2:18 pm.  She weighed 6 lbs. 3 ozs and was 18 1/2 inches long.  You can read more about her here.  

Grace and peace.  

Merge

Lately it has crossed my mind that as this baby gets ever closer to arriving and as it gets close to that one year anniversary of losing Joshua that it might be time for me to "merge" Joshua's blog into our family blog.

I needed a separate place to put down all of thoughts and feelings for a while, I'm not sure if I can explain why, but it somehow seems more "right" to stop posting these parts of life in separate places. I'll see if I still feel that way in a couple of weeks. For now, I am remembering this time last year as the last few days that he was still a part of me. At the same time I am looking forward to this Saturday as the day we will welcome a baby girl into the world. The weird intertwining of it all is what makes it seem like I should somehow find a way to put all of these parts of me together in one place; spiritually, emotionally, and in the case of these blogs: physically. Again, we'll see if that feeling persists in the days and weeks to come.

No matter what I decide to do, this story is far from over! God is working in and through us and the blessings and tragedies that he allows to come our way.

Grace and peace.

Coping

Whenever I see articles in magazines or online about miscarriage and stillbirth I am, understandably, drawn to them. I want to see what other peoples' experiences have been and what are they trying to tell other people through their writing. As I read a magazine article in some rare quiet time yesterday, I knew I wanted to share it with others and I found it online today.

The article really took me off guard a bit by how close to home it hit. Today it's been 11 months to the day since we found out at that awful ultrasound appointment that Joshua had died. I can say that without crying uncontrollably now and I often go weeks at a time without getting overly emotional about our loss, so I guess the depths at which this article struck me caught me off guard because I have felt so "together" in so many ways in the past couple of months. Remembering is good though and I need to be brought back into the reality of loss without losing sight of our impending joy. The intermingling of the two is where I am caught right now and I think reading this article made me think more seriously about the coming days where that will be become more and more "real". In all likelihood, our baby girl will be born just days before the one year anniversary of the day Joshua was stillborn.

Here's the link to the article.
And here's a link to a related piece in the same magazine.

A divided heart

I read on a blog some counsel that a pastor offered to a couple whose girl was stillborn the day before her due date. The pastor said that it was important for the family to recognize that as a family they have two desires that are separate and distinct. There is one desire to have their daughter with them. That the hole in their lives left by the loss of their daughter is unique and will not be filled by anything else, not another child, not time, not some revelation about what God is up to. There is another desire that is the desire for more children and having another child, be it through having another biological child or through adoption is totally separate and distinct form the first. The first is not diminished in any way or made "all better" by fulfilling, or thinking about fulfilling, the second.

That was an important truth for me to hear, because I so did not want another child to replace Joshua and the thought of having more children sometimes made me feel guilty as if I was in some way betraying him. It was helpful for me to hear that I can grieve the loss of my son and wonder where is the redemption in his death and still invite another person in our lives.

Especially in the coming weeks, I know that truth will hit home in a new way. It is important for me to not feel that I'm doing something wrong by celebrating and being joyful over the birth of our second daughter. It is equally important for me to not feel that I'm doing something wrong by still grieving his loss and wishing Joshua was here with us to welcome her into our family.

It is an interesting paradox that we will welcome our daughter into the world likely days within the one year anniversary of the day that we lost Joshua. This truth has really helped me as I think about facing those two days with a divided heart.

Grace and peace.

Anything?

Right after Joshua died last December, Jeff started reading through the Old Testament book of Joshua. He found a lot of encouragement and insight, as well as comfort and some truth he needed to hear. A few weeks back, I decided that I'd like to read through the book as well. It is a book with stories I think most Christians are familiar with and I'm trying to re-introduce myself to some the OT stories that I haven't spent much time with in recent years.

Early in the book of Joshua, there is an account that focuses on the spies Joshua sends to Jericho to scope out the city before the Israelites were going to take the area. Joshua 2:1 tells us that the spies went to the house of a prostitute named Rahab to stay while they were there. If your Sunday School lessons were anything like mine, the teacher always made a point to say that the spies went to stay in Rahab's house because it was such a good place to hide and they wouldn't be conspicuous there. Your Bible study notes might say the same thing, and for all I know that might be true. But, what if it's not? The Bible itself doesn't say so one way or the other. I'm not saying that my Sunday School teachers or your study notes are wrong, but I can't say with certainty that they are right.

Reading that got me thinking for the first time that maybe the spies' intentions in staying at Rahab's house were less than honorable, perhaps staying there was not part of a bigger plan to elude the authorities. What if they were there for the reason all the other men who walked through that door were there?

If you go on reading the account of the spies in Jericho, you read that the King found out there were spies in the land and went to Rahab's house to call the spies. The spied hid on the roof and Rahab lied for them and said that they had already escaped. We learn that Rahab lied to her King because she knew about the God of the Israelites and she believed in Him. We can't know what Rahad had heard about this God of the Israelites and what she believed about Him, but we know her convictions about Him was strong enough that she lied to the King of her city and endangered her own life to protect the spies. In return, the spies promised to spare Rahab and her family when the Israelites returned to take the city. God used this prostitute who believed in Him to hide the spies for His Nation and ultimately spared her life and made her a part of His bigger plan.

So, going back to those spies and their intentions on entering Rahab's house: it is amazing that God can redeem ANYTHING for His purpose. He can redeem and use two men who possibly went to use the services of a prostitute and protected all of their lives in the process and allowed all of that to be worked into His plan. If you continue reading Joshua, you see how true that is and how that thread of redemption is woven throughout.

It's honestly eye-opening to see how God worked thousands of years ago. It is the same way he works today. He can redeem the mistakes and the disobedience that I bring to the table as well as the pain and hurt that the fallen world bring.

I want to end with a disclaimer to say that I honestly have no clue as to why those men went to Rahab's house, so I'm not trying to disparage the story or how God worked in it. I'm simply reminded by all of the unknowns that God can use anything and work it for good.

Romans 8:28 "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

Angie Smith has a great post, much more eloquent that mine on the same story - albeit from a different perspective. You can see that here.

judgment

One of the things that I hope I am getting better at, and I can only give God credit for, is being judgmental of others. After losing Joshua, one of the things that started to come into focus for me was how others' each have their own story. Each person I come across each day of my life, they have a story. God created that person. He allowed them to make it to birth and allowed them to wake up this morning. They have a mother and a father, those relationships might be good, and they might be bad. That person is loved and cherished by someone (and if they're not, then they have a whole different story). They have things that have brought them joy and pain and things that have shaped who they are and the decisions they have made. Even in the midst of trying to not judge others, I still recognize that not everyone is going to be my friend and of course we are all sinful. But recognizing the sin in them is kind of like recognizing it in myself; I am sinful, yet I hope my sin is not what others see first when they see me.

This exercise in trying to escape judging others goes beyond just "not thinking bad things" about another person; it is opening my eyes to the whole story of each person's life. Questions about people's decisions to have children, or the decision to have more children, or children very close in age used to be things I didn't really think fell into the category of judgment, but I see it differently now. The comments: "Wow! Another baby? They sure are going to be close in age!", "Really, you don't want anymore kids?", "So, when are y'all going to have kids?". Those questions and others like them aren't intended to cast judgment on the person, but even unknowingly, they do. I am humbled by seeing the inside of how things that happen to you can transform your views on life and the decisions you make.

More often than not, I don't know that family's story. The family who struggled for years with infertility or multiple miscarriages just can't bring themselves to go through that again to have another child. Or perhaps medically, they cannot. That family who financially just cannot sustain another child. That family who is expecting another child when they have a three month old at home, they were told they couldn't have children. That family with six kids and a crazy house, God's blessing came with each one of those children. People's decisions are their own and based on a lot more than my eyes looking from the outside in can see. My questions, even unknowingly, are filled with my own perspectives and judgment.

I'm not always good at avoiding my natural inclination to make a judgment on sight or sound of a person, but I am working on it and I am praying that God will continue to strip away my natural inclinations and replace them with His perspective.

I read this today and thought about all of the judgments we all carry around, and I thought I would share the link to a mother's story.

Grace and peace.

Faith and love

I started writing this post by trying to summarize what I read here. I can't do it justice, so I will say just click on the link to read a beautiful story of faith and love.

purpose and adversity

The devotionals in Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest over the past week or so have really hit home with me.  I've read that same daily devotional for years off and on and they never get old , and often some speak right into my life, right as I need to hear it.  

His writings lately have been about God's purpose in your life and how that purpose plays out in adversity.  In the July 29th entry Chambers writes about clouds as the sufferings or providential circumstances that seem to contradict the sovereignty of God.  He goes on to say that the clouds actually help to teach us to walk by faith; if there were no clouds, we wouldn't have need of faith.  Clouds, he writes, are what we find at the feet of the Lord.  The clouds may make you doubt and may make you question, but ultimately, they can lead to a simple and child-like faith that He calls all of us to.  I've written a lot of about how the trial of losing Joshua has stripped away so many things, it puts life and faith and God and myself into perspective.  While I still can't say that I wouldn't change things if I could, I have come to see and appreciate what this particular set of clouds has brought into my life - or perhaps, more accurately, what those clouds have taken away.  

In the August 3rd devotion Chambers writes that for Jesus, Jerusalem was the culmination of God the Father's will in His life.  Think about that.  The place where he would be venerated, celebrated, and then mocked, crucified, and buried was the culmination of Jesus' life and ministry!  I had to let that sink in, because, honestly, that's not where I want my faith in God to lead me.  I want it to lead me to something comfortable and fulfilling for me personally.  In the midst of all that Jesus went through, if you are looking through human eyes, He had every reason to proclaim that God wasn't good - I mean look at what God led His own Son into!  Jesus' life at the Cross had to look like an utter failure to the world.  He was an unmarried, childless, itinerant rabbi who was being killed for proclaiming that He was the Son of God.  Jesus cried, He dreaded it, He asked for there to be another way, and when there wasn't, He trusted in God's purpose and not His own.  "The greatest thing to remember is that we go up to Jerusalem to fulfill God's purpose and not our own."  What in your life looks like tragedy or defeat, that could be the very thing that God is using to fulfill His purpose in you and in the world.  That tragedy, that circumstance, that trial could well be your Jerusalem.  

What in the world could God be doing with all the tragedy and sorrow that this world brings?  I honestly don't know, but I trust that he is redeeming what looks to be failure and what looks to contradict His goodness.  

Grace and peace.  

control

I started this post last Tuesday and I couldn't really get my thoughts together for it and had to keep coming back to it.  I'm still not sure if I made any sense, perhaps it's a work in progress, much like me!   

I am a typical "oldest child", type A personality, driven, rule-following, self-reliant. You name those prototypical oldest child stereotypes and I fit most of them. I like to be in control (and maybe I'm just humoring myself, if so, friends speak up - but for those of you who don't know me or don't know me well, I don't think I'm "controlling", but I like to know what's going to happen). In school I hated group projects because not everyone cared. about making an "A" and I'd usually end up doing most of the work, just to be sure it was done "right". In hindsight so much of that sounds selfish and self-centered, but there you have it - oh, and another thing about me is that I am a horrible liar.

The type A, oldest child in me has been on quite a journey these past few months. While I have always known and "trusted" that God is in control, that belief and trust has been put to the test in a huge and unavoidable way. I have been wrestling with questions like, What is faith? What is trust? What do they look like on a daily basis?  

I can't remember where I heard this, but someone recently said that trust doesn't mean the road ahead or the road behind is all okay, it just means that I promise to walk with you no matter what that road brings; trusting that God will walk next me, has walked next to me each step of the road I'm on.    

 We had our 20 week ultrasound this past Monday and the weekend leading up to it was filled with a spectrum of feelings, from excitement and anticipation to fear and anxiety.  The wait for that appointment was enough to make me sick.  That oldest child in me who wants to know how it's all going to go down and to prepare and be in control was lost!  I had absolutely no say or control over how things would go in that office Monday morning.  As the ultrasound began, my fears were taken over by my joy at seeing a beautiful heart beating, an active baby moving around just like her big sister did on her 20 week ultrasound 3 years ago, and all the measurements coming out "normal".  Worry and anxiety don't change the way things turn out though, so why do I continually return to those feelings?  My worry didn't make the ultrasound go well or cause us to get good news on Monday.  

The more I think about it, the more I see that anxiety as my last ditch effort to control the outcome of something I consciously know that I have zero control over.  Obviously, I need to stay healthy and eat right, take my vitamins, give myself my shots, etc., but so much of what could go wrong is out of my hands.  

God, help me to loosen that grip of control, to live in the light, to see my blessings, to trust and hope in you - to be less of me and more of Jesus.  

I hope that I don't constantly sound like all I think about is the negative, because that is certainly not the case, but these questions plague me and writing about them somehow helps me to make sense of it.  

Answered prayers

I posted this over at our family blog today. I don't know how many people read both, but it seems like it fits well here too, so I'm just reposting the same thing.

Lately I've been reading back through an old journal of mine. It is from 2005, when I was finishing up law school, studying for the bar, preparing for Caroline's arrival, etc. I wrote just about life and what was going on, but mostly it has written prayers from my morning quiet times. As I read through the entries, starting in probably February of 2005, I was struck by often I prayed for God to give me His Peace and Strength. I must have been reading through Psalms, because often I'd write a verse or two from Psalms at the beginning or end of an entry. So many of the Psalms are cries out to God for peace and protection or thanksgiving for where He brought the writer.

Today, I read a few entries from July of 2005, which was crunch time for me as far as the bar exam goes. I was studying hard day in and day out to be ready to take the test which was the last week of July. On July 20, I wrote a short entry for asking for peace and a calm heart and wrote this verse, "For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock." Psalm 27:5.

Later that day while I was at my doctor's appointment, Jeff fell off the roof of the sorority house where my mom is the house mother. He had been cleaning leaves off of the roof and he backed up into a skylight, lost his balance and fell through to the concrete below. He apparently fell on the back of his head and his shoulder. My mom and my doctor are friends, so she called him to let me know what happened and sent one of her friends over to get me from the doctor's office to bring me to the hospital where the ambulance had brought Jeff. As I heard the news and on the ride over to the hospital, I was strangely not freaked out. As I walked into the ER waiting room and found my mom and another friend who had met her at the house when Jeff got hurt, I was struck by the look of concern on their faces, but I was strangely peaceful. Jeff spent a couple of days in the ICU and then a couple more days at the hospital in a regular room, but after recovering slowly at home, he was fine and thank the Lord, he did not sustain any permanent brain injury.

With all that I was facing late that summer, bar review, studying, the bar exam itself, moving into a new house, being pregnant in July in Louisiana (HOT), and preparing for a new person to enter our lives, PEACE was surely what I would need to get through adding my husband's accident to that mix. I had no way of knowing that in the months leading up to July 20, 2005, but I trust that God did. I've always kind of wondered why I didn't lose it when I saw Jeff in the hospital with bloody hair and a dazed look on his face. I honestly wondered if I was just delirious from so much studying and baby-thoughts that I didn't fully comprehend it, but now, looking back I think God prepared me for that day and gave me the peace I needed to get through those days.

Looking back on that has truly been an encouragement to me, I should take more time to remember God's goodness to me and I hope that each of you can do the same.

Sunday

On Sunday I went out to Joshua's grave for the first time in a while. I'm not sure if I had been consciously avoiding going there or if it has just been the busyness of life that has stopped me. Maybe a little of both. Jeff had some things he needed to do, so when Caroline woke up from her nap, I told her that we were going to go the cemetery for a little while to go to Joshua's grave. She said that she needed to draw a picture for him before we left, so she pulled out a coloring book and went to town with her new markers. She had me write his name on it when she was done. Before we left, she said, "Oh, Mama, us need to bring Joshua his bear." What a memory this girl has! Probably two months ago she saw the teddy bear that the hospital gave to us when we delivered Joshua and we told her that it was "Joshua'a bear" and she hasn't seen it since. I told her that we would keep his bear for him at home, but we can bring him his picture today.

As we drove to the cemetery, she asked if we were going to see Joshua, and this is the point at which I always get a little careful about what to say and how to explain this situation to her. Of course I don't want to explain too much, but at the same time, I don't want her to expect him to physically be there either. I can't remember the words I used, but after I explained that we weren't really going to "see" him, she said, "And the angel is going to be there?" There is no angel on Joshua's grave marker or anywhere near his grave marker as far as I could remember, so I asked her if there was an angel there before. She said that there was an angel there, so I just told her that there might be an angel there again, I figured that she must know better than I!

As we walked up to his grave, she wanted to "give him" the picture she colored, so we figured out a way to stick it in the vase for his flowers. Mom had been there the day before, so he had some pretty wild flowers to go with the picture from Caroline. We cleaned off his grave marker as well as the ones for other babies nearby. I always feel like I need to "do something" while I'm there, like pull up weeds, clean his marker, pick up sticks. I read on another blog from a mom who lost an hours old baby that those things were her way of "parenting" her child, even though the child is gone. I totally identify with that and it gave me words for my feelings. As we left, Caroline said "I want baby Joshua to come home with us." Tears streaming down my face already, I told her "Me too Caroline."

Lately, in the midst of being torn between the throes of joy and anxiety about Baby #3, I have been trying to make more sense of all that has happened to us. Coming to grips with the plain truth that God could have changed all of this and we could be taking care of a baby who (based on his due date) would have been three months old yesterday. Instead we are not. We are visiting a cemetery to leave flowers and pictures and to wipe dust and mud from a grave marker. I know with all that is in me that God is real and true and good. Truth and Goodness have no meaning apart from Him, and yet He allows these things that feel so wrong. I come back to this point over and over: I will likely never be able to grasp why he allowed this. I have no idea why he allows things like this and much worse to happen to those whom he loves. I suppose that is my circular path of trust - I keep coming around to that painful truth, and I have to trust and hope in Him.

"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory." Romans 8:15-17

Grace and peace.

More words from the Pipers

In a recent post, I linked to a post on stillbirth by Abraham Piper (whose blog is really great); I've linked to his wife's blog (which is also really great) before, but today I read an article she wrote as a guest poster on Rocks in My Dryer. She has great words for those of us who have lost someone we love and great words for those of us who are friends of those who have lost (sooner or later you find yourself in both categories). You can read it here.

Getting closer

As I approach the 20 week mark in this pregnancy, I am honestly surprised (unpleasantly) at how anxious I have been lately.  Even though I have no tangible or medical reason to think so, I have this feeling that at that 20 week mark, there is this looming, inevitable bad news waiting for me.  This pregnancy has been complication-free and my doctor tries to reassure me that while each pregnancy comes with its own set of risks and possibilities, there is no reason to think that we will lose another baby at 19 or 20 weeks.  Then the logical side of me says, "There weren't any complications last time, at least not that we knew about."  

I read somewhere that every time doubt or fear or anxiety creeps in, to fight that with a prayer of thanksgiving to God for this baby.  I have started doing that and it does help for a moment-in that moment-but moments have a way of sneaking away for a while and then reappearing without warning.  I've been reading some in the Old Testament lately, and this morning I was reading through a few Psalms.  They reminded me of where I need to bring my doubt and anxiety, each moment of it.  Instead of letting those thoughts take hold and run me into the "future" (the future that I make up in those anxious moment), each anxious thought, each doubt and fear needs to go to God first.  David and the other writers of the Psalms were certainly not immune to doubt or fear or trouble, but their wailings and complaints and questions went to God, not solely running circles in their own minds and hearts.  Perhaps there is a way to keep from having anxiety and fear in this life, if you know how, please let me know!  But for now, I have to rest in the fact that I can trust God with my unbelief, my doubt, my anxiety, my fear, each and every time they come up.  To be honest, it is easier said than done, but my prayer is that God will give me the strength to let go.   

Grace and peace.  

Silence

I haven't posted anything here in a few weeks, mostly because every time I sit down to type something, words escape me. I'm not quite sure what to say (and not in a bad way, I'm doing okay), so I figured it was better not to force it and just wait. This morning I still don't have much to say, but I did read something that I thought was worth sharing. Click here to check it out.

Micah 7:7

I read something earlier today that captured the sentiment I was trying to get at in my previous two posts. I feel like I'm constantly quoting others, but I don't pretend to have words for all that I feel, and sometimes others say it so well that I couldn't say it better if I tried. This woman was writing about being in the hospital for 10 weeks while she was pregnant with her twins. This was her second pregnancy, and after losing the first to miscarriage, these were her feelings while in that hospital for all that time:

"I believed in Him. The whole story. I loved Him fully, but I learned to keep Him at arm's length in the event that He let me down. I hate that part of the story, and if I could do it over...well, I can't. I just have to know that He pursued me even when I acted like a jilted bride. He wanted me when I didn't want Him. He taught me about Himself, even as I resisted loving Him back. I am forever grateful for the tenderness He showed me during that time, and the grace He showed me when I came running back with remorse in my heart." (Here's her original post. Truly an amazing woman with a wonderful story of God's faithfulness in the midst of some unimaginable circumstances).

That's where the hope comes in. Belief is one step; trust is another, slightly more difficult step, and then hope is the ultimate in letting go and giving your life, your situation, your problems, your joys to God. I feel like I stand on the edge, believing and trusting, but only opening the door to hope a teeny bit. I don't mean that to say that I don't already love this baby or that I don't hope for good things for this child, for Caroline, or for Jeff and me, because "I certainly do!" is the answer to all of those. Maybe I'll find a quote someone else that puts words to it better than I can, but for now at least, it feels like my hope is a little garden with walls around it (I keep picturing The Secret Garden); it's not quite public and ready to open the hope up to the world, but in a small way it's there.

"But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me"

Grace and peace.

And more

This "trust" theme keeps popping up. Here's another quote from a not quite so famous person as John Piper, but wonderfully said all the same. She lost her first baby a year ago and her second child is due two days after the anniversary date of that loss. Oh, for clarity, this was not written to me.
"I am so thankful that God is going to take a terrible day and hopefully give me such joy. Like you, I am still grieving the loss of my first child, but your words were so helpful as I went through those dark days. . . . I have enjoyed every moment of this pregnancy, knowing that God could allow it to end at any time, but that He would also bring me through that as well...stronger than before. I must admit that we didn't paint the nursery or put furniture together or even complete a registry until well into the 3rd trimester, but it wasn't because I didn't trust God. He had just taught me that He is in control here, and that these babies are not mine, but His. And if I am not meant to take care of them here on earth, I can't imagine anyone better than their Heavenly Father."

In thinking more about trust over the past couple of days, my mind has gone to the "next step". What is next if I do trust? What does my life look like if I trust? One word has come to mind over and over: Hope. If I (or you) truly trust, do we now entrust our hopes and dreams to God? Do we now dare to hope?

More on trust

I was reading something online today and came across an article written by John Piper after the loss of his granddaughter at 39 weeks gestation. She apparently died because of an umbilical cord accident. I'll quote part of what he said here: "This seems so preventable. By God and by man. Yes. So easy. But neither man nor God prevented this. Man, because he did not know it was happening. God, because he has his wise and loving reasons that we wait to learn with tears and trust. "

I think that is a beautiful description of how this experience has felt to me: so incomprehensible and preventable and heart-wrenching. That is the place where my faith and trust are tested; in the midst of that which could truly break me, will I believe?

Trust

It is hard to know whether you truly trust someone or something unless that trust is put to a test. I say I trust God, but does my life really show that I do? I am examining myself to see whether it’s true and each day I think I have to reevaluate. Trusting God does not mean that all things in life go your way or that God is going to make only great and wonderful things happen to you. Bad things do happen to “good people.” People who love God and follow him are afflicted and pained and touched by tragedy all the time. Of course good things happen to them too, but until something unfathomable happens to you, those tragedies always happen to “other people.” As I walk around the LSU lakes each week, I am always struck by the groups of college girls walking or running together and I love their carefree and untouched smiles. Who knows how each of their lives will be touched with beauty and tragedy over the next ten years?

I thought that once the first trimester of this pregnancy came to an end, I would have some big weight lifted off of my shoulders and I would feel more able to trust God that whatever happens with this child, He is in control. I think I really meant that once the first trimester ended, I would feel more at ease that this pregnancy would end happily. While I am getting more excited about a new baby by the day, I am too aware that anything can happen at any time. The threat doesn’t end with a live birth of a healthy baby. I read a tragic story of a seven week old seemingly healthy boy who suddenly died in the night a couple of weeks ago. Toddlers are lost in accidents; children sometimes do not come home. I think God is opening my eyes to this reality that life can’t be controlled and it has helped me have a greater understanding of what trust means. Trusting God and especially trusting God with my children means that I relinquish my false sense of control; I lose those defense mechanisms that “protect” me from all the possibilities and allow myself to love and know that no matter the outcome of anything in my life, God is working these things together for good. How? I wish I knew, but for now, I just believe.

As I pondered how to trust God with this new life and with the life of our sweet Caroline, I was struck by the image of God putting his son in this world, letting his child go into a world that would hurt him and reject him and kill him. He had to let go of him to save us and all that he is asking of me is that I trust him, who loves me and my children more than even I do (which I can’t really fathom, because, well, I really, really love them), that I trust them to him. It isn’t even really a comparison when you look at it like that. He gave his son to the world that he knew would not accept him, and he’s asking me to entrust my children to him, the lover and creator of their precious lives.

Do I struggle each day with trust? Absolutely. Without question, it is a choice I have to make multiple times in a day. Each time I make it though, I think I love a little more, a little better, and fear a little less.

Redemption

I said a while back that I would post about what redemption does not look like because then, and still now, I am not quite sure what it does look like in light of losing a baby. In the large and most important sense, redemption means that because of the life, death, and resurreciton of Christ I am made whole and right before God. In the individual circumstances of each of our lives though, what does redemption really look like? That's the part I'm not sure about.

Because I am the sort of person that I am and I just turned 30, so I think I've settled into myself and I am okay with that, I had to see what Webster has to say about redemption. Here you go:

redeem

Main Entry:
re·deem
Pronunciation:
\ri-ˈdēm\

Function:
transitive verb

Etymology:
Middle English redemen, from Anglo-French redemer, modification of Latin redimere, from re-, red- re- + emere to take, buy; akin to Lithuanian imti to take

Date:
15th century
1 a: to buy back : repurchase b: to get or win back
2: to free from what distresses or harms: as a: to free from captivity by payment of ransom b: to extricate from or help to overcome something detrimental c: to release from blame or debt : clear d: to free from the consequences of sin
3: to change for the better : reform
4: repair, restore
5 a: to free from a lien by payment of an amount secured thereby b (1): to remove the obligation of by payment (2): to exchange for something of value c: to make good : fulfill
6 a: to atone for : expiate b (1): to offset the bad effect of (2): to make worthwhile : retrieve

synonyms see rescue

After reading these definitions, it is somewhat clearer to me. I don't think that Joshua's death will be redeemed for me this side of Heaven. Of course, he is "repaired", "resotred", "free". But in me, that part that is him, isn't. Maybe one day I'll feel differently, but for now it still feels lost.

This reality has been brought home in a new and raw way in the past few weeks. I hesitated sharing this now on here, because I've gotten emails and comments from women going through similar and not so similar losses, but it's my reality and truth, so I feel like I should. We are expecting another baby. The way the timing on this baby and Joshua coincide is what made me so aware that the restoration I'm looking for might not happen the way I thought it would. I found out I was pregnant a couple of weeks before Joshua's expected due date. That alone was a little hard. I was so nervous about the outcome of this pregnancy and at the same time I was mourning the death of a child who should have been in my arms. December 12th is our due date for baby #3, which adds another interesting dimension to my life; I delivered Joshua on December 6 of last year. Still, the joy of the possibility of birth doesn't diminish the reality of one who was lost. That's where the redemption in this evades me.

All of this is to say, I am so excited and looking forward to having another baby, though the dark reality that anything can happen at any time is lurking next to that excitement. All looks good with this child so far; we had an early ultrasound and saw the heartbeat, a strong 158. I heard the heartbeat again last week at a doctor's appointment. Those sounds and sights have been needed reassurance for me, and though I wish I could trust and be confident without them, I have a sense that God knows I need them and they are gifts from Him. At least that's what I'm telling myself right now.

I am thankful and in awe and bewildered by the fact that the son we wish was here is now more perfect than I. He is in the presence of the One I try to wrap me mind and heart around. He knows Him in a way I do not. There is redemption there, for him and there is honestly joy in that for me. Part of my heart though still feels a little lost, a little unreparied, a little unrestored.

Grace and peace.