A Strange Mix of Emotions

Missing Mia intensely and anticipating this little one with excitement is a very strange mix of emotions.  Any parent of multiple children can tell you that you love each child differently.  Being pregnant doesn't take away a lick of missing my sweet little daughter.

After losing Mia, it was the most unnatural thing in the world to put away all the baby things we had so lovingly planned for her.  It was startling to my body to stop caring for her.  My feet would still take me to her room throughout the day without thinking.  Derrick and I were immersed in caring for our precious little one.  To go from getting up during the night to getting full nights of sleep was... well, extremely odd.

We knew almost immediately that we wanted another child.  However, I knew I needed counseling to make sure we did this in a healthy way.  My counselor told me with conviction, "You will love your next child for whoever they are, just like you love your boys differently.  I expect you will get pregnant again- and soon.  Mia knows much more than you do now and she would give you her full approval."  Well, okay then!  I never dreamed we would find out about a month later that we were pregnant with baby #4.

Imagine our surprise when the doctor set our due date at April 9, 2013- the day after Mia's birthday.

Since we have been telling people about our pregnancy, I often do it with tears in my eyes.  Expecting this one solidifies Mia's absence.  If Mia was not gone, we would never get to know this little one.

God knew all along.  I rest in His knowledge of all things.  I believe He planned this perfectly.  Even though I never dreamed I would be dealing with pregnancy fatigue and grieving at the same time!

What I really want to communicate is how excited we are about this new baby.  We pray that we will raise him/her for many years to come.  And he/she will not take away how much we miss our precious daughter.  It is thrilling for me to imagine the spiritual richness our children will reap because of this season of hardship.  We're excited to see what God has planned for our family of six.

Dear Mia

Nichole Seal Photography

 

http://www.facebook.com/#!/nicholesealphotography

Three in Heaven

Some people have asked me about my being a mom to Noah, Gavin, Mia, and two other children.  I am blessed to have THREE children in Heaven... of course, I'd rather have them here.  When we had been married a few years and I was teaching fifth grade, we wanted so badly to be parents.  After more than a year of trying, I began to think I might never be a mother.  I had been praying and praying.  We finally found out we were pregnant, only to lose our first child when I was ten weeks pregnant.  The circumstances were jarring, but God faithfully walked me through every part that followed.

Even though the doctors were happy that I had miscarried("It means you can get pregnant."), it was very difficult for me.  I was not so convinced that it was a good thing.  After that miscarriage, I really felt like I might never be a mother.  I remember watching Kellie Coffey's song "I Would Die for That" on YouTube with tears flowing down my cheeks(okay, I'm pretty sure everyone would- it's a tear-jerker.).  I remember the feeling that I might never hear a child call me "Mommy".

We were ecstatic to be pregnant again in 2007 with our son, Noah Dylan.  I marveled at the velvety skin God gave him... the perfect eyes... those lungs!  What a joy it was to be his Mommy.  That little guy has been through quite a bit- it's a good thing God gave him a strong personality.  He's a brave boy.

I feel for those women who are not mothers after many years or who might not ever have a baby.  I can't say that I know exactly how it feels: I have two healthy children and three children in Heaven.  I do know two things for sure: it hurts more than you can say, and God is faithful.

In the summer of 2009, we became pregnant again.  I was shocked to begin miscarrying my third child on the first day of school.  Thankfully, it was not the traumatic experience that the first one had been.  And my colleagues and school administration were very kind.  Not too long after, we became pregnant with Gavin Derrick.  What a lovable guy he is!  He has made me laugh often through my many tears.

Then there was Mia Caroline.  I found out last year that I was pregnant with her.  It seemed surreal, until I discovered I was having a baby girl.  My daughter.  I thoroughly enjoyed planning her nursery.  She came to Europe with Derrick and I when I was four months pregnant.  She kicked for the first time after dessert during our first-class flight across the Atlantic Ocean(we were upgraded)!  When she arrived, I was delighted to be immersed in LittleGirlLand, happily picking out her dresses each morning.

I'm not sure that the newness of Mia ever wore off.  Was it that she was only with us eight weeks?  Was it that I just remember it with rose-colored glasses?  I have to stop myself when I begin to say, "She was taken too soon."  No, I know God took her right on time.  The number of her days was ordained long ago.  I'm grateful for each one, even though the memories are painfully sweet.

I didn't always take comfort in having Mia and my other two children with Jesus.  Now I jokingly brag, "I have three in the bank!"  Three of my children are already with their sweet Savior.  And I know some mommies with many more already there.

So, I'm a mother of three in heaven. And I expect that the heartaches are not over.  Noah and Gavin didn't receive a free-pass for an easy life.  I'm pretty sure that life will continue to be hard.  Derrick and I shudder to think that we might ever lose another child.  But God will continue to be infinitely loving.  He knows me better than I know myself.  God, You have put a new song in my heart.  Through my tears I will run to You.  Your love is sweeter than life.  Oh, and give my kids a kiss from their mama.

What to Lose: My Pride

I've had to lose some things lately.  And I still have a long way to go.

I need to brace myself before writing this next sentence: Before all this happened, I was feeling like I was pretty good.  Like maybe I needed to be forgiven a little bit, but certainly I wasn't that bad.  I thought my formula for living was working pretty well.  And I was taking quite a bit of comfort in the things in my life that proved it: my great husband and my three beautiful children.  As you can guess, that comfort didn't last for long.  In a way I'm glad my misplaced security was tested.  My faults have become extremely clear to me.  I'm sinful at my very core. I'm happy to let you in on some of these major faults.

The first one is PRIDE.

The past few months- especially the weeks after Mia's death- left me in a pretty pathetic state.  One day, I talked to my pastor about how I couldn't seem to do anything anymore.  I was trying to keep up with my household and my kids and my husband, all during my acute grief.  It just wasn't working!  And I was very frustrated.  My pride took a serious blow.  Of course, I have since learned that this is very common.  I've witnessed people in acute grief wandering around aimlessly, unable to accomplish anything.  Their emotions overload their brain and decrease their ability to function normally.

My pastor told me to focus on doing ONE thing at a time.  And so I decided on one thing.  I looked at an empty glass on my kitchen counter and focused only on filling it with water.  So I walked across the room and filled the glass.  I smiled and felt pretty ridiculous.  I did something else with the same laser-like focus and felt pretty good at having finished two things.  Eventually it snowballed where I could do a fraction of what I had previously been doing.

Three months later, I still am not up to my pre-loss capacity to accomplish things.  I've had to give up a lot of my pride.  And, you know, it actually feels good.  I've had a free-pass to bow out of the race for perfection.  I have accepted help from people when I thought I should have just risen to the challenge and did it myself.  It was hard to admit that, yes, I needed help.  I received meals from people.  I let my sister clean my toilets for me.  I let a friend vacuum my very dirty floors.  And now it's actually refreshing to let people know that I still can't do it all.

Of course, I have a pretty good excuse.  But I see women who are trying to do/have it all: a perfect house, perfect kids, a perfect husband, perfect hair, perfect nails.  They must be exhausted- I know I was.  Why do we do this to ourselves?  As my husband and I relaxed before bed last night, he told me, "You know, some people don't feel successful unless they measure up to all their friends at the same time."

What's the alternative?  Instead, my comfort could come from my forgiveness through Jesus' sacrifice for sins.  I can lay down my pride because I don't need to earn anything.  My worth is secure in Him.  I want to spend my life serving Him, instead of striving for approval from those around me.  It is so easy, though, to begin finding comfort and approval in lesser things.  It is so hard to admit that I don't have it all together- can't have it all together.  And never have had it all together.  What's worse is that I pretended that I could.

I'm hoping that as I travel this difficult journey, pride is one thing that I lose.  Our pride can isolate us and it can keep us from true peace.  I need to remind myself of Matthew 11:28-30:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

God shoulders the work with us.  He doesn't expect us to do it all on our own.

Hinds' Feet on High Places

I made a new friend at the Respite Retreat named Lacy Smith.  As we chatted on the patio one day, she mentioned that she had enjoyed reading a book named Hinds' Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurdard.  She explained that it is an allegory for the Christian life much like Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan and explained the basic storyline.  I ordered a copy, and began reading it immediately.  

Poor and weak Much-Afraid lives in a valley with the rest of the Fearing family where she often cowers in the company of her relatives.  Although she is prone to being frozen with fear, she is in the service of the Shepherd.  Her family hates this and want her to marry her cousin, Craven-Fear; instead, the Shepherd asks her to come with Him on a journey to the High Places where she can live in perfection with Him.  To do so, He must straighten her crippled legs and change her fearful nature.  She must scale large rocky precipices and dangerous routes.  When she reaches the mountains, the Shepherd tells her that she does not need to travel alone.  He will always be nearby when she calls for Him.  Not only that, but He would give her two friends.  She is relieved only until the Shepherd tells that these friends' names are Suffering and Sorrow. 

I am almost finished reading the book and have been glued to each page because I've found several key parallels to my experience.  First of all, certain messengers try to persuade her to turn back to the Valley: Pride, Self-Pity, and Bitterness, to name a few.  Pride and Self-Pity look especially handsome.  After letting them lure her away several times, Much-Afraid learns that singing songs of the Shepherd will drown out their voices.  She can also call out for Him, and He will come to her aid.  

Like her, I find it hard to battle the self-pity that seems to come right along with this time of grieving.  I battle accepting this extreme hurt as a way that God is drawing me to Himself.  When I am riding a particularly hard wave of emotion that lasts for days, it is hard to see that my heart will ever be able to continue living normally.  That's when I most need to sing.  Songs are a way to feed my soul with God's truth.

Along the way, the route sometimes takes her in the opposite direction of the mountains that are her destination.  When she ends up in a dessert and seems to be going away from where she would like to be, she grows frustrated and starts to despair.  At those moments, the Shepherd asks her to build an altar and to sacrifice her will.  After a handful of times it becomes easier and easier to sacrifice her will and to trust the Shepherd.  Eventually, she learns to embrace her friends Sorrow and Suffering and cannot imagine turning back to her old life.  She realizes one day that they care very much about her well-being.  Much-Afraid gives the Shepherd permission to do anything with her; regardless of where He leads, she joyfully exclaims that His presence is her great reward.  

I also have a hard time sacrificing my will and accepting that Mia's death is surrounded by God's tender care for my soul.  Through all the heartache, God has been my great reward.  He has taken many comforts away and has replaced them with a greater desire to have only Him.  It has been comforting to be reminded in this book that God is improving me for my journey.  He has chosen unique circumstances for my journey.  Sometimes my path seems really hard, and I'm tempted to despair.  I trust that God knows exactly what to do with me and how to give me the desire of my heart.

I found these lyrics this week and want to share them.  Although they are hard for me to really mean(because that feels like sacrificing my will on an altar), I believe they have become a prayer of mine:

"More Love to Thee, O Christ" by Elizabeth P. Prentiss

1. More love to thee, O Christ, more love to thee!
Hear thou the prayer I make on bended knee.
This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to thee;
more love to thee, more love to thee!

2. Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest;
now thee alone I seek, give what is best.
This all my prayer shall be: More love, O Christ, to thee;
more love to thee, more love to thee!

3. Let sorrow do its work, come grief and pain;
sweet are thy messengers, sweet their refrain,
when they can sing with me: More love, O Christ, to thee;
more love to thee, more love to thee!

4. Then shall my latest breath whisper thy praise;
this be the parting cry my heart shall raise;
this still its prayer shall be: More love, O Christ, to thee;
more love to thee, more love to thee!

10,000 Reasons

I have so much yet to say and will post more soon.  For now, I want to share a song that was Derrick's and my anthem from early after Mia's death.  On the drive home, Derrick asked me, "Have you heard this song before?"  I think I may have heard it without much thought before, but Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons" was the song of our heart for those several raw months afterwards.

The line that resounds most with me was, "Let me be singing when the evening comes."  Hanging on through each enormous day has seemed like a major feat.  Not only hanging on, but praising God throughout each long day.

Today during Bible Study, our leader shared part of my story and posted a picture of my three beautiful children up in front of the audience.  I was wondering how I made it through singing this song before her speech.  Now I know for sure that God gave me the strength to make it through singing this song for the first time and to listen to someone talk about our trial.  Thank You, Lord, for your peace and strength when I most needed it.

Phil Wickham- Heaven and Earth

I have so many resources to share here that were incredibly helpful to us.  Some of the most helpful resources have been songs.  Songs can touch our hearts deeply.  My cousin's dear wife sent me Phil Wickham's CD Heaven & Earth- every song has been powerfully encouraging to me.  The album was inspired by thoughts of creation before the fall of Adam and Eve.  He pondered how difficult it was for Adam and Eve to toil after the curse, because they remembered paradise with God.

The song "Eden" was very powerful when my heart yearned for justice and despised the broken world in which Mia was born and died.

The song "The Time is Now" has lifted my soul out of the dark pull of grief several times.  It has beautiful orchestral sections.  Noah and Gavin love it, too.  When you have time, listen to the entire thing.

Mail for Mia

The boys were still taking their afternoon naps, and I had just woken up from one, too.  I snuck out of the house to grab the mail.  Usually bills and advertisements are waiting for me, but this time I found something I have come to dread- mail for my daughter.  The very first envelope was from our insurance carrier and it was addressed to MIA C STEL.  It was jarring to tear it open to find a health card for her, along with the nurse advice line number and the customer service number.  My stomach felt sick.

Before calling the company, I allowed my mind to consider what life would be like if Mia were still alive.  It was so normal to handle the details of the boys' health care; their regular check-ups helped mark the passage of their early stages.  Besides her time in the hospital at birth and at death, I took her to two well-baby checks.  Both times, someone watched the boys so I could be focused on Mia.  I would undress her down to her diaper while she screamed because of the cold office air.  During one of these exams, her Kaiser pediatrician remarked that he didn't feel that he needed to tell me everything he tells his other moms because, "You're a veteran mom now."  Of course, I relayed that statement to Derrick and felt so proud that I no longer had the anxiety that comes with your first, and maybe second child.  Oh, I had never imagined the overwhelming trial I would experience just a few weeks later.

Oh, I have encountered difficulties before... I've reflected on the smaller mountains God seemed to ask me to climb before asking me to scale the lifelong mountain of losing my daughter.  First was Noah's need for dental work at two years-old.  We had faithfully brushed his teeth from early on but could still not control that he eventually needed to be anesthetized at the pediatric dentist.  He was so tiny, and I was so scared for him.  I hated standing helplessly while his system tried to get rid of the anesthesia.  Next, and more traumatic, was the day his finger was severed with the exception of a millimeter of skin supplying the tip with blood.  We experienced a long ambulance ride, a grueling wait to have it sewn back on, another scary surgery weeks later, and a painful recovery.  I am so thankful he was not under my care when the accident occurred but I still suffered vivid flashbacks afterwards.  Through those times, God was faithful.

Today, I took Noah for a dental exam.  The new dentist informed me again that he, "Is just one of those children that has weak enamel.  She spoke tentatively, "It's nothing to feel badly about or for which you need to be scared."  I assured her that I was okay and that I would like to know the course she would like to follow to best care for his teeth.  What I felt like saying was, "Lady, this is nothing.  I enjoy my being able to do something about his teeth problems!"  Mia's death has ironically freed me from the worries that used to penetrate my thoughts.  I wish this was my greatest worry again.  However, many worries have lost their power over me.  I know that God will be enough regardless of what happens.

The hole of not having your child is dark and empty.  It can feel like a vortex, threatening to suck the life out of me.  I still have moments where I "space out" or feel exhausted because of the emotional weight.  Why does it continue to bother me so much that my eight-week-old daughter died?  Mia will always be my daughter; that parent-child bond is impossible to erase.  And I will never again get to spend a moment on earth with her.  I think about her every day.  This is why I had to call the health insurance company.  It felt like breaking up with someone because you are afraid that they will "lead you on".  I needed to end it for my sake.

No matter how much we try, there are things we cannot control as mothers.  I certainly couldn't control receiving Mia's health card in the mail.  Well, I called the company's member service line.  After I confirmed information for the person on the other end she cheerfully asked, "Well, what can I do for you today?"  I explained the mail I received and asked her to check her notes.  Did they tell her anything about Mia?  Somehow, their office had not received the final information I was about to give her.  "Well, what is the problem?"

"Well, you see, my daughter is deceased."  

I never know how to break the news.  It pierces my heart every time.  I don't mind talking about Mia or processing what happened with friends.  It's not like I don't always live with this reality, but there's just something about informing someone for the first time.  It feels like I'm experiencing it all over again.  I wonder if even a minutely similar reaction to mine will happen in this person's heart.

She told me how sorry she was and that she would figure out how to fix this mistake.  Apparently, they had somehow assumed that life would continue for Mia.  Well, so did I.

Today I received an explanation of health benefits for Mia.  As the hole she left continues to gape in my life, the vortex threatens to pull me away from living- from the good tasks God has for me.  Missing her and the tragedy of her death weigh heavily on me.  I wouldn't say I'm in the slimy pit I once was in, but the outskirts of its darkness still threaten to overtake me.  I say that I am not strong because I am desperately holding onto God's strong hand to support me.  Far worse than losing Mia would be to have a great distance separating me from my Savior.  I crave His presence in my life. It is invigorating when I find any small victory because I know that there is no way I have strength to resist the darkness without Him.  One major victory is that I am so grateful that God has given me the strength and endurance to provide a stable environment for my sons while we miss their sister.

I read the following quotes in A Woman After God's Own Heart by Elizabeth George.  I hope they inspire you, like they did me, to develop strong roots:

"Without a well-developed root system, we become top heavy-- lots of leafy, heavy foliage appears above ground but nothing supports it from underneath.  Without a network of strong roots, sooner or later we have to be staked up, tied up, propped up, straightened up-- until the next wind comes along and we fall over again.  But with firm, healthy roots, no wind can blow us down.

Yes, the support of a healthy root system is vital for standing strong in the Lord! I'm reminded of the process used in bygone days for growing the trees that became the main masts for military and merchant ships.  The great shipbuilders first selected a tree located on the top of a high hill as a potential mast.  Then they cut away all of the surrounding trees that would shield the chosen one from the force of the wind.  As the years went by and the winds blew fiercely against the tree, the tree grew strong and finally it was strong enough to be the foremast of a ship.  When we have a solid root system, we too can gain the strength needed for standing firm in spite of the pressures of life!"

and, "God will take you as far as you want to go, as fast as you want to go."

I don't know if I'm the special tree at the top of that hill chosen to grow stronger by withstanding the winds, but I do feel that I'm being strengthened.  I invite God to dwell more richly within me.  Remove the barriers that lie between us, Lord.  Cleanse my heart.  Help me to desire You and to yearn for eternity with You.  Give me strength to "take up my cross" daily- especially when I don't feel I have the emotional energy to press on.  Give me deep roots.  I know that "Your grace is sufficient for me."

Missing Mia continues to be very hard.  Reminders of her will likely trickle in throughout the years.  As Noah and I went shopping after his dental appointment today, I reminded him that I am throwing a baby shower for a good friend.  "She's having a baby, Noah.  Isn't that exciting?"

He casually asked, "Is her baby going to die, too?"

Oh, Lord, we're not done with this yet.  Help our hurting hearts.

Respite Retreat

This past weekend, Derrick and I were privileged to attend David and Nancy Guthrie's retreat for couples who have lost a child.  Their Respite Retreat was held outside of Nashville, Tennessee at the Hiding Place, which is a beautifully-kept lodge set in green hills along the Cumberland River.  The focus of this retreat is to give each father and mother a chance to tell their story in the company of eleven understanding couples and to glean advice to deal with practical aspects of grieving.
Derrick and I landed Friday afternoon and were picked up at the curb by a couple from the Washington DC area.  We drove together through deciduous trees, deep rock beds lining the road, and the greenest grassy hills.  We were asked to talk about anything besides the child we had lost, so we chatted about work as we ate sandwiches for a late lunch.  We eventually made our way through back country that reminded Derrick of the movie Deliverance.  As we reached the end of a long aimless road, the trees opened up to a manicured lawn that wound over slight hills.  We weren't sure what to expect, but the accommodations were even more welcoming than expected.  David and Nancy met us at the door.
We found a room and had dinner soon after our arrival.  Following dinner, all twelve couples found seats in the living room around the fireplace.  The Guthries began by telling their story: They had a healthy son named Matt and found out they were pregnant again.  They gave birth to a daughter named Hope and were told soon after birth that something was very wrong- the doctors diagnosed her with a fatal syndrome that took her life at six months.  Although they tried medically to prevent another pregnancy, they learned they were pregnant again with a boy who had the same fatal syndrome and also lived for six months.  They were able to recall for us how difficult that time was, and tears came to their eyes again as they remembered their precious children.
Besides the Guthries' story, five more couples told about losing their children on Friday night.  A picture of each child was thoughtfully displayed in the living room.  A few babies died shortly after birth, and one was a stillbirth.  One four-year-old boy had cancer and passed away after trying various treatments.  There were three older sons who died in vehicle-related accidents.  A beautiful 19 year-old girl named Joy had spina bifida from birth.  Her parents had lovingly cared for her as a parapalegic, only going on family vacations where her wheelchair could be pushed by her parents or her four siblings.  She passed away after her one kidney shut down.  The stories were all so sad.  However, seeing parents whose hearts were also broken felt good- they understood our loss.  We would all never have another day with our children.  It feels so strange and wrong not to have your child under your care. 
Another couple gave birth to a little girl named Naomi Ruth.  They found in an ultrasound that Naomi had an enlarged heart.  They had plenty of hope that surgeries would help her.  For eight weeks, her loving parents lived at the Ronald McDonald house while Naomi went through surgeries and healing.  Around week seven, they decided to spend more time holding her and invited loved ones to hold her, too.  Her parents' hearts broke as sweet Naomi died at eight weeks; their prayers and hopes seemingly unanswered.  Our families shared quite a bit in common: we both have two older boys, both our daughters lived eight weeks, and we both prayed for healing.  Even with such difficult stories of loss, it was a rich time of sharing what God had taught each of us.  C.S. Lewis has said that God shouts in our pain.  We were able to share what He has been saying to us.
Derrick told me that he would rather talk the next day when we were more rested.  So the next morning after breakfast, we were the second to tell our story.  With many tears, we finally got through it.  I realized that I have never told the story of Mia's life and death from beginning to end.  It was healing to be heard by other couples who deeply understood and who listened attentively.  We were amazed at some of the similarities we shared with the parents of the older children.  It gave the others the opportunity to talk with us and to pray for us.  It was a great way to vent our grief, just like it has been healing for me to write this blog.
After telling our stories, the Guthries talked to us about the differences between men's and women's ways of expressing grief.  They talked about marriage and relating to each other during this time.  Nancy told us that some of us wives might never have told her our husbands that we will ever be well again.  Our husbands might be scared that we will never find hope or happiness again- that the joyful woman they married is now permanently sad.  This felt like a turning point for me.  Later, we were given time alone with our spouse to talk about specific things.  I made sure to tell Derrick that I am doing my best to heal and to be healthy.  I told him that I will not stay in this amount of sadness forever.  It helped to hear the Guthries' analogy that our hurt was like a mortal wound, like a pierced heart.  Our wound is festering and needs to be aired out before it can be healed.  I told him that's what I'm doing now so that it doesn't continue to fester.  One day I will get better.
We were asked during our time to tell each other three things we appreciated about each other during this process of grieving and three things we needed from each other.  I was amazed that although I have felt miserable, Derrick said he admired that I continue to be kind and that I have gone to God for the comfort I need.  I told him that I admire what a tender husband he has been and how he has led our family spiritually during this incredibly vulnerable time.  He has pointed me to God's Word during critical times and has introduced me to encouraging music.  He has prayed over me when I was at my worst.  The main impression we had after our time together was that God has used this time to draw us both closer to Him, together.  The Guthries' analogy of two wounded soldiers leaving the battlefield leaning into each other illustrates how we feel we have been relating to each other.  We have been supporting each other and feeding each other with God's means of encouragement.
That night, Derrick and I were chosen to play as one of the three couples in the Newlywed Game in front of the rest of the couples.  We were effective entertainment as we lost horribly to a veteran couple and to a newlywed couple! We were glad to be having fun despite so much potential heaviness of the weekend.  David Guthrie has a great sense of humor, and Nancy made everyone feel important and like a new friend.
On Sunday morning after breakfast(during which about twenty wild turkeys congregated on the front lawn), Nancy led a time of prayer at the railing of the lodge.  The railing overlooked a beautiful forest of glistening deciduous trees.  It had been raining for a good part of the weekend but gave us a break at the time.  We stood staring at God's beautiful creation- each shiny leaf moved individually in the breeze.  The trees were impossibly thin and tall, swaying before us while reaching up to the sky.  Beyond the trees, the Cumberland River shimmered below.  The entire scene was vibrant before us.  The beauty of this creation reminded me that just like nature that is mentioned in His Word, God's creation speaks of Him.  I mentioned earlier that while we were praying, a hummingbird flew directly before my face and stayed for a few seconds.  I felt like saying, "Of course God would do something like that for me."  Maybe I dismissed things like this to be coincidences before, but now my eyes are open to the beautiful confirmations God sends me that He is tenderly caring for my soul.
After prayer time, we went inside to the living room and heard Nancy speak about five verses that brought she and David comfort after their children's deaths.  These are:Matthew 26:38, John9:3, 2 Corinthians 12:9, Revelation 1:17-18, Matthew 11:28.  Her talk reminded me of her book Hearing Jesus Speak Into Your Sorrow, a resource I recommend for finding God's view on suffering.  Following that time of meditation and singing praise, we all headed to our rooms to clear out our things and bring our laundry down to the laundry room.  We said goodbye to our new friends and thanked the Guthries for their tender care.
We left in a caravan to eat lunch at a hamburger restaurant in Nashville.  From there, we went back to the airport to return to our boys.  It felt so good to go home, even though we had a refreshing time with these people and with each other.  The balance between grieving and caring for our boys has been a difficult one to reach.  Usually, caring for our boys every moment of the day has meant that we have little time to deal with things(or to write!).  On the other hand, I am so thankful that I can care for our boys. But I am so thankful that my parents were willing to care for our sons.  This weekend together was so memorable and it was beneficial to our family's future.
Thank you to all of you who prayed for our time at Respite Retreat.  We are grateful for your care for us!

Treasured

 

 

 

Should I Be Angry with God? Part 2

The last few months since Mia's death have felt a lot like living underwater.  I am so thankful that I have had increasingly more joyful moments and that I feel like I might just be getting more of a handle on daily life.  There were dark days when I thought I would never be happy again.  Thankfully, this past weekend has helped me realize that there is a very good life waiting for me(more on this weekend later).
It hasn't been three months since Mia died but it feels like it has been decades.  Immediately after her death, I was shocked at how much extra time I had in my day.  Don't worry, the boys and my commitments have thoroughly filled up my spare time.  Also, since losing my Mia-girl I mostly feel exhausted.  Feeling sad so deeply and so pervasively is draining.  I have cut a lot of striving for perfection out of my life.  I have gotten better at asking for help.  I met a mother of two boys who has also lost her daughter- she said that grieving the loss of her daughter has been much more work than caring for three children ever was.  I agree, and that exhaustion can be so frustrating. 
I have learned that I can try to escape from the reality of Mia's death for a short time if I distract myself with an activity or with other people.  Inevitably, these times of being distracted- trying to go on like nothing happened- have been followed by feeling sick and anxiety-ridden.  Grief builds up inside like steam in a pressure cooker.  When the weight of my loss settles back in, it tends to render me immobilized.  It is unpredictable and it is overwhelmingly painful.  I am incapable of stuffing my grief.

Since I can't escape grieving Mia, I am trying to be as honest as possible about my sadness.  Honest with myself.  Honest with God.  And honest with others(writing is a very healthy vent for my grief).  I am constantly asking myself if I am doing this right.  Because grief feels a lot like riding waves- very unpredictable, I am trying to be as healthy as possible.  Facing the sadness helps calm the vicious ups-and-downs a bit.  I now welcome tears- they heal my heart.  Tears bring relief from mounting darkness that looms over me.  After the tears, my soul feels lighter.  Honesty about this sadness also brings relief from the overwhelming waves of grief that threaten to sweep over me when I least expect them.

I'm a reader. I have a stack of books in my bedside dresser that I pull out every day.  I have been fortunate to talk to other people who have lost a child.  I have heard from some that I should vent my full anger at God, because He can take it.  When I heard this, I worried that I might be glossing over my true emotions.  It left me feeling disingenuous.  Others have told me to be honest with God if I am angry but have not encouraged me to be angry with Him. These conflicting pieces of advice leave me wondering: Should I be more angry at God? Am I covering over my true feelings if I'm not very angry at Him?  Am I really being honest with myself when I say: "I am not angry at God"?
Well, I am not angry with Him.

Oh, I have had two momentary times that were probably angry.  First, in the first few weeks I tried to make it to the grocery store for days.  I couldn't make it because I couldn't stop crying.  One day I drove halfway there and stopped next to a field that was being harvested.  I didn't care if the farmers could see me crying hysterically.  I was sobbing and asking, "Why did this have to be MY daughter, God? Everyone else gets to keep their babies- why did my daughter die?!"  Instantly I felt guilty and wondered, "Am I saying that I want other people's children to also die?"
God answered me by whispering to me words that said something like, "Why are any of us able to live? None of you deserve to live.  You all deserve to die.  Your sin was great.  It's only by my grace that any of you are alive."  Oh, how comfortable I was with my life before.  I never seriously considered mortality.  Nevermind that I think far too little of my sins that have been forgiven by Christ's suffering.  I think I actually had felt like I deserved a beautiful family because I was pretty good.
After awhile, Derrick noticed that I was gone too long and called me.  When I told him, "I can't go to the store if I can't stop crying," he told me to come home.  As he walked me into our home, I threw the things in my hands as hard as I could at the floor, and finally the tears really brought relief. 

A few days later despair threatened to overtake me.  I stood in the shower and asked God, "Why is this MY life? I didn't choose this and would really like to do this over."  People had told me that God must have chosen me for a very special purpose.  At that time, I didn't want the appointment and I wanted to let Him know that.  That's when I vaguely remembered a quote by C.S. Lewis which says that if we do not find satisfaction in this world, it is evidence that we were meant for another world.  In that deep dissatisfaction, I longed for eternity with my Savior.  In Nancy Guthrie's book "Hearing Jesus Speak Into Your Sorrow", she says that God cares more about your soul than about your comfort. 
Since Mia died, God has become my great reward.  He has given me more of Himself, because I have so desperately needed Him.  He has been shouting in my pain(also from a C.S. Lewis quote).  He has felt as close as the willow branches swaying around me or as real as the gentle breeze .  Thankfully in the traumatic time after first finding Mia, he was like a master surgeon directing my hands from over my shoulder.  As I have come to the Bible with such deep need, every thought has seemed to be meant exactly for me.  Every verse sent by a friend has come straight from the Lover of My Soul. 
He has spoken through His Word, His children, and even His creation.  This past weekend, I was praying with some dear new friends at the Guthrie's Respite Retreat in Tennessee.  We were standing at the railing of the second-story deck.  The deciduous trees swayed in the wind with a peaceful river glimmering behind them.  Each bright green leaf sparkled from recent rain.  I asked the Lord for His strength and for grace.  As I was still before this lively masterpiece, a hummingbird darted to within inches of my face.  Its wings whirred rapidly as it stared into my eyes.  I have stopped seeing things like this as coincidences.
There have been two brief times I have felt such deep sadness that it turned to frustration and anger.  There is Someone who makes me want to shout from every summit.  God's nearness and faithfulness has erased any hint of fear or doubt in my mind.  It has taken time.  When my faith wavered and stumbled, He did not.  This has been the gift of losing my little darling, my daughter.  During each long day, He has been sufficient for me.