Missing Theodore

All my life Christmas has been a season of joy and love, togetherness and warmth. I personally love indulging in my “Christmas Music” playlist and doing festive things like getting hot drinks and looking at lights, or going to a Christmas Program at a church, or having a party with cookies and more hot drinks… There are some stereotypes in Christmas songs and Christmas movies about those who are sad at Christmas because they are missing someone whom they love. I always thought I appreciated those reminders, but they never really dampened my joy.

Last December my Christmas season, despite being sick and still somewhat morning sick, was even more exciting. I was planning the future traditions of our family. Thinking about ways to instill in our child that it is better to give than to receive, while simultaneously buying and wrapping every possible gift I could conceive of for Sam. Most specifically a cardboard book called Daddy and Me, and a keychain with a note “from our baby” telling him what a good dad he was going to be.

Our neighbor, at the time, took me out to JoAnn’s and had me pick out fabric so that she could make stockings for our family. One for Sam, one for me, and one for the baby. I hung those stockings so proudly, so lovingly from our mantel that year, dreaming about next year, when there would be a baby crawling around, claiming his or her stocking.

Last December was a long time ago.

As this Thanksgiving came and went, I realized I was depressed whenever I thought about pulling out the Christmas decorations. I wanted to do it, but I kept thinking about that third stocking. Theodore’s stocking. Do I leave it in the garage? I couldn’t do that. Do I hang it? I thought that might seem ridiculous. Like I was hanging on to something that I couldn’t have. I dissolved over this thought one Sunday morning as I was getting ready for church. I sobbed my heart out over a stocking. Or perhaps over the hopes and dreams I had held in my heart. Or perhaps it was all of those things and more. I don’t know.

It’s been a bittersweet December. Our friends and family have been so kind. They let me hold their babies and cuddle and snuggle them. They love on me and tell me I’m not ridiculous. They pray for me when they don’t even know what a mess I am. I don’t know what I would do without them.

I hung three stockings tonight. Theodore’s is hanging from the mantel right next to the set of pictures my sister-in-law so sweetly framed for us commemorating his life. I don’t know that I will always hang a stocking for him. But for this year, I will. I miss him. He will always be such an important part of my life.

I hesitated to write very much about his birth here. I mean, you might say, “What are you talking about? You reference it constantly.” And maybe I do. But there is so much that God did in my life through Theodore, and there is still so much that I ponder. There is still a lot of physical and emotional healing to be seen. And there is a lot of God’s goodness to tell. I probably will write about it more.

Sometimes I feel silly, like I should move on or that others are probably sick of my bringing him up. I don’t want to hold on to something that I cannot have, and yet, I do have Theodore. I have his pictures. I have the memories of growing with him through pregnancy. I have the weight of his tiny little body memorized in my arms. I have the wonder of God’s handiwork in a tiny and perfect little life that held so much in such a short little time. And I have the forever changes in my body, my heart, and my mind because of him. He will always be my first-born. And even though we are not currently raising children, we are parents because of him.

Earlier this year, Theodore’s Grandmommy (Sam’s mom) wrote him a poem. With her permission, I’m going to share it here. I feel like it sums up how I’ve been feeling this month.

Theodore Joe

I’m gonna miss
Your smile,
The sparkle in those handsome eyes
Running toward me,
arms stretched wide
Big ol’ hug and swinging ride
But most of all—holding you close.

I’m gonna miss
Hearing your little quotes
Thoughts and words all your own
Getting to help you learn to read
Seeing your kindness in word and deed
But most of all—holding you close.

I’m gonna miss
Your special prayers,
sweet little songs,
And sandy hair
Holding hands,
Skipping rocks
Then, of course, those heartfelt talks
But most of all—holding you close.

I’m gonna miss
Your antics and laughter,
stories and questions
Dreams ever after
Special moments being with you
All that you share, all that you do
But most of all—holding you close.

I’m gonna miss
How you look in your mama’s eyes
Giggles when dad throws you up in the sky
Excited voice saying,”Hey Mom, watch me fly!”
But most of all—holding you close.

I’m gonna miss
Seeing you workin’ with daddy side by side
Sweat pouring down and smile wide
Back to back, another inch
“Can I show you this?”
while twisting a wrench.
But most of all—holding you close.

There’s so much more that I could write
I’m so glad that
Jesus hugs you tight
He gives you life in His own special way
Knowing you’re friends with Him brightens my day.

You skipped this life for a better one
No tears or crying, no sorrow or pain,
There’s joy in the morning and all through the day.
And Jesus is holding you close.

The things that bring the joys we show
Cannot compare to the One you know
His presence gladdens the smallest heart
His smile warms you from head to toe
Overwhelms you with great delight
Throughout the day where there is no night

You’re gaining wisdom
You are His own
You’re getting to know Him,
Theodore Joe
In His presence
That never ends
His little lambs He lovingly tends.

You’re all in
Holding nothing back
You’re all about your Father’s business
Didn’t we know?
We’re sure going to miss watching you grow
We love you, Precious, and want you to know.
You will ever be in our hearts
And we look forward to holding you close.

I really thought I’d be back here sooner, and yet, life picked up the pace and I’ve been struggling to keep up. Not even 6 months of living in Idaho has taught me that the summer months are not to be squandered. Today, I began a list of projects that can wait until winter, and another list of activities that can wait until winter (the indoor kind).

In growing, I feel like I’ve taken some huge steps backward. Attitudes and reactions that I thought were behind me have flared up, and I am sometimes bewildered by their reappearance, but more often than not, I am caught up in them, just like before. I am searching. Always searching. Sometimes consciously, and sometimes very unconsciously. I feel so far from having everything figured out. Most days I feel like a mess, but God meets me where I am. He delivers me from fear, He brings peace in the middle of the turmoil, and I am so thankful for that.

There is a lot going on around me. Hard things that people whom I love are dealing with. Awful tragedies our sheltered minds cannot fully fathom. It’s easy to get caught up in the idea that I ought to keep my mouth shut because my little battles are nothing compared to those others are fighting. And perhaps that is not necessarily a bad thought altogether. It’s good for us to stop and think about whether our griefs are petty or legitimate.

At the same time, I find an overwhelming comfort in the confidence I have that God still cares about my petty little griefs. That He has the time for both, for all of us. He’s that big! And He wants me to tell Him!

“Cast your cares on Him, for He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) It doesn’t say, “Only cast your big cares on Him, for he is too busy for the small ones,” nor does it outline what qualifies as a legitimate care.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 4:6-7

I think that one of the devil’s best strategies against us is to keep us separate from God by convincing us that we are not worthy to bring ourselves, our anxieties, our burdens, our cares -and especially not our sin- before God. His lies are extreme and far reaching in this offense:

“You’re not worthy.”

“God doesn’t care about a little thing like that.”

“Who do you think you are, bringing up such a silly thing when others are going through so much?”

“You should try to handle this on your own.”

“What a silly thing to pray about.”

“Do you think God has time for something like that with everything else going on?”

For me, as a kid, it was the little things, the little gifts, the little answers to silly, childlike prayers that caught my attention. Like praying that I wouldn’t have nightmares, and including the caveat that if my dream that night was going to be a nightmare, that I wouldn’t dream at all. (I had very few dreams in my childhood after praying this regularly before bed.) Or praying that my mouth would have room for my eye-teeth because I was terrified of having to undergo an extraction. I was one of the only girls in my family who did not need a pallet expander. My eye-teeth had room. I still had to get three teeth pulled when I got braces. 😀 But by then, I knew that God had answered my petition. He still felt I needed to face my fear, but He wanted me to know He was there.

As an adult, I still throw up childlike petitions, and I still carry childlike cares. But God meets me in those times. He gives me little gifts to remind me that I can still trust in him.

I recently shared how God had done this very thing. It had meant so much to me when He sent help and encouragement in the middle of my very typical, housekeeping cares and stresses. It was a reminder to me that I mattered to Him. That I could trust Him. That I needed to surrender to Him more often.

It’s embarrassing to say just how ashamed I felt afterward. One of the group I shared with responded that this was nothing compared to what another person we knew about was going through. Man, did I feel stupid! I felt humiliated for the rest of the day. That evening, while having it all out with God, I realized (God reminded me) that it didn’t matter what anyone else said or even thought. It was important what He had done for me. And it was important for me to acknowledge what He did.

We all have a different story. Some of us will meet God in extraordinary circumstances, our faith will grow because of it, and our testimonies will be strong because of it. Some of us will meet God in the day to day, and our faith will grow because of it, and our testimonies will be strong because of it.

It’s truly difficult to measure hardship. We can all say that there is one thing we would prefer to go through over another, but we are each limited in what our human minds and bodies and hearts can endure before we give up. It is only God who carries us beyond that limit. And we, each of us, have God to lean on, if only we will surrender to Him.

Peace is the trophy and Surrender is the key. Whether you’re trying to maintain a reasonably tidy home, or walking towards death’s door. God will meet you, guide you, and bring you peace if you surrender to Him.

So don’t be ashamed to ask God about the little things, to bring him your petty griefs. He just wants you, it’s what He’s waiting for.

And never be ashamed to share what He has done for you. Some of us are wondering how to find Him in what can feel like the humdrum of life, and we need to be reminded that He’s there to be found.

The Gift

As my original due date approaches, I’m finding myself on a rollercoaster of emotions. I have been warned by several people that our bodies know their due date and that they go through their own grieving process around that time. It seems to add up, because a lot of these emotions have no other explanation.

As the date comes nearer, I want to focus on my thankfulness. My thankfulness for the gift that Theodore is to me, to us.

Shortly after Theodore was born, I wrote to a friend of mine about my experience. I said that I was seeing so much good come from Theodore’s life already. I said that I couldn’t ever see myself believing that the good I saw was enough to consider giving him up worthwhile, but that I was at peace that God was doing good in and through what I now refer to as ‘the advent of Theodore Joe’, just as He does in all things.

While we were in the hospital, preparing and waiting for his arrival, we did not know whether the baby was going to be a boy or a girl, but we knew we wanted our child to have a name that acknowledged the gift we believed it to be. The verse that inspired this in my mind was from Job, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” Our baby was being taken away, almost as soon as he was given. But he was never ours to keep in the first place.

We chose ‘Theodore’ meaning “gift of God” if it were a boy.

Each day brings me a little closer to realizing the extent of the gift of Theodore.

Today was especially frustrating. I lost my temper in a way I haven’t done in years. I shook inwardly for a good ten minutes afterward. I knew I had been struggling with emotions that would not always seem rational, but today reached a point where I knew I needed to look things in the face.

When I stopped to think about it all, I remembered what I had begun to realize on Mother’s Day.

Mother’s Day was weird. Odd. Strange. I was in another country, nowhere near my own mother. I did not feel like a mother. But there were people remembering me. Sending me texts to tell me happy Mother’s Day, or that they were thinking of me. I did not know how to respond or how to feel. I had not given the way that most mothers give for their children. I kinda felt like a fraud. It took me until late that evening to realize that others remembering Theodore and acknowledging his life was something that warmed my heart. And to be called Theodore’s mom was an honor – a name I would be proud to bear.

I also thought about something else that night. I thought about what I might do if I were given the choice to skip his whole advent altogether, to avoid the pain, the loss, the trauma. I knew immediately that the answer was no; that to have met him was such a gift; that knowing him had already changed my life in ways I would never regret!

As I remembered this today, I realized another thing – remember how I wondered if all the good that came of his advent could ever be worth losing him? Today I realized that there was never the option of a trade in the first place. I did not have to give him up in order that the good might happen. Theodore lived his full life. Theodore was not a trading piece; he was just the beginning of the gift.

This weekend my husband and I will visit Theodore’s grave and take some time to give thanks to God for the wonderful and precious gift that He gave us, for the privilege of seeing him, and for all that He has done in our lives through this gift. It’s something that I am looking forward to doing. And something I will do in the days and weeks and months to come.

Thank you, God, for touching us in this sweet and wonderful way, for the gift of life, and the confidence that in death, Theodore is home with You.

Palm Sunday Reflections

Easter, the way I grew up observing it, was always about celebrating Jesus rising from the dead, proclaiming victory over death and the grave. Of course, there was always the strong focus on His crucifixion as well – an essential part of each of our salvation stories.

Each year, as I learn more and more about this amazing God we serve, I get a little more excited, and emotional, when we spend a few weeks reflecting on His awesome work at the cross, in the grave, and beyond. This year is no exception.

So I was thinking about Jesus’ trip into town on a donkey while I got ready for church on this Sunday that we call “Palm Sunday” in memory of that day.

They brought the donkey and the colt, laid their clothes on them, and set Him on them. And a very great multitude spread their clothes on the road; others cut down branches from the trees and spread them on the road. Then the multitudes who went before and those who followed cried out, saying:

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’
Hosanna in the highest!”

And when He had come into Jerusalem, all the city was moved, saying, “Who is this?”

So the multitudes said, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.”

Matthew 21:7-11 (NKJV)

I was thinking about this and speculating that many, if not all, of the people must’ve seen this as something like a political rally. Their long awaited deliverer had come to rescue them from Roman rule, to usher in His administration.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve definitely felt that rush of emotion that we sometimes like to call “patriotism” at various political rallies, and sometimes just while standing for the National Anthem. I imagine the people who were lining the streets with branches, welled up with emotion, filled with that same feeling as they cried out, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” envisioning a peaceful future, filled with freedom from oppressive oversight and unjust mandates for their children and their children’s children.

How dark that day must’ve felt when their new leader hung on a cross. That darkness probably continued, even after His rising, when He failed to do anything about the government. How many must’ve been so disappointed in Him. How they must’ve doubted themselves – doubted Him. They must’ve wondered if He wasn’t just a quack. They must’ve wondered if they’d had it all wrong. Maybe they even felt foolish for subscribing to His teaching.

I was thinking about that, and thinking about the disappointments we face in our lives. A hope deferred, making our hearts sick. Times when we felt so sure that God was directing us, only to have a door slammed in our faces. Times when everything falls apart without warning. Times when we’ve doubted our path, doubted His plans, doubted Him.

With this story of Jesus, we have the benefit of a more rounded perspective. We have the “ending”. We have the benefit of knowing and understanding that Jesus didn’t come to overthrow political governments. He didn’t come to set up an earthly administration. We can look at it and say, “Oh, they missed the point. How silly of them!” But in our today, we don’t have the full picture just yet. We may still be struggling with a hope deferred, an ending that we just can’t accept. Maybe we are doubting Him and His goodness. Maybe we are doubting His power. Maybe we are doubting that He is both good and mighty. Could we be missing the point too?

I was also thinking today about the judges that ruled over Israel. How the people would fall into wickedness, and how God would raise up a judge who would lead them into peace and freedom. And I was thinking about how the land would have peace for some odd amount of years before Israel would turn to wickedness again. There never did seem to be a permanent solution.

Jesus was better than a judge. Better than a king. Better than a temporary reprieve from tyranny and enslavement. What Jesus brought was incorruptible, unending, and it could not be stolen or defiled by wars or corrupt politicians.

Jesus brought Peace. A peace to rule in our hearts in the everyday turmoil of life, in the uncertain times, in the corrupted society we encounter today, in the deepest pain of heartbreak, in our grief, in our loss, in the trenches of battle, in the barracks of concentration camps, in sickness, and in death.

And Jesus brought Freedom. Not the physical freedom that was perhaps expected, but a spiritual freedom, and a mental freedom. Freedom from sin and death, freedom from the bondage of fear, freedom from the captivity of the devil, and freedom from our old man – the flesh, that ever fights to hold us down. Freedom to laugh, and sing, in the midst of oppression. Freedom to love our enemies. Freedom to experience joy even while we are hurting.

No government can take these things from us. No situation or circumstance can overrule what Jesus brought. They do not expire. They do not corrupt. Only we sometimes do not allow them their rightful place in our lives.

I’m thinking about all of this. And I’m thinking, I wonder what the full picture will look like for the things I am running up against – these disappointments that get me doubting. I wonder if what God has in store for me isn’t much better than the hopes I hold with such a limited perspective. And you know what? I bet His plan is way better than what I’ve got in my head! It just might take a little more patience and reshaping of my perspective in order to see and appreciate it.

 Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory.

Ephesians 3:20-21a (NKJV)

Giving Thanks

Today was a tricky one. I feel like the days when I get on my high horse about something I feel that other people need to understand is always a tricky one. Today I felt that other people need to understand that God’s ways are better than our ways. After I thought that, God’s way superseded my plans and I was not happy about it. At all.

My husband and I are moving to another state in 3 weeks. Originally I was not a fan of the idea of moving. There were too many complications in the way, and I don’t relish the idea of change very much. In the past 6 months I had married, moved from my home state, and gotten pregnant. Wasn’t that enough change for now? Besides, I was just beginning to get settled in this new state.

It was when I stopped to consider things besides my own desires that I realized I was being narrow minded. I needed to consider what was best for our family, and what God wanted us to do. (After all, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a big believer that God, not only seeing but also drawing the big picture, really knows what’s best for me.) After considering things in this new light, and praying about it, Sam and I feel that God made His direction very clear that it was time for us to move.

I’m balancing between excitement and sorrow. We have made some special friends and connections here and I’m sorry to leave them. We’ve also had the benefit of being able to begin our married life without the tugs and pull of familiar obligations. Moving away from all family and friends creates a unique opportunity for a new couple to establish their own home, find a church together, and develop friendships without the concern of disappointing the natural expectations of others. On the other hand, I am looking forward to being near family again, being able to get together casually and easily without that rushed feeling of trying to get in all the visiting before it’s time to go home again. So I’ve been on a teeter totter of making plans with my nieces and nephews for when I live close to them, and mourning with my neighbor and church family over the imminent good-byes.

We are on the final countdown really. With a whole house to pack up and furniture to list, final to-do list items, address change notifications, trying to get together with others one last time… Here’s where I lost my way:

With all of this going on, my husband’s romanticized (by others) flying job has decided this afternoon, that they will need him to fly to another state tomorrow and stay until Friday. They have also finally (we hope) made up their minds about the spring break trip they want to take, which will have him leave this Saturday and not return until Easter Sunday afternoon or evening.

There went our carefully worked out dinner plans with friends from church.

There goes the remainder of our time here and any other plans we wanted to make.

There goes a whole house to pack by myself.

I was mad. I was unthankful. I hated his job and its inability to schedule anything in advance. I knew it wasn’t my husband’s fault., but I sure let him feel the brunt of it.

My husband is a big believer in thankfulness. His intent is not to steer God, but to maintain an attitude of gratitude. His prayers are full of thankfulness, rarely requests. When I was ill and in pain, his prayer was often one of thankfulness for God’s healing of my body. “What healing?” I was tempted to ask. But my husband is also a believer in God’s faithfulness and mercy. I sit here today, feeling a level of normal I did not know I would ever feel again.

Tonight, at dinner, after I told him I was sorry for my attitude, he slyly started to name some things he was thankful for. Things that his job had allowed us to do.

Silly me, allowing myself to get puffed up, thinking I had a few things right. Boy was I missing it.

“God knows” is a phrase I started saying to myself over New Years. There were such strange things happening. Things that could really knock the wind out of a person. But, “God knows,” I would say, in wonder. He knew that would happen. There must be a reason for it. “God knows” became my mantra for a season. It was what I said when I waivered in faith regarding my pregnancy and whether I would be able to deliver my baby safely at home or not. “God knows, and He works all things together for good.” It was what I wrote in my journal when the idea of moving presented itself. I wanted His way. “God knows what is the best thing for us. We can trust Him.” It was what I wholeheartedly believed in the hospital when they told me my baby would not live. “God knows. My baby will be safer with Him than I could ever make him here on earth.” And in the days and weeks that followed….

That brings us to today. Having spent the day in a weird mixture of emotions for and against, excited and disappointed, happy and sad, I forgot that God knows. He knew about this pop up trip before Sam’s boss even knew about it. He knew about our dinner plans. He knew when the spring break trip would happen. He knows we’re trying to move on the 15th. He knows, better than we do, how much packing we have to do. He knew I would catch a cold last weekend. He knows it all. He’s the Master Planner.

I can’t tell you how many times these last few months I have been told what a strong person I am. Well let me tell you, I do not feel strong at all when I can flip flop from giving thanks and trusting in the worst of times to flipping out and sulking in the best of times. I know that God gave me the strength I needed in those times of trusting. It was no virtue on my part.

When I was living in my recliner chair, waiting –no, longing for healing, I remember thinking how full of thankfulness I would be if God let me sleep in my own bed again. And I was so full of thankfulness. I still am when I remember the nights in the recliner. But I allow myself to forget so often, so easily.

Even as I type this, I’m sitting on a stool in my own kitchen. Today I prepared the meals for myself and my husband. I did the dishes. I made our bed. I spent a good hour in the sunshine visiting with my wonderful neighbor, all without pain. I haven’t used my recliner in weeks! What a praise! What a wonderful gift!

My husband and I have experienced the love and welcome of a wonderful church family here in Arizona. Friends to fellowship with; encourage and be encouraged by; pray with. Friends who are sorry to see us go and who we are sorry to leave. What a special thing!

Our neighbors across the street have loved on us like family. Game nights, dinners together, looking after our house while we were away, taking me under their wing and feeding me when Sam had a trip and I was dealing with morning sickness, helping Sam to build a box for our baby to be buried in. They will never know what a blessing they have been to us.

And then we get to move to Sam’s home state, be near his family, and half of mine too. I’ll be able to be with family –get together with sisters next time Sam has a long trip. We’ll be able to do life together, be there for each other. So many of our family have traveled to be there for us in these past few months. We are so blessed to have such a wonderful caring family on both sides! I know that is a priceless gift.

I’m excited for my husband’s new job. I think they will value him better. And they intend to have a better schedule, which will be nice. 😉 But God knows about that too, doesn’t He?

He’s been good, God has. I’m glad He knows about all of these things. I’m glad He knows the inner workings. The why’s of them all. The more I have the chance to zoom out on the overall picture, the more I see His goodness, His work in all of us. I can truly be thankful in all things with such a good and mighty God at work.

Jack Raymond Dortignac | March 24, 1934 – February 8, 2020

O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light, that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

– George Matheson

I miss you already, Grandpa! But I could never begrudge you the sweet relief from pain and turmoil as you lay safely in the arms of Jesus. Thank you for the ways you’ve made the most of these last years; getting out of the house to be at concerts and holidays, even when it hurt to be moved so much; welcoming me into your world and sharing your memories and your knowledge with me. I will always wish for just a little bit more.

Tonight, my heart is heavy for my friend who, with her husband, is unable to have children of her own. I know how much she would love to have a child. I imagine that she dreams of having her own children when she is standing in line at the grocery store, watching another mom wrangle her overtired or hungry children. I imagine that she designs nurseries in her thoughts while she rearranges the furniture or re-purposes an extra room. I imagine that sometimes she must ache to feel the growth of a child in her womb, to hold her own baby in her arms, to nurture, cherish, raise up one of her own.

Tonight, my heart is heavy for my friends who, with no explanation, lost their youngest son, their baby. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, nothing else to say for it. I remember attending a heart-wrenching funeral. How does a mother ever prepare to say goodbye to her baby? I imagine how the mother must have walked into different rooms afterward, expecting to see her baby, expecting him to be there. How long does it take to quit the motions of caring for a child who is gone when you go to pick him up? I imagine she sometimes thinks that she hears him crying in the nursery, that she must go get him. I imagine her heart breaks a little, every time she remembers what he could be now, what he would be accomplishing this year.

Tonight, my heart is heavy for my friend who has only been able to carry a child in her womb for weeks before miscarrying. I know the thought has crossed many miscarried mom minds, Is my body a baby-killer? And then to have to be strong, to answer friends who ask how the pregnancy is going. To have to say without completely falling apart that her baby has died. The heartbeat she heard has gone silent. I don’t believe that anybody who has not miscarried can even begin to know the silent torture this mother goes through. To smile at the baby showers of others while silently mourning her own death of a dream. She wonders if she should give up. Perhaps her body was not made for this life. Perhaps the choice was not hers to make after all.

Tonight, my heart is heavy for my sister who waited, prayed, searched for a cure, was told it could never be, before she was finally blessed with her sweet young child. Born early, taken immediately into surgery, diagnosed with a terminal disease. I know that my sister fights every day for her boy. That she fights against herself when he cries. It would be so easy to smother him with every possible thing, but she wants his life to be as good as it can be, and so she is strong, and she cries when he is not looking. She sits up all night when he is ill, and she watches him, to make sure he continues to take in the oxygen he needs. She prays and asks God to continue his gift to her. And when he is well again, she raises a well-mannered, intelligent son who knows how to be a total goofball and who dearly loves to laugh, who dreams of being a musician someday like his daddy and his uncles.

How many more women are out there tonight, feeling beaten to their very core by the belittlement pouring down on the holy gift of motherhood? A gift they have not received. A gift that has been stripped from them. A gift that came different than what was expected.

My heart aches and breaks for you.

I cannot even begin to describe the emotions that ran through me when someone who had met my sweet nephew; who had smiled at his antics, had enjoyed his company; told me, on learning that he had Cystic Fibrosis, that they maintain he should have been aborted. There aren’t words. There isn’t a person in my family who my nephew has not touched. There isn’t a person in my family who is not personally invested in his life and well-being.

How many women tonight feel silenced by the barrage that has demeaned their very heart and soul? Who can understand the value you place on life, just how much you are ready to give in order to have it again, or maybe for the first time?

I am thinking of you tonight. I am praying for you tonight.

What can be said when the world has lashed out and you have been swept into their venom? How can the pain they are inflicting even begin to be communicated? They cannot know how they are piercing and wounding and tearing down. It can’t possibly be fathomed.

I know there are hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of women who are grieving a loss, grieving a hope deferred, grieving a lack of a child. I know that getting up and facing a world gone mad can’t be easy.

I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone, you’re not forgotten. I remember you. I don’t think I need to say that God is upholding you even now.  But he is. He will hold you tonight. He will hold the child you’ve had to give up. He will hold the millions of babies who have been given up before they had a chance to choose. He will hold us all.

“Do not be afraid or dismayed because of this great multitude, for the battle is not yours, but God’s…You will not need to fight in this battle. Position yourselves, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord, who is with you. Do not fear or be dismayed; tomorrow go out against them, for the Lord is with you.” – 2 Chronicles 20:12-17

I know it’s fall…

I know it’s fall because the brake lights shone bright on my way home from work this evening. I have memories, as a kid, of darkness falling on the road and ribbons of red and white lights winding down the freeway or boulevard.

I know it’s fall because the air has cooled by morning, and a cup of tea gets paired with some long socks to ward off the slight chill on my shorts clad legs.

I know it’s fall because I’m sleepy in the afternoons and want to curl up for a nap rather than finish the work day.

I know it’s fall because it was dark when we all sat down to dinner this evening, and the room had a cozy, artificially lit atmosphere.

Because I know it’s fall, Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby take up the airways in the office, and Dean Martin and Billie Holiday.

Because I know it’s fall, I want to take the afternoon off and make pumpkin muffins or get some hot cider going on the stove.

Because it’s fall, I make a second cup of tea -or maybe three: one in the morning, one at my desk, and one in the evening.

Because it’s fall I’m reminiscent and happy and always have a love song in my head.

Do you have fall traditions?

Please don’t tell me I’m incomplete because I’m not married

I have a tendency to be flippant when I heavily disagree with the way an argument is handled. It’s gotten me into trouble in the past and it had me headed for trouble last night. I guess I’ll go with less flippant and more lengthy to get my point across because this is serious to me.

There is a kind of pressure I’ve been noticing, an invalidation of sorts toward people who have not been called to marriage and I want to stop it before it does any more damage to people I care about. It’s this concept that puts marriage up as the highest achievable relationship of all time because of the example given in Scripture of Christ and his Bride. Marrieds: I believe you when you tell me that marriage is wonderful and I’m not trying to discount you in any way, but you forget that you are discounting us when you say this. You are discounting Jesus’ time on earth. You are discounting the apostle Paul.

Yes, Scripture gives the example of Christ and his Church and a bridegroom and bride. It also gives the example of God the father and we, the sons and daughters of God, both through rebirth and adoption. It gives the example of us being counted among Jesus’ brothers, his friends, and it gives the example of God being a mother hen and we her chicks.

Can a single person know God as well as a married person? Are we even asking this question? Can a single person understand intimacy with God as well as a married person can? (I’m working very hard not to be flippant here.) These questions are suggested when you insist that marriage is the only true picture of our relationship with God:

Jesus describes eternal life as Knowing God and Jesus Christ whom he sent. Knowing God is the free gift offered to all. Nowhere in the Bible is marriage listed as a prerequisite for this gift. Knowing God is the highest achievable relationship of all time. Knowing God does not come through marriage or church or religion. Scripture teaches that Jesus is the only mediator between God and man anymore. Not a pastor, not the pope, not some Bill Gothard type, not even a husband. Knowing God is about you and Jesus. No other human being can complete that relationship.

So, if you’re married and you’re telling some unattached single friend or family member that marriage is where it’s at, be careful. You may not only be causing a weaker brother or sister to stumble, you might also be putting marriage up on a pedestal that’s a little too high for God’s tastes.

I hear from all of you that marriage is a wonderful thing, but if you care to hear, being single is also pretty wonderful. The main thing I’m hearing from God right now is that I am where I’m supposed to be, and I can keep calm and work on until it’s time to make a change. You know what else? I’m feeling the love of God poured out on me day and night, cutting down my fears, fighting against the darkness of this world, lifting me up, strengthening me, supporting me, and never abandoning me but staying patient, staying to teach, staying to forgive and to love me when I’m my ugliest.

I’m pro single. I say that if you’re single and you’re not finding joy in it, you’re doing something wrong. I also say that if you’re married and you’re convinced single people can’t be fully happy, you’re also doing something wrong.

It would break my heart to see anybody get married to somebody they weren’t madly in love with just because they were made to feel like they were less than complete as a single person. And that’s why I write this today:  To the marrieds who need to calm down and allow that a person is still whole and real, even if they don’t have a spouse so that they can fit into your couples’ club. And to the singles who are dealing with the pressure and deceit from their married friends and relations who need to take a step back and confirm with themselves that Yes, I don’t really need a spouse to fit in and I certainly don’t need a spouse so that I can know Jesus.

Why not encourage those in a different season than you to find wholeness and fulfillment where they are?  Why not seek to find true joy in whatever season you are in?  It’s been said before and it can probably be said a million times before it ever makes a dent in our culture, so I’ll go ahead and say it again: If you can’t find joy where you are, you won’t find it where you’re going. In other words, if you don’t settle down and thrive in your season, you’ll never thrive anywhere. In other words, bloom where you’re planted. In other words, if you can’t figure out how to be happy as a single person, you won’t be happy in your marriage.

 

Disclaimer:  I DO believe in the God ordained order of a household. I am also as pro-marriage as I am pro-single. I believe that there is fulfillment to be found in every season of life, but it seems more important at this time to stress that it can be good, rich in joy, and fulfilling to stay single all your life.

My Response To: “My Big Sister, The Porn Star…”

I just read an article titled, “My Big Sister, the Porn Star: How her career destroyed her life and our family”.  The title sparked my interest. It was the part that said “and our family” that I really wanted to know about.  We live in a culture that says, “Your decisions do not affect anyone else and therefore are up to you.” And we have people who fight that idea, and we have a lot of people who say, “It’s my life. Leave me alone.” So I really wanted to read what this person had to say who was so bold as to claim that her sister’s decisions destroyed her family.

I’ll admit, I was a little disappointed. It wasn’t the strongest writing I had encountered; it wasn’t even above average. The writer blamed the porn industry for her sister’s choices, her own broken marriage, and her parents’ premature aging.  Since I’m one of those people who claim that victimizing yourself to anyone or anything is to your own detriment: we are all responsible for our actions as much as we are responsible for our response to our own circumstances, I wasn’t overly impressed.  But there was one thing that came across in the article which could not be discounted regardless of the writer’s abilities, and it was this: when you love someone—truly care about their well-being—then you will be directly affected by that person’s choices. This would include anybody and everybody who you care about. Your parents, grandparents, siblings, spouse, children, grandchildren best friend, good friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, any friend.

The girl in the article had two options. She could have disowned her sister and moved on with her life, and then she wouldn’t have been affected, or she could continue to love her sister and therefore, have to walk right through the mud next to her. She chose love, and this included helping in the raising of her two nephews, countless mental hospital visits, dealing with the emotional trauma and other trauma of multiple incidents of attempted suicide, being a moral support to her broken-hearted parents as they personally took on the care of their two grandsons, etc… Overall, she went through hell simply because she made the choice to not stop loving her sister.

In a way, I admire that. I am at a place in my life where I have to watch my siblings and friends make decisions. Some decisions I fear will have only negative effects on them and, as a result, on me as well. As a sister or friend, I still daily question my right to intervene, to say, “STOP! Don’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you see how much I care?”  Because they are their own person, and they have that personal right to do whatever they want with their own life, I do the more cowardly thing instead, I back off. I tell myself I can either care too much or not at all…so I guess I’ll just not care.   So I read this article and I thought, Isn’t this what is wrong with our world today? We never stop to think about how our decisions will affect those who love us. Instead we challenge their love daily. We say, “If you say you love me, prove it while I stab your heart out.” Not literally—we don’t say that literally, but our actions do. Is this why girls change best friends every other weekend? Is this why families live so far away from each other? Is this why we are afraid to have arguments anymore?

I admit, I began writing this with the sole intention of saying to all of us: Stop! Look around you. Look at who loves you truly and consider them. Consider how they bleed for you, listen to them before you jump into that choice that you’re about to make. Because as they keep on loving you, they will be included in your pain and your depression and your heartbreak. You never hurt alone while you have people who love you. They hurt too.  But while that is an important thing to remember, I can’t discount the lesson on the other side. The one that says, if you truly love this person who is making these decisions, you will not run when it comes time to walk through hell next to them. I need to remember not just the second half of this lesson, but the first as well. Life is not all about me, it IS about others. I need to think of others when I am about to make a decision that will personally affect me. But I also need to woman up, and keep loving the friends and family who do not stop to consider others when they make their decisions. Because even though the woman who wrote that article says that her family has been destroyed, all I saw as I read was a family that had become stronger in love for each other, a family that had learned to sacrifice self (time, money, emotion, energy) for the sake of their loved one, a family that had gained two “beautiful” new members who will be raised lovingly by their own flesh and blood.  Yes, there had to be, and still is much pain! I don’t think I need to point out that there is no need to willfully put ourselves in this kind of situation just so that we can grow, but given the same circumstances, I would be awfully pleased if I had responded that way.