It Darkens Indeed

Note: This post is not about birth or hospitals. It is about our country. Carry on.

A woman went to the hospital to have a baby. Labor went quick and smooth but because mother was not allowed to eat or drink she began to feel tired and dehydrated towards the end. The nurses hooked her up to an iv bag of fluids and she was given them for the remainder of labor. As baby was emerging the exit was not as quick as the doctor wanted. He quickly grabbed the vacuum to "assist" with delivery. Mother did not even know what the doctor was doing. The baby made his way out and as mother reached for her baby the doctor handed him off to waiting nurses who whisked him off to the nicu. Mother was told baby was fine but that he had aspirated fluids and needed to be looked over. Mother wondered how the doctor could possibly know the baby had aspirated fluids or had anything wrong with him when he hadn't even observed the baby but instead handed him off to the nurses as if he had just uncovered an explosive from her uterus.

Hours went by. Mother was notified that her baby had ultrasounds, x-rays, blood work, and some scans. When she demanded to know why they told her a minor problem was uncovered (that would have been uncovered by the pediatrician during the baby's first appointment) that the hospital planned to hand off to her child's dr. The baby's blood sugar was also off due to the iv fluids mother was given in labor and the nurses gave the baby a sugar water bottle without informing mother or first giving her the option to nurse. Nothing further was wrong. However, since it was now 5 pm on a Friday, the hospital notified mother that her son would be spending the weekend in the nicu. Insurance does not allow transfers on the weekend, even if it is in the same building. Mother was released from the hospital and now had to travel to spend time with her newborn son. She pumped and when she was not feeding her son she requested that he be given only her colostrum while she was gone. The weekend ended and as mother strapped her son into his car seat to go home the nurses came in. In the final labs it was discovered that her son had a touch of jaundice. Also, since mother's milk had not yet come in fully, he was not having as many wet diapers as they wanted. The nurses informed her that her son would be staying and that she needed to switch over to formula because she simply "didn't have enough milk". Mother fought the decision and finally agreed to give formula after nursing. After several more days baby was released but mother was given strict instructions to come back in 48 hours for another jaundice check. For several more weeks baby was subjected to the checks and when mother questioned it she was chastised for not caring about how serious jaundice "could" be.

Something is very very wrong when the web of lawsuits, insurance, politics, and the pharmaceutical world are so interwoven that a woman is not allowed to take her baby home with something as common and simple as very low level jaundice...something that is perfectly able to be taken care of in the hands of a pediatrician, or a mother.

What is even more maddening is that everyone sits around applauding them for this saying at least they aren't letting things go and are doing their jobs. They aren't doing THEIR jobs...when they make choices about your baby and your body without asking you, educating you, and letting you ultimately decide, THEY ARE DOING YOUR JOB. And they are saying you are too stupid and incompetent to do it yourself.

Look, yes yes hospitals are wonderful, doctors are wonderful, nurses are wonderful, and each of our babies and we would be dead without them I am sure (:-p) but really?!

The worst part of all is that a woman has NO say whatsoever in any of this. No one says, "Well, it appears your baby has a bit of jaundice, how about we educate you about this and you can decide if you would like to keep him here or take care of him on your own/with his pediatrician?"  And if she DARE to question, well, she can probably add another 5 days to her baby's stay if not expect a visit from CPS. There are so many causes like the fear of lawsuits if they let a case go and it gets bad and mother decides it's the hospital's fault (which opens up a whole new can of worms in the messed up web of insanity), making more money on each baby, and more.

But whatever it all is, in the hospital, the schools, the airports, etc etc...I went to sleep and then woke up in a country who's majority of citizens have absolutely zero common sense, self sufficiency, or creative independence. We are content to let everyone else call the shots, boss us around, and say we are all too stupid and busy to figure it all out anyways so we better just leave it to the professionals.

At least the food is good.

If salt loses its saltiness.

When my Dad died I read C.S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed". I was only 17 and he wrote it about the loss of his wife. But that book was exactly what I needed. It's funny because now I don't remember anything about the book...except one thing.

I remember feeling like something was wrong with me after my dad's plane smashed into the ground into a million pieces because everything...everything felt different, not just the areas of my life he was involved in directly. And then I read the part in Lewis' book in which he compared the loss of his wife to having salt suddenly taken from his diet. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but everything was different and nothing was right.

It's how I felt when my Dad, protector, and sole legal guardian was gone and it's how I feel now.

How is it that someone so tiny and not even born yet can so drastically change my entire life? No, really. I'm not just talking emotionally. My entire life has been thrown on a completely new course. And I feel her absence in a very profound way.

Normally the further I get into a pregnancy the more I stick close to home. I don't like to be out and about much, I don't like to travel at all, and I'm not nearly as social.

But when I'm not pregnant (esp. now that I don't have a little baby anymore and my youngest is close to weaning) and I've lost my pregnancy weight I have energy, I'm social, I love to travel, and I like to find things to do, organize, manage, become more efficient with, etc etc. I'm going places I wouldn't, meeting people I wouldn't, doing things I wouldn't, making connections I wouldn't...everything has changed due to this tiny little person.

Suddenly I'm in efficient mode when I would be nesting. I'm being social when I would be turning in. I'm traveling when I wouldn't be as eager to.

And every second of the way I am aware of why.



It doesn't make me mourn the way it did at first. I can officially say my mourning has changed drastically since the day she was born. When you have someone as close as your Daddy go to heaven that suddenly and tragically, well, heaven feels very very real...and, familiar. Heaven feels like home. I once told one of my friends from my home church, shortly after my dad died, that it felt like I was walking around with one foot in heaven and one on earth. I feel that way even more now. In a good way.

I am learning to rejoice in this time. Of course I will always wish Anastasia was with me. But she is not and the Lord is working His good in all situations. I am feeling stronger than I did physically when I first became pregnant with her. I still felt not quite over my pregnancy with my 4th born when I conceived but now I'm feeling much stronger. And I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, life doesn't stop because you want it to and I have a vocation to continue with. And I am so so so very thankful that I do...that God has made me who He made me and that I have the amazing husband and 4 little boys that I do. I am so very thankful.

If God gives you a break...

I had been in labor for 9 hours. I was 8 1/2. But...I had started at 5. 3 1/2 cm in 9 hours. And before that 4 weeks of complete bed rest in a one room house with a 2 year old while my husband was on vicarage. Oh yea, and the bed rest started Holy Week.  Sounds like the start to some cheesy seminary horror movie the sem wives would watch. ha.

Anyways, labor had finally started but suddenly, 9 hours in...it stopped. Completely. I looked around in confusion. 5 minutes before contractions had been just a couple minutes apart and I hadn't been able to think straight from exhaustion and lack of food in the previous 12 hours. But suddenly I felt hyper aware and labor felt as far away as the day the test first turned positive. No one else in the room seemed concerned. Finally someone said to me, "Honey, when God gives you a break, you don't ask why, you just enjoy it!" I was encouraged to get up and walk around, eat, and check out my surroundings. I left the room and was eating a bowl of yogurt. My labor team, which consisted of my husband, a doula, my midwife's daughter, and my midwife, all visited and laughed. I joined in and still secretly panicked. What if this baby never came out?! But I tried to relax, enjoy the moment, and eat.

I've been turning this experience over in my head the past week or so. For the past 66 days I have thought each and every day of how I "should still be pregnant". I have calculated how far along I would be, imagined the kicks I would be feeling, even looked at previous pregnancy photos to imagine how I would look. I should still be pregnant. Except....I shouldn't. Because I'm not.

We like to play God. We like to be entitled. To have rights. Certain unalienable rights.

But what about when you don't?

None.

Oh, except death.

Listen up quiverfullers, women perpetually parturitioning, etc...I have a confession to make. I'm one of those women that doesn't just do it because I believe it is in line with God's Word to be open to the blessings of my one flesh union as He creates them in me. I actually WANT it. A big family. Tons of kids. Oh sure there have been days, weeks, and even seasons of my life since that first little bundle joined us years ago that I have had doubts...but deep underneath I have dreamed of having 7, no 10, no 12, how many years of fertility to I have left again? I'm not kidding. My friends in high school used to tease me about being a masochist. That makes me chuckle now. I don't know, I guess I've always thrived on chaos. And 4 little boys definitely do that.

I don't know why I have not had children closer together. I don't know why I have any at all. I don't know why two of them are in heaven instead of here with me. But I do know, finally,  that I do not have any control whatsoever over my body giving me babies when I want them or being able to keep them alive.

I may never have kids again. I could be gone tomorrow. My entire family could. But I have learned something in reliving my second born's birth... I am NOT supposed to be pregnant right now. I can stop saying "I SHOULD still be pregnant." Because I'm not. And I shouldn't be.

I refuse to live my worth in what I think I want to be, what I think I should be, what I think will give me value, what I think will make me important, what I think will make people admire me or like me or be proud of me. Because I do not have any more control over the latter than I do over getting pregnant and as for the formers...No one who chases their worth in things of this world...EVEN if those things are blessings from God Himself, no one will ever be fulfilled. Indeed they, indeed I, am guilty of idolatry.

My value is in Christ. My worth is in Him. My worth is seen in His death on the cross. His only expectation of me is to Love the Lord my God with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. And even better is, He gives me the strength to do it.

If you're wondering how that birth story ended, well let's just say he's just as stubborn today as he was 5 years ago, but so is his mama. :)

It's true.

Once upon a time I was a little girl sitting at my grandma's feet listening to her tales of yesteryear. She told tales that her grandma had told her and I know her grandma once told her grandchildren tales that her grandma had told her...each told tales of terror in their times and each told tales of how much "better" things were in their day...how much more "innocent" times were in their day.

I will never tell my children or grandchildren one day that life was better when I was a child.

 I might tell them about being able to walk through an airport and right up to the terminal without anything more than a metal detector and a kind wave from an elderly woman as you walked through. 

I might also tell them about open air elementary schools with no gates when your Daddy could just walk to your classroom and meet you for lunch. 

I will tell them about being allowed to ride my bike and play down the street until the street lights came on at night and being able to have block parties and trick or treat with friends while my parents visited with other adults instead of watching me.  

But I won't tell them that people were more innocent..that there was any less sin, or pain, or death, or fear. Perhaps the only thing was that we were more naive. But you're always more naive or more hopeful after reform or after being forgiven.

History repeats itself. Why? Because we are no different than Adam and Eve. We are sinners through and through.

In church young catechumens learn the cycle of sin for the Christian: we sin, the law convicts us, we repent, we are absolved (forgiven), God's Word and Sacraments strengthen us to resist sin and the devil and urge us to good works. Repeat. 

For the world it is no different. There is war, the people of war are convicted of the evil at hand or at least hate the effect it has on their lives, a truce occurs either in the form of victory or both sides laying down arms, a new hierarchy is formed, the people regroup and try to create a better community.

When I think back on our American ancestors and how they must have felt after they won the American Revolution and think of the hope they must have felt at a new nation forming it doesn't make me sad about what is currently happening in our country or make me wish we could go back to when our forefathers "had it figured out". Because as a Christian I know these are but birth pains. Wars will continue, countries will rise and fall, people get power hungry and then have to be set straight, but Christ is coming as He said. Eyes on the skies folks. :)

Christ keep you.

Jesus loves the little children

When my husband and I were first married we were like little children...naive, stupid, full of ideas that are usually stupid, and thinking the world could not hurt us or be against us.

I remember eagerly telling my Pastor during marriage counseling that I wanted a big family. My husband told him he wanted "at least 12".

I look back on those days...on the blissful ignorance, on the blind trust, and I realize how much we have changed.  We cannot will our lives to give us what we want, we can only keep putting one foot in front of the other and go to church to receive Jesus where He promises to be.

A few months into our seminary experience I became good friends with a woman who was pregnant with her 4th child. She was so calm and cool and collected. She was smart and she was efficient at her work as wife and mother. She was clever.

I was pregnant with my first and after we each gave birth she and I began walking the track at the sem and talking for hours over weeks and weeks of walking.

Fast forward 7 years (how is that possible?) and our lives look quite different. I now have four children here and 2 in heaven. She has 7. But her family has been affected by a genetic disease that has left one of her children with serious challenges to overcome.

Out of respect for privacy for my friend I don't want to focus on details of their situation but in recent visits with her something has really stood out to me about her child...though this child does not possess abilities and comprehension levels synonymous with her age, there is something very special about her...something behind her eyes. At first my friend and I joked that she knew far more than she was letting on...and I do believe this little girl is smarter than people give her credit for, but in my most recent visit it hit me...that knowing look we see behind her eyes is the peace of Christ.

This sweet girl may not be the exact same as peers her age but she is a treasured baptized daughter of Christ and her Bridegroom loves her with an everlasting love.

Some people looks at pastors wives as charity cases. Most of us don't wear designer clothes, the stranger of us home school our kids. We don't have a lot of money. We might look frumpy from time to time and our homes might be full of donated and pieced together furniture. But though many TV evangelists would love to have people believe that the sign of a Christian is how materially Christ blesses you, we see in Scripture that some, especially in the Old Testament, were blessed with gobs of kids and livestock while others lived lonely isolating lives with little or no possessions of their own. Elijah the prophet, so loved that he was taken up into heaven in a flaming chariot, is a good example.

My point in all of this is that my friend is a true example of what Christian motherhood looks like. She does not see what the world sees, and for sometimes hours a day she makes the choice to sacrifice her own time where she could be getting things done for her home or herself to do what her little daughter needs most, cuddles with Mama. And friend, your love for her shows. It is not only seen by me, but by Christ. Your love and care for her in the stead of her Bridegroom does not go unnoticed by Him or by your friends like me.

And most of all, it shows in your little girls eyes. They overflow with both visual and hidden joy and peace as she awaits the second coming. If ever there was an example of Christ keeping His promise of faith, forgiveness, and salvation being given in Baptism it is in her.

Being barren

Several months ago I read the book "He Remembers the Barren." I was so touched by it that I had to share about the book here on this blog. I've also thought about it for the months since and had the chance to email a few times with Katie and be blessed by her friendship.

One of the most profound things to me about Katie was this amazing heart God has given her to mother wherever she is placed. She sees her barrenness as a chance to bless wherever she can in whatever moment she can. She shared one story in her book of how one fellow barren woman blessed her and her husband while they were in seminary. The woman wanted to help them financially like she would have done for any of her children had she had them.

All of these things have stayed with me and this past week I had the opportunity to exercise this heart.

Sunday morning at 5 am I got a text. I woke up, confused, and read "I'm in labor! My water broke at 2 am. Contractions are sporadic. Come if you are able!" My heart beat began thundering in my chest. My dear sister was in labor. Tears flooded my eyes at the thought of meeting my dear friend's newest family member all slimy and warm. I panicked...it was Sunday morning. My in laws were in town and my husband is a pastor...can't exactly disappear on a Sunday morning or the kids will have no way to get to church since the in laws car isn't exactly big enough to fit all the car seats. So I began planning. I showered, packed an overnight bag, and began pulling out food to take so I could make meals for my friend and her family. I made sure there were things in the fridge for my own family and cleaned the house. I made breakfast and served my in laws and we all headed to church. After the morning services and going out to lunch with the family my husband gave me his blessing to go. He was looking forward to some guy time with all our boys. I jumped in the car and got there as quickly as I legally could.

As I neared her house my cell phone rang. It was my friend's sister and she was asking if I could stop and pick up paper plates and cups for all the children to eat on over the next few days to minimize work. I did a quick turn down a side street that led to some stores and then made my way to her house. When I got there I carried all my bags in, set them in a safe, out of the way place, and made my way into the kitchen and began making supper. I set up a buffet line of a build your own casserole with quinoa, cheddar cheese, spinach spring mix, taco sauce, home made ranch type sauce, taco meat, etc.

For the next 36 hours I was blessed to serve my friend and her family. This same friend once came to my rescue when I delivered my third child and had to be transported to the hospital in an emergency situation. I was 18 hrs away from her at the time but had flown her out to my house to be my doula in labor and she ended up being child care provider for 36 hours. So this time for her I got to rub her feet, clean the kitchen, and help take care of the kids.

She didn't end up having her baby, it was a false alarm, but I am so thankful my husband allowed me to be there and serve my sister. It was such a wonderful time of putting into action what a commenter in the previous post said, "my sister must become greater, I must become less." I am so thankful for relationships with dear sisters in Christ that can not only be there for each other but also say to each other what needs to be said.

Christ keep you sisters.

Salt in the Wound

Today a neighbor boy, who also happens to be a member of the homeschool group our family belongs to, announced that his Mama is pregnant with a girl. First I was surprised to hear she was pregnant and that I was hearing it from her son but then that she was far enough along to know she is carrying a girl. After contemplating this for a few moments I asked the boy if he knows when his baby sister is going to be born.

"Um, it starts with an A I think."

"August?"

"yep, that's it."

"oh..that's when our baby was due." I didn't realize I had said that last part out loud.

"yea, I know" he said. I looked up surprised and he looked embarrassed and then ran off to play.

I had not told this child when I was due nor had I told my own children, which means his Mama must have been talking about it.

I know everyone's motives for not announcing a pregnancy are different, and everyone announces at different times, etc, but this woman went beyond out of her way to bless me during our miscarriage with an excessive amount of meals. I don't know whether I feel upset or embarrassed that she didn't tell me that she was carrying her own secret around that is due right when my baby was. And now to have her son tell us...sigh. Why do people treat women who miscarry like lepers? I have not felt even slightly upset over friends being pregnant, giving birth, etc. Far from it, it's been like healing balm to see life continue. I just wish she would have shared it with me.

Un Schooled

Once upon a time being a mother who chooses to keep her children very close caused fairytale visions to dance in my head. I imagined myself neatly groomed with my brood of children walking around me like little ducklings while I smiled and they rushed to care for and delight their smaller siblings.

The reality is very often far from this. And for the longest time it has caused deep guilt, despair, and many days of me trying to explain my choices to those I could tell were questioning them...but really more trying to convince myself than them.

We chose to home school before our oldest was even born. I do not believe home schooling is the only way to keep your children close, far from it. For us it was what we were going to do.

But fast forward 8 years and you have a mother who wakes up every Monday morning wanting to cry as her husband goes off to work. I pray, often with tears, in the shower before he leaves while giving myself pep talks and forcing myself to go through the daily assignments I have given myself to distract from the fact that I am about to be alone for hours on end for days in a row trying to figure out how to train these children up in the ways of the Lord.

I force myself to get groomed, make my bed, and head into the kitchen where often either a dirty high chair or floor or stacks of dishes await. I bite my lip, the first of many frustrations of the day, and try not to let my unfinished work put me in a foul mood before 9am even arrives. I give the children second breakfast (because like all good hobbits my kids eat first breakfast upon waking which is usually something quick like a granola bar) which is either eggs and sausage/bacon or some other hot breakfast. During breakfast they sing (not allowed at the table) and fight, hide toys (also not allowed at the table) and spill drinks. The 3 year old always either spills his drink which causes an eruption of sobbing or falls out of his seat which also causes and eruption of sobbing. I try so hard not to yell or roll my eyes or get frustrated.

When breakfast is over we all go upstairs. I open blinds, give instructions on toys to pick up, beds to make, and clothes to put away. I help the 3 yr old get dressed, make sure the 4 year old has put his jammies away, and get the 1 yr old dressed. When everything upstairs is tidy I give the kids a 5 minute until devotions warning and go downstairs to do any further dressing/grooming I need to do to be ready for my day.

The kids and I meet in the living room and I tell them to "sit nice". They cross their legs and fold their hands in their laps. I pull out our 3 ring binder that has the Catechetical Academy print out for a years worth of devotions for their school. We begin by doing the reading for the day. I read from the LCMS ESV Study Bible and read the accompanying devotional thought and prayer. The kids repeat the prayer after me. Then we move on to a hymn. I choose our own hymn according to the season we are in and we work at it for weeks until it's all memorized. After the hymn we read a "Follow and Do" book. The kids love these and they repeat them after me. About this point, actually earlier most days, the 3 year old is rolling on the floor, grabbing for toys, bumping his head, etc. I rebuke and correct him accordingly and the 4 and 7 yr olds get so annoyed that we have to make it last even longer as we deal with the 3 yr old. The 1 yr old likes to sit in my lap and try to slam the Bible or hymnal shut while I read. He also reaches up with his other hand and tries to pull my hair (which he has used as his "lovey"since he was born). So with one hand I'm correcting, with the other I'm trying to still the hymnal and keep hold of the baby. And all the while I'm pleading with the Lord to help me not lose my temper. Many times I will and I'll yell at the 3 yr old to just SIT STILL ALREADY!. sigh.

After the Follow and Do book we pray Luther's Morning prayer and then I send the children to the kitchen table. While they wait there I print out the day's school work. I use my copier so I don't have to buy new books for each child. While I'm making copies and letting the kids get some wiggles out before we start our work the kids are all asking for first lunch. It's 10 am. I come in with our school work and hand out snacks of various kinds. I get the preschoolers working and then begin lessons with my 7 yr old. The 1 yr old sits in his chair with a snack and some crayons/paper. That lasts about 2 seconds as he begins throwing crayons and fussing. The 3 and 4 yr olds compare coloring jobs and ask for more food and interrupt in any other way they can. But overall this is my favorite part of the day. We're all at the table together learning and I can tell they feel peaceful during this time of togetherness. Eventually the preschoolers run off to play and I continue work with my 7 yr old. After a few minutes of play and while the 7 yr old is doing some independent part of his assignments, I call my 4 yr old in to sit on my lap while we work on his abacus. He loves this time. When we are done I call the 3 yr old in for the same. By the time he is done the 7 yr old is usually done and they all run off to play. It's about 11/11:30. Now I need alone time to do a mad dash of chores and then lunch preparation. The kids love to drive me crazy during this time fighting,begging for lunch, asking to do things they are not allowed to do (play in the front yard which we do not allow during public school hours), begging me to get out different toys from the basement, etc. I have to intervene in fights, etc while I try so hard to get the work done that needs to be done before lunch. Finally I manage, most days, to get lunch going as my husband arrives home. Oh how I love when he gets home for lunch!

As I write this all out it doesn't sound nearly as bad as it feels some days. Being alone, in your own head, with no acclamation or pats on the back or promotions as you do a stellar job breaking up a fight or speaking with kindness in a situation that really warranted shouting or witnessing a lightbulb moment with a child while teaching them about their faith or math or reading all because you sat patiently enough through their childish babble and questions to get there...well, it causes you to go in on yourself. You think of how you could have done it better or how it really wasn't that amazing anyways, or just when you're feeling good a child clogs a toilet trying to flush his brother's tooth brush and it overflows through the floor into the basement. Shining moment gone.

It's lonely, it's isolating, and there's no one to impress during those long hours.

Quite the difference from the public school I was raised in where there was not only a teacher to idolize and impress but all the other school teachers and officials as well as an entire class to attempt to stand out in. And isn't this what they teach you to do? My parents were impressed no matter what, as is my husband, but the school teaches you to stand out everywhere but home.

So I guess while my kids are being home schooled I'm being un schooled.

HRTB

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to share a little about my recent miscarriage on the He Remembers the Barren blog. When Katie first asked me if I would share I wasn't sure I could for various reasons-mainly because it's hard to step out of my little corner of the blog world- but then one evening I sat down at my computer and the words just came.

Thank you for Katie for asking me, selfishly it was so helpful to write it.

He Remembers the Barren blog.

What not to say

If you ever have a friend or family member that miscarries here's something you should NOT say:

"Hey, don't worry, the first cycle following a miscarriage is, like, SO fertile! You will probably not only get pregnant but with TWINS."

Because, folks, when she does not get pregnant she will not only have mixed feelings (she'll either be relieved because she DID just get done with an entire first trimester of morning sickness and was very in love with her baby and did not want that baby "replaced" so quickly or she could be very sad that she does not have a chance to replace death with life) but she could also end up feeling like something is completely and utterly wrong with her. Not only did her body not allow her baby to live but it can't even get pregnant again when it's "very fertile".

Confession

Just remember. The reason we confess our sins, corporate or private, is NOT to earn forgiveness.

Sounds like something any good Lutheran raised in the church would say, "duh" to, but I think if we examine our thoughts, as any good Lutheran likes to do, we will find times where we start to feel that need for confession to creep in (like,say, during penitential seasons or Holy Week). And as you make the journey through the services leading up to Easter and you can't help but feel emotions welling up, suddenly you feel so overwhelmed with your sins that you want to spend hours writing them all down to confess because you know there's just so many you haven't confessed yet and, and there's just too many, and you sin so often that the list just keeps getting longer faster before you even have a chance to catch up with the past ones and, and, and...

and guess what? On this side of heaven there always, ALWAYS, will be. And you'll never, NEVER be sorry enough even if you COULD list them all.

We do not confess -corporate or private- to earn forgiveness. We confess to be reminded of how much we need a Savior. We confess to be drawn back to Jesus. We confess to be swept back into the Word. It is grace alone, a gift, because your sins were forgiven before you even knew to confess them when you were Baptized. Ah, sweet Gospel.

HE IS RISEN!!! HE IS RISEN INDEED, ALLELUIA!