Abel 8-11-13

It was supposed to be our only family vacation of the year. We were on a gorgeous lake, in a mansion of a lake house, with friends. I was newly pregnant and thinking that since I had conceived only two weeks after my previous miscarriage, that this one would stay. My sister had once conceived just weeks after a miscarriage and had twins 8 months later. I was elated. 

But that week went from bad to worse. Since I was pregnant I declined all sorts of bad foods, drinks, and did not ride the jet skis I had been looking forward to. I skipped the long horse back trail ride I had wanted to do with my two oldest...which meant they had to skip it too. And then, one night while miniature golfing, my body began to let me know something was going very wrong. I felt hot and then cold over and over. I felt clammy and dizzy and nauseous and had a head ache all at once. 

The next morning I found out from my OB that my progesterone, which had been taken four days earlier but no one had bothered to call with the results, was critically low. We spent and entire day of our vacation dealing with a huge battle at the pharmacy in town, spent over $100 out of pocket for the prescription, and a day later, Abel went home. 

Alleluia Abel...Praise the LORD, a breath. 

I sat on the bedroom floor with my knees drawn up to my chest, rocking back and forth and sobbing. I had just woken up and when I went to the restroom...well, Abel was gone. My family was already all up and eating breakfast with our friends on our last day of vacation and I didn't know what to do...go out and announce to everyone I was miscarrying? Try to get my husband's attention and take him back to the room to tell him? 

Instead I just sat there in the room crying until he came in to get dressed and found me there. By then the name had come to me. Alleluia was because the hymns I kept singing to comfort myself all seemed to have "Alleluia" in them (especially "Alleluia Song of Gladness, LSB 417) and I knew as one who grieves with hope I had to cling to "Alleluia". I chose Abel because I suddenly felt at the same time so angry and hopeless over this third loss of the year that for the first time I found myself really thinking on the story of Cain and Abel and my heart hurt for Eve...this woman who believes so strongly in the promise that at the birth of her first son she declares him to be the LORD, only to have her one son kill the other. When I looked up what Abel means it seemed even more fitting. 

Today my husband carried in a box from the mail as I busily prepared lunch. "What's that?" I asked. He smiled and handed it to me...I smiled back. I always smile when cards or packages from her show up. Why? Because it's not only a card or package, but it always shows up so humbly with no previous announcement, it's just there so sweetly with beautiful handwriting and even packaged with such great care. 

I immediately stopped lunch preparations to open it, wondering what I was forgetting that a package was showing up. Inside the package was a small cellophane bag with two sprigs of white silk lilies. I was completely stumped. I opened the card and before I could even read all the words my eyes fell on his name, my little Alleluia Abel. She remembered. This sweet friend and her husband, whom my husband and I had asked to be his Godparents before we lost him, first sent a crucifix on his due date and now, in remembrance of the week of his pregnancy and home-going, lilies to adorn his cross with as we all look forward with such hope and joy to our reunion in heaven. 

Now this cross is on a prominent wall in our living room, just above my and my husband's wedding photos, and I stare at it blooming in all its hope and feel as eager as a child on Christmas Eve. Abel! How I long to see you, touch you, and as a mother, rejoice in our reunion in Christ's Heavenly Kingdom. I love you my son. 

And to my dear friend and sister, you are a sweet pearl of a friend, your thoughtfulness and love remind me so dearly of the love of Christ. Thank you. 

The Darkness Deepens: And why that's OK.

In the past few months I've come under a lot of ridicule for the title of my blog. I was confronted rather harshly by a couple of loved ones and it sometimes still confounds me.

Today was a bad day. I woke up to two of my children rowdily getting out of bed (which they are not allowed to do) and thus awakening their baby brother who was in his big boy bed for his very first night. They woke him-and me- up an hour before we are accustomed to getting up. But because baby boy was awake I had to hop out of bed and get up there because he also just potty trained and I needed to get his night time diaper off so he could use the potty. Within the span of an hour I dealt with about 5 meltdowns from over-tired children, a dog that was insisting on trying to dig holes in the yard and eat his own poop, a few huge spills (two of which were the dog and included him grabbing a full cup of smoothie and tossing it up into the air where it hit the wall and splattered all over himself, the wall, and the floor and the other of which was a half drank bottle of kefir, which he enjoyed immensely). By the time my husband got up I wanted to sob and was so tired I didn't know what to do with myself.

This evening my husband left for church and I sent the children upstairs to play. I read an article that I had seen linked to and had been wanting to check out because I'm always up for a good lashing that will remind me how selfish I am so I can try to repent more, be better, and therefore attain piety.....um, what? Yea, don't deny it, you know you are too:

http://nogreaterjoy.org/articles/the-me-monster/

Thankfully I'm getting better at spotting these types of articles for what they are and turning to what Scripture actually says.

About the only thing I found truly helpful about the above link was the very last recommendation to counter one's own thoughts with God's Word. But my passages would look far different from hers. See how she beats herself down with more law? Law for law. She shares in depth a very deep and very hard personal struggle to the Law and how she was about nearly crushed from her need to find perceived perfection in the Amish faith and then how does she say she came out of it? Here was her before:

"What about me? I am tired! Furthermore, I want to raise my kids Amish; my husband won’t allow me to do this; what about my dreams? What about how I feel? They are my kids too! I have been through so much. I, I, I, and what about me, me, me” (notice the “ME” monster). That was my sin. Depression is selfish. When you are depressed, you are only thinking about yourself—about poor and unfortunate ME. I was seeking my own. "

And here is her solution to this problem:

"Once I got my focus off myself and onto what my purpose was, and onto Christ, it really made me get better. I had to start realizing that things could be worse. I had to start seeing things differently. I was really bad.....I want to be patient, to endure the hard times, and understand God’s perfect will and timing in the lives of others."

Hmmm....Do you see the problem here? I don't see any loss of the "me monster" she claims to have found to solve her problem.

My dear sisters, you cannot rid yourself of the "me monster". You simply cannot. You cannot stop hurting, you cannot stop muddling through the diapers and the laundry and the filth and the hardships...they (the hurting, the selfishness, the desire to be free from our burdens and sins) just aren't going to go away. They just aren't. The low pressure weather systems with the storms building up behind them kind of days that depress us (or at least me) are still going to come, the news is still going to show the insanity going on around the world that leads us to stare in horror and go, "What the hell?", and we are still going to yell sometimes, be as selfish as the naughtiest 2 year old sometimes, and just not have the energy to do more than throw sugar laden junk at our kids to get them to SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET sometimes. 

So what does God's Word say to us? Sisters, the secret when going through God's Word is not to apply law to law. Oh yes, those passages the author of the article shared are God's Inspired Word but did you see their context? Those passages are not written in the context of applying to the hurting, the broken, the law-sick person. Read through the entire Bible and you see that God never changes: He applies law to the unrepentant haters of God and GOSPEL to the hurting, despairing, but faith filled believers in Christ..So read these:

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you, 7 casting all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you. 8 Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.9 Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. 10 And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 11 To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen." 1 Peter 5:6-11 (emphasis mine)

"[13] Did that which is good, then, bring death to me? By no means! It was sin, producing death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to be sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure. [14] For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. [15] For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. [16] Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. [17] So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. [18] For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. [19] For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. [20] Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. [21] So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. [22] For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, [23] but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. [24] Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? [25] Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin. "(Romans 7:13-25 ESV)

"Some went down to the sea in ships,

doing business on the great waters;

24 they saw the deeds of the Lord,

his wondrous works in the deep.

25 For he commanded and raised the stormy wind,

which lifted up the waves of the sea.

26 They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths;

their courage melted away in their evil plight;

27 they reeled and staggered like drunken men

and were at their wits' end.

28 Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress.

29 He made the storm be still,

and the waves of the sea were hushed.

30 Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,

and he brought them to their desired haven." Psalm 107:23-30

Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again. And HE will lift you up in due time. And in the mean time we keep on asking our children to forgive us, we forgive as we have been forgiven, and we drag our weary souls where He promises to be: His Word and His Body and Blood, and in the remembrance of our Baptisms. There we find strength for our souls and the courage to keep moving. He IS coming indeed! If there is one thing I hope my children learn from me it is that life is like the above Psalm. We will stagger and fall and be at our wits' end...but Jesus comes, He always comes. I hope my children always know we cannot save ourselves and we can never be good enough, Mommy certainly is not, but we are LOVED, we are FORGIVEN, and Christ gives us His Very Self and does not leave us as orphans. We are His, bought with His Blood, and it's OK to be sad, it's OK to have bad days, we forgive and keep on moving in Christ's help and Christ's joy. 

Peace be with you and Christ keep you.

Mothers of the Church

They're easy to pick out. They sit with sweet smiles on their faces, perhaps a loving arm around their shoulder or sometimes none at all. Sometimes a tear is held shimmering and threatening to spill.

They are the mothers, not of children born to their flesh, but mothers still.

They hold our children when our arms are aching and they do it with such grace and tenderness. They teach Sunday school so we can sit for the one hour a week that we get to be the ones learning God's Word instead of teaching it or training during it. They look and smell like sweet spring flowers because that's what they are, a breath of fresh air to a Mama with many little children born from her flesh.

But today at church I couldn't think of how they have been a blessing to me, all I could think of was, "How can I be a blessing to them?" I have five living children, one in utero, but all I could think on was the ache of my empty arms as I bid farewell to 5 children the past year and it made my heart ache beyond words for my sisters who know that ache far worse.

Our church had a beautiful prayer for barren women in the prayers of the church, and, instead of focusing the sermon on "Mother's Day", my pastor delivered the most beautiful sermon on our Good Shepherd Jesus, and the way He cares for us so perfectly like no earthly mother could ever attain...and in the children's message the pastor handed out carnations to the little ones who came up to give to their Mamas in the pew. My heart cringed and crumpled within me as I glanced tentatively over my shoulder. Yes, there she is...and there she is....and there she is...oh sweet women, sweet mothers of our church...you deserve a whole bouquet of flowers!

I approached our senior pastor after church as he handed out flowers to ALL the women, even young single women, leaving our church. I said, "Oh Pastor, I'm so glad to see you giving flowers to ALL the women of our church who mother God's children in so many ways!" He looked somewhat guiltily at me while explaining we had too many left over since it was now the end of the second service. I said, "I wonder if next year we might order lots more? Perhaps after the service some of our little children could hand out flowers to all the women and thank them, all of them, for their love to our church?" He immediately went back to the altar guild ladies and told them of our new plans for next year.

Mothers of the church, you faithful women who serve and have always gone home to empty bedrooms and maybe an empty crib from a child gone home before you could hold him or her to the font, I prayed for you today. And I thought of you, thanked God for you, and you ARE mothers.

You are mothers when you remain steadfast in the faith you were baptized into because it is then that the little children in the pews around you SEE you in the pew and are encouraged by your presence and steadfastness. You are mothers when you kiss my kids cheeks, when you teach Sunday school, and when you smile at a little one flashing his chubby hands in a wave as he peeks up over the pew at you.

You are mothers simply by being faithful women in the church because that is who the church is, our mother, our blessed mother who comforts ALL of us. So even if you never teach Sunday School and the ways you serve and love are completely elsewhere, you are part of the body of Christ, part of His beloved church, and you are a blessed mother. Thank you. Thank you for your love, your service, and your example. I pray for you and am blessed to see you in the pews around me.

photo credit

Breaking the Silence.

This post is dedicated to Amadeus. Amadeus, I watched you fight for life while your heart continued even when it was only beating 74 beats per minute. Even in that teeny tiny state, you possessed the stubbornness of your older 4 yr old brother and you fought so very hard to hang on to life even while the massive hematoma stole all of your nourishment. I am so proud of you and I cannot wait to meet you in person in heaven. Christ keep you sweet child of mine.

Yesterday I was privileged to read an article that snapped me to attention. It gave voice to why I have felt so crippled by my grief. And it gave me a new purpose in my grief: to speak out about the grave injustice and denial of who God is when we sweep babies that die in utero under the rug like an embarrassing taboo situation that NEVER. SHOULD. HAVE. BEEN. Shame on us. Here is the article I read.

For an entire year I have had no more than three months go by at a time before I find out I am pregnant. From July to September I had 3 different children take up residence in my womb and in one year I had 5 children total in my womb. All 5 of them died. All 5 of these children were known, all 5 had a soul, all 5 were intricately knit together by their Heavenly Father. And all  5 of them were flesh of my flesh and so dearly loved.

But they are gone and with them a vacuum of grief that refuses to let me go. But the injustice of it all is that my grief is treated as something taboo. To be very frank and honest, I feel as shunned as a woman that is living with a man out of wedlock and then demands by her Christian parents a beautiful wedding with a white dress. My babies are viewed as if they were not worthy of life, they are not meant to be, there was something wrong with them.

One of my sisters said, "You should be glad your body knew what to do with a baby that wasn't right. At least the baby died instead of being born with something very wrong."

Everyone listen to me and listen very attentively: DEATH IS NEVER. NEVER. NEVER GOD'S PLAN.  Please, read that a few more times. As many times as it takes.

Death is separation. It is the absence of God, the absence of life, the absence of creation, the absence of light.

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord that Jesus shattered death for those that are in Him. It cannot hold us. It is conquered.

But Christians, that does not mean my baby was SUPPOSED to die. Please, please stop glossing over death in this strange way that death is somehow God's plan. Death is the opposite of God. Death is satanic.

World, last year 5 of my living children died. In one year. And I am going to be grieving for a very long time. I may not be able to talk to you without talking about them. I might cry. I might not be able to smile if you crack a joke. Sometimes days go by where I can't eat. But life will be a lot easier to bear if I'm able to stop feeling like their existence and subsequent death was something I did wrong, something embarrassing, something taboo, something gross.

Do you know someone that has lost a baby? Tell her you wish you could have gotten a chance to know her baby on this side of heaven. Ask her how she is. Say her child's name if the child has been named. Give her a chocolate bar and tell her you are praying for her baby in heaven, that Christ will bless and keep the baby until he/she can be reunited with his/her mother.

But please, break the silence. Stop talking so bravely about stopping abortion and in the next breath acting like babies that die in utero were meant to die. We deny who God is if we deny His creative work.

Why I don't like going to church.

There are many great things about being a confessional Lutheran. One of them is that I can say I do not like going to church. I can say this in a group of confessional Lutheran moms and they will nod their agreement and give me a hug. What? Have we gone mad? Who admits to NOT LIKING church?! Who says that out loud that isn't a hater of God?

I do.

Here is what makes Lutheranism, confessional Lutheranism different from any other denomination in the world:

Jesus Christ came into the world to redeem sinners, of whom I am the worst, and there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing. Let me say that one more time: THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT. No, seriously, NOTHING.

Happy sigh. (It's so nice to get that out in the open.)

Jesus IS. He WAS. HE WILL BE FOREVER AND EVER.

So what is church like for a confessional Lutheran? Church starts with death. When our pastors come into the front of the church via the side door they immediately leave the chancel (altar area) and go down through the communion rail into the nave where the congregation members sit. This gives us a visual of Old Testament times when no one but the priest offering the sacrifice could go into the Holy of Holies. Why couldn't anyone go? Because an acceptable sacrifice for the sins of the world had not yet been given. God's presence caused death and wrath for us fallen wicked creatures. So the pastors join us in our state of being dead in our trespasses and sins and lead us in confession of sins.

We confess that we are by nature sinful and unclean. We have sinned in thought, word, and deed: by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved God with our whole hearts. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We justly deserve God's present and eternal punishment. We beg God for the sake of His Son, Jesus Christ, to have mercy on us, to forgive us, renew us, and lead us so that we may delight in His will and walk in His ways to the glory of His Holy Name.

Church starts with death. It starts with deep inner groanings that we are not enough, that we can never be enough, and that we will surely die unless God saves us. It has to start this way, because if it does not, we are left in the law, damned.

And then the Pastors, in the stead and by the command of our Lord Jesus Christ, pronounce God's forgiveness "I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen!"

And then, forgiven, we have the Word of God pounded into our flesh. The entire service is a beautiful flow between the pastors and the congregation members of God's Word, spoken and sung, back and forth, back and forth. The entire service is printed out, word for word, in our hymnals with the chapters and verses from where every single word comes from in the Scriptures. The service has to be this way, because it is only God's Word that gives life, and only God's Word that is capable of producing in us the fruits of the Spirit.

 With the use of such ancient instruments as the organ, strings, etc, we set a tone of reverence and separation from the world and it's contemporary pop music, clinging to something that does not delight the flesh but instead speaks God's Word into our sin-sick souls.

It is not fun. It is not enjoyable. It is not glorifying of me or my flesh. It does not build up my self esteem or make me feel pretty. Instead it disciplines me, drowns me, indwells me with Christ and once my ears have been filled with His living and active Word, He takes it further and gives me His very Self, into the doorposts of my mouth. Where once men had to sacrifice lambs to mark their doorposts from death in the passover, God now marks me as His with HIS very blood offered in His sacrifice on the cross. He fills me with His Sacrifice, so that I become one with Him in His death AND HIS RESURRECTION.

Most Sundays when I leave church I am exhausted. I usually can't make it through church without crying these days. They aren't happy emotional tears, they are tears that beg and plead, "Come soon Lord! Please come soon!"

I don't like church because it does not make me feel happy or beautiful or glorified. It does not make me feel like I can earn my salvation, God's love, or that church is somehow about me and how great I am because I wave my arms and sing happy songs to God. NO. Instead church makes me want to lie prostrate on the ground and die, because that is all that is left when I see who God is, and who I am...death.

But....

See: He Comes, righteous and having Salvation. And though we sit confused and grieving, He comes, He takes us as His own, into His arms, into His embrace, into His loving adoration and we have Life.

Lord Thee I love with all my heart,
I pray thee ne'er from me depart,
With tender mercy cheer me.
Earth has no pleasure I would share,
Yea, heaven itself were void and bare if Thou Lord wert not near me.
And should my heart for sorrow break, my trust in Thee can nothing shake, Thou art the Portion I have sought, Thy precious blood my soul has bought.
Lord, Jesus Christ, my God and Lord, my God and Lord, forsake me not! I trust Thy Word.

Lord Thee I love with All my Heart: Martin Schalling. 1532-1608

Aftermath

This morning I did what I always do when the worst first couple days of a miscarriage are over. I took that second test in the box and watched it go from life to death. I do this for a couple reasons. First to be a good patient and spare myself having to go for a blood draw to "make sure the hcg drops off". But second, I'm a bleeder and I once hemorrhaged and then bled for 8 weeks during a pregnancy and that resulted in our fireball of a second child. So forever more when a miscarriage starts I will have to take that second test to put to death all false hopes.

Sometimes I wonder about Lazarus. I wonder when he died for the second time. I think about his loved ones who had been there for his first resurrection. I wonder if some of them looked over their shoulders to see if Lazarus would get a second miracle. I suppose not. And yet those that loved him most must have had a very hard time letting him go for good in this life.

When I was 10 weeks pregnant with our fireball I was lifting my first born out of his car seat when I heard an audible "pop" and there, on my driveway, I was standing in a pool of blood in seconds. I panicked. I ran my toddler inside and ran for the bathroom. I sat there watching blood pour out of me while trying not to go into shock. What on earth was I going to do? We were hundreds of miles from any family since we were on vicarage and we had no friends. And my husband was in the middle of leading a second service. I couldn't call 911 and leave my toddler! I started to hyperventilate as I tried to figure out what to do. I tried to call the church office twice praying a passerby would answer and be able to go get my husband. I tried calling my husband's cell phone several times in a row hoping it would be on vibrate in his pocket. I tried calling my midwife but she was in church. Finally, I called my sister hundreds of miles away to sob to her that I was losing my baby. I don't really remember all that much after that. Somehow my husband figured out I was trying to reach him and called me. Yes, I was still hemorrhaging. Just in case you doubt what it is to hemorrhage and not just bleed, in about a 30 minute span one will overflow two super sized pads, the kinds that are designed for after a birth that I still had on hand from my first child's birth. My husband rushed home and off we went to the ER. "I don't want to lose this baby!" I sobbed. All hope was lost that my baby was still alive. I sat in the ER rocking myself and sobbing while my husband tried to soothe me and my toddler tried to kiss my tears away.

And then there I was laying in the dark as the cold glop was squirted onto my skin and the screen lit up. And there was this tiny perfect little miniature human. We all held our breath and then, suddenly, a flicker, a kick, and we all started laughing and crying as we realized our little man was alive! I should have named him Lazarus.

But happy endings are a thing of the past around here. Every bleed is bad, every ultrasound screen is filled with images of dead babies. I'm sorry if this offends you, but you haven't lived in my body for the last year. You haven't been in three dark ultrasound rooms alone to see dead or dying babies each time. I have. I have prayed. I have sobbed. I have wailed until I threw up. My husband and I have laid hands on my belly and begged and cried for a lazarus miracle. But each time we have been handed over to death. Death without baptism. But....not death without a resurrection.

This painting now hangs on my refrigerator. Mary, dear mother, how sad, how broken, how alone she  must have felt. How confused! She did not understand that He would raise. She only knew that the hope she had held that her first born would do great things was gone. He was dead. I love this painting. There she is lost and alone but SURPRISE!!!! Jesus has come. I love that we get a glimpse before she does in this painting. It's like that moment in the movies where the huge climactic moment hits and your heart jumps as you realize what is about to happen. Or when you're reading an incredible book and you realize "who dun it". 

Only the earthly minded can drown in the death of this life. And so my all times sinner side threatens to choke me and leave me at the tomb every single time. But, thankfully my salvation is not up to me. Just like I was taken to the font and drowned, and killed, and raised without my even knowing, so God continues working out my salvation without my help. This also comforts me that just like salvation is a gift freely given so also are these babies. They are not under my control, but God's. I can receive, but not decide how long these children will be mine. 

If this baby had been a girl, her name would have been LisaMaria. The second name is in honor of the dear mother of our Lord. The first, one of the most humble and loving servants of Christ that I have met in this life. We decided to save this name in the hopes that we will be able to use it here some time. 

I worry constantly about my friends. I worry each time that maybe I shouldn't tell anyone. I hate dragging anyone through this hell. I hate being that person. The one that always has tears to shed. The one that reminds everyone of sin. The one that's always insane because she's either hoping for a new life, trying to convince herself that the current life isn't really dying, or having to be forced to eat because she's grieving. Oh Job. 

The Lord Answers Job

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?

Dress for action like a man;

I will question you, and you make it known to me.

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?

Tell me, if you have understanding.

Who determined its measurements—surely you know!

Or who stretched the line upon it?

On what were its bases sunk,

or who laid its cornerstone,

when the morning stars sang together

and all the sons of God shouted for joy? (Job 38:1-7, ESV)

I cannot control how others react to my suffering. And I would not blame them if it became too much. I'm sure it looks to many that I am bringing this suffering on myself since I am the one remaining open to the Lord's gifts. It looked that way to Job's friends too who told him to just curse God and die and be done with his suffering. But in a day and age when life is valued so very little, when abortions are rampant and birth control passed out like candy, I refuse to put a false bandage on everyone's emotions. Crosses are not chosen, they are given. Oh Lord that this cup would be taken from me.

I told my oldest son today that he has 6 brothers/sisters in heaven. We had only told them about 3 of the losses. Then I showed him the painting of Mary and we talked about how lost and sad she was and how cool it is that the very joy she desires is right behind her. 

And we agreed that to be heaven-minded just makes everything OK again. Our hope is right behind us, within us, around us. Life is right there...we can't see it, but it's there, oh so close!!! He is coming! We will be reunited! I will stand in heaven with 10 children! COME LORD JESUS! COME!

And so we wait. And if you will excuse me, I am off to mass to receive my Lord through the doorposts of my mouth for the salvation of my soul. May Christ keep us all and may He come soon. Amen. 

Trust

       When my 4th child was born my first born was 5 (almost 6). I had four boys and days after my 4th's birth we found out we were moving again, which made 9 times in the 7 years of marriage. When we moved one of our sons was very very sick and had been for quite some time. We were a wreck. And we questioned. Big time. And cried. A lot. And we were so close to deciding to prevent. But then we just gave up our will and begged God to have mercy. 

Now my youngest is almost 2. And this year we've had 3, maybe 4, babies die and go to heaven. At first we were so tempted to give in to guilt and feel like God was punishing us for doubting and struggling. But now, in our repentance, we give thanks to God for His tender love that He blessed us with so many children this year, while at the same time giving thanks that the Lord is working all things together for His glory. 

We have the rest we so desperately wanted, even though now we so often with tears wish we didn't have it. But God's will was for us to have it, even amidst sorrow and grief, and we are so thankful for His love. 

Your Lord loves you with an everlasting love, He knows the hairs on your head, and He will surely, surely provide all that you need to support this body and life. Cry out to Him and He will never leave you alone. The one who has your hairs numbered will certainly never accidentally form a baby in your womb. Christ keep you dear sisters.

Melt

I have a friend down the street who's official due date with her baby was the day after mine, tomorrow. Just as we expected to go early, she had her baby early last Monday. Earlier this year I was encouraged by a dear friend on this blog to pray for this woman as I struggled with my own loss and her pregnancy. So I was determined to serve her. And the Lord has given me that opportunity.

Tonight after bringing her another meal and dessert I was able to take one of the jars of the sitz bath I made for her home to refresh it and as she handed it to me I noticed her eyes looked really tired. Upon further prying she expressed the need for something for her baby to sleep in close to her other than her bed as her husband was not comfortable with the baby remaining where she could be squashed. I immediately offered my arm's reach cosleeper. But as I made my descent into the basement to gather it into my arms and put my hands on it it felt as if my insides melted. I know I cannot in any way compare what I am going through with Abraham's trust as he was about to slay his son Isaac but for some reason it came to mind. I feel like I am being given the opportunity to say goodbye to all of my own hopes and dreams and plans and ways I thought the Lord's plans for my life would carry out in exchange for what will really be, whether it is what I hoped for or not.  Life is not about personal gain. It is not about pride, prestige, personal fulfillment, setting goals, winning, money, being debt free, beauty, cleanliness, organization...

Life is about service, dying, and love. Life is about Jesus and that is what Jesus' life was all about.

I haven't amounted to anything praise worthy by the world's standards and can still see the disappointment in my teachers eyes when I did not chase the degrees I had been encouraged towards. It still hurts to think I might be a disappointment to those I love. I am not pious. I am not a good mother. I am not good at home schooling. But the Lord has redeemed me with His precious blood and I am His. And the only thing we have been given to do is die, serve, and love.  I didn't say die last because I'm not talking about physical death but dying to the world and to our own sinful desires. I am not good at this either, but the Lord is giving me many opportunities to practice this lately. Lord I am yours, heal me.

Happy due date actual sweet Anastasia. Today before I went up for communion I was marveling that our entire family of 8 children and Mama and Daddy were about to be together for the briefest meal and was thanking Jesus with tears for this time and as I walked up and two of my children started brawling in the pew and I had to drag them up to the rail the organ started playing the hymn that our pastoral care pastor so sweetly sang to your Daddy and me during a visit during all of these miscarriages. It has become very special to me ever since. It was like a little gift on this special day. I love you sweet child of mine.

Abide with Me

The thing about feelings is they are exactly that: the voice of the flesh (what you feel). They very rarely give voice to truth and when they attempt to it is usually distorted or exaggerated or twisted. Flesh gives birth to flesh but Spirit gives birth to Spirit. Flesh cannot be trusted because it very often speaks to its own perceived needs and gives voice to your sins.

Repent.

But Spirit gives birth to Spirit. And the Holy Spirit prompts us and produces in us things of the Spirit.

As a Christian in the darkness that continues to deepen as we approach the eschaton, we sometimes come face to face with that great chasm of death and life, satan and Jesus, damnation and eternal life. Of course we should come in contact with it on a regular basis with daily contrition and repentance. But sometimes we see it, and feel it on a much deeper level...when flesh AND Spirit collide. We shouldn't be surprised by this, after all we are at all times sinner and saint and the two are in constant warfare.

Recently I spent a couple of very awful days wrestling with this. I asked, "What is the difference between those that fall away and those that don't?" What if I fall away?

During that weekend a friend found me pouring through the Gospels. I was looking for the story of the Good Samaritan. A different friend had texted me encouraging me with the words that when all else leave us for dead, Jesus, our good Samaritan, comes to us...even if we are too half dead to know it.

We are never alone. The Holy Spirit prompts us and produces in us the things of God....and I hunger and thirst for them thanks be to His Word that is living and active since the day of my Baptism. And when all else fails, and when it feels like I have nothing and no one left, and I am staring death in the face, and I feel like I will topple into the darkness of death and damnation...Jesus is the one who carries my beaten and dead in sin body unto healing and life and He is who I cling to, even when I'm angry and thrashing like the most ornery of 3 year olds does against his mama, even then I know, as does the 3 yr old to his mama, that He is the one who cares for me and always will no matter how angry and awful I feel. 

My Husband, My Pastor

The man who was my Pastor from the time I was age 10 until I became a member at my husband's church had a very very special place in my heart. My Dad started my home church. (Yep, a layman up and started a new LCMS church in a newly developing area of where I was growing up and my Dad put a lot of his hard earned money and his time into securing a place for the members to have Divine service led by local retired LCMS pastors and when that wasn't possible he and his best friend and a few other men took turns leading prayer services.) And when we finally called our first Pastor we still did not have a building of our own so my Dad gave our Pastor a corner office in his law firm. There they began a friendship that was so close that 7 years later when my Dad was killed in his plane crash my Pastor cried through his entire sermon that weekend.

My Pastor was like a second Dad to me. And that's a beautiful thing for a Pastor to be because it was a very wonderful picture of Christ. So when my husband was ordained and a letter requesting a transfer of membership from my home church to my husband's church was sent, it made me both laugh and cry when my Pastor send my husband-pastor a letter telling him he most certainly could NOT have my membership because it had been so long since I had attended church that he was not certain of my standing any longer. Of course this cover letter was a joke reminiscent of the humor my Dad and Pastor often concocted and shared with one another and the second letter, affirming my transfer of membership, was the one that made me cry as he shared how hard it was to hand me off to someone else.

But my second Pastor picked up right where my first Pastor left off. And where I at first had some very awkward feelings about how I was to approach my husband for pastoral care, and I struggled trying to navigate the waters of what to do for private confession, I now cannot imagine having anyone other than my husband provide my pastoral care.* I feel like I am the only one to do this and have been advised quite sternly by other pastors wives that I am making a grave mistake to do this, but my husband is my Father Confessor. I have not confessed to another pastor formally (I say formally because several best friends of mine who happen to be a pastor's wife have sat through a lament/confession of mine or so while I visited with her and her husband. And of course any good Pastor cannot help but step in and perform pastoral duties if he is in such a hearing.) since before my husband was ordained.* At first it was out of necessity. We lived in a very remote area and it felt too awkward trying to find another pastor, especially one so far away. But then when we moved to the city I realized that the thought of going to another Father Confessor felt like cheating on my Pastor. He is my Pastor. I am his sheep. I trust his voice, I search him out for guidance, and I look to him as my representative of Christ and His love on this earth.

Some argue that it is not appropriate to confess to your husband, especially if there are sins to confess that involve the 6th commandment. I confess everything to my husband pastor. And he forgives everything. And as my husband he should know everything anyways. And if we were to ever need outside help due to my sins or his, we would find another Father Confessor for both of us to see together.

I have asked my husband several times over the years if he continues to be OK with me confessing to him. Of course he too is but a man and if he ever had a struggle with it, I would happily go where he led me for pastoral care.

*There has been but one exception to this in his time as my Pastor. It happened when we lost Anastasia. One of the first nights after we found out she had died I was shut up in the nursery upstairs spiraling down into a pit of despair and my husband Pastor tried to come up and offer pastoral care. I yelled at him while sobbing and made him leave. What I yelled was that how DARE he try to come in and offer pastoral care when his CHILD had just DIED. He was supposed to be as angry and hurting as I was. For him to come in all calm and try to offer care, well, it created for the first time this great divide and suddenly it was like he was more my pastor than my husband and I couldn't take it. It left me EVEN MORE alone in an already intoxicatingly isolating process. So I sought out those amazing best friend pastor's wife types and as soon as we found out we were pregnant with Amadeus I demanded a Pastor to take my husband's place if something were to happen again. I am so thankful we did and I have been so thankful to the Pastor who has stepped in to care for my husband and I.

Not that it's any of your business...

It's starting already. It doesn't surprise me and part of me doesn't even blame them. I myself have had some similar thoughts.

"You should probably take some time off, your body has been through a lot."

"Maybe God is telling you to be happy with the family you have."

"You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's too much."

It IS too much. Too much death. Too much suffering. Too much heartache watching lives of the unborn be stripped before they even have a chance to breathe. And when I suffer, my family and friends suffer too.

³⁸ Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. ³⁹ Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.”⁴⁰ Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” ⁴¹ So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. ⁴² I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.” ⁴³ When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.” ⁴⁴ The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” John 11: 38-44 ESV

I do not know why my babies are going to heaven before I even get to hold them. But I do know that I am married. I am healthy and thereby am not knowingly putting babies in jeopardy by being open to conception. And I know that children are a blessing, a gift, and the very creation of the Lord Himself. They are not a scientific accident. They are not a definite result of unprotected one flesh union. They are given when and where God pleases for He alone opens and closes the womb. 

My husband and I will continue to be open to life. And if all of our children continue to go home to heaven then, as my husband says, we will be storing up treasures in heaven.

This last pregnancy I made a choice with my husband to not tell anyone we were pregnant. It was meant to protect both us and them for this outcome. Unfortunately for me I hemorrhaged at church while teaching Sunday School which suddenly made it public to a lot of people. But then we needed serious prayers as our baby fought for his life. And then I realized how stupid it was to keep it secret. I meant well but it's not my job to protect people from sadness. Sadness is a part of the Christian life, of every person's life, and I suppose if it's too sad people don't have to pay any attention.

So thank you to all who have been such a wonderful and understanding support. If God so blesses us again, I look forward to sharing our joyful news with you, even if it turns to sadness.

How you can help

Dear Friends, I have to give this disclaimer before you read this that these are things I have learned for helping others. This is in no way a request for my own self. God has been so gracious to me and I feel so loved and provided for by so many. It is simply for you and me and our lives as Christians to give ideas on how to serve even more.

I'm in labor right now with our 7th child. I will announce the name when all is over. But since I've had a little experience lately with grief I want to offer some kind encouragement to those who are on the other side looking at one in grief and feeling helpless on what to do. So here's a few things I've encountered.

1. Don't say, "Please let me know if you need a meal." Say, "When can I bring you a meal?" and then have several times ready to suggest that you know you can do and follow immediately before she can answer with, "Do you have a meal tonight? Or what about Thursday night? I would like to bring one to you please."

I have had so many people say, "Let me know if you need a meal." but I'm never, never going to tell someone I NEED a meal unless my kids were starving. I would never want to put my own emotions and laziness brought on by grief ahead of my neighbor's own time and resources. So if you want to do it, do it. If not, she will survive and God will provide for her.

2. Texting, fine. Email, fine. Facebook, OK. A phone call: better. * A random thing in the mail (a card, pictures your kids colored her, a little trinket (esp something personal about you: do you have a special interest or ability of something you make home made?), stuffed animal, chocolate, or if you live close, a hand picked bouquet of flowers, etc): has the power to take a day where she is alone and suffering and bring the light and love of Christ right to her if you can't be there. A visit: the best of all. (Bring a meal, or flowers, or a set of hands to hold her children and read to them so she can get five minutes to just sit and enjoy watching you with her children, giving both her and them joy...well, you're mothering her at a time in her life when she so rarely gets mothered anymore.

3. Pray and ask the Lord to show you ways you specifically with your own unique relationship to her and your own unique abilities can be a blessing to her.

4. Pray for her. Because she prays for you. In her suffering she prays for you and prays that you will be well and that you will never have to endure the suffering she has. She knows you too have your own suffering that is just as great, for we all do, but with Christ she knows both you and she will survive to the eschaton.

I hope some of this is helpful and I hope I never forget so that I can be as much of a blessing to my friends/neighbors in their day of need as everyone has been to me!

*I want to be very clear that texts, emails, and phone calls have all had the power to turn my day around and have meant so very much...but when a woman is suffering and she walks away from her phone or her computer, well suddenly she's all alone again. I have stacks of cards in my night stand that I am able to hold and touch and think of the dear friends that sent them and the babies they were sent for...it's sometimes the only physical piece of evidence I have for a pregnancy.

Mind Games

Look into my eeeyyyyeeesss.....

My last miscarriage and now the situation we're in with this baby have produced some very interesting reactions in myself. Well, I suppose the only thing that makes them interesting is that I would succumb to behaviors I've seen in others and wondered if they realized what they were doing. Bargaining with God, thinking you know better than God, thinking you can trick God or outwit Him. The list goes on. All of course come from desperation and sin. Sometimes it's intentional, sometimes it's not and sometimes I don't even realize what I'm doing in my desperation to keep this baby here.

But a week ago someone close to me called me right after I had announced our promising news of our baby making it past when I was told I would miscarry by and the fact I was still nauseous just to tell me that my baby would probably still not make it and in fact could already be dead. She said that just because I was still nauseous did not mean anything because it takes time for the pregnancy hormones to leave even after a baby dies. I was horrified. I cried. I was so angry. Here I had a day of hope amidst so much worry, not just for the baby in my womb but for my own safety and my family going through all this with me, and she was stripping it away.

To explain to her how I felt I tried to tell her it would be as if she had shared that her husband nearly got in a crash on the way home from work, but Praise the Lord did not, and asked everyone to rejoice with her and instead I called her to say, " uh uh uh, not so fast, he could still die tomorrow on the way to work!"

This person apologized sincerely and she has made a huge effort to be more encouraging. In her defense she was not trying to hurt me, she just tends more towards realism than emotionalism. She thought if I was prepared for the worst it might not hurt as bad when or if it happens.

Now, a week later, I'm continuing to have very promising signals. What started out to be something very scary last night now seems like it may have been what I was praying for all along, that hematoma to finally go away. My womb is growing and my nausea continues. I'm waiting on a test result to come back (hcg) and will have an apt on Tuesday where hopefully all these questions will finally be answered.

But I'm learning so much in the waiting.

This morning I threw a huge temper tantrum. I apologize to friends and family who may have been on the other end of it by phone or email. You know who you are. I was angry, moody, and frustrated. Why can't this ever go easily!? To my poor husband I ranted about how unfair it is that women have to endure all this while they just watch. I was lamenting the waiting, the not knowing, and the certainty that awaits us all: death.

But I was right. My sister's husband could die tomorrow. I could die tomorrow. You could die tomorrow. My baby could die tomorrow. Just because an ultrasound may show my baby is still alive does not mean he or she is any less affected by the certainty that any day could be his or her last.

Suddenly the waiting doesn't seem as pressing. Because really we're all just as likely to die tomorrow as my baby is.

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ that we have hope, peace, forgiveness, rest, and true life eternal.

And tonight when my toddler son threw a fit it was suddenly a lot easier to smile with pity and compassion at my mini me.

Heaven's morning breaks and earth's vain shadows flee. In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

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.