When Divine Meets Death

Yesterday as my children and I walked up to the rail to receive the Lord's Body and Blood, I was caught off guard by an unexpected sight.  The third Sunday in Advent is known as Gaudete Sunday, or, the Sunday of rejoicing. On this Sunday in Advent we turn slightly from the somber repentance that is the Christian's focus while contemplating our Lord's second coming and judgement day, and we rejoice that for those in Christ His second coming brings peace and eternal life. 

So, imagine my surprise then when, adorning the floor area in front of the chancel, I saw three beautiful funeral arrangements. I remembered that the day before the church had held a funeral for a member who just went home to the Lord but, found myself instantly captivated by the sight....and by the irony. In my church the Sunday of rejoicing is not only met with the pink candle on the advent wreath being lit but the entire church bursts forth the decorations of Christmas and, later in the afternoon, the choir shouts forth beautiful hymns of advent in a concert for the entire community. So, there I knelt, staring at two 25 ft tall evergreen trees decked tip to stump in Chrismons and twinkling lights, and...funeral flowers. 

My eyes trailed to the altar and, for some reason, my eyes were caught by the edge of the white altar covering and the pole that holds it in place running through its side. Suddenly my mouth went dry as I thought back to the previous Holy Week and the stripping of the altar. I could still see in my mind Pastor pulling the rod out so the covering could be gently folded up and removed, leaving the altar naked and bare. 

I looked from the flowers to the trees over and over and it hit me, the life of a Christian truly is constant irony. It's black and white, sinner and saint, weeping and laughter, repentance and absolution, Christmas and Good Friday, Good Friday and Easter, death and life. 

Suddenly I loved those funeral flowers. They made a very bold statement that I do not think was intentional on the part of the person who left them. We hold hopeful, expectant vigil as we await our Christmas feasting but on this side of heaven Lent will come once again, as will Good Friday. It will come in our lives too...suffering, sickness, depression, misfortune, destruction, torture, war, death...but there's a reason we adorn caskets with flowers. It's not some kind of departing "thank you" note to the deceased, it's a testimony of life. 

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." (Matthew 6:28-29 ESV)

Those flowers are a testimony of a promise, a declaration of faith. Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ WILL come again, and when He does, He is taking us home. 

I wish I could arrange for there to be funeral flowers on the third Sunday in Advent every single year. Gaudete Sunday was the first Sunday after my Dad's deadly plane crash. I remember thinking then how ironic that was, and yet, how wonderful. We rejoice even in death because Christ is coming for us, and when He does, oh Happy Day!!!

Fear

"Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the great waters; they saw the deeds of the LORD, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight; they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits' end. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven." (Psalm 107:23-30 ESV, emphasis mine)


This passage has become one of my all time favorite Bible passages. One of the reasons it is my favorite is because of the verse in bold. Well, and the last verse of the passage because haven is one of our children in heaven's middle names.


We've all known fear: deep, intimate, soul crushing fear. Combine fear with another emotion/weakness like grief, illness, despair, etc and what you face turns down right ugly. They mounted up to the heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight...


I had just turned 29 when I faced my first miscarriage where I thought I was dying. My dr had prescribed a medication to take after the baby's body emerged to prevent post birth hemorrhage. What she did not know from the very short time I was her patient was that I have very low blood pressure, and I did not know that this medication lowers blood pressure. So, 20 minutes after taking the medication I had two crushing contractions, by far the worst pain I have ever felt (even after giving birth to four full term babies with no drugs), my vision went black, and I lost the ability to speak. My only thought, due to research I had done in preparation for having the miscarriage at home, was that due to my symptoms of extreme dizziness and blacking out I had something blocking the way out in my uterus and I was bleeding out internally. I knew this could mean death and I remember screaming in my mind, "Lord! No! Please not like this! Please don't let me die in front of my husband with my kids right on the other side of the door playing!" I imagined my kids growing up knowing their mommy died while having a miscarriage at home in the bathroom. That thought still makes me sick.


Last year I faced my own mortality more times than I care to talk about. My body kind of likes to bleed, a lot, and when with my second loss at 11 weeks I tried to get my OB to perform a d&c and, instead, she sent me home with cytotec to induce while again at home with my husband and kids I had to have a good cry in my bedroom before I had the courage to start. That time I really did have something get stuck, began to have severe dizziness after waking up from several hours of sleep with no further bleeding and my husband helped save my life by putting his weight onto my abdomen to push it out. That man and I have had good times.


And now I'm facing another full term birth. Those have been fun too. But we won't go there.


Fear. It creeps up on you, stealing your joy, making you despise the gifts God has given to you, causing you to lay sweating in the night as you fight of the demons that attack you as you face the wages of sin: death.


But...if death does not end in hell, in punishment, then where is its sting? Where is its victory? It's like being certain someone has broken into your house and you're seconds away from being slayed where you stand only to have a furry kitten poke it's head around the corner and nuzzle you. (Though my husband would say that's about just as bad. ;)


Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.


I'm terrified to give birth. I'm afraid my baby and I won't make it to the other side of birth alive. I'm afraid of the pain and agony that is transition for me. I'm afraid of having horrific tearing like I've had in the past. I'm afraid of that moment when you realize something is going very very wrong and there is nothing but faces all around you unable to make it stop.


"they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits' end. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven."


Lord, hush the storm, deliver us, and bring us at last to the safe haven of Holy Baptism. Christ keep us.

Anastasia Joy, due August 2013

Food, Facebook, and Family

Recently I was listening to THIS. Actually, I have listened to it more than once. And one of the things that has stayed with me the most from this talk was something Pr. Weedon said in the second video, about 5 minutes and 30 seconds in.  He says the process of theosis (divinization) is about God taking things away from you. It's not about your own "upward" progress as a Christian, but it is about God's taking things away from you one by one by one and in that taking away, causing you to realize that HE is enough. And then, lastly, He takes away your breath. But even then, He is enough.

Isn't that beautiful?!? Seriously, that is the most beautiful confession of the true Christian faith I have ever heard in my entire life. I want it painted around the top of my family's living room where I have to read it every single day.

Hearing Pastor Weedon's confession was like a slap in the face to several of my false gods that we all have and led me to repent of some of my unconfessed sins/temptations that I did not realize I had. It also allowed me to have peace in some areas of my life that have haunted me.

The first area is food. A friend of mine that finally became a face to face friend when I met her this week, after years of having mutual friends and being friends online, introduced me to a new term this week called orthorexia nervosa. Orthorexia is an eating disorder characterized by an unhealthy preoccupation with food that one perceives to be "unhealthy"......

Um...can we say 99.9% of American culture?

Americans ARE OBSESSED with food. Don't believe me? Head to any of the news websites or take a walk to the check out counter. How many articles will you find with all sorts of self proclaimed experts telling you what is truly "healthy" for you and what is not? And, after 9 years of thinking that in order to be a good mom and wife I had to figure out exactly how to be perfect with food I. AM. DONE.

Do you want to know the biggest most dangerous reason we, as Christians, need to let go of this food obsession once and for all?

The devil has us right where he wants us. He wants to disguise sin's effects on our sinful flesh and our need for Christ and have us call it something other than sin. How does he do this? By making you think your aunt has cancer because she didn't eat an all organic diet free from all gmo's. By making you think your baby has eczema because you didn't follow a paleo diet while pregnant/nursing. By making you think your sister is obese because she eats wheat.

Do you know why we have cancer, eczema, obesity and every other human flesh failure? BECAUSE. WE. ARE. FALLEN.  That's it. We are fallen. We are infected with sin. We cannot save ourselves. Friends, you can go ahead and try. You can sprout your grains, soak them, sing to them. You can buy all non-gmo, all organic, heck grow all your own everything. You can take fermented cod liver oil with butter oil, drink all fresh spring water in stainless steel or glass water bottles, and refuse all sugar, grains, and legumes. WHATEVER. But I'm so sorry to tell you, it won't heal you. You will still get sick. you may even get cancer, or eczema, or even still struggle with obesity. You might still feel fatigued, still struggle with insomnia, or still have acne. Yes, God gives us wisdom to make choices that could make a difference in our health temporarily and help ease certain ailments. This is wonderful! But...

The devil delights in his distraction tactic. He wants us to call sin something else, to take control of as many areas of our lives as we can and say, "oh, this isn't a spiritual thing, this has nothing to do with church and God, this is a physical thing, something I CAN CONTROL (WHOOOPPEEEEE!!!!!!)" And suddenly we do our devotions hurriedly in the morning, grouching the whole way through in our heart, because of the stress of wondering how we will be perfect enough to cure our son or self or sister today. And eventually where is our need for Christ?

Enough. It is enough. Look to Christ. Feed your family what you have and what you are able and let it go. Stop reading articles, stop listening to the panic, refuse to make food your god.  Food will not heal you, save you, nor add one day to your life. Honor the body God gave you by not pouring things into it in gluttony as God's Word tells us is wicked, but do not grant God's healing powers nor His salvific work to your food.

The next area Weedon's quote convicted me was facebook. The food issue leads into the facebook issue in the way that having SO MUCH input into my life on a daily basis was not only overwhelmingly distracting from my own family and vocation making me see so many things I didn't need to be adding to my day, but, it also, I have realized, really really hurts the relationships in my life. I am afraid to see what relationships will be like for the world in 10-20 years. And I wonder how many of our grown up youth will be depressed, on drugs, or who knows what because their relationships are reduced to a glowing screen that does not hug them, talk to them, or love them. Mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, you can't trade a "like" for love. For real relationships. For life. We are all going to be reduced to hermits living with our glowing screens and not experiencing the world and complexity of true human interaction if we don't wake up. I decided this time to not delete my account completely like I did October of last year for 8 months because like it or not, most email and several event notifications happen through facebook. I have pregnant friends that will post the first announcement of a birth with a picture on facebook. And I want to be able to call or send a card to rejoice with them when word gets out. But I will no longer be posting my own updates unless it is something like a birth announcement. If I have the urge to post something, a picture, a funny happening, a thought, I'm going to either share it with my immediately family/friends around me that day or I will call some friend or family member far away to share it with them. Because that is how we actually deepen our relationships. That is how we show we care. That is how we show real human decency instead of turning into a bunch of robots.

And, like the food issue, the facebook issue feeds right into the family issue. As I have mentioned before, I grew up in a home broken several times over. When I was being raised in public school where many friends had divorced parents, it didn't seem like a big deal to me. My church didn't make a big deal out of it either. And I remember thinking, what's the big deal, I have two Christmases! Two birthdays! Two houses I can switch between if one is annoying me! ....

It is a big deal. It is only now that I'm an adult with a whole home and a Godly marriage that I have been able to grapple with the brokenness I grew up with and my parents and step parents went through. It breaks my heart for them and for me and my siblings. It has also bothered me more and more as I have had so many friendships deepen with so many amazing Pastor's wife friends who come from amazing Christian families. Are we all sinners? Of course, but there's a difference between sinners that live out their entire lives in fear and love of God in a church that takes very seriously how Christian parents will raise their children (and parents who take that seriously enough to vow it to death), confronting them with God's Word and private confession/absolution when they err, and sinners that live out their lives breaking themselves away from God, divorcing their homes and their children from a Godly life by their choices, and calling it OK because "xyz".

I am not seeking to place blame here. In all of these ponderings, I am so very grateful for the way God has kept me. My mom and dad faithfully brought me to the font of Holy Baptism at less than two weeks old and saw to it, along with my step mom, that I was raised faithfully in the church. But as I grappled with anger and confusion over the continuing deterioration of my family as my Dad died and all of my siblings left for other Christian denominations or left the church at times, I struggled to not be one of those people that grows up to become angry and rebellious about their upbringing and despairing over how I would see to it that my own family was raised in a God pleasing way when I had so little left on the home front. I want to honor my family and be grateful to God for the way He provided. And I am. But the answer was found in Weedon's quote and the realizations about food and facebook. First, we have to call things what they are, be honest about the sin we experienced, forgive as we have been forgiven, and where there is unrepentance in others, use it as an opportunity to pray for them and continue to live in repentance ourselves. Second, to seek out my true vocation in my life NOW, not what it used to be, not what I wish it was, but what it is now, and to make the most I can out of the relationships God has actually given me to nurture NOW.

"God has assuredly promised His grace to the humble (1Peter 5:5), that is, to those who lament and despair of themselves. But no man can be thoroughly humbled until he knows that his salvation is utterly beyond his own powers, devices, endeavors, will, and works, and depends entirely on the choice, will, and work of another, namely, of God alone. For as long as he is persuaded that he himself can do even the least thing toward his salvation, he retains some self-confidence and does not altogether despair of himself, and therefore he is not humbled before God, but presumes that there is-or at least hopes or desires that there may be- some place, time, and work for him, by which he may at length attain to salvation. But when a man has no doubt that everything depends on the will of God, then he completely despairs of himself and chooses nothing for himself, but waits for God to work; then he has come close to grace, and can be saved." -Martin Luther

1. Soul, adorn thyself with gladness,
Leave behind all gloom and sadness;
Come into the daylight's splendor,
There with joy thy praises render
Unto Him whose grace unbounded
Hath this woundrous supper founded.
High o'er all the heavens He reigneth,
Yet to dwell with thee He deigneth.

2. Hasten as a bride to meet Him
And with loving reverence greet Him;
For with words of life immortal
Now He knocketh at thy portal.
Haste to open the gates before Him,
Saying, while thou dost adore Him,
Suffer, Lord, that I receive Thee,
And I nevermore will leave Thee.   -LSB 635

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving us your very self through the doorposts of our mouths that through your precious Body and Blood we may be strengthened in our faith to remain faithful unto death.

Shattered

One of the last meaningful conversations I had with my father took place about two weeks before he died. I was up late, as I was every night my senior year of high school, and my dad had gotten home from who knows where (he was always out on business as the owner of a law firm). He looked so weary. He looked sad, tired, troubled. I hate that look on anyone, but most of all at that age I hated it on my father. I adored him and when he was happy, everything felt right and secure.

"Daddy what's wrong?"

"Nothing sweetie-doodle, how was your day?"

"Fine. Daddy you look so sad. You can tell me you know, I'm not a baby." (ha)

I don't want to try and quote the rest of the talk because I know 13 years out I won't do it justice but he told me he was tired, that work was getting him down, that his heart felt heavy and out of place. He told me he wanted to be a pastor. I was so shocked by this admittance that I jumped up and said "Do it!!!" Now I can laugh at my juvenile behavior back then, as if my Dad could have just dumped his law firm and moved off to seminary with all the cases he managed and the four children he still supported. He smiled at my support and said, "maybe one day".

But less than two weeks later, his Pastor, Shepherd, and Savior was pastoring HIM. He was finally home.

Today I laid down on the couch, after depositing each kid in a separate room for a mandatory quiet time, and after thinking through several of the day's struggles and trials we are going through right now I felt that same look on my face that my Dad had that night so long ago. Suddenly it was like he was in the room. His memory was so strong it made my throat swell and I said in a whisper "Daddy, I miss you so much." I swallowed so I wouldn't cry but then just sighed. No wonder he looked so tired and sad...being a grown up is just miserable sometimes. In a way it made everything feel a lot more stable than ever before because there wasn't something horribly wrong for him to feel that way. I don't know why as I kid I felt like my world was so unstable any time he was upset. Now I can chuckle and even feel like my world is a lot more stable. He survived, well, I guess he didn't...forgive my morbid humor, but I suppose that's the best part. Being an adult DOES suck, it's hard, lonely, scary, and so ad-lib. But, we just keep putting one foot in front of the other because our release will come. In the mean time, I hope I can live with grace, love, joy, laughter, and wisdom to raise these boys God has entrusted to me so far. All of my childhood views of what adulthood would be like are long shattered and gone, but I think the reality that tries us and humbles us also makes us all the more able to serve and see our need for Christ.

One day at a time

I've been kind of avoiding this place lately. I'm not sure why. With spring and now summer like weather I have been very busy outside. I planted a large garden in early spring in a small greenhouse we set up and last weekend my husband and I spent the entire weekend taking the greenhouse down, tilling, planting, laying straw, building a fence around it, etc. It was a ton of work but so rewarding. I now have about 25 tomato plants growing (roma mostly) so that come harvest I can process and can salsa, home made ketchup, and spaghetti sauce. We eat a lot of all three so I want it to be home made and cheap!

We also re-landscaped our entire front garden. When we moved in 2 1/2 years ago, the garden had three MASSIVE shrubs and some bulbs that came up each year. Last summer we removed the largest shrub...with our van. We're cool like that. Then a few weeks ago my husband and his brother removed the other two with an ax and man muscle. So over the last few weeks I have planted over 50 bulbs around our 3/4 of an acre, most of them in the front garden, and we also planted two magnolia trees in the front and I laid about 20 bags of mulch. I'm pretty proud I've done all of this work while also being in the first and beginning of my second trimesters.

Today I spent the entire day out pulling weeds, tending my garden, and then I surprised my husband and seriously deep cleaned our garage and reorganized it. All of this I did by myself!

A lot of people have asked me if, now that I'm 16 weeks along, I am able to breathe easy and know everything will be OK with this baby. I can't help but laugh and sigh all at once. A dear friend of mine lost her baby at 38+ weeks. Even before my long run of losses, I was never the same after that. Of course now it runs much deeper but I do not think I will ever feel the same about pregnancy again. I will always until I am, God willing, able to hold the baby in my arms, be aware that at any moment the Lord could call my baby home. This is sobering, scary, gives me nightmares that I'm waking up hemorrhaging as I miscarry...and yet, those are just bad moments. I've had enough suffering in the last year plus to know that suffering is just suffering. Bad moments are just bad moments. Death is just death, but only because Jesus took what sin and the devil meant for our permanent destruction and swallowed it up with His own death.

Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bands,
For our offenses given.
But now at God's right hand He stands,
and brings us life from heaven.
Therefore let us joyful be,
and sing to God right thankfully,
loud sonds of Alleluia, Alleluia!

It was a strange and dreadful strife,
when life and death contended;
The victory remained with life,
the reign of death was ended.
Holy Scripture plainly saith,
that death is swallowed up by death
It's sting is lost forever,
Alleluia!

I don't know what the future holds. I am so thankful for this rest from loss but I know that even if the Lord were to call this baby home, He would sustain me and my family. But for now we are able to rejoice and thank God for this miracle, praying fervently for this child's baptismal day to come in due time and that this child and the rest of our children will be sustained and granted earthly lives full of joy in their service to Christ and His church.

It's happening

This past week we honored our Abel as we remembered him on his expected due date- 4-8-14. A dear friend and her husband, who we had asked to be the God parents for this child before he died, had a package show up at my door the day before. I waited to open it with my husband that night on the eve of his due date. It was a beautiful gold crucifix. Now we have a crucifix in every room on the first floor. I love it. And now I will always have that crucifix to look at to remind me not only of Christ's sacrifice that atoned for the sins of the entire world, but for my Abel's as well.

After I wrote my last post I spent a long time that evening in prayer confessing all of my fears to God. I didn't try to...piefy (piefy: v. to make pious-OK, yes, I made that up) my prayers but instead just confessed and, with few words, simply asked God to please help me.

I don't know why it surprises me sometimes when He gives me exactly what I ask for in the simplest of ways. I woke up Monday morning and things were different. My fear was gone. poof. I realized it right away, mid-morning, and thanked God for His tender mercy and then got distracted in the first couple days of my week. Tuesday night I realized again how worry free I was and told a couple friends about the wonderful blessing. Then I had a nightmare Tuesday night that I was miscarrying. I woke up and thought it was real, thought I was covered in blood, and then the worry came crashing back. I immediately got onto my knees and confessed it all again, once again asking God to have mercy on me and help me in my meager faith. By mid morning I was once again fear-free.

It's not that I don't know I could still lose this baby. I'm not naive nor does being worry free mean bad things won't happen. It's just that I have met death face to face 6 times in my own body. The Lord saw fit to allow us a long year of very intimate and isolating grief. This cross the Lord mercifully allowed in our lives may or may not be over, but it doesn't matter ... the Lord Jesus Christ who has redeemed me and atoned for my sins, atoned for the sins of this child as well. This baby is bathed in God's Word each and every day and, come what may, Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Lord, I am yours, save me.

Tomorrow I turn 9 weeks pregnant. Happy 9 weeks Genesis Hope. xo- we love you sweet baby.

Reality

This morning I was coaching gymnastics to a slew of little kids in our home school group. I was teaching the children how to do cartwheels and was on my knees helping children one by one. I had been doing it for quite some time and was starting to work up a sweat helping lift the children's legs off the ground when, out of nowhere I felt a familiar hot rush of what I was sure was blood. In one moment the entire past year came rushing back. I couldn't breathe and felt like the floor had just vanished from under me. I held my breath and then took a few deep breaths while finishing up with the children. Then I excused myself and rushed to a private place to assess the damage. There was nothing. Not a drop. And ya'll? I felt it as real as real can be. And yet it wasn't real. Unbelievable.

It took the rest of the day to get my head screwed on straight again. When I got home I spent some time sitting on the couch with a heating pad on my tummy (don't worry, not too much heat) because that strange cold feeling in my womb had crept back in and then a dear Pastor friend who also happened to grow up in the same church as me and sing in the youth choir with me, messaged me randomly to tell me how much he is praying for me and this baby of ours and how overjoyed he is for me. I told him my fears and how hard it is right now and he comforted me by telling me to look up a few hymns. One of the hymns was side by side with a hymn that we sang while we were faced with losing Amadeus last year so it was sweet to see that hymn again.

The main hymn this pastor offered was this:

"Lord, it Belongs Not to My Care" LSB: 757

Lord, it belongs not to my care whether I die or live; To love and serve Thee is my share, And this Thy grace must give.

If life be long, I will be glad that I may long obey; if short, yet why should I be sad to soar to endless day?

Christ leads me through no darker rooms than He went through before; He that unto God's kingdom comes must enter by this door.

Come, Lord, when grace has made me meet Thy blessed face to see; For if thy work on earth be sweet, What will Thy glory be!

Then shall I end my sad complaints and weary, sinful days and join with the triumphant saints who sing my Savior's praise.

My knowledge of that life is small, the eye of faith is dim; but 'tis enough that Christ knows all, and I shall be with Him.

After messaging with this Pastor I ate a small lunch, put my kids down for a rest, and then spent some time in prayer followed by a nap. Then we got up and headed to church for the Lent service and soup supper. I don't know how many days this baby has been granted to have earthly life or if those days will be very few remaining, but all I can do is lean on the faith Christ has granted me and keep walking this road, however dark it is. For one sweet day, the darkness will forever be banished, come what may.

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.

Solomon

Tonight, while enjoying some new bath salts, I read the book of Ecclesiastes. It's been a while since I've had a good read through this book and, as usual, it did not disappoint. One of the verses that struck me the most tonight and actually made me laugh out loud was this one:

Enjoy Life with the One You Love

7.Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do.

8.Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head.

9.Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. 10.Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might, for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going. (Ecclesiastes 9:7-10)

Look at verse 9 in particular. I had to laugh because the first two verses just drip with Gospel, and it seems to be continuing until that word "vain" slips in and you are brought back to reality. Oh yea, this is all just stupid sinful life and we're all, righteous by Christ and unrighteous alike, on our march to death. 

I laughed to my husband that in one word it's like Solomon went from this sweet Gospel speaking man to him: 

Look into my eyes!!!

And yet, all joking aside, in a way this photo is very appropriate. None of us can escape death or the lairs and traps of this evil life. It is awful, it is wretched, and evil happens to those made righteous by Christ and evil alike...as do blessings.

I thought more about Solomon when I had finished the book. Here you have the richest and wisest of all men of all time. And yet over and over he laments his wisdom...earthly human wisdom, even the greatest of all wisdom, is nothing, NOTHING in comparison with the wisdom of God that only He possesses. For none of us can comprehend the ways of God.

So what is left? To eat, drink, be merry, and to set about our work that we have been given to do.

And I am sure in time this will be added to me but there is also a time to weep. A time to mourn. A time to fast.

It is better to go to the house of mourning

than to go to the house of feasting,

for this is the end of all mankind,

and the living will lay it to heart.

Sorrow is better than laughter,

for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.

The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning,

but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. (Ecclesiastes 7: 2-4)

Brokenness, trials, suffering...they strip us naked of all false hopes, of all conceit, of all idols, it leaves us face to face with our ultimate fear: ultimate failure and utter ruin...damnation. But when we open our eyes to come face to face with the enemy, instead, those who have been baptized into Christ see this instead:

photo credit

He is already there, He has already conquered. You are saved.

For a time we fast. We fast to acknowledge the brokenness, to tell our flesh that it is not our Lord, and to pray, Lord come. But after awhile we lift our heads up and are fed by our Lord and then we must keep on in the work He has given us to do. For it is all there is until He comes for us. May we be merry in our doing.

Her

Sometimes I wish I could go back to being her. That young mom with 4 kids ages 5 and under who was exhausted and yet bursting with joy that I had 4 small adorable little men. And counting. I see her smiling face that looked like she had a joke behind her eyes because they seemed to be laughing.

Oh sure she was tired, and sometimes she worried about having more kids (though really because she was worried she wouldn't be enough for the kids she had), but always she could not believe God had given HER kids. She certainly didn't deserve them, nor was she even good at being a mom, but still He gave.

But I will never go back to being her. I can't.

"And Elkanah, her husband, said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? And why do you not eat? And why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?” (1 Samuel 1:8, ESV)

Today I found myself thinking on Elkanah's response to Hannah as I questioned myself and my grief.

But it's not about what we already have. Do we not all, barren women, husbandless women, do we not ALL have reasons to rejoice? Christ has risen! But that doesn't make death and sin and earthly life any less a cause for grief sometimes...or sometimes all the time.

I will never go back to being her. I have been taken off the course of married and being fruitful and multiplying and instead my body has turned into a death machine.

It reminds me of the parts in the Divergent trilogy where Tris and Tobias have to go through their "fear landscapes" in which they are forced to either watch the death of loved ones or even kill loved ones over and over again. It's not real, but in the simulation, it feels very real. 

I'm trapped in this sick reality where I am handed a precious life and then cannot sustain it. I can do nothing to protect it, to nurture it, to save it. Something that is supposed to just happen, won't. And time after time I have to watch my body grotesquely expel what it was supposed to house, to protect, to bring safely to the waters of Holy Baptism.

It's not real because this life is not our ultimate reality, heaven is. This nightmare will end and that is why it is worth fighting through until our Savior comes for us. Those 6 children of mine are indeed safe. But while I'm here it's very real. And I can't choose to leave this reality when I want to, nor would I, because I have children to care for and a husband to love: a vocation to perform. 

We all have vocations, whether or not they are the vocations we want, whether or not they include children or husbands. 

But the hard reality is that regardless of whether the Lord does allow another child to be sustained and brought into this life, I have had to watch my body become the enemy of life and I will never be the same again. Until Jesus comes for us I will always have to look back at that girl with the laugh behind her eyes and instead see the woman that has replaced her. A part of me has died with my 6 stillborn children, and when I look at our family pictures I will always see the empty spaces. 

I must say I never realized back in my newly married naivety and joy that perpetual parturition could be turned into perpetual death. But what's a girl to do? 

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.

There's something strangely comforting about having it all come crashing down around you, to be left helpless and defeated and to become a hostage of death....because someone else became death's hostage before me...and well, he conquered it. 

So while this feels real, and it will be real for quite some time, it WILL end. sigh. Sometime.