August 3, 2017

She Has A Name

I hear her dancing in the wind...beckoning me to come outside...feel the rain upon my face...but do I dare?

I've watched from the pane as she stood ablaze in autumns glory - slowly letting go of each brilliant hue. Watched while her limbs bent low through the long winter - burdened by the very thing that sustained. Watched while pops of green unfurled - life once again.

I've surveyed from the window, but to go and meet her?
The soil that she feeds upon cradles my child and I can't bring myself to go there.

It's been a year since my baby opened her eyes and looked into the face of Jesus...while I held her tiny frame here on earth.

Miriam Grace.

She has a name.
My name.
The name I was given while in Israel - what my grandparents and family always called me.
Miriam: Bitter, Sea of sorrow, Longed for or wished for child.
Grace: God's favor.

She was God's favor to me. Losing her has been bitter. My heart has been filled with sorrow and longing but God in his mercy has given me grace. To most she is nothing. Born too young, she's not considered a person. Because of this we get to choose where she will sleep. We lay her where she would have played, laughed, dug for rolypolies, made mud pies. Beneath the towering maple, while chimes play the never sung lullabies.

One year ago today, we covered our baby girl in dirt

While I walk this earth my heart will never be the same. Today...I long for my child. I long for that day when the trumpet will sound and all those who sleep will be caught in the sky...all tears will be wiped away.

Until that day, we choose joy. We gather as a family to celebrate life. So, on the one year anniversary of Miriam's birth we have pizza and cake to celebrate that sweet little boy who just turned 4. The one we all adore. For dinner we have cheeseburgers - what I craved every day I carried our perfect Miriam. We smile that she was safe in Heaven...soon we will meet again.

Until then...

July 28, 2017

In the Midst of a Storm

As the earth drank I sat silently on the other side of the pane, wrapped in the stiff cotton some soul before had taken their last breath in. All the while praying for that little one I soon would meet. On a stormy July eve, the time had finally come. Stretching out my hands I grabbed hold of our tiny gift. Malakai. I knew his name long before he was ever conceived. Given at the perfect time - he's my angel. Our answered prayer. From that first moment, he had my heart. No one could love him one but Jesus.

I remember the first time my belly gripped hard. Ages ago. Paralyzing pain. Lying down I had no strength. Yet I fought against each contraction from this posture. Stiffening and forgetting to breathe.

I've learned after all these babes what needs to be done. The nurse, puzzled when she came to check on me. "Why do you sit up like that? Would it not be easier to lay down?" She inquired. I smiled politely but I've learned. So I remained sitting upright with gravity on my side. I leaned in to that baby...submitting to the pain...the process...and breathed.

Breathing - it doesn't come easy for me. My counselor once told me that in his 30 years of experience he rarely had seen someone who had such a hard time remembering to breathe. That's what can happen when you survive a childhood riddled with abuse...when you've been used by the one you should have been able to trust. I became fiercely independent and trusted no one. Still, I was gripped by the anxiety that stole the breath right out of me.

I became like those that met eternity within the cotton.

But God.

He loved me too much to leave me that way. The time had finally come. Stretching out his hands He grabbed hold of my heart. He knew my name long before I was ever conceived...that means everything when you carried the burden of knowing you were conceived from rape. And at the perfect time He became not only my savior but now my healer... my father. No one - no one but Jesus will ever love me like that.

I'm still learning. Slowly. When the storms of this life come, to press in deeper with Him. Learning to submit to the journey. Become pliable. Malleable. Teachable. Learning to sit still in His presence instead of being paralyzed and giving up. I'm learning to fight the darkness with His truth.  For He is my strength. Then - then exhale the worry and fear and pain...and let go.

I don't know where you are. Maybe you're in a season of doubt, anguish, despair?
Maybe you're angry?
With God.

I understand.

But can I gently remind you that God sent his only son to die for you. That's how much He loves you. Perhaps that truth will help you trust Him today. Press in deeper today. See his loving heart for you today.

Until then...