Remembering You Once Again

Anna…

I love this word, this name, this baby.  


This week has been a hard one.  I have felt lonely for her.  I have felt desperate for the past to be rewritten, and yet, so very grateful for every word that has flowed from His beautiful nail scarred hand. Words like eternity and resurrection.  Words like John, Ben and Elijah.  Words like comfort and Jesus.

It is so strange to be so filled with so much pain and so much joy all at once.  For me, the pain often precedes and intensifies the joy. My grief throws lifelines to all that is good, all that needs to be rescued as joy, so as to not drown in the waters of sorrow and strife.  Here is an example of that-

A few nights ago as I was working on a letter of remembrance for Anna to be posted today on TakeThemAMeal, I was overcome by sadness.  My Johnny came to me, hugged me tight and said, “Mama I’m praying for you.”  He started to walk away and then I grabbed him and pulled him back into my arms…clutching the life, the good. Out of desperation, grief threw a lifeline and joy was rescued.  And so I have learned to hold them together, death and life, joy and pain.

Today as I remember my Anna, I also remember all of the other little ones that have left their mama’s wombs or arms way before their dreams for them began.  I remember and I am reduced.  I remember and I am sad.

Recently I had a conversation with a friend who was suddenly awakened to the fact that her grief and longing for her miscarried baby was still very much a part of her.  The tears fell and I wanted to extract her pain-wanted to make it all right again- wanted to somehow redeem her situation. I wanted to validate her unique love and longing for her 12-week-old heavenly baby.  I wanted to validate her sadness.  I wanted to remind her that though her baby was only 12 weeks into his/her development, that her baby’s spirit was fully formed- complete.  I wanted to reveal to her the invisible thread connecting her spirit to that spirit…still.  I wanted to give her my hope of what I believe about our children and to give her my glimpses of heaven.

To those of you reading that know the pain of the loss of a baby…I am so sorry.  I am so sorry we sit in this waiting room of earth together, waiting for all that was lost to be redeemed.  And yet, sisters we are waiting.  There is someone to wait for.  All is not lost. Our babies, they are not ideas.  They are not what once was.  They are what will be.  And today I pray your pain is eased by the expectancy of this reality.  The God I have come to know in my grief is a lover of redemption and I know the plans he has to restore my pain and my relationship with Anna far exceed my wildest dreams.

Nine years ago I painted and hung three scriptures in Anna’s nursery.  Chris chose one of them…it now hangs in our school room as a reminder of the chief promise that we hang onto as we continue our life’s journey, continue walking through seasons of love and loss.

This is our banner-

“May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust and believe in Him so that your hearts may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”  Romans 15:13

Today in this national day of remembering the little ones we have lost, I pray this scripture, this prayer, over each soul who reads my words.  I pray you are filled with joy and peace admidst immeasurable grief.  I pray you are upheld by the author of true love and the restorer of all that is lost and I pray your hearts are embedded and overwhelmed by hope.

I am holding each of you in my heart today.

And lastly…

My dear Anna-  
your mama loves you, loves you, loves you.




Remembering You Once Again

Anna…

I love this word, this name, this baby.

This week has been a hard one.  I have felt lonely for her.  I have felt desperate for the past to be rewritten, and yet, so very grateful for every word that has flowed from His beautiful nail scarred hand. Words like eternity and resurrection.  Words like John, Ben and Elijah.  Words like comfort and Jesus.
It is so strange to be so filled with so much pain and so much joy all at once.  For me, the pain often precedes and intensifies the joy. My grief throws lifelines to all that is good, all that needs to be rescued as joy, so as to not drown in the waters of sorrow and strife.  Here is an example of that- [Read more...]

Help Please!

Many of you know this story.  Many of you don’t.  I am asking for help for my dear friend Raegan.

This precious boy captured my heart and thousands of others in this world…but oh how he captured his family.  Theo had just turned one when Raegan flew to the Democratic Republic of the Congo in February of 2011.  Her birthday was the day she received him into her arms for the first time.  She stayed in Congo for five weeks and then flew back to America with her sweet Theo to bring him home to his daddy and big sister Mallaney and big brother Max.  Just a few months after that he was diagnosed with Leukemia.  Theo died just before his second birthday.

I can’t write that sentence without the wound in my chest ripping open.  I can’t think of Theo, of his unique, little, splendid, wonderful character and all the love and pain that has followed without weeping. [Read more...]

Help Please!

Many of you know this story.  Many of you don’t.  I am asking for help for my dear friend Raegan.

This precious boy captured my heart and thousands of others in this world…but oh how he captured his family.  Theo had just turned one when Raegan flew to the Democratic Republic of the Congo in February of 2011.  Her birthday was the day she received him into her arms for the first time.  She stayed in Congo for five weeks and then flew back to America with her sweet Theo to bring him home to his daddy and big sister Mallaney and big brother Max.  Just a few months after that he was diagnosed with Leukemia.  Theo died just before his second birthday.



I can’t write that sentence without the wound in my chest ripping open.  I can’t think of Theo, of his unique, little, splendid, wonderful character and all the love and pain that has followed without weeping.

I love Theo and I love his mama…and I love her heart for children and for adoption.

In 1999 Raegan and I went on a three month mission trip together to Belarus.  I will never forget the day we visited a Belarussian orphanage and the tears spilled from her eyes as we loaded onto the bus to leave later that day. Though it was difficult for all of us to tell these precious ones good-bye, it was clear that Raegan’s pain and tenderness for the orphans was apart of a much greater story the Lord was writing for her life.  When she married Mike a few years later, I knew this couple was destined for greatness. I have walked with Raegan and Mike in grief over the past few years of sickness and death.  I love my friends deeply. I wish I could rewrite the story in a way that it made sense to me- in a way that takes away all the suffering they have endured.  But God’s hand is still at work.  He is still penning His beautiful script for them- still working all things, even the awful, into His redemptive plan for good.         

A part of that plan is…

Raegan and Mike are adopting again.  This time, two precious children, a little girl and a little boy from Uganda.  I wish I could post their pictures, BECAUSE THEY ARE PRECIOUS…But I can’t yet. So stay tuned.  I promise to update.

These children will be ready to come home soon and Raegan and Mike need help raising the necessary funds to be able to go and get their children.  I ache for the pain they have endured, but I rejoice in their courage to move forward and to continue to yes to the call God has placed on their hearts to grow their family and to “care for the orphan” James 1:27.

Isn’t this call for all of us in some way?  This is an opportunity to support a family who has endured so much and to say yes to God’s call for the church to care for the orphans of our world.     

Will you please join me in helping two children from Uganda to be placed in a loving family? Will you please join me as participants in God’s redemptive and beautiful plan to rewrite their stories?  

If you would like to read more of Raegan’s story, you can go to her blog at…


oh-bla-di.blogspot.com


You can mail checks (tax deductible) to their adoption agency:  Please make sure to write”Raegan and Mike’s adoption” in the memo line.

Promise Kids A Future Inc.
C/O Jill Baker
117 North Broadway
Georgetown, KY 40324


Thank you in advance…and stay tuned.  I promise I will continue to update their story here. 

John. Fear. And Jesus.

He was heaving and I was scared.  What was the cause of this sadness from my seven-year-old boy?  What disrupted his sleep and mounted him on fear and panic?  The conversation began-


“What’s wrong John?  Why are you so upset?”

No words. Only sobbing. 

“Johnny, I can’t comfort you and help you unless I know what you’re thinking about. Please tell me.”


He just buried his head in my lap and the weeping and shaking continued.  After several minutes of continual urging, he finally uttered,

“I just can’t tell you.  I can’t say it out out loud.  It’s too bad.”

Twenty minutes earlier I had put him to bed.  Just like every other night, we had our bedtime conversation and cuddle and all was well.  What had transpired between then and now?  I backtracked trying to remember the details of our bedtime chat and then I remembered his last question to me…

“Mom do you wish you were in heaven so you could see Anna?”

I told John how much I longed to be with Jesus face-to-face and how I love and miss Anna and can’t wait to be with her, but that I am extremely happy right now and want to be right where I am.   

We talk about Anna and heaven often.  I had no idea that this question would so quickly snowball into such a real and deep fear of death.  John was afraid I was going to die. 

I remember at that same age worrying that if I had a bad thought, that meant, it would happen.  I also remember doing ridiculous little things to counter act these bad things like, if I skip every other stair on my way to bed each night, then my mom won’t die.  Maybe I was a little obsessive compulsive, but either way, fear and my own little remedies to combat it plagued me as a child. The enemy had convinced me that I was in control of good and bad- that I was responsible for life and death.

The conversation continued:

“Johnny are you afraid I am going to die?” 

The heaving got bigger and his head nodded a yes back and forth across my legs.  He clutched me as if to say, “don’t leave me.” My heart broke. I understood this fear all to well, and I hugged him tighter making sure he would feel each beat of my heart. And then I said,

“God has a good plan for mommy’s life, and there is no need for you to worry.  The enemy is trying to rob your joy and peace by making you focus on death instead of life and causing you to feel afraid.”

 And then we did what we often do with his anxiety and we prayed and thanked God that He was present with us and John visualized putting his worries in the box Jesus holds in His hands for worries like these.  I peeked, observing John with his eyes shut tight, his hands extended out in front of him. My heart swelled as I watched Him reach for God, knowing this was no technique…this was real. It was quiet for a moment and then John said,

“He is smiling at me mommy. Jesus is smiling at me.”

Peace- like a flood it invaded the room and we were both floating.  I lay with John brushing blond locks from his sweaty brow and thanked God for this precious one I get to love and nurture in the truth.

And now it’s time for a confession…this mama is not so different from her son.  Worry and fear often seize me.  And that ugly lie from childhood- “you are in control of life and death” it berates me still.  Perhaps this is why the guilt was so brutal after Anna died.  And perhaps this is why I catch my breath each night when I watch my sweet ones close their eyes.

All this- it is big and it is deep.  Thank goodness there is a simple answer, though experiencing the results may require the biggest leap of faith you have ever taken.

John relinquished his fear to the only One who can truly carry his burdens and then he saw Him smile and there was peace.

Our God is the bearer of all burdens and His love begs to insert peace into the places in our life where the enemy injects fear.  I didn’t tell John I wasn’t going to die.  I don’t know the answer to that.  What I did, was lead him to relinquish his fear into the hands of love, and that love smiled back and peace invaded his heart.  He traded fear for peace.  Not logic, not an answer, not control or reason.  

He gave up fear with faith and Jesus did the rest.

“There is no fear in love, for perfect love drives out fear.  Fear has to do with punishment.  The ones who fears, is not made perfect in love.” 1 John 4:18

In a little boys bedroom with a red stripe painted around the wall and sports posters and pennants, I observed the driving force of Almighty God sending fear away as we called on His name. And in that moment, we were made perfect in love. 

I have held death in my arms.  I have watched my dear friend as she watched her child die.  Is death possible?  Do bad things happen?  Are we ransacked by grief and pain and do we wonder, “Why, God why?”  The unfortunate answer to all of this is a painful yes.  But let me tell you what else I can say yes to…

Have I experienced the miracle of peace invading me when earthly circumstances should only have yielded pain?  Have I experienced bubbling over joy since the loss of my baby girl?  Have I been so overcome with hope that my vision of heaven is as real as the house next door?  Have I seen Jesus smile at me and have I handed Him fear and gotten lost in His magnificent love?  Is death the end or is this pause just going to lead to the real life…the one we were all created for?  Have others in grief been comforted by the comfort I have received from the very hands and lips of Jesus?

From the lowest valley and from the highest mountain my answer is yes and yes and yes!

I can control nothing except how I respond to life and death.  And this response, this leap of faith, this peering at love, has been the most miraculous and breath taking leap of my life.

I am 34 years old, and I package my fears and extend them to Jesus and His worry box is perfect for problems like these…

We live and breathe and fall asleep under the loving and watchful eye of the only One who is in control.  Life, death…it all ends in the final chapter where no more tears and no more pain and no more fear are the words that end, rather, begin our new story. It’s a whole new way of writing, happily ever after, and all we previously feared will flit away on a  heavenly wind.

Do I struggle with fear? Yes. But what I fear more than death, is life without faith in the One who drives out fear and makes me peaceful and perfect in love.

Thank you Johnny for showing me how fear dissolves in child-like faith and for inviting me to the same. 

John. Fear. And Jesus.

He was heaving and I was scared.  What was the cause of this sadness from my seven-year-old boy?  What disrupted his sleep and mounted him on fear and panic?  The conversation began-

“What’s wrong John?  Why are you so upset?”
No words. Only sobbing.“Johnny, I can’t comfort you and help you unless I know what you’re thinking about. Please tell me.”
He just buried his head in my lap and the weeping and shaking continued.  After several minutes of continual urging, he finally uttered,
“I just can’t tell you.  I can’t say it out out loud.  It’s too bad.” [Read more...]

Ordinary turned Extraordinary

Today was an ordinary day. 

I weeded the flower bed I neglected all summer while watching my kids ride their bikes in the cul-de-sac.  I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cleaned up an entire roll of toilet paper the two-year-old claimed as his own.  I hauled this same two-year-old to a bath after he discovered a bottle of honey and decided his goldfish needed a lake to swim in.  I sprayed little hand prints off the glass and did a load of laundry. I answered phone calls and sent emails. I juggled work and home and school. I stopped a nose bleed. I disciplined. I yelled. I felt sick about it. I asked forgiveness. I snuggled. I counted my blessings. I encouraged. I reheated my morning tea this afternoon…

It was an ordinary day.
 
And then there was disappointment. A longing I have was thwarted and that pain was like a single drop of black food coloring falling into a clean glass of pure water- and just like that everything changed. Everything was stained by disappointment.  I began trying to make sense of it all through the dark cloud of filth, trying to see through death and sin.  I felt sad about all the expectations and dreams that are yet to be fulfilled and then…I was grieving.  Just like that, I was grieving.  Hope unfulfilled can do that- drag us down to the room in our hearts where our deepest sadness resides.  The baby’s nap gave me the perfect space to lay down and begin drowning in all this.  But the baby woke up and the older children needed snacks and love and there was a choice to make- stay in the darkness and loneliness of despair or reach out and clutch the hand that is always reaching out to me in the dark…the one already damp from my tears.

Do you ever have days like this- days when your unfulfilled longings usher you out?

At some point in my wallowing, I began thinking about the moment Jesus woke up from death. I wish I could have been there!  I wish I could have been in that tomb!  I wish I could have seen Him sit up, stand up and shred the garments that bound Him to the finality of every other man. I wish I could have seen the look on His face- the victory, the joy!  Did He speak to the angels?  Did they speak to Him? Did the ground beneath his feet quake from the sheer magnitude of the greatest miracle ever bearing His weight on the earth? I wish I could have experienced the resurrection of Jesus!

But then suddenly, my wishing gives way to revelation.

The tomb that I long to be in with Jesus- I am there.  In every moment of my life when my despair gives way to hope, He wakes up.  In every moment of my life when darkness is pierced with light, He stands up.  In every moment of my day when my sin is washed clean by His grace, the grave clothes fall, pooling at my feet and I am staring up into the face of the resurrected one and I am resurrected too.

Today I laid down in grief- laid down in hopelessness and despair.  I felt the earth and my citizenship here closing in on me. The hard dusty earth of a tomb outside of Jerusalem held my body and I ached with fallen world measures of sadness. But then, Jesus woke up and I added my grave clothes to His.  He smiled victory’s smile and I couldn’t help but to join in His joy.
 
Sadness, hopelessness, despair, the unknown, death- all of these- just a tomb awaiting a miracle, an end awaiting a Jesus kind of beginning.


Hope deferred led me to the greatest hope fulfilled.

And so…

Today was an extraordinary day.

Thank you Jesus that you come alongside of us and offer resurrection power for every weak moment we endure in this world.  Thank you that you woke up from death and that you invite all who trust in you to join you in new life.  Thank you Jesus that ordinary becomes extraordinary, dark becomes light and death becomes life in and through you.  And all you ask is that we come.

Friends who grieve- friends who struggle- friends who stare through a dingy cup…

Come and join the extraordinary.  Open your eyes to see the tomb you lay in and the one who stands before you.

Resurrection is calling.

Ordinary turned Extraordinary

Today was an ordinary day.
I weeded the flower bed I neglected all summer while watching my kids ride their bikes in the cul-de-sac.  I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cleaned up an entire roll of toilet paper the two-year-old claimed as his own.  I hauled this same two-year-old to a bath after he discovered a bottle of honey and decided his goldfish needed a lake to swim in.  I sprayed little hand prints off the glass and did a load of laundry. I answered phone calls and sent emails. I juggled work and home and school. I stopped a nose bleed. I disciplined. I yelled. I felt sick about it. I asked forgiveness. I snuggled. I counted my blessings. I encouraged. I reheated my morning tea this afternoon…It was an ordinary day.

And then there was disappointment. A longing I have was thwarted and that pain was like a single drop of black food coloring falling into a clean glass of pure water- and just like that everything changed. Everything was stained by disappointment.

Panic turned to Peace

I screamed, that shrill gut level cry that can only be manufactured in moments of terror. Thankfully, he stopped.  The car and its driver raced past unaware that my baby stood inches away.  It was a terrifying moment.  A moment that handcuffed and dragged me back in time, back to the fear and horror of death, back to trembling arms, bleeding heart and still baby.
I ran and grabbed Elijah into my arms and then felt the wave coming.  I squeezed him tight and quickly handed him off to my sister and ran inside to lock myself behind closed doors to let my lava heart erupt.  I kept reliving the moment- kept playing out alternate endings.  I couldn’t shake the image.  The thought kept surging through my mind- what would have happened if I hadn’t screamed? I quickly concluded- I saved his life.  I screamed and I saved his life.  That was when I heard His voice…the simultaneously gentle and convicting whisper that proclaimed, “No, I saved Him.”  And in that instant, all the dark and hazy colors of the moment turned instantly bright and clear and panic vanished. 

God allowed Elijah another day.  God has a plan.  I can control nothing.  Anna left this world before I wanted her too- but I could not have saved her either.  Life and death are not up to me and there is so much freedom from fear and control by surrendering to the loving sovereignty of God.

For years, I struggled with this idea- God in control.  I simply didn’t like it.  I would certainly not have allowed my baby to die.  I would have never allowed those horrid sentences into our life.  And yet, the sovereign hand of God did allow them to be written and I hated Him for it.  Just moments before Chris and I handed Anna to our nurse to be taken away from us forever, I painfully lamented to him “This isn’t fair!” He tenderly looked at me and said, “Kate the most unfair thing that ever happened was Jesus dying on the cross for you and me.” Chris offered me such glorious, healing truth in that moment- though it took years for me to begin to be healed by it.  Chris and I were both “saved” and yet I had no idea what that really meant- Chris cherished our savior in a way I did not. 

Three years later, this truth made a reappearance and in surrendering to it, all my panic over life and death turned to peace.  Without the death of Jesus, there would be no good ending, no reunion, no victory for anyone. It was coming to not just believe but to cherish the sovereignty of God that pierced through the layers of my grief hardened heart, infiltrating every area of my life with light. We get so angry at God for not editing out the bad stuff, and yet, He wrote the darkest sentences ever scripted into His own story…sentences studded with the brutal death of His perfect, beloved son, all to rescue you and me.  You and I can rest no matter how excruciating the sentences get, because God is sovereign.

I know how my story ends. Redemption is the last and eternal leg of my life’s journey.  And all the pain, grief and darkness of this present age will disappear in the light of forever with Jesus, the beautiful, sovereign One.  Yes, He allowed my baby to die- but He also allowed His own baby to die so that all my earthly pain could be washed away in His beautiful blood.  This is a good story.  It’s filled with promise, with hope, because no matter how tough the sentences get, sovereignty spells triumph for the child for God.
This proclamation from Jesus says it better than I could ever dare to write:

” I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble, But take heart.  I have overcome the world!”  John 16:33

In the days that followed the near fatal accident, I pondered my life deeply. Am I living my life, my every moment the way I really want it to be lived?  Or am I trailing behind my circumstances, panting, as if they in fact own this ransomed soul?

I have one life to live.  Some days are good and some days are hard.  My scary moment with Elijah this summer opened my eyes to the beauty and joy I often miss because I am too focused on life and making it feel right instead of focusing on the giver of life, and letting Him make me right.

   

I want to say yes to Jesus.  I want to say yes to the hard and yes to being made right.  I want to say yes to joy and no to a hurried, frenzied, self centered, demanding existence.  I want to say yes to every moment of the day which bursts with the opportunity to extract more Jesus and more joy, simply by surrendering to His purposes for me.  I want to say thank you to the sovereign one- the one who took the nails for me, the one who rose to set me free, the one who held me as I held my lifeless baby- the one who gave Elijah another day, the one who cannot wait to see me at eternity’s door and to hand redemption into this eager’s mama’s arms. 

He is writing my story, weaving my sentences into the greater story of Him.  He is sovereign.  His story is good. I want to say yes to Jesus.


Panic turned to Peace

I screamed, that shrill gut level cry that can only be manufactured in moments of terror. Thankfully, he stopped.  The car and its driver raced past unaware that my baby stood inches away.  It was a terrifying moment.  A moment that handcuffed and dragged me back in time, back to the fear and horror of death, back to trembling arms, bleeding heart and still baby.
I ran and grabbed Elijah into my arms and then felt the wave coming.  I squeezed him tight and quickly handed him off to my sister and ran inside to lock myself behind closed doors to let my lava heart erupt.  I kept reliving the moment- kept playing out alternate endings.  I couldn’t shake the image.  The thought kept surging through my mind- what would have happened if I hadn’t screamed? I quickly concluded- I saved his life.  I screamed and I saved his life.  That was when I heard His voice…the simultaneously gentle and convicting whisper that proclaimed, “No, I saved Him.”  And in that instant, all the dark and hazy colors of the moment turned instantly bright and clear and panic vanished.  [Read more...]