Mercies in Disguise...and Apology

If any of you are still reading my blog, thank you. :) I have some more of my heart to bare with you, so thank you for sticking it out. It's been a long road. You've read as I've walked through the valley, and at times, am still. You've listened to my grief and my pain. My joy, my reflections, and my simple stories about my little boy. Those may be my favorite. I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and I've come to realize some things.

I went through some normal grief and some not so normal anger and despair. Maybe it is normal. What I do know though, is it wasn't right. Grief is right, God tells us to grieve. But my long anger and longing were not. I will say this, God can handle my anger and sadness. I've talked about all this before, so I'll skip to the point.

3 days from now would be my due date. In reality, if this baby had lived, we'd probably already have delivered, a long time ago. I've spent time in the last 8 months going "I'd be this far along" "I'd be feeling the baby" "I'd be in maternity clothes" etc...
This was not right. By my longing for what I didn't have, and what wasn't to be, I was effectively telling God "YOU SCREWED UP!" And He didn't. That baby was not God's perfect plan for us. No matter what, the miscarriage and loss of our child was God's perfect plan. I was not willing to submit to that, even months later. I wanted to believe it, I wanted to say it, but by my longings I was denying it's truth. And so, my pride in myself that what I wanted was best was sin.

So I ask for your forgiveness, those of you who have walked with me and read about it all. Or even just you who are joinging now. I was wrong. Never ever mistake that I think grief is sin. I don't. Grief is needed. But my pride in what I wanted and refusal to see God as working out His perfect plan was sin. I now repent and ask your forgiveness if I have at all portrayed God as less than who He is. Please forgive me for my lack of trust and faith.

I still struggle. But I pray I will continue to humble myself and proclaim that God has the perfect plan. That He is perfect and has never given me more than He can help me handle. There are many hard days to come. I will fall and stumble over and over I'm sure. There are still days I cry over our loss. Or fear worse for our family. But God is faithful. And maybe, almost definitely, these are His mercies in disguise.

The Rain...

You may have noticed I once again changed the background to my blog. It's sort of a frequent thing for me. Especially now that blogger has more options. Some people could care less what their background is, not me. To me, it's very, very important. It's symbolic. It should reach out to you. Make you think. Make you feel.

For a while now it's been a black background with warm sparks of light. Because it was the best I could choose in mourning. I decided Friday I needed to change it. I searched and searched and searched. I even attempted to pull a photo of Italian scenary from the internet. And then some train tracks going off in the distance. I was searching for insightful. Dreamful. Some hope or vague thought I had. I couldn't master the internet, so I finally found and chose this one that blogger provided. I liked it, for rain fits my mood lately, but not the mountains, because I don't see mountains out my window. Well, it would have to do.

And then tonight....

I read a blog that's named "Bring the Rain" (www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com) It's also a song by Mercy Me, I'll link later. And I am struck by why God allowed me to choose this background. And I think I'll be keeping it for a while.

I need to be honest with you.

I've been angry. There were days in January especially when I was so overwhelmed with grief and anger and emotions I couldn't handle. I brought them to God. I hid from Him. I didn't know how to handle it, so I just struggled through the mud and murk. I've cried out to God and begged for healing. Begged for help and just anything. I've raged and prayed. I've learned God can handle my emotions, no matter what they are. I was afraid to be angry, I was afraid to say "this isn't fair". Because that would be doubting the sovereignty of God. Which I don't. But yet I wanted to. Because I wanted my baby, and He decided this would bring Him more glory. But I've learned that God already knows my heart, so why should I pretend anything else? So I come to Him, broken and angry and weary. I plead with Him to let me release my anger and to heal. Because I can't. I'm not strong enough. But He is. I won't say I've had a revelation, but I will say this. I'm prideful. I've been all about me. And it's not. It's about Him.

And here's the thing, no matter how dark the day, how deep the pain, how great the anger, it never crossed my mind that God was NOT faithful. To give up on Him. That He wasn't much greater than my pain. That He wasn't the same yesterday, today, and forever. That He would leave. That He was mad at me for hurting.

So here's the summary. I'm still getting there. I think and know there were ways and certain things I could have handled and reacted to much better in this journey. But that's okay. God is faithful. He knew how this path and journey would look. And I'm learning and growing. It's His journey. It's my journey to Him.

I love Jesus. I want Him to be glorified in my life. I don't really want or desire to experience more pain, but I believe I can finally say:


"And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain"



I can't promise that will be my heartcry everyday. If there are more given over babies ahead for us, I will cry and hurt. But I pray I will praise Him. And say "Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God Almighty"

And we will try and hope and pray. Because God has not forsaken us. So Bring the Rain...

Silence

I'm still here. No fear. But I really don't have much to share. I somehow thought with the passing of Levi's homecoming day that life would just magically get better. Because really, hasn't it been the hardest year of our lives? Why shouldn't that be limited to just a year? But it's not, because God has no timetable. Maybe my "year" will start fresh on the anniversary of bringing Levi home the second time from the hospital. Oh yes, there was a second time. Or maybe not.
But know this, no matter the hardships, God is there. He just may be silent. I feel as though now is one of those silent times. And I don't have much of value to share because I've been angry, so angry. But that's wrong. I've been wrong. So I need to be silent. I have no fountain of optimism.

A dear, dear kindred spirit said to me recently: "You know, know, know it isn't always going to be this way, right? Just for now. Something is coming."
And I rather sassily answered "I wish I could believe that". I was wrong. I do need to believe that. Because no matter what happens in God's silence, He never leaves. He's here in our valley. And He's on the other side, no matter how long this valley is. It may be years. But He's there. When we're lost and when we're found. He's there.

Enjoy this song from who may be my absolute favorite artist of all times. It doesn't hurt his name is almost exactly the same as my husband's. But really, if you ever get to check him out via CD or concert, DO IT! He's got an amazing voice and startling honesty. He's funny too.

With Hope?

I love that this YouTube video doesn't show the lyrics or other pictures. Because we probably all have our own visual.

For Me? My tiny baby safe in Heaven with my Savior. Who else could I ask for to watch over my little one?

But I do continue to cry "With Hope". Because grief is a process, one that I get the feeling is not complete until I die or Christ's new Kingdom has come. The first few lines of this song are so true. Even though I never got ot meet my baby, I had so many plans and hopes for the future. This was our second miracle baby. Levi was a miracle that he was conceived and that he lived. This baby was a miracle to be conceived. We were shocked, our little surprise. So why would God take that joy and miracle away? I think when I first wrote about the fact there was no heartbeat I said we wouldn't ask why. Well I was wrong. But I'm no longer asking why but simply grieving. I'm crying and missing my baby.

I was given a great book this week. "I will hold you in Heaven" Rememberance Book. And it has been a balm for my soul. At the same time it has opened up the wounds. Because in the joy and thankfullness of remembering Levi's birth and enjoying Christmas at home, I pushed aside my grief. I didn't have room to be grieving over two things. And so when I picked up this book, the wounds were opened and the tears shed. Because it validated everything I was feeling. That it was okay to hurt even though I had so few weeks of hoping for my baby. That my child is an eternal soul and it's okay to grieve.

Our culture as a whole belittles life. Any life, all life. But especially the unborn. Just another lie of the devil I suppose. So when you talk to a woman who's lost a child (and you will, we are many) remember that she desperately needs you to understand the value of what she's lost. A child. A human life that she was supposed to hold.

So I'm grieving. But I am healing too. It just doesn't look like I thought it would. But that's okay. Grief isn't pretty, it can be ugly. But it can also be beautiful. Because Beauty comes from ashes. God promises that.
Isaiah 61:3
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.”

So while I cry with hope, I also trust that Beauty is coming. It already is. But I must also mourn. So it's a process, one that the depths of my soul is involved in. And hardly anyone is allowed access there. So I'll keep blogging, but it may be slow as evidenced recently. The heaviness is there, but someday, there will be beauty.

Denial

I have one ultrasound picture of our Given Over Baby. It's in my hard case wallet where I stowed it when we left the clinic the day we got it. Normally I carry ultrasounds around for a while so I can show people.

Now?

Now I can't bare to take it out of my wallet.

What if I lose it?

Neither can I bare to see it.

My solution?

Quit using that wallet. So I have. I emptied it of all the necessities and stowed it away.

I guess some things still leave me gasping for enough air to make it through each moment.

So it'll wait, for an easier time. If there is one.