Friday, May 25, 2012
According to Isaiah
Neve was a princess to me. She was cute! She liked to play with Meghan's butterflies that came in a game. She got one on her eyes and she didn't know what it was. My favorite thing about Neve was when she smiled and stuck her tongue out. I got to feed her sometimes when Mom was busy. I got to hold her a lot too. When I put my stuffed tiger in front of her, she stared at it like she didn't know what it was. She is probably having a dinner feast in heaven, and cuddling with God. I can't wait to go see her in Heaven!
I'm not who I was....
I'm not who I was...
If I could have looked forward from my past into my present
I wouldn't recognize myself, but I hope I would see a better me
.
I hope I would see a woman that can speak up for her beliefs.
Not be ashamed of being black and white and daring to stand up for God's standards.
The woman that stands up and speaks in front of a crowd would surprise me
because she would be more comfortable in that role than I ever thought possible.
I have learned to share my failures, my short-comings, my joys,
and my embarrassing moments with others when I think it will encourage them.
Sadly I would still see a very insecure woman when it comes to relationships.
I still see the woman that loves deeply and thus weakens when people think bad of me.
I still battle the slippery slop to the hole of depression that tries to suck me in.
I have won, slipped, and won again.
One thing that I cling to is that my faith has gotten stronger.
I went through my times of doubt and confusion, but when the walls have crashed in
(and they have many times over the last 3 years)
God has always been there to pick me up from the rubble.
He dusts me off and leads me forward.
I hope that when I look back years from now I will see
A woman full of grace
Someone whose every action is seen as, and is given in love.
A confident woman that has learned
how to have a thick skin and a soft heart at the same time.
Someone that takes people at their word and not at my emotion.
I hope to know my savior more deeply and richly!
But it all makes me stop and wonder would the people from my past recognize me today?
Thursday, May 24, 2012
I appreciate
I knew last week would be hard but I made it through.
Mother's Day brought with it a bitter sweet celebration of being a mother but also my shared loss with another mother.
Monday my baby girl would have been 3 months. Some milestones will be harder and I so fully expected her to be laughing by 3 months that I couldn't wait to get to that milestone. I dread 6 months and her first birthday for similar reasons.
Tuesday was 4 weeks since that nightmare of a day. Time speeds away from the good and bad in the painful march of life.
Thursday by date was 1 month. 1 month since I lost my dear, beautiful baby. She could be honery as she wouldn't calm down for me and would instantly for daddy, but I miss even those moments. Once reading a book I smiled as the writer said she missed the smell of her daughters sweat. But how I miss the smell of my babies sour spit-up and the smell of soy on her delicate face.
But the more I move away from April 17 the more I realize how grateful for the little things.
I have felt the prayers of God's faithful, and am so grateful for prayer warriors!
I appreciate the life of the unborn child so much more than ever (not that I didn't before). Her mom could have chosen death over life, but because of her choice I had an amazing chance to meet and love my little girl.
I appreciate the work of social workers on a deeper level. They see humanity at its worst, work with a system that is broken in some ways and strong in others. They hurt and can't talk. They work through the worse nightmares and some have become our friends.
I appreciate friends who brought us meals, came and helped with the kids, got in their cars and drove across the state to comfort and lift us up, called from another country to say "we're praying", provided a listening ear, ask how we really are, or just let me grieve when and how I need.
I appreciate my time with my husband and my children in a more real way.
I appreciate God on a totally different level. The hard of the past year has brought with it an incredible presence of God in my life. I am learning to lean more fully on His peace, His comfort, His hopes, His plan, and His strength.
I appreciate that I got 2 months to love, a lifetime to remember, and in incredible hope that she is in Heaven waiting for me.
Mother's Day brought with it a bitter sweet celebration of being a mother but also my shared loss with another mother.
Monday my baby girl would have been 3 months. Some milestones will be harder and I so fully expected her to be laughing by 3 months that I couldn't wait to get to that milestone. I dread 6 months and her first birthday for similar reasons.
Tuesday was 4 weeks since that nightmare of a day. Time speeds away from the good and bad in the painful march of life.
Thursday by date was 1 month. 1 month since I lost my dear, beautiful baby. She could be honery as she wouldn't calm down for me and would instantly for daddy, but I miss even those moments. Once reading a book I smiled as the writer said she missed the smell of her daughters sweat. But how I miss the smell of my babies sour spit-up and the smell of soy on her delicate face.
But the more I move away from April 17 the more I realize how grateful for the little things.
I have felt the prayers of God's faithful, and am so grateful for prayer warriors!
I appreciate the life of the unborn child so much more than ever (not that I didn't before). Her mom could have chosen death over life, but because of her choice I had an amazing chance to meet and love my little girl.
I appreciate the work of social workers on a deeper level. They see humanity at its worst, work with a system that is broken in some ways and strong in others. They hurt and can't talk. They work through the worse nightmares and some have become our friends.
I appreciate friends who brought us meals, came and helped with the kids, got in their cars and drove across the state to comfort and lift us up, called from another country to say "we're praying", provided a listening ear, ask how we really are, or just let me grieve when and how I need.
I appreciate my time with my husband and my children in a more real way.
I appreciate God on a totally different level. The hard of the past year has brought with it an incredible presence of God in my life. I am learning to lean more fully on His peace, His comfort, His hopes, His plan, and His strength.
I appreciate that I got 2 months to love, a lifetime to remember, and in incredible hope that she is in Heaven waiting for me.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Tribute
In the midst of my life I take a pause to pay tribute to an incredible person.
To one for whom I more grateful for each day.
I pay tribute to my strength
when I can't make it another day,
my laughter
when I need to express my joy,
my friend
when I need a listening ear,
my comfort
when we struggle through the unknowns,
my help
when I just don't have enough hours
to get the floor mopped or the dishes done,
my warrior
in the battle for my children's growth,
my lover
in the quiet dark,
my here and now
and my 'til death do us part,
my husband.
I pay tribute because I know
I can trust him with my thoughts and feelings,
I know I can trust him
to speak his thoughts and feelings,
I know I can trust him
to carry my needs to the cross,
I know I can trust him
to love me above all other women,
I know I can trust him
to be there at the end of the day,
and everyday there after.
I pay tribute because God has given me the best man,
He gave me the man I didn't know I needed
and I am forever grateful!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
April Day
The blue sky was deceiving that early April day
for bitter gray came rushing in
The heat of that teasing spring
was replaced by the cold empty crib
Death, I had never seen your face
only tasted your shadow
I have looked upon you fully
and fully know that you leave only ugliness
where once beauty shone
You stole my treasure
while I thought the world was at peace
You crept silently in and stole my heart
while I was unaware
What you have taken I can not replace
Oh death, where is your sting?
It has left its mark upon my heart.
Oh Death, were is your victory?
I have lost to your bitter game
Your victory has left a "too small" grave.
But Death, when the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable
I will be standing in the presence of the Victor
and I will say with triumph
Death, you have not won!
Death, never again will I feel your sting!
Death never again will you leave me wounded
For my Savior has won the Victory!
1 Corinthians 15:54-55
"When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
'Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?' "
Where, O death, is your sting?' "
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Thinking on Heaven.....
I keep wondering about heaven and our new bodies....
Will we be the age we were when we left this earth, and is Jesus holding my baby?
Will we all be children running around chasing butterflies and fishing along the shore? For I know my Jesus adores children.
Will we be ageless and will our eyes each see the other as we last remember them being and my cousin will be 12? and my grandma 62?
Will our spiritual bodies be totally different than anything we can imagine?
It is so easy for me to remember Neve as she was,
but I also imagine her with the body of a 4 year old child.
Those big brown eyes sparkling, and almost disappearing as she laughs.
Her little feet running around a field of full of purple flowers. Her hands reaching to try and catch a
magnificently painted butterfly. And as one lands on her hand, she looks back and smiles.
These are only the dreams of a mommy who lost those moments on earth and longs to be there running with her through that field, and yet those moments weren't truly mine to keep either. I knew she could leave my home at anytime. Just not this way. Just not so permanent.
I don't know much about heaven, but I do know this....
Heaven's colors will be much more brilliant than here on earth.
Heaven's beauty is unimaginable. Even when I go to the most beautiful place on earth it is just a
reflection of what is to come.
Heaven's joy is more pure and abounding than we will ever experience here on earth.
and when I get to Heaven I will rejoice in seeing my baby, but everything will pale in comparison of
seeing my Jesus and worshiping Him.
Will we be the age we were when we left this earth, and is Jesus holding my baby?
Will we all be children running around chasing butterflies and fishing along the shore? For I know my Jesus adores children.
Will we be ageless and will our eyes each see the other as we last remember them being and my cousin will be 12? and my grandma 62?
Will our spiritual bodies be totally different than anything we can imagine?
It is so easy for me to remember Neve as she was,
but I also imagine her with the body of a 4 year old child.
Those big brown eyes sparkling, and almost disappearing as she laughs.
Her little feet running around a field of full of purple flowers. Her hands reaching to try and catch a
magnificently painted butterfly. And as one lands on her hand, she looks back and smiles.
These are only the dreams of a mommy who lost those moments on earth and longs to be there running with her through that field, and yet those moments weren't truly mine to keep either. I knew she could leave my home at anytime. Just not this way. Just not so permanent.
I don't know much about heaven, but I do know this....
Heaven's colors will be much more brilliant than here on earth.
Heaven's beauty is unimaginable. Even when I go to the most beautiful place on earth it is just a
reflection of what is to come.
Heaven's joy is more pure and abounding than we will ever experience here on earth.
and when I get to Heaven I will rejoice in seeing my baby, but everything will pale in comparison of
seeing my Jesus and worshiping Him.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
How are you doing?
People often ask, "How are you doing?"
How do I answer that question?
The honest truth is I'm "OK"
Truly I am!
The deeper truth....grief is a kaleidoscope of emotions.
The color of deep sadness as I miss holding her little body, and the smell of her spit-up. I miss the cuddle times, the frustrations of her colic, and the joy of watching her learn new things.
The color of bitter-sweet remembering as I picture her smiling and cooing.
The color of frustration as our time was so short and I didn't get the good-bye I wanted in death. And maybe a little anger that I didn't get more time to cherish her, or that I didn't truly cherish the moments I had.
The color of guilt when I allow Satan's lies to break through God's truths and I start saying, "what if I had." God knows I loved her as my own and there are no predictable answers for SIDS.
The color of comfort as I am lifted by the prayers of my Christian brothers and sisters. Just the simple reminders when people call, text, or e-mail just to ask "how are you?" and "I was thinking of you."
The color of amazement as God's strength carries me through.
The color of confusion as I sometimes feel normal, because the reality is this was my world 2 months ago.
The color of hope. Not a false, "I have to work for it" hope, but true hope that my baby is with Jesus and I will someday get to see her again.
The color of peace of knowing in part "why?" I don't question God's plan because I knew that her life would never be easy. I believe that there must have been some great pain in life that He saved her from.
The color of thankfulness that God has reminded me how fragile life is. I make sure that I hold my children and husband close when they just need my nearness (even if I have a thousand things to do) and I remember to tell them "I love you!"
The color of relief as I don't have to bend my world to the ever changing schedule of a baby.
And than the color of shame when I don't feel like I am grieving the way I expected I would.
But mostly the color of deep-unchangeable loss. When I still listen for the deep cry of my baby, or find myself walking into a room trying not to wake the baby; only to be assaulted by the emptiness of the spaces her stuff once filled. The gut wrenching hic-cups when my husband walks into the room and my eye see only him holding something and knowing it is the time he normally would bring her to me; only to realize he never again will bring her to me in the morning when she wakes up.
So how am I doing? I still cry when moments before I was laughing at the kids antics, but overall I am resting in the arms of my Savior, and really "I'm, OK" That's the simple truth!
How do I answer that question?
The honest truth is I'm "OK"
Truly I am!
The deeper truth....grief is a kaleidoscope of emotions.
The color of deep sadness as I miss holding her little body, and the smell of her spit-up. I miss the cuddle times, the frustrations of her colic, and the joy of watching her learn new things.
The color of bitter-sweet remembering as I picture her smiling and cooing.
The color of frustration as our time was so short and I didn't get the good-bye I wanted in death. And maybe a little anger that I didn't get more time to cherish her, or that I didn't truly cherish the moments I had.
The color of guilt when I allow Satan's lies to break through God's truths and I start saying, "what if I had." God knows I loved her as my own and there are no predictable answers for SIDS.
The color of comfort as I am lifted by the prayers of my Christian brothers and sisters. Just the simple reminders when people call, text, or e-mail just to ask "how are you?" and "I was thinking of you."
The color of amazement as God's strength carries me through.
The color of confusion as I sometimes feel normal, because the reality is this was my world 2 months ago.
The color of hope. Not a false, "I have to work for it" hope, but true hope that my baby is with Jesus and I will someday get to see her again.
The color of peace of knowing in part "why?" I don't question God's plan because I knew that her life would never be easy. I believe that there must have been some great pain in life that He saved her from.
The color of thankfulness that God has reminded me how fragile life is. I make sure that I hold my children and husband close when they just need my nearness (even if I have a thousand things to do) and I remember to tell them "I love you!"
The color of relief as I don't have to bend my world to the ever changing schedule of a baby.
And than the color of shame when I don't feel like I am grieving the way I expected I would.
But mostly the color of deep-unchangeable loss. When I still listen for the deep cry of my baby, or find myself walking into a room trying not to wake the baby; only to be assaulted by the emptiness of the spaces her stuff once filled. The gut wrenching hic-cups when my husband walks into the room and my eye see only him holding something and knowing it is the time he normally would bring her to me; only to realize he never again will bring her to me in the morning when she wakes up.
So how am I doing? I still cry when moments before I was laughing at the kids antics, but overall I am resting in the arms of my Savior, and really "I'm, OK" That's the simple truth!
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