happy birthday, alyssa!

thirty-one years ago today our daughter, alyssa, entered this world - a beautiful baby with blonde peach-fuzz for hair. do you know that because of a strained relationship with my mother i had been in counseling for most of my pregnancy as a result of the 'fear of having a daughter'. the fear of not knowing how to be a mother to a daughter. my desire was to love her unconditionally, embrace her individuality, celebrate her spirit and simply find joy in who she was and who she would become.

i had experienced a still-birth 5 years before she was born. at 8 months gestation, due to an insufficient placenta. in those days when a dead baby arrived, it was quickly whisked away to some phantom nursery (morgue) never to be seen again. it was not mentioned. it was as if it had never existed. nurses didn't linger bedside to comfort and talk it out. oh, they were nice enough but 36 years ago there was that belief that if you didn't talk about it, you could pretend it didn't really happen. the live babies that were brought to other mothers at routine times of the day passed my room, their cries of hunger piercing the silence of my room. the baby who was cradled in his mother's arms as we rode together in the elevator down to the lobby was gently put in a carseat for the ride home. i waited for my husband to bring the car around to the front, our carseat noticeably absent. the nurse standing behind my wheelchair never uttered a word.

so when alyssa arrived, i immediately fell in love. the symptoms were so acute, it was truly like i was lovesick as i could not eat for 2 weeks. i hardly put her down; i fed her and then rocked her, almost until the next feeding. she hardly cried - heck, she never had to (and you know, after a while when i DID put her down she hardly cried - i like to think it was because the first couple of months of her life she laid so close to my heart for so many hours of the day - just as she had for 9 months. when her brother arrived she was only 27 months old. one day when he was about 3 weeks old she somehow wrestled him out of the swing and carried him across the tile floor to me in the kitchen. "he was crying" she told me. after i started breathing again, i thanked her for loving her brother so much. she was spirited. by the time she was two years old she would NOT wear velvet and would NOT wear anything with smocking on it. that pretty much lasted through her entire childhood and adolescence. she had her own sense of style and i always thanked God that we never fought any battles about her choice of dress - she was modest and appropriate. whew!

we experienced the normal ups and downs of parenting and there were good times and bad times but there was never any question of how much i loved my daughter. there was NOTHING she could have done that would ever have diminished my love for her - no matter what it was.

i love to write and i have written a newspaper column in years past. but my daughter has surpassed me in skills and the depth of her writing. i am speechless now to express how much i love her and how proud i am of her. this experience we are going through right now is the most painful i've ever been through. i hurt for her more than i ever hurt for myself. i feel each and every emotion she expresses. i feel the joy she expresses and the pain. because we are separated by hundreds of miles, i read her blog daily and experience her anxiety, her joy and her hope. maybe that is because i held her next to my heart for so many hours and days when God first sent her to our family.

"before i held you in my arms, i held you in my heart. that is where you began and where you will always be." (unknown)

happy birthday, alyssa! we love you!

be still and know.......

please check out heather's post on this blog dated february 23, 2008. she answers questions as clearly as any seminary-trained pastor could.

http://especiallyheather.com/

looking over my shoulder.....

still waiting for the other shoe to drop. trying to be obedient and faithful and encouraging and supportive and wise. will things ever get better? is God through? is there something else coming? when thoughts push themselves to the front of my mind, i am able to shove them hard back to where i want them to stay. i can go to the high school theater production, disciple weekend, work, target, starbucks and all the other routine neighborhood haunts and escape for a while. but it never goes away. and i want it to. for her. for us.

we went to target the other day. i told my husband that the difference between men and women is that every pregnant woman who walked by, every woman pushing a baby in a cart was a sad reminder to me of our daughter's loss. all he saw was cereal and bottled water and packaged lunch meat.

why doesn't it go away? am i obsessed? am i obsessive?

i think church is easier as i sing the words to the songs. then i sing the words "your grace is enough, your grace is enough" and my throat closes and i can't sing any more. if i stop singing i won't cry. is it the Holy Spirit speaking to me in those words and in my tears? i've always told other people i believed that. now what do i believe?

i want to go back. i want to be sitting in the little church on the corner of northwest highway and midway road. i want to see my little boy reach his hand in granpa's pocket knowing he will pull out a handfull of skittles that will help him get through the sermon. i want to be at my mother-in-law's little frame house by love field on a sunday afternoon. i want to be sitting at the table eating sunday dinner with the whole family before the cousins good-naturedly fight for the red afghan and comfy couch. i want to be sprawled in the backyard trying to whistle through blades of grass. i want to see the littlest ones talking to the ceramic statue of the 'little boy' who stands silently in mamer francis' garden. i want to see my little girl and her cousins playing on the sidewalk and rumaging in the "barn" for treasures.

i want my family close and for nothing bad to happen. i want things to be different.

lyss, my shoes don't fit either.

please turn off my brain....

i've really been thinking about some things. like prayer. and blessings. like, how prayer works or doesn't work and how people use the phrase "we are REALLY blessed" when things are going well. does that mean when things don't go so well "we are really NOT blessed?" just thinking.

LOST (not the tv show) perspective

"When you and I hurt deeply, what we really need is not an explanation from God but a revelation of God. We need to see how great God is; we need to recover our lost perspective on life. Things get out of proportion when we are suffering, and it takes a vision of something bigger than ourselves to get life's dimensions adjusted again." Warren W. Wiersbe

what's a mother to do?

she still struggles.

i can't help her.

i have no words.

i can't fix it.

but i am her mother.

i am supposed to make things all better.

ginger ale for tummy aches.

hot tea for sore throats.

heating pad for cramps.

hugs for broken relationships.

understanding for a bad test grade.

i am supposed to make things better.

but i can't fix it.

my heart breaks.

again.

and again.

see you in the morning light.....

dear sydney grace,

these are such hard words to write;for today should be your birth-day. and we are all amazed at the irony that today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. for Lent reminds us of Christ's "retreat into the wilderness for 40 days to fast and pray". and it reminds us of His suffering. the dark time when He felt alone.

when i was a little girl, i was afraid of the dark. at night i didn't want to be alone in the dark. i couldn't wait until morning, when i could see the first glimmer of light. that is often how it feels now.

we've all done a lot of suffering lately. it's been a long, difficult road and the end isn't in sight as we will continue to miss you and grieve your death. i can hardly say that word when i speak of you, Sydney Grace. the questions linger, going unanswered. the tears still flow in church on sunday mornings and the thoughts of you crowd happier times from my memory. and your mommy, oh how that girl i birthed occupies so much of my heart - our hearts broken and smashed against each other right now.

if we are to draw closer to Christ through our suffering, then He has given us that opportunity through this sadness we are all experiencing. i mentioned to a friend tonight "yeah, but what a price to pay." what a price to pay. and it made me think of the price Jesus paid for us. and if the only way to truly know Him is to share suffering, then He has given us this gift of you. it is so hard to look at it this way - our humanness gets in the way. our tender hearts and our longing for a sweet, beautiful baby make us scream "no! i don't want it this way!" and wasn't it His humanness that cried to His Father 'if it is possible, let this cup pass from me' as He fell on His face in the garden of Gesthsemane?

i feel guilty. for so many years i sang that song at youth camps and disciple weekends that speaks of wanting to 'know Your face' and wanting to 'know You more'. could i have reached that point in my spiritual walk without having to give you up, Sydney? maybe, maybe not. more answers not allowed us yet. and we can make ourselves crazy trying to figure it all out. there seems to be no rhyme or reason why some mothers get to take a healthy newborn baby home and others have to leave with empty arms. the faithful? the faithless? believers or unbelieving? obedient? rebellious?

"For whatever reason, Jesus retreated into the wilderness for forty days to fast and pray. While he was there, he was tempted by Satan and found the strength to make some tough decisions. He also found clarity about God and what kind of person God wanted him to be." is this the purpose we are supposed to find in this tragedy? not a tragedy created by God, but allowed? the purpose not the reason for your absence but the result of? to figure out what God wants of us and want He wants us to be? to find clarity and strength?

my heart still hurts. it hurts for your mommy and for your daddy and for your big brother, precious Liam. our family will never be the same. it still seems cruel and unforgiving. i still don't find the joy i am supposed to feel in this experience. but as i examine the meaning of Lent and the fact that only through the dark days of suffering and retreat can we fully appreciate the beauty and hope of Easter, i AM hopeful that joy will come....some day.

i love you without even knowing you. and if you were here i would say to you the words i said to your mother when she was little, every night when i tucked her in her bed "i love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck. good night. sleep tight. see you in the morning light." and one day, i WILL see you in the morning light! i love you, Gram

thoughts on wednesday, february 6, 2008 (to be continued)

Lent is a season of the Christian year when people are invited to simplify their lives to focus on their relationship with God in Christ.

Where does the concept of Lent come from?
At Jesus' baptism the sky split open, the Spirit of God, which looked like a dove, descended and landed on Jesus, and a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, My Beloved, with whom I am pleased." Afterward, as told in Matthew 4:1-11, Jesus hiked into the wilderness. Maybe he needed some time with God to sort through the major changes happening in his life. Maybe he was searching for direction and answers. Maybe he needed to get away from family, friends and the familiar routine in order to see God, and himself, more clearly. For whatever reason, Jesus retreated into the wilderness for forty days to fast and pray. While he was there, he was tempted by Satan and found the strength to make some tough decisions. He also found clarity about God and what kind of person God wanted him to be.

What does Lent have to do with me?
It's pretty easy to get caught up in the drama of work, school, relationships, and family. Our lives are filled with distractions that take us away from living a life with Christ. We try to fill the emptiness inside us with mindless TV, meaningless chatter, stimulants, alcohol or other things. We run from silence because we're afraid of being alone with God. So, like Jesus, we need to take some serious time to pray and figure out where God is in our lives, and where God is calling us to serve. We need to re-focus our lives to be more in line with God.

The real beginning of Lent is Ash Wednesday.
Ash Wednesday usually begins with a service where we recognize our mortality, repent of our sins, and return to our Loving God. We recognize life as a precious gift from God, and re-turn our lives towards Jesus Christ. We may make resolutions and commit to change our lives over the next forty days so that we might be more like Christ. In an Ash Wednesday service, usually a minister or priest marks the sign of the cross on a person's forehead with ashes.

Why ashes?
In Jewish and Christian history, ashes are a sign of mortality and repentance. Mortality, because when we die, our bodies eventually decompose and we become dust/ dirt/ash/whatever. Repentance:, because long ago, when people felt remorse for something they did, they would put ashes on their head and wear "sackcloth" (scratchy clothing) to remind them that sin is pretty uncomfortable and leads to a sort of death of the spirit. This was their way of confessing their sins and asking for forgiveness.

Where do the ashes come from?
On what we now call Palm Sunday, Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem while people waved palms and cheered him on. Less then a week later, Jesus was killed. The palms that were waved in joy became ashes of sorrow. We get ashes for Ash Wednesday by saving the palms from Palm Sunday, burning them, and mixing them with a little water (like tears). It's symbolic.

What do Christians do with ashes?
At an Ash Wednesday service, folks are invited to come forward to receive the ashes. The minister will make a small cross on your forehead by smudging the ashes. While the ashes remind us of our mortality and sin, the cross reminds us of Jesus' resurrection (life after death) and forgiveness. It's a powerful, non-verbal way that we can experience God's forgiveness as we return to Jesus. (Sponsored by Upper Room Ministries)

Matthew 6.16-18
16 ... When you fast, do not put on a sad face as the hypocrites do. They neglect their appearance so that everyone will see that they are fasting. I assure you, they have already been paid in full. 17 When you go without food, wash your face and comb your hair, 18 so that others cannot know that you are fasting�only your Father, who is unseen, will know. And your Father, who sees what you do in private, will reward you.

What is Lent? (from "By Sun and Candlelight" Blog)
Lent is a season, a journey, a fast before the Feast ...
Lent is a time for lots of things ~ some personal, some communal, all beautiful when done with love.
Lent is ...
Six weeks to explore and embrace our Faith.
Forty days to make memories with our children.
A month and a half to grow closer to God.
Purple, where before there was green.
Something given up.
Something extra given.
Fasting on Ash Wednesday.
A crown of thorns to remind us of His suffering, a way to help ease His burden.
Pretzel-making with the children.
Special things to read, an extra devotion to practice.
A journal for thoughts on the journey.
Handmade Easter cards - making a few every day.
A nature walk on the Equinox, looking for signs of life.
A time to simplify and donate.A quiet sunrise - watching the growing light without, feeling it within.
Crocus appearing in the patchy snow, buds forming on branches, the barren earth turning green ...
The promise of Life after death.