I recently read an e-mail that included one of those Microsoft Power Point slide shows…you know, the kind of message that is supposed to inspire you to live a better life, be grateful for all you have, etc. Well…it worked!
The slide show was about all the people who just missed being at the World Trade Center on that fateful day—September 11, 2001. One man was late to work because it was his son’s first day of kindergarten. Another was late because he wore new shoes to work, which rubbed a blister so he stopped at a store on the way to the office to buy a band-aid. The theme of the slide show was to be thankful for all the little annoying delays in life because those things keep you just where God wants you.
As I pondered the message in the e-mail, I began to wonder if God will one day show us all the times He protected us throughout our lives. Will we finally realize the reason we were stopped by a train on the way to work, or late to a meeting because of traffic, or missed a flight because we misplaced something at home? I imagined being in awe as I might truly begin “to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ” (Ephesians 3:18).
I thought about how much I love my own children and how I wish they could truly understand, even at their young ages of 3, 2, and 3 months, just how much I love them. And I was reminded about a time just this past week when I found myself begging my 3 year old to trust me.
You see, my daughter had nasty scrape on her big toe. She had a large piece of skin hanging off of her toe (I know, TMI, right?!?) that I wanted to cut away so that her toe would not become infected. My daughter, of course, was kicking and screaming, “No Mommy, no! Leave me alone!” It crushed me that she didn’t trust me. That she couldn’t see I was trying to make things better for her. That she can not comprehend my love for her and realize that even if it does hurt, in the end, I have her best interest at heart.
And then I felt God’s gentle nudge. I felt as if He were saying, “See Jenny, I feel the same way sometimes. I love you more than you could ever imagine. Why won’t you just trust me? Even when it hurts?”
Let me encourage us all to trust Him…even when it hurts. He has great things planned for us. He has our best interest at heart. We can trust Him in all aspects of life. “He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3).
Friday, May 8, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Emotional Baggage
Moving on is so hard to do.
For the past two months, we have been preparing to move away from a house we dearly love and a town we’ve called home for the past 8 years. We’re down to the last few weeks and it is really hitting hard.
During these past few months, I have packed away many of our things. However, along with our material possessions, my heart has had to pack away my emotional belongings as well.
I feel there is so much I am leaving behind. So many memories—some terrific, some painful.
My husband and I moved to this town shortly after we were married. This is the first home my husband and I owned. This is the birthplace of our first and second, third, and fourth children.
Though my daughter Alysa never arrived home to this house, we “experienced” her here. This is the home in which I discovered I was pregnant; it is the home in which my husband and I sat in shock after it was revealed to us that we were expecting twins; it is the home in which I prepared a room for Alysa and her identical twin sister, Alexa.
This is the home in which I cried my heart out as my twin daughters lain sick in their hospital beds. This is the home in which I screamed to the Lord in frustration, disbelief, and misunderstanding after Alysa passed away. This is the home in which I eventually gave it all to the Lord and prayed for Him to restore my soul. This is the home in which I poured my emotions into a journal, and in which I eventually wrote my book. This is the home in which, by the grace of God, I made peace with my daughter’s death.
And I thought I was okay. However, packing up all of my emotions is tough.
But perhaps more importantly is the question…how will I unpack? Just where, I wonder, will I place all of my emotional baggage?
Will I let it clutter our new beginning? Will I let it bring me down? Will I long for my home, for the town that is so dear? Will I let it keep the new place from ever feeling like “home?”
I hope not.
Because I strive to seek the Lord’s guidance in everything—I’ve learned to invite Him into my day each morning—I believe this move is God’s will for us. So, just as I wrote in my book, I can choose to focus on all that we’ve lost, or that we’re leaving behind, or I can choose to focus on the hope offered to me through my faith in God.
I’ve used these verses many times, but it is because they are the good ones (okay, it’s all good, but these are really enticing!). 1 Corinthians 2:9 reads, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.” Ephesians 3:20 reads, “Now glory be to God, who by His mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of - infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes” (LB).
I choose to cling to these truths!
Because of my faith, I believe I will be reunited with Alysa someday. Because I believe in the spiritual realm of things (for example, Ephesians 6:12, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms),” I believe Alysa is with me. I am not leaving her behind in the cemetery near our home. Instead, she is alive and very well and she will make the trip with us to our new destination.
Moving on is hard to do. But when we go with the grace of God, we can walk confidently; we can charge boldly into our future. “On the day I called, You answered me; You made me bold with strength in my soul” (Psalm 138:3 NASB).
For the past two months, we have been preparing to move away from a house we dearly love and a town we’ve called home for the past 8 years. We’re down to the last few weeks and it is really hitting hard.
During these past few months, I have packed away many of our things. However, along with our material possessions, my heart has had to pack away my emotional belongings as well.
I feel there is so much I am leaving behind. So many memories—some terrific, some painful.
My husband and I moved to this town shortly after we were married. This is the first home my husband and I owned. This is the birthplace of our first and second, third, and fourth children.
Though my daughter Alysa never arrived home to this house, we “experienced” her here. This is the home in which I discovered I was pregnant; it is the home in which my husband and I sat in shock after it was revealed to us that we were expecting twins; it is the home in which I prepared a room for Alysa and her identical twin sister, Alexa.
This is the home in which I cried my heart out as my twin daughters lain sick in their hospital beds. This is the home in which I screamed to the Lord in frustration, disbelief, and misunderstanding after Alysa passed away. This is the home in which I eventually gave it all to the Lord and prayed for Him to restore my soul. This is the home in which I poured my emotions into a journal, and in which I eventually wrote my book. This is the home in which, by the grace of God, I made peace with my daughter’s death.
And I thought I was okay. However, packing up all of my emotions is tough.
But perhaps more importantly is the question…how will I unpack? Just where, I wonder, will I place all of my emotional baggage?
Will I let it clutter our new beginning? Will I let it bring me down? Will I long for my home, for the town that is so dear? Will I let it keep the new place from ever feeling like “home?”
I hope not.
Because I strive to seek the Lord’s guidance in everything—I’ve learned to invite Him into my day each morning—I believe this move is God’s will for us. So, just as I wrote in my book, I can choose to focus on all that we’ve lost, or that we’re leaving behind, or I can choose to focus on the hope offered to me through my faith in God.
I’ve used these verses many times, but it is because they are the good ones (okay, it’s all good, but these are really enticing!). 1 Corinthians 2:9 reads, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.” Ephesians 3:20 reads, “Now glory be to God, who by His mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of - infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes” (LB).
I choose to cling to these truths!
Because of my faith, I believe I will be reunited with Alysa someday. Because I believe in the spiritual realm of things (for example, Ephesians 6:12, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms),” I believe Alysa is with me. I am not leaving her behind in the cemetery near our home. Instead, she is alive and very well and she will make the trip with us to our new destination.
Moving on is hard to do. But when we go with the grace of God, we can walk confidently; we can charge boldly into our future. “On the day I called, You answered me; You made me bold with strength in my soul” (Psalm 138:3 NASB).
Sunday, April 12, 2009
My Savior Lives!
What a glorious day, today, Easter Sunday! The day Jesus defeated death by rising from the grave. In service this morning we sang a song titled “And God Cried” by Chris and Diane Machen (God first cried in sorrow over the death of His Son but three days later cried out in rejoice over Jesus’ resurrection) and I envisioned the heavenly celebration of Easter Sunday. Today is the day God was reunited with His Child. I can only imagine the joy, the true elation God must have felt in wrapping His arms around His Son once again that blessed day.
Because I have accepted and believe in the gift of what Jesus did for me on the cross that one Friday, I have the promise of eternal life and believe that I will one day experience that same joy in being reunited, not only with my Heavenly Father, but with my child—my Alysa. It is my faith in what Jesus did for me on the cross that offers me hope for the future in spite of my daughter’s death here on earth.
I encourage anyone who does not know Jesus or who is unfamiliar with just what “price” Jesus paid for us on the cross, to consult someone of faith—e-mail me if you need to!
You see, Jesus saved me once, this past Friday (Good Friday), as He died on the cross to pay my penalty of sin (to read more about Jesus’ death, I highly recommend the book Six Hours One Friday by Max Lucado). Jesus bore God’s wrath—His own Father’s judgment—in my place, and that should have been enough for me to live my life for Him…but it wasn’t.
Because we are so entranced in our sin, it is easy to lose touch with just how our sin separates us from God, or the fact that our sin would permanently keep us from God if it were not for Jesus. We know we are sinners but because we are so accustomed to our sinful nature, the true price Jesus paid for us becomes intangible at times.
God is perfect; He can not be associated with sin. Jesus—who was perfect—became sin for us on the cross. God sent His Son to this earth, knowing He would be separated from Him. As Jesus was on the cross, He called out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). Jesus called out to His dad—and His dad could not save Him. God couldn’t not save Jesus because He was incapable; He couldn’t save Jesus because someone had to die for our sin and God sent Jesus to do just that.
So Jesus saved me once by dieing on the cross in my place, and that should have been enough. But He saved me again by giving me hope after my daughter passed away.
Because I was born with a sinful heart, I may lose sight of the significance of what Jesus did for me on the cross. But I am very in touch with the hopelessness the death of a child can bring to one’s life. The loneliness, the sorrow, the desperation of grief is very tangible. I remember how badly it hurt.
Yet God gave me hope. He promised me that life could be great again in spite of my daughter’s death. He comforts me by using my daughter’s death for a greater purpose; to further His kingdom; to reveal His glory. God saved me a second time by offering me hope for my future.
For all of this, it is my deepest desire to spend the rest of my life dedicated to His service. I praise you sweet Lord, that You have risen! That You overcame death to prove that those who believe will not stay dead but will have eternal life with You. That You overcame death to prove that You are God. I praise God that You are alive and well, dwelling within us today!
Because I have accepted and believe in the gift of what Jesus did for me on the cross that one Friday, I have the promise of eternal life and believe that I will one day experience that same joy in being reunited, not only with my Heavenly Father, but with my child—my Alysa. It is my faith in what Jesus did for me on the cross that offers me hope for the future in spite of my daughter’s death here on earth.
I encourage anyone who does not know Jesus or who is unfamiliar with just what “price” Jesus paid for us on the cross, to consult someone of faith—e-mail me if you need to!
You see, Jesus saved me once, this past Friday (Good Friday), as He died on the cross to pay my penalty of sin (to read more about Jesus’ death, I highly recommend the book Six Hours One Friday by Max Lucado). Jesus bore God’s wrath—His own Father’s judgment—in my place, and that should have been enough for me to live my life for Him…but it wasn’t.
Because we are so entranced in our sin, it is easy to lose touch with just how our sin separates us from God, or the fact that our sin would permanently keep us from God if it were not for Jesus. We know we are sinners but because we are so accustomed to our sinful nature, the true price Jesus paid for us becomes intangible at times.
God is perfect; He can not be associated with sin. Jesus—who was perfect—became sin for us on the cross. God sent His Son to this earth, knowing He would be separated from Him. As Jesus was on the cross, He called out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). Jesus called out to His dad—and His dad could not save Him. God couldn’t not save Jesus because He was incapable; He couldn’t save Jesus because someone had to die for our sin and God sent Jesus to do just that.
So Jesus saved me once by dieing on the cross in my place, and that should have been enough. But He saved me again by giving me hope after my daughter passed away.
Because I was born with a sinful heart, I may lose sight of the significance of what Jesus did for me on the cross. But I am very in touch with the hopelessness the death of a child can bring to one’s life. The loneliness, the sorrow, the desperation of grief is very tangible. I remember how badly it hurt.
Yet God gave me hope. He promised me that life could be great again in spite of my daughter’s death. He comforts me by using my daughter’s death for a greater purpose; to further His kingdom; to reveal His glory. God saved me a second time by offering me hope for my future.
For all of this, it is my deepest desire to spend the rest of my life dedicated to His service. I praise you sweet Lord, that You have risen! That You overcame death to prove that those who believe will not stay dead but will have eternal life with You. That You overcame death to prove that You are God. I praise God that You are alive and well, dwelling within us today!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Eatin' Some Good Fruit
Lately I’ve been feeding on some good fruit—fruit of the Spirit. In the book of Galatians, the bible talks about the fruit of the Sprit; that if you’ve accepted God’s Son, Jesus, as your savior, the Holy Spirit lives within you, and through the Holy Spirit (i.e. God), you are entitled to these fruits. As my bible puts it, “Against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22 lists the fruit of the Spirit as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Pretty good qualities to have, if you ask me.
I’ve been praying very hard lately that God would fill me with His Holy Spirit so that I could maintain His “fruit,” mainly peace and joy, through what is a very stressful time in my life. We recently gave birth to another little girl and since her birth, my husband and I have decided to relocate our precious family to another city for a job opportunity. So in between adjusting to life with three children, I am also preparing to sell a home that I love and leave behind so much to which we’ve grown accustomed.
I could let this season of life be sad and stressful, however, this is a season we strongly believe is God’s will for us. Therefore I chose to let the Holy Spirit fill me so that I can find peace and joy even amongst the chaos…
…and it is working! Even in the midst of 3am feedings, and the boxes piled high, and all the eight year old dust bunnies that are popping out from hidden places, I am at peace. I am able to enjoy this time in my life because I believe this is God’s plan for us and I know that I can trust Him to provide all that we need.
Even in the terrible housing market, He will bring a buyer for our home and prepare for us a new home in our new city. He will allow me the time to pack all of our family’s belongings all while caring for three children under the age of four. He will enable me to be the mother my children need me to be even though I feel as though I am neglecting them with all the demands a big move brings. Sure at times, guilt sets in…but did you notice? Guilt is not one of God’s delicious fruits! Instead, I know that God loves my children even more than I do and that He has plans to grow all of us - my husband, my children, and me - through this experience.
God has called me to be a new mom again and to move our family, all at the same time. Though that may mean my older toddlers are left to entertain themselvs more than usual, I can find peace trusting that He is using this time to mold them to be who He wants them to be. I can stand firm knowing that He will sustain me (Isaiah 46:4) and though Him, I can do all things (Philippians 4:13).
Is life getting tough? Tired of the stresses and the chaos? Try eating some good fruit!
I’ve been praying very hard lately that God would fill me with His Holy Spirit so that I could maintain His “fruit,” mainly peace and joy, through what is a very stressful time in my life. We recently gave birth to another little girl and since her birth, my husband and I have decided to relocate our precious family to another city for a job opportunity. So in between adjusting to life with three children, I am also preparing to sell a home that I love and leave behind so much to which we’ve grown accustomed.
I could let this season of life be sad and stressful, however, this is a season we strongly believe is God’s will for us. Therefore I chose to let the Holy Spirit fill me so that I can find peace and joy even amongst the chaos…
…and it is working! Even in the midst of 3am feedings, and the boxes piled high, and all the eight year old dust bunnies that are popping out from hidden places, I am at peace. I am able to enjoy this time in my life because I believe this is God’s plan for us and I know that I can trust Him to provide all that we need.
Even in the terrible housing market, He will bring a buyer for our home and prepare for us a new home in our new city. He will allow me the time to pack all of our family’s belongings all while caring for three children under the age of four. He will enable me to be the mother my children need me to be even though I feel as though I am neglecting them with all the demands a big move brings. Sure at times, guilt sets in…but did you notice? Guilt is not one of God’s delicious fruits! Instead, I know that God loves my children even more than I do and that He has plans to grow all of us - my husband, my children, and me - through this experience.
God has called me to be a new mom again and to move our family, all at the same time. Though that may mean my older toddlers are left to entertain themselvs more than usual, I can find peace trusting that He is using this time to mold them to be who He wants them to be. I can stand firm knowing that He will sustain me (Isaiah 46:4) and though Him, I can do all things (Philippians 4:13).
Is life getting tough? Tired of the stresses and the chaos? Try eating some good fruit!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Letting Go
This past fall I once again found myself in a season of “letting go.” Per doctor’s advice, we enrolled our surviving twin daughter in two-day-a-week preschool. Three months into the school year, my daughter loved it, but I continued to struggle with letting her go! Each time I drove away, I was reminded of what it felt like to leave behind Alexa and her identical-twin sister, Alysa, in Neonatal Intensive Care as a result of their fourteen-week-premature delivery. I was reminded of what it felt like to let go of Alexa as I placed her back in her crib each night and left the hospital empty-handed—89 days in a row. And I was reminded of what it felt like to let go of Alysa as she passed away in my arms after just 28 days…
Letting go is at the core of grief. It is having to let go of our loved ones that causes us to grieve. After my daughter’s death, I initially tried to beat the system by refusing to let Alysa go. Instead, I entered a six-month long phase of denial. I chose to believe that if I prayed hard enough, I just might wake up one morning and realize that it had all been just a bad dream. I was afraid to let go of my daughter because I feared how badly it would hurt to truly accept her death. I was afraid that letting go would cause me to forget my daughter. I could not bear to let go of the way I thought my life should come to pass because I saw my way as the only way to live.
But refusing to let go brought upon me an unbearable struggle. Because I chose wait for things to return to the way I wanted them to be, I was unable to make any forward progress in life. I was stuck; paralyzed by grief. And eventually, I was exhausted by the fight. I wanted to find a way to be happy again. I wanted to be able to reclaim the extraordinary life I’ve always dreamed of living. So I turned to the only place that could give me hope, and that was to my faith in God.
Though my daughter’s death caused me to question everything I had ever believed about God, He is still the only One who promises me good things in spite of my daughter’s death. The bible teaches that God will use all things, all things, for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). Though I couldn’t imagine how God could ever reconcile my daughter’s death, I chose to believe not only that He could, but that He would.
And so it is the same not just in death, but in life. When our “To Do" list seems never-ending; when we feel as though we are spinning out of control; when we realize we just can’t keep up with it all; it’s time to let go. Time to let go of what we want or what we think is important and focus on what God has prepared for us. In Matthew 11:28 the bible reads, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
It was in my deepest state of grief that, for the first time, I learned to let go of the way I thought things should be and learned to see things God’s way instead. As my favorite bible verse, 1 Corinthians 2:9, reads, “no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."
Letting go allowed me to make peace with my daughter’s death. Letting go of the way I wanted things to be actually allows me to remember my daughter more, not less as I once feared, because I no longer fight the memory of loosing her. Instead, I remember my daughter for who she was—my beautiful baby who could only stay with me a short time. And though I miss her during the day, my other daughter Alexa is having a wonderful time in preschool. You see, only in learning to let go can we discover the freedom to truly live!
Letting go is at the core of grief. It is having to let go of our loved ones that causes us to grieve. After my daughter’s death, I initially tried to beat the system by refusing to let Alysa go. Instead, I entered a six-month long phase of denial. I chose to believe that if I prayed hard enough, I just might wake up one morning and realize that it had all been just a bad dream. I was afraid to let go of my daughter because I feared how badly it would hurt to truly accept her death. I was afraid that letting go would cause me to forget my daughter. I could not bear to let go of the way I thought my life should come to pass because I saw my way as the only way to live.
But refusing to let go brought upon me an unbearable struggle. Because I chose wait for things to return to the way I wanted them to be, I was unable to make any forward progress in life. I was stuck; paralyzed by grief. And eventually, I was exhausted by the fight. I wanted to find a way to be happy again. I wanted to be able to reclaim the extraordinary life I’ve always dreamed of living. So I turned to the only place that could give me hope, and that was to my faith in God.
Though my daughter’s death caused me to question everything I had ever believed about God, He is still the only One who promises me good things in spite of my daughter’s death. The bible teaches that God will use all things, all things, for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). Though I couldn’t imagine how God could ever reconcile my daughter’s death, I chose to believe not only that He could, but that He would.
And so it is the same not just in death, but in life. When our “To Do" list seems never-ending; when we feel as though we are spinning out of control; when we realize we just can’t keep up with it all; it’s time to let go. Time to let go of what we want or what we think is important and focus on what God has prepared for us. In Matthew 11:28 the bible reads, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
It was in my deepest state of grief that, for the first time, I learned to let go of the way I thought things should be and learned to see things God’s way instead. As my favorite bible verse, 1 Corinthians 2:9, reads, “no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."
Letting go allowed me to make peace with my daughter’s death. Letting go of the way I wanted things to be actually allows me to remember my daughter more, not less as I once feared, because I no longer fight the memory of loosing her. Instead, I remember my daughter for who she was—my beautiful baby who could only stay with me a short time. And though I miss her during the day, my other daughter Alexa is having a wonderful time in preschool. You see, only in learning to let go can we discover the freedom to truly live!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Just Breathe
Whew! Won’t I be glad when the 3AM emergency trips to a steamy bathroom cease!?! You see, my surviving twin daughter has a history of Croup, and with the recent onset of cold and flu season, she has come down with the first of what will likely be several bouts of the Croup.
My daughter wakes up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe, which forces me to scoop her up, rallied in fear, and run to the nearest bathroom to quickly fill it with steam. Thankfully, the hot, moist air opens up her airway within a matter of minutes. Other than a dose of steroids, there isn’t much else to do to fight the Croup.
Though I’m completely exhausted after two nights of repeating this routine between one and three times a night, as I myself am also fighting a nasty cold, I have also grown an appreciation for these middle-of-the-night visits with my daughter. Even though her tummy is retracting because it is so difficult to breathe, she sits so calmly in my lap as we wait for the steam to do it’s trick. She’s completely relaxed and comforted because she trusts that I will meet every one of her needs. My daughter knows that when she comes to me, she has nothing to fear.
Oh, how our Heavenly Father longs for us to come to Him in the very same manner. With no fear; no doubt that He can and will resolve our struggles; trusting wholeheartedly that He will meet each of our needs. My daughter does not know how I will make her feel better; she doesn’t ask because she doesn’t need to know; she doesn’t try to tell me how to make her feel better; she just sits and allows me to do what I know needs to be done.
In Matthew chapter 2, the disciples ask Jesus, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" Jesus responds by calling forth a child and says, "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 2:1-4). Jesus says that we should all be like little children. Children are (for the most part) obedient; loving; and they trust wholeheartedly.
Our Heavenly Father longs for us to sit in His lap and let Him comfort us and care for us in our times of struggle. I remember feeling smothered by grief after my daughter passed away. It sometimes felt as though I could not breathe without her; without having all of my children here to love.
But eventually I tired of the hopelessness and I cried out to our Lord. I didn’t see how He could possibly heal my pain; I couldn’t imagine how He might resolve my struggles; but He did. I couldn’t see a way to healing, so I had to trust Him and His ways wholeheartedly.
Turning to God allowed me such freedom. It wasn’t up to me to resolve my grief, it was up to Him. I have learned so much about God’s promises to us, about His love for us, and about His great plans for us, that I have been able to make peace with my daughter’s death. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss her; it means that I understand and accept that there is a much greater plan and purpose to life than I ever imagined. I believe in our Heavenly Father. I’ve accepted Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross for my sins. Therefore, I know I will be reunited with my daughter someday for eternity. Eternity.
So when you are struggling to catch your breath; when you feel faint, as though you are about to give out; when you feel like you can’t possibly go on—run to your Heavenly Father; climb up in His lap; relax; trust in Him and just breathe.
My daughter wakes up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe, which forces me to scoop her up, rallied in fear, and run to the nearest bathroom to quickly fill it with steam. Thankfully, the hot, moist air opens up her airway within a matter of minutes. Other than a dose of steroids, there isn’t much else to do to fight the Croup.
Though I’m completely exhausted after two nights of repeating this routine between one and three times a night, as I myself am also fighting a nasty cold, I have also grown an appreciation for these middle-of-the-night visits with my daughter. Even though her tummy is retracting because it is so difficult to breathe, she sits so calmly in my lap as we wait for the steam to do it’s trick. She’s completely relaxed and comforted because she trusts that I will meet every one of her needs. My daughter knows that when she comes to me, she has nothing to fear.
Oh, how our Heavenly Father longs for us to come to Him in the very same manner. With no fear; no doubt that He can and will resolve our struggles; trusting wholeheartedly that He will meet each of our needs. My daughter does not know how I will make her feel better; she doesn’t ask because she doesn’t need to know; she doesn’t try to tell me how to make her feel better; she just sits and allows me to do what I know needs to be done.
In Matthew chapter 2, the disciples ask Jesus, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" Jesus responds by calling forth a child and says, "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 2:1-4). Jesus says that we should all be like little children. Children are (for the most part) obedient; loving; and they trust wholeheartedly.
Our Heavenly Father longs for us to sit in His lap and let Him comfort us and care for us in our times of struggle. I remember feeling smothered by grief after my daughter passed away. It sometimes felt as though I could not breathe without her; without having all of my children here to love.
But eventually I tired of the hopelessness and I cried out to our Lord. I didn’t see how He could possibly heal my pain; I couldn’t imagine how He might resolve my struggles; but He did. I couldn’t see a way to healing, so I had to trust Him and His ways wholeheartedly.
Turning to God allowed me such freedom. It wasn’t up to me to resolve my grief, it was up to Him. I have learned so much about God’s promises to us, about His love for us, and about His great plans for us, that I have been able to make peace with my daughter’s death. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss her; it means that I understand and accept that there is a much greater plan and purpose to life than I ever imagined. I believe in our Heavenly Father. I’ve accepted Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross for my sins. Therefore, I know I will be reunited with my daughter someday for eternity. Eternity.
So when you are struggling to catch your breath; when you feel faint, as though you are about to give out; when you feel like you can’t possibly go on—run to your Heavenly Father; climb up in His lap; relax; trust in Him and just breathe.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Freedom to Remember
A song on the radio; the smell or sight of something familiar; something someone says or does that is seemingly insignificant to them, yet is of great significance to you…
Each of us have certain triggers and when those triggers are pulled, memories of our loved ones can come flooding back to us—whether or not we are ready. For me today, it was a song on the radio, I Can Only Imagine by MercyMe.
I Can Only Imagine is the song I desperately wanted to have played at our daughter’s funeral. I say wanted to have played because this song had just come out on the radio at the time of our daughter’s death, and I could not for the life of me remember what it was called. I could have spent 2 days (the time we had to prepare for our daughter’s funeral – very few of us make funeral arrangements in advance for our own child) glued to the radio listening for the song to play, but rather than adding the extra stress to my life, my husband and I settled on Amazing Grace for Alysa’s funeral. Amazing Grace is a beautiful song, but every time I hear I Can Only Imagine, my heart almost comes to a standstill. I can only imagine what it will be like, not just to see Jesus one day, but to be reunited with my daughter for eternity.
I imagine my daughter and what it will be like to see her again. I think of the first time I saw her here on Earth…and of the last…and of the twenty-eight days in between. Though remembering my daughter makes me a little sad, I rely on faith to pull me through.
In the beginning, it was almost too painful to sit and purposefully remember my daughter Alysa. All I could think about was how desperately I wanted her back. Thoughts of hopelessness would prevail over me until I was once again paralyzed by grief.
But in learning to accept God’s plans for my life, as well as for the lives of my identical-twin daughters, I have been able to make peace with my daughter’s death. I do not always like the plan, but I trust and believe that God’s plan is sovereign. I know that His plan is bigger and better than anything I can ever imagine, and that it is His plan that will bring Him glory. I’ve learned to love the Lord enough that I want Him glorified, even at the expense of my own suffering.
My faith offers me hope for the future in spite of my daughter’s death. My faith gives me the freedom to remember my daughter because I know she did not die in vain. Though I miss her dearly, I can enjoy remembering her because I know we will be reunited again someday.
By His Amazing Grace...
Each of us have certain triggers and when those triggers are pulled, memories of our loved ones can come flooding back to us—whether or not we are ready. For me today, it was a song on the radio, I Can Only Imagine by MercyMe.
I Can Only Imagine is the song I desperately wanted to have played at our daughter’s funeral. I say wanted to have played because this song had just come out on the radio at the time of our daughter’s death, and I could not for the life of me remember what it was called. I could have spent 2 days (the time we had to prepare for our daughter’s funeral – very few of us make funeral arrangements in advance for our own child) glued to the radio listening for the song to play, but rather than adding the extra stress to my life, my husband and I settled on Amazing Grace for Alysa’s funeral. Amazing Grace is a beautiful song, but every time I hear I Can Only Imagine, my heart almost comes to a standstill. I can only imagine what it will be like, not just to see Jesus one day, but to be reunited with my daughter for eternity.
I imagine my daughter and what it will be like to see her again. I think of the first time I saw her here on Earth…and of the last…and of the twenty-eight days in between. Though remembering my daughter makes me a little sad, I rely on faith to pull me through.
In the beginning, it was almost too painful to sit and purposefully remember my daughter Alysa. All I could think about was how desperately I wanted her back. Thoughts of hopelessness would prevail over me until I was once again paralyzed by grief.
But in learning to accept God’s plans for my life, as well as for the lives of my identical-twin daughters, I have been able to make peace with my daughter’s death. I do not always like the plan, but I trust and believe that God’s plan is sovereign. I know that His plan is bigger and better than anything I can ever imagine, and that it is His plan that will bring Him glory. I’ve learned to love the Lord enough that I want Him glorified, even at the expense of my own suffering.
My faith offers me hope for the future in spite of my daughter’s death. My faith gives me the freedom to remember my daughter because I know she did not die in vain. Though I miss her dearly, I can enjoy remembering her because I know we will be reunited again someday.
By His Amazing Grace...
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