How Much?

Perhaps one of the great realizations coming from these weeks is how much I really expect to be able to hold onto.

Pick up your cross daily and follow Me.
Rejoice always.
Sanctify Christ as Lord in your heart.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

But when it comes right down to it, how much am I willing to let God be God over?

My third baby?
What about babies one and two?
What about my health?
What about my husband?
What about my whole future?

The uncertainty of the future feels risky to me. Why does it feel risky? There is more I stand to lose.

But truly, nothing has changed. The fundamental change is a shift of my focus and perspective. A deeper realization that the God I love and want to follow whole-heartedly knows what is good in ways that do not make sense to me, do not necessarily fit my paradigm.

I cannot change His sovereignty. I would not change it if I could. But will I rest in it, let Him hold all the questions of tomorrow and do with them what He sees best?

Will I find grace, like Jesus, to sleep in the boat while the wind and waves howl around?

May it be.

Today's Fight

A quiet gift and quiet loss, but in the aftermath, so many currents pull in different directions. These are some of my wrestlings, and if you think of it, ways you can pray for me.


Loss introduced to my family. 

We loved and let go. The facade of security is pulled away, and I feel vulnerable to more loss. A "real-er" realization that I cannot hold them so close to my heart that nothing can reach them.

But:

...no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand. I and the Father are one. (John 10:28-29)

Wrestling to be content.

The free and full joy of a gift received ... how easily it is twisted into bitterness or entitlement when the gift is removed. Yet I know that if I am not content now, nothing circumstantial can happen that will make me content. A quiet and thankful heart is not the product of perfect circumstances.

Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. (Philippians 4:11)

Whatever circumstances. That is very sweeping. May it be.


 Hoping in many lesser things.

I can construe an idea of reality that would bring a version of sweetness after this sorrow. It is a real wrestling not to dwell on "what could be" as an answer for the pain of what is. There is hope as an anchor of the soul, but it isn't bound in a string of events working out just as I desire.

 Fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 1:13)

Absorption in myself.

This is a significant milestone in our life. And the care of others is a true gift. But how easy it is to be wrapped up in my own experience, cast expectations on others to prioritize my pain, pull inward, caring only for my own needs, ignore the burdens and needs of others.

A true liberation and breath of hope came with a reminder that I may be significantly used by God now, even feeling kinda broken and weak, if I will put myself at His disposal.

He died for all, so that they who live might no longer live for themselves, but for Him who died and rose again on their behalf. (2 Corinthians 5:15)

 This is the battleground of my mind and heart. Glad for God, who is greater than my heart.

Let Me Count the Ways

Graces in the midst of sorrow.

1. Sweet sisters to walk through the pain with. Not just rhetorically, but really. Friends who have walked this road before. My sister Betsy found out she was miscarrying on the same day, baby due within days of ours. It was not better, having that loss on top of our own. But it was so clearly not accidental. Not random. God at work, doing something behind the scenes that we will see in clarity one day.
2. Parents who do not wait to be asked to help. They drove 3/4 of the way back to MN with me so that I wouldn't have to make the drive with the boys on my own.
3. Prayers of many, many people. This is a lifeline.
4. Encouragement that sharing our pain blessed others. This was my prayer.
5. Victor, on Sunday driving home from a little family Father's Day outing to Stillwater, asks from his seat in the van, "When do you think we'll have another little baby?"
   Quiet pause.
   I said, "I don't know, honey. I don't know when God will give us another little baby. Do you think we should pray that He would give us another little baby in our family?"
   "Yes," Victor says.
   Then he says, "I want to pray now."
   So we did.
   It was balm to my heart
6. My mother-in-law sent us an email, praying that Psalm 30 would be a comfort to us. It has been a psalm to study the past several days, and meant so much, coming from her.
7. Friends willing to watch the boys or bring a meal or invite us over when I'm not really lively company. Ben willing to put aside his plans when I was too weak to do what I normally do. Burden bearers.

Divinely Appointed

It's always been a consolation to think that God is continually purposeful, doing millions of things hidden and secret, in the middle of what seems to be big trouble or unanswered prayer.

Sometimes we groan to know some of what He is doing, how He could weave something good from this pain.

In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.--1 Peter 1:6-7

At least one thing: proving faith.

Gold is tested by fire. Faith is tested by trials. If I don't throw in the towel, if walking through junk doesn't blow away my confidence in who God says He is, it's because my faith, as wimpy and weak as it sometimes seems, is guarded by the power of God (1 Peter 1:5). That's a comfort.

And the trials come "for a little while." And only "if necessary." God is measures them out for our own special good.

"God sees your life--has seen its future, its weakness, its underdevelopment--and He's deemed this particular trial at this particular time necessary. It comes to you with premeditation and forethought, designed specifically for you, which is to say that it is not random.

"'For a little while' communicates that though God allowed Thing One and Thing Two to turn your life upside down, He has never let them off their leash. ...

"All trials, hardship, and suffering come into the life of the believer with divine permission and forethought; they'll last exactly as long as they were planned to last."

Just preaching this all to myself right now. 

Half-Completed Surgery

"We need to persevere through these trials if we are to derive benefit from them. Like a half-completed surgery, a half-completed trial is of zero value--even less than zero. ... So God goes to great lengths, encouraging us through His Spirit and through the Word so we stay on the operating table long enough to accomplish His good purposes" (A Million Ways to Die, 151).

So, Lord, I'm here. Feeling half-ripped-open and I missed the anesthesiologist.

I don't really have great endurance. I am afraid I would bail on this if I knew how. But, in Your kindness, You haven't left me an eject button.

So, would You please bring me through?

Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me; O LORD, be my helper.
Psalm 30:10 

How I need a Helper.
Helping me press on.
Helping me remember.
Helping me escape my own small world and see others around me.

I'm holding Psalm 30:11 as a promise.

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; 
You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,
That my soul may sing praise to You
And not be silent.


May it be, Lord, may it be.

A Letter to My Little One

Dear little one,

We officially confirmed your presence a week ago Tuesday, but I knew (at least suspected) you were here for about a month.

A gentle stirring within.

Growing, knitting, living.

We were so overjoyed, so enthralled,

A quiet, secret joy.

A Valentine’s Day baby, maybe.

A new precious girl?

Or another sweet brother?

A gift to us.

You were a gift to us.

You are a gift to us.

We loved you so, so much.

But God gives different gifts.

And this one, for us, He gave and took away.

He is our kind Father.

Our hearts break for such a short hello

And too soon good-bye.

Another baby, squirming, bloody,

Plunged into this broken world.

He lived pure,

Took my blow,

And rose to redeem

Our too soon good-byes.

So good-bye for now, little sweetheart,

Until we meet again.

Love,

Your momma

When You Still Don't Know

Last night's relief at the end of Victor's throwing up was short-lived.

This morning he climbed out of his bunkbed at 6:10am (2 min later than normal), and I heard him crying, standing on the trundle bed where I slept last night. By the time I got to him, I was barely in time to catch vomit in my left hand (totally ineffective in trying to prevent it from getting on the bed, pillow, and floor).

He threw up every 30 min after that, though he had no food or drink in him.

So, by 8:15am, my dad and I loaded him up in the van and headed to Children's Hospital. In delightful contrast to our last ER experience with Victor, there was no one in the waiting room.

The doc came in and saw us fairly quickly, and she ordered a strep test, because his throat was pretty raw. (Me, groaning inside for Ben at camp with whatever this is...)

It was a pretty smooth turnaround, once they gave Victor some Zophran he was 15 min later chomping down a red popsicle, happy as a clam. We watched 3 Mighty Machines videos, and the doctor came back.

The strep test was negative (whew), and she said it seems likely he has something of a virus, similar to hand, foot, and mouth disease.

"I think Zophran will get you through this," she said.
What does that mean? I wondered to myself.

So, with prescriptions for our beloved Zophran and a mouth rinse, home we went.

Victor had a bowl of applesauce, and my mom was getting some lunch ready when he spoke the dreaded words, "Mom, I'm going to have spits!"

So I sat by him, holding the bucket, crying silently to God. What do we do? Can't have more Zophran for 6 hours. Already did ER. Where do we go from here?

___________

My Bible time this morning was on Philippians 4:7. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I cross-referenced Isaiah 26:3, The steadfast of mind You will keep in perfect peace, because he trusts in You.

And John 14:27, Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled; do not be afraid.

I was thinking, this remedy of God for our anxieties is peace. Not a perfect, instant solution to our problems. Not an umbrella against the rain. No "free pass to comfort" card. But peace that guards. Peace that keeps. Peace in the middle of the mess, when you still don't know how it's going to work out.

Peace that works like faith, for when we can't yet see.

___________


So I sat there for a couple minutes, holding the bucket and praying, waiting for whatever was coming next.

And, it was a false alarm.
A few minutes later, his tummy was calm again.

A deep sigh of relief. And a realization (again) that I can't wait for "everything to be okay" to exhale, to find rest in God, to be okay.

Because I still don't know what today (or tomorrow) will hold. But there is a kind of quiet waiting that is okay with that. And I think I'm in training to learn that quiet peace. 

Sweet Moments

Around 2:45am, some faint noise finally rouses me. I go into Victor's room.
Victor, calling: I have something to tell you. I have something to tell you. I have something to tell you.
Me: Okay, buddy, what do you need to tell me.
Victor: I love you. That was all I had to tell you.


In the mornings, Ben gets the boys up, and then they all crash into my room to interrupt my quiet time for a couple minutes. Josiah is always beaming and gives me a big, big snuggle with his head on my shoulder. Victor runs and jumps on my bed and plays peekaboo behind my back with Joey. It's the best.


Victor and Josiah, side by side in their little booster seats at snack time, ready to pray. And Josiah leans over, grunting and reaching until I scootch him close enough so that he can hold hands with Victor.


Just don't want to forget.

14 Months Old!

Josiah is a big 14-months now!

Vivacious, friendly, snuggler,
Loves ducks, tractors, and puppies,
Gobbles up pretzels, strawberries, spaghetti,
Spits out green beans, carrots, and everything else when he's full,

Repeats so many words and phrases:
I love you, pray, bye-bye,
Tractor, puppy, neb treatment,
Victor, Josiah, bonk,
Sunscreen, night-night, Daddy.

How we love you and pray you continue to grow in wisdom, in stature, and in favor with God and man!

And... look who's walking!