We just returned last night from Portland, where we hung out with my family for a few days and looked at a couple of colleges with my little sister, who is a senior in high school.

It's so nice to get away! I've realized that if I don't have a change of scenery at least once a month, I start to feel like a crazy person...really. One of the best pieces of advice that anyone offered me after Zachary died was to plan one activity a month for the first year following our loss. I've been blessed to go on some pretty great get-aways, and having something to look forward to each month is extremely beneficial.

So, if you've recently experienced a loss, or know someone who has, pass those words of wisdom along.

I also wanted to recommend a few books that have been exceptionally helpful to me over the past six months. Many of those books were thoughtful gifts from people who wanted to help us or had gone through similar loss. Here are a few:

A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss by Jerry Sittser - by far, the best book I've read on loss. It's an honest, raw account of Jerry Sittser's tragic loss of his mother, wife and daughter when their family van was struck by a drunk driver. If you know anyone who has lost a loved one, please recommend this book, or better yet, give it to them as a gift.

Empty Arms by Pam Vredevelt - practical advice after suffering a pregnancy loss...everything from physical healing to trying to get pregnant again after miscarriage or stillbirth.

Empty Cradle, Broken Heart by Deborah L. Davis - another practical book including planning a funeral, caring for the huband/father, etc.

Safe In the Arms of God by John MacArthur - walks through the theological reasons why you can rest assured that your baby is in heaven with God.

Blessings!

A couple of days ago my mom lent me Steven Curtis Chapman's new CD, Beauty Will Rise. It's the first album he's written after the tragic death of his young daughter a year and a half ago.

As we approach the six month mark of Zachary's home-going, my heart has just been aching. I actually had to take my lunch break at work the other day in my car so I could just cry it out because I couldn't function. And, as I sat in my car, hoping no one I knew would walk by, I listened to the CD, and I was deeply moved by his honest lyrics and willingness to proclaim God's faithfulness through incredible heartache. I sat there with big tears in my eyes thinking, "I guess I'm not that crazy after all...someone else feels this way, too." And, more importantly, it served to anchor my heart in the hope of God's promises and left me with a deep longing for heaven as home. I think everyone should go buy the CD or download it on iTunes, but here are the lyrics to just one of the songs that really hit me:

See

Right now all I can taste are bitter tears

Right now all I can see are clouds of sorrow

From the other side of all this pain

Is that you I hear?

Laughing loud and calling out to me?

Saying, 'See, it's everything you said

that it would be

And even better than you would believe

And I'm counting down the days

until you're here with me

And finally, you'll see'

Right now all I can say is, 'Lord how long?'

Before You come and take away this aching?

This night of weeping seems to have no end

But when the morning light breaks through

We'll open up our eyes and we will see

It's everything He said that it would be

And even better than we would believe

And He's counting down the days 'til He says,

'Come with Me' and finally, we'll see

…”heaven is the weight of [him] in my arms…”

– Steven Curtis Chapman (Heaven Is The Face)

This afternoon, I watched my little sister, Amanda's high school volleyball team lose their chance to play in the state tournament. I know it's only volleyball, but I was bummed...and not nearly as bummed as Mands was. It's her senior year, after all. And, after the match was finally over, and the team had debriefed, the gym started to clear out. And, there was Amanda, sitting cross-legged on the far end of the gym floor, her eyes red and shoulders slumped.

I would have done anything at that moment to make it better...give her team one more chance...say something to make it all go away...but I couldn't. So, I just walked across the gym floor, plopped myself down next to her, put my arm around her shoulders and said 'sorry.'

And, at that moment, a lightbulb turned on in my head. I had an immediate understanding of how the people who love us have felt for the past six months.

Thank you. When you haven't had the words, and no way to make anything better for us, you have plopped yourselves down next to us, cross-legged on the hard floor, arms around our shoulders, and loved us through the sorrow. Thank you so, so much.

I've spent the afternoon reading through the first few chapters of Matthew…one account after another of Jesus performing miracles…doing the impossible…restoring health…hope…life. And I know the instances recorded in Scripture are true.

The Centurion comes before Jesus on behalf of his servant who is lying in agonizing pain at his home and says, “…just say the word, and my servant will be healed.” And, Jesus heals the servant according to the Centurion’s faith. Just like that.

A little while later, Jesus is out on a fishing vessel with His disciples when a storm begins to toss their boat, threatening to capsize it. The disciples start to freak out and wake Jesus, who’s trying to sleep, up from His nap. He says to them, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” And He calms the wind and the waves with one word. One word.

He purifies the skin of the leper when the man says, "Lord, if You're willing, You can make me clean."

Jesus drives out demons.

He commands a paralyzed man to simply get up and walk.

He instantly cures a woman who has bled for 12 years because she reaches out and touches the hem of his robe.

He raises a young girl from the dead. From the dead!

And, as He’s walking down the road, two blind men stop Jesus in hopes of having their sight restored. Jesus turns to them and says, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?”

The blind men both say, “Yes,” and Jesus reaches out to touch their eyes, immediately restoring their sight.

…“Do you believe that I can do this?” …

I read that, and I think to myself, ‘Well, of course Jesus can do that…He’s healed thousands of people and stilled the sea with one word…and He already knows the answer of the blind men to His question. Why even ask?’

I think that Jesus wanted to hear their expression of faith.

God asks me the same question with the same intent.

…”Do you believe that I can do this?”…

I don’t know, Lord, my heart’s pretty broken. Seriously broken. I’m not sure if You can really make me whole again.

…”Do you believe that I can do this?”

Well, Shaun’s been out of work for quite a while. Our financial situation isn’t pretty. I don’t know if you’ve searched the local listings recently, but there aren’t a whole lot of jobs open.

…”Do you believe that I can do this?”…

Doctors have always told me that it would be difficult for me to get pregnant. The first one was a miracle. I’m not so sure.

Jesus recognizes our faith. He responds when we come to Him with the realization that “fixing” our problems is not something that any of us is capable of in our own strength. Jesus refuses to heal without faith. Plain and simple. If I’m going to come to Him with requests for healing, provision, blessings, fulfillment of my heart’s desires, I better come with a little bit of faith, huh?

…”Do you believe that I can do this?”…

Maybe a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is all He’s looking for.

The whirlwind in my mind has slowed down a bit today.

I went from working two days a week to six days a week overnight with starting the job at church and picking up extra days at the clinic. I’m thankful…I love what I’m doing, and the hours are essential as we feel the financial squeeze of life…but I’m tired.

It’s ironic: The empty, quiet space that I so despised a month ago seems like it might not be so bad right now. And, the past few weeks of seemingly endless hours at work have convinced me that those “boring” and difficult days and weeks at home after Zachary died were extremely important. Right now, I feel agitated and hazy. Life is easily blown out of perspective when I’m tired and don’t have that quiet time to think through my feelings. I’m recognizing that I need to carve out time to be alone and quiet in order to function well.

But, today has been just that. It was my one day this week that I had no commitments or work. I caught up on sleep and had quiet time this morning. Then I met an old friend for coffee, which was really wonderful. We got caught up, and she asked questions about how I’m really doing these days. Thanks, Bethany!

And then I headed out to the cemetery with my mom. I hadn’t been there in a few months, and my mom had never seen the engraved stone where Zachary was buried. It might sound funny, but I like to be at the cemetery…as difficult as it is, there’s just a reality and finality to our loss when I’m there. I feel detached a lot of the time. Sometimes I can even look at a picture of my adorable boy, and it feels like it’s just a picture of a baby, not my child.

But, today it feels real. Today I can be quiet. Today I can think.

One Step Back?

I just don't get it. I don’t understand how this emptiness has fallen on our house and refuses to relent its suffocating cover. Tonight, I just can’t believe that this is what our lives look like now. What happened? I feel disoriented, like I just got punched or something.

I’ve been tormented all week by a snapshot in my mind of handing my Zachary’s perfect, but lifeless body over to the nurse after saying my last goodbye on the day he was born. I had to hand my son over to a stranger, knowing that I would never get to hold him again. I had to give the baby I had dreamt of holding for 9 months away to someone I didn’t even know! I so vividly remember every fiber of my being wanting to scream out in protest.

And, as haunting as that memory is, I know that that’s exactly what God is asking of me again tonight. He just keeps whispering, “Give Zachary to Me once again. He was never really yours in the first place. Place him in My arms and let Me soothe your empty, aching arms.”

Oh, if only it were that easy.

I read this verse this morning during worship at church. I know without a doubt that these words are true…I just wish they would sink in a little bit deeper right now:

“But now, this is what the Lord says – He who created you, O Jacob, He who formed you, O Israel: Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, Your Savior.” Isaiah 43:1-3

Lord, please meet me right here tonight. Fill the emptiness. Gently pry my tightly-closed fists open. I want to release Zachary to you once again. I want to feel alive again. Walk me through this, Lord. May the morning bring new life, a breath of fresh air, sweet memories, and the necessary surrender of my life to You. Amen.